#but in an ashamed way cause he gave Ribbon a bruise

[nmzuka]

silly pics (I wanted to draw alternate version of this but idk when I'll get to it so have this version for now)

[llamagoddessofficial]

Ok so this just popped into my head like, 20 seconds ago and I had to ask. What would the moth boys do if they accidentally hurt mc. Like, Red pinched too hard and bruised them, Sand pulled their hair a little too hard when grooming, and Skull accidentally scratched them when nabbing something off of them, or something like that?

uh oh...

Sans: He’s very sweet and apologetic.. almost too sweet. He probably accidentally pulled her hair. After she makes it clear he hurt her, he goes all cooey and soft, gently petting the area and appearing visibly remorseful, antennae back against his skull and wings low & tucked in. It’s hard to stay (or even BE) mad at him, when he clearly didn’t mean to, and he’s so upset that he caused damage. Not forgiving him is impossible.

In his mind, he’s berating himself. He’s supposed to be her source of comfort and relaxation... he can’t afford to ruin it with slips like that, he can’t afford to let all those possessive thoughts come through. He needs to control himself better.

Red: It would most likely happen when he’s in his crazy mood- refusing to let her leave his enclosure despite her protests and frustration. It’s a reminder of the power imbalance between them. He loses control for one moment, and she’s yelping in pain, suddenly sporting a big dark bruise on her arm. 

... It would snap him out of his state instantly. Nothing makes him lose his insane edge like seeing the consequences of his actions.

Much like Sans, he gets very gentle and apologetic- though not to Sans’ borderline ‘hurt puppy’ degree, he just gets quiet and cautious, obviously ashamed of himself, with a bowed physique as he gently checks that she’s not too badly hurt. He never intends to cause her pain, he just wanted some fun, it gets so boring there without her. 

Though she was initially upset with him, his uncharacteristic slowness and discomfort means she doesn’t really hold it against him.

Skull: Oh.

Oh no. 

He hurt her? His mate? He damaged the one good thing in his life? He’s intensely reminded of how small and fragile she is. He probably only gave her a little nick, but as soon as he sees even a trace of blood on his claws he flies into a panic and runs away from her, vanishing into his den. Trying to follow him in makes him frightening and aggressive; snarling at her, driving her off. He won’t even look at her.

He’s terrified. He has nightmares about accidentally killing her. Squeezing her too tight in a hug and breaking her bones, holding his claws the wrong way and cutting her into ribbons, pushing her over without realising and making her hit her head funny. He hasn’t been this afraid since before the zoo rescued him.

It’ll take a while for him to build up trust with himself again. It’ll be at least a few days before he’ll let her come close, minimum a week before she can touch him without him getting agitated.

He still doesn’t know that he’s so much better than he thinks he is.

[imtryingthisout]

Of Frogs and Friendship

[based on @nachosforfree Au @sanderssides-magicalgirlau check them out]

[Warnings: abuse, toxic relationship, unsympathetic Patton. Be careful]

It was hard not to love him.

Maybe that’s why it was so hard, because despite everything, Virgil just couldn't help but love him. The way Patton had looked at him, eyes so wide and vulnerable, tear laced whispers about how ‘you stayed’ and ‘I don't want to be a monster’. It was like they were kids again, and virgil had just hissed at some of the bigger boys who were picking on them. Calling Patton a crybaby, saying that he was too weak and girly. As if being feminine was something to be ashamed of, something lesser.

(Virgil knew better than that, even at six. His mom could drop kick any guy, any day, in any outfit. She was awesome like that.)

Patton didn't have many friends, was odd cause he was so happy and smiley all the time, but who was Virgil to judge. Not like he had many friends either. Or any friends really.

(No Andy didn't count, he was a baby)

Patton seemed so amazed, looking at Virgil with stars in his eyes, like he was a hero. So Virgil didn’t exactly offer his friendship (stammering and clamming up after the initial adrenaline rush faded) but he didn’t turn Pat away when he started to eat lunch with him. And when Patton wanted to hang out after school he didn’t say no.

So two lonely boys became friends, and they were happy.

Later they added a golden eyed (seemingly) girl into their fold. Miss “Call me Dee” Lyr was a wonderful oddity, who favored short hair and bowler hats, loved courtroom dramas and had a special knack for arguing with Teachers. Especially Mr. Yanez who taught Social studies.

