#title comes from a quote from ‘the little prince’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

danytar · 1 month

Text

“Meet me at the highest heaven” [ King!Aegon!Targaryen X Sister!Wife!Reader ]

Warnings: anxiety, aegon is going to Rook's Rest,Incest, mention of war and death, No use of y/n, swearing,(m receiving),erotic lactation.

Summary: Aegon is going to the battle. And now you feel like your heart will be torn apart at any moment. Will you be able to say goodbye to him?

'The true king is the king who leads his battles himself' The famous quote in the world. Which you've heard hundreds of times. But you did not think that your husband would apply the phrase himself. You are still in pain over the murder of your eldest son.

You still haven't forgotten what happened.. You still haven't forgotten how you lost two children in one night. It was like a nightmare.. you hoped you would wake up soon and find yourself in bed with your husband. as a prince and princess.

The weight of your titles weighs heavily on your shoulders. You hoped it was a joke or something but it never was.. Your husband has already entered the game of thrones and getting out of that game is not as easy as entering it.

You were in your room, combing your silver locks, lost in your thoughts then you heard your doors open and there was the new hand of the king. “My queen”. His voice was polite and firm.

“Yes sir criston? ”. You let the comb from your hand and turned to see him standing there close to the big door of your chambers. “His grace requested your presence in his own chambers”. he replied to you.

You nodded and got up from your chair to leave the room. The knight led the way for your husband's chambers. you can't help but feel worry about what will happen next.You don't know what's causing this feeling, but you ignore it for now at least.

The guard opened the door for you and stopped outside the room. You entered the room and your gaze fell directly on him he was standing there in full armor. You swallow and take steps closer to him.

He looked at you and didn't speak yet. There was a silent moment between you two, just letting your eyes speak for you. He meets you with a warm smile on his lips you couldn't help but feel small tears wet your cheeks.

When he opens his mouth to speak, you don't let him but you rushe to him and embraces him hardly. The feel of steel on your skin doesn't bother you at all.He hugged you back he moved your hair away from your bare shoulders and placed his head there to inhale your scent.

One of his hands was gently stroking your hair and the other was tight around you. He broke the silence between you two with a little joke to lighten the mood “Is my queen trying to seduce me with this dress now?” He cocked his head and looked at you with a smile.

You wiped your eyes and chuckled softly “Shut up”. he chuckled with you then he wiped away the remnants of your tears and looked into your eyes.

“Don't cry my queen I won't leave you alone in this world I swear”. He lifted your chin with his thumb so you could look at him. He can see the coming tears from your eyes So he presses a kiss between your eyebrows.

“Do you really have to go?”. The words escaped your trembling lips. You cannot afford another loss and it's not any loss A piece of you. “I'm afraid I do, my love it's my duty to protect my kingdoms...to protect you”.

He tucked your silver locks behind your ears and looked at your eyes sweetly. He may be a king but your tears make him the weakest thing you could ever imagine. He hugged you to his chest again and his arms caress your shoulders and your bare back.

“I want to go with you”. You break the hug and look at him. He cups your cheeks and sighs “No, you will stay here I won't let my queen go the battle”.

“Aegon-” He interrupts you and places his thumb on your lips “No objections You're not going anywhere”. He looked at you in the eye and spoke softly. He was serious, he didn't want to put his wife in danger.

You pulled away from him and turned to give him your back. He sighed at your stubbornness and spoke in a sweet, low tone “Is this how you will say goodbye to me?”.

“This is not a farewell. You will return to me against your will ”. You gently wipe away your tears with the palm of your hand. he chuckled and talked to tease you “I can't promise I'll come back alive”.

You turn around again, with a frown on your face. he chuckles when he sees your face. “This is not funny aegon! ”

He wipes away the tears of laughter and approaches you again. You try to move away again but he grabs your wrist and pulls you to him.He presses his lips to yours forcefully His kisses were desperate and intense. He placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed you hard.

He bit your lower lip until you opened your mouth slightly so he could insert his tongue inside. you gladly opened your mouth slightly and your tongue joined his with an elaborate dance. When he pulled away from you, you were both panting heavily.

He rested his forehead on yours and closed his eyes. You closed your eyes and sighed then you spoke in a low tone “Come back safe”. you whispered in his hear. He smiled at you and replied, “I will.” He holds you tightly and whispers into you ear, “Be strong, love, I'll be home before you know it...”He kisses your shoulder softly.

“Come back to me one piece, please”. you whispered to him.

“I promise, I'll be back..” He caresses your cheek, “You must be brave and look after yourself and our son”. He whispers to you and hugs you again, but this time his lips travel to your exposed neck and kiss you there. Your body shivers under his touch.

He sighs softly as he feels her soft skin beneath his palms “So soft..” He continues to kiss your neck, as his hands working to undress you slowly.He whispers to you and nibbles your ear “If you think you're going to seduce me like this without me doing anything to you, you're wrong my love”.

“I wasn’t planning to seduce you.” You reply with a low tone.

“Excuses...excuses ”. He lets your dress fall so he can kiss your breasts and suck your nipples. Your breasts were still producing milk because you were pregnant from little while before your tragic miscarriage.

He was still in his armor and combat uniform, but you never complained about the feel of the rough steel on your bare skin. He rose from your chest, then got up and rubbed his thumbs over your breasts.

He looked at you in the eye and smiled “Lay on the bed for me my sweet queen”. You felt a tingle of emotions hit your stomach. You did as you were told he smiled at you and knelt at the edge of the bed, spreading your legs he placed a bunch of kisses on your thighs and his tongue started messing with you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair and held your husband's face in place. He was caressing your pearl and he will nor stop until you told him to stop Maybe this was his way of saying goodbye.

♡ – 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @darylandbethfanforever9 @hisfavegiri @callsignwidow @xitsemm @saltytidalwavetyphoon @khaleesihel @credulouskhaleesi @lovelykhaleesiii

336 notes · View notes

calisources · 2 months

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑? 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒.

All these quotes are taken from different media and some made from scratch about the royal succession line and the troubles it brought during a medieval/fantasy period. Change pronouns, names, titles and locations as you see fit.

You poison a king so that they may take his place.

Have no fear, Stark. I was only keeping it warm for our friend Robert. It's not a very comfortable seat, I'm afraid.

I swear to you, sitting a throne is a thousand times harder than winning one.

Seat Stannis on the Iron Throne and I promise you, the realm will bleed.

I will claim the Iron Throne by myself, with your swords and your allegiance.

If Daenerys is no more than a sweet young girl, the Iron Throne will cut her into sweet young pieces.

Princess Catherine. Your loss has endeared you to the people. They share your grief.

You've had your courses for days, but you do not tell anyone. I don't understand.

God would have me wed Prince Harry.

But you are his brother's widow. It is impossible. It is forbidden.

I am every inch the soldier... And commander.

In England, widows don't handle swords, much less a widow carrying a prince in her womb.

And I'll wager that you were praying for a boy.

My mother is already planning my next marriage, though in God's eyes it will be my first marriage.

If you are still a maid, then, Catherine, I can be your husband.

I will raise you up, you... you and all of England. You will be my princess and... and my queen.

Ten years since the king has been on the throne and there is no heir apparent. Only his brother, gods forbid.

Daughters don’t inherit, sons do.

You have a son but you must have a spare too. Gods know what would happen if the boy dies.

The line of succession is clear on these matters. Girls are the last resource.

I am a woman, whoever I marry must be clear on his duty. He is not the crown, I am.

His Majesty has no male heir and will have none but he, Buckingham will succeed to the throne.

By assassinating His Majesty.

Right of Conquest is still a rightful way to gain a throne. Has anyone banned it as a law?

Will you like it when an old man tries to make love to you?

God forbid that the king should abandon her just to ease his own conscience. I don't think the English people would ever forgive him.

She is threatening the peace in this realm by playing the king with empty promises. No one can predict a son.

Perhaps the succession must change, this dynasty is large and will survive.

Your Majesty, I beg that you yield to the King's will.

To your wife, the mother of your child. You treat me so unkindly and in public neglect me.

You think he might invade England in support of the queen?

You underestimate the support he/she has with the smallfolk and highborn alike. They would go to war if you dismiss them.

Perhaps, one day this little girl will preside over empires.

Now I am indeed Queen.

Perhaps Elizabeth isn't even mine!

Perhaps there should be reasons to annul the marriage and make the king consider marry another. He is still young.

Nothing like a young bride to make a man forget his troubles.

He will have his heir or else he will have my head.

Tell Sir Francis to double the guards around the Princess Mary and defend her with their life- for if the King dies, some will be for the boy, others for her.

There shall be a proclamation soon, the king shall announce his heir and the realm will rest.

A lifetime of building an empire can fall in a day because of the wrong successor to the empire.

It is not by blood, anyhow, that man's true continuity is established.

He became their king by right of blood; he's held the position by beating the crap out of anyone who tries to take it away.

When the crown is weak and struggles, anyone can come and sweep it away. And in this world, it is allowed.

This small council tried to work out what that meant for the line of succession.

If she were to wed him, her claim to the throne will increase, as her popularity.

While the king entertains the highborns, the prince/princess makes friends with the people they rule. The decision is easy.

Whoever he marries is as important as how many heirs he can produce.

Sons are good for the realm, Daughters are good for alliances.

My father chose me, his firstborn child, to succeed him. He held to his decision until death.

They stole my crown and murdered my daughter, and they shall answer for it.

I would rather feed my sons to the dragons, than have them carry spears and cups for your drunken, usurper cunt of a king.

I understand why you're angry. And you are my sister and technically have a claim to the throne. And believe me, I would love for someone else to rule. But it can't be you.

Father would hate to see you sit in his seat, when it was never you he chose.

The pretty decent king split the crown between his heirs.

Proclamations are good, but this should have been in written, send to every corner of the world. Now we have war.

When the king needed to be replaced, one of the royal family would be elected to be the new king.

Succession is never peaceful. The King new this and the reason he called a council for his new heir to be chosen.

The line must always continue.

That little bit of dragon blood in him allowed Robert Baratheon to sit on the throne and continue.

Our son is a wastrel and a halfwit. We shudder to think of the throne in his hands.

My greatest hope is that you will surpass me in every way, consigning my name to some forgotten corner of history.

What's most important is what he isn't like—his father. I think you'll find him to be a reasonable man.

The King is easily controlled by those in his council. All too happy to give some of the power away to another.

A king is a martyr to their ideals.

If the world of men is to survive, a Targaryen must be seated on the Iron Throne.

Women can rule as wise as men, perhaps even more.

Men would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne.

Have you never imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?

We have royal wombs, you and I. The child bed is our battlefield.

Ten years you’ve been king, and yet not once have you asked me to be your Hand.

The princess remains your best bet to step closer to the throne. Seduce her, marry her.

In the end, history will remember little, as history is written by the winners.

You have not one son now but two, Your Grace. Perhaps some changes to the successions are to be made.

I know why you are here. Men want my crown as much as they want the pleasure of a woman.

I need to give the realm an heir and plenty of spares.

What use is to gain a throne if you are already in crisis by having no heir by blood?

I can give you what she never gave you. Another son.

Are the rumors true, then? There is a child in your belly?

All of my father’s work will crumble if I leave it all to a weak sickly child.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #medieval meme #tournament meme #tourney meme

106 notes · View notes

epinebleue · 9 months

Text

for the rest of our lives | jung jaehyun

not every little girl dreams of being Queen one day.

pairing: prince!jung jaehyun x princess!reader (female)

genre: royalty!au, angst, fluff (but you’ll miss it if you blink).

warnings: heavy depiction of anxiety.

author’s note: for the rest of our lives was one of the fics that marked my beginning as a tumblr writer, so starting this new but familiar journey with it feels just right.

listen to: hush by everglow (you’ll see that i’ve introduced quotes (in pink) from the song in the story).

The red roses are growing.

Spring has arrived earlier this year. The garden is splashed with pink, peach, and orange flowers that can be observed from the terrace of your room. The air is chilly, but not cruel like that of winter. It’s refreshing, it smells like a new start. Maybe that’s the reason why your mother insisted on celebrating the wedding in April.

Standing on the terrace, you follow your father’s figure. He’s walking down the pebble path; his crown, made of gold and rubies, shines under the sun. Even from the heights, you catch the smile hidden under his big, black beard. His eyes shine even more than his crown. He’s happy, how couldn’t he? His daughter, his only child, is finally getting married. One step closer to becoming Queen.

Behind him, your mother talks to one of the maids, pointing a graceful finger towards the garden. Two men carry a table, placing it exactly where your mum has asked. She nods, ordering them to go grab the chairs. Jae, your husband-to-be, wanted an outdoor banquet, and it's hard to tell him when he gives you that charming smile.

Your heart starts to pound faster in your ribcage. Husband-to-be. That’s a serious title. You press your palm against your chest, feeling the silky texture of your nightgown under it. You close your eyes and take a big breath in. Your life doesn’t feel yours anymore, yet, somehow, you’re living it. It’s like a dream you aren’t able to wake up from.

A light knock on your door startles you, but every worry that clouds your mind disappears the moment you hear your favorite voice coming from outside.

“It’s open, you can come in.”

