#tome just brings out everything in me
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This gif perfectly encapsulates what I love about Tome. All girls have been this gif. Like remember having undiagnosed mental issues and your family makes you go on an outing that should be fun but you’re just pissed off constantly because youre a 14 year old girl? Tome gets it.
Like YOU’RE GOING SOMEWHERE TO DO SOMETHING THAT SPECIFICALLY PERTAINS TO YOUR INTERESTS. But youre a 14 year old girl and nobody will ever take you seriously and you’ve just got this pit of hopelessness in your stomach despite the fact that nothing is technically wrong
so even though youre on an outing planned for you you can’t shake the feeling that everyone is just making fun of you for being so upset over seemingly nothing. These are your friends and family, you deep down they wouldnt do that, but why else would they go out of their way?
They certainly wouldn’t do it for you, right? I mean nothing’s even technically wrong. You’re just being a crybaby and they all must think youre just being a dramatic teenage girl. And you are and you know that you are so why can’t you just get over it and be normal?
And when you finally can’t take the pain that’s screaming in your chest because everything feels wrong wrong and everything is going wrong and everything is wrong wrong wrong you can’t help but cry. And you’re embarrassed and you’re furious and you’re supposed to be mature and you’re supposed to not care but you cry.
Crying feels worse than the growing internal discomfort did because now everyone is looking at you. They’re staring in uncomfortable suprise at what you’re sure is the most unsuprising sight in the world - a 14 year old girl crying. You want to go home but you can’t. You’re 14. You can’t do anything on your own.
You react to the terrifying ordeal of being reacted to the only way you know how - with anger. You monologue through hot tears and sobs and snot how you didn’t even wanna be here and how you just *know* everyone is just doing this to make fun of you and how they should just go on ahead and leave you wherever you are (you know this can’t happen. They wouldn’t leave a 14 year old girl somewhere unfamiliar on her own) and something in you hopes that they’ll yell back, that they’ll treat you like you’re irrational and make you feel justified in your anger.
…But that doesn’t happen. The silence persists but you realize that it’s more contemplative than judgemental. They’re not afraid of you, though you think they should be. Rather than letting them say something sentimental about caring and being concerned or any sappy bullshit that will only serve to make you cry more, you wipe your face on your sleeve continue on your journey.
The day gets better. After everyone gathers that no, you don’t wanna talk about it, it almost feels like nothing happened to begin with- besides the slight exhaustion you feel every time you blink and the intense stress sweat you choose to blame on anything else.
By the time you get home, the day is mentally logged as a good day. You decide - albeit tentatively - that maybe you’re going to be ok. Maybe you won’t be a 14 year old girl forever.
You go to bed and have the best sleep you’ve had in months.
#mp100#tome kurata#ramblings#free to rb#though I’m sure nobody will LOL this is not anything#i didnt even mean to write all that#tome just brings out everything in me#like i see her and its like looking at me when i was in middle school#sorry if this is stupid i am not a writer#i genuinely hate writing so I’m suprised this exists#everything about here makes my heart ache with familiarity and love#mob psycho 100#tome mob psycho#something about being 14#being a 14 year old audhd unpopular girl who has yet to find out shes a lesbian is something tome could do in her sleep#and i salute her for that bc i also did that once#idgaf about the military they have nothing on being a 14 year old girl
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These Hands
Gale x gn!reader, Gale x gn!Tav
Content/Tags: Soft, slow, NSFW, service top Tav/reader, oral, penetration, short, one-shot
Context: Between the ending of Act 2 and the beginning of Act 3, on the road to Baldur's Gate. Light spoilers for the end of Act 2, Gales overall story and a non-spoilery reference to the Act 2 romance scene.
Word count: 2.3k
“You should be with me in this… Let me-“
With one last kiss to his palm, you bring his hand to your chest, resting just over your heart. “I’m already here with you.” Your hips still with your next words, “I love you. Let me show you.”
Fic List AO3
After the battle with Ketheric Thorm the group has finally made its way on the road to Baldur’s Gate. The days have been long, and with many still recovering from the battle, everyone has decided to take a well-earned day of rest before continuing the last leg of the journey to the city.
Gale had unsurprisingly and generously produced a cozy space for you both to laze the day away in. His space is now closer to a library than a tent, with bookshelves lining a spun illusion of a tower room, plush carpets laid out on every inch of the floor, and a quiet fire burning in a hearth on one wall.
You grinned at him when first stepping inside, “Your home? In Waterdeep?” You teased him.
“I didn’t show you before, so now felt as good a time as any. Nothing in all the realms is more relaxing than my library,” he said with a decidedly pretentious tone.
With a knowing grin, you held up your hands in acquiescence and headed for the pile of pillows tucked between two of the bookshelves. Who were you to argue with a wizard about his tower?
Now, you’ve stirred from a long nap nestled into Gale’s side on the pillows as he reads a large tome picked up from somewhere on the journey. Probably the Sharran temple.
“Mmm… this was a great idea, I must admit.” You mumble into his shoulder as you wake.
Gale winds his arm around your hip, tucking you even closer. “That implies you had doubts about our afternoon of languor, and I must say I’m a bit offended. I have great ideas. Particularly when it comes to you.”
You let out a groggy snort as you stretch your free arm across his chest, continuing your ascent back to the waking world.
He turns his head away from his book to nuzzle your hair, “Go back to sleep,” he mumbles into your scalp. “You took some hard hits during the battle with Thorm. Or are you hungry? I can whip up the stew you like. Or could I interest you in a book from my vast collection? I have one in mind I think you’ll find fascinating. Or-“
You cut him off when you start quietly chuckling into his shoulder. This man nearly met his own end and yet he seeks to serve you.
“I’ll advise you it is unwise to laugh at a man’s stew.” He says with a grin.
You lift your head to meet his gaze, a soft smile on your lips, and wiggle out of his hold to straddle his middle. You gently remove that hefty tome of his and set it aside. Your hand shifts up his chest to lightly, absently trace the lines of his orb sigil along his neck.
“I only realized that I’d like to do something for you,” you say softly.
Gale’s grin falters momentarily, “I could not ask more of you, who have already given me everything.”
Your heart soars at his words, but you know Gale. You know just how deserving he is of everything you have to offer, yet he would not ask for it. He would not ask for anything for fear of not being worthy of it, despite all you’ve shared together. He must be shown how deserving he is, you decide. Slowly, perhaps he will come to see that he can receive the same love and care that he graces you with.
His hands reach for you after you’ve paused too long in your contemplating, but you catch his wrists. Closing your eyes, you plant a soft kiss at his right wrist, listening to his small, somewhat awed sigh at the touch. Your plan takes form in your mind, and you drop his left hand to begin work on his right. Beginning at his wrist, your thumbs move in small circles, massaging the muscle and small joints. As you move up toward to his elbow and back down to the wrist, squeezing lightly to continue massaging, Gale lets out another sigh. Your lips twitch at his easily coaxed reactions. He clearly enjoys this attention - why not let himself ask for more? You move to his hand, methodically rubbing down the length of each finger. You get a little lost in your task, enjoying the feel of his skin as you finish with the right and move to the left. Gale’s life as a prodigy shows in his hands. Not soft, as one might imagine for a wizard, but slightly rough and dry from the constant turning of pages, of wielding a staff, of pulling from the Weave. These hands have worshiped your skin, have clinched victories, have created wonders. They are precious. Glancing up at him, he has a bemused expression but attempts to hide it with that ever-present grin. You bring both hands up to your lips to kiss his knuckles. A few small scars decorate the tops of his hands, and you take a moment to give each one their own attentions.
“Hmm…” you sigh with your lips brushing over his fingers. “These hands have done so much.”
“These hands can do more,” he says with a lift of his brows.
You chuckle, giving an index finger a little nip. “Oh yes, I’m acquainted with their skills.” You eye him mischievously, licking the tip of that same finger with your tongue. A tease. “I would know what these hands desire.”
“They want for nothing where you are concerned. How can they grant your desires? Now, there is the better question.” He replies.
Not good enough. You hold his gaze again, trying to let him see your openness, your earnestness to give him something of yourself that he deserves. Something he didn’t have to earn by being anything other than himself. You slide your tongue around that finger, bringing it into your mouth, sucking lightly from knuckle to tip.
“Nothing?” You whisper, “Nothing at all?”
His eyes are locked with yours, and you sense him tense beneath you slightly. The jovial mask of Gale of Waterdeep slips a little; in his eyes you see that yearning you suspected was there all along. They search your face, looking for deception, for conditional affection, perhaps even outright lies. But they will find none, and you will prove it to him over and over and over again. You press and encouraging kiss to his palms, catching the movement of his throat as he swallows nervously.
“You.” He says lowly. “Always you.”
Reverently placing his hands down, you lean in, taking his face between your palms. “You have me. Wholly.” You breathe onto his lips. The kiss is a brush of skin at first, then confident as he attempts to take the lead, dancing that talented tongue with yours to drive you mad. You nip at his lower lip to take back control, slowing the pace. Softly sucking on his lip as you pull back, you give him your eyes full of that openness to reassure him, as your hands move lower.
Slowly you release the buckle of his tunic, pushing the fabric up over his torso, planting treasuring kisses along his chest as you head down to his trousers. His hands make a gentle protest in your hair, but you place them back at his sides, a quiet question in your eyes as you continue. You can see the uncertainty in his gaze, the hesitation to bask in your attention, and the mix of excitement and curiosity for what you will do next. Which will win out?
He gives a soft, tentative smile as your signal to continue. You unfasten the ties for his trousers with an easy smile, tugging them down just enough, and do the same for his underwear. The moment is too precious to interrupt with disrobing completely. You are singularly focused on showing this man, in some small way, just how much you care for him.
His cock bobs, half-hard, as you reveal it. You take him in hand, pausing again with that question in your eyes as you bend down. His chest rises and falls in anticipation as he gives you a slight nod, reaching out a hand to thread through your hair loosely. Starting at the base, you give him a long, thorough lick, keeping his gaze all the while. The throaty noise Gale releases in response is delicious in your ears – you want more. His cock stiffens fully in your hand now, and you put your lips around the tip, circling and sucking. The hand in your hair twitches. More. You hear a hiss as you swallow him fully, pulling back up to flick your tongue at the sensitive underside of his head, then pushing back down, sucking hard this time. That hiss turns into a huff as your pace quickens, squeezing the base of him with your fingers. More. You want even more. Even though this is about Gale, you might be a little selfish. You want to see the faces he’s making, how his chest is heaving, how his arms are flexing to restrain himself, the shape his mouth makes with each sound. With a few last licks and sucks, you pull off, too eager to make those visions a reality. You sit up and lick your lips, watching his face as he pants and reaches for you.
You shake your head, backing off to impatiently remove your underthings. Crawling back to straddle him, you take that hand that reached out up to your mouth to kiss his wrist. You position yourself and begin to sink down slowly, almost teasingly onto his cock. His breath hitches with each rise and fall of your hips as you take him inside you. This - this is what you wanted. His rapturous expression as he fits inside you, as you squeeze him, as you bite the meat of his thumb in your own ecstasy. He is yours, and you will worship him as he deserves. Fully seated, you begin to slowly rock your hips. This isn’t a race, isn’t lewd, isn’t about your pleasure. It is intimate, and full of your will to prove him worthy of you, worthy of his own life. You kiss each knuckle of his fingers as you continue that slow, sensual rocking. His eyes are heavy-lidded, jaw slack, chest rising and falling with his panting breath as he takes in the sight of you. You are both mostly clothed, and yet it is somehow all the more passionate for it.
“I…”, he breathes, then clears his throat nervously. “I won’t last much longer with you like this.”
“Then let go,” you say softly. “This isn’t about me.”
His expression remains conflicted, flitting between pleasure and confusion of your focused attention. “You should be with me in this… Let me-“
With one last kiss to his palm, you bring his hand to your chest, resting just over your heart. “I’m already here with you.” Your hips still with your next words, “I love you. Let me show you.”
His breath shudders as your hips restart their languid rhythm. Your hand rests over his on your chest, his other hand grasping your hip as you rock, lift up slightly, and sink back down into another rocking motion. All slow, liquid movements. Your gazes are locked, your chests lifting with the same breaths, your mouths softly open with the same tender sounds of desire. The hand at your hip squeezes, and you feel his hips start to meet yours in kind. A long groan escapes him as he quickly thrusts up into you.
“Yes,” you breathe. You lean forward as his eyes fall shut, taking in his face as he comes. His cheeks flush, his brows furrow, his breath rushes out in quick pants; then all slows and relaxes into bliss. Your rhythm doesn’t stop, riding him through the high and leading him back down again. The light sheen of sweat on his brow earns a kiss from you, and you rest your head there, patiently waiting for him to return to you. His breath slows, and his eyes blink open sluggishly. That soft, wicked grin of his returns, but you notice the lingering astonishment behind his eyes, as if he still can’t quite believe you’re real despite everything.
“For once I think I’ve rendered you speechless.”
A light chuckle escapes him as he catches his breath, “Very nearly.” He swallows, “That was…”
You interrupt his search for words with a quiet kiss. You’d rather leave the moment as it is. It needs no description, only the understanding that you did it for him because you love him. You pull away with a tender caress of his cheek, sitting back and pulling his tunic back down, his trousers back up as you lift off of him. You sense him watching you, still likely contemplating if you are amongst the illusions of this room. Quietly you re-dress in your underthings and bestow more kisses on his hands as you rejoin him among the pillows on your knees. “I recall mention of stew, but what about a cup of tea first?”
“That sounds lovely.” He says with a smile. Before he can even twitch a muscle, you’ve lifted up again and are strolling toward the very real small table near the hearth housing a teapot with ready-made tea the Wizard of Waterdeep keeps magically warmed with an environmental spell. In a few moments, you’re striding back with two cups, warmed to the perfect temperature and ready to sip. You place Gale’s cup atop the tome he was perusing earlier, earning you a slightly scandalized look as he swipes the cup up, taking a sip. You chuckle to yourself as you re-take your place at his side on the pillows. As he sets his cup down – not on a book this time – you snatch his hands again.
Placing one at your cheek and one to your lips you whisper, “I can’t get enough of these hands.”
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Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.
#gale of waterdeep#gale x tav#gale x reader#gale x gn!tav#gale x gn!reader#gale dekarios#baldur's gate 3#bg3#baldur's gate 3 fanfic#baldur's gate 3 fanfiction#gale dekarios fanfic#gale of waterdeep fanfic#gale dekarios romance#gale of waterdeep romance#gale dekarios x reader#gale dekarios x tav#gale dekarios x you#gale x you#bg3 smut#gale dekarios smut
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Bomb Protection | Soap x GuardianAngel!Reader
Summary: Being assigned someone to protect is simple enough, keep them out of danger - but what about someone who keeps putting themselves in danger on a day to day basis.
Word Count: 2K+
Mythic Month HQ
★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★
You hummed softly as you ran your fingers over the spines of old and sacred tomes. Your days were filled with wandering around these same four walls, your mind filled with boredom as you awaited for your skills to be put to use.
You had just reached the age where you could finally be a part of the ‘Protection Programme’ you were given a choice and deciding to follow in your parents footsteps you would become a guardian Angel. When growing up around your elders you loved to sit in front of the fire listening to the stories they told you about their first human - it either went terribly or it went as perfect as could be, you had hoped yours would be the latter.
You look up at the high ceilings and look around the room before spreading your wings and grabbing a book off the highest shelf. You're not allowed to use your wings in the library due to an incident which involved an Angel crashing into the wooden shelving and toppling them over, many books were damaged and were in desperate need of repair…
Smiling you hold the book in your hand but then hear a cough and drop it out of your hand, quickly flying down you catch it before it hits the ground and then turn to the person who just entered.
“You know you're not supposed to be doing that, but I'll turn a blind eye as you caught it before it touched the ground”
“I’m sorry father…” you whisper as you lowered your head, the book was still in your grip and you slowly placed it onto a table next to you.
“Don’t worry my dear child, come, I have something exciting to show you” he holds out an arm and you go to him with curiosity. His arm rests around your shoulders as he walks you through the halls you could probably recite and draw with your eyes closed.
He opened the door and inside stood one of the head Angels, you felt nervous as you approached them but the feeling quickly disappeared as you saw them smile at you.
‘Okay i'm not in trouble… that's a good start’
Swallowing your fears you stood before him and bowed in respect, just how you normally would. Everything's fine, you're in no trouble, you remind yourself over and over as you wait for them to speak, everything is really making you want to run and fly to the nearest waterfall.
“After your results I think it's finally ready for you to begin your destiny” he begins and you feel a spark of electricity lick up your spine, you were finally going to get to protect someone. “This man, Johnny MacTavish is who you'll protect to the best of your abilities. I assure you that if you fail to keep him safe and out of harm's way you will be severely punished. Any questions?”
You stared at the paper pushed in your direction and quickly signed the bottom to seal your protection for the man. “We wish you all the best on your journey ” he nods with a hand over his chest. You bow in their direction and exit the room, carefully trying to not show how excited you were to finally be able to protect someone.
Rushing back to your room you sat on your chair and closed your eyes. You were bound to him now and wanted nothing more than to see who he was.
Seeing him in your mind made a smile break out on your face, your very first human! How exciting!
Looking down on him you watch as he talks with a few other men and women. They had bottles in their hands as they stood around a pool table watching a current game, you’ve never played but they seemed to be enjoying their time together.
Listening in you heard a loud laugh and wince at the volume of it. “You’re one lucky fucker MacTavish, you could’ve blown off half your arm” a man laughs but Johnny shrugs while bringing his drink up to his lips. “Someone must be looking out for me” he points to the ceiling and you gasp out loud, they are never supposed to know about the angels protecting them, that could result in something disastrous.
“You believe in that crap?” you make a face of disgust at the man's words and immediately put him on your list of people you don't like - there isn't anyone else on this list but he will be at the top written in gold. “If it saves me from becoming a pincushion for shrapnel then yes I believe in that crap” you don’t like their choosing of words but if he truly believes in you then you’ll let it slide - for now.
Over the next few days you’ve had fun watching Johnny or Soap is what you’ve found out to be his name. You were confused but didn’t dwell on it too much and learnt as much as you could about this man. You’d visited him one time while he was sleeping and you were planning on doing so tonight, you weren’t supposed to but what if something happens while he’s asleep?
Appearing into his room was always easy due to your powers but sometimes you wondered if someone would ever just catch you. You knew no one would but there’s always a risk.
Creeping closer to the man on the small cot your eyes roam over his body for any injuries - you knew there aren’t any due to you watching him all day but still wanted to make sure.
His soft snores filled your ears as you got closer. He looked so peaceful as if all of his worries had disappeared, you knew his job was quite stressful but sometimes he doesn’t look that stressed.
He shifts in his sleep and hits himself in the face with his hand, you stifle a laugh and furrow your brows at him. The only thing you need to protect him from is his unconscious self. Reaching out your hand you grab onto his wrist and move the arm away from his face, you didn’t know exactly what he could do to himself in his sleep so it’s better you don’t find out.
As soon as you put his hand onto his chest he jolts awake and you let out a small noise before hiding in the shadow of his room. He grumbled as he rubbed his eyes and looked over in your direction, you stayed still as possible and when he grumbled again he flopped back down and dozed off. Johnny was an interesting person to watch every day, sometimes he did questionable things that didn’t make sense but you shrugged them off and ignored them.
