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my-castles-crumbling · 7 months ago

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Of Romance and Play Practice

@wolfstarbingo2024 - square: nerdy Remus - rating: G - no warnings - word count: 974 - based on @probs-reading's HC - AO3 link

To this day, Remus still couldn't figure out how they all were friends. They took up vastly different social circles. Like a smaller version of the Breakfast Club, he, Sirius, James, and Peter were as opposite as could be. James was the school basketball star, cheerleaders constantly hanging off his elbows (much to his boyfriend, Regulus's, disgust). Peter ran the yearbook, and was never seen without a notebook and a camera. Remus, of course, was the textbook definition of a nerd: he was the president of Chess Club, and took more AP classes than all of his friend combined. And Sirius....Sirius was perfect.

Sirius was the star of the theater program, having finally figured out how to put his dramatics to good use. He lived for the stage, and the audience ate him up no matter what his role. Of course, Remus ate him up, too. Or at least, he wanted to.

They'd all been friends since elementary school. Perhaps that was why they were able to stay close, no matter their differences. But Remus's crush on Sirius had developed quite recently, and for some reason, he couldn't shake it.

Perhaps it was the way Sirius oozed confidence. His smile was absolutely contagious and it made Remus literally weak at the knees, often times he had to sit down after Sirius grinned at him. Maybe it was the way he felt safe with Sirius. Though they loved to tease each other, Sirius never judged him when it mattered, and they'd been friends for so long, they knew each other as well as they knew themselves.

Of course, it helped that Sirius was fit as fuck.

But that wasn't it. It was...Remus couldn't help but feel warm when he looked at him. It was a bit disgusting, really.

But one night, when Sirius asked him to help run lines for the new play he was a part of, Remus agreed, because he wanted to help. He figured eventually, this crush would go away, so he should just continue spending time with Sirius like normal, acting like nothing was different. But when he read the name of the play, he froze.

"Erm...Romeo and Juliet?" he asked Sirius, who was sat on his bed, shucking his leather jacket and making himself comfortable.

"Mmm," he hummed noncommittally. "Good thing McKinnon's as flaming as I am, or I'd be dreading the kiss," he grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

And of course. Of course, Sirius needed him to practice running lines for the most romantic play in the fucking universe. What else?

"Alright," he murmured, sitting nervously on the edge of his own bed, as far from Sirius as possible. "Erm, what scene?"

"Let's start..." Sirius flipped through the script, stopping at a page and pointing. "There. I'm having trouble with the emotion, to be honest. If you could just read for McKinnon, that'd be amazing."

But Remus's stomach flipped as he looked over the script, recognizing the scene. The fucking balcony scene?

"Erm, alright," he nodded, trying to pull himself together. "How camest thou hither- er - tell me, and wherefore? Erm, the orchard walls are high and hard to climb, and the place death, considering who thou art, of any of my, erm, kinsmen find thee here," he recited disjointedly.

Sirius chuckled and responded fluidly, "With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls. For stony limits cannot hold love out." His eyes were wide, genuine, and Remus became entranced as he listened. "And what love can do, that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me."

It took Remus a second to realize he was done. That it was his turn to respond. Because hearing Sirius speak of love like this, it was doing things to him. "Oh!" he nearly yelled as Sirius gave him an expectant look, jumping a bit. "Erm. If- if they to see thee, they will murder thee. Fuck, this is intense, huh?" he commented, scanning over the script.

Sirius laughed and ignored his comment, going on, "Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye than twenty of their swords. Look though but sweet, and I am proof against their enmity." He said those words with a small smile, eyes on Remus's.

"I...I would not for the world they saw thee here," Remus nearly-whispered, looking at the paper and back at Sirius, who was still watching him with a strange look in his eyes.

"I have night's clock to hide me from their eyes," he whispered, moving closer to Remus- and when had he gotten so close, they were side-by-side, now!- grabbing his hand lightly. "And, but thou love me, let them find me here. My life were better ended by their hate than death prorogued, wanting of thy love."

Remus swallowed, drowning in the look Sirius was giving him, squeezing his hand and allowing the heat and tension to wrap around their bodies. He wasn't imagining it, was he? Was Sirius feeling it, too? The way the very air was pulsating, urging him to move forward, to bring their lips together?

He hoped so.

"Sirius," he murmured, his head hazy, hardly bothering to look at the book, too distracted by the moment.

But Sirius seemed to be contemplating something. "Move not while my prayer's effect I take," he murmured, causing Remus to wrinkle his nose in confusion, before Sirius leaned forward, hand grazing over Remus's jaw and pulling their lips together.

And it was like fireworks. Hearing Sirius talk about love with the words of a poet had just made Remus's crush bloom into something more, and he couldn't resist grabbing for him, wrapping his arms around the other boy, pulling him closer until they were completely entangled in each other, their lips and teeth fighting for control of the best kiss Remus had ever had in his life.

