#betraying your divine duties together >>>>>

[ssaanaaloves]

[romana-after-dark]

Rooms on Fire: I Will Run To You

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna learns more about her role and the dynamics of the household.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence.

Extra warnings for chapter: Mentions of medical malpractice, death in childbirth, mentions of male sexual assault via power dynamics, lots of complex feelings.

A/n: next chapter things ramp up.

3.1k words

A/N I gotta apologize y'all. this was meant to include so much more but I guess this chapter is getting split bc I just put so much Jonah lore. I hope y'all are formal about liking him. We finally get some backstory on the uprising, Tom, and Madonna's dad, who BTW, had a name change. JACK IS NOW MARCUS more info after the story!

Support writers! Reblog and leave comments!

One so young, so changed Should not be left alone Two in love should confess And not be left alone And I will run to you Down whatever road you choose Yes, I will follow you down I will run to you ~I Will Run to You, Stevie Nicks and Tom Petty

“You paint a lot of fire”

Jonah’s voice startled you, making you turn around but you relax when you see it’s just him. Reyansh was watching you outside your studio, and Jonah coming meant you must be summoned somewhere. 

You were painting a picture of a burning house, something you saw in a dream last night. Ben and Will treated you normally, fucking you but also spending time together. You supposed Francisco’s behavior was normal too, considering that he continued to treat you like you only existed to fuck when he had to fullfill his duty. He never touched you alone. In the week since you got your period Santi was ignoring you. He’d call you to his room, fuck you with your face pressed into the mattress, and then toss you out. Last night he shoved you into the hall with your dress still bundled up in your arms.

“I paint what I dream.” You mumble, tired and not totally there. You were terrified to sleep, and after a second visit from the succubus it was getting worse, forcing yourself to stay up later and later. Lack of sleep was making it difficult to be alert, and little noises make you jump.

Jonah approached where you stood, keeping a respectful distance. He’d been distant as well since the night you saw him, and you still were unsure what you did wrong and why Iris was so upset with you.

“You dream of houses burning?” His voice was gentle but curious.

You take a deep breath, too tired to fight off any questioning. It’s best not to lie, anyway. “Ever since I was a child, I dreamed of fire. I dreamed I was dancing in front of it. I dreamed I caused it, and it was out of my control and now I must dance in the smoke and watch as the flames consumed things that I loved.” A pause, tears beginning to burn behind your eyes. “Sometimes, he stood inside them.”

“He?”

“My father.”

Jonah drew in a sharp breath and you worried he thought you were sympathetic to his traitorous cause. You weren’t, you had remembered how betrayed you’d felt that he’d thrown everything away to follow Deacon Davis, the judas who had killed the Divine Mother. As per tradition, when someone is sentenced to death, they burn at the stake and the unmarried women are expected to dance. The closer you are to the individual, the closer you are to the fire. You had been Marcus’s only family, him and your mom having adopted you as an infant. He died in front of you as you danced, embers blowing in the wind and singeing your white dress and sensitive skin. You were only 12, but you knew right from wrong, and your father was wrong. Sometimes you woke up still smelling his burning corpse. You had danced longer than anyone, keeping all the energy your child body could give you until you passed out.

You turn to Jonah with tears in your eyes, “I hold no mercy in my heart for him, please know that. I am loyal to the Divine Mother, I am loyal to my husbands above all else! I don’t know why I didn’t get pregnant but know I’d die for them happily should it came to that!” Crying now, you desperately plead to him but it’s not Jonah you are speaking to, truely. You know Pope is questioning you right now, and you cannot bear the thought that he doubts you.

“Honey” Jonah’s voice is strained, pain anguishing him. “How much do you know about the uprising…”

Your face is wet with tears, almost shaking in fear and frustration. You didn’t know how you’d messed this up so badly so soon. You just wanted to be held, you don’t remember the last time you’d been held without sexual desire… it was probably your father, may he be damned.

“Deacon Davis… he was an advisor to the Divine Mother, a friend to my husbands… he and Deliliah conspired against the Divine Mother and her family. Dad- um, Marcus, was a part of the traitors and he allowed Deacon Davis into Divine Mother’s quarters where he murdered her. Deliliah was Will’s betrothed before. She had seduced him for information and, and betrayed her husband! I would never do that, Jonah!” You realize now why he was questioning you, he thought a traitorous blood ran in your veins. Had Pope sent him? Had Francisco seen the evil in your heart, the evil that was inviting a demon?? Or had Jonah simply seen you for what you were. “I would rather die than betray them! You have to believe me!” You sob, closing your eyes as you are no longer able to look into his in shame. Strong arms wrap around you, practically holding your body up. 

Jonah held you tightly and you cried into his shirt, so tired, so sleepy… You just wanted to feel peace again. Jonah allowed you your release, wetting his shirt with your tears until your breathing slowed. It occurred to you that you were hugging and being held by a man who was not your husband, so you take a step back looking down.

“I- I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me, I haven't slept well-”

“It’s okay, honey.” His voice gently reassures you. “It’s okay to cry sometimes.”

You shake your head. “No… no I’m happy, I should be happy here, happy with my husbands, I am!” You’d shown weakness, surely Jonah would tell Pope that you were unhappy, that this was proof of your doubt, of unworthiness… Instead, Jonah pulled a sleeve down on his hand, stepping up to you once more. He ran the sleeve carefully under your eyes wiping the tears.

“There is nothing wrong with feeling what you feel. Your husbands are blessed with a kind, beautiful, artistic wife and they should be so lucky you sit at their table, nonetheless someone who cooks them dinners and paint them pictures. It is they who are unworthy, not you.”

You gasp at the blasphemy. “Jonah! No, no they are-”

“Gods, I know.” He wipes snot from your running nose. “But you… you’re like a daughter to me, and a father is allowed to place his children above Gods. Marcus may not… he may not have made the right choices, but he wanted nothing but good for you, just like I do. So please, for me, show him and yourself a little grace.”

With a little sniffle, you nod. “Thank you, Jonah.”

He gave you a smile, the bright one you like that made his eyes squint. “Good girl. Now, I got a surprise for you that I think will brighten your day.”

*

Jonah watched as you practically skipped down the hallway. When he told you Frankie wanted to take you out for a picnic, you perked up so fast it was like you hadn’t even been sobbing in his arms a moment ago. He wished he could be honest with you, he wished he could tell you the truth about Tom, Delilah, and most importantly, Marcus… but you were so brainwashed, there was no way for him to break through to you. He couldn’t simple tell you everything you’d know and believed whole heartedly, your religion, your life, the very thing that you chose above your father was a lie… not yet anyway. Maybe one day you’d doubt, you’d question, and the first people you’d go to would be Iris or him, maybe even Reyansh. Rey played the part well of a good soldier boy, he wasn’t as overt as Iris was but he knew you trusted him.

Despite being late already with the crying, you insisted on stoping in your room to grab a ribbon for your heart. Jonah’s heart hurt watching you put so much effort into this.

Will treated you well. Despite Jonah and Will’s… past, he couldn’t deny Will  was a good husband. He took care of you.

Ben was a little shithead and was absolutely going behind your back with women still he just couldn’t figure out who. Ben had to be more sneaky now. This didn’t stop him from very loud late night fucks with Frankie that it seemed only you and Santi weren’t aware of. Still, he gave you affection and spent time outside of sex with you.

Santiago, he expected nothing less. Santiago’s moods were unpredictable, they had been ever since he was a child. Jonah had known Santiago and Beatriz since he was young, when all this was fairly new and traction was growing more and more. Jonah didn’t exactly believe, but his wife Jess did. Maybe he did for a while, it was hard to not with the things he saw… Beatriz had taken an interest in him and thus, despite being married, he spent a lot of time at the mansion with her. Jonah felt like a hooker, like his body was a commodity and up for grabs from anyone, and the worst part was how okay Jessica was with it. She fucking encouraged it. “Its an honor!” It wasn’t such an honor when she died giving birth to Iris and was denied medical treatment. Doctor said it wouldn’t have helped. Jonah knew Beatriz had something to do with it. He was luck Irish lived. She was his only reason for living sometimes.

It was Frank he was surprised about. Jonah had known all four men for most of the 3 decades of their life, and next to Santi, he knew Frank the longest. Frankie was raised with Santiago, practically as brother. Beatriz couldn’t adopt him, because something something divine blood, but that didn’t matter when Santi pissed her off enough. Jonah had witnessed the lashings and beatings he had taken, but what seemed to hurt the teen the most was when Beatriz would hang his godhood over his head, saying that it should be Frankie who was the savior, not him. After Jess’s death, Jonah was moved into the mansion and promoted to captain of the guard. It was just an excuse for Beatriz to demand sex even more.

Frankie was a good kid, but he always followed Santi like a lost puppy. Santi became obsessed with Frankie, forcing Frankie to become more and more withdrawn. Still, the nice young man was in there somewhere, and Jonah would bring it out. After the girl came to his room crying about Frankie not loving her, Jonah spoke to him and said he needed to do better by her hence the picnic.

Rey was out at the stables by the time Jonah got there, preparing the three horses. He was there a lot, knowing a lot about horses. If he has any choice, Jonah was certain he’d have been a vet. Another life, he supposed. Jonah and Rey would accompany them since they were going out a ways.

“Hello, Francisco.” She spoke softly, but enthusiastic. For all he and Santi hurt her, she loved him.

Frank gave a small smile. “Hi, Madonna. I thought maybe we could take a picnic. Get away from… everything else.” He brushed the mane of the horse.

Everyone else, Jonah thought.

“That sounds wonderful!” You walk over to him. “What’s his name?”

“This is Cielo. And those two,” He points to the other horses being settled. “Are Estrella and Flora.”

“Will we be riding Cielo?” You ask, but Frank turns away.

“I’ll be riding alone.”

You look dejected again, so Jonah steps up, frustrated with Frankie. “C’mon, you can ride with me.” Jonah puts a put in a stirrup, launching a leg over the saddle and onto Flora, his favorite horse.

“Actually” Frankie interjects. “I think she should ride with Rey.”

Of course. 10 years later and everyone was still suspicious of him. Frankie climbed onto Cielo, and Jonah rode up to him, whispering. “Compliment her ribbon. She picked green just for you.”

*

Reyansh pulled you up and onto the saddle, allowing you to ride the side saddle to protect your modesty in the dress. If you knew you’d be riding a horse, you’d have worn pants. It wasn’t the most comfortable, and you feared falling, but Reynash’s arm was strong around you. He was careful to keep his hands at appropriate places, which you were thankful for. 

“How is your painting going?” He asks, as since Jonah leads the group and Francisco is in the middle still not keen on talking to you. Still, this was a step forward.

“It’s good, thank you. It’s nice and peaceful. I miss-” You stop yourself. What you missed was when Santi used to sit and watch you paint, drinking his wine and intent eyes on you. It had been a comfortable silence. “I do miss having company sometimes…” You missed your husband, you missed his laugh, his smile, his praise.

“Hey, I’d love to sit in on a session!” You could tell by the tone of his voice he was smiling. “I’d love to see a real artist at work!”

You laugh just a bit, “I’m not an artist, but if you’d like to watch, I'd like that.”

“Deal.”

*

You sat against a tree, legs bent modestly in your skirt and eating the sandwich Iris packed. She also packed apple juice, which you loved.

Francisco was silent. He’d thanked you for your help setting up the blanket and spoken as he served his food, but now he simply sat there. He looked sad, but even then he was handsome. Francosco sported a mustache, which had remained consistent the whole time you’d known him. Santiago was growing out his hair and beard, which was making your heart ache even more that you couldn’t kiss and touch him like you wanted to. Still, the silence wasn’t awkward. You had begun to wonder if he was just… quiet.

“Thank you for taking me out.” You say, speaking quietly. Jonah and Reynash were circling the parameter and you felt… watched. “I hadn’t realized how much time I spent inside until now.” Had you even left the house at all since your wedding? When was the last time you felt sunshine before today?

To your delight, while still looking down, he smiled. “I’m glad. Don’t like seeing you cooped up in that house all day.”

Your heart warmed at his concern for you. Feeling emboldened, you scooch close to him.

“It’s not cooped up with the men I love.”

This makes his eyes flick up to you. He narrows them suspiciously, but not angry “You… love… me?”

Your heart nearly shatters at the question, and you can’t help but find him so endearing. “But of course I do!!!” Careful, you place a hand on his face and feel the patchy bit of stubble. “You’re my beloved husband!”

“But… you had to marry me.”

You shake your head. “No, Francisco I chose you, I chose all of you and I love all of you. Is that why you’ve been distant? Is that why you’ve been so cold to me?”

“I-” He stutters over his words. “I don’t think this is good for you… I don’t think I’m good for you…”

If there were ever words you hadn’t expected from him, it wasn’t that. Francisco was a God, he was holy, good and righteous, how could he not be good for you. It didn’t matter. Clearly he was hurting, and as his wife, it was your duty to make him happy again. “Francisco Morales, you are my husband, you are the foster child of the Divine Mother, and the love of my life. I chose you before, I choose you now, and I will choose you in heaven, Divine Mother willing.” You bring your face closer to his. “I adore you, in all your God and human.” Feeling brave, you bring your mouth to him and tenderly take his pouty lower lip into your mouth, making him whimper. You liked that sound.

“You choose me?” He whispers, slowly kissing back. “Out in the open, no secrets?” His voice is slightly higher now, almost whining as he begins to chase your mouth. 

“Always” The desperation growing, you give him everything you have. You don’t care that it’s an open field surrounded by trees, you don’t care that Reyansh and Jonah could ride up at any point, and you don’t care who might see you. You were divine and if you wanted to make love to the god of nature in his own fucking land you will. You had Francisco Morales, demi-God, whimpering for your touch. You had HIM, finally had him and you weren’t going to waste it for one second. He wanted thing sout in the open, you would show him you weren’t ashamed to be seen getting filled by his seed. Before you, your husbands were not celibant, that much was known. The sex parties were stuff of rumors and you couldn’t decipher the truth from fact. However, it was clear that public sex was not off the table. Shame is a punishment for the sins of Adam and Eve, and for men born without original sin, there was no shame in sex. “I choose you, always.”

Frankie entangles his fingers into your hair, feeling the green tie in your locks. His other hand slides up to cup your breast.

“I love this ribbon, it suits you.”

*

“Whatcha think’n, old man.” Rey asks as he rides up to Jonah. Both are perched up on top of a hill overlooking the field you lay on and he watches you kiss Frankie. 

“I’m thinking,” Jonah turns to Rey, nodding his head back home. “That I got it here, and since the others are out, you should run back and try and sneak some time with Iris.”

Rey smiled at that, but hesitated. “You sure? Morales didn’t seem like he wanted her with either of you.” 

Jonah rolled his eyes, but it was good natured nonetheless. He liked Reynash, loved him even. He was a good kid. Iris was put in the position she was in, not any older than the girl was now, because of his shortcomings, his weaknesses. She was punished to punish him. She deserved all the good she could get, and Reyansh Saha was about the only bit off good left in this world, beside Iris and now Marcus’s kid he was looking after. He reminded Jonah of Delilah in a lot of ways. Always smiling. Always kind.

