#and he's been happy with his choices and he serves a good king

[yakutarts]

Nightmare and Dream but feral, non-skeletal body!

For the love of god PLEASE click on the image for better quality + close ups and clothed version under the cut!!

Would you kiss them?

Video process:

I made these using a specific context

A while ages ago I drew and posted a drawing of Nightmare and Dream on their light ball form but with some alterations/personal headcanons.

On the post, I expressed my desire to draw the twins in a universe were Nim didn’t need to give them bodies, and just let them grow naturally. And specifically give them an animalistic appearance, instead of a humanoid one like most artist do.

You can see on the process video that it took me 1000 sketches to make something that looked good and I was happy with, the video is obviously sped up, the total time it took me to make this was 28 hours and 15 minutes.

Now explaining some things:

Why are they so big?

I read on a post made by Joku that Nim, before giving them skeleton bodies, tried to make them human ones, but the pure amount of magic and power the twins had made the human bodies explode or some shit. So she picked skeletons since the magic could flow freely through the bones without being confined by muscle and flesh. That made me think if their power had physical forms, it would be gigantic. So I gave them gigantic forms to better represent their status of strength and power, beings made from raw magic to serve as guardians of all emotions throughout the multiverse, of course I needed to make them big and intimidating!

Why the horns?

Artistic design choice, I gave them little horns and a chubby tail in their light ball form to purposefully make them more animalistic, wanted to keep it while making these. Also just giving them a smooth head with nothing much going on looked weird and boring.

Why the draconian look?

Dragons had been created and depicted as symbols of pure power above humanity and worshipped as deities throughout several cultures around the world, different depictions of dragons has been one of the only things present among almost all cultures, like a default folklore creature. While I tried to incorporate other mythical creatures in the design, the draconic body plan felt more right due to the influence of dragons on human beliefs, and their representation as magical and powerful beings beyond human comprehension. Plus I just really love drawing dragons.

Why the clothing choice? Also why is Dream half naked while Nightmare has everything covered?

While designing the clothes for Nightmare, I used as reference clothing that usually royalty would wear, Nightmare has a really big ego and sees himself as a king, so he uses fancy, expensive clothing and jewelry, adapted and designed for his anatomy. Not practical for battle, but his corruption can go through the fabric without damaging it, and most people and monsters just run when they see him, so he doesn’t worry about it getting dirty or tearing, Nightmare just expects every soul to instantly submit when they see him, so he never worries about getting into a battle and getting dirty he has that big of an ego.

Dream is the opposite, his style of clothing much more practical for running, jumping, flying, fighting and general exercise. He has 4 bags in total, 2 on each side, inside them he keeps several items, be it healing food, magical artifacts, first aid kit, gifts he receives, stuff he buys or random things he finds and wants to take home with him. Dream’s crown is now a colar couldn’t figure out how to make it work with the head shape and horns, his cape is from his official design, but changed to white, was planning to make it yellow but when I looked at it my eyes hurt because there was too much yellow everywhere. I made Dream’s clothes with the intent to match his official design, I didn’t to the same for nightmare because a turtle neck with a hoodie on a dragon would make him more huggable than intimidating. Plus I like to think that the leg warmers was a gift from Blue, and the ring on his horn a gift from Ink. Didn’t add more stuff on him because I couldn’t think of something that would look good and match Dream’s vibe, the rest of his clothes on his official design didn’t translate well here. Oh, while I was drawing this, I drew the colar and the leg warmers first, without the cape, Dream looked like a twink with a pet play kink.

Side note; neither Nightmare or Dream see the use of clothes as a necessity or as decency. For them clothes are nothing but pure decoration and to show off status for Nightmare, they can wear full body suits, partial clothing, just jewelry, or nothing at all, which is what they usually go for when at home, wearing or not wearing stuff doesn’t make that much of a difference to them at all.

Do they act as animals or do they have human intelligence?

Despite me using the word “feral” all the time to describe them, they do not actually act as animals. I’m only using “feral” to describe their body/anatomy, Nightmare and Dream are fully sentient and have human level intelligence/awareness. They are capable of speech and have opposable thumbs on their front paws, they can grab, write, hold… do anything a human can do with their hands with dexterity. But they do have to use only hand one at a time, and balance themselves with the other. To use both hands, they have to be sitting, or be supported by something, they can balance themselves on their wings if they have to.

And now contradicting what I just said, they have some animalistic behaviors. The twins can growl, purr and roar. Despite Nightmare being able to use his tentacles and Dream being able to shoot magic arrows out of his wings, they to also scratch and bite while fighting. Since they are big and heavy, they can easily crush bone under their weight and their bite force is strong enough to split someone in half. If you need a reference, just use Smaug from The Hobbit, he has more or less the balance of animal behavior and human intelligence I’m looking for.

Expanding more on this, the twins stretch just like felines, and often sleep in positions usually cats sleep in (they don’t actually need to sleep but do anyway). Dream likes to go fishing, and by fishing I mean jumping in a lake and chasing the fish underwater. He finds it more fun than sitting around and waiting for the fish to come to you instead.

I guess you count their lack of necessity to wear clothes as animal logic too?

_________________

If you have any more questions about them, I will be happy to answer!

And yes, I do plan on making more drawings of Nightmare and Dream on this form!

Dreamtale belongs to @jokublog

Feral concept/design by @yakutarts (me)

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Rescue pt. 2: knight!price x princess!reader

Warnings: talk of pregnancy, medieval standards for women

A little longer than normal

Sir John Price’s hands were gentler than they looked.

He led you to the river when he saw the cut on your arm, and had you sit on a nearby rock. He barely said a word to you, just merely told you to sit while he grabbed a pouch out of his horses saddle and went to the river.

When he returned, he came back with a wet rag and kneeled beside you. He hesitated to touch you before he gently began to clean the blood from your skin.

You expected him to hold your arm firmly, to pull at your skin and create friction but instead he held you delicately. He was careful as he cleaned your wound, his gentleness a stark contrast to the bloodshed he created just moments before.

Every touch from his warm fingers made goosebumps form and set your skin aflame.

You jerked when the wound stung and he stopped.

“I’m sorry, my hands are rougher than most.” He apologized as if he caused the wound.

You’re at a loss of what to say.

You’d never seen this side to him, to the knight who you bickered and fought with, who you were sure hated your guts, who had become your shadow. You thought he was incapable of it, or at the very least incapable of showing this side to you.

“It was irresponsible for you to run off like that.” He scolded you and you scowled.

“Save the lecture, I’m not a child.” You snapped at him and his eyes narrowed.

“You run off into the forest without a care, you play into fantasies about secret admirers and ignore your duty as a princess-“

“Watch the way you speak to me.”

“Someone should tell you the truth, I’m not afraid of you.”

You pushed him away and stood up. You hated the way hands shook as you glared at him.

“You know nothing about me!” You shouted. “My entire life is for my people and I have always put them first. I spend every moment waiting for the day I’m sold like cattle in the name of peace while everyone looks at me like I’m a prize to be won.”

Your mouth moved faster than your thoughts. It was improper to your knight this, to even speak of your thoughts like this out loud but you were at your wits end.

“I listen to others boast about themselves so I can choose them while they don’t even see me-“

“You seemed happy when the king did it-“

“Because it’s my duty! If I don’t marry him then i am failure…I am nothing more than a link in a chain of security.”

Your throat was tight and you could hardly breathe.

“My life has never been my choice.” You choked out. “I am destined to be an object that creates an heir and thrown to the side once I’ve served my purpose.”

Price was silent and your ragged breaths were the only thing that took up the air.

You felt awful for your feelings. These things were irresponsible, you were selfishly thinking more about yourself than the greater good but you were so desperate for something different.

“Why did you run?” Price asked, his tone softer.

You blinked as the back of your eyes stung with tears.

“I had to get away.”

Your emotions swirled like a storm within you, your thoughts a mess. The attack, your marriage, his kindness, it was all too much.

A surge of tears hit you and you sat down on the rock again, hiding your face in your hands as they began to fall down your face. You stifled your sobs because you didn’t want to degrade yourself anymore in front of him.

He stepped in front of you.

“Your highness, do you wish to marry the king?” Price’s voice was calm and firm yet there was a softness that struck your chest.

“I have to-“

“No.”

Your eyebrows knitted together and you looked up from your hands.

Price kneeled in front of you, much like how squires are when they wait for the Queen to knight them so they can serve the kingdom. His cold blue eyes stared at you as if he waited for a command, a sort of devotion only one could have for someone who they served implicitly.

He waited patiently for you to answer, his eyes trained on your face as you wiped away your tears.

You debated on whether you should say it or not, but he already thought you irresponsible. What more did you have to lose?

“No.”

Price stated at you for a moment before he seemed to come to terms with what you said. There was a sense of finality in his eyes as he nodded, before he stood and pulled out the pouch.

“Let me finish tending to your wound, your highness.” He began to apply a salve that cool the irritation of your cut. “Then I’ll escort you back to the castle.”

You didn’t protest as he wrapped the wound with a cloth.

After he had helped you on his horse he led you through the forest back towards the castle. You were still at war with yourself, utterly exhausted and a mess of emotions as you sealed your fate to be married to the king in just a week.

You tried to control your tears which only led to more falling as you sniffled like a child.

“I’m sorry.” You’re not sure why or what you apologized for.

“I won’t judge you.” He assured you. “Even if you stain the saddle.”

You scoffed, a smile pulling at your lips even as you let a few more tears slip.

Once you were back at the castle he helped you down from his horse, his hand against yours creating a sort of shock between the both of you before you bid him goodnight.

You did your best to hid your wound until you were in the safety of your bedchamber, where you found yourself having finally given up on being free.

~

Sir John Price had never felt such anger when he saw you cry.

It had never really occurred to him that you would feel the way you did, trapped and worthless, when you were more than that. He never realized that the suitors who he thought you entertained because you wanted to, made you feel that way, that he made you feel that way.

He’d think more on it if he had the time. He wanted to do more than what he was going to do, but there was only so much a knight could do.

Your tears and words stirred something inside him.

Price watched you enter the castle, his hand trembling from your touch. Your skin was softer than he imagined, warmer than the rays of the sun, and had sent a current of electricity through him.

What he was about to do was risky, but he was willing to take that leap if it meant it dried your tears.

He returned to the barracks, where he had called a meeting between his own men before he managed to catch a glimpse of you running to the forest.

He was lucky he had got there in time. He felt sick thinking about what would’ve happened if he hadn’t. The rage he felt seeing blood on you was unprecedented for him.

Fate seemed to be in his favor however. Sir Simon Riley had returned from the king’s kingdom after he had sent him there for information as he refused to let the Queen marry you off without first knowing who the king was.

From what he saw today, he was not much. Even a knight like himself could see the taint he carried and he couldn’t believe the Queen allowed it, so he hoped that she didn’t know any better.

He desperation to marry you off was worrisome but he didn’t have time for that.

“What did you find?” Price asked when he returned to the table.

“A declaration of war, yet to be announced.” Simon set the scroll on the table. “And no money.”

“Steamin’ Jesus, he wants to pulls us into war.” Sir John MacTavish uncrossed his arms in disbelief.

“We’re not equipped for this.” Kyle said and looked to Price. “Not without proper preparation.”

Price stared at the pieces of paper. The audacity the king had to exploit the Queen in such a way, knowing that he could’ve had support if he had asked, but perhaps he wanted to assurance there would be if he married you, especially since he had no money.

It would embarrass her. It was enough reason to call of the wedding.

Enough reason to save you.

The moment you told him that you truly did not want to marry the king, he told himself he would find a way to break the marriage between the two of you by any means necessary.

“The Queen won’t stand for this.” Price swayed his hips. “I’ll notify her immediately.”

“Delving into politics, sir?” Kyle teased and he huffed.

“Kate’s gone, I have no choice.”

He took the pieces of paper and walked towards the castle. He was just as convincing as Kate could be and with evidence it wouldn’t be hard.

He was determined to not fail and though it was uncommon for him to show himself at the Queen’s quarters he was not afraid of what she might say to him.

“Your majesty,” he bowed deeply when she answered the door. “I have troubling information about our guest.”

~

The next morning was tense. The throne room lacked the regular court but the Queen and you sat in your throne’s while the king stood the eyes of your mother’s judgement.

Price stood at the bottom of stairs and watched the panic course through the king with indifference.

“You lied to me, to my daughter and expect us to take it lightly?” The Queen’s words were laced with venom.

“It wasn’t a lie, your majesty!” He protested but she raised her hand to stop him.

“I ask for peace and you bring me war, I ask for prosperity and you give me nothing.”

Price glanced at you and noticed the shock on your face. You were told to join your mother suddenly and the new information had been kept tightly sealed until this moment to keep the scandal at a minimum. You had gone into this blind and though he regretted that, he hoped your relief would make up for it.

“We are a strong kingdom who values strong allies, you are more reckless than a wild boar.” The Queen spat and the king sputtered. “I’ll have none of this in my court.”

The king tried to come up with some excuse but The Queen stood up. The air was thick as he looked down her nose at him.

“Sir John,” she said and Price looked to her. “Have your men escort him out the castle.”

“Yes, your majesty.” He bowed as she made her way out of the throne room.

“We will discuss your marriage another day, my darling.” She said to you and all you could do was nod.

Price watched his men escort the king out of throne room and all that was left was him and you.

He turned to you and you shared a look.

You looked surprised but visibly relieved. You stared at him with a sense of awe but also uncertainty as if you couldn’t quite believe what happened. Thought he didn’t outright say it was him, he was sure you had your suspicions about whether or not this was his doing.

He hopes that maybe this would partially make up for his mistakes against you.

“This was irresponsible, Sir John.” You finally said and he raised an eyebrow.

“My duty is to protect the crown…” he argued. “If you’re implying that this was my doing, however I can assure you I had no hand in this.”

You quirked an eyebrow and the corner of your lips twitched. He couldn’t help but admire the twinkle of amusement in your eyes with a sense of awe that struck him harder than anything before.

It was a small lie, one to save face and to provide a chance to keep sentimental feelings at bay for the time being.

“Is that so, sir?”

“It would seem it.”

You stood up and made your way to him. There was a sense of vulnerability within your eyes as you struggled to meet his and he found himself almost begging that you would look at him.

“Thank you.” You said barely above a whisper.

Price blinked a couple times and before he bowed.

“Of course, your highness.”

A/n: what does Price say? Violence and timing? He sure if efficient when it comes to you.

Tags. @deadbranch @makayla-666 @glitterypirateduck @dumbbitchgalore @m0chac0ffee @dragonbe-writing @sleepyoriana @twismare @blush-haze

[risuola]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 ⋯ heaven lost its most beautful angel.

contents ✤ archangel!satoru x demon!reader, smut (nipple play, oral, maybe a tad bit borderline dubcon-ish?, corruption, some dirty talk), a lot of religious topics mentioned (not always in the best light), wc. 4639 ⋯ reader discretion is advised series masterlist

Born from pure nothing, Satoru has only got to know happiness. An illusion of it, a sort of safety that comes with stability in life. And it is good. He is, after all, the honored one, an archangel, the highest prince of Heaven, standing by the side of the king — God, a father of every creation, his father. Blessed by His favor, throughout centuries of existence, Satoru has only ever experienced bliss. Despite him being the last one created, the youngest of a bunch of archangels, he is the most perfect display of what God is capable of. A favorite, the purest and most innocent, a pristine mirror of excellence that could have only been made by a hand of his beloved father.