Jaehyun is holding a bouquet as if it were his newborn child. It consists of roses, tulips, and baby's breath: a mix of your favorite flowers. You accept it, even if you think you don’t deserve it. You force yourself to look into his eyes, ever so soft. They make you feel better. Jaehyun always makes you feel better.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Your tone is playful and so is his smile. “Isn’t it too early for flowers?”

“Any time is good to give my future wife flowers.” He leans forward to steal a kiss from you. You don’t fight it. “I’m going back home in a few minutes; I’ve got to pick up my grandma for tonight’s dinner.”

“So, you’re abandoning me.”

He doesn’t laugh, because you’re not joking. He has a younger brother who could bring Queen Haneul, but Jaehyun is the favorite grandchild, the one who will become King. You understand, in a way, but you wish he had said no for once. He knows how much you hate organizing big events.

“Don’t be like that.”

All in all, he knows you can’t stay angry at him, so his smile doesn’t disappear. Even his eyes are smiling, forming half-moons. Forget your father’s crown, Jaehyun’s smile is the shiniest thing you’ve seen today. “I'll be here in no time. You won’t even notice my absence.”

“I take that as a promise.”

You tiptoe to kiss him again. It’s not a little peck this time, but a proper kiss. Your lips capture his and you get lost in his arms, which hold your waist. Now, this is a dream you'd like to live in. You wish you could turn it into liquid and pour it into a bottle to take a sip whenever you need to. Here, in Jaehyun’s embrace, you feel safe, you feel happy, you feel free. Or, at least, the illusion of all of it.

Someone clears their throat, making you break apart with a jump. Jaehyun turns around with a straight back to find your maid. She looks down, avoiding eye contact and trying to hide her rosy cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You turn to Jaehyun. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

Jaehyun says his goodbyes, pressing his lips to avoid a laugh coming out, and the maid bows to him when he passes by.

“I’m sorry, princess, really sorry.” She repeats, getting in the room.

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Lami. We should’ve closed the door.”

Lami is still young, a bit inexperienced, and clumsy. But she’s also genuine and funny. It reminds you of when you were a child.

Lami makes your bed while you have breakfast, then walks to your closet to choose a dress for you.

“Would you like to wear yellow today, princess?”

You like yellow, so you agree. Leaving the flowers carefully on the couch, you get up and hop into the bathroom to brush your teeth and have a shower. The yellow dress makes you feel fresh, just like the flowers Jaehyun has gifted you. You sit in front of the dresser, noticing that a sleepless night has taken its toll: the bags under your eyes are huge.

You grab your hairbrush from the drawer. It's a gift from your late grandfather, who bought it during one of his trips. It’s made of gold and your initials are engraved on it. It’s so old that it’s all scratched, and several sows have fallen.

“Are you excited?” Lami asks, watching you brush your hair. It’s your favorite moment of the day. The sows against your scalp relax you, and God knows you need it today. “I can’t believe the wedding's tomorrow.”

Something inside you screams, but you remain silent. The moment has finally come.

You're getting married tomorrow.

Everything ends tomorrow.

“Should we move this table a bit to the left?” Your mother asks, authority disguised as a friendly request. The servants nod and move the table under your mother’s hawk gaze. “There, perfect. What do you think, sweetheart?”

“I think it looks perfect, mother. Everything’s perfect.”

You walk behind the Queen with arms crossed, pretending you care greatly about the position of the tables and the color of the tablecloths when, in fact, you couldn’t care less. You wish Jaehyun was here. Everything’s easier when he's by your side.

“I can’t believe it.” Your mother claps. “It feels like yesterday when you met Jae for the first time, doesn't it?”

The fond memory makes you smile. “I never imagined that I'd marry the boy who spilled his lemonade all over my dress, then tried to make the stain go away with water.”

“Isn’t it crazy?”

You can’t stand the proud look that your mother gives you. The fact that you'd be Queen one day was never a secret. A big grin appeared on your face anytime your parents brought up the subject, a grin that hid your true emotions. It was your destiny, and you had learned to accept the life that came with it.

A life trapped inside an iridescent crystal cage, always able to look out but never allowed to leave.

Jaehyun always keeps his promises.

He shows up earlier than you thought, so he’s the one in charge of welcoming the guests as you get ready.

Jaehyun’s at the bottom of the stairs as you go down. He doesn’t notice you at first, looking away and bouncing his leg. When his eyes finally find you, the face he puts is priceless. The dress you’re wearing tonight is pale pink, a gift from Jae. You love how it fits you, but you love how Jaehyun looks at you when you wear it more: as if you were the most precious thing in his life, if not the only; as if he would fight wars for you.

“You look beautiful tonight.” He mutters once you're by his side.

“Just tonight?”

Two guards stand in front of the door that leads to the garden, where everything’s ready for your grand entrance.

Jaehyun offers you his arm, and you don’t hesitate to grab it. You’re so nervous that you think your legs will fail and you’ll fall in front of everyone. As if he read your mind, he whispers so that only you can hear him.

“I’ve got you.”

You know he does.

Jaehyun nods at the guards and they open the doors, the clapping of the guests deafening. Both of you wave your hands at them as you make your way towards the main table, where Jaehyun moves the chair for you to sit, and then occupies the seat beside you.

The dinner goes smoothly. Jaehyun kisses your hand at every opportunity, but you don’t complain. It makes your heart flutter, it makes you forget.

Your father stands up before dessert comes, softly hitting a glass to announce he’s about to talk. He tells a joke that makes everyone laugh before giving a speech that makes your mother cry. You blow him a kiss from your seat, mouthing that you love him. He tells you that he loves you, too. You wonder, would he still love you if you ran away?

Jaehyun rises to his feet with a hand extended in your direction, which you accept. He leads you to the center of the garden, standing in front of you. There's a bow with his hand on his chest that makes you giggle, then you're placing your hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder, looking into his eyes. He grabs your waist, and the orchestra starts to play. The pair of you move around swiftly as if your movements were natural and not the result of months of training with the world's best dancer.

“Tomorrow by this time we'll be married.”

Your jaw clenches, and your heart stops for a second.

“I know.” You manage to answer. “It doesn't feel real.”

“I can’t wait,” Jaehyun whispers. “I can’t wait to make you my wife and form a family. I’ll tell our kids magical stories, stories in which fairies will save princesses and monsters will become good things.”

Only Jaehyun would make you feel like you deserve something as precious as a family with him. Does wanting to run away make you a bad person? Of course, it does. The only thing you love from this life is him, but it’s not like you can choose. It’s all or nothing, it has always been. Tears that you think he mistakes for those of happiness slide down your cheeks, ruining your makeup.

“You’re like the twinkle star I imagined every day since I was five." You press your face against his chest. He allows your tears to wet his shirt. “I love you, Jaehyun. I love you more than I love myself. You believe me, right?”

“Of course I do. And I love you, too. I'll always love you, even when I'm grey and wrinkly.” He kisses the top of your head, then hides his face away to whisper in your ear. “No matter what you decide. I promise.”

Jaehyun always keeps his promises.

Your aunt tries to console your weeping mother only to fail miserably because she can’t stop laughing at her crying face. They start bickering, and you’re grateful for not being the main focus.

You’re standing on top of a big, white stool. Fluttering around you, the maids make sure that everything’s seamless, that nothing’s out of place. The wedding dress is the perfect size, yet you feel trapped in it. You inhale, then exhale. Once, twice, three times, but it doesn’t work. The pressure against your chest doesn’t disappear.

There’s a mirror in front of you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at your reflection. You wouldn’t recognize the person there.

“Princess?” Lami calls. She seems to be the only one in the room who sees you, who really sees you. “Are you okay?”

You nod, forcing a smile. “I’m just nervous.”

Someone comes in to inform that all the guests are in the church and that the prince has arrived, too.

It’s time.

Lami helps you get off the stool. You hold onto her hands as if they were a lifebuoy in the middle of the sea, and you, a shipwreck. Every step you take out of the house and towards the carriage is heavy and hesitant. You get in, glancing at Lami through the window. You press the palm of your hand against the glass, eyes slowly filling up with tears.

This is a goodbye, but not to Lami. Not to any other than yourself.

The young maid presses her hand right where yours is and nods.

“It’ll be okay.”

That’s the last thing you hear before the carriage starts moving.

The way to the church feels endless. The weight in your chest grows and grows, until you think you’ll stop breathing.

You know you shouldn’t feel this way. You’re marrying the love of your life. That should be enough to ease you, shouldn’t it? The woods advance as the carriage moves. You fantasize about the idea of jumping out of the vehicle and diving into the forest, getting lost in its depths, forever.

Your dad, dressed in uniform, helps you get out of the car when you arrive. A red carpet covers the way from the carriage to the church’s entrance. You stand at the beginning of it, holding onto your father’s arm with one hand, your white bouquet on the other.

“You look beautiful.” He says, teary-eyed. “I’m proud of you.”

The doors open all of a sudden. The wedding march starts to play, so you walk. Better said, your father drags you because there’s no way you feel in control of your body anymore.

The pews are full of family, friends, and strangers with their eyes fixed on you. Yours can only focus on Jaehyun. He’s wearing his uniform as well, and that smile you love so much. But there’s something wrong. Something in his face looks off. You reach the aisle, where your father hugs you and kisses your forehead. He’s crying. You rarely see your father cry.

You stand next to Jaehyun. The priest talks but you don’t hear a thing. You can’t do this. You thought you could, but you can’t. Jaehyun holds your hand; the murmurs are instant. What a lovely bride, she’s so nervous. What a lovely groom, look how he’s comforting her.

The memorized vows come out of your mouth easily. You glance at Jaehyun’s shaky hands before looking into his eyes, overflowing with fear. He isn’t scared of forgetting his vows, he’s scared of losing you.

“Do you, Jaehyun, take this woman to be your wedded wife?”

Jaehyun responds right away. “I do.”

“Do you, Y/N, take this man to be your wedded husband?”

The question feels like a death sentence.

You love him, you love him so much that it breaks your heart. You want to beg him to run away with you, but he'd never do that. It would mean leaving his kingdom behind, and he loves his kingdom as much as he loves you. Forcing him to choose would be a selfish move.

But again, condemning yourself to a life that won’t make you happy would also be selfish. Leaving Jaehyun will break your heart, but you're not sure if you can die from a broken heart. Being Queen, however, will certainly kill you.

This isn’t the life you want. You’ve always known. Jaehyun has always known.

Adults want a quick answer, their voices wondering why you’re taking so much time to answer. You try to ignore them, but they’ve already made their way through your brain. You’ve already made up your mind, though, their words can’t change your mind.

“I love you, Jae.” You grab his hands with tears in your eyes and kiss them. “Please, please, forgive me.”

You turn around and run away. People get up, gasps ricocheting against the walls of this sacred place. There’s a scream that comes from your father's throat, and you swear he’s chasing you. Jaehyun begs him to stop.

You look back once you reach the door, hesitating. Is this a good idea? A teary-eyed Jaehyun nods, handing you your confidence back. You open the door and make your way towards the woods.

The dress hooks on the branches that you have to fight against to make your way through the forest, they scratch your skin. Taking off your heels and throwing them aside, you continue your race.

You arrive at a clearing, deciding that it’s time to stop now.

You let your hair loose and check your exposed skin, now red and bloody.

If you are free then why are you crying? Running away is what you wanted, right? But at what price? Losing your family, losing Jaehyun, losing everything you have ever had.

The clearing is covered in soft grass and sunlight. Birds chirp in the distance. There’s calm surrounding you but in the ocean that is your soul, you're fighting turmoil. Maybe you should’ve stayed to know how things would've worked out. Maybe Jaehyun would’ve been your rock through it all like he has been all these years.

You can’t help but wonder.

Now, with a small collection of wounds, is it too late to turn back?

No reposting or translations allowed.

#nct #nct fic #nct jaehyun #jaehyun fic #jaehyun angst #nct angst #jaehyun fluff #nct fluff #jaehyun imagine #nct jaehyun fic

166 notes · View notes

bison-appreciation-club · 11 months

Text

So I am aware that I am the only person making Edward II content as far as I can see, bUT if you are writing/drawing my guy then here is some advice from a MASSIVE Edward II nerd:

let's discuss Edward's appearance in excessive detail (yay)

Ok so. The basics: he had blond curly hair that reached his shoulders, parted in the middle in the style of the time. And a beard. Or at least he does in his effigy, in which we can imagine he is 43, his age at the time of death.

I mean. Let's take a moment to appreciate his hair. It is A Look that I want to emulate with all my heart ands soul. Just me? Fine.

In earlier depictions of him he is clean shaven. For example, this drawing of him when he was accepting the title of Prince of Wales from his father

look at my little guy (literally little, because the picture turned out tiddly and I don't know why). Lmao. Anyway, here are some more pictures of Edward II.

I sometimes see people say that this is a young Edward III, but as this was produced in 1326 I doubt it. I rarely see drawings of royalty before they become active in politics, which Edward III at the tender age of 14 had not yet become. So it's more likely that this is just a very youthful looking Edward II.