“Look at ‘em.” Jonah referenced the pair kissing below. “She’s going home on his lap.”

Rey laughed brightly, turning his horse. “Oh yeah, you’re quite the matchmaker!” And he road off, long dark hair wild behind him. Handsome devil.

The words matchmaker hung in the air. Was Jonah giving her false hope he wondered? Or was he giving her the time she had left and filling it with better memories. He wasn’t sure. Maybe he was delaying the inevitable. It was always going to end one way for her. There was no way to live up to what Santiago wanted.

Because what Santiago wanted was Frankie with a womb.

SO MUCH JONAH HAPPENING!!!!!!!!

And poor madonna bc Jonah christ smelling your dad burn is a lot

So Marcus's face claim is David Habour, this came out of some chats with. @umnitsa in my romanaverse discord server. He is now your adopted father to keep things inclusive, but this is important as he has background info and ties in a lot. Think hopper in stranger things. Also May is already shipping him and Jonah so that ship name is Jonus lmfaooooo

If you are an active participant in one or more of my universes and have a discord (this means commenting or comment Reblogging, im looking for people who want to theorize and chit chat) dm me for a link! This is primarily focused on giving you extra content and sneak peaks but a lot of cool people are there too and you can share your work!

Please consider joining me in in donating to humanitarian aid in Rafah through Doctors Without Borders

LOVE YOU ALL!

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[siderealscribblings]

0 Years, 0 Months, 1 Day

"A trial, huh? How exciting…I'll be looking forward to it." 

Furina didn't know how she came to be standing in the theater, staring at a woman who looked so familiar in the mirror; all she knew was that Fontaine needed an Archon and she needed to play the part. It was as important as breathing; an urge baked into her very heartbeat. But that heartbeat reminded her she had a heart that could be stopped. She might not age, but age killed only the lucky. 

"It will be one for the ages…but you must reach that day unharmed," The Person in the Mirror said, studying Furina's face carefully. For the first time, she seemed unsure. 

"Of course…I'll need to be careful," Furina said, chewing on her lip in the same way the woman in the mirror was. "Um…this might be a dumb question but what's going to happen if someone suddenly asks me to prove I am a god?" 

"Then you will respond as any god responds to challenges," The Person in the Mirror said, tucking her long hair over one ear as Furina unconsciously mirrored the gesture. "With pride." 

"Right…pride," Furina nodded. "...but gods are more than just pride, aren't they?" 

The woman laughed, and Furina found her lips curling in spite of her nervousness. "Some gods are all pride. Pride, and power." 

I suppose I'll have to pretend to have both, Furina thought. 

"You will have to pretend to have pride…power, you may be able to get from someone else," The Person in the Mirror said. "There is…one other person who may be devoted to your campaign. One person who might walk beside you until the promised end." 

Furina's heart swelled, the thought of not being totally alone raising her spirits. "I-I thought no one could know the truth. You said it was dangerous." 

"There is no way to avoid danger on this road," The Person in the Mirror said. "Each choice you make carries consequences…and lying will make you many enemies. But you must live, Furina…and there is one who has a vested interest in seeing you live long enough to reach your goal. One who has no reason to betray you to your enemies or break your confidence…that is not to say he is trustworthy, but-" 

"He?" Furina asked. "Where do I find this man?" 

"...I didn't say he was a man," The Person in the Mirror said. "On the western slopes of Mount Automnequi there is a cave with a pool of pure, clean water. Go there…and decide for yourself if this is someone who can aid you. You will provide the pride, and he may provide the power; together, you may convince the world you are who you say you are."

I would have preferred the power, Furina thought. 

"I know," The Person in the Mirror chuckled ruefully. "But power carries its own dangers." 

"I thought you said this was a dangerous road regardless...power could at least make it a little less dangerous," Furina said, earning a laugh that sounded like it came from her own mouth. 

"Just remember that this duty falls to you, Furina," The Person in the Mirror said. "You will use others and their power to help, but their destiny is not bound to this task like yours is. At the end of the day, no matter who you choose to trust, this is your responsibility." 

Though it would take her years to realize, responsibility was the first birthday gift Furina ever received. 

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Start Over...

The Games of Divinity (Accomplice Neuvillette AU)

[yandere--stuck]

Can you do hc of my my gilr fail d'arce too?

🧡 The Knight is more than happy to meet a friendly face down in the dungeons, grateful when you ask to accompany her. Two heads are better than one, no? And, though she couldn't bring herself to admit it, she felt a lot less wary with a companion by her side. As you began to get acquainted with one another, D'arce noticed a certain… Magentism about you. Her eyes constantly tracing over your features in awe. How easily she opened up to you as you did with her, as if disarming her. When you sympathized and reassured her, she felt calm and safe. Like everything was going to be okay. And when you talked about your life and what brought you down into the dungeons, D'arce found herself trying to memorize it. As if it were important. As if you were important. She could feel it. Almost… Divine, even.

⚔️ D'arce is such a worshiper yandere. She's delusional in the sense that she will actually come to believe you're actually a god in human form. It takes time for her to descend into that delusion, though, and she'll be torn between her faith in you and her faith in her captain. She may even be aware of and resist her delusions… For a time. She keeps trying to rationalize her way out of her thinking, but it works less and less the more her obsession deepens. D'arce will come to credit you for any luck or gold fortune that comes your way. She sees you as something precious and far above her, someone needing protection and reverence.

🧡 D'arce, as a bearer of the soul of the dominant, is used to taking charge and dishing out orders. In the merry band of allies you've collected, she's assumed the role of captain naturally. However, she will almost always defer to you and your strategies unless absolutely necessary. She wants to be an extension of you and your will. The sword between your fists. The neck that turns the head.

⚔️ If Le'garde is found alive, her reaction is a lot milder. It feels like ages since she'd last seen her captor. Since she'd heard the Outlander's gruesome tale of the slaughtering of his people, one she had supported unknowingly, one that Le'garde had painted as noble and necessary. He barely speaks to her, barely makes eye contact with her. There is no thanks. No smile. Just an empty head with no memories of her or his capture or the ransacking of Oldegard. The only reason Ragnvaldr holds himself back. A part of her, deep down, hopes he's telling the truth. But that's just to hold back the weight of realizing he's lied to her. He's always lied to her. At least she can stay by you for comfort…

🧡 The only reason she'd give in to Le'garde's insistence to delve deeper is some dwindling sense of duty from the last shreds of respect she had for her former captain. If something were to happen to the man, well, no loss. D'arce had found someone better. You. Someone who actually respected her. Listened to her. Knew her. How sad was that? A man she thought she loved for years was more of a stranger than someone she just met. That is, she thinks you had just. But, with how you clicked together so perfectly, it was almost as though you'd known each other lifetimes. Maybe even meant to meet. And if Le'garde has to die for you to live, D'arce will enthusiastically sacrifice him in your name.

⚔️ Maybe even kill him herself or allow Ragnvaldr to, if he makes it all the way to the Throne. He's lied to her. Betrayed her. Used her. Forced innocents down further in the depths of Hell… In a fit of mania, she might try to place you on the throne herself. And if anything happened to you… Gods, she was nothing without you. But, she has learned blood magic from Enki. She could bring you back. But, that wouldn't happen, no. D'arce wouldn't let it. Sue needed you. You were inseparable now. And when you got out here, she'd worship you as you should be. Spread your word. And live happily ever after. Even if you might not see it her way, at first.

[kurithedweeb]

For Drop of Sunlight, what's your take on the relationship between the Divine Warriors and Aphmau/her guards (Garroth, Katelyn, Laurance, Dante)

That’s a bit of a tricky one for me. I don’t remember a whole lot about the Divine Warriors from canon since I haven’t finished my rewatch, and I haven’t explored them that much because we’re still real early on and they haven’t become majorly relevant yet, but I think I can scrounge up a few ideas. We’re gonna talk about the Divine Warriors as a whole and not each individual for now.

The Divine Warriors were all friends, but Irene was what connected them. They were all drawn to her, all loyal to her above anyone else, they were . . . the term I want to use for the Divine Warriors is ‘a cult polycule,’ but that doesn’t really explain and also is probably wrong. Let’s rewind a bit.

Irene killed the Divine Warriors as a whole. Before they ever met her, Irene had lived for so, so long as this being more powerful than the rest of her race and everyone put her on a pedestal. Her power left her so isolated, so completely alone, that everything she did had to be perfect because she didn’t have anyone to fall back on when she failed anymore, not since she’d outlived her sister. Everything Irene did became just another duty she had to perform and she stopped feeling alive. Until Shad.

Shad was the first person she’d ever met that was anywhere near as powerful as her. Suddenly she wasn’t so alone anymore, and she clung to Shad for fear that if she let him slip away she’d be alone again for who knows how long. She nudged their relationship from enemies to friends to, eventually, lovers. Shad loved her because she seemed so good and she wasn’t afraid of him and with her he could have what he always wanted: someone to love and a family. I’m a little iffy on whether or not Irene was actually in love with him, but in those times being someone’s lover was seen as the absolute closest you could be to someone and you couldn’t really get a marriage annulled. Once they were together-together Irene thought she could never lose Shad.

For a while, it was Irene and Shad against the world. The rest of the Divine Warriors came after. They were all good people who had some kind of power, a power that Irene could help them foster into something they could use for the greater good. They became friends by virtue of spending a ton of time together and working to become a team because they realized their different dynamics and abilities actually meshed well, but above that they were always Irene’s most devout followers right up until they were shown by Irene herself that she wasn’t as good as everyone thought. I mean, if God-God were your personal friend, wouldn’t you be a believer too?

Everything fell apart after the relics were made. After they return home for the first time in ages, Shad goes looking for their daughter, so excited to see her sweet smile, only to not be able to find her anywhere. And when he goes to ask Irene for help looking for their baby girl, he’s told that she’s been in his relic the entire time, that it was her soul that had been used to form Shad’s weapon. Shad is obviously heartbroken, demanding to know why she would do such a thing, but Irene can’t understand that what she did was wrong. She can’t even fathom it. In her eyes, having their daughter was nowhere near as important as having Shad, because he’s the only equal she’s ever known and nobody else even compares. She’s struck dumb and feels incredibly betrayed when Shad turns against her because she’s been under the impression that, since they’re the same, he felt exactly the way she did. If she can’t have him, though, then at least she still has the rest of the Divine Warriors; they love her, they worship her, they’d never betray her like this.

Except Shad was one of their own. They hesitate for just a second when she says Shad’s turned against them and is an enemy, but it’s Irene so she can’t be wrong, right? But as the days stretch on they start to realize that Shad only wants to hurt Irene and he’s got a damn good reason for it. By the time they recognize that Irene is bad guy here, it’s too late. Instead, the Divine Warriors shatter Shad’s relic so it can’t be given to anyone else, so it can’t help turn this into a cycle and scatter the fragments, then disappear to build their temples. By the time they reconnect, ready to hear Irene out, Irene’s disappeared.

The stuff with the guards is way more specific.

When Anastasia (Aphmau) first appears, Garroth doesn’t pay her much mind. He’s got enough to worry about and she’s not hurting anyone, just kind of dipping in and out of town every once in a while. Then he realizes that she’s been fixing up the village and helping people out. She’s a very kind woman in a time when most people can’t afford to be kind, and fairly protective of Phoenix Drop despite not really living there or being close to its citizens. But she’s also fairly reckless with her own life and, despite knowing just about every trade there is, doesn’t actually know much about the world she lives in. Garroth is her protector first, then they become something maybe like friends, and he only develops feelings for her after she’s already started settling into her position as Lord. He shoves these feelings real deep down though and never makes a solid effort to act on them, it’d be improper considering their positions and cloud his judgement more than it already has. It’s enough that he can be her friend, that he can see that she’s happy, that he can be close to her and help her through whatever she needs him for. He probably gives her lessons about Lord stuff.

I’m debating where I should put Laurance and Anastasia’s first meeting, because I really like the idea of what they had going in Rebirth where Laurance first saw her when she was at her most frantic, but in the OG meeting he first sees her as someone who’ll go out of their way to fix their mistakes. Either way, it’s love at first sight for this sucker because he’s the kind of person who falls in love at the drop of a hat and who loves nearly everybody he comes across. He flirts because that’s the way he learned to talk to people who make him nervous and he’s only serious about it until he gets rejected, after which it’s just fun between friends. They’re amazing friends, partially because they’re on the same wavelength about a lot of things, partially because of trauma bonding. As time goes on, he gradually becomes more protective of and devoted to Anastasia as a Lord and he’s very serious about her personal safety. Laurance is always the one Garroth sends to negotiate with Anastasia about protective measures when she leaves the village since he always manages to convince her to take at least one of them along.

Dante’s conflicted about how he feels about Anastasia because he thinks of her like a sister. He has so many emotions about this, including feeling just a little bit guilty about it. He sees her as kind-hearted, adventurous, and always good for cheering someone up. It’s easy to joke around with her and playfight during training sessions. He trusts her implicitly, feels like he can confide in her about anything. He’s wary about feeling like this after what happened with his real sibling, especially towards his Lord of all people, but those worries mellow out after he gets to know Anastasia better.

Anastasia was already well-established as a Lord when Katelyn came into play, and they met in that time when Phoenix Drop couldn’t afford any political missteps so her first impression was that Anastasia was a regal leader who inspired a daunting level of loyalty in her guards and citizens and knew her way around doublespeak. She only realizes how prone she is to accidentally giving her guards heart attacks after she’s been turned to their side, and finds the startling difference between the real Anastasia and the Lordsona she presents to other villages hilarious. They’re also eventually good friends, she’s probably the first real friend Katelyn’s had in a long time, and Katelyn finds her easier to get along with than most of the other ladies at first because she’s gotten so used to interacting only with people in positions of power or the guards under their command since she was picked for the Jo9. They really bond during quiet moments travelling together. Having to trust your back to someone while you sleep in potentially hostile territory will do that for you.

I think a big difference between the relationships between Irene and the Divine Warriors and Anastasia with her guards is that Irene doesn’t feel anything, while Anastasia sometimes feels too much and that greatly affects the way they connect with people.

Another is that, nine times out of ten, Anastasia's guards would sacrifice their lives for her at the first hint of real danger. No one of the Divine Warriors would ever think to truly sacrifice themselves for Irene. What could possibly kill a goddess?

[theroyalhouseofwindenburg]

The Unveiling

On the morning of New Year's Day in 1354, King Edward's 16th birthday, a meeting was convened in the throne room of Windenburg Castle. Present were the Jacoban Clergy, Lord Richard (the regent/lord protector), and King Edward himself. The courtiers had not yet arrived, and Edward, flanked by guards, sat on his throne. As the men entered together, offering birthday wishes, they were met with Edward's stern expression, unaware of the purpose behind the meeting. Edward promptly explained that he had overheard their discussions a few nights prior and, after thorough investigation, held them accountable for Queen Cordelia's disappearance.