She would constantly interrupt class, hopping on a soapbox and go off on tangents about the nature of society, governmental lies and propaganda. No manner of punishment seem to deter her, any reprimand seemed to just fuel her rants further. And while Mr. Yanez tried desperately to find some way to deter her- Virgil just thought he didn't like seeming dumber than a little girl. He was right.

“Sir, did you know that if a frog was suddenly put in a pot of boiling water it would try to leap out. But if you put a frog in a pot of tepid water and then slowly start to boil it, the frog wouldn’t notice and be slowly boiled to death. Imagine thinking you’re taking a nice relaxing bath, never knowing your inaction is sealing your fate. So while you and others lay comfy in your tubs, unaware that your rights are slowly being eroded away by those in power.”

“Miss Lyr will you please sit down. We are going over European Geography- what are you even talking about?”

(Falling in love with Patton was so easy Virgil didn't even notice it. Didn't notice the water rising and rising all around him. It was just felt so natural to have him around.)

Talking with Patton sometimes made Virgil’s head feel like it was under water. His words drowned out all the other noises in the world, till he was lost in a sea of static and siren song. It didn’t happen a lot, never at first, but by the time Virgil was nine he had periods of just.. blacking out.

(“Do you think I made him this way with evil intent? No! It started with me making him feel happy when he was sad! Me pulling him out of panic attacks! It started with me making him forget bad things-)

(The temperature was changing, ever so slowly, yet the frog remained oblivious-)

(“It just got worse and worse and worse-”)

He never told his Mom about the blackouts, he had meant to- he was sure he had meant to- but he just.. Forgot. He suspected she found out anyway. Taking him to the doctor and doing all manner of checkups and screenings that young Virgil didn’t have the vocabulary to describe.

In the end he got a temporary medication that did nothing to help, and a slightly clingy Patton to deal with.

Nothing he couldn’t handle.

(The trick is to have patience, heat the water up too quickly and the Frog jumps out. Go slowly enough- kindly enough- and he’ll gladly let you burn him to the ground. He might even thank you for it)

“You know Verge, you would look really cute in purple”

“You really think so pat?”

“Ooh we should get matching bracelets- so everyone will know we’re best friends!”

“That sounds like a good idea pat”

“Hey Virgil what if your costume had a ribbon around your neck?”

“Really- like a bow and everything?”

“Yep! Wouldn’t that just be so pretty?”

“If you say so pat”

“Come on, just try it?”

“Of course pat. You’d know I’d do anything for you”

The first time Patton hit him Virgil blamed stress. Stress and trauma. Patton was just lashing out- he didn’t know any better. He just needed to get it out of his system and he’d be fine. Virgil was strong, Virgil could take it. He later held Virgil and apologized, begging him to stay, promising to do better. And Virgil looked into his teary eyes and couldn’t help but still love him.

(Virgil had a vague awareness that Patton wanted more from him. Wanted things that Virgil couldn’t give him. Patton was his best friend- his brother- and he didn’t want to kiss his brother on the mouth. Didn’t want to hold his hand in anything but a platonic fashion. (Virgil didn’t even know if he liked anyone like that, but he most certainly knew he didn’t want Patton like that). But Virgil was unaware of Patton pushing his boundaries, clinging to him more, getting more and more touchy-feely till it was hard for the others to tell if they were flirting or not. (Patton was, Virgil definitely wasn’t).

What was it Dee said about frogs and water? )

The second time Patton hit him Virgil blamed his friends. Things were going fine, Patton was listing to him- waning off some of his more.. extreme schemes. But something had happened, some plans had fallen through due to their involvement, and Patton didn’t even know it was Virgil who grabbed his shoulder, wanting to offer comfort. He just lashed out blindly- striking Virgil in the eye.

(Some days Virgil couldn’t get out of bed. Too overwhelmed, yet too drained to force himself up.

He’d stopped talking after a while, none of his other ‘housemates’ wanted anything to do with him, and he’d just repeat back what Patton wanted to hear on the occasion that he did want to talk. To be honest Virgil couldn’t tell if he was speaking in his own voice.

So he laid there, quietly hoping everything was just one long horrible dream.)

Patton loved touching his neck, playing with his hair. Sometimes when he thought virgil was asleep he would trace along the bruises blooming on his throat- feather light touches as he would whisper sweet poisoned nothings into his ear.

(Some days it felt as though Virgil was empty inside. Just a hollow husk shambaling around in the vague approximation of how a normal human function. He stopped having blackouts, but his memory worsened. The world around him seems grey and hopeless without Patton. The only clear memories were the ones with him in it.)

