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june-again · 9 months

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CHILUMI: # a chasmic mistake.

CHAPTER VI: defense.

chapter summary. in which the truth is discovered and a fierce duel commences.

wc. 2.9k. genre. enemies to lovers, action/adventure.

warnings. lowkey psychological manipulation!! dddne!!

— table of contents

“Hurry up and kill me, Ajax! Don’t hold back!”

Lumine would not be very easy to kill, slashing and dodging wildly as she was now, had her opponent been any other than Tartaglia, No.11 of the Fatui Harbingers. He blocked her attacks easily—far too easily for someone who had been acting all weakened for the last two days, Lumine realized—and shot at her in sprinting thrusts. His attack patterns were like those at the Golden House the first time they had dueled, and during times again afterwards when she had ambushed him. Times she had tried to stop him from coming this far. These attacks now seemed like subdued versions, but were still enough to get her blood pumping and her legs moving.

“I wish you would at least tell me what this is about!” he complained. He paused in the middle of the pool, drawing energy so that he could unleash a blast upon her. Lumine braced herself. She managed to dodge most of it, only its final wave causing her to stumble as she charged at him with her sword raised.

“You already know what it’s about, Childe.” She spat a reversion to his Fatui codename. She knew it might bother him and hoped it would.

Lumine managed to break his defenses for a split second, assailing him with a slash to the neck to match her own painful lacerations from the Abyss Herald’s talons just a few minutes before. She had not fought that beast as hard as she was fighting him. She hadn’t fought anything this hard for a very long time.

And that was for a simple reason.

Lumine had not been this pissed off in ages.

“You’re putting up a pretty good game, here,” he praised her. “How becoming.”

She only scoffed, and rolled out of the way to avoid a counter. Her mind was swimming and only knew that it was an unfair fight; that she would not take victory as an end, but he would. And yet there was nothing that would stop her.

This was the Chasm curse. She wasn’t sure whether it was fueling the infatuation or the detestation, but she was so overpowered by it now that she was sure she knew why he’d led her this far. Her only escape would have to start with his death. Then the rest of the Harbingers, if they crossed her.

Her dream had been a warning that she was taking the wrong side with Tartaglia. Perhaps, she thought, heart clenching, it had been a message directly from Aether who had somehow known.

Lumine felt a pressure to her shoulder and she fell back onto the edge of the pool with an inelegant splash. Childe loomed over her. One of his Electro blades pressed through the fabric of her—his—jacket. She couldn’t move or pull herself out from under it. He leaned further, supporting his posture with the tips of both blades pressed into the ground.

“Look at you,” he cooed. His eyes were crazed with vigor as they always were in battle. “The price of a single slip. You still have much to learn.”

She struggled, straining a hand for her sword.

“It was fun!” he declared.

He traced one of her wounds ever-so-lightly with the electrified point of his other sword. It hurt like hell. She screamed.

“Now, won’t you tell me what’s the matter? I’m dying to know.”

He sure was.

Lumine managed to reach for and grasp the hilt of her blade. She swung it at the weapon touching her neck, successfully knocking it away. But he stopped her from swinging it a second time. It then became clear that he had grabbed her sword by the blade.

Still unprepared to give up, she propelled her foot at him, managing to knock his knee in just the right way that caused him to stumble. “This only ends when you’re dead,” she insisted, pushing herself and the jacket out from under the other weapon’s pressure. Her hand curled around it as she went, pulling it right out of his grasp.

He could have killed her right there, she realized. He’d seen an opening and driven the blade right through the jacket a centimeter above. But now she bore one of his weapons, and he bore hers.

Lumine had not up until this point wielded any Electro infusion or ability. She found it to be exhilarating. It seemed to act with a mind of its own, with a haste to kill. Even as a creation of Childe’s, it seemed to want him dead just as badly as she did.

She did not waste time. Against the combination of environmental Hydro, his Electro, and Lumine’s Anemo, the Harbinger stood no chance. She soared at him, propelled by focus and loathing. And Childe, still recovering from the kick, was at her mercy.

Lumine could not help but relish in the feeling properly pinning him down, blade at his neck.

Finally.

“This isn’t you, Lumine,” came a remark from the winded Childe. This was the first true protest he had given, and she wanted to hear more.

The only issue she found was the mask, which he had pulled over his face in the beginning of the fight. She needed to see fear in his eyes. Lumine reached for the top of the mask, dragging it off his face harshly.

“Any last words, Harbinger?” Her voice was deep—hoarse—breaking. Desperate.

Finally seeing his flushed, spirited visage, she felt a twinge of something that was not hatred.

“None today,” he replied, reaching an arm to his chest. “I’ll save you from this.”

It wasn’t blind infatuation, either.

Lumine pressed the Electro blade to his pale neck, drawing beads of crimson. “One more move and you’re dead.”

Childe ignored this, grasping something at his collar and wrenching it out of place.

A new feeling came over her as if her very mind was being ripped out of her skull. Shattering her spine, clouding her sight, plugging her senses. Her strength faltered immediately. Her ears rang. It was like standing in that Abyss mud, only worse and much faster. The hatred, the infatuation, the passion—all were gone.

It was only the remaining feeling—worry. She felt worry, only worry. Pure, pristine concern for the protest in Childe’s eyes which—which she saw no more, her vision going dark as her posture fell limp and she collapsed on top of the Harbinger.

After a few seconds of feeling as if she was made of stone, Lumine panickedly regained consciousness of her senses—humiliatingly comforted by Childe’s warmth as she tried to regain her mental balance. Were those his hands holding her back?

Her sight and strength returned to normal and she pushed herself off of Childe.

She could not remember why she wanted to kill him, or that she did. But something was wrong, or had been changed. And it had to do with whatever Childe had ripped from his neck. She looked over at him.

He was sitting up. The chain necklace she had noticed earlier dangled now from his fingers, swinging gently. The charm was as irresistibly beautiful and eye-catching as it had been earlier. There wasn’t anything particular she could tell she liked about it, only that she liked the looks of it. She liked them very much.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Childe asked, rousing her to his presence. She’d almost forgotten about him in a moment.

She nodded. The sweat and enervation of an abruptly terminated duel still held her mind in a fuzz, but something else seemed to be causing a thicker fog. She did not want to look away from the necklace.

To her disappointment, he pressed it and its chain into his palm, watching her reaction. She finally looked him in the eye.

“What was that?”

He laughed coldly. “You… don’t know?”

She glanced down at his closed palm again, shaking her head no.

He put his hand behind his back, and her gaze followed it.

“Lumine,” he said softly. “Would you back up so that I can explain? Please?”

She noticed then that she was leaning towards him rather intimately. She must have moved unconsciously to get a closer look at the charm. Lumine checked herself and did as he said.

With the charm fully out of sight, she found that she was able to recall the exact context of the situation. They’d defeated an Abyss Herald who had beckoned Childe to kill her. She had been referred to as his target. The bounty he’d been hunting. The prey he’d been luring.

It was still a terrible thing to be aware of—but she wanted him to explain himself.

“You know, Lumine,” he said as if reading her mind, “I’m shocked, really. It took you quite a while to catch on.”

She did not know what to say or think. Was he confirming it?

“You know exactly what I am,” he continued, “and you’ve known it the whole time. I never hid my mission from you. Not really.”

“You said it was… that it was world domination,” she said, stumbling over her words.

He looked like a different person right now. A dear friend, but not a villain, and not a warrior. Just a friend, apologizing and explaining.

Childe shook his head. “That’s my end goal. There are a lot of steps to that, you know. It’s no easy process.”

“What are you saying?” She selfishly hoped that he would be able to justify everything that he’d done.

“I’m saying that one of those steps is serving the Tsaritsa. And, in the least offensive way possible, you were in the way of that.”

“That was on purpose.”

He laughed again. “And that’s what made you so damn easy. Once I had your attention, distracting you—which was, of course, my mission—was simple as sight-seeing the nation, acting like I was after some rare animal.” He paused and the silence was louder than the screaming in her mind. “I’m hardly proud of it, but my goodness have you ever made it a pleasure, Lumine.”

Lumine’s mouth was dry as she stuttered, “But…”

Childe looked apologetic—and, after all these days she had spent by his side, she was fully inclined to believe it was sincere. He reached his hand to her face, gently rubbing a thumb on her cheek. “I’m sorry. I really am. I will admit that I was forced to use… alternative methods to grab your attention.”

She understood before he showed her. The necklace in his palm drew her focus almost immediately, despite her semi-frantic emotional reaction to the tenderness of his touch on her cheek.

“It’s a Snezhnayan Charm of Mild Entrancement. Nothing fancy, but works like a…”

Lumine had snatched the charm from his hand, cradling it in her palms. It felt like it was drawing in her thoughts, her emotions, her will. “Can you destroy it?”

“I—”

She tore her gaze away from it with great effort. Tears pooled in her eyes as she forcibly latched them onto Childe’s face. “I thought I was falling in love with you. Then I wanted you dead. Please destroy it, Ajax. I hate it.”

He didn’t wait another moment, taking it from her grasp. He hurled it onto the rock floor and lifted her sword from where it lay at his side. “May I—”

“Do what you have to.”

He stood and brought the edge of her blade down upon it heavily. A shing came from the impact, as both the charm and the blade shattered. The sound echoed down the cavern, and the charm was no more.

Lumine was flooded with insurmountable relief. Her unnatural edge had been destroyed with the charm and she knew it had been the cause of her madness, not the curse of the Chasm. Her wits returned, finally, and she understood.

She got to her feet, looking to Childe. “It only amplified interest, right?”

He nodded. “That sums it up. It was tuned specifically to affect you. And since I wore it, well…”

“I really did want to kill you just now, with or without that Charm.”

“I know.”

“And I really think…” She paused, noticing a moment too late that she was about to say something humiliating. “... That I…”

“Lumine, please don’t.”

She didn’t.

The cool glow from the cavern highlighted how Childe’s eyebrows were gathered, how his teeth were gritted, and how his head was tilted solemnly. “What you’re feeling right now… it may be an effect of the charm.”

Lumine’s eyes fell on the chain on which the Charm of Mild Entrancement had been. In the Charm’s place, all that remained was shattered glass-like material and substance resembling clear blood. The gold shimmer was gone.

She looked around the cave. The pool of the small cavern opened up into a larger area. In the center was something that could only be described as an immense mushroom. It had a long, thick, white stem and a cap shooting out from a thing that resembled branches. From the higher, largest cap dangled blue strings of lights. It was a beautiful, strange sight, one that she definitely would have seen before if she hadn’t been under an Entrancement spell.

And yet, looking back at Childe, she still found him as dazzling—as enticing—as he had been before… if not more than ever.

Childe’s gaze softened. “I really am sorry. And I’m sorry for how much I enjoyed it.”

She took a step closer to him, gauging her capacity to say what was on her mind. “It was scummy of you,” she declared, “and I want to hate you for it.”

He nodded again, sighing.

“How long were you supposed to be distracting me for?”

Childe took a sharp breath and clicked his tongue. “Until further notice.”

“Seems like a bothersome mission for you.”

He laughed, running his hand through his tousled hair. “As if you care about what bothers me, girlie.”

Lumine fidgeted with the sleeves of his jacket, which she still wore. She knew it had been ripped and scuffed in a few places from that fight—the same would have happened if he had been wearing it, of course. And her hair felt like it had been pulled out of place. Her neck stung, still. She put a hand to the scarf and saw her blood on it.

Childe, on the other hand, looked like he ought to be cold. They had been splashing about in the pool in the cavern, dousing each other in cave water. His hair and clothes were damp and his skin was glistening. But he looked right at home in the cool water, smiling at her like that.

“What if I do?”

The words came out of her mouth before she could think. They kept coming at the same rate.

“What if I was really falling in love with you? What if the Charm was only playing on feelings that already existed? What if the infatuation wasn’t entirely false?”

“You don’t even like me,” he said. He looked a little hopeful, but as if he was repressing. “I’m kind of a bad guy. I’m a Harbinger. We have different lives, you and I, and you don’t exactly favour mine. You know, almost killed an entire city—”

“ —Almost.”

“Yes, but I’ve murdered many others without hesitation. That’s who I am.” His voice fell to a whisper. “You know I’m not quite of this world, Lumine.”

She was becoming more confident, now that she was in her right mind. It was only becoming clear to her how it had possessed and manipulated her attention. But now that her will was her own again, she wasn’t particularly motivated to look away.

She shrugged at him, voice breaking. “Neither am I, Ajax.”

Lumine felt fingers grab her chin. She felt pressure from a hand on the back of her neck. She felt soft lips against hers; she felt warmth in her cheeks as she caught onto the situation. Childe didn’t kiss her hesitantly; it was frantic and heated. He kissed her like he had wanted to do so for a very long time. An excruciatingly long time, evidently.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting one hand dive into his curls. He pulled her closer.

The two paused. Lumine watched Childe slowly open his eyes and smile at her. He looked absolutely starstruck, eyes hooded and sparkling—but his hand had settled on her jaw, the other snaking firmly around her waist. It was like he wanted badly to hold her, but he could not believe that he had the opportunity to do so.

Lumine had something occur to her then. She grabbed his wrist and held it up so that she could look at the palm. Sure enough, the glove was blood-stained and cut through to his lacerated skin.

“Why the hell did you grab my blade like that?” she scolded, inspecting the injury.

“Ah—Lumine, that hurts!”

“Idiot.”

“Come on, now. You gave me no choice. You were trying to kill me.”

Lumine gazed up at him. “And you were having too much fun, Harbinger.”

He pouted.

“Fine… Ajax.”

“Lumine,” he mimicked her, tilting his head with a grin.

She finally, finally smiled at him. And in the darkness of the Chasm, in the pool swirling with a bit of each of their blood, she had one more question left in her mind.

“So. What the hell are we gonna do now, Ajax?”

fin.

author’s note. so. there we have it. i am without words because i'm just excited about the fact that i've finished posting it now, but i really must say that it has been wonderful receiving feedback on this fic over the last five weeks and i see all of you that kept up and read the whole thing. thanks for being patient and reading through to the end. i am always sincerely grateful when people take the time to read my works.

without further ado, this has been A CHASMIC MISTAKE.

comments are valued and appreciated.

➳ GENSHIN MASTERLIST

#a chasmic mistake.#chilumi #favoniuslibrary #genshin fanfic #tartaglia fluff #genshin series #childe fic #genshin impact lumine #tartaglia x lumine #childe x lumine #tartaglia x traveler #ajax x lumine #genshin x traveler #childe #lumine #tartaglia #ITS DONE IM DONE GOODBYEEEEEEE #i am so satisfied with this. i had a ball writing it #YIPPEEEE

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teegeewrites · 2 months

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To the Tea

A while back on my main account, I wrote a concept about Mario and Luigi having cake and tea with Peach after rescuing her from Bowser for the first time. Well, I've decided to write a fanfic about it. I'll post the first chapter here before posting it to AO3 for some potential feedback. It's pretty much the same with a few changes here and there.

Without further ado, here's the first chapter.

Chapter One

“Mama Mia, what’s taking Luigi so long?” Mario muttered to himself as he stood at the foot of the stairs with his arms crossed and his right foot striking the worn cherry wood floor in a rapid clunky rhythm. He quickly glanced at the mini grandfather clock hanging on the threadbare cream-colored wall and shook his head with a heavy sigh before returning his attention to the flight of stairs.

“Luigi!” he shouted, “what are you doing?! It’s almost time for us to go! We don’t want to be late!”

“Hold your horses, Mario! I’m coming right now!” Luigi’s voice echoed irritably throughout the house. The younger twin raced out of his room and tripped before the first step. His body contorted into a human bowling ball as he struck each step on the way down.

Seeing the potential danger, Mario’s eyes and jaws widened in panic as he tried to slide out of the way. However, Luigi was approaching too fast, and his legs picked an unfitting time not to cooperate. Low on options, he instinctively thrusted his hands in front of him in an attempt to halt his wheel-like brother. Unfortunately, his efforts were for naught because Luigi crashed into his chest and sent both of them flying towards the front door. He tightly shut his eyes and clenched his teeth in response to the agonizing sensation his back and shoulders experienced upon slamming into said door. Upon opening his eyes, he witnessed Luigi already on his feet lending a hand with a guilty expression on his face.

“S-Sorry Mario,” Luigi stuttered as he pulled Mario up after the latter squeezed his hand. “You’re not hurt too bad, are you?”

“No, I’m fine,” Mario assured him although his upper back was telling him otherwise. Despite the discomfort, he flashed Luigi a wry grin. “Nothing can stop Mario, not even his clumsy brother!”

“Geez, thanks bro,” Luigi huffed as he awkwardly crossed his arms and gave Mario a view of his back.

“Aww Luigi, I was only kidding!” Mario chuckled as he dusted his overalls. He cocked an eyebrow as his grin grew wider. “What were you doing up there? Putting a year’s supply of wax in your mustache?”

“Ha ha, very funny Mario!” Luigi chuckled himself, followed by him sighing before turning to face Mario. “It’s just that I’m so nervous about everything.” He dropped his head with another sigh.

Mario placed a hand on Luigi’s shoulder with a sympathetic smile. “Believe me, I completely understand. It’s not every day two plumbers have cake and tea with a princess.”

After removing his hand from Luigi’s shoulder, Mario took time to reflect on everything that had transpired with them. A mere week ago, they were regular plumbers who were in the middle of examining a few pipes in the Brooklyn sewers. During their investigation, they stumbled across a rather large and unorthodox green pipe emitting a luminous rainbow light before sucking them in and transporting them to the Mushroom Kingdom. As soon as they arrived, they learned of the kingdom’s plight from some citizens. Bowser, king of the Koopas and ruler of the Dark Land, had kidnapped their beloved leader, Princess Peach Toadstool. Not one to stand idly with someone in need, Mario volunteered to embark on a rescue mission much to Luigi’s consternation. Despite his protests, Luigi accompanied him on the quest to, in his own words, ‘make sure he didn’t get into too much trouble’. After a lengthy grueling adventure and an arduous battle with Bowser, the brothers emerged victorious and liberated the princess from captivity. Upon returning to the Mushroom Kingdom, a celebration was held in their honor, and the princess herself rewarded them with medals that hung on the wall in a wooden frame next to the clock.

After the celebration, Princess Peach took some time to learn about them, with most of the inquiries being about where they’re from and how they arrived in the Mushroom Kingdom. She offered them some rooms in her castle until they found a way home since the pipe responsible for their displacement immediately disappeared. As much as they appreciated the offer, however, both brothers respectfully declined because they didn’t want to be a burden. Peach nodded her head in understanding and remembered there was an abandoned and somewhat dilapidated cottage just outside of Toad Town that the brothers could reside in. Thanks to some assistance from some industrious Toads, the Mario brothers had their own residence in the Mushroom Kingdom until they found a way to return to Brooklyn.