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the-fiction-witch · 4 months ago

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Sick

Media - The Queens Gambit Character - Benny Watts Couple - Benny X Reader Reader - Y/n Rating - 15 + Word Count - 1130

Benny sat in his leather chair, inside his Brooklyn basement, it was cold and grey as usual, the only light was the small lamp beside his chair and the occasional rays of light from car headlines coming through the small basement windows, in Benny's hand his new chess strategy book that arrived in the mail.

Slowly the door to the bedroom opened with a whine, and Y/n emerged. Y/n walked across the apartment barefoot, in her small black silk babydoll nightie, her hair in a long dishevelled braid, her face sickly with red eyes and nose,

Benny looked up from his chess book. a smile came to his lips as he watched her, he secretly loved taking care of her, even if he hated seeing her sick in the first place. "Hey, sweetheart..."

she didn't answer, Y/n just trudged over and without a word climbed herself onto his lap sharing the chair with him, her legs between his own, sitting on his thigh, her head against his shoulder, her nose against his neck,

he chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close against his chest, gently rubbing her back in comforting circles as he spoke "Are you feeling any better?"

she shook her little head

his expression softened so he continued to rub her back gently, holding her close to him as he nuzzled his face against her head, pressing a soft little kiss to her hair, "Poor sweetheart..."

Without a word, she moved closer biting his neck,

Benny let out a soft gasp as she bit down on his neck, and when she started sucking a quiet noise came out from deep in his throat. he held her a little tighter, gently rubbing her back as he tilted his head a bit to give her easier access to his neck. he continued rubbing her back with one hand, the other slowly sliding down and gently grabbing her hip. he gently squeezed it as he breathed out a little moan, a subtle look of pleasure on his face as she sucked on his neck. He let out another little gasp as she sucked a little harder, closing his eyes as he savoured the feeling of her lips on his skin. The hand on her hip gently kneaded the flesh there as he spoke in a hushed tone "That feels nice, baby… he tilted his head to the side again, letting her have more access to his neck. He groaned quietly again as she kept sucking on his neck, the hand on her hip slowly sliding under her nightie, gently rubbing and gripping the flesh on her thigh

She pushed his hand away forcing it out from under her nightie as she pulled away and nuzzled into his neck,

He let out a quiet noise of protest, making him pout a little bit. He gently rubbed her back again, trying to gently pull her nightie back down. He whispered in her ear, a soft little hint of a whine in his voice "Baby... I just wanna touch you..."

"too... Sick.." she groans

Benny gently rubbed her back again, holding her close to his chest as he spoke in a quiet, almost soothing tone "I know, sweetheart. But I just wanna make you feel good..."

"cuddles make me feel better" she muttered,

Benny gently kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her a little tighter as he held her close and spoke in a low whisper "I can definitely do that for you, sweetheart. You just stay right here and I'll take care of you." he gently shifted her so that she was sitting more comfortably against his chest, settling back into the chair and getting a little more comfortable himself. he continued to rub her back gently, moving his hand up to gently run his fingers through her hair as he spoke in a low, soothing tone "Just relax, baby. I'm here. I got you."

"Benny?"

he continued to gently run his fingers through her hair, rubbing her back. he gently nuzzled his nose against her ear as she spoke, responding with a gentle hum, his voice barely above a whisper "Yeah, sweetheart? What is it?"

"am I gonna die..." She asked her voice groggy from her sickness

he froze briefly when she asked if she was going to die. his heart sank at the question and he immediately pulled her closer against him, gently gripping her a little tighter as he spoke in a soft, reassuring tone "What? No, no, sweetheart. Of course you're not going to die. You're just a little sick, that's all. You're gonna be just fine. I promise."

"... Would you be sad if I died?"

he froze again at that question, his heart sinking even further at the thought of her dying. he gripped her tighter again as he replied in a quiet, urgent tone, almost sounding a little panicked "Of course I would, sweetheart. I would be devastated if anything happened to you. I love you. You're not gonna die, alright? You're gonna be fine."

"what if I came back and haunted you as a ghost?"

he paused for a few seconds, taking in the question. he let out a quiet, nervous chuckle before replying in a somewhat shaky tone, trying to sound as calm as possible for her sake "If... If you came back as a ghost, I'd still love you. I don't care if you're alive or dead. I'll always love you."

"Even If I was a spooky ghost always poking your butt?"

"Even if you were a spooky ghost always poking my butt... And scaring me to death. I'd still love you. I'd let you poke my butt as much as you wanted."

"... Can I poke as much as I want when I'm alive?"

he couldn't help but laugh a little more at that, "You can poke my butt as much as you want. Any time, anywhere. It's all yours, baby."

