#and willingly shared the lands power with her

[thecatsaesthetics]

When Rhys died the power of the HL didn’t shift because Feyre already held that power. The power didn’t need to shift because it already was inhabiting a body.

It’s that simple.

[latenightdaydreams]

Hi!

What about a pervert!König that finds a tiny!reader? Like small. Doll size? But König is sexually attracted to her and wants to keep her as a little toy? AHHHH sorry if it’s dark I just can’t stop thinking about it🤦🏾‍♀️

I love your writing! Thank you💛

Thank you!!💖

König x Doll Sized!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

Part 2

>cw: fem/afab, power difference, masturbation, voyeurism, confinement, non-con.

1.6k word count

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Once König retired, he purchased land in the countryside of Austria. His new goal in life is to live a life of peace and comfort. Near his home, there is a small stream next to a field of colorful wildflowers. It’s like a little slice of heaven on earth; especially when he found you.

König found you walking in the field. He nearly stepped on you the first time. You’re tiny, like a living Barbie doll. After a few visits, you trusted him, coming closer to him to talk to him. You show off your little crafts that you make with what nature gives you.

You’re precious and have become somewhat of an obsession for König. Every day, you’re the first thought on his mind. To hear your tiny voice, see your eyes sparkle, just to be in your presence is a gift.

Today he packs a bag with doll clothes he recently purchased for you, a few sweets that you always request and lunch to share with you. This is his daily routine, eventually hoping to get you to trust him enough to willingly enter his home.

König arrives at the field and sits, opening up a picnic blanket before setting things out. In no time, you show up. The giant man stares down at you with a cheerful smile, moving over on the blanket to make room for you.

“Hallo, y/n!” König can’t control his excitement with you. “How have you been since I saw you last?”

“König!” You return the warm smile. “I’ve been well. How about you?”

His eyes travel up and down your body as you were a purple doll dress he gave to you yesterday. You’re so tiny, yet so curvy. He fantasizes about what you would look like with no clothes on nearly every second of every day. Do you look like a human woman?

“Well…” His gaze lingers. “I went shopping for you again.”

“You’re so sweet.” You smile while watching him dig through his bag.

König turns to you, holding a doll's bikini and another dress, but pink this time. You squeal with excitement as König hands them to you. He studies you, wishing you’d try them on in front of him.

“Do you like them?” He asks while handing you the bag of sweets.

“I do!” You pivot your attention to the sweets, tiptoeing to peer into the bag.”

“Can I show you photos of something I’ve been working on for you?” König asks while taking his phone out.

“Yes!”

He opens his photo app to show you photos of a dollhouse that has been transformed to look like a modern, cozy home. König has been working hard to make it a lure to get you interested in a visit. As you look at the photos, he watches your face closely, trying to read your reaction.

“You did this? For me?” You gaze up in awe at your kind giant friend.

“All for you. For whenever you want to visit, you can have your own space to not feel overwhelmed.” He says so innocently.

“Wow…I would love to see it sometime.” You gaze at the image of the small closet with clothes he’s picked out for you. “All that’s for me?”

“Well, you are the only Fae I know.” He chuckles.

“Fae?”

“Like… tiny person. Not exactly human. It’s a compliment. They’re beautiful, just like you.”

A small blush appears on your face when he calls you beautiful. He’s your first human interaction. For centuries, you’ve been told to avoid them, but König has shown you that not all humans are the same.

König lets the silence linger in the air for a brief moment before testing the waters once more. “Like I said, anytime you want to come over. I’d be happy to have you.” And he means have.

You look around at the flowers before turning back up to him. “I’d like to go now. For a short while.”

König’s eyes light up. He tries to suppress his excitement to not scare you off. With haste, he packs up his bag again. One of his large hands opens up on the blanket. “I can carry you since it would be a long walk for you.”

There is a look of hesitation in your eyes as you gaze down at his large calloused hand.

“I promise, I won't drop or squeeze you.”

With his promise, you sit in his palm. The feeling of your warm miniature body resting on his palm felt…his mind began to wonder what you would feel like sitting on other parts of him. Once you are comfortable, he stands, pulling the blanket up too.

Each step is taken with the utmost care to make sure he doesn’t trip and drop you. You look down from over his fingers and feel nervous being so high up. König’s heart is thumping in his chest at the thought of finally capturing you. Months of getting close to you have all paid off.

Inside his home, it feels massive to you. He closes and locks the door behind him, the latch making a loud clicking sound. “This is my home.” König speaks softly as he walks you around the first floor before bringing you upstairs.

“This is my office,” he opens the first door for you to look into, “then right over here is the bathroom.” König stalls in each room to let you look around. He watches as you look around in wonder.

There is one more door at the end of the hall that he opens. “This is my bedroom.” It’s simple but neatly organized. König isn’t a very materialistic man and it shows. He walks into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. You can hear the sound of the lock again, but think nothing of it. He walks to his bed and places you on it.

The soft surface under you is comfortable as you let yourself fall back onto it. A laugh comes from König as he watches you enjoy his bed. “This bed is so comfortable.”

“Then you’ll love yours.” König holds his hand out to grab you. Once you sit back down on his palm, he turns, opening his closet door. The closet looks more like a small bedroom, even complete with natural lighting. You look around, eyes falling to where the doll house sits in the corner. Slowly and gently, he sets his hands on the floor for you to get out and walk to it.

König stands back up and closes the door behind him as you rush to the dollhouse and explore it all. You run up to your own bedroom and look into the closet at all the clothes. “Why don’t you try some on?”

Without a second thought, you strip from your purple dress exposing your body to König for the first time. König would feel his cock instantly harden. You look beautiful, exactly like a woman. As your attention is focused on picking out an outfit, König shoves one hand into his pants and leans back against the wall. He grabs his cock and strokes it as his eyes are glued to your breasts bouncing and ass shaking. What does your pussy look like? Taste like?

You hear a loud huff coming from behind you. Slowly turning around to see König in the corner masturbating to you. You rush to put your dress back on, but he steps forward.

“Nein, stay like this.” His voice is shaky from pleasure.

König can sense that you’re uncomfortable. He kneels down and undoes his pants, quickly pulling out his cock. His other hand reaches out to try and touch you, but you recoil.

“Don’t make me get the jar.” König’s voice deepens.

A shiver runs down your spine. The jar? You look at him and realize he is exactly like every other human. All the stories about their perversions are true.

König watches as you just gaze up at him with an untrusting look. His breathing gets heavier as he looks at you. “Lay on the bed.”

You stand for a while before deciding to comply, his eyes following you like a hungry dog. As you lay down, he looks over your body with an intense gaze. “Touch yourself.”

For a moment you think about it, maybe if you just play along, he’ll let you free and then you can just hide from him forever again. You spread your legs open and begin to circle your clit. König watches in awe as his moans get louder.

Your body is perfect. If you were human, you'd be his perfect woman. He wants to run his tongue all over your body, touch every inch, but that can wait. For now, he will accept this...for now it's enough.

“Y/n.” He whispers before he sits up and cums on you.

Thick warm globs of sticky whiteness fall on your stomach and breasts, also scattering along the floor and bed. The smell overwhelms you, it’s repulsive. König looks at the mess he’s made and it only arouses him further. You look gorgeous soaked in cum.

König stands up and puts himself back in his pants, leaving you in there for a moment. He comes back with a towel and begins to clean the floor around you. “Clean yourself with the blanket, I’ll wash it.”

You comply and clean up, getting dressed again in your purple dress. Acting as calm as possible you smile up at König. “This house is beautiful, thank you again. I think I’d like to go home now.”

“This is your home.”

“No—”

“Ja, es ist.”

Your stomach churns. “König.” You say in a pleading tone.

He stares down at you with a serious glare. Without a word, he slowly stands up and turns away, walking out of the closest and leaving you trapped within.

Part 2

[thelostgirl21]

So, you are telling me that Jaskier used to wear outfits the color of the sea in Season 1...

That he constantly complains about his feet hurting, or struggling with keeping his footing while having to wear boots (is the problem his actual boots or a lack of early practice in life?!)...

That he got all excited at the thought that Geralt might catch him a fish to eat...

That a huge part of his identity and the pride he takes in himself is tied to his singing voice and abilities...

That his songs have been described as having the power to sing a king off his clothes...

That helping his best friend in the whole wide world bathe after rubbing soothing chamomile onto his lovely bottom is typical friendship behavior to him...

That he vulnerably asked for Geralt to get away for a while with him, and head to the (west?) coast, in the hopes that he might be able to prove himself a worthy [travel] companion (works whether you interpret the interest as romantic or queerplatonic).

And then he basically implied that (returning home with Geralt?) might be what would please him most.

That the very first thing he did after Geralt returned to him and got him out of his cell in Season 2, is take off his top and jump into the freaking nearest body of water!

That he's hypersensitive to the way people on land start stinking after a while (including himself), and will openly suggest they should bathe (or downright bathe them himself)!

That he talks with animals...

That you had him fall in love with a human prince in Season 3...

... then had him sing a song about a human prince that falls in love with a siren to Ciri right before you had him go meet with said prince, share his first kiss with him, and make love to him in a woodshed!

... only to show a clip from "Sirens of the Deep" revealing that the Netflix version of Jaskier is from

Bremervoord

a.k.a. The vassal state of Cidaris and one of the places that goes the furthest west into the sea on the Continent!

Bremervoord, with an economy running primarily on pearls fishing.

Bremervoord, the place where the story of Jaskier's Season 3 song, "A Little Sacrifice" takes place...

A place where a prince (though I think it's a duke in the actual short story) meets a siren, falls in love with her, and willingly leaves his human life behind to follow her at sea.*

*according to the song, at least! And I'm not sure it ends well for the prince of the song, because that part about him sinking to darkest night sounds a bit ominous if you ask me... The book's short story has a different conclusion.

You're basically telling me that Jaskier comes from a place on the coast that goes far into the sea to the west, a place where merpeople and humans occasionally interact, and that he didn't really feel like talking about where he's from, because he felt like the only way for him to ever be able to "become himself" was to leave his home behind...

... AND YOU EXPECT ME NOT TO LATCH ONTO THAT POPULAR MERMAN!JASKIER THEORY?!

OR INSTINCTIVELY START DEVELOPING A BUNCH OF HEADCANONS ABOUT IT?

For example :

What if Jaskier keeps repeating that "he's just a bard" not because he's actually dismissing how good, influential, or powerful he is...

... but because he chose to give up his tail to permanently become a human, and he doesn't like to be reminded that he doesn't quite "fully belong" with humanity, because there's something a bit different and "unique" about his singing.

What if, growing up as a merboy, he'd kept feeling like he was born in the wrong body and with the wrong species given his brethren's attitude about singing as an artform.

What if when merpeople sing, they typically rely on pure melodies without lyrics, and argue that only humans and other species of the land - with their inferior vocal capabilities - must rely on something as primitive as words and lyrics to inspire emotions and make ideas take root into other people's minds.

What if they do have a singing speech pattern, but when it comes to artistic expression, the songs are purely melodic.

But Jaskier, after listening to some of the folk songs that the local bards enjoy singing by the fire at the beach, often accompanied by a lute or other instruments, fell in love with the way the words of those songs flow and sound.

Perhaps he revealed himself to Essi then, and that, instead of being scared of him, she agreed to show him how to play the lute, speak her language, and sing the way humans do.

And when he did fully grasp the beauty and the power of using verbal poetry into songs, he knew he could never look back.

What if Essi was the first person to ever really see him for who he was and treat him as family, hence why he loves her like a little sister.

Maybe "the Lettenhoves" are basically a group of merpeople with no actual blood relation, that lost their own families and were rejected by them when they chose to make the full transition from merperson to human.

By pretending to be blood relatives, they've managed, however, to realistically pass as a large human noble family, acquire a bunch of lands and estates over the years that is passed to each new generation that wants them, and each new member is given a certain amount of money when they become one of the Lettenhoves to begin their new life on land!

They aren't extremely close, because they each have their own lives and personal ventures (very few go into singing careers), but they are still people that understand what being a human born at sea feels like, and that will be there to offer each other help and support if need be!

And so, Jaskier was able to go study at the University of Oxenfurt and learn as much of the human world and its arts as he could!

But, while his voice remains a bit more powerful and influential than most humans that were born on land, that influence comes with a "curse"...

Most people that instinctively fall under the charm of his melodies (note: Jaskier can use his voice to make an audience more susceptible to anger and annoyance when he sings, too. An especially useful skill to have when you're relying on food being thrown at you to eat... Hence why Geralt's lack of emotional response to his singing when they met was so intriguing!) will typically only care about how they make them feel, rather than how Jaskier himself was feeling when he wrote his songs.

Geralt, Yennefer and Ciri are all immune to his siren charms - and dwarves appear to be more resistant as well - but, while his songs inspire people, and hearing him sing them "live" with his actual voice tends to make people become instantly infatuated with him (or immediately hate him, should Jaskier wish to repel rather than attract them)...

... they rarely ever see him or seemingly attempt to connect with him on an intimate, emotional level, like they would with another human being.

And so, every time Jaskier is reminded of how much influence he appears to have over how people see the world when he uses his voice, Jaskier's tendency to remind them that he's "just a bard" is because he wishes people would connect with his humanity, too, rather than what he can do.

Regardless of him being able to pass as someone that was born on land and started his life in a fully human body, he knows that his voice will always carry some remnant of his siren abilities.

And that this difference appears to be preventing him from emotionally and physically connecting with other human beings that weren't born at sea like him, the way he wishes he could.

And so, that's why he was initially hesitant to sing for Radovid, and he kept insisting that he wasn't in a "singing mood" that day.

Because he knew that, the moment Radovid heard his singing voice, he might stop listening to him and trying to connect.

But there was something in the way Radovid insisted - while asking for Jaskier to pick his favorite song and showing a sincere curiosity about listening to what pleased him most - that made Jaskier ultimately choose to risk it.

And, while Radovid was obviously affected by the sound of his voice (to the point where he felt the need to pretend his speechlessness was caused by drunkenness), it was also very clear that he'd been listening.

Not only was his gaze very sharp and his eyes clear and bright while Jaskier was singing - seemingly attempting to analyse every note and word - but, for once, the things Radovid was complimenting him about weren't related to his ability to make people feel and experience things...

For once, what Radovid was claiming made Jaskier so special wasn't the beauty or power of his voice, or how catchy the melodies of the songs he'd sang to him were.

It wasn't even about how Jaskier's lyrics had made him feel.

He'd told Jaskier that what made him so special was his ability to see people for who they really are rather than who they pretend to be.

He'd essentially told him that his ability to truly comprehend those around him was his gift - that he had a unique ability to connect with them at the core... the very thing Jaskier had always felt that he was lacking.

And when Jaskier pushed him for more, all Radovid told him was that he didn't know yet, but was determined to figure it out.

"You connect strongly with others and my desire is to understand and connect with you."

That is what Radovid had taken away from who he was, even after having heard him sing, and Jaskier couldn't help but feel like he'd found a kindred spirit in that human.

Someone stuck in a world and a birth family that simply couldn't understand and accept him as he was - constantly hiding parts of himself to survive.

Radovid had then agreed to help him with the whole situation with Rience - despite the fact that Jaskier hadn't used any song to attempt to suggest he should, just genuinely asked for his help.

And - if that hadn't been enough - that prince had gone one step even further by asking him if Geralt knew how lucky he was to have him, after Jaskier had been singing about his self-worth issues when it came to relationships and his fear of never being good enough - or human enough - for a fellow human (or mutated human) partner.

He'd been listening to him.

He might have been born on land, and he might not have been immune to Jaskier's siren abilities, but Radovid still hadn't lost sight of who he was, nor been tempted to start obsessing about owning him or treating him like a prized possession.

And so, Jaskier tentatively begins to allow himself to hope...

Until Radovid does something truly unexpected that none of his prior human, elven or dwarven suitors or lovers had ever done before...

Learn his song.

Sirens are typically immune to the power that another siren's voices carry... until they fall in love.

One of the ways to know if a fellow merperson is alterously or romantically drawn to you is to sing back one of their own melodies to them, and see how they will respond.

Should they feel that instinctive, near irresistible pull towards the melody, and vice versa, then the two sirens will often start trying to discover and explore different ways they can learn to harmonize and use their voices to complement each other's, and create new shared melodies that will resound through the sea.

And, for the very first time in his life, Jaskier finally understands how people feel when they listen to him sing.

Despite the fact that the "siren's melody" being sung back to him is a human song he wrote, with human lyrics, accompanied by human instruments...

Despite the fact that Radovid himself is most definitely not a siren but very much human - fumbling a bit with Jaskier's lute, visibly nervous, too shy to allow his voice to rise above a whisper...

To Jaskier, it's the most beautifully mesmerizing "siren's melody" he's ever heard in his existence! It's filled with warmth, love, understanding, a promise of unconditional acceptance and safety...

It's absolutely intoxicating, he can barely breathe, feels like he's on the very edge of losing his sanity, and it takes all the power he has to avoid launching himself right at him!