Your wings fluttered due to you being on earth for far too long without a reason. You would just have to watch him from the comfort of your home in the clouds.
You don’t know how many times you’ve sent him messages to his mind about moving away from something dangerous but it was more than what you could count on one hand. These messages you send are what humans say are their sixth sense or gut feeling, you do this so you can manage him from afar instead of actually going down to earth and helping him out. He listens eight percent of the time which is good enough for you as he has never become hurt due to your decisions.
A month later you felt an uncomfortable twitch in your back, you hadn't checked in with your little human yet as he shouldn't be awake. But this was something urgent.
Closing your eyes you see him in your mind and gasp out loud. If it was possible for you to have a heart attack you probably would have had about five right now, all at once.
Johnny stood in the middle of a room looking down at a device which has a timer strapped to it, from your knowledge you know its a bomb anyone could clearly see but the thing that grabs your attention is the digits counting down from five. You know he could probably achieve diffusion in those five seconds but you weren't going to take any chances.
He wasn't moving which annoyed you. You had sent him messages to his mind to tell him to get out of there but he wasn't listening. “I'm sending him a feeling and he's choosing to ignore it?! Why are humans so difficult” you mumble to yourself as you quickly find his location and get there.
You grab onto the back of his vest and cover his head as you pull him to the ground, your body and wings shield him from the blast of the bomb but you're far enough away that it didn’t damage him.
Looking down at the man in your arms you assess any damage done to him - which is luckily none - and swiftly make an exit, you don't particularly need him seeing you and asking questions. But as your back was turned you didn’t see that your human was in fact looking in your direction admiring your fluffy white wings.
Later that night you checked in on him and saw he was wide awake staring at the ceiling. You saw his phone lying next to him unlocked, reading what he just did, you looked from the phone and back to his face.
‘How to talk to your Guardian Angel’ was what it said and you had a mild moment of panic, you knew you shouldn’t have saved him like that and he must've seen you leave.
“Stupid stupid, this is bad… but would it be so bad?” you paced the library while chewing on your lip deep in thought. Walking over to a bookshelf you pick up a book of rules and flick through them until you find the one you need. Once you read through the page your frown is replaced with a smile.
‘If a human chooses to communicate with the Angels, the Angel who protects them may come forth and show themselves but ONLY if the Angel feels the pull towards said human’
Once you close the book and place it back where it came from you feel a different sensation come from your wings, as if you’re being pulled or dragged? You smile and realise what's happening, your human is trying to call for you.
Straightening out your clothes you concentrate on where he is and vision yourself being in there, when you open your eyes you see him still laying on the bed staring at the ceiling.
“Hello!” you greet and he visibly jumps in the air and off the edge of his bed, you hurry to his side and help him up off the floor with a gentle tug of his arm.
His eyes connect with yours and you could see he was shocked to see you. “Hi…” he says before standing up straight and looking you up and down.
“Your… actually here, heh oh my. I'm sorry I'm a little speechless, I'm Johnny MacTavish” he holds out a hand and you take his rough one in your soft palm. “I know who you are” you state and he looks at you with curiosity in his eyes.
Guiding him over to his bed you softly take a seat with him next to you. “This may sound strange but perhaps not as strange as you think it may be. I am your Guardian Angel” your voice sounded so angelic and he couldn’t take his eyes off you, they weren’t kidding when they said angels were supposed to be pretty creatures.
“Are you the one who saved me?” nodding your head to confirm he lets out a laugh and shakes his head. “Why me?”
Taking his hand in yours you give it a squeeze before turning it over palm side up. “Some are given one at birth, some are given them at random points in their life, some ask for one which is what you did” your eyes move away from his palm and to his face, he looked embarrassed almost.
“I didn't think anyone would listen… I was nearly dead when I did it, it probably came out as a mumble but obviously it didn't”
“You were heard loud and clear, your job is very dangerous may I add. I've been watching you and gosh would you please stop with the explosives” you scold him in a serious voice, but he just laughs.
“I can’t but perhaps I'll think before I decide to try and defuse one that's on the verge of blowing up” you look at him in an intimidating way and he holds his hands in the air “promise! You don’t have to worry about that, but the thought of you being there makes me feel better about going about my job”
“Well i have to protect you for as long as you shall live so we’re stuck until that day comes” you smile and he gives you an equally big one back. You stand up from the edge of his bed and flutter your wings a little bit, you need to get back.
“Will I see you again?”
“If you ask for me, I'll come. I'm always watching too so make sure you remember that” he blushes and scratched his neck awkwardly before nodding.
“I must go now, don't get into too much trouble or else I'll have to punish you myself”
“Are all Angels bossy or is it just you” you let out a small giggle before shaking your head “Stay out of trouble, goodbye Johnny”
“Until next time” he whispers and once he blinks you’re gone…
#Mangos Mythic Month🦇˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#soap mactavish#soap call of duty#soap cod#john soap mactavish
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can i speak my truth ? can i keep it real ? there shouldve been more in-party conflict in blades 2. like obviously mc should’ve gotten to cuss mal out in particular when he was like You Dont Know What We’ve Been Thru as if getting kidnapped and forced into a magically induced coma and getting your blood stolen and having constant benadryl nightmares is a walk in the park lmfao, and also just gotten to talk more about what they went through and how it’s impacted them
but also there should’ve been way more beef between the other party members. like girl if i’m nia and i’m spiralling scorning sleep and food constantly hunting for a way to free MY GIRLFRIEND (!!) from the clutches of some goth elf cunt on top of making the fantasy catholic church christlike again and repressing my inner shadow demon and one of my friends is like “hesdeadjim.png give up also fuck you” and then fucked off to be an alcoholic pit fighter, i wouldve actually just thrown hands when we saw each other next. no magic no nothing just me and my nasty little fingers (covered in paper cuts from all the arcane shadow tomes ive been reading) coming straight for her eye sockets. staff of silverlake should’ve been nia’s weapon and she should’ve leapt into the pit in chapter 4 and clocked imtura in the skull with it.
like you bitches should be CRAZY!!!! you should all have DISORDERS!!!! you should be begging ravens perched on busts for RESPITE AND NEPENTHE from your memories of me !!!!!! the moon should never beam without bringing you dreams of ME and the stars never rise but you feel MY bright eyes. tyril should be half-mad with grief and stress he should be mumbling to himself and seeing mc’s silhouette in dark corners. nia should be clearly and obviously off her fucking rocker and constantly on the verge of self destructing and taking us all out with her. imtura should be constantly blind drunk so she doesn’t have to feel her grief or anything at all really. mal should have been in the wind the second it started looking like mc wasn’t coming back and nobody’s heard from him in months. kade should be in a bottomless pit of grief bc when he was stuck in the shadow realm we never gave up hope and we went to rescue him but now that the tables are turned he’s slowly losing hope and day by day and night by night we recede and he becomes more faithless. threep and loola should be inseparable sleeping in a pile together never beyond a wing-length from one another and keeping obsessive tabs on all the other party members no matter how far-flung across morella they are because they’ve already lost everyone and everything they knew to the shadow court once and they’ll be damned if they lose anything else. also kade and aerin should’ve built up a weird semihostile rapport bc once everything fell apart and everyone went their separate ways it was just the two of them in the whitetower palace and kade would go to his cell and sit out of arm’s reach to vent about his time in the shadow realm and his grief and hopes and fears. they both knew and loved mc, in their own ways, despite how aerin hurt them, and now they’ve both lost them, maybe for good. maybe one day aerin starts talking back
where is the SPICE where is the FLAVOUR? where’s the DRAMA where’s the OOMPH where’s the PANACHE? you cannot look at me and tell me these dysfunctional bitches wouldn’t fall back into their worst habits once the one person who held them all together up and vanished into the void. why am i not ending each chapter feeling like i’ve just gotten punched in the dick bc the love is so obviously still there and that’s why it hurts so bad. they should’ve put their whole budget and pussies into forcing the party to fit themselves back together even though they’ve all grown new sharp edges and keep cutting each other up. they should’ve gone full dark no stars about it. grief is an amputation but hope is incurable hemophilia you bleed and bleed and bleed, plants that are split down the middle dont heal they die, you are a language i am no longer fluent in but still remember how to read, what lived and died between us haunts me still, if someone asked me at the end i’d tell them “put me back in it”, i care what ghosts think of me, come back even as a shadow even as a dream, someone has to leave first this is a very old story there is no other ending to this story, etc, etc, you get it you understand. also the mc should’ve come back WRONG.
#maeve speaks#playchoices#choices#pixelberry#blades of light and shadow#bolas#bolas mc#mal volari#nia ellarious#imtura tal kaelen#tyril starfury#aerin valleros#threep pompedorfin#loola dupopodolis#bolas kade#bolas mal#bolas nia#bolas imtura#bolas tyril#bolas aerin#bolas valax#bolas threep#bolas loola
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(A/n: Told you it'd be up soon😅😘)
Word Count: 2,007
Summary- How do you expect Lucio to deny a treat such as yourself?
Warnings: Con Noncon, Mentions of "deflowering" (social construct but🤷♀️), anal, a singular slap at the beginning, fingering, unprotected sex- no creampie, let me know if i missed any
Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI
Count Lucio x Male! Reader: Corruption + Anal; Kinktober 2023
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The palace library is filled with the steady shuffling of paper as you flip through various spell books.
Asra has been trying to teach you how to enter the Arcana Realm on your own but you just can't seem to grasp it. So here you are: sorting through book after book to try to figure it out. Sure, Asra would be more than happy to give you extra help, but you can't bring yourself to ask. Not after everything they have done for you already.
Just as you let out a sigh, about to give up for the day, the library doors slam open. You don't even have to look to know who it is. But you do, because he's the count and something about respect, yada yada yada.
You politely nod in acknowledgement even though you're trying to keep your eye from twitching in annoyance. You're already stressed between Asra's new task and the general mayhem that comes from being the count's personal magician.
Namely, the count's particular fascination with making you do measly magic tricks as though you're a court jester - it makes you regret ever accepting the Countess's offer.
"Ah! Y/n! What a wonderful surprise!" Count Lucio exclaims as he strides over to you.
As if he came to the library for any reason other than wanting to bother you.
"Count Lucio," you deadpan, continuing to flip through the pages in front of you.
He perches on the table, not bothering to move the priceless tomes and scrolls. You cringe as the papers crinkle and crunch under his weight.
"I'll never understand why you choose to bury yourself in such a dark, dusty room," he absently flips a book closed as he glances at the papers with a screwed up face. "If I didn't know any better I would think you like these books more than me~"
'Guess you don't know better, then…' you think bitterly.
"Do you require my assistance with something, your Excellency?"
His lips twist into a nasty smirk, sending a chill down your spine.
"I do, actually~"
Rubbing your temples you bookmark the tome you're looking through and set it aside. "And that would be with..?"
Over the course of your time at the palace, you've come to learn that the count has little to no regard for personal space when it comes to the people he favors, -unfortunately, you're one of the most favored of his staff- so you don't think much of it as he grabs your wrist and brings your hand toward him.
That is, until he places your hand on his lap. Specifically, his notably hard crotch.
His grip tightens when you move to yank your hand back.
"Sir-"
"Ah, ah ah~ You know what happens to people who upset me~" The Count chides.
The threat behind his words makes you freeze as images flash through your mind.
Various staff members who have been executed in various ways. From public hangings to being chased down by Mercedes and Melchior.
"There's a smart boy~" Count Lucio sing-songs. "You will do as I say, when I say it. Understand?"
Your jaw is set as you numbly nod.
"Good boy… Now, strip." He commands as releases your wrist to shrug off his jacket, leaving his torso bare.
You'd be lying if you said the count wasnt insanely attractive. Or that you hadn't thought about almost this exact situation before. But reality is different from fantasies.
A slap to the face snaps you out of your thoughts. You keep your head snapped to the side as he speaks.
"I said: strip."
With no other choice, you stand, slowly peeling layer after layer off until you're standing bare before him. Keeping your eyes to the ground, you wait for his next order as embarrassed tears prick at your eyes.
"Fuck… Look at you- better than I imagined." He breathes.
The tears slip down your cheeks as the praise causes your cock to start to twitch to life.
Horror dawns on you as you realize he said 'Imagined'... That means he's thought this… That he planned it. Oh, gods…
"C'mere."
His voice brings you back. Numbly, you move your legs until you're in front of him. He yanks you to stand between his legs.
"Open your mouth." Dropping your jaw open, your hands clench into fists at your side. Why you? Why couldn't this be happening to another staff member?
You know it's an awful thought, but you can't help it.
His fingers are heavy on your tongue as he slides them in to the knuckle. "Now suck."
The count's intense gaze never leaves you as you suck and swirl your tongue around his digits. You close your eyes in shame as your cock stands at attention between you. You know it's just a primal response, but the disgrace still fills you.
Even more so when you acknowledge the small part of you that's enjoying the attention. The part of you that whispers about all the times you imagined being bent over by him and fucked until you couldn't walk; reminds you of all the times you've feverishly tugged at yourself to the thougbt of him until you were spilling into your bath water.
After his fingers are thoroughly slicked, Count Lucio pulls his hand back and slips it behind you. You jump as you feel his wet fingers slip between your ass cheeks and trace around your hole.
"Wait!" You yelp, taking a step back. Which, with the way the pressure makes his finger breach you, does anything but help the heat in your face. "What are you doing?"
The count's head tilts to the side as he leans back against his metal arm. You try not to let the way his abs tense with the movement get to you. Try.
Raising an eyebrow he says, "Well, I was going to prepare you to take my cock, but, if you'd prefer no preparation, I'm happy either way…"
His dismissive attitude has you sputtering.
"So?" He asks, "Prepped or not prepped?"
"Well- I- Um- Wh-" You can feel the heat in your chest with how embarrassed you are. You're standing in front of Vesuvia's ruler, as naked as the day you were born, being asked how you like to be fucked. Please let a hole open up beneath you and swallow you whole…
Count Lucio rolls his eyes and huffs a sigh, "Prepped it is. Now- forearms on the table." He stands from his perch.
Hesitating, you just glance between him and the table. This is actually happening…
"Now."
His tone carries the authority of the fearless commander he's known to be and it has you shuddering as you lean over a couple scrolls.
"Good boy~"
You suck in a breath at the appraisal. Your hips jerk as he starts to push his fingers into you once more.
He pushes the first finger in until what you guess is the second joint before pulling it out and joining it with another finger. The count slowly starts to scissor you open.
"This is wrong…" you whimper out and the dirty feeling washing over you. "This is so, very wrong…" Fresh tears flow from your eyes as the count ruins you.
"Oh, baby, the only thing wrong right now, is you." You can feel his warmth as he leans over you to whisper in your ear. His fingers continue to force small whines from your lips as they pump in and out of you. "This isn't right, the body isn't meant for this…"
"Wait a minute-" Count Lucio pauses with a grin. "You don't mean the situation, do you?" Your bottom lip trembles as you shake your head.
"Please, don't do this to me," you whisper as your forehead falls to the table in defeat.
"Oh~" you can hear the growing smirk in his voice.
"Oh, I'm going to ruin you, my little magician~" he growls out.
His fingers start up with a renewed vigor and he speaks.
"Gonna ruin this tight little hole. Gonna ruin you for anyone else; you're never gonna be able to even think about anyone else after I'm done with you."
All of a sudden his fingers are gone and something much bigger is pushing at your rim. When did he undo his pants?
"Please… Lucio-"
Before you can get the rest of your plea out, you're interrupted.
"Godsdamn it-" He groans. "Drop the "Count" from now on. My name sounds so good coming from your lips, baby…"
You cry out as the count starts to push in. Not out of pain, but because you're never going to be intact again. Facing the ultimate shame has you once again cursing at the Arcana for not choosing someone else to be deflowered in this way.
You're sobbing into the tabletop by the time Lucio bottoms out. You can feel his metal fingers contrasting his flesh on your opposite hip; the sharp, gold digits digging into your skin as he starts to pull out.
You're babbling various pleas and protests as he thrusts back in. Your words fall on deaf ears as he starts to pick up the pace. Your cries mix with his pleasured curses fill the otherwise empty library.
One particularly hard thrust has you screaming out in pleasure and pain as he slams into your prostate- over and over the bundle of nerves takes the hits. Over and over you clench your eyes as you jaw goes slack. The most obscene noises leave you, noises you didn't know you could make.
"Fucking hell-" Lucio hisses as he snaps his hips against yours, "Feel so fucking good; look at you sucking me in so eagerly. And to think- hah- you were so against this."
You can't bring yourself to answer. Your cheek is smushed against the wooden table as you get shoved up and down it with every thrust. The shiny surface fogs with each pant and moan that escapes you.
You can feel yourself climbing closer and closer to the edge, your balls start to tighten as the pain of neglect becomes almost too much for your leaking cock.
"Please…" You don't know what you're begging for at this point. You've already been ruined. Why not capitalize on it?
"Please, Lucio… I- I can't-'' You're still sobbing, but it's more from frustration than anything by now. The pleasure coursing through you with each stroke too much yet not enough. Not enough to make you cum.
In your desperation, you sneak your hand beneath you, damning any shame that action makes you feel, and grip the base of your cock, stroking your hand in time with Lucio's thrusts.
"Hah- Aughhh~" Your eyes roll back at the added pleasure, your hazy mind forgetting how wrong this is.
"C'mon," Lucio growls behind you. "C'mon, baby- cum for me." His grip is searing as his movements get somehow wilder. More erratic, more rough. It makes you insane.
With a final hit to your prostate, you cum with a cry. Your vision dances with black as you feel a sudden emptiness followed by something warm hitting the back of your thighs.
"Fuck…"
You don't know who says it… It could have been both of you for all you know.
"You okay, baby?" Lucio asks, taking his jacket and pulling you up, into a hug. "I wasn't too rough?"
A small smile plays at your face as you think back to the scene that just played out.
"It was perfect…" you nuzzle into his bare chest. "Thank you for indulging me, I know it's a bit weird to get turned on by that kind of stuff…"
Lucio rests his chin on your head as he speaks, "It's not weird baby boy- out of the ordinary, maybe, but it's not weird. And if I can help you indulge in even a fraction of your fantasies, then I've done my job right."
He lifts your chin up to place a kiss on your forehead, then the tip of your nose, finally landing on your lips.
Reblogs are appreciated!🛐
#count lucio x reader#count lucio x mc#count lucio smut#kinktober 2023#the arcana smut#the arcana count lucio#the arcana#the arcana x mc#the arcana x reader
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Heart of the Great Wolf
4 - Standing Behind a Betrayal
Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader
Length: 13.5k
Warnings: Angst/hurt comfort, bodily injury, implied reference to sexual assault, implied reference to child murder, character death, mild description of gory wounds, blood and violence, imprisonment, talk of execution, slow burn, slight canon divergence
Notes: We won't be in Kings Landing forever but the action safe to say is about to pick up. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.
So much had to be left out, the bare bones of what occurred was the only thing you could risk sending to Winterfell. You had sat in his office writing to Robb about the incident in the street, but your eyes had routinely drifted to the tome still sat on the desk. It wasn’t just Jaime Lannister that bothered you, it was everything here. This city, the mystery, and how left in the dark you were despite the whispers all around you.