Virgil eventually stopped counting the strikes. Stopped blaming anyone but himself, it was his fault he knew, no point trying to deny it. Even in his own mind. He just wished he knew what to do to fix himself- what to do to make Pat happy again. Maybe he should just---

(It was like he was in a tub of lukewarm water, but instead of getting hotter. It just got colder and colder, till his hands and feet where blue and shivering. Till the piercing white numbness grew in his chest like a tumor. Hypothermia seeping into his bones. The water was freezing over and Virgil was drowning in blue. But he was too tired to get up. Too numb to fight it. He was the frog and it was hibernation. So he

just

gave

in )

[icyharrington]

Convince Me (Michael Langdon X Reader)

i really wanted to write a fic featuring cocky, fuckboy hawthorne!michael, so um.. here it is lmfao. hope y’all like (and don’t get too mad at me for blueballing y’all.. i really didn’t feel like writing a full length one shot lol)

plot: michael langdon can give you what you want, but he sure as hell isn’t going to make it easy for you.

warnings: fem!reader, hawthorne!michael, dirty talk, cocky michael, over the clothes stuff??, degradation, no actual smut (but a lot of sexual themes lmao)

word count: 2k

He finally had you right where he wanted you.

It’d been a whirlwind few months, attempting to half-heartedly ward off the advances of the boy wonder himself, Michael Langdon. He’d been drawn to you instantly, that first day he’d joined classes at Robichaux’s. Most of the girls’ jaws had dropped the minute he walked through the door, looking handsome and put-together with his styled waves of golden curls and dark clothes.

Even your gaze had lingered for a moment as he made his way through those white hallways, swaying his hips like he was on a goddamned runway. He knew he was attractive, that he was wanted by most people who laid eyes on him- you could tell from that cocky grin that always seemed to be situated across his full pink lips, and the drawling, almost mocking tone with which he always spoke.

So when he’d begun to pursue you, you’d refused to give him the satisfaction of showing him any interest. Which, in turn, had only made him want you more.

And now here you were, straddled on his lap as he sat on the edge of his bed, having been unable to resist this gorgeous boy any longer. He had a vice grip on your upper thighs as you kissed him, lightly grinding your hips against the growing bulge in his pants. And god damn, was he a good kisser; his tongue felt heavenly against yours, warm and soft and coaxing, his pace lazy but certainly not gentle.

You let out a soft whine when you felt his large hand trail up and down your leg, pausing to teasingly snap the band of your thigh-high sock against your skin. He smirked against your mouth, taking your lower lip between his teeth before reattaching his lips against your jaw.

“I always knew we’d end up like this eventually,” he mumbled lowly, causing your body to erupt into goosebumps from the vibrations of his words. “You were so cute, pretending you didn’t want me. What do they call it? Playing hard to get?”

He snickered to himself, taking in a sharp breath as he splayed his palm against your bare thigh and slid it past the hem of your skirt, giving you a hard squeeze in the process. Dipping his head to meet your neck, he began to suck a bruise just by your jugular, sinking his teeth into the delicate stretch of skin with enough force to make you cry out. You bit your lip, knowing you were going to have a nasty bruise to try and cover up tomorrow.

You jumped at the feeling of his fingertips against your underwear, dragging slowly over the lacy fabric until they reached the damp patch between your thighs. He hummed thoughtfully at the discovery, and from the back of his throat came another laugh. “Awww, wet already, baby?” he teased, pulling away from your neck to look at you with those lust-filled, hooded blue eyes.

You felt your cheeks flush deep red, his fingers forming soft circles over your clit as his other hand reached up to cup your face. His smile grew when he heard your breath hitch, and he gave your bud a forceful push, clearly hoping to elicit another reaction from you. You whimpered, rolling your hips forward to meet his hand, and he tsked softly.

“What do you want?” he asked you, taking to stroking up and down your clothed slit. You couldn’t help but notice how good he smelled, a hardly detectable mixture of cinnamon and sandalwood and pine, only apparent from your close proximity to him. “Hm?”

Noticing that you were trying to look away, he took your chin in his hand and guided it back in his direction.

“You know what I want,” you said, voice hardly above a whisper, and he shook his head.

“I want to hear you say it.”

You sighed, although you certainly weren’t surprised that he was pulling something like this. Swallowing your pride, you spoke. “I- want you, Michael.”