And if a human can make him feel this way singing back to him a song filled with poetry and lyrics - rather than a classic, traditional siren's melody - then maybe there's never been anything wrong with Jaskier or the way he's always preferred to sing!

His people made him feel unwanted, but the sea never did! It probably would have been welcoming to a lute-playing merman singing like a bard, if his people hadn't been such close-minded arses!

Jaskier feels at home on land and has never once regretted his choice, but maybe he still has a right to also be a child of the sea, regardless of him having ultimately chosen a pair of legs over his fins!

And maybe Radovid would love to see parts of his old home some day - even if they can only access the surface of it, rather than go explore everything hidden in the water's depths (unless Yennefer has a spell that would allow Radovid to breathe under water as he does. Because Jaskier would never trust a sea witch with Radovid's life!).

And if Jaskier himself can be mesmerized by Radovid's song and feel like he would let that man lead him anywhere and do whatever he wants with him, without any desire to own and control him; maybe he'd simply been trying to connect with the wrong people.

Radovid is the first person he's ever met that seems to be able to connect with both the human and the siren part of him. And when Jaskier offers to help him work on his lute playing and singing, what he's truly saying is that he wants them to learn to harmonize their voices together and create their own melodies...

It's an intimate need Jaskier still has, and he's finally found himself a mate that appears to fully get him, and be able to fulfil those needs.

Of course, then the whole mess with Cirilla happens, and for a moment there Jaskier loses faith that any of it was ever real!

Who was he kidding!? The Redanian Intelligence kept insisting that they knew everything about everyone! Maybe they'd figured out Jaskier used to be a merman, done their research, noticed that Jaskier "fancied" the prince, and instructed him to surprise him and trick him into lowering his defenses, by courting him the way a fellow merman would!

He really should have known!

But then, when he finds Radovid alone, lost, and hiding, he realizes that Radovid had never meant to trick or hurt him.

Radovid had just been genuinely afraid, and trying to deal with the threat of a looming war as best he could by seeking Ciri's help.

And now, the war he'd attempted preventing from happening had begun, he'd clearly internalized Jaskier's earlier blame, and that spoon of a man was sufficiently bonded to him by now that he might just allow himself to be captured and killed if he doesn't do something about it!

And then, Jaskier himself might end up symbolically 'washing ashore' somewhere and letting himself die of heartbreak, for fuck's sake!

Because merpeople are dramatic as fuck and they feel the loss of friends and family in a way that's devastatingly sharp. Being rejected by a queerplatonic or romantic partner - or having them die on them - is the worst type of injury one could inflict upon them!

When he'd sung about having also survived, no thanks to Geralt, he'd fully meant it! That loss had nearly killed him!

If he wants to survive this, he needs to figure out a way to keep Radovid safe, and then make sure that Geralt and the rest of his family are safe also, because he doesn't know how he'd manage to continue to live in this world if the war ends up taking everything from him in a way where all hope would be lost of ever getting any of them back!

[bloogers-boogers]

Thinking of an au where Lucifer is still the king of hell but in this world Adam was a mere sinner and not the ‘first man’ but the first ‘willingly fallen angel’. People will say wouldn’t that be untrue bc Lucifer yada yada,, but nah, Lucifer didn’t expect to fall, so willingly he didn’t, at least not in this au ~ so anyways…

Adam was never created as a human, he was an angel and had been friends with Lucifer before his fall. They were both seraphim! Though Adam was made a few ranks below Lucifer, God created him as the embodiment of perfection and beauty ~ so all angels admired him for how he looked and was praised by the creator, even Lucifer.

Lucifer at the time never considered Adam as something more than a brother just like all of the other angels they just saw each other like that? The knowledge of romance was an oddity or some type of supernatural feeling no one experienced at the time but God would mention about when it came in describing the first humans.

And they weren’t entirely close either. They were just connected being very pampered and favored by God.

Fast forward to Lucifer already being casted to hell and married to Lilith. They eventually heard of a fallen angel landed in hell (by a deadly sin, I would like to say it was Satan who informed Lucifer of this bc yk that’s a freaking fallen angel). So Lucifer was shocked of this revelation. After all, it’s been like a century since Lucifer and Lilith gathered angels to go against heaven and then be casted to live in hell for the rest of eternity.

When Lucifer tracked the angel down, it took a while until his eyes landed on Adam. Yup. The Seraphim Adam he once knew as the living perfection of God’s hands turned as a sinner.

Once Lucifer helps Adam, picking his unconscious body and taking him to his castle to get heal. Adam wakes up and was greeted with a bomb of questions by both king and queen of hell of why the hell was he here. In this case Adam refuses to tell them why he fell and flees to never be seen.

Leaving Lucifer and Lilith speechless because why, when, how???

Years pases by and the whole incident is long forgotten, just like Lucifer’s marriage.

So everything is basically the same except Lucifer is more of a king than being shut in his castle depressed. I feel having the influence of Adam back in heaven kinda toughened him up a bit bc he shared a lot of things in common and well, God’s love. So there was some sorts of jealousy involved just like competition. Also having Lucifer near by kinda just softened Adam a ton which made it easier for him to be too vulnerable in hell.

Lucifer is much more colder though. He doesn’t have Charlie in this Au but Adam sorta does? He has Abel who has a similar personality and ambitions. His dream is redemption and thats why nothing much changes aside from that. But without Charlie Lucifer just doesn’t have anyone, and like they say, nothing is more scarier than someone who has nothing to lose.

Adam has a strained relationship with his son because he’s so blinded by Abel’s mother who’s very abusive and who Abel distanced himself from (unaware Adam is actually trapped in her chains/ she owns his soul), so they rarely ever talk or see each other but Adam loves his son more than anything.

Abel isn’t Adam’s only son he has 15 biological children! And 56 adoptive ones (exorcists that in this au are hellborn orphans/ who aren’t necessarily currently living in his area or home but are his nonetheless) Vaggie, Lute, and more. Adam is an overlord! The most powerful in wrath and was allowed to leave pride by a deal he made with Lilith thousands of year before she kinda bailed on hell.

He and Lucifer did cross paths throughout that time which made the whole falling incident more easier to forget considering Lucifer was no longer interested in wanting to know why Adam fell and just respected his privacy. The deal he made with Lilith needed to be reinforced from Lucifer’s power so it was necessary for the king of hell to be involved and grant Adam’s wish to leave pride and join wrath instead (he’s still a pride citizen he just isn’t forced to be there like the rest of the sinners/ is basically the only one allowed to have left his ring).

But getting to the plot. So Lucifer starts getting a bunch of complaints of Abel’s hotel and all the trouble he’s making with heaven. And the angels aka Sera haven’t stopped pestering his ass about it so he goes and seeks for this ‘Abel guy’ he has no idea who’s about (or who’s daddy did this one belonged to) and surprise surprise Lucifer becomes Abel’s Alastor ~ he joins in the hotel (with all the intention on screwing it over) being a sponsor, and ofc to this Abel’s all enthusiastic having the actual king of hell ‘on his side’ giving him ‘support’ of his dreams yk

And you can imagine the rest aksbwksheks Loving the idea of Hell greatest dad being Lucifer taunting Adam for being a better dad than him and Adam feeling challenged (bc he kinda is)

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Heracles with fem!giyuu!reader scenario

Collab work with @deathmetalunicorn1. This can be seen as either a platonic or a slow burn romance scenario.

warnings: violence, canon divergence, and possibly Brunhilde's potty mouth.

Giyuu!reader is selected to fight in round four against Heracles, the mightiest demigod of Olympus. Brunhilde had emphasized that his strength is nothing to scoff at and to make sure to secure a win so that Humanity will be given an advantage against the shitty gods. While she was not someone who judged a person by someone’s words alone, Giyuu!reader had promised Nezuko and Tanjiro that she would come back to them. And that is what she will do, regardless of who her opponent is in the arena. 

To her shock, Heracles had actually tried to persuade her to forfeit the match because he did not want to fight a woman. To him, it was dishonorable. She just looked at him for a moment, then unsheathed her sword and charged at him, though he had parried the blow with his club. 

Giyuu!reader clicked her tongue, leaping backwards and landing on her feet. She straightened her posture, [Eye Color] orbs staring at him icily. 

“This is a fight to save mankind…my gender is irrelevant. Or will you dare to change the match to suit your own benefit, as Zeus had done in the second match?” She asked, maneuvering her fingers around the leather handle of her sword before bending her knees. She inhaled her nose, exhaling through her mouth. 

“Water Breathing. Fifth Form. Blessed Rain After the Drought.”

Giyuu!reader darted across the arena, swinging her blade from the left, aiming at the demigod’s neck. She had hoped to finish her opponent in an act of kindness, but alas the tip of her blade barely made a dent as he had used his club again to parry. He pushed back against her, allowing Giyuu!reader to use his arm as leverage and leapt away again, putting distance between them. 

She frowned at him. “Stop this.” She said, “Fight back.” 

“I cannot and will not unless you lay down your arms.” He replied, lowering his club towards the ground, cerulean orbs bright with conviction and sincerity. He might…mean what he said, and these aren’t just pretty words to lower his opponent’s guard…it still pissed off Giyuu!reader that he was under the impression that she is weak. Yes, she is a Hashira, but she is neither the strongest nor the weakest Demon Slayer of the Corps. She did not survive for as long as she has, protecting Valhalla from the monsters on the other side of the Bifrost, by being soft either. 

“You are not a warrior.” Giyuu!reader snapped. “You….are pathetic.” Ignoring the outraged cries bouncing across the arena, she raised her blade at him with a single hand, the tip pointed at his chest.

“It is one thing to show mercy upon an enemy. But what about an opponent who is willingly to lay down her life in this fight, and she is expecting you to share the same courtesy, yet instead she is treated…like she is weak? This is not an act of mercy you are showing me. It is dishonorable. You, Heracles of the Grecian pantheon, have done nothing but humiliate me. Is that the reason you have chosen to be a representative of the Gods in this tournament, even when you proclaim to love humans? Or will you raise your weapon, shut up, and fight me with all of the strength that you possess?” 

“Then tell me what drives you.” Hercules pleaded. “Why are you doing this?” 

“...I can’t tell if you are being serious or just stupid.” Giyuu!reader spat. “You are fighting against someone who is considered to be powerful under Lord Hades’ command. Pummel me into the ground, right here and now, and I will gladly answer your question. Unless you have figured it out already, then congratulations. Either way I’m still going to win against you, even if it means I will sacrifice myself to ensure mankind will survive.” 

For a split second, Heracles noticed how his opponent’s shoulders tensed as someone called out to her from humanity’s side of the arena. He saw a young boy with a burn mark and wearing a checkered haori waving his arms frantically, a smaller girl with a bamboo piece in her mouth mimicking him, albeit with a bit more enthusiasm. 

The demigod closed his eyes. Inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling through the mouth, Heracles raised his club, the spiked edges pointed at Giyuu!reader as she kept her sword pointed at him. 

“I love humans. I do not wish to see them destroyed when I know there is still hope for them to strive, to grow, and become better. Therefore…I will not kill a warrior who is fighting for such an honorable reason. Come, I will give you what you want. Instead of a clean death, however, I will fight until one of us loses consciousness. There has been enough death here today.” 

“Fine. The victor shall be the one who is not incapacitated.” 

Heracles nodded, and got into a fighting position. So did Giyuu!reader. Although the crowd - humans and gods - jeered at their words and wished to see more carnage, Zeus silenced them with his own agreement. He will make an exception in this round of Ragnarok…but no more mercy beyond round four. 

Giyuu!reader fought against the red-haired giant, deflecting his movements and using her Breathing techniques to counterattack. But….in the end, Heracles was too powerful. Giyuu!reader lost. Another win for the gods. And Brunhilde reminded her of her failure as soon as she gained consciousness in the medical wing, the Valkyrie glaring at Giyuu!reader. 

The Water Hashira felt frustrated tears building in the back of her eyes, rapidly blinking them away and praying that Brunhilde would not see such…an unsightly display of weakness. She was prepared for another tongue lashing when a familiar, deep voice rang in the white room.

“That’s enough, Brunhilde!”

Giyuu!reader looked up and saw Heracles hobble through the door, his broad chest and left arm covered in bandages. She noticed that the demigod was leaning heavily against his club, using it as a cane of sorts as he glared at the Valkyrie. 

“It isn’t like I walked away from this fight unscathed either. Nor was it a failure on her part. Do you know how rare it is to find a human who is able to keep up with my physical strength? And it was a tie, Brunhilde, not a failure.”

Giyuu!reader stared at him with widened eyes. “...A tie?” She whispered, averting her attention back to the dark-haired woman. Brunhilde sighed, her hands planted on her hips and lips curled into a frown. 

“He speaks the truth, though in hindsight, there is no predicting how this tournament will proceed. A complete victory would have been preferable…but this…I’ll accept it. For now. And you did fight hard, and with courage, unlike some of the warriors I had spoken to before coming to you. So…forgive me.” She inclined her head slightly to Giyuu!reader before she strode towards the door. The Valkyrie then looked back at the Hashira. 

“Get some rest.” 

That was the last thing Brunhilde had said before she skittered out of the room, leaving Giyuu!reader alone with the demigod. She said nothing, watching Heracles smiling boyishly at her as he carefully lowered himself on the edge of the bed, causing Giyuu!reader to scoot a little towards the right so that he’d have enough room. “How do you feel?” Giyuu!reader asked, tilting her head. “If we were both knocked out…then why weren’t you in the same room as I? Did the gods fear I would try to finish the job as soon as I was conscious?” She would have done it too, if Heracles had been a demon instead of a half-mortal, half-god she fought against in a tournament where the fate of humanity hung in the balance.

 Giyuu!reader watched as his eyes widened for a fraction before he threw his head back, a booming laugh bouncing off the walls. He laughed for a bit, and then looked at her, his grin stretched from ear to ear.

“Sorry. I-It’s just…wow, I definitely wasn’t expecting that! No. The hospital policy is to not have men and women share the same room, even when there are curtains that can be used for privacy and so on.” He chuckled, using the back of his hand to wipe away some tears that were trickling down his face from laughing too hard. 

Giyuu!reader blinked, staring at him blankly. “I suppose that does make sense.” She muttered. “Will you be leaving soon then? I’ve heard gods and demigods have extraordinary regenerative abilities.”

“Soon.” He said, flexing his left arm. “The facilities used here are amazing, and you’ll get to go back home too!”

“And our fight was most definitely a tie?”

“Absolutely! It was a double-knock out! Everyone saw it, and they can certainly not deny it! Even Heimdall was astonished at your strength. Oh, we could even have another match when you’ve made a full recovery! Ares is an amazing fighter like you, but he’s not always available! And I’ve never seen a fighting style like yours, it’s incredible!”

Giyuu!reader stared at him for a long moment until she slowly nodded in agreement. 

“I would not mind.” She said softly. “Although…knowing Tanjiro and Nezuko, they will probably give me quite the scolding when I return to the compound.” Just when she said those words with a small smile, which caused Heracles’ heart to skip a beat upon seeing such a lovely expression on the warrior’s face, however, the door opened with a loud ‘bang’. Both of them turned and saw a little girl with a bamboo piece in her mouth, pink eyes widening before she began to weep. Without a word of warning, she blitzed towards Giyuu!reader, performing a small backflip as her body shrunk to the size of a toddler and landed squarely on the Hashira’s solar plexus, knocking the wind of her with a grunt. 

But Giyuu!reader didn’t push the child away. Instead, she pulled the little one into a hug as chubby arms coiled around her neck. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m alright, Nezuko. See? I told you everything would be fine.”  The Hashira cooed, slowly rocking her body back and forth. 

From the corner of his eye, Heracles saw another human enter the room. Taller, and he couldn’t have been younger than fifteen or seventeen summers with dark red hair and a green checkered haori draped over his black uniform with silver buttons. The demigod immediately recognized him, and the little girl. They were from the arena, and the boy called out to Giyuu!reader during the match. 

The boy, whom he had to guess was Tanjiro, stared at him with nervous, inquisitive eyes. Heracles smiled at him, and stood from the bed, allowing the tiny mortal to approach Giyuu!reader. Tanjiro beamed at him before he walked over to Giyuu!reader’s side, throwing his arms around the Water Hashira and Nezuko, burying his face in the former’s shoulder. When he pulled away, the demigod saw that this boy wasn’t even trying to hide his tears. He had been truly worried about Giyuu!reader. 

Giyuu!reader smiled at him, raising a hand and stroking the top of his head before trying to wipe away his tears, although such a tender gesture only made him cry even harder.  

While he didn't know the history between these three individuals, it was clear to Heracles that they shared a close bond with one another. He smiled, watching Giyuu!reader panicking over Tanjiro while the little one, Nezuko, looked up at him with tiny flowers over her head till she decided to hug his uninjured leg. His grin widened. 

Humans were truly amazing. 

