#{ Beauty is about having a pretty heart and a pretty soul } (visage) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

naturally-recklessly · 2 years ago

Photo

NAVIGATION

｛ open starters ｝｛ about ｝｛ answers ｝｛ visage ｝｛ aesthetics ｝｛ musings ｝｛ playlist ｝｛ wanted opposites ｝

STATS

GENERAL INFORMATION

MOTHER Catherine of Braganza — Queen consort of England, Scotland and Ireland | FATHER Satan | SIBLINGS None | PET(S) None

FACECLAIM Poppy | HAIR COLOR Blond | EYE COLOR Brown | HEIGHT 1.60 m (5ft 3in) | TATTOO(S) Pentagram on left wrist

LIKES Rock music, pretty things, having her way, challenging people, pink champagne, spicy food | DISLIKES Feeling controlled, being told "no", churches, mushy people

QUALITIES Charismatic, charming, fearless, perfectionist, self-confident, smart, strong-willed | FLAWS Hot-tempered, impatient, insensitive, selfish, stubborn, unforgiving

BIOGRAPHY

The Devil had always been a lonesome creature, thinking that if he wanted a job well done, he had to do it himself. Therefore, he never felt like he needed an heir, even if his archenemy had already had a son of his own, granting him even more worshippers, making him more powerful. No, Satan was perfectly fine on his own, surrounded by his loyal, most lethal demons, until he wasn't anymore. Was it the changing of times? The prosperity and development mankind went through, that they had stopped fearing him, or worse... believing in him? Oh no... he'd send them a little reminder of his existence and power. And just like that, he unleashed the Great Plague upon them, killing thousands of people and instilling fear into their little minds, much to his enjoyment. When almost a quarter of London's population had died in a short period of time, the King was desperate. He would do anything to protect his family and his kingdom, imploring to any entity for help. And Satan was listening. The King would have accepted any deal, but this time the Devil would require no blood nor soul. For the first time, he knew it was the right time for him to produce an heir. Someone who he could shape in his own image, making the forces of Hell twice as powerful. He knew he needed a human receptacle for that, he had learned it from his nemesis. And it didn't take him long to convince the King, who willingly offered his wife, Catherine. Unbeknownst to her, the Queen was submitted to some satanic rituals, and soon became pregnant. The Devil was delighted — his heir would be all-powerful, descending from pure royal lines, both from Hell and mankind. On the 6th of June 1666, a beautiful blonde princess with bright brown eyes was born. She looked like an angel, but was truly a demon, the most powerful one right after her father. The Queen was told her baby had died moments after she was born, while the Devil took her with him to the depths of Hell. And with that, the Great Plague subsided, just like he'd promised the King.

Satan became a devoted father, and if he had a heart or soul, one could tell he loved his daughter, spoiling the child whose name was impossible to pronounce in any language known to men. Once she was old enough, she picked the name Lucy Fern. When her father asked her if it wasn't a little too obvious, she replied by quoting him — "The best place to keep a secret is right in front of someone". Raised in Hell, Lucy had little to no contact with humans or any other creatures besides demons and poltergeists, but it didn't keep her from being jealous of the way they celebrated the birthday of God's son, while completely ignoring hers. Still, she took some pride in how they made a cult movie inspired by how she came to be. After lots of insistence and literal Hell raising, Satan finally let Lucy accompany him during one of his visits to mortals. It was 1920, and she got to experience travelling by train, where she tasted champagne and marmalade for the first time, something she still loves until today. She also met the Vampire Lestat de Lioncourt, her first lover, but after he almost died by trying to drink her blood, they decided to call it quits. However, they remained on good terms, and Lucy even attended some of his concerts in the eighties, since she shares her father's passion for rock music.

Proud of his daughter's evilness and fast learning, Satan gave Lucy the task of visiting the Earth to collect a few more souls for him. She had to board on a luxurious train, travelling from Verona to Paris. During the ride, she had to convince people to commit murder, steal from each other, start a fire and finally get the train to collide with another one. It would be quite the show and would provide Hell with a new batch of souls. However, once on the train, Lucy simply didn't feel like it. Indulging in her favourite champagne and in the company of beautiful flirtatious boys and girls, she was having too much fun to end it just because daddy wanted to. Once the train arrived safe and sound at its destination, Satan was furious. He told Lucy that if she loved the company of mortals so much, she might as well live among them, banning her from returning to Hell until she collected the 100 souls she owed him. She tried to argue by saying that she wouldn't really be his daughter if she was a nice, obedient girl, but he was unforgiving.

Now stuck with the mortals, Lucy was not only enraged, but she also didn’t really understand the concept of money or why she needed it. Where she came from, it didn’t exist and all her wishes were granted. However, it didn’t take her long to catch on and she soon found a way to make lots of it with little effort. Using her extreme luck and her ability to change people’s thoughts (and therefore their actions), Lucy was a masterly gambler, only losing if she wanted to, in order not to raise suspicions. Because of this, some people started calling her Lucky Lucy. At the moment, she lives in a luxurious penthouse in LA, enjoying all the pleasures this mundane world has to offer and meeting regularly with her dad. Sometimes, if she takes a liking on someone, she might offer them a deal that would make their wildest dreams come true. Now the question is, should they accept it?

CONNECTIONS

Satan. Lucifer. Mr. Capricorn. Abaddon. The Devil himself has many names, though Lucy only calls him dad. And he's proud of it. How could he not, if she's inherited most of his traits? But the Ruler of Darkness doesn't like to be disobeyed, especially by his own offspring, so he's banned Lucy from Hell until she collects the 100 souls she owes him. But the truth is, he misses his spoiled evil princess way too much, so while he won't take back her punishment, he makes sure to visit her often. ｛ # tagged posts ｝

Born in 1760 and turned in 1781, Lestat is a french vampire also known as "The Brat Prince", due to his boldness, enthusiasm, and defiance. He is also very vain and concerned with fashion, with an interest for acting and music. Being so similar, both in interests and personality, when he and Lucy met it was a match made in heaven hell, and he became her first lover. Although, trying to drink her blood almost led to his permanent death, and they decided to part ways. They met again in the 80's, when he started a rock band and Lucy attended most of their concerts. They remain good friends to this day. ｛ # tagged posts ｝

#⌈ 🌍 ⌉ 𝐌𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. || ➳ ❪ muse: lucy fern ❫#⌈ 😈 ⌉ 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐍. || ➳ ❪ about ❫

0 notes

scarecrowhuntress · 7 years ago

Photo

#{ Sam Winchester }#{ Dean Winchester }#{ Beauty is about having a pretty heart and a pretty soul } (visage)

2 notes · View notes

forsworned · 4 years ago

Text

[♥] modern au! airplane mode {gyomei himejima x reader}

Genre: Comedy, Slight Fluff, Slight Sensual Themes

Categories: F/M M/M

Relationships: Himejima Gyomei/Reader

Word count: 1,093

a/n: if you feel like this isn’t very gyomei ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ oh well, this is my interpretaion of him and i feel like nobody ever gives him enough credit to be a normal human being with feelings,,requests are open

➽────────────── ────────────── ──────────── ❥

Last call for Okinawa, Japan. Last call for Okinawa, Japan.

Walking down the terminal and struggling to find your seat when boarding your plane was always your least favorite thing, but at least you were finally able to start your vacation. You looked over at your ticket once more making sure your seat number on your ticket aligned, but instead of it being empty it was occupied by a handsome dark-haired gentleman. His full eyelashes covered his orbs that were cloudy and distant. It seemed to click in your head that he was blind and must have sat in the wrong seat. He seemed to be staring off in space with his headphones in playing pretty loudly might you add. Instead of getting annoyed, you sat beside him and took out one of his earbuds and put it in your ear.

Pull it out of park, put it in drive I can feel your heart beatin' with mine

He was a bit startled by your bold gesture, but a smile crept on his face when he heard you singing along. "You're a fan of The Neighborhood?"

"Yeah, you got great taste in music." You beamed. "You're also sitting in my seat."

His face now a shocked and flustered expression, and you couldn't help but giggled at him. "I'm so sorry. The flight attendant must've put me in the wrong seat."

You waved your hand dismissing his apology. It was so cute how his face was getting redder by the moment. It was very refreshing because men usually kept such a cool as a cucumber demeanor. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but usually when they saw your appearance they would approach you way too casually like it would be easy to wrap you around their finger. But, well, he was blind so that could probably factor a lot into how he was addressing you.

"Don't worry about it. I'm glad I can share seats with someone who has a superb taste in music."

He cocked his eyebrow in interest. "Superb, huh?"

"Yeah, the last person I sat next to on a flight they listened to Nickelback. Can you believe that?"

His face suddenly dropped when those words left your lips. "But...I like Nickelback."

You found yourself stumbling over words not knowing how to make up for the damage you just created, but he just laughed. Hearing you trying to talk your way out of an insult as petty as that tickled him pink. "I'm kidding."

"Oh." Was all you could muster up as you sat there with your face flushed and pout on your mein. What a cruel joke. "That was mean. How could you make me feel bad for you pretending to like a band as shitty as that."

"Oh, stop pouting. As if it's a crime for a blind guy to make jokes." He teased. His smile was full and brilliant and beautiful, revealing a set of pearly whites. It was if he was seeing right through your very soul when in actuality he had no pupils. Just captivating misty eyes that bore into you and it made your breath hitch. "Here, listen to this. Siri play Sick Love by the Red Hot Chili Peppers"

Playing Sick Love by Red Hot Chili Peppers

Your eyes widened in surprise. Wow he really does have good taste in music.

"Judging by the way your breath just changed, I'm guessing you know this song?" How could he even possibly hear that? You didn't even notice that your breath had changed in that moment and if you did it was faint.

"How did you--"

He smiled and leaned back in his chair. "When you've been blind your whole life you pick up on a few things."

"Incredible. My name is [name]." You held your hand out with the most awestruck expression. He shook your hand, having no trouble knowing where it was.

"Gyomei. It's a pleasure to meet you." He let his hand fall by his side again, and picked up the water bottle his cup holder and took a swig from it. "I'm guessing you've never met a lot of blind people, [name]."

You felt a little embarrassed by his question. You didn't want to sound ignorant but you didn't want to lie either. Something told you that he would be able to pick up on that too.

"Honestly, no. But I'm glad I got to meet you." Were you --flirting? Well, you were going to be on a flight for a few hours so it didn't hurt. Plus a little entertainment never hurt anyone. His expression let a hint of embarrassment slip as he tried to regain his composure.

"Hm, I'll see if I can say the same by the end of the flight" A smug look on his face as he rested his hand on his chin. He had really done it now. Playful banter was probably one of your top turn ons and he was really working his magic on you.

"Have I done a number on you, yet?" Certainly you were going to explode any minute because your heart was fluttered against your chest.

He laughed heartily at your sudden silence. His breath now fanning against your cheek. "Are you going to say anything, [name]."

You cleared your throat and swallowed the forming lump in your throat. Geez, this guy was totally your type and you were putty in his hands. "Anyways,"

Honestly, you couldn't even remember the last time a guy made you this clammy. Usually your encounters with men were monotonous and repetitive. But, Himejima--he was definitely doing you in right now and he definitely knew it, too.

"Is that all you got?"

The smug expression on his face never seemed to leave his smooth and structure visage. "I can show you all I got, but we'd probably need a room for that."

Blood rushed to your cheeks, and had it not been for you trying to collect yourself immediately you were certainly going to have a nosebleed.

"I-I mean the m-music."

"Oh, right." He feigned innocence. "Only if you're ready for me."

"Sir," You couldn't even get the words out at this point. This slick motherfucker was going to be the end of you. "You can just--just take my number already, please."

The satisfied grin on his face said it all as he handed you his phone.

"I thought you'd never ask."

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #kny x you #kny x y/n #gyomei himejima #kimetsu gyomei #gyomei x reader #kny gyomei #gyomei himejima x reader #anime x reader #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x you #demon slayer x y/n #writing

174 notes · View notes

soldmysoultootomeboys · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! Can I request headcannons for the human brothers accidently summoning an angel mc instead of a demon and the angel mc insisting on sticking around and helping them?

The other brothers: :) Satan: >:)

This has been in the drafts for too long. I really love the absolute mood switch between Lucifers and Mammons. And just Satans in general ig.

Lucifer

After years of religious trauma at the hands of his father Lucifer finally thought he was free of any connection to the church. Summoning a flaming seraphim at 3 in the morning was not a pleasant way to find out that he was wrong.

As for you, being summoned for the first time in your long long life was an unwelcome surprise. You were a seraphim for heaven's sake. The cream of the crop, highest of the high, and that wasn’t pride speaking only facts. You were crucial to running the celestial realm.

But somehow you’re undeniably tied to his human. You could feel where his soul became intermeshed with your very essence. How wrong it felt to be tied to something so mortal, and delicate, and free.

Any attempts to leave would surely be met with disaster.

So you stay. Lucifer is cold. You can’t blame him. Being there reopens old wounds that he’d rather have remained closed. But just ignoring each other isn’t going to work.

He’s not interested in the celestial realm, and despises any blessing you try and give him, but a fresh cup of coffee during an all-nighter seems to make him brighter than any magic you could do and when you run your hands through his hair he looks at you with more fondness than you can comprehend.

You learn to be more human. He learns to let go of the past.

And one day you find that you don’t want to leave anymore.

For celestial sake that thought should as well be treason! But it’s true.

It’s a spring afternoon and Lucifer plays celestial lullabies on his piano and you want nothing more than for the beautiful night to come so you can sweep him in your arms and remind him how he glows.

You don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore, but you know that this human is yours and you are his. To rip off your wings would be to find solace in his arms. But you can not give him that. This he knows.

So you promise to protect him, in words he can’t hear but he understands. The spread of your wings shield him from the world and you press blessings to his skin in the shape of the crescents in his back and your lips on his neck. If nothing else you’ll keep him safe. When the world seems too big and the stress of his life gets him down you’ll always be here for him to crawl back to. You can give him that much.

Mammon

That was it

You had to have been assigned the stupidest human in the world

When you were promoted to guardian angel you kinda thought it would be more ‘protecting orphans’ and ‘guiding lost puppies back home’ NOT watching a grown man spend his last paycheck on his eighth Nigerian prince scam

Seriously mammon? Did the prophetic dreams you sent mean nothing? The visions of the future he coincidentally had after hitting his head on a light post, only simple illusions? What more could you try beyond simply marching down their and clocking him on the head yourself?

...unless

Raphael would have your wings if you went to the human world. But that would be a lot less painful that having to watch whatever Mammon was going to do with all the rubber cement he just bought.

The next morning you decide to sneak down. The city was amazing, all colored light and fun machines that whizzed by you on the streets

But you had to stay focused

You were an angel on a mission

You made your way towards central park. Mammon went there every morning to swindle tourists out of their wallets. If you were fast you’d get there before the first patrol office started chasing him.

Spotting the albino you marched straight towards him, readied yourself, and smacked him over the head.

Maybe not very angel-like but it worked.

One introduction later and you're officially a guardian angel

Mammon’s actually pretty nice once you get to know him. Sure he may be a bit too obsessed with lining his pockets but for all his talk he never hesitates to try and help you out.

Consistent affection and care is good for him. He never really knows how to react when you wrap your wings around him but even with his tsundere objections it's obvious he’s pleased.

He’ll take whatever scraps of affection you’ll give him and practically beams at every little gesture you do, no matter how small or insignificant.

You do have to be careful though.

At his request you had attempted to bless him with a bit of luck. An easy enough spell for an angel like you (even if you were 90% sure he planned to go gambling after). Whatever scheming he’s doing immediately stops the moment you cup his face. He seems to freeze when you lean in, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek

You were about to congratulate yourself on a spell well done when you noticed the condition he was in. He was like a living statue, a statue with a very very red face

Before you can ask what was wrong he flails pushing you away and darting off to his room

Any attempts to speak to him the rest of the day were met with incoherent shouting.