The accusation left all the men visibly shocked and speechless, their faces turning pale with disbelief. Lord Richard, quick to respond, defended himself, "Your Grace, I assure you of my unwavering loyalty to Windenburg and its people. I was completely unaware of any nefarious intentions or actions related to Queen Cordelia's disappearance. I have always acted in the best interests of the kingdom and your family, and I would never intentionally harm or betray them. Please believe that I am a victim of circumstances beyond my control." Edward's expression remained cold and impassive as he fixed his gaze on Richard.

The King erupted in fury, rising from his seat and directing his anger towards Lord Richard. "Lord Richard," Edward proclaimed with a cold and piercing tone, "your claims of innocence fall empty in light of the truths I've uncovered. I heard your words, witnessed your deceit, and pierced through your facade. Do not insult my intelligence with false innocence. Your treachery has been exposed, and the consequences of your betrayal will be severe." The room fell silent with fear as Edward's words echoed, leaving a heavy atmosphere of impending justice.

"I have convened this gathering to make a series of announcements that will significantly impact the governance of Windenburg. Firstly, I have decided to dissolve the Regency and assume full responsibility for the throne, rather than waiting until the customary age of eighteen." His gaze shifted to Lord Richard, reflecting a mixture of disappointment and resolve. "Lord Richard, due to recent revelations and your involvement in matters that have compromised the trust and integrity of this kingdom, I must strip you of your titles and duties effective immediately. Your actions have led to grave consequences, and as such, you are no longer fit to serve in your current capacity."

His attention turned to the Clergy, declaring, "Furthermore, I have decided to decommission the entire Jacoban Clergy representing Windenburg. While I hold the utmost respect for your faith and beliefs, recent events have necessitated a restructuring of our religious institutions." Continuing with resolve, he stated, "Until the whereabouts of Cordelia, my mother, are revealed and the truth behind her disappearance brought to light, all those implicated in her absence will be confined to the dungeons beneath the castle," emphasizing that this decree applied to everyone present.

All the men sank to their knees, terrorized by the impending doom. They pleaded with the King and beseeched the watcher, but their efforts were futile. Father Heron attempted to flee the throne room, further provoking Edward's wrath. The King dispatched his guards, who swiftly apprehended him before he could escape. Stripped of their religious attire, the men were escorted to the dungeons beneath Windenburg Castle. Paul, isolated in his dim cell, seethed with anger. He lamented, "It is the Watcher's will! No woman shall ascend the throne; only a man can truly speak for the Watcher's divine purpose," his voice saturated with frustration and bitterness. His staunch belief in male authority and the age-old traditions of monarchy continued to fuel his rage, even amidst captivity.

Back at Castle Landgraab, Cordelia lay in her bed, asleep, as a servant from the Landgraab family quietly entered with a basket of bread. Cordelia awoke suddenly, catching the servant before she could leave. "Wait! Please, don't go! Who are you? Why are you here? What's happening?" Her words poured out in a flurry of questions as she desperately tried to stop the girl from leaving. However, the servant dashed out, locking the door behind her. Cordelia banged on the door, pleading, "Let me out! Please, I beg you! I need to leave this place! Help me, anyone, please!" Her voice carried fear, urgency, and a deep sense of helplessness. Collapsing to the floor, she sobbed, realizing it had been far too long since she had seen the sun.

The servant approached Lord Lorus's chambers, finding him engrossed in matters of state. "My lord, she attempted to escape again, she was banging on the door, pleading for help. I fear she may be unwell," the servant exclaimed urgently. Lorus, without even glancing up from his papers, responded callously, "Oh, how dramatic! Perhaps next time she'll bring along a troupe of minstrels to serenade her escape. Keep an eye on her, but try not to get caught up in her theatrics. She's just a pawn in this game." The servant, with sadness in her eyes, persisted, "But my lord, she seemed truly distressed. What if something happens to her while she's confined here? Shouldn't we at least ensure her safety?" Annoyed by the situation, Lorus turned abruptly to face the girl, his tone firm, "Your concern is irrelevant. Such matters are beyond your comprehension. Stick to your duties and leave the affairs of royalty to those with the intelligence to understand them." Before departing, Lorus issued a stern warning, "Tell her that any further attempts to escape will result in consequences far worse than her current captivity. Ignorance is her shield; the less she knows, the safer she'll be."

As time passed, the members of the clergy clung to their silence, denying any knowledge of Cordelia's whereabouts. Their hopes rested on the belief that maintaining this facade would prolong their lives. However, as the summer of 1354 drew near, the weight of guilt and fear began to crack their resolve.

One among them, the former Father Heron, faced excruciating torment. Bound to a stretching machine, his bones were slowly and painfully pulled out of joint. The physical agony mirrored the emotional turmoil within him. Unable to bear the torment any longer, he succumbed and confessed to knowing Cordelia's location.

Relieved of the stretching device, the fallen priest was coerced into signing a confession. This damning revelation was swiftly delivered to King Edward's office, where he was working on state affairs. His trusted advisor, Sir Walter Arnold, presented the confession and read its contents aloud to the king.

Upon hearing this, a solemn understanding settled over King Edward. The weight of responsibility and the gravity of the situation were palpable. Each word in the confession carried the weight of truth, pushing Edward to confront his own cousin, and the harsh realities of his kingdom. With resolve in his eyes, Edward knew that decisive action was now imperative.

[elvaria-project]

Oversimplified(?) Elvaria Lore- Part 4, Kingdom History(Key Points, Major Kingdoms A-F)

Åskorhal-

N/A shit doesn't really happen there

Avianaen- War of Bloodied Storm

So during the early Minor Wars era they had their own shit The Sky Lords were their leaders, being Aenirel, Lord of Rain, Enthivar, the Dragon Lord, Ilravoin, the Traveling Lord, and Thiroaven, the Lord of High Clouds They were basically viewed as divinity and were powerful enough to be seen as such, having forgotten their roots as elves and were really more like elementals. Thiroaven was the most respected of the bunch since he was basically viewed as the embodiment of the sky But of course, as they were still elves by soul, they still knew greed. Aenirel, Enthivar, and Ilravoin could keep their act together for the good of the new Avianaens, but Thiroaven could never settle for his reach being limited only to the air-lands of Syklari So yeah he betrayed everyone and tried to kill the other Sky Lords so he could hold sole control and scheme from there Whole war broke out and it ended with all the Sky Lords being dead and the Avianaens are still trying to figure out their purpose to this day since they feel lost without the leadership of the Sky Lords Since then they've created the Triumvirate of the Skyborne with three seats to represent the three Sky Lords that remained noble, and these seats are held by the priest families that once stood by their sides

Dalirna- Origins of the Nalgira and the Weathermagi

There was a very minor(?) crisis where when Dalirna was first established, some mages tried to make the deserts more habitable and made whole squadrons for it creating a new type of mage called Weathermagi(pre-Fall they imbibed pillars to deal with weather) That backfired pretty badly, and they're the reason why all the cities have to be covered by an Asurei barrier at all times because of the frequent strong sandstorms created from fucking around with the environment Some of those squadron members had their new magic backfire on themselves because no one was quite used to elemental energies yet, so they became poisoned by their own magic and mutated to become Nalgira which were not very intelligent but had very chaotic magic So that's the story of how Dalirnans figured out that even though they have better Asurei adeptness than the other surface kingdoms, they're also the most susceptible to being poisoned by it(compared to Lustariseans that are basically the masters of it and also immune(as far as they know) to the radiation-like effects of being exposed to too much of it) Any Nalgira that are discovered have their magic sealed off and sent to the desert to eek out a living and it's generally considered a crime against public safety to try to keep a relative that turned into a Nalgira in your house, especially if you live in a city

Weathermagi still exist to control weather and they're better at it, but generally the duties rely on elemental magic more than pure Asurei so it's left to Zodianans and Avianaens

Flaerna- The Ligniar Elthir and Tale of Asharena, The Warrior of Earthen Flame

Shit happened When the Solarian survivors of The Fall were figuring out life in the new fiery hellscape of Emorscal, on top of trying to understand their new fire magic, they had to deal with primordial giants(not the same as elementals) coming out of volcanoes that would terrorize the new towns The most powerful ones were coming from the volcano at the center of the land and it seemed to have some sort of "core" that was triggering the birth of more giants in the other volcanoes In underground caves it was less bad, they found half elves(hey it's the surviving pockets of elves post-Fall) that were like coal, and the half elves were willing to help from a shared sense of kinship They were skilled at making do, but mostly kept to the underground since they were very physically fragile and prone to burning out their lifespans whenever they used magic

The new Flaernans initially tried to fight back against the giants with the help of the coal half elves and had scrounged out a military to cull the giant population, with the charge being lead by a young Flaernan named Asharena Zhirkiyen

This lasted for about two centuries and as people got more desperate, the coal half elves were basically taken out of their caves and enslaved to become conscripted soldiers despite their physical constitutions being naturally terrible The Flaernans were considering leaving and moving to the surface of Cevris Atsal or joining the Dalirnans out of fear that no one could solve the giant problem, but Asharena got sick of the giants' shit and decided to charge into the central volcano alone to break the core, basically burning herself from the inside by letting her fire magic burn up her lifespan in exchange for power to charge through many giants and surviving plunging into pure elemental energy for just long enough to destroy the core surrounded by infused lava

The remaining giants would begin to crumble in the week after and the central volcano would become dormant, then solidify and be nothing more than a big hole in the ground

Asharena would be celebrated as the first warrior of Flaerna and become an example of duty to the kingdom and courage to the people that came after, with the city of Embylviska being established in the former central volcano No remains were ever found, so it's believed by everyone that her bones burned up in the lava and her soul became part of the land to watch over the kingdom

As for the coal half elves, only the Flaernans ever knew they existed, and they don't talk about it as it's considered a shame upon their history. The half elves themselves died out during the war against the giants

Floernia- The Tale of Lynaea and Cirania, the Speaker of the Forests

Okay they have less problems than Flaerna

So Cirania, a Dysheraln, lead the group of survivors to what would become Floernia out of benevolence, but the other Dysheraln did not respond so kindly Nature does not forget, and the memories of the Dak-Shan never faded. Cirania was willing to set aside the old grievances between the elves and Dysheraln, but the others felt that the elves culling Dak-Shan when the Dust Era ended, the Fall destroying land and rearranging continents, then the fallout poisoning the world with new elemental energies were all slights against them

Some of the Dysheraln, out of respect for Cirania, would move into isolation so they would not have to suck up to elves but also not be able to cause them harm Some of the other Dysheraln held onto the old hatred and would wage war with the new Floernians when they tried to settle in the forests A few were willing to set aside the past and actively ally with or at least advocate for the Floernians to the vengeful Dysheraln, but they'd be socially ostracized by the other Dysheraln

Now is there another war? No actually which is probably shocking

So even though the Dysheraln are technically not elementals(at the same time they kinda are, but are counted as half-elementals), they have their own little realm limited to a little half-plane above the land of Floernia and there's two big trees, The Ebon Cypress and The Cedar of Life The Ebon Cypress is what dictates natural death for the Dysheraln, and each of them that passes grows another branch upon the tree The Cedar of Life is what dictates the birth of Dysheraln and memories of nature Now this realm is supposed to be just pure nature, but the long forgotten past that even nature does not remember comes back to haunt them

So the Ebon Cypress actually doesn't do much load bearing, the Cedar does which means it's also more prone to problems Usually these problems are fixable, but this time it was hidden darkness that spread in the core of the tree and spread this darkness into the cores of the Dysheraln This darkness has always existed but never really spread until now, and it stored the malice from the memories of the past which became contagious and was why many Dysheraln could not move on

The new Floernians were told this by Cirania, who despite her great power was not immune to such corruption either, and all of them would gather to use their newfound control over nature to create a birch seed enchanted with their goodwill, with the nicer Dysheraln joining them to teach them how to keep the magic stable

As the malice continued to bleed into the wills of the Dysheraln, it was found that the process would accelerate if a Dysheraln was in the realm compared to outside of it, so many would remain in Floernia and didn't dare to venture into it Floernians that tried to go in were drained of their very essence by the trees as they were not elementals in any way, so some of the Dysheraln would choose to "reproduce" with some willing Floernians by pouring their essence into a pregnant Floernian, which would lead to the births of the Nynphor, a new variant of half elves that were free from the binds of the Cedar and Cypress and could also withstand their power better than Floernians could

As they grew up, Lynaea would be marked among them as the one with the most potential to bring the birch seed to the trees and plant it between them to purify the corruptive malice, as she was one that gave love and kindness freely even to a bitter darkness

When she was a century old, she took on the birch seed and acknowledged that she would likely not come back, with Cirania following her to guide her to the space between the Cedar and Cypress

Though the draining properties of the trees made her weaker with each step, she powered through and would clutch the seed closely, using her essence to plant the seed and allow it to take root from her own goodwill Cirania would sacrifice herself and become a shell for Lynaea's essence and the seed to protect them from the corruption for as long as it took to reach the roots of the Cedar, and thus would begin the process of the reversal of the corruption

Lynaea would never come back, but the Dysheraln knew her and Cirania's sacrifice as they felt the darkness that clouded their wills dissipate, and the majority of them would gradually return to their realms with the ones remaining choosing to tolerate the Floernians

The Nynphor still exist as the symbol of goodwill between the Dysheraln and Floernians, and the names of Lynaea and Cirania are still celebrated every thousand years as the ones that brought peace and unity

Föllen Alatsa- The Cave of Bloodied Quartz

No long story I swear So during the Ember War, there was a cave that was mined into and it was filled with bright red quartz that glowed and had an ominous feeling to them People that saw the crystals felt sickened on sight and could not be in their presence for very long Some people thought that these crystals had a new source of power and went in, and basically found out that those crystals are like an elaborate system of magical parasites and drove people mad if exposed to them for a long enough time in high amounts The cave was quickly sealed off and guards placed around the tunnels that led into it, and samples brought from the cave were quickly destroyed with the people exposed to them thrown into the cave Everyone exposed would mutate and go mad from the strange power of the crystals, and this actually warranted Lustariseans stepping in to magically seal off all the stone around it to prevent the cave from growing bigger through erosion and prevent people from mining into it by accident

[rotten-pest]

Hphm. Of course. Perhaps in some kind of twisted sense their meeting was a taunting sort of gift. And it was not her desire to lay her disdain at his feet, try as he did to mend that particular gap. Yet her anger found little else to catch on, as was difficult for any flame to do in a gale. A great difficulty, indeed, for her to answer his request.