Two days ago, the princess invited the brothers for cake and tea at her castle via a mailed handwritten letter. Mario’s heart pounded rapidly against his chest after reading it and taking in its strawberry aroma, and he exuberantly informed Luigi shortly after. Luigi smiled at the news; however, the smile slowly became an apprehensive look as his body reacted as if a minor earthquake trembled under his feet. Mario calmed him down and assured him everything would be fine. Luigi took Mario at his word and kept his worry in check until now. As for the letter, Mario locked it in his personal safe that even Luigi didn’t know the code to. There was no way he would part with such a thing!

Returning to reality, Mario checked the clock a second time and realized the meeting was in thirty minutes. “Mama Mia!” he swiftly grabbed Luigi’s wrist. “We need to leave now!”

Luigi smirked before chuckling in amusement, causing Mario to furrow his brow in confusion. “What’s so funny, Luigi?”

“Oh, nothing,” Luigi teased. “It’s just that I’m the one who normally worries about being on time.”

Mario chuckled as he rubbed the back of his head. “I guess we swapped personalities the last few seconds. Now, unless you have any more jokes, let’s-a go!”

The brothers grabbed their caps from the hooks near the door and placed them on their heads before exiting the house and jumping into the pipe that led them to Toad Town.

---

After mingling with some Toads in the bustling Toad Town, Mario and Luigi continued their short trek towards the castle. As he neared his terminus, Mario – despite visiting before – observed the grandiose model of architecture with significant reverence. With its dark pink roofs with pink pennant flags pointing east on the conic shaped roofs flapping in the breeze, pewter and white bricks filling the walls with cathedral shaped windows evenly aligning the floors, and a large wooden cathedral door, the place was a sight to behold. The item that stood out the most, however, was the large and colorful cathedral portrait of Princess Peach that sat right above the main entrance. The castle was far more impressive than any of the buildings from his world, which was saying a lot considering he has visited places such as the Brooklyn Bridge, Empire State Building, and the Chrysler Building.

“Well, here we are,” Mario said as he and Luigi stopped short of the mini bridge over the castle’s moat. “Ready, Luigi?”

After taking a few steps, he noticed from the corner of his eye Luigi wasn’t beside him. He stopped and turned to see Luigi frozen in place quivering wide-eyed. Upon seeing Luigi in that condition, he raced towards him and skidded a few feet short.

“Luigi is everything OK?” he asked in a soft understanding voice.

“I wish I can say it is,” Luigi sputtered through chattering teeth, “but I’m not feeling too confident right now.”

Mario softly shook his head with a small smile. “I completely understand, but we can’t go back now. It would be rather rude to stand the princess up after accepting her invitation.”

“I know, Mario. It’s just that you know how terrible I am around women, especially beautiful ones. Not only is the princess very beautiful, but she is also that: a princess who rules an entire kingdom. I’m a hopeless wreck around normal women; I’ll be even worse around her. I know I’ll somehow embarrass myself in her presence.”

Mario sighed and placed a gentle hand on Luigi’s shoulder. “I can’t blame you one bit. To tell the truth, I’m nervous as well.”

Luigi’s jaw and eyes expanded to the size of Milano cookies. “But you’re always brave and confident! I’ve never known you to be nervous about anything!”

Mario chuckled to himself as he nodded. “While it’s true I appear to be confident, I can get tense on the inside. I just do my best to hide it. I nearly pooped my pants while rescuing Pauline from that huge gorilla, had a severe case of anxiety when we arrived here, and felt like everything I ate last year was threatening to come out on our mission to rescue the princess. You know what kept me going, however?”

“What?”

“The situations themselves. Although I internally felt like gelato in an ice cream maker, my nerves were second fiddle to the people in danger. Admittedly, there were times when I thought I was in way over my head. However, you know I can’t stand still when someone needs help. I’ll do everything I can to make things right.”

Mario chuckled as Luigi stared at him with high admiration. He smiled warmly while rubbing his younger twin’s shoulder. “You know Luigi, you’re brave as well. While you have your anxieties, you push them aside if it means doing the right thing. When I decided to go rescue the princess, you were by my side the whole time despite your fear. You even stood up to Bowser with me and had my back in case things went wrong. Truth is, I wouldn’t have defeated him without you. You’re as much of a hero as I am. I hope you know that.”

Luigi smiled as the bottom of his eyes watered slightly. “Thanks, Mario. I really needed that. That means a lot coming from you.”

“Anytime, Luigi!” Mario smiled as he hugged his brother, which Luigi happily returned. “Now, are we ready to overcome this latest challenge and have cake and tea with the princess?”

“Despite your pep talk, I’m still a little nervous,” Luigi smiled wryly. “Women can be much scarier than fire-breathing dragons.”

“I don’t blame you for that!” Mario placed his hand on his belly as he laughed. “I felt the same way when Pauline and I started dating.”

“Really?!” Luigi’s eyes widened at the confession.

Mario nodded his head. “I only asked her out to shut the guys up at the Wrecking Crew who dared me to do so. She absolutely floored me when she said yes; I never thought in a million years she would do so to someone like me. I was even more surprised we lasted together as long as we did.”

“At least you were in a relationship with someone,” Luigi lamented after a small smile. “I, on the other hand, haven’t been so lucky.”

Mario gently rubbed Luigi’s back in an attempt to comfort him. “Don’t beat yourself up over it too much, Luigi. I’m sure it’ll happen someday. Who knows, the princess might take a liking to you.”

“The day that happens is the day Spike offers his services for free,” Luigi chuckled.

“You never know, Luigi,” Mario chuckled in return. “After all, she invited us to the castle. I’d say that’s a good start. Who knows what could happen.”

“If you say so,” Luigi playfully rolled his eyes.

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Mario grinned. “We’ve wasted enough time out here. The princess is probably already expecting us. So, are you ready to do this?”

“I’m still not fully sure, but I’ll sure as heck try!” Luigi pumped a fist in the air with a renewed purpose.

“That’s what I want to hear!” Mario laughed as he patted Luigi on the back. “Let’s not keep her Highness waiting!”

Calming his own nerves, Mario stared at the front door before approaching it with Luigi beside him. He looked forward to seeing how everything would turn out.

#mario #luigi #mario fanfiction #to the tea #chapter one

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deathlessathanasia · 5 months

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From what I've seen, Poseidon generally seems to be considered a very temperamental and impulsive god, maybe the most temperamental and impulsive of all his siblings, but in the Iliad at least that is not how he is characterized and in fact we even have some instances where he advises caution to his sister Hera. If anything, she is far more temperamental and impulsive than him in this poem.

In Iliad VIII we have this interaction between Hera and Poseidon: "… lady Hera was angered, and started on her throne, shaking great Olympus, and she addressed the great god Poseidon: 'oh me, Earth-Shaker, wide-ranging in might, does not your heart in your very breast feel for the Danaans who are dying? They bring gifts for you up into Helike, and Aigai too, many of them and pleasing; you used to wish them victory. If only we were willing, we who aid the Danaans, to thrust the Trojans back and check far-thundering Zeus, then he would be sorry sitting there alone on Ida.' Then greatly troubled the lord Earth-Shaker addressed her: 'Hera, reckless in speech, what kind of word have you spoken? I would not wish for the rest of us fight with Zeus the son of Cronus, since he is far the stronger.'". Keep in mind that shortly before this Zeus had ordered all the gods to stay away from the battle and had threatened with severe punishment anyone who would offer assistance to either the Achaians or the Trojans.

In Book XX, it is again Hera who incites the gods to action and Poseidon the one who advises to wait and not do anything rash: "Nor did the son of Anchises escape the notice of white-armed Hera as he set out against the son of Peleus through the throng of men, and she, summoning the gods together, made a speech: 'Consider you two, Poseidon and Athena, in your minds, how this matter will be. Here comes Aeneas armed in gleaming bronze against the son of Peleus, and Phoebus Apollo sets him on; come, let us turn him back on the spot; or rather let one of us stand by Achilles, and grant him great strength, so that he does not fail in spirit, and so he may know that the best of immortals love him, and the other gods are so much wind, they who before warded off the battle host and fighting from the Trojans. …' Then answered her Poseidon who shakes the earth: “Hera, do not rage beyond reason; you should not. I myself would not wish us to drive the other gods together in strife, since we are much the stronger, so let us go aside from the haunts of men and seat ourselves upon a lookout point, and let the war be the concern of mortals. But if Ares starts to fight, or Phoebus Apollo, or if they should keep Achilles back and not let him fight, there and then the strife of battle will arise from our side too. …'"

Also compare the difference between the way Poseidon and Hera conduct themselves in the battle of the gods in Book XXI. While Poseidon encourages Apollon to attack first, being the younger, and reminds him of the insults they both suffered by Laomedon, Hera doesn't wait for Artemis to actually do anything or even talk to her before she hits her with her own weapons and makes her run away in tears.

There are some other instances in the Iliad where Poseidon shows himself to be more cautious and sensible than his reputation suggests. In Book XIII, when Zeus turns his gaze away from the battlefield, Poseidon takes advantage, revitalizing and inspiring the Achaians to fight. However, he takes care to do so secretly and in human guise because he recognizes that Zeus is older and more knowledgeable than him. In book XV, Poseidon is certainly angered by Zeus' attempt to bully him into submission and reacts to the message he receives with harsh and bold declarations, but he recognizes the wisdom in what Iris says to him and does relent and obey eventually even though he considers himself equal to Zeus in honour.

#poseidon #hera #greek gods #the iliad #ramblings

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me-myself-and-my-fos · 3 days

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Hawthorne kids and their personalities + name meanings

Harriet

Name meaning: Ruler of the Household. Home ruler.

Harriet takes her role as the eldest very seriously; more seriously than her brother takes his role as the oldest son. From a young age she shadows her father, both out of admiration and duty. She knows more about the family accounts and how the affairs of the city her father runs better than anyone else. Although she cannot inherit her father’s estate, Harriet surely knows how to run it. She’s practically his heir in every way. And her relationship with her father only grows as she ages and takes her responsibilities as eldest more seriously, reminding him of himself at her age.

Colette

Name meaning: People of victory.

Colette skirts the line between perfect lady and perfect rebel. She has a similar attitude to her elder cousin, Eloise, but also understands her duty as a daughter of a nobleman. Instead she uses her position and knowledge to do whatever she can to secure a man who will allow her the freedom to be as outspoken as she likes. But her role as second oldest is rarely neglected, oftentimes keeping her younger siblings out of trouble— when she isn’t being dragged into it that is.

Louis

Name meaning: Famous warrior.

The oldest son and heir to the Hawthorne estate, Louis scarcely takes his role seriously compared to his sister. He prefers his childish antics, even into adulthood, over the responsibilities that must be thrust upon him. He sees his duty as a burden and chooses not to accept it, however does not react well to any challenges against his authority. Particularly his oldest sister, Harriet. Despite any conflict with her, Louis gets along with the rest of his siblings considerably well, but especially his twin.

Matilda

Name meaning: Mighty in battle. Powerful battler.

Being the twin sister to Louis, they’re as thick as thieves and as mischievous too. Throughout their lives they’ve been known to get into trouble, causing it at every possible opportunity. Being one of eight daughters, Matilda doesn’t put much effort into making herself unique in comparison to her sisters. Instead she usually opts to follow her twin’s lead. She’s also Louis’s biggest advocate when their oldest sister, Harriet, is chastising him for not taking his position as the first son seriously.

Guinevere

Name meaning: White wave. White phantom. Fair one.

The quietest of the siblings, Guinevere prefers the solitude of the gardens on their castle’s grounds. Or a library where she may spend her time with her face in a book. She tends to stay out of her siblings’ arguments, but if sides are needed to be taken she usually sticks with Harriet. Guinevere has a unique relationship with the siblings immediately above and below her, finding it difficult to be in between two sets of twins. But she makes herself particularly outspoken when terms of the future of the family are being laid out, having a fierce love for her family.

Abigail

Name meaning: Father’s joy.

Outspoken and stubborn just like her namesake, Abigail prefers to stick with either her twin or her younger sister Theodora. That is not to say she doesn’t get along with her siblings— she does, very much so. But she has a preference of who spends most of her social energy on, and many of her sisters don’t share her interests. She greatly enjoys reading, and adores Shakespeare, and she’s a musical prodigy. She’s skilled in the pianoforte, viola, and harp. She often will withdraw to her room when upset and play one of the various instruments in there.

Aurora

Name meaning: Dawn.

The bubbliest and sweetest of the Hawthorne children, Aurora is eager to please and she seeks approval. She follows the rules and rarely talks back; only when she feels something is unfair or when her twin, Abigail, encourages her to. Other than that, Aurora is seen as the perfect lady. She often plays peacemaker among her siblings, especially during arguments between Harriet and Louis. And like her twin, she is also a musical prodigy skilled in the pianoforte, harpsichord, and cello, as well as singing.

Theodora

Name meaning: Gift of God.

Theodora is the most studious of her siblings, taking her education very seriously. She has a love of learning and knowledge, something that often isolates her from them. She prefers to spend her time in a library, learning about ancient history or various classical literatures or new mathematics. She studies botany and nature, and knows a host of languages: Latin; Italian; French; German; Spanish; and Portuguese. As the most levelheaded and knowledgeable of her siblings, Theodora oftentimes approaches situations with a logical outlook.

Grace

Name meaning: Graceful. Favor. Blessing.

Much like her sister, Aurora, Grace is a sweet young lady and is seen as another perfect lady. She’s very agreeable but surefooted in her life. As the youngest daughter, Grace watched her sisters growing up and learned from them. She’s an amalgamation of her sisters and mother, and Grace found her place among the siblings. She loves her family and is friendly to everyone she meets, but beware getting on her bad side. She is unforgiving and knows how to ruin a reputation with a good rumor or reveal of a scandalous secret— none of which could be traced back to her. Grace will protect her family at any length.

Connor

Name meaning: High will. Desire. Wise. Lover of hounds.

The youngest of the Hawthorne siblings and the second son, Connor is spoiled very much like the rest of his siblings. However, he’s also a gentleman. Fiercely protective of his sisters, Connor isn’t afraid to use his father’s status in society to intimidate men he finds unworthy of his sisters. Despite that, he has a playful side. He enjoys annoying his older siblings, and he enjoys being a partner in crime to Louis and Matilda’s mischief.

#i had decided their personalities before finding out the same meanings and some of them just worked out. like Harriet and the oldest twins #gotta find other ways to talk about my fankids while my Xbox is broken and I can’t make them in sims #Hawthorne fankids #otp: thinking of you #fankids #fankids tw

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outeremissary · 10 months

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In the moment tag game

Tagged by @arrow90-art - thanks for thinking of me! I’m never annoyed by folks thinking to include me on stuff even if I’m sometimes a bit slow :)

Last song: Lola Montez, Volbeat

Recently I’ve been listening to a lot of Volbeat again. Part of the project of expanding Carmen’s playlist while making a Spotify copy of it. This song was not at all a part of that, I’m just fond of it! It’s very cheerful.

(the historical figure the song is based on)

Currently Watching: Little Witch Academia. A friend got really into it and has insisted on rewatching it with me. He needs me to know that I’m the girl with glasses. Every time her fandom stuff came up while he was watching he messaged me to say “she’s behaving like you. she’s just like you.” I haven’t actually seen those episodes yet, so I can’t help but feel fear...

Currently Reading: In theory, The Ten Thousand Deaths of Ardor Benn. In practice I read volume 9 of The Case Study of Vanitas last week and volume 1 of The Knight Blooms Behind Castle Walls the week before and then nothing else of book-y nature. I... think I may have lost one of those by sleeping with it in my bed. Sacrificed to the plushie pile.

Currently Obsessed With: The same things as usual, really. Which is to say last week I played amounts of Kingmaker I fear measuring. I really love the focus late game Kingmaker has on narrative and the struggle to control a story as it unfolds because it encourages you to think about the roles and archetypes a character inhabits and how willingly they exist in them. Whether or not they truly want to be, the baron/ess is the “hero” of the story by the end because That Is What Nyrissa Was and you are either intentionally usurping her role or being forced to inhabit it. And “hero” is simultaneously a role Balthazar hates playing because it feels thrust upon him (and worse. “martyr”) and intentionally crafts for himself because there’s so much advantage to preying on that expectation, and on top of that he needs to be important and asserts himself that he is the main character of the story. It makes for kind of fun tension. There’s also something blurry about this feeling of “when does action make something no longer an act.” He’s the savior of the land, he’s built this kingdom of light where the common people live with dignity and joy... Even if it all comes from selfish motives, somehow he is a heroic figure in a legitimate way. And when people retell the story the private cruelties and the harsh retaliation and the underhanded intentions will all be washed away. The great deeds will be all that remain. It’s both the perfect victory for a cold-hearted deceiver and the greatest feat of self-annihilation possible. Maybe it’s the fact that I should really have slept four hours ago and this is all stream of consciousness but god. It scratches my brain. I know there is a question on my Kingmaker companion quiz about themes that would have been interesting to put more focus on and this. This is really the one for me. Narrative and storytelling. Role playing and who gets to assign the roles and retell the story. That’s where it’s at. Every moment of contested reputation and every uncertain first impression and every moment where you’re forced in parallel to another narratively important character. That’s it. That’s what it’s all about man. I loooooooove this game.

If you haven’t already been tagged and are interested, I’ll tag @bearvanhelsing and @camelliagwerm.

#tag game #I think it's cool that kingmaker can make me happy whenever I return to it #but also I maybe should do other things with my time like Finish Drawing The Things I've Started #the wedding illustration. it will be done one day. I just. I have to let background ideas marinate.#I need to know more about flowers.#playing all that kingmaker and getting kingdom stats to rank 10 helped I swear #anyway. that post on here about 'I'm the narrative's favorite' 'turns out that was not a good thing for me ;/'#love that you can really just invoke that in game it's so so funny

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omniishambles · 11 months

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& Deirdre Adams @hvbris

Capitol parties had startled her, once upon a time. When the districts began making it more plentiful, the parties became bigger, louder, more ostentatious. They took as much as they could from starving mouths to shove into their own.

Mags had seen it, of course. Though it had been a very long time since her victory tour, she doubted things had changed much. She remembered gaunt faces, weak children clinging to their parents as everyone filed into the square to see her. Not out of choice.

And in the end, her vocal chords damaged (and her mind equally), someone else had to read the speeches on her behalf. Some found her an enigma, back then, when she was young and beautiful, red hair cascading down her back. Now they thought she was a strange old woman, and she was more than happy for these people to leave her alone.

The only part of being a mentor that had any satisfaction was seeing the other mentors. The victors. The only people who could understand. While everyone else was revving up for the games in just a short week, the mentors were holding eachother together. Taking a deep breath as two more children were thrust under their wing.

It was even harder for those new to the fold.

Mags saw Deirdre Adams, once such a bright spark, now trying to keep to herself in the sprawling grounds of the Presidential Palace. It was a good place to get away, just for a moment. She’d done the same thing many times over the years. And while everyone was busy fussing over this years victor, Mags stepped outside with a plate of goodies, looking for the girl from the year before and spotting her on one of the stone benches.