It might be best to withhold any magic until you can figure out how humans work

Levi

Once again Levi’s dedication to anime gets him into trouble

It started with his most recent obsession, a new anime that follows a group of angels, produced by the famous company, Dove. The plot, the animation, the soundtrack, all of it was amazing so when they came out with a new limited edition item featuring the very symbol that the main character wore he just had to have it

The moment it came he was setting it up on its own altar, a handmade replica just like in the show only for- Oh no

Before his eyes burst a shining visage of light and then you

You blink in surprise, whether it's from taking a human form for the first time in decades or the strange new room you were in, only you know

The scene may be foreign but the guy quivering on the floor was not

BE NOT AFRAID

Your booming voice echoes around the room

For some reason the guy begins to freak out even more

Didn’t he see your halo? You even told him to not be afraid. Were humans really so strange? :(

Oh well. You hum making your aura as comforting as possible and slowly the guy calms down enough for you to coax him into a seat as you begin to explain.

Which might not have been the best move.

The moment it sunk in he was bombarding you with questions

Yes you were an angel, no you didn’t know what anime was, yes you had wings, no you didn’t have any secret ultimate moves...whatever those were

He ranted and raved over this and that and you let him. He seemed like he needed someone to talk to. It also let you piece together what had happened.

He seemed to be a natural sorcerer, and a powerful one at that if he could someone an angel with no training or even knowledge that he could do magic

Just a few minutes in his presence made his self loathing obvious. Mix in a bit of anxiety and envy and you essentially have Levi in a nutshell

So you decide to stay

What kind of angel would you be if you just left him here? Michael would understand.

Or he wouldn't, it didn’t really matter because you already made up your mind.

Living with Levi is an experience for both of you.

He introduces you to so many new things. He had little boxes that could control light and screens containing actual people to talk to. It was all quite fanciful

In return you act as his friend, encouraging him to go out with you and attending cons with him, even if you still weren't exactly sure what cosplaying is

Slowly he begins to open up for you

He’s still nervous to go out in public, and a complete introvert at heart.

But that was fine. You could both figure out this new world together, at your own pace

Satan

Definitely was not trying to summon a demon to lay havoc on his enemies

Nope, not him he says all while trying to casually kick away vials of mysterious fluids

...Right

You’ve been down to the human world enough to know a demon summoner when you see one

Or in this case a failed summoner

He has no excuse for why he called you and instead seems more insistent that you leave

As much as you you might like to return to the celestial realm, you cannot in good conscience leave a man that you know is going to try and raise hell on earth the moment your gone

So you stay, and it's a good thing you do

This man has anger issues like no other

You thought Raphael was bad this guy is like a demon himself

However he seems willing to try and make the best of what he considers a bad situation

He asks you a lot of questions on the celestial realm

For a guy who knows so much about the devildom he seems to really be lacking on any knowledge on the other celestial beings

He mostly asks you questions on the celestial war, which is a touchy topic at best and downright upsetting at worst

He’s very interested in your opinions as your point of view is very different from his own, what with being a different species and everything

You learn things too, mostly about humans and cats but you suppose its a fair trade

Because of this you become close friends

You really win him over when he finds out your calming aura naturally attracts the stray kittens Satan's been trying to pet for the last few months

It’s not uncommon to head out to late night coffee shops and discuss the merits of different aspects of your lives

But maybe you’ve gotten a bit to close when he starts asking you to revise his summoning notes

Asmo

Apparently a lifetime of partying has prepared Asmo for some very weird discoveries

When you're sent down to the human world you have one job, find and keep an eye on the potentially dangerous summoner who's been in contact with multiple high level demons in the past few days.

Instead you end up meeting Asmo

You were prepared for a fight, not to be tackled into a hug the moment you revealed yourself

Asmo on the other hand is squealing with excitement

Sweetie, he's been waiting for this moment! This is his first time meeting an angel after all

He immediately begins talking about everything he wants to do

You quickly find out that he hasn’t made any pacts...yet, if only because he “couldn’t bear to damage his skin with such an ugly mark”

...Well you suppose that's a reason to not sell your soul

Even thoughts he's aware of the three realms it doesn’t make him any less enamoured with you

He’s never met an angel, he’s quick to mention. He’d love to get to know you, if you get what he means ;)

Are all humans so upfront?

If you decline he still wants to see your true form, even after you explain that no, if you transform you will not just be a beautiful angel with wings but instead a glowing mass of eyes and feathers and angelic light that will probably end up blinding him

Blinded because of your beauty ;) ;) ;)

That said he’s easily satisfied when you just bring out your wings.

He loves fussing with them and decorates them with jewelry and roses whenever you leave them out

He even starts an angel trend on insta after posting a photo as if they were coming from his back instead

Claims your glowing aura is great for his skin

You’re not sure if that’s a pick up line or if he’s serious but he definitely basks in your presence

Loves when you talk about the celestial realm, somewhere he desperately wants to go

I mean it's the only place that's fit for a beauty like him right? But of course he can’t die yet, his fans would be sooo upset

You agree to bring him up there one day, even if that sounds a little morbid

Of course he asks you to become his guardian angel

That may not be your actual job but you can’t resist his puppy dog eyes

You and him go pretty much everywhere together, bar some more xxx rated sites

He introduces you to parties and bars, and while you don’t indulge it's enjoyable to see humans in their natural element. They’re so fun and free spirited just like Asmo

Maybe that's what attracted you to him in the first place

He loves life for what it is, something so admirably human

But you don’t slack off either. You take your role as Official Guardian Angel seriously. You guard his drinks when he goes to the bathroom, and hum celestial lullabies when he’s sad and escort him down dark alleys when walking home. He has nothing to fear with you around.

You’ve become very fond of this human. Perhaps you’ll stick around a bit longer than you planned

Beel

It’s rare to be assigned to a human so...mundane

But that’s exactly what Beel is. He goes to the gym in the mornings, works a nine to five, and comes back home to his dog

He even has a good relationship with this family, do you know how hard that is to find in this day and age???

The only thing even slightly abnormal about this guy is his appetite

He could put a gluttony demon to shame with the way he eats

But the point is you really can’t figure out why you’ve been assigned to him or how your supposed to guide him

Eat a little less? Stop stealing your brother's lunch?

It’s the first time in a long while you’ve been so stumped

So you do what any sane angel would, go down to the human world to meet him yourself

He’s a likeable guy and it’s easy to get close to him, more so do to your angelic status

Although it’s surprising how well he takes the whole angel revelation

To be honest your pretty sure he forgets most of the time

He tends to follow you around, especially at night when he insists on walking you to wherever you need to be. It’s sweet even though there's little that can really harm you in the human realm

You quickly realize that he’s the type to have nightmares, usually calling out for one of his brothers or his sister

It’s become habit to wake up and head to his room

Just being there seems to calm him down

The first time he wakes up when your doing this he ends up asking you to stay

Isn’t shy about sharing the bed either.

He’s easy going so goes along with whatever idea you have

Especially when he starts finding snacks in his bag, each one blessed for a good day or to stay full or whatever little thing you thought of that day

Belphegor

Humans can’t see angels. Not unless they want to be seen, you remind yourself for what must be the tenth time.

But you’re almost certain that guy is looking right at you.

Step to the left, his head follows

To the right, his eyes narrow looking at you like your some puzzle he just hasn’t figured out yet

…this was fine

You turn around pretending to just not see him in hope that he’ll get distracted by something else

...you glance back. Why was he still looking at you? What is with this creep?

Enough is enough.

You march over there ready to ask what his problem is. Instead he beats you to it.

Eh? You’re an angel right? He asks before you can say anything.

???? Shouldn’t he sound more shocked.

The guy just sleepily blinks. He doesn’t look like a sorcerer or a witch, in fact you can’t feel any magic from him at all.

You go to ask only to realize he’s sound asleep. It’s not like you could just leave him here. And at the same time a human who can just see angels is an oddity of itself.

You decide to hang around for a while. Belphegor doesn't mind. He only says something about it being "too troublesome to drive you off," and "you'd look like you'd just come back anyways"

Belphie sticks to you like glue, if glue was absolutely insufferable and seemed to enjoy annoying you at every possible moment

You would think this would be easy. I mean he sleeps all day and when he’s not sleeping he’s napping. Simple enough right? Wrong

When he was awake he was committed to pushing every single button you have

If it seemed like it might inconvenience or annoy you he was already doing it. Trying to smack your halo, pounce on you, or even jump off the roof just to see you scramble to catch him. He was like some terrible terrible cat

Luckily he was never energetic for long. When he wore himself out he’d retreat to the roof of his crappy one bedroom and wait for you to join him

He liked to look at the stars and he’d point them out to you. Orion, Polaris, Sirius, he would mutter, bringing you back to the days when Michael, who was once so fond of you, would sneak you down to the human world just to show you the stars and darkness the celestial realm could not offer

When he finally got tired you would take over reciting Celestial names and marking the sky with your finger just to show him where they’d be.

Those times were pleasant. Even if they were brief.

“I’m gonna jump.”

“Do it.”

“You’re an angel. Aren’t you supposed to stop me before I do something stupid?”

“You won't.”

“Aight. Bet.” Belphie pitches forward and you just manage to catch him by the leg before he falls off the roof.

Brat.

Always ruining a good moment.

You can’t even be mad. The moment you pull him up he’s already resting his fluffy head in your lap waiting for you to pet him.

He may be the most troublesome human in the entire three realms, but he’s your human

#obey me #obey me hc #angel au #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me shall we date #obey me au #angels #obey me angels

105 notes · View notes

lysmune · 4 years ago

Text

Promises of

A thousand things that she believes the Demon Prince to be, and a thousand times he proves her wrong.

(Diavolo/F!Reader)

Promises of a painful, slow death is what she believes he’ll give her, but a radiant smile dispels her fears. With liquid ambrosia for eyes and vermillion-struck hair, she’s never seen someone so intimidating, so contrary.

“I hope your year in the Devildom is a great one!” the stranger chirps, loud and booming, and friendly.

“Thank you,” is all she manages.

Promises of a scornful, prideful visage is what she believes is his flair, but he bears no ill-will towards the hubris of humanity. A thousand lights splayed below the balcony, a gaze set onto the distant future, graced by the soft glow of hope, he tells her that he wishes for peace, more than anything.

“Don’t all you demons despise us?” she piques and he laughs deeply, sonorous in the never ending darkness.

“Maybe, but I,” and he turns to look at her with a gentleness that she’s never thought to find in a hell-spawned man, “I find human souls, flawed as they are, beautiful.”

Promises of friendship is what she believes would be the farthest thing possible, but when he calls her in invitation to see the black roses blooming in his greenhouse, she finds that maybe, it isn’t the most far-fetched situation.

“Look!” he exclaims excitedly, pointing towards a small bird, tufted in crimson, its winding onyx tail fluttering as it perches itself on the flower’s stem. “It’s a black-tailed canary. It’s a bird native to the Devildom.”

“How pretty,” she comments, watching the bird fixate its beady eyes on her before it takes off into flight.

Lord Diavolo chuckles beside her. “Seeing such lovely things up close really does lift my spirits,” he murmurs in awe, in wonder, underscored by a melancholia she can’t quite fathom.

In response, she presses her hand on his shoulder, humming in agreement; he simply smiles.

Promises of gold is what she believes would catch his fancy, but his curiosity lies in the fleeting moments caught in polaroids. From swirling pink blossoms to the grin of an aquarium’s beluga, to the cascading reds of a maple autumn and a white winter’s falling snow; he finds joy in all these.

“This is my favourite,” he notes fondly and she leans over to look at the object of his attraction. It is the simple snapshot of a summer daybreak, the first light of dawn. “The sun never rises here in the Devildom, so I’ve always been curious about it. Your world’s truly blessed.”

How the Underworld’s Prince is so much of an optimist, she’d probably never know, but it warms her to see him so full of life.

When he passes the picture back to her, she shakes her head and, with more than a little uncertainty, presses her fingers against his hand.

“Keep it,” she insists. “Consider it a gift for the hospitality you’ve shown me.”

Promises of an uneventful night is a relatively easy feat, she believes, but the seven brothers prove her wrong when she’s crowned the guest of honour. They shower her with neatly wrapped gifts, words of gratitude and a group hug so earnest it moves her to tears.

They take turns dancing with her tonight, seven brothers gliding through seven different musical pieces. Mammon steps up into a bold, thrilling hustle; Leviathan sways with unusual confidence in a jazzy foxtrot; Satan twirls her into a fittingly passionate tango; Asmodeus sweeps her around in an excelsior schottische; Beelzebub rounds a blustering, grinning quickstep; Belphegor drifts into a draping, dreamy carousel and Lucifer, unsurprisingly, leads her gracefully into a viennese waltz.

What does surprise her, however, is when the Prince comes up to her, requesting her for a dance. “If you’re not too tired, of course.”

She smiles and places her hand atop his, letting his fingers curl around hers. “No, it would be my honour,” is all it takes for him to capture her breath in a slow, seamless waltz that lasts a beat longer than it should.

Promises of a shrinking distance isn’t what she foresaw, but he is insistent in having her company, which she, admittedly, isn’t too bothered about. He greets her jovially when he meets her in front of AkuDonald’s, dressed down in a maroon Oxford shirt and beige khakis, a pair of shades completing his look; she wonders if that’s his way of avoiding attention.

As they both stand in line, he strikes up polite conversation, questioning her how she’s been, how her classes are going, how she’s finding RAD and the seven brothers, and she is, quite frankly, genuinely surprised by how much she’s come to enjoy the entire affair. He’s about to answer when they hit the front of the line, a tired looking demon snippily asking for their order.

Like always, she goes for the fried shadow goose AkuBurger, the six-pack AkuGizzards and a blushberry slushie. He takes a little more time deciding, but eventually settles for the Hellfire DoubleAkuBurger and a Blackburn coffee before he insistently pays for their meal. Tipping her head down in thanks, she takes the tray and leads him towards a relatively private corner in the joint where he tucks into his lunch undisturbed.

“Do you come here often?” he prompts and she shrugs, swallowing her food down.

“Enough,” she responds. “The food here is generally safe for me to not die from.”

He chuckles. “Not a fan of Devildom cuisine?”

“Just not nearly as bold to eat something with ‘Double Poison’ tacked onto it,” she explains. Catching him eyeing her gizzards, she picks one up in between her fingers and offers it to him. “They’re good.”

Leaning forward, without so much of a warning, he takes it from her hand with his teeth and she stiffens, embarrassed, unsure if he’s being serious or just messing with her, or if he’s just dense.

“You’re right,” he answers, happily smiling as he licks his lips, “they are.”

She tries not to think about it too hard, simply nodding in agreement before they pass the rest of the time with small-talk, light banter and the never-ending cringe of dad jokes so terrible she has to laugh at each one. Once they’ve finished and exited the premises, he thanks her for her time today, smiling as he always does.

“I had a lot of fun,” she gladly admits, to which he hums, pleased.

“I did, too,” he reciprocates and then, a little less playfully, a little more seriously, “If it’s alright with you, let me walk you home.”

“You don’t -“

“I want to,” he assures, insists. “I enjoy your company and I’d like us to spend more time together.”

She warms at his boldness, more evident today than any other, at the way he tentatively reaches for her hand in consent, in invitation, and she accepts it with a nod. With a smile that crinkles his eyes and a careful hold, he leads her back to the House of Lamentation.

Promises of constant contact is something she’s sure he isn’t one to keep, especially given his consistently packed schedule, but when she’s back in the Human World, her D.D.D rings most often with his name.

He fills her days with updates on work, on Lucifer’s increasingly baggy eyes, lamenting at how much less bright the Devildom is without her.

“You’re being dramatic,” she chuckles as she picks up a carton of eggs. “It’s not that bad.”

“No, it is,” he implores with a huff. “The brothers miss you, including Lucifer, even if he denies it. Teasing him is no fun anymore,” he protests and she clicks her tongue at him. There’s a pause before a sigh, then, “I’m not being honest here.”