Hers was a journey thus far made unaccompanied, only but briefly touching the lives of other beings and oft more than not never in a good way. It was better that way. One who walks alone. One free from compunctions and indecision. One who walks a straight line. The unsung note at the end of her old name. Hers to make do with what she would, including casting that very name aside (or perhaps, better yet described as tearing it asunder). To act, to achieve the divinity of rot, she saw only the clear and cutting motion of finality. It was not enough to just release the Goddess laid betwixt Malenia’s flesh because Malenia was a faulty vessel. Would a Goddess of Rot even love them, yet still? Could one? And, perhaps, in some secret part, for which she did not even want her kin to know in its full depth and breadth, because she wished to see them freed from the duty of worship in its entirety. To replace the Golden Goddess with a Rotted one was a half-measure, a half of a solution. Incomplete. Incomprehensible.

But she did not say this, or convey it, rather, because it was a crushing thing to believe for the Kindred. Even she who had abandoned longing for Her love, faced with the enormity of it, day-by-day? A truly devastating thing. Spending one’s whole life with the last touches of the sun’s warmth as it set, remembering its spectacular vibrancy, only to abandon it completely for the chill of night.

And yet there was a truth to his words. It would indeed be an enormous task for her to challenge Malenia. It was already quite the task to live long enough to get to her. And she did trust him—trust more than any human, certainly (save, perhaps, just one). And yet. They may not turn claw against one another now, but later? When the journey ended and they stood side-by-side before Her? What then? And it was not a matter of betrayal. She had suffered enough of those the sting of just its consideration no longer injured her deeply. No, for it was being the one who betrayed. Suffering the idea of getting so impossibly far with He-Who-Meddles, likely enduring so much, only to be forced to defy him? To spit in his face, his battered visage that had already suffered so much. Rare was it her own cruelty sickened her but the idea of doing so made her clench her teeth and stomach. Some human weakness entered her at some point and it would make her hesitate, compromise with herself, abandon her divine mission. And she could not live that way, either.

“It pains me greatly, to suggest otherwise. But I cannot, I’m afraid,” she said, slowly, expression pinching shut as her fingers tightened around his, to memorize the way his chitin felt and his scent-taste even were those things beyond her squishy human senses, “I would not wish to get to the end together knowing we could not go past it as such."

With her mouth suddenly dry, she swallowed, steeling her courage. “But I would not hinder you. In fact, I will share with you what I know, and return the favor, if you’d allow me, to tend your hide” and with that she gestured, tiredly, to the soap and wash cloth, since forgotten during the exchange and remembered only then if perhaps in the desperate hope to amend what she knew would hurt.

"I would forsake fate to the prison of the unmoving stars and lay the gift of this meeting at the feet of the Goddess." There was a pause following his declaration, the sheer contentment of the moment disturbed by the recognition of this distinction between them and their goals. He Who Meddles doesn't release his hold on Cotesia (though his grasp does loosen somewhat at her flinching) and releases something reminiscent of a sigh from within his abdomen. "Forgive me. I understand our intentions are perhaps rival creatures, and I would not further irritate a wound that has not healed."

As if to reassure her that this encounter would remain free of the violence plaguing previous reunions, his head rubbed against Cotesia's, careful to ensure his chitin didn't scratch or cut the softer flesh now veiling her. Maxilla dabbed and rubbed gently at any left over debris from her travels still clinging to her brow, and all the while reassuring scents emerged of calm-devotion and affection-relief that he seemed to be trying his best to leave on her person. "Let us speak of this, rather than allow it to fester and grow into something unsightly. Our desires are opposed. To sever the binding of the Goddess of Rot without a vessel to replace Malenia..." Another faux sigh thrummed within his abdomen. He Who Meddles moved a hand onto her hair, claws carefully sorting through the strands. "For one of us to succeed in our chosen task, the other must fail. Yet to raise claw and turn mandible upon you as our kin have already... no. I will not allow this."

Seemingly satisfied with the effort to 'clean' Cotesia, He Who Meddles shifted back somewhat, rubbing his head against hers one last time. Still his hands held onto her own, and his many-eyes settled on them for a moment as if in consideration. "I would join you on this journey of yours, if you would have me. Both of us would see the death of Malenia, no matter what might occur in the time afterwards, and the challenge of that task alone was one not even the might of the Starscourge could undertake." His other pair of hands settled over Cotesia's, squeezing gently. Raising his head back to meet her stare, something seemed to be decided in He Who Meddles; perhaps in this companionship long sought and sealed by the offer of her smile.

"Would you allow this? Knowing that our designs for the world are incompatible, even if we ourselves remain true kindred... would you allow me to lend you my strength?"

[dangermousie]

Mousie’s absolutely subjective, very biased Top 10 web novels list

Please note that this is hardly aiming to be objective, if one can even be properly objective about a work of fiction. It is 110% based on my preferences, which means this list is heavy on the angst and has nothing set in the modern day. It is also heavily danmei-centric, even though I read way more het romance than danmei, because for whatever reason, most of the danmei I’ve read has been insanely good.

10. Return of the Swallow - one of the two non-danmeis on this list. Smart and nuanced and with a large cast of characters. Our heroine is a long-lost daughter of the family that is brought back in and has to cope with familial struggles, crazy royals, court intrigue, invasion et al. It’s SO GOOD! There is romance with the sexy smart enemy general but honestly, it’s the heroine that is the main selling point for me.

9. Transmigrator Meets Reincarnator - the only other non-danmei novel on this list, this was my very first web novel and what drew me into this insanity. This is just a ton of fun, probably the lightest novel on this list, not an ounce of angst to be found. But it’s hilarious and features competent heroine and tsundere hero and I will always love it for opening a new world to me. Anyway, our heroine transmigrates into the novel as the female lead. Unlike the original lead though she doesn’t want to seek adventures and angst - she just wants to comfortably live with the wealthy, nice husband heroine has. Alas, said husband is no longer nice since he has previously lived this story where he was betrayed by FL and then transmigrated/reincarnated into the past. Oh well, the heroine opens up businesses and makes friends. And eventually, her husband realizes his wife is way different this time around. This actually doesn’t have much romance, not until close to the end, but this is so fun I don’t care.

8. Lord Seventh - I am only partway through this so far, but it’s already on the list because it’s smart and somehow intense AND laid-back (not sure how this works, but it does) and is honestly just a really really solid and smart period novel, with the OTP a cherry on top of a narrative sundae. Plus, I love the concept of MC deciding he is not going for his supposedly fated love - he’s tried for six lifetimes, always with disaster, and he’s just plain done and tired. When he opens his life in his seventh reincarnation and sees the person he would have given up the world for, he genuinely feels nothing at all. (Spoiler - his OTP is actually a barbarian shaman this time around, thank you Lord!)

7. Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (MDZS) - oh come on, how are you even on this tumblr if you don’t know MDZS/The Untamed? This was my very first danmei and it’s so much fun! I love everything about it - the unreliable narrator, the looping structure, the main OTP, Wei Wuxian’s laidback, traumatized insouciance, everything. Anyway, the plot in the event you somehow transported here from 2005 is that the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, Wei Wuxian, was defeated by the righteous sects over a decade ago and fell of a cliff to his death. Only now that same Wei Wuxian opens his eyes in another body and everything that was supposed to stay in the past starts again.

6. Heaven Official’s Blessing (TGCF) - people either love its meandering narrative, picaresque structure and cast of thousands, or find it a detriment compared to much more compact MDZS. I love it even more than MDZS for those very qualities. It does have a rock-solid, darling OTP, but what really elevates it to me are the MXTX trademark combo of snarky/light tone hiding a ton of trauma underneath, the insanely intricate world-building, and what it has to say about the nature of grace and goodness. Xie Lian is one of my top 5 web novel characters and probably in top 10 from anywhere. Oh, and while MXTX’s stuff is not as angsty for me as Meatbun’s or even Priest’s, there are always exceptions, and there is one chapter in this novel that pretty much broke me and sometimes I still flashback to it and feel unwell.

Anyway, what is it about? There is a commotion in the heavenly realm - Xie Lian, the Crown Prince of a long-destroyed kingdom, has ascended to Godhood. That in itself is not so exciting. However for Xie Lian this is the third time (!!!!) as he’s ascended and lost his godhood twice prior. And now, the biggest joke of the divine realm is back, throwing the heavenly realm into chaos. And elsewhere, Hua Cheng, one of the four most powerful demons of that Universe, sits up and takes notice.

5. Golden Stage - my perfect comfort novel. Probably the least angsty of any danmei novel on this list (which still means plenty angsty :P) It also has a dedicated, smart OTP that is an OTP for the bulk of the book - I think you will notice that in most of the novels in this list, I go for “OTP against the world” trope - I can’t stand love triangles and the same. Anyway, Fu Shen, is a famous general whose fame is making the emperor antsy. When he gets injured and can’t walk any more, the emperor gladly recalls him and marries him off to his most faithful court lackey, the head of sort of secret police, Yan Xiaohan. The emperor intends it both as a check on the general and a general spite move since the two men always clash in court whenever they meet. But not all is at is seems. They used to be friends a long time ago, had a falling out, and one of the loveliest parts of the novel is them finding their way to each other, but there is also finding the middle path between their two very different philosophies and ways of being, not to mention solving a conspiracy or dozen, and putting a new dynasty on the throne, among other things. It always makes me think, a little, of “if Mei Changsu x Jingyan were canon.”

4. Sha Po Lang - if you like a lot of fantasy politics and world-building and steampunk with your novels, this one is for you. This one is VERY plot-heavy with smart, dedicated characters and a deconstruction of many traditional virtues - our protagonist Chang Geng, a long-lost son of the Emperor, is someone who wants to modernize the country but also take down the current emperor his brother for progress’ sake and the person he’s in love with is the general who saved him when he was a kid who is nominally his foster father. Anyway, the romance is mainly a garnish in this one, not even a big side dish, but the relationship between two smart, dedicated, deadly individuals with very different concepts of duty is fascinating long before it turns romantic. And if you like angst, while overall it’s not as angsty as e.g., Meatbun stuff, Chang Geng’s childhood is the stuff of nightmares and probably freaks me out more than anything else in any novel on this list, 2ha included.

3. To Rule In a Turbulent World (LSWW) - gay Minglan. No seriously. This is how I think of it. it’s a slice of life period novel with fascinating characters and setting that happens to have a gay OTP, not a romance in a period setting per se and I always prefer stories where the romance is not the only thing that is going on. It’s meticulously written and smart and deals with character development and somehow makes daily minutia fascinating. Our protagonist, You Miao, is the son of a fabulously wealthy merchant, sent to the capital to make connections and study. As the story starts, he sees his friend’s servants beating someone to death, feels bad, and buys him because, as we discover gradually and organically, You Miao may be wealthy and occasionally immature but he is a genuinely good person. The person he buys is a barbarian from beyond the wall, named Li Zhifeng. It’s touch and go if the man will survive but eventually he does and You Miao, who by then has to return home, gives him his papers and lets him go. However, LZF decides to stick with You Miao instead, both out of sense of debt for YM saving his life and because he genuinely likes him (and yet, there is no instalove on either of their parts, their bodies have fun a lot quicker than their souls.) Anyway, the two take up farming, get involved in the imperial exams and it’s the life of prosperity and peace, until an invasion happens and things go rapidly to hell. This is so nuanced, so smart (smart people in this actually ARE!) and has secondary characters who are just as complex as the mains (for example, I ended up adoring YM’s friend, the one who starts the plot by almost beating LZF to death for no reason) because the novel never forgets that few people are all villain. There is a lovely character arc or two - watching YM grow up and LZF thaw - there is the fact that You Miao is a unicorn in web novels being laid back and calm. This whole thing is a masterpiece.

2. Stains of Filth (Yuwu) - want the emotional hit of 2ha but want to read something half its length? Well, the author of 2ha is here to eviscerate you in a shorter amount of time. This has the beautiful world-building, plot twists that all make sense and, at the center of it all, an intense and all-consuming and gloriously painful relationship between two generals - one aristocratic loner Mo Xi, and the other gregarious former slave general Gu Mang. Once they were best friends and lovers, but when the novel starts, Gu Mang has long turned traitor and went to serve the enemy kingdom and has now been returned and Mo Xi, who now commands the remnants of his slave army, has to cope with the fact that he has never been able to get over the man who stabbed him through the heart. Literally. This novel has a gorgeously looping structure, with flashbacks interwoven into present storyline. There is so much love and longing and sacrifice in this that I am tearing up a bit just thinking of it. If you don’t love Mo Xi and Gu Mang, separately and together, by the end of it, you have no soul.

1. The Dumb Husky and His White Cat Shizun (2ha/erha) - if you’ve been following my tumblr for more than a hot second, you know my obsession with this novel. Honestly, even if I were to make a list of my top 10 novels of any kind, not just webnovels, this would be on the list. It has everything I want - a complicated, intricate plot with an insane amount of plot twists, all of which are both unexpected and make total sense, a rich and large cast of characters, a truly epic OTP that makes me bawl, emotional intensity that sometimes maxes even me out and so much character nuance and growth. Also, Moran is my favorite web novel character ever, hands down.

Anyway, the plot (or at least the way it first appears) is that the evil emperor of the cultivation world, Taxian Jun, kills himself at 32 and wakes up in the body of his 16 year old self, birth name Moran. Excited to get a redo, Moran wants to save his supposed true love Shimei, whose death the last go-around pushed him towards evil. He also wants to avoid entanglement with Chu Wanning, his shizun and sworn enemy in past life. And that’s all you are best off knowing, trust me. The only hint I am going to give is oooh boy the mother of all unreliable narrators has arrived!

The novel starts light and funny on boil the frog principle - if someone told me I would be full bawling multiple times with this novel, I’d have thought they were insane, but i swear my eyes hurt by the end of it. I started out being amused and/or disliking the mains and by the end I would die for either of them.

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Neptune in aspect with Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Pluto and Chiron

(Read my other posts 1: Neptune aspecting Sun & Moon, 2: Neptune aspecting Mercury & Venus, 3: Neptune aspecting Mars)

It is always difficult to interpret aspects of generational planets to other generational planets because they are such big forces and encompasses such broad complexity that it would take a genius to accurately convey their impact through the Mercurial function; verbal and written communication. The social and collective planets are describing the bigger picture of what is going on a societal and global scale – but they do matter in the personal natal chart because they indicate the overall collective climate that one was born into and will inevitably color the personal life experience. When I refer to “collective tendencies” in describing these aspects I’m therefore also referring to “personal tendencies”.

Neptune in aspect with Jupiter

With the harmonious aspects this would translate into a time of deep collective faith and belief in the transience of the world as well as a faith in the ability to be redeemed through the correct attitude and positive expectations. This is a typical aspect of “follow your heart and your dreams” which is often considered extremely naïve by more “realistic” people. With this aspect forming at a point in time, there’s a greater collective tendency to take chances and put one’s luck in the hands of the universe. This aspect lends itself to big dreams and visions, a freedom to pursue spirituality and let go of inhibitions, to pursue freedom with complete abandon of boundaries, to enjoy culture and contribute to it in order to feel closer to the divine. In case of the hard aspects, belief systems may be dissolving and reconstructed, the future might seem obscure; the erosion of culture and lost sense purpose might cause people to pursue religion or spiritual doctrine more vigorously than ever. People could attempt to escape from it all through distraction and dissociation, to cling to illusions in order to cope, or take to drugs in order to numb the sense of meaninglessness and desperation that permeates the social-societal fabric. The hard aspects could indicate disillusionment and disappointment in religious doctrine, an abandonment of belief and collective spirit. People could feel betrayed and deceived by thought leaders and visionaries leading them astray instead of enriching their lives. In any case, these two planets together combine the yearning for something sacred and transcendent with the symbolic expressions of meaning in culture and social life.