“Say, once we’ve been cleared by the healers to be released, how about we all go out and get something to eat? My treat!”

Tanjiro and Nezuko definitely wanted to go, but they left the final decision to Giyuu!reader as they stared at her with wide, curious eyes. Giyuu!reader nodded. 

“It would be our honor, Heracles of the Grecian pantheon. I hope we can wait to spar until we’ve fully healed?” She asked with a raised brow. Heracles beamed, jabbing a thumb at his chest.

“Of course! I swear upon my honor!”

“Then it is settled.” 

Heracles felt his heart race and his smile widen upon seeing her smile for the second time. He did not know why he felt like this. The only conclusion he could come up with is that he didn’t have to kill this strangely wonderful woman and cause grief for these children. He wouldn’t find out the actual truth until much, much later.

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[dairy-farmer]

Jaytim where Jason gets cucked by.... *gasp* Willis Todd!?

Instead of dying he simply served a long sentence and was released shortly after his son's marriage. Of course he wants to reconnect!

One of my favourite headcanons is that Jason has a mommy kink, so it would fit well if Tim shared some traits and mannerisms with Catherine.

Anyways idk if Tim would ever willingly cheat with Willis, or if this is some dubious/non-consensual scenario, but it might end with patricide, a retraumatized Jason and Tim giving birth to at least one of Jason's siblings. Not neccessarily in that order.

yes yes yseby yes ye sye s YESRESS YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i LOVE this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

where willis was never killed he just got sentenced to serve a long sentence. when he gets out its been years, a lot of his old stomping grounds have been bulldozed, crime has been severely cracked down upon due to batman's presence. a lot of the simple "honest" work that willis used to be able to use to get by has been all but made oblique. plus he's behind. since getting locked behind bars the world has essentially left him behind. his wife who used to put money on his books had stopped, not because she'd met another man but because she'd gone and died.

when willis gets out he has nothing, no one. but the rule of his probation was that he needed a permanent address where the officer could roll by and check on him at any minute.

all of willis' old contacts, mainly women who he'd messed around with, had either changed their numbers, disappeared, or moved on from him.

willis' options are limited. he'd been born nothing into nothing but he'd still made use of what he had to crawl himself up. decent looks and enough charisma to power a steamboat had been his saving grace. it was what had landed him a nice loyal woman that always put up bail money and raised his bastard.

but willis wasn't so young anymore. that dark hair had faded to streaks of gray, his features had weathered due to age. he was still good looking but not young enough to get stupid little girls to offer him anything he wanted in exchange for a little attention.

but willis was lucky. the gotham prison system had under gone revisions in recent years and a database had been established to help recently released felons reconnect with family and friends to keep them off the streets and therefore away from re-offending.

it's how willis manages to find out his son was alive and not dead in a gutter or rotting in some prison upstate.

what a pleasant surprise!

the little shit had never deigned to visit willis and the address the secretary gives him is in one of the nicer parts of crime alley.

willis can't say he didn't resent the kid a bit. getting a baby dumped on him by a girl he fucked once or twice was a pain in the ass. moreso that when he brought the baby home to catherine she'd cried.

hurt and betrayed that willis had cheated on her.

willis would admit that beneath the hard exterior, part of him had felt a churn of something in his gut at making his cathy cry. she was different from the other women, from the girls he fucked and dumped. it was why he'd kept her around, married her.

she was genuine. sweet. she looked at willis with a look of concern his own mother had never given him. she worried about him, patched him up when he'd return bruised and cut up. she was the only one who ever believed willis would make something of himself, citing willis' head for numbers which had landed him pretty decent jobs as a number runner and accountant that had given them a comfortable life.

until the baby arrived. then all of a sudden willis' meager pay was going towards diapers and milk and all the million things babies needed.

willis would admit the kid had single-handedly ruined him and cathy by draining their finances. cathy had tried to assure him it was alright, that they'd figure things out. she'd even tried going down to the welfare office to get help paying for the kid.

but she'd been rejected. both their criminal records made it so they were on their own.

it meant willis had been made to start taking riskier jobs from shadier employers. cathy had to call up old contacts and start working as a courier again just so they could make ends meet.

so willis hated the kid.

oh he pretended he didn't. for cathy's sake. she'd grown attached and willis had lost the opportunity to suggest they dump the kid at the firehouse or an orphanage.

willis admitted he'd smacked the kid around a bit. mostly when he'd cry that cathy wasn't around.

when willis had gotten the rotten end of stick and landed himself nearly 20 years in prison on a trumped up charge it hadn't felt real.

he'd felt like he was in some sort of waking nightmare as his bumbling public defender fucked up his case.

20 years was a long time to spend behind bars. some of the guys willis got locked up with turned to religion, others tied their identities to the prison gangs and sank deeper into the tar pit of crime.

willis did what he could to maintain his sanity.

until the day of his release when he's handed back the clothes he was arrested in along with his belongings. a wallet with a wrinkled 5 dollar bill, a receipt from the bus, his old house key, and a notebook of addresses that'd landed him in lockup.

willis feels lost when the prison bus dumps him on some random street corner in gotham, a pamphlet of resources in hand, alongside about 12 other inmates.

unlike most of them, willis was literate enough to actually read what was printed and made his way to the listed office. the office which directed him to the home of his estranged son that he hadn't seen since the day he got thrown over the hood of a police car for entering the wrong damn building run by the wrong damn people.

willis may be old. he may have spent the last 20 years of his life in prison. his wife may be dead, his old apartment bulldozed to make room for some gentrified apartment building, and he may have nothing but the clothes on his back- but willis still had his mouth. and that opened a world of possibilities.

jason was taller, broader. he looked disturbingly like willis' father which meant he probably looked a lot like willis.

his hands were thick and calloused, scarred over from hard work as he stood in the doorway in a wife beater and low hanging sweatpants.

willis knew what it felt like to have no lost love for a father. so he just says what it would've taken him to open his door to his father if he'd somehow come back from the dead.

jason's home is cluttered, stacks of books and knickknacks littering shelves and low tables. it's full. but full in a way that willis can tell the home is well loved and occupied. there are paintings and posters on the wall along with pictures. little details are scattered throughout the home that tell willis his son does not live alone. and he's right when he spots the curious figure lingering at the entrance to the kitchen.

willis nearly feels his breath hitch at the sight of the other person. from a certain distance, from an angle...they almost looked like cathy. short dark hair, small figure, soft sloped hips, pretty pink lips, big wet doe-like eyes, long curled lashes...

looks like his son had gotten himself a nice little woman to keep him company in this cozy little house of his.

a clench of something warm and wanting swirled in willis' gut but he pushed it down. no. he could think more on that once he was comfortable and secured a bed.

jason was reluctant. he was recently married, had started some new job at a city planning office, and had just started settling down with his little wife that introduced himself as 'tim'.

saying the right words to squirm his way in comes natural to willis, no amount of time locked up could change that, and jason's little wife also helps.

just like cathy. having faith in a stranger's words, believing that people were better than they actually were.

jason doesn't give in too easily though. willis wouldn't have either.

but willis gets the spare bedroom in the apartment and jason warns him its temporary, just until he gets on his feet and so the parole officer doesn't get on his ass about it.

willis would admit it was nice to have the privacy of a room. a bed that wasn't more of a gym mat than mattress and running hot water whenever he wanted. jason rarely left the home those first few weeks, eyes always locked on willis when he'd come out of the room. more than once he'd dump a newspaper on willis' lap and tell him to start searching the classifieds, that plenty of people were willing to hire ex-cons.

apparently jason's little wife knew better than anyone since he worked for a charity helping underprivileged youths. it must have given him some divine need to help because he often helped willis fill out job applications after willis pretended to struggle reading the words printed on the newsprint.

the night after willis' perceived illiteracy some part of jason seemed to have lightened up. he and jason are washing up the dishes when jason quietly inquired.

"can you really not read?"

of course willis could. he wasn't some kind of fucking moron.

but it seemed to earn sympathy points from people. after all there was nothing more uncomfortable seeing a grown man struggle to read. it makes people not view someone as much of a threat.

its probably part of the reason why jason starts lightening up a little. starts making short trips out of the apartment to do errands while willis remained on his best behavior.

willis was good at maintaining the facade. he'd done it for 20 years in prison, pretending to be a browbeaten, meek, mouse of a man that stuttered so hard he nearly passed out when confronted.

it had been a different kind of humiliation to endure that for 20 long years. being used as entertainment by bigger fish who'd chortle and laugh as willis had to pretend to nearly piss in pants in fear just at being spoken to.

but he'd done it. so he could survive.

being demeaned and degraded day in and day out did something to a man''s brain.

it changed him biologically. made it so the minute he got something he wanted he did anything he could to keep it.

willis was still living under his son's roof, was still at the mercy of his benevolence. was still stuck in a little room without any real freedom.

his son might believe they were reconciling to an extent but jason was still a man in his own home and that meant he couldn't help but try to make willis prostrate.

willis listens to his son fuck his little wife from the next room with a throbbing cock in hand.

20 years was a long time to go without pussy. cathy was long gone but there had been no one who compared to her hot little cunt that had stretched so good around him.

willis pumped his cock listening to breathy moans and high pitched whines of jason rocking into his whore, imagining the stretch of little timmy's cunt over his cock, thinking of fucking him so hard that tender pussy would be bruised and red from the force of it all.

willis can feel his self control start to slip.

going in and taking his son's woman was highly risky and could land him out on the streets again.

but willis didn't know how many more nights he could take before his hand wasn't enough.

then willis reconnects with old acquaintances. ones who haven't changed at all.

no suspicion is drawn about him going out for a beer with old "friends". not that willis would ever consider any of the trash he surrounded himself with as anything more than 'associate'.

but they do have their uses. like one of the men who mainly dealt near the colleges and financial areas.

its not hard to score a few pills from him.

willis crushes them to a fine powder in his room using two heavy books until he had a baggy small enough to fit up his sleeve. from there it was a matter of waiting.

waiting for the next time jason would go out for a few hours.

the gods must be smiling down on willis because he catches a break.

a problem at one of the sites jason works at has had a problem and he'll be gone until the next morning fixing it.

willis doesn't act immediately even though every part of him wants to. he waits until it's lunch and prepares a glass of fruit juice for tim as usual, bringing it to him with every bit of forced casualness as he can.

tim is working and takes occasional sips of the juice and bites of a sandwich while willis hovers nearby, waiting.

eventually the pills kick in.

tim starts shifting. his head starts lolling side to side as tim massages the back of his neck. hands start scratching at the edges of his clothes and wiping away sudden sweat.

when tim stands up with a low call of 'bathroom' but then stumbles- that's when willis swoops in.

bootleg pollen was stupidly easy to obtain. it was untraceable in a tox screen, had a half life of 45 minutes, could be ingested orally, snorted, or absorbed through the skin, was borderline impossible to overdose on, increased body temperature, and made sex so much hotter.

willis had only heard whispers of it, mostly from men who were serving sentences for having used it and how they said it was fully worth it with wistful looks.

willis couldn't help but agree with them as he sank with ease into a dipping little pussy with a relieved gasp that ripped out of him. willis had to just sit there for a little, eyes closed and just feeling the vice of a hot cunt all around his cock. jason's woman let out a soft whine and little murmurs under him, his limbs lax and heavy as his head tilted one way and the other. his brows were furrowed and eyes closed as he softly squirmed, soft bottom inching away until willis reached down and pulled him closer, forcing more of his cock in until he was fully bottomed out. willis felt his pelvis be pressed flush to soft little baby cunt and how nice of jason's woman to keep himself so beautifully waxed.

willis started slow, grinding and grunting against the neck of jason's woman, trying to hold him back from going too fast for fear of cumming too quickly. but that thought left just as soon as it came and willis started furiously fucking the hole under him, insides desperate for release. willis had all day to take his time but for the moment he was going to make up for 20 years worth of fucking.

jason's woman was quite the champ. usually after a few rounds willis was getting pushed away by exhausted broads who'd whine about being too tired to keep going.

not cathy though. never his cathy, no she always let willis go for as long as he wanted until he was satiated. she'd wrap her arms around him and hold him to her while willis fucked her cunt full of load after load. even if she wouldn't be able to move in the morning, even if her cunt would be bruised to the heavens- she'd just press a kiss to willis's forehead and thank him.

god he fucking missed her. 20 years and he hadn't even known they'd buried her in some nameless fucking plot under a number instead of her name.

jason's woman looked so much like her. those pretty eyes, that soft hair, those full cheeks.

god his cathy hadn't aged a day.

willis snapped his hips into a whining cathy a little faster, letting her tilt her head back while he panted over her, nowhere near as young as he used to be.

willis pressed their faces together just like he used to when they'd spend all of saturday and sunday just fucking in their shoebox apartment. willis felt his breath grown heavier as he pumped his cock into cathy, her cunt letting out a wet thick noise everytime he tugged out.

"gnnn, cathy baby i missed you-" and he had, god willis had. he'd never had a good thing in his life but cathy oh fuck his cathy was the only worthwhile thing he'd ever had.

he's borderline lightheaded as his hips stutter, chest tightening and jaw clenching as he tightens his bruising grip on the hips of the hole under him until he's spilling and flooding hot cum into the welcoming womb below him.

willis isn't sure how long he lies there, fucking and cumming and filling a womb with his cum. it must be hours, maybe the whole the day. everytime jason's woman starts struggling a little harder, willis reaches under the couch for the baggy and dumps some over his face, pinching his nose so he has no choice but to swallow and then he's wet and loose all over again.

willis is so focused on it and lost in the sensations he doesn't hear the key in the front door turning. doesn't hear the boots and the steps. doesn't hear how they freeze, how they pause and then start moving rapidly in his direction faster and faster.

willis didn't know jason kept guns. he just assumed his son was too much of a pussy about them. but he was wrong. if he'd checked the closet beside the door or underneath the table by the kitchen he would've found the legally registered, fully loaded fire arm.

willis only sees it when he's ripped back and off tim, the glint of the metal the last thing he sees before jason empties the clip into his head.

willis is not present for the fallout, to see the way he has permanently re-traumatized his son.

his son who had believed his piece of shit father's words about reconciling, the piece of shit father he invited to his home, the piece of shit father he left with his wife, the piece of shit father he arrived home to find raping his wife.

jason is not alright. he's only ever been disappointed by father's his whole life- he should've known better. the moment his father refused to get revenge on his murder should've been the only sign he needed to know better. but jason was just determined to shoot himself in the foot everytime.

and now tim was paying the price for jason's stupidity as well.

jason is meticulous in cleaning the apartment. tim was already unconcious by the time jason arrived, pollen was scattered all beside his head.

so jason rests him on the couch and covers him with a sheet, careful to wipe between his legs to catch...emissions.

tim will awake from the pollen and remember nothing from it and maybe that will be a mercy. the only one to remember what happened will be jason whole cleaned his father's splattered brains off the wall. jason gathers what's left of the corpse and takes it out to an abandoned bridge overseeing one of the rivers in gotham that drains to the ocean.

he weighs each of his father's limbs down with a cinder block and pushes him off the railing. when his parole officer passes by jason will tell him he hadn't even known his father got out of prison.

jason cleans tim carefully, tenderly. he only has to hold himself over the toilet to dry heave once after he'd finished scraping his father's cum out of his wife.

in the morning tim wakes up in pain and delirious with a fever from the pollen.

jason tells him what happened and holds him while he cries but its hard to be traumatized over something you can't remember. its more the paranoia and the thoughts of wondering what happened that drive the depression.

weeks later the parole officer arrives looking for jason's father and it takes everything jason has to remain calm.

another few weeks and jason and tim decide they can't continue to live in their little apartment and they move. another few weeks and tim's period doesn't come and dread fills them both as they realize that it's unlikely that willis was able to get real pollen that it was likely bootleg pollen, the ones that had the effect of forcing people into ovulation.

they think about getting rid of it, they think about ignoring how they've been trying for a baby but have had no luck because jason was essentially a cadaver powered by kiddie pool magic.

they think of not going through with it.

but in the end they can't bring themselves to. they've wanted a baby so badly for so long. they can't do it.

its hard to come to terms with. they tell no one about willis, its easy because they'd told none of the family he'd been staying with them.

they assume jason is the father and he is. jason has been slowly training his mind to disregard the technicalities of genetics, to ignore how if bruce or anyone ever ran a scan on his and tim's baby they'd find he's closer to jason's half brother than son.

they ignore it. they celebrate tim's pregnancy and prepare with all the joy they were holding in for their baby.

and they're happy.

it takes awhile but they are.

their baby is born pink and screaming with a thick head of hair and the most gorgeous little eyes. she has the same little dimple as jason does when she smiles and dick coos over it when he comes to visit them.