“No?”

“No,” he repeats; “I miss spending my time with you, I miss being able to see you, I miss talking to you in person. I miss you; I miss you a lot.”

She runs her fingers through her hair and oh, fuck, he really shouldn’t spring these things onto her. She’s sure he can hear her heart over the phone when it’s this loud.

Tightening her grip on the trolley’s handle, she responds with an, “I miss you, too.”

Promises of staying away are best upheld because they’re the smarter option, the safer option, but when she’s back in the Devildom, she‘s compelled to see him again. Barbatos directs her to his study, knocking on the door before he leaves her by the room just as Lord Diavolo lets her in.

The wind is knocked right out of her chest when he scoops her into a tight hug and she eases into his arms, burying her face into his chest. He smells faintly of warm spice and agarwood, of a familiarity she’s sorely longed for.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he whispers, the hint of a tremble in his voice.

“I am, too.”

Promises of subtlety is a given, she believes, but he hasn’t much thought for it when he clasps a golden bracelet onto her wrist. It is a simple chain, studded with tiny opals, and much too lavish for someone who’s come here as an exchange student.

“This is a little excessive, don’t you think?” she asks, raising a brow as she fiddles with the accessory, to which he frowns.

“Do you not like it?” he inquires and she shakes her head.

“No, I do,” she assures, and she really does. It’s a beautiful piece of jewellery, it’s just that, “I’m not quite sure if I’m so deserving of such things.”

At that, he takes her hand, pulling her a little closer. “You are,” he affirms softly, gently lacing his fingers with hers. “Let me be a little selfish.”

She chuckles. “You’re being selfish by giving me a gift?”

“No,” he replies as he levels her with a crackling, sparking gaze and her heart skips a beat. “I’m being selfish because I want you to myself.”

Promises of indulgence are what she believes to be a demon’s domain, but he simply holds her in his arms most nights, content with the simple pleasure of having her there with him, of talking to her, of hearing her say his name without the formalities.

“You’re not anything like I thought a demon would be,” she muses as he hugs her tighter from behind, letting her head rest on the line of his shoulder.

He chuckles, pressing his lips to hers sweetly, briefly. “No?”

“I expected them to be a little more ...” she trails off in search for a word, then, “churlish.”

“I can be,” he mumbles while he lazily nibbles at her ear, patterns kisses into her jaw and the exposed column of her neck. “I’m just being polite.”

She hums. “Maybe.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No,” she responds with a peck to his cheek, hand coming up to the side of his head, pulling him closer against her. “I think you’re just a touch holy.”

His skims her skin with tongue and teeth, breaths warm, chuckling as he does. “You’re bold to say that to the Prince of Hell.”

Promises of a Lord unshaken is what she believes the demons see, but behind all the closed doors, he bares his vulnerability to her against the starless, perpetual nights.

“Do you want to talk, Diavolo?” she asks. He’s silent for a moment before he offers his hand to her. She takes it and he pulls her to his side, letting his arm drape down to hold her at her waist.

Overlooking the city sprawled under him, he sighs. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing,” he confesses under his breath, the uncertainty wavering his voice. “I want peace between all the realms, but do they? Do my people?”

"You don’t think they want that?”

“We’re demons. War is within our very nature,” he states simply, pressing her a little closer to him. “A few of us are fallen angels, others human, but most demons were born here, and all of us are vengeful, resentful creatures,” he murmurs; she says nothing. “The fallen angels want nothing to do with the Celestial Realm, the human-turned-demons carry over their hate and the rest of us have just always had a taste for destruction.

“For most of us, we’ve always felt like the two worlds looked at us with nothing but contempt. When Heaven smites an angel unruly, they’re punished into being a devil; when humans talk about eternal torture, we’re the very picture of it. Demons are a proud folk, we give back the respect we’ve been shown, but when everyone has only ever hated us, what is there to be but bitter? And the cycle keeps going, it has for the last thousands of centuries.”

“I’m sorry,” is all she can offer and he chuckles.

“Please, it’s alright,” he assures with a smile, though it’s wearied with the burdens of a leader. “I’m just ... wondering.”

She isn’t sure what to say to him, if she can even comfort him. She’s no angel, or demon, and even as a human, she’s never been a particular occult; she’s just an exchange student who lacks understanding of the tension’s nuance.

“Look, hey,” she starts, “I know I’m not the best person to say it, but your people respect you. They might squabble with Heaven or us humans, but they’ve put their trust in you; otherwise, in all honesty, I think they’d have just eaten me and Solomon alive.”

He cracks a small, tiny smile at that.

“You needed mutual agreement between all the realms for this exchange program, and you did it. If that tells me anything, it’s that they’re probably tired of all the fighting, too,” she surmises. He laughs, just barely, before he bends down to kiss her forehead, letting it linger.

When he pulls away, he says, “Thank you, that helped.”

“Did it?”

He hums. “A little,” he responds, loosening his grip on her. “I need to be alone for a while, is that okay?”

“Take all the time,” she answers. Placing a quick kiss onto his cheek, she turns on her heel and walks away. Comforting demon royalty isn’t something she’s good at, and maybe she never will be, but space? Space is something she can give him.

Promises of ‘unto death do us part’ is tradition, the idea of a romance that spans the fire of life until it’s snuffed out by a swing of the scythe, but she believes that mortality is fickle to him. A being of a thousand years that will live on for a thousand more, and she fills in the mere potential century; a year for him is a decade for her.

Yet here he is, knotting the string of his life to her in promise. “Make a pact with me,” he declares, bringing her hand up to his lips, kissing her knuckles as though she were royalty.

Her breath hitches. “Diavolo.”

“Let me be yours,” the demon pleads, yearns, longs and she’s a little taken aback by the openness of it all.

“You don’t have to,” she says but he surges, drawing her in.

“I want to,” he asserts, unyielding, though she’s still unconvinced.

An act of binding. That’s what it means to be tied down to a contract, and she knows full well what the consequences are, for the both of them, should any of them trespass their terms. With the seven brothers, she did as the situation demanded, but with Diavolo, there’s absolutely nothing that warrants it.

He seems to sense her unease, because he squeezes her hand, brings her closer. “It’ll be fine,” he assures; “Let me show you what you mean to me.”

“I know where I stand with you,” she tells him as she raises a hand to cup his cheek.

“Do you?” he asks in rhetoric, pressing his lips against her pulse, eyes locking onto hers. “You needn’t ask and I’d gladly give a century of my life for you, freely offer you my soul, and even if you love me less, leave me for a human, I’d regret none of it.”

She swallows his words when he presses his lips to hers, wholly engulfed by the sincerity of it all. Gentle as always, tender as always, and none of the demon she’d thought he’d be, his hand coming up to caress her face. He leaves her lightheaded, breathless, forehead touching hers, the warmth between them near unbearable.

“I trust you, utterly and entirely; let me show you that I do,” he murmurs and she clasps her hands behind his neck, her lips hovering above his.

“Nothing I say will change your mind, will it?”

He chuckles. “I’m afraid not.”

Promises of sacrifice and loyalty, they aren’t taken lightly by the laws of a contract, but he pledges himself anyway, so readily and so staunchly she almost falters.

In reverence, he traces the mark - his mark - that runs from her shoulder and coils around her arm, marvelling at the sight of it. “Was it painful?” he asks as he glances to her, worry underscoring his words.

She shrugs and offers him a smile in hopes it’ll reassure him. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Leaning in to thumb a kiss to her clavicle, he chuckles low. “Sometimes I forget you’ve made pacts with the seven strongest demons here,” he says and the pride in his voice makes her chest swell.

“Eight,” she corrects while she cards her fingers through his hair, trailing the curl of his horns, eliciting a quiet, pleased hum from him.

“Eight,” he repeats in satisfaction before he lifts his head up to meet her and she, emboldened, enraptured, captures his lips in fervour.

Agarwood and warm spice, she drinks the taste of him, smoky lapsang and carbon ashen. He spills her name into her mouth, once more into the spellbound night when she punctures a soft bite into the juncture of his neck, a hymnic praise that makes her feel nothing less of otherworldly. He almost - almost - whines when she pulls away, chuckling as she does.

Under her, he’s nothing short of breathtaking, with topazes for eyes and vermillion hair, and dark skin marked by black, steeped in gold. Triangular patterns of red hiss around his throat, the newly formed pact pulsing with magic and she trails her fingers across them, enamoured.

“You’re beautiful,” she finds herself professing and he lets out a quiet laugh, Adam’s apple bobbing under her touch, the sound reverberating.

“I’m all yours,” he surrenders and she’s touched, honoured by the sincerity of his proclamation. “I will be until you say I no longer am.”

“And I, yours,” she promises before she laces her fingers with his and kisses him once more.

#swd obey me #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #diavolo x reader #munewrites #f: obey me #ch: diavolo #an: this took so much longer than expected #an: can you tell I have no idea where to take this #an: look i have a LOT OF FEELS for tiddy man diavolo #an: I feel like he'd be the only one out of all the demons to tell mc that hello yes i wanna be yours #an: idk it just seems fitting esp because he really can't spend much time with them #an: ALSO YES for Diavolo the pact is a show of complete loyalty and trust #an: also using holy or divine words to describe the demons is now my favourite thing to do because why nOT #an: Honestly though im p sure diavolo isn't this sweet #an: man probs has ulterior motives #an: gives me those vibes #an: thIS IS TERRIBLE ON THE PHONE #an: tumblr let me have line breaks

120 notes · View notes

memelover1024 · 4 years ago

Text

The Original Hunter Part 1

Supernatural/TVD/TO

Mini Series

Sam WinchesterxMikaelson!Reader

Elijah MikaelsonxReader

1500 Words

AN- this is a sort of AU where the originals never left New Orleans and Klaus and Elijah are the official kings of the vampire species, they are only in Mystic Falls for Elena and the hybrid curse. Klaus only has Finn daggered at the time this series is taking place. Also in this Katherine and Elijah were a couple in the 1500s not Katherine and Klaus.

I pulled my cruiser into the garage of the Bunker, and parked it next to the Impala. I grabbed my backpack and made sure the cooler at the bottom was closed and hidden, and walked inside. When I walked into the library and saw my boyfriend Sam at the table looking for a case. When he heard me walking in he looked up at me and smiled.

“Hey babe,” he said before turning his attention back to whatever was on his laptop.

“Hey, i'm just gonna put this stuff in my office then i'll come help you,” i said to him and then turned down halfway to my office. When I reached the door I pulled out my key and unlocked the door. I walked in and locked it again behind me. When I first moved into the bunker the first thing I did was get a room all to myself that the boys wouldn't go in. At first they were suspicious as to what I had in there, but over time they ceased to care. They have grown to learn that I like my privacy. Privacy isn't a problem for me though, it was that I didn't want them to know what I am. After I locked the door I went and put my keys and backpack on my desk and dug the cooler out from the bottom. I looked behind me at the door to double check it was locked before I opened it. I grabbed a blood bag and drank it. I was so hungry. I had ran out of blood bags 3 days ago and I hadn't had any time to visit my dealer in town to get more since we were on a hunt. A vampire, how ironic. It was a different type of vampire of course but still similar. The vampire the boys and I hunt are a larger and more cruel species of vampire. Notice, I didn't say dangerous. My species is a thousand times more powerful than them but we have humanity ––most of the time–– they do not. They were created by Eve to be a better version of us, but they are only feral weak leeches. My species was created by my ex mother-in-law Ester. Yes, I said mother in law. I used to be married to Elijah, one of the kings of our species. I always loved Elijah, I probably always will but it took him a while to learn to love me. We were an arranged marriage, me as the richest young unmarried lady in the village and him as the best fighter in the village, other than his father, and the son of a powerful witch. I was ecstatic about the match, but he was too busy with my younger sister Tatia to notice me.i was pretty, i'll admit that. But tatia was the most beautiful in the village, every man wanted her, even before her husband died. Elijah and his brother always fought over her, while I was there just waiting for him to notice me. He was furious at first about the marriage, he didn't want to marry anyone but Tatia. On our wedding night was the first time he even gave me a second glance. I never cared though, I always saw him and I always loved him. After Tatia died and we were turned into vampires he began to love me. Life on the run will do that to you. We were happy for 500 years and I thought that it would last forever. It didn't. All because of Tatia, or her doppelganger. They’re the same to me, they had the same face, they both took him from me. I was pulled out of my thoughts by a knock on the door. I jumped to hide the blood bag but then remembered the locked door.

“What?” i asked.

“Come on, Sams found us a case,” Dean called through the door and then his footsteps faded down the hall. I zipped up the cooler with the rest of the blood bag and put them in the mini-fridge which was locked with an electric lock. I grabbed my keys from the desk and made my way to the library. Dean was standing over Sam's shoulder looking at the computer.

“What did we get?” I asked, sitting on Sam's lap and looking at the computer. I read the headline of the newspaper clipping and my heart stopped.

I took a deep breath and regained my composure.

“Looks like a werewolf, only one. So?” I asked, trying to steer them away.

“So?” Dean said confused, “what do you mean so?”

“There are only two victims in a place with many wild animals, there's no evidence, and it's five states away. It says the marks match a mountain lion, this is most likely nothing guys, and it's far away, there's probably another hunter already on it.” I told them my tone was calm, but my soul was desperate.

“I hear you babe and your probably right but i have a feeling about this one, i don't know, but i think we have to go,”

Sam said. I nodded, I couldn't fight anymore without raising suspicion.

“We leave in an hour,” Dean said, making his way back to his room.

I watched from the back of the impala as the Welcome to Mystic Falls sign whizzed passed me as we drove down the road towards my old home. I was so engrossed in the memories of my past that I didn't notice Sam looking back at me.

“You know this place don't you. Y/N?” Sam asked me, a concerned visage. I looked back up at him and sighed.

“Yeah, um, I used to live here,” I whispered silently, still staring out the window. Sam looked back ahead at the road, knowling i didn't wish to speak about it. The clocktower in the center of the small town came into view, slowly growing larger and larger, as if to taunt me and my fear to face my torments.

We pulled up in front of the mystic grill and Sam Dean and I got out of the impala. We walked in and I looked around. No familiar faces, that's good. I'd heard Niklaus had come home in order to break his curse. I was happy for him, but that didn't mean I had any interest in seeing him any time soon. We walked up the bar and I ordered a whiskey and the boys ordered beer. We sat there for a bit and chatted about the case when I heard a voice from behind me and a smile grew on my face.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in, finally decided to come home?” I turned and threw myself into Kols arms. Klaus had daggered him several years before I left, he'd told us that he'd never wake him. I thought I'd never see my brother again, thank god i was wrong.

“I never thought I'd see you again,” I told him, still clutching to his jacket.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he laughed back. We stood there for a few moments before we heard someone clear their throat behind us. I slightly let go of Kol and turned to find Sam and Dean looking inquisitively at me.

“Come to dinner tonight at the house, we can catch up, all of us together.” Kol told me.

“I don't know, i dont want your cook making a whole feast just for my return and I don't want to intrude.” i told him

“Nonsense, this dinners been planned for a while, and i'm setting a place for you so you best come,”

“Alright i'll come, but nothing extravagant for my sake okay, i pointed a finger at him.

“No promises,” he laughed. I rolled my eyes at him. He kissed me on the cheek and made his way out of the restaurant. I smiled after him, so happy to see him again. Maybe this visit would be so bad after all. I mean anything was possible with Kol.

“Who was that?” Sam asked me, jealousy obvious in his voice. I laughed at his protectiveness.

“That was my brother,” I told them, still smiling widely. They gave me a shocked look. I had never told them about my past or my family. I guess they just assumed that my family was dead and that it was too painful. They never knew I had a brother. And they were probably wondering what else I was hiding.

#sam winchester fanfiction #sam x mikaelson #vampire hunter #supernatural #tvd au #elijah mikealson x reader #Elijah mikaelson x ex reader #original vampire

54 notes · View notes

bts-hyperfixation · 4 years ago

Text

Rilakkuma Crushing

Jimin x reader

None idol AU

Jimin works as a Rilakkuma mascot, most of the time its a thankless job, until he meets you.