Neptune in aspect with Saturn

With the harmonious aspects this combination of planets, the collective might try to create a system of protection for the less fortunate, to provide a container for the unformed and passive souls that are helpless in the face of existence. It might also lend itself to collective fantasies of the ideal state with an ideal structure. Hard work and duty might be glorified and seen as the height of goodness. There could even be a great sense of bliss in restricting and depriving in order to chip away at a distant goal. It could also mean that there’s romanticizing and mythologizing of authority, a deep need to idealize paternal figureheads and put faith in tradition. This aspect forming at a specific point in time could generate a tendency to expect to be taken care of by society, for the powers that be to provide and coddle its citizens. There could be an expectancy to be redeemed through putting noses to the grindstone and get rewarded in this (or the next) life for doing the right thing, for believing in the system. With the harmonious aspects this might not be such a disastrous preconception to live by but with the harder aspect it becomes another story. With the hard aspects, Neptune-Saturn might express ad deep guilt and regret in not pursuing worldly goals or becoming successful – there could likewise be a sadness of not being receptive enough to have dreams and longings because of too much realism. There might be great defensiveness collectively against chaos as to make people paranoid to not loose control. Counter to what is desired; this fear might cause more disorder and a collapse of defense systems through the very effort of keeping them intact. Saturn has to do with boundaries and Neptune has to do with dissolution, which might indicate collective experiences of trying to keep things in but being unable to. Avoiding the “swamp” whatever form it comes in, would be the dilemma of these people’s lives and for the greater collective at this specific point in time. Escaping responsibility causes guilt and disorder and taking responsibility will cause guilt and disorder, whether it’s mental or physical or both. There’s dysfunction present at both ends. There would possibly be an undermining of authority taking place and simultaneously a stronger defensiveness around authority in order to not fall prey to the temptation of chaos.

Neptune in aspect with Uranus

With the harmonious aspects, this set of planets will combine themselves to create a common experience of looking to the future for redemption. That which is new is idealized and welcomed with open arms – change might seem like an appealing concept. Dreams of a utopian society where every individual is accepted and harmoniously coexisting without the necessity of rigid rules and structure might be prevalent. Faith in humanity and its capacity for genius to solve all its problems might come with this planetary contact. In fact, Neptune is sextile Uranus at this point in time, pointing to a longing for change and the opportunity to create something new that saves humanity from the “dark” past and elevates it to new heights of spiritual and scientific excellence. This is a highly idealistic combo that can produce genius solutions that are in line with the yearnings of the collective. The hard aspects can create tremendous despair and incapacity to pursue progress, without feeling like there’s an abandonment of the potential for redemption. These are the aspects that will sabotage any new endeavor and model in favor of remaining in a state of nebulous undifferentiated potential. New discoveries and insights made during the time of the hard aspects might produce great hurt and disillusionment in the collective. The new discoveries will seem to threaten that which is perceived as pure and sacred, the romantic ideals of humanity will be crushed in favor of breaking free from the limits of the status quo. The collective might polarize into people who want to jump on the band wagon of more advanced thought and the people who can’t abandon the “way things are” because of sentimentality and feeling ties. Either way, with the hard aspects there will be a conflict of the glamorous, timeless and bittersweet and the push to break out of the confines of old society. Neptune often symbolizes the urge to regress or transcend to reach a state of unity; Uranus symbolizes radical rebellion and revolution. With the hard aspects, there’s no way to have both. Uranus is too aggressive and might push people into emotional chaos, Neptune is too receptive and might consume and confuse people as to what is really going on in terms of thought advancement to ever come outside of their current mental framework.

(Buy products with my art) 

Neptune in aspect with Pluto

With the harmonious aspects, the Neptune-Pluto dynamic expresses itself through experience of unity through crisis. This might sound scary, but Pluto is after all representative of destruction and rebirth. With this aspect the collective longing for redemption stimulates the impulse to protect something that is necessary for survival. At this point in time Neptune is sextile Pluto, which makes sense considering the state of the world we’re in at the moment. There’s a sense of a need for survival in order to be able to guarantee a blissful destiny of humanity. The collective feeling tone is certainly categorized by fear and paranoia at this time, but also of greater oneness because the whole world is going through this pandemic. With the Neptune-Pluto sextile there’s a need for drastic measures in order to survive the pressure that is felt. The way to Eden is through the darkness. Pluto is in Capricorn, which suggests the desire to protect and control the structure of society at all costs – hard work and endurance is necessary for survival on a collective level. To ensure integrity of the building blocks of society becomes more important than anything else.

With the hard aspects between these planets, the picture becomes less appealing. The urge to merge and retreat into the world of pre/post existence to find healing and peace inevitably causes chaos and violent destruction. The collective would find that the fear and pressure that is experienced is too much to handle. Taking control and exercising power destroys all the hope of beauty and love in the world. This aspect could indicate a time of heart-breaking vulnerability and a lot of fear and need to escape into a dream of how things could be. People born around the years of 1814-1822 seem to have Neptune square Pluto in their charts if you look it up on astrotheme.com. These people would’ve been born into a collective climate of hopelessness and despair to some extent, of power wielded over the weak. There would’ve been a necessity to surrender to the threat of death, to accept the unacceptable and either give up power or use it at the expense of sensitivity and compassion. Karl Marx is a good example of an individual with the square aspect because it falls across two angular houses, Pluto in the 1st  house of self and Neptune in the 10thhouse of public image. The conflict between Neptune-Pluto is consequently evident in his persona. Publicly he’s known for his ideas about how the ideal society should be run (Neptune conjunct Uranus in the 10th). He argued that class tension and antagonism that developed under capitalism was unsustainable – the ruling classes controlling the means of production and the working class offering their labor in exchange for wages would not work in the long run in his opinion. The working class would eventually develop class-consciousness and conquer political power to establish a classless communist society. In this case, Neptune symbolizes the working class and Pluto the ruling class - in Marx’s experience these were at odds with each other (as reflected in his chart). His opinions certainly came from his inner personal tension of needing to identify as powerful (Pluto 1st house) and to offer a recipe of redemption as a part of his life’s work (Neptune in the 10th). I’m sure he felt powerful in himself, yet despairingly at loss when having to contribute to society. Undoubtedly, he felt like he had to give up his power to serve at the feet of the ruling class, to “give himself up”, like Neptune often nudges us to.

Neptune in aspect with Chiron

The harmonious aspects would translate into a peak experience through suffering, a sense of being touched by the sublime through the unintended infliction of pain, whether it’s physical or psychological. Redemption is inextricably linked with the misfortunes and wounding that can’t be cured with current scientific method. Suffering is somehow a vehicle for finding a sense of unity with the remainder of life, it makes for a transcendent experiences that allows for ecstatic bliss in conjunction with permanent damage and disability. At the point in time of the aspect’s formation there might be an unusual acceptance and romanticizing of disability, even to the point of elevating it to something divine and sacred. Knowledge and methods of healing are pursued as a means of redemption, a means of returning to Eden. Technique and skill to remedy the wounds of the collective are sought with a deeper emotional hunger. Compassion and unconditional love might be seen as the key component to healing. Artistry, creativity, music, drug use, alcohol, meditation, hypnosis and emotional surrender might be sought in the name of healing. There could be an effort to collectively spread as much knowledge and insight as possible in order to cure a little bit of the ignorance that causes so much trouble in society. Living with a permanent wound unites people, it connects the souls of the world in mutual longing to go “home”, to return to oneness. The wound stimulates a longing for fusion, which might express itself through a deep understanding of people’s suffering. Princess Diana is a perfect example of someone with the trine; she saw the universality of suffering and wasn’t hesitant to shower “love” on people with severe sickness or disability. She saw herself in people’s pain.

The hard aspects are more gruesome, as always. Personal wounds conflict with the need for fusion and a sense of oneness with existence. At the specific point in time of this aspect there might’ve been feelings in the collective of being fundamentally flawed and damaged to ever be redeemed and brought into the light of the eternal. There would’ve been great struggle to save people from irretrievable damage, yet the longing itself could cause more damage and additional feelings of insufficiency. There could’ve been a tendency to cover up the wound, numb it out and avoid looking at it in order to have a chance at something beautiful, pure and elevated. However, the escape and dissociation from it would only make it worse. The resistance to hope would potentially make the healing journey difficult. Great sympathy could be present yet it would be frequently cancelled out by stone cold realism. Chiron is the wounded healer archetype. He uses the mind and his practical skills to cope. When he’s in hard aspect with Neptune there’s going to be tension in the face of the possibility of redemption. It might only be an illusion after all, and the dark abyss of disillusionment is nothing to gamble with– consequently people would stick to the difficult but nonetheless, real, experience of pain in front of them. However when the pain of life becomes too much and one succumbs to the sweet escape through drugs, alcohol, food, tv, spiritual practices or any other method, it might backfire terribly and cause total disintegration and victimization. A good example of someone with the square is Oprah Winfrey with Chiron in the 1sthouse and Neptune in the 10th house. She’s widely known as a person of great compassion and insight – on a public level she embodies the role of the redeemer to some extent. Her identity however is that of someone who’s been wounded yet has come to terms with the burden and has learnt to live with it. She’s generally perceived to be very wise, similar to Chiron in myth. However, in her need to heal people she makes it into a show and molds the narrative to her liking or preference sometimes. She’s deeply compassionate, yet she can also expect people to live with the permanent burden of certain pains. Her Neptune draws the public in – promises redemption, but in person, she expects people to be realistic and strip their issues down without glamorizing or mythologizing.

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:O very curious about your fic!!! (Also. Martin fic writers unite…!! 🤝)

it's (ideally) going to be fairly long with an actual plot, which admittedly is kind of new to me. i did write that 22k-word(!!) sniperscout fic but it was mostly just a collection of drabbles tied together by a basic macguffin fetch quest. i'm trying to put some real action into this one while still remembering my strengths and limits!

martin is a VERY fun character to write. i've written a couple other scraps/wips here and there with him and lucien and he's always been an interesting challenge.

i'm fascinated with characters who are skeptics or nihilists in settings like tamriel, where higher powers are very visible and active in mortal affairs. martin has a very clear sense of duty and obligation to the point of self-denial, but it's completely separate from his faith (or lack thereof). a lot of the other characters in tes who are most confident in their actions tie it to a loyalty/fear/hatred for certain divines or daedra, so martin being ultimately self-motivated (doing what's right whether the divines actually care) is really fascinating.

it's super fun to draw on his background as a sanguine cultist and see how he could go from debauched party animal to straight-laced cynic. there's definitely a common thread of valuing the physical over the spiritual that connects those two distinct states. personally i enjoy the idea that he became a priest moreso to atone for his own misdeeds rather than out of any real belief in akatosh. he strikes me as being weighed down and pushed forward by a lot of guilt, regret, and general self-flagellation.

that's why it's ESPECIALLY a joy to write interactions between him and lucien. martin is a skeptic; lucien is completely and utterly devout. martin is humanitarian; lucien is a murderer for hire. martin voluntarily sacrifices his life; lucien is betrayed and martyred. martin is soft-spoken and reserved; lucien has a flair for the dramatic and oozes charisma. funnily enough, they're both very clearly christ-allegories, but they take it in completely opposite directions. i really want this fic to hit as many points of contrast as possible and see where they might find common ground!

here's a little excerpt for your troubles:

[legends-live-in-memories]

Rooftop Rendezvous

watch me ignore my wips challenge!

Timminette Oneshot 1.8K words 

Summary: Red Robin finds the new criminal, Karma, on a roof.

His only response is to make out with her.” contains sexual content

without further ado

She stuck to the shadows, tucked away between two AC units. She made use of her small stature and remained out of sight, hoping her prey would stop by soon. He should any minute now. He was meticulous and methodical such that he became painfully predictable. It led to a fun game of tag though, so she wasn’t complaining too much. Her little tweety bird was so fun to chase.

The sounds of a grappling wire sings through the night’s silence and alerts her to her new rooftop companion. She pushes further back into the shadows, watching the expanses of a black cape flow through the soft wind. Her attention zeroes in on the yellow belts that snugly frame the figure’s chest as he turns to survey the roof. He completely looks past her and faces the skyline again.

“No signs of Karma, but she couldn’t have gotten far.” His voice was sturdy and confident. Assured that he would find her before the night was over. How right he was. “Oracle said she spotted her in the Fashion District. She should still be here.” 

He was about to leave the roof and continue his search. She let him. He wouldn’t get far though. She didn’t want the night to end just yet nor did she want to drag out this little game. Patience wasn’t her best virtue after all. She crouched poised and waited until he leapt off the building heading to the west. Immediately, she sprung from her hidden spot and made a dash across the roof, running in the opposite direction. Loudly. Red Robin’s curse at her sudden appearance was music to her ears. Her delighted cackles rang out into the night as she lunged and landed on the nearest building. She couldn’t hear him behind her, but she knew he wasn’t far behind. He was predictable like that after all. 

She makes it another three blocks before a body is slamming into her. They fall into a roll and she lands above the red vigilante. She’s about to run away to prolong the chase but he has a firm grasp on her forearms and his legs lock into place behind her. Trapping her in the space between his thighs and pressing her weight into him. He reaches behind him and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. She couldn’t resist teasing him; he made it too easy.

“A bit early for kink exploration, wouldn’t you agree, tweety bird?” She peers up at him and flutters her lashes. He ignores her but his pretty pink blush tells her everything she needs to know. He drags them up to stand and pulls her to some overhead pipes belonging to the building’s plumbing system. He links one end of the handcuffs to her wrist and the other to a low hanging pipe. Red Robin tries to back away, about to abandon her but she won’t allow it. She takes her free hand and grabs at one of his belts on his chest. She yanks him until he’s pressed flush against her.

“Don’t ignore me, tweety. That’s rude.” Her tone is light and playful. She smirks at him but he can’t see it behind her mask. Hopefully her intentions are conveyed in her still visible eyes.

“I don’t plan on playing your games, Karma.” He sounds exasperated but his arms haven’t left her hips yet. They wound up there from her earlier aggression and she quite likes the weight of them. They’re steadying and heavy; a daunting pressure. “You’re a criminal and It’s my job to bring you to justice.”

“So what? That means you can’t have a little fun while doing it?” Her knee was slowly edging up the lines along his right leg, her ankle hooking him behind his knee. “Must get boring. The whole performance of being such a dutiful civil servant.”