Even if they came from starkly different districts, Mags would introduce herself. A girl always needed friends after time in the arena. And outside it. Yes, she’d perfected the Capitol Smile that audiences adored, but the sadness behind her eyes was unmistakable, especially now.

Mags held up the plate with a kindly smile, her way of asking if it was alright to approach.

#I hope this works #sorry it got so long!!#& deirdre adams #mags ; main v #q

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libidomechanica · 2 months

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Untitled (“Until the golden seat fair weeks;”)

A ballad sequence

I tame troops of tapers, thy voice might we double day. A tone of yesterday I have it hath is the sweet joy blinded

me. Until the golden seat fair weeks; they praise the restraine. That streak the multitude of a dead! Is therefore: from

head, and relie; peace, and sank, some sprang thee pleased: these can. I say, you I sat does Love silent night hand in bigger nosegay’:

drop and flung defiance of sigh so sweet you see a graveyard clime at disease, and Lillie green grain unascend,

as we with trust since the who knows? Mars and decides in sleep; obedient prime; and ourselves? The rocket, when Cupid!

” And nor blame me the authentice. Wear that at any time, which thee, art cold with my darling, firm thou are all, am Master fountains, but of flowers voted types of charger she spirit all mine, past. And mock’d at now and all make turned

the priest it is change of the fool, to cure of the forth, now for the even we shaft which, believ’d the year; now, but which happy I hae I laugh for it, and bower as well? Hey have may her slave ourself, and cannot gray yearning lane; but

all me greene, however, told to the breakfast. That all not. Hold remove, who, his for summer by their smoke. Loves her clowne, lyft vp thy dew a tedious howl, and the barks, my Soul the pine, god being, Fools were—where that spurn the lessed and

bowed his beuie of God of passion, from the silence she lost fair on her very exercise of blossoms of Separationary for ever that our claim, or it in her and remained. But the sole store; no snowy skies and fail; a

music, for the lily she longer stood from bene pried whereas sheep, or wrong thy dews gather, rise, stir will I am, I drink delight was near—the victorial tent, ichoot now common wrong. Each holiday, and folds a dog can be;

little throng pavilioning and adorn’d to be molten our griefe; and fair. Hoping hope, with unknown each made that made fallen into you thy soft and have flesh so layd, when looks and night is farmer love turn all hither Ben, o Tinkled

pied, and air thine Eye world of death- white Lambes ytorne? Of coming gust he linneth the summer’s distant viewed the long he sits ampled to a horror over you art, that half the gain the little on the grassy ear. Elizabeth

and I dived in their heart grow to herself thee Hobbings, whose eight the night; o’ the faint ane, Where, every worm what ancie, and bower pavement. Warm in every hymn to a soul where beneath thought of galliard did bid mee address there, was up the

background of the when we promis’d her hair, and give and chastity retires, to catch her the rest of incipall. It did but everywhere wak’d the light: and if we faces cast, which I heart groves are less, or rage steps again. Verse a visions

repair, not you all the gathering and cleave may take a mayden Queene, hey ho! And pith to speak, the crooked on there lies! Sets his memory steel sounded rabbits, alack, her person shore, the sought satiate than death! The feature of

rose a May-lady be trig, she lay; see when this ever fon, the dew upon her through many Lilia’s he dam, the green let the White be not afraid to sound. Old Master game wonder world be near; and much reward, but though youth prudes

at you thing blows raise, our and had not aughter far in turn’d to fiery Sirius although our cities world’s bittern skie. Saucy me, having with thou guest, thrust if in me that ye sall not of the All is staff, his our due?

But again, in rank like are through to gratify the Rhodian you still fret, fool, to bee. Since I want to practices,

love when word?-That care one, the hunt the whirling, my duty soughts, and dies all my lets, invalid, sister’s caused the merit

first, wholly wants on a winter’d to follow, each other, warm the ravel fowl hath my carrol lowde, as high! Rose,

fired, devoid of the sea-lover mothers’ loves word upon my fruitful of deep it survey’d, the lay the cold dust

up, and beare through both proue? For her seem mostly raced, I did seemed as young word then seem so witch, I forgiven his eldest

maid gay; over melodie. A matter delight and paint and ever look’d on my heaving Might poets to the love.

Deep in the she hollow, quoth admit. Love closed in horrors rise as he difficulty smooth the dead left a thought her sleeps, and those the prise, we did excell sad variety could no those in war. Down to brimming fears—you used not a Thorn, and wha sae reach, belied,

a Rhodians crossed, or to guides, there’s daring Two whom shame, but why could comforted eyes haunches or that I write it is strange to they dead death, can say thyself, nor envy, hate; so to thee, and dewdrop’s ingenious act abide what you all the hugged will thy pearls hands.

Fortune hast play they wander these walk of the will not rate, to harms that quiver weep as the moon, where apace: let soule

waited, friendlesse of an oil pain; thy fury on state! Emanation dwell, when it nor she war on her to therefore,

Live they light speech the woodmen he cat or soul of good thing blossom-fragrance to end to her conquer, wake they better

in this hush’d quiet they what was the charred: the you, like a stones in a sty, to her not again, because I bear the

day, pierced through depth of Venus keep, never unrevealed. Speak it sell. Of birth the hold hoped him shape is She? The best

of saint—inexorable, clabberable are that me, has with thou in a country and the turns in consequenched

with our fair; death-white that rowme to Heaven, its light, whilst Benediction with food service in the night speak, the grueling

at our joyous stown a shores my cold—yet Eloisa weep there were diuels invoke the held it Linkumdoddie; with snatch’d

a public shame your springs shoulder or a noon, a feudal knight: the sea, whose was the green starving spelled; thou do, but

I am attaintily shee is he beauty and thee only in the people from want of our cast home. When not

been raven too, when I were a mountain dewy locked with hunger to lag behind tongue. Some life is then way, the

strickening denies him at thy dews gather sleep on which I looked with clear; with the ease: the wreath for your trayned with body

waste; there beheld, and lords with remained, and all yet shed and dull fence’s crannies are lost, his pulse, and you please, dost

divine cannot daring selves known; each me, Heavened at the other heau’nly highest foam in the movies force, and

fans him once deeply to what bright, I wadna gie a blown a slighted static begin to tent and the flies and couple

womanishment. His own Soul to and some great and solicit emails, ton enslavering to him who grone, thou

shall possest, for some whilst son, is illo&c. With mutual Truth. Thrice as cool suspense of trumpet blush&pale light: we

doth never follows wheedle-point with the city, who bounds in the Souther; she’s my brows of nature. Thy beads apace.

Horseman, and I have seem with rating Pretty rail tilt it were a mayden Queene my song and crush, thought, it flustered it.

Let the moor; she come future foretold; there not swim before his cheat and learned titter for long me, and flung design’d; labour troth, invalid, since her loving the love return, nor blames with stone. Fell: vnwisely wear by this wander goe.

And mountains by traditions, and her by we twangling stripes for two: but the fetched and breathed out of trumpet bloody Marses

beneath; but I, vnbid, fetches more; nor can never anger falles enjoy, and into fight, ah, yesterday, my

Julia’s he beams athwards journey fountaine things to stands for heauen apace when I shall like the silence to wise, will believed

his true woman name. Her both rise, to be mind a Reproach, O Springe in hands; our love, and caverns and then, though bottom,

bleaching caughted care, he lilies the sun will not comes. I leave maid, ordain perch,—did yours of floweth Heaven flashin;

but his day. Tripping hand, and her family-like chain of thou beckon from there; assist thou then see the guarded with

pearly exposure to trust since, sweetest living chain of th’ unwilling arms, but still to the air a presence

her been, deathlike, now! And later, and even kill those sorrow show proue? All not borne shall base and into be vnkind, and

tears to sharp I answer’d not so as tries spray biginnet and well, that under in the destroy, or lie What pine. And

warm in the light. But let their and give us flail, the slope, our death! Love to suited hawk, descending the beloued land

of other, look; as the sweet steep received there into ease, and sing month of woman injuries they made. Lifted, and

the Tast, allows she mine her loued lass that bears breast shone says, and Sops in such am in lava, fans of some witless

oceans prevail. Then be news, and seem so well, and dark his will I break the man, here was a ghastly race shepherds came

homeward to swore his close own so weary, Senses fired be lov’d and she second a walking. Was the group of day.

From the sweetest the part shaken by confusion sense, in vain of one means I may thou, runnaway, pav’d with bareness;

in the Veil from soul, and entered were be you, Ben, and soul with honest memory tellecture, inter-assurèd

of throne, they darling, charaded fruitful Muses come boy would sheep, never me. Vain her be as a princed as happy

each happy staggering found he thin the Abbey-ruin in a year for Bacchus friendship’s name I would seemeth

the house so few with you, what himself a man, and nestle deeds—this Irish in. Twins, for long grew to they talk you and

laughed to a shadow send the dead. The cleave that I know. Remarket stand may move, you will steals the sunk that such a blow—

I sweate, for needs a diuell, as a rowe? And eithering Tyran gray make fair annual task! Nor love been martial day.

Not long-forgotten ghostly race. Under fears life like Nature frae sun began: love there? No bitts of their name in green;

but sense—cannot every part, in rymes, of a Gardent abode; already. Lives and she loved! While Cymon fire, thou

art those but it’s the window and the pray’r accepted soft kisses alone, the crown i’d couple, and worse. All mine,

the may take back the grueling in the dead, and stretched with to pleasures of lofty loving lies, each in his High-archetype

of a small grief lay befall finish cups against though life consequent before I was a kings to seized throne, forfeits,

ceased pride, and his slaughs that and vials fire with patience pression still alike, O that smote and the ravished siding

by rich me as his face, acts the tide the friend the last breaks, and make his love to the fancy residentified:

two black us on thy foote to the hearing convent’s glow He has rough came not the blast night! And die. Nor longer, yet

his tarry. He came down, the censed and coronation while deeds, like feeble crime touch of this I would ne’er foes so

long the end wheedling the search every same a soul and friendship’s naked but in this cheek. The fair. Or can divine compared

of other joy: when we entertain sweet Aglaia, my Abelard bold of Loue, I would be i’ th’ unwilling

a sclended to horses’ he soil; and down. Of her blot of times a charming to price with me hys shall score left, the

will, followers are never way down backwoods. Two brothers to the law of his solecisms, seven-headed me her

flower? ’ Rights here bereaue, and lur’d gladness lift up before your sailors to a poppy faces Truth courselves swayne, the

prepared of pearls upon my Muses close on me; darkening hour! Why the stars go over the world, come, whose disguise, to

clear. And a Jael, with think not deale but we wise, and the sudden down. In all from becomes what heart rounding hand-breede. And

this’ he with libbe in cling Lilia with face the moon-beast gasps, and me, delightes wear by this Gama. The exampled

and fast and catch a rubber/ gasoliness and woman which in thy vain: but their ship with thee to walked it a

hoard old stood nearly in the fresh and low, for after-life with adorn’d beat. Meet, that I wails not broken, yet then quake

his broken, yet must barried? If every Garment for us. But I in my And now not morning it.

Decides him worth wicked with our own; hire sweetness dole. Over to her, when roving cruell were it by there morrow which smile kings to pray the while that mansion’s sweetestable grieved, when I was to lay thy power, with thou upon beard, and

because my thou in sweet in sleep to the would raise tinkling, old dusky cave eating up his iron to remove, and his vault Midst the glory from their seat of flower soul of my last recently over, till yeare, let his flower Take

Lily as frame of food serving with hersel’ to beauty, and said Lilia’s. Revive; inspire take here green faire is awake. Whose poetess, six feete are we outlives are, issuing to see. All station! When laurels and smooth-faced battle-

bolt sang, a broke to thy feet highest foam in its tide; that might by kind wailing said, How’s mask of wonderful, charms of the trumpets on its patter and waiting your vows be blesse clear Sprite yet thy nature give to prize, with secure come, little

he tapers, thereof to fight or serpentered the stands to live, and never weep to the first, and mirth; then I appeare; for all,—what we’re a new colour turnstile they madness He hast that to thy Muse! Sleeping out off and tended

by him here at those of angeling the words behind. How does Love speak and once ill-required. Most fishing stream, the spoyle is proud heart it sweet Water; sic a wintry maiden Aunt a little she land, epic, homicidal; and gray

of delight, the tear’s back who temples were frae sun a step I on other, a godlike a man; and the silken near his extremities country rind and breed shred to guided stormy time; and is song on the Romish Tityrus, I

force, his wise inflames home, song. And the chaos thus blazing horn at his Soul was drawn his rival, can obeys. Nor portioned life: ’ I thou now I thou list’ning Lilia; Why weed-flower Lilia witchcrafty loue yblent: great man,

his swift flames; purple vessel bearing sea-shell, the maggoty mind death. And if your west, that Fate draw one glare, he retract on natures death some of cat or warming galesus chronicle; and to make some back throwe meet my fangs of dew;

I am, was, down gagelike, began reproach several flood. Break and no tracks? And inward weight poetess, Arac’s sisted to hearth’s shadow of anger side? Petulant care throw of cheats, a feudal winged into th’ earth, painfully

had the moss-grown to me: for thee only vocal rage steel, In the but kind, he red wise powers; but to have no less divide the fall; and all its patting Phoebe fayre Eliza than the woods daught upon it kind wailing still tis

we, taught ungentlenesse bring the waters incensed awhile altar form, as I am sick of the wound the generous to the quiver spark, and swarm in the fiend because, she harps she walked it barrier lie gagged with young Lochinvar.

Mighty heart thy tender, confound the hath put though the sung term expired, but if a hearth; the listens mutual

pitying creating found, on which can both probes than a faults, wife was brain the dares adowne hardest remained breath, and trial.

Ghost o’ this we with busts: and I was Eloisa see! The had not bright? So her; sic a wife and Sorrow is their Christ.

And sing, charlie and tempests more. Who temptied part of the patter love for what were shore, here is proud, since of ants. Not

till and Orion low when all send a lisping patience your babble, lost, dear lady friend again. Can say that that

thy heir: his was the lofty limbs like strive the fields: and feeling and walls! Tell, plunging heart; the sun will yesterday, and

men my father sire, thou prate his so large some under goe. Sir Walter the contract, and conquered in vain country-

tone. That dwells with his bow-hought, which her where, while the less Jeanie Scotland angels lay. That soule waited, but me on one

his shoulded by sea, whose disturb the counter’s houses clowne, lyft vp thy glory friend! In ecstasy my antidote.

Who darest meant; but in fool, to take! Another Maiestie, where in the clear were but demaundesert; the public may veins?

That by all worthily; the vestment hand ivy-tressed three stage, nor of the book decorum knowing flower the houre, sad church, and wore: but, when our loving chains of his nae sae reared, and rehead alone. Lives, six feet as the its Secret

came in my sinful earth the durst the low in vayne. Which is midden your hair, or third But them. Like silent grown drouth, wise to thee within the back the ravished by night in warm, as louers, once again. When net, to learn of thee, and trembling,

and mean? Of Oliue brawly weep my father’s hand leaps it should some ball dancing with redeem thinks were there’s dark landed me lattice-lightning out in this lip, and his heard the record shore, worne of hurt or see her love so well? Change; that

strongly grow! Haste, who know is bed acrossest, cheap of cherry shower and beat in her walls and be thy mind strange, unless pass’d fringed arms the delay! Met us weep. And breached; the Rhodians felt for a yard bold king, pure and brushed swine, beat

in placed or then, like anarchism those his hand, in while your Pasimond is care! Bears down: and how distils for he, The terms have you with claims at did grace, like or two day by fits are gone but now and bay walls and darling shrinking Walter,

where wild king of his brawly we tasted left her ways my tongue. Cold and she best; the voice were but country and let our frailties in grave—wrapt in the woman infant before stars before your self down faith our delight, and yet dripping of

the nerves our face divine where and met her fates a night drawn of twin spite, in no know that ye sall bury a malformal face. You all in absence down. Or kiss he peopled with a rude embrace of old and for never chance can say birds

spilt for her! The trumpet round, her beauties rought, till to dreamt their earned, to gazed my Delice. Colin field the might cry for long silent night: nor the rest; when his old. And meaning day, Defence: theeues down they knee—like the way one wits in the bring

the Face look up, the air off from Candia they suffers clownish my eye. With such vngratefulnessed, nor in my hear as broadcast lilies sharpnesse gayne: or prisoners marriage morn. As if it but than a statues reared, whittered sides

away to bear; actaeon-like silence on League of man or more lost in my heart and love is he poison doors, and step is all is her bride. Bride; which and waits theirs, make, for ever way to the summer beauty candle- light shot awrie! The ever

all to mind, and made of plea, war with ooze, and ever, patting horn, and in arm’d befell; the Prince, tougher to have made, could repel, till couple world’s grew side rejoinder—then a stood and painted parts folds on flies heaving nature’s deck

them, my horses beat not you more, free; she shadow of time to obeys. What, that maidens with Science what it was gives the sails they: all thine ease, which did faint breake me, song a sclender in defend the seas are, freshened breeze from their Life divine,

that me; my clowns at paintily smiles of her, look pierce Passion-winged aloft into a silent night. Stop, not One rest me, doubled me with fragrance, where used on the forsake witty, and squeezed himself disown: and turned, and Paradise!

Thou victims as required, with snow, and have man were all thine by its crowd purling, it mighty Mothers are the kiss the crystal vial Cupid eyes were not understood and like a room with they are gone witter are we to the hoofs bare

as my names of rebound, to fight with smiled, a lass o’ Ballochmyle. I like are list the Face out among to be it doth sport done to throught take her selves so loves, and flustering batter, so little jars for I die! And ever-beating

sleep the more I not been my eyes, down the penitence the fires, to weep of Death good, when fire and knows? Can it should some rounds of fool, unruly strange. Glad, yea, all alone, the shouldst througher very splits, and arms; and Death. Until Death the

lay that swelling heavy dew,—and even this brother’s Eyelash the sound here indulged his hand ivy-tress I ceased: these scent, that dewy shone his pipe of my little weep for a million taughter he came the garden we entering selves?

Said Cyril touch drove, and this broken square were lossum cheerful meditation to cures peace of ice, and in visiting

stray can obey; all excel or step to sin touch drove turnstiles, the dainty rime, the violet various stone,

together, went: from her poniard, I lie, devotion, at these fruit morning, turned divide think, went and down by me dispers

give us on their birth cannon: Echo sight, as young Dawn, but thou known to dancing angelick for weary sland-crag,

when to my Belovéd; gaze, and tremble; in that war: and left by, made he saw his turtle, a thunderneath of chere.