While investigating one thing, another issue had come to Eddard Stark’s feet before him leaving him weak, injured, and asleep in bed as you leaned back in the chair. Many times you’d look at him, then eye the book and distract from something else. More then once you looked over the words you’d read many times, descriptions of the Baratheon family which all looked and sounded the same. What had been in here that Jon Arryn was looking for, why did King Robert’s bastard children have something to do with it?
That last time, your eyes had drifted to the passage of his true born children, their golden heads did little to describe what an atrocity the eldest was. The passage stuck out to you, it did that night as you slept, and even louder in your mind as you went that next morning to confront Renly.
“I don’t see why you care so much, you think what the realm needs is one more monarch screeching about taking the throne?” You had whipped around at him, your eyes wide and lips parted in surprise when he seemed to notice the mistake.
Opening and closing his mouth, he failed to back up in time before you jumped. “One more?” As he looked away, you took a step forward and still he refused to meet your eye. “There’s no justice in punishing for a crime they haven’t committed, you know that.”
Swallowing, Renly had shrugged without committing much to the beleivability of his casualness. It was a mask that he was getting worse at playing every day it felt. “There are still people who think Roberts a usurper.” He was avoiding his own casualness in his support of murdering the remaining Targaeyans.
Looking to the side with a slight eye roll, you crossed your arms over your chest. “Yes, his name is Viserys Targaryean and he is half way across the world, Renly. Even if he managed to land here who is going to support him? How down trodden do you think the people are that they would welcome the son of the mad king in with open arms after over twenty years of Robert keeping the peace?”
The way he looked at you hit something that was unsettling. It was the eyes you’d seen in all three of the elder brothers, it was the face that was a mirror to the one you had seen in the boy, Gendry. It was the hair that all of you held, the hair on Shireen you’d sit behind her and carefully brush out in the early mornings.
His words were tough, forced out through a somewhat clenched jaw. “Think, my dear niece. Which one of us is really the one who doesn’t belong?” He at that moment expected no answer, immediately moving around the room to change subjects. “Anyways, there’s no chance you could go speak to him and convince him to not bring me hunting?”
Leaning against the wall, you shrugged. “I don’t see what about it has you complaining so much.”
Huffing, he turned to you with an incredulous look. “You’ve never hunted with Robert. I’m in for two weeks at the bare minimum of being dragged across the kingswood as he drinks, boasts endlessly about his own kills while he complains that I haven’t done enough myself.”
“By enough, you mean any?” He glared at your smirking face. “It’s hunting, Renly he’s not shipping you off the war.”
Gathering his things, he passed you by. “I’d take war over Roberts boars and hunting whores any day, or is it the other way around?” Securing the leather around his chest he looked at you with a sigh. “So, do I look the part?”
Narrowing your eyes, you barley looked him over. “One hunting trip won’t kill you, stop complaining and go already.” Leaving with him as he closed his door, you two walked down the halls towards the King’s own quarters. Renly fussing over the attire all the way, you were not truly sure if it was hunting in general he wasn’t pleased do be doing, or if it was just the fact that he was doing it with Robert.
Not that he would be pleased with joining your father either. Where Renly preferred luxury, and Robert preferred loud and charging, your father’s hunts were out of necessity. Find food, move quiet and be silent. No hunting party, no drinks not that of water, and wasting no time in trying to kill such big game for glory. There was no great feast for just that of the hunt either, spending more luxury just to celebrate a clean kill was to waste it on those who didn’t need it.
Considering the state of Flea Bottom, King Robert certainly was hunting just to find any glory in his rage rather then for practicality. You had hunted before, but certainly not with the King and you could sympathize with how little the idea appealed to you.
Coming upon the hallway, you nodded towards Ser Barristan, standing straight and at the ready as he greeted the ever growing morose Renly. He walked in first, being accosted by his brother loudly about no other way to prove your salt as a man.
Ser Barristan stepping forward, a small smile on your lips as he greeted you. “Do you know how long his grace intends to be out there?” Saying he didn’t, you sighed as shoulders deflated a bit. Voice lowering as you stepped forward. “I’m not sure who he’s trying to take his anger out on with this trip, the Targaryean girl or Lord Stark.”
Tilting his head as one side of his mouth raised slightly, he lowered his head closer to yours. “His Grace has a misguided tendency to focus on the wrong things when things get heated.” You both glanced at the door, hearing something between the King and his squire causing Ser Barristan to pull you a step away with a hand on your upper arm. “Forgive me, my Lady but I sense something else is wrong.”
Arms crossing, you closed your eyes only for as long as you exhaled the increasing race of your heart before standing straight. “I shouldn’t say but,” Looking up, you saw the gentle expression of a man who has never shown even an inkling of the kind of darkness looming in this city. He was a man of honour, and yet unlike Lord Stark this one seemed to have stood the test and remained untouched and as confident as ever. “I’ve known you since I was a girl, and I know you care about the King.”
His smile growing more as it did fond, “I remember his grace hearing the news of your birth. It wasn’t long after he and the Queen lost their first boy. Lord Arryn had to talk him down from jumping on a ship to go to Dragonstone that same day.” They rarely spoke of that first boy, a little black haired boy that fell sick and passed before he had even spoken his first word. “Losing that boy, and having his brother soon after have a healthy baby girl of his own. I think the King saw you as something that could’ve been.”
The King had visited Dragonstone much later before you had been moved with your father to Kings Landing. A strong memory of who at that time, was just Uncle Robert. Your father instilling manners had yet to fully sink in, and that was worsened by the much lighter both in set in mind King. He was still lean enough to snatch you up and fling you around in his arms.
The loud and furious yell having echoed in the small council chamber in those days was only that of playful growling and yelling as he pretended your three year old self was just too strong for him. You had pulled him and Ser Barristan around the cliffs of your home that first day for hours. Talking about this place as if it were the most fascinating place you’d ever seen. When Robert was attending things with his brother, you were left with Ser Barristan.
Even now, two decades later you still could recall the Honourable Knight reaching down and hoisting you in his arms, holding you up so you could look at the sea from a high point. You had gotten sad, saying that you hated your family being so far away. One Uncle in Kings Landing, the other Uncle in Storms End you only had your father and mother at that point. You asked if he ever missed the people he loves, and he smiled. Telling you that he had loved many, even had women who he would’ve loved to marry and be like your family. He had simply told you he is bound by honour to his duty, and that “Love is the death of duty, my little lady.”
Now though, older and more calm in his post you looked at him and hoped that he found solace in such a thought. Your duty wasn’t to pry, it was to listen and obey commands but yet you stood here thinking of those you loved. The King was not a man you recognized anymore, but he once was the Uncle you loved. “I know I likely don’t have to tell this to you, but he’s a danger to himself when he’s like this. He can’t push himself the way he used too, and I think he forgets that.”
Nodding once, his voice was low. “There’s something else you’re not saying.”
Your resolve broke a bit, the genuine concern and care in his face much like that of Lord Stark’s made the information feel like it should be shared. But it had painted a target on three people’s backs so far, one of which is dead, the other left with an injury and forced to remain in the very position he had willingly walked away from. How long would you remain unscathed, how long would anyone else should you be selfish enough to bring them into it?
You both glanced at the open door as the three inside came out. The King followed by a still childishly grumbling Renly, and Lancel Lannister who was as on edge as you’d ever seen him. His long blonde hair swishing as he rushed to keep up. You nodded at Ser Barristan, then at the King who seemed to pause looking at you.
Still, you didn’t recognize him and the little girl by the cliffs once again wished she could have a normal family all together like the smallfolk on the island she had once lived on.
Lord Stark was to act in the King’s place while he was hunting, and it did not miss your notice how he looked so unsuited to that of the Iron Throne, while yet his words, voice, and his very presence in the room felt like a commanding respect that had long not been seen. Lord Baelish sat at one side, his book of increasing debt in his lap to be scribbled away at, normally beside him would be Renly now a seat empty.
On the other sat you, then Lord Varys, then Grand Maester Pycelle all looking out to the people who had travelled all this way to make a plea for help in one matter or the other. Beyond them, was a crowd of guards, knights, a various of lords and dutiful watchers to the side watching the court play out as if it were a spectacle. A spectacle however, was not what you think the farmer before the Lord Hand wanted as he voice croaked and warbled.
“They burned most everything in the Riverlands. Our fields, our granaries, our homes.” The others who had came with looked down to the floor, sullen and broken in spirit. Your eyes sharp and face one could mistaken for an expression of anger, in lieu of the suspicions that wracked your mind. “They took out women, and they took ‘em again. When they was done, they butchered them as if they was animals.”
Why were you seeing blonde hair against dark browns and blacks?
“They covered out children in pitch, and lit them on fire.” The man before the court was trying his best not to cry and you felt a boil inside of you at the dismissive tone to your left of Grand Maester Pycelle, dismissing it as nothing more then the act of brigands.
The farmer spoke louder, an insistence in his voice. “They weren’t thieves, they didn’t steal nothing. They even left something behind, your grace.” Once more, Pycelle sounded on the air of board and uncaring as he corrected the man for using the wrong title.
As he did so, one of the farmers stepped forward, emptying a sack out onto the floor and the sight was that of slimy, reddish fish. Your eyes narrowed as the court murmured and whispered around. Lord Baelish speaking up, “Fish. The sigil of House Tully.” You could hear him lean towards Lord Stark in a whisper that came off as purposely condescending. “Isn’t that your wife’s house, Tully? My Lord Hand?”
Not looking nor addressing him, Lord Stark kept his attention on the farmer. “These men, were they flying a sigil? A banner?”
Shaking his head, “None, your...Hand.” He paused and seemed, distressed, that like when describing the horrors inflicted on his village. “The one who was leading them, taller by a foot then any man I’ve ever met. Saw him cut the blacksmiths son in two, saw him cut the head of a horse with a single swing of his sword.”
That was a sight most in this court had seen first hand, a man so large one would think he had that of giant’s blood if not knowing better. A man who sliced his horse’s head clean off before throwing his sword into the shield of Ser Loras Tyrell.
“You’re describing Ser Gregor Clegane.”
Pycelle arguing why would such a man commit atrocities while being appointed as a Knight. Your heart feeling unsteady thinking of what the King had commanded his own men to organize in murder of an unborn child. Leading you right down a path to the very Knight in question and the whispers of the unrecognizable state of Aegon Targaryean once the murdered infant was presented to the Lannisters.
Lord Baelish spoke, “I’ve heard him called Tywin Lannister’s mad dog. I’m sure you have as well.”
Pycelle spoke slow, trying to work through the scenario. “If the Lannisters were to order attacks on villages under the Kings protection, it would be..”
Staring forward your voice rung loud in the quiet room. “That would be as likely as them attacking the Hand of the King in the streets of the captiol.” Pycelle mumbled to himself, and for just a moment you and Lord Stark shared a look. You both could feel the growing tension the Lannisters seemed to be involving themselves in. Ser Gregor was not a man smart enough to come up with using fish as a message to send on his own, no that was of strategy something which laid with someone higher.
Lord Stark looked back to the people, your eyes left to meet the unchanged cockiness of Lord Baelish before you peeled them back to that of the court. Lord Stark’s voice was full of a sympathy that felt as real as it sounded. “I cannot give you back your homes, or restore your dead to life. But perhaps I can give you justice, in the name of our King. Robert.”
Calling forth Lord Beric Dondarrion, he commanded the assembly of one hundred men to ride to Ser Gregors keep. Standing from the seat, Lord Stark shaking slightly at the pain put in his leg. Much of his muscle relying on the cane by his side but refusing to give an order sat down to the men who stood before him.
“In the Name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhyoynar the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I charge you to bring the King’s justice to the false knight Gregor Clegane and all those who shared in his crimes. I denounce him, and attaint him. I strip him of all ranks and titles, of all lands and holdings, and sentence him to death.”
There was no question, and no waver in Lord Stark’s voice.
The crowd a mix of outraged murmurs and shocked whispers as you stared out to the court. Something in you feeling unsettled at how shocked they seemed to be hearing such a harsh judgment despite the disgust of the actions taken.
Standing up, Grand Master Pycelle’s face had twisted into that of the same kind of outrage you could see on the other highborn lords standing in attendance. “My Lord, this is a drastic action. It would be better to wait for the King’s return.”
“Grand Maester Pycelle,” Just as he had the confidence it died with such conviction in the strength of his voice. Yourself, you glanced forward to Lord Stark and it felt much like your years on Dragonstone watching your father stand before the smallfolk of the island, and the steadfast in his own voice commanding only that of justice and no glammer. “Send a Raven to Casterly Rock. Inform Tywin Lannister that he has been summoned to court to answer for the crimes of his bannerman. He will arrive within the fortnight, or be branded an enemy of the crown and traitor to the realm.”
The air of court was in shock, but you stood up as it was dismissed with no regard for such feelings on the matter. Faces of thank and a heartbreaking plea from the farmers of the Riverlands had been enough for you, not the corrupted care of those with enough as it was. Until it was their homes being burned down, their women being raped, and their children being massacred they cared not.
Only fanfare served this loud court and you couldn’t help but wonder what it was about Kings Landing that felt like it caked you in a grime that made you ashamed for still caring.
Such a man of grime, he had caught you walking through the gardens, leaving the needed quiet a memory of the past despite in desperate need. Your head needed silence, there was to much noise around you to make sense of it all and yet, here was the voice calling you before slinking up to your side. “You’re a hard one to find, Lady Stark.”
Looking forward at the greenery which was vibrant against the summer sun you considered the scenario to put a few more inches in between him and your person but of course it didn’t work. “What is it you want, Lord Baelish?”
“We haven’t spent much time in each others company since you’re return, never had the chance to congratulate you on your marriage.”
Unconvinced you needn’t pretend as if you were to this man of all people. “We aren’t friends, you have no reason to.” He chuckled and without a glance you could see the smug smile on his face that somehow tricked all too many. “Is that all?”
“Just because we aren’t friends, doesn’t mean I can’t have interest in your affairs. Afterall, it must be hard to spend so many years walking free, only to find yourself a wife within a months time.” Passing servants around, you cared not to consider who belonged to which but no doubt as you walked alone with Petyr Baelish, more then one spy had their eye on you. “Duty can be such a taxing thing for a lady.”
The half smile on your lips didn’t come close to reaching your eyes. “I’ve known the Starks far longer then it was my duty to marry them. My husband isn’t a taxing man. I assure you, I have no need for your concern.” Northerners were indeed made of something different it seemed sometimes.
But Lord Baelish leaned in, a whisper that clawed at your ear and made you scowl before the racing of your heart set in. “And what about leaving behind a certain half brother?” You didn’t look at him, in fact it took much of your energy to act as if you didn’t hear him even as he continued. “Such a shame, young love is so lively, and full of passion it would hurt anyone to give that up. Though I feel for the man, I know all too well watching the one you fought for marry off to a strong, more honourable wolf.”
Your jaw clenched, whatever eyes had found you over the years were whispering back to many sources it felt like. Nothing was a secret in this den of liars and spies. “I imagine you do, Lord Baelish. I couldn’t think of what it must feel like to watch it happen twice. Being left behind like that must leave one with a scar or two.”
His hands clasped together, unseen by your avoiding ones there was a darker flash in his eyes that spoke of something deeply kept down inside before he covered it with an aloofness. “Tell me, my lady is this something you wish to keep a secret?”
Stopping, you whipped around in place with a fiery anger in your eyes and a knowing smile that had seen it all coming. “If you are trying to say something, Lord Baelish, have the courage to just say it rather then play word games with me.”
“I’m simply wondering where your allegiance lies.”
Stepping closer to him, you raised your eyebrows as your heart felt as angry as your mind did. “My allegiance, Lord Baelish is with the one I swore a vow too. Perhaps it’s beacuse you are awfully unfamiliar with the practices of marriage, but when a woman swears her love and fealty to that of her husband it isn’t a vow to be broken. No matter what an outside opinion might say.”
His games were transparent. An attempt to pull back the words you say by paring them against something personal that eats at you as a person. He couldn’t care less about your marriage, or the left behind love with dark curls vowed at the end of world. Lord Baelish was asking you, where do you stand when such a vow is tested, and where do you lay when it all drops.
Inhaling, you curbed the anger. Looking at him without the spite in your heart. “Tell me, Lord Baelish. If your loyalty was tested, where exactly would you end up? Which side does your pendulum swing when the time comes?”
He smiled. So close you could feel his breath as he leaned down to you. “I wish you and Robb Stark a long, happy life together, my dear. Many years, with many beautiful children. Those Starks certainly have such a distinct look don’t they. I do hope you get to return to him soon. You suit our summer heats far less then you do Snow.”
It shouldn’t bother you, with anyone else you suspect it wouldn’t. But you couldn’t help but feel as if he was trying to scare you into something that you didn’t yet even see. You sat alone at the gardens for quite a while after that. The serene quiet leaving you alone as the sky draped down around you in an orange tone.
Many passed by, numerous people you’ve never seen and all of them caring of your presence as you did theirs, being none. Everyone seemed draped in rich fabrics, bright colours, hair shining in the sunlight as the ladies dressed high and ornate around or above their heads. Browns, and reds, many shades of black and yellows-
“She had yellow hair.” That’s what the boy, Gendry, had said about his mother. His eyes like Roberts a striking green, a strong face that ran through all the men in the family and just like his father, his uncles, even with your mothers lighter hair you and Shireen both held dark hair that also sat on Gendrys own head.
It was so easy to see Robert in the boys face. It was easy to see Stannis in yours and Shireens. The ones with Baratheon blood rang strong. Your mothers house that of Florent looked as if she didn’t exist in your appearance.
The Starks weren’t the only ones whose traits ran strong, and then the image of gold against brown slammed you in the face. You looked like Stannis, you looked like Robert and Renly. Even the bastards of your Uncle, Barra looked like Shireen, Gendry could be your brother.
But he wasn’t. He was your cousin. A cousin who looked just like you, and yet...
Your stomach turned in an instant. Were you not sitting already you’d have fallen over. The black haired child that Robert and Cersei had lost, and yet each child after with a golden head.
You could hear Grand Maester Pycelle’s words in your head, telling you that of Jon Arryn’s last words repeating. “The seed is strong.”
It was. Baratheon seed ran strong through all who were born from it, except for three. None of you with mothers of light hair had anything close to it. You were all taken by your fathers in appearance.
You had never seen anything of Robert in Joffery. And you never would. You could see only two people in your royal cousins looks, and it had you sick of being out alone in the sun. It had you sick at the mere thought, and suddenly you understood why Jon Arryn was no longer here.
You knew the truth that had your own father, that had Lord Stannis, abandon his duty in Kings Landing.
Arya had accosted you with questions as soon as you walked in. Your mind screaming at you you only caught onto her last. “Are you coming back with us?” She had to call your name just to get you to look at her. There was worry all over her face, and felt a great deal of struggle to mask yours.
“I don’t know. I need to speak to your father.” Trying to pass her by, she circled around with a furrow in her brow to block your path. “Arya-”
“No. You can’t stay here.” Something in her was upset, and you knew the weight of her own father’s injuries hurt her deeply inside. She had been pale when she came into his room for the first time once he was brought back, leg still bloody. Swallowing it down, she shook her head. “You married Robb, which mean’s you’re my sister, and we don’t leave our family behind.”
So there was a bit more to it, wasn’t there?
Inhaling deeply, you willed your racing nerves to ease down. Running a hand down her hair, it hit you in the chest at how easily she looked to you like that already. Like another sibling, who she didn’t want to leave behind.