It’s beautiful, it really is. People worship divinities, the faith is blind and the angel has never had to do much to enforce the proper beliefs whenever there was a doubt born. With his role to serve God’s purpose and fulfill His will, Satoru traveled and shown up in many places in the world, making sure the evolvement of humanity goes along the lines of the greater plan. Of something a simple human isn’t capable of comprehending. But it’s endearing, he thinks.

He watches it from above, his eyes able to engulf all of the crowd — he has always had good eyes. Throughout the hundreds of years since his creation, he’s got to witness the ups and downs of people’s development and with ease on his mind he just knows that no matter what times bring and take, the faith will stay rooted into the simple mortal minds. Or so he thought before the balance of the world shifted again.

Demons and devils have never been a foreign topic in the spectrum of religion — they’re a part of what makes the good feel good, they’re what’s bad and ugly. Popping here and there from time to time they usually made for a short entertainment for Mikael’s army and Satoru remembers just few of severe conflicts that took place on earth and one that happened at the gates of Heaven. Great losses were suffered at the times, his brothers and sisters that had lost the fights will always stay in his memory, but with the progression of time, the rate of haunts and possessions didn’t go much higher. Satoru actively makes sure to eradicate every doubt that blooms in poor little hearts of the gullible and vulnerable.

“Filthy creatures,” Azrael grumbles, his voice dry and harsh as he watches alongside Satoru yet another crowd of humans that carelessly stray from the right path and into the world of sin. “Their pathetic souls are yet to cry at the gates and plead for mercy when it’s their own choices that bring them down to hells. It should be easier for them to resist such primitive urges.”

“Father has made them the way they are for a reason, brother,” the white-haired one lightens up but the angel of death beside shows no change of attitude. “Faith is a choice and not a given but even if it’s only in the face of demise, every soul that has found God at some point deserves to be blessed.”

“Sometimes it seems as if watching them for so many centuries has rubbed their naivety across your feathers, Satoru,” Azrael lets out a sigh and spreads out his wings. Large and rich in dark feathers cast a shadow looming over his brother’s stature but the younger one only smiles at the sight. There’s an exchange of appreciative nods and their ways part.

Satoru isn’t naïve. He has always been more than capable of cold-thinking and calculating his actions, despite being known for a tender heart and gentle soul. The ways in which he acts are contained in the frames of necessity, he doesn’t go for the flashy displays of power and divinity. He likes to gently encourage people, hint the right paths so that they can realize where to go and how to live the rest of the time they’re given. Most of them find what’s there to discover, an enlightenment. Lord is merciful, benevolent. There are no ends to His love.

Then why people toss it away? Silly, silly creatures.

But then, times change again and as the world evolves and church begins to lose its influence, Satoru looks around with troubled mind. It seems as if people have lost direction again, finding themselves at the crossroads with unknown ends. Wrong people are taking highest spots in the hierarchy, preaching wrong words to the wrong crowds. And it crumbles, falls like a house of cards, trapping some inside and pushing away others. It’s terrible, he thinks, as his bright blue eyes meet the cloudy surface of doubt and uncertainty. And demons, them again, thrive like they never did before.

Now more than ever, little devils crawl out of the gates of Hell and poison humanity with their heinous games. Some morph themselves into forms akin to humans, blend in and start cults in the name of Lucifer and some stay true to themselves, haunting people here and there, testing their resolves, putting their faith to trials. More and more people are leaving God’s side. It’s bad, it’s unacceptable. Those demons—

“An angel?” —demons like you; devil with a face of an angel. “Even better,” you smile, but there’s nothing but malice in the gesture, “an archangel,” you inhale the divine scent that surrounds a man in front. That’s what brought you here, to a house that seemed to be stained in his divine energy. You tend to haunt the biggest believers, it’s fun to see them crumble, but you didn’t expect an actual saint. “It must be my lucky day,” you purr. Lovely.

Satoru has been warned about you before he moved onto his quest to rid the world of the dark powers that spread its tendrils among humans and it only took a short glimpse before he knew that it’s you who his brothers have been telling him about. It’s you who is told to bring angels down to Hell, to cause their banishment from Heaven. He’s lost one of his siblings because of your wrongdoings. You’re nothing but bad news, a demon so beautiful you’d easily convert even the most devoted believer into a sinner. You’ve been spreading nothing but doubt and fear, savoring the fruit of your doings with pleasure. You’re having fun on earth, it’s much more entertaining than all hells combined. You love to hear how people blame gods for every inconvenience when you can clearly see what led them down the path of bad luck. You whisper little hints into their non-expecting ears, encourage them and watch the dread wash over their faces. It's a cruel game you play but it's rooted deeply into your nature.

“It’s an odd excitement in your voice, demon,” Satoru retorts firmly and his eyes follow you as you circle him. It’s predatory, he feels like a pray underneath your curious, taunting gaze and he nags himself for it — he’s above you, you’re just a demon. There’s nothing you can do to break his spirit, he’s above all your tricks.

“Oh, forgive me,” you lower your head, but nothing in the gesture spells disrespect more than a smirk that dances on your mouth. Slowly you make your way back in front of him and then, you plop onto the bed to your right. You bounce few times on the soft mattress and dart your head up, looking at him, challenging him. He refuses.

“You’re in no search of forgiveness.”

“What gave it away?” You’re cocky, huffing an air out of your lungs in a voiceless chuckle and tilting your head more to the side. There’s a danger to your silhouette, you’re confident. You are a sin.

Satoru lets out a sigh and his eyes narrow. “What could have not given it away?” He questions and yet another laugh cuts through the otherwise silent atmosphere of the room. It’s melodic, it’s… pretty?

“Smart boy… Your name?”

“Satoru.”

���Not truly a name I expected,” you bare your teeth in a smile and Satoru notices the sharpness of your fangs. They are not quite animalistic but much sharper than his own. It fits.

“I travel through people a lot, I have taken a name akin to their own,” he explains, keeping his tone somewhat dry as he studies you. You’re not demonic per se. In fact, you’re barely even scary if he compares you to the thousands of demons he’s encountered in his existence. They are usually tainted with darkness, often bearing features of animals or mystical creatures. Scales and horns seemed to be usual on their bodies and eyes that shown nothing but abyss, but you — you’re nothing of it. You seem too inviting. There’s attractiveness to the way you look; your eyes are a little lidded and engulfed by rows of eyelashes, your lips seem as if they were created specifically to tempt, to kiss. Your frame doesn’t stray from what Satoru would see among humans and your skin doesn’t bear any signs of disfigure or scales. If not for the aura that surrounds you and the way mischief glints in your eyes, one could easily mistake you with an actual angel. No wonder why it is so easy for you to spread doubt.

“That’s fair,” you shrug and push yourself up. As you pass Satoru, a chill runs down his back as the darkness stretches behind you. He watches as you look around the place, running your fingertips across the surface of the desk and few shelves. You touch the spines of books that decorate them, tenderly rub the top of the ceramic figure in a shape of a little cherub. There’s something cat-like in a way you curiously explore the area, seemingly oblivious to the watchful gaze that follows you.

“If turning into nothing isn’t on your list of wishes, I’d advise you to go back where you came from,” the angel speaks after a little while, taking a step into your direction and you chuckle, sparing him a short glance from the corner of your eye. It’s brief, but it makes him stop.

“Good advice,” you muse, taunting him with the intonation of the syllables and he hates how easily you throw him off balance. “I’m not the best in following instructions though.”

“You seem to struggle with more than just that.” It’s a jab and you raise your eyebrow before you fully turn towards him. It’s only an accident that you knock the little figurine off the shelf and it breaks against the hardwood floor. “Your playtime on earth is over, demon.”

“Oh, my playtime on earth has just begun, angel.”

“If you refuse to comply, I’ll be forced to take you to Heaven where you’ll be trialed and punished for every deplorable crime you have committed against the greater plan of God.”

“There’s no need for me to go up to Heaven when I see Heaven came down to me,” you chuckle, resting your eyes on his face for few seconds before you allow them to run down his figure and you admire. He is a sight to behold, a stature of toned flesh and muscles balanced into something truly divine. “I need to admit, you’re very nice on the eyes. Such a beautiful angel.”

Oh, you’re dangerous. Your voice just like honey warms Satoru from the inside out. He feels his heart rate increasing and his breathing becoming shallower as you admire him so openly. He should be used to it, he is used to being worshipped by mortals, but not by a creature of your kind. He watches you approach him, your steps confident between the ceramic pieces of a broken cherub and he feels his resolve begin to falter as you playfully prod his chest with your long, pointy nail. Then you drag it down his pectoral, run it across his stomach and he grabs your wrist before you reach his waistline.

“I will not play your games, demon,” he states, looking you in the eyes with forced calm and firm voice.

“No? You seem to be a little… troubled.”

“Do not mistake my confusion for submission. I am an archangel, I will not allow myself to be corrupted by your alluring presence,” he states a little too harshly and he hates it. There’s something so utterly irresistible about you that makes him think of giving in. It makes him want to taste the temptation and deep down he knows that he had already lost. His thoughts are consumed by the pictures of you, it’s against everything he knows, it’s against everything he is.

And it’s all that you are. A play of taunt and seduction. A wild, untamed soul entangled in dark shades of evil, a temptress with one objective rooted deeply into your core. Chaos.

“I am sure you can resist me,” you tease, getting even closer and you lean in, running the tip of your nose along the side of his neck. “Oh, you smell so good. So pure and innocent.”

“Enough.” He groans and it’s final. You laugh, but he doesn’t find it funny. Your hot breath lingers on his skin long after you distance yourself from him. Your hands raise in a mock surrender but it’s only a moment before you resume your game.

“You know what I find interesting?” A question leaves your mouth as you twirl in the dim light of the nightstand lamp and sit on top of the window edge. The night wind gently messes your hair and your eyes twinkle with the spark of playful evil. “You, angels, are always so strict and set that you don’t need any pleasure and all… why would it be?” Your tone is a derision of curiosity, you carefully pick and choose your words to form sentences obscure, unclear.

“My body has been crafted with a purpose much greater than to experience carnal needs and craves,” he says, firm on his beliefs despite the warmth coursing through his veins. “Human pleasures stand below my existence; the essence of an archangel is much more monumental. I was designed, both in mind and body, to focus solely on my duties and responsibilities, leaving no room for personal desires.” The answer is practiced, it flows in a way he’s used to tell it, however this time he knows that he’s lying to himself and everyone else. He’s lying in front of a demon, and oh, you know so well that he does. It’s amusing. It’s delicious. You want more. You want to break him.

“If that would be the case, why did your beloved god create you with a dick, huh?” You’re blunt, too blunt for Satoru’s liking but he has to let that slide, otherwise he’d flush bright red.

“My creator did not intend me to experience sexual pleasure. Instead, He believes I should focus solely on my sacred duties without being distracted by carnal desires.” He tries again, internally feeling all of his defenses crumbling and you laugh, as if you can tell the words mean nothing.

“I bet I could make you cum by as much as flicking my tongue over your nipple.”

There goes the blush. Satoru feels it creep up his chest and neck, his face and to the tips of his ears. The deep shade of crimson contrasts starkly against his pale complexion and pristine white hair and he closes his eyes, tries to compose himself but your giggles make it so difficult. You’re content, he knows it, you’re a demon, for god’s sake. It’s your tactic to break humans, a form of pulling at the most primal strings, but he’s not a human, he’s above all of them, he shouldn’t break just like that. It’s a turmoil. Satoru hates the feeling, he hates the way his body, the perfect creation designed by his father, reacts to the picture you planted into his mind. It shouldn’t be happening, why is this happening?

“Breathe, angel,” your voice is a whisper, it’s right against Satoru’s mouth. He feels your breath on his skin, the tip of your nose running down his cheek, your tongue tracing his jawline. His heart struggles to keep up, it’s too much, it’s too close, you’re too much. Inhale. Exhale. He forces himself to breathe, a little too shallow, a little too fast. His body is tense, you’re too close.

He won’t do this.

All defense mechanisms flare up in Satoru’s body, he stills, his eyes stay squeezed shut. Your hands dance atop of his shoulders, trace the shapes of his form and he feels you. You toy with him, your claws run down his chest, your fingertips tease the edges of his neckline, the white collar of his shirt. Calm down. It’s wrong, it’s so wrong, he shouldn’t feel it. Why does it feel right? It’s not right. It’s not angelic, you’re a demon, you want to corrupt him, to destroy him.

He cannot do this.

His fists clench up to his sides and you hum the softest melodies under your breath, as you lean in more and more. You exhale, but it’s different than his ragged breaths. You’re relaxed, he doesn’t have to see you to know you’re smiling. You take a step and he takes one back. It’s paralyzing. Satoru’s thoughts are overtaken by pictures of you, by pictures he has never allowed himself to project. It’s one of your tricks, isn’t it?

He can’t—

It feels warm. His whole body feels warm and it coils, somewhere below his bellybutton, a knot of tension he has yet to experience. It puts a haze to his thoughts, blurs the persistent image of your sinful tongue and he doesn’t understand it fully. A sequence of twitches and trembles send his mind into panic and he falls. His knees buckle, the edge of the mattress causes them to bend and he grabs onto the closest thing, onto you, when his body drops onto the mattress. The soft bounce ripples through him and he feels you above him. You giggle, it’s quiet and playful and it vibrates through the skin over his collarbone the moment you press your lips there.

“S-stop,” he mutters. It’s a weak plea concurring with a feeble squeeze on your hips. His eyes flare open, he feels feverish. You’re right on top of him but not quite touching him enough. Your hips are in the air, you’re taking it slow, you like to play with your prey.

“Yeah? You want me to stop?” You coo. Patronizing tone of your voice envelop him in a veil of mockery and he heats up again. Your dainty, swift fingers deal with the buttons before he has a chance to notice, his fogged-up mind struggling to keep up. “You’re gonna have to be more convincing than this, angel.”

He—

Your tongue circle around his nipple and Satoru moans. It’s a cry, a sound of an angel falling into a trap of a demon. An angel losing itself in something unholy, tasting the fruit that’s forbidden. And you smile against his skin, teasing the hardening bud with your teeth. They’re sharp against his sensitive skin and he hisses shortly before you soothe the ache with the warmth of your muscle. It’s wet and hot against his skin and Satoru’s brain short-circuit.

Your hand explores his stomach, tracing the stretched-out muscles that twitch every time you touch them. He arches off the bed, his body leaning into the sin while his mind tries to fight it — a losing battle of everything that’s divine in him against the carnal desires that weren’t supposed to be there.

Lust is a foreign concept to Satoru. He’s seen it in humans, he’s seen souls losing their purity to the wicked pleasures. He’s seen those shameless people giving into lascivious lifestyles, searching for stimulus so depraved and vulgar that each time he witnessed them, he wondered how could one’s faith loose to something so salacious. How could God create such weakness, but he believed that even the souls that lost their path in the indecency could find a way back into the Father’s grace. Would he be able to get back?

“P—haah—please,” he whimpers, pathetic against all of his instincts and his hand finds the back of your head. Your hair feels soft against his palm, like silk and honey and he shivers at the contact. You’re unbothered by his attempts, licking and sucking his delicate skin as if he’s one of those desserts people like so much.