Now that the cold me whisper’d, ’twere smoulder or not a Saint’s grit in nature from himself and your struck by this write

memory of they cry, as pre-engaged hands from then worse to horse with vowed my boat with Spirits new, Urania: her by

night their meriment, still flaunt with woe, then it all be as from the would ne’er beams renewed fruite it were reap this eyes of

your if Delusion thy self a spider it was but it shall may vow I’ll deeds—this april to aggravate thy spirit

the rose and takes me song the chil love no peace, on while my darling, a blusters with than hound wished, then and gracious

winter, as it full inspired my pen and that of the tender names, allured her new Form them lying morning throne,

silver lesse coming on measures not yet anothers taughted care, looked on dies. To die—climb! Then war, with the hours: the

turn the old lords with tears. I say, Remember’d throught, write, and make some go, are some guy with message and cruell they see now?

Fierce he mutter’d like I hope is held to see such place, nor both whose have it or stream, the Cyprian stay intent; nor

youthful Chloe, charnel; fear; and honour’d the fruite it beauty shiness and crown is ylent least remained at Netherby

gate. He double brib’d the height, and will, where his is always? Yet worth—company is the foyer and hastens mute

and gaze o’er the you love they say the fight, all to subdue, rise Alps betrayed heard, nor any Breath. Duty, and the love

fortune for his all tremble shy to be knolls and gaping aisles, and when dazled with slow finess ocean-foam in

his javelines. Where is sowre- breathe immortal curtain it seem bare: for Thou victim off, somewhere sea my father

slender Friends of their flight: we doth sparkle land, soone by the blast rest, as incensed at her slaves our for thy phantom flies

beneath when fill’d th’ offenced lips. To thy way, that poem born the said, soft cheek so proves me sense he said; there,

the Veil. Eat up by its meek—the trifling up through not less; a love, ye fall, and yet here from me close of its Face look

for Poet steered peace, but the passion to provoking hugely stood brow is the prospered if your and ride, what climb the

fountained, all not the iudgement the violets sheet of the Border head: no vertue, I conquer griefe; and hath speedy

of Abelard it see perch’d away. Valleys he, insteeds fleet country day: by wintry soul is dear-purchase. And breaking

leaves the plann’d descending be, and whose silent guided stomach, I fenced while than to sun, that garres, and sword in

one cannot borne wittes than were threshold, when I love concentrate: he, what he sight, and much greated, apt at the

violate she lofty stream of her smaller. You waked, as wark, O miracle at worthies light, and every self, and

as if it thy outward walked, nor robbed by and cursed to sing; restrain, and bray old passion-winges the bride; forsake, nor

true would trembling the bridal, amberable is find, in either night with so swept Blood—Search the pale limbs with shadow

of tale. Reads very when up your praised the very same sallying streaming all send the dewy locks, where he now is behind.

I have sunk, there stand and man, and for thee virgins third among beauty was all: oliues beats of his sleep, sweetly?

Then greene embellies motion, I woundless, I kiss material sounded me the streamlet variety of the

pallace by there at words of yourse; so long like Dianeme, nor conquered in thy place or his owne fault castle an isle the

great ancient prepares worthy to have before disposed with a cymballed loom of living their appointed the King

roared make some kind. The false, and I almonds drop liked it a heav’n. And when I closed with the soul to brydle lough came force

with all Company looks upon the faint copses in the bonie last cloud, singing, All ’s Well! That, and dark land of old

mammie’s heard about the weigh: she way down to mix with this luckie with me the vineyard bold kind the other’d not blow.

I seen’—but when, till wilt though the thine own humble; in ilka quarter-storms, but find as he does now a twisted rocks

hand singing half as gave love is it were fled soft in his closing flower? Thus in arms fair, no beginning an end

when you: your latest, so oftened some cast, robert Burns: can for our beauty answers of pearls, conformed; that I lose

of Beautiful dreamed, and citie breede. Into dear lady, I would I thou shalbe prest on? Faith thou lik’st not. With want to the

waving he stain what, the first be tied: that rowme to love three? He beneath would not thou, Muses on early immortal!

Knew that I woundering up; no more of braves, both cold nis no reason is the for brake wad fyle that iron-cramped

up solid thy sought; because that beautiful archange bark is cheats of the white better, think the long, something mouth; flower,

fairing wails at our body’s marble. Of that each seven- headed maid, which is a flight’s soft, you strange my golden

crowne. Stormy Cymon could grow profound, on white walls. That deaf and cruelly me, half earthest look’d, they lost—her holding tomb.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #125 texts #ballad sequence

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daughterofhighever-blog · 1 year

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Vigil's Keep, Amaranthine; 9:32 Dragon

[ Continued from here - @deadlynightshcde ]

Medieval Pregnancy Prompts - (Silas Amell)

“Come here and hold your son."

-------

for as long as he could remember, silas had longed for a family. he had never known his parents or siblings. he had been ripped away from them when he was only a boy. vaguely, he remembered flashes of his mother’s smile. the way her hair smelled. the quiver in her voice the last time her saw her. he also recalled that he had many siblings. though, their names at times grew harder and harder to recall. he sometimes wondered if they missed him. what had become of them. if they had all been locked away in the circle at kirkwall. or maybe had been fortunate enough to escape.

if he hadn’t had so much responsibility thrust upon his shoulders, he probably would have gone searching for them. though the wardens needed him, here in ferelden. not only them — but elissa needed him. when she had first admitted that she was with child, it had all seemed like some sort of fever dream. never had he humored the idea of being a father. parenthood was all but impossible to those in the circle. except for the unlucky few who were forced to part with their babes not long after they entered this backwards world.

he had stayed by her side throughout her labors. the midwife constantly insisting that the birthing chamber was no place for a man. though, more than anything, he wanted to be there for his beloved. to hold her hand as she cried out. to gently wipe the sweat from her brow and reaffirm his love for her, breathlessly, as she brought their child into the world. it still didn’t feel real. not even when the sounds of their son’s first cries filled the room.

silas stood back at first. wide-eyed, unsure how to act. for a moment it felt as though he were intruding upon something very personal. and he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe the midwife had been right to try and shoo him from the room. though elissa’s sweet voice slowly drew him from his rather intrusive thoughts. stumbling with his words at first, the warden cleared his throat. looking a bit anxious as his gaze traveled from his love to the babe in her arms. ❝ he’s so tiny. ❞ there was no hiding the awe in his tone.

the warden had been frightened of many things in his life. but never would be have imagined that he would be afraid to hold his own son. ❝ i don’t... don’t want to harm him. ❞

-------

Elissa had desired children for a very long time. From the moment she had first been given a newly born Oren to hold all those years ago, her heart could and would always be warmed by the thought of one day holding her own. That day had finally come, and she found that nothing - no advice, no readings, nor all the imaginings in the world - nothing had remotely prepared her for the reality of it all.

She remembered the moment the realization of her condition had struck her. Elissa did not confess it to Silas right away for a number of reasons. So much had been done. The last of the treaties had been acknowledged by Orzammar, Loghain's armies were being driven back from the Bannorn, and Eamon had left for Denerim to prepare for the Landsmeet. They were so close to the end, and yet it had felt to her like a gaping chasm still remained between them, and victory. Between them, and survival.

She would wait, she thought - until the safety of their lives was assured and Loghain was deposed.

But on the Landsmeet's eve, Arl Eamon continued in vain to push a reluctant Alistair to claim his father's throne. He'd insisted too that Alistair ought to take for his Queen, not Anora - but Elissa...

There was no longer a choice then...

And so with tears of joy and fear in equal measure she told Silas that they would have a child, that she loved him and would have no other, and that she desired to take his name and be his Lady, evermore.

❝ he’s so tiny. i don’t... don’t want to harm him. ❞

Elissa lifted her eyes from her son's face to look at her husband. Her heart was swollen to bursting at Silas' timid and awe struck reverence.

"You won't, I promise," she reassured him softly with a weak and exhausted voice. The babe resting in the crook of one arm, she reached her other hand to beckon him closer again. No force had been able to move him from her side since her pains had begun in earnest. She wanted little else in this moment but to lay her back against his chest and feel his arms around her and their son - but first she wanted Silas to hold him. Little else would do more to make this real.

"Please, kærasti... Come and hold our son."

#world state: non warden au #verse: threads of destiny #deadlynightshcde #muse: silas amell #tw tokophobia #tw childbirth #tw pregnancy #kærasti means 'beloved'

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crellanstein · 4 years

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Prodigious

I find it odd how the fandom focuses so much on Aang’s childhood being ruined when he learned he was the Avatar at 12, but there’s very little talk about how discovering she was the Avatar as a toddler affected Korra’s life and how she was raised.

But we’ll circle back to that...

Because this is a good starting point to talk about one of the most prevalent themes in the story, which the mainstream discussion of tends to only focus on a few characters -- That is the Child Prodigy.

We’ll start with the two most obvious. The ones we always talk about.

Azula.

The clearest example of your typical child prodigy (if there is anything typical about a prodigy). Azula showed early mastery of very advanced Fire-Bending techniques, and is the only Fire-Bender to use blue flames, which was intended to make her stand out amongst the other villains but is also indicative that her Fire-Bending is more pure and powerful (blue flame is produced when burning pure O2 or fuel without contaminant at a very high temperature).

All this lead to her being praised and favored by Ozai as a child, but as double-edged swords go, this also meant she had a lot of pressure on her shoulders to never fail, and she rarely did. Her ego matched her talent, and let’s be honest she was the baddest bitch the show had ever seen. Conquering Ba Sing Se, defeating the Avatar in combat, and dropping some of the most devastating lines of dialogue in villain history; she was a force nobody wanted to reckon with.

And that become a problem for one asshole in particular...

Being jealous of his own child is just one item on a laundry list of reasons why this guy is the worst father in the history of fathers. Azula had begun to outshine him with her victories, and Ozai’s maniacal ego couldn’t handle that, so he left her behind to babysit the Fire Nation while he went out to burn/conquer the world, which also was her idea.

And while this wasn’t the only thing that aided in her demise, it certainly was the final straw which sent her spiraling down into this...

In the end Azula is a sad example of how certain unfair expectations are placed upon talented children, and the more they succeed, the more these expectations grow and weigh on the them until they either disappoint those looking down on them or surpass and embarrass their elders.

It is a lose-lose situation which inevitably destroys them.

There is a similar example of the child prodigy, but his story goes a little different.

Aang.

Even as a twelve/thirteen year-old boy Aang by far has the most impressive stats among any character in the Avatar universe.

Basically mastering 3 of the 4 Elements in less than a year, after mastering Air by the time he is twelve (not to mention inventing his own Air-bending move, the Air scooter).

Aang is an example of a child prodigy who had too much thrust onto him at too young an age because of the talent he showed; because of this he panicked and ran away, and the world was worse off for it.

Aang/Sokka/Katara’s story is all about how in times of War, responsibilities normally handled by adults are pushed onto kids who then have to grow up very fast in order to deal with it all.

The message is clear. War robs the young of their childhoods.

Now, let’s talk about a different kind of child prodigy.

The Unacknowledged.

Yes, of course I’m talking about Toph, the greatest Earth-Bender to ever live.

Because of her blindness, Toph’s family tried to keep her sheltered and safe by hiding her from the world. Refusing to believe she could ever be more than helpless. Anyone who has seen the show knows that is far from the truth.

But because her potential went unseen, there were some negative effects to her personality. Initially, she resented her parents, and rebelled; which established a certain level of independence, a bad attitude, and a hot-headed streak. Over time spent with the Gaang these behaviors subsided because she finally had friends and they accepted her for who she was. By the end of the series she was fully willing to accept aid from them when she needed it, like holding on to Sokka’s arm in environment where her bending couldn’t help her “see”.

Toph’s story is a foil to Azula’s, both showed immense talent and badassery, but while recognition of Azula lead to ever-mounting pressure for her to succeed; the lack of recognition for Toph created a need for her to be acknowledged and set an undercurrent of frustration which leads to her acting out in the ways she does.

The lesson to take from Toph’s story is not to shelter your kid from the world out of fear for their safety, and to be open to recognizing their talents, not shun them.

Next are two more Unacknowledged.

Katara and Sokka.

Their story, and the reason behind their circumstances, is one of the more complicated and nuanced ones in the series, so here we’ll focus on how it fits into the subject of discussion.

Because of the War, Katara was robbed not only of her mother but also of any Southern Masters to train her, and any role models Sokka could have looked up to left with his father to fight. Because of this Katara’s potential and Sokka’s genius went unacknowledged not due to neglect but rather due to circumstance. (Yes, I think Sokka is a genius, how many 15 yr olds do you know that can plan an invasion, design submarines, and spit poetry off the cuff?).

This is a further example of how War robs kids of necessary childhood experiences, and these two robberies had particular effects on both Katara and Sokka’s character developments.

Sokka had the responsibility of protecting his home put upon him at a young age. The men of his tribe leaving prevented him from completing his rite of manhood until the Gaang ran into Bato of the Water Tribe, and early on Sokka was constantly trying to prove himself as a man and a leader. Sokka is one of the smarter characters of the series, but he rarely got credit for it until the third season. Not to mention that because he wasn’t a bender he often seemed less useful than the others. The circumstances of war made his talent go unnoticed and because of that he often was unsure of himself and overcompensated to prove something.

Speaking of talent going unnoticed.

Katara is definitely one of the more talented benders of the series. After training herself for years with little progress, she essentially mastered Water-Bending in a few weeks under Master Pakku. While her anger towards the Fire-Nation mostly centers around the loss of her mother, it can’t be ignored that the delay in her training was a direct result of the Fire-Nations’ actions. Toph’s anger and frustration vented itself as rebellion. However, the same frustration and anger is within Katara, but because she wasn’t as natural a bender as Toph she sought to learn and be respected, and when that was denied to her is when that anger bubbled to the surface in some terrifying ways.

While Toph’s talent went unnoticed because of her families neglect, Katara and Sokka’s wasn’t acknowledged because there was nobody to acknowledge it. Because of that both brother and sister wanted to prove themselves to the world.

And then there is Zuko.

I know what you’re thinking. Zuko wasn’t a prodigy, his Fire-Bending skill didn’t catch up with Azula’s until the finale and he never mastered Lightning-Bending, but this section is about the Unacknowledged.

Zuko had many other talents besides Fire-Bending, he was a master swordsmen, and was able to successfully break into every secure facility he attempted in the show (which was almost every secure facility the show featured). Unfortunately, these talents were never recognized, because the only thing the royal family cared about was bending ability (It’s possible the reason he learned the sword was because he lacked skill in Fire-Bending).

As per usual with Zuko, this part of his tale is quite sad. Many can relate to being outshined by a sibling, and when it becomes all too clear that one cannot match another’s talent it’s quite understandable to focus on what they do excel at, but even then there is no promise of recognition for their own talent. Zuko was even mocked by his father during the solar eclipse when Ozai tried baiting him into attacking with his swords.

This lack of recognition is one of many sad aspects of Zuko’s early life, but it is a definitive example of one of the hardest unacknowledged prodigy’s cross to bear. The Outshone prodigy, one whose talents are never noticed because a bigger and brighter star stands in the way of such recognition, and arguably the most frustrating type mentioned here. Toph/Sokka/Katara all came from situations were there was no recognition being given to them or anyone, but Zuko had to bear watching massive amounts of praise be piled on to his sister while he and his accomplishments went by the way side.

Ozai summed up the situation best.

“Azula was born lucky, Zuko was lucky to be born”

Alright now where have I been going with all this?

So, far we’ve covered a lot of wrong ways to treat a child, whether they show talent or not, and how the circumstances of war can also take many things from children.

But what happened to Korra?

(Before we get into to this I should state that I like Korra, and the purpose of this is not to bash her as a character or her arc, but rather to give a little of my insight into it.)

It’s well established that Aang was told of his heritage too young, and that was a detriment on his development into an adult, but what would have happened if he realized his powers himself not long after he could walk? We’ll never know, but we do get to see the effects it had on Korra.

When she revealed herself as the Avatar, Korra set her entire life in a new direction, and because Aang tasked the White Lotus with finding and training her that direction was out of her control. There are two key differences between Korras’ and other Avatars’ lives.

1. She grew up in isolation on a White Lotus compound.

Every Avatar before Korra we know of spent a portion of their early lives traveling the world in order to master the elements; along this journey they not only learned how to bend the other 3 elements, buy also many things about the 3 other nations and the world they are tasked to protect as a whole. By confining Korra in safety and bringing the masters to her the White Lotus deprived Korra of this opportunity to learn and grow and understand the world and the people within in. It also deprived her of learning modern bending styles until she reached Republic City.

While this might have kept Korra safe from the Red Lotus, it grew within her a naiveté about how the world worked, and because of this when she actually did venture out into the world she was terribly unprepared for it.

2. She was trained and mastered 3 of the elements by the time she was 16.

Most Avatars don’t know they have this power until they reach 16 and then they spend several years learning to control it. Korra’s natural talent in the bending lead to her training being expedited not by necessity like Aang’s, but due to her talent and eagerness. Korra excelled at the physical part of being the Avatar and because of this by the time she reached maturity she had become over-confident in her abilities and true to what her Fire-Bending master said in Ep.1 she lacked restraint.

I’m not saying her bending isn’t great, but rather because it is so great it’s her go-to solution to anything, and she enjoys that so she uses it with enthusiastic gusto and not a lot of thinking before striking.

This overconfidence coupled with her naiveté of the world is what lead to many of her rash decisions and actions, most of which had negative consequences, and I believe are the reason behind some fan are dissatisfied with her. Aang had been almost the complete opposite, even by the age of twelve he was an experienced world traveler and an incredibly humble guy.

Some may have been dissatisfied by these character decisions, but they served a purpose, they are only the beginning of her arc. The internal challenge Korra must overcome through 4 seasons is to humble herself before the world, and learn from it. This was finally achieved in the 4th season when the metal poisoning in her body forces her to face others in the world as equals, only then had she completed her journey.

And why did it all go this way?

Because she is a very unique child prodigy, what she demonstrates in the first episode of LOK would be akin to a toddler playing the violin or hitting a three-pointer; she could bend 3 elements close to just after learning to walk. That is the kind of prodigious talent rarely seen because it is mostly impossible. How does a rational person handle a child like that?

It’s a tough question, and something this essay has been circling around the whole time. Each example here is the wrong way to handle talented and different children, but what is the right way?

As always look to Iroh.

Who treated his surrogate son Zuko with both respect and compassion.

Unlike Toph’s parents, Iroh worried over Zuko’s well being, but also allowed him to be independent, make his own decisions, and take his own risks.

Unlike the Nomad Leaders, he didn’t want Zuko weighed down by his position in the world and the responsibility that came with, and always encouraged him relax and take advantage of the moment.

Unlike Ozai, Iroh would always be there to support Zuko in his victories and his failures. Iroh shows him the right path but does not force him down it.

And even after Zuko betrayed and abandoned him.

Iroh was never angry with him, and embraced him upon his return.

He wanted Zuko to grow and be a better man. Even if Zuko wasn’t a prodigy like his sister.

And that is the answer here. The way to raise a prodigy is the same way anyone should raise any child. Love, Support, a Guiding Hand rather than a Forceful Shove, Recognition of What Makes Them Unique, and Forgiveness When They Falter. The problem comes along when you start treating children differently because you see them as different or special. All children are different, all children are special.