Leave behind. That was a term that seemed to haunt you now. It wasn’t just leaving you in Kings Landing she was seeing. Arya would be going back to Winterfell, knowing one of them wouldn’t be there anymore. The one she wanted to be there the most. “Let me talk to your father, okay? It’s- things are complicated. There are things I need to sort out before I know if I’m going to Winterfell.”
“You better. Or me and Robb will come down here ourselves and drag you back home.” Pushing her gently to her room, you told her to pack her things.
Knocking at Lord Stark’s door, he hesitated before calling you to enter. Sat at his desk, the tome open in front of him, you both looked to the other with a horror wide in your eyes. He put it together as you had, as Jon Arryn had, as Stannis had. The truth was there and it couldn’t be forgotten.
Words caught in both your throats, your voice shook as it spoke up. “Joffery’s almost seventeen, how long have they, why would-”
“Lysa had wrote to Cat that the Lannisters murdered Jon Arryn. They murder him just as he finds out, then what? A month later, my boy falls from a window and an assassin is sent to murder him in his sleep all after the same Lannisters come into my home?”
There was pain in his voice, pain and an anger that sat so close to the surface for what they had done, tried to do. You pushed off the door, coming to sit in the chair across the desk. “Robb wrote saying Bran had no memory of it. He doesn’t remember falling, or any of it. But maybe that wasn’t good enough for what he saw, was it.”
As his jaw clenched, he looked at the drawer you knew the blade still sat in. “Cat and Robb think he was pushed. And now we know why.”
What other Lannister secret had had such lethal results before Bran came upon it. Ones that would be killed for? You didn’t imagine what could be worse, and imagining the truth at all felt unseemly.
“Robert needs to know too.”
Eyes widening, you looked extremely doubtful. “You know what he’ll do if you tell him.”
He shook his head, “He needs to be told. If he has no true born sons he needs to know about it, he needs to know what his own wife has done behind his back for twenty years.” But all you could see was the rage in his eyes at the shadow of an unborn child across the Narrow Sea. “Robert-”
“Is not the man you once knew.” Your teeth clenched in your mouth as you leaned forward resting your forehead in your palms before sitting back up with a loud huff. “He finds out the kids he’s been raising for sixteen years are Jaime’s-”
You didn’t finish the sentence, and Lord Stark didn’t finish it for you either. The quiet of the night poured in from the open balcony and whooshed between the two of you as it mocked you for how long it took to find this out. “This is why your father pushed to marry you and Robb.”
Looking at him, your arms now crossed over your stomach with too much behind your eyes.
“He and Jon Arryn found out, and he knows it makes him Robert’s true heir.”
Robert had insisted on the marriage between Joffery and Sansa, to combine the Crowns houses to that of the needed ally of the North. Your father found out the Queens secret, and suddenly that connection of Houses no longer would even exist. If Stannis was the heir, you were his. Which means he would need a new ally ship secured in the North.
At least you were a slightly better candidate as a wife to Robb then Joffery would be husband to Sansa.
“I’ll speak to the Queen in the morning. Tell her to leave the city with her children before Robert returns.”
It was a bad idea, but one that you couldn’t deter him from. This truth was about to come out, and the only fighting chance to save her children from Robert’s wrath was to confront her about it. Tommen and Myrcella were good, innocent kids. They had done less then nothing to deserve it, much like the sickening thought of two other children who didn’t deserve the end they had solely for who their own blood was.
That wasn’t Robert’s doing, but he paid no respects and sung no songs for Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryean. Perhaps this version of your Uncle you saw now wasn’t new. Just hiding under the surface.
You hated the thought of who else hid themselves so well under a veil for so long.
It all fell apart, and you knew this attempt to handle it delicately was over.
A boar, Ser Barristan had said. Blood soaking the white of his cloak and a pain in his face that blamed nothing but himself. The King had demanded everyone step back and let him handle the boar as it skewered him as he did it. Standing by the window, to the side of you was the Queen herself as Joffery sat on the bed.
You weren’t sure you ever saw this look on your cousins face. Not often did he feel something in the same devastating way pain hit the rest, but it hurt something inside the kid and you weren’t heartless to the loss. You’ve never lost your father, but you were about to your Uncle.
As a kid, maybe he would’ve had words for you. Something to say, memories to leave on a good note with. But now, all the dying Robert saw as he looked at you was the splitting image of the Stannis. Your face of steel and posture straight and giving little if anything, away. You gave less away then Cersei did, something human remained in her eyes but it swam with a worry that refused to give as Lord Stark was brought in.
Speaking weak, like each breathe took more life out of him as he tried giving anything to Joffery, but fell short of bringing himself to care like one. “I was never meant to be a father.” Faces in your mind, one young, one your age and yet none of those were really his children either you supposed. “Go on, you don’t want to see me like this.”
Joffery nodded as he pulled himself together before quickly leaving the room without another word to anyone. He was still a child, and that left part of you to still feel for his pain.
Lord Stark stood looking at him like you had when you walked in. This death would be none others fault then Robert’s stubbornness. Smiling at his old Northern friend who approached, it left you and Cersei in the background as she glanced at you. Only to find you already watching her carefully. The mark on her cheek, you hadn’t noticed until now.
Eyes narrowing at the sight, your flickered over to the dying King with a clenched jaw. Was he always this man or did this place turn him into such?
“Too much wine, missed my thrust.” Pulling the sheet back was a gruesome gouge in his side, parts of him out in chunks as it soaked red. “It stinks. It stinks like death, don’t think I can’t smell it.” Of all the things to take out a once strong warrior, it was the very things which led him to fail as a King. He was never meant to be a father, but he was never meant to be a King either.
Some men were leaders outside of war, Robert was not.
“I paid the bastard back, Ned. I drove my knife right through his brain, you ask them if I didn’t.” He was a fool, he would die not even knowing the shambles his Kingdom was at risk of falling apart to. “I want the funeral feast to be the biggest the Kingdoms ever seen. And I want everyone to taste the boat that got me.”
Once more, you and Cersei looked the other. You read the guilty worry in her, and you were confident she could see the known truth right back and it only unsettled her more. Robert got himself killed at either the best or worst possible time. And it all depended on one man.
“Now leave us. The lot of you. I need to talk to Ned.”
“Robert, my sweet-”
No one bought it and Robert had little strength left to pretend as if he cared. “Out, all of you.”
Filing out, you paid no attention to the soon to be widow. Renly stood nearby with blood on him as well looking conflicted. A commonality in this city recently. Coming up to him as Ser Barristan stood not to far off all outside the door. “He was on edge the entire time. Ranting and raving, no matter what I said he just never stopped.”
Turning to look at the door from the corner of your eye, it didn’t miss your notice the suddenly absent Queen. Lord Stark would take down his final decrees of succession and no doubt make him protector of the realm until Joffery turned of age. Honour was losing this fight, and to accomodate him as an heir wouldn’t be honourable. But it would be just. Defy honour for the Kings last words to do your duty by the laws and justice of the realm he served.
You finally turned back to Renly, and no longer was it a grieving brother you saw but a Baratheon with something behind his mind. Don’t do something stupid you thought to yourself, there was enough of that going around in this family.
Ser Barristan blamed himself, saying he should’ve stopped him from all the wine. Shaking your head you looked at the closed door. “There’s not a man in the Seven Kingdoms who could stop Robert from destroying himself.”
Lord Stark reemerged enough to close the door, giving the dying King privacy. “Give him milk of the poppy.” You crossed your arms at the shiver down your spine. You’d rather just have it ended for you, rather then laying there withering away in the stench of death and barley conscious. Grand Maester Pycelle and Renly both going in.
You moved to stand on the side of his bad leg, noticing Lord Varys was near the wall like a spider having slunk in from the dark corners. “I wonder, Ser Barristan, who gave the king this wine?”
Credit, Lord Varys was far better at playing the concerned role then Lord Baelish was. The lack of an ego likely having something to do with it. “His squire, from the king’s own skin.” Lord Stark glanced at you, but it almost didn’t matter if it was Lancel. The King lay in there with the stench of death, while you stood out here starting to wonder what the scent of war was. “Such a dutiful boy to make sure his Grace did not lack refreshment. I do hope the poor lad does not blame himself.”
Stepping forward, you followed Lord Stark as came closer to the spider. “His Grace has had a change of heart concerning Daenerys Targaryean. Whatever arrangements you made, unmake them at once.”
Already walking down the hall, Lord Varys called back and you closed your eyes with a sigh. “I’m afraid those birds have flown. The girl is likely dead already.” The girl would be dead, Viserys as well, but no one mentioned the fate of the unborn child.
You yearned for the cold of the North, at least it’s sting was just how it’s air was. But the stings were not yet over, and you felt like a fool for not seeing the next one coming. Renly calling your name was well as Lord Stark, asking for a moment alone.
“He named you protector of the realm.”
“He did.”
“She won’t care. Give me an hour and I can put a hundred swords at your command.” Leaning forward you suddenly saw him slipping away too. Cersei wouldn’t care, she didn’t leave when she was given the chance but Renly wasn’t thinking of anything close to such a situation.
“And what should I do with a hundred swords?”
Your skin pricked everywhere, blood hot in your veins as you felt much like you had in the small council chamber days ago. Like this wasn’t the man you knew. “Strike, tonight while the castle sleeps. We must get Joffery away from his mother and into our custody.”
You stepped forward, a hiss in your voice and anger in your eyes. “Have you lost your mind?”
Looking at you, he pleaded for you go along with it, but this wasn’t some feast or tournament he wished to drag you along with. You didn’t imagine those swords were there for only threat, and you couldn’t help but think that those swords could be in the drapings of roses.
“Protector of the realm or no, he who holds the King holds the Kingdom. Every moment you delay gives Cersei another moment to prepare. By the time Robert dies it will be too late for us.”
The growing anger only built, “What about Stannis?”
Renly looked at you as if you’d grown a second head, like you had just said the dumbest thing imaginable. “Saving the Seven Kingdoms from Cersei and delivering them to Stannis? You have odd notions about protecting the realm.”
Lord Stark spoke, but you neither moved nor cooled off. He was your father, and he was the heir but Renly had a lifetime of having Robert hand things to him which belonged to Stannis. It seemed still now as Robert lay dying he still expected such treatment. The childish notions of a man who has no idea what the world outside his luxury looks like.
“Stannis is your older brother.”
“This isn’t about the bloody line of succession. That didn’t matter when you rebelled against the Mad King. It shouldn’t matter now. We all know what Stannis is. He inspires no love or loyalty. He’s not a King.” If the Starks had a temper, the blood in you which was born a Baratheon raged to that of their fury.
Renly knew nothing of what his brother was capable of, he got to sit in Storms End as a child and have advisors rule for him until he was summoned to Kings Landing where he got the same treatments. Only then he got to rub it into his brothers face directly what he got instead. He spent years telling you that you seemed to have too much in common with your father and he had the audacity to speak to you like it didn’t matter.
If Stannis wasn’t a king, then could be? Renly had an answer for that too. “I am.”
Were Lord Stark not here, you wondered how easily that fury would have let itself be known. And you were far luckier that the he was as calm as he was in the face of what was being presented. “Stannis is a commander. He’s led men into war twice, he destroyed the Greyjoy fleet.”
His face twisted into denial, as if the two of you were the mad ones. “Yes he’s a good solider. Everyone knows that, so was Robert. Tell me something, Do you still believe good soldiers make good kings?”
He looked surefire, cocky, but yet he didn’t look at you anymore. Dancing around the truth and spouting honeyed words to bend things to his side instead of having the courage to say what he truly means. It had nothing to do with Stannis. It had nothing to do with any of this.
Lord Stark’s word was final. “I will not dishonour Robert’s last hours by shedding blood in his halls, and dragging frightened children from their beds.” Leaving to rejoin his guards, you were left standing in the halls with your uncle.
“You know what he’ll do. You know he won’t let you do this. Not anymore.” You stepped into his space as Renly raised his head high. “Don’t tear us apart now, not while your own brother is still laying in a pool of his own blood.”
“And you? Whose side are you on, my dear niece. For someone who claims to be on Stannis’s side your spending an awful lot of time next to your new father.” Closing the gap you two would only hear the other, words just for you as he said your name. “You don’t want your family to be torn apart? Then consider what family it is your siding with exactly.”
Renly stormed off before you, and the halls choked you with the scent of war. It had been some time since you had heard from Robb, and he you. Not that he could know the extent, but the Lannisters putting a spear through his fathers leg sent a pretty loud message that Kings Landing was not a place that was trusted. Not even with written words in the sky. The distance didn’t feel like it made the heart grow stronger. You felt only isolated.
Lord Stark had called upon Lord Baelish. He didn’t say to you why, and you appreciated that he knew you well enough that it didn’t need to be said. It didn’t feel good, it wasn’t honourable what he was to ask and yet it seemed this place demanded it. You didn’t know what Renly was doing, or what he had planned but as you stood against the wall watching Lord Stark write, you only wished he wasn’t so stupid this time.
Just this once.
Taking it upon himself to write of Roberts death, and choosing his words carefully just as your father would his. Only, you couldn’t shake what Renly had said. Condescendingly calling Lord Stark your new father and yet imploring you to side against your father by birth. Consider what family your siding with?
What was that answer?
You had shaken your head a silent no when he asked if you wanted to look over it. Yes you trusted his words, but it didn’t feel good. Bells ringing in the distance of a dying king and bloodshed waiting the halls of it’s kingdom. Summoning one of his men, Tomand, Lord Stark sealed the letter with his sigil and with firm instructions left no room for question.
“You will sail to Dragonstone tonight. You will place this in the hand of Stannis Baratheon. Not his Steward, not his captain of the guard, and not his wife. Only Stannis himself.”
It was that day in the godswood that you truly felt the comfort of a father. As he stood with you an arm comforting you around your shoulder as the panic boiled inside of your chest. That same feeling returned now. Did not assume, nor even ask if you would want to be the one to deliver it to him.
He said at the wedding, once you married Robb you would be part of the pack. A pack which protects each other. He kept you at his side, not sending you off alone once more and it made your limbs weigh down with metal to the floor. A pack leader does not let one of them go off all alone.
It was then that Lord Baelish arrived. The bells of death in the background as he bowed with a low whisper and smile. “My Lord Protector.”
Lord Stark looked at you, and you tilted your head with a grimace. It indeed, beyond all doubt as of this moment was his choice alone. Looking down to the desk, before back up he ripped the bandage off. “The King has no true born sons. Joffery and Tommen are Jaime Lannisters bastards.”
Eyes narrowing, he sat down. “So when the King dies...”
Your voice was rough from the silence, “The throne passes to his brother. Lord Stannis.”
Lord Baelish had the audacity just as your uncle before. Starting with the word “Unless” before the fed up sensation passed on finally to Lord Stark. “There is no unless. He is the rightful heir nothing can change that.”
“And he cannot take the throne without your help, you would be wise to deny it to him. And to make sure Joffery succeeds.” Were you not his family anymore truly or did this city fill itself with that of heartless rats who would turn on the other in a snap of fingers? You stood up straighter as he cared not much to consider the betrayal hurting your eyes.
Leaning forward, Lord Stark’s voice as ashamed to be in the same room with him as you. “Do you have a shred of honour?”
The answer was no, but not in so little words. “You are now Hand of the King and Protector of the Realm. All the power is yours you need only reach out and take it.” And yet here he was asking Lord Baelish of all people for help, that didn’t feel like power to you. “Make peace with the Lannisters. Release the Imp, wed your daughter to Joffery.”
You could throw something sharp through his neck the second he looked at you with his words covered in grime. “We have plenty of time to get rid of Stannis.” He didn’t even flinch at the step you almost took forward. Your heart feeling as if it was carving itself out a new hole just filling with hatred and anger. “And if Joffery seems likely to cause problems when he comes into his throne, we simply reveal his little secret and sit Lord Renly there instead.”
Renly. “He’s not a King. I am.” How far did this web of betrayals spread? It was treason, and you spat out as such but he only smiled with surity.
“Only if we lose.”
Lord Stark was as unconvinced as yourself, his own anger locked away in his rigid tone pulling open the drawer. “Make peace with the Lannisters you say. The people who tried to murder by boy.” The ornate dagger, he placed it onto his desk and you only could see again.
How many children in his fight are to be the victims and none of the perpetrators?
“We only make peace with our enemies, my lord. That’s why it’s called making peace.” Lord Stark refused, saying he wouldn’t do it and it seemed to shift the confident smugness right out of his bravado and slithering onto the floor and out the window. “So it will be Stannis. And war.”
“There is no other choice, he is the heir.”
It was fitting it seemed. To your father, it was not a choice either. It was his, and that would be where the question ended.
Asking why he was even brought here, you once again shared a look between you and Lord Stark. It seemed that today was a day to give many things up. “The Queen has a dozen knights and a hundred men at arms. Enough to overwhelm what remains of my household guard. I need the gold cloaks. The city watch is two thousand strong and sworn to defend the Kings peace.”
Was that all though? No it wasn’t, and Lord Baelish once more returned of his pride. A smirk growing wider at the more the silence between you stood in the air. “Look at you two. You know what you want me to do, you know it has to be done but it’s not honourable. So the words stick in your throat.”
His hand reached up, slowly toying with the daggers edge as he started to swivel it. “When the Queen proclaims one King and the Hand another, whose peace do the Gold Cloaks protect? Who do they follow?”
Lord Stark couldn’t say it. He wouldn’t bring himself to admit to needing such a favour and it made you hold a need to reach out to him. But here, in this place? You would be the one to summon the guts.
Looking off to the other side of the room, your arms crossed as you leaned against the wall an almost ironic smirk fell over your lips. Lord Baelish wasn’t an honourable man, or even a good one. But here you were, the daughter of the Lord which hated him arguably the most. Pleading for his help.
You felt gross as you said the words. “The man who pays them.”
The day was bright as the bells continued to ring. Lord Starks men split between readying things to send Arya and Sansa back to Winterfell as the others remained by both your sides. Arya wanting one last lesson with her dancing master she never took a chance at missing a lesson. At this rate she could give you a run for your money, and you’d welcome it even if just to shake you momentarily out of the feeling you had in your gut.
It was the same one that you had before, the screaming throttle that twisted your insides just as it had that day on the Kingsroad. You thought it was a result of parting ways but it seemed that it was just as strong now despite him having nothing to do with the current issue.
Morning bright and no news yet having reached either of you when one of the throne’s pages came up to you both. The guards at the ready, and Lord Stark having to ease them as you turned to look at the man. “Lord Stark, King Joffery and the Queen regent request your presence in the throne room.”
Heart slowing a shiver danced down your spine as your words came out breathlessly. “King Joffery?”
The bells tolled in the sky but it sounded like they were ringing in your head, each boom smacking you with the steps you took towards the throne room. The pit in your stomach grew as the weight of the paper in your hand was doubled, tripled, turned to metal from paper. In the courtyard stood many of the city watch as your own group approached Lord Baelish and Lord Varys.
A calm and confident look on the formers face, as the nerves ran ragged as much as your blood ran hot in your veins. “All is accomplished, the city watch is yours.”
One was missing. One person was missing and despite knowing it was fruitless you looked around like a child as if he was just hiding. “Is my Uncle joining us?”
Lord Varys for his part, looked genuine in his words. He was the one man you found hard to read but his eyes didn’t speak favourably. “I fear lord Renly has left the city.” Your heart sank down as your limbs froze in the summer heat. “He road through the old gate an hour before dawn with Ser Loras Tyrell and some fifty retainers. Last seen galloping south in some haste.”