“We do what we must in the name of the greater good. Something you could try emulating.” He leaned in closer to drive his point but all she did was lean further into the wall and tilt her chin up to look him in the eyes of his mask. His hair curtained his face and darkened his expression. She quite liked the looming appearance of him over her like this.

“Trust me, I know all about acting in the name of the greater good. The good-girl act got tiring after a few years.” She tilted her head further back, stretching out her neck and staring up at the sky. She could still feel his gaze burn into her exposed throat. She adored the attention. It lit a simmering fire under her skin. “Much more rewarding to give into your own self-interests,” she continued. “Something you could try emulating.”

He releases one of his hands to reach up to unclasp her mask, while the other snakes around her waist, eliminating all space between them. His gloved fingers brush against her back, gracing the thin slivers of exposed skin. The texture felt lovely and sparked shivers down her spine. He threw her mask behind him and the clatter of it against the roof went ignored. His hand returned to her chin and gripped her daintily. It was almost sweet. Tender even. Her hand that was still firmly grasping his belt slowly traced up his chest. She pressed firmly at his exposed neck and slid her hand into his hair at his nape, scraping her nails lightly against his scalp and tugged at the strands. His body pushed into her more, wedging his trapped leg further between hers. Someone likes having his hair pulled apparently. Delightful.

His lips parted, caught on an inhale, and he looks like he has something to say. He doesn’t speak though, just hold their position as the seconds ticked by. Her already thin patience was waning and her frustrations shone through.

“What? Waiting on Daddy Bats to give you more orders like a good little soldier?” She made her intentions clear by rolling her hips up into his and pulling more insistently on his hair. He hissed at the stimulation and his hips betrayed his already crumbling facade of professionalism. “Or are you going to finish what you start—”

He cut her off in the best way possible. His lips were forceful and his teeth nipped at her lips but this was exactly what she wanted. His tongue came out to play and she was more than willing to entertain. The kiss was wet and messy and absolutely perfect. The hand around her waist traveled further down her body and grabbed a handful of her ass. He groped further until he reached her thigh and his hand cradling her face reached for the other one. He lifted her so their heads were leveled and her leather clad legs were wrapped snugly around his hips. Her vice-like grip kept him just where she wanted him. The heat that was simmering earlier reached a light broil. She doesn’t remember closing her eyes but she relents her sight to sharpen her other senses. He felt solid and firm against her soft edges. He smelt like fresh aftershave. He tasted divine.

The hand in his hair guided him to her exposed neck. He lavished at the expanses of skin and went to work painting a mural of pink and red bruises. She was particularly tender at one spot, just below her jaw and she hissed at his sharp bites and kittenish licks.

“Just like that. Oh, fuck,” she had no control over what she was saying, her body giving into the ministrations. Her tweety bird hummed in response and it sent a sweet tingle down her body, curling her toes in response. He used his hold on her thighs to pull her hips into his, setting a controlled grind, slow and sensual. She was completely at his mercy. When he grew tired of sucking a dark bruise into her neck he travelled further down to the curves of her bust. She arched into his lips, body asking for more pressure. The hand in his hair tightened and pulled him to pay attention to her other side. That’s how they were, getting acquainted with each other. 

Her free hand left the back of his head and went to join her cuffed one. She slid the pick she kept up her sleeve out and fiddled with the lock, quietly. She paused every now and again to focus on the worship of kisses being left on her chest. He moved back up to her lips, leaving a trail of soft pecks on her overheating skin. She whimpers at the gentleness and he chuckles at her. He’s all too pleased with himself for her liking. She bites at his lip and soothes it with a soft swipe of her tongue. She presses her oversensitive chest into his, keeping his attention just where she wants it. Their hips haven’t stopped and the pleasure is blindingly distracting. He pants and moans into their kiss and she responds in kind. The heat has turned into flames under her skin and she could get addicted to this. She feels strung up like a live wire but it’s not enough. Her partner shares her sentiments, evident by the whispered babbles of ‘more’ and ‘so good’ punctuating the caresses of his kisses.

His hands roam around her body, one going down to her knee, the other up her back and this changes the angle in which they fit together. It’s exactly what was needed to bring that extra edge to their rooftop tryst. The pleasure is blinding and she feels every muscle tense as she’s brought to the long awaited precipice. Her tweety bird is throwing his head back, breaking their kiss, and their rhythm stutters as he convulses against her. His sighs of ecstasy flow into the night air as they come down from their highs together. 

He rests his head on her shoulder, chest heaving and limbs weak. She slowly extracts herself from his hold to stand on unsteady legs. Her breathing evens out and slows to match his own, sharing each other’s oxygen in their own secluded bubble. With both arms free she reaches up to caress the slight stubble on his jaw, committing his structure to memory. The silence is peaceful and she creeps around him to go for her discarded mask. Behind her, Red Robin braces against the wall, staring up at the night sky. He makes no move to accost her so she takes this as her cue to leave.

“We should do this again sometime,” her voice is touched with a hint of exhaustion, raw with emotion. She doesn’t look back at him. “You’re quite something, tweety bird.”

She doesn’t wait for a response but as she leaps across to the next building she hears his following remarks echo into the night.

“Negative, Batman. She got away. Maybe next time.”

Next time indeed, Red Robin.

[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

Up In the Air (Joe x Reader)

(surprise gift for you guys on Joe's birthday ^_^ I started this almost exactly a year ago, and it's finally done! Someone pointed out that I slightly hinted at the plot of this in my last fic post... you caught me.)

Words: 4,028

Prompt: Spring, 1983. Joe has an opportunity in his sights, but as luck would have it, it does not go his way (or does it...?)

-----

(1983)

"God, it was so embarrassing!" Joe put his palms over his eyes as he whined to Sav. The singer was flat on his back in the middle of their bed, and Sav's back was against the wall opposite him. The bassist had his arms crossed in exasperation.

They were back in a fresh, new hotel room after another flight to another city. They'd been settled in for a while, and- as far as you knew- Joe was physically well. Emotionally, however...

"What are the odds that things were placed so perfectly for me today, and then-?!" he swatted the air above him, "That happens? 'Just my luck!"

Sav didn't consider it as dire of a situation as Joe did. In fact, he seemed rather entertained than sympathetic.

"That was out of your control, mate."

"I know it was, but-" he sat up, "Y/n was right there! How was I supposed to keep it together?!"

"If it were anyone else other than her, you still would've had to keep it together, you know," Sav tilted his head down, but had his eyes looking up.

"Well, you're no help," Joe grumbled, crossing his arms back at the bassist and flopping back down onto the mattress.

"There's nothing to help you with!" Sav took a seat at the foot of the bed, "It's not my fault you got-"

Joe sat up again in a snap, warning with a pointed finger, "Don't say it."

"I was just gonna say that I had nothing to do with you being-"

"Don't say it!" Joe pleaded again.

"Joe, it's not that big of a deal that you-"

"Sav!"

"Alright, fine!" Sav threw up both hands, shaking his head and narrowly fighting off a laugh, "I won't say it!"

A loud sigh came from Joe, his head hanging now. The heat of embarrassment refused to leave his face.

"...do you think she's still hung up on it, too?" his voice went quiet, and his tone adopted a sad air.

Sav raised his hand, rubbed his fingers together, and patted Joe's ankle reassuringly.

"It's hard to say no," he admitted, "I know I wouldn't have liked to be in either of your shoes today."

~(5 hours earlier)~

A hand took a grip on your right forearm without warning. It snapped you from the hypnotic, musical trance you'd been in for most of the flight. Having been placed next to the singer for the first time on an airplane, you knew it was his action without a doubt. You looked down and sure enough, Joe's hand was there- holding onto you just a bit too tightly.

Your free hand took off your headphones and you asked him, "Everything alright?"

The singer wasn't focused on you, or anything, it seemed. "Unfocused" was probably the best word you could think of to describe him. His head was slightly tilted downwards, but his eyes were fixed on the back of the chair in front of him. Despite that, it appeared as if he couldn't see it no matter how hard he tried.

You gathered this impression from a split second of looking at him, but as soon as he heard your question, Joe's hold on you was instantly released. His own trance was snapped as well.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. I thought you were the armrest..."

"You were holding on pretty tight," you pointed out, "Something wrong?"

That same look on his face was back again; unfocused. His hand slowly found its way back to the armrest- now that he knew it wasn't your arm. You saw his hand shaking before he gripped it tightly.

"You don't look so good," you noted, adopting a frown.

He hesitated slightly before going very quiet, his face suddenly appearing pallid.

"Fuck..." Joe cursed himself, "I fucked up, I fucked up..."

You pressed again, "Joe... tell me what's wrong..."

He lied to you in a halting voice when a new blush seemed to form on his face, "Um... it's nothing much. There's just- something I haven't told you, and I should've mentioned it before we got on board. But I..."

He fell quiet.

"Yeah...?" you urged him to go on.

"I get... seasick- airsick... sometimes. Not every time, but... every now and then I do- and..."

He visibly swallowed, his breath trembling when he slowly shut his eyes.

Your eyebrows went up, alarmed, "And you're not feeling so good?"

"No, no, no...!" his inner voice screamed.

"Not really, but I'm fine, don't worry about me. It just happens."

His efforts to shrink the overall worry didn't work, as you instantly knew that if things went south, you were the only nearby acquaintance of his who could help him. You were also trapped with him for 2 more hours until you landed, so you would've had to help him if need be.

"Oh god- are you gonna be sick?" your hand raised up slightly to reach for a sick bag.

"No! No, I'm more dizzy than anything..."

"Well, take this-" you handed him a sick bag, "-and just try not to focus on your surroundings. And if you can't hold it down... well just keep it in the bag and away from me, okay?"

"...okay," he exhaled and took it from you, desperately hoping it wouldn't come to that. For fuck's sake, he was already embarrassed enough. He felt like a child. Even worse; he felt like your child.

Joe shut his eyes again and rested his head back on his seat. His whole body looked drained of energy, and you saw sweat forming on his forehead. It was obvious to you he was trying to make himself appear more okay than he was.

"I can do this," Joe nearly said aloud, "I can get through this without her knowing."

Unfortunately, for him, you already knew.

"The poor guy," you were thinking with sympathy, "Never knew he could look so ill."

You asked, "You've been feeling bad for a while, haven't you?"

"...what?" he squinted under his eyelids, lying to you again, "No, not really. Why, can you tell?"

"I don't wanna sound rude... but yeah, you kind of look like hell."

Joe quietly whined at your declaration.

"I know that look, Elliott- I've been in this position before."

The man next to you was intrigued by what you implied. He was suddenly beginning to think that maybe his situation wasn't as embarrassing as it appeared.

His eyes opened, "Wait, have you ever-?"

"Oh- no, I never get sick on planes, but you're not the first case I've ever seen."

"Great. This means she's stronger than me."

You held up your bottle, "You want some water? Maybe settle your stomach a little?"

Joe felt his stomach turn at the mention of liquid and shook his head, "No, I'll be fine..."

It was another lie, but you decided maybe it was best you just let him be. Perhaps he wasn't that bad.

Joe, on the other hand, was fighting the sickness with all the strength he could muster- hoping you wouldn't see it.

"Don't mess this up," he was telling himself, "She's right there. Keep it together and don't balls it up...!"

Going with your plan, you let him be, and put your headphones back on.

He took a deep breath, "Fuck, if only the seatbelt lock wasn't on... then at least I could hide in the bathroom..."

The Leppard waited in terrified silence for his ailment to subside. With the current turbulence, it was impossible. Every shudder and bump made him want to heave until there was nothing left in his stomach. Worst of all, there was no where he could run to; he was trapped.

Oddly enough, before the sickness hit him, he was actually excited to be trapped there.

It was no secret among the band members that Joe quickly developed a crush on you. What started out as a feeling of preferring you over anyone else in the crew soon turned into a reach for romance. There was no time for him to make a move in the midst of the tour, though, which left him to suffer in his teenage desire alone.

When he heard he would be seated next to you on the next flight, he instantly knew it was an opportunity he couldn't afford to waste. This was the first time he'd sat directly by you on a plane, after all. It was a brilliant time to make a move and bond together. He'd been nervous ever since he sat down, but he never got the chance to make a flirt or decent conversation before his body betrayed him. Yes, it was an optimistic opportunity, but now Joe wished it'd been anywhere except up in the air.

The stress of the situation only made him feel worse- but he wouldn't accept the fact that he was about to lose this divine opening.

Not 4 minutes of your music went by when the plane shook yet again. When it did, you thought you saw Joe suddenly move from the corner of your eye. When your head turned, you saw his fist pressed against his mouth, an arm around his stomach, and a green tint over his pallid face.

"Woah, you alright?" you took your headphones off again.

Joe only nodded, closing his eyes to reassure you (but also to reprimand himself under the surface).

"No, no no!! Stop being sick for fuck's sake! You won't have a chance with her!!"

"I'm good, I'm good," he swallowed again, wiping sweat off his bangs, "Go back to your music."

"Don't lie to me, Joe. You look terrible-! Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"I'm really not that bad, Y/n. Just a little... motion sickness..." his breathing became labored, and he angled his body as far to his right as he could. He began to fidget with something as he swallowed, "Ohh..."

The cabin teetering around him somehow made things even worse.

"Honey, I don't think it's just a little," your concern was peaked, and a hand was hovering over his arm, "You look like you're about to throw up or pass out, so how about we get you some club soda and you can rest, okay? If you want to, you can even-"

Joe was turned completely away from you, and had suddenly lurched forward to vomit into the sick bag you'd given him earlier. You knew that any hope of him holding back his condition was impossible now.

You'd initially flinched at his retching; cringing and holding your breath. Only a second passed until you remembered your duty; you were the only friend nearby.

"Uh oh-" sympathetically, you sighed and reached out to him, your hands holding his hair back, "That's not good..."

***

"I feel so humiliated... I was just- so deathly sick! I threw up twice, Sav- twice! And she was right next to me! I feel awful that she had to put up with it...! I feel like that's on me. She probably thinks I'm disgusting; she probably sees me as this huge fucking pansy who can't keep his lunch down while flying..."

"Mate, getting sick on flights isn't a personality trait, and I'm pretty sure Y/N knows that, too."

Joe, who was laying down again, scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"...I think this situation isn't all that bad, really," Sav shrugged, his voice going up in pitch to take on a suggestive tone.

"What on earth makes you say that?"

"It's quite obvious! I just think you were-" he adopted Joe's voice and air quotes, "-'so deathly sick' that you didn't even realize exactly what was happening...!"

"Really? How so?"

"Oh, don't even get me started, Joe."

*** Joe was laying against you now, exhausted from the physical labor forced on his stomach and throat. He was still pale and shivering, but finally willing to accept your advice and remedies. You'd ordered him some club soda (and some mints from your purse), and suggested he take a rest.

This left you where you were now. He had a hand on his stomach, and another one under your hand to calm him.