He brushed against your clit again with a feather light touch, but the contact was enough to make you jump in surprise. “Want me how?” You could hear the amusement behind his voice, and you rolled your eyes. He was having fun with this, intentionally riling you up.

With a sudden surge of confidence, you wrapped your fingers around the massive protrusion in the front of Michael’s pants. “Does this answer your question?” you asked with a quirk of your eyebrow.

He hissed, but managed to quickly compose himself again, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and moving it back. “Ah ah, I don’t think so.” He brought your hand to his face, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “You’re going to have to beg me for it.”

You were speechless for a second, but the authoritative tone of his voice seemed to only increase the arousal pooling between your legs. Still, you opened your mouth to protest, narrowing your eyes irritably in his direction. His gaze remained on you, unwavering and calm, and then he grinned, flashing you his perfect teeth.

Fuck, you wanted to punch him so badly right now.

“You think I’m going to make it easy for you? After all these months you’ve turned me away?” he purred, cupping your pussy with a sudden possessiveness that made you gasp.

“M-Michael,” you choked out, eyes fluttering at the warmth of his fingers against your wet heat; you knew after this, your panties would be completely soaked through, but at this point you didn’t care. “You- you can’t be serious.”

But you knew he was; he gave you a pout, feigning sympathy, cocking his head to tug your earlobe into his mouth with his teeth. “Oh, I’m more than serious, (y/n). I’m a man of my word, aren’t I?” His breath was hot against you, and you shuddered, your hair standing on end.

You said nothing, shutting your eyes and rocking yourself forward, hoping to increase the pressure on your sensitive bud. Michael, catching on to this, drew his hand away.

“Go on and beg me, sweetheart,” he said; you wanted to be angry with him for referring to you so condescendingly, but instead you only felt yourself flood with more desperation. You had to be under some sort of spell, you decided, too ashamed to admit the attraction you held towards this abundantly confident man.

“Please,” you said, a half-assed plea, and he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Frowning, you shifted yourself so that your chest was flush against his, your crotch pressing firmly against his erection. In response, he moved his hands behind you to your ass, slipping them under your skirt and roughly kneading the smooth peaks.

“Please,” you repeated, slow and soft, burying your head in his neck and taking a deep inhale of his cologne. You reached up and toyed with the black ribbon around his neck, easing it out of its knot and tugging slightly at the satin material. “I need you, Michael. Please.”

He looked up at you, fucking delicious with his angled features and porcelain skin, and for a second you almost thought he was ready to give in. Your hope fell away, though, when he let out a raspy chuckle.

“I can’t take your begging seriously when you’re looking down at me like this.”

You stared at him for a moment, unsure of what he was insinuating. And then, all at once, it dawned on you; you nearly let out a groan right then and there. He really wasn’t going to cut you any slack, was he?

With a glare, you slapped his hands away from your ass and slipped off of his knees, lowering yourself onto the wooden floor and wedging yourself between his legs. Sure, you could refuse, spare your pride, but you were too turned on at this point to be blue-balled. He wanted begging? You’d show him begging.

“Mm. Much better,” he said, stroking your hair as you settled yourself, resting your cheek against his thigh and blinking up at him innocently.

“Michael, I need you to fuck me,” you started, running your hands up and down his thighs. He continued to pet your hair, inhaling sharply when you nuzzled your face dangerously close to his crotch. “Please.”

He flashed you an all-too-familiar smug smile, and you were filled with a strange combination of distaste and lust; frustrated, you dug your nails into his legs through the stiff fabric of his pants.

“I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t remember my name,” you said, hoping that if your words became more vulgar, he’d become more inclined to give you what you wanted. You heard something that sounded vaguely like a growl come from the back of his throat, but he didn’t let up. “Want you to make me cum all over your cock.”

“You’re still not convincing me,” he said in a bored monotone, threading his fingers through your hair and guiding your head back by the root. “I want to see how desperate you are for it.”

Again you felt that dip in your tummy, your cunt throbbing almost painfully. Pressing your thighs together in an attempt to garner some relief, you widened your eyes at him, tongue darting out to wet your lips. You were close to actually begging now, anxious to satiate your cravings, but you supposed that’d been Michael’s goal in the first place.