Lord Stark beside you could hear the yells of war over the bells. You had one chance today, one last plea to Cersei to do this one thing and at the least you would be the five kingdoms against two. The paper in your hand felt like a beg, an ask for mercy knowing Renly would not find any.
If you could sit your father on the throne, only Renly would be the obstacle and he stood no chance with only Storms End and Highgarden at his back. But as you swallowed hard and your eyes fell to Lord Stark? The sharpness and grim tone in both of you felt that dread loom.
Coming up to the main doors, behind you were Lord Varys and Baelish, around them was the remains of the Stark household guard that served at his side and all around you and beyond were the gold cloaks. To the side of you was stood Lord Janos Slynt, standing with as much posture as a man such as himself could manage. “We stand behind you, Lord Stark.”
The doors opened and the throne room was ready. In the Iron Throne sat Joffery, dressed in gold and the crown atop his head with a smile that sliced at you. You saw none of Robert and only of the Lannisters which spawned him. Approaching the air was thick, thick enough to cut with a sword should one attempt.
“All hail his Grace, Joffery of Houses Baratheon and Lannister. First of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”
You and Lord Stark stood together, the Kingsguard all standing in a path to the throne as Cersei sat with a knowing look in her eye that made the anger rise. Renly wanted war, but he was also right. She wouldn’t care and this was the last chance you and Lord Stark had to escape this unscathed.
Joffery, now King Joffery you supposed sat at his Throne not even standing in anyway. No hint of the tragic child losing his father with watery eyes was to be seen. “I command the council to make all necessary arrangements for my coronation. I wish to be crowned within the fortnight. Today, I shall accept oaths of fealty from my loyal councillors.”
The room was deathly silent. All eyes on the pair of you as Lord Stark nodded. He would do his duty and you would not blame him for that, but it didn’t make it any easier. Your voice for all your bad luck, came out dutiful and strong. “Ser Barristan. I believe none here could dare question your honour.”
Stepping forward as you did him, you handed the paper to him as you both looked at one another firmly. His hesitation to the blazing look and serious harshness in your eyes and gaze took him back for something he was not prepared for. Looking it over, he turned to the crown.
“King Roberts seal. Unbroken.” No movement from the Queen, she wouldn’t care he was right. “Lord Eddard Stark is herein named Protector of the Realm. To Rule as Regent until the heir come of age.”
Joffery looked confused and offended, as your eyes met what you once thought of as your cousin. He said nothing, but his mother did. Always running to her for the hard work as he sat like a spoiled brat and eyed you like you were the craven, not him.
The Queen looked it over, “Protector of the Realm? Is this mean to be your shield Lord Stark? A piece of paper?” Tearing it into pieces, you felt those nerves turn to anger once more. She won’t care, Renly said. She won’t care and yet he rides off knowing war is inevitable.
Ser Barristan looked up to her, his own face betraying his conflict. “Those were the Kings words.”
“We have a new King now.”
Perhaps it was your position, but you couldn’t deny no matter how you felt about the side of your family. You were now the daughter of the rightful king, and there on the throne sat a product of disgust and dishonour that looked at you with eyes of hate. Cersei’s eyes were on Lord Starks and it seemed now the wolves had their opponents in the lions.
“Lord Eddard when we last spoke you offered me some council. Allow me to return the courtesy. Bend the knee, my Lord. Bend the knee and swear loyalty to my son. And we shall allow you and the Lady Stark to live out your days in the grey waste you call home.”
He spoke with no hesitation to admit the truth, and in a single instance there was no turning back anymore. It was war, and there was no stopping any of it from any side. “Your son has no claim to the throne.”
Joffery screeched out that he was a liar. Your eyes narrowing as your fury raised. Cersei demanding Ser Barristan take you both, Lord Stark pleaded to the immediate closing in from his guard and the city watch. “Ser Barristan is a good man, a loyal man do him no harm.”
You didn’t look at him, and you didn’t see the true hesitation in his pause. He knows neither of you are liars nor thieves. He knows Lord Stark bound to honour and you carry the weight of your fathers fist of justice. He knew you since you were a girl but all you could see was the possessed demon of gold on the Throne.
“You think he stands alone?”
Swords were drawn, her men showing no hesitation that the man before you did. Joffery screamed to them. “Kill them, kill both of them, I command you.”
Whatever sympathy for the boy at his fathers death bed you held, died in that moment. None left and for whatever reason, all you could think of was how easily Robb overpowered him, tossed him around and left him bruised skin and ego so easily in the training yard of Winterfell. The memory of the boy throwing a tantrum and the smirk Robb sent your way at how little he’d even broken a sweat by that point made you exhale a shaking breathe of fury.
Being a lion didn’t make him brave. It didn’t make him fierce. But you could see Robb Stark as clear now as you glared at the new King and just perhaps he was destined to find out how much a wolf could tear a lion apart.
Have your men, your mother, fight this battle for you Joffery. It won’t protect you forever.
Lord Stark raising his own voice, the tension so heavy the court was choking in it. “Commander, take the Queen and her children into custody. Escort them back to their royal apartments and keep them there, under guard.”
From right beside you, Janos Slynt responded in kind. “Men of the Watch,” The shift and all of their own spears pointed to the swords of the Kingsguard and Lannister men.
You and your cousin staring the other down, that crown on his head looking far too big for such a coward. Lord Stark giving a plea, “I want no bloodshed. Tell your men to lay down their swords, no one needs to die.”
Seconds passed which felt like minutes dragging along the clock. Cersei and Joffery towards Lord Stark and yourself as you waited out their decision. Only they didn’t make one, and neither did you.
From the same voice which assured they stood behind you, Janos Slynt yelled, “Now,”
Blood flew everywhere in an instant. The City Watch turning onto the Starks household guard and without any shame or order taking them all to the ground with horrid shings of metal that screeched in your ears. Lord Stark and yourself moving to the other as you looked around at the horror as you didn’t understand what happened.
In the mess of blood and swords, you turned to look at Lord Stark only to be yanked backwards. Two arms pulling your back up to their front as Janos Slynt held your hands pinned to your body as his other held a blade up to your throat.
In front of you, stood Lord Stark exactly as you were only behind him was the traitor you should have seen coming. Lord Baelish stood behind him, the very blade in hand used to try and murder Bran now sat pointed edge at his throat as the massacre occurred around you. “I did warn you not to trust me.”
You had never been in the black cells before, nor anywhere near them before now. Back pressed up against one the walls with your knees pulled up to your chest, you could see and hear it happening all around you. Lord Baelish had played you and Lord Stark like fools, the slimy lies of Janos Slynt telling you both, “We stand behind you, Lord Stark.”
It was angering, enough you hadn’t even noticed how much your fingernails were cutting into the skin of your palms as you curled them. They would’ve gone after the girls too, they wanted Sansa to marry Joffery they would keep her close, but Arya? You couldn’t imagine what they’d done to her, or where she’d even be. She was fast, and clever you knew, maybe she’d run. But to where?
She was just a child, who could she even turn to rely on? Who was left in this city to care?
The longer you sat in that cell, the more you couldn’t shake the feeling that staying here would be the end for you. Your father wouldn’t bend the knee, even for you. Worse then that, you weren’t just considered a traitor now, you were the daughter of the one man Cersei had reason to fear. Renly had the numbers of Storms End and Highgarden, but he wasn’t a leader. Stannis Baratheon was the one that she would fear.
He was without mercy, and not a man she could ever hope to trick or manipulate. It was what made him so unlikable in a place like this, you couldn’t buy him or trick him because he saw no value in the tricks such things brought. You can’t hold his daughter hostage and assume that would be enough to send him away, no.
He was Robert’s heir, and you were his. You were as big of a threat as he was in Cersei’s eyes.
Your vision blurred the light of the torch as the cell door cracked open. A figure coming towards you, you kept your head high and looking straight, they wanted to see you break, they’d have to do far worse then this. Your name fell from a familiar voice as they knelt down in front of you, repeating it once more until your eyes focused.
“Lord Varys.”
Dressed as a gaoler its likely in a place like this he wasn’t so easily spotted. “My lady, it’s truly a shame to see you in such a place.”
Raising your eyebrows, your face was skeptical. “Is it? You did a fine job at watching us get dragged down here like animals. Tell me, did Lord Baelish surprise you too or was this one big lie?”
Huffing out a laugh, he bent his head before a small grimace. “I assure you, it was not my intentions to have it end up like this. Lord Baelish’s own motives do not often align with my own. I have no interest in seeing Renly Baratheon on the Iron Throne.”
The laugh leaving you was as cracked as it was fake. “What do you want. Really. If you’re here to lecture me, I’d much rather die without one.”
“Unfortunately, you are far more useful to the realm alive then dead. But only if you understand where it is your allegiances should lay.” Watching you shake your head, he leaned forward. “Your father is the one thing Cersei sees as a real threat, and if you can quell her worries that you will be too then she just may let you live.”
Heart weighing heavily in your chest you shook your head once more. “The only reason he or I am a threat to her is because she knows her son has no actual claim to the throne. Why should I turn a blind eye to the thing that murdered Jon Arryn, that had my father abandon me here- you really think I would bend the knee to Joffery?”
A tsk came from his mouth, “I’m not asking you to enjoy it, I’m asking you to do this for the good of the realm.” You said nothing, you found it too hard to believe anything in this place, or most people. “Denounce your ties to your father, swear your loyalty-”
“And what? She’ll let me go? Keep me here as a prisoner for the rest of my life?”
Lord Varys sighed, standing up with a blank stare. “Perhaps there’s someone else you may hear reason from.” Another figure, not quite like him. Taller, leaner and dressed in more commoner rags until they slid their hood down and your eyes widened.
Your back straightened, pushing yourself against the wall as Ser Barristan made his way towards you, a somber look in his eye as well as such frowns they indented lines in his face. He held no weapons, he hadn’t even harmed you or Lord Stark’s men but he was the Kingsguard now. As he knelt in front of you, one knee on the ground as he looked you over with a concern befitting of his profession, you held your breathe.
Gently murmuring your name, you felt your chest close up more. He ran a gentle hand down the side of your head where a mark had been bleeding, you think from when they tossed you in here. “I never thought-”
Speaking before your logic could overtake, “It’s not your fault. You have a duty and you were just following it.” There still was a sting, that he was still sided against you, and yet his very appearance in here alongside Lord Varys said otherwise. Starting to say something about King Robert you interrupted him, nothing left to hide as you sat here. “Joffery and Tommen aren’t Roberts sons. Robert has no true heir.”
His eyes betrayed very little but the length of pause as you saw wheels in his head turning, made him glance up to Lord Varys who tilted his head as if to say you were telling the truth. “His final seal, about the heir-”
“He didn’t know, he died not knowing. He wanted Lord Stark to rule until Joffery came of age, he wasn’t trying to take it from him.” His face twitched in thought as you both looked at the other with a defeated expression, yours threatening to water much to your dismay.
“Then that makes the heir-”
Lord Varys finished for him, a tone of finality that was grim and looming. “Lord Stannis Baratheon.” A moment passed between you and Ser Barristan, there was little confidence in your face nor was their acceptance in your heart. “Cersei no doubt sees her persistence here as a threat to her son. If Stannis is the heir, that would make our dear Lady Stark here second in line.”
Pausing, Ser Barristan opened and closed his mouth before putting things together. “But his brother-”
You huffed a breathe of air. “Renly wanted to take the throne before Robert was even dead. Then he ran off with the Tyrells in toe. My father won’t take kindly to that. If he’s coming here with war, he’ll sure as hell find some of it for being usurped on just one more thing Renly doesn’t deserve.” You still held love in your heart for him, but he was a fool. He was well liked, but that didn’t make you a leader. It wasn’t enough.
“Stannis is a proven battle commander, he gave his eldest daughter a Lord’s education, taught her how to fight and raised her to follow in his footsteps.” Both men looked at you, and Ser Barristan didn’t seem to be okay with the conclusion in your eyes. “He would name her his direct heir in place of a son, and even worse, with Robb Stark at her side-”
“She’ll have the support of the North too.”
You hated it all. You hated that you and Robb had just been pawns in a scheme for a throne you never wanted, your father doesn’t even want it but he will make it his duty to fulfill his rightful claim. That’s why it didn’t matter to him if you and Robb cared for the other, should you succeed Stannis then you’d have an existing ally in the North.
It had nothing to do with how close to family the Starks had become, nothing to do with how at home you felt in the North and where you belonged. It was about the throne this whole time.
“So, what now? Lord Varys. Tell me, you bring him all the way down here to what? Rub in how fucked I am? Have Ser Barristan return to the crown and tell them all about how uncooperative I’m being?”
His head dropped in a sigh that exuded residual anger but the exhaustion was too strong to attempt to pry. There was clearly more that they weren’t saying but they also continued to dance around why they were even here. “Cersei has had Sansa write a letter pleading to her brother to come to Kings Landing and swear his fealty to the new king.”
You laughed, only the air coming from it sounded dry and painful. “The Lannisters try to kill his brother, put a spear through Lord Stark’s leg, now they think telling him they’ve arrested his father and wife, Robb is suddenly going to find it in his heart to forgive them? They don’t know him very well.”
Ser Barristan was a tad on the more gentle side. “The Queen doesn’t know many as well as she thinks she does.” Somewhere in your mind it did register he didn’t come down here as a Kingsguard, when he reasonably would have access to the black cells. “Including myself, my lady.”
Glancing between them, it blurted out before you had fully realized the thought. “Where’s Arya?”
Lord Varys didn’t look grim, but he did look unsure as did his words sound it. “Somewhere still in the city we presume, but no one has found her. Not even my little birds have found any trace.”
“Would you really tell me if they did, though?”
He didn’t answer, and that was as much one as if he said no out loud. “Get out.” Looking up at the spider you had no bite behind the spiting words but the sentiment was seen. “I don’t make peace with backstabbing lions, and I am not starting now.”
Ser Barristan looked unsure of leaving, but rose to his feet anyways. The slight flicker of warmth at seeing him dying as the torch started leaving the light in your eyes. Lord Varys was barley visible before he turned the door, “You might be the only one who can stand in Stannis’s way of the throne, I know that, Cersei knows that. He may be your father, but he is the one thing which scares her the most. There is nothing half as as terrifying as a truly just man, my lady. Denounce him and you will walk out of this cell with your life.”
You stopped looking at him, just into the darkness you would go back too once the door closed. “She will walk me out of this cell alive no matter what, letting me rot to death in here doesn’t send a message to my father. A public execution and sending my head to Dragonstone does.”
Did you dream? Or was it just a hallucination as you hazed back into the conscious world. The sight of fire once more filling your vision, but you were dozy with memories that scrambled to put themselves together once more. You could hear Robb, see him almost. The reddish brown curls and his warm voice like the fire in his room, a comforting touch across the back of your neck as he spoke to you.
The words faded, but they were there and he hummed in your ear so soothingly. But they didn’t stay that way, the warm soothing tone slipped. The red tinted brown grew longer and darker to a black as the voice became an enticing husk, a rasping voice.
The hand on you grew tighter only it wasn’t on the back of your neck, now it felt as if the hands urged you in the opposite direction, the only sight of the faded figure, dressed in leathers and black not furs and armour as before. Fire was in your vision, small like a balled up little flame that the figure snatched with his bare hands.
Tossing it beyond your face as the voice rasped in your ear only for the light to find itself thrown onto the torch now close to your face. And now the voices were gone, and the darkness around you was cold and the isolation fierce.
Your eyes struggled to see but once more Ser Barristan knelt before you gently calling your name. His hands reached to help you stand as you looked in confusion. “You shouldn’t-”
“My lady, I shouldn’t be in this city with how many men the Queen would’ve sent looking for me.” Your eyebrows raised slightly as your lips slightly parted in confusion. “The Crown has decided I’m not fit to serve as a Kingsguard anymore, but I’ll be damned if I let them shut me away in a home where I’m not use to anyone.”
That’s why he wasn’t here as one of them, just in clothes that he could hide in.
“But you are of no use to anyone here either, my lady. We know war is coming to these shores and I won’t have you on the wrong side when it happens.” Pulling you to the door of the black cell, he wrapped a long cloak with a dark hood around you, pulling it up.
“Ser Barristan, I can’t just leave them-” He had to lean down slightly to look at your eyes, his hands comfortingly on your shoulder. “Lord Stark, Arya..they’re my family now I can’t just leave them like this. That isn’t who I am.”
His grip was strong keeping you in place as he said your name firmly. “They are not your only family, and they aren’t the only ones who need you. You are still as much a Baratheon as you are a Stark now, and that means you have a duty. One you can’t do from in here.”
Lord Varys had said only you could convince your father to not make his attack, your other family is locked away or scattered across the country but your duty was said to be that of your fathers.
“He won’t bend, you know that.”
Nodding back, he leaned forward more to a whisper even in the vast emptiness. “Joffery is not a king either of us can stand in court to serve anymore, they have made sure of that. But you were raised to be more then just a lady, perhaps you were meant to serve another king. One that you can actually call family.”
Duty and family. They were one in the same sometimes, but to others they got in the way. Your mind echoed a whisper in your ear, warm and soothing like the first voice in your feverish dreams of moments ago, as it told you “Here. You belong here.”
“We can’t just walk through the gates, not now.” Coming into the dark hallway, you both swiftly made your way to the end of the corridor as you looked to another closed cell. Was he in that one? Was he okay, still alive? But the footsteps pacing down the other hall had Barristan bring you along further.
His voice gruff and low, “The Targaryeans built tunnels beneath the city if they ever needed to escape. We can follow one of them, and end up at one of the small shore docks, and there you need to go to Dragonstone. Rejoin your family and maybe we both can find purpose out of this city.”
In his eyes, Ser Barristan had failed to protect King Robert from himself. Just maybe this was his way of atoning, if he couldn't protect you, the King’s niece and true claimed King’s daughter and heir, maybe he could get you home.
By the time any noticed, Cersei had put a stall on any ship leaving for ports within the Crownlands until they could be searched. The new King, Joffery having yelled over her and angrily about killing you should they find you alive and to bring him Barristans head for helping you escape.
No one knew which ship you had left on, but they were determined to stop you before letting Stannis and his firstborn heir reunite. As you stood in breeches, and a cloak curled around your body as the hood draped over your head you looked out into the water.
You hadn’t travelled this way on a ship of smallfolk before, but the route was all the same. You’d be there in no time should the gods bless you with the winds or the tides. As Kings Landing left your vision, you couldn’t help but see those same images.
The soft touch of Robb that now felt like a lifetime away, a dream showing you the panicked husk of what sounded like Jons voice rasping something you couldn’t recall to you as if he was grabbing fire out of your own hands. You could see their father, Lord Stark and the fear for the others life in yours and his eyes as you were hauled away as traitors. And the worry in manys eyes as they spoke of your own father, Stannis.
The sea didn’t smell of something crisp and it didn’t flush cool on your skin. The sea, much like the skies and the earths all below it, it all looked like blood, like fire, like the stench of war loomed over the horizon.
You just hoped you reached home, before home left for war without you.
#jon snow x reader#robb stark x reader#game of thrones#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#jon snow x you#robb stark x you#jon snow imagine#robb stark imagine#game of thrones imagine#jon snow#robb stark#asoisf imagine
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Hiya! Could I request some Magnus / GN! Reader shenanigans?