No warnings just fluff

@jookiemonie

Almost the entirety of the time Jimin had had this job he had hated it. Between snotty children, disrespectful mothers, and abhorrent fathers, Jimin had had enough. That was until you rocked up.

Most days whilst dressed as Rilakkuma, he spent his days dancing around and trying to entice people into the store; bored out of his mind taking photos and being abused. You were rushing home from work clearly upset. On your way past the giant mascot you dropped your keys, and you didn't seem to notice. So being the kind-hearted soul he is Jimin desperately tried to pick them up for you and get your attention. Unfortunately, he only succeeded in one endeavour as he fell over trying to bend down. The crash of the costume made you turn around and see your keys lying inches from his mittened hands. Chuckling slightly you headed back to the teddy bear on the ground and offered him a hand to get back up.

Once the mascot was stood again he signalled for you to tell him what was wrong by shrugging his shoulders )or at least that's how you took it because the next thing you knew you were unleashing every horrible detail about what had happened at work to you that day.) Jimin listened diligently as you unloaded each detail about shitty co-workers and demanding bosses. He actually found it rather endearing watching the frustration leave your body as you ranted. Not that you could tell what he was thinking, the large head almost made you forget there was another human being in there.

It ended up becoming a nightly ritual for you; every night at 6:00 o'clock when you finished work you would walk past that shop on the way home. And each time you would stop and tell Jimin about your day. Of course you didn't know it was Jimin as he had never taken off the mask and you didn't particularly want him too. He was just your guilty pleasure to unload on. Until your work party.

Jimin actually got a little upset when you didn't appear at 6:00 PM. He got a little bit worried when you hadn't walked past by 7:00 PM. It was almost 8:00 PM when he was getting ready to close up and go home that you stumbled past. Well past is a bit of an overstatement more stumbled into him directly.

“Rilakkuma!” you squealed hugging the mascot tightly. “I'm so happy to see you're still here. I just had to stay with all those horrible people for two more hours than usual.”

Jimin watched a little concerned as you tried to sit on the floor. Heels in hand and skirt slightly ridden up as you crossed your legs as best you could sitting at his feet. He went to sit with you quickly realising that he couldn't, So without thinking he reached up to take off the mask, and suddenly you were screaming.

“AH… HELL NO… ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Jimin stood there dumbfounded for a moment before you calmed down to explain. “If you take off the mask then you become a real person and I have to be embarrassed... please don't.” Jimin couldn't stop himself from laughing at that but still preceded to take off the mask much to your humiliation.

“It's okay, really, you’ll live. are you drunk?” he asks as he sheds the rest of the costume. You’re left stunned as you glance up at the golden boy left before you. No longer swaddled inside the comforting visage of your favourite character, the man in front of you made your mouth go dry. It hadn’t even crossed your mind that the person inside the suit could be so attractive. He ran his hand through his sweaty bleached hair and then reached his other hand to you.

It was difficult to tell if his hand was sweaty from the costume or if yours was clammy from the crush you suddenly found yourself having on the Rilakkuma guy.

“I’m Jimin.” He says when you are stood up properly, his hand lingers in yours for a moment longer than it really needed to. Unfortunately you weren’t quite as stable as you thought, and as soon as he lets go your ankle twists, not enough to hurt, just enough to have him reaching for your hips to steady you.

“You okay?” he asks, but this time you can see the smirk he tries to hide.

“What are you smiling about?” you grumble, although it’s only half hearted. It might just be that he is too pretty to actually be annoyed with.

“Nothing it’s just nice to see your beautiful face without that stupid head in the way.” His grin widened as the blush crept across your face. “Have you eaten…?” oh right he doesn’t know your name yet.

“Y/N.”

“Right, have you eaten Y/N?” he removes his hands from your hips, certain you can stand on your own for now.

“Not yet no, I ran away after the shots but before the food, I didn’t want to say something that’d get me fired.” You admitted sheepishly.

“In which case I’m going to put this monstrosity away and we can go grab some food, I’m feeling BBQ.” He said gesturing to the abandoned mascot.

“Stop insulting Rilakkuma or I’m not going anywhere with you.” You try to sound threatening, pushing against his shoulder. He holds his hands up in defeat laughing at you yet again as you do more to throw off your own balance than his. It’s okay though, his laugh is quickly becoming your favourite sound.

He throws the lifeless bear inside the door, grabs a jacket off the rack near the door and signals to his colleagues good night.

“You might want to put your shoes back on if we are going to go get food.” You glance down at the offending heels, nothing sounded worse in that moment. “Or you can climb on.” He turns around, a clear signal for a piggyback.

“I’m in a skirt, a piggyback sounds like a terrible idea.” He glances down at your hemline pondering for a moment how to solve the latest dilemma.

“Tie my jacket around your waist, that should drape enough. And hurry I’m hungry.” He hands you his coat. You make quick work of the knot and ready yourself to get on his back. Had you been sober, you might’ve considered the strangeness of the situation. However, ever since Jimin had said the f word, your mouth had been watering. He kneels a little and you jump on arms wrapping tightly around his neck. You squeak as he takes off, a little faster than you expected from a boy with such a lithe frame.

Masterlist

#bts fic #bts fluff #bts #jimin #jimin fluff #jimin fic #park jimin #park jimin fic #park jimin fluff

55 notes · View notes

theodora3022 · 4 years ago

Text

Crown Jewel

(noun): a particularly valuable or prized possession or asset.

Pairing: Francis Scott Fitzgerald X fem! former assassin reader

Summary: Having betrayed the Order of the Clock Tower and fled to Japan, you hid your ability and worked at the ADA as a secretary for protection. Life was not as good, but you knew what Lady Christie would do if she discovered a traitor’s whereabouts. You knew someone would dig up your old dirt sooner or later, but why does it have to be this arrogant, awful man?

Notes: This is really self-indulgent (to satiate my cravings and daddy issues), so read it at your own risk. I am not comfortable with cheating, so Francis is single in this one and never went bankrupt.(But he is still a family man, his wife Zelda passed away before the events in the show) He is an arrogant bastard in canon so you might find his behaviour offensive but that is just how he is. Excuse my pathetic Canadian English, as I cannot write in British English at all. This fic took me too many hours to write, thankfully it is finally done...

Special thanks to my friends for beta reading this long thing, your encouragement and praises are what kept my fragile sanity intact in the process!

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: Mild bimbofication, mild objectification, coercion, implied dub-con(We all know what happens in marriages right?), Yandere themes

She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines.

She was beautiful for the way she thought.

She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved.

She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad.

No, she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks.

She was beautiful, deep down to her soul.

-F.Scott Fitzgerald

The entire Fitzgerald Estate is finely, thoughtfully decorated, lavish even. Like photographs right out of a luxurious architecture magazine, with marble floors, persian carpets and high raised ceilings. A manor that sits on the top of a little hill, surrounded by trees and flowerbeds. But no matter how beautiful it may be, no one can never feel quite at home in prison. You thought as you lean back on the living room sofa near the patio, slowly dozing off in the afternoon sunlight with a half-read novel on your lap. Maybe you would go for a swim later, you could use a soak before he returns.

It’s easy to forget how much blood is on your hands in peaceful times like these. Ever since he made you dispose of your count book, you can barely remember how many people you had slaughtered.

Your hands were once covered with callouses from hours of training, but now they are as smooth as the velvet curtains. The glow from the big diamond ring on your ring finger irritates you so very often, but he had warned you not to take it off.

“Lady Fitzgerald? Mrs. Smith is here for your fitting session.” It is one of the maids. Ah, is the tailor here already? You put up a smile for the guest and got up, silently cursing your “husband” in the process. Good thing he is at work most of the time, so you can at least enjoy this glamorous life every once in a while without wanting to bury yourself in a bottomless pit.

Another week, another one of those frivolous social events. But you have no choice but to accompany him to every single one of them. While acting as the leader of the Guild, Francis is also the head of the Fitzgerald cooperation, therefore this high society life has always been the norm for him. You, on the other hand, prefer lurking in the shades. All these shimmering lights, noisy parties, fancy dresses and high heels leave you either dazzled or vulnerable. You feel more like his nice accessory, a Christmas bauble than a wife. However, you know your obligations. Be his arm candy, smile, be obedient and not to speak unless spoken to. The alternative of obeying these absurdities is simply unthinkable. Merely the thought can make you feel chills on this warm summer afternoon.

It’s either this or absolute hell. No, that is not an exaggeration.

As an experienced assassin, you had prepared for death since you first signed up for the position. However, no one can bear the Order’s punishments. You know that too well, having witnessed it first-hand countless times.

At least you can live a carefree life with this option. With infuriating restrictions or not, you are still alive and maintain a certain degree of freedom. You should take this compared to an excruciating death any day. Plus you also get to live in extravagance, you cannot hate that for one bit. This rich man has spoiled you to no end, willing to fulfill even your most absurd requests as long as you are his darling wife. Let it be cars, clothes or jewelries, whatever you wish for, Francis would always make sure you got the finest of them. Not that is ever possible, but you could...get used to this.

However, you utterly despise this title, Lady Fitzgerald? No matter how much he pampers you or showers you with gifts, it would never make up for the fact that you only signed that marriage license under certain conditions. There are those sleepless nights, while you lay under silk quilts in his embrace in some exquisite mansion, you wish you were back in your humble Yokohama flat alone.

---a few months ago

Almost spilling your morning beverage due to running into one of your coworkers at the door, is surely a bad omen, but at the time you did not give it much thought. “Sorry, (y/n)-san. But there is an emergency.” Kirako Haruno?

Work has only just begun, and to your knowledge, there are no major events scheduled for today. Why is she in such a hurry?

Haruno is as terrified as if she just saw a bear in the middle of the street. Strange, since she is usually calm and collected.

“What has happened? Are you okay?”

“There are foreigners here, they are demanding an audience with the president. (y/n)-san, you can handle them, right? Please, keep them occupied while I notify the president.” Looks like this is your problem now since you speak better English compared to any other in the ADA.

She said it quickly without any pause. Also walked away before you had a chance to refuse, so Haruno missed how the colours suddenly drained from your visage and your horrid expression.

Oh, dear. Please do not let the foreigners be them… Although not many members of the Order recognizes you as you always don masks even at meetings, you still feel the world may have ended for you, as you wobble out of the office to the reception area with cold sweat. If Haruno had not hurried off, you would have found some excuse to get away from this troublesome situation. You should have called in sick today...

Are they speaking with American accents? Good gracious, you almost had a heart attack over this. You dealt with the Guild before, back when you were still in the Order when you still viewed Lady Christie as your older sister. She used to take you to negotiations meetings. You know how they are, so it should be a cakewalk to keep them occupied for at least a while. But...what if they identify you and report your whereabouts to the Order?! Would they be willing to do Christie this “favour”? The last time you checked, the two organizations were not on exactly friendly terms. So you should be fine as long as you act accordingly. Besides, the agency would not allow foreigners to harm one of their office clerks, precisely why you applied for a job ADA a year-and-a-half ago.

Get your act together, (y/n). Being this panicked is beneath you, everything will be alright as long as you conceal your fears.

Finishing on your diplomatic front preparation, you greet them with a professional attitude. “Welcome to the Armed Detective Agency, ladies and gentlemen of the Guild.” You try to talk in the calmest tone possible, without stutters. “Now if you would follow me, I shall prepare you some tea. The President will be ready for you shortly.” Now that you have a chance to observe them up close, you had to dig your nails into your palms, pressuring yourself to maintain composure. Why is the leader of the Guild here?! You had seen him before, there is no way you could mistake that arrogant blonde for anyone else. Even though you are pretty confident he would scarcely recognize you without a mask, that tiny possibility feels like a sharp blade pressing against your throat, ready to strike anytime.

Fitzgerald was not expecting someone who speaks flawless English to receive them. Not someone this cute, too. And here he thought this is just going to be like any other boring business discussion. But he cannot shake off this feeling of how he had seen your enchanting smile somewhere before. It was not easy to leave even a vague impression on the great Francis Scotts Fitzgerald, you must have been someone important. A business partner? A Government Official? Or perhaps a Socialite? You are someone with a high position, that he can be sure. But why would you Oh how he hates having blurry memories of something. As soon as he returns to the Guild base, Francis needs to look into their Database immediately.

“Earl Grey, imported from England. Would you like some refreshments as well?” Taking out a can of cream biscuits from your desk drawer, you are glad to see the redhead young girl nodding excitedly. You return a genuine smile to her before bending down to fetch the plate. You were not sure if you were just being oversensitive, but you felt a burning gaze on your back when you turned. Your assassin instincts were almost always accurate, could it be that Fitzgerald had remembered something?

“Is there something wrong, Miss? You are sweating so much.” You do appreciate the ginger girl’s kind words, but could she not say it out loud for her boss to hear? You were planning on keeping your panics to yourself. Moving unnoticeable further away from the Guild leader, you gulped nervously.

“My apologies. I am not feeling well this morning. Now, here’s your biscuits.”

“Aren’t they called cookies? They are truly delicious, thank you so much, Miss. I’m Lucy by the way.”

“In England, we call them biscuits. Would you like some more, Lucy? I have more if you’ll like it.” Her cheerful nature reminds you of a little sister, how could you say no to her pleading eyes. Unfortunately, this also made you forget how you are trying to remain incognito, and you let your hidden past out unintentionally.

England? That certainly rings a bell for the bright mind of Francis Fitzgerald. And no, he was not eavesdropping. You are talking to his employee, after all. Francis even forgot to scold Lucy about being a demanding guest on cookies because he was so deep in thought, searching for any clue of who you might be. He was about to recall something when you received the president’s notice about the meeting. “The President is ready now, this way please.”

After they entered the office, you realized how you had accidentally exposed yourself while explaining about biscuits. No, now all you can do is pray Fitzgerald was not listening in to that whimsical tea-time conversation. Your stomach suddenly feels queasy, a sign that maybe you should request to go home early. You surely do not want to face those calculating blue eyes again. Heck, you never trembled this badly, not even before the toughest missions.

He was planning on asking you some questions after that unsuccessful negotiation, but it would seem like you had taken a sick leave early.

You seem to be rather nervous around him. Suspicious.

Yet Francis cannot stop thinking about how you cared for Lucy. That consideration, if his little daughter is still around, she is bound to love you… It could just be professional kindness, but Francis had seen enough people to tell what is a facade or not. Zelda was like this too, in fact, it’s this admirable quality that had drawn him in the first place.

The great Fitzgerald had seen so many beautiful women, but your unparalleled warmth and grace outshine all appearances.

Wait, Francis had finally cleared the fog now. Aren’t you that girl with Agatha Christie, the head knight of the Order of the Clock Tower? No wonder you speak of England. He was so shocked when Christie introduced you as one of her finest knights. You were so friendly and lighthearted, how can you be that notorious master Assassin? It does not matter whether you had a mask on or not, he remembers those lovely (colour) eyes too well. He had found you to be alluring back then, but at that time he was too busy to concern himself with amorous feelings. Going through the guild files, he found that statement from Christie about how you had defected from the Order and a bounty for your whereabouts.

So, you are hiding from your former Organization? That is unfortunate. Francis had heard a word or two about how the Order is feared for its gruesome torture methods, how they still implement the old ways without mercy. You would rather work as a low-wage secretary then continue being one of their most esteemed Knights, something must have gone terribly wrong.

This is the perfect wager to let you, a kind, independent strong woman, bend to his will.

Now that he had thought about it, coming back home to a loving wife once again sounds more than wonderful. Having someone by his side forever, to love, to spoil, to have a family with had always been what he wanted. But fate has been cruel to Francis on this matter and had taken them away way too soon.

This time, he would make sure to do it right. Francis is determined not to let the tragedy repeat itself.