Satoru’s nipples are swollen, the skin around them red from your frisky abuse. More and more sounds escape his mouth, it’s pathetic, how he whines underneath you, how you rendered him completely helpless. And he panics again. It feels odd, his body tenses and he doesn’t know why. Hot blood floods down his body, it feels torturously tight in his pants. He twitches, his fingers curl against your head, tugging at the beautiful threads of your hair and his eyes flutter shut.

Suddenly, it’s too hot. It’s wet, it feels sticky against his sensitive skin. A wave of relief washes over him, it tickles something inside his brain just the right way. It’s feels gratifying, addicting. Is that what pleasure feels like? Are those stars dancing in front of his eyes a sign of fulfillment? Satoru’s mind is hazy, everything feels blurry, but he relaxes into the feeling. His thigh still trembles, the lower parts of his stomach muscles contract a little less now, a little slower and he feels it in his pants. It’s satisfying, it’s foreign. It’s a bliss.

“Did my beautiful, beautiful angel made a mess?” You coo once more and it sounds a little less mocking than all of your previous sentences. Or maybe it’s Satoru’s mind playing tricks on him.

“Y-yeah… I think I did,” he pants out. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, on the heavens above and he wonders if He saw that? Father sees everything. Have Satoru’s brothers also witnessed that? Were they enjoying the front row seats to his demise?

You’re already on your way down, pressing sinful kisses to his sacred body as your fingers undo the button of his pants and pull down the zipper. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll clean you up,” you purr, inhaling the intoxicating scent of him. You pull the fabric down. His boxers are wet as you peel them off his body. Hot strings of cum stretch between his skin and underwear, it coats his cock and the flesh around it, trickling down to his balls.

You gasp at the sight, it’s truly a vision of pure angelic glory. He’s hard, still, the veins pulsate ever so slightly around the thick girth, leading your eyes to the pink, glistening tip. “You surely are his favorite,” you muse before your tongue darts out, eager to taste him.

Satoru’s breath hitches in his chest and he hesitates to look down. Maybe if he doesn’t see it, it won’t be as bad of a sin, maybe it’s not his end. But it sure does feel good. Is he allowed to feel good? He moves his head, eyes dropping lower until they meet the sight of you. You shot him a smile, a grin worthy of a devil as you lap at the white seed sticking to his flesh. It’s lewd, the way your tongue works around his curves and edges. He hears your soft purr; he feels it every time your lips close around the sensitive tip of his cock. It’s messy, your chin is slick from his spent, there’s some on the tip of your nose, it coats your reddened mouth and greedy fingers. “You taste divine,” you murmur, tracing the underside of his member with the flat of your tongue and then, your hand wraps around him. The gentle pressure squeezes a moan out of Satoru’s mouth. He can’t look away. Not when your eyes are fixed on him. He sees the glint of mischief in the color of your eyes, it’s almost reddish as it glows in the dim lights.

You play with him, eliciting moan after moan from his troubled body, feeding of the internal turmoil that seeps through his skin making him that much more delectable. Your mouth works in tandem with the steady pumps of your hand and you feel him twitching already. He’s so innocent, so inexperienced that you just know he’s gonna come too soon, but it excites you. You want more from him, he’s sweet on your tongue, addicting. And oh, isn’t he beautiful? With his face contorting in pleasure, his cheeks flushed in an adorable shade of deep red and eyebrows drawn together. His lips red and bitten, parted just slightly to let all those sweet whimpers escape. His eyes are blissfully glazed, the blue oceans wet with tears and shaky. What a sight.

And then he moans again, those cerulean orbs disappear from your vision as his lids drop down. His back lifts off the bedsheets, hands clenching against the soft cotton and you see his head tilting back as orgasm overwhelms him. His hips buck upwards, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat as he sprouts his seed, painting the inside of your mouth white. You pump him through it, prolonging the pleasure.

“What a sight,” you purr, licking away any traces of sin from his skin. “All clean. It’s as if nothing happened,” and here is your usual taunt. “Well, I guess your boxers do give it away, aren’t they?”

He doesn’t respond. Heart trashes in Satoru’s chest as he slowly comes down from the intense high he’s experienced, he gasps on air desperately and releases all the tensed muscles. A smile stretches his lips, he huffs at first, and then laughs helplessly, as tears run down his cheekbones.

“You’re gonna leave me here, broken and useless,” he says, as you climb upwards and lean to kiss the salty drops off his face. “Are you happy? I bet you are, demon.”

His tone is odd, it’s both colder than before and softer at the same time. It’s accusing, it’s hopeless. “I can’t say I’m not satisfied,” you tell him and he scoffs, turning his head towards you and you drop onto the bed next to his defeated body. There’s a sin now engraved down to the very morrow of his bones, his chastity stained irrevocably and his soul threatening to shatter. “But I don’t wish to leave you here to your demise.”

“Oh no? What do you wish for then?”

“Besides the obvious desire to fuck you, I’d be content if you stayed with me here, on earth.”

“So vulgar,” he exhales, his body both cringing at the sound and getting excited all over again. “I was not created to fuck.”

“I think I proved my point that you’re perfectly capable of those primitive carnal desires you declined so much.”

Satoru closes his eyes. How did that happen, how could that happen? It must’ve been a cruel joke. He’s an archangel, God’s favorite, he’s the honored one. He was supposed to be above all demonic tricks and seductions, those devilish powers have never reached him for hundreds of years. And now, what is he supposed to do?

“I suppose heaven won’t take me back now,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else. Maybe if he seeks penance, maybe if he atones for his sins.

“What a shame,” you muse, cupping his cheek in your palm. Your finger trace idle circles into the skin over his cheekbone; it’s a delicate touch and you feel how hot his face is, damp from the tears and flushed. “Heaven lost its most beautiful angel.”

taglist: @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @li7wakwnsekzebby @vanshoe @myahfig4 @suguruscousin @ressyshi @dcvilxswish @erenjvegerrr @crywolfix @wildheart03-blog @elliotsbeigeguitar @mi-mosaa

[malinthebodyguard]

Young Royals is anti-monarchist propaganda (always has been) 

I think it’s fair to say that most of the fandom was quite happy with the finale. However, I’ve seen a handful of posts by people who were unhappy, specifically  those who were unhappy with Wille giving up his place in the line of succession. These criticisms range in everything from dismissing Wille’s choice (Wilhelm has made a harsh decision without thinking of the consequences, this won’t actually make the media circus around him go away), to those disappointed in how the monarchy in general was represented (Wille could have modernized the institution, no one in the show attempted to consider how the monarchy could be good, actually). I don’t want to invalidate anyone’s feelings about the finale. If you didn't like it, that’s more than ok and I don’t want to argue with anyone about their taste. 

But when it comes to criticism about Wilhelm giving up the throne,  I do find myself frustrated at what I see as a fundamental misunderstanding of what this show was trying to communicate. Young Royals, plain and simple, is a story that  denounces the incompatibility of antiquated and hierarchical institutions (Hillerska, the monarchy) with equality and justice. 

If you’ve had the displeasure of being my fandom friend you’ll know that I’ve spent the last 3 years yelling about how this show is about abolishing the monarchy. I even wrote a lengthy  fanfic with the sole excuse of having Wilhelm arrive at this conclusion. Still, I knew that whatever statement the show wanted to arrive at, we’d only really be getting to it at the end of the show. 

Seasons one and two were setting up all the characters on the chessboard for the end: Wilhelm is the Crown Prince, although he does not want to be. He and Simon are in love, but Wilhelm’s role drives a wedge between them. Erik’s legacy and August's spot next in line are keeping Wilhelm in his place.

 From episode one, I think the show was telling us about the many things that are wrong with the monarchy, but I don’t think it’s until season three that these discussions become more explicit. Is this why some people were disappointed by the ending? Maybe so. Still, I wanted to look at how season three in particular answers some of the questions or issues  people are bringing up regarding both the monarchy and the Wilhelm’s choice. 

What do you like about the monarchy? 

Season 3 Episode 4 is the first time we hear an explicit discussion about why the monarchy could potentially be a good institution. I’ve seen some people complain that the show didn’t give this idea enough thought. 

I completely disagree with this take: the short conversation Wille and Simon have in this episode  is succinct, but still effective at presenting both arguments in this debate. A  longer and more drawn out conversation would have been a bit unrealistic and probably boring to watch. These are not academics having a debate, but two teenagers who are talking about what for them is emotionally charged.

There’s also no need for a longer, more detailed discussion. Wilhelm does provide a very good answer to the question: The monarchy is there to unite the people. To be a neutral party in situations when the government cannot or will not interfere. 

A quick civics lesson: In parliamentary democracies, the monarch serves as the Head of State. 

This role is predominantly representative, although in many places the government is formed in the name of the monarch. This could, theoretically, grant them some political power-- since they could technically reject the winning party from forming a government. However, in most parliamentary monarchies, the King or Queen simply has to accept whatever decision is made based on election results.

However, the value of the Head of State is precisely in its apolitical nature. Regardless of who’s in power, the head of state is a neutral ambassador of the nation, both in and outside of their country. Their job is diplomatic and representative, and one that is thoroughly divorced from politics. This is what Wilhelm meant when he said that the monarchy was there to ‘unite the people’. Whenever I’ve spoken to pro-monarchy folks about their beliefs, they cite this as the reason why they like it. 

It’s easy to see why Wilhlem would latch on this as his main argument to defend the institution. I don’t think there is anything inherently bad about having a separate head of state that represents the country. I don’t think the major grip with this issue is the having a head of state, but the fact that the head of state is a hereditary position. Simon says this himself twice in this episode: the issue is not that the head of state exists, but that the head of state is not an elected position. Furthemore, the head of state is a role that is imposed on a person not by their talent as a public speaker or negotiator, but by a simple accident of birth. 

The job’s legitimacy or importance should not be above any individual’s right to autonomy and self-determination. Furthermore, considering that taxpayers are the ones who finance this position, shouldn’t they be able to elect who it is? 

Let’s imagine a scenario where a friend tells you they’ve gone into a career because everyone in their family works in that industry, and they simply had no choice in the matter. It wouldn’t even matter if they were good or bad, they had a job in this career guaranteed from birth. 

 Would you not be concerned that maybe your friend is unhappy for a rather unnecessary reason? Would you not think that perhaps someone who actually wanted the job would be better suited for it? Would you think it right for a company to hire someone simply because of their family history? Would you consider any of this fair? And what is so special about monarchy that makes us have a different answer for it than we would if the question was about law or medicine? 

You’ll always be famous. 

Another common criticism I’ve seen is that Wilhelm will inevitably regret his decision, especially once he realizes that public scrutiny will not be going away. This is true, Wilhelm will likely always  be a figure of public interest. But to me, this has always been a negative consequence of the monarchy, and I have a hard time seeing this is a valid reason why he should stay in it. 

From the second we meet him, we know Wilhelm is uncomfortable with both the public attention and the scrutiny placed on him. However, this goes a bit further than that. I’d argue than more than the  scrutiny itself,  Wilhelm is weighed down by having to keep a public image. Because, remember folks, Wilhelm is not merely an awkward teenage boy with acne and a crush. No, no, Wilhelm is the State. Wilhelm is going to be a publicly-funded representative of the nation . This means, of course, that there’s a narrative, as he mentions himsef, that needs to be put forward. One that’s generic, serious, and unproblematic: 

From the get go, Wilhelm is uncomfortable with the inauthentic and performative aspect of his role.This is a constant we see with Wilhelm in seasons one and two: every ‘performance’ he has to do fills him with nausea, anxiety, or some sort of discomfort.

In season three, Wilhelm begins acquiescing to this performance. Uncomfortable as he may be, for most of season 3 he’s accepted that this is his role. However, the attention this season shifts from Wilhelm to Simon, who’s now the one facing public scrutiny. The difference is that, unlike Wille, there’s no role for Simon to play. Nothing about who he is or what he believes is compatible with the public image the monarchy is putting forward. The only thing he can do in this situation is disappear, and Wilhelm is tasked with having to ask that of him. 

I know a lot of people were exasperated at Simon’s very bad and clumsy social media presence. I’m not gonna argue that my boy wasn’t being a bit cringey, because he absolutely was. But I think the larger commentary here has more to do with the expectation that these two teenagers have to censor and edit themselves to comply with a particular PR image. 

Ultimately, the criticism that Wilhelm will always be famous leads us straight back to the institution. Why does an underage boy have the same PR expectations as a politician? Why is a teenager dating his classmate + being cringe online justification for doxxing him? Unfortunately, no abdication is really going to undo any of this, and things are certainly going to be crazy once Wilhelm announces he’s stepping down .

However, this time around both he and Simon will at least have the agency to decide what they want to do with their public image, including the decision to disappear from the public completely if that’s what they want.

Queer representation 

This a sentiment that has been in the fandom for some time now. This was the main argument why some people wanted Wille to stay in the monarchy. Sure, the institution has always been about bloodlines and tradition. But wouldn’t it be so nice to have Wilhelm as a symbol for the queer community? I’ve always found this idea a bit shallow. I’m not sure how much of a symbol of a queer and progressive country Wilhelm could be, when the whole idea is predicated on absolutely no one having a choice in the matter. Is it really impressive to accept the queerness of the guy you already had no choice in accepting?  

There’s three scenes in season 3 where the potential Wilhelm -and by extension Simon-  could have for the queer community come up.  Farima brings it up in the first episode, but the framing here is reversed. Wilhelm isn’t serving the LGBTQ community by being a queer Prince, but the monarchy is using Wilhelm (and his queerness) to appear progressive.

The show, however, does humor this idea with the May 1st photo. We see what Simon and Wilhelm could potentially do for the community by simply existing as who they are: they’re inspirational. It gives Simon, briefly, hope that maybe something good could come out of this. 

But this moment is quite literally framed by politics. It doesn't matter that Simon is not participating in that manifestation, anything that is slightly connected with politics is a challenge to neutrality of the monarchy. This same idea is stated more explicitly int the next episode, when Wilhelm is reviewing the options for his charity.

Ultimately, any action significant enough to be truly impactful, would be bordering the limits of what could be considered political. He's got to stick it out with these quite frankly boring and limited themes, all for the sake of staying on the very narrow lane of things that are not political.

The weight of the crown. 

Stories about Kings and Queens usually carry the same fundamental tension of duty vs self. 

In order to rule, our protagonist has to sacrifice themselves, usually for the sake of their country and people. The Crown is an excellent example of this type of story. Sacrifice in that series is framed as something noble and selfless. 

Young Royals started out with this same fundamental tension, but the main difference is that Young Royals has framed this debate as a question: 

Why should Wilhelm give himself up, his happiness, the love of his life, and  his mental well-being? What’s so important and valuable about this institution that requires this sacrifice?

Wilhelm’s journey is about accepting and voicing his answer. He doesn’t want to be Crown Prince, he doesn’t want to be King. 

But by virtue of taking part of this journey with him, we’re able to examine this question from a different perspective: Is this institution valuable enough to justify all of this? I think the show is inviting all of us to evaluate this situation and arrive at the conclusion that it isn’t.