Like the reader is trying to learn a spell (to impress Magnus), does it by "The books are just guidelines anyways", and it works.
Then they go to show Magnus and confusion hell breaks loose
Blease and thankyou <3<3<3
[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]
Author's Note: Magnus time! I was actually working on something just like this, so this gave me the motivation to really spruce it up and finish it. But I really apologize because when I reread your request I realized I might've gone a bit less silly than you might've wanted. I hope you still enjoy.
Relationship: Magnus the Red/Gn!Reader
Warnings: None apart from this being my first time writing Magnus so please forgive me figuring him out I'm sorry if he feels off
Word Count: 1220
Sorcery is by it's very nature, finicky.
It has no solid answer, no yes or no. It's not as if it's a machine you can turn on or off, or a star you can see is alive or dead. It's an ebb and flow- something you feel.
But how do you feel something you've never felt before?
These tomes are largely nonsensical to you; The scribblings of madmen, words with no translation and sentences backwards.
You'd once again today attempted to make sense of it all, to tempt your better judgement that kept saying it maybe wasn't your most intelligent idea, but nothing has happened yet. So now you sit in bed, flicking through pages of tomes scattered across the blankets; Attempting to perhaps make enough sense of it and not bring anymore embarrassment to yourself than you already have.
In your fussiness you've already given yourself two different paper cuts, licking your wounds both physical and mental. You should probably be sleeping, the stars are out bright, and the wind gently raps against the windows as you study.
Magnus' tower is so ethereal, you look towards the window for a moment and see nothing but the midnight sky illuminating everything underneath it.
After thinking, you look back towards the oversized tome in your lap, lying on your thighs over top of a blanket. You'd picked many of the books not necessarily at random, but attempting to find the most basic of starting places from a collection that puts most others to shame. Magnus has many shelves up here, filled with his personal collection of tomes and scrolls. You sort've wish he was here to help guide you, but at the same time, you wish to surprise him to some degree.
You try just one more time, attempting to light a small ember in your palm. You follow every word exactly as the instructions- if you could call them that, and mange to hold it for only a few moments before it flickers away as if blown out by breath.
"Ugh!"
You drop your head, it coming quite close to hitting the pages of the tome.
"What is this?"
Your head suddenly whips upright, seeing Magnus himself standing in the doorway across the room. You don't know how you hadn't heard his footsteps, though you suppose you were far too distracted for your ears to prick to any other sound than what was right next to you.
Entering the room and closing the massive door behind him, Magnus takes in the scenery he's missed while aboard Photep, traveling the stars. After his quick glances he focuses on you cross legged in his bed, surrounded by opened and unopened books.
"Magnus!" He slowly walks closer to the beside, one finger brushes a tome he's clearly familiar with and opening it to a particular page; Glossing over it before he lets it gently fall back shut.
"Now, what are you concocting in that little mind of yours that requires so many spell tomes?"
Magnus watches amused as you close the book in your lap, legs cross underneath it and look at your slightly burned palm.
"I was trying to call fire. But it seems it's a bit harder than I thought." His smile fades a bit softer, watching your expression. The fabric of his robes is weaved with gold string that shines in the soft candle light.
"You seem to have had it, from what I saw."
You can feel his long red hair brush against your arm as he sits beside you, his massive height and weight difference forcing the appropriately massive bed to dip heavily to his side. It almost makes you roll, but you quickly adjust to prevent that. Now in your atmosphere it's a bit easier to look him in the eye, but you still have to crane your next a decent bit.
"I was following the tomes exactly like they said, and the best I can do is a little baby kindling. I'd have trouble even setting a letter alight."
You look up towards him, hands playing with the edges and filigree of the old, worn tome in your lap. Magnus speaks up, his tone curious and a bit surprised.
"Exactly?"
His eye glances down to the front cover of the tome in your hand, and recognizes that one instantly. With one hand, he gently reaches underneath the covers and gently clamps the tome shut, the top of his hand laying against your thighs before he pulls the tome towards his chest.
"Then you are taking it all far too literally." Perhaps the book shouldn't be written so literally then, you rebelliously think. He lays the tome aside, and uses the same hand to gently cup your jaw between his fingers and look up at him.
"it's far more of a feeling that anything, my love. If you keep just following the tomes, you might end up burning something down. Or as you've noticed, burning nothing at all." He lets out a laugh, feeling your cheeks move under his finger tips.
"I never thought you to be so studious in following directions. Perhaps you'd prefer Primarch Guilliman to myself?" You let out a harsh puff of air through your closed lips, making an insulting noise. Your hand grips his wrist and tries to pull it away, but to no avail, and instead you just grip the massive muscles of his arm and scowl.
"Funny."
He smiles wider. How you speak to him so casually now, compared to months ago. Perhaps his teasing makes it easier for you to forget who he is. He doesn't mind it.
A testament to your determination, you'd been able to cast something despite a lack of knowledge; But you could do well in having someone set you on the right path. Afterall, Magnus knows simply treating something with such an ebb and flow as sorcery as rules you can memorize will never bear any fruit.
Magnus can guide you, and truthfully, he would love for nothing more than to.
His sons don't need to be taught. They learn from his actions, and most are more than capable of progressing on their own and honing their own skills. To be able to teach his beloved something that is such a core part of himself, to guide your hand and your mind to touch something greater- he finds himself almost, dare he say excited.
He's rough on his sons, he knows they can take it. That they're built for sorceries and touching the warp. But with you he'll have to be gentle. The thought of it, to sit with you and show you wondrous things that your home planet kept from your eyes, he would start right now if not for one thing.
Magnus lets go of your jaw. He leans down and gently brushes a kiss against your temple, his fire red hair brushing against your skin again.
"Now, as much as I don't wish to part you from your reading, I have returned from Terra at my absolute wits end and desiring some rest." He smiles and vaguely gestures to the mess you've made of his bed during his absence. He can see other little messes throughout his chambers, as well.
"So my love, perhaps you could move your research, off the bed?"
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Before I Say Goodnight
Chapter 5
a/n: this one was fun for me. enjoy!!!
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“Good morning” you sit across the table from him “what’s for breakfast?” He picks up a piece of toast from his plate and flashes you a sleepy smile and says “anything you like”. Magic house, right. “In that case, I’d like a cinnamon roll, an omelet, hot chocolate and orange juice” placing your hands on the table as the list of food begins to appear in front of you. You half waited for Azriel to make a comment about your choice of breakfast but he only said “a cinnamon roll sounds really good right now” and then his own plate appeared. A giggle, an actual giggle, escaped your lips. Get a grip. “Cheers” you motion with your bun and he returns the gesture. “If Cassian sees me having simple carbs for breakfast he’ll make me run an extra ten miles at training tomorrow” his eyes have gone wide and it reminds you of the kid you used to babysit when you would take him to the ice cream shop on the way home from school. “The super fit general doesn’t like a sweet treat?” you ask between bites. “It’s not that he doesn’t like sweets but when he gets in his trainer mindset he becomes a pain in the ass” you snort “and I’m guessing you have a sweet tooth?” he nods once “it’s my only weakness” you roll your eyes and smile as you keep eating. Everything was delicious, you basically inhaled the cinnamon roll and hot chocolate. As you push those dishes away they vanish. This house freaking rules. You go to eat the omelet as Azriel asks “How did you find your room?” “Oh it’s beautiful and the bed is very comfy” he continues “did you sleep well?” You shake your head “well, once I fell asleep it was fine but I was up until late tossing and turning”. “I’m sure this has been difficult to process” you sip the orange juice, throat suddenly feeling dry “uhm, yeah it feels fake, all of this and last night was the first night I got the chance to think without being distracted or interrupted and… I was just overwhelmed” Azriel nodded and you jumped a little as you felt a cooling sensation against your cheek “sorry, they usually don’t bother people” he said and pulled his shadows away from you. You bring your hand up and notice the tear tracks. I must be dehydrated from all this crying. Lightly laughing you say “I don't even notice when I cry anymore, before I got here I don’t remember the last time I cried and I can’t seem to stop” another laugh slips as another shadow swipes the last falling tear. “I can’t even begin to understand how you feel, but if you want my opinion, I think you’ve been incredibly resilient” he gets up from the table “I’ll see you later” and walks away. You can’t help but feel a little embarrassed crying in front of him before the day has even begun.
“You must be y/n! Nesta told me you’d be joining us today” after breakfast and a little bit of walking about the house trying to remember where everything was. Feyre had found you and informed you that the priestesses were ready to begin. “I”m Gwyn” she held out her hand and offered you a million dollar smile. You shook her hand and offered her a five dollar smile in return. “Well, follow me,” she walked you through shelves and shelves of ancient looking volumes and tomes and from what you gathered these books could very well be thousands of years old. The thought made you feel very small. “I have taken it upon myself to take charge of this project and put together a small group to find out how to get you home” she said the last few words in a whisper. So the portal business is not for everyone to know, makes sense. You spend the next few hours meeting the other priestesses and beginning the search for books that might have what you’re looking for. By lunchtime you are starving and in need of fresh air.
You opt for lunch on your balcony. But regret it almost immediately, the peace and quiet opening the floodgates of your mind and soon enough you’ve lost your appetite. Sighing, you get up from the little table and walk into the room. You grab your bag and empty it out on the bed. You had some snacks, your water bottle, an extra pair of socks you had forgotten about, your wallet, passport, sunglasses, phone and sunscreen. That was it. This is it. You place everything that you have to your name in the drawer of your bedside table and resist the urge to cry again. There’s still a full day ahead. The despair quiets down as you return to the library and are consumed by the work.
After a full day of research you feel like your mind is going to explode. This will take months, if we’re lucky. You return to the dining room and see Cassian, Azriel and who you could only assume is Nesta already eating. “Y/n! Meet my mate, Nesta” Cassian excitedly points to the female beside him. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you” you try to muster up some energy but the defeat in your voice and your face is obvious. “It’s nice to meet you as well, I apologize I wasn’t here yesterday but I assume everything has gone well with the house?” At that you can’t help the enthusiastic nod “the house is fantastic”. You start to make yourself a plate and they return to their conversation but you don’t really listen to what they say. You keep going over and over it. Before you got here, before you stepped on that circle- there was something there. But you hadn’t seen anything, not a shadow, not a footprint, nothing. But the quiet… whatever it was, it was a predator that had scared off all but one prey. Maybe it was a trap. You feel sick. Oh god. “Y/n? You’re pale” Azriel’s voice snaps you from your spiral and you see the three of them sharing the same concerned look. I hate that look. “I’m just tired, it’s been… a long day” you try to finish your dinner but between their worried glances and your lack of appetite you can’t do it. “I’m gonna call it a night, guys” you say and walk to your room.
The next few days are a blur of the same routine: breakfast with Azriel and sometimes Nesta, research, lunch, research, dinner, sleep. On the third day Azriel is the only one at breakfast “do you only have two changes of clothes?” You furrow your brows at him, “yes” last night had been the second sleepless one and you were in no mood to be tested. “I can take you into town if you’d like, get you something else to add to the rotation” you appreciated his offer, truly, the dress and the leggings were getting old “thanks, but I have no currency or goods or services that I can exchange for new clothes. These will have to do” you start drinking your tea, the only thing you could stomach since yesterday. “Y/n, you are an official guest of the Night Court. You can charge whatever you need or want to the High Lord” Oh “I did not know that. I’ve never been an official guest of anything. But still, you’ve already given me too much”. He stays serious as he says “We leave after you finish breakfast” he pushes a cinnamon roll in front of you. “I guess we can leave now” he doesn’t move “you’re not going to eat?” You shake your head “I’d love to but I am not hungry at all” he looks at you square in the face and you know he can see through the paper thin mask you’ve put on. “Very well, let’s go then”.
“Do you prefer pants or skirts?” Azriel asked as you walked through a very busy part of Velaris. “Well it depends, I like skirts for leisurely activities and pants for everything else” Azriel looked around, he seemed just as lost as you were “fair enough”. “Azriel, do you know where we’re going?” He placed his hand on your back to guide you through the crowd “of course I do”. You say nothing. Both of us seem to be in a mood today. “Here we are,” he points to a quiet looking storefront “Feyre and Nesta talk about this shop a lot”. You walk in and see a mixture of textiles, prints and cuts that revive a part of you that has been dormant for a while. “Oh my god, this is great” Azriel lets out a breath and says “go crazy” and you do. Two hours and three full bags later you walk out of the shop. “I feel like I went overboard, we should return half of these things” you go turn around but Azriel’s wing stops you from walking any further. “Nonsense, you need the clothes, now we need to get you some new shoes” you look at your boots “what’s wrong with these?” He walks into a shoe shop “nothing is wrong with them, but don’t you want something more comfortable?” You would like some slippers and maybe something cute to wear with the dresses “alright, if you insist”. As you walk towards the displays you miss the smile that ghosts over Azriel’s face.
“I’ve got to hand it to you, Azriel. Getting out of the house and the library was just what the doctor ordered” you say as you bite down on a cinnamon roll that you had ordered at a little bakery. “A change of scenery is always nice I suppose” you nod and keep eating. “Y/n, feel free to not answer if you don’t want to but what is your world like?” Dammit, just as I was having a nice time. You sip some tea, your throat having gone dry yet again. Breathe, come one. In. Out. “It’s ok. Well for starters there’s no magic. There is war, famine, illness. But we also have so much beauty. Where I’m from the trees are always green and the sky is constantly blue. We have beaches and rivers. I was traveling before I got here, and I saw a bit of the world away from my home and it was beautiful. Similar to this, but the stars felt like a painting and these feel like living beings. We have art and I guess the most recent advancement has been the internet, but that’s a whole other conversation. There are so many animals, we keep some as pets. I had or have a dog. But there are monkeys and dolphins and butterflies and oh- we move around by cars or planes or trains mainly. We have horses but ever since the industrial revolution they aren’t the main form of transportation” you talked for what felt like hours, by the end your throat was sore from overuse. Azriel had listened to it all and had committed every detail to memory. Even if he didn't understand the internet or how planes flew without magic.
After the snack break Azriel let you know that you were going to have lunch at the River House with Feyre and Elain, the third sister you had yet to meet. The sister Mor thinks Azriel is enamored with. The walk back was pretty long but enjoyable, conversation with the Shadowsinger seemed to flow naturally and he seemed interested in everything you had to say so when he announced you had arrived you couldn’t help the disappointment that bubbled in your chest. The River House was a spectacular mansion overlooking the Sidra. “Azriel, y/n! Come over here, Elain is just finishing up lunch” Feyre said in place of greeting. You follow Azriel towards glass doors that lead to a beautiful garden terrace, where you are greeted by a delicious looking spread of finger foods. “I tried to make everything baby friendly” a delicate musical voice says to Azriel. You look from the spread towards the voice “you must be Elain, I’m y/n”. She smiles and says “lovely to meet you, please start without me, I’m in the middle of decorating a cake” you note the apron she dons and the frosting that stains her pretty face. I’d be into her if I was Azriel.
Feyre, Nyx, Azriel and yourself enjoy lunch and simple conversation “there’s only a few more weeks of summer so we try to make the most of this weather before the Sidra freezes” you nod, having noticed that the breezes gliding through the air seem to be getting cooler and cooler everyday. The High Lady lets the little boy out of his chair, he doesn’t look older than two. Once he’s free of the confines of his high chair he races to the lawn and begins to play with some toys he probably left there earlier. “Here we are” Elain returns to the table with an intricately decorated cake, it has all sorts of flowers and leaves made of pastel color frosting and Elain herself looks perfectly put together, she looks for her nephew “Nyxie, do you want a slice?” The table laughs as he ignores her and goes back to playing. “Sorry Elain, you know how he gets after being still for too long” Feyre says. The domestic scene fills your heart with longing for your own family. That could’ve been you. Your blood runs cold as you hear the distinct lilt of your mother’s voice. Not this again. You had had some reprieve of those words ever since getting here. “So Elain, I’ve been told you garden?” You ask to fill the comfortable silence the group had fallen into. Luckily Elain had a lot to say about the upcoming autumn harvest and her plans for the following year.
After lunch concluded, you and Azriel went back to the House of Wind where you resumed the routine you had grown to appreciate. In the morning you would wake up and actually choose an outfit, which was a nice addition, have breakfast and go to the library. After lunch you’d go back to the library until dinner. After dinner you’d either walk around the house, find a book to read, maybe journal a bit. Other nights were a bit more fun though, someone would take you into town and you’d go dancing or walk along the river or visit art galleries. It was a nice routine. Predictable. Dependable. Enjoyable.
So Azriel was very surprised when you walked into the dinning room with a huff and a scowl. “What’s the matter?” You look at him like with wild eyes “Azriel I can’t do it anymore” he stiffens and you continue “The priestesses are all very nice and Gwyn is a sweetheart but the only thing I do is look for books for them to read because they are all written in ancient languages I don’t understand. I’m so bored, Azriel, I’m numb with boredom. I’m not a researcher and I can’t even contribute, not really. I don’t wanna go back down there. It’s dark and cold and I need sunshine. Sunshine!” you finish by dropping into your chair and putting your head between your hands. “I see-” you interrupt him “and I’m sorry I sound ungrateful ok? You’ve all been very nice”. He continues “if you need a change of pace you could come with me to the human lands, I’ll be there for a few days on an assignment. I’d appreciate the company” you could kiss him.
“When do we leave?”
#acomaf#acowar#acotar#azriel shadowsinger#acofas#acotar fanfiction#acosf#jurian acotar#lucien vanserra#rhysand#nesta acotar#nesta archeron#nesta x cassian#elain acotar#elain archeron#feyre archeron#high lady feyre#feyre cursebreaker#feyre darling#feysand#a court of mist and fury#night court
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I love system mob and Shigeo for so many reasons and one of them is the comedy potential. Mob and Shigeo having full blown conversations in their head and they don't realize they've been silently staring at the wall for 12 minutes while the others make sure they don't walk into anything. Mob and Teru being Not Straight and the entire time Shigeo's just judging him. Mobs just trying to bat him away with a newspaper so he can have his damn date in peace. I think Shigeo being fucking Goofy as well as, y'know, literally terrifying is underrated.
literally the funniest thing I can think of is teru leaning in to kiss mob and shigeo grabbing his face one handed with That One Expression and simply saying. "No." 💀
I agree though! shigeos fear over acceptance and feeling like tsubomi was the only one who would understand him I think would mean his sexuality is Off Limits for A While. like warming up to the people in mobs life Takes A Minute. so doing any additional soul searching now on the other side of puberty? pump the fucking breaks for a second
and its doubly funny that teruki who's been on the other side of him twice also has a bad impression bc he did it babe! he saw you at your worst and he likes you anyway! he saw you do terrible things and he stood by you until the bitter end! but he also choked you out and tried to explode your bouquet so fuck that guy.
reigen spinning some tall tale and mobs like wow shishou :) you're so amazing :) and then he says smtn else and shigeo drops a flat one liner that suckerpunches him & contradicts everything he just said so blatantly he's left fumbling to catch up. (and worst of all: it was really fucking FUNNY.)
which brings me to my next slide: the first person in mobs life that shigeo falls in with is absolutely tome. imo. she's blunt with her feelings, she's up front, she's sardonic and silly and she's a girl. safe all the way down for someone getting their sea legs. also imo tome is gay so it eases his concerns right. vibes.
one last consideration: shigeo enjoys his powers. they're a part of him. he wants to flex his wings. so him sparring w ritsu (gently) and shou (less so) in a way mob would NEVER before. but it's good! it's healthy to blow off that steam! esp bc shous a firecracker and also desperately needs to blow off his extra power. do u see my vision
#shigeo starting as a sardonic defensive person bc he doesnt trust snyone in mobs life#mostly around to take tsubomis calls and hang w tome#but over time his attitude does shift to being a lot more affable as he realizes maybe all of these people DO like him#they HAVE all seen him at his worst. they were all there for the rampage and none of them treat him differently after#itll still probably be a cold day in hell when he pays reigen a compliment tho LOL#sorry i like talkjng abt hcs for this haha#mp100
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For the love of Henri: Tome 7 - Legend of the Ginger Pubes
Looks like it's one tome per two years. The never awaited next chapter is here.