You were surprised by that clearly expensive gift box on your desk the next day you arrived at work. There is a letter attached to it? Your heart dropped when you saw the Guild's emblem embedded on the wax seal. What could they possibly want from you apart from...that?

“Dear Ms(y/n), Sir Francis S FitzGerald would like you to join him for dinner at (location). Please put on the dress in the box attached and be at (location) at seven p.m sharp.”

What a condescending letter. Not even a polite invitation, just saying he wants you there? You knew how this Fitzgerald is, that arrogant and greedy type, who would value money above conscience. Well, you still got some savings left, if that could shut him up you would not mind emptying your pockets.

You can never let her find you. Suicide before she did is a possible option, but you decided to save that as the last resort.

That is why you decided to put on that dress and go to meet him at this high-end western restaurant.

The hem of the dress is too short for your likings, but its sublime texture made you presume it costs a fortune. You cannot even recall when was the last time you had don such fine material. Life as a Knight major feels nothing more than a fever dream when Agatha was still your friend, your dear Commander.

What is Fitzgerlad’s intention of giving you such a scandalous dress? Is this some peculiar way to humiliate you? This is why you are better off acting as the blade, never as the tactician. Mind games were never your forte.

You are wearing that dress as Francis asked, good. He knew you would look gorgeous in it. It’s such a shame you always covered yourself up. Why wear those cheap, conservative trash when you can wear this?

Someone like you needs to be cherished, to be coddled. You do not belong in the shades or some little office.

“Mr. Fitzgerald. How may I help you today?” God, you feel almost naked in this piece of cloth, but you know you had to grin and bear it as he has the upper hand for now. “If this is about that business permit, I am not the one to make decisions.”

“Why, you are not going to thank me for the dress? You look absolutely breathtaking if you are wondering.” Crap, he is wearing a suit of a matching colour. Has he done this on purpose?

You blush a bit at Francis’s generous compliment, but you did not foreget why you are here.

“Please, do sit. And call me Francis, Miss.” Pulling the chair out for you, Francis smiled politely before signalling the waiters to bring out the appetizers. He is acting way too nice if all he wants is blackmailing you. You were expecting a simple, cold business trade, not...whatever this can be called.

“So, how is Lady Christie doing?” You put down the wine glass, sensing his malicious intent and narrowing your eyes. Of course, he knows, you should have expected this much from the leader of the Guild and an accomplished businessman. Lady Christie must have sent out wanted advertisements, too.

“If you know this much then you must know I am not a part of the Order anymore.” Just name the price already, then you can both go back to your respective businesses and forget your paths ever crossed.

Clever one, although Francis would expect anything less from someone like you. Not just anyone could be the Knight major of that Order after all. You sighed with frustration, clearly wanting to get this over with. “How much do you need? I still have a decent sum in my bank account.” It would probably be a large price, coming from this greedy man, but you are willing to pay for it as long as he stays silent.

You, trying to bribe him? How adorable. You must have been incredibly oblivious to not notice his intentions. Yes, normally a good check would silence Francis, but can’t you see he is not after your money here?

Instead of taking the pen, Francis shoved his smartphone in front of your face.

You turn paler when you figure out the contents. It was an email draft, a draft intended for your former Commander. It tells how the Guild is doing her a big favour by returning her astray Knight major to her proper place. Did he type out an email already? You can already feel those cold dungeon bars on your skin.

“Is money not enough? What exactly do you need?” Calm down, (y/n). If Francis did not send that email, it means negotiation is still possible. Just give him what he needs and be done with it.

To your shock, the blonde smiled smugly and said: “I want you to join the Guild.”

Join the Guild? “As an assassin?” Of course, he is after your ability. It was what made you a high ranking knight, no wonder he would want that for his organization.

“Not exactly. You see, I’m looking for a...personal bodyguard.” Hm, Francis is fond of the word “personal” in this context, it makes him feel like you are one of his possessions already.

“If you have any knowledge about my ability at all, you should know I am no good for frontal combat. With your status, fitting individuals would come running.” Is he toying with you? How despicable. Only a dastard would toy with someone’s mind, especially someone desperate.

Carefully taking your hand into his, feeling your soft skin and those light calluses on your fingers, Francis knows he has to do this the blunt way. You are such a fool when it comes to romantic relationships.

“Be my wife, you don’t need to worry about being discovered ever again. Christie cannot touch you as long as you are by my side. You can have whatever you want, just say the word. ”

This has to be a hallucination. Be his...wife? “Mr. Fitzgerald, have you got hit on the head earlier?” Feeling his forehead with the back of your hand: “You do not seem to have a fever. Are you feeling unwell?” Is he out of his mind? You, his wife? You are a dangerous assassin with a high headcount, not exactly wife material. No one sane wishes to be involved with you romantically, or so you thought.

He was not expecting such an eccentric reaction. Most women would be over the moon with the mere thought of becoming his mistress, not to mention an actual wife. Francis knows you are different, but this is out of his wildest predictions.

You are even harder to predict than the stock market of New York.

“This is a serious offer, love. Do you take my words as some jester’s joke?” He is not joking? Oh dear, you don’t want to marry this man. He did not even properly court you? And it is not like he is giving you a real choice either.

“What, are you going to refuse? That is fine, surely this email could bring a smile to Christie's face.” “No, please don’t send that email!”The way your pupils shrink suddenly gives him heartaches, but this is the necessary measure to make sure you are compliant. Francis had promised to spoil you, but sadly this is not a matter he can compromise with. He could make it up with gifts and attention later right? This life in exile is not fitting for a lady like you, so why don’t you let him take care of you? Don’t you understand what could happen to you had he not intervened?

That trembling little nod is all Francis needs for confirmation. As he brings your hand to his lips for a gentle kiss, he swore silently to himself how he would never repeat his previous mistakes.

“Now, let us go ring shopping. Pick the biggest diamond one if you like, but make sure to select it out with a matching one.”

----Back to present

After the fitting appointment, you decided to spend the rest of the afternoon with some confectionary practices. You remember well how Francis’s face would lit up like a Christmas tree if he comes home to the smell of your bakings. It disgusts you how much he loves your docile mask, how you are his perfect housewife, his Mrs. Fitzgerald. This bastard do take pleasure in others pain.

Still, you must keep your “husband” happy. Humming your favourite melody in a pink apron, you try to imagine you are just doing this for only your own amusement, in your own house to make this more bearable.

Baking is one of the many hobbies you picked up after becoming Lady Fitzgerald. You could not work, neither as an assassin nor a secretary, as he is concerned about your “safety”: “Why should my lovely wife trouble herself with those headaches? You should spend your day doing whatever interests you, like painting or knitting! Tell me anytime if you need tutors.” Then Francis gave your head a few pats as if you are some cute puppy? You can never count how many screws he got loose.

What interests you? Well, stabbing Francis in his sleep could hardly count as a suitable hobby. Guess you’ll have to think of other ways to utilize those kitchen knives. Since he forbids you to train with weapons, you are stuck with those pathetic feminine leisure activities.

Placing the tray onto the preheated oven rack, you were cleaning up the mess from the process when two strong arms abruptly wrapped around your waist from behind. You knew exactly who it is since you had sensed his presence when he first set a foot into this ridiculously large kitchen. You also had to take deep breaths, reminding yourself why you shouldn’t just aim your fists at Francis’s nose then and there. These past few months with him had raised your resilience to an incredible level, you could tolerate his demanding physical affections without the urge to jump off a cliff now.

Curling your lips upwards, you push yourself to leave a light peck on the tall blonde man’s left cheek. That is mandatory, you had learned that on the first day here. “You’re home early.” The way you say those words is so sweet, even sweeter than those sugary treats in the oven. Even though you have to be careful, not letting the venom underneath slip out.

This is what Francis S. Fitzgerald longs to come home to, the love of his life after a day of gruelling meetings and other work. Once a renowned assassin, a second-in-command Knight in a Prestigious Royal Order, but now you are just his little housewife. He could never find a shinier trophy to demonstrate his power and influence. The haughty Blonde knows you have not entirely given up on the idea of escaping, still holding a grudge towards him, time will tell whether you accept your place or not. But that does not matter now, right now the Guild leader just wants to watch some brainless tv show on the sofa, with you on his lap to unwind, some Bordeaux would be nice too. He could handle all those business meetings if that means holding you to sleep every night. The sight of your smile makes it all worth it.

You belong to him now, his most prized possession, the crown jewel of Francis Fitzgerald’s collection.

And you have no say in the matter as long as you wish to stay in the land of the living.

It was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving,

But like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living.

-F.Scott Fitzgerald

(Hey! Thank you for reading! Commetns and reblogs would be greately appreciated!)

#bsd #bsd francis fitzgerald #yandere bsd #yandere francis fizgerald #the guild bsd #bsd the guild #bsd fanfic #yancore #yandere x you

112 notes · View notes

weepingcreationkitty-blog · 5 months ago

Text

A three part poem thingy that is the lyrics for the latest EP I've released called "Phases".. The Porcelain Moon was written first, then Wax, then Wane, but i arranged them like this to symbolize the triple moon.. limerence sucks :/ and also knowing the person you want most to speak to about anything and everything doesn't want to even talk to you about the weather sucks too :/ "a moment for me suspended in time, hung me like a noose when your heart met mine" :( sorry, that's enough behind the scenes, the writing says enough by itself anywhom'st'd've're

Wax:

"My heart threatened to consume me in its flames

You reached in found my hand and pulled me to safety

You began to consume my imagination

And when my heart offered itself to you you let my hand go

What of the carnival and it's delights?

For whom do I spin the candy webs and lights?

Is it solely for all the creatures of the night?

Or is it the sun in my heart that causes you fright?

Wax poetic at the thought

In my imagination there's no drought

Though with horrors it is fraught

Finding love in it won't come to naught

Ive hollowed out my skin

Hollowed out my mind and all within

Tamed, the beast, remains in

Until each phasing pulse of the moons spin

Why save me just to abandon me?

Was the offering of my soul not good enough?

Am I just not made of the right stuff?

Or was the visage of my corpse not up to snuff?

The pain of not being the right size

Of not sizing up to worth in your eyes

Once my gleam subsides I realize

I find myself on the shelf gathering dust like a past prize

Wax poetic at the thought

If only my love for you came to aught

Though with pain it is fraught

My heartstrings pull for you taut

Stretch until worn thin

Occasionally plucked to make sure they're still in

Tune with your fleeting whim

If only the moon could see the sun in the sky

If only the moon knew it merely affected the life on the land

And in and of itself wasn't it's progenitor

How the moons heart would burn instead"

The Porcelain Moon:

"I feel like speaking to you of the sadness

Of the emptiness felt after the parting of hearts

For a moment melded together

And as swift a moment lost

I feel like speaking to you of the joys

With my own emotions how I've played like toys

The fleeting little baubles

How they sit in dust and sorrow

I feel like speaking to you of the night

And how velvet darkness drapes so right

How the little creatures stir from their nest

And each bat squeaks its best

I feel like speaking to you of the days

Feeling the suns life in rays

How my hollow eyes feel around

Searching for traces of you in the sound

I feel like speaking to you of the rage

My heart feels from the silence in its cage

Like smoke you appeared

And without a sound...

Vacuous empty air fills my lungs

And even as it sits there hung

These words choke themselves out of me

I was nothing more than a vanity prop

I keep these words like wounds inflicted upon myself

For I don't wish to disturb another souls pretty little life

But I can't sit with this heart in strife

And bear alone the music of the night

How it hurts to bleed my heart

Knowing yours is not far apart

A moment for me suspended in time

Hung me like a noose when your heart met mine"

Wane:

"breath chokes under pale moons waning light

solitary shades have met and parted in the night

limerence unresolved in the heart

forever transposed in the art

it was nothing wrong with you

it was nothing wrong with i

sometimes hearts are simply meant to cry

to break in order to find the light within

break to pour the love out

broken to spray the love about

the sun and the moon in the sky

two sides of one coin

separate until heavenly cycles deign it's time

crossing of hearts as one in the skies

a moment for me suspended in time

hung me like a noose when your heart eclipsed mine

I feel like speaking to you of the moments

how beauty finds itself in the fragments

some puzzles don't have an edge

some pieces flow together to be rebound and find others instead

these words breathe themselves out of me

my heart will always love you and awaits the next eclipse

the moon in my sky, the sun in my heart

Will you light my nights while I immortalize you in the art?

May I shine on your days as souls dance in cosmic rays?

Will you keep your light flowing through these hands of mine

So that I may continue to spin the candy webs and lights

For all the precious creatures of the night

Wax poetic in the thought

In my imagination there's no draught

For you my heartstrings bright

So I may play the music of the night"

0 notes

tothemeadow · 4 years ago

Text

‘gemstones’ / Tokito. M x Reader

warnings: none

words: 661

His eyes were always a sight to behold.

They were breathtaking, mysterious, yet so oddly gentle - even when his stare remained blank. The clearest of lakes and calmest of seas - this was Muichiro.

You would often lose yourself whenever you looked at him, at his delicate features and silky hair. He looked like something straight from the fairy tales you’ve heard as a child. Glass eyes and a stone heart.

Utterly breathtaking.

If the moon was a person, it’d be Muichiro. Ever since the first time you saw him, you were intrigued by his distant personality and lack of general concern. He was somewhere far gone, never truly grounded to the earth; you desired to anchor him down, give him a reason to look at you. You never wanted to look away from those beautiful eyes.

He more-or-less didn’t care whether you stared at him or not. You wondered if he was used to it or it simply did nothing to faze him. Considering that he was a Hashira and all, eyes would be on him constantly. You were nothing more than a mere bystander, nosy by nature and curious until the day you died.

Stardust flowed through his veins. He must’ve been blessed by the gods whenever his mother birthed him. The moon kissed his cheeks, granted him its breathtaking visage. No matter how many times you’ve looked at him, you were awestruck. This was no mortal being. This was a heavenly force living in porcelain flesh.

“Your eyes are beautiful,” you breathed in his direction once, under the shroud of darkness and starlight. He shouldn’t have been able to hear from across the courtyard, but you swore his eyes flickered from the sky to you after you said so.

Those very eyes plagued your dreams, skirted the edges of your thoughts during the day’s hours. You hoped it wasn’t some pathetic obsession, but rather adoration. Your heart fluttered at the mere idea of locking eyes with him and committing their color to memory. You had no clue as to what he perceived you as; to you, Muichiro was lovelier than a doll but deadlier than a dragon.

It wasn’t until today that you finally shared proper words with him.

“Hey,” Muichiro calls, stopping you in your tracks.

The halls of the Butterfly Estate are silent. You glance around, trying to find whomever he was speaking to, but to no avail. You bow your head in a quick greeting. “Muichiro-san.”

All too quickly, he steps in front of you, his hair floating behind him. His wide eyes bore into your very soul, thick lashes kissing his cheeks whenever he blinked. “You’re the one who said my eyes were pretty.”

You grow flustered at his bold confrontation. He doesn’t seem particularly mad, but rather merely observant. There’s no point in lying to his face, not when he’s as close as he is. Slowly, you nod your head.

The dull glow of his eyes flicker. “Why?”

Your tongue feel way too heavy in your mouth. “Why...?”

Muichiro steps closer. Despite your greater height, you feel incredibly small. “Why do you think my eyes are pretty?”

You have a million reasons as to why you think so. To tell him such a thing, though - you couldn’t. “I... They just are, Muichiro-san. Hasn’t anybody ever told you that before?”

Your question surprisingly takes Muichiro aback. He swiftly shakes his head, his long hair swaying about. The revelation startles you. Nobody has ever said that to him? His eyes are a portal to another world, gemstones placed in an ivory statue. They’re utterly gorgeous, nothing less.

With a sharp inhale, you absentmindedly reach out and tuck his hair behind his ears. “Well, they are,” you reassure him. You gingerly hold his face in your hands, totally transfixed by those beautiful, beautiful eyes. “I think your eyes are the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.”

His eyes grow wide. To both your and his surprise, he blushes.