Even someone like August, who wanted this, is weighed down by the realization of just how much the crown weighs. Of course, a big part of the fandom probably doesn’t live in countries with parliamentary monarchies. Still, considering the worldwide popularity of the British Royals, for example, I still think it’s a worthwhile exercise to question the validity of these institutions. Are they really worth sustaining? And if they’re not, why should we continue to drag them on into the present, citing tradition?

[shanastoryteller]

happy pride!! dealer’s choice <3

Steve is going to die again just a few short years after waking up in this new world and his death is going to be significantly less glorious the second time around.

“You don’t think he’s going to come,” Duke Rhodes says, tied up next to him and in even worse shape than he is. An unfortunate side effect of not being a sorcerer’s experiment and being nearly a decade older than him, he assumes.

“You do?” he asks, too exhausted to filter himself like he tries to do around him.

Rhodes raises an eyebrow. “I think his champion and his general are tempting enough bait, yes. Listening to their demands and showing up alone is also the most foolish choice he could possibly make, so I’m confident the king won’t be able to help himself.”

Those words would be treason from anyone else, but Rhodes has long been King Anthony’s personal confidant, and the one managing this war for the king from the beginning. Steve supposes that grants the man a certain level of leeway.

Steve is, now and always, exactly what he was enchanted to be. The King’s Champion. From the moment he woke up in a land at once so familiar and so different from his own, he renewed the vow he took seventy years ago. To serve his king and uphold the dignity of the realm so long as a Stark sat on the throne.

King Howard, however, had been an easier man to serve. He’d at least taken the time to meet with Steve, for one, had taken an active interest in the war he fought rather than delegating it and holing himself up in his castle. He’d been cold, and detached in many way from the realities of the war he’d started, but he was a king, and his attention, however brief, had always rallied the troops in a way that Steve admired.

King Anthony at least delegates well, he’ll give the man that. Rhodes does not come from noble blood, something they share, but by the time Steve woke up here it was long past something others were willing to hold against Rhodes. His title of Duke had been a gift from the king. His title of General had been one he earned.

“Steve?” Rhodes frowns, eyeing him like he’s looking for injuries that he hasn’t noticed.

Perhaps Steve is more injured than he thinks, because he doesn’t have the good sense to stop himself from saying, “He did not come for his alchemist.”

He tenses, but Rhodes just sighs, shifting in his bonds as if trying to find a more comfortable position even though if that existed, they would have found it by now. “You hold a grudge for something that happened not only before your time, but for something that Edward does not.”

“Edward is too forgiving,” he says stiffly and doesn’t say the same of Rhodes even though he thinks it often.

He sees the warmth and tenderness and affection between Rhodes and Edward clearly and it galls him that Rhodes has so easily forgiven his king leaving the man Rhodes loves to die. Edward is often trying to coax Steve and Rhodes into a more affectionate relationship, but it’s a hurdle Steve can’t quite overcome.

When he’d first awoken there had been nothing but mourning and determination and another war and then there was Edward. Infuriating and funny and warm and completely irreverent, the only person who seemed to treat him as more than cursed and made his terrible circumstances feel like home. Alchemist, armorer, blacksmith – he seemed to do everything and anything required by the crown and with a speed and skill that left Steve breathless. Rhodes may be directing and managing the war but without Edward’s tinctures and potions and weapons and armor, the war would have been lost long ago.

And when he’d been kidnapped and held for ransom, their enemy demanding the king’s presence to free him, the king had stayed safe in his castle.

Steve understood it logically. He’d had no queen or heir at the time and was the last legitimate Stark. Even if he’d been the type of king who cared about his people, he could not risk himself for a subject, no matter how valuable, no matter how much that subject sacrificed or gave or how valuable he was.

But that was just as true for him and Rhodes as it was for Edward and the king had left Edward to be tortured. They had tried to force him to make weapons, to betray his king, and Edward had refused. Steve saw some of the marks of that torture even now, years later, and he could not bring himself to love a king who did not care for that devotion, who hid away in his castle and let better men fight for his kingdom.

He was not required to love his king, only obey and serve him, and that Steve had always done.

He’d earned his title too. Both under King Howard and King Anthony. Being the King’s Champion did not mean being his friend. Not that was something he could claim to be, when he’d never even met the man.

“The Iron Mage saved him and the Iron Mage serves the king,” Rhodes points out, as if Steve doesn’t know that. “Isn’t that enough?”

The Iron Mage is his battle brother and his friend and yet another pillar keeping the kingdom steady while King Anthony can’t seem to be bothered. He holds the light of a star in the center of his chest and uses magic like a blunt weapon, the elements of the star sliding over his body, shifting and changing metals as he brutalizes the battlefield. Those that had captured Edward had found their base reduced to rubble and the Iron Mage appeared wielding a power that not even Sorcerer Strange could explain.

They said he was Goddess blessed, sent from the heavens as a shooting star to aid the king in his war, to ensure victory for the Starks who ruled by divine right of the Goddess Herself. Steve wasn’t sure of all that. The Iron Mage seemed man enough, for all he was constantly covered in his strange shifting, shimmering metal. His voice came out raspy and too low, as if he was in pain, and Steve often wondered if holding the core of a star was worth the consequences, but he was the last one to ask questions like that, considering what he’d allowed Sorcerer Erskine to do to him. The Iron Mage’s humor was wry and ever present despite that, and Steve often thought that he and Edward would get along, if the Iron Mage could ever be coaxed into spending time off the battlefield with the man he saved all those years ago.

But he couldn’t quite lay that victory at King Anthony’s feet. If anything, it seemed like the Iron Mage had used saving Edward as a way to secure his place at the king’s side, rather than that he’d been sent by the king in the first place. No one had heard of such a mage before that, after all.

“Perhaps the Iron Mage will come for us,” he says instead of answering. It’s possible. But the Iron Mage is supposed to be on the other end of the battlefield by now and by the time he hears of his and Rhodes’s capture, it may be too late.

Rhodes shakes his head. “You need to have a little more faith in your king.”

“Why should I?” he snaps, knowing starting an argument when they’re literally tied together is a dumb decision, but like most of his dumb decisions, he can’t help himself. “When King Howard dragged us to war, he at least let us see his face, he made an effort. I hardly expect a king to take to the battlefield, but King Anthony stays in his castle, with his drink and his women if the rumors are to be believed. Queen Virginia has introduced herself to the soldiers several times but the king has not. What sort of man is he to ask faith from me?”

“Well, I said faith, not trust,” Rhodes says tiredly. “Tony didn’t start this war and he’s doing his best to end it.” It’s rare that Rhodes will slip into the familiar name for the king, but it startles Steve every time, the reminder of just how close the general and the king are, and how little that closeness had mattered when Edward was captured. “Although I’ll grant you that you’re right about one thing.”

Steve is exhausted suddenly, in a way that has little to do with his lack of sleep or his injuries, but he’s too grateful for Rhodes keeping his temper while he can’t to ignore him now. “What’s that?”

“Tony is nothing like his father.”

[ticklygiggles]

Lovelynim's tickletober Day 6: Order

King!Kuroo x Royal tickler!Daichi | [n$fw-ish]

A/N: This is an AU that has been in my head for YEARS I kid you not. It is based on that post about royal ticklers in monarchy. I don't have the link, but iykyk I guess lol enjoy~

Nothing really happens, but there are implied mentions of n$fw topics.

"My King." Daichi bowed deeply, his forehead almost touching the floor. "There are no words to express my gratitude, please tell me what I can do to serve you."

Who would have thought that a simple commoner like him would be recruited by the King himself? Daichi wasn't sure if he had done anything in particular to draw the King's attention, but he didn't give it much thought either; serving a monarch of his caliber was more than Daichi could ever wish for.

Kuroo chuckled, making a small gesture with his hand that made all the other servants to quickly retreat. "Sawamura Daichi. Thank you for accepting my proposal to work for me, I am very happy to have you here." Daichi smiled widely and noticed how the King's cat eyes darkened a little.

"First of all, Daichi. I must tell you that the job I'm offering you is very confidential. Very few people in my kingdom know about it." Daichi tensed as he watched the King standing up from his throne. He approached him with light, slow steps and Daichi's heart raced madly. Once the king was in front of him, Daichi could barely breathe and remain calm.

"I give you the freedom to choose to stay or leave after hearing my proposal," he continued, "however, you must swear on behalf of your own head that you will never, regardless of your choice, say a single word about this to anyone."

Daichi blinked, the king was just a few centimeters away from him, he could feel the heat emanating from his body and his eyes couldn't help but wander along the line of the king's collarbone; his loose clothing left his chest and part of his toned stomach exposed. Daichi gulped and his eyes quickly looked up at the king again.

"Are you scared?" The king purred and Daichi quickly shook his head, making the king chuckle.

"I'm not and I promise, whatever I decide, I will never say anything about it."

Kuroo smiled. "Very good. I'll be clear and concise. Daichi, I want you to be my royal tickler."

Daichi blinked. "R-Royal tickler? As in... tickle you, Your Highness?"

The king chuckled again, one of his hands hiding his smile as a soft pink hue assaulted his cheeks. Daichi widened his eyes, that was certainly adorable. "That is correct, Daichi. I have... a peculiar attraction to tickling, you see. All I want is for you to come to my chambers at night, whenever I order you, and tickle me until I'm screaming in ecstasy. What do you say?"

Daichi was speechless. His mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish out of water and the king laughed softly. The king had really just asked him that? Was it a joke? A test?

"Don't overthink it, Daichi. I like you, so of course I would like you to please me at night, but if it's too much to ask, like I said, you're free to-"

"I'll do it!" Daichi gasped, lowering his head. "I- I mean... I'll gladly do it, Your Highness. If you find this lowly one to your liking and think I can do a good job pleasing you, then please, accept me as your servant."

Daichi bowed again, but jumped slightly when cold fingers touched his chin. As he raised his face, his breath caught in his throat, for the king was millimeters away from his face, looking at him with a gleam in his golden eyes that sent a chill down Daichi's spine.

"Well then, Daichi. This is your first order: tickle your king until he's begging for mercy. Can you do that?"

Daichi's hands moved on its own and gripped the king's sides, very close to his hip bones. Daichi's fingers trembled, his eyes unable to stop looking at the king's, and he started tickling him and when he heard the king's loud, hysterical laughter and saw the blush deepening on his face and noticed the way his body moved and arched into the tickling, he thought that he had really been extremely lucky to be chosen to spoil this man.

After all, he couldn't deny he fancied the king, but that was a talk for another time.

[batchilla]

Fata Morgana Chapter Three - A Choice Made

Roman Sionis, being of a family as old as your own, is a marvellous dancer. You can’t help but grant him that, at least. “You dance well.” You say to break the silence. “Easily done, with a partner as skilled and beautiful as yourself, Princess. Though you seemed a good deal happier dancing with the Captain.” You raise an eyebrow and take a breath as you move your shoulders in anticipation of the game, and how aggressively the Earl wishes to play it. Part of you is almost happy. You often scheme, play the innocent doe eyed ninny. To be openly called on your behaviour is thrilling as it is off putting.

“Captain Todd-Wayne is a dear friend. I imagine you, more than most of the gentry must have been thrilled by his return. You served with him at the Battle of Arkham did you not?” Roman tilts his head “I did not serve, my place was in the advisory tent. But yes, we indeed were both present on that glorious day.” “A day that served you most … auspiciously then, as a man who never took up the sword.” As your partner waltzes you around the room in a twirling pattern with your fellow dancers, he laughs, deep and from the chest. “Indeed I did. Though I do try not to brag about it. Pride, they say, goes before the fall.” 

He can’t help but feel grateful. It would not do to break down so publicly. He only hoped no one had seen his brother escort him aside. That his princess had been too wrapped up in her new fiance to notice. “Jason?” his brother asks, pressing a stemmed glass into his hands, which he drinks without hesitation. “Don’t fall in love.” He says with a humourless laugh. “And not with someone above your station.” Tim just looked at him. Often Jason hated that look Tim fixed people with. As though he was a sheet of tax information for the local peasantry. As though all his problems and fears and ambitions and joys were simple data that while he could never make complete sense of where to his little brother completely obvious. Once, there was a time Jason would have thought he hated Tim. He’d never felt the Duke loved him as he had the others. Dick, the heir who had come to the Duke through great tragedy, and became a golden example of the Wayne name. Then him. He’d been robbing the stables. He’d expected to lose his hand. He’d been taken in by a man spiralling, in need of a project. He’d been given status, education, all the things that by birth he’d never ought to have. Then he’d given him a sword and sent him away. 

He’d taken in Tim. A boy of noble birth who he’d always seemed, in Jason’s eyes, one he’d always favoured. Then the bastard. Jason had no personal objections to young Damian - at least not by reason of his birth. He owed his mother … everything. But death - because he had died, surely, that day - had a way of giving perspective. 

Damn the Duke's favour - his brothers were his brothers. “Her Highness?” Tim says, that analysing look falling away to sympathy. “Her Highness.” He concurs. “If I may… While you may not be the heir… you are a war hero. Our father would surely grant funds in your name enough to persuade the King. You could be wed.” “She’s engaged.” Jason manages, the words poison in his throat. “Except … there’s been no such announcement. Not yet. Deals, maybe. But no formal engagement. There is—-” “Roman Sionis will not take well to a slight so great.” “Why do you care so deeply about the opinion of Sionis?” “In truth… I have no proof. But whatever happened to me, I fear he was its mastermind.” Tim’s expression darkens. “I’ll see what I can uncover. But you have to understand… It's been so long now. If no witness came forward then, it’s unlikely I’ll get far.” “I know. But if he does manage to wed her…” Jason shakes his head. “There’s not a damn thing I can do to save her from this.” He fights a laugh, not of humour but of despair. 

“And the worst thing is, I could have. True, I’m not worthy of her. She deserves someone better. Someone softer and kinder and untainted by atrocities. But at least if it were me I’d know she was safe. She was loved. Because… unworthy as I am, content as I ought be to be her shield and her sword… I love her. And she’s trapped with that fucking SCOUNDREL, and I can’t do a damn thing about it and maybe once I could have but it’s too late—-” His rant is cut short by Tim crushing his ribs into a hug. “It likely is.” he acknowledges “but give me a chance to see what I can do.”