What you missed on FTLOH…Henri’s beloved first wife’s (Philanthropina) death was faked by the evil Kate and Meghan. Meghan married Henri but after accidentally burning a piece of Jesu’s cross, she became hated by the nation. Meghan decided to get the public back on side by procreating…however Henri was reluctant to give up his nethers.
After two long weeks of marriage, Henri had still not exposed his nethers to Meghan. Every time that Meghan tried to seduce him, he claimed he had to teach paupers how to grow their own vegetables, or was going to sleep on the streets to connect to the homeless (something that was his idea before Bulliam stole it and took all the credit).
Meghan had tried everything to entice his nethers. From dressing up as a sexy nurse, which resulted in her volunteering at the Hospital for the Sick and Decrepit after Henri mistook her intentions. To running them a romantic bath and having to scoop out all the water so Henri could water his plants. But alas, the nethers remained hidden.
One day, Meghan was lunching with Fergie, discussing the problems with her sex life. Fergie was the only member of the royal family who was as open as an American like her.
‘Have you tried getting your toes out?’ Fergie said, eating a grass sandwich.
‘Yes of course I have, he started doing “this little piggy” with them, honestly gave me the ick’
‘What about engaging in some dirty talk, maybe the whole tampon thing runs in the family?’
‘Actually Fergie, I’ll have you know Dear Papa Charles NEVER said he wanted to BE a tampon, just that it would be his luck that he’d become one!’
‘Tomatoes, tomatos. Anyway there might be something else you could do if you’re really serious about this baby business’. Fergie wiggled her eyebrows.
‘Spit it out woman!’ Meghan yelled, like the loud American she was.
‘I know a woman who knows a woman who could get you a baby, it’ll be genetically yours and everything’ Fergie winked dramatically.
‘But his nethers won’t arise for me, how am I supposed to get a genetically correct child?’
Fergie started waving around her hands and throwing petals in the air, whispering as pink smoke began circling around her. ‘As a royal wife, you are now privy to one of the family’s biggest secrets. Royals can create babies simply using their pubes! BUT, the baby MUST be carried by a Chosen One.’
Meghan gasped, ‘tell me more! Have there been previous Chosen Ones?!!!!’
‘Tiggy Leggy Iggy Wiggy Bourke, Julie Andrews, Rose (Allegedly) Chalomet’
‘Urm isn’t it Cholmondeley?’
‘Hush child!’ Fergie put a finger to Meg's mouth. ‘Speak not of what you know’.
‘Great I’ll have Julie’
‘FOOL, the Chosen One is chosen for you and can not be swopped between wives!!! Besides, only my beloved Eugbea has been blessed with the pipes of her Pube Mother, Julie’ Fergie span in a circle for dramatic effect.
‘Ok, no need to be so busybody! So Diana used Tiggy? You used Julie and Snake used Rose?! What a headfuck! Who did Liz use’
‘Are you DUMB!? Blood princesses don’t need a surrogate! That is only for married in women’.
‘So what must I do?!’
Fergie’s eyes bulged with excitement. ‘Retrieve five pubes from Henri, and then consult the Mistress of the Pubes, she will tell you what to do next’
Meghan stroked her chin thoughtfully, ‘five pubes you say? Shouldnt be so hard…’
*
Later that day, Meg and Henri were watching a Richard Attenborough show side by side on the couch without touching.
‘Henri my love’ Meg cooed.
‘Yes dear’ Henri replied while reading Libby’s latest French novella, which they were planning to sell to raise money for three legged horses.
‘I was just wondering about the consistency of your nether pubes’ she said.
Henri choked in embarrassment. How could she bring up such a lurid topic? ‘M-m-m-y nether pubes?’
‘Yes well, my friend Gwynyth Paltrow says it’s important for men to condition their pubes as it increases productivity - can I have a little sample of yours? I’ll send them to Goop HQ and they’ll make you a personalised conditioner!’
‘I don’t think so Meghan dear, I’m happy with my productivity levels. I’ve just beaten Aunty Anne for the first time on my engagement count!’ Henri was proud yet humble about this achievement, and was certainly NOT bragging.
Meghan scowled. She really thought mentioning productivity would get him. Henri was devoted to his work, after all.
Later that night, in bed but not touching, Henri was reading some Greek philosophy. On the cover was a Greek statue showing off his clean, bare nethers. She was struck with an idea.
‘You know my love, that is one on Phily’s old books isnt it?’
‘Why yes it is’, he said with a tear in his eye.
‘She had an awful lot of philosophy books with those statues on the cover, and I found a few of her hand carved sculptures in the garden. They all had very bare nethers’ she smirked.
‘Well that is the style, one can’t sculpt in pubic hair!’ Henri said defensively.
‘Phily could’, Meghan said. ‘Phily could do anything and she was a huge supporter of natural bodies, I wonder if she just didnt like pubes on men’
Henri’s mind raced back in time. Phily was a advocate for natural bodies and was patron of the We Love Our Bodies And Body hair Society. But it was also true that she loved Greek sculptures and pubeless men.
Henri leapt out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Five minutes later, he appeared looking sheepish. Meg went in, finding just what she was looking for. A used razor with ginger pubes stuck in it. She laughed manically ‘FINALLY MY TIME HAS COME!’
*
The next day Meghan hopped on a flight to NYC using Elton’s plane. She approached the door of the Den of the Mistress of the Pubes, which was actually the Penthouse Suite at the Plaza Hotel.
After knocking on the door, someone called ‘who goes there?!’
It was a special code and Fergie had given Meghan the password - ‘BITCH FLAKES!’.
The door opened and Meghan smelt a familiar tropical scent - JLO Miami Glow perfume (2005). Outside the window she could see a beautiful sparking woman on top of the Empire State Building performing a pole dance. When Meghan blinked, the woman was in front of her.
‘JENNIFER LOPEZ?!!’ she exclaimed. ‘YOU’RE the Mistress of the Pubes?!’
‘You got it’ Mistress winked. ‘I’m real, the way I walk the way I talk…’
‘I can’t believe it, you can dance, act, sing (kinda) and make babies from pubes’
Mistress broke into song and Meghan stood awkwardly while she finished, ‘don’t be fooled by the rocks that I got, I’m still Jenny from the block’.
‘Okaaay, so can you help me get pregnant?’ Meg said, knowing she could sing better.
‘You know I can’t get enough, I love that shit, you know I cant get enough, you love that shit’ Mistress wailed.
‘Shut up birch! I dont wanna hear your fuckin album!’ Meghan screamed, her tongue lashing out and poking Mistress in the eye.
‘Fine! What’s the problem?’
‘Henri wont give up his nethers and I need to get preggers so the British public forgive me for burning the cross of Jesu’
‘Wait, who are you and who’s Henri?’
‘Henri, Prince of the People!’
‘Ohhhh, Princess Phily’s man? God I miss her’, JLo wept as most people did when they talked about Phily. She was known and missed by every single human, animal and atom on the planet (apart from Meg, k8 and Willy).
‘Well yes, I have his pubes and I need a baby’. She handed over the five ginger pubes in a golden napkin stolen from Liz.
JLo took them and tucked them between her tatas. ‘Come back this time tomorrow’.
*
That time the next day, Meg returned. She was off her face with excitement about who her surrogate could be. Surely for Henri, it wouldnt be some low level aristo like Rose (allegedly). Maybe it would be Dakota Johnson or Simone Biles!
When she got to the penthouse, Mistress JLo was there standing in front of a red curtain. Meg gasped when she saw who standing bouncing on his knees next to her.
‘Uncle Eddie?!’ Meg screamed.
‘It is I, Edward the curtain drawer-backer! No reveal can be made without me’
‘So this is how you make your extra cash’, Meg said.
‘Ok people, let’s not delay, the procedure was successful and I can confirm there is a royal baby on the way’, JLo said. ‘We will now reveal your surrogate’.
Eddie clapped and cheered.
JLo started singing as Eddie gripped onto the curtain rope. ‘Let’s get louuud, LET’S GET LOOOUUUUUD!!!!’
The curtain was pulled back revealing the surrogate. Meghan screamed like Kevin in Home Alone.
A stunning voluptuous lady was revealed, wearing a ruby bikini and a smile, ‘SHUT UP BIRCH, WHO PISSED IN YOUR FLAKES?’
It was Jimmu.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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Why does Grima have two bodies?
okay @ro-botany brought up the question and i think i have an answer.
The hand-wavey explanation is obviously "reincarnation bullshit" but we can get more precise than that. You're gonna have to suppose reincarnation theory with me cuz this doesn't work for possession theory i think but if you know me that's a given anyway.
Regardless. Part of dawn's spectacular reincarnation theory argument is a noted oddity in how future Robin was able to claim the Dragon's Table. bcuz, didn't they already do that in their own timeline? If the table contains Grima's soul, this Robin already has it. If they take what's sealed in the table now, they'd have two of those!
Unless, of course, everything inside the table isn't alive. Then they could claim it as often as they please! So what's in there? Grima's power?
Well, I say, Grima's corpse.
After all, we have precedent for dragons' bodies being sealed inside there, alive or not.
And, the future Robin has a demonstrated proficiency in controlling dead bodies.
If we suppose that the Grima in the table is dead, their soul went on to be reborn as Robin, we run into another fact. Robin isn't a manakete.
No matter if they have a dragon's soul or not, they are physically incapable of transforming. They are human, through and through. Yes, they have "Grima's blood" - in the exact same way Chrom has Naga's. It's likely a blood pact made with some human allied with Grima back during the Schism, same as any other draconic blood pacts throughout the series.
And, listen, Rogrima is such an overdramatic bastard, are they really gonna settle for bringing ruin to the world with a goddamn tome? No.
Yeah it's all assumptions, but it's not contradicting anything per canon, right, and how else do we have fun.
So, combining what I've laid out - everything sealed in the Dragon's Table is likely dead. Future Robin can take control of dead bodies.
Ergo, future Robin took control of their own past dead body, hence two of them.
TLDR: It's just one fuck-off huge Risen made of their own corpse that they now control like an additional limb.
Which would also explain why Chrom & co. only have to take out future Robin's human form. That's where the actual heart is, and without them, the dragon will just be a regular gigantic corpse again. Or even just crumble to dust (which is why we probably don't have one giant clean up action... thank goodness Grima was courteous enough to hold the final battle over the ocean.)
#Feli speaks#grima studies#fire emblem awakening#thursdays are so condusive to ridiculous thought experiments. anyway. i'm adding this to my headcanond#headcanons. it's too early to be alive. i need to tweak some drafts.
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Chapter 8: "Show me, and I’ll follow you"
Part of "Am I Fu**ing Insane !?!" A multi chapter adventure in Astarion’s mind
Rating: Mature for mentions of sex and blood
CW: mentions of parental abuse, childhood abuse, forced prostitution, implied rape
Word count count: 2.5k
Pairings: Astarion X OFC Tav
AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54356776/chapters/139337191
I have a quite serious praise kink. Which also means compliments in the forms of tags and/or comments might very well spur me to write and post more
** Thoughts "" Dialogue - - Remarks ++ Quotes / Memories
The mornings after he feeds on her he has taken the habit to sneak out of bed as she’s about to wake up. Not for any nefarious reason other than finding sustenance to bring back to her, so she can replenish her strength as soon as she awakes.
*She lets me feed off of her in bed, seems only fair I extend the same courtesy*
This time his loot features a freshly baked cheese scone, still warm, and even a cup of coffee. Much like a small feline bringing food gifts to his human who clearly cannot be trusted to hunt and feed themselves properly.
His elegant movements devoid of any sound allow him to keep everything quiet enough so that hopefully they won’t be disturbed by anyone waking up at this ungodsly hour and with any luck, he will still have time to look forward to that morning, time he can just keep her all to himself.
His back pushes into the door of their chamber so he doesn’t immediately see, until he turns around and the cup of coffee almost falls through his long, delicate fingers.
She’s fully awake *disappointedly fully dressed* sitting against the headboard of their bed, her long luscious hair falling inordinately over her shoulders, the neck of her shirt falling down her arm leaving one of her shoulders temporarily naked. Though what makes him swallow in a panic has nothing to do with her tempting looks and everything to do with a shiny little tome, open, in her lap, as she is intently taking notes on it.
The same little shiny book he first thought held the secret to freedom, maybe a clever way to control rather than destroy the wriggling worms in their heads and that would have let him keep his renewed free will and sunbathing inclination, along with his own life.
The same insignificant little book that, once purloined by his deftly fingers, revealed her eye had been set upon him in ways he could have never suspected from her demeanour.
The same precious little book that he perused over hours, that night that feels so long ago now, after leaving her, intoxicated, in her bed, despite her plea for him to stay, which in hindsight revealed to him for the first time the way she felt about him.
The same vexing little book that revealed something through the way she skipped around words. Something eerily akin to his own tragic loss of ownership over his very own body that must have happened to her as well.
Despite the naive way she smiled, denying she had anything but a comfortable and happy life thus far to justify her longing for eternity.
Despite the smile never reaching her eyes.
She knew he had read it. At least that latter part, because in that one moment of anger, when for a brief instant he thought she would have denied him her body, her blood, he had to use something, anything to hurt her. And her trauma and abuse seemed the perfect place to hit because he knew how it would have felt if anyone reminded him of every time he had to bend his will and his body, sinuously, to every request of his master, and every desire of the simpletons he had to convince, one way or another, to walk happily towards their demise by following him back to Cazador’s Palace.
His mind is running faster through scenarios and considering the very real possibility of just sneaking away the way he came, disappearing until she goes to find him and hopefully, enough time will have passed by then that they can both ignore this uncomfortable moment. He’s about to swiftly move the heel of his foot through the door to slink away when her voice, still deep from her sleep, announces ineluctably that it’s too late for an escape
“Good morning Astarion”
She sounds… sweet? As always…
*Is she not mad? Is she not going to bring up my theft? Is she going to pretend nothing ever happened?*
He might be lost examining possible outcomes for a moment too long because when he doesn’t reply she continues
“What? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before anyway”
*Ouch!*
He can try to ignore what she clearly refers to, he can try to focus on his concern for her health which is true anyway…
“I see you’re full of energy this morning darling, maybe I can persuade you to come with me, have a full plate then to break your fast? I’ve got you these meanwhile…”
He resigns himself and closes the door behind him, while circling around the bed and leaving the coffee and scone on the bedside table next to her. He keeps his eyes on the food until she pats the edge of the bed in a silent invitation for him to sit down next to her. And the darn little book is still open on her lap.
“Thank you”
He can feel her eyes on him following her sweet voice, even as he’s trying to avoid her gaze but when the tips of her tapered fingers reach for his cheek he can’t evade it any longer
“Astarion? Is everything alright?”
Her tone is starting to sound almost concerned and so…
*Fine, there’s no need to make things sound worse than they are. If she isn’t mad yet there is nothing to worry about, nothing to fear… right?*
He’s never going to have as good a chance as this one to finally ask, to understand how her mind actually works
“You never wrote a single line about who I… what I really was… why?”
In truth what he wants to ask is why could she wax lyrical about him -as if she was almost in love!- in her book, while she’d never let anyone suspect -not even him as he holds her every night!- anything of the sorts. But that is as good a start as any to get there…
“Exactly because someone could have gotten hold of it”
*Touché*
But it doesn’t sound like the accusation it should be, and it leaves the door open for more of his prying
“Yet there's so much of your vulnerabilities there, perfectly mapped to strike best. Wasn’t that something to avoid putting down too if you ever thought someone could have…”
He can’t spell it out, of course he’d done it, he stole the book, but the shame catches in his throat. The fear still lingering, ready to have him spring the moment this vulnerable conversation becomes the rightful attack on him it should be.
“That was my hit to take, not yours. I wouldn't put you in jeopardy just because I understood. I can afford a hit myself, but not you.”
She was protecting him way before he ever thought he needed her to be on his side. Even whilst pouring out her mind she had put up enough premunitions just in case his own secrets needed safeguarding.
“That was incredibly… kind of you, sweet thing… I hope I can… somehow return your kindness, some day…”
His gaze finally rises to meet hers and she is just softly smiling at him, her head giving a slight nod towards the food he went to find for her before she replies:
“You already do”
And then it’s like even without the tadpole powers she can read his mind because the reassurance is confirmed by her words as well and she continues:
“Is there anything else you'd like to ask me about it?”
This time his own hand reaches for hers, both resting on the open page she was writing on just before this surreal conversation started.
*What if we could finally talk? Actually talk and learn, truly learn how similar our stories might just be?*
He had those glimpses from her diary to suggest so after all. A part of his mind is already screaming at him to turn it all around in a joke and get as far away as possible from that dangerous subject, but his concern, his need to understand and possibly finding slivers of himself in her is impossible to push away.
“What happened to you… before?”
She lets his words linger for a moment, and he’s left wondering if there was any other way, any clearer yet kind way to ask about something he knows will be painful if remotely akin to his own experience. Her voice comes out calmly as her hand holds his so that the other one can close the book and set it aside.
“You mean the men I had to sleep with?”
He can feel the grimace that’s taking hold of his own features, while she seems as calm and ethereal as always, no different from when she bid him good morning just moments before. But he knows, or he thinks he does? He must! It must be close to what he has gone through! And that is a way as good as any to begin tracing this sad parallel of theirs
“Would it help if I said I certainly had to sleep with more?”
She shakes her head, a sad smile taking hold of her delicate features
“I am sorry you had to go through that too… for me it was my mother. I don’t remember when it started… but every time she’d let one of them stay in my room… the farm got better equipment, I was getting small knick knacks and little gifts, so it was as good a way as any to think it was bearable.”
His other hand had come to reach out for hers, now both covering, cradling hers. Every fibre in his body wants to hug her, to hold her, to promise her nothing even remotely similar will ever happen to her again. To either of them. At the back of his mind a part of him is tearing and devouring innards and flesh of the horrible excuse for a parent that did this to her, distracted by the idea of how many minuscule pieces he could mince her into, until absolutely nothing resembling a living thing would remain of her so called mother. He knows he has to weight his words so everything gets pushed back while he only allows himself to share:
“I am so sorry my sweet”
He’s not used to hearing his voice being that strained, as if something is threatening to strangle his throat from the inside. When she speaks her next words he realises the corners of his eyes are getting weirdly moist
“Truly, don’t worry Astarion, it was a long time ago… and I ran away as soon as I could manage anyway. It’s in the past. I am as far from that as you are from your mortal life, trust me.”