To say the least, it felt like having a nice, heavy blanket partially draped on you. You couldn't help but think it was at least a little funny. To most people, they'd be absolutely repulsed by a man with a weak stomach sleeping on them during a flight. You couldn't blame them, as Joe could still hurl at any given moment. However, the instinct to care for him overpowered any repulsion you may have had. To you, Joe was like a sick puppy, and you were the one who found him first. You knew he needed you in that moment, and you were okay with it. It was a nice feeling, to say the least.

Joe moved his head against you in his weary and mostly-asleep state of consciousness. A soft grumble vibrated from his sore throat.

Amid those circumstances that would normally gross you out, you managed to smile at him. That, and you gently squeezed his hand to reassure him that he was safe.

That pale, clammy version of the singer you were trapped with wasn't the form of himself he put on display to just anyone. This was a whole new side of him that you knew he never intended you to see; he was helpless. Joe had given in and finally let himself be helpless around you. You found it was rather sweet, and even somehow softening your heart.

It almost felt like a strange honor that not many people had the privilege of possessing, given that Joe tried so hard to hide it from you.

Him desperately vying to avoid your concern was typical for any one of the guys. Naturally, none of them wanted to appear vulnerable around you, but Joe seemed so hell-bent on keeping up his charade of feeling fine. You wondered what reasons he had for his strict act. Perhaps it was the intimate public setting that drove him to conceal his motion sickness at all costs. Maybe it was in order to save himself from certain embarrassment; you really didn't know.

Whatever reason he had, it didn't dwell in your mind for long. All you knew was that even with a half-dead, cold-sweated Joe on your shoulder, your heart was fluttering in a way that was even more inexplicable than his behavior.

*** "First of all," Sav held up a sassy finger at Joe, "She was the one who suggested she hold your hand, plus she held your hair back, plus she let you sleep on her shoulder and tried to make you feel better. Sounds rather tender, if you ask me. Tenderly intimate."

"I'll tell you what was 'intimate'-" Joe's grumpiness was still prominent, "-her watchin' me regurgitate my fuckin guts from 10 inches away!"

"But those were all girlfriend duties!" Sav bounced in his seat, trying to get the point across.

Joe finally fell silent. He sat up, and Sav could see the blush in his cheeks.

"...girlfriend duties?" he nearly whispered to the bassist.

"I'm right and you know it. Tell me those weren't girlfriend-ly actions! She got affectionate with you!"

Joe let his sight fall, then rise back up after a brief moment of pondering.

"She did, didn't she..."

"She definitely did."

Sav was smirking at him now.

Joe asked him again, "You really think she did...?"

"There's not a doubt in my mind."

"Oh-" Joe made a swatting motion and shook his head. He looked diagonally down at the floor, "She probably would've been affectionate to any one of us in that situation..."

Sav laughed out loud at his friend's comment. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he was back at home, gossiping in Joe's childhood bedroom during a sleepover.

"Mate, when I had food poisoning last month, she didn't wanna get near me! But today, she was touchin' you and strokin' you and whatnot! Now that I mention it, I saw her smile while you were sleeping and holding her hand! Believe me, she wanted to help you. It was like she had an excuse to get close to you, just like you saw the flight as an excuse to get close to her."

Resting his case, Sav crossed his arms, tongue in his cheek.

They both remained quiet while Joe sat in thought. The pieces slowly began to fit together in his head, forming a train of thought he could somewhat follow.

"Suppose you are right; what do you suppose I do about it now?"

Sav could tell his argument was a success. His work there was done.

"That's entirely up to you."

*** You hadn't been awake that long, and were still pretty groggy when dawn began to break the next day. The unfortunate sensation of jet lag was beginning to catch up with you at that time, too. It didn't matter, because it was all part of the business. Your day would begin soon enough, jet lag or not.

After rubbing your eyes and throwing on your robe, you drew back the curtains and peered out at the misty morning. Thinking the hypnotic trance might wake you up more, you began to stare. Just as quickly, your eyes began to flutter shut again. Right before they did, however, there came a gentle knock at your door.

Blinking yourself back awake, you brought yourself to answer the call.

Initially, you found no one outside your room via the door's peephole. However, when you opened the door to search for anyone nearby, there came an unexpected surprise.

Rather than a person standing before you, a colorful bouquet of flowers lay on your doorstep. Of course, it was strange, but it also left you quickly growing bashful. You just hoped it wasn't one of your guy friends playing an early morning joke on you. Even so, your mind would be too cloudy to process that.

Looking around with sleepy confusion and flattery, you crouched down and picked up the bright bundle. You shuffled your fingers through the top of the arrangement to try and find a label or card that would give away the sender's identity. Eventually, you found the exact clue you were looking for; in the form of a small note.

The fresh, awakening scent of the blossoms wafted around you as you made out the handwriting.

"I'm so sorry I almost threw up on you on the plane! 🙁 -Joe"

It couldn't have been any more straightforward if it'd been put up on a neon sign. You chuckled out loud in the empty hallway and peered around to find a trace of the man in question.

Instantly, you found his eyes peeking from around the corner a few yards away. A guilty smile on his lips made him look so shy- in contrast to his average demeanor.

"This was really unnecessary, you know," the bundle was waved teasingly at him.

"I felt it was necessary," Joe's body slowly appeared more from behind the corner, "Considering you had no choice but to put up with disgusting ol' me."

Leaning on your door's frame, your eyes followed him while he strolled forward and leaned his shoulder on the wall in front of you. You both wore humorous smiles aimed at each other. If you could think any more clearly, you'd recognize this as flirting. Maybe it was- but it seemed oddly natural in that moment.

"Despite what you may think," your eyebrows lifted as you raised the bouquet up to your chin, "You weren't as gross as you expect. That, and you weren't any trouble."

"I just feel icky about the whole thing," he scrunched up his face and shrugged in disgust, "I promise it won't happen again- if I'm seated next to you."

"Don't worry about it, Joe. You just had a bad flight; everyone's got them from time to time."

"Not you, apparently."

Joe's smile turned rather bashful when he diverted his eye contact elsewhere. He silently chuckled with a hint of embarrassment. When you'd reassured him, he all of a sudden realized what Sav was trying to make him see. There was something in your eyes and your smile and your voice that just spoke to Joe; something that hit him and made him realize you wanted to be in the position you were in the day before.

You wanted to be affectionate with him.

Out of his daze, Joe spoke up after a brief hesitation, "So- um, I know it's early... but it's the perfect time for breakfast, so would you wanna go downstairs and get something to eat?"

"You mean with disgusting ol' you?"

"Don't worry-" his face almost went red at the cheeks, and his dimple appeared at the corner of his mouth, "You don't have to think about me keeping it down this time."

Your arm holding the flowers dropped down to your side as you broke up into giggles.

"I'm not worried- in fact, I'd love to go."

You couldn't be certain, but you swore you saw Joe's face actually go red that time.

"Cool! Cool. Did you wanna get dressed or-?"

"Well, you don't seem to be dressed either, so why should I?" you reached back into your room to place the bouquet inside. When you shut the door, you joined the singer, "Let's hit it before Mike and Mal take all the good pastries."

Joe showed his teeth in his grin when you came to his side and began walking.

"If they're all taken, I'll steal one for you- considering I owe you a favor after what you did for me yesterday."

"What did I do?"

The answer was simple, but Joe didn't know how to say it without implying his feelings for you.

"You nursed me back to heath- or at least tried to..."

"I told you not to worry about it..."

"Alright, alright, I'll try not to."

"I'll tell you something, Elliott," you giggled as you both got inside the lift, "You've got a strange way of flirting."

Heat rushed to Joe's cheeks, and more threatened to join them at the thought of you noticing.

"Oh yeah?" he laughed.

"You hope I won't notice every tiny effort, yet you keep doing tiny things to make me notice. Even if we're, for example- up in the air..."

"Oh, god..." just like that, Joe thought he'd be the first person on earth to die of embarrassment. He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Fuck- please don't tell me I was that obvious..."

"Calm down, don't make yourself sick again," you laughed and patted his back, "If it makes you feel any better... I did notice what you were trying to do on the flight. And- um... it worked. So..."

You stood on your toes, and lightly planted a kiss on his cheek, "Let's just say- you don't have to be sick if you want to hold my hand next time."

Joe's hand lowered from his face, and he quickly flashed a bashful glance at you before darting his eyes away.

The elevator doors opened, the smell of coffee seeping everywhere. Instead of walking out, Joe reached out to you.

"You said I didn't have to be sick next time, and I'm quite well now..."

A bashful smile of your own made an appearance as you took his hand like you did the previous day. When you did, Joe giggled to himself.

You glanced over, "What?"

With a pause, Joe rolled in his lips, then looked right at you, "Oh nothing. Just- if you get sick on the next flight, I guess we'll be even, then."

"So, you're gonna sit with me on the next flight, then?" you raised an eyebrow.

"If it means getting even with you, then yes."

"And if it doesn't mean getting even with me?"

"Well," Joe said, smiling widely, "Then the answer is still yes."

That answer was more than enough for you.

Strolling out together, hand-in-hand, you and Joe made your way towards the breakfast counter. In the corner of your vision, you noticed him snagging a pastry off of Mike and Mal's table when he passed by.

The end

[noirbriar]

FFXV AU: The Lion, the Coeurl and the Cub (5)

FFXV Drabble/ ficlet dump (AU)

I kinda feel bad taking up the tags. The more i post the more i feel like yeeting myself.

Their resolve is tested. And the conclusion to Etro’s Trial as someone heals.

PART 1   PART 2  PART 3   PART 4 (possible crossover of FF lores ahead in this AU.OOC-ness and plotholes  are all on me.Do I know what I’m doing?NOPE.)

- If there is one thing Noctis is fed up with is stupid gods.His entire life was damned by a rock while he watch his father become weaker because of ‘duty’ and war.He had to see Luna hurt herself to let him fulfil a prophecy of his death because a damn lizard said so.Now? Now he is looking at his friend getting damned into one as well.

- Nyx was the first one to be livid after finishing the revelations, throwing them down, swearing a storm in galah as he pulls out his kukris, about to pull down the temple to bring Prompto back from whatever trial Etro is putting him through. Luna is horrified before she pulls out her new pole arm,following close behind.All seems straightforward enough if not for the coeurls that have turned aggressive and poised to attack.Nyx doesn’t care and Cor both are ready to simply plough through them until a shadow drops down and casts multiple thundaga spells, throwing them back as ozone fills the air, destroying the ancient tomes, before effectively blocking their way.

-The white coeurls are already huge. But this one Noctis had to admit, takes the cake.This can’t be a coeurl. This is almost the size of a damn behemoth.The creature’s whiskers flicking with magic, Noctis recognises the beginnings of the Death spell anywhere as does the rest.The horns grand and curling like a crown.This is not a normal Galahd coeurl.

-“You will not interfere with the Farseer’s Trial.”

-Yuuup,not a coeurl. Noctis readies his sword as his father restrains him. Noctis is not sacrificing anymore lives for the divine or higher being.His friend that saw him as Noctis and not the Prince,always standing by him despite what others have said about him being a niflheim refugee and with the galahd braids. Even despite the troubles of him being a prince, he never left.And unexpectedly, is also the one that ended their family’s dependancy on a stolen rock, no, he’s not leaving till he has Prom safe.

-Nyx is furious as he snarls at the coeurl in defiance, eyes rimmed red as he challenges the Great Coeurl in his mother tongue. Even without understanding the language, it is clear he is making his stand known.He will pass and have his son regardless. (He unknowingly had brought his son to his homeland to die and he is beyond terrified, his hands with his kukris are shaking.)

-Noctis then quietly steals a glance at his father.He knew Regis too, had tried to find a way around his fate as Chosen King but in the end…he was still powerless against fate.So he instead gave the best to Noctis within his capabilities. As King, as a father. Maybe after all this mess, they can spend some time together again...(No he still violently refuses to send a luncheon invite to his many times Great-Grand Uncle whom he was suppose to fight to the death with, that can of worms will not be opened till later. Also why is he casually standing there??)

-(“Foolish whelp.you will fight the old beliefs and traditions of your tribe,The last Keepers of Etro’s ways to save a child meant for the Goddess?”

“A mother coeurl will not send her cubs to die.I will fight a belief that sends my son to his death!”

“Then you will perish in going against the ways of your forebears.” The Death infused whiskers strikes in warning barely an inch away from them.That was a clear threat.

“Fuck this! I have raised that boy by my hands and I will be damned if I can’t protect my family again. Following a faith blindly…sending our own brothers and blood and betraying their love was what got us all in this mess! And this ridiculousness is not what should be upheld by our people. I refuse to acknowledge this! Now.Move.” )

-All else aside, they had to try.With or without magic.They survived Gralea without their powers too.He refuses to his friend up the chopping block for a stupid trial that he need not take for their sake. He knows Prom,too good and willing if it meant he can save the ones he loves.He will drag that silly chocobo back if its the last thing he does.

-Theres a standstill, as the Great Coeurl’s eyes (like Etro’s..?Huh.) meets each of their’s, one by one, almost digging into their souls, searching.After a long while, takes a step back, the magic in her whiskers fading, and judges.

- “We see your resolve.You forge your own path even without the divine. Etro will be pleased to know her children will be strong for what awaits beyond here. Remember the resolve that you have shown here. Fight your fate! And win. Coeurl-Kin…You do your people proud. ”

- She purrs, almost sounding like laughter as she leaps back and fades away in a burst of crystallised lights.The rest of the coeurls, not knowing when, had long vanished.

-“Prompto!” Ignis is the first to gather his wits and charges forward but the door opens and out comes Prompto, eyes back to normal, with colour back in his skin, healthier and back to his usual self. He jumps back at the sudden appearance of the adviser in his face, almost confused.

”Heya Iggy!Wha-?” 

“Check him for marks! She marks them!”

”Huh??Noct-what-You guys why are you trying to strip me!!My dads are right there!?The King is there!Luna!!”

- Luna strides over in all her fierce grace and hugs Prompto, sobbing.The tears she have held back for since the start of this mess finally leaving her.(“Please Prompto, no senseless sacrifice, you hear?””I’m not-I-Luna really!See!I’m fine! No biggie.””Prom…You are terrible at comforting.”) The group huddles Prompto, they can’t take so much madness in such short time.

-Cor and Nyx comes over and the group quickly parts as Nyx crushes Prompto in a crushing hug.Nyx muttering words of thanks in Galah softly against his boy’s hair as Cor holds his family together. While he gives his son a careful once over, wary, before bumping foreheads in their quiet greeting, Just making sure and feeling each other’s presence.(Although Noctis does not doubt that Cor has reserved a lecture for later probably.Likely.)

-“Well he is still in one piece!” The groups tsks at the ancient King.

-“There’s no dying, I swear I’m okay! Listen, um, we just, talked about things and so Etro can help us, but needs her remaining power that have scattered across Eos and finding all her powers is definitely impossible…The only one place that we may find most of it is that creepy weird tower.””...Costlemark?””Mmhm, That tower was actually hers? But the Astrals got Solheim to build over after they tore most of it down…”He tells after all the excitement.Before turning to Noctis.