As your partner waltzes you around the room in a twirling pattern with your fellow dancers, he laughs, deep and from the chest. “Indeed I did. Though I do try not to brag about it. Pride, they say, goes before the fall.” You smile in return, and it does not meet your eyes. From his smug tone, lack of respect for your station or for the Captain, ostentatious suit, and general air, this is the least humble man you have beheld with the lone exception of your father. But ego on its own is a failing you could live with in a future husband. What you could not live with was the cruelty in his eyes, in his toothed smile and too strong grip. What you can not live with is the fact that Captain Todd-Wayne had been dancing nearby until a mere few moments ago… until something had terrified him. He stands stone like, staring at the Earl. You trip, tearing the hem of your dress on your heel “oh. Oh my how silly of me. If you would kindly excuse me my lord… If you could accept such a clumsy partner at the next ball I would gladly make it up, but I ought to exit before anyone notices.” The Earl kisses your hand in parting. “But of course, but of course. How can I complain to have the choicest of partners on yet another occasion?”. You cannot afford to go to Jason’s side. The scandal would be unavoidable then. But still, you are glad to see a young man with the Wayne’s distinctly black hair. Even for one who adopted his heirs, the Duke Wayne had managed that many of his brood resembled him. One Mister Drake-Wayne, you believed. Either way, you had work to do. The two people you cared for and trusted most closely in all the world feared this man. You needed to discover the why. And more importantly then why was the how. Stephanie, her quarrel with him you never knew. Captain Todd-Wayne is not a man who fears easily, and he fears Sionis. You slip out of the ballroom with a whisper to a footman that you need to retire, and not to allow concern should your parents enquire. You can’t afford to panic. You need to think. Roman Sionis had been present at Arkham the day the Captain disappeared. He had directly benefited from that disappearance. That on its own was fortune. But add to the evidence the Captains fear? The earl had done something to your beloved. As you venture back into the corridors of the palace with each step your walk becomes ever closer to a run, until you are running indeed. You lift your skirts, the back of your skirt trailing behind you as you race deeper and deeper into the castle. Golden light from the torches lining the walls bathes your skin and casts dramatic shadows. You have to hurry. You figure you have ten minutes from when you left the ball before Sir Rayner, your guard on duty noticed you had fled. Or, if Sir Todd recovered before then, he’d alert the castle guards at once. Ten minutes till your absence was noted, maybe five more till you were caught if you can keep this pace.  Because you refuse. You refuse. You will not be petals in the wind a second more. You are a hurricane. And god himself can’t protect those who’d try to control your path. 

Fate be damned, illusions and hope could go… could … could go fuck themselves.

You were in charge. And you were getting married.

And you would choose your own goddamn groom. If you read this far, reblog. taglist:

@jasontoddproblems

@sunnie-angel

@stormz369

@love-theangel

@torchbearerkyle

@interwebseriesfan24

Honestly not entirely thrilled with this one, but I was at the point where if I couldn't post this chapter the series would rot and never be completed as I procrastinated and lost motivation. So. Here it is.

[swords-of-a-soilder]

“And, what are you Philza?”

Missa had heard from his own son that a deity Name Rose has been watching over them, He then hears from Phil that he was reached out to another God before. That sparks the question "what are you?"

Missa rocked his legs back and forth as he sat on the edge of the tree house, with an anxious face he stared down at the Structure below him.

A kizbo of sorts surrounded by pilers, literal with roses. Mainly he focused on the floating chest in the center, that aperrantly served as a communication route.

He hadn't spoken to the deity yet, he was terrified of accidental offending her, he much rather thought his words out before Putting anything in the chest.

He would soon take note of Phil's approaching footsteps, though he wouldn't turn to meet him; Phil soon seated himself next to Missa, observing the worry look on his partner's face.

"So, this is probably a lot right now." Phil started, "If you have any questions I'd be more than happy to assist!"

Missa keep his gaze on the chest, in regards to questions he had many; he honestly wasn't even sure where to start but feared his silence would worry Phil.

Thus upon hearing Phil let out an patience sigh, he felt compelled to say something. "Who.. Who is she?" He finally asked

"Right, I'm going to simplify this for you." Phill began

"ok?"

"Rose is my Spawn entity, I was reincarnated into that world after I died in my previous one." He leaned forward clasping his hands as he too stared down at the chest. "And I wasn't sure if it was real to be honest; I thought those spaces in-between were just dreams, but her and the um end king found me so.."

"And the End king is another deity?"

"Not a good one."

"oh?!" Phil would regret mention the End kings name, once he noticed the fear in his partners voice.

"But you don't have to worry about that," he clearifided, "Rose will protect us."

"Ok.. and what did you mean by in-between spaces?"

"in-between worlds..the..where I..where Rose spawned me, they were different layers that lead between different worlds and.. how do I break this down.."

Missa finally looked up at Phil, he'd observed him seemingly rock his brain for a quick explanation. Eventually Phil pulled his backpack closer and ramaished through it, he then pulled out a tres leches cake.

"Ok, so." He pointed to the top of the cake, "imagine this is where I spawned, even though I exist up here I can still go," he moved his finger back and forth between the other layers, "between the other layers through void rips and the entities they can go wherever they want basically."

"Mm si.." Missa agreed, "and how did you get there?"

"Missa, Rose spawned me in."

Missa regret his choice in words once he picked up on the slight annoyance in Phil's tone, he didn't mean to make him repeat himself, it was just difficult to find the right words.

"I mean, why, for what reason did Rose put you there?"

"oh," he relaxed his muscle, "well I died in my old world, I guess she wanted to give me a second chance, it wasn't the first time something like that happen." Phil broke of a layer of the tres leches cake then hand it off to Missa, whom appected it grateful.

Phil tilled his head as he thought briefly to himself, "that's not that strange right? We respawn here."

"yes but, you come back as yourself in the same world you died in and they're circumstances where you just won't come back." Missa explained.

He then broke a piece of the cake which he popped in his mouth, "Sólo estoy tratando de entender las reglas". He explained with a full mouth.

Phil shurgged his shoulders, then processed to pick at the remainder of the cake. "It's pretty much the same, just over different worlds."

"you don't even have any childhood memories, Cellbit Y bagi Crecieron en esta isla, ¿Qué pasa contigo?"

"I don't really have any childhood memories." Phil explain, his eyes slowly swing to the opposite direction, it was clear he was uncomfortable with the direction of the questions.

Missa had half a mind to drop the conversation all together, but as much as he loved his husband he knew nothing of him, where he came from, why he came here; If he was allowing questions this would be the best time to ask right?

"Philza, please take no offense to the question I'm going to ask." Missa requested

Phil released a nervous chuckle, "um..ok?"

"What excalty are you?"

"What do you mean..?" He adjusted his position to sit upright, "I'm a bird mate, birdman, crow Father whatever those fuckers." He pointed to the crows seated in the branches about him. "Call me."

Missa stared at the crows briefly before turning his attention back to Phil; annoyance now painted Phil face, yup he was certainly sleeping in the petting zoo this time. "I think what I meant to ask was, Where did you originally come from?"

Phil's face went through a sequences of emotions, from annoyance to curiosity, then to confusion and horror as he became awear of one painful fact.

"You don't have to answer, don't worry about it. Lo siento, fue una pregunta extraña."

"I don't know..." Phil finally answered, "I've just always existed, I've never thought about it.."

'Ay dios mío, I married a God', Missa thought to himself as he processed Phil statement, of course Phil called it reincarnation but to have no memory of a childhood and just existed in different times, then he was more akin to a God than someone who just happened to remember his past lives.

A rather tragic God at that, if he couldn't remember his origins, but no normal being just exist without any memory of where they came from.

"is that unusual?" Phil inquired

"Ah, I just wanted to know." Missa successful dodge the question, "we're married and I don't know anything about you, it's not fair you know haha.."

Phil stared at his partner, it was true he knew very little of him and even after Missa had told him so much about himself, why he frequently went on journeys who he was before that.

Yet the only explaination Phil had for himself was, he always existed; he couldn't help but feel awful for his unsatisfactory answer. He leaned forward letting he arms rest in his lap, he himself then glared at the floating chest below them.

"You should talk to Rose, I want you to meet her." Phil attempted to change the subject.

"ha, I'm really worried I'm gonna offend her." Missa admitted, he couldn't help but feel this was like meeting the parents, and if that's true then he really didn't want to fuck up.

"Nah mate, Rose is really hard to offend, she'll love you.. I'm sure of it." Phil ended with a sad smile.

They sat there a little longer, feeling the cool wind as well as Indulging on the sweet smell of roses; perhaps he'd ask Rose for advice on how to communicate better with his husband.

[marcmarcmomarc]

If there’s one thing I don’t like about RWBY: Beyond, it was the choice to make it fully voice-acted. While I do absolutely love what we were given, it’s really obvious that CRWBY was working with whatever resources they had left, and were unable to get many of the show’s voice actors back before Rooster Teeth shut down, so they couldn’t make many stories for the miniseries.

So, what I think would have made for a good RWBY: Beyond episode is @pmpknsoup’s post featuring Ruby and Robyn that I’ve brought up too many times on this blog.

This will be the third time I touch on that post, but I can’t promise that it will be the last.

Feel free to comment or reblog how you think this would have gone.

———————————————————————————-

(In Theodore’s office in Shade Academy at early evening, Team RWBY and Jaune Arc face the main members of the Remnant Alliance, consisting of Team JNPR plus Oscar Pine/Ozpin and Emerald Sustrai, Team STRQ, the Ace-Ops, the Happy Huntresses, Winter Schnee, Team SSSNN, Team CFVY, Whitley Schnee, Willow Schnee, Klein Sieben, Maria Calavera, Dr. Pietro Polendina, Ghira Belladonna, Kali Belladonna, Ilia Amitola, Bartholomew Oobleck, Peter Port, Glynda Goodwitch, Theodore, Xanthe Rumpole, and Zwei.)

RUBY: Listen. Thanks, everyone, for your patience.

RUBY: It took a while to figure out how to tell you, and I know being left in the dark about our whereabouts over the remainder of the winter, the whole spring, and the summer has left you anxious, but now, I’ve decided it’s time to reveal what’s been going on. Robyn, I’ll need your Semblance to prove all of this correct.

ROBYN: Uh, okay.

(Robyn steps away from the group, removes her glove, and joins hands with Ruby. Her Semblance turns on and glows green with every piece of information Ruby gives.)

ROBYN: So, you guys didn’t make it out of the pocket dimension before it collapsed. Where did you guys fall to?

RUBY: Well, after I fell, I regained consciousness on a beach surrounded by giant seashells. I tried to hone in on a giant tree, but just ended up looping in circles. Eventually, I had to stop, then found a mouse trying to pull a plant out of the ground. I pulled the plant, which turned out to be a cheese plant, out for the mouse, and fed it to them. After the mouse revealed that they could talk, I named them Little, and they decided to stay by my side as I tried to get home. Then we found Weiss and Blake captured in vines by a whole village of talking mice. It didn’t take much convincing to get them to let them go. Then we went to look for Yang and found a creepy Grimm-looking creature moving jerkily. And I mean very creepy. (IMITATING JABBERWALKER) “Stalking. Searching. Waiting. Listening.” (NORMAL VOICE) Then Yang came barreling out, already fighting the creature while missing her arm. Then Blake realized we were in our favorite childhood fairy tale, The Girl Who Fell Through the World.

(Confusion and wonder all around. “That fairy tale?” “The Ever After?” “It’s real?”)

OSCAR: That fairy tale actually happened? And the Ever After is real?

RUBY: Which meant the creepy Grimm-like creature was the Jabberwalker from that story. Also, Weiss had a very hard time wrapping her head around the Ever After’s absurdities.

(Weiss blushes with embarrassment.)

WEISS: I did not.

RUBY: Our hands are glowing green, Weiss. Robyn’s Semblance never fails. Then we went to the village in the King’s Acre to barter with the Jinxy Peddler, who had stolen Yang’s arm. Well, they don’t “steal”, they just “take things others aren’t looking at”. Fair is fair, right, Little?

ROBYN: Sounds like a legitimate businessperson.

WEISS: Right?

EMERALD: Wait, you guys met the Jinxy Peddler?

VELVET: Was he cute?

WEISS: Cute? He was adorable!

RUBY: And, despite being older than he was in the book, his strategy was the same, selling treasures that are really other items in disguise. If my memory serves me right, he had a yellow scepter, a pink rabbit statue, and a marionette-like doll. Toy soldiers won the scepter, and we only got it back from them because Little tried stealing the marionette, exposing Jinxy’s treasures as fakes. The rabbit statue was another mouse, the scepter was Yang’s arm, and the marionette was one of Penny’s Floating Array swords. The soldiers followed us to arrest us for stealing Yang’s arm, or “royal property”, before I traded Penny’s sword, and told them she was the greatest warrior to ever live. “She was touched by magic, and she gave her life for thousands. She took a message of hope to the stars, and she saw the world through better eyes.”

(The gang gets emotional, especially Winter and Pietro, who are comforted by their loved ones.)

RUBY: The soldiers escorted us to the Crimson Castle for the birthday of who we thought was the Red King, but turned out to be the Red Prince, who was more of a spoiled brat than Weiss was at Beacon.

YANG: (nudging Weiss) Heh-heh.

RUBY: We challenged him to a game of chess, where he shrunk the girls to the size of chess pawns. Not that it hindered their performance against the Prince’s pawns. When we revealed that we’re humans and beat him, he threw a tantrum and wanted us beheaded, and the Curious Cat rescued us.

(More interested chatter. Nora Valkyrie gets giddy.)

NORA: The Curious Cat?!

REN: Were they as chatty as the book made them out to be?

RUBY: Mm-hm. Not to mention easily distracted. Anyway, they took us to look for ingredients for a Growgurt Parfait in the Garden’s Acre, and we told them our life story, but because we kept getting distracted with our internal conflicts, we kept losing them over and over again. After the third time, when they asked me how I’m supposed to save the world now that Salem has two out of four Relics and that Atlas is gone, we met an herbalist, a caterpillar named Herb who seemed to be asking us questions to figure out what medicine he needed to make to help us. Looking back, he was being reasonable, as too little medicine is useless, but too much medicine is toxic. Eventually, Herb just decided to smoke a hookah for a bit and drugged us with leaves that made us see our past selves tempting us to “go back”. To be free. To be simple. To be whole. To be different. The other girls rejected and had already accepted their failures as something to learn from, but I almost gave in, before the Cat stopped me, then got Herb swallowed by a hole in the ground.

(The gang chatters in moods ranging from confusion to nervousness.)

TAI: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up. You guys did drugs?

QROW: Don’t let alcoholism be next, girls.

RUBY: Anyway, the Cat led us to a market to keep looking for the Parfait ingredients. Along the way, they told us about a process that occurs when an Afteran is no longer doing their assigned role, triggered by them losing their ways, wearing out, doubting themselves, or even just finishing their assigned tasks, upon which they are taken to the Great Tree and repurposed into someone or something else with a new identity, personality, and role. Their memories are erased in the process, but the heart very rarely forgets. They don’t die. They ascend.

(Such a concept catches the interest of the gang.)

REMNANT ALLIANCE: Ooh.

EMERALD: Talk about a potential existential crisis.

RUBY: Hence why there was no Red King when we got to the Castle. He lost his game and ascended into the brat we encountered. And the hole that swallowed Herb was him starting his own Ascension. Anyway, after we arrived at the market and got all of the Parfait ingredients, the market was attacked by Jabberwalkers using Neopolitan’s Semblance. Yeah, Neopolitan fell with us, too.

(Nora, Ren, Oscar, and Emerald grow worried.)

REN: Uh-oh.

TAI: Neopolitan? Who’s that?

RUBY: Remember Roman Torchwick, the criminal from Vale? Neo was his partner. She held me responsible for his death at the Fall of Beacon and wanted me dead to avenge him. She expressed herself through gestures and facial expressions because she couldn’t talk.

RAVEN: Was she that chick I saved Yang from on the train on Mountain Glenn?

RUBY: Yep. Then I disposed of her by opening her umbrella on an Atlas airship in the sky during the Fall of Beacon. Apparently she survived that fall without any of those Grimm surrounding us eating her.

OSCAR: Team JNPR and I last fought her right after Ironwood declared us fugitives.