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimestu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #tokito muichiro #tokito muichiro x reader #muichiro x reader #kny muichiro #muichiro tokito #muichiro tokito x reader

227 notes · View notes

omoi-no-hoka · 4 years ago

Audio

Hi, guys! Sorry for the rather long hiatus. Work is still...soul-consuming haha. But I wanted to make a post about one of my favorite Japanese artists and this really cool song he released a little bit ago! All of his songs just got added to Spotify finally yesterday!

His name is 米津玄師 Yonezu Kenshi, and he is amazing. He started out making Vocaloid music under the name Hachi, in which he programmed all of the instruments and vocals. Now he mostly does music with his own vocals, and he writes and produces all of it. He also used to do all the illustrations for his music videos, and he does the cover art for his albums! I’m always swept away by his creativity and the poetry in his lyrics.

And you know how big a nerd I am about words, so here’s my English translation of my favorite song from his latest album. The song is called ひまわり Himawari (Sunflower).

This is a bit long, so I’ll put a “Read More” thing here. If you open the whole post, you’ll see my translation, and also a breakdown of my favorite kanji and words he uses. Hope you enjoy!

I hope that everyone studying Japanese can take a look at these lyrics, my notes on them, and see that even just listening actively to music can be a good way to study. 💗

ひまわり　Himawari　Sunflower

悲しくって　蹴飛ばした　地面を強く Kanashikutte kettobashita jimen wo tsuyoku Sorrowful, the ground I had sprung away from 跳ねっ返る　光に指を立てて Hanekkaeru hikari ni yubi wo tatete pulled me back strongly. I raised my finger to the light 愛したくて　噛み付いた　喉笛深く aishitakute kamitsuita nodobue fukaku Longingly, biting down on your lips and whistling deeply その様が　あんまりに美しくてさあ Sono sama ga anmari ni utsukushikute saa That visage is simply too beautiful 舌を打って　曠野の中　風に抗い Shita wo utte, kouya no naka kaze ni aragai Click your tongue, defy the wind of this wasteland 夜もすがら　嗄れた産声で歌う yo mo sugara shagareta ubugoe de utau Sing in the hoarse cries of a newborn through the night 遠く遠く見据えていた　凍て星の先まで tooku tooku misuete ita ite hoshi no saki made Shine the light of your bruised heart 痣だらけの心　輝かせて aza darake no kokoro kagayakasete all the way past that frozen star far, far in the distance その姿をいつだって　僕は追いかけていたんだ sono sugata wo itsudatte boku ha oikakete itan da That silhouette, I had always been chasing it. 転がるように線を貫いて　突き刺していく切っ先を korogaru you ni sen wo tsuranuite tukisashite iku kissaki wo I pierced through those stabbing blades as though I were falling 日陰に咲いたひまわりが　今も夏を待っている hikage ni saita himarwari ga ima mo natsu wo matte iru The sunflower blooming in the shade is still waiting for summer 人いきれを裂いて笑ってくれ　僕の奥でもう一度 hito ikire wo saite waratte kure boku no oku de mou ichido Break through that stifling air and laugh for me, deep within me, once more 消し飛べ　散弾銃をぶち抜け　明日へ keshitobe sandanjuu wo buchinuke ashita he Erase it all and fly, fire the shotgun into tomorrow 吐き出せ　北極星へ舵取れ　その手で hakidase hokkyokusei he kaji tore sono te de Get it all out, take the oar to the North Star into your own hands 傷ついて　静脈を不意に巡るエレキ kizutsuite joumyaku wo fui ni meguru ereki Wounded, electricity flows unexpectedly in the veins 掻き毟って　吹き荒び　鳴る哀歌 kakimusshite fukisusabi naru erejii Rip it away, rage upon it, let this elegy ring out 聴こえているあの時から　少しも絶えぬまま kikoeteiru ano toki kara sukoshi mo todaenu mama It never dies down, not even the slightest, from the time I first could hear it 震えるほど全て　消えないぜ furueru hodo subete kienaize It won’t go away, to the point that I’m trembling その姿がいつだって　僕を映し出していた sono sugata ga itsudatte boku wo utsushidashite ita That silhouette, it was always reflecting me もしも同じ街で生まれたら　君のようになれたかな moshimo onaji machi de umaretara kimi no you ni nareta kana If we had been born in the same town, could I have become like you? 日陰に咲いたひまわりが　今も海を見つめてる hikage ni saita himawari ga ima mo umi wo mitsumeteru The sunflower blooming in the shade is still watching the ocean. 聴こえるなら強く叫んでくれ　僕の名をもう一度 kikoeru nara tsuyoku sakende kure boku no na wo mou ichido If you can hear me, scream my name one more time. 鳴き声　かんかん照りの街路で　佗び戯れ nakigoe kankan teri no kairou de wabizare A cry on a sweltering city street, raise a lonely clamor 解き放て　乱反射して遠くへ　鳴り響け tokihanate ranhansha shite tooku he narihibike Let it out, that bent refraction that echoes far into the distance その姿をいつだって　僕は追いかけていたんだ sono sugata wo itsudatte boku ha oikakete itan da That silhouette, I had always been chasing it. 転がるように線を貫いて　突き刺していく切っ先を korogaru you ni sen wo tsuranuite tukisashite iku kissaki wo I pierced through those stabbing blades as though I were falling 日陰に咲いたひまわりが　今も夏を待っている hikage ni saita himarwari ga ima mo natsu wo matte iru The sunflower blooming in the shade is still waiting for summer 人いきれを裂いて笑ってくれ　僕の奥でもう一度 hito ikire wo saite waratte kure boku no oku de mou ichido Break through that stifling air and laugh for me, deep within me, once more 消し飛べ　散弾銃をぶち抜け　明日へ keshitobe sandanjuu wo buchinuke ashita he Erase it all and fly, fire the shotgun into tomorrow 吐き出せ　北極星へ舵取れ　その手で hakidase hokkyokusei he kaji tore sono te de Get it all out, take the oar to the North Star into your own hands

A Quick Note on Translating Lyrics

I’ve got to say that it’s really hard to translate song lyrics haha. Sometimes the word order is so different between Japanese and English that I have to swap the lyrics.

遠く遠く見据えていた　凍て星の先まで tooku tooku misuete ita ite hoshi no saki made Shine the light of your bruised heart 痣だらけの心　輝かせて aza darake no kokoro kagayakasete all the way past that frozen star far, far in the distance

The Japanese is actually in reverse order of the English here. Technically, a very direct translation would be “All the way past that frozen star far, far in the distance, shine the light of your bruised heart.”

Interesting Words

舌を打って shita wo utte click your tongue

In Japanese culture, doing that “tch!” sound by clicking your tongue is rude. It shows that you are impatient, irritated, or frustrated. Many English speakers click their tongue when they’ve been asked a question and need to think about it. If you are a tongue clicker and you go to Japan, try to curb the habit!

The full lyrics here are: “Click your tongue, defy the wind of this wasteland.”

So this really expresses the pent-up frustration and anger in this person.

嗄れた shagareta, kareta hoarse

What I love about this word is the kanji and its radicals. We have 口 (mouth) and 夏 (summer) put into one kanji. Can you imagine what it would be like if all the heat and dryness of summer was in your mouth and throat, and how hoarse and miserable you would feel? What a cool kanji! (Note: this is a very low frequency kanji.)

切っ先 kissaki point (of a sword, etc.); pointed verbal attack

I had a hard time translating this line for a lot of reasons, but in particular I wasn’t sure whether this kissaki was a sword or a verbal attack. I can only assume that because this song talks about crying out and singing so much that it must be the verbal meaning, but Yonezu uses many metaphors so I could also see it being blades.

人いきれ hito ikire body heat from several people in close quarters; stuffy air

This was a new word for me. Again, I found myself unsure of which meaning to use when I translated it. I went for the “stuffy air” meaning in the end because it was more succinct, but I imagine that Yonezu was probably imagining the former meaning, because he mentions streets and cities, which I imagine to be crowded. He’s also asking a person he’s lost to call out, and perhaps they are lost in a metaphorical sea of people. Then again, summer imagery is strong in this song as well. His word choice is just so GOOD. I wish he’d marry me.

散弾銃をぶち抜け　明日へ sandanjuu wo buchinuke ashita he fire the shotgun into tomorrow

This evokes much more beautiful imagery in Japanese. The kanji for “shotgun” are 散弾銃 (sandanjuu). 散 means “to scatter” or “to spread,” like fallen cherry blossom petals scatter in a gust of wind. So rather than evoking the image of someone pulling a trigger, it evokes the image of the pellets scattering into the air like fireworks or petals almost.

北極星へ舵取れ　その手で Hokkyokusei he kaji tore sono te de Take the oar to the North Star into your own hands

Ahhhh this is just so freaking pretty. “Take the oar to to the North Star into your own hands.” In other words, determine your own fate, take charge of your life. I just love the “oar” here.

吹き荒び fukisusabi to blow fiercely; to rage, to play (a flute, etc.) for fun

Again, I wasn’t sure how to interpret this line because of the multiple meanings woven into this word. Japanese is SO. COOL. you guys.

哀歌 aika lament (song); elegy; dirge; sad song

My man Yonezu out here bein tricky. Though the official lyrics use the kanji 哀歌, he actually sings this as エレジー (elegy). And that rhymes with the last word of the previous line, エレキ (ereki). Typically, Japanese songwriters tend not to think too much about rhyming. In fact, in Japanese in general, rhyming isn’t thought of as frequently as it is in English. So the fact that Yonezu used this interesting play on words with 哀歌 was pretty cool to me.

震えるほど全て　消えないぜ furueru hodo subete kienai ze It won’t go away, to the point that I’m trembling

I just didn’t have a way to translate the feelings in the ぜ here. “Ze” is a sentence-ending particle that usually shows a person’s confidence. So for him to use it here as he describes himself trembling, is like he’s putting on a front of confidence when really he’s deeply troubled.

佗び戯れ wabizare ???????

This was my favorite word in the song, and also the hardest one to translate! It doesn’t appear to be a real word in the dictionary, but it’s an imperative made of two different words: 侘び and 戯れ.

Have you ever heard of the term “wabi” or “wabisabi?” It’s this concept of Japanese culture and aesthetics that focuses on the beauty of impermanence and solitude, and an appreciation for the sorrow that comes with the transience.

To look up the definition of “wabi,” it means “taste for the simple and quiet; rustic simplicity; austere refinement; wabi,” or “enjoyment of a quiet life.”

But to look up the kanji of wabi (侘), we learn that it means “proud, lonely.”

So this is a very nuanced word! I think that the “wabi” of our word “wabizare” is meant to conjure the meaning of the kanji wabi, “proud, lonely.”

Now, 戯. Zare means “pleasantry; joke; tomfoolery.” There is also a word 戯言 zaregoto, which means “nonsense” or “wishful thinking bordering on nonsense.” I imagine that when Yonezu created this word 佗び戯れ wabizare, he wanted to combine the “proud and lonely” with “wishful thinking bordering on nonsense.”

鳴き声　かんかん照りの街路で　佗び戯れ nakigoe kankan teri no kairou de wabizare A cry on a sweltering city street, raise a lonely clamor

In other words, he’s asking this person to call out to him, but he knows that they are far away, too far for him to hear. He wants them to give out a cry, one that will sound as lonely as it does nonsensical because there is no way it will reach him.

Uh... What Does This Song Actually Mean?

Disclaimer: This is entirely my own opinion and it could be totally wrong! I always believe that everyone can interpret any piece of art how they like.

The tricky thing about Japanese is that you can omit subjects, and Yonezu does that a lot. So unless there’s an imperative or a use of pronouns, I’m not sure which line is about whom.

But basically, I think that there was this beautiful person that the singer came to know, someone that they loved and admired. But that person fell into a very dark, hopeless situation. They are “a sunflower blooming in the shade, waiting for summer,” and the singer wants that person to reach out to him. “If you can hear me, scream my name one more time. A cry on a sweltering city street, raise a lonely clamor.”

The chorus is all imperatives, telling the person to leap into tomorrow, to get it all out, to take the oars into their own hands and head for the North Star.

I think that this song is all about the singer wanting to help a person they care deeply for, and imploring that person to take action rather than suffer passively.

The End!

I hope that you guys liked this post and that maybe you learned some new words and even found a new artist you love!

Would people like to see more lyrics translations? They’re kinda fun!

#japanese lyrics translation #japanese language #study japanese #learn japanese #song lyrics #japanese vocabulary #study kanji #learn kanji #kanji #kenshi yonezu #米津玄師 #Stray Sheep #jrock #jpop

117 notes · View notes

scarecrowhuntress · 7 years ago

Text

BODY / APPEARANCE TAG.

tagged by stolen from: @fentasm

tagging : anyone who wants to?? BE FREE MY PEOPLE

BODY.

Long legs. Short legs. Average legs. Slender thighs. Thick thighs. Muscular thighs. Skinny arms. Soft arms. Muscular arms. Toned stomach. Flat stomach. Flabby Stomach. Soft stomach. Six-pack. Beer belly. Lean frame. Slender frame. Beefy/muscular frame. Voluptuous frame. Petite frame ( 5 ft 4 or shorter ). Lanky frame. Short nails. Long nails. Manicured nails. Dirty nails. Flat ass. Toned ass. Bubble butt. Thick ass. Small waist. Thick waist. Narrow hips. Average hips. Wide hips. Big feet. Average feet. Small feet. Soft feet. Slender feet. Calloused feet. Calloused hands. Soft hands. Big hands. Average hands .Small hands. Long fingers. Short fingers. Average fingers. Broad shoulder. Underweight. Average weight. Overweight.

HEIGHT.

Shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm-150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2m. Taller than 2 m.

SKIN.

Pale. Fair. Rosy. Olive. Dark. Tanned. Blotchy. Smooth. Acne. Dry. Greasy. Freckled. Scarred.

EYES.

Small. Large. Average. Grey. Brown. Black. Blue. Red. Green. Gold. Hazel. Doe-eyed. Almond. Close-set. Wide-set. Slanting. Squinty. Monolid. Heavy eyelids. Upturned. Downturned.

HAIR.

Thin. Thick. Fine. Normal. Greasy. Dry. Soft. Shiny. Curly. Frizzy. Wild. Unruly. Straight. Smooth. Wavy. Floppy. Cropped. Pixie-cut. Short. Shoulder length. Back length. Waist length. Floor length. Buzz cut. Bald. Jaw length. Mohawk.White. Platinum blonde. Golden blonde. Dirty blonde. Ombre. Light brown. Mouse brown. Chestnut brown. Golden brown. Chocolate brown. Dark brown. Jet black. Ginger. Auburn. Dyed red. Dyed any “unnatural color”. Streaked. Thin eyebrows. Average eyebrows. Thick eyebrows.

TATTOOS / PIERCINGS.

Full sleeve. Thigh tattoo. Hip tattoo. Shin tattoo. Wrist tattoo. Hand/finger tattoo. Foot tattoo. Neck tattoo. Face tattoo. Chest tattoo. One tattoo. A few here and there. Multiple. No tattoo. Monroe piercing. Nose piercing. Septum. Nipple piercing(s). Genital piercing(s). Industrial piercings. Earlobe piercing. Prince Albert piercing. Eyebrow piercing(s). Tongue piercing(s). Lip piercing(s). Tragus piercing. Angel bites. Labret. Stretches out ears. Navel piercing. Inverse navel piercing. Cheek piercing(s). Smiley. Nape piercing(s). No piercings.

COSMETICS.

Light eyeliner. Heavy eyeliner. Cat eyes. Mascara. Fake eyelashes. Matte lipstick. Regular lipstick. Lipgloss. Red lips. Pink lips. Dark lips. Bronzer. Highlighter. Eyeshadow. Neutral eyeshadow. Smoky eyes. Colorful eyeshadow. Blush. Lipliner. Light contouring. Heavy contouring. Powder. Matte foundation. Shiny foundation. Concealer. Wears make up regularly. Wears it from time to time. Never wears make-up.