Again, this is probably Edward II. It's not specified, but it was produced during his reign so we can safely assume it's the man himself.

ok, so those are some drawings of him, what next?

unfortunately we don't know what his eye colour or complexion was. I'd imagine his eyes were probably blue or grey as it's quite rare to have blond hair and dark eyes. Also (and yes, I am looking too deeply into this, but shush), both his parents had dark hair, so for him to have lighter coloured hair would suggest a lack of pigmentation in hair and eyes, which would also lead to poor eyesight. (I can confirm this because I have the same problem. Both my parents have dark brown hair and dark eyes but I am blond and blue eyed as the pigmentation in my hair and eyes didn't develop as quickly as normal - it's common for white people to be blond when born and then for their hair to darken, but with me this is happening much more slowly than it did for my parents. As a result my eyesight is so bad that I can't buy glasses frames thick enough to contain the lenses lmao.)

here are what some of Edward's contemporaries had to say about him (quotes taken from Kathryn Warner's excellent blog)

"tall and strong, a fine figure of a handsome man"

"fair of body and great of strength"

"of a well-formed and a handsome person"

"one of the strongest men of his realm"

(To be honest the fact that he was super hot seems to be his only redeeming feature in the eyes of the monks.)

Edward enjoyed 'unkingly' activities such as digging ditches, thatching roofs and doing blacksmith work, so we can imagine that he was really strong (the quotes back this up). His father, Edward I, was six foot two so Edward II would have been pretty tall too.

So, in conclusion, if you're writing/drawing Edward II give him awesome hair. Give him dirt under his fingernails. Give him muscles. For the love of God don't turn him into the Braveheart version.

(also, when I look up references to the muscular structure most of the drawings that come up look like they're on steroids. don't put Edward on steroids. The strongest men in the world don't have ridiculously defined muscles. They just look 'bulky' or 'barrel chested'. So yeah :).)

Hope this helps!!! If not, at least this has been an excuse to ramble about Edward II.

#dee rambles #edward ii #rambles #anyway yeah #history #royalty #british history #kings and queens #long post

337 notes · View notes

ansheofthevalley · 5 months

Note

Cersei and Dany have more parallels than Cersei and Sansa yet Sansa always gets compared to Cersei whilst Dany gets to stand on her own :/

(Sorry for taking ages to answer this.)

The way I see it, GRRM actually wants us to see and compare the three. To see them, in a way, as a triad:

It's no secret that George loves to use the rule of three (I talk about it a little bit here.) The way I see it when it comes to Cersei/Dæny/Sansa is to compare their ruling styles, especially since they're the strongest candidates to wield power by the end of the series (I'm talking exclusively about book canon, but we can take show canon into consideration since they are the last three big female characters wielding power by the final season.)

At first, Cersei and Dæny are foils, in a way. Cersei calls herself Queen (which she is, first Queen Regent/Dowager Queen, by being Robert's wife, then Queen Mother by being Joffrey and Tommen's mother). Dæny, however, in the beginning, rejects the title of Queen, saying that she's a Khaleesi. As the series progresses (specifically since she's -at least to her knowledge- the last Targaryen), she uses both titles: rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Khaleesi. So, this would be where the contrast stops working when it comes to these two ladies: they both call themselves Queen, but most importantly, they seek that title because they're motivated by power and the desire to have the Iron Throne. Sure, their motivations are not exactly the same, but they can be boiled down to one word: survival.

(I've spoken about characters motivated by power in the quest for the Iron Throne and what the narrative does to them in show canon, but I can't find the posts, so I'm sorry.)

Now, what part does Sansa play in all of this? Well, we're told in the first book that she's meant to be Queen. After all, she was promised to the prince of the Seven Kingdoms. And she wants to be Queen... until Joffrey orders the execution of Ned. Then, we notice a change in Sansa: she's not interested in the games of intrigue, in the subterfuge. It can all be encapsulated in this quote: "If I am ever Queen, I'll make them love me."

Cersei thinks the best way to rule is to make the people fear you more than they could ever fear the enemy. And that's precisely what she does during her time in power. So, she rules by fear.

Dæny is benevolent to those suffering injustice. But she's also severe regarding those she disagrees with or thinks have interests that go against hers. She is not forgiving. In my eyes, she also has a fatal flaw - she's not interested in the day-to-day tasks that come with being a ruler, as shown in her stint in Meereen. She also relies on her dragons and the Targaryen legacy to instill fear in those who don't want to submit to her. She rules by good faith when it comes to the marginalized and outpowering the powerful with her dragons and armies. So, she rules by power and, to some extent, fear.

Sansa is benevolent with people. She knows what is expected of her as a Lady while in King's Landing. In the Eyrie, she learns to run a household and the day-to-day tasks that come with running a Great Keep like the Eyrie. But that's not all she learns throughout the series. She understands the importance of politics and how to exercise that power. She also understands people's importance; let them be Lords, Ladies, Common Folk, or bastards. She sees their value regarding of station. Also, since the end of the first book, she doesn't get fooled by the nobility; she's more distrustful of their true intentions, and that distrust makes her read each person she encounters more carefully, which, in time, will make her a keen politician (all in all, and this is what sets her apart from Cersei and Dæny, she's not actively seeking to rule. And, when it comes to the rule of three, the last link is the one that differs from the other two and, for that reason, is the successful one.) Sansa is compassionate with those deserving of compassion and sometimes with those who are not, but she's never cruel like Dæny can be or vengeful like Cersei is. This is not to say that she bends to the will of others because she doesn't. She stopped doing it back in King's Landing, starting with small acts of defiance. In the Eyrie, she's on a journey to finding her voice. So, she rules by compassion and observation.

Now, how does the rule of three apply in this instance? Let's first define what the "rule of three" is:

The rule of threes is a writing principle that suggests that three elements, such as events or characters, are more humorous, satisfying, and effective than other numbers. Audiences of texts in this format are also more likely to retain the information conveyed to them. This is because having three entities minimizes the amount of information needed to create the pattern, combining both brevity and rhythm.

By giving us different styles of ruling/approaches to power in threes, GRRM is making sure those ways stick with the readers. He's making it known that the approaches to power and ruling are important for the endgame: this factor will contribute to who ends up in power at the end of the story.

One could argue that the use of the rule of three in comparing Cersei, Dæny, and Sansa is rhetoric: he's comparing three different ruling styles, and we, as the readers, can decide who might be better suited for the title of Queen based on the rhetoric the characters present. (I speak about the difference between Dæny and Sansa - and Jon - as figures of authority here and here. Keep in mind that those metas explore the dynamics of the characters in the show.)

Cersei doesn't give a shit about anyone but herself and her family. She rules with an iron fist and doesn't hesitate to annihilate anyone threatening her power. She rules alone.

Dæny cares about people and uses her power (her dragons) to achieve some of her more altruistic goals, but at the end of the day, those goals are not entirely altruistic since they also serve her. She also uses that power to intimidate and cause fear. To top it all off, she relies heavily on the power that her dragons represent, even though she tries to use politics as a more subtle way to solve problems, but she realizes that if she wants to change the world as she wishes, she needs brute force. She needs her dragons. She uses both power and fear in any situation, whether it is good or bad. She, too, rules alone, even though she has people giving her counsel. (Though that can be explained with Targaryen exceptionalism, in a way. But that's a whole other thing, and this has gotten too long already)

Sansa, on the other hand, is more surgical in her approach. She sees the value in relationships and working together. She sees the value of people and the importance of day-to-day tasks. She relies on her powers of observation and what she's learned in court to solve problems. She rules by understanding: by understanding that she has to work together with people in areas she's lacking and by understanding the potential of each person around her. She rules by working together with those around her.

In conclusion, Cersei and Sansa have always been foils to each other, and that's been set from the get-go. You could say the same about Cersei and Dæny, too. But, as the series progresses, the lines dividing Cersei's style of ruling from Dæny's start to blur, leaving this triad somewhat like this:

#my asks #my thoughts #my meta #cersei lannister #anti daenerys #(i'm still afraid to use the dany tag sorry)#sansa stark #it's been 84 years since i wrote something resembling meta #so i hope this is coherent at least #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #got #got meta

86 notes · View notes

bi-bard · 1 year

Text

Stay till the End... And After, and Always - Kaz Brekker Imagine [Shadow & Bone]

Title: Stay till the End... And After, and Always

Pairing: Kaz Brekker X Sun Summoner!Reader

Word Count: 5,624 words

Warning(s): Mention of Past Trauma [Kaz is damaged as fuck], hallucinations, drugging, canon-typical violence, mention of death

Summary: While on a mission to find and steal the blade sharp enough to kill shadow, Kaz is forced to confront a very real future that may await him.

Author's Note: I warned y'all that I jump around a lot.

Also, the quote as a title thing hasn't screwed me over yet!

**Written in third person**

MORE OF THIS OC HERE!

----------------------

Kaz traced the signature on the letter carefully.

Slowly.

As if the writing alone could bring (Y/n) home to him.

He wondered if it had been their idea to sign the paper or if the royal family had swayed them into it. Not that the origin of the signature matter. What mattered was that it was there at all. That (Y/n) was asking for the Crows to help.

Kaz hadn't heard from them since they separated. He returned to Ketterdam while (Y/n) became committed to the idea of tearing the Fold down. Saving the world.

He could still hear the thoughts nagging at him.

The collection of unspoken words that traced the edge of his tongue, desperate to be spoken to (Y/n) before the two said what could have been their final goodbye. It was a shame that his fear seemed to have such a strong reign over them.

He looked at the visitors in front of him. He could have asked them a million questions. But he didn't. He merely told Nina to have them find a table and that he would be right back.

He knocked on Jesper's door, paying no mind to whatever Jesper yelled from the other side before telling the pair inside to get downstairs. For Ravka's sake.

Now, the Crows sat opposite two of the people working with their missing member. Zoya and Tolya.

Nina stole the note from Kaz's hand, reading it over. She scoffed.

"The Neshyenyer?" she asked. "Sankta Neyar's blade?"

"You haven't forgotten what you were taught at the Little Palace," Zoya replied, enough attitude dripping from each word to flood the building. "Just your loyalty to Ravka."

"Ravka or Kirigan?"

Zoya tensed at the mention of the general's name.

"Didn't take him destroying a city or kidnapping the sun summoner from their home for me to question my loyalty."

Zoya rolled her eyes. Nina smirked a little bit wider, quietly thanking the Saints that she had asked Jesper and Inej about (Y/n).

"So, now that we all know that you two have history," Jesper said, trying to ease some of the painfully obvious tension. "Is there a payment for this job?"

"Name your price," Tolya replied. "If it matters to you."

"Lantsov crest," Nina noted. "Hideous."

"The job comes from the sun summoner."

Jesper immediately seemed more than interested in the mission. The mention of the friend that he longed to see was enough for him to be ready to jump on board. Nina looked at the bottom of the letter. There it was. The name of the sun summoner, clear as day.

"The job is to retrieve and deliver the Neshyenyer to (Y/n) (Y/l/n) in East Ravka."

"Why now," Jesper asked.

"The Darkling has returned," Zoya said. "At his side is an army of shadow monsters. Indestructible."

"I don't like the sound of that," Jesper muttered.

"The blade is the only thing that has a chance at killing them."

"Retrieve the blade and Prince Lantsov is ready to pay you whatever you ask," Tolya offered.

Kaz would have done the job for nothing.

He would never admit that, but he was willing to do anything for the chance to have (Y/n) back by his side. After the events of the last few days, he needed something to ground him and felt like (Y/n) was the only person who could truly do that for him. He knew that the first step was to stop the Darkling.

But again, he could never admit that. To anyone.

"I like the sound of that," Jesper replied to Tolya.

Zoya's eyes turned to Kaz. "I assume the same goes for you."

"I'd welcome the chance to help your prince spend his country's money," Kaz said.

Zoya knew immediately that Kaz was that person (Y/n) was so determined to get home to. Yes, the Sun Summoner had mentioned getting back to their family. The small group that protected them. But Zoya could easily see that one of them was far more important than the others. She could hear it in how (Y/n) spoke.

"I don't need kruge," Nina spoke up. "I need to get someone out of Hellgate. The Lantsov must have some strings that they can pull with the Kerch government."

"For a certain Fjerdan?" Zoya tilted her head. "He must be quite the slab of fur."

"The offer is the offer," Tolya steered the conversation away from the two. "Prince Nikolai is a man of his word."

"But we need to go now," Zoya added.

There was merely a short pause before Kaz spoke up. "It's settled. We're in."

"And your Wraith," Zoya asked. "I was expecting to see her."

"She's gone."

"Not yet," Jesper spoke up. "She's-"

"Not an option."

The tone was blunt. Annoyed.

He knew very well that if he showed up with the blade but without Inej, then (Y/n) would only have questions for him. Fears of the worst, anger for his choices. But Kaz had a tight ship to run. He needed to have some kind of order or else all of his planning and cleverness would be for nothing.

The group set plans to leave soon after their very brief meeting. Just enough time to gather what was necessary and sort out who would keep Kaz's new properties from falling into hands even more rotten than his.

Jesper dragged Nina along to see Inej.

She was angry at Kaz's choice. She knew he was upset with her, but she wanted to believe that he would eventually give her some grace. Especially when the job was something that would clearly be important to her.

She scoffed. "'Not an option.'"

"I know," Jesper said. "No idea where he could have gotten that idea from."