RUBY: Then she fought us in the pocket dimension between here and Solitas. Heck, she was the reason Yang, Blake, and I fell. Anyway, we made the Growgurt Parfait and the girls grew back to normal size just as we got assistance from the Rusted Knight riding his white rabbit.

WHITLEY: Did Weiss go goo-goo eyes the second she laid eyes on him? She had a crush on him when she was younger.

BLAKE: I think everyone had a crush on the Rusted Knight at some point.

RUBY: Well, things didn’t help when he turned out to be a grown-up Jaune with longer hair and a beard, who grabbed a fruit that sent him back in time twenty years right after he landed.

(The gang gasps at the new knowledge of the Rusted Knight being not only Jaune, of all people, but Jaune thrown backwards in time, grown older, and living without his friends for so long.)

NORA: Oh, my Gods! Jaune!

JAUNE: I was stuck there isolated from other human contact, too.

YANG: Weiss certainly loved how mature he was.

RUBY: And the white rabbit was a jackalope Jaune named Juniper.

NORA: After his team? Aww!

RUBY: Then Jaune told us his perspective on the Tree, that he believed it was death, that Alyx backstabbed her brother Lewis, the author of the fairy tale, who wrote the story the way he wished it happened, and that the Cat couldn’t be trusted. Before long, we got caught in a “punderstorm”, which creates a physical manifestation of a mental or emotional problem. Jaune, Weiss, Juniper, and I were sent to metaphorical and literal crossroads, while Yang and Blake were sent to two broken, wooden, rickety bridges connected to a giant pillar that they could only make more planks to advance toward if they were honest about their feelings for each other. Yeah, Yang and Blake are girlfriends now.

(As Yang and Blake blush at each other, everyone’s hearts melt, all proud for the Bees.)

REMNANT ALLIANCE: Aww!

NORA: See, Ren? I told you there was more going on!

KALI: Our baby girl found love?

TAI: With my sunny little dragon?

RAVEN: Wow. She really is your daughter, Tai.

TAI: What’s that supposed to mean?

RAVEN: A tall, muscular, boisterous blonde who tells bad jokes pining after a brooding dark-haired beauty? A tale as old as time.

RUBY: Then the Cat bailed on us after mistaking us for selfishly using them to get home, and once the storm passed, Jaune let us spend the night in his house in the Origami Acre, then he introduced us the next morning to a village of paper stars called the Paper Pleasers. They seemed very dumb and clumsy at first, because of the daily disasters they were causing, but, at the end of the day, were very hospitable. He also named them after all of us. On Jaune’s to-do list, I saw Ren, Ruby, Oscar, Nora, Neptune, and Pyrrha.

(Not a word is spoken as everyone exchanges concerned and uncomfortable looks with each other.)

RUBY: Anyway, a Paper Pleaser told us they kept causing disasters because they wanted to ascend, because their purpose was long since finished, but Jaune was stopping them because of his belief that the tree was death. They told us that the Tree isn’t death, but resurrection, rebuilding, and rebirth. Then Neo’s Jabberwalkers attacked, and while we were distracted, the Paper Pleasers finally managed to off themselves by destroying the koi pond dam and drowning in the flood, then when the girls asked me to help comfort Jaune, I blew up at them for caring more about everyone else’s feelings or getting home, taking my mental health for granted and ignoring my problems…

(Everyone leans in anxiously. Things are getting even more interesting, but not in a good way.)

(Weiss, Blake, Yang, and Jaune exchange looks of guilt.)

RUBY: …then I ran away, came across the Abandoned Acre, and entered a mansion, where Neo had made clone illusions of Roman Torchwick, Penny, Pyrrha, Professor Lionheart, Clover, Ozpin, and Ironwood, and used them to physically and psychologically abuse me, beating me up ruthlessly and blaming me for their deaths, and when the chaos was over, I felt no will to live or be myself anymore, not helped by Torchwick’s question: “Do you really think you can stand to watch more of your friends fall? Or are you ready to admit the truth, that the world would just be better off without you?”

(The gang regards Ruby with sorrow over her being trampled by her trauma. Ozpin can be heard sniffling.)

RUBY: Then Neo offered me tea made from leaves from the Tree intended to wipe me from existence. The Cat blasted her away, but then turned out to be evil and tried to possess me, while revealing that they had been trying to wear me down the whole time, then Neo fought them off and stomped Little to death, then I finally gave in, drank the tea, offing myself, and got swallowed by the Tree.

YANG: (tearing up) Oh, Rubes.

RUBY: Then I met a Blacksmith, who I also found at the market, or, rather, she found me, and then she presented me with a choice to either change my identity or be myself. I saw my mom’s weapon and was treated to a vision of the night she left with Raven on another one of Ozpin’s secret missions and never came back.

(Tai turns accusingly at Raven.)

TAI: Raven?

YANG: She lied? She left with you?

RAVEN: Yeah… Hey, like I said to her, “First time for everything.”

(The gang gives her a look.)

RAVEN: Really? Sheesh. Tough crowd.

HARE: (to Ruby) Wait. What did you say your mother’s name was again?

RUBY: Summer.

HARE: (muttering) So, her uncle is Qrow, her father is Taiyang, and her sister’s mother is Raven. All are members of Team STRQ. Summer, Summer, Summer… (out loud) Summer Rose, the leader of Team STRQ, was your mother?

REMNANT ALLIANCE: (walla) Summer?…Summer Rose?…The previous silver-eyed Huntress?…That’s Summer Rose’s daughter?

RUBY: Yeah. And then, I finally remembered my mom’s words, “I love you just the way you are,” chose to be myself, and came back to help the girls fight the Cat. And we won.

(Cheers and applause all around.)

RUBY: And then Neo killed the Cat by using the Jabberwalkers to eat them. By the way, Jabberwalkers are the only creatures to prevent Ascension if they eat Afterans.

BLAKE: On my count, there were a whopping five of them.

REMNANT ALLIANCE: (walla) Five?…Five of them?…Five Jabberwalkers?

SUN: Talk about overkill.

ELM: (after doing the multiplication math in her head) That’s gotta be over ninety teeth!

RUBY: And, according to the girls, Neo was possessed by the Cat, and she chose to accept Torchwick’s death and undergo her own Ascension. Oh, and Little ascended, too, into who we called Somewhat, and succeeded Jaune as the protector of the Ever After. By then, we had made it to the Tree by coming to terms with the truth, we’ll never be perfect, that even the most skilled Huntsmen and Huntresses have failed, and we walked through the door back home, landed inside the plane of the Tree, and met the Blacksmith again at her workshop. When we noticed two statues of the Brother Gods, she told us their backstory. That the Ever After was overfilled with plants and dangerous wildlife in its primordial years, but the Brothers were created to clear it out. Then they created the Afterans as well as the different acres for them to live in. They designed new creations that would replace them in maintaining the Ever After. This was how the Cat was created. They later created the Jabberwalker as a form of destruction. However, the two disagreed on whether it disrupted the balance or not and began to wage war.

OSCAR AND OZPIN: (both scoff) What else is new?

RUBY: The Blacksmith told us how balance isn’t supposed to be two opposing forces locked in battle; balance is an ecosystem, an organism, and a living thing, thus balance isn’t restored with force or manipulation, it’s restored naturally, requiring love and patience to see it through to the end. The Gods got to Remnant because the Ever After created a door to a “greater beyond” for them, so they can leave and experiment in creating new worlds as much as they like.

NORA: (snickering) So the Tree basically said, “You think you have life sorted out? Then get out of my house”?

RUBY: Pretty much.

(Everyone laughs at the Brother Gods basically being “kicked out of the house” by their “mom”. Some Gods they are.)

YANG: Oh, my Gods, that’s such a hilarious way of looking at it. Thanks, Nora.

RUBY: Anyway, the Blacksmith told us that we impacted the Ever After significantly, just like Somewhat, Alyx, and Lewis, and that the Cat caused a bad impact. Then she de-aged Jaune, but let him keep his memories, which explains the white streak in his hair, and made us a portal in the desert on the outskirts of the city, and now you’re all caught up.

(Ruby lets go of Robyn’s hand. The freedom fighter rejoins the rest of the Alliance.)

RUBY: So, I’m happy to announce that I’m not giving up the fight to save the world anytime soon. No longer will we be putting the entire burden of the world’s safety on one individual, for we are Team Remnant, led by us, Team RWBY!

REMNANT ALLIANCE: (walla) Yes!…Great!…Alright!…Thank goodness!…Welcome back, Ruby!…Good to have you back, kid!…Way to go, Ruby!…That’s my girl!

YANG: We’re so proud of you, Ruby.

RUBY: Thanks, guys. You and your support mean the world to me. And I’m just as proud to call you guys family. All of you.

(Everyone looks at Ruby with warmed hearts.)

———————————————————————————-

Starring the voices of:

Lindsay Jones as Ruby Rose

Cristina Vee as Robyn Hill

Aaron Dismuke as Oscar Pine

Kara Eberle as Weiss Schnee

Katie Newville as Emerald Sustrai

Caiti Ward as Velvet Scarlatina

Barbara Dunkelman as Yang Xiao Long

Samantha Ireland as Nora Valkyrie

Neath Oum as Lie Ren

Burnie Burns as Taiyang Xiao Long

Jason Liebrecht as Qrow Branwen

Anna Hullum as Raven Branwen

Howard Wang as Whitley Schnee

Arryn Zech as Blake Belladonna

Miles Luna as Jaune Arc

Tara Platt as Kali Belladonna

Anairis Quiñones as Harriet Bree

Michael Jones as Sun Wukong

Dawn M. Bennett as Elm Ederne

Shannon McCormick as Professor Ozpin

Additional Voices:

Sena Bryer as May Marigold

Ashley Burns as Coco Adel

Tiana Camacho as Glynda Goodwitch

Cam Clarke as Bartholomew Oobleck

Michele Everheart as Fiona Thyme

Dave Fennoy as Dr. Pietro Polendina

Gavin Free as Scarlet David

Caitlin Glass as Willow Schnee

Mick Lauer as Marrow Amin

Cherami Leigh as Ilia Amitola

Marissa Lenti as Joanna Greenleaf

Joe MacDonald as Yatsuhashi Daichi

Aaron Marquis as Nolan Porfirio

Elizabeth Maxwell as Winter Schnee

Max Mittelman as Fox Alistair

Josh Ornelas as Sage Ayana

Anthony Sardinha as Peter Port

Kerry Shawcross as Neptune Vasilias

Keith Silverstein as Professor Theodore

Melissa Sternenberg as Maria Calavera

J. Michael Tatum as Klein Sieben

Kent Williams as Ghira Belladonna

Anne Yatco as Xanthe Rumpole

“One Day More” section here.

Moodboard index here.

[calisources]

A   SONG   OF   ICE   AND   FIRE   &   HBO'S   GAME   OF   THRONES.   sentence   starters   taken   from   both   the   source   books   and   the   hbo's   adaptation   of   a   song   of   ice   and   fire   from   george   r.r.   martin.   change   titles,   names   and   pronouns   as   you   see   fit.

 "Tell them the North remembers. Tell them winter came for House Frey."

"Leave one wolf alive and the sheep are never safe."

"I'm not a lady. I never have been. That's not me."

"Nothing's more hateful than failing to protect the one you love."

"When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground."

"An unhappy wife is a wine merchant's best friend."

"What good is power if you cannot protect the ones you love?"

 "So we fight and die or we submit and die. I know my choice."

"I thought if I could make something so good, so pure, maybe I'm not a monster."

"Power is power."

"I'm not going to stop the wheel, I'm going to break the wheel."

"Do you understand? I'm no ordinary woman. My dreams come true."

"It's not easy to see something that’s never been before: A good world."

"I believe in second chances. I don't believe in third chances."

"As long as I'm better than everyone else I suppose it doesn't matter."

"When enough people make false promises words stop meaning anything. Then there are no more answers, only better and better lies."

"If you only trust the people you grew up with, you won't make many allies."

“Winter is coming. We know what’s coming with it."

"It is a big and beautiful world. Most of us live and die in the same corner where we were born in, never get to see any of it. I don't want to be most of us."

 "I wonder if you’re the worst person I've ever met? At a certain age it's hard to recall. But the truly vile do stand out through the years."

"Know your strengths, use them wisely, and one man can be worth ten thousand."

"Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor and it can never be used to hurt you."

"I try to know as many people as I can. You never know which one you'll need."

"No one is very happy. Which means it’s a good compromise."

 "Men decide where power resides, whether or not they know it."

"Give us common folk one taste of power and we're like the lion who tasted man—nothing is ever so sweet again."

"But it's you and me that matters to me and you. Don't ever betray me."

 "I want to be the queen."

"Any man who must say, I am the king, is no true king."

"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword."

"If you think this has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention."

"Chaos isn't a pit. Chaos is a ladder."

"A ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is." 

"Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word." 

"If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. "

"When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives."

"People often claim to hunger for truth, but seldom like the taste when it's served up."

"Every man must die, Jon Snow. But first he must live."

"We look up at the same stars and see such different things."

"I need you to become the man you were always meant to be. Not next year, not tomorrow, now." 

"It's a neat little trick you do. You move your lips, and your father's voice comes out. "

"Tell me something, Varys who do you truly serve?"

"They’re dragons, Khaleesi. They can never be tamed."

"Love is the death of duty." 

"Thousands of men don't need to die. Only one of us. Let's end this the old way."

"I Am not beholden to my ancestors vows."

"Robert's rebellion was built on a lie."

"We're children playing at a game, screaming that the rules aren't fair."

"With respect, Your Grace, I don't need your permission. I am a King."

“The world is one great web, and a man dare not touch a single strand lest all the others tremble.”

“Black and white and grey, all the shades of truth.”

“In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining.”

“There is no creature on earth half so terrifying as a truly just man.”

“Every man should lose a battle in his youth, so he does not lose a war when he is old.”

“I prefer my history dead. Dead history is writ in ink, the living sort in blood.”

"The war continues, Davos Seaworth, and some will soon learn that even an ember in the ashes can still ignite a great blaze.”

 "He has a song. He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire.”

"The only time a man can be brave is when he is afraid."

[cantsayidont]

Something that bugs me a little about the reactions to LORD OF THE RINGS is the way that fans pointedly overlook the sometimes uneasy class politics that are involved in the relationship between Frodo and Sam.

This is in no way denying that it's a homoerotic relationship, which is something that comes through vividly even in the weird, truncated Rankin-Bass RETURN OF THE KING animated adaptation from 1980. However, it's important to understand that until the last few pages of the novel, Sam is literally Frodo's servant.

Tolkien is quick to stress, as stories from class-conscious societies often do, that Sam is happy and eager to serve Frodo, and willingly does so even when there's nothing in it for him, but the story emphasizes throughout that Sam is not the social equal of Frodo, Merry, Pippin, or Bilbo. When Sam calls Frodo "Master," it's not a D/S thing; Sam is Frodo's household employee (and in a sense his batman, which Tolkien said was the inspiration for their interactions), having essentially inherited that role from his father, who was Bilbo's employee. When, in the final chapter, Frodo tells Sam to marry Rosie Cotton and movie her into Bag End, he isn't proposing a menage à trois, he is offering to hire Rosie so that Sam can combine his marriage with his full-time duties. It isn't until Frodo tells Sam, on the way to the Grey Havens, that he has made Sam his heir that Sam becomes Frodo's social equal and the master of Bag End rather than the head of its staff. (Tolkien implies elsewhere that this caused Sam some legal trouble, since there was no indication that Frodo was dead or permanently gone — and if Merry and Pippin hadn't been there to witness Frodo's departure, people would have wondered if Sam did away with his master to try to steal his estate.)