“Michael, please, please, I need it,” you rasped, and you knew he could sense the urgency behind your voice; he laughed cruelly, eyes sparkling at the pathetic sight of you on your knees before him, not a thought on your mind but him. Your face prickled hot with embarrassment, but the feeling only aroused you further, quiet pants escaping your bitten-red lips as you grasped at the hem of his sweater. “Please, fuck, I’ll do anything, please.” He responded to your mindless begging with an idle pat on your cheek, urging you on, and you leant your forehead against his inner thigh. Sobbing softly, you moved towards the prominent tent in his pants, unsure what more you could do to convince him. Was he really going to leave you high and dry? Humiliate you, and then leave you unsatisfied?

Through tear-rimmed retinas, you begged him wordlessly, his heavy-lidded eyes boring into yours. Craning your neck, you began mouthing at his hard cock through his pants, soaking the expensive material with your saliva. His hand dropped down to your head, tightly gripping your hair as you moaned at the feeling of his thick, twitching shaft in your mouth.

“So needy,” he mused, hips stirring as you dampened the front of his pants with each desperate movement of your lips. You flattened your tongue against the side of his bulge, trying to feel as much of him as you could, one hand traveling down between your legs to rub your clit. “No,” he said, and you wondered how he’d been able to tell. Sheepishly you returned your hands to his thighs, batting your eyelashes at him as a string of spit stretched from your glistening lower lip to the front of his slacks.

“Good girl,” he said, allowing you a few more seconds of this before he finally stopped you, tucking two fingers under your chin and tilting it upwards.

“Have I convinced you?” you asked him, hopeful. You squirmed, clenching your thighs tightly as another wave of arousal reached your cunt. God damn it, if he said no…

“Hm. I suppose so,” he said, petting your hair and wiping away the small beads of tears that had gathered in the corners of your eyes. “But, just so I can be absolutely sure that you really want this-“

You scoffed, crossing your arms in front of your chest and rocking back onto your heels.

“-Why don’t you go ahead and show me again? Without the pants in the way this time.”

Fucking asshole.

Of course, though, you obeyed, reaching forward to unbuckle his pants.

Exactly like you expected, he smirked.

[humblethetinylover-blog]

Thorns and Swords (Chapter 1)

“What!?”, Rose gasped in shock as her hand flew to the gemstone that hung from her neck. In her opposite hand, she reached out to a ripe raspberry. Plump, not a bruise on it. She took it into her hands, holding the fruit that was nearly as large as her chest. “I am sorry to break the news to you, Your Highness. But we only speak the truth.”, her subject spoke solemnly, and the queen clenched her jaw, “So they have been stealing our rain? And using it to… wash these harvested crops? That is also watered with our water!?”, her voice rose to a yelling volume. Now, she was angry. For years, the lack of water had only been thought to be only an unfortunate dry spell, but a neighboring kingdom had been stealing the vital water her people needed to survive!?

She huffed, handing the berry back to her subject. “Your Highness, we brought this for you.”, he retorted, offering the berry back, but she held a hand out as a gesture to halt. “Give it to your family. You need it more than I.”, she insisted, but the man shook his head. “My family, no, all of our families, want you to have it. Believe me, we fed ourselves first, as shameful as we feel for it.”, he sighed, his arms sagging with shame. She sighed, tenderly taking the fruit from the disheartened citizen. “Feel not ashamed, I would have simply told you to take the food to the people anyway. But thank you. You know not how grateful I am that you all have been so faithful to me.”, she smiled, taking the man’s hand and giving it a small squeeze. He smiled, pushing his glasses back onto his nose.

She sighed, staring out the window of her throne room. There was a rosebud close to blooming outside, dew still clinging to its petals. “In which direction is this kingdom?”, she inquired, setting the berry down onto the table next to her throne. “The North-West, Your Highness.”, the man replied, shifting on his feet. She nodded, “Sir Acier, call forth my scribe, please.” The knight nodded. He pulled out a carved, wooden whistle, and gave it four sharp trills.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”, Rose’s trusted scribe, Plume, stumbled into the room, carrying a stack of paper, an inkwell, and a quill, “What is it that you need of me?” He nearly dropped his inkwell onto the floor, but the queen’s quick reflexes rescued it. Plume smiled in embarrassment, placing his paper onto a table nearby, “Sorry, Y-Your Highness…”, he stuttered, and Rose rolled her eyes. “Plume, drop the formalities.”, she insisted, taking his hand into her own and placing the inkwell into his palm, “We have been friends since we were children.” He sighed, rubbing his shoulder nervously as he glanced at the adventurer and the knights in the room. “B-But Rosie…”, he stuttered, but the queen smirked.