"oh she looks so much like her daddy!"

the words only cause the slightest of aches but it fades when jason hears his daughter giggle.

they were good. they were happy.

at the very least willis had been good for one thing in his miserable life.

tim heard him say that and gave him a small, soft look before leaning up to kiss him.

two things, tim would whisper before bending down to give their baby another kiss.

jason pretended like the words didn't choke him up and rested his head on tim's, holding him close while they listened to their sleeping baby take soft, slow breaths.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Forsaken AU PLOT

Ok, usually I’m like “nah I don’t want to share because I want it to be a surprise!” But let’s be real. Given how many other obsessions I have, and my attention span, and time and energy… who knows if this will ever get written. So I’ll share so we can all be excited about it :)

Anyway. So the basic premise of the Forsaken AU, of course, is that impending doom is coming and Zelda, being the overconfident and eager princess that she is, tries to claim the Triforce for herself to defend her kingdom, and it fractures as a result. She has to find Link, but there are eighty thousand Links in Hyrule, so she has to sort through all of them and she finds Gerudo Link and Mystery Link.

The impending darkness, of course, is Ghirahim, because he’s just goofy and ridiculous enough to fit the vibe of this plot. Mystery accidentally revived him a year or two ago and has been trying to rectify that ever since. Ghirahim, of course, is trying to revive Demise. At first he seeks to do so through Gerudo Link, recognizing that Ganondorf often willingly hosted Demise’s malice. Gerudo’s just like “…dude. No. Why are you being weird.”

Eventually Zelda manages to haul Mystery and Gerudo back to her family, whether it’s before or after she’s realized they both bear Triforce pieces, idk, probably after, maybe they had a confrontation with Ghirahim and it revealed it or something. But the Queen remembers Mystery, of course, and asks him to take up the mantle of Hero once more to save Hyrule from impending darkness.

Mystery. Does NOT. Want to get back into Main Plot land. But he knows he can’t stop it, especially since he freed Ghirahim anyway. He hates it. But he tries to take the Master Sword. But he’s too terrified. So he asks Fi to allow Gerudo to wield the sword as well, and he has Gerudo help him pull the Master Sword from the pedestal before handing it off to him.

Zelda is thrilled, of course, because she was right on BOTH accounts for the Links. The queen is bemused but will accept the sword’s decision. Gerudo is horrified that he got tossed into this “WAIT A SECOND YOU ASKED ME TO HELP YOU PULL IT OUT NOT JUST HAND IT OFF TO ME HANG ON—“

But Mystery? Suddenly he is Full Throttle. He starts training Gerudo Link as hard as he can. They spend a month drilling, and he tells Zelda she better have her magic ready.

And then he vanishes. Zelda’s stunned - surely… surely he didn’t actually just Nope out of there after dumping his responsibility on Gerudo??

In reality, Mystery went to seek out Ghirahim himself. Mystery knows that his own magic is powerful in controlling spirits. He started this mess, and he’ll try to finish it himself, in a way where nobody else is involved. He knows this is either going to work or backfire spectacularly, which is why his backup was to train Gerudo to know exactly how to fight him so he’d kill him if something went wrong.

Instead of being able to confront Ghirahim, though, Mystery comes in as the demon lord is about to sacrifice an entire village to try and resurrect a piece of Demise. Instead, Mystery decides to really take a gambit… he offers himself as a host for Demise.

He has magic to control spirits. He has a piece of the Triforce. Let’s play a little.

Possessed Mystery Link is a terrifying sight to behold, but it saves the village, because Mystery is fighting Demise’s control with every fiber of his being. Unfortunately, Zelda and Gerudo came to confront him about leaving, and now they’re stuck with Demise trying to control Mystery.

Good news is that Demise isn’t the same strength he was when Ghirahim used Hylia to resurrect him - he’s a ghost of his former power, even if that’s still extremely formidable. As such, Mystery does fight Gerudo and Zelda for a while, but he eventually wrestles control over himself enough to kick the malice out of his body, earning himself the right to the full Triforce, and then the real battle begins, with Gerudo using the Master Sword, Zelda using her light arrows, and Mystery using his magic to essentially lasso a leash onto the demonic Ganon form to reel him in. I suppose Ghirahim’s in the midst of this too, maybe Zelda took him out during the initial fight because she deserves to kick his butt >:)

Anyway, the image of Dark Beast Ganon going toe to toe with Zelda, armed with her bow and arrows, Gerudo, armed with the Master Sword, and Mystery, eyes glowing gold with the Triforce on his left hand while he uses a golden leash to bring the beast to heel so the other two can fight it was too cool an image to not mention >:D

[sadnymi]

"My Dreams Are Just Dreams... Untit They're Not" modern Mattheo riddle × reader [ chapter two ]

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Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language,childhood trauma ,abusing, cheating ( not the main characters)

words: 2,350

Reading Time : 9mins 20sec

Summery: A week at my best friend's beach house, surrounded by our friends as we meet her soon-to-be fiancé's companions, marks a turning point where the very fabric of my beliefs begins to unravel. It's during this week that I encounter the boy who incessantly appears in my dreams, blurring the distinction between the world of my subconscious and the tangible reality before me. Matthe Riddle emerges as the poison I willingly imbibe, a curse that feels akin to a dream, weaving its tendrils into the very essence of my being.

[Gif is not mine]

His fingers seize the waistband of my panties, tearing the fabric like paper as he pulls it away from my body with a smirk. Anticipation grips my senses as I feel my core tighten. With one hand, he trails towards my center, while the other ascends to my neck, encircling it with just enough pressure for me to sense it.

Landing down to kiss my collarbone softly, I moaned having my hands on his hair , staring to suck and leave heavy marks on me i can’t stop but letting a cry out of my mouth kissing his way to my neck my jaw not leaving any insh while his hand circling my clit

He looked me in the eyes still having his other hand on my neck,

“ you need to wake up love “ he gently said , prompting me to jolt awake, my body drenched in sweat as I struggled to catch my breath.

That’s the thing about wet dreams, they kept me hostage for a lingering sensations that held me captive for days. Placing my hands over my racing heart, I couldn't shake the memory of his face. For the first time in my life, I uttered his name—Well —I moaned it

Pushing aside the tangled sheets, I rose from the bed and made my way to the window, the cool ocean breeze tousling my hair as I gazed out at the expansive shoreline stretching before me. The rhythmic ebb and flow of the waves seemed to echo the tumultuous thoughts swirling within me, each crest and trough a reflection of the uncertainty that plagued my mind.

Mattheo Riddle—his name echoed in my thoughts like a haunting refrain, stirring feelings of both fascination and trepidation within me.

Closing my eyes, I focused on the steady rise and fall of my chest, willing myself to remain calm despite the storm raging inside my mind.

"I must not fear," I repeated softly,

the words feeling foreign yet strangely comforting on my tongue.

"I must not let it consume me , fear has no power if he did not find a body to take "

With each repetition, a sense of calm washed over me, as if the words were weaving a protective barrier around me, shielding me from the darkness threatening to engulf me. I focused on the rhythm of my breathing, willing myself to remain anchored in the present moment.

The morning sun bathed the beach house in a golden glow, but inside, the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken tension. I blinked away the remnants of sleep, my mind already heavy with the weight of the previous night's events , with the dream I need a very cold shower to forget . With a sigh, I pushed myself up from the bed went straight to the bathroom taking my time under the water trying to forget the touch and the whisper of a not strange anymore someone on my dreams

slipped into a red top and short black skirt enough to hide what I don't want anyone but me to see - the secret I'm still not ready to share a battle I didn't want to celebrate its win yet

With each step down the stairs, my heart beat faster, anticipation mingling with apprehension.

As I stepped into the kitchen, a gasp escaped my lips at the sight before me. There, hunched over the counter, was Mattheo, his dark hair falling in disarray around his face. My heart skipped a beat as a wave of shock washed over me, rendering me speechless.

I stood frozen in place, my mind reeling with disbelief. I hadn't expected to find him here, of all places, and the realization left me feeling as though I couldn't breathe. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as I struggled to process the sight before me.

Without a word, I slowly made my way towards him, my footsteps echoing loudly in the silence of the room. Every nerve in my body was on edge, and I couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension that coursed through me.

As I reached his side, I hesitated, unsure of what to say or do. The air between us crackled with tension, and for a fleeting moment, I wondered if he could sense the turmoil raging inside me.

As Mattheo rummaged through the cupboards in search of what I assume was the coffee I couldn't suppress the urge to break the silence. "It's in the blue canister on the top shelf," I offered quietly, my voice barely above a whisper, gesturing towards where I had seen Sarah stash it the day before.

Mattheo's eyes met mine, and for a moment, the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. Gratitude shone in their depths, but beneath the surface, there was something else, something elusive and mysterious. "Thanks," he murmured, his voice soft with appreciation, yet tinged with an enigmatic edge.

I nodded in response, the nervous fluttering in my chest growing stronger with each passing moment. And then, without warning, the words slipped out, fueled by a sudden surge of curiosity. "Have we met?"

He paused, his gaze lingering on mine for a moment longer than necessary, as if searching for something hidden beneath the surface. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation, and for a brief moment, I regretted breaking the silence. But then, with a smirk , he replied, "I don't believe we have. Did we?"

I remained silent, the weight of his gaze heavy upon me, my mind racing as I struggled to find the right words. I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound emerged, the words caught in the tangled web of my thoughts.

Just as I was about to give voice to the jumble of emotions swirling inside me, Mattheo spoke, his voice breaking through the tense silence. "You always seem to be wearing red," he remarked, his tone casual

I blinked in surprise, taken aback by his observation. Memories of yesterday flooded back to me, the vivid image of myself in a red hoodie etched into my mind. And now, here I was, once again clad in the same color.

Before I could formulate a response, Mattheo continued, his words laced with intrigue. "Yesterday, and now i mean ," he added, his gaze lingering on me

I cleared my throat, feeling a flush creeping up my cheeks as I tried to gather my thoughts. "I...uh, I guess I have a thing for red," I replied, trying to smile and hide how nervous I was my voice coming out in a nervous murmur.

"It's just a coincidence, really," I replied, my voice betraying none of the turmoil churning within me. But inside, I knew the truth—I couldn't deny it. Red wasn't just a coincidence; it was my armor, my shield against the uncertainties of the world.

I longed to tell him the real reason, to confess that red was the only color you would ever find me wearing, the only color I felt safe enough wearing. But the words remained lodged in my throat, trapped by the weight of my insecurities and fears. So instead, I forced a small smile and turned away, hoping he wouldn't see through the facade I had constructed around myself.

I summoned every ounce of courage to broach the subject of Mattheo's tattoo, my heart pounding with anticipation. But just as I opened my mouth to speak, his phone pierced the air with an insistent ringtone, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Mattheo's expression shifted, with fleeting glance in my direction, he went outside to answer the call leaving me standing there, my heart sinking with disappointment. With a heavy sigh, I watched him disappear through the door, a knot of frustration tightening in my chest.

As the door closed behind him, a heavy silence settled over the kitchen , broken only by the muffled sound of his voice drifting in from the other side. I stood there, clutching my bag tightly against my chest, feeling the weight of disappointment pressing down on me.

Minutes later and a sound of laughter and chatter behind me went unnoticed, until a familiar voice broke through my reverie. Turning around, I was met with the sight of Julie and Penny standing a few feet away

"Oh the princess herself “ ulie remarked with a smirk, i hate that nickname name , I hate it more than i hate the one he used to call me with

But I forced a strained smile, masking my humiliation behind a facade “ hello Julie I’m glad you’re finally here “

"Y/n, look what penny get us " Sarah exclaimed, her voice filled with warmth.she showed me her favorite candy that penny just bought

Getting the girls bags to their room and chatting with Sarah on the kitchen while making breakfast didn’t manage to get my mind of mattheo or a dream I’m trying to forget — even when the boys are finally awake I still find my myself looking at the door wondering where did he go

“ hiii from earth to y/n “ Sarah says weaving her hand in front of my face

"My apologies, I lost focus for a moment what did you say”

“ I was asking you to get the orange juice from the fridge“

I made an effort to maintain composure,even suggesting we wait for "your other friend" while feigning forgetfulness of his name. Nodding in agreement as Lorenzo identified him as Matteo,, even though I harbored a hidden disappointment. Struggling to conceal my emotions, I found it unexpectedly challenging to acknowledge my own sense of letdown.

As Penny and I made our way into the living room , she wrapped me in a tight hug, "I've missed you," she murmured softly, her words filled with genuine longing.

Returning the hug with equal fervor, I couldn't help but smile at her. "I've missed you too," I replied, feeling grateful for her presence.

My gaze landed on the group of boys gathered around the couch, their voices blending into a lively chatter.

Among them, Lorenzo rose from his seat, a soft smile playing on his lips as he approached Sarah. With a tender kiss , he led her to seat on his lap

"Boys, what do you think of our mysterious beach house?" Julie inquired with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Julie, hush," Sarah interjected, laughter lacing her words.

"Come on, darling, enlighten our guests about the supposed ghosts."said Lorenzo

"Ghosts? Oh, this just keeps getting more intriguing," Blaise chimed in eagerly.

Sarah shook her head, a skeptical expression on his face. "I highly doubt there's any truth to those tales. It's likely just a story concocted by my grandparents to dissuade nighttime adventures and ensure a peaceful night's sleep for the adults."

“ you’re no fun “ Blaise said pretending to be hurt

"What do you think, Y/N?"" you have been there almost every summer with Sarah, since you were kids ". Lorenzo inquired, and I hesitated before responding.

"I haven't actually stayed here much; my stepfather's house is just five minutes away. As far as I know, there aren't any ghosts, at least not while the sun is still up."

“ oh hold on, your stepfather’s house? Is it a haunted house now ? “ Blaise inquired

I wanted to tell him that it has already been a haunted house perhaps without ghosts, but harboring a different kind of menace—a monster that haunts one's existence indefinitely, a specter that one endeavors tirelessly to expunge from memory.

"Enough about ghosts, are we in middle school?" Penny quipped, her words drawing a smile from me. I understood her intent—to shift the conversation—and felt a surge of gratitude towards her.

"Trust me, ghosts were the last thing on my mind in middle school," Blaise asserted

"He was too busy crushing on our 50-year-old professor," a voice chimed in from behind. I made an effort to maintain composure, concealing the emotions stirred within me upon hearing his voice.“ he was busy crushing over our 50 years old professor “ a voice from behind said, I tried to stay calm and hide the feeling I got inside my by just hearing his voice

"Shut up, mate. You didn't have to say that. In my defense, ladies, she was hot ."

“ stop. It “ “ gross “ come from Theodore and Lorenzo

He moved to the head of the couch, whispering something to Theodore. I hadn't even realized I was staring until I caught Julian's gaze fixed on him too. Frustration bubbled within me, but I tried to divert my attention elsewhere, reminding myself that he was just someone I barely knew. He couldn't possibly be the boy from my dreams, my comfort zone—the one I always sought solace with. I needed to stop before I completely lose my mind

"you guys are coming with us to the beach party at the fair tomorrow right ?" Julian inquired, but her eyes were fixed solely on Mattheo as she posed the question for all of them.

“ I didn’t know we were going “ I said casting a perplexed glance in her direction, a strange sensation swirling within me.

"We do go every year," I wanted to retort, but I bit my tongue instead, refraining from pointing out that it was only her second visit to the place.

"Sure," Theodore replied, and I tried to push aside the internal conflict brewing within me.

"I think we should have a movie night instead," Sarah suggested. I sensed her intention behind the suggestion—to give me an out—and I felt safe to have her by my side I loathed the feeling it invoked. My frustration mounted, directed both at the situation and at Julian for orchestrating it. Despite my inner turmoil, I couldn't resist speaking up.

With a forced smile, I replied, "I actually think going to the fair party sounds like fun, Sarah."

Tag list :

@hereticdance

[resquices-of-godhood]

A bit of world building to start working on the lore, shall we?

Caution: wall of text ahead!

THE WORLD:

The world of this headcanon has roughly the same proportion of land to water as Earth and is separated in three main continents, currently referred as (names pending):

The land of the old faith

The continent of technology

The unknown territory

For the longest time, only the first continent was known to the gods and bishops, as originally all crowns came from the land of the old faith. Some, as they were defeated, lost territory or had their current bearer killed, started looking over the oceans and migrating away from the seemingly never ending wars, though those were a minority. Most were subjugated, went into hiding or starved from lack of devotion as the wars went on.

The continent of technology was only been made known to the bishops of the old faith when the new bearer of one of the migrating crowns came into The land of the old faith to stake a claim, after having dominated uncontested most of the other one. After some battles and negotiations, both sides decided to keep the status quo, with the small coastal settlement of the new crown bearer being the only settlement away from their land of origin allowed so long the treaty lasts. That happened less than a millenia before the events of the game.

The unknown territory is, as the name implies, a mostly unexplored continent by the time of the defeat of TOWW by the Lamb. It's only known to the inhabitants of the continent of technology at the time, remained untouched by them due to the change in priorities of their leading Bishop to managing and developing the existing claims instead of expanding into new ones.