Moreover, Tolkien expressly links Sam's perseverance, loyalty, and ability to resist the power of the Ring to his knowing his place. Toward the beginning, Sam's father recalls telling him:

‘Elves and Dragons! I says to him. Cabbages and potatoes are better for me and you. Don’t go getting mixed up in the business of your betters, or you’ll land in trouble too big for you, I says to him. And I might say it to others,’ he added with a look at the stranger and the miller.

Later (in "The Tower of Cirith Ungol"), Sam is tempted by the Ring, which shows him wild fantasies of his overthrowing Sauron and building a garden in the vale of Gorgoroth. However:

In that hour of trial it was the love of his master that helped most to hold him firm; but also deep down in him lived still unconquered his plain hobbit-sense: he knew in the core of his heart that he was not large enough to bear such a burden, even if such visions were not a mere cheat to betray him. The one small garden of a free gardener was all his need and due, not a garden swollen to a realm; his own hands to use, not the hands of others to command.

The word "free" is doing a lot of work here, since Sam is, back in the safety of Hobbiton, quite literally a hand for others to command; he tends Frodo's garden, not his own. But the point is that he recognizes his humble, inferior position in society and accepts it "freely," and that that choice gives Sam what Gandalf might have called the strength and good purpose to heroically resist a temptation that more noble and lordly types like Boromir could not.

My point is not that Sam doesn't love Frodo, which obviously he does, or the reverse, which the narrative makes plain. However, if you are not so reflexively comforted by classist fantasies of this kind, it's hard not to periodically stop and wonder, "Is this sexual harassment?"

[blazerwyvernmaster]

So uhh

I like In Stars and Time. You should play it if you haven't already. It's extremely good. And I will be subtly spoiling a lot of it during this analysis.

Recently I have thought of thr trend if assigning tarot cards to characters in media, or my on characters. So I thought...what if I did that to ISAT?

...so yeah. I'll be doing that. Please tell me if I mess it up, or give me your opinions.

Again, spoilers under the cut.

Siffrin(Fool of Hanged Man)

Fool: The Fool is generally seen as the start of a journey. Even though he is at the end, the time loops and the fact that they have a lot of things to worry about/trauma means that they have a long journey ahead of them.

Hanged Man: A reversed Hanged Man, to be precise. Siffrin is INTENSLY afraid of change. To be more specific, he's stuck in this time lopp because he doesn't want to forget or leave his friends behind. His family behind, his country, his memory. The hanged man is about sacrifice and moving forward, and they do NOT want to do either. But they must.

I would also like to add that they may also be linked to The Devil card. Mostly because it's about desire and stuff and Siffrin desires amny things and can do a lot of selfish and cruel things to his family members.

Mirabelle:Lovers or Chariot.

Lovers:Mirabelle is aroace and perfectly fine with that. It’s a shame that she lives in a society where being perfectly fine with staying stagnant forever is discouraged.

Mirabelle is very religious. She believes strongly in the word of Change. So strongly that she is willing to ignore her feelings of being happy with who she is. She loves expressing platonic and familial love, but...romance and sex ain't it.

I chose the Lovers because it is about choice. Crossroads in one's life, that decide your fate. She was about to make the wrong one, the one that would make her miserable. Luckily, she didn't.

Chariot: Mirabelle may not be the Fool, but the thing that helps the fool move forward is a trusty chariot. From the beginning she's been trying to move forward and save Vaugarde from the King, and especially in the clocktower and higher levels of the house, she is determined to bring her home to its regular state.

If she doesn't, she will let everyone she cares about down. Also, again, she loves in a society where she feels she has to change, even if it means being in a romantic/sexual relationship and hating it. It's all for change, it's all for moving forward.

Isabeau: Strength.

Before the story, Isabeau may have been a reversed strength Arcana. Or at least that's how would see it. He was weak, and had low self-esteem and self-worth. And he hated it. He hated it so much that he became...well,*he*.

While he doesn't necessarily appreciate being treated as an idiot now, he seems happy to be a stronger, more confident, and upright version of himself, both inside and our. Though...judging by the fact that Siffrin's comments got to him during their uhh..darker moments, there may still be some doubts left in him.

(Sidenote I think Isabeau may be my favorite character besides Sif and Loop)

Boniface: Sun and Magician

Sun: Bonnie is a ray of positive energy wrapped in a small little crab with a potty mouth and I love them for it. And so does the rest of the party. They support the others with their cooking and miniscule damage. And it's good.

The rest of the saviors would do anything to keep that ray of positivity alive. Even if it meant they would die in the process.

Its no wonder that when they die to the king in the end of Act 3...Siffrin considers that the end.

Magician:This is mostly coming from their hangout quest. Bonnie can heal and cook, but they can also fight...barely. The fact that they are technically the only other party member who can use rock attacks at base(without using a spell like Odile or Sif) shows that they have some potential. And they want to use and grow that potential to go on kore adventures and help their friends.

Odile: Hermit

Odile, while serving as the party's mature voice of reason, and probably fitting for roles like The Empress or Hierophant, I personally see her as a Hermit because of how isolated her story is.

The only one who ever knows what she's doing with her research is Siffrin, and only if/when you do her quest. Every other time, she seems to be isolated and actively hiding it. Its not that she doesn't rely on her friends,but...she's simply doing this alone.

It's a very personal journey for her about being more connected to your heritage and reflecting on yourself.

To be honest, Hermit works REALLY well for Siffrin, too.

[lillyfics]

Soaring through the Skies || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: The trials and tribulations in the journey of your love with Aemond.

PLS!!! READ AUTHOR'S NOTE UNTIL " :) " IF YOU DON'T WANT THE ENDING OF THE SERIES TO BE SPOILED!!!

Author's Note: This is literally my first ever fic so don't be too harsh :) The only reason I am writing this fic is that I have read too much Aemond x reader fics where he cheats on with Alys and there is no happy ending for the reader. Like why does every fic I read with that topic just breaks my heart :((( Anyway I decided to write a similar story where the reader gets as close to a happy ending as possible :)

Chapter 1 is a lot of characterization and very little plot :-))

TW: swearing, sexual violence, angst, heartbreak, violence, child death, infidelity, death, references to smut

Chapter 1 (WC: 2159)

His eyes enchant you. After all those years spent at Dragonstone, you thought you would forget what it felt like to be in his presence. But at that moment, when his eyes met yours at the training ground, you felt yourself sucked back into the whirlpool of emotions with an even greater force. Initially, you thought you were the only one whose heart was stuck in a storm, but you later learned that Aemond’s heart was in a similar situation too. During the courting period, he confessed about the love he held for you too. At that time, you felt warmth. You allowed yourself to hope that someone would keep you afloat. But now, you were mortified and nearly ran back to the castle and kept yourself busy under the guise of preparing yourself for the petition. Your sisters kept prodding you about your nerves, but they thought it was just jitters about being back in court. Your father, the rogue prince, was the only one who noticed your unease, but kept silent. There are many things you love about your father, but you believe that his best quality was his ability to understand you. Growing up without a mother, he was your sole guiding lamp in the dark abyss that the world is. But he also didn’t believe in commanding you your every step in life, as he once said “One day you will fly on your own issa tala, and I wouldn’t be able to be there when you are soaring the skies.” He also reminded you that you are the Lady of Runestone and one day you would be a queen in your own right.  Knowing that interrogating you would do no good, he just left you alone to your thoughts and knew that would come to him when in need of help.

With everything that was happening, you couldn’t think Vaemond Velaryon’s petition could get worse, but as every minute grows you are proven wrong. It finally ended when half of his head rolled on the floor, courtesy of your father. This day was a strenuous one, and not just for you. Just when you thought everything was resolved the day has had its fill of surprises, the king commanded a betrothal. A betrothal between you and Aemond. While your eyes were filled with shock, his were…blank. It held nothing. The wedding was to happen in two weeks, in an effort to elongate the period of peace between the green queen and the heir to the iron throne you guess.

Began the courting period, spinning with emotions. You were just learning to spread your wings, you can’t fly yet. Your time had been cut short by a person who did not know you, nor care enough about what you felt and saw you just as a piece in this grand game of cyvasse. You also understand that as piece, you are not one of those that commanded, but one of those that served. Knowing that conflicting with this choice would bring you nothing but trouble, you moved forward to acceptance. This is what it is. A habit your father tried to break you out of. He believed that we are a true pair of father and child in the way we had similar flames stoking us. The way your cunningness seared through you that made you capable of outsmarting your siblings. The way determination gilded you to achieve a task that your mind commands you to. The only flaw of yours is acceptance.

Then the period of courting begins. The fact it is even called that makes your stomach ache with laughter. A courting with no choice you believed to be. During this period, you go through a plethora of phases. After the initial shock to acceptance stage, curiosity won over. Curious about Aemond. You remembered that his eyes were devoid of emotion. Is that how he felt? Nothingness? Just a duty? You think you could live with that. Duty could sprout into comfort and then transform into love. Yet, doubts persisted. What if instead of indifference, he was against the betrothal? Did he have another love? Did he think you weren’t beautiful enough? Did he think you to be timid? You tried to make content with these doubts so that you wouldn’t be troubled in the head. If he had another love, there was no way she could hold up to you, as you are the Lady of Runestone and he, a mere second son. Aemond was anything but ambitious, someone who would seek to increase his standing. The only way his legacy would ever be part of this great game were if his heirs were to be from a powerful woman, and you are anything but not that. After the Queen, the Princess of Dragonstone, and the Lady Jeyne Arryn of the Vale, you were one of the women in power. Or you would be one, in the future. If concern is regarding your beauty, he is more than lucky enough to have you, the entire realm would agree on that as you were deemed a beauty by both Valyrian, First Men, and the Andals’ standards. Your mixture of Royce and Targaryen blood gave you your unique features, sought upon by the entirety of the kingdom much to both your father’s pride and displeasure. On the other side, he was known as the accursed prince with one-eye, deemed scornful to be gazed upon. Yet, you never thought it that way. In your eyes, Aemond was nothing less than one of the most beautiful Valyrian gods to stroll through the realm. Even the juxtaposition of his one violet eye and one sapphire eye entices you. In theory, the mixture of your blood should be blessed with the most gorgeous babes. That is what you once dreamed of, with childish hopes. Now, uncertainty plagues you. You still don’t know how Aemond feels about the betrothal since you have yet to have a conversation with him. Even the queen and the princess are radiating happiness together as they divulge themselves in wedding planning and are genuinely positive regarding this union. Your personal opinion is that this wedding is just their excuse to spend time together. Regardless, Rhaenyra has loved you like her own and Aemond was Alicent’s favourite, so they want nothing but the best for this ceremony. From your brief interaction with Otto Hightower, you learn that even he seems to be in high spirits regarding this union. Why wouldn’t he be? The ambitious man would be joyful about gaining access to the Vale. The only ones that aren’t happy are your siblings and your father, but they have their reasons, and you couldn’t judge them for it. You will also eventually learn that their disappointment is for reasons different than you have in your mind.

As the first week comes to an end, you have your dress, venue, and acquaintance with Helaena, Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor in order. Satisfaction fills you, but not enough to completely ease you. In that evening as heirlooms from Runestone finally start arriving, realization strikes you which makes you storm out to the weirwood tree. The stunning colors of the garden would usually calm you, but now nothing stops the quiet sobs that spill out of you. You never liked not knowing the future. You always carved your path. First it was the king, now it was Aemond. Lost in your misery, you sat down with hands covering your knees, staring into nothingness, as teardrops roll down your cheeks. “Are you really that miserable at the prospect of being tied to me?” Not a single whisper escaped your mouth, as you were still in the haze of surprise. You just looked at him. With no answer, Aemond made a choice and decided to take a seat close to you, almost touching you but not. “I thought you were the one who didn’t want to share your life with me”, you tried to say mirthfully, but combined with your doubtfulness it almost came out as a wince. Aemond was staggered by your response. He talked. You talked. He smiled. You smiled. This continued until the sun completely set and only the silent rustles of the leaves and the soft exhales of both of could be heard. You are now hand in hand with him, and everything is eerily calm. The calmness you hope that death would grace you with when its your time. Eventually, you were startled out of your calmness due to a rumble. Aemond looked sheepish and stated that the last meal he had was lunch and he just finished training a few minutes before he saw you by the weirwood tree. Now together, you both enter the dining hall. You also know now everything is fine. Everything will be fine.

In a week, you and Aemond grow closer. Spoke of both of your ambitions, your desires, your wishes. Even before interacting much, you knew Aemond would be a perfect co-ruler when you will eventually move to Runestone in a few years. His knowledge of history and philosophy, his commandeering outlook, and his excellent swordsmanship are qualities that would make him a wonderful consort. Ruling Runestone was something that you were less than confident about. You knew you were a just person, yet you doubted how perfect your capabilities would be. With Aemond by your side, you knew you would enrich the Vale.

As time grew closer to the wedding, you became more comfortable. At your happiness, your siblings also started displaying their happiness. While Lucerys and Rhaena were not a fan of the groom, they were able to understand that I was happy, and that makes them happy too. Even little Aegon and Viserys couldn’t stop beaming at being surrounded by festivities. It seems that everyone in the court were combusting with glee. Well everyone, except Jace and Baela. Their hatred of the groom outweighs the happiness you felt it seems. Aemond didn’t like them either, so you never bothered trying to fix that relationship. Aemond even seems to be more possessive of you in presence of Jace, almost growling when you were seen proximal to Jace. “You don’t know the way he looks at you my love.” You simply ignored the comment, thinking that Aemond’s past grudges were making him paranoid. Once again, you were proven wrong. While you and Jace are having a private conversation in your solar, probably one of your last of these kind of talks until he becomes king it seems. You couldn’t control your smiles as you reminiscent on memories of the past until Jace suddenly leaned across and kissed you. Pin drop silence spread across the chambers until Jace spoke these words “I have fallen in love with you, I am still in love with you, and I know it would be for my best to move on but I don’t think I ever will”. Still, you haven’t uttered a single word, just stared back at him. He eventually leaves the chambers, and unknown to you, that will be the very last conversation you will ever have with each other. You would be left wishing that you said something. Anything really. Anything but the empty silence so that your last memory of him could be filled with something other than guilt and regrets. The evening before the wedding, Baela helps you prepare for the celebratory dinner. Your eyes meet at the mirror. One look into her eyes lets you know that she knows. She also is aware that you know. Guilt racked through you once you realized that she wasn’t even angry with you, she understands. She is aware that she is going to face the condition that you once thought you would be the victim of. Duty instead of love. She finished fixing your hair and you turned around. You hugged her. She hugged you back. Few stray tears escaped. In the end, you are both sisters. In the end, both of you are women who have no control of their fates in the grand game of life. However, in the end, you are both dragons. You are both daughters of the rogue prince.