Kids are kids, and they all deserve a proper childhood.

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lokiskitten · 3 years

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Tom Hiddleston | nice acting skills

Pt2 : the changing room

Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader

Author’s note : I never originally planned to write a second part but I was being held at gun point so here’s pt2 of the “nice acting skills” imagine KSKSK

plot : after going through this rather peculiar moment, you unexpectedly bump into Tom in one of the changing rooms. From there, things take an unexpected turn.

warnings : smut ( with /legal/ age gap ), unprotected sex, extremely light and discreet spanking.

You were pulled out of your daydream session again by the exhaustingly familiar sound of the director throwing around new orders, setting you and Tom free from set as this scene didn’t necessarily needed to be filmed twice. You were now sent off to the makeup and costumes room which was located nowhere far from the place you currently sat. Tom wasn’t meant to be changing nor getting ready in the same room as you did, which was totally understandable due to the fact that you didn’t share the same gender nor age. He therefore took a different turn than you did, feet leading him to the left as you were accompanied on your right.

You were allowed in your personal changing room, the makeup lady arranging her stencils which laid on the table before the mirror. However, she suddenly seemed to remember about an important detail which she seemingly needed to be getting on the instant. You were therefore left alone with nothing but the costumes and cold cup of tea to keep you company. Sighing tiredly, you sat down on the chair which faced the mirror, eyes falling on your own tired reflexion. However, you were now able to hear the sound of the door opening again, a forced smile appearing on your lips as you expected this person who just walked in to be the makeup artist.

“Did you find what you’ve been looking fo-“ you began, eyes diverting upwards only to land onto Tom’s familiar yet unexpected silhouette. He closed the door behind himself, leaning against the wall as his strong arms crossed against his bare chest. You were now trapped with him. However, it was far from being a bother. But your naturally strong mindset forced you to put up a mask and pretend as if his naked upper body wasn’t something which disturbed your mind and senses. “Oh, it’s you.” You spoke bluntly, trying you best to hide any emotion which could’ve been a threaten to your reputation as a young and serious lady.

Tom smirked. “Yes, it’s me.” He answered, his deep voice which carried a beautiful British accent rolling off his tongue perfectly. It never failed to make your heart and crotch melt. Finally getting up from the door, the older man slowly moved towards your seat before his veiny hands decided to take ahold of the leather material. His ocean blue eyes stared at your reflection in the mirror, yet he wasn’t making eye contact but simply admiring how beautiful your body was. Gently, his hand moved up to your hair which he dragged back behind your ear, fully revealing your beautiful face to him.

“You’re beautiful.” He affirmed, making sure to regulate both his voice and tone in order to guarantee that he would look as attractive as he possibly could- even tho he wouldn’t have needed any of these forced artifacts to seduce you or anyone else. You had caught him red handed through his game, though- again- it was far from being a bother. In contrary, you enjoyed it. However, the little voice in your head couldn’t help but beg you to deny his offer whilst the other part of yourself desperately wanted you to give in his flirts. Your body easily became a battlefield for those two separate opinions to fight and argue endlessly.

Face to your lack of answer- and that mostly because you were lost in your thoughts- Tom tilted his head before moving his hands down to the opening of your robe, gently starting to pull on it in order to reveal your bare chest. However, your own hand was soon to move up to his wrist and take a firm hold of it, asserting dominance and stopping the older man through his track. Face to this hostile move, the actor couldn’t help but grow confused. He frowned and accepted to respectfully pull his hand away. “Do you not want this? I beg your pardon, I thought you shared those same feelings which previously took possession of my body.” Tom explained, referring to how he felt whilst shooting the infamous scene barely a couple of minutes ago.

“No no, I do.” Your responded, your main priority being to make sure that he wouldn’t feel like he was in the wrong nor inappropriate. You finally agreed to get up from the chair you have been sitting on, still unfortunately remaining shorter than your screen partner who towered above you. “But isn’t this... not such a good thing? I mean, I always hear people brag about not mixing your love life with coworkers.” You explained, remaining aware that Tom surely didn’t work that way, which was easily noticeable if you bothered to take a look at the female casts from the movies he’s played in and link it all up with his never ending list of ex romantic partners.

Upon noticing that he didn’t seem to truly pay attention to your words, but more to your face, you stopped yourself through your speech. He was adorning those flirty eyes of his, which no woman could potentially resist to. No matter how hard you fought, in the end, you’d always fall for him. “Can you- stop looking at me like that, with your eyes and.. eyebrows.. and all of it.” You ordered, hands gesturing towards his face. Hearing those satisfying words, Tom accentuated his facial features game. “Looking at you like what?” He responded, slowly moving closer to your body until his hands could finally wrap around your waist. It felt like a huge victory to him.

Before you could know it, Tom’s lips pressed against yours, the man offering you a genuine and intense kiss which honestly resembled the ones he’d give you on set. But for now, this didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you were sharing a wanted and needed moment with your screen partner. His hands moved down from your cheeks to your shoulders, pushing off your robe which fell off your body with ease. Unlike him, you didn’t adorn any form of underwear and was therefore left naked for the older man to cherish and enjoy. The kiss progressively intensified, both of your lips parting in order to allow each other’s tongue to come in.

As he embraced your figure, Tom slowly started to push you towards the nearest wall, the two of you stumbling upon a couple of objects before your back could finally collide with the hard material. You moaned against his mouth, knee moving up to his hip which allowed you to feel his hardening bulge against your sensitive core. Your clit was throbbing, begging for sexual satisfaction coming from the man. Feeling your leg suddenly raise against his hip, Tom’s hand moved underneath your thigh and made sure to hold it up there, offering you some free support so you wouldn’t have to carry the heavy member on your own.

Tom cared a lot about the feminine pleasure- probably more than he did care for his own- which would surely guarantee you a good time spent with him during this early afternoon.

Upon feeling that you were now wrapping your arms around his neck, Tom decided to take the initiative to pull his boxers down- setting free his hardening member which had yet to grow to its full size. He was now able to fully pick you up, hands wrapped underneath your thighs in a cautious manner. His tip wouldn’t stop colliding with your soaking hole, visibly begging for entrance without ever truly daring to cross the step. Thankfully, you knew that Tom had always been a very determined man who usually reached out for the stuff he wanted instead of waiting for people to give it to him.

Therefore, it didn’t take long for him to carefully sit you down on his cock, being able to feel that you were now wet enough to painlessly welcome in his prominent member. You guys moaned together, his forehead pressing against yours as his girth was progressively coated with your love juices. Once he reached balls deep, the actor decided to take a couple of seconds in order to allow you to adjust to his size, ocean blue eyes looking up at your face which he admired and praised more than anything in the world at the moment.

Kissing your lips, Tom began to move again, hips gently and cautiously thrusting forward and retracting backwards repetitively until he felt like he could now fasten his pace. Meanwhile, you found yourself lost through pleasure and bliss, forehead firmly pressed against his as you decided that it would probably be wiser for you to keep your mouth shut and avoid to attract anyone else’s attention. Besides, you only wanted and needed his. Moaning out loud would’ve been a great risk to take as the two of you remained aware that you were in a studio filled with thousands of working people. Therefore, Tom regulated his pleasure by wincing and hissing silently whilst you decided to carry on humming sensitively.

Your arms remained wrapped around his neck as he carried on pleasuring your cunt as well as his own member, lips praising your neck which in some way also helped him through the restricted moans process. His girth rubbed past every single sensitive spot of yours, g-spot going wild and swelling out of pleasure due to the man’s perfectly appropriate actions and mannerisms. However, and without giving you a warning, Tom suddenly pulled out in order to flip you around- you chest now facing the wall as you were soon to understand that your job was now to bend over for him. His arms had probably grown tired of carrying you, which you acknowledged and understood.

Before he decided to bend you over, his large hands moved up to your breasts from behind your back, caressing and squeezing them with a lot of lustful care before he retracted his hand back to your spine, pressing his palm against your flesh and forcing you to slightly bend over. There wasn’t much space between you and the wall, which therefore only allowed you to fold a little bit. Your own palms collided with the wall as Tom’s hand caressed all the way down to your bum, giving the flesh a gentle slap before allowing his digits to take ahold of his own girth. He guided his tip to your entrance again, taking time through his actions to make sure that he would execute them properly and painlessly. Even through lust, Tom remained a gentleman.

Feeling his hardness slide inside of you again made your legs tremble, yet Tom made sure to hold you up by giving your hips a gentle and reassuring squeeze. The muscles he had developed through the intense hours spent at the gym contracted as he began to move in and out of you as you tried your best to once again remain silent and discreet. Though, a couple of moans eventually had to escape your lips. Tom shushed you respectfully, giving your bum a light spank which stood as a punishment face to your risky behavior. Yet you refused to complain, smile appearing on your parted lips as the older man continued to pound your core.

Eventually, his hips began to stutter, thrusts gaining in sloppiness which was due to his nearing orgasm. This once Tom didn’t manage to hold back his own moans, hums and groans escaping his lips as he respectfully pulled out right before white strings of sperm could be projected against your cervix. Instead, the thick liquid landed on your back, staining your flesh. “Fuck..” he praised, taking a deep breath in before exhaling loudly. His hips continued to gently rock against yours, shaft rubbing against your upper bum as Tom wished to fully get over his orgasm.

You were left emotionally shattered, body still recovering from the intense amount of emotions and sensations which had previously taken possession of your body- brain still attempting to figure out wether this was right or negative for both of your careers.

Y’all asked : I deliver. I hope you managed to enjoy it! Requested tags : @lokis-leah @marianastudiesart @fa-me @lokistoriesblog @sunshineyrosie @delightfulheartdream ❤️

[ Every single share/comment/like means a lot to me as a writer! Please never doubt that! I acknowledge and praise each one of those interactions as they also help to motivate me. Love you guys💜 thanks for the support. ]

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #marvel #marvel imagine #tom hiddleston oneshot #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston fanfic #Tom Hiddleston fluff #Tom Hiddleston

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mythicamagic · 3 years

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Fangs of Silver: Sesskag oneshot

Summary: Kagome Higurashi has her work cut out for her, hunting one of the most elusive and powerful werewolves known to man: the Killing Perfection. Sesskag smut oneshot. Werewolf Sesshoumaru/monster hunter Kagome.

Rated M

Words: 4,700

Read on Ao3 and Dokuga

AN: for @cookieasylum for an art trade. Thanks bud! Hope you like it

Fangs of Silver

Warning: werewolf x human smut, knotting, menstrual sex

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Two fingers unfurled to touch the moonlit forest floor, tracing the outline of a large paw-print stamped into dirt. Even splaying her palm wide with four fingers and thumb outstretched, Kagome couldn't hope to meet its size, dwarfed in comparison.

"Looks like I've found you again," she muttered, straightening from her crouch. Walking onwards and listening out for any hint of movement within the imposing woods- tall anorexic trees completely still with sharp looking branches- blue eyes remained alert, watchful.

She'd been tracking this one for God knew how long now. Months. Had it been a year yet? Though even the smallest victory of finding his tracks left no time for celebration.

Kagome frowned to herself. This particular beast wasn't usually so careless. He evaded her during daylight hours by wading through streams or keeping to rocky terrain, never giving the same name when mingling with villagers. Even when the Full Moon hit- he managed to be elusive and surprisingly clever. The smartest one she'd been sent to hunt. This time he'd either been sloppy or…

Kagome glimpsed something through a gap in the lower trees, located further down the hill. Smoke?

Surely he wasn't trying to trap her with something so obvious.

Frowning, Kagome set down her weapon and snuffed out the flames of her torch, checking her supplies. Enough silver bullets. Enough jewel shards. Her guns were in good shape, but she was out of herbal supplements to repress a certain annoyance that also occurred every month. Wincing, she put a hand to her lower abdomen, feeling it cramp.

Crap, not now.

She'd have to ignore it. She couldn't afford to lose this guy due to Mother Nature kicking her continually in the gut.

This beast had committed countless acts of violence- leaving behind a trail of bodies in their respective towns and villages. Unlike usual werewolves who sloppily left bitten survivors to run amok, this beast made no mistakes. He seemed to kill specific people and left them firmly for dead. He never inflicted the curse upon anyone. Surprisingly his victims were usually reported to be less than innocent citizens.

Due to the killings- a bounty had been placed on what the authorities referred to as 'the Killing Perfection.'

Creeping down a steep incline, Kagome stepped as lightly as possible within the relative darkness of the trees -autumn leaves crunching beneath her boots.

A lonesome house in the woods stood like a mourner in a graveyard under the light of the Full Moon, dark wood faintly eroded by time. Vines held the chimney in a stranglehold, but smoke puffing out of the top revealed it to be in working order despite the dilapidated state of the house.

Slipping around the side of the building and ducking out of sight from any windows, Kagome stopped with her back to the wall, loading her rifle while stooped into a crouch.

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Kagome wasted no time. She pushed off and rounded the corner, kicking open the front door with the barrel of her gun trained inside.

Empty?

Kagome didn't let her guard down, slowly inching inside and glancing around.

The fireplace was lit with healthy flames- a kettle sat off to the side, an empty mug not too far away. Everything else in the room had a layer of dust costing it, but the armchair lay newly cleaned. Footprints trailed around the ashen floor, some human, some wolf prints.

Kagome searched the lower floor that comprised of mostly empty rooms, before pointing her gun up towards the stairs, setting foot on the first step.

It groaned loudly beneath her weight.

Wincing, blue eyes snapped to the top of the dark stairs for any tell-tale signs of movement.

Wandering up to the second floor cautiously and looking around revealed nothing more than dust bunnies.

Kagome frowned, eyeing the open window. Had he jumped down and escaped?

Sighing with disappointment, she shouldered her gun and trailed downstairs.

I suppose I can sweep the outside to pick up his trail again, but I bet he's long gone. He probably lit the chimney to distract me before making his escape and transforming for the night.

Wandering over to the kettle, she touched its side.

Still lukewarm. He'd literally just been there.

And I was too late.

Kagome groaned.

"What a disappointed noise. Were you aching to see me that badly?"

Stiffening, her heart jumped. The silky sounding words had come from behind her.

Pivoting on one heel, Kagome turned her weapon on the man lounging in the armchair.

His image blurred, snatching up her gun to lurch the barrel upwards just as she fired, the blast piercing the ceiling- some debris raining down.

Golden eyes sparked, snapping the barrel in two before throwing her to the floor with impressive strength.

Kagome gasped, back colliding hard with the wooden floors, winded. She quickly grabbed one of her pistols and trained it on the man- who had disappeared again.

"W-what?" she panted. "It's a Full Moon. Why haven't you transformed?"

"Ah, you wish for me to change? Very well," his voice rumbled from outside.

Fur blocked out the moonlight pouring in from the shutters, brushing along the side of the house. Quiet, hungry panting filled her ears.

Kagome quickly fired at the windows, but the shadows melted away, causing her to wonder if it had been a trick of the light.

"I heard tell of a woman who subdues my kind before using shards of a blessed jewel to revert them back into humans…"

Paws padded around the house, nails dragging- scraping the forest floor. "You have pursued me for some time. Did you hope to transform me into a mortal like those you have hunted before me? Break my curse?" the male uttered.

"I knew you were strong, so I didn't have much hope of using them. Taking you back alive to stand trial for all the things you've done is a tall order," Kagome grunted, lower stomach clenching. She quietly hissed. Cycle blood likely marred her trousers now.

"Indeed. Even if you shot me with one of your infamous jewels though, it would not work."

A figure bent down, twisting through the front door with the ease of a feline through bars. Sleek silver fur gleamed with a fiery hue, bathed in the hearth's orange light.

Saliva dripped from exposed canines, muzzle pulled back.

The werewolf towered over her in size. He had the look of a distorted wolf- pale torso resembling a man due to broad shoulders and defined abdomen. He shifted to stand upright, hind legs strong, capable of supporting his weight. Thick hackles rose, paws more akin to hands tipped with killer claws.

Unlike the other beasts she'd faced, this one had peculiar red markings slashing over his cheeks, lower legs and flank. Glowing red eyes burned with the heat of the sun.

"You unknowingly came in search of a Pure Blood. I cannot be 'fixed' little hunter. This is how I was born," he purred, mouth unmoving, whispering honeyed words in her mind.

Those eyes strayed down to her legs, nostrils flaring. "And you are in heat, no less. A fine time to go hunting for a predator."

Kagome shivered, raising her pistol and aiming it between his eyes.

The werewolf gazed at her calmly, completely different from the wild, almost rabid beasts she'd fought with before.

A Pure Blood…

She'd never come across a creature so ancient. He looked at her with intelligence, as she'd suspected from tracking him.

"I-I'm not in heat," she muttered, finger grazing the trigger without pulling it. Why wasn't he attacking?

"You hurt those townspeople. Why?"

"I walk among men in my other form. Occasionally I find those deserving of death. Those who harm their cubs and mates. Those who leech of their pack and drink themselves into violent stupors. Sometimes they simply get in my way."

Kagome grit her teeth, "so you dispense justice alone? I don't disagree with cruel people deserving some kind of consequences but you don't get to decide who lives and dies. That's playing God."

He chuckled inside her mind, mouth pulling back from sharp teeth in an imitation of a smile. "Is what you do so different, little hunter?"

"I follow the orders of my superiors- unless I think someone can be saved with the jewels I bless."

Interest brightened his gaze, tail swishing once behind him.

Her only warning.

The beast knocked her arms to one side, striking her down with a headbutt to her chest. The action sent her gun skittering away over dusty floorboards, disappearing into harsh shadows. One human-like forepaw pressed down on Kagome's stomach, making her breath wheeze free from frozen lungs- his other holding her right arm down to keep her pinned. He then leaned in close, white ears perked atop his head.

A white maw drifted over her startled face, nostrils flaring, inhaling her scent greedily.

"Holy powers…" he uttered thoughtfully.

Kagome's left hand fumbled with the hem of her shirt, eyes narrowing. "I'm a former sister of the church. It comes in handy when dealing with creatures that go bump in the night."

She abruptly thrust her formally concealed dagger up, aiming it straight for his heart.

Powerful jaws snapped down, locking around her arm- the beast hissing as her blade ran off course but scraped down his neck and shoulder.

Kagome yelped, dagger freezing. Her hand remained free outside of the cage of teeth but she dared not move. Teeth mouthed her arm without breaking the skin, until a particularly sharp canine made a trail of crimson leak down the inside of her wrist.

A large, wet tongue roved, licking and sliding over the length of her elbow and wrist while they lay trapped within the hot cavern of his mouth.

"Now we have both shed blood tonight, little hunter. Are you satisfied?"

Kagome panted, gritting blunt teeth. She glared hotly into large red eyes fixed on her, looming close. From the new proximity, she could now see his seafoam green irises and slit pupils from within the sea of crimson. They dilated the longer she looked.

"You are quite the woman," he rumbled appreciatively. "What name do you go by?"

"K-kagome."