Y/n slightly smiled in her weak sick state moving her hand to poke his butt

he let out a playful, slightly exaggerated gasp, a wide grin on his face as he chuckled softly "Oh, is that how we're playing now? I know you're sick and all, but I might just have to punish you for that, sweetheart."

"no, too sick for punishment"

he pouted, though the playful sparkle in his eyes "Mmm... I don't know... You're still poking my butt when you're supposed to be relaxing... Seems like a punishable offense to me. Sick or not, I still might have to punish you. Fair is fair, sweetheart."

"nooo too sick" she whines

he chuckled again, still pouting as he let out a dramatic sigh and spoke with a mock-surrendered tone "Fine, fine. I won't punish you. But only because you're so sick and pathetic and adorable. You're lucky this time, but don't think I won't punish you when you're better." he winked,

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pixeldistractions · 8 months ago

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Just some picspam of my other families enjoying Oasis Extreme Adventure Park on a warm fall evening. Here in Nevada, the weather will stay warm enough for water activities well into November.

Jack gets discounted family rates for being a member of the climbing club, so Nessa and the littles come to hang out as often as they can.

Jack and Nessa relax in the hot springs while their very young children run loose around lots of deep water. Don’t worry, TS4 kids can’t even die, can they???

And it’s okay if you don’t know who most of the following sims are. I have almost 300 playable sims in my save, lol!

Tyrell Blair (owner of Nebula Robotics Co., dad to Liberty and Leland) is too old for the slip ’n slide.

Carlos and Lisa Sanchez are being sweet. Lisa is one of Hudson’s sisters, and Carlos is a programmer who works for Hayden Phoenix at his game development company. They have two toddlers at home.

Natty enjoys bouncing on her floaty. I had no idea sims could bounce on these, or maybe only she can because she’s childish? Charlie was around here somewhere, too, but he was playing chess with someone and not interested in getting in the water.

Gael Espinoza (antiquities dealer, Robbie & Liza’s boss) and his wife (sorry Gael’s wife, I forget your name, lol!). My couples here were all about sharing roses with each other tonight.

And Desmond came here to do his homework. Sierra Nova University is very nearby the adventure park. Desmond is in his first semester of uni at SNU, along with Delphie and Dakota, and I need to pay them a visit very soon!

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #sims being sims #not tagging all these sims lol!#sims 4 gameplay #ts4 gameplay

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lord-squiggletits · 2 years ago

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Tbh there are so many things about the situation at Delphi that make me ask questions that it makes me feral.

Because well, there were Autobot nucleon mines there, and the DJD also had their base on Messatine. Pharma says that Prowl kept sending more soldiers and miners, so that meant there was some sort of battling going on there on a consistent basis. Not the DJD surely, as the DJD's primary job duty is hunting traitors and that's something that has them doing a lot of traveling. But Pharma DOES also say that the DJD could destroy the entire base in an instant but don't do it because of Pharma's deal with Tarn.

And tbh it just makes me ask so many questions like. Why was Ambulon, a Decepticon traitor, sent to work on the same planet the DJD live on? Isn't that like flagrantly disregarding his safety and putting the entire clinic at risk to a raid by the DJD? What about Pharma? Why did Prowl send one of the best doctors in the Autobot army to a clinic at some random mine that doesn't seem to have much relevance to the war effort? And the fact that the DJD works out of Messatine is very much known; I mean, Pharma knows, and he's just a doctor, surely this is common knowledge? Did Prowl offer the post at Delphi to Pharma specifically because he thought that Pharma was resourceful enough to be able to handle such a stressful position? Or did he anticipate that Pharma would be willing to make morally questionable deals to keep Delphi and the mines running, despite the fact that Pharma has had no bad marks to his name until now?

Did the Autobots at Delphi even know about the war being over? I mean, true, the war didn't technically end until Megatron gave his speech on Luna-2 telling the Decepticons to demobilize, but the war was mostly over and Cybertron had been reverted, did the Delphi medics know? DID ANYONE EVEN FUCKING CHECK IN ON DELPHI TO NOTICE THERE WAS A FUCKING PLAGUE GOING ON??? Pharma's entire plan hinged on Autobot High Command shutting down the clinic and evacuating without Pharma being implicated in the t-cog deal, but Prowl never even brings up Delphi in ex-RID, in fact no one seems to ever bring up Delphi at any point during phase 2??? And if Delphi was so easily forgotten that no one checked in on it and it took a random visit from the Lost Light to reveal Pharma's plot, then it couldn't be very important in the scale of the war, could it? SO THEN WHY WAS PHARMA SENT THERE TO BEGIN WITH if it was nothing but some nucleon mines that seemingly made no impact on the war effort?

Did Pharma really just get unlucky enough to get a shitty job posting? But the DJD being on Messatine was no coincidence, there's no way that Prowl didn't know. So did Prowl offer the Delphi posting to Pharma for one of his 5D chess game moves or was it just pure misfortune? Did Prowl, a notable mathematical and tactical genius, notice the climbing mortality rates at Delphi and calculate their cause himself? Why would Prowl not investigate them, unless he was busy, unless it was part of his plans all along? But why would Pharma getting in contact with the DJD have anything to do with Autobot war efforts?