"And when I'm done, she'll never be an option again," Nina commented, carefully moving her thumb over Inej's wrist, leaving it looking as if no mark had ever been there.

"Why wouldn't he tell me about a job for (Y/n)," Inej asked.

"I don't think it had anything to do with (Y/n)," Jesper replied. "It's about his control."

Inej scoffed again, clearly getting angrier with Kaz the more she found out about.

"He knows that (Y/n) would be pissed with them if they found out about this," he continued. "I'm guessing that threat will be enough to convince him to think logically about this."

"Saints know that he does enough to push them away without the help of their anger," Nina said, grabbing both of their attention. "He feels so much for them but would rather die than say a thing about it."

Jesper scoffed at the bluntness.

"Was I meant to not say anything about it?" Nina raised an eyebrow. "I spent ages watching him trace their signature like a love-stricken teenager."

"I'm glad that you did," Jesper shrugged. "It was getting painful to watch."

His attention turned to Inej.

"Listen. I don't know what happened between the two of you, but I know that you deserve to know why we're doing this. For your Saint. For (Y/n)."

There was a pause before Inej spoke up, "(Y/n) hates being called a Saint."

"And yet they've grown into the role quite naturally."

She let a small, amused grin cross her face.

"I have to go," Nina said after a pause.

She stood up and started to walk out of the small room, grinning and nodding to Inej as she did.

She met Zoya, Tolya, and the other Crows. They were discussing what their next steps were going to be now that Kaz had gotten information from someone.

The Neshyenyer was said to be in Ahmrat Jen.

It took little time for Kaz to know that the blade was a fake.

"We already knew that," Zoya rolled her eyes. "Have anything new to tell us?"

"According to my contacts, it's been stolen by a thief known as The Disciple," Kaz explained. "He had a penchant for stealing Saint-related relics while on jobs."

"A thief and a collector," Wylan asked.

"And retired. But he has put a few pieces of his collection on the black market."

"So, to get to him, we go to his fence," Tolya replied.

"Ohval Saran. She has a tea shop in Bhez Ju. To speak with her, we have to order yellow chrysanthemum tea, off-menu."

While this conversation was taking place, Jesper was with Inej. They talked about a lot. About (Y/n) and Kaz and the job... about the hat that Jesper had found in Inej's place.

Eventually, she agreed to go with them. Kaz's anger and spite be damned. This was about something greater than him. Greater than all of them.

Kaz walked over as soon as he spotted them walking down the steps.

"I see you couldn't help yourself, Jes," he commented, saying the nickname as if it left a sour taste on his tongue.

Jesper merely walked around Kaz, not sparing another glance.

Kaz turned to Inej. "This is what you choose to do with your freedom?"

"I can't think of a way that I would rather spend it," she replied. "(Y/n) needs us. I am going to be there when they tear down the Fold. I promised to be there when they needed me. I won't break that promise because of your foolish anger."

They gathered their passports together and grabbed their supplies.

It didn't take long for Kaz and Nina to find themselves in the small teashop, waiting for the arrival of Ohval Saran.

"How do you think it tastes," Nina asked, staring at the teapot in front of them.

"Like tea," Kaz replied.

She scoffed at him. "Yes, but... is it floral? Bitter? Mildly sweet with notes of buttery-"

"Warm. And wet."

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Are you like this all the time or is it just because (Y/n) is gone?"

Kaz rolled his eyes. He was far too busy to entertain Nina's curiosity.

"Saints, does your heart always race when someone says their name," Nina asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kaz replied, not even sparing her a glance. Probably because he thought that it would be too easy to prove he was lying if he did.

"Sure you do," Nina insisted. "I've heard it every time someone brings them up. Your heart races. When they were first taken... Inej and Jesper lost a friend. You lost something more-"

"Can we focus on the job," Kaz snapped. Nina held up her hands to show that she was going to back off.

There was a pause between the two. A long, very quiet pause.

"(Y/n)," Nina muttered quickly. She chuckled at the immediate jump in Kaz's heart rate. "I'm stunned that you haven't broken a rib yet with how hard your heart beats."

"Focus."

"I am focused!"

The two both fell silent again.

Soon enough, Inej was motioning to Kaz that Ohval Saran was near.

Ohval sat across from Kaz and Nina. She dipped the tip of her ring finger into her tea, flicking some off twice before touching her fingertips to her forehead.

Nina copied with no hesitation.

Kaz didn't. Not until he was pressured into the act by Ohval and Nina, who did everything in her power to put on a very convincing husband and wife act.

Kaz took a deep breath before sliding the gloves off of his hands. He mimicked the actions he had seen moments before. A little less smooth than that of Nina and Ohval, but they were done.

"Anyway, our contact mentioned that since The Disciple's retirement, he has periodically parted ways with some of his personal collection," Nina said.

"You're looking for something specific," Ohval replied.

"The Neshyenyer," Kaz answered bluntly.

"The Neshyenyer is at Ahmat Jen."

"From what we understand, that blade is a fake."

"I wouldn't know anything about that."

Kaz noted Ohval motioning towards a server.

"What if we told you that the Disciple could name his price," Nina asked.

"I'd say you have a surprising amount of disposable income... for thieves," Ohval smirked a bit as she spoke.

Nina chuckled. "We're not thieves. We're just collectors."

"I've worked with enough thieves to know them when I see them. If you want the blade, you'll have to steal it from Ahmrat Jen."

Ohval stood up abruptly. Kaz went to follow, only to get run into by a server holding a tray. If his mind hadn't shut off in that moment, then he would have immediately realized it was the same server as earlier. He would put those pieces together later.

Nina touched his hand in the hopes of bringing him back from whatever panicked state he was in.

It didn't work.

Kaz stumbled away from the shop and into the busy street. His breathing was frantic. Uneven, gasping breaths that made him feel like his throat was truly closing up on him. That the touch had caused a genuine allergic reaction.

He continued running into people, which caused more flashbacks of a younger him in that ocean of bodies, which only panicked him more and made it even harder for him to control his movements. And on and on and on the cycle went. It was beginning to seem hopeless to try to calm himself down.

Someone grabbed his arm. If he had been in his right mind, he would have swung his cane at them. But he wasn't. He couldn't do anything to fight back against the person that dragged him into an abandoned alleyway and shoved him against the stone of one of the buildings. He was sitting on the ground, rendered immobile by the fear.

His eyes settled on Inej, who was kneeling next to him after watching the episode break out in the shop.

"You were supposed to follow her," Kaz snapped.

Inej closed her eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry."

Kaz didn't reply. He turned his head away, holding onto his cane a little tighter.

Inej felt some of the anger simmering in her stomach. "I was just trying to ensure that you were alive when we made it to (Y/n)."

She laid his gloves on the ground beside him before lifting herself up and walking away. The Bastard of the Barrel was left to cling to his gloves while trying to calm his breathing.

He slid his gloves over his hands again before lifting himself to his feet and walking away.

The Crows gathered in a small building, gathered around a table. They tried to figure out what could be learned from the very brief meeting.

"Ohval's not just a fence," he said. "She's the Disciple."

"What tipped you off," Wylan asked while Jesper shut the doors.

"Her teacup," Kaz replied. "When she put it down, she did so without making a sound."

"And her heartbeat never fluctuated once," Nina added. "It held at one beat a second like a clock."

"So, she can control her heart rate and her emotions," Tolya said.

"Those are useful skills for a thief," Wylan muttered.

"Now's the part where you tell us where the blade is," Jesper spoke up.

"Ohval has it," Kaz explained. "Her signal to the waitress to spill tea on me told me as much."

"It's as if I know you," Jesper said dramatically.

"And if she's not going to sell it to us, then we'll just have to take it. After Nina and I ordered the Chrysanthemum tea, I had Inej follow the tea shop employee who was sent to notify Ohval."

Inej spoke up after that, "She lives just outside the city. When she stopped at the tea, she placed an order at the apothecary that she'll be picking up tonight. I watched her at home for a while, no one came or went except for her."

"So," Kaz continued. "While she's out of the house, Nina will tail her to make sure that she stays out of the house. The rest of us will grab the blade."

Zoya scoffed at the plan. "You don't seriously expect me to break into this woman's house."

"Why do you think we're here," Jesper asked.

"I'm a soldier, not a thief. Why else would I need you criminals?"

"Oh, there's much less of a difference there than you think," Tolya replied. "Also, these are (Y/n)'s friends. You know... the (Y/n) that's trying to save everyone. Let's not leave bad blood between all of us."

Zoya rolled her eyes. "You just keep eating your walnuts. I'll go with Nina."

Nina choked a bit on the food that she had been eating. She coughed before turning her question to Kaz, "Are you sure that you don't need me?"

"Nina and Zoya will wait for Ohval at the apothecary. Follow her. If she starts heading home, buy us some time. Distract her."

While Nina and Zoya watched over Ohval as subtly as possible, Tolya and the rest of the Crows found themselves outside of the thief's home.

Tolya called it traditional. He claimed that it had a specific layout and used that to outline a plan. Start in the front courtyard, go through the antechamber to the middle courtyard and then to the main chamber. The goal was to sweep the entire house. Check every single place that could possibly be hiding the blade that was needed.

With an emergency set up by Wylan and nothing but the knowledge of the weight of what could happen if they failed, they walked inside.

The front courtyard held nothing of note.

The antechamber seemed as if it was going to be very much the same.

Until everyone but Wylan had stepped in.

Tolya had been focused on a heartbeat off in the distance. He could hear it. Just barely. It was faint. Somewhere farther in the house. He couldn't spend enough time focusing on it before he stumbled onto a board that sank with the pressure of his step.

The doors on either side of the building slid shut, locking. Pulling on them was pointless. They didn't move. Inej tried to stab through one of them. Nothing. Durast-made locks and impenetrable doors. They were stuck.

The trap only got more intricate from there. A collection of gears turning and things shifting was only punctuated by a red gas starting to leak through one of the vents.

Tolya sat down, holding both of his hands over his chest, slowing his heart and his breathing. His goal was to last as long as he needed to in order to survive.

Jesper was the first to collapse. Rough and loud as he crashed to the floor.

Inej was next. She had leaned against the wall, having something to slow her fall.

Kaz was last. He had nothing to cushion his fall. It was loud and harsh. He could have imagined the pain that would radiate along his spine if his mind wasn't gone before then.

Instead, he felt the cold water swallow him as he fell.

He tried to shove himself up. The waves weren't helping him. The harsh landing, the cold temperature, and the rough waves were merely the beginning of his disadvantages in that moment.

The front of his jacket was grabbed and he was dragged to the surface.

He found his brother waiting for him.

Jordie. Cold, clearly soaked to the bone.

And suddenly, Kaz was back in his nightmares. The nightmares that he thought would go away after he rid the Barrel of Pekka Rollins. The nightmares that almost angered him more than they scared him.

"Did you really think that I would go away, brother?"

Jordie's question was left unanswered by him shoving Kaz back below the surface. Kaz tried to take a breath before going under. It only invited more water into his lungs. He was tugged back up again.

"You thought pain was your weakness? You thought you could fix everything broken inside you? You thought vengeance was the answer and still you drown."

Jordie shoved Kaz beneath the surface again, only to pull him back up.

The words became mixed. Kaz couldn't keep the sentences straight. Drowning, vengeance, broken, pain. All of it repeated over and over as his lungs filled with water.

He was ready to give up. To allow himself to drown.

Then, he was dragged out of the water again.

This time, Kaz wasn't met with his brother's face.

He was met with (Y/n)'s.

Not just that, but also warmth. A warmth unlike any Kaz may ever be allowed to know. As if sunlight had been injected into his veins in the hopes of protecting him from the freezing water that had once engulfed him. It moved through his blood slowly, crawling from his toes up his legs along his arms and finally settling in his chest. Armor worn beneath the skin, stronger than that which he already possessed.

(Y/n) grinned at the sight of him. Their hand cupped the side of his face.

He didn't jerk away. He didn't feel the all-too-familiar panic rise in his chest. He didn't feel anything other than their hand. For the first time, he didn't feel too broken for them to look at him with so much... love.

He was never one to concede to the saints' control over the world, but he was ready to get on his knees and beg to never lose that feeling.

The saints didn't give him the chance.

(Y/n) and the comforting warmth were gone far faster than they arrived.

Something was standing behind them. His eyes didn't focus for a moment, but when they did, he was convinced that his blood ran colder than the water he was in. Behind them was the Darkling, staring down at Kaz as if telling him to make sure that he was watching.

Kaz tried to speak. Yell at (Y/n) to turn around. He couldn't. He couldn't force the words out. He couldn't save them.

The Darkling grabbed (Y/n) by the throat, dragging them away from him. They were slammed on the ground, the air effectively knocked out of them.

The last thing that Kaz saw as he sank back into the water was (Y/n) going to defend themself, but the Darkling moving first.

If the water hadn't swallowed him, Kaz would have seen (Y/n)'s death and been able to do nothing about it.

The darkness clouded his vision soon after he sank.

Kaz wanted to yell. Beg. Those words that had been clinging to his tongue since they last saw each other were fighting their way out. No, come back! Please! Come back to me!

He wanted to reach out. For the first time, he truly wanted to reach out and hold onto something.