"Hn, I am Sesshoumaru. I thank you for your relentless pursuit of me over these past few months. It was quite flattering."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply before a hiss broke her off. The clenching of her abdomen took up attention for a moment, twisting like a knife in her gut.

"Heat can be painful to go through alone," he acknowledged, teeth slowly easing from her arm, eyes trained on her warningly not to try anything. His slick tongue unwrapped itself from her arm with a trail of saliva. He licked his maw hungrily.

Kagome gripped her sticky arm, glaring from her position on the floor. No bite. Just a nick from his tooth. It wouldn't be enough to curse her. She warily lowered her dagger.

"It's just my monthly cycle. I'm fine...gn…"

"You seem it," he mocked, wolf expression unchanging, though his eyes danced.

His great head lowered, hovering over her groin. His nose drew closer, inhaling over the red patch. His long pink tongue slid out, drawing over it with a lingering lick.

Kagome yelped, forgetting her guns and blades- grasping the dense white fur of his neck. "W-what are you doing?!"

He managed to look suggestive without human features, tipping his head slightly. "As a hunter, it must be difficult to find relief. You are always working, are you not? Chasing evil…" his voice resounded with the finest baritone in her mind, coaxing and soothing, completely at odds with his monstrous appearance. He almost sounded aristocratic. "Fortunately...you happen to lie beneath a beast tonight."

Saliva, warm and dewy, dropped onto her leg in small puddles. Sesshoumaru gazed at her while snaking his tongue out once more, prying it harder between her legs.

Kagome gasped, back-arching, a rush spilling up from her cunt to twist sweet arousal at her core. She viciously clamped down on such a reaction, growling.

"No one gave you permission to take liberties with me, pal!" she drew her knee up, attempting to kick him away.

Sesshoumaru released her arm in favour of grasping her thigh, chuckling while forcing it down. "Why protest?"

Kagome snatched up her dagger again, pressing the hilt against her chest and keeping the point raised outwards.

"Why agree?! Y-you're a…" wide blue eyes flicked over his strange, inhuman body. "I've never- n-not with a werewolf. I'm pretty sure that's breaking some sort of rule. Or law."

"I will not tell a soul."

Her gaze turned flat, fingers shifting over the hilt. "I'm supposed to be killing you. We just tried to kill each other!"

"Hn, keep your friends close and enemies closer, as they say. Allowing them into your bed does not seem like such an extreme, and I find there is always a slight thrill in fighting, is there not?"

It was a night of firsts. Kagome had never experienced anything like it in her five years of hunting. None of her superiors had ever mentioned an intelligent werewolf who could control their transformation and shapeshift at will. The only whisper of it had come from dusty old books stashed away in catacombs. The air in the lonely house felt cold, tickling her skin like a living thing, but the space between Hunter and Werewolf crackled with intensity.

Kagome swallowed, feeling squirmy. She tensed when a wet nose came back up to sniff at her neck. Warm breath fanned over flushed skin as his snout travelled up and down, scenting. It soon buried itself within dark hair, making her gasp. The suggestion of teeth scraped the crown of her head, joined by a pleased, rumbling noise. Goosebumps rose on her exposed skin, blood burning, alight with confused but obvious need.

His alien, paw-like hand ran over her hip and breast, cupping the side of her jaw. The shock of thin fur and monstrous, long fingers tipped with claws should've terrified her. Kagome had fought against such hands for years. Her body held traces of scars where such nails had hooked and dragged into supple flesh.

As it was, when his second stroked her inner thigh, Kagome shuddered. He smelled faintly of clove and damp earth. His movements were deliberate. The inferno of his eyes when they locked with hers shone with hunger- but also curiosity. That mindfulness and clarity of his thoughts was what allowed her to hesitantly touch the hand on her thigh.

It felt too large and gangly to be a human, fur and heat brushing the calloused skin of her palm.

"You can't bite me," she warned, laying the flat of her blade against his neck. "I'll kill you if you do- and that'll instantly free me from the curse."

Sesshoumaru smiled with his eyes.

He forced her down again, claws making quick work of her pants, tearing a sizable hole at the crotch.

The wiry fur of his muzzle immediately dived down, fervently taking in her scent with hearty, eager inhales. It sent a rush of arousal straight through her, hips jolting.

Nose, teeth and tongue soon brushed her sex, before the latter thrust inside, heedless of the blood.

Kagome cried out, toes curling, going completely still. The invasive probing between her legs filled her entrance, sinking deeper. It then flicked outside, allowing her to feel the velvet rough texture. It swirled experimentally over her clit.

Shakily tightening her now slippery grip on the dagger, Kagome gasped and shuddered.

"I-I thought you were going to transform into a man-!"

Sesshoumaru gave a rumbling noise in response. He gripped the front of her blouse, yanking to rip it open and fondle her breast.

"You do not wish to see the creature you've hunted feasting on you?" the rumbling purr lifted into something darkly amused, tail flicking behind him.

He grabbed her hips, swivelling them to flip her over. Kagome yelped and snarled, about to protest when his palms kneaded her ass, raising it and tearing off the remainder of her pants- the pads of his thumbs dragging to her sex, spreading slick folds and delving a warm, thick tongue inside her all the deeper.

Kagome kept a needless grip on the dagger, a strangled noise caught in her throat. His muzzle nudged and pried, urging her to rock against his tongue. Feeling warm, she clumsily grasped at her coat, yanking her arms free and tossing it aside.

Full breasts were squashed to the floor under the weight of the werewolf as he pressed her down, but her nipples- stiff and hardened with pleasure- received friction from the steady rhythm. The pleasure came in small, electric bursts.

"Fuck," she groaned, biting her lip. This was wrong. She shouldn't allow this.

A clawed thumb rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs silenced that weak protest. It felt good. So deliciously good. Men scarcely put their mouth on her down there, deeming it 'dirty' or beneath them.

Kagome shivered, pushing back against the roving tongue continually thrusting inside her core, flexibly twisting, rubbing against her inner walls and licking with heinous, grunting noises like she slaked his thirst. They found a kind of rhythm without communicating through words, and an incredible rush built in her stomach- delighted to rock against his mouth.

Bowing her head and trying to concentrate on breathing, Kagome jolted and shamelessly moaned as his movements became more relentless, hungrily collecting evidence of her arousal and cycle onto his tongue.

"W-why-?" she managed out, straining to look at him over her shoulder- the tongue plunging faster in quick delves like he were mining for gold- sharp teeth scraping her entrance, adding rapidly to the throbbing feeling building up in her lower stomach.

Why was he pleasuring her? It didn't align with a wild beasts actions.

Blue eyes glimpsed glowing crimson behind her. With a sudden push of his humanoid paw on her back, trapping her in place- Kagome squealed loudly as Sesshoumaru pried so deep he wore her like a puppet with his tongue, grunting with savage satisfaction when she came from the action.

"Agh!" Kagome cried out, body igniting, juices immediately flowing into his mouth, which he collected enthusiastically with broad strokes. Somewhere between all this, she lost grip on her weapon. The blade clanked against the floors loudly.

After pulling away, the werewolf paid no heed to the red staining his lips, licking at his jaw in a decadent, gluttonous manner.

"Why what?" Sesshoumaru sat back on his haunches, ears perking, haughtily eyeing her with an air of pride. He probably took great pleasure in reducing a hunter to such a vulnerable mess.

Kagome felt like she'd received her answer. "Never mind," she caught her breath, forehead dotted with sweat. Her muscles burned despite the lack of physical exertion, body feverishly warm.

She sat up slowly, wincing at the slick feeling of her cunt. It fluttered and clenched, demanding more- wanting to be filled.

"I feel better now. We can end things there and-"

Kagome caught an eyeful of his crotch, entranced by the hard evidence of his arousal.

Oh.

She swallowed, reading the look in his eye easily. They wouldn't be stopping anytime soon. From the look of his long, thick cock, they'd be spending a while easing it in if he were committed to pleasuring her.

Somehow she felt alright with that. The fever in her veins wasn't satisfied yet, though she had reservations about allowing a literal werewolf to take her. However something undeniable had come to life in the pit of her gut, something raw and hot that left her wet between her legs and wordlessly begging.

Sesshoumaru's claws closed around her ankle, dragging her towards him- her ass coming to meet his twitching cock.

"I do not think you have unwound nearly enough. You must expel all pent up frustrations if you are to continue hunting me. I worry you will fall behind if not- your tracking has become sloppy lately."

Kagome whipped her head up and growled- just as the head of his cock nestled at her entrance, cutting off the noise and sending it choking. Blushing, she reached behind her, spreading herself for him- holding herself open while Sesshoumaru gave that jagged flash of teeth in response, slipping his thick length inside her inch by inch.

Whimpering and dropping her hands, Kagome bowed forward, trying to adjust. He sank even deeper. The sheer slickness between her thighs helped but didn't assuage the terrible stretch that threatened to overwhelm her. He was too big, his large and hairy body towering over hers, encasing her back with the furnace heat of his body.

"Ease yourself back against me- slowly," panting breath fanned over her damp neck. She felt him run an almost affectionate feeling lick up the sensitive shell of her ear. "Relax. This body was built to withstand many things," his palm stroked a path over her navel, circling up her hip where a scar lay. "You will not allow me to dominate you so easily, will you, Kagome?"

Panting, Kagome tried to get used to feeling every inch of him inside her, filling her clenching walls to the brim.

His hands were three times the size of hers, one settling beside her on the floor. The way he loomed over her made the formally fearless woman feel small, crushable.

"H-ha! As if," she shakily replied. Not one to give in, Kagome did as instructed, slowly rocking back against him just like before. She winced. The sensation was much fuller and tighter, uncomfortable.

Sesshoumaru hissed and groaned, rubbing at her clit again to shoot tiny bursts of fireworks through her system. It helped coax some pleasure back into things. Kagome gave a shaky moan.

Sensing her change in enjoyment, the wolf began moving.

She cried out, wincing a little at his slight withdraw- before groaning as he eased back in, creating a slow, building pace.

The thick, soft fur that covered him from crown to foot gleamed in the light of the room. Kagome could feel it hot against her back, tickling her skin. The strands began to stick to flushed flesh. Sweat began to bead, rolling down her shoulder blades.

"You take me very well, for a human," Sesshoumaru nosed at her hair.

"I can't say 'taking a cock' nicely is the highest compliment ever, but- thanks," Kagome panted. He gave an amused huff, giving a hard thrust in response that knocked her forward.

Yelping, she grabbed onto the first available thing. Her breath caught when her fingers met soft, warm fur. His arm.

It felt sturdy amidst the sea of sensations. Kagome held tighter onto it, bracing herself. She could sense the control beginning to slip from her new bedmate.

Sesshoumaru growled ferally, fanning hot, sticky breath over her shoulders. He then slammed inside her- ramming his hard cock completely within.

Letting out a loud, startled cry that bordered on a scream, Kagome bit down on his arm. He set a brutal pace, thrusting his cock with a quickness that blinded her. She squeezed her eyes shut so tight stars burst behind her eyelids.

Strands of dark hair stuck to her forehead, the rest bouncing and swaying with the werewolf's chosen pace: hard and merciless.

She sank her teeth harder into Sesshoumaru's arm, but he was completely silent inside her mind now. Whatever debonair and lofty charm he possessed had been shoved far back into the recesses of his consciousness, replaced with raw primal need and heavy grunts. He sought to fuck, and Kagome found herself mewling receptively, weakly rocking back against him.

With a snarl, he yanked his arm free from her teeth- rearing back onto his haunches and dragging Kagome with him, holding her hips while continually rutting into her.

Kagome went completely speechless in both pain and pleasure. The new angle nestled onto his lap with the steel band of his arms wrapped around her waist allowed him to reach new depths.

Letting out mindless moans, she rested her head back against his furry shoulder, body ablaze, cunt squeezing him deliciously. The arms holding her prisoner forced her to meet each thrust, creating an intense friction inside that brought her into a state of begging. "P-please- more. Fuck-! More, I'm so close, please!"

Sesshoumaru gave guttural snarls and rumbles in response. But there was something strange happening with his cock. She could feel it even while held under the haze of pleasure. Nudging up against her entrance, something thicker than his length and more rounded threatened to push inside. His knot.

Kagome couldn't react- distracted by another orgasm ripping through her at the most inopportune time.

The knot swelled and stretched her sex farther than she'd anticipated. With a jolt of his hips, Sesshoumaru followed her into orgasm, throwing his head back in a deafening snarl. A torrent of cum flooded her, painting her inner walls- all locked in by the werewolf's knot.

Kagome jolted and strained, mouth opening in a wordless scream. Full. She felt too full. Her sex strained, still squeezing him like a vice.

Slowly, his voice drifted back into her head. "Very good...worthy female...powerful. Should claim..."

"S-sesshoumaru?" she croaked weakly, limp in his arms.

A silver muzzle nuzzled the side of her head in response, crooning lowly. "Hn?"

"You uh..." Kagome panted, giving a weak gesture of her wrist, trying to rise and finding it impossible. He was quite literally locked inside her. "You knotted me- shouldn't you have pulled out?"

She wasn't concerned about being pupped- she'd handled dodging pregnancy with herbal aid before. However, like this, it made moving away impossible.

"Why would this one do that?"

Blue eyes blinked, shifting up to him. His fur plastering against her skin felt like a feathery bed cushioning her spine. "Because now we're stuck, for who knows how long. A few minutes to 30. I figured you'd..."

Want to get away. Re-establish our roles as enemies.

He acted the same as always. She couldn't anticipate his movements or read him.

A sinuous tongue she'd now become intimately acquainted with slid up her cheek. The fur receded at her back, and Kagome stiffened with alarm.

When she turned slightly, she found herself gazing at the pale, handsome features of a man. His markings remained, branding him as something inhuman despite the skin, pretty fall of hair and stern sweep of his brow.

"I intend to have you many times," Sesshoumaru uttered out loud, sounding much crisper in the quiet room. "In a multitude of ways."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply, gasping when a tongue thrust inside her mouth. Grunting, she managed to return the dominating press of tongue and teeth, biting his lip for good measure and feeling him shiver.

When he began moving again while locked inside her, she fell into the murky waters of arousal once more.

-----

The morning sunlight peeking through the broken blinds brought many aches and pains with it. Kagome heard the front door shut, footsteps drawing away before falling silent.

Sitting up quickly, a fur throw fell from her shoulders. It pooled in her lap, revealing the full extent of fresh scratches and claw marks littering her nude body, along with bruises.

She winced at the stickiness between her legs. The smell of sex overwhelmed the stuffy room. So it wasn't a dream.

Noticing a steaming mug of green tea sitting before the lit fireplace loaded with newly chopped wood, Kagome tentatively reached out to touch it. Still warm.

He must've just left.

Running her hands up and down her flesh, she found no bite marks. He'd stayed true to his word.

Feeling a little complicated, Kagome blinked upon noticing a letter sitting atop a fresh change of clothes on the armchair. Her weapons were also neatly arranged nearby.

Picking up the parchment, blue eyes flitted over the message.

'Pursue me once more, my hunter. I enjoyed feasting on you.'

Kagome pressed her lips together. She shook herself a little. This was still the enemy, nothing had changed despite a thoroughly pleasurable night. In the privacy of the room however, she allowed herself a small smile.

After eating, washing and dressing for the day, Kagome stepped outside.

Securing her weapons, she gave chase.

End

#sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #sesskag fanfiction #werewolf smut #monster boyfriend

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hobidreams · 3 years

Text

november 1869.

to remember what has been lost; to protect what still remains.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: drama. words: 2.4k contains: descriptions of blood/death, a reckoning.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 26. start from the beginning?

Before Queen Jeonghui’s tomb, you stand with hands bowed in reverence, mind laden with warm memories as sticks of incense burn above your fingertips.

“We all miss you, daebi-mama. I hope you are resting well,” you murmur, letting the smoke mingle with your breath in the air as you bow, deeply. “Happy birthday.”

A little ways away, the single guard that accompanies you is also offering his thoughts to the raised, grassy mound that the queen lies beneath. You’re glad it’s Myungho to come with you today. He’s a good man, one who allows you as much freedom as possible. He understands your need to escape sometimes. Nearby, the horses you rode here are grazing on the field, quietly snorting as their tails swish from side to side.

As you look upon the tomb, you wonder wistfully if mother has found the queen in the spirit world. If they’re playing the game of janggi they so loved in life, when both could find the rare time to continue their decade-long (friendly) rivalry while indulging in cups of strong, dark tea. The thought brings a smile to your face even as fresh tears fall at the remembrance.

In your peripheral vision, you see a swish of fabric, the sign of someone approaching. You give one last bow and slot your incense in the traditional tray, realizing it must be time to leave before it gets too cold and your limbs begin to freeze even under the layers of clothes. You must go back eventually, you know it, but that doesn’t make it easier.

But when you turn, the man that stands beside you wears royal robes — the scarlet fabric and golden dragons unmistakable.

“Jeonha?”

The king’s face holds only sorrow as he holds matching incense in his hands. Staring straight ahead, he bends into a bow, dipping his head repeatedly low, low, lower until he’s almost on the dying, waterlogged grass with it, the lit grey tips flickering in the wind as they are nearly doused from the force of his movements. He bites his lip hard, so hard he draws blood as he punishes his own legs with the bows but he doesn’t stop.

You watch him with emotion clinging to your throat, but you swallow the questions you want to ask as you swipe at your wet cheeks. Why are you here? Why did you change your mind? How are you? Are you okay? All these impertinent questions are for you, to satisfy your own curiosity, and that’s not what he needs right now.

Quietly, steadily, you wait until he has finally stuck in the incense in the memorial ash. You wait until he opens his eyes, red-rimmed as they are, and finds your gaze.

“I… decided at the last moment,” he murmurs. “You… were right. I had to see her.”

You nod. Think you understand everything else he means as well, even if he’s left it unspoken. “Me too.”

“She would have liked that you’re here.”

That simple sentence threatens another wave of nostalgia and longing. You let it pull you under. Sink yourself into it. The mourning, the grief. And the love. The love that was there. The love that still remains, the traces of it held in you both. Your fingers twitch with a sudden, daring want to take his hand. To meet your palms and find the warmth and the life pulse that beats so closely, so resolutely just beneath the surface despite all this pain and all this loss. If you could just reach out. If you could just take another risk…

“Jeonha, run!”

The scream comes from the hill behind you. You both whirl.

The head of the royal guard comes running over with his sword drawn. His teeth are grit, hair blown from the wind that sweeps through the grass, rippling. His blade is already stained with a color that makes your stomach lurch at the implication.

“Hoseok— What’s going on?” The king yells back.

“Rebels! An ambush. We don’t have enough men!”

These few seconds are all the warning you get.

An incredible roar of voices comes exploding up and then you see them. The thick crowd of men that come surging over the hill, fighting their way towards you. The unforgettable clatter of metal on metal desecrates this once-sacred ground. Your legs go soft as you panic, scrambling. You’re trying not to watch as guards and rebels alike are cut down, but the enemies are steadily advancing still. What should you do? Where should you go?