And that's not even getting into the nature of how Pharma's red rust plague operates based on transformation. Both of Pharma's main assistants either couldn't or chose not to transform. Tarn is notable for having a transformation addiction. Did Pharma purposefully design the plague so that (unfortunate collateral damage aside) it wouldn't kill Ambulon or First Aid but would have devastating effects on Tarn?

#squiggposting #pharma apologism #so many fucking questions lmao and unfortunately i'm not sure any of them were meant to be asked #i think like from a doylist perspective delphi exists just to establish pharma as an antagonist and have a notable landmark for more lore #since delphi is on messatine which is also the planet megatron met terminus #and since pharma is like a teriary character in a cast of tertiary characters it was just never elaborated on bc it wasn't important

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floenz · 1 year ago

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dfk 2023 thoughts in more orderly and english under the cut

dfk

- the whole thing feels sörta soulless and empty

- and in my amateur opinion the screenplay is nor very tight and even clumsy at points

- which im turn hindered the actors (Mrs Kreuzkamm falls victim to a bad script and Justus too at a slighlty lesser rate) and especially the kids actors

- regarding the kids: Jos characterisation is.....wrong

- like literally doesnt have anything to do with johnny

- nothing

- Matz and Uli were also just not it i cant explain it it just didnt hit

- but i actually enjoyed the martina storyline and execution

- but in general it did not feel like they were trying to tell the same story as the book

- like this doesn't feel like an adaption this feels like it wants to be something completely different

justraucher et al.

- justus is a math teacher and it bothered me at the beginning

- but thing is it fits this Justus vibes perfectly

- because he is kinda idk cold?? he doesn't feel kind so all the interactions with the kids fall flat

- "[...] you're not allowed to greet me for 14 days"~justus "thats all 🤨"~jo <- dragging two characters into the mud in one single exchange

- the nichtraucher tho holy

- ive read jinx say most bisexual nichtraucher yet and

- yes

- he sure has the vibes

- my only criticism for him is that he also doesn't really radiate kindness but ill allow it because he is kinds cunty and serves that so

- but yea his outfits, his ring, his nail polish

- king shit

- while we're on the topic: justraucher

- they are still very much dads but divorced dads which is actually an interesting interpretation

- when the kids reunify them the nichtraucher is sexy woodchopping in a sleeveless shirt and glowering at justus and im not saying the scene radistes sexual energy but slso it kinda did like at one point he is glaring at justus and ripping apart wood with his bare hands

- and then they meet again after uli fell down the wall and its like to exes meeing suddendly like fanfiction level of miscommunication but 👉👈 i enjoyed that

- justus gets angry and the nichtraucher goes like 🥺

- they make up over long and intense eye contacts during the play

- ok im done talking about justraucher

- the other ships:

- sorry cnka uli und matz is...not it in this movie none of them feel like fully realised characters and it's just very...distant

- matz just kinda stands there when they put uli in the rubbish on the cupboard

- martina and jo starts rough but they have some nice cute scenes in the end

- jo kinda mellows out in the end and then they start to get along

mis

- matz really does get one hit K.O.ed after saying its not fair to fight cos he's a professional.......

- "when i was five my mum abandoned me in a disco😔"~jo killed me i had to stop the movie to laugh

- uli climbs a wall to prove he's not a angsthase and everyone's like nobody managed that before but the wall is like 7 m high 🤡

- justus always goes like ⌚️👀 its so late i have get some work done ⌚️👀 when the writers didnt know how to end a scene hkkcgkkbgjjvvk

- the train cart looks really cozy and cottagecorey here and i like it so much

- the nichtraucher is honestly just living his live vibin and being bi its wonderful

- he plays chess with himself

#das fliegende klassenzimmer 2023 #dfk #das fliegende klassenzimmer #i couldnt fall asleep again so this is what i decided to do

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partystoragechest · 1 year ago

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A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan tries to set the Commander up with Baroness Touledy.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 4,157. Rating: all audiences.)

Chapter 16: Baroness Touledy's Strategy

The chess match had gone exceedingly well. Better than expected, even. And Trevelyan was eager to replicate its success.

She recalled—as her work in the Undercroft became so automatic that her mind could lead itself astray—that the Lady Samient had once mentioned the Baroness trained her own soldiers. Much like the Commander did his. There was something in this.

The moment her work was done, Lady Trevelyan rushed her farewells to Dagna and Herzt, and hurried away. She took the steps to the Great Hall two at a time, and managed to slip only once on the climb.

When she emerged, she set off striding for the stairs to the guest suites, the first port of call in her search to find the Baroness Touledy.