She adored poking fun at her dearest friend. He sighed, knowing full well what that smirk entailed, “Fine, just don’t royally command me to do it. It’s em-embarrassing…”, he huffed, sitting down at the table and opening the ink. Rose smirked, “Much better, my dear friend. Now, I need you to write a letter to- umm…”, Rose drew a blank, turning to the adventurer. “What did you mention that kingdom’s name was, again?”, she inquired, gesturing towards him, and he stood up straight. “I didn’t, Your Highness. But we found signs and maps detailing the name ‘Febienne.’ We do not know who their leader is.”, he clarified, and the queen nodded. “Thank you, brave one.”, she praised, turning back to her friend. “Write a letter to the leader of this, ‘Febienne.’ And I need you to write down exactly what I say.”, the queen’s voice grew dark, and Plume gulped.

Rose’s thorns were ready to draw blood.

“Birds were stealing your produce?”, the queen inquired the shopkeep, who was red with anger. “Yes, Your Majesty! Birds! Stole from me, and many others! Berries, bread, seeds! A whole flock! There are witnesses-”, the queen held her hand up to silence her subject. “I do not doubt your tale, dear.”, Gladiolus assured, and the shopkeep sighed, trying to keep her anger under grasps.

Gladiolus had to admit, it was an odd report, but she found no reason not to believe the woman. She was truly fired up about something, and there had been some maidens chattering about a ruckus in the market today. “I will investigate this, ma’am, rest assured that I will do my best to find out what has happened to you-”

The door in the hallway swung open violently as someone ran through it and into the throne room. It was Gladiolus’s good friend and watchwoman, Souci, who looked rather disheveled. Which was understandable, as a bird was pecking her head. “Gladi! There’s a message! The bird…! Had… Had it!”, Gladiolus walked over to her friend, rubbing her back. The bird calmed down, resting upon Souci’s head. “In…”, she ordered smoothly, and the watchwoman inhaled deeply. “Out…”, the queen sighed, as did her companion. Souci was much calmer now, but still not up to par with the queen’s serenity. Or anyone’s for that matter.

“Here.”, Souci handed the little roll of paper to the queen, who smiled and gently took it from her friend’s hand. The bird chirped, and the shopkeep gasped. “That! That kind of bird! That same breed of bird stole from my shop!”, she insisted, and the queen smiled. “Ma’am, I am sure it is but a coincidence that it is the same breed of bird. Fret not.”, the queen cooed softly, unrolling the paper.

She blinked. “This is… Very small script. But, it is rather neat.”, she admitted, though was thoroughly confused. Souci looked at the message as well. “That is really small. That’s some skill, right there.”, she hummed, and the queen nodded. “Souci, fetch me my seeing glass, please.”, she requested, and the watchwoman did just that, handing the queen the magnifying glass. The queen peered through it, reading what the message read.

She gasped. “Cease all mage tampering with the weather!? For what cause!?”, she exclaimed, glaring at the bird on Souci’s head. “Uh, perhaps there was… a misunderstanding? What all does it say?”, Souci inquired, and the queen sighed.

“To whom it may concern,

the kingdom of Pètaleur requests that the kingdom of Febienne cease all mage tampering with the weather. Our crops have been deprived of water due to your mages intercepting the rain clouds that were supposed to water them. As such, our kingdom is suffering from a lack of food. We are running low on rations, so cease this unnatural altering of weather patterns immediately. Complications can be delivered if resistance with your kingdom is met.

Do not make it come to this.

Signed, Queen Rose”

Queen Gladiolus hummed in thought, lips pressed firmly together. “Complications can be delivered if resistance with your kingdom is met? That is a clear threat…”, the queen pondered, rolling the words around in her mind. Souci, the bird, and the shopkeep all looked to the queen. “What are we going to do?”, Souci inquired, wringing her hands anxiously. “While my heart goes out to their plight of food, mage weather spells have been a way of life for us for about five years now. Why is this an issue now? This ‘kingdom.’ If it truly is one, should have proposed a halt in spells a while ago, should it not?”, Gladiolus questioned, rolling the scroll between her index finger and thumb. “I… I suppose so… yes.”, Souci agreed, and the shopkeep nodded in agreement. The bird hopped about nervously.