When the darkness started to fade, Kaz felt a hand touching his face again, but the warmth was gone.

He blinked slowly, allowing the real world to come back into focus.

Inej was kneeling next to him, holding the side of his face with one hand while clasping the other over his mouth.

Once Kaz realized what was happening, he jumped, trying to push the hands off of his skin. He heard Inej's quick apology as he did so.

He stood up, grabbing his cane as he did so.

He ignored the attempt at conversation about their hallucinations. He could see (Y/n)'s face burned to the inside of his eyelids. The shock and pain and... he shook his head. He didn't have time to be consumed by his fear. There was still a job to get done.

"What's the plan," Tolya asked.

Kaz turned away from the wall that he had been staring at. "You said that there was another heartbeat in the house."

"South-east corner. Heartbeat's weak."

"I suspect she built all of this to protect that heart. Along with a different way in to get to it."

They all laid back down in the antechamber. They played dead as long as they could, as long as they needed to.

Ohval walked in slowly, scanning her eyes along the collection of bodies now littered along her floor.

Except for Inej, who dropped down from the rafters behind her. She didn't have much time to move before Ohval kicked her hard enough to send her flying backward out the door that she had walked in.

The rest of the Crows scrambled from the floor as best they could, making it outside to aid Inej in whatever way they could. Except for Kaz, who moved in the opposite direction.

As the fight raged on outside, he found his way carefully to the south-east corner.

He paused in the doorway. He was met with the face of an old man. A man that was clearly nearing the end of his life, sitting in a wheelchair.

Kaz saw the art scattered along the walls. Priceless artifacts. That was enough for one answer to be provided.

He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to put together the connection between the man and Ohval.

"Who are you," the man asked Kaz.

"A visitor," Kaz replied. "I'm an art collector from Kerch. I left some friends outside. I was going to track someone down. I think I got lost in the halls."

"Well, you should look for my wife," the man said.

Oh. It clicked in Kaz's head. Every conclusion he needed for the time being.

"I can help you find her."

"Thank you."

Kaz made his way behind the chair, pushing the man back through the halls he had come through. They made it back to the courtyard, where the fight was nearly coming to a close.

"Sweetheart!" the man called. "We have visitors! Art collectors from Kerch!"

"I know, dear," Ohval replied. "I was about to offer them tea."

The others were just pushing themselves off the ground, barely recovering from her attack.

"These are the friends that I told you about," Kaz explained to the man. "They're collectors like me. They'll be pleasantly surprised to meet you... the great thief of the art world. The Disciple."

"That's the Disciple," Jesper asked.

"Have we met before?" the Disciple replied.

"Yes," Kaz nodded. "In your room, just now. And I've met your wife. In Bhez Ju. We had tea there."

"Bhez Ju Museum," the Disciple said. "The support beams are under every second section of the floor. The others creak. Important to know the secrets of a place."

"Truly."

Tolya and Ohval shared a few sentences in Shu before her husband spoke up again, "The Neshyenyer. I stole it for her."

"Please, dear," Ohval tried to stop him.

"It was the last piece I stole before we decided that I should retire. Anyway, you couldn't really call it stealing. It was hers to begin with. She made it."

"I'm sorry," Jesper said. "She made it?"

The Disciple pushed himself from his chair, taking short, staggering steps to get to his wife. "Hours of work. Prayers. And tears. To fight the unkillable army created by the clock worker Kho."

Tolya left out a breathless chuckle at the story that he knew all too well. "Three days and nights she fought the unstoppable soldiers. And when the last soldier fell, she laid down the weapon. And it was named Neshyenyer. 'Relentless'."

Tolya took a knee, bowing his head.

"We are honored to be in your presence, Sankta Neyar."

Kaz took a deep breath as a sudden and strange familiarity crept into his chest. He couldn't place it for a moment, but it soon became clear.

The saint saving the world and the thief that loved them without the status.

It was a mirror.

It was like seeing into a possible future. A future where he and (Y/n) survived the fight against the Darkling and tore down the Fold and saved Ravka. Not only that but managed to find some peace together. In love... accepting... both of them healing from whatever ghosts followed them.

If only time weren't as cruel as it was.

Even if they did both survive the final fight, Kaz would always age faster than (Y/n). (Y/n) could live lifetimes beyond him. Could fall in love with people after him, could find a meaning past him... could leave him behind for someone who could live on their timeline and not his.

A cruel possibility to be confronted with.

He found the rest of the crew kneeling, paying their respects. He bowed his head too.

"Come on, my love," Ohval muttered to her husband. "Let's get you to bed."

Kaz looked at Ohval after her husband had been placed back in his chair.

"This is our sanctuary. Where we can sleep peacefully. Not have to worry about thieves and bandits like you."

"We're not bandits," Kaz replied.

"No one gets past the poison. You're just a child, really."

"A child who understood your weakness."

"Weakness," she scoffed. "Four hundred years I've been alive. I've seen my family, my loved ones die. I spent hundreds of years with my heart closed as if that was the solution to ending all pain. What a safe way to live... what a small way, as well."

She looked back at Kaz. He wondered how much of his thoughts were clear to her, even with his attempts to hide them so deep within himself. Her face showed that she had caught something in his eyes that he didn't mean to show.

"You guard against pain, you guard against joy. But when you allow yourself to be blindsided by love... two worlds make a universe. He's not my weakness. He's my universe. And I will see him through his days. Sharing every moment until he is part of the night sky."

There was a spike in Kaz's heart rate. Nina heard it. As if she had been tuned into its change. It was nearly the exact same spike as when someone would speak (Y/n)'s name. She hid a small grin. What was the thought that crossed the man's mind?

Kaz knew that answer. It would continue to blare in his mind for ages. Would (Y/n) choose him over a life alone, yet safe? And better yet, would he allow (Y/n) to choose him if he could already predict the pain that he would bring them in the end?

"What do I care about the blade?" Ohval continued. "What do you care about the blade?"

"The Darkling has created an unkillable army made of shadow. Your sword is the only one sharp enough to cut them down."

"That sounds like Ravka's problem."

"You think he would be stopped by a line on a map?"

"I think I can still kill you where you stand before you can blink."

"Sankta Neyar," Tolya stood. "I have met the Sun Summoner who will take leadership in Ravka if the Darkling is gone. I can promise that they are benevolent. They want to finally bring peace... end the suffering that the Darkling has caused. But that can only be done if you grant us use of the blade."

"Use of it," she asked. "All this just to borrow the blade?"

"All this just to protect your husband in his sleep?"

"And why are you searching for the blade?" she countered, eyes turning to Kaz again. "What is your motivation for all of this?"

It was all the confirmation that Kaz needed to know that she understood him. Understood his thoughts while he watched her and her husband. She wanted to prove a point. They were both fighting for their person. The one thing in this universe that was more important than anyone else. That she and Kaz were one and the same.

"We all fight for what matters most," Kaz said simply.

"And on my life, I will make sure that the blade is returned to its rightful home," Tolya promised. "With you, Sankta Neyar."

"Ohval," she corrected. "The last thing I need are pilgrims crowding my gate."

"Is it time for bed now, darling," her husband asked.

"All of you, out," she instructed the group. "Except for you... the one with the hat. I'll give the blade to you. Alone."

One and the same, yet not similar enough.

Kaz walked out reluctantly, leaving Jesper alone to wait for the blade.

It was sunrise when Jesper came out again. He gave the blade to Inej. She was better to handle the blade than him.

They all walked off together, taking the time to have their own conversations. Wylan with Jesper, Nina with Zoya and Tolya, Inej with Kaz.

Kaz and Inej passed Wylan and Jesper, who seemed to finally be working out whatever had happened during the trip.

"Everyone's lost their minds," Kaz muttered.

"We all did in there," Inej replied.

Kaz paused for a moment. "Maybe I did see something, through the haze of the poison."

"The one that you're fighting for?" Inej tilted her head a bit. She knew that he wouldn't admit it. He couldn't admit his feelings for (Y/n) to himself, let alone her. His silence was all that she needed to be certain of that much.

"What did you see," Kaz asked.

Inej grinned to herself. She considered telling him. But her mind was riddled with him reminding her how foolish hope was. How her vision of her family would do nothing but spark another lecture of sorts.

"Couldn't make out a clear image," she said simply. The image she saw was only for her to know. "More important things to worry about now, aren't there?"

The group continued their walk to the Hummingbird.

This was merely the first part of their job. The second part was going to be far worse. They were all aware of that. But at the end of the day, their fear didn't matter.

This was one of the occasions when the greater good triumphed over any fear or hesitation.

----------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

#x reader #imagine #fanfiction #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker fanfiction #kaz brekker x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader

202 notes · View notes

a-dauntless-daffodil · 3 months

Text

never have i ever been so ???? as when someone was talking about merry, eowyn, the witch king and the whole "no living man" thing, and they loved the books very much were quoting them and everything... and they got hung up on the man thing.

as in, they were sure it was actually the burrow downs blade merry was carrying that made the witch king vulnerable to killing, with eowyn being the one to step up and K.O. him despite her shattered shield arm- which yes yes I am following along perfectly fine so far, tom bombadil strikes again, ok-

and the person was frustrated bc if the "no living man may hinder me" thing was true then what about merry isn't merry a man didn't merry hinder-

And I swear I sat there for a full ten minutes, staring.

the thing about the middle earth books is, almost everyone is a dude. it's the default. i couldn't even remember when characters referred to each other by gender specifically (outside of eowyn's arc) beyond polite titles like lord or king, because it'd be so weird. the default is always male. it's assumed. im still trying to remember if any of the hobbits were called men- halflings, shire folk, little ones, i remember them being described by the things that set them apart from the people around them, and that was always WHAT they were. short, mainly. or presumed rich and important, for pipin the halfling prince while in gondor

in the lord of the rings and the hobbit the gender norm is so universal the word "man" almost always means... humans. as opposed to, elves, dwarves, orcs, blah blah blah, hobbits yadda yadda

So it was just, shocking to hear someone talking about the "man" in the witch king's context as a gender thing

eowyn answers it like it is, but i always thought that was her being cheeky. her whole thing there is defiance so i just figured, well, she expects to die and wants to piss him off while she goes. sure she'd make a joke of his boast. no living man. well no living MAN am I. like a pun?

then a hobbit, not a man, stabs the dude with a blade made to hurt and weaken him, and a woman, not a man, gets him in the head with her sword right after

which subversion of the "man" thing killed him in the end?

"not by the hand of man will he fall"

teen me thought the prophecy had been man vs hobbit, originally, but eowyn herself ALSO made it woman vs man, because only she- a woman, alone of all the men who rode to battle- only she understood merry and thought it right to bring a hobbit into war,

(something something, the theme of the books about different people coming together to save their world, those long overlooked shaking the towers of them who never thought to fear them)

but prophecy aside, she eowyn- as a woman- also served up this witch king with his own arrogance and superiority, because this whole battle WAS mankind HINDERING him, wasn't it now? she IS standing in his way, hindering him as well. one of mankind killed him, and the woman who sent him packing made a mockery of his pride right before she did it.

"no living man" pssh. begone if you be not deathless. eowyn daughter of eomund is gonna hit you with her fucking sword even if it kills her

and isn't that what the mankind of middle earth were all about?

(glorfindel you were either slightly wrong or being a pest) (i'd almost bet pest tbh)

man, mankind, fought that battle on the pelennor fields against the witch king's might, though it took a woman specifically to bring together all the pieces that would finally make him fall (herself) (1 hobbit + dagger) (love for her family) (friendship) (urge to KILL)

but still humans are the lays potato chips of middle earth

no dwarven unbending will, no longevity or wisdom of elves, no magic, not even that hardiness of the heart that hobbits can push through on

boromir, eowyn, eomer, theoden- humans other than aragorn the elvish or faramir the wizardly- hell even grima... kinda...

they might fail and die and falter, but when the end comes, they throw their whole selves into it. they'll at least be a hindrance on their way out

what was i saying

oh whatever. eowyn killed the witch king with snark and he died mad about it or something

#lotr #eowyn of rohan #merry brandybuck #the witch king of angmar #just thinking and mulling #looking back on kid me reading it #people have so many different ways of reading the same book #its like getting to reread it yourself for the first time again

28 notes · View notes

snexy-the-snail · 3 months

Text

I'm about to make this everyone's problem

When their father had invited the bastard Triton did his best to avoid the quote unquote bonding, that Poseidon insisted that they participated in. More annoying no matter how many barbs and comments he made towards the boy he would not respond the way he expected an arrogant hero would.

He didn’t know much of Perseus, just some titles that fish would gossip about and in general that he was the bastard of the sea. The kingdom referred to him as the littlest prince which absolutely made his blood boil. Perseus had no idea of what responsibilities, and such came with the title. His anger continued to roll through him. The night was truly the only time he could get some distance from the stubborn little brat.

It was the third day since the boy had arrived and yet he found his nerves to already be shot. “I cannot believe father would bring him here.” he seethes under his breath strolling in the garden. Annoyingly enough the little terror had found comfort in the exotic sea plants so most of his strolls were interrupted by insistent questions of the most common knowledge. He was like a guppy in that respect, full of gaps of knowledge. He rolls his eyes smoothing his hair back, letting it down from the slicked back hair style he had in. He was just starting to relax when a piercing scream jolted him up, trident materializing in his hand before he could further process where it was coming from.