“Lady Trevelyan?”

Except, the Baroness had already found her.

Trevelyan skidded to a halt, and whirled. The Baroness stood mere feet away, resting her hand on her cane, awaiting Trevelyan’s approach.

“Baroness! I was just about to look for you.”

“What a coincidence,” replied the Baroness, “Lady Montilyet was just looking for you.” In her hand, she held and waved a small envelope. “Our invitations to the banquet are here.”

Banquet? Trevelyan held her tongue, for she did not wish to give away the fact that she had no idea to what banquet the Baroness referred. But her face must have, as Baroness Touledy said:

“I know, I had almost forgotten myself; I believe the last time it was mentioned was during the initial tour.”

Ah, that was why she didn’t know of it. Trevelyan had, cleverly, spent that time internalising her panic over the Commander’s Templar-hood. Maker knows what else she had missed!

“It had slipped my mind entirely,” she lied. “Is it to be a large banquet?”

“That depends on your definition.” The Baroness tucked her invitation into the cleavage of her dress. “The guest list is only thirty.”

A survivable number, at least. The last banquet she had attended—at her parents’ behest—Trevelyan was one of two hundred invitees. Naturally, it was a terrible evening.

She asked, “Do we know whom these guests are?”

“There is our little cohort, of course, and some Inquisition. The visiting nobility will be from Ferelden, Orlais, and the Marches—though there are few of note. Apart from the Cometesse Bervard. That woman has a startling talent for… spreading knowledge.”

Ha! A gossip, then. Quite the reputation—no doubt earnt through years of hard graft, long hours, and the betrayal of absolutely everyone she held dear.

“She and the others should be arriving within the next few days,” Touledy explained. “Let us hope that the weather stays fair, I would so despise for some blizzard or heavy rain to force her to turn back. I am sure we would miss her delightful company.”

Trevelyan laughed, and wondered if she could perhaps do something to help the weather along. No, no. Too noticeable. And whatever ward secured the climate of Skyhold was far too powerful; she’d have to do it from outside the keep. Definitely noticeable.

“Anyway,” the Baroness said, regaining her usual poise, “I should be off.”

“Wait,” blurted Trevelyan. She abandoned her weather-changing plans, and recalled instead her purpose in this conversation. “I had something I wished to ask you about.”

“Oh, yes, you said you were looking for me. What is it I can help you with, Your Ladyship?”

Without willing it, Trevelyan assumed the same straightened posture she used for presenting new theories to Dagna. The idea she was to propose was rather different to her usual, however. This one would not involve anyone getting blown up. Hopefully.

“Well, Lady Samient had mentioned you train your own troops—”

“Had she?” the Baroness interrupted. She tapped her cane upon the ground. “Interesting. Well, it is true.”

“Yes. So, I take it you are trained in combat—swordfighting, that sort of thing?”

Touledy laughed. “It is strange to speak to someone with whom you do not already have a reputation. Yes, I am trained,” she told her. “In my younger days, I was quite the warrior. Though I must insist: I was.” She glanced down, toward her right thigh. By no small coincidence, it was the side on which she always held her cane. “To put it simply, I lost a fight.”

Trevelyan followed the Baroness’ gaze, as if she would be able to see anything of the injury through the three layers of skirt the Baroness wore. “I am sorry to hear it, your Ladyship. So you no longer fight?”

A cheeky little smile cocked the Baroness’ mouth. “Well, not as vigorously. But I do what I can, when I can. And I live vicariously through my soldiers.”

Trevelyan shared in the smile. “You know, Lady Erridge believes you have a sword hidden in that cane.”

“A sword?” The Baroness chuckled. She rocked the cane back and forth, contemplative. “And if I drew it, what would I lean on?”

“That’s what I told her.”

“If I did need to fight, I could do as much damage with a cane as I could a sword.”

Ha! The Commander wasn’t the only one with an arrogant side, then. Perfect. They were well-matched.

“I believe you,” said Trevelyan. “I should tell you, the reason I ask all this is because I think it might come in beneficial, with the Commander. He seemed to like being challenged, during the chess game in the morning—we shall have to tell you how it went at dinner—and I think we may be able to do the same with you.”

Touledy raised an eyebrow. “You… want me to fight him?”

“No, no! Forgive me, I explained poorly. I shall start again.”

The Commander, every morning (not long after sunrise), would inspect his troops, and oversee the start of their daily training. Trevelyan’s suggestion was thus: tomorrow morning, the Baroness would attend, and do a little inspection of her own. All in the name of ensuring a high standard of tutelage, of course!

The Commander would no doubt arrive soon enough, the two would banter about weapons and fighting and that sort of thing, and a connection would finally form!

The Baroness nodded along, her approval—by appearances—already granted. Yet as soon as Trevelyan had finished explaining, she asked of her: “And you will be..?”