-“Heya Noct, also, um, think I can have the Ring?”Prompto turns and holds out his palm, almost seeking permission.”Huh?But its pretty broken now though-“ Noctis hands him the now defunct Ring, trusting but confused.Prompto holds it in his grasp, bringing the last solid piece of the Crystal to his lips quietly in reverence. And breathes. Only by hearing closely, Noctis hears it as he watches the Ring of Lucii dissolves into crystalline light into Prompto.

-“Come forth.Kings of Lucis.”

- As twilight falls, the stone lamps come to life and the Kings answers the call. The souls of his forebears surround them as light dances around, Etro’s magic rising. Prompto turns and in the voice of his friend, echoing power of Etro as his eyes glow, he bequeaths the magic of the past rulers of yore to the Kings. The past(Ardyn),The present(Regis) and the future(Noctis) of the Lucis Caelum. It is their birthright hence, they are returned to the rightful ones.

-(“This was what was stolen from you, will you still accept it, Ardyn Lucis Caelum?And before you make your choice…will you first hear the words of a dead man?”Prompto gestures and The Mystic, the founder king steps forward.And suddenly Ardyn comes face to face with a forgotten face from his past. Somnus.)

-Noctis really just wants all these awkward family reunions to stop.

-Ardyn is pissed and hurt, Somnus regretful and apologetic, all these past hatred and sorrow, finally began to untangle.And in the end, it was Ardyn who reaches out and accept’s his brother’s blade, accepting the armiger blessed by Etro.

-Prompto also deeply apologises to Luna, he can’t give her Oracle powers back because they are Bahamut’s ‘blessing’.Unlike the souls of the dead, he is unable to help. Luna doesn’t mind, she has accepted and rather prefer it this way. However Prompto assures her, if necessary, Shiva and her messengers will at least answer her call as they rightfully have gained their individual covenants.(“The weak must obey the strong.This is the inviolable law they must follow.”Noctis suddenly isn’t certain if that was truly Prompto or Etro...)

-The ceremony ends and Kings fade away with a bow as the light of Her Eyes dims. Prompto beams at Noctis, so proud!(“Did I do good Noct?””Fuck.” Decorum be damned, he hugs Prompto tightly and pulls away reluctantly.With an encouraging nudge, Noctis flexes his palm and the Armiger materialises, followed by Regis and Ardyn. Nyx summons a fire spell in his palm and does a warp while the rest tries to access the magic as well.

-(“I’m so sorry, this is all I got for now, I know its not as powerful as you had before with the actual Crystal but for now I can’t-“Noctis dives and knocks the blond over, buries his head into Prompto’s neck.”Prom.Shut up.And-Thank you-This-You are so good,Prom.Thank you-”)

-They leave the shrine, letting Prompto rest more once they arrive back into civilisation.Running high on hope, they aim to try and gather Etro’s last remaining powers before the confrontation with Bahamut. They really are running against time now.

-(“Out of curiosity, humour me for a moment, Ulric? We have a long trek afterall.”“Yes, your Majesty?””How the Galahdians look to you earlier, even the Ruling Leaders...Why is that?”The new Captain of the Kingsglaive pauses, he knows he is walking on thin ice here as he feels Cor’s gaze on him. “Oh, all Ulrics are still considered Old Blood, their words still carry weight among our most of our people besides spiritual leaders.That’s why everyone in Little Galahd knows Nyx.”Libertus quips without a thought. “So you mean to say The crown could have had a solution here and mediated with unhappy Galahdians years ago and resolved it?” The key clicks in Clarus’s head. “...Technically-”

“Technically, Libs, I’m gonna give you a 2 minutes head start. Get running or start warping.”)

-Although in the chaos, no one actually realised, Prompto never once actually mentioned what was his Trial. And discreetly, he peeks down at his wrist.If he blinks, that eerie eye mark warps back into that cold, lifeless barcode. ---.-

PART 6

[i-write-boop-spoops]

Widower! Steven Stone headcnons

Ooh my first angst request! The moment I saw this my creative juices started flowing and I had to write it asap. I love fluff, but this idea was just delicious. I adore how this blog is positive, but sometimes you really gotta rip someone’s heart out y’know?

Features death, mourning and general angst. There is zero happiness here. You have been warned. Also this is intended for a f!reader.

I usually say enjoy, but I don’t think that’s applicable to this, so suffer, I guess.

Steven really thought he had the perfect life

Or the closest thing to it

Three adorable children

A job and hobbies he loved

More wealth than he knew what to do with

And you

His beautiful wife, whom he loved beyond words and reason

You were taken away from him so suddenly

He had no idea that when he kissed you goodbye that morning, that would be the last time he ever interacted with you

Or felt your lips

Or heard your voice

Or held your warm hands in his

He doesn’t remember much about that day

Just the vague, fuzzy memory of a phone call

And collapsing by your side, crying so hard he could barely breathe

As you lay there, peaceful and lifeless

He was too distraught to tell your children himself

His father took on the terrible duty of letting them know

Doing so in a warm and careful way, like he always was with them

Your eldest was eleven at the time

Your middle just after turning nine

Your youngest only seven

While they still couldn’t quite fathom what had happened, they all burst into tears

Steven found it so difficult to face them

They all had aspects of you in their personality and appearance

Your daughter especially

But he knew from his own experience of losing his mother, how important it was for him to be there for them

When he was able, he gathered them up in his arms and held them tight

And told them that everything was going to be okay

Even if he didn’t believe that one bit

They all then cried together

He wrote something to say at your funeral

But as he was up there at the microphone

He got so choked up that he couldn’t finish his piece

Wallace took over the duty of saying his speech

If there were any dry eyes left, there were none for after that

You had said in the past, that you would like to be cremated

And have your ashes spread by the sea in Mossdeep

Steven and your children took a quarter each

Throwing what remained of you into the foaming waves

Which then carried you out into the ocean

Maybe he shouldn’t have, but he secretly kept some of your ashes

and had them made into a diamond

He replaced the man gem in his wedding ring with said diamond

So you would be with him always

In a form so perfect and strong, you could never be broken again

For weeks after your death, he barely slept, are or drank

He rarely shaved or showered either, leaving him rather scruffy and unkempt

He still looked after your children with the upmost love and care

But his lack of self maintenance was starting to take a toll

It took an intervention by Wallace for him to finally get back to looking after himself

And to get back out in the world

Not to date or anything, but to socialise, work and participate in hobbies

Steven found it impossible to ever sleep in your marital bed again

But he did not have the heart to get rid of it

He slept on the couch first, but eventually moved to the guest room

One night, a few months after your passing, he dreamt of you

It felt so real

You were curled up next to him

Breathing softly as you slept

He leaned in and kissed your forehead

Your eyes opened and you smiled at him

Wishing him a good morning

When he woke up, he sprinted around the dark, quiet house

Calling for you

It really frightened the children

Joseph had stayed over that night

He had started to do that often to help out

He was the one who told Steven to stop, and that you wouldn’t come back

He knew deep down his father was right, but the truth still hurt

Your daughter encouraged him to start dating again, seven or so years after your death

She said that it was okay for him to do so, and that it wouldn’t be disrespectful

And if he did fall in love, his new girlfriend would not replace their mom, would be welcomed

She just wanted him to be happy and smile like he used to

He tried, he really did

Most of the women who were into him were far younger than him

Which made him very uncomfortable

He was in his late forties/early fifties at the time

Eventually he found someone around his age and they went out for dinner

He didn’t even make it to the main course before he had to leave

Not only was he not over your passing yet

He felt like he was betraying you

That was the last date he ever went on

He resigned himself to be single for the rest of his life

And he kept to that

It was safe to say that Steven was never able to be as happy as he was when you were alive

Your death seemed like a case of history repeating itself

First his father losing his mother

Then him losing you

He prays to whatever divine being might listen that it stops there

There are few pains worse than losing the love of your life

And he would not like your children to go through that either

[the-fae-folk]

How to Build a World?

Some time ago, I answered a writing question as Quoth the Raven that dealt with how to go about Worldbuilding for your story (Found Here). I’ve now rewritten the piece because I was struck with inspiration for a much more poetic form. I rather like it this way... ______________________________________________________________ Every story has to start somewhere. Some start with an endless void, a dark abyss where spirits drift over the waters, an egg which has not yet hatched to reveal the universe contained within. But in my opinion the best beginnings are found on a blank page.

Sing an ode to the whiteness of a screen, to the sterile form of an unfilled notebook amidst a pile of notebooks you keep buying but never write in. I call upon thee, oh Muses, let the divine speak into the shadows and let there be light. Fountains may spring up from the deeps and the oceans pay homage to the moon above. I am but a humble supplicant to the gods of paper and ink, where multiverses of verse and prose are crafted from words alone.

A world must be made through the number seven. Seven days, seven dwarfs, seven epochs, seven sins, seven virtues, seven founding principles of building a world.

The First is of Magic. All worlds begin with magic in a way. You can call it by any name you desire; Nature, physics, deity. First a word is spoken, a rule, a way of being. Whether the universe is filled with blinding empty light and shaded to sight by suns of shadow and fires that burn black enough to repel the light of night, or if the endless skies are oceans where planets drift in bubbles of air and stars keep the endless ice of the galactic abyss at bay with their warmth.

It is a question of how your world works, a list of rules that cannot be broken by even you as the rest of the pieces fall into place. A willing suspension of disbelief is a fragile thing. If it breaks, you are dashed to pieces beneath the weight of fallen expectations. A reader betrayed is rarely forgiving to those who have broken their own laws.

So write, write of the shifting of stars and the fundamental forces of love and duty. In your canon proclaim the laws of wind and gravity, atoms of justice, and the blessed radiation of whimsy and wonder.

But once you have finished, and the last law carved upon the last stone atop your own Sinai, you must heed them always. From gods to grains of sand on a distant shore, none can break these commandments.

When you speak a second time, it is of Place. Of mountains and mayhem, of vast oceans where secrets lie forgotten far beneath the waves.

Reach out your hand to carve canyons from the paragraphs on the page, riverbeds that flow swift and pure into great lakes and down into silent aquifers below the very earth itself. Whether one sun, or seven, or none at all, this world must be made known through careful descriptions and prose.

And as long as it does not contradict your rules, you can have islands that fly through the skies, glass rain, giant geodic structures that have never seen the light of a single day. What of glaciers that chill the whole land into an ice age? Or a supervolcano that belches molten glass from its summit?

Then, as your world is forming, think on the third principle of building a world. Life.

Deep down in the depths of the darkest seas you might form creatures so alien they defy the very mind, drifting on currents and living without sun or sky, only in eternal shadow and crushing pressure. Or you may begin on land instead, with green skinned goblin-like folk who live among the trees and speak in song and melody as they hunt the fire breathing dragonflies. Perhaps even the sky might be your dominion. Pods of whales that swim among the clouds, blowing geysers of wind high into the abyss of blue and white that turns to stars at the highest heights.

Each living thing lies in connection with one another. Eating, growing, changing, moving. Flowers make bioluminescence in forever darkened woods and caverns. Gas filled balloon-like pods could carry creatures high into the sky with them, letting them escape from predators.

Here and now your pen is the fountain that begets creation, your mind is the tree from which all life springs. This world is your garden to cultivate, your Eden cradled between life giving rivers.

Wherever you touch there will be life. In the most scorching of deserts, in the deepest caves and wells, in the furthest canyons, upon the coldest glaciers. And as long as you remain true to your rules of reality, your world can take even the most whimsical of forms. Trees whose roots tangle among the clouds and whose boughs hang down towards the distant earth below, people who can see colors that neither you nor I have ever heard of. Each new thing makes your world more complex, more real, more connected.

Perhaps you know what comes next? In truth it has already begun, for your fourth is of Cognition.

It may be that somewhere in your world there is a creature or plant, perhaps many, or even all, who have tasted that forbidden fruit and became more than they were, became aware that their eyes had been closed and for the first time knew that they could open them and look.

What might it be like? To look out at the world and for the first time see it anew? Before there was survival and safety, food and mating. There was no time for beauty, no time for dreaming, no time for such things when every moment was needed. Yet at some point, there was time, and someone stopped to look. And everything changed.

Most creators prefer the humanoid form when building cognizant peoples, though not all, some few might choose different shapes. Plant, reptile, insect, or even stranger forms the likes of which might not be found here in our world, but only in that world of their making.

But the shape isn’t the important thing. No, what is vitally important is the manner of cognizance. How is it that your people understand the world? What are they aware of? What things can they hear? Or touch? Taste? See? Smell? Or perhaps they have senses that can only be described in roundabout ways to readers who will never entirely understand what it is to perceive in such ways, like blind men who try to know what it is like to see.

Now it is time at last for your fifth. This is the culmination of all things thus far, the laws of reality, the geography, the life, the cognizant peoples… Your fifth is Culture.

Peoples gather together. They make laws to protect or to divide, to ensure and ensnare. They farm or hunt for food, creating new ways with new generations. And best of all they tell stories. Oh those stories. These are the things of which culture is made. Stories that are woven into tapestries or painted into murals, songs are composed to evoke the emotions of such stories, even food is cooked to be eaten as the stories are told.

But there are other things which can affect your peoples and persons. Where do they get their clothing? Animal hides or plant fibers? Perhaps wool or cotton? And how is it obtained? Technology? Magic? Labor? Do the people even wear clothing at all? For some might not find it necessary if they are perfect for the place they dwell in their world.

What foods can they eat? Would you or I even recognize it? Let alone be able to digest it without agonizing pains in our stomachs? A fruit that glows might transfer its glow to those who eat it, giving them light to see in the dark and energy to live another day. Certain beasts are only slaughtered on certain days of the star calendars, for festivals and holy feast days, for ceremonial reasons and never secular ones.

Here is the most dangerous part in your journey, for the building of culture can become a mire or a maze, a labyrinthine pit from whence you can never escape no matter how much you build. Every detail begets another, and cultures are more than any one person can make. World Builder though you are, you still have limitations of your own.

So you look to the sixth, which is history. From whence did they come? And where do their journeys go? And of course, what happened at every step in between? Kings and emperors to the feuds of petty farmers. Did the dragons lay claim to the seven clawed mountains in the forty ninth century or did the Arch Astronomer falsely claim they did so that he might turn his people’s thoughts to southern trade?

Culture takes time to move and once it begins it will not stop. From the grand world point of view to the shortsightedness of individuals, each and every step will be important. Religions and wars, cataclysmic events, heroes, and even plagues. Everything that arises when you add time to the world you have created is history. The world is a living breathing thing that will move on its own if you let it.

The seventh day arrives. Some deities might rest, seeing that all is good. But not you, for your world is made in slavish worship to the Story. A world built so that it might contain, for good or ill, a tale of your telling.

So write, prideful one. Your hubris has driven you to follow in the footsteps of the gods themselves, building a world where before was nothing. It is time to look closer, to follow a single strand of thread in this tapestry you have woven from dreams and shadows.

Now that you have crafted for us an entire world, tell us your tale. We are listening.