Besides the three major continents, archipelagos and islands are spread all over the oceans of the planet, as well as the ice caps that may or may not hide more continents. This information is currently unknown, however, as there were no real efforts or reasons to explore such hostile environments in depth.

The crowns:

The crowns are, for the most part, remnants of the ancient deities that existed before the old gods that had been transformed into powerful, sentient artifacts by the late god of artifacts, later turned into the eldritch crown, or Chemach, though not all of them. Some spawned straight as crowns instead of gods as new concepts gave space to new domains, some where created completely artificially by the Chemach after receiving her crown as her insanity took over her mind, and some have even more obscure and eldritch origins. All crowns have their own will, though those derived from the ancient gods retain stronger will and some of their personality.

Each crown represents no less than one domain, but most have at least two. Those with a single domain embodies them completely and do not share it with any other crowns, while those with two or more take on aspects of domains, often sharing them. As an example, here is a list of known crowns with the knowledge domain and their sub domains:

Purple crown: knowledge (wisdom) and war (strategy)

Eldritch crown: madness (obsession), knowledge (forbidden knowledge) and creation (relics)

Gray crown (AU): technology (invention) and knowledge (information)

Crowns tend to influence their bearers behavior. Continuing with the knowledge trio, they all share the same need of accruing knowledge to a degree, but each act differently about it, besides the other domains' influences.

The purple crown is the most passive, as it doesn't make its bearer go out of their way to acquire more, but will require them to preserve any new knowledge found and never willingly destroy any, regardless of how dangerous to the faith of its cult. Hiding knowledge is acceptable, however, so long as it is preserved one way or another. Shamura had several hidden libraries for this very purpose. It also pushes the bearer to solve issues in fights, be it a simple battle of wits over negotiating a treaty to an all out war against an offending party.

The gray crown instills a need to hoard any and all knowledge the bearer comes across, even making it uncomfortable to go for too long without looking for anything new to learn. It holds a huge repository of information already acquired between its two known bearers and it is rumored that if it doesn't have knowledge about something, either it doesn't exist yet, is impossible to exist, or is dangerously eldritch, even to gods. Besides that, it also pushes the bearer to always come up with new solutions for new problems, or to optimize old ones, through new inventions. They way the bearer goes about such inventions is highly dependant on their values and morals, however.

The eldritch crown is the most active, whispering dark and forbidden knowledge into the mind of its bearer, while also demanding that new relics are made whenever possible. The madness aspect doesn't add much, instead intensifying the depths to which the bearer dives into the depravity of such dark secrets.

Some crowns also mess with the bearer in other ways, though not directly changing their behaviors further. Continuing with the last example, the three knowledge crowns also share the tendency to root themselves into the bearer's brain, though only the eldritch crown does it regardless, while the other two only do so if the bearer's mind start to fail one way or another.

An example of a single domain crown would be the ocre crown of time. There's no other crown that has time among their domains, nor can they effect time directly.

All crowns confer at least one ability per domain to their rightful bearers (example: the red crown being death and judgement, it confers the ability of touch of decay and judgement to its bearer, the later being the ability to decide one's fate in the afterlife), general divine abilities (ability to perceive the divine, like the mystic trader), as well as even more general ones to any bearers (mind reading, divine curses, conditional immortality, etc), gods or vessels. These abilities remain even if the bearer loses its connection to the crown somehow, though in a weakened form, and are known as Resquices of Divinity or Resquices of Godhood.

Crowns also change their bearers physically to their preferences (like Heket's and Narinder's extra eyes, Shamura's, Kallamar's and Leshy's extra limbs or Kallamar's and Heket's mouths).

Crowns can starve and "die" by lack of devotion, though they can survive on fervor or sin for a little bit as an alternative, but they aren't as effective devotion and are just as limited, if not more so, specially without a bearer. They can be brought back if handled by the god of artifacts or the bearer of the eldritch crown, as all crowns aren't truly alive, more like sentient machines that require fuel to get going, but can't self start. Selective few crowns require different or no sustenance, the eldritch crown being one of them, self sustaining itself through its dark knowledge, given that there are no evidence that the "followers" Chemach created can generate devotion.

They can shapeshift into tools and weapons to better help their bearers, though not all bearers rely on their crown for such things.

Crown bearers:

Crowns can't do much of anything on their own, so they need bearers. A crown bearer is someone connected to one of the crowns, receiving their powers and influence upon their being. There are 6 types of bearers: false vessels, crown vessels, infant gods, ascending gods, bishops and fully realized gods.

A false vessel is someone who took another bearer's crown without the proper procedure of transfer to a vessel. They receive limited power from the crown for the duration, but without a real connection, they don't retain any Resquice of Godhood. They don't remain long as a bearer as the rightful one retrieves the crown as soon as they are able, specially when the crown has been stolen, adding a side of smiting to the poor sod dumb enough to commit such a crime.

A crown vessel is the lesser of the true bearers. Not really divine, they are instead mortals selected by a more developed bearer to be their spokesperson, leading their main cult in their stead. The connection to the crown is minimal, with only the most general powers granted. Most vessels find that they no longer need to sleep or rest, as well as some minor physical changes to better reflect their patron (like fangs on herbivores serving carnivore patrons, for example), though that's not the case for all of them.

An infant god is someone that just came across and chose to wear a crown without a bearer, regardless of how that bearer lost their connection to the crown (crown vessels taking on their former patrons being the most immediate situation, a crown of a god killed by another being the most common). While it is theoretically possible to relinquish a crown's connection in favor of another mortal, there's no historical evidence of that ever happening at the time TOWW has been defeated. Infant gods immediately start being transformed by the crown in preparation to the ascencion process, receiving the preferred characteristics of the crown in question during the first few months, as well as more subtle and internal changes for the first 5 years of Godhood. They no longer have to eat or rest at this point, though many still indulge in these base needs as it helps enduring the process.

Ascending gods are the bearers that retained the connection to the crown for long enough for their bodies to be ready for the ascencion process. During the next 10 or so years, they start to develop minor shape-shifting powers as their bishop form starts to manifest. During that period, they start to grow in size, becoming larger than the vast majority of followers, their powers grow and start finding themselves less and less attached to the surrounding mortals. It's a pivotal part of the development, where most would be deities lose themselves to their newfound godhood, slowly forgetting who they used to be in favor of the god they are becoming. It is not a permanent change in mindset, but one difficult to come back from, specially if the ascending god decides to embrace the transition wholehearted.

Bishops are the ones that finished ascending, and basically all gods at this point refers to themselves as such unless having to refer how far along the process they truly are. They attained their monumental size at this point, and most just prefer to remain in this form. No longer bound by mortal needs, they focus mostly on accruing more territory to gain more devotion, and as such grow in power. For the most part, only the few that choose to recover, or not let go of, their mortal values and morals break from this cycle of expansion in search of more power, though gods that have been crippled, bearers of crowns that self sustain or the rare deity that is not overly self absorbed end up stagnating the expansion of their territory. It's at this stage a crown bearer may start appointing vessels to focus on other goals, as well as creating avatars, both of their bishop or mortal visages, to interact remotely with other things or beings. This is also when, for the next century or so, they go through the last stage of their change by developing, and then controlling, their eldritch form.

Fully realized gods are the ones that finished the whole process of becoming a god. Now in full control of their eldritch form, they are as far from their mortal self as they can get. Though there is no upper bound for a deity's power, dependant mostly on how much devotion one can gather, their growth as a god has finished. In all other aspects, they are no different than bishops.

Crown cults:

Bishop cults, crown cults, divine cults or vessel cults refer all to the same thing. They differ from "regular" cults because they are lead by, and centered around, a crown bearer. They are the main cult of any one bearer, where they spend the most time and effort developing and caring for, like a farm.

Much like a farm exist for sustenance, the main function of the cult is to sustain a crown by accruing and harvesting devotion and other divine resources, allowing it to grow in power.

Most bearers end up with other more autonomous cults spread out over their territory providing extra devotion under self plocaimed profets, but at the heart of it all there will always be one single crown cult.

Pantheons:

Pantheons are groups of bearers working together, cooperating to their shared goals by protecting or providing for each other. Most pantheons in the past had at least one leading deity, one provider deity and one fighting deity, those three pillars creating the basis upon which other bearers could contribute to, though sometimes the roles overlapped.

Taking the old faith as an example: Shamura is the leading deity, Narinder the fighting one and Heket the providing one, though they of knowledge is just as capable as a fighting deity.

Some pantheons last a long time, but most ended up imploding as the natural greed of the crowns and the self absorbed tendencies of the bearers started to put the them at odds with the rest of the group.

Multiverse:

Yes, the AU has a multiverse packed in. Not only it shares and overlaps with the cult of the lamb lore (and as such is parallel to the other AUs by default), it also has a local cluster of realities that are more intertwined, where slightly different events lead to wildly different results, and those results end up bleeding to the main AU. That's how the goat ended up in Lamb's time-line or how Webber's skull came to be in the cotl verse, for example.

This is relevant for future events in the AU, though not too much for now.

[ruthlesslistener]

Hi hello I have been very obsessed about your concept of territorial gods lately. How far must two (or more) gods' domains/territories overlap in order to actively cause conflict, or at least activate their territorial tendencies?

Heyo, glad to hear that you're stuck with the same brainrot that I gave myself!! The answer here is a mix of two things: personal animosity (ie, Radiance vs Unn), and niche overlap. I tend to take a very biological/ecological role to the gods of Hollow Knight because it's incredibly fun to me, but also because there is a small nugget of merit in the game itself- the major conflict is between two gods of Light, with a minor background turf war happening between Unn and the White Lady, two gods of greenery. In these cases, land = resources such as the density of worshipers, which is important because to an ascended god, receiving tribute is what sustains them and grants them their power + longevity. Essentially, worship = food, so being possessive over the source of your food is what leads to territoriality.

For the Pale King and the Radiance, both gods of Light, whose followers worshiped them as the source of said light, this means that they shared the same religious niche as each other and thus were incapable of coexisting. If a bug prays to the Light, they could mean either the Old Light or the New, so a previously-steady source of worship turned to something more capricious, even though they differ slightly (PK is the moon, Radi is the sun). Neither can or want to share. That's why PK converted the moths to worshiping him even though the territory he physically claimed was below the Radiance's and the people that he came to primarily rule over were the beetle tribe, rather than the moths- he needed to eliminate his competition by weakening her source of power. The ceding of Crystal Peak to Hallownest was something that happened incidentally, but was necessary to fully remove the Radiance from her seat of power and thus eliminate her as competition.

(That's also why I don't believe that the diminished Moth Tribe we see in-game is because of him- that would have been shooting himself in the foot. If worship is what sustains a god, then why willingly destroy your livestock? Radiance seems to have done it out of spite, but that's because the Radiance herself is a very spiteful individual, whereas the Pale King was cold and calculating.)

For Unn and the White Lady, I see it more as a primary vs secondary succession takeover, a ceding of old territory to a new, more powerful god (albeit unwillingly). Both are gods of greenery, but Unn is old and fading, and the White Lady is...well, not exactly new and spry, but she certainly doesn't seem diminished, not by anything other than her grief. They are both nature gods, but there's a slight bit more difference between their realms in that Unn is a god of moss (nonvascular plants) whereas WL is known by the Root, aka vascular plants. That's kind of why I see the White Lady encroaching onto Greenpath as a secondary succession sort of deal- in my headcanon for Hallownest, the first god was the original Shade Lord (or the Void itself, rather), and the caverns themselves were full of the Void Sea. Then, over time, the Sea slowly receded to the Abyss- helped in part by the arrival of the Radiance- and left bare rock caverns behind. Unn took advantage of this bare space to create the Mosskin and start converting the bare rock to verdant greenery via her moss (much like how mosses and lichens irl colonize and break down bare rock for minerals), and then the accumulation of sediment from her centuries as a god allowed for WL and her rooted plants to take hold and start colonizing the space in turn.

As for the Radiance and the Shade Lord- that came about partially because they are fundamental opposites, and partially because the Radiance herself is a very offense-heavy person by nature, as we see from her relentless attacks and willingness to throw hands (lasers?) in-game. Rather than squabbling over resources with another god, like she did with PK, the Void was a threat, a predator of sorts, so she had it and its followers eliminated. Crystal Peaks is as far from the Abyss as physically possible, and the moths seem to have stuck to the surface or near-surface of the caverns, but the mere prescence of the Void itself was enough to threaten her, so burned it away and slaughtered any and all who refused to either swear fealty to her, or continued to worship it. That's why there's so few traces of the Void civilization left, and why the Snail Shamans (who have a connection to void magic) are mostly hidden away, and why the place you can get the Abyss Shriek is full of their carvings + the dreamnail dialogue Our voices will cry out again. She saw a predator near her nest, and so she preemptively destroyed it. Justified, I suppose, but uh, not to that extent.)

(PK clearly didn't have the exact same reservations as the Radiance did, but then again, Soul is not the antithesis to Void the way that Essence seems to be- probably bc of the moon metaphor going on with him vs the Sun vs the Night one that Radi and the vessels have. He can work with the Void, even if its dangerous to him. Though I shall also make the case for him having a scientific curiosity for it which affected how he interacted with it.)

All of these reasons are also why PK and WL can coexist peacefully too- PK is a God of Light and Mind, WL is a God of Root and Life. Their aspects and realms of worship don't conflict with each other- they coexist. So a mutualistic relationship is not only possible, it's beneficial, and that indeed seems to be why they thrived so well pre-fall. It's also why Hallownest (as in, the Hallownest that the Beetle Tribe claimed) was also so big- because those were the territories of two gods merged and working in tandem, rather than guard what they had alone. It's also why other Higher Beings could exist next to PK with relatively little conflict, since he had no interest in their worshipers and they wanted nothing to do with his- though WL ofc had some contesting with Unn.

I will say that in my hcs as well, unascended wyrms are the exception to all of this- they are incredibly territorial because their massive ever-growing bodies are nutrient sinks on both the mortal and spiritual plane. That's why they're incredibly violent interritory altercations, despite the rule of thumb for pretty much all living things being a conflict-avoidance policy if possible: territory wars and/or mating events can also double as a massive food source if they can kill the other god, so fights often rapidly escalate to the death with them because if they can't win a territory, then hey, might as well raid the coop while at it. This isn't something of 100% certainty because if a fight turns bad for them then they WILL disengage to conserve energy (and they usually do their damned best to avoid other wyrms in general), but that isn't something you want to risk. I hc that PK arriving to Hallownest raised a whole bunch of alarm bells in the residant gods up until he killed himself to be reborn anew, which was such an un-wyrmly move that it settled everyone's hackles back down again (bar for Radi, but she never would have been able to coexist with him anyways). And then PK giving up his wyrm form meant that he didn't need to eat practically at all on top of the energy gains he got from worship, so that saved everyone a lot of trouble too.

[bluerose5]

The Price of Freedom (Part 1 of 4)

READ HERE ON AO3.

Word Count: 4,190

Author's note: Big shoutout to @yellingaboutmasseffect for being such a huge source of encouragement and inspiration for this fic and AU. 💖

Summary:

After Wyll breaks his pact with Mizora, she ensures that both he and Astarion suffer the consequences of that choice.

Never did Astarion expect that to mean that Wyll would end up in Cazador's clutches.

...

Wyll was a funny, funny man.

He thought that he could, what, exactly? Break his pact at his father's expense and just waltz free as if nothing happened? Oh, no. No, no, no.

How silly he was to think that Mizora would allow such a slight.

She gave him purpose. She gave him fame. She gave him power. She made him into the very man he was today, and he repays her how? By throwing it all away? Years of work, all down the drain, and for what? Petty ‘freedoms’?

Despicable.

To think that she ever expected more from him.

He could have lived the life of a king under her guidance. He could have ascended to positions of power beyond his comprehension at her behest, if only he had been a good, little pup. After all, it was Wyll who squandered his potential, who utilized the gifts she gave him in the name of heroism.

All of that potential, wasted.

Well, no more.

Mizora had, shall she call it, ‘faith’ in the people he traveled with to take down the so-called Absolute, with or without him. Truth be told, Mizora didn't care how the Absolute was vanquished so long as it was.

So, Wyll…

Stupid, foolish, ungrateful Wyll.

He outlived his usefulness.

Now, the clock was ticking, and time was running short.

He would regret the day he turned her away.

And in no time at all, he provided her with the perfect opportunity to seal his fate, once and for all.

Frustrated as he was by the hand he had been dealt, he split off from the rest of his companions.

He needed time to think, or so she assumed.

No matter, he gave her exactly what she wanted on a silver platter.

A means to punish him, if not be rid of him entirely.

She kept an eye on him, so to speak, using the sending stone to track his location.

In the dead of night, she clung to the darkness like a long-lost lover, listening to the whispers in the shadows.

“I don't know about this,” the spawn said, walking down the alleyway with a tiefling at his side, his tone riddled with uncertainty. Good. Uncertainty meant a chink in the armor. A weakness to be exploited, if needed. “Petras and Delyria seemed pretty spooked about what happened with Astarion. Poor Petras is still recovering from the burns, and his punishment.” The spawn grimaced with a full-body shudder. “Something about this whole situation feels… off, doesn't it?”