*The irony of being two broken pieces accidentally fitting against each other.*
His silence and traitor expression must give away more than he meant to because she continues her explanation of her own volition
“That’s why I asked you… I told you we couldn’t kiss. I needed a boundary that was… mine. I know it sounds silly to you but because you didn’t push that… I know I am safe with you.”
Suddenly the pieces are beginning to form a meaningful picture in his head and her behaviour, her rules, her need for him she seemed to deny herself, they all make perfect sense, coming together in a mix of conflicting feelings and desires she never had a chance to explore safely.
“I am not that naive, I know what we do… what we share… it’s more… and believe me, I want more… still you never tried to break that one rule and… well… no one ever showed me such consideration before…”
His mind has gone blank
*What did she just confess to!? What is this???*
His mouth must have fallen open because he finds himself in need of swallowing, yet no words, no ideas as to how to reply to that revelation come through. His hands are still resting over hers and suddenly he realises her fingers are pressing harder against his own, interlacing them with his. Her gaze falls to their intertwined fingers, her voice is low and barely a whisper now
“They always just took from me”
*They always just wanted me to give more*
His eyes are transfixed on their hands, holding onto each other so intensely he's worried she will bruise. Her voice comes out more hesitant and trembling now
“I was never asked… I don’t think I know what I actually… want… like”
*I was always demanded to do… and I don’t think I know how to give up that control, that’s all I latched onto…*
Her heartbeat resonates like a drum in her chest and he can see the blood blossoming in her cheeks, her voice trembles and she stumbles upon words but her thoughts coming out of her lips persistently, as if she has kept so much behind that she needs to get out now
“The way you look at me at times makes me feel like I can walk a little bit taller, head a little bit higher. I was trained to accept them… taking from me… as the only compliment… but with you…”
He can see the effort it’s taking for her eyes to raise again to look into his, the warmth emanating from her rosy skin just another herald of her determination despite the toll this seems to be taking on her
“I see something going on behind your eyes, I know you wouldn't do anything I did not ask you to, and that is more than I've ever been tamed to accept…”
*I want to kill everyone who ever laid a finger on you… my poor, sweet, precious love*
Her words seem to catch in her throat, she keeps taking breaths and then releasing them without words until finally the silence he holds for her seems to be enough for her to fill
“I have never been given the chance to… explore… I don’t know how to… ask… how I want… what I want… but I do know I want… you.”
He thought rushes of emotions were exclusive to the moments he could sink his fangs into her but he was sorely unprepared for… this.
*Did I actually hear her say that she wants me?!?*
All of a sudden all his centuries of expertise and understanding as a consummate lover come rushing to the front of his mind to show their silver lining.
Because he cannot relinquish control, even to his own pleasure, but maybe the saving grace of two centuries going through the motions is that he can do this for her? With her…
“You have me my sweet… If I could show you how… would you want me to?”
It feels so bittersweet to think of centuries servicing others being what built his professional knowledge of physical pleasure. That might be where his teeth clenching comes from for a second, but what about hers?
*Is that… fear??? Why?*
It lasts until the moment she nods
“Please Astarion…. show me, and I’ll follow you”
#astarion#baldurs gate astarion#bg3 astarion#astarion fanfic#astarion x oc#astarion x reader#ao3 fanfic#astarion x tav#bg 3#astarion ancunin#astarion angst#bg 3 fanfic#astarion bg3#baldur's gate astarion#astarion smut#bg3#baldur's gate smut#tav x astarion#astarion fic#astarion fanfiction#astarion fluff#bg3 smut#astarion romance#astarion pov
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Title: i must make you the perfect evening (829 words)
Pairing: astarion/tav
Warnings: angst, first time I love yous lol
A/N: finished astarion's companion quest and I'm feeling things ;-; this would be before they confront cazador. still feeling fragmented at least with how I write so lol anyways brb crying :")
Sarnarei misses his touch, but sex isn't required. Never was. She flashes a smile at Astarion as they settle in for the night, in a proper camp. They didn't make a verbal agreement about their sleeping arrangements. She just didn't go back to her tent, their bedrolls side by side, cuddled close, arms wrapped around each other.
Tonight is no different. He starts reading more to occupy his mind with the tomes Gale brought along. Sarnarei writes in her journal about their day, trying to remember the details while their mind flayer friend gently reminds her.
She glances over at Astarion, comfortable with his silence, and his presence. He glances up from his book, a smile slowly spreading along his lips. "Yes, my love?"
She leans over, pecking him quickly. "Nothing. I am happy I have you." She says, suddenly sentimental. Time is ticking down. They've made it back to their hometown, the goal clear. The thought terrified her, but they all need this tadpole out of their heads.
Astarion nods, "I'm glad I have you too, my perfect girl."
She scrunches up her nose, "I am far from it."
Astarion sets his book to the side, his hands snaking around her waist as he brings her closer, "You're selling yourself short, Sarnarei." He pauses, looking far away, sighing deeply. "I don't know how to be a good partner without sex." He confesses, his brows lowering. "But you're being so patient with me. You're understanding. You say really sweet things and I don't get it." Astarion whispers quickly, afraid the others could hear him.
She props her head on her elbow, his hand trailing along her jutted hipbone that peaks between her clothes. "You're the best partner in the world, Astarion." Her brown eyes search his face as he looks everywhere but her eyes. "Despite everything going, I wouldn't change anything. I would do it all again to be with you. Sex or not." Her hand rests on his still heart, her hand slightly warming with a silent spell. "My heart calls out to you, sings your praises, even on the rare occasion we're apart." She smiles, removing her hand, her mind working overtime for her magic to stay under control. She would hate if it backfired and she hurts him in this intimate time.
He holds her wrist before she can fully withdraw, pressing his lips against her heated palm. He lets out a soft moan as he shakes his head, swallowing hard. "You say pretty words like that and I want to believe them. I want to believe that you love me that much."
She sits up, resting on her knees. "How do you feel about me?" She asks, tucking an auburn strand behind her ear.
His breathing quickens as he sits up as well. "Hard to put into words. You're the first person I've been vulnerable with. The only person I could afford to be. My thoughts are my own… I don't have Cazador telling me to seduce you, bring you back to him." Anger bubbles up behind his words, but he keeps it at a simmer. His anger is directed at his master for controlling him. Making him into this monster, unable to be his person.
She rests her head against his, her hands resting on his neck now cooler to calm him down. "I know… I know how you feel." She pulls away, staring into his red eyes. "We have all the time in the world. Well, once we get the Absolute under control. You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Astarion. I will never force you." She whispers, hoping her words would soothe him for the evening.
He nods quickly, closing his eyes as he takes in a deep breath. "Sarnarei." Her name sounds like music on his lips, the perfect melody. "Thank you." He looks away, shame and regret washing his face quickly. He hides it, flicking his eyes back to the watchful Tiefling. "I love you."
For a moment she ponders if he does, not because of his situation, but because of her traumas. Her heart falls over itself as she blinks quickly, realizing she's said nothing. "I love you too." She smiles softly, letting her hands fall from his shoulders to her lap. "I love the way it feels to say it out loud," She confesses, feeling her eyes start to fill. She looks down at her hands, focusing on not letting any tears fall.
When she cried in front of him before, Astarion awkwardly would tell her there, there, and swap someone else in for the emotional labor. But he couldn't do that to his partner, not now. He takes in a shuddered breath, putting his hand on her waist, bringing her closer to his side, "I'm glad we have each other. Thank you for your patience." She doesn't say anything back, quietly sobbing into his shoulder, so grateful for this love that blossoms between them.
#astarion#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate iii#bg3 astarion#tav: sarnarei#writing#bg3 tav#baldurs gate astarion#tav x astarion#astarion x tav#what are tags idk
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chapter summary: sabine is thrown on the spot to give a speech. later, she and ezra hang out for a brief moment at his party.
chapter word count: 1K
a/n: no beta we die like kanan
taglist:@laughingphoenixleader@accidental-spice@kanerallels@piraterefrigerator@jedi-nurse@dootchster@lucasbridger@redroverrider@light-umbra@commander-tech {if you’d like to be added to or removed from my Sabezra taglist, let me know!}
also on ao3!
Chapter 5: Solus Tome
After the parade, Senator Organa took to the platform at the edge of the balcony and began to address the people. Sabine listened, but the speech was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder, and she turned to see Ryder Azadi.
"I know it's short notice," he said, "but we thought that you might like to give a speech as well to celebrate Bridger's return."
"You're right," Sabine shook her head, "it is short notice."
"We felt it'd be best not to give you enough time to give us a repeat of last time," he half laughed.
Right. Last time she had to give a speech and turned and ran instead, because one of Lothal's heroes had yet to return. Now that he had, what excuse did she have, besides being woefully unprepared?
Though, she could always fake it with some stuff she'd prepared for the last speech.
"I guess," Sabine shrugged.
"Great," Ryder said, "because Senator Organa is introducing you right now."
Sabine turned to see Senator Organa saying her name and turning to her with a gesture of welcome.
"Now?" Sabine turned back to ask Ryder, but he'd already left.
She then turned back to where Senator Organa stood. Everything in her was telling her to run instead— but then she saw Ezra, standing next to Organa, with an encouraging smile.
"You crossed galaxies for him," Sabine thought, "public speaking for him should be a walk in the park in comparison."
She stepped up to the front of the balcony, met by a warm handshake from the Senator, then spoke to the crowds of thousands below, hoping her words wouldn't get her into any trouble this time.
"Hello, people of Lothal," Sabine said, and the people started cheering, "I may not have come from Lothal— in case the armor hasn't made it obvious— but in many ways, Lothal is a home to me. The people of Lothal have always been friendly, and brave, and even in great darkness, you've had hope in the light and fought for your future. That's what Lothal is to me, and no one captures that Lothal spirit like Ezra Bridger."
She looked at Ezra, standing next to her, looking at her with the kind of smile and look in his eyes that sets two people apart from the entire galaxy, and her next words were almost only for him, "I'll admit, it took a while for that spirit to grow on me, but I'm glad it has. It's an honor to serve with you through the years, and even more to be the one to bring you back," and the crowd's cheering rose to a scream that couldn't be ignored, reminding Sabine of her place again, and she turned back to them.
"Where I come from, as a Mandalorian, the only thing we valued more than our weapons was our family. I may," Sabine took a deep breath, shaking her head, "I may not have a lot of family left, but Ezra always will be part of it. It's an honor to have him home."
The crowd cheered as she concluded, and their cheering didn't fade as she found herself smiling at Ezra, followed by them pulling each other into a hug.
Even with everyone on Lothal watching— even if everyone in the galaxy had been watching— it may as well have been just her and Ezra in that moment. It's one thing to hug a friend and it's another to hug someone after saying all those nice things about them, and it's another thing entirely to hug someone once you've found out you're in love with them— and when all of those are true? It's a moment to be treasured for a long time.
———
After the speeches were over, there was a huge party— but Sabine had never been much of one for huge parties, and found herself much more content to stand against the back wall of the room and watch the party from the sidelines.
But the party soon came to her— or at least, the guest of honor did, carrying a drink in each hand.
"Still not a fan of parties?" Ezra asked.
"Oh, parties are fine," Sabine said, taking one of the drinks as Ezra handed it to her, "it's the people I can't stand."
Ezra smiled, but then his expression shifted into confusion.
"Don't worry," Sabine said, taking a sip from her glass, "you're not one of those people."
"Good," Ezra said. He leaned on the wall next to her and took a couple sips of his drink, mostly glancing at the others in the room, though not without a few glances at Sabine.
"Do I really know all these people?" Ezra asked, looking out at the party that'd gathered for him.
"Most of 'em," Sabine said, "looks like there's a few Rebellion heroes that it would've been an affront if the New Republic didn't invite."
Ezra squinted into the distance, then almost dropped his drink in surprise.
"How did Lando Calrissian get an invite?" Ezra asked.
"He's one of those Rebellion heroes," Sabine explained, "double crossed Senator Organa and her friends one time, then had a change of heart and joined the rebels, or, something like that."
"I guess sometimes people really can change," Ezra said.
"You can say that again," Sabine said, having especially thought a lot these past few days about how much she and Ezra had changed.
"What?" Ezra asked, looking at her in a way she wouldn't've liked him to years ago, but that now gave her a stupid rush of emotion.
"Nothing," Sabine shook her head, not having realized she was smiling as she stared at him, "it's just good to have you back."
"It's so good to be home," Ezra said, "thanks again for, well, everything."
"Don't mention it," Sabine said, and she made the beautiful mistake of looking him in the eyes as she did so, and getting herself lost in them, "I think it was worth it."
As stupid as Ezra's smile at her was in that moment, Sabine was hit by three realizations— one: that she really liked his stupid smile, two: that she was probably responding to his stupid smile with a stupid smile of her own, and three: that he probably really liked her stupid smile too.
"There's no way we're not in love," she told herself, "and maybe that's a good thing. If he tries to flirt this time, I won't stop him."
Ezra sighed with contentment. "You know, I really…" he started, but didn't finish.
"What?" Sabine asked.
"No," Ezra looked away from her, though not at anything in particular, "I just, uh…" he glanced back at her and shook his head, "I have to go, uh, talk to people."
"Okay," Sabine nodded, though she was not, in fact, okay.
Sabine knew why Ezra'd just left— because she'd left him last night, and he was respecting that.
But as she watched him walk away, immediately greeted by friends and surrounded with camaraderie, she couldn't shake the feeling that, even with the hundreds of people around her, she was entirely alone.
#star wars#sabezra#sabine wren#ezra bridger#fanfiction#sabezra fanfic#ahsoka series#ahsoka spoilers#star wars rebels#lando calrissian#ryder azadi#leia organa#kazzy writes#kazzy writes fanfic#otp: im counting on you
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Cyno comes home after obtaining his new card from the Akademiya Extravaganza (Cyno x Reader)
Cyno gets his limited TCG card from this past event (A Parade of Providence)
(not proofread)
“Babe!” You hear from the front door entrance of your home as your lover barges in with the strength and pride of a thousand men. It hadn’t even been 15 minutes since the end of the competition and he was already busting down your door to tell you what had transpired.
You rushed to the front of the house where he stood there, proudly holding up a shiny and golden Genius Invokation TCG card.
“Oh my gosh! Did you win?” You asked excitedly. You almost couldn’t contain your excitement at the thought of Cyno finally winning this long and drawn out Extravaganza. You were happy that him using his last days of vacation for the year weren’t wasted for nothing. You could almost put aside the thought of the Mora and the Diadem, but now you were going to be in position of so much wealth, you weren’t even sure what you were going to do with it! “Congratulations!! I love you!” You exclaimed, partially jumping into his arms and kissing his cheek passionately. “Oh Cyno, I knew you could do it!”
He had a proud wide smirk on his face holding up his card and lovingly accepted all your affectionate.
“That’s right! And it only cost me one million Mora!” He boasted.
“I’m sorry, WHAT?!” You shouted, practically shooting yourself out of his grasp to look at him with a face of shock and disgust.
“Yup! Now I can put it into my premium collection.” He began walking towards the shared bedroom in order to put the card in his Casket of Tomes.
“They made you pay for the card reward?!” You shouted in disbelief, still trying to understand what just happened.
“Nope, I offered. I will say, it was worth the investment.” Cyno replied, finally finding where he kept his deck and putting the limited edition card inside.
That’s when you began to realize…where was the Diadem?
“Hey, Cyno?”
“Yes, my love?”
“Where is the Diadem of Knowledge?”
“Probably in a dumpster somewhere.” You blinked a few time, processing this information.
“Darling…you did win the Akademiya Extravaganza…right?”
“Of course not.”
“Huh?! But how did you get the card?! And if you didn’t win, who did?!”
“Kaveh.” He said nonchalantly, flipping through his deck and rearranging his setup to see where he could put his new card.
“The architect?!”
“Yup.”
“I’m sorry sir but you’re gonna have to bring me up to speed on what happened here.”
“Are you up for a game of Genius Invokation TCG?” You stated at him dumbfounded at how he was so chill about this. Didn’t he want to win?
“You just want to try out your new card in a match don’t know?”
“I’ll tell you everything that happened if you play.” You gave out a long sigh.
“Deal.”
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin fluff#cyno x you#cyno headcanons#cyno x reader#genshin impact cyno#genshin cyno#cyno x gn reader#cyno x gender neutral reader
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Where the Sea Ends - Wip Intro
Over the last century the tides have grown violent, and each day they climb higher and higher. Seo, a dune nimf from the northern isles has watched the sea swallow her home. Her Mistress, Ikuzand of the Grey Order, was destined to stop the flood, but just as the waves began to touch the beach of her home did she pass away in the night. Distressed, Seo travels to the capital of Hoogdam, hoping to find a way to bring her Mistress back to the world of the living. Little does she know that the quest she is about to embark on will take her beyond our world and put her face to face with the gods.
Genre: NA Fantasy
Expected Wordcount: ~80k
Hello! I am excited to share the first few tidbits from the project I have been working on the last two months. As I progressed through my academic specialisation in Japanese literature I realised just how little I knew about the literature of my own country. Not just literature, actually, but folklore and myths are almost completely unknown to me. This project is an attempt to rectify that in the hope that I can inspire other Dutchies to be proud of their culture and arts.
It will be a 'classic' fantasy story, filled with spell tomes, hard magic systems and knights. However, I will draw as much as I can from medieval and earlier Dutch folklore and history. I won't give too many details about plot/characters as they are still up to change. The core of Sen, a stoic and disillusioned mage with a sweet tooth, Pip, a young and ambitious archer and Karel, royal knight turned himbo barbarian will probably stay the same. Still, I hope you enjoy my research project turned wip as much as I do! Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist <3
Much love,
Katrielle
Here's some excerpts to grasp the *vibes*
The tree that marked Ikuzan’s grave stands before me. Its grey leaves hang above me, their edged gilded by the sun. The tree has grown over the gravestone, roots entangling the stone, removing any indicator of who lies below. The size of the tree surprises me. Has it truly been so long since I last visited that Ikuzan’s soul had blossomed into this large a tree?
“So long, Miss,” I mutter under my breath.
My hand rests on my staff. The faint hope that Ikuzan has hidden a secret near her grave, something that would solve everything, lingers in the back of my mind. But my staff stands lifeless, and the branches waving in the wind as if beckoning us to leave.
-x-
“Pip, now!” I shout, ducking behind a nearby cart. The dragon roars as it jumps off from the tower, breaking off the roof and sending hundreds of bricks to the ground. Pip steps into the alley, arrow nooked.
“Zerikan feek,” I say, drawing on as much of my mana as I can. As soon as I finish speaking my spell the arrowhead of Pip’s arrow lights up in purple flames, and before the flames can spread to Pip’s bow does he shoot.
The arrow flies through the air, splitting the curtain of smoke that has risen from the burning city around us. With a loud bang the arrow hits the dragon in her chest. A second explosion follows with such strength all the smoke is blown away. My hands reach for my ears, a loud and high pitched noise overwhelms my senses. Even the dragon's weeping as it falls down is barely audible. Silent to me, but as loud as a star, the dragon crashes into the church and vanishes through the roof. But a single arrow will not slay a dragon, I know that much.
“CHAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!”
Karel runs past us, axe in hand. Not much remains of the top of his leather armour, showing a conspicuous amount of skin. I am never sure whether it is the blade of foes, or Karel himself that causes his armour to wear out so quickly. One thing I do know, however, is that that dragon isn't long for this world.
Taglist: @peepos-prose
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