Perseus.

Someone DARED to attack the child in the palace?

Triton grits his teeth as he shoots through the water, pushing himself to go faster, clouds of fish outside the boys balcony, they swarm him once he was in sight, pleading rapidly to help the little lord, to save him- the door blasts open swinging off their hinges. He was ready for danger, for an assailant, but there was..nothing. Just Perseus writhing on his bed, screaming and gasping for breath. His face was twisted like he was experiencing torture of the greatest kind.

“Perseus? Truly a nightmare causes you to wail?” He hisses out tryout, to hide the fact his limbs trembled with relief. No assailant trying to assassinate the little bastard. The boy didn’t wake so he crept closer, in fact he was surprised when that made it worse. Celestial bronze suddenly illuminating the room ripping through the covers with ease and in turn his flesh, the sword slicing, golden ichor joining the glow. He lets several curses out, yanking the weapon from the boy. “Wake! Perseus!” He snaps, shaking the boys shoulders, grunting when the boys legs make contact with his middle.

Ugh mortals and their ridiculous habits... well Father wasn’t here, and frankly he could not handle hearing the boys wails. Why not put the flailing body somewhere safe enough to make him relax? “You’re ridiculous, absolutely- there are guppies younger than you who can settle after nightmares” He grumbles to himself, shifting his size, keeping the wriggling boy in a loose fist. He flinches when Perseus fights harder, still unable to wake as it seemed, teeth sinking into his flesh as the boy tried his hardest to escape.

It was as if he was fighting for his life... A sense of unease slowly settled in the pit of his stomach as he watched the small thing nearly take a chunk out of his hand, golden ichor clouding the water as Perseus clenched his jaw tighter. He didn’t look like an arrogant child at the moment, no, he looked like a desperate child.

What had he gone through?

What had his father neglected to tell him about his half brother?

Before the boy could continue to try and escape via chomping on his hand Triton brings the small form up to his face, shoving him in to his mouth quickly once Perseus let go to get a breath. There was a surprised kick from Perseus, Triton not even bothering to give time to adjust before he swallowed thickly. Personally, he didn’t want to experience what the boy would do to escape this..not only that he was concerned about his teeth cutting the frankly delicate boy. Unconsciously he runs his tongue over his teeth, wincing at the sharp points that greeted him.

He sighs as he feels the lump travel down his throat and soon a heavy weight spills into his stomach. He closes his eyes with a sense of nostalgia washing over him. How long had it been since he had such a small life tucked inside his being like this? The thrashing weight settled nearly instantly, as if a switch was flipped, Perseus stilling.

The corners of his lips quirk up into a small smile, hesitantly resting a hand over his middle. There was no indication that Perseus was even tucked away into his stomach. Just smooth skin concealing his younger brother. He settled rather..nicely inside. “An absolute guppy, that’s what you are you little brat.” He murmurs, blinking when he feels the boy nuzzle into the stomach wall. Small hands pressing against the flesh as he tried to get settled. A bloom of fondness spreads throughout his chest at the motion. So small and yet...

“This does not change a thing between us. Remember, that you are a bastard.”

There was no answer, unless the little whine was one. A small chucckle bubbles out of him, trying not to move too much to avoid jostling the small occupant inside. It was almost concerning how quickly Perseus had settled once inside. He would need to figure out what exactly caused his younger brother to fly into such a state.

He waves his hand, the Ichor that had spilled clearing from the water at the motion. He looks to his hand, the bite having healed already, as well as the slash the boy had managed to get in. A warrior for sure..how old was the boy again? He lightly rubs his middle, yet against surprised when the boys weight settled against where his hand rested.

There was a lot he didn’t know about his brother...perhaps he should explore that.

#soft vore #pjo vore #about to make this a problem #extreme cuddling #safe vore

17 notes · View notes

josefavomjaaga · 1 year

Text

Joseph and the ladies

Even Thierry Lentz, very well disposed towards Joseph and really trying to show in his book that Joseph was much more than the weakling he is often perceived as, is quite open about how Joseph spent his free time from the job as king of Spain:

In the Royal Palace or in La Moncloa [a country house], Joseph indulged in two of his favourite private activities: getting rich and loving.

With regards to the first activity, there’s a long story involving, among other things, the crown jewels of Spain, of which a certain amount at some point disappeared from Madrid (Napoleon blamed it on Murat but later learned that the thief had been his brother dearest). And as far as the second activity is concerned, Lentz of course also names the Marquise de Montehermoso, »non exclusive holder of the title mistress« [maîtresse en titre non exclusive]. But there are more. Plenty more.

So many that Colonel Desprez, Joseph’s clumsy aide de camp who had gone all the way to Moscow in order to hand Napoleon a letter of complaint, would later have some acerbic comments on his former master, put together in a report called »Caractère du roi d’Espagne, Joseph Bonaparte«. But this was indeed much later, after the fall of the empire, during the July monarchy, and – possibly on demand of one Marshal Soult . (The question of allowing the exiled Bonaparte family back into France frequently came up.) Soult and Joseph obviously kept up their mutual dislike a long time after Napoleon’s death.

Desprez in this report comments about the Marquise de Montehermoso as follows [quoted in Thierry Lentz, »Joseph Bonaparte«]:

This woman had an exquisite mind, a strongly organised head [...]. She didn't know anything about love other than the physical pleasures and she readily acknowledged this [...]. Her constant aim was to become rich [...]. The weak prince poured out showers of gold and, although forced to use this means, he never ceased to believe himself tenderly loved […]

and about Joseph’s way of life in Madrid in general:

I have often groaned to see a man called to such a prominent role waste his time in vain occupations, laying out paths, planting trees, tearing down walls, building others, changing at every moment the comings and goings of his chambers; giving parties [...], supervising the preparations himself, reading tragedy and repeating to exhaustion the passionate roles of which he thought himself suited to express the delirium [...]. I laugh with pity to see a king, whose throne is trembling, exhaust his attention on hemistichs [...].

But not everyone judged Joseph so harshly. Somebody who seems to even have greatly admired Joseph’s success with women is another aide de camp, General Bigarré. That’s not all too astonishing, as Bigarré’s own memoirs are a crude mix of brutalities, battle scenes, and lewd descriptions of himself seducing teenage girls. About Joseph he says:

In Spain, as in Naples, this prince has been bitterly criticised for occupying himself a little too much with women during the time he governed these two kingdoms. I will agree that he had a particular fondness for this sex, that he did not disdain conversations with the liveliest ladies of his court, that he was even very gallant with several of them, but nevertheless, I repeat, he never forgot what his duties as sovereign required of him.

Which is something, I guess. About Joseph’s entry into Sevilla and his tour around Andalusia, Bigarré also has an interesting remark:

The noble Andalusians, for their part, did not know what to think of in order to show the new King of Spain their love and devotion; some sent him a dozen magnificent bulls as a present, others perfectly harnessed Andalusian horses, and several placed their wives, daughters and houses at His Majesty's disposal. [...]

Hello there, strange French king! Here’s my bull, my horse, my house, my wife, my daughter – take your pick!

[…] the ladies of Sevilla who were invited also found the King of Spain very amiable and attractive. It is a fact that this prince had a wonderful gift for pleasing women. I do not know whether winning over women formed part of his policy, but in all the cities he visited he made many conquests, not only as a king, but also as a man.

Bigarré’s admiration here is palpable.

Bigarré also must have been very well informed about Joseph’s successes in this field, as apparently (according to Thierry Lentz), Joseph took care of Bigarré’s favourite mistress, a Madame Finesi, wife of an Italian actor, whenever the general was on a mission out of town. Bigarré in turn claims to once have had a fling with the Marquise de Montehermoso. But as Napoleon’s police spy Lagarde wrote home, these were hardly the only ladies whose company distracted Joseph from his »political chagrin«. Lentz also lists a Marquise de Jacuso and a Nancy Derrieux, wife of some official in the administration, as regulars in this early 19th century edition of a royal swinger club. Varying female extras were approached through Joseph’s valets, who habitually had to adress young ladies about their willingness to meet the king in private.

For the final judgement on this topic, here’s Napoleon, in Bertrand’s »Cahiers de Sainte Hélène«, echoing what cardinal Ruffo had told him:

Prince Joseph had gentle manners, fine qualities, but he could never attend to business and never pursued anything. He was locked up with a few women, not to fuck all the time, but for the pleasure of society.

Yes, that’s Napoleon using the F-word with regards to his brother. And I honestly do not know if he wanted to somehow excuse Joseph in emphasizing that it was only »for the pleasure of society«, or if he wanted to make sure people didn’t think too highly about Joseph’s stamina...

#napoleon's family #joseph bonaparte #madrid #peninsular war

53 notes · View notes

web-novel-polls · 1 year

Text

Less Popular Danmei Character Tournament

CWs: animal mention, animal death mention, death mention, pet death

Cui Buqu from Peerless

Submission: He’s mean, he’s disabled and unapologetic about it, he’s a genius and all his braincells escape him when faced with his rival, he’s a secret agent and has no martial arts, he’s deeply in love and will never say so unless pushed, he will liken his rival to his sun and then tell him he’s the most annoying person he’s ever met. He’s a bastard little fox <3

Helian Yi from Lord Seventh / Qi Ye

Qi Ye tells the story of Prince Jing Beiyuan’s seventh life, which is a repeat of his first life. All of his first five lives have been tied to Helian Yi - he helped him ascend the throne in their first life, he was an insect crushed by Helian Yi in his second life, he was a beloved dog killed to feed Helian Yi’s family in his third life, he was a neglected jasmine plant in his fourth life, he was a fox skinned by Helian Ye in his fifth life - but in the first and seventh lives, Helian Yi’s the Crown Prince of the Jin Empire while Jing Beiyuan is the Prince Nan’ning (a title; he’s not related to Helian Yi as far as I know). In their seventh life, Helian Yi seems to be treating him very well (from what I’ve read), but he’s not the love interest.

He’s also in Faraway Wanderers (for, like, one chapter) and technically is Prince Jin in Word of Honor (but they’re pretty much completely different characters). Zhou Zishu is his most trusted aid who formed Heaven’s Window and then left.

Idk, I haven’t gotten that far in Qi Ye; he sounds like the villain, but he’s really just Sad - Idk if he’s in love with Jing Beiyuan or what, but he’s SAD, okay? From what I can tell, he cares for Jing Beiyuan but can’t be with him because of his position as Crown Prince, but don’t quote me on that

“In that instant, Helian Yi suddenly wanted to take him into his arms, suddenly wanted to wholly throw out and disregard the home, nation, and world that weighed down on his mind and body, no longer brooding on and wishing for a liaison he didn’t dare to have. He wanted to say, from now on, come earthly blades of wind and swords of frost, I will do everything I can to block them or you. There is only one person in this life and this world for me, even without this extensive, partially mountainous, mostly oceanic king’s land.” - Source

#peerless #wushuang #lord seventh #qi ye #polls #danmei #danmei character tournament #danmei character polls #my polls #less popular danmei character tournament #danmei character polls round 1 side B #queue

29 notes · View notes

sleepless-crows · 3 months

Text

i just saw a theory that the next title track might be named "If you come at four in the afternoon, I'll begin to be happy by three" because its a quote from the little prince and its so long that its perfect for a txt song title like

#and their debut date is 3/4 !!!#and they also have a lot of numbers in their songs like run away and blue hour #that would be so cool if that was the title

6 notes · View notes

hannahhook7744 · 1 year

Text

Perwaine kids info:

BASICS:

Full name: Gingalain Everard Jones-Armstrong.

House: Jones-Armstrong.

Age: 11 years old.

Birth place: Camelot.

Current location: Camelot.

Titles: The 1st born, the 1st born son, Squire of Camelot, Sir Everard, Sir Le Bel Inconnu, The Fair Unknown, and Sir Everard Jones.

Occupation: Knight of Camelot.

Known as: Ging, Gin, Gingy, 'galain, 'lain, Ever, Everard, Rard, Eve, Ev, 'Ard, Erard, Jones-Armstrong, Jones, Armstrong, G.E, G.E.J, G.j, Little G, G, Gwaine Jr., and Le Bel Inconnu.

Known for: Being a knight of Camelot and a Prince Consort.

ATTIRE:

General outfit: Dark blue clogs with Grey breeches, a dark blue sheathed belt, a Grey tunic, and a dark blue vest.

Weapons/Equipment: A dark blue handled, Silver Caliburn.

Extra accessories: A dark Blue and Grey cap alongside a silver sword necklace.

PERSONALITY:

Fears: Spheksophobia, mysophobia, Catagelophobia, Agoraphobia, and Foniasophobia.

Dreams: He wants to be a knight, professional jouster, Bard, or Jester.

Likes: Jousting, climbing things, cracking jokes, swimming, sword-fighting, dragonback riding, horseback riding, racing, playing cards, pulling pranks, stealing from the kitchens, exploring, listening to music, acting, hunting, archery, hammer-throwing, and wrestling.

Dislikes: His friends and family (especially Dragonet) in danger, being made fun of, assisnation attempts, corrupt kings, wars, classist people, people abusing their power, etc.