SCENT.

Floral. Fruity (formerly apples bc she spent so much time in the orchard). Perfumes. Aftershave. Cocoa. Moisturizer. Natural soap. Shampoo. Cigarettes. Leather. Sweat. Food. Incense. Marijuana. Cologne. Whiskey. Wine. Fried food. Blood. Fire. Metal. Rain. Grass. Ocean. Autumn leaves. Baked bread. Freshly baked cookies. Smoke. Campfire. Lavender. Trees. Pumpkin Pie. Musk. Rose. Gingerbread. Peppermint. Oak. Honey. Lemon. Vanilla. Coffee Cake. Mint. Raw hyde. Burnt sugar.

CLOTHES.

Jeans. Tight pants. Overknee socks. Tights. Leggings. Yoga pants. Pencil skirt. Tight skirt. Loose skirt. Tight/formfitting dress. Cardigans. Blouse. Button up shirt. Band-T-shirt. Sports-T-shirt. Sweatpants. Tanktop. Cut off t-shirt. Designer. High street. Online stores. Thrift. Lingerie. Long skirt. Miniskirt. Maxidress. Sun dress. Tie. Tuxedo. Cocktail dress. Highslit dress/skirt. T-shirt. Loose clothing. Tight clothing. Jean shorts. Sweater. Sweater vest. Khaki pants. Suit. Hoodie. Harem pants. Basketball shorts. Boxers. Briefs. Thong. Hotpants. Hipster panties. Bra. Sports bra. Crop top. Corset. Ballerina skirt. Leotard. Polka dot. Stripes. Glitter. Silk. Lace. Leather. Velvet. Chemise. Patterns. Florals. Neon colors. Pastels. Plaid. Black. Dark colors. Fur. Faux fur.

SHOES.

Sneakers. Slip-ons. Flats. Slippers. Sandals. High heels. Kitten heels. Ankle boots. Combat boots. Boots. Cowboy boots. Knee-high. Platforms. Stripper heels. Bare feet. Loafers.

#{ headcanons }#{ Beauty is about having a pretty heart and a pretty soul } (visage)

1 note · View note

sophi-s · 4 years ago

Text

After three days. Three freaking days.

It is finished.

A kiss to die for

By: sophi-s (me)

Words: 4,531

Franchise: Darksiders video games

Characters: Fallen!Astarte, Abaddon

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, near death experience, angst, necromancy, I changed the storyline just a tiny bit for the purposes of this, Abaddon gets his ass handed to him by his ex :P.

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

Eden. The first gift from the Creator himself to the Humanity. A home for the First Ones. Once, an indescribably beautiful place full of grand trees and fresh, soft grass, flowing with cool, crystal clear waters. Colorful fruits growing in the trees, a delight to eye and tongue. Within, no danger could reach Humanity's ancestors. Truly a paradise the first humans rightfully called it. But now, after a great war that took place here, seemingly not that long ago, the great garden was left scarred and burning. Made into a tomb for those who sought to claim it. Bodies of Nephilim were left to burn and decay, forgotten and abandoned.

However, something has changed. A dark shadow passed over the sacred graveyard, leaving only madness and corruption in its wake. Those who perished picked themselves up from the ground and lashed out at Eden's guardians. Surprised and unable to respond with a coordinated defensive, the Faneguard had to call for retreat after their leader, Malahidael fell to the blades and arrows of the living dead. Amongst the scattered angels was the general of Heaven's Legions. Trying his best to keep his brethren focused and plan a tactical escape.

At least that's what he was trying before. Before he saw the cause of this nightmare. Now, outstretched on the ground in the dust, he forced himself up onto his elbow as he crawled towards his discarded blade, clutching at his chest that felt as though it had been caved in after a charging monstrosity trampled him in full speed.

How could this happen?

Fighting with his chaotic thoughts, he finally got a hold of the hilt but when he turned around, it was already too late. A large paw armed with razor-sharp claws landed on him, pinning him down and successfully immobilizing his lower half. And then his own blue eyes stared up into a pair of white ones, the same eyes that doomed him from the moment he met their gaze for the first time. The eyes that occupied his thoughts when he was awake and his dreams while he slept. Eyes of Astarte.

But what stood above him… this thing, this monster was Astarte no longer. From the waist up, the woman was stunningly beautiful as she always was, with her pale white eyes and long flowing, platinum blonde hair. But her legs have been replaced by a body of a feline beast with wings coated in blackness of corruption, feathers shimmering with red glyphs. A wicked smile was twisting her petal like lips and wherever her clawed paws fell, the dead bodies shivered and rose, called back into the accursed unlife. Utter insanity shone in her eyes.. Keeping his stone façade was no longer possible as inwardly he was falling apart. Astarte. The same Astarte who would kill and die for him, the same who he trusted more than anyone. The same Astarte he dared to love. Her smirk grew wider as she chuckled.

"Who do we have here? The great general of Heaven's Legions Abaddon himself!"

The unfamiliar taunting tone of her voice sent a shiver down his spine, as did the way she bared her teeth in a disturbing grin. Giving the large paw a tug to try and wriggle free, quickly realising it's pointless as the damned thing didn't even budge, Abaddon took a struggling breath, pretty sure his sternum was damaged if not broken.

"Astarte…"

His voice came out as a broken, pleading whisper. He still couldn't… or maybe he didn't want to… cope with what he was seeing clearly like on the palm of his hand. Astarte, his most formidable soldier, the strongest of them all, and the only woman in the Universe he felt something special for… Fallen into the vice-like grip of Lucifer's corrupting influence. Gone was the gentle smile that crawled its way up onto her face whenever she spotted him. Abaddon swallowed thickly when he noticed the spear in her hand poised to strike and carve his broken heart out from his chest. Astarte would never harm him…

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

She scoffed and used her other paw to press his right arm to the ground should he try to take a swipe at her. But they both knew far too well that he couldn't have, even if he wanted to. Astarte leaning over him was still the one his heart yearned for, still beautiful just… in a different, more horrifying way. Through the ringing in his ears after his head cracked against a rock, he could hear someone call out to him but whoever it was, they were successfully pushed back by the horde of undead Nephilim.

"Astarte, don't do it.."

He quietly begged, even though he never begs. Seeing her like this, twisted and bestial, did something to him he couldn't quite comprehend. Touched that part of his soul he didn't even know about. Strangely enough, even in her madness, Astarte must've sensed something in him that gave her a pause as she curiously tilted her head to one side. All the moments, even the shortest ones, he'd spent with Astarte in the past were flashing before his eyes. Every time they had one another's back in battle, every time one saved the other's life, every time they spoke about the things they would never tell anyone else whenever they were alone. And that memorable moment when they stood together, away from the prying eyes that moonlit night. Abaddon was listening to her as she asked him if what she feels is right, if there's any possible way he feels that way as well. He almost laughed at her obliviousness and the fact that his love was there before she even realised her own. Of course.. He took her hands in his and gazed into her eyes, absolutely mesmerized, waiting for permission to finally grant her the proof of his love and devotion, one which she silently gave him with a nod and a smile.

"I would walk through the fire of Nine Hells for you."

He said before leaning down to place a chaste kiss on her lips. A kiss, stolen kiss he was dying to receive. It was very brief but still felt like his first flight over the White City. Liberating, wonderful and equally as intoxicating. Those were the most beautiful memories he'd ever made but now they were like a parasite buried deeply into his brain, one that refused to leave his head, reminding him of better times and cackling maniacally at him as the present was coming undone before his very eyes. He wanted those memories to go. But there was no escape. Neither from them nor from Astarte herself.

"Look at me.."

"I am."

"Please, come to your senses. It's not you.. You need to fight it, I know you have it in you. Don't leave me like this… Don't you remember everything I'd done for you? Everything you'd done for me ?"

For a second, Astarte's grin fell, making place for a thoughtful expression and for this short second Abaddon dared to hope that there's still light in her. That he somehow managed to get to her. But all these hopes were taken away when she shook her head and looked at him… not with anger. It was pity, plain and simple as she spoke in a condescending tone.

"Fool. So loyal and righteous. Look around! The war had ended long ago, yet we remain stranded in this forsaken tomb! We've been abandoned and no one will set us free if we don't do so ourselves! Don't tell me you cannot see it."

He couldn't believe his ears. It wasn't the honorable and just angel he used to know. The Astarte he knew was gone. This was a twisted monster bearing the visage of his dearest, taunting him with her beauty that was always keeping his hand paralyzed whenever he tried to strike her even though his life depended from it.

"I have chosen my path, Abaddon. And you can walk it with me.."

Abaddon eyed her hand warily as she stretched it out to him, offering him help in standing up. He was torn. On the one hand, he so, so wanted to accept and be with Astarte as he used to. No one would take her from him ever again. But taking her hand would also mean slipping into the hateful darkness. Welcoming the sullying blackness inside and succumbing to madness. Straying from the light and forsaking his duty in favor of the same accursed power that destroyed her.

It was a dangerous thing, this love.. Pushing even the most reasonable people to do unthinkable and dangerous things in the name of it. More often than not at costs that rarely make it worth it. Lucifer knew this. And he used it as a weapon against Abaddon by turning Astarte. He knew not what the Dark Prince offered her but it must've been worth losing oneself. Astarte was now Lucifer's servant, not the love of Abaddon's eternal life. He couldn't… he couldn't end up like her. His already bleeding heart screamed out with anguish when he finally gathered himself to speak.. and refused.

"I… can't do this, Astarte. Not even for you…"

"That's a pity…"

Abaddon grunted in pain when the pressure on his wrist increased to the point when he could feel his bones beginning to crack. And then as suddenly as it appeared, the crushing weight was gone, both from his arm and his chest. But he wasn't free. His breath was abruptly cut off when Astarte's slender fingers, which often fiddled with his hair when he had a moment to lie down and rest after a hard day, looking up at her sitting beside his head, before all this, mercilessly curled around his throat and lifted him up to her eye level until his toes could no longer reach the ground. She was strong. Stronger than he remembered. His left hand grasped Astarte's wrist as he tried to struggle free while he raised his sword to attack. But… looking deep into her eyes, at her face, mouth curved in a poisonous sweet smile, the silken skin of her cheeks… His hand trembled. Once again he proved her and himself he doesn't have it in him to do this. Damn it all. This one, seemingly harmless emotion was what ultimately led him to his own doom. If he'd never fallen for Astarte he wouldn't be here, flapping his wings madly in an attempt to wriggle out of her hold. But he couldn't command his heart. It would not listen to him.. Abaddon couldn't simply stop loving Astarte. Her eyebrows furrowed in a gentle frown and he felt the tip of her gilded spear press insistently against his abdomen, right under his ribs. Cold sweat began to bead around his brow. Oh Creator…

"Fret not, love.."

Astarte purred, making him finally stop beating his wings and look her in the eye again only to see an unsettling spark in there. Despite the obvious danger, hearing her call him her "love" in this deceivingly sweet voice still made his racing heart skip a beat.

"It won't be long.. And when you die, you'll be forever at my side. Just as you desired."

As a monster, not unlike her. A living corpse that defiled the natural order by its existence itself. He didn't want to go like this. What an end it is for a general of Heaven? Killed by his own lieutenant and brought back to life as a shambling husk of what he used to be? Preposterous. Cold lump of fear settled into the pit of his stomach. He could only count seconds. One.. two… it didn't even come to three when the blade sunk deeply into his flesh, piercing the armor as though it wasn't even there in the first place and running him through. After all, the spear was created specifically to fight armored opponents… Abaddon wanted to scream out in pain but the wail of agony was cut short by the firm grasp on his throat that stopped the air escaping his lungs. Pain clouded his vision but did not silence his racing thoughts. He was weak. He couldn't strike Astarte down as his enemy, denying her the well deserved rest and falling to her blade like a fool he felt like. He struggled to breathe and keep his eyes opened when he felt Astarte loosen her ironclad grip on his neck and move her hand to his face, oh so gently pulling the strands of his hair, matted with sweat, to the side and behind his ear before placing the same hand on the back of his neck to keep his head still. He gasped for air through his opened mouth as blood was beginning to well up in his throat and dribble down his chin. And then Astarte unexpectedly leaned in and decisively captured his lips with her own, granting him the final kiss for a farewell.

Abaddon's eyes widened in fear and shock but even though the pain of the spear through his side, he found himself going slack in Astarte's arms. His ornate blade clattered to the ground when his fingers unfurled and let it slip out. No strength remained within him to even try and respond to Astarte's lips, even if he wanted to. But what he hoped to be his last comfort turned out to be nothing more than a cruel torment with how cold and meaningless the kiss felt. It was nothing like the one back in the White City. Hollow seconds ticked by. It tasted only of the blood flooding his tongue and the bitter defeat. No love, no passion and no feelings remained in her black heart. Only the empty void and tasteless ashes… Monster. Astarte no longer… She would never hurt him…

Astarte knew him and all of his weak spots all too well. She knew how and where to strike to make it hurt. And this last kiss was only a tool to her. There wasn't any physical pain anymore when she finally pulled away with his blood painting her lips in deep crimson and let his body slip down the spear to collapse onto the shriveled grass. The last thing Abaddon saw before numbing darkness swallowed him was Astarte delightedly licking his scarlet life essence on her mouth and teeth before she hummed contentedly

"Farewell, my love. I'll see you again soon enough…"

She stood close, gazing at the distant stars shimmering in the black sky.

"The night sure is beautiful."

"It is. Even more so with you around."

"Tsk. Sweet-talker…"

In the impenetrable black, Abaddon heard nothing, saw nothing and felt nothing aside from the dull ache within his chest. Betrayal… Every beat of his heart was a torture. He couldn't even tell if it was really beating or not anymore. It bled ceaselessly. Craving for the lost love. Crying out to Astarte as something started to tug at the strings of his very soul. Trying to pull him free from his still body that refused to move no matter how much he wished to stand or at least sit up. Memories were passing all too quickly through his head. Eyes shining with uncertainty, a relieved smile as he staggered upright with a pained grimace that was supposed to be a comforting smile..

" Are you certain everything is alright? For a moment there I was afraid you were gone.."

"Never, my light. I would never leave you."

He wasn't going to the Kingdom of the Dead, he was certain. Astarte would make sure of it.. Curse Lucifer.. curse this wretched feeling still coiled in his chest, like a festering plague. Warriors of Heaven are people of unbreakable steel. Calm and collected beings of logic. But when it comes to honest feelings, there's nothing in between. They either don't care or love to the death. And when they love and it all falls apart, their hearts break like no one else's. No, they don't even break… they shatter to a million pieces like a frozen flower. And even if they are ever put back together, they're never the same. Those scars run too deep to ever disappear. Curse everything… Soft hair he tangled his fingers in, a heartbeat right beside his… warm presence next to him and a misleadingly delicate cheek pressed to the skin on top of his chest..

"What happens now then?"

"Doesn't matter. As long as we stay together."

"We will, Abaddon…"

He tasted the copper tinge of blood again as Astarte's voice echoed in his head when she swore to him. When he believed her..

I P R O M I S E .

Those two words… They meant a world to him. Even after he saw what Astarte had become… Abaddon desperately clung to those words like a drowning man holds onto the final breath until the very last second. And that was his downfall. She promised me…

The last memory of Astarte before all this chaos wormed its way into his mind. A less pleasant one. He could see there was something wrong with her back then. This was the first time they had a true falling out. Well.. can this really be called a falling out if it was just him being yelled at? Astarte was changed already. Something happened to her after the Nephilim slaughter. Something he had foolishly overlooked. Maybe he was just too preoccupied with his own grief? Blood tumbled down from her wound, painting both her and his armor in vibrant red from where a crude spear met her body…

It didn't take long for the last of the Nephilim to fall when this happened. She held onto life tightly as he led her deeper into the garden where healers would take care of her. Abaddon waited outside the tent, pacing back and forth until Azrael, who'd been tending to Astarte himself, walked out. A slender hand fell onto his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks and making him look at his old friend bearing a sullen expression. He'd never been so terrified in his life like in this short moment when he waited for Azrael to inevitably tell him that it was too late to help her but he merely asked Abaddon to come with him inside. Somehow, it was even worse. He saw her sitting on the edge of a cot, face pale, lips pressed into a thin line, staring at nothing. Eyes of other angels were on the three of them as the two archangels walked in. It was a relief to see her alive but there was no doubt that something was wrong. The patches of fresh crimson staining her trousers on her inner thighs only confirmed his suspicions. And Azrael didn't keep him waiting for an explanation.