“Then why does this ‘Queen Rose’ seek to threaten us only now? Seems rather… odd. Here is what I believe has occurred.”, Gladiolus huffed, crushing the scroll, “This new kingdom has formed, assuming this is a kingdom and wishes to assert its place in the ranks of other kingdoms. A classic way of doing this is showing strength. When one wishes to show one’s capabilities and to be respected, they must show off their military strength. This ‘Rose’ assumes that if she can scare us into complying, she will prove her kingdom’s capabilities. Well, I say not.”, Gladiolus hissed.

Gladiolus sat down with at her throne, taking one of her scrolls and taking her quill from her inkwell. “Well, perhaps this will make the kingdom of Pètaleur realize that I will not stand for such foolishness.”, she huffed, “Mage interferences will continue as usual.” Souci’s eyes widened. “But, Gladi, what if they follow through on these…”, she gulped, shivering, “consequences…?”

Gladiolus smiled, blowing the scroll dry and tying a ribbon around it, sealing it with wax. “Then. We shall see if they truly are as capable as they say.”, she huffed and brandished the scroll to the bird, who quickly took the scroll in its talons, flying out of the window.

Back << ✧ﾟ･:* Thorns and Swords *:･ﾟ✧ >> Next

[ahumbletinylover]

Thorns and Swords (Chapter 1)

“What!?”, Rose gasped in shock, a hand flew to the gemstone that hung from her neck. In her opposite hand, she reached out to a ripe raspberry. Plump, not a bruise on it. She took it into her hands, holding the fruit that was nearly as large as her chest. “I am sorry to break the news to you, Your Highness. But we only speak the truth.”, her subject spoke solemnly, and the queen gritted her teeth, “So they have been stealing our rain? And using them to… wash these harvested crops? Also watered with our water!?”, her voice rose to a yelling volume. Now, she was angry. For years, the lack of water had only been thought to be only an unfortunate dry spell, but a neighboring kingdom had been stealing the vital water her people needed to survive!?

She huffed, handing the berry back to her subject. “Your Highness, we brought this for you.”, he retorted, offering the berry back, but she held a hand out as a gesture to halt. “Give it to your family. You need more than I.”, she insisted, but the man shook his head. “My family, no, all of our families, want you to have it. Believe me, we fed ourselves first, as shameful as we feel for it.”, he sighed, his arms sagging with shame. She sighed, tenderly taking the fruit from the disheartened citizen. “Feel not ashamed, I would have simply told you to take the food to the people anyways. But thank you. You know not how grateful I am that you all have been so faithful to me.”, she smiled, taking the man’s hand and giving it a small squeeze. He smiled, pushing his glasses back onto his nose.

She sighed, staring out the window of her throne room. There was a rosebud close to blooming outside, dew still clinging to its petals. “In which direction is this kingdom?”, she inquired, setting the berry down onto the table next to her throne. “The North-West, Your Highness.”, the man replied, shifting on his feet. She nodded, “Sir Acier, call forth my scribe, please.” The knight nodded. He pulled out a carved, wooden whistle, and gave it four sharp trills.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”, Rose’s trusted scribe, Plume, stumbled into the room, carrying a stack of paper, an inkwell, and a quill, “What is it that you need of me?” He nearly dropped the inkwell onto the floor, but the queen’s quick reflexes rescued it. Plume smiled in embarrassment, placing his paper onto a table nearby, “Sorry, Y-Your Highness…”, he stuttered, and Rose rolled her eyes. “Plume, drop the formalities.”, she insisted, taking his hand into her own and placing the inkwell into his palm, “We have been friends since children.” He sighed, rubbing his shoulder nervously as he glanced at the adventurer and the knights in the room. “B-But Rosie…”, he stuttered, but the queen smirked.

She adored poking fun at her dearest friend. He sighed, knowing full well what that smirk entailed, “Fine, just don’t royally command me to do it. It’s em-embarrassing…”, he huffed, sitting down at the table and opening the ink. Rose smirked, “Much better, my dear friend. Now, I need you to write a letter to- umm…”, Rose drew a blank, turning to the adventurer. “What did you mention that kingdom’s name was, again?”, she inquired, gesturing towards him, and he stood up straight. “I didn’t, Your Highness. But we found signs and maps detailing the name ‘Febienne.’ We do not know who their leader is.”, he clarified, and the queen nodded. “Thank you, brave one.”, she praised, turning back to her friend. “Write a letter to the leader of this, ‘Febienne.’ And I need you to write down exactly what I say.”, the queen’s voice grew dark, and Plume gulped.

Rose’s thorns were ready to draw blood.