FAVORITES:

Favorite Color: Grey and Dark Blue.

Favorite Food: Apple pie.

Favorite Drink: Apple Cider.

Favorite Animal: Dragon.

Favorite Season: Winter.

Favorite Weapon: Caliburn.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Friends: Helior, Stephanie, Dragonet, Artie, Menw, Tom Thumb, Penpingion, Taliesin, Cerdan Jr., Mabon, Hélie, Esmerée the Fair, Thitis, Galeholt, etc.

Parents: Sir Percival Armstrong and Sir Gwaine Jones.

Siblings: Constance Jones-Armstrong and Lohengrin Jones-Armstrong.

Love Interest: Pucelle aux Blanches.

Children: None.

Animal companion: A horse named 'Florence.'

HISTORY:

Childhood: Gingalain Everard Jones-Armstrong was born not long before Dragonet and Prince Artie were born, in Camelot and spent most of his youth pulling pranks, stealing from the kitchens, and exploring every inch of the castle and forest he could manage. Always managing to stumble his way in and out of trouble, dragging all of his friends along for the ride and charming everyone he comes across.

He also goes by Everard from a young age.

Life: In his adult life, Everard goes on to be a knight and goes on various quests—catching the eye of many a maiden via his jokes, songs, and heroics. Eventually he manages to talk his way out of marrying the newly crowned queen of Wales who he had previously saved, Esmerée the Fair, (who Arthur tried to set him up with) and instead ends up marrying an enchantress named Pucelle aux Blanches.

Death: He died in battle alongside his brother, Lohengrin, and his horse, Florence.

Quote: "Fight for what you love and don't regret it."

Theme Song: "Life of a Bard."

BASICS:

Full name: Constance Camilla Jones-Armstrong.

House: Jones-Armstrong.

Age: 5 years old.

Birth place: Camelot.

Current location: Camelot.

Titles: Lady Constance, Lady of Camelot, The Middle Child, Constance the Brave, and the lone daughter.

Occupation: Rat Trapper and Bear-Ward.

Known as: Con, Connie, Stance, Stan, Scrawny Connie, Connie-Pillar, Connie-ameleon, the bear wrangler, the rat snatcher, and Connie Cat.

Known for: Pulling Pranks, throwing great parties, catching rats, picking apples, and owning a performing bear in a traveling circus.

ATTIRE:

General outfit: A hooded, lavender bliaut dress with a red ribbon and matching red boots with hidden pockets.

Weapons/Equipment: A dirk with a lavender handle (which she hides in her long boots).

Extra accessories: A red and lavender drawstring pouch.

PERSONALITY:

Fears: Outliving everyone she loves, her bears turning on her, her bears in danger, going dark, being abandoned, dying young, being betrayed, being forgotten, evil sorcerers, wolves, bobcats, coyotes, mountain lions, and being cursed.

Dreams: She wants to be a brave adventurer/explorer, a rat trapper, and a bear-ward.

Likes: Pulling Pranks, Dancing, Sneaking out, playing with her toys, Training animals, sword fighting, making traps, horseback riding, racing, playing cards, stealing from the kitchens, exploring, listening to music, acting, cooking, throwing parties, having tea parties, playing dress up, sewing, and apple picking.

Dislikes: Sexist people, Classist people, people abusing their power, assisnation attempts, corrupt kings, wars, those she cares about in danger, her animals in danger, being told what to do, being betrayed, vegetables, and being lied to.

FAVORITES:

Favorite Color: Lavender, Blue, and Red.

Favorite Food: Apple pie.

Favorite Drink: Apple Cider.

Favorite Animal: Bear.

Favorite Season: Summer.

Favorite Weapon: Dirk.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Friends: Dragonet, Stephanie, Hilde, Thitis, etc.

Siblings: Gingalain Jones-Armstrong and Lohengrin Jones-Armstrong.

Parents: Sir Percival Armstrong and Sir Gwaine Jones.

Love Interest: None yet.

Children: None yet.

Animal companion: None yet.

HISTORY:

Childhood: Constance Camilla Jones-Armstrong was born in Camelot a year after Hilde Pendragon and grew up alongside her as her bestfriend. Pulling pranks, stealing from the kitchens, and exploring the unknown with her friends by her side.

Life: In her adult life, Constance goes on to join the circus and becomes a bear-ward. Loving her job very much.

Death: Has not yet happened.

Quote: "A life without fun sounds like a life wasted to me."

Theme Song: "Everybody loves me."

BASICS:

Full name: Lohengrin Humphrey Jones-Armstrong.

House: Jones-Armstrong.

Age: 9 months old.

Birth place: Camelot.

Current location: Camelot.

Titles: The youngest, the 2nd Born son, The Swan Knight, the Grail knight, and Sir Lohengrin.

Occupation: Knight of the round table.

Known as: Grin, Lohen, Loh, Hen, and Sir Grin.

Known for: Being a grail and Swan knight, and marrying a duchess.

ATTIRE:

General outfit: A cloth diaper and a blue baby tunic with a matching Bonnet and baby shoes.

Weapons/Equipment: None.

Extra accessories: None.

PERSONALITY:

Fears: Loud noises and strangers.

Dreams: None.

Likes: Watching colorful things, sleeping, toys, listening to music, being read to, mock sword fights, magic, and popping bubbles.

Dislikes: Loud noises, his family upset, not being able to find his stuffed horse, and people not sharing food with him.

FAVORITES:

Favorite Color: Orange, white, or blue.

Favorite Food: Banana slices.

Favorite Drink: Milk.

Favorite Animal: Horse.

Favorite Season: Fall.

Favorite Weapon: Sword.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Friends: Dragonet, Stephanie, Gottfried, and the Pendragon siblings.

Parents: Sir Percival Armstrong and Sir Gwaine Jones.

Siblings: Gingalain Jones-Armstrong and Constance Jones-Armstrong.

Love Interest: Elsa (in the future).

Children: None yet.

Animal companion: None yet.

HISTORY:

Childhood: Lohengrin Humphrey Jones-Armstron was abandoned as a baby and found by Percival, who found him and brought him back to Camelot before adopting him. His 9 months of life have been great ever since.

Life: In his adult life, he'll become a knight. Then he'll go on several quests, save a duchess, and marry her before going to help his brother in battle.

Death: Eventually dies in battle alongside his brother.

Quote: "Ma-gic!"

Theme Song: "I'm a Knight."

I know that in legends, Gingalain, didn't marry Pucelle aux Blanches Mains but seeing as he planned to before eventually marrying Esmerée (which was implied to be for political reasons rather than out of love) I decided that in my Merlin fanfic, he could marry who he wanted instead (since I can't really picture the Arthur of the Merlin BBC forcing Gwaine's son to marry someone for political reasons since he didn't like when his father did the same for him.

#based on arthurian legend loosely #merlin bbc #merlin #the adventures of merlin #bbc merlin #merlin gwaine #gwaine merlin #perwaine #percival x gwaine #gwaine x percival #sir gwaine #sir percival #merlin next generation #merlin next gen #original characters #etc

14 notes · View notes

tathrin · 1 year

Note

What's exactly is an Elf-Lord? I assume that the uncapitalized version is just an elf who holds the title of a Lord.

I don't consider myself any sort of expert on Tolkien's Legendarium (I mean, I haven't even read any of the Unfinished Tales yet, just for baseline starters!) so I am not a good choice to ask this of, tbh. And if you're asking specifically in regards to the way I used it in my fic The Names of My Fathers (which I'm guessing is the case, because I can't think what else I've done or posted recently that involves that particular term; if I'm off-base please feel free to provide more context!) then I should caution you that that was actually the first story I started working on during my recent re-obsession with LotR, and I was sooooo rusty on my Tolkien Canon then that I fucked-up the timeline of the Quenya Ban, for fuck's sake—something I definitely knew better about! So, take the following with an entire shaker of salt is what I'm saying.

Anyway. Elf-lord is a term that crops-up in Tolkien's work (I count seventeen uses in LotR but that's at a quick glance; I may be missing some), but not one that I've ever seen a clear definition on. It seems to be one of those things that falls under a "you know it when you see it" banner. An Elf-lord is an elf of particular power, might, or prominence; someone who can command, whether that be by the strength of their political position, their lineage, or simply their raw power. Someone whom others respect, and whose words carry weight.

Lord, of course, gets used as a term of rank; one could probably assume that any Elf who is called a Lord at any point (Celeborn, for instance) could likewise be described as an Elf-lord—but I don't think it's just a case of "you have x rank, congrats you're an Elf-lord now."

Glorfindel is repeatedly called an Elf-lord, even though he never ruled any lands. He is described to Frodo as being of "a house of princes," so one might claim on those grounds that it's a rank-thing only—but his status as an Elf-lord is also referenced explicitly in regards to the Ringwraiths being "dismayed" to see "an Elf-lord revealed in his wrath," so I think there's a more-than-just-political power aspect to it as well. It's not just about rank; it's also stature, majesty. Power. Any Elf who has a lordship over land or people would be called Lord [name], but would he be called an Elf-lord if he wasn't also mighty on his own merits? Hard to say. (Of course, the fact that those who wield command in Tolkien's stories are almost always people who are mighty, conveniently, muddies those waters a little; we've got aspects of that whole "divine right" thing going on, in a story written by an Englishman! Shocking I know!)

(If you're wondering why I'm only referencing LotR and not the Silmarillion, despite there being way more Elf-lords in the latter, it's because I don't know the Silm off the top of my head well enough to go snag quotes and references without having to actually page through it. Sorry. But we're talking Third/Fourth Age stuff anyway if we're talking about the fic I think we are, so let's say I'm sticking to topically appropriate references rather than being lazy. Shh.)

Anyway. "Elf-lord" also gets used as a comparison term to indicate that someone is particularly great in a particularly elvish way. For instance, after Galadriel arrays him in finery, Aragorn is described like this: "Then more than any king of Men he appeared, and seemed rather an Elf-lord from the Isles of the West." High praise, indeed, and to me the way it's used in that section of the Appendixes is being done to indicate that he is worthy of Arwen, for all that he's a mere mortal. "Not an Elf-lord, but really close! honest!" is basically how it comes off, to me. Likewise Elladan and Elrohir are said to be "fair and gallant as elven-lords." Ergo they do not quite rank the term themselves, because they are peredhil like their father rather than elves, but they are considered to possess comparable greatness.

Conversely, I'm assuming it's not a term that is simply a fancy way of saying elf, because it only seems to be used for elves who merit greater regard than the average. The term is used more than once during the Council of Elrond in reference to some of the elves gathered there to discuss the fate of the Ring in a general way ("What of the Three Tings of the Elves? Very mighty Rings, it is said. Do not the Elf-lords keep them?...I see Elf-lords here. Will they not say?") but not in such a general way as to be referring to just any elves; it seems evident to me that Glóin is using the term to specifically indicate elves of greater-than-average position or might, rather than simply talking about elves as a whole people, although he doesn't specify anyone in particular (since it's a secret who has the Three and he does not know).

Legolas is (unless I've missed an instance somewhere) never referred to as an Elf-lord. When Elrond is discussing who to send with the Fellowship, Gandalf says, "Even if you choose for us an Elf-lord, such as Glorfindel, he could not storm the Dark Tower..." and he says this after Legolas has already been named to the Fellowship as their elvish representative; ergo while once again the text doesn't explicitly state that Legolas doesn't qualify as an Elf-lord, I think it's fair to infer that he isn't considered one; neither Elrond nor Gandalf, at least, think of him an Elf-lord, because they wouldn't have been talking about Glorfindel being an Elf-lord who could theoretically be sent along if the Fellowship already had one Elf-lord in their number.

Indeed, in Appendix E there is a sentence that specifically delineates Elves and Elf-lords as separate, distinct terms: "...the tongue of all those Elves and Elf-lords that appear in this history," Tolkien writes.

So that's how I used it: as not necessarily a specific rank that someone can be given or earn or be appointed to, but as a way of signifying extra respect and might. Hence Legolas's not-exactly-joke that Oropher would probably have called himself an Elf-lord, but that none of the other Elf-lords were likely to have agreed with his claiming the title. Now technically as a king, Oropher would qualify as an Elf-lord...but in that part of the story, I wanted to lean into the lingering bitterness that Mirkwood feels about the disdainful way they feel they were treated during the Last Alliance, and the high price they paid because of it. So, would the Elf-lords who marched to war with Gil-galad have ranked Oropher as one of them, just because he had a bunch of scruffy archers under his command? I mean, they very well might have, even if solely as a gesture of respect—a courtesy title, so to speak. But Legolas wasn't there, so he's just going off the vibes that have endured, and in my take on Green/Mirkwood those vibes are not exactly enthusiastic towards the other elves of Middle-earth; the ones that they think looked down on them and didn't stand by them and left them to fight alone against the Shadow for so long.