“Oh! Did you wish me to attend?”

“I will not do it without your presence, Lady Trevelyan.”

“Oh.” Trevelyan could not quite believe a woman as self-confident as the Baroness would want for a wingman, but she would not deny her. “If you would prefer me to, then… yes.”

***

They met as promised, the next morning, just after sunrise. Trevelyan almost believed she had risen first, as she waited patiently beside the Baroness’ door. However, when the Baroness emerged, that theory was very much cast into doubt.

Baroness Touledy had, apparently, packed armour for the trip. She was wearing a studded gambeson—in a deep plum colour—with a leather peplum trim. Her chest was protected by a shining gorget; her arms by spaulders and intricately-carved vambraces. Her cane, of course, matched.

Trevelyan wore her work smock.

“Do you look so lovely for every battle, Baroness?”

Touledy smiled. She patted her hair—the braids had been neatly twisted into a bun—to ensure its perfect placement. “Only if the enemy is attractive.”

Trevelyan laughed, and led her off. They headed for the Great Hall, only to part with its comforting embrace, and enter into the courtyard beyond. The first rays of morning light trickled down to greet them, accompanied by a cacophony.

In the grounds below the grand staircase, a sea of Inquisition soldiers began their morning of training. Warriors sparred, scouts did vigorous exercise, and archers bullseyed targets.

It was an impressive sight—and a loud one. One could quite understand why the guest suites were situated to the back of Skyhold. The clanging of steel and barking of orders might be a bit much for some of the more delicate sorts in this early hour. Nobles needed their beauty sleep.

Except for the Baroness, of course, who radiated grace no matter her waking moment. She descended the stairs like a deity; and, much like how the chanters spoke of the Maker, her image affected both fear and awe.

Soldiers below ceased their combat to watch her arrival. Mouths fell open, whispers were exchanged. Trevelyan took the opportunity to hurry along after, with little notice or fanfare.

Baroness Touledy’s cane hit the worn earth of the courtyard like a quake, and her feet followed. She sauntered towards the training area—just outside the tavern—and like a bird of prey, began to circle.

“Carry on,” she told the gawping soldiers. There was little they could do but obey. The sparring started up again.

Trevelyan fell in alongside Touledy, a rather meek shadow to her imposing figure. She waited until they had completed at least one circuit of the area, and then called over the noise of the troops: “What do you think?”

“Satisfactory,” said Touledy, “but not great.”

Her eyes must have caught on one combatant who was particularly not great, for she stopped in an instant, and honed in on the metal maelstrom.

Trevelyan dared not follow, as Touledy entered. By instinct, the Baroness seemed to know the rhythm of the battlefield. She could sidestep around a sparring soldier without collision, or pass between a pair of practicing privates in the one moment that their swords did not meet.

The Baroness halted by one such soldier, who lowered his weapon on her approach. Though Trevelyan could not hear the ensuing speech from where she stood, the gestures Touledy gave—big, sharp swings of the arm—highly suggested instruction.

Trevelyan might have deciphered what exactly was being taught, were her observation not abruptly ended by the feeling of a presence at her back.

“Lady Trevelyan.”

The Commander’s voice rumbled in one ear, then the other. Some furs on his cape must have brushed her neck as he passed her by, for there could be no alternative explanation for the little tingle that ran between her shoulders in his presence. He stopped at her side.

“Commander.” She curtsied.

He bowed in reciprocation. “Did the Arcanist send you?”

She smiled. “It’s a little early for the Arcanist to be sending me anywhere, Commander.”

“I see.” He cleared his throat. “Then, is… is there something you require?”

“Oh, no, no—thank you. I am here because the Baroness wished to observe your training, and she requested that I join her.”

The Commander seemed perplexed. “The Baroness?”

Trevelyan looked out to the crowd of soldiers, and quickly picked out the Baroness. It wasn’t hard. She was best dressed of the lot.

Yet it seemed the Commander, typically, had been the only one to not notice her presence. He knew it now, though. “Oh.”

And the Baroness had noticed him, too. She gave one final instructive motion—something like an overhead slash—to the soldier to whom she spoke, and drifted away.

Time to lay some groundwork. “The Baroness was once quite the warrior,” Trevelyan told the Commander, while they awaited her arrival. “And now she teaches her own soldiers, in Val Misrenne. They are excellent fighters, I hear.”

“I am aware,” he said, eyes lingering on the Baroness, posture straightening. Trevelyan might have thought it an attempt to smarten himself before she arrived, were it not for the fact he looked like he was staring down an enemy.

“Commander, good morning,” the Baroness greeted. “I suppose Lady Trevelyan has told you why we are here?”

“Something of it.”

“Do not look so dour, Commander. This is no formal inspection, merely curiosity. I wish to see how you train your fighters.”

“Why?”

“I have heard how well you teach. I wanted to confirm the rumours for myself.”