“Birds were stealing your produce?”, the queen inquired the shopkeep, who was red with anger. “Yes, Your Majesty! Birds! Stole from me, and many others! Berries, bread, seeds! A whole flock! There are witnesses-”, the queen held her hand up to silence her subject. “I do not doubt your tale, dear.”, Gladiolus assured, and the shopkeep sighed, trying to keep her anger under grasps.

Gladiolus had to admit, it was an odd report, but she found no reason not to believe the woman. She was truly fired up about something, and there had been some maidens chattering about a ruckus in the market today. “I will investigate this, ma’am, rest assured that I will do my best to find out what has happened to you-”

The door in the hallway swung open violently as someone ran through it and into the throne room. It was Gladiolus’s good friend and watchwoman, Souci, who looked rather disheveled. Which was understandable, as a bird was pecking her head. “Gladi! There’s a message! The bird…! Had… Had it!”, Gladiolus walked over to her friend, rubbing her back. The bird calmed down, resting upon Souci’s head. “In…”, she ordered smoothly, and the watchwoman inhaled deeply. “Out…”, the queen sighed, as did her companion. Souci was much calmer now, but still not up to par with the queen’s serenity. Or anyone’s for that matter.

“Here.”, Souci handed the little roll of paper to the queen, who smiled and gently took it from her friend’s hand. The bird chirped, and the shopkeep gasped. “That! That kind of bird! That same breed of bird stole from my shop!”, she insisted, and the queen smiled. “Ma’am, I am sure it is but a coincidence that it is the same breed of bird. Fret not.”, the queen cooed softly, unrolling the paper.

She blinked. “This is… Very small script. But, it is rather neat.”, she admitted, though was thoroughly confused. Souci looked at the message as well. “That is really small. That’s some skill, right there.”, she hummed, and the queen nodded. “Souci, fetch me my seeing glass, please.”, she requested, and the watchwoman did just that, handing the queen the magnifying glass. The queen peered through it, reading what the message read.

She gasped. “Cease all mage tampering with the weather!? For what cause!?”, she exclaimed, glaring at the bird on Souci’s head. “Uh, perhaps there was… a misunderstanding? What all does it say?”, Souci inquired, and the queen sighed.

“To whom it may concern,

the kingdom of Pètaleur requests that the kingdom of Febienne cease all mage tampering with the weather. Our crops have been deprived of water due to your mages intercepting the rain clouds that were supposed to water them. As such, our kingdom is suffering from a lack of food. We are running low on rations, so cease this unnatural altering of weather patterns immediately. Complications can be delivered if resistance with your kingdom is met.

Do not make it come to this.

Signed, Queen Rose”

Queen Gladiolus hummed in thought, lips pressed firmly together. “Complications can be delivered if resistance with your kingdom is met? That is a clear threat…”, the queen pondered, rolling the words around in her mind. Souci, the bird, and the shopkeep all looked to the queen. “What are we going to do?”, Souci inquired, wringing her hands anxiously. “While my heart goes out to their plight of food, mage weather spells have been a way of life for us for about five years now. Why is this an issue now? ‘This kingdom.’ If it truly is one, should have proposed a halt in spells a while ago, should it not?”, Gladiolus questioned, rolling the scroll between her index finger and thumb. “I… I suppose so… yes.”, Souci agreed, and the shopkeep nodded in agreement. The bird hopped about nervously.

“Then why does this ‘Queen Rose’ seek to threaten us only now? Seems rather… odd. Here is what I believe has occurred.”, Gladiolus huffed, crushing the scroll, “This new kingdom has formed, assuming this is a kingdom and wishes to assert its place in the ranks of other kingdoms. A classic way of doing this is showing strength. When one wishes to show one’s capabilities and to be respected, they must show off their military strength. This ‘Rose’ assumes that if she can scare us into complying, she will prove her kingdom’s capabilities. Well, I say not.”, Gladiolus hissed.

Gladiolus sat down with at her throne, taking one of her scrolls and taking her quill from her inkwell. “Well, perhaps this will make the kingdom of Pètaleur realize that I will not stand for such foolishness.”, she huffed, “Mage interferences will continue as usual.” Souci’s eyes widened. “But, Gladi, what if they follow through on these…”, she gulped, shivering, “consequences…?”

Gladiolus smiled, blowing the scroll dry and tying a ribbon around it, sealing it with wax. “Then. We shall see if they truly are as capable as they say.”, she huffed and brandished the scroll to the bird, who quickly took the scroll in its talons, flying out of the window.

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