"She was with child.."

The news hit him like a slug to the face. With a sack of bricks no less. Astarte, his beloved, bearing his blood in her womb. By all means he should feel ecstatic. He should rejoice. But this one word, this tiny word filled him with absolute dread. Was.

"The blade went deep.. There was nothing I could do. I'm sorry."

Who knows how long he stood there like a wooden stake? There was nothing I could do. Azrael was inarguably the best healer in the White City. He knew what he was saying. And yet… Abaddon found it difficult to believe his words. A child. His child. Died before they even had a chance to live.. It hurt more than any wound he'd ever received. When he finally could move, he approached Astarte and sat beside her, reaching for her hand to give her something to hold on to. But her violent reaction caught him off guard. She jerked away, her words dripped like acid.

"It's your fault. Get away from me!"

"Astarte, listen.."

"No! It never should've happened! Why would you do this to me?!"

This was the first time she called him per "you" in the presence of other angels. He knew not what she was truly going through but if his own sorrow was any indication, it must've been a nightmare. They'd lost something they didn't even know they had and it felt like the end of the world they'd built together. In a way, it was... Abaddon tried reaching out again but Astarte batted his hand away and leaped up to her feet despite the pain.

"Don't touch me! Do not speak to me, get off!"

"Astarte!"

He managed to call out before she stormed out of the tent, wrapping her wings around herself as a barrier that could protect her from the world around. Were it not for a firm grip on his arm, he would've gone after her. It was Nathaniel who stopped him. Abaddon looked at his friend, the right side of his face wrapped up in bandages just like his side he was keeping his hand over.

"It's not going to help. Let her go for now."

It's been a long time since he felt this lonely. He left the tent without another word, ignoring whatever it was Azrael was saying, and walked away from the camp like a wandering spectre who lost its way to the Well. And when he was far enough, he found himself collapsing on the ground, angrily hitting it with his fist as though it was the culprit here. They died without so much of a name.. Abaddon knew that what Astarte said wasn't true. He had no idea, it can't have been his fault… and yet this thought kept bothering him.

I should've protected you better. I have failed you.. both of you…

It took a couple of shaky breaths to collect his thoughts. Unable to do anything else, he pulled himself to his knees, clasped his hands together and started to whisper a prayer, seeking compassion in the Creator and his silent presence.

Astarte was already slipping after that and the prolonged stay in Eden only made it worse. She became distant and irritable, constantly itching for a fight, be it with words or blades. He thought she needed time to grieve. But this was something else. Something more sinister. Perhaps if he noticed it earlier.. done something… If only…

The odd tugging suddenly ceased and moments later a wave of comforting warmth washed all over him, gathering in his side where he was impaled. Deep within his chest, he felt his heart quiver, desperately fighting to keep beating. At first he thought he was merely waiting for Astarte to pull him back into the land of the living as a detestable abomination but no.. He yet lived. His thoughts were abruptly dispersed when he heard voices, very familiar and concerned voices, break through, the buzzing in his head.

"Did that do it?"

"Is he even alive ?"

"Hard to tell. It doesn't look good.."

"No, it doesn't.. Do you think we got to him on time?"

"I do not know. I'm not even sure if- Wait, I think he moved."

Abaddon indeed stirred, prying his eyes open with no small effort, immediately regretting his choice after a far too bright light intruded underneath his eyelids, and descending into a fit of uncontrollable coughs, spitting out all the blood that remained within as soon as he took a deeper breath. Pain. Horrible, excruciating pain filled his chest. He had been right. His sternum was definitely broken.

Damn all of it. Damn Lucifer, damn the Nephilim and damn the blasted air that hurt his lungs with every breath. Mist eventually fell from his sights, revealing to him familiar, tired faces of angelic soldiers leaning over him with distressed looks. His men. The Faneguard. They survived. Some of them at least… Malahidael wasn't so lucky.. One of them, Fariel if his memory doesn't deceive him, was holding up Abaddon's hand in his, and held between his curled fingers, Abaddon noticed an emptied crystal, a used up healing shard glimmering in the sunlight as the energy that was channelled into his body began to close the torn blood vessels.

"Lord Abaddon. Can you hear me?"

Gasping for another bit of air, horribly weakened but still very much alive and likely to stay that way, Abaddon gurgled out a disturbing sound that was supposed to be a miserable chuckle. In honesty, it sounded more like a dying demon than a laugh.. It only served to agitate them even further until he breathed out with relief and nodded as no coherent word could form in his mouth. What happened to Astarte when he was on death's door, he could only guess. But one thing he was sure of. She was still out there. Raving mad and dangerous to all who step into Eden. The law was clear. Astarte had fallen into darkness, defiled the dead and raised her weapon against her brethren. This was not an easy decision but after what he'd seen and lived through, Abaddon was certain now. He tried to bring her back, save her from the hate that grew within her like a malicious weed. But she was clearly too far gone. He couldn't help her.. Too late. As always, he was too late. Whether Abaddon likes it or not, Astarte needs to die. There was nothing more he could do for her. But he won't be the one to play the executioner and the hand of justice. He knew he couldn't. He'd failed twice already.. It will be done, just… not now.

Perhaps another time… They were safe for now. And he needed to think… Abaddon lifted his free hand to his mouth. It was still there, this horrid sensation.. and he knew it won't go away for a long, long time. Resting his head against the ground, he exhaled heavily as blessed unconsciousness started to take a hold on him once more. He needed to rest. They all did…

Even as he was falling into the dark again, he could still feel Astarte's venomous kiss upon his lips. Burning like fire and sinking cruel claws into his chest. Would he ever forgive her for tearing his heart apart? Probably. It wasn't her fault after all. It can't be, can it? Would he ever forget, though? Unlikely.. Abaddon couldn't help but wonder… if it was all his fault? He couldn't command his feelings and order them to leave him. But still, he felt guilty. Not even for Astarte's fall anymore but for ever letting this infatuation control him. That's where this love had gotten him so far. It left him weak and vulnerable. It was beautiful while it lasted but now? Only suffering remained.

No wonder Heaven has such a disdain for love. It causes naught but misery and ruin. A dire thought invaded his hazy mind. It matters not what Astarte had done. He still loved her. Soon, she will be put to rest. And him? Well.. Every, even the greatest warrior has to fall in battle. Eventually… And when that day comes, he will be ready to embrace his end. When that day comes.. they will meet again. Maybe... But until then… His heart hastened even still as he took another breath and silently told himself…

…Never again…

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

It.. it was supposed to be short? I did say short fic, didn't I? Uhh.. Whoops 😓

Also, Gimp 2 has nearly succeed in driving me nuts. In Poland we say "stand on eyelashes and clap one's ears" when something is nigh impossible. Yeah. That was that.

Btw, I take back everything I said about Abaddon's shoulder pads , they're mf'ing gorgeous 👌

#darksiders #darksiders fan fiction #darksiders genesis #my fic #darksiders astarte #astarte #darksiders abaddon #abaddon #here I go writing about that arsehole again XD #idk #I can't tag properly :P #my art #fan art #darksiders art #also .I.. Gimp #it's so hard to do decent stuff #it's not even that good :/

41 notes · View notes

yewfallen · 3 years ago

Text

a collection of drabbles under the cut about febail and his different potential fathers from various timelines. goes a lil into tiny hcs for each in varying ways. i only went for predestined fathers as well as some popular choices because i don't have the steam to go for every single possibility LMAO as intriguing as some of the unexplored ones can be.

[ALEC]

Febail remembers very little about his father and mother, but when he tries his hardest to recall his youngest days from before Patty had been born, he notices how the scenery always seems to change each time. At times, the world is blanketed in white and lovers huddle close for warmth. A man he presumes to be his father sneaks a little dollop of snow onto his little cheek, telling him to see the world and brave it, li'l guy. His father has a way of making the most mundane things sound so fantastical, like this world was a wonderful thing to wake up to each day.

And one day, his father would never wake up to meet tomorrow ever again.

But before that, the change from castle to castle, battlefield to battlefield, and country to country seems to suit him and his lady love just fine. Two souls, roaming the world with their son in tow, daring to find treasures and loving people alike.

Their son will grow to be the type to fall too easily in love just like his father before him. Their son will grow to be fearless too, just as if the ghost of his father had taught him that no enemy could find a weakness in him.

Their son will grow to barely know either of them once the flames of Belhalla claim them both, and it will be up to a family friend to drop him and his newborn sister off at an orphanage in Conote, none the wiser.

___

[FINN]

Febail had known the snows of Silesse and the fires of Belhalla long before he had known the man that was his father.

After the fallout of Sigurd's army, Brigid had taken her son east towards the Munster Region, traveling only at night. In hindsight, it was to escape any watchful eyes, but as young as he was, he was none the wiser. When he had asked his mother where they were going, she would tell him it was to see his old man, and that was all he needed to know to be excited.

Leonster was a pretty place where flowers bloomed for as far as the eye could see and the weather was always temperate. There was never a day where there was not enough food to eat, and neither was there a day where his mother went by unloved. Soon enough, that love manifested into another child.

However, beauty is fleeting, and the day after Febail's younger sister was born, the dream-like state of that year in Leonster fades away in a blink of an eye. They hadn't even said goodbye to his father, coming into his life and receding just as quickly as the ocean's waves.

By the time Febail meets his father again, he can't remember him at all and his father can't recognize him in turn. They walk past one another like strangers, a son grown up to live on his own and a father grown to realize the things he loves will all leave him before he is ready to let go.

___

[MIDIR]

When Febail tries to remember his parents, it's always his mother that comes to mind first. She was striking and bold from what he can recall. From where he sat as a little baby, it was always her that he was pointed to look at, like she was someone whose presence was something to bask in every time she walked into the room.

When Patty prompts him to say what he remembers of their mother, the first thing Febail can think to say was that she is beautiful. Her memories of her visage are nothing more than a haze, least of all the kind of thing a boy can rely on to say one way or another on the topic, and yet he knows it.

She's beautiful, a voice had murmured from behind him often. He had heard it so often, it had become something like a mantra for the man who had said it to him. His father had held him, taking the role of his constant caregiver but he had lined himself in shadow always. Every day was a day lived in disbelief, one that framed his mother as something holy, something somehow untouchable, and the only thing worth looking at until Febail realized he hardly knew a thing about his father at all.

The only thing he did know in the end was that his father revered his mother in some sort of way, and it had stuck with him long after any memories of what the man looked or sounded like had long since turned murky.

___

[DEW]

A youthful man takes his infant son to the market one day. The shopkeepers joke around, not believing the little scrap of a thief they had known would really grow up to get a child of his own even as the thief himself claims the bundle as his, and he brags to the world of his courageous and badass wife, to which the pawnbroker and blacksmith both roll their eyes and simply give a good-natured laugh.

The thief takes his son to the market many more times after that, teaching him the ins-and-outs of every shop in every town and later how to haggle and find a good deal just about anywhere he goes. The vendors rib him, asking if it isn't a bit too early to teach a young thing like that all this stuff, to which the thief replies, “It's the early bird that gets the worm!”

When Febail grows up, that little saying sticks in him, and he makes it a habit to go to the markets early, browsing the merchandise and expertly talking down even the coldest of merchants to let him get his wares for cheap. Every gold coin counts when you've got a whole house of mouths to feed, and the less he can spend on himself, the more he can send back to the little ones in Conote waiting for him, he thinks.

The blacksmith looks at Febail, at first unwilling, but when he sees the boy's green eyes that speak of an upbeat day in a bleak, cold world as theirs, the blacksmith remembers that thief from two decades ago and finds it in him to melt his heart, even if it is at the cost of his own pockets.

He wonders where that thief went, and where his little lad went with him.

___

[JAMKE]

Today, Verdane has a new prince.

Lady Edain of Yngvi sits next to her sister who's in bed with her newborn son, exhausted for the effort of pushing him out it looks. Jamke knows not at first whether to disturb the sisters until the two invite him in, to which he pardons himself and comes in on unsure footsteps still.

The reality of everything hasn't come to sink in quite yet. Seeing this, Brigid rolls her eyes and beckons him even closer — closer — closer — and that's when she tells that husband of hers to hold their son in his arms and make everything feel real already. Her sister laughs watching the two of them before nodding and gently encouraging Jamke to take Febail from Brigid's arms, being the final push the man needs to nod and go along with it as awkward as he might be about the whole thing.

That's his son in his arms. That's another life in Verdane's royal family, a bloodline not destined to end with him after all. The weight of this baby feels all the more heavy with that knowledge, and even after a few minutes have passed with the young Febail in his hold, he still doesn't know what to say or how to react, gaping and gawking at his child like he's not even his.

Congratulations are given all around, carrying through the rest of the day as the various people in Sigurd's army come to visit the couple, and there's a few light-hearted jokes at how stoic Verdane's older prince is being, but Jamke takes that matter more to heart.

Why does he not know how to react? Brigid's going to get worried, but Jamke passes through that day further, still reacting to it like it's not his and her day to revel in.

It's not until later when they need to change Febail that he spots Ulir's brand faintly glowing on the baby's back, and Jamke's stony face breaks, erupting into a silent stream of tears.

For as long as Verdane has existed, it has been known as the land of savages by the other Jugdrali powers. Any peace his kingdom has ever been able to find has been recent but peace does not necessarily mean respect. After all, the moment their treaty had been broken, the Grannvalians and the rest of Jugdral had all been too quick to proclaim their disdain upon them again, voicing what they had merely kept quiet about all these years. Verdane would never be seen as their equal, devoid of the divine blessings they had all been given via their Crusader founders.

This would have been the truth forevermore, but when Jamke spots Febail's brand, he realizes that this truth has now shattered. With his son, he can see a happier future for his beloved fatherland and at last, Jamke finds he can express what exactly he feels about this new chapter in his life.

___

[CHULAINN]

It has been some time since the arena's most prized gladiator had left his days of coliseum hopping, trailing after a stronger fighter than him. He still remembers that day fresh in his mind as if it had happened just yesterday. Lord Sigurd's sword moved both gracefully and mightily, blade seemingly an extension of him and his ideals. Chulainn lived each day looking to die and his sword carried the weight of that baggage with it; meanwhile, Sigurd lived brighter than that, living to make a new life, and the way he fought was breathtaking. When Chulainn tasted defeat, he realized he really did want to live but not just any life.

He saw Sigurd's way and decided he wanted a piece of that too. His life hadn't been the same since.

The ride since has been a hell of one, and each bout and battle was another test for Chulainn's will to live. Did he want to see tomorrow? Did he see the future as having a place for him? Just what did he live for exactly?

Though he had joined Sir Sigurd's company to find out, he can't say he's answered any of these questions just yet. He's lived, he's loved, and one day, he's gained a son to call his own.

He asks Brigid what their son's name is, to which she answers Febail. Febail, he repeats, marveling at the sound of it before he says it again and again.

Brigid laughs, wondering what's got into him all of a sudden. It's just a name, after all.

But to Chulainn, it's more than a name. It's the thing to cement that their life together is real, and now he knows what to say when someone asks him what he lives for.

He's found his answer, he discovers, and his life finally feels complete.

And now he has something to lose.

#// will fully confess some of these pairings i don't like actually MAKRGMRGMMK but hopefully my biases don't come out too much in these??#// ofc none of these are like. set in stone for febail in toa. i'll let potential other muses help me figure that out later haha #+. / drabbles.

6 notes · View notes