Trevelyan interjected, to prevent another one- to three-word answer from the Commander: “And how do you find them?” she asked, hoping he might sweeten upon hearing a compliment from Touledy.

The Baroness delivered: “Well, I have not seen much yet, but of what I have seen… I am quite impressed.”

Perfect! Or it would have been, had she left it there. But she did not:

“Yes, they are indeed the greatest force of Templars I have witnessed in some time.”

The Commander shifted. The sparring lowered in volume. Trevelyan hoped this was going somewhere.

“I don’t see the issue. Templars are some of the most formidable fighters in the world,” the Commander said proudly.

“Indeed. And were it only Venatori that the Inquisition had to face, I would not argue the point. But you will not defeat Red Templars whilst fighting like Templars.”

The Commander smiled. It reminded Trevelyan somewhat of his demeanour whilst playing chess. She took her cue, and became suddenly interested in the archery nearby—though her ears remained open in the direction of the conversation behind her.

“Templars are not only trained in combat against magic,” the Commander clarified. “It has always been necessary to know how to defeat other Templars.”

“Red Templars are not like normal Templars.”

Trevelyan glanced back, and noticed a flash of sorrow in Baroness Touledy’s expression. Her mind fixated upon that look, and a single question usurped all others: why should Baroness Touledy know anything of Red Templars?

“No,” said the Commander, “but they are like demons.”

“And Templars are trained in their combat also?”

“Exactly.”

The Baroness nodded, with a smile that suggested a subtle respect might be welling inside. “But combat is not merely about knowing how to defeat your enemy. It is knowing how your enemy might defeat you.”

Trevelyan noted that several of the soldiers had quit their training altogether—including the archers she pretended to observe—in order to listen to the discussion.

“And how might our enemy defeat us?” the Commander asked.

Touledy explained: “That you were once a Templar is a well-known fact”—(Trevelyan could say otherwise)—“and so your enemy will know it too. They will know what kind of army to expect, and they will know how to fight against you. Predictability is a weakness.”

“I quite agree.”

“Then perhaps there is someone who can help you become a little less predictable.”

A little gleefulness rose up and was quickly quelled within Trevelyan. It was still perfectly possible for the Commander to turn down Baroness Touledy’s coming offer—but he seemed willing to hear it, at least. And he surely would not refuse her so publicly!

“Lady Trevelyan.”

Trevelyan startled at mention of her name. She found the Baroness staring directly at her.

“You have received tuition in combat, I presume?”

Plenty, back at the Circle. But what did that have to do with anything? “Yes, I have.”

“I wonder, how would you defeat someone like the Commander?”

Trevelyan laughed, and said the first thing that came to mind: “Public humiliation.”

The chuckle that subsequently came from Touledy was echoed amongst the soldiers around them. Though the Commander tried to hide it, there was a crack in his demeanour, too.

“In combat?” he amended.

Trevelyan grinned. “Oh! In combat, you say? Why, public humiliation and a fireball!”

Another ripple of laughter. A soldier cheered the answer. The Commander’s smile, at last unconcealed, accompanied the warm—but disapproving—shake of the head he gave that soldier.

“Indeed,” said the Baroness, before dropping a sentence Trevelyan was not expecting to hear, nor wanting to: “Perhaps you might better keep the Commander on his toes, than I.”

“Oh, no, no—”

“You have a good mind, Lady Trevelyan,” the Baroness continued.

“I couldn’t, really—”

“And you likely have greater knowledge of how to defeat a Templar, I’m sure.”

Trevelyan’s mind stopped. Oh no.

“Um, I… well, no, no. They, they didn’t really teach us that sort of thing.” She gave a little laugh, shaky as it was. “For obvious reasons.”

There was a titter nearby. Trevelyan did not appreciate it as she had the previous ones. Everyone looked at her.

“Do not be so coy,” the Baroness insisted. “Even in theory, I imagine you know more.”

No words came out when Trevelyan tried to speak. Her head just… shook. Maker, if only she had known how to defeat a Templar. Perhaps then things would have gone differently, that night. The others. Wouldn’t.

“Lady Trevelyan has already given you her answer, Baroness,” said the Commander, sudden and loud. He was not speaking merely to Touledy, but the entire platoon. “I am competent enough to train my own soldiers, and her Ladyship is busy aiding the Inquisition elsewhere. If you wish to contribute, then do so—but do not volunteer her services to shield your own incapability.”

Trevelyan dared to glimpse him. He was only a few inches taller than the Baroness, but used all of them to look down on her.

“Commander,” the Baroness said calmly, “I do not appreciate your tone.”

“This is my courtyard, your Ladyship,” he responded, “I will use whatever tone I wish.” He pulled back from her, and noticed the stares of his soldiers. “Back to training!” he called out. “We’ve lost enough time already!”