Legolas does use the term to refer to his father near the end of the book, when talking about how he's going to ask Thranduil to let him bring some elves from Mirkwood to help spruce-up Minas Tirith; but he says it as "my Elven-lord," rather than just saying "and Thranduil, an Elf-Lord who blah blah..." so it seems in this case to be more about the fact that Thranduil has the rank of a lord over Legolas, being king of Mirkwood, and less that he's an Elf-lord, specifically. Of course, as a king, Thranduil would likely merit the term—but is it one that non-Mirkwood elves would use for their "more dangerous, less wise" kinsmen sitting out there in the half-feral spider-tree kingdom? Hmmm, maybe; he is a king, even if he's not going around tearing down walls with his willpower and chasing the Nazgûl out of Dol Guldur by force of his shiny presence alone...but I think it also probably depends on the situation. If we were talking about "mighty Elf-lords" like Galadriel and Glorfindel? Maybe not so much. If it were a discussion of various elven leaders, including him on behalf of Green/Mirkwood, then he'd have a better shot.

So that's how I see it, anyway. As with any term without a precise definition, there's wiggle-room to interpret it in different ways, clearly. You may look at it completely differently, and that's fine! But you asked for my definition, so there you go.

Oh, also re: capitalization...yeah, that's just called me being inconsistent with capitalization, because Tolkien capitalizes pretty much EVERYTHING and I...don't. I put it down to reading too much other fantasy that doesn't capitalize every use of Elf and Dwarf, and the inconsistency of species capitalization across spec-fic in general. I should capitalize it in Tolkienian fanfiction, because the source material does; but that doesn't come naturally to me when I write those words (as you'll notice when you read this post), so sometimes I remember to do it and sometimes I don't. Sorry for the confusion!

*I invite anyone who knows more about Tolkien minutia to chime-in with their greater knowledge on the Elf-lords subject btw!

#lotr #jrr tolkien #elves #lotr canon #lord of the rings #elf lords #my stuff #oropher #glorfindel #thranduil #legolas #elladan #elrohir

25 notes · View notes

gqa-lite · 11 months

Note

'Where we’re going with ‘Frozen’ did not come from me. It came from an incredible person. That’s a new piece, I’ve told no one. And I’ve been blown away by it'

and

'They told us, the day of, and a little bit about what they’re thinking. It got us very excited. Now, we have to let the wheels of Hollywood do what they do, but we were very excited with their ideas'

can we talk about what these two interviews imply? lee and lopezes know what frozen 3 plot is about and they both admit it's ~amazing~. I think it bodes very well for the movie and we're in for a one hell of a ride.

the only thing that worries me is idina's lack of any reaction. she must know the plot, I'm sure someone from disney has called her and they talked about this. yet the only thing she said when asked about frozen 3 is 'yeah I'm happy 'cause I'll be able to pay my bills'...

anyway, I'm very intriqued by this whole thing. what are these ideas that got them so excited? I must know! maybe it's about Elsa finding romance? but on the other hand I don't believe romantic sub-plot is something that would make lee's mind blow away. let alone make her greenlit the threequel.

or maybe it's about neighbouring kingdom attacking arendelle? it would be too much like frozen 2, tho.

uuuuGGGhhh I just can't stop thinking about it!

Kristen Bell also lightly announced F3 back in 2022 but said she wasn't in charge to 'officially' announce it. This tells me she had heard about it (maybe small talks or rumors...or she's directing it just saying) and that they were actually, at the very least, talking about the film since 2022.

What's interesting about the quote "It's a new piece" tells me that while Frozen and Frozen 2 are meant to be one complete story, Frozen 3 might be starting something different, and may not even be called Frozen 3. It makes sense - Frozen 2 doesn't have a special title, it's literally just Frozen part 2.

Basically, every plot point introduced and explored in the first two films could very well be finished, and now we're treading new territory with these characters. Honestly, this possibility screams for an analysis post on who the characters are now and who they'll be going forward, and what plot points we'll most likely be leaving behind (for better or for worse). Stay tuned for this on my main blog haha.

In terms of Elsa maybe finding romance - My honest opinion is that Elsa won't be getting any romance (male or female) and remain ace. However, I do think they might heavily imply a strong connection to Honey, since fans were already on board with them and they already had a fairly close scene in F2, which opens up some more narrative opportunities between them. I'm 100% certain that there will be no prince though.

Now, in terms of Idina Menzel not being enthusiastic....that's kind of her overall personality, to be honest. I don't know Idina personally of course, but from what I've seen, she's a bit on the introverted side unless she's acting or singing. If you look at her during the Making of Frozen 2 Documentary, she also seems a bit unenthusiastic. Again, I think she's just acting that way because it's her personality, not because she's not interested in the film. But that's my personal observation.

#frozen 3

9 notes · View notes

citadel-of-paper-birds · 2 years

Text

Roman & Remus Sanders

So... more Roman Sanders fanart today because I can't stop thinking about all my silly little headcanons regarding him, Remus, their split and potentially their reunification. So I thought I'd finally share in case anyone else is stuck with the same endless loop of thoughts!

Anyway, this one's a little more interpretive, just like the other pieces. Roman, blindfolded, has a hand coming from his mouth holding a rose (which is honestly a little hard to see - the shading got dicey there, sorry). The blindfold is supposed to be a representation of willful blindness, leading to resistance to change whereas the hand with the flower is supposed to represent Roman's own stifled creativity.

All of Roman's ideas are filtered through Patton first, and I'd bet that he probably doesn't bring anything to the table that wouldn't be Patton-approved. Our boy is a people pleaser after all! That said, it's still a major limitation of his ability to fully express himself - thus, the hand blocking Roman's ability to speak.

The rose the hand is holding is what ties into the whole "pretty lies, ugly truths" line, and it's kinda self explanatory. Roman dresses up everything he does with a nice picture-perfect prince persona, a lovely lie. The ugly truth being, of course, that Roman is more than that persona, and in fact before they had split, he and Remus were the same person which means Roman is truly just as 'twisted' as Remus - because in a way, Remus IS Roman and vice versa.

As a side note, I did debate using a light blue color to indicate that the hand coming from a Roman's mouth belongs to Patton, but I decided against it for two reasons. The first reason was aesthetic - the color would have clashed with the vision I had for the piece, and how it would have looked with the other pieces in the series. The second is because while Patton plays a major role in Roman's repression, he's not the only side at fault.

C!Thomas simply refused to reconcile that fact which led to the split. Now neither Roman nor Remus are a full side/person, they're each half of a whole. I think this is why at times it feels like Remus doesn't have a function past intrusive thoughts/dark creativity. (Although it's really more that C!Thomas just won't draw on that brand of creativity.)

The thing is that if Roman and Remus were to re-merge with each other, C!Thomas's art would become deeper and more meaningful. Roman's art is great, but it can be a little superficial because messiness and unpleasantness is a side effect you gain for depth. Depth means complication. Remus isn't utilized because there's nothing to taper his ideas into something manageable and feasible.

Also side note but my Remus & Roman pieces for this are titled "The Prince" and "The Monster" which is why Remus looks more monstrous than Roman in his. Roman is willingly ignorant to the parts of himself he's denying (including Remus), which is why his eyes are covered by butterflies. "Pretty lies, ugly truths" and all that.

So I have a lot of ideas such as Remus potentially having fits where he turns into something more monstrous as a result of the split between him and Roman? Sort of like how Deceit started to take on more snake-like attributes? But the transformations are a bit painful because they're so unnatural compared to even Janus's changes...

To quote how I explained my thinking to a friend, "Conceptually the more Thomas repressed the dark side of his creativity, he's by extension repressing more and more of himself. Kind of like in the Steven Universe Future finale episodes? In my version of the mindscape (according to notes I barely remember writing) the imagination is a physical place controlled by both Remus and Roman, and their ability to control it works like a magical ability. Because Remus's ability is being stopped-up with nowhere to go, he's been trying his best to keep the metaphorical (maybe somewhat literal) explosion at bay but something's got to give eventually.

Cue Roman having an equally bad time, as I explained in my ramblings earlier, and his magic is also responding in kind because while he IS able to create the things he puts his mind to, his actual creativity and imagination are being stifled in their own way (*cough* just like Remus *cough cough*) and it's making him feel like he isn't able to really communicate. Art IS how Roman communicates and not being able to do so effectively, having that communication filtered and limited, is finally taking its toll."

I've been toying with the idea that the re-merging could be entirely voluntary. All the criticism from Patton and Virgil (extra harsh since he's also beating himself up as Thomas's ego), Logan being distracted with his own issues, and feeling like he's continuously failing to make Thomas happy despite trying his hardest... all of that is a lot to maintain. So to make the desicion to go to Remus and actually ASK him to re-merge in a last ditch effort to make Thomas happier and healthier? Because really, he and Remus were never MEANT to be separate.

And maybe the others would think it's a bad change at first because it IS different. This new Creativity is so different but so familiar at the same time and the uncanny Valley of it is off-putting to them. It's like looking at the loved ones they've come to know through distorted glass. Hence my, "Death is only the end if you assume the story is about you," WtNV quote in the picture above.

But it isn't a bad change. Roman and Remus were always meant to be one person - the SAME person. The strain on Thomas's ego is caused by that split to some degree because there's no independence of mind. Ironically as Thomas's creativity, Roman was limiting himself to *Patton's* ideas. Like a student presenting ideas to a teacher in an art class - filtered for public and age-appropriate consumption but not very deep, like I mentioned earlier.

And Remus didn't have any of the gravitas to his ideas, didn't have any grounding in reality *at all* so he could never focus his ideas into a solid form and actually CREATE anything. And on top of that, he also only received the ideas that Patton would never approve, so he became labeled as nothing more than impulsive thoughts.

So my thought process because I'm a flowery and unoriginal bitch when it comes to my writing is to use the prince/king metaphor. Growing pains associated with taking the throne... in old times the king usually ruled until they died which implies that for a new king to be coronated someone/thing has had to die to make that vacancy. It also means the death of a prince for the conception of a new king!

Now onto the other sides in this whole mess-

Patton has just started learning in the most recent episodes to try to lighten up his grip, but he learned it too late to save the situation from heartbreak at Roman's expense. Roman works as Thomas's ego so feeling like he's not a good person, like he's the problem? That would make *Thomas* feel the same way. This would, ironically, make things spiral worse because the other sides still haven't figured out how badly they're damaging Roman's self esteem... they really only see him as creativity, not grasping that all of Thomas's pride is wrapped up in his ability to create.

Patton having the knowledge that HE is the one who caused not only the initial split all those years ago, but ALSO this crisis that drove Roman to such an impulsive decision the merge with Remus? Devastating.

And then there's Janus...

Because the thing is if Roman is the ego, the prince in this metaphor, then technically Janus is the knight. Because why wouldn't it be self preservation's job to protect the ego, the core of Thomas? Why wouldn't a knight protect a prince? But he didn't. He was locked in a metaphorical dungeon where Thomas couldn't see or hear him, made out to be a monster and nothing more than a deceiver. The others had managed to twist things to make the protector look like an enemy so Roman couldn't even trust the one person who was supposed to make sure this couldn't happen.

And Janus was probably so hurt and angry feeling like Roman LET them twist it.

I don't have any artwork of Janus for this particular theory of mine yet, so take this place holder until I do!

In reality, Roman never *let* the other sides do anything. The original Creativity before the split had LOVED Janus. It was during the incident that caused the split that Patton had made his decision about Janus too. Because see after all, Janus was defending Creativity's right to creative and emotional freedom, so Patton saw him as equally bad/dangerous to Thomas. When the split happened, Janus took Remus because Roman wouldn't even look at him - Roman was a perfectly severed fragment that held no warm feelings towards Janus.

But like I said, this merge is actually a GOOD thing. The fusion of Remus and Roman has both the best and worst qualities of both, but since they're no longer each only half a person they can actually follow through with things to full capacity while still maintaining a semblance of self control. They're more confident in themselves and by extension Thomas is too. Plus now that both creativities are combined Thomas can channel more negative emotions into his art for a therapeutic release. That catharsis of negativity from him can be nothing but good for Patton honestly! It causes less stress on him in the long run.

Plus this combined version of Creativity also wouldn't be afraid of Janus. He's Roman but he's also Remus, so he and Janus would become even closer down the line I think. The newfound levelheadedness that comes with increased maturity and clarity from being more than half a mind, Logan would also have less stress surrounding Creativity's endeavors too.

I was fiddling around with a plan that would make them able to split at will. They're creativity, right? So the ability to split in the first place might be unique to them! Because only they could *that vividly* imagine something like that happening for real. And it would also be beneficial to Thomas for them to be able to split. Two heads are better than one and all that - but I like to think that it makes it so Remus is a little more level and Roman is a little less restrained. Like... once in a while Roman will throw out an idea that sounds absolutely heinous - like where did that come from my guy? But also once in a while REMUS is the voice of reason like, "wouldn't that kill us all?"

I don't know, I like the idea that the merge is a thing until all the sides are able to talk with the new Creativity, and it's Patton admitting finally, broken down that he misses not just Roman but surprisingly *Remus* that makes the change. Remus just needed to hear he was wanted, and Roman needed to hear he didn't need to be perfect. Being one person was a great defense mechanism, and being able to separate is great for creative flow.

Alright, thanks for reading (if anyone bothered to get through this LITERAL essay)!

#art #citadelart #sanders sides #tss #tss remus #tss roman #roman sanders #remus sanders #ts roman #ts remus #sanders sides art #tss art

43 notes · View notes