“Do not doubt our purpose now, Leon,” the tiefling encouraged him, “not when we are so close to experiencing our rebirth. Like it or not, Master needs Astarion for the ritual to work, and there—”

“Is no defying the master's orders,” Leon sighed. “Yes, Aurelia, I know, but I—I wish that Astarion would see reason! It would make all of our lives easier this way. Master gave us a place of honor. We are to Ascend at his side. If only our brother would see that, then surely he would return with us willingly.”

Mizora had to hold back a laugh at that.

Whatever this ritual entailed, the thought alone of a vampire lord sharing power with his spawn was preposterous at best.

It was a fantasy and nothing more, based in a land of dreams rather than reality.

Nevertheless, their delusions would serve Mizora well.

If it was the pale elf they wanted, then it was the pale elf they would get.

“If you want to see him return willingly,” Mizora called out, stepping out into the alleyway behind them, “then why didn't you say so?”

Startled, they both turned on her in an instant, fangs bared at her in warning.

Scoffing, Mizora spared them a dismissive wave of her hand, undeterred.

“Come now. Show some manners. There is no need to be rude,” she scolded. “I just so happened to overhear the predicament you find yourselves in, seeking out your rebellious, runaway brother to bring him back home to his family, right where he belongs. How heartwarming, truly.”

Leon curled his lip into a sneer.

“What do you want, devil?”

“What I want hardly matters. All you need to know is that it overlaps with what you want, and what you want is for brother dearest to return home in time for this ritual of yours, correct?”

Neither of them answered, not that they needed to.

Mizora already had her winning hand in play.

“A word of warning,” she teased. “If you try to snatch that naughty elf up from his camp, then you will have to face off against all of the allies he has surrounded himself with up to this point. Trust me, having been there myself, you will be outnumbered, and you will be outmatched. Then all of your efforts will have been for nought, and—” Mizora shook her head with a disappointed tsk. “—I'm certain that your master will be none too pleased to see you return home with no spawn to show for your efforts.”

Aurelia gritted her teeth, red eyes ablaze.

Try as she may to hold back, her desperation soon overpowered her.

She took a threatening step forward, but Leon reached out to stop her, grabbing her by her arm before she could get too close to Mizora.

“By all means, if you have an alternative, then spit it out!” Aurelia snapped.

Mizora stretched out her wings, looking down her nose at the two spawn with a smirk.

“Instead of facing off against so many, what if I told you that all you need to do is find one man, whisk him away to your master's precious palace in the cover of night, and your brother will be back home by noon tomorrow? Guaranteed.” Mizora chuckled darkly, studying her nails while they considered her offer. “What do they say? ‘Work smarter, not harder,’ yes?”

After a beat of silence, Leon asked, “Are you certain that this will work?”

Mizora basked in the resignation laced through his voice.

“As certain as I am that the sun will rise and fall tomorrow in Faerûn,” she assured him, yet that wasn't good enough for Aurelia's tastes.

“I still do not understand what you have to gain from this arrangement,” she grumbled. “Devils are not known to aid others out of the kindness of their hearts.”

“Quite the suspicious one, aren't you? Very well, if you truly need further incentive, then know that we should all have a vested interest in this target's capture. The man in question?” Her expression darkened, lips pursed. “He is no other than the esteemed Blade of Frontiers.” Gaping, Aurelia and Leon exchanged a wary glance. “Ah, yes, I know. The monster running around with the monster hunter. How utterly cliché.”

“Are you trying to get us killed?” Leon spat, to which Mizora rolled her eyes.

“No need for the dramatics. Clearly, I want to see the Blade suffer, so why in the nine Hells would I send you if I wasn't certain that you were up to the task?” Mizora countered. “After all, where there is a will—” Her grin widened. “—there is a way. And believe me, there is most definitely a way.”

“Easy for you to say,” Aurelia muttered, “when we are the ones putting our lives on the line here.”

“Please,” Mizora scoffed, “did you honestly expect me not to contribute? Agree to take the Blade back to your master, and not only will I give you his exact location at this very moment, but I will also render him completely powerless as well.”

While Mizora did offer to lend him her power until the threat of the Absolute was dealt with, there was technically no contract there to bind her to her word anymore.

Funny how that worked.

If Wyll wanted to cast aside what abilities she gave him, then so be it.

She would give him exactly what he desired.

Let's see how the Blade fares on his own.

It would give the spawn the element of surprise, if nothing else.

With the odds evened out in their favor, Aurelia and Leon weighed this option against all others.

Mizora called on the sending stone's magic, already knowing their answer before they themselves even knew.

“Come on,” Mizora coaxed in a purr. “I weaken the Blade of Frontiers for you. You take him back to your master, and you get your brother back in no time at all with minimum bloodshed. We all come out on top, so…” Mizora paused, glancing back and forth between them both. “What do you say?”

A moment of unspoken understanding passed between the two.

Releasing Aurelia, Leon gave her a curt nod.

Mizora watched the scene unfold, unable to hide her growing satisfaction.

Wyll should have learned by now.

Mizora always got what she wanted.

And when she didn't, well, she always got the last laugh in the end.

Aurelia held her head high, her shoulders back, as she addressed Mizora.

“You have a deal,” she stated, her words ringing loud and clear. “Now—”

“Where is he?”

By the time morning rolled around, Wyll still wasn't back at The Elfsong Tavern.

Astarion should have known better than to let him out of his sight, but Wyll wanted space.

Understandable, really, given all that occurred.

After Mizora had given him the ultimatum of choosing between his father and his freedom, Astarion thought that the answer had been rather obvious. 

Apparently, Wyll thought the answer had been straightforward as well, but not in the way Astarion had anticipated.

Sweet, foolish, self-sacrificing Wyll.

One look at him, and Astarion knew.

He was going to do it.

If they didn't speak up against him, then Wyll was going to sign his soul away for good over a man who wouldn't even spare him so much as a second glance, were Ulder not under the tadpole's influence.

Astarion never expected to find himself in such a position, but with Karlach's help, he begged —no, pleaded with Wyll to see reason.

How much of himself would Wyll have to give before he realized that enough was enough?

Was he really willing to bind himself to Zariel's service for eternity? Was the Grand Duke truly worth that? Because, in Astarion's eyes, Wyll was worth sacrificing his father and so many others for.

Wyll was the best of them.

Astarion told Karlach that from the beginning.

That had never been in question.

It would be a great loss not only to everyone on the Sword Coast, but to Astarion especially, were he to lose Wyll to Mizora forever.

No matter where it led him, Wyll deserved a happy, fulfilling life, free from her clutches.

If only he could see that too.

By some miracle, Astarion's words had gotten through to him.

Wyll broke the pact, once and for all.

Even then, it was hardly an easy act for him to stomach.

Astarion tried to reassure him that he did the right thing. He tried to remind him of all the potential futures that still laid ahead of him, whether that be the oh so wonderful path that would lead him to becoming Duke or whatever else time had in store for him.

Safe to say, Wyll wasn't in the mood for such talk.

He told Astarion that he was going for a walk to clear his head.

And since Wyll was a big boy, perfectly capable of taking care of himself, Astarion didn't think much of it at the time.

He offered to go with him, but he didn't press the matter when Wyll refused his company.

Something Astarion would come to regret.

What in the Hells was he thinking, letting him run off on his own like that?!

With so many enemies out to get them, Astarion should have followed after him, even if that meant only watching from the shadows.

He would be back soon, Wyll had promised him with a sad smile. Before Astarion could even miss him, he said!

Which was a damn lie.

Pathetic as it was to admit to himself, Astarion missed him as soon as he was gone.

It wasn't the same. It didn’t feel right, laying down in their bed and slipping into his trance without Wyll's warm body wrapped around him.

He felt so cold, so alone.

That night was a restless one.

Astarion tossed and turned in bed. He cycled in and out of his meditations. Nightmares plagued him until he awakened, only for him to realize that Wyll was still gone. The instant that he was able to enter his trance again, he was haunted once more by glowing red eyes and a sinister laugh, Cazador’s sadistic words closer than ever before, slithering into his ears and taking root inside his mind.

Hands surrounded him from all sides, groping and grasping. Nails clawed at his skin. They tore into his clothes. From an endless void of darkness, they dragged him down deeper and deeper.

He was drowning. There was no escape.

Then, he felt it.

His dead, silent heart seized within his chest.

Fangs grazed along the right side of his neck, and his skin crawled.

Bile rose in the back of his throat.

At the sound of his voice, Astarion froze, his breath like shards of ice piercing through Astarion's skin.

Cazador chuckled in his mind.

“If you want him, boy,” he hissed, “then come and get him.”

All at once, the dream vanished.

Astarion's eyes snapped open, and he bolted upright in bed, his hand clutching at his heaving chest.

After that, there was no resting.

The first traces of light peeked through the windows as the sun rose to start the day, yet Astarion quickly realized, upon further investigation, that there was still no Wyll in sight.

No.

Where is he?

Astarion got tangled up in his hurry to get out of bed. He tripped, colliding with the floor, but he simply kicked his way free of both sheets and blankets before rushing off yet again.

He made it to the bed opposite of his and Wyll's in one piece, poking at the occupant's face with a hiss.

“Karlach!” He shook her roughly by the shoulder. He kept his voice down as much as he could, given the circumstances, trying not to wake the others just yet. “Karlach, wake up, damn it!”

“Wha—” Smacking her lips, Karlach gave a loud yawn, stretching while she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She peered over at Astarion with a squint, each blink slow and wary. “Astarion? What in the Hells are you doing up this early? It's the asscrack of dawn, you know.”

“It's Wyll!” he snapped. Of course, that had her wide awake in a heartbeat, shooting upright in bed. “He never came back last night, Karlach. He told me he was going to be back soon, and–and he—”

“He wouldn’t lie about something like that, especially not to you,” Karlach said, “and he definitely doesn't make it a habit to stray too far away from the group for this long. Wait.” She stared at him, eyes wide. She leaned in and attempted to match his exaggerated whisper. “You think he's gotten himself into some sorta trouble?”

“I don't know!” And that frustrated him to no end. “All I know is that I had a dream —a nightmare even— where Cazador told me to come and get ‘him,’ and I don't need three guesses to figure out which ‘him’ he was referring to.”

“But that was just a dream, right?”

“When it comes to the bond between creator and spawn, it's often difficult to tell what's real and what isn't,” Astarion confessed. “It might be nothing, but there is always the chance that it might be something, and that's a chance that I refuse to take with Wyll's life on the line. He—” His voice cracked, and his face fell. “If Cazador manages to get his hands on him…”

As he trailed off, Karlach angled herself to reach out and take him by the shoulders with a tight squeeze.

“Hey,” she said, staring deep into his eyes, “we won't let that sick fuck lay a single finger on our boy, you hear? We won't even give him the chance.”

When she put it like that, stated with such conviction, with such a bite to her words, Astarion almost believed her.

Almost.

“For all of our sakes,” he sighed, “I hope you're right, my dear.” He paused and took a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever laid ahead of them. “Look, I'm not saying let's storm the castle right this second—”

“Well, I am,” Karlach interrupted.

“Karlach!”

“What? If he's there, then let's go and get him!”

“We don't know if he's there for certain, and I would much rather not be forced into confronting Cazador on anyone's terms except my own if I can avoid it.” He looked around, nostrils flared ever so slightly. “I can still detect a whiff of Wyll's scent here. Let's track him first, see where it leads us, and we'll decide what to do from there.”

“Wow, Astarion,” Karlach taunted, “that almost sounds reasonable of you.”

“I know, and honestly? It's kind of frightening,” he admitted. “Now, if you'll be so kind as to join me.” He nodded in the direction of the door. “I could really use the backup.”

“Then you have it,” Karlach said, springing up onto her feet. “Come on, fangs.” She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him along before he could protest. “Time's a wastin’. Let's get the others and go!”

After they woke up everyone else, quickly catching them up to speed, their whole crew was on high alert.

Because not only was Wyll missing, as Gale so helpfully pointed out, but they also had the whole Orin situation still looming over their heads as well.

It was too much.

Astarion didn't even want to consider what would happen if she got her bloodthirsty hands on him.

Then again, that was if she wasn't still hiding amongst the others, playing the part of the concerned companion.

Astarion couldn't think about that now, though.

Wyll needed his help. That had to take priority.

He and Karlach led the charge, Astarion following Wyll's scent through the busy streets of Baldur's Gate, grateful that he was still able to pick it out amongst the growing crowds.

While faint at first, the scent soon grew stronger, fresher, and their steps grew quicker.

They rounded a corner into a back alley.

All at once, it hit him like a punch to the face.

Astarion knew that smell anywhere.

It was blood.

Wyll's blood.

It was mixed in with another's. There were two other scents there, but they were altered somehow, twisted. The instant Astarion tried to differentiate between them, his whole body violently seized.

He stumbled backwards into one of the others, coughing and gagging as he doubled over, his hands braced upon his knees.

He spat onto the ground while he choked on the pungent aroma.

A burning sensation rose up from his stomach and got stuck within his chest. It teased at the back of his tongue, Astarion barely able to keep his nausea at bay.

Even then, Astarion forged ahead once more. He picked himself up, dusted himself off, and rushed forward before anyone could intervene, only for him to stop short a split second later.

There was nothing. There was no longer any trail to follow.

All three scents ended there.

Before another bout of nausea could overwhelm him entirely, he darted back out into the crowds and away from the alley.

Gulping down as much of the salt-tinged, coastal air as he could, he welcomed the sudden wave of perfume, liquor, sweat, and dirt that assailed his senses from various passersby.

Several people eyed him warily, but a single glare was enough to send them scurrying.

A hand came down onto his shoulder, and Astarion turned, ready to snap, but the words died on his tongue when he caught sight of hazel eyes looking down at him with sorrow.

Astarion didn't need his pity.

“What?!” he bit out.

Halsin lifted his hand off his shoulder, raised two fingers and pressed them gently against Astarion's temple, his warm touch radiating with magic.

“May I?” he asked.

Astarion cast his gaze down towards the ground between them, his arms crossed over his chest, lips set into a scowl.

“If you must,” he muttered, and a warm, tingling sensation spread from his head to his toes.

Those suffocating odors cleared out, no longer clinging to his nose and his mouth.

Finally, he could breathe once more without feeling the need to retch. Not that he needed to breathe, but the familiar habit was a welcome one nonetheless.

The others joined them in the street, and Gale spoke up, his expression grave.

“We got signs of a struggle back there.”

Astarion barked out a bitter laugh.

“Ah, yes, thank you for that enlightening observation, Mr. Dekarios. As if that wasn't obvious by the sheer amount of blood all over the damn place.” Astarion sneered. Shoving Halsin's hand away from his face, he took a step in Gale's direction, but Karlach stopped him in his tracks before he could get any closer, her hand pressed against the center of his chest. “Where in the world would we be without your powers of perception, hm?”

“Hey, now.” Gale put his hands up in surrender, taking a pointed step back. “I wasn't trying to start an altercation. I was merely stating aloud what we were all thinking.”

“Commentary that we could gladly do without.”

“Enough,” Karlach told him, uncharacteristically serious for once. “Fangs, Gale is not the enemy here. None of us are. We're all on the same side.”

“And we are wasting what precious time we have with this utter foolishness,” Jaheira interrupted.

“I agree,” Lae'zel said. “The longer we stand here, idle, the longer Wyll could suffer for our inaction.”

“I didn't realize that you cared so much,” Shadowheart said, more so out of genuine curiosity than petty spite.

Lae'zel held her head high, her gaze sharp.

“Regardless of whoever it is behind Wyll's disappearance —whether that be Mizora, Orin, or any number of the enemies we have made throughout this journey— I know one thing for certain. They took one of ours,” she snarled, “and that is a slight that will not go unpunished. We will find Wyll, and those responsible will know our wrath.”

As they let that sink in, Astarion offered information in place of an apology.

“Well, unfortunately for our search, Wyll's scent ends in that very alley,” he announced, pointing a finger back where they came from, his nose wrinkled in disappointment. “There's nothing left to track.”

“I couldn't pick up anything beyond that spot either,” Halsin said, “but whoever tried to mask the other two scents wasn't able to completely hide a trace of… something there.”

Astarion's head snapped in his direction, but Halsin was already looking at him, his brow furrowed.

Red eyes wide, Astarion felt his stomach twist into knots.

“What?” Astarion whispered, watching every shift of his expression. “What did you find?”

Halsin grimaced.

“I can't be certain,” he said, “but I want to say that I detected a hint of undeath.” He paused, hesitant. “And sulphur.”

Devils and undead?

Well, they couldn't rule out Cazador, but what in the Hells was going on?

“Was it Mizora?” Karlach asked.

Halsin shrugged with a frustrated sigh.