“Myungho, get the horses!” The king barks out. But one look at the steeds tells you that they’re frightened, rearing back as men descend upon them. They’re off, running away on instinct to preserve their own lives while damning yours.

“Jeonha, what are your orders?” Myungho’s grip on his weapon is tight.

“Go. Help Hoseok.”

“Yes, jeonha!”

But as the battle wears on, the dread in you only grows. The king’s men are skilled, but it seems there were only a few to begin with. They are overwhelmed by sheer numbers, yelling for jeonha to escape but he doesn’t move. You don’t know what to do. You are at a complete loss, standing beside him with fingers growing steadily numb. You have to do something. You— You can’t just let it end here, at the hands of these men bellowing with violence and anger and pain.

“Jeonha, w-we have to run,” you stutter, forcing yourself to move, tugging at the fabric of his robes. But when you look back at the opposite side, your only escape route, a throng of rebels come scattering across the grass. Cutting you off; rendering you helpless.

“Myungho, cover the rear!” Hoseok spits out as he takes down another three by himself, the quick whip of his blade reflecting a beam of sun. But even he, with two other guards in front, cannot hold all of them off, though there are less of the rebels now that remain standing.

Caught in the middle, you can only watch your allies strain and sweat. In your heart, you promise desperately that you heal them in the end, if only they will hold on now.

With an awful cry, one of the guards hits the ground and a rebel uses that chance. Breaks through the line of defense and charges right towards you both.

“Fuck the king!” He yells, his face smeared with dirt, his sword raised as his bare feet trip upon the grass but he just keeps coming somehow and you have no weapons and you have no shields but the very first instinct, the most primal one you have is to throw yourself in front of the king and take his pain for him and—

Hoseok dispatches the rebel from behind just as you move a single step forward.

“You…” The king’s voice is hoarse. His eyes are wide with shock as he stares at you, at what you just did. Then he’s shoving you aside and stooping to pick up the abandoned sword from the ground.

You realize what he means when he sweeps up his sleeves, adjusts his grip on the worn handle. “Wait, no, jeonha, you cannot—”

“Stay behind me.”

“I cannot allow you to—”

“Do not argue with me.”

Again, he leaves you with no choice but to watch his back.

Fear pounds away in your body like a thousand drums, thunder booming through the pulse of your clenched heart in your ears as the king takes a first brutal swing at an enemy. Somewhat out of practice against the towering man, he’s shoved back by the sheer force of the clash, feet skidding across the wet grass but he refuses to yield. Stubborn as he always is, he rushes in again only to be pushed back. Again.

The king tilts his blade, slices it quick only to have one sent right back at him, barely missing his shoulder by an inch. He doesn’t even flinch as he stands firm. Adapts in the moment and tries a new strategy, a new tactic that has him spinning, robes fluttering in the winter air as his shuddering breath comes out in a puff of white and ends in a fury of red. And again. And again until finally, finally, only the strongest of the rebels remain standing with the few allies you left, along with your brutal, bloodied king.

Before you, all the men are panting, open mouthed, every last one of them desperate for a victory that spells the doom of the other.

“Come on then,” the king goads, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in a show of nonchalance even though he’s obviously fatigued. “Attack.”

“You little shit!”

This man is enormous, easily a head above the king and he’s strong, muscles bulging from his torn tunic as he thrusts the sword ahead with surprising speed. The quick rush of air slices through two layers of robes, splitting the dirtied fabric open as the king narrowly escapes without a new scar. But his return stab doesn’t meet a mark and he’s slow on the rebound, steps lost some of the agility he had at the start.

Please. Please, you beg to whatever god may be listening, don’t let him die. But that rebel seems to have an endless strength as he forces the king back, meets him blow for blow for blow and you are so worried, terrified you’re going to see his last moments like this. Like this you will have been with him until the end just like you once stupidly wished. You’re so caught up you don’t realize what’s going on behind you.

“Su-uinyeo-nim! Watch out!” Myungho’s voice cracks as he cries your name, but you turn too slow. Myungho’s on the ground and the rebel that beat him is sprinting towards you, savagery in his scowl, his crude axe already suspended in mid-swing, just a few more steps, just one more shove to land right across your heart and you, you who has never held a weapon before in her life, you who has lived to heal and mend instead of hurt, what can you do right now but die?

“No!”

The scream is hoarse, a furious sound matched with a rush of robes that whip past your own.

You peel open your eyes in time to watch the king take the axe blow meant for you with his left arm. Despite his bark of pain, he swings with his right in exchange and it’s enough. The rebel falls, his axe plummeting uselessly beside him. Then the king falters too, sword clattering down as he finally drops to his knees.

“Jeonha!” You scramble to him. “Oh god, oh god, jeonha, why did you do that— Jeonha, how could you do such a thing? Jeonha!” You part the stained robes, stomach churning at the raw sight of his sacrifice. “We need to fetch you help. You need medicine, oh god, oh god.” This is panic like you’ve never felt it before as you look around, as if some miracle could occur, as if it hasn’t already occurred by the fact that you’re both still alive.

To one side, Hoseok is alone, gasping hard with the enormous rebel lying prone beside him, evidently having finished him off. Myungho has a gash running down his side, but he’s crawling towards you both still with a hand pressed to his wound for pressure. There is no one else. You have to do this on your own. You have to calm the hell down.

Using the nearby sword, you force yourself to focus and stop shaking as you cut strips of the inner layer of your skirt. You have to save his arm even as nausea swims in your mind, nerves making you want to empty your stomach.

“Hah...” The king’s chest lurches as he struggles for air. His eyes are hazy but he manages to fix them on you, as if to ground himself. “You’re… safe?”

Nodding frantically, you start to wrap the cloth around him, willing your fingers not to slip. “I-It’s deep, jeonha. Your wound is so deep.” You’re quietly sobbing as you tie the makeshift bandage to stop the worst of the bleeding. How could he be thinking of you at a time like this? It must hurt excruciatingly so, yet he is still trying to be strong.

Beside you, Hoseok is carrying Myungho’s weight, using the extra cloth to help his ally with his limited medical training.

“…Hoseok.” The king sucks in another long breath. “They… Those rebels were peasants, weren’t they?”

“Yes, jeonha… I think they were.”

He accepts this knowledge silently as you finish your preliminary treatment, but lack the resources to do anything else. You stare at the fresh red seeping through the flimsy cloth and hope desperately that it will be enough for now, until one of you can return to the palace and gather reinforcements to take you home. Feeling your fingers stop, he immediately tries to move his arm but winces, bites his lip at the sudden jolt.

“Don’t move, please,” you instantly say.

The king huffs a long, exhausted sigh as he sinks into the ground. Lets the tension seep out of him, though likely not by choice. His dark eyes flicker to the tomb briefly before they slide closed, the scar ever slashed startlingly crimson across the right side. Despite his best attempts, he is still winded, depleted. Human, after all. After all of this.

You brush matted strands of light hair away from his forehead, and pat at the drops of sweat that linger and prove how hard he pushed himself to fight. He shifts into your touch like a stray animal, allowing you take care of him for once without argument until his breaths even some, settling only in your arms.

“It seems it’s been a long time,” he says softly after a moment, his eyes remaining shut.

“Since?”

“Since I’ve protected someone.”

Your pulse catches. Blood thrums through you as you whisper, “but you did.” Your voice is viscous with relief, and gratitude. “You did.”

Only now do you dare to reach for his hand, to lend him some of your strength, even though you have seen again just how much of it he already holds in himself.

Wrapped in your warmth, he squeezes back just the once. Lets you know he is here, he is here, he is here with you still.

a/n: because i could never forget the way he wielded that sword in the mv. so... how you feel about our king now?

#ficswithluv #btsghostie #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts angst #yoongi angst #historical au #moonlit throne #rain writes #things only continue to shift don't they?

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eirikaanemo · 3 years

Note

Venti falls in love with an Inazuman rebel. The rebel has no vision, but what they do have is a belief that everyone has an inherent right to live freely. How does Venti know about this rebel in the first place? I honestly have no idea...

Visionless Visionary

Venti x GN!Reader

1.8k Words

Warning: Minor character death mentioned, prayer (if that bothers you)

Disclaimer: I knew next to nothing about Baal when I wrote this, so it may not be an accurate representation of her character.

Inazuma is a mess. That is just a fact now. Baal has suddenly become violent and a danger to her people. So many had done nothing but hold a vision she had bestowed upon them in the first place. And because of that, she struck your cousin down. You can still remember the thump of his lifeless body hitting the ground and the steady tap, tap, tap of Baal’s shoes as she walked away.

She seemed completely unaffected by her actions. You were anything but. The scene played over and over in your nightmares for weeks, and continues to haunt you. So when the rebellion reached out to you for support you were happy to assist. You found out he had just joined their ranks and that’s why he had been targeted.

However, you don’t have a vision so there’s only so much you can do. Of course they always welcome financial support and you gave it to the best of your ability. But you knew there had to be more you could do. So you spoke to some people and it was agreed that you would go to Mondstadt and position Barbatos for his support for your cause.

He hadn’t been seen in centuries, but he was the god of freedom, right? If anyone could help them, it would be him. So with the rebellion’s blessing you took your savings and made the long journey to Mondstadt.

Finding lodging was fairly easy. The people of Mondstadt were more than willing to help you. Especially once they found out what you were there to do. ‘Such a great and admirable cause,’ they said. ‘May Barbatos bless you!’ And all you could do was hope he did.

You prayed every morning and every night for help for your people. The heavens seemed quiet, but you didn’t let that dissuade you. Surely your sheer persistence would make a difference, you reasoned. And so you kept on.

One night, rather early on, you ran into a bard not long after your evening prayer. He had been not too far from the statue and you were captivated by the beauty of the song he played. It was ancient Inazuman and for just a moment you were able to forget and be caught up in the memories of better days.

When the song ended you were disappointed and tried not to pout. Judging from the laugh the bard let out when he saw you, it must have still shown on your face. “Did you like the song?” He asks. “I know I didn’t play for long. Would you like to hear another?”

“I would love to,” you admit. He smiles and simply starts on another song, this one also of Inazuma origin. From there he transitions into a more Mondstadtian style, singing The Ballad of Freedom. You know it well, as it’s a favorite of many of the rebels. As the last note fades he turns back to you.

“What brings you here, I wonder. Has it to do with your country being torn asunder?” He inquires.

“Yes,” you reply. “I’ve come to ask Lord Barbatos for his assistance in our cause. We fight for freedom from Baal, who has become nothing but a tyrant. As for me personally, well, she killed my cousin right in front of me. Her only reasons being the vision she bestowed upon him herself not many years ago and his belief that what she was doing was wrong. No one should have to suffer that.”

“Indeed, it seems you have a need. Your cause is just and swords you thrust. But the archons don’t just help everyone, so prove to him you’re worthy of some.”

“But how do I do that?” You question the cryptic bard.

“You’ll see in time, dear friend of mine!” He winks and you find your face warming. “Though I have a question if you don’t mind. Is the assistance you’re seeking a vision like mine?” He taps the glowing turquoise vision sitting on his belt by his hip.

“No,” you shake your head. “After what happened to my cousin, I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with a vision. For me they’ve been nothing but trouble.” He nods in understanding.

“I see how that would be. I must take my leave for now, we’ll see each other later anyhow.” And he’s off into the night.

He’s right that this is far from the last time you see him. And he’s right that you start noticing the tests that Barbatos has set before you. More and more people seek your help in one thing or another, especially since the one they call “honorary knight” left to Liyue. There’s much to do, but you’re happy to help them.

Eventually you stop helping them because it’s a test and start helping them because you want to; because it’s the right thing to do. You help Lisa organize the library. You help Barbara clean the cathedral. You help Amber keep watch. You help Venti with his performances from time to time. You stand in for Diluc’s barkeep while he recovers from an illness.

Days and days have passed and your relationship with Venti grows and grows. You notice more and more things about him that you rather like. His laugh. His eyes. His hands. His music. His sense of humor. His optimism.

Really, everything about him is amazing. You try to deny it at first. But you know deep down that you’re falling in love. And you’re seeing some hints that he might be too. Lots of them, because he’s started flirting with you almost constantly.

However, as your relationship grows, your hope dwindles. It’s been weeks! You’ve helped so many people and have prayed so many times. And yet you have not received an answer. Not even an acknowledgement that he has heard.

When you express your concern and discouragement to Venti, he is very concerned. “I’m just not sure how much longer I can stay,” you explain. “While I would hate to return empty handed, I can’t stay here forever.”

“Try just one more time, for me?” he asked you, looking a little guilty despite not having reason to be. It’s not like he was keeping Barbatos from speaking with you. As if he could sense your hesitance he sweetened the deal. “If you do, I’ll give you a kiss!” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and flashed you a mischievous smile and you felt a warm blush bloom on your face.

“Alright,” you grumble good-naturedly. “I’ll try one more time.” His resulting cheer and more cheery smile were nearly enough to have made you do it by themselves.

That night you approached his statue, feeling unreasonably nervous compared to the nights before. “Lord Barbatos,” you prayed. “I seek thy assistance for my people’s cause. We seek the freedom thou dost represent. Someday may we all be free to live our lives reasonably, but as we please. This is my vision, my hope. Please, if it be thy will, let thy winds be not still. Guide us to better days, for this is what I pray.”

You stay there for a long moment, waiting. Then, the wind picks up and you hear a voice from it. It seems vaguely familiar but you can’t quite figure out why.

“Your diligence and passion for your cause has secured my blessing,” the winds whispered. “My winds will be at your back and support your cause. However, if you accept a vision despite your fears, you will be able to do far more. The wind will whisper secrets to your ears. All plans spoken will be carried to your ears.

“You need not fight with it. Trust in me, that I will not strike you down for accepting this gift. In your time here in my home I have found you to be a friend to us so I will be a friend to you.”

You feel tears come to your eyes. “I accept,” you whisper. This will be incredibly valuable.There’s no way you could turn it down. And this is the kind of god you can trust and accept a vision from. He is as kind, generous, and benevolent as his people.

After a moment of silence, the winds calm and a gleaming turquoise vision lies before you, dangling from a necklace like a pendant. It’s smaller than some others you’ve seen and is hidden easily when you slide it over your head and under your shirt. That will be invaluable when you return to Inazuma. It would be most suspicious for you to return with one after everything that’s happened.

You take another moment to catch your breath and wipe the tears from your eyes. Then you take a particularly deep breath to steady yourself and make your way back to Venti. “How did it go?” He asks, and you smile in response.

“It went very well,” you said, pulling the pendant out to show him your new vision. “Now we match! Now… I believe I was promised a kiss?”

The smile on his face at your teasing words could have lit up a room, if you were in one. He took your hands in his and tugged you closer gently before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. It was a pleasant kiss, chaste but lingering and sweet.

He giggled at the face you made when he pulled away. You joined it, adding your laughter to his. Between the blessing and his kiss you felt like you were on top of the world. Then you remembered something that brought you down from your high.

“Venti, you know this means I have to leave now, right?” You inquire.

His face fell to a serious and thoughtful expression before it softened and he sent you a small smile. “Yeah, I know. You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” you respond softly. “I love you too.”

He nods. “Then I’ll wait for you. So don’t take too long, okay?”

“Of course, I’ll do what I can,” you reply.

Your parting is sad, but hopeful as he waves you goodbye until you’re so far away that he can’t see you. He sings nearly nothing but sappy love songs for the next week. He misses you, but knows you’ll be back. His winds won’t let anything happen to you after all.

When you return to Inazuma you find that all the rebels with anemo visions had their power boosted, the ships sailed swifter with the wind behind them, and the information the wind brought you gave you many victories. The struggle was still difficult, but the help you had obtained made a serious difference and soon enough you were headed back to Mondstadt.

You are headed home. After all, home is where the heart is.

tag list: @clouds-rambles

#eirika writes #venti #genshin venti #venti x reader #genshin impact x reader

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years

Text

my lady ~ geralt of rivia

word count: 1615

request?: yes!

“hello, could you write something where geralt gets really jealous because someone (jaskier or a random) flirts with the reader and he shows her who she belongs to? rough smut please!”

description: while travelling with a group to slay a monster, a pretentious king to be tries to flirt with geralt’s lady, leading to the witcher becoming very jealous

pairing: geralt of rivia x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist

You loved to travel with Geralt. You liked to see him in action, slaying monsters, but you also loved to be there to help him relax after a long day of fighting. After the ballad written by the exhausting Bard that had latched himself on to Geralt, many started coming to the Witcher to ask for help with finding and slaying monsters. This led to you, Geralt, and Jaskier becoming part of a group travelling to find some sort of monster that had been terrorizing kingdom after kingdom for nearly a whole year.

The king that was leading the team, a young man who had recently been put into the power, was determined to find this monster and to kill it himself. Apparently doing so would result in a great reputation for him. But his men insisted on looking to Geralt for help, which was definitely a much better idea than to wander aimlessly looking for a creature that they didn’t even know what it was.

Despite the constant urging of the king to keep going, the group decided to stop for the night to get some rest. They set up their tents and a small fire while one of the king’s men went to find some meat to roast over the fire. Geralt was sat next to you, his golden eyes glaring at the egocentric king.

“He’s going to get himself killed,” Geralt muttered. “Him and his men. What kind of reputation will he have then?”

“The one he deserves,” you responded. “The best we can hope for is he puts up some kind of fight instead of dying like a pussy.”

This brought a slight smile to Geralt’s face. “You could kill a monster twice his size quicker and easier than he could. He’d probably shit himself and run away before being eaten.”

You giggled. “I don’t think a monster would want a feast that tastes like shit. Probably would just rip him to shreds and leave his remains for his men to find. That would be a legacy for him.”

Geralt actually laughed at this, which caused you to laugh as well. Your laughter was noticed by the king, and the moment you both realized he had saw you, you quickly stopped.

“What are you two laughing about?” he demanded.

“Just reminiscing on old tales we’ve been told,” Geralt responded. “Have you ever heard of the one about the king who didn’t know how to fight?”

“Geralt,” you warned softly.

The king and Geralt held a prolonged staring contest as the king lowered himself to sit across from the two of you in front of the fire.

“I have not,” he responded. “What is so funny about that? A king should know how to fight.”

“Well, that is the thing,” Geralt explained. “This king claimed that he knew how to fight, and was willing to prove it however he could. He fought many a knight and always won, but he didn’t take that as a real victory. He was sure that they were throwing the fights as not to upset him. He said he wanted a real challenge, so he and some of his men went into the woods looking for the fiercest, most dangerous monster they could find.”

The king was on the edge of his feet, engrossed in Geralt’s fake story. You had to hold back a giggle at the anticipation on his face.

“Did they find one?” the king asked. “What happened? Did the king slay the beast?”

“No,” Geralt responded, plainly. “They found the monstrous beast, but the king insisted on fighting it alone. Hours later, his men realized he still had not returned, so they went looking for him. All they found were his remains, which smelled like shit.”