The wedding went without a hitch. Despite the convoluted feelings of everyone in the sept, at the exact moment your eyes meet his, yours evaporate away. The wedding was devotional. The feast was grandiose. The wedding night was…the wedding night was happy. You weren’t previously aware that happy was ever a word to describe such event but that is what you felt. Happiness. Pure bliss. You and Aemond made love. Giggled like children, made love like long lost lovers, even fed a shew tears like you were looking at a tragedy. When you woke up the next morning, you were filled with joy at the possibility that you would wake up like this every morning for the rest of your life. You could only dream.

High Valyrian Translations:

Issa tala- my daughter

[pirate-of-the-southern-isles]

Apparently, I wasn't done for today and I got this beautiful instruction: https://youtu.be/HEor39iB7cM?si=A52JmNYOlAKFbLjj

I highly recommend it for everyone learning Procreate!

But when I was done with the picture, I thought: huh, that fire is perfect for some partisans to rest by…

So, meet the Birnamians!

From the left: Burro (former school teacher), Goatie (he's in charge), Ox (former farmer) and prince Lars Westergaard of the Southern Isles who *really* doesn't want to be there but has no other choice, sorry… 😛

Now, since the Southern Isles had a bad luck with being ruled by the Westergaards, something must have been done. Hence - the Birnamians. Now, these three are all former convicts - sentenced for twenty years of prison for stealing food from a castle. The Southern Isles’ judicial system is based on only one rule and it is “do as the king says” (just like in Arendelle, taking from the books - apparently both kingdoms slept on both Locke and Montesquieu), especially if something is deemed as a “crime against a crown” (and well, they were in the kitchen? So they totally could poison the food, right? So, a regicide attempt! No poison on them? Well, lucky them, if the guards would find any they would be executed on spot) so even if it was ridiculous, it still must have been carried on. They served their sentence in prison, yes, but also through hard labour - in stables. A crime against the crown must be repaid to the crown. They were there for seven years.

And then the pirates came. And Goatie had the luckiest night of his life, because the guards haven’t taken him back to the Citadel this one time. He was laying down in a cellar, beaten half to death, when the same cannonball which destroyed Hans’ wall - destroyed also his.

He ran. He spotted Sitron on meadows, running in panic. He took him with himself. They laid low for a few weeks in forests on the east side of the Isle. Then they have met their future Chief. And they were given a home and a purpose. A few weeks later, Ox and Burro were rescued from the stables too and the Birnamians were good to go.

And now, what is Lars doing here?

Well.

For three years Lars didn’t know what had happened with Hans. Then, a few weeks ago, a parrot came, wielding a letter regarding “a historical research” about a long-lost treasure. Now, Lars knows his little brother is alive *somewhere*. So he started to actively look for him, because he didn’t really believe the whole “pirate” thing. He spotted Sitron in the crowd one day. He waited patiently and then tried to capture the hooded rider, being 100% sure it is Hans.

It wasn’t. It was Goatie.

And well. As Goatie - who loves Shakespeare - has stated:

"It can’t be like this, Lars.” He approached, so the prince could see him better. “Your family is skinning us alive, we can be imprisoned in the Citadel for every minor thing and if someone can’t keep up with their work, one of your favours us personally with their presence and takes the last penny. Hans at least had a common decency to pretend he’s not enjoying it, but those twins are all happy to throw hands. We don’t want to live like this.” He crouched. “That day I have found a new home. And my purpose. This veiled woman… the first thing she told me to do, was to read “Macbeth”. Of course, after I confirmed I can read. And I can, because my father has taught me. I am almost sure you read it too, maybe you can cite it by heart. But me and everyone else here is obligated to know this one snippet:

“Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care

Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:

Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until

Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill

Shall come against him.”

And you, of course, know what that means?”

“Great Birnam woods has come for Macbeth” Lars answered as he was back with his old teachers. “The rebel’s army, lead by Macduff, dressed their armors with branches, so they couldn’t be counted. In the distance it looked like the forest was marching towards his castle. Macbeth has perished and the throne was returned to its rightful king.”

Goatie nodded.

“The Southern Isles must bury their dead in the woods, and their king doesn’t even have a place to cram their gold anymore. Those bodies should be enough to make the trees rip their roots off the ground and march for you all. But well, even Shakespeare knew it is impossible. But well, that’s what a metaphor is. Meet us, Lars.” He nodded at his people; they jerked Lars towards the biggest hole in a wall and pushed against the edge; broken glasses fell from his nose, flying far, far, down. “We are the Birnamians.” Now Goatie was talking right into his ear. “And our question is… are you willing to carry your branch with us, or do you prefer to go for a little swimming practice?

“You can’t…!”

“Oh, of course we can. That weird, annoying historian prince went to do some field work in the old ruins and fell down. Oh. What a shame. Well, it happens. At least you will be buried in a sort of a family crypt. So, that’s your choice?”

“No!” He yelled when two of the others bent him further; he felt tears slipping from his cheeks.

“So, who’s it gonna be? Macbeth or Malcolm?”

“Please, you must understand…!”

“Decision, Lars, I don’t have all night.”

“I am with you! Alright, I am with you!”

- The Pirate of the Southern Isles, Chapter 58

In other words: either you are with us, or you are dead.

So now Lars not only has to worry about suddenly resurrected baby brother, but also for his own life - threatened from two sides, because if his father ever knows, well… that’s not only a crime against the crown, it is a high treason.

So, welcome to your new life, Lars!

[secretwhumplair]

Welcome

1,061 words | Mirai and the serpent king (sequel to Awakening)

Content | Slavery, fear, shame

Notes | Honestly not a lot of exciting things happen in this one but. Mirai is glad about it lol

Taglist | @yet-another-heathen @echo-goes-aaa @whumpinator

For a moment, Mirai stood there, feeling ridiculously lost, then Rizi came up to him; several of the others, too, came closer to look at the new arrival, interrupting what Mirai now realized was an advanced stage of breakfast.

»Hi, Mirai. I’m Rizi.«

They shook hands, Mirai in a daze that couldn’t quite decide between happiness of being surrounded by friendly-seeming peers, and terror of so many unknown faces and hearts. »H-hello.«

Rizi introduced the others who had come, four nosy creatures: two humans, a snake and the centauress. Mirai already knew he’d fail to remember their names at the first try, but they continued to seem friendly, and they backed off when they noticed how nervous he was.

»Come on,« said the centauress, »there’ll be plenty of time to get to know each other.«

He was left alone with Rizi, and stole a glance at the elf. He hadn’t approached, but watched him with interest, quietly chatting with a snake in iridescent dark scales Mirai hadn’t known existed. When he caught Mirai’s eye, he gave a wry smile and looked away.

»That’s Izara and Shasha. I’m sure you’ll get to know each other, don’t worry.«

Mirai simply nodded, once again ashamed of his voice. What would Izara think? Maybe it would be better if they didn’t get to know each other… but then, that didn’t seem an option, living in such close quarters.

»Do you want to have breakfast first, or the tour?« Rizi asked. »It won’t take long.«

»Oh.« Mirai was taken aback by even the possibility of a choice. »The, the tour, please.« That was what the serpent king had ordered, after all.

»Alright! So this is our living room,« Rizi gestured at the room around them, then led the way towards the arches, which opened, as Mirai realized when approaching, onto- »The balcony.«

There were a pair of tables with seats on the balcony as well, with a pretty view of a pond full of water-lilies, surrounded by old trees, of which several were flowering.

Mirai found himself with a hand to his heart. It felt good, having a little beauty to look at almost at his leisure.

»Like it?« Rizi was smiling, and it barely felt vulnerable to admit it with a nod.

»You don’t like talking, huh? Does it hurt?«

»No, I just…« Mirai swallowed, once more reminded. »It’s… I miss my voice,« he confessed. »And it’s… it doesn’t bring up… fond memories.«

»Ah.« Rizi reached out and patted his shoulder awkwardly, and somehow, that was the final straw.

Before he knew it, Mirai was bawling in Rizi’s arms. Shame washed through him—how could he, when Rizi and the others were in the same position?

But Rizi didn’t try to escape. They held him, rubbed his back, and muttered, »Shh, it’s alright now. You had a rough journey, huh? It’s okay.«

»I’m s-sorry,« Mirai sobbed, and pulled back.

»It’s okay, really.« Rizi squeezed his hand. »Most of us were a bit of a mess when we got here. Especially us not-snakes. Foreign traders don’t make the journey with wares they can get rid of elsewhere, we’re all… we’ve all been through it.«

That only served to make Mirai feel worse. They all had suffered equally, and here he was taking advantage of Rizi’s kindness. »I’m sorry.«

»Me too, for whatever happened to you.« Rizi smiled sadly. »Here’s better than anywhere I’ve been, I promise.«

»Okay,« Mirai muttered, feeling stupid even as he said it. »Thank you.«

Rizi awkwardly rubbed his arm once more, then asked, »Ready to go on?«

Mirai nodded, his cheeks flushed hot.

They took him back inside and turned to the first door on the left. »Here’s our bathrooms—the other one is right opposite. We’re expected to keep ourselves clean and tidy for the king.«

Mirai nodded; that made sense. The bathroom was generously large, with several washstands, racks of towels, a shelf with various jars, brushes, and soap. In the middle of it, there was even a tub.

»I guess you’ll have your hands full with your hair,« Rizi noted, walked over and picked up a jar out of the shelf. »This’ll be useful for it. Brush it in like once a week.«

»Yes, he- the king said something like that,« Mirai recalled, relieved to find out where and how he was expected to do that. »Thank you.«

»Sure. Hey, if you have any questions, you can ask me, alright? The others too. They don’t bite. Come on.« Rizi led the way back into the main room, where Mirai immediately noticed the more covert curious glances he still drew, then to one of the open doors.

They entered a simple bedroom, containing a large bed, a wardrobe, and even a small desk under a regular-sized window—small in comparison to what Mirai had seen elsewhere in the palace. »And the rest of these are our bedrooms. There’s ten of them and like, what, now fourteen of us, but some people already share so I’m sure you’ll find a spot. Actually I’m not sure anyone sleeps in here at the moment, so, if you want to sleep alone… And during the day, most of the time some of them are free. Just let people know if you’ve got to be alone for a bit. We’re making it work.«

»That’s, um. That’s lovely, thanks.«

»And that’s about it, I think? Like I said, if you have any question or are unsure about anything,« at this they gave Mirai a dubious look, as if they could already tell he was unsure about most things, »just ask, okay?«

»Okay,« Mirai muttered, even knowing he probably wouldn’t have the nerve. Not soon, anyway.

He followed Rizi back into the living room, where they returned to the table they had gotten up from.

The darkest-skinned human, having finished breakfast, was just dealing out cards to the four people around the table, three humans and the startlingly thin brown-patched snake. »You in, Rizi?«, and when Rizi affirmed, she looked at Mirai. »What about you? We’re playing Blossoms.«

»I- I don’t know how.«

»You can just watch a round and see if you want to join the next,« Rizi suggested to general agreement and Mirai’s relief. »You need to eat, anyway.«

Mirai let himself sink into a seat cushion, and for the first time, caught his breath.

[hell-drabbles]

there's kinda errors here and there since I tend to skip most of the story (I think you already know why) but I try my best 👉👈

Anyway this is mostly about mc

"Solomon-"

"No."

"But His Majesty Leviathan wants you-"

"Still no."

You cross your arms, remaining firm in your refusal. Meeting devils in hell has been a tough task. Those fuckers are always on your attention, and if possible, your affection, calling you a name that isn't even yours, and the constant reminder about the 'devil energy.' Exhaustion isn't even enough to describe what you've gone through.

Then there's the kings...

If the devils were too much, then their lords are a different breed. After hearing of your (or Solomon's) arrival, even more trouble begins. Satan kicking his subordinates who get too close, Leviathan hangs devils left and right just by taking your attention off of him for a second, and Mammon sending mountains of gifts that hoard every possible space in your room. You hope the next king won't be as overbearing, though it's like wishing to breathe in space, so you don't bother.

You snap back to reality when a tall black demon attempts to sneak before you, but before he can grab you, you slam the door shut in their face.

Running your hand through your hair, you comb it backward, huffing in frustration. Despite everything, you're grateful that no devils have managed to touch you. While drinking your best friend's cum isn't the ideal option, what choice do you have? Letting those devils use you like a fleshligh? Hell no.

You make your way to the assigned room, ensuring the door is locked before grabbing the book and laying chest on the sofa.

"Just a little more," you tell yourself. A little more, and then you can finally go back to Minhyeok. You can only hope he isn't skin and bones by the time you return.

👉👈🐮

(Hehehehe you write me a drabble and I will respond with a drabble in turn! Same with art. Tis my way of thanks! Also cursed 'squeezing Ppyong like a fucking juice pack for that demon energy' under the cut. Like, literally grabbing him and just, squeezing like a bottle of ketchup.)

While you're not exactly sure on the state of his libido, if he's anything like his search history suggests, he can probably afford to do it daily. Still though, it has to be tiring, but it is for your survival so what can you do?

There's a little knock on your window. You craned your neck, ready tell the next devil to piss off because you want nothing to do with devils and their kings right now, but stopped right as you saw Ppyong. Oh the little red perverted lump has come with your daily feedings of your friend's semen. He's about the only connection you have with Minhyeok right now, and never once has he confused you for Solomon nor even called you by that name, so in your mind, he was already ranked higher than a lot of the other devils.

While you are pissed off many ways till Sunday, Ppyong's presence was already starting to calm you down. You got up and walked to the window.

"Hey Ppyong," you greeted, hand already out for the heavy bottle that's constantly filled to the brim. Just how many times did Minhyeok have to orgasm to get this much? Is his dick okay? He doesn't have rope burn on it does he? You should probably buy some gentle lotion for him just in case when you get back. "Good job, little man."

"Hehe," Ppyong scratched the back of his head, his face pulled into a large and silly grin, "I live to serve and make you happy, aye! Oh! Minhyeok gave me a new treat! It's this choco that's filled with cherry and it was amazing! I'll save you some next time, okay?"

"That's fine little buddy," you patted his back, watching his pudgy stomach bounce with all the sweets he stuffed himself with, "I'm good."

"...Um," Ppyong looked down, nervously rubbing his hands together, "Uh, hey. You haven't had demon energy yet, right?"

You gave a long sigh, "Yeah I haven't. Gonna have to bother you again. Gotta get that demon energy somehow."

His mouth pulled into a perverted grin as he started to drool. "Hehehe, it's no trouble at all!"

Well, time to get this over with again.

"As usual," you gripped his round body in your hand, Ppyong's face not faltering at all even as he made a squeaky toy like sound, "May this pain bring you ultimate pleasure."

And like a juice packet, you squeezed him tight and aimed his horns right into your mouth. And, as with water being forced out a small hole, Ppyong's "white demon energy" came out. Even made some noise, like that one time you put your mouth on a powerful sprinkler.

A quick and easy affair. A little noisy on the account of Ppyong's loud "Ayyyyye!" but it was done in less than a minute.

You let go and watched Ppyong flutter to the ground, red form still imprinted with your fingers, like wet clay.

"You doing okay?" you said as you popped open the bottle, ready to chug.

"...aye. Thank you." He raised one hand, clearly recovering from that high. Poor little face looked like you drained him of all liquids, with his sunken in cheeks.

Well, you did, but that's besides the point.

You bent down and patted his deflated self. "You do so much work. Thank you."