“I can't rightfully say. Whatever —or whoever— altered these scents made them absolutely repellent for those who come across them. I'm only fortunate that I was able to find out what I did without further exposure.”

“Then it's time that we act,” Lae'zel ordered. “The trail ends here, but we can perform a quick sweep of the Lower City if we're smart about it. We should split up into groups to cover more ground.”

“No one on their own, though,” Jaheira cut in, meeting each of their eyes as she spoke. “We do this in groups, or we don't do this at all. The last thing we need is to lose another.”

Everyone mumbled their agreement.

“Time is of the essence,” Lae'zel said. “No matter our progress, we should reconvene at Elfsong Tavern at the next toll of the bell. From there, we shall decide what our next move will be if we have not found him.”

“It will at least give everyone a chance to properly prepare ourselves for whatever lies in store for us,” Gale added. “An ideal opportunity to load up on supplies.”

With a plan in place, Karlach bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, ready to get started.

“Alright then!” she exclaimed. “Let's do this! Let's go find our boy! We're coming to get you, Wyll!”

Taking Astarion by the hand, Karlach dragged him off once again without warning.

Astarion could only hope that they found him before something terrible happened.

If only he knew how fruitless such a hope truly was.

[bardic-tales]

Happy Blorbo Day! What are your character's core beliefs?

Thank you so much for the ask. Happy belated Blorbo Blursday. For this, I'm going to talk about Bianca and what drives her.

As part of her core beliefs, Bianca sees destruction as a transformative force: one that paves the way for creation and renewal. Having survived deep trauma, she envisions the annihilation of the omniverse as a means to eliminate corruption and make space for a pure rebirth. Her unwavering support of Sephiroth guides her to support his darkest ambitions, as she believes that a true partnership demands absolute devotion -- from both partners -- even in the face of sacrifice.

Her view on power as freedom is rooted deeply in her experiences of manipulation and exploitation, making her determined to gain the strength she needs to avoid being controlled by others. As she embraces her dual celestial and demonic heritage -- with Jenova and S-cells now -- she sees balance as a source of strength, allowing her to rationalize that chaos with purpose is the way forward.

For Bia, sacrifice is a necessary part of achieving meaningful change and aligns with her belief in a cosmic rebirth. She is willingly to forsake her humanity that came with being a divine spirit born into a human vessel for the sake of her shared vision with Sephiroth, even at the cost of her very identity and well-being.

This shared vision involves transcending their current existence through destruction and his ascension as a god, hoping it will lead them to the Promised Land, which to Bianca is the entire omniverse being remade, and a liberated sense of being. The balance between creation and destruction is central to her philosophy, fueling a quest that is about profound transformation: ascension and a cosmic renewal for both herself and Sephiroth.

[ladyinred2248]

Solstice (Finan x Gisela)

Warning: MATURE. Minors DNI. Sexual themes.

Summary: Finan and Gisela finally cave in to their desires months after the Beltane celebration. A slight sequel for Beltane Part 4, but focused on Finan x Gisela, because I can’t get them having sex out of my mind, they would be perfect together.

The summer solstice was arriving in Coccham and the days were at their longest, the warm sun gracing the villager’s backs and providing a reprieve from the cold water of the river that Gisela was wading in. She rested her chin on her folded arms that laid over the edge of the dock, her eyes entranced on the handsome Irishman in the distance sitting under the shade of a tree and sharpening one of his blades with a whetstone. This was not a foreign site, but it was a welcome one as Gisela gazed at his bare arms, how his muscles contracted and relaxed with each strike of the stone against the metal. She sighed. He was entrancing her with even the simplest of movements, his dark hair and eyes catching the sunlight and revealing hints of golden amber. If there was indeed a Christian God as he so believed, he was surely blessed by him, she thought. The Irishman brought his dark gaze upwards, catching hers immediately from the distance. Gisela looked away embarrassingly with a soft chuckle to herself. She had been caught.

Finan had glanced upward to catch Gisela staring at him, and quickly gave the beautiful Danish woman a soft smile and a wink. She ended the glance as soon as he had met it, but it made heat rise up in his cheeks just the same, awakening his senses and only increasing his deep longing for her. He wished she would beckon him over, as it had been months since his eyes had revelled in the sight of her beauty up close. He would willingly show her what she had been missing, if only she would have him. Finan was not the kind of man to be a brute with women, nor assume their desires were equal to his, so he politely waited for her to make a move. Yet, it had been months since Beltane, and he silently wondered if she no longer felt the same as he did. He cursed himself… of course a woman that ravishing wasn’t easy to tame. But oh, how he wanted her.

Gisela had turned her body swiftly to face the river, her elbows now resting on the dock and the slightly chill waters resting over her breasts, still fully submerged but feeling quite vulnerable now that the Irishman had caught her staring at him. She smirked to herself, rubbing her lips together. How she could have resisted him for this long, she didn’t know. Lord Uhtred knew and approved of his wife’s desire of Finan. Their unyielding desire toward one another was evident in their many Beltane celebrations thus far, and Uhtred indulged in the idea of sharing his lust for the Irishman with his beloved wife. He witnessed several stolen glances over the past months, softly coercing both of them to once again indulge in their desires of one another, but alas, it had yet to be done.

The power dynamic between them was held in a delicate balance. They had their Lord’s blessing, and yet neither the Irishman nor the Dane had made an advance, the chase giving way mostly to Finan begging her attention with smirks and soft glances, yet every time he got close to her, she smiled shyly, licking her lips before leaving him standing there by himself once again. This was a game to her, he thought. Two can play at that.

But did she still desire him as he desired her? He thought back to the several trysts they had shared in the past. Gisela so desperate for his attention, her spark of jealousy strong when his eyes or hands landed on another woman. The way he had carried her off into the forest the last time they were together, away from the presence of the others and simply melting into one another’s embrace, her eyes looking into his and sharing deep devotion. Had he imagined it? After all… he was definitely new to the non-monogamous side of things.

Gisela had simply been biding her time, catching secret glimpses of the handsome Irish warrior from afar, or trying to be near him and assist him in ways that would go unnoticed. It felt as if her desire for him was forbidden, no matter how many times Uhtred shoved her in Finan’s direction. She was bashful, meek even under Finan’s strong presence. He was different. Fierce yet gentle, always trying to make her laugh. She knew she wouldn’t be able to resist much longer as he sought to be near her at every opportunity, but she pulled away nevertheless. She knew if she held any attachment to the Irishman, her heart would be crushed if he sought out another woman. And what then?

The last time they had been near each other was the evening prior. Gisela had invited all of Uhtred’s men and their wives to the great hall for supper, as they often did. One thing Finan loved most about Gisela was her hosting, for she was a phenomenal cook and a generous woman. Not only that, but her beauty was mesmerizing; Finan would never turn down an excuse to gaze in awe at the beautiful Dane, imagining once again running his fingers over her soft skin or better yet, curling them deep inside her. He couldn’t help but keep his eyes on her that night as she laughed softly at conversation, her soft smile a force of nature that uncontrollably beckoned his own.

“More ale, Finan?” Gisela asked softly with a pitcher in hand from slightly behind him, chuckling softly as he jumped in surprise.

Finan was slightly startled from her immediate presence, but hummed in gratitude as she filled his ale mug to the brim. He boldly gestured his arm behind her, resting his strong hand on the small of her back and caressing just slightly. “Thank you, my Lady.”

His hand lingered for a moment, and their eyes met as she looked down upon him. Gisela smirked as she felt his fingers trickle down her back to the spot just above her bottom, caressing just slightly as his eyes met hers with a dark intensity. She put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself, biting her lower lip for just a moment before pulling away to fill other mugs at the table. He watched as she walked away from him, his eyes landing on the curves of her waist and arse, and he suddenly felt like all the blood in his body rushed to his cock.

Finan had placed his sword and whetstone aside, trying to find his normally effortless smug and cocky nature to strengthen his wits as he stood from the ground. He would go to her, and if she shewed him away, that would be fine. He would at the very least gain a glimpse of her beauty once more, her long flowing hair wetted by the river and the soft flesh of her shoulders and collarbones devoured by his gaze. He took off his boots, rolled up his trousers, and began the walk to her.

She had her back turned to him now, and as he strode over to greet her, he knelt down to the grasses to pick a wildflower for her. Foolish, he thought, but he wouldn’t beckon this beautiful woman’s attention empty handed.

“Lady Gisela,” he said softly as he neared her, and he slowly took a seat next to her on the dock.

She looked up at him and smiled shyly, her cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. Her eyes narrowed as he held out the wildflower to her with a sweet grin on his face and their fingers slightly touched as she took it from him. The gentle touch of his fingers to hers was enough to send a deep, pulsing heat straight to her core.

“Finan,” she replied softly in greeting, bringing the flower to her nose to take in its essence.

“… would you care to join me?”

Finan chuckled softly in surprise. What did this woman really want from him? He would have his wicked way with her if she wanted him to, but there wasn’t enough privacy at the river for the deeper extent of his lust filled desires. No, he would have this woman alone and in the comfort of furs; he would ravage her and pleasure her until she was screaming his name, just how he wanted, his cock buried deep inside her and his hands gripping at her body. Regardless, the invitation had been made, and he would never refuse her. Finan bit his bottom lip, standing again to remove his tunic, and then… his trousers.

Gisela couldn’t take her eyes off of him while he undressed, and he knew it as he looked down to her with a smirk. Her breathing became ragged, her chest bellowing up and down as her eyes slipped over his bare frame, one muscle and scar at a time - entranced by the strong nature of his appearance, standing before her like one of the gods themselves. This gave Finan the confirmation he needed… She desired him too.

Before Gisela could break from the trance Finan’s body had put her in, he jumped into the river. He splashed her with water as she giggled in surprise and she moved to splash him back, Finan holding a deep grin on his face. Their gaze landed on each other again, the playfulness drifting away from them as their eyes bore into each other with an unspoken expression of lust. Finan wasted no time in coming closer to her in the water until she could feel the skin of his torso against hers. He took his strong hands to grapple at her waist, and she gasped as he pulled her closer to him.

Gisela naturally draped her hands around the back of his neck, pulling him in even closer and shuddering at the feeling of his breath against her lips as she felt the familiar sensation of fervent desire. She could already feel his hard cock pressing against her belly, and with the touch of his hand he brought his face closer to hers, looking between her eyes and her lips. He was close enough to ghost his lips over hers, but Finan instead pulled away and brought his lips to her neck, sucking and licking at her tender flesh as she moaned softly. She wanted him badly. How could she have denied herself this pleasure?

Finan traced his lips from her neck to her ear, kissing and nibbling softly around it.

“What do ya want from me, woman? Tell me,” he rasped in her ear, eager for her to admit her feelings for him and give him the direction to finally take her as he wanted.

“I-I want you,” Gisela stuttered, his ministrations sending her into an impending bliss, “I have been wanting you to have me.”

“How? …Here?” Finan rasped, and Gisela nodded eagerly, pulling him closer and holding her arms around him tightly.

“Yer a mad woman,” Finan chuckled, “I want ya in my bed, where I can make love to ya properly.”

His choice of words surprised her, but it only made her desire for him stronger, and she could no longer wait to devour him. She grabbed his face with her hands now, and desperately pressed her lips into his. Finan obliged her kiss by pulling her even closer and deepening the kiss, their tongues clashing together desperately as they finally gave in to their needs. Before she could regain her breath, she gasped as Finan pressed his cock to her entrance and pushed inside of her slowly, his thickness so deliciously stretching her open as she moaned into his mouth.

He started slowly but his hands held her hips bruisingly, stroking his length deeply inside of her over and over until her head fell back on another moan. He made her relentlessly wet, her core throbbing on his cock as it stroked impossibly deep inside her. He held her hips in his desired angle, and the head of his cock was tracing firmly upwards against the soft spot in her core. Gisela cried out as her whimpers increased with Finan’s deep strokes, and her fingernails gripped the back of his neck harshly, the buoyancy of the water giving her hips the needed sway to rock against him. Finan bit his lip on a moan, then smirked at her as he cupped his hand over her mouth.

“Now, lady… your choice of location is not preferred. So be a good girl for me and stay quiet, hm?”

Gisela nodded, but her whimpering was relentless as he brought her closer to her peak by thrusting into her harder.

“Fuck,” she whimpered, still holding on to his neck and shoulders to ground herself as he completely ravaged her body while giving her soft kisses in between his own deep moans. She was dangerously close to her peak now, barely able to hold back as Finan’s deep strokes inside of her didn’t relent.

He smirked at her between ragged breaths, holding her hips down to his impossibly tight and letting out a deep moan as she clenched on him, “That’s it…right there. Fuck.”

Gisela’s peak crashed around him suddenly and Finan had to brace himself to prevent from falling over the edge with her, his own awareness just enough to cup his hand across her mouth again as she screamed into his hand.

Part 2? I’m thinking yes.

Taglist: @gemini-mama @persephones-journey @alexagirlie @justanother-sihtricgirlie @whitedarkmoonflower @bcon24 @ficnation

[queengiuliettafirstlady]

Ambitious plans and tempting promises under the stars

Ambitious plans and tempting promises under the stars

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Pairing: Nobunaga x OC (Juliet)

Prompt : Constellations

Part of : Sunshine and Starlight hosted by @violettduchess and @lorei-writes

Tag: Love Triangle Unrequited love Angst Fluff Realization of feelings 

Word Count : 2.906

Author’s Note: The dices of the games are cast as Nobunaga proudly shares what's within his heart to his favourite westerner adviser, offering her something anyone else would accept immediately ... but not her.

The heart isn't famous for accepting orders not even from the most powerful warlord of the country, desires clash with one another as a dream of a sweet love for a certain fallen monk stir the pot in the stormy sea of feelings raging in her.

All the while the two lovers seek answers in the star, knowing nothing of the wish of a certain someone who isn't willingly to give up the only woman he has ever loved. 🤩

Tag list

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @aquagirl1978 @violettduchess

@nightghoul381 @william-rex @writingwhimsey

@fang-and-feather @moonstruckmelancholic @lichtluv

@rjthirsty @ike-garden2024 @jollibeeshappiness @starzyquee             

@maeko-kun @oda-princess @rkmaru

You can find me on AO3 as QueenJuliet 😊

Thank you for everyone who will like, reblog, or comment please be gentle with me english is not my first language so please do not leave rude comments I apologise for eventual errors I hope you will like it 😊

It was an occurrence, most unusual for Nobunaga to invite a girl he barely knew to his quarter, let alone summoning her only to speak.

A pattern that repeated itself quite frequently over the last month, becoming the source of rumours and idle gossip among retainers and servants alike even though his most loyal vassals appointed to escort her revealed nothing, much to the disappointment of the castle’s staff.

That night Hideyoshi was the one chosen for the job, an occasion he couldn’t help but be suspicious of, gazing at her every so often as he led her through the maze-like hallways of the castle up to his room, as he ordered him that afternoon.

“It seems he is quite curious about those like you. I have always wondered why.”

“Maybe because our merchants bring you weapons.”

“We still managed just fine with our katana. We didn't need firearms that anyone could use like barbarians.”

“Well you should inform Nobunaga of your opinion next time you have the occasion.”

He merely shot her a burning gaze met with a smug smirk of hers, as they continued to walk.

Her arrogance strikingly resembling Nobunaga’s one, hitting on his nerves, he suppressed an exasperated growl clenching his fist, his tone harsher than what he would have liked to be with a girl, but he couldn't help it.

“It will do good to not do anything funny with him, got it.”

“As if ?”

“Look out to not put any spell on him.” 

“Or …”

Her tone provoking as she gazed straight in his eyes, defiance glimmered in her tourmaline irises, that so much reminded him of Kicho with the same mysterious shade.

“Or I will see a proper punishment will be bestowed upon you.”

Her smirk tugging at her lips drove him mad, as words not yet spoken lingered in the air.

- I would like to see you try. 

But what came out of that treacherous lips was something much sweeter in jarring contrast to the idea he had of her as a cunning spy.

“Don’t worry I won’t do anything to him. I would have no reason to after all, that is ?”

“No one knows, you may be interested in governing this land yourself or have other wicked plans.”

Her laugh broke through the walls, it was strange he should have hated to hear it he should have sensed the prickle of fake in it and yet what shook him the most was that there wasn’t malice in it nor shallowness. 

It seems she was really enjoying herself … much to his annoyance. 

“Seriously you pull the funniest joke I see why you are such a popular guy.”

“Are you trying to butter me up ?”

“Me ? Never.”

They walked side by side for a while, he was studying her face up close, seeing in every move of her body a trap his lord may have been captured in enchanted by sweet promises and gentle lies told from that mermaid.

“I feel your gaze, are you so wary of me ?”

“Of course I am, good-looking girls like you are often used as spies.”

“How so ?”

“You are clever enough to get what you want, even more because you certainly don’t lack attractiveness.”

His sudden compliment seemed to have pleased her, strangely so that idea didn’t disgusted him. 

Not even one bit.