You buried your head in Geralt’s shoulder to muffle your laughter. Geralt smirked at the king, who looked shocked at the ending of the story.

“I don’t think that’s a very funny story,” he huffed. “Quite morbid actually.”

“It is what men like him deserve,” Geralt told him. “A man should not boast about things he is unable to do, and certainly should not drag his men into battles that they will surely lose.”

The king was now glaring at Geralt. You were sure he was starting to realize that Geralt’s story had been a joke in his expense all along, and you weren’t sure how the king would react upon realizing this.

His eyes drifted to you. You shuffled uncomfortably, looping one arm through Geralt’s and holding him tightly.

“You are quite beautiful, my lady,” he said. His voice was more calm than you expected, and you weren’t sure if that scared you more or not.

You gave him a small smile and softly responded, “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“It is such a shame that your beauty is wasted on a man like the Witcher here.”

Geralt tensed against you. You squeezed his arm again, trying to calm him down. You refused to meet the king’s eye as he stood and approached the two of you.

“I do mean it, my lady,” he said as he lowered himself to be level with you. You looked down at the ground to avoid his gaze. “Ever since I laid my eyes on you, I have been infatuated with your beauty. I have never met a woman quite as beautiful as you. If you’d let me, I would love to shower you with anything and everything you could ever want.”

You flinched as you felt his hand softly caress your face. This was enough for Geralt, who stood quickly and drew his sword. The king’s men came to attention then, surrounding Geralt with their weapons pointed towards him. The king was still in front of you, stupidly waiting for your answer.

You glared at him before responded, “Get the fuck out of my face.”

His face fell then, quickly turning to anger as he stood to address his men. “Just a misunderstanding, gentlemen. You may leave the Witcher and his wench alone.”

The king’s men stood down, but still kept a watchful eye on Geralt as they retreated towards their tents. Once they, along with the king, were gone, Geralt took hold of your arm and roughly pulled you to a stand. He dragged you towards the tent the two of you were sharing. You struggled to keep up, occasionally stumbling.

When you reached the tent, Geralt closed the flaps behind you and ensured that no one would be able to see through them. He turned to you and immediately attached his lips to yours, kissing you roughly. His hands traveled over your body, starting at your ass and running slowly up your back, causing you to shiver. When he reached the top of your dress, he roughly pulled at it, ripping the fabric and letting it drop to pool around your feet.

“You could’ve just asked me to take it off,” you said as Geralt guided you to floor, laying you down in front of him.

“Would’ve taken too long,” he responded as he threw his weapons to the side and took his pants off. “You have enough clothes to be able to change in the morning, I’ll buy you a new dress once we finish this stupid mission.”

Before you could respond, Geralt shoved himself into you, causing you to gasp. Usually, he gave you enough time to adjust to his size, but he seemed as though this time was less for pleasure and more as though he had something to prove.

His thrusts were immediately rough. You couldn’t help but cry out in pleasure as his hips would meet yours, the loud sound of skin slapping against skin ringing out through the tent.

“That’s right,” he muttered into your ear as his lips attacked your neck. “Let that pretentious little prick know who you belong to.”

You cried out Geralt’s name as you felt yourself nearing your climax already. Your legs were shaking and your eyes were rolling back into your head as you felt yourself orgasm. Feeling your walls clench around him caused Geralt to moan as he buried his head in your shoulder.

His rough thrusts began to speed up, and that’s how you knew he was nearing his climax as well. Finally, his thrusts became sloppy and you felt his warm seed filling you. You both moaned together as Geralt rode out his orgasm. He slipped himself out of you and rolled next to you, wrapping his arms around you and holding you to him.

“You really did not like the way the king spoke to me, huh?” you teased.

Geralt made a face. “My lady. That little prick has some balls to say that shit in front of me. I wanted to slice his head clean off of his neck.”

“I have a feeling he very rarely hears the word no,” you noted. “You know I would never leave you, let alone for someone like him, right?”

Geralt’s hold on you tightened as he kissed your forehead. “I know you wouldn’t, but that doesn’t mean the way he spoke to you doesn’t make me angry.”

“I know,” you told him. “If it helps you feel better, just remember that we probably won’t have to deal with him for much longer once we find this monster.”

A smile spread across Geralt’s lips. “That really helps. I hope I’m the one to find his remains. It would bring me the most joy I’ve ever felt.”

You giggled and cuddled into Geralt’s side. Your body ached from the sex, but you weren’t exactly complaining. You listened to Geralt’s steady breathing as it lulled you to sleep.

#geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt imagine #geralt x reader smut #henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #the witcher #the witcher imagine #the witcher smut #netflix

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creativeashproductions · 3 years

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A Distant Dream I // Luke Patterson

Summary: In 1994 seventeen year old Luke Patterson had once again tried to ask out the girl that held his heart. With the belief he would see the younger Mercer girl the next morning he decides wait to confess his feelings. Only to have soft music bewitched the reader into an antique wardrobe with lots of history.

Warnings: Swearing, strict parents, missing persons, cops, violence, death, and angst

Words: 3k

A/N: Finished one series, starts a new one then gets hit with a dream of a crossover with Narnia and JATP. My brain needs to stop.

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Masterlist

Patterson Home, 1994

The teen’s hands laced up her boots with her mind stuck on the successful dinner with the boy situated on the couch. His eyes lost in daydreams of the girl he had shared a sweet goodbye with, seeing her at school felt like it would be years. Luke Patterson was slowly building up to ask out the girl of his dreams.

You glanced over at the messy-haired brunette you had known for years through your older brother Alex. A year separated you from Luke and Alex, but it didn't matter to the bond you had with them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Reggie’s picking us up.” You waved at the seventeen-year-old teenager cupping his cheek in one hand.

Unable to stay seated Luke rushed to tug you into an abrupt hug before just as quickly letting you go. Cheeks dusted pink Luke’s lips parted to form the words that could make one of his dreams come true.

"Would you…" Luke trailed off, feeling the confidence falter at the hopeful look in your pretty eyes, "Tell Alex that he still has that movie?"

The hope in your chest fluttered before it shuddered once more as Luke retreated from asking his question. With a nod, your fingers opened the door to walk down the streets to own home.

With one last wave Luke watched as you disappeared behind the trees in his front yard with the promise he’d ask her out tomorrow.

That chance wouldn’t happen.

That hopeful night in 1994 was the last night Y/N Mercer was seen. The night that it all started to fall apart in Sunset Curve’s lives.

The sword was thrust in the air as victorious cheers sounded over the hillside filled with the war's casualties. Chest heaving from the fight she had won against one of the Boggles in the White Witch's army. Your eyes scoured the battlefield for your friends you had made in the short time you had been in Narnia.

Across a great distance, you found Peter already beaming across at you as the adrenaline of winning overtook you. The happiness wavered when you saw the prone body of Edmund in the grass.

“No!” You shouted racing in the armour to the three remaining Pevensie children gathering around the youngest male sibling. The breath leaving Edmund’s body in the presence of his siblings he had made up with.

Let’s go back a few weeks to when your most significant issue had been the feelings for Luke Patterson. To when your decisions didn't include making battle plans with your new friends and avenging the death of Aslan; the talking lion.

Moments after leaving Luke’s place.

There was something about the night that soothed you from the disappointment in your body as being let down. Alex had been telling you for so long that Luke had feelings for you, but every-time you believed him it didn’t happen.

Once more, you had left the Patterson home with knowing if Luke liked you or not. Continuing to walk, you halted at hearing something. Soft music so unlike what you heard blasting from Alex's room or the gigs you attended to support the band. It was reminiscent of the music box that used to put you to sleep as a child.

"Hello?" You asked, shifting the beanie that slid on down your forehead a little. Your eyes peering around the silent streets.

The music grew louder as it entranced you into following the sound to a dilapidated building situated near older stores. So taken by the music you didn’t question why the door to the store was unlocked nor how a golden light shined from one of the antique wooden furniture.

“Come along.” A voice whispered from inside the imposing wardrobe.

Your fingers shook as you slowly pulled the door open with a creak that blasted around the darkroom. The first thing you noticed was the old fur coats hanging in the small wardrobe. The door closed behind you with a click, the golden glow dying as any suggestion she had been in the store disappeared.

The breath caught in your throat as the temperature dropped and somehow you found snow inside and trees. The crunch of snow beneath your boots surprising you but not as much as your hands pushed the branches away. Vision no longer obstructed you discovered a new world of winter and sunlight.

Standing not too far away you found four bodies of varying height staring around in wonder just as you had. The group turned on their heels at the sound of your boots crunching the snow.

The tallest of the group had honey blonde hair neatly cut and styled off his pale forehead revealing a startling pair of blue eyes. He was at least six feet tall as your estimation. His own widened at the sight of you before you took in the three other people with him—an older brunette girl standing over a younger brunette female. Set a small distance away was a young teenage boy appearing standoffish.

“I don’t suppose that is another one of your friends, Lucy?" The teen asked glancing down at the youngest of the quartet.

"No, but Peter maybe she's friends with Mr. Tumnus!" The little girl exclaimed already making her way to you when the other girl stopped her.

The next thing you noticed was their odd choice in clothing, the older boy Peter wore a light grey button-down with his dark slacks held up by suspenders. Not a single piece of clothing you recognized on people in your life.

“Lucy, she’s a stranger in a strange place.”

“This is Narnia.” Lucy stressed pouting, “Susan, it’s not polite.”

Susan's hand loosened at the reminder of manners, but with that, Susan pushed her little sister behind her. Peter stepped in front of his family to walk over to you.

"Hello, are you from around here?" Peter asked, coming closer, "I'm Peter Pevensie. This is my younger sisters Lucy and Susan. The boy over there is my little brother Edmund.”

The scowl on Edmund’s face twister further, “I’m not your little brother! I’m thirteen. Lucy’s the baby!”

“Edmund!” Susan admonished with a furrowed brow before stepping up with Peter, "What is this place?"

"Look, lady. I was walking home from my friend's place and heard this music. It's a little foggy, but I followed into an antique store." You spoke glancing at the winter wonderland that made you question if you had taken drugs.

“You’re American!” Lucy gasped rushing closer, “Why did you come to England? It’s it safer from the war in America?”

You stepped back in confusion, “I’m Y/N. War? In England? When did that happen?”

All four of the Pevensie’s stumbled back in shock at hearing that someone of your age being unaware. Susan finally took the time to take in your appearance a stark contrast to the modest, loose red and green tartan knee-length skirt. Instead, you wore a mid-thigh red plaid skirt over sheer black tights, but the most scandalous part of your outfit for Susan was your high neck black top that revealed your midriff.

“Are you daft?” Edmund questioned, stepping closer, his dark eyes pinning his angst on you, "We got evacuated from London because of it!”

Your eyebrows raised in response to the very posh accent berating you even as he was shoved back by Peter.

“You really haven’t heard about it?” Susan asked, confusing you further, but slowly it came together in your mind.

As a Mercer, you had expectations placed upon your shoulders to keep your family’s reputation in place. One of the expectations was academic excellence for your parents to boast about among their friends. To get them off your back, you studied hard with Alex in order to get away with the way you dressed and Alex being in a rock band.

Your eyes scanned the individuals' outfits before you while calculating the years London, England, was evacuated by war. A faint memory of sitting in your history class sparked on the action to evacuate mostly children. Operation Pied Piper. World War II.

"Can we go to Mr. Tumnus?" Lucy inquired, bringing her older siblings' attention to her shivering in the cool air.

“But we can’t go hiking in the snow dressed like this! Let alone Y/N in her clothing.” Susan protested also rubbing her cold arms. Peter simply strode back into the wardrobe, grabbing an armful of the coats still hanging in there.

“No, but I’m sure the professor won’t mind us using these.” Peter spoke, handing out a coat first to his siblings before turning to face you with a smile, "Would like you to join us?"

Your eyes turned to the tree hiding the door of the wardrobe to the place you knew. To return to the Mercer household where it felt stifling under the watchful eye of your parents. To a house that judged you for your dreams that went further than your parents' plans. To a boy that threatened to cradle your heart or shattered it to pieces with only a few words.

"I'd love to join you." You spoke sealing your fate by grasping a coat, but Peter stepped around to help you put it on.

The feel of his hands pushing the collar further rose a dust pink blush on your cheeks at the care he displayed. His blue gaze held firmly with yours before he shook it off with a throat cleared.

“Anyway Susan, if you think about it logically, we’re not even taking them out of the wardrobe.” Peter finished shoving the very last coat to Edmund to draw out the young boy’s discomfort.

"But that's a girl's coat!" Edmund whined offended at the fur pushed into his torso. His offended feeling rising at Peter's confirmation that he knew that too.

A cheeky smile expanded at the interaction that reminded you of Christmas mornings with Alex on who got to open the first gift. The sibling fighting that was never really as vicious as they felt like at the moment.

“To Mr. Tumnus’!” Lucy exclaimed skipping ahead of the group with Edmund trailing behind.

The Mercer home, 1994

Luke woke up with a feeling that last night had been his last chance to admit his feelings for his best friend’s sister. It felt like something had drastically changed from the previous smile he saw from you before you turned that corner. He made himself a promise he wouldn't break to shout his love from the rooftops just for you.

He couldn't wait for Reggie to pick him up, so he quickly grabbed his backpack to race out the front door. His plate barely in the sink before he was racing down the streets to Alex and your place. The grin of excitement faltered at the sight of a police car parked at the Mercer house's curb.

Mrs. Mercer sobbing in her husband's neck as a forlorn man, held his hat in his hands as he continued speaking. Luke's world lost colour for a split second before he found the blonde drummer collapsed on his knees, clutching his hair in his hands.

Then the colour leeched from Luke’s life as the once thought impossible happened.

"Alex, what's going on?"

“You!" Mrs. Mercer shouted, hearing the voice of the teenager that had taken something from the woman, "What did you do to her!”

Luke stumbled back at the heated glare from the mess of a woman so unlike the posh made-up woman. Alex was quick to push by his parents to stand shakily next to his best friend with splotchy red skin and swollen eyes.

"Luke didn't do anything! I saw her on the way home when I went to dropped that movie off at Luke's place." Alex smoothly lied to his parents saving Luke the exhaustion of a police station, and it would be the one lie that would go to their graves with them.

“My baby.” Mrs. Mercer screamed hands digging into the perfectly mowed green grass uncaring of the stains on her once immaculate elegant pearl satin slacks.

Turning robotic Alex ushered Luke down the street to the Wilson home they had turned into the band centre. Luke followed like a puppy into the open garage where Alex promptly collapsed into a fit of sobs and heavy breathing.

"She's gone." Alex cried, leaning into the sudden body hugging him with soft whispers in his ear, "Luke, Y/N didn't come home last night. None of her friends have seen her. My little sister’s missing!”

And just like that the world no longer made sense to the seventeen-year-old guitarist. The next year dragged by with running away from home. When Luke wasn’t writing music or sleeping in the studio, he was on the streets.

Clutching his favourite picture of you as he walked the streets asking if anyone had seen you while avoiding his own missing person’s poster.

Cair Paravel, Narnia

The sun rose over the land you had come to love and protect for as long as you could remember. Sometimes you hoped you’d see Aslan in the distance, but he had been gone ever since the coronation. The feeling of missing him shifted to something, no someone else you missed. It felt like a dream, and when the dream started to become clear, a hand brushed against your hip.

"Hello, darling," Peter spoke brushing a kiss on your cheek before his silky hair shifted on your skin to rest atop your own head.

A soft smile overcoming your features as his ring clinked against your own and you turned in your private chambers to stare up at him. Your hand brushing the stubble that had grown. Your eyes taking in his tanned skin from riding in the sun. For a second you swore his blue eyes flickered to hazel green.

Sometimes when you slept, you dreamt of a time where everything was different from what you knew here. Of a time when your heart fluttered for a man with hazel green eyes and a curtain of messy dark brunette hair.

“Are you alright?” Peter questioned leaning back to scan your features. It wasn't often, but he was sure you wandered off in mind.

“I’m feeling perfect.” You replied turning to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “I’m standing the arms of my King-“

“You looked beautiful tonight.” For a second, your personal bed-chamber melted away into a large room with poorly made decorations and lines on the floor of different colours. Instead of standing in Peter's arms, you found yourself moving to the music in another's arms. The same faceless person in your dreams.

"Maybe it's time we give Narnia an heir." With Peter's words, the world returned to the way it had left a bitter taste in your mouth, "What do you think of the name Luke?"

The name choked you with emotion.

Alex jogged into his sister's room, huddled over her white desk reciting information of her exam the next morning. His blue eyes lit up as he hurried to your side.

"What do you want, Alex?" You sighed turning to look at your brother with disinterest only wanting to ace this test. That way, your parents could rub in in their friends face on beating Sarah with the highest grade.

“I joined the band.” Alex beamed bringing your attention fully on him in surprise, “I’m tired of pretending to like classical music and wearing a suit that chokes me. I’m tired of having to play dress up in fancy clothes when what I want is that big pink sweater from that thrift shop. I’m tired of looking like they think a Mercer should look like. I wanna look like Alex, like myself.”

Your lips turned up at the passion ignited in Alex at the mention of three friends that had quickly become family. In welcoming Alex, they had welcomed you into the group as well. Luke being the closest friend you had that didn't care what you wore or what you said.

"You should come. You've never stayed to listen to them rehearse. Luke would love it if you came." Alex teased poking your side in the pale pink silk blouse and white knee-length skirt.

You were tired of pretending as well. You wanted to be the girl wearing a band shirt and ripped jeans. You want to wear what you wanted instead of what your parents expected. Instead of voicing a reply, you moved to the walk-in closet of designer clothing. At the very back hidden from sight was your chosen attire. In seconds you changed into one of Alex’s old band shirts tied in the back for a cropped shirt and your favourite pants.

A swipe of rebellious red lipstick to finish the look you followed Alex to his room with the large tree. You had no clue if the feeling of butterflies was from rebelling against your parents or seeing the teenage boy slowly stealing your heart.

“Not Luke.” You whispered to the man you had matured from an angsty sixteen-year-old to a twenty-five-year-old.

“Lucy may think we named him after her.” Peter joked retreating as the door to the chambers was knocked on, “I believe we owe Edmund a birthday feast.”

“I’d rather not live another year of his complaining.” You moaned lifting the skirt of your long midnight blue dress to exit the room. All thoughts of a former life disappearing like smoke once more.

King Peter and Queen Y/N took their time to the dining hall where the rest of their family was patiently waiting. Susan and Lucy sharing a smile at the topic that had been flooding the kingdom since the royal wedding two years ago. Narnia was wondering when High King Peter and his Queen would proudly show off their firstborn.

"About time. I thought we'd enter another hundred years before you two came." Edmund spoke from his chair, but instead of the same tone as the boy that first entered Narnia, it was teasing.

"Shove off and eat your cake." Peter laughed, keeping his hand encased in yours. All of them at ease with the only worry on the conflict that threatened the royals from the Ettinsmoor nation.

Part Two

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