He wanted to continue but the words he had in store for her wilted on his tongue as she smiled, shyness lingering on her lips as she looked up at him while a rosy blush on her usually fair cheeks. 

“Thank you.”

Maybe she wasn’t so bad … he shook his head, Nobunaga’s liking must have rubbed off on him, something, as strange as it sounds, he didn’t desire for nothing should have swayed his mind from thinking about his lord as his first and only priority.

“We have arrived.” 

Suddenly he came to a halt, turning to address her, until now lost in her reveries judging by her absent gaze.

“Oh already ? Well thank you for the escort Hideyoshi. I won't put any spell on him, not tonight, so please sleep tight.”

He really couldn’t understand her, she seemed like a sweet girl, funny even, but at the same time experiences taught him not to trust anyone no matter how innocent they seemed to be, maybe he was reading too much into her, and she really wasn’t a spy, as he thought all along, in any case he couldn't afford to lower his barriers no matter what. 

“Good evening, Nobunaga.”

Even after all this time it still felt strange to address the castle lord by his name, but he asked it, and so she shall comply, even more because he treated her more like an adviser than a random girl that lived in his palace, thing she was immensely grateful for.

“Good evening to you, my little four leaf clover.”

If there was something good to say about him is that he was creative at least with nicknames, she didn’t bother too much after all it was rare anyone remembered her name, for how different it was, and so she settled with whatever surname they gave her, some more pleasant than others but still not her name.

There was only one man that reminded of it, the same that conquered her heart against all odds, a thought she fretted to conceal, focusing on the deep voice of his lord as he talked to her.

The evening was going on smoothly as ever, when suddenly he rose from the seat to go out on the balcony.

Usually this was the sign their discussion was ending for the time being.

But not that night.

From his place he beckoned her to come closer, an order she felt compelled to obey, charmed by the glimmer in his eyes reflecting the light of the lanterns in his ruby irises while hair dark like the sky above swirled around his stern features.

“Come here.” 

His voice a velvety caress entrancing her every sense as she rose from her seat, approaching him attracted like a moth by the flame in his gaze as he looked at her.

“What do you see Juliet ?” 

He gestured at the landscape before turning to look at her, looking for an answer she desperately desired was the right one he desired to hear.

“The stars. I see them glimmering like gems on a navy velvet blanket.”

“You see they shine above us on this vast land, from up there I can see cities and fields stretching on the horizon.”

As he spoke he got closer to her, almost too much to her but if she did move he could have been offended, and so she ignored his position turning to look at him, offering him the brightest smile she could muster.

“What do you think people need the most in a ruler ?”

“That he could assure them peace and stability, not taking too much away but giving. A generous leader and a wise one at that, capable of making them happy.”

“You are right, they need a good leader. That's the kind of ruler I want to be to them all.” 

The dark sleeve of his kimono followed close his movements as he moved his hand all above the city below, before addressing her once more.

“I want to see everything under my domain … with the right woman by my side.”

There was passion in his speech matching the fire in his gaze as he looked at her, giving her a hint she pretended to not understand as her heart clamoured madly in her chest.

“You may overlook all this with me.”

His words, for as much as predictable, caught her off guard as he engulfed her hands in his, squeezing it softly, she wanted to laugh it off as a joke, but the flame in his eyes told her he wasn’t in for a tease. 

Not now.

“Here you won't be reprimanded nor chided, you will be free to be yourself as you like. You could be my concubine or even wife if it makes you happy, no one will talk bad about you any more.”

His voice a tempting promise, underlined by the sultry, sinfully soft brush of his thumb on her hand placed on the railing.

“Would you like it Juliet ?”

He really was a devil whispering on her shoulder things she always dreamed of offering her a life with him, power and money. 

He was giving her everything asking in return only to be his lover.

She looked at him, her heart unsure beating for another man.

One she was sure wasn’t interested in her.

Or maybe this was a lie she told herself compelled as she was to accept his proposal no matter how crazy it sounded.

Juliet knew nothing of the feelings swirling in Kennyo’s heart … after all, how could she ? 

He showed her kindness … but not love.

Then what reason did she had to refuse ?

“I am flattered by your attention.” 

“I am glad you think that, I am a most determined man. I know what I want, and I always have a way to obtain it.” 

He cupped her cheek in his hand, so different from his, a hint of possessiveness, that lacked in Kennyo’s gentle touch, as he looked straight into her eyes, almost as he was peering into her very core studying a loophole to break through her walls and conquer her heart.

“And right now what I want the most is you.” 

His words took her breath away, sending a shiver down her spine. 

Juliet didn’t know if it was the freshness of the air or fear, but she didn't like that proximity … not even one bit.

She always felt safe with Kennyo, cherished and protected, no matter how close they were.

But right now she didn’t feel that way.

Like a rabbit in the clutch of an eagle she could only stare back at his eyes burning bright with passion in the dark of the night, she felt powerless, completely at his mercy, like a possession he could make his and discard in the same night.

Kennyo looked to protect, despite his appearance, whereas Nobunaga looked to conquer.

The idea of being desired, owned, cherished even, only for a while inevitably destined to be discarded makes a storm of unknown feelings rage in her heart. 

“If I may, I have to think about it. I hope you understand.”

“Of course I do.”

At least he pulled away, and she felt she could finally breathe again, think again for her own, away from the commanding hand that treated her like she was no more than a doll, his to cherish and do as he pleased.

“I am most grateful for your patience, lord Oda.” 

She pulled back from him, bowing to him to conceal the disarray his proposal provoked in her.

“There is no need for any title. Feel free to address me by name.”

The truth was that she needed that distance, at least to quiet her heart about the shining treasure he was offering her on a silver plate.

“I wish you to take all the time you need to think about my offer, after all you will have plenty of it, my lucky charm.”

And here back to objectification, but she preferred it that way after all it was way easier to put a wall between them if he shows her his true colours, because she didn’t know right now if she could have been so foolish to betray her heart over him when he looked at her with that smouldering scarlet eyes boring into her core, offering him things she wished of but never dared to think she would have obtained.

A wish made even more tempting by the gentleness of his fingers as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I hope my gift is of your liking.”

Juliet looked at him, despite herself, confusion flickered in her gaze as she saw something close to affection swirl in his eyes, maybe curiosity or maybe love but right now she didn’t want to know.

Her fingers reached her ear, brushing over his in the meanwhile, but she was too worked up to notice the flame flickering in his eyes ... and even if she did, she pretended not to notice.

A smile bright as the sun broke on her lips as her digit grazed something cascading from her ear over her curls.

Of all the things he may have gifted her he picked a hairpin.

Exactly like Kennyo did, so long ago.

“Thank you. I will always treasure it.”

“Do as you wish. I prefer it that way though so you will always have a way of thinking of me.” 

She smiled shyly at him, for once not knowing what to reply.

A confusion he did nothing but enhance taking her hand in his only to place a gentle kiss on its back.

It was such a gentlemanly gesture from someone she thought anything but, enough to swirl the pot of feelings raging in her heart.

“I bid you goodnight Nobunaga.” 

“I would have preferred having your company for the night, but it seems I ran out of luck today.” 

There was something wistful in his smile as he told her that, resuming his palace behind the desk as he adjusted the papers on the table as if it was no big deal.

But she saw in his eyes that wasn’t the truth.

There was a strange kind of longing in his scarlet gaze, but the wind scattering his raven curls around his stern features made it hard to read anything more in his core, more protected if possible than the castle itself.

“Goodnight Juliet.”

He was ready to give her everything she desired … then why she hesitated to give him an answer ?

Her heart drummed in her ear as she walked around the hallways directed to her room, she hadn’t in her to take off his gift, and remember the spark of electricity of his fingers when she brushed over them … or the smouldering passion in his scarlet gaze. 

Why ?

Why was Nobunaga interested in her ?

Why didn't she accept ?

Why was her heart so hard to betray ?

Why did she still love Kennyo ?

What he felt for her ?

He never gave her any hint regarding his feelings and even if, unpredictably, he could have requited her affection his disciples seem to have a choice of word about his decision, given the fact that as a westerner they believed her to have ties with the religious they loathed.

She went out on the balcony, looking up at the stars seeking an answer late to come, gazing at the moon smiling down at her with sympathy, seeing in her heart the resolution to the question she asked them of, sharing it with the stars, twinkling brightly in a sort of dance that did nothing but entrance her further into the admiration of the galaxy, but not revealing any hint to her.

She leaned her back to the column of the patio, sighing softly a murmur lost in the frizzy wind of the night as she looked at the clouds chasing one another in that sea of stars, she did her best to understand, but to no avail, where each constellation was.

All the while her mind lost in contemplation let her heart stir the lead to her thoughts, as images of that kind monk, and his charming beautiful smile appeared to her like on a screen, remembering each adventure they went on together.

They weren’t much adventures, more like encounters but in a romanticized way, for her, they were.

Worthy to be remembered because he was with her, sharing laugh and secrets, chatting of everything and nothing, as the distance between them shortened still like the ones between their hands, still tingling with the warm sensation of his calloused fingers entwining ever so shyly with hers.

It was only to keep her safe, to prevent her from losing him in the crowd that was what he told her with his gruff tone that could do nothing to hide the gentleness in his silver eyes, shining under the warm rays of the setting sun as he led her away from the madding crowd and in the quiet safety of his cottage.

An house she dreamed more than once to call theirs.

The realization of her feelings took her breath away, as she clutched her fingers on her heart trying to tame its beating.

Unaware of the fact in the same moment, gazing up at the sky thinking of her was him mulling over his love for her, wondering if it was star crossed or written above the stars.

Little did they knew of the smug smirk curling Nobunaga’s lips at the prospect of conquering her heart for his own in a battle he had no intention to be defeated in, like a King slumped against the cushions of his seating, rolling a konpeito over his tongue as he looked at the city lights from his tenshu as the crescent moon reflected in the glass jar of his sweets, the same he clutched protectively with a smile.

[spyridonya]

Hello! How about 8, 9, 20 for Kadira?

Knight Commander Ask Game

Thank you for asking! I answered 8 and 9 right here, but I hate the idea of not giving you something to read! So, I rolled a 1d30 to also answer 16 and 26 along with 20!

(links lead to spoilers! and all comments under link due to major spoilers!)

16) If applicable, who did they romance and why? If no one, why?

Kadira in her canon run was romanced by Daeran and it surprised her. Despite misgivings, she very much liked Daeran. He was funny despite being cruel, stunningly beautiful, and incredibly insightful and well educated. Early on she believed due to her social class and later her gender that he wouldn't be interested in her. The flirtatious bantering was just seen as bantering, with little behind it and she was following his lead. When she discovered he was pansexual, she still wrote the possibility off. She was a virgin (a very complicated situation) and not very attractive (in her eyes).

It was when Liotr approached her for his investigation that Kadira attempted to be the perfect guest and kept her focus on Daeran rather than being her wallflower likeself. The desire to protect Daeran brought Kadira closer to him, and she was under the sincere belief he was teasing her with the roses, with the bath tub, and with the non-date up until she found herself in his arms. She even thought it was a long game despite falling in love with him, needing to be close to protect him and the Crusade. It wasn't until he willingly went into the Abyss and showed concern for her welling being that she realized he sincerely care as much as she cared about him.

(Other romances are Golden Shell, a OT3 with Lann and Daeran, @another-heroine's Katya, and @jean-dieu's Raphael.)

20) Which event of the crusade traumatized them?

Lost Chapel was horrific for Kadira. It was the first time she doubted herself and her insight to other people, though she suspected who the traitor in the camp was, Irabeth and Anevia were both too traumatized to follow through. Seeing the faces of innocent men and women turned into ghouls and their souls in the balance almost broke Kadira. Even the powers she was granted during the apex of the attack wasn't it worth it in her mind.

She sneaked out of the camp after the siege to cry and drink. (Depending on the romance, an LI would find her and sit next to her, sharing the wine bottle she stole.)

26) Did they separate from any companions? Why? (Consider killing a companion too for this question)

Camellia and Wenduag did not survive the Crusade with Kadira. When Kadira discovered that Camellia was killing crusaders as apart of a ritual, she almost believed it. Kadira didn't know about the Sakorian religion as well as she liked, even if it smelled fishy, and the corruption and trauma of the land made it almost plausible. However, when Camellia was sulking about being told not to and being horny, something snapped in Kadira and she attacked Camellia.

Wenduag benefited from Kadira's guilt over murdering Camellia, with the sincere hope that Wenduag would recognize the benefits of living on the surface and that such merciless cruelty she subscribed to wasn't necessary. Kadira was betrayed in the Abyss by Wenduag and had no other choice but to stop her.

Kadira struggles with the aftermath of both decisions, long after the Crusade ended.

[aislamxnto]

*  ♔  ◟     ( adjoa andoh,   sixty one,   cis woman,   she/her   )     the  capital  of  king’s  landing  welcomes  daena  of  essos,  the mistress of whispers of  king’s landing.  news  borne  by  raven  sends  word  that  they  are  reputed  to  be  clever,  but  with  the  eyes  of  court  watching  their  every  move,  they  might  prove  to  be prevaricator.  when  songs  are  sung,  their  verses  speak  of  a cloaked form retreating into clouds flowing across the sky like banners, golden bracelets sliding across a lithe wrist, hushed words uttered for a single ears.  whispers  throughout  the  seven  kingdoms  claim  that  their  allegiance  lies  with  themselves ,  where  they  conspire  to  aid the true king, vaeles targaryen and retain their web of control.  but  in  the  end,  fealty  means  little  when  you  play  the  game  of  thrones.    

⸻          statistics    .

full    name    :  daena of essos title(s)    :    mistress of whispers age    :   sixty one date    of    birth    :   july 7th.   gender    and    pronouns    :   cis-woman she/her orientation    :    lesbian  

⸻          roots    .

parents    :    galeo, talea siblings    :    a brother she hasn't seen in thirty years status    :  unmarried  allegiance    :  house targaryen of dragonstone, herself  religion    :   moonsingers spoken    languages    :    westerosi  common  tongue  ,  bastard  valyria  ,  braavosi  .

⸻          personality  .

well-spoken, acerbic at times, coy, persuasive, charming, decisive, scheming, secretive, deceptive

⸻          background  .

Daena was born without title or status, living off the meager earnings of her parents in a hovel. Yet Braavos brimmed with promise for a young woman who was cunning, who thrived on catching whispered refrains and secrets, pocketing the information for further use. But it was meeting Lady Alys, that altered the course of her world; with Alys, she dared to cross the Narrow Sea, seeking to forge a new life for herself. She has not seen her family since her departure, and carefully allows herself to think of them now and again; but it was either a life of abject suffering, or promise of greatness --- as always, Daena chose to bet on herself. 

She has been cultivating her network of intelligence and power for thirty years in Westeros; slowly accruing status, tediously building a reputation from the ground up. Daena has lived in Kings Landing for most of this time, her past a mystery to everyone but Alys. Her appointment as Mistress of Whispers was the result of years of hard labour, and it is a position Daena would not willingly part with. Daena has eyes and ears across the lands, rarely deeming any piece of information as trivial -- she will converse with would-be enemies or former traitors, seeing past personal disagreements and strife, to understand the power of even the most tedious, dangerous connections.

Daena functions as an aunt like figure to the young crown prince and princess -- she endeavours to aid Vaeles' cause, and shall work to his reign is long and mighty; but her heart shall always lay with ensuring her and Alys' continued safety and peace. She is however, neither a mother nor a nanny to any; though she indulges in humour on the subject, it is Alys alone who shall hold the love and tenderness in her heart. 

⸻          wanted connections  .

i. web of spies ---- specifically with older muses in mind, long-standing sources of information for daena. in turn, she would offer them useful contacts or share what she knows. they do not necessarily trust each other, but their relationship spans years. daena is someone they know will always have an answer, as her ear is always to the ground. they may even be friends, having weathered wars, various rulers, and conflicts that have threatened to shake the land.  ii. allies --- those who support vaeles as she does. daena does not blindly believe in anyone, nor would she live and die by any man as a messiah; but she believes vaeles to be the best choice for the throne, and so she shall employ her gifts to support his cause. this will bring daena close to those who ally with vaeles; they may be unlikely allies, but daena will lend them her support and whispers. maybe they scheme together, or share information -- their common cause has brought them together.  iii. those who distrust --- daena has cultivated mystery and her network of spies for so long her past has become a mystery. to most her motives are unclear and her every act is sinister; a secretive, guarded woman is bound to be a beacon of suspicion. your muse may not trust her, or even have a personal vendetta -- perhaps she had a hand in an affair that hurt their house, or spread whispers that threatened their personal affairs.  iv. unlikely sources --- the mistress of whispers will not dismiss someones youth or status, if they have something to offer her; perhaps they approached her with an interesting secret, or made a barter to aid someone they knew. and so, they have entered her web, their connection entirely unknown to the rest of westeros. if they are a young woman, daena may seem promise in them; having no children, and finding herself feeling mortality creeping closer, she seeks to pass her knowledge onto a worthy head.