Without question or comment, they picked up their weapons once more. The Commander’s eyes returned to the Baroness, unflinching. But so was she.

“Public humiliation is effective indeed. Very well. Then I shall take my leave.”

She turned on a heel, and marched away from the courtyard. Trevelyan did not look; she listened instead, to the rhythmic thuds of Touledy’s cane against dry earth.

After a long wait, they were gone.

Her eyes opened. Attempts to calm her breathing were of little success. Small whispers, at the edge of a periphery, somewhere in the distance. Not good.

“Lady Trevelyan, are you all right?”

The Commander. She summoned the courage to meet his gaze, and found it full of concern.

“Fine,” she breathed, “fine.”

“Would you like me to do anything? I—”

This was bad enough. This was Touledy, angered. This was information. This was her fault. “No. No, you’ve… please don’t.”

Some recognition of the facts, at least, seemed to appear on his face. “Forgive me, I… was trying to”—he rubbed the back of his neck—“shall I send for Lady Montilyet?”

Trevelyan shook her head, and stepped back. “No, no. I’m… I wish to be left alone,” she said.

And before the Commander could respond, she escaped.

***

Stargazing was especially cathartic that evening. Maker, it had been so hard to concentrate on her work with the morning’s events rattling around in her mind.

She breathed in the chill of the mountains, and released her anxieties with an exhale. A puff of frosted air left her mouth, and sailed upward, toward the clear night sky.

The Baroness had not come to dinner. This was not so unusual—she had occasionally been so busy with her letters that she had not the time to attend. But the Ladies Erridge and Samient seemed to have deduced something was off, by the way they spoke in whispers, and exchanged curious looks.

Trevelyan told them nothing.

She did not know why the Commander had felt the need to make it all so much worse. It was a sorry enough situation for the failure of the matchmaking idea alone—his scolding the Baroness was impossible to recover from.

But—perhaps now was the time to confront him on it. For she heard the usual night watchman mutter a greeting to someone, some distance away. Trevelyan steeled herself, and turned to face the Commander.

Baroness Touledy stared back. The Commander, nowhere to be seen.

“Baroness!” Trevelyan gasped. “I… ah...”

She trailed off as her gaze caught the Baroness’ manner of dress. A lovely gown she wore—black silk, it seemed—but her presentation was not as… prim, as normal. There were creases in the fabric. The shawl was merely thrown over her shoulders. The edges of her hair were not laid right.

“Lady Trevelyan,” the Baroness greeted, shifting a little uncomfortably under that shawl. “This is where you go, on a night?”

“Yes,” admitted Trevelyan. She would not ask where Touledy had been. Now was not the time. “Baroness,” she said instead, “I am ever so sorry for today. Had I any idea the Commander would react so poorly to the scheme I should have never suggested it in the first place. Please, I am so, so sorry.”

Touledy toyed with her cane. “Do not prostrate yourself so, your Ladyship. It is not the scheme he disapproved of. I said something that clearly struck a nerve…” She looked at Trevelyan direct. “Something about you.”

Trevelyan’s eyes darted away. She could not have them betray any emotion.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she murmured.

“Whatever I said to cause offence, I am truly sorry.”

She shook her head. “There was nothing that offended me so.”

“Lady Trevelyan,” the Baroness muttered. “There have been times, I admit, where I have lied to you, and manipulated you.” She took a step closer, and spoke even quieter. “But let me assure you: this is not one of those times. If I am curious, it is only towards the manner of offence I have caused, so that I may contribute the proper remedy. Truly, genuinely, wholeheartedly… I am sorry.”

Perhaps it was foolish, but Trevelyan believed her. She said it with such conviction—in her eyes, too. Her voice was always soft and gentle, but here the softest and gentlest it had been. No deceit, no lies. Not in this. Her apology was the truth.

And so Trevelyan gave her truth in exchange: “It’s all right. It’s simply… something happened, before I arrived here. Something… bad, of course. The Inquisition is aware of it, Commander included. I do not know why he felt the need to spring to my defence, but he did, and I am sorry. It’s… all right.”

A second passed, as Touledy processed this. “Tell me no more. I understand. So long as I know I have not caused you some great injury—or that if I have, I know how I may pay my penance for it—I will be able to sleep tonight.”

Trevelyan shook her head. “You did not. You did not know.”

“I did not.”

Silence fell between the two, made all the more silent by the sleeping castle around them. The Baroness straightened herself, adjusting her shawl to lie a little neater. Trevelyan had no more to say.

“Well,” said the Baroness, “I shall leave you to your view.”

“Have a good night, your Ladyship.”

“And you,” she replied.

Touledy turned, and took her first step away. Trevelyan prepared to give another healing exhalation, but as she breathed in, Touledy turned back.

“Oh, Lady Trevelyan,” she said gently, “I wish to say, whatever it is that happened before you came here… I am sorry. I do not know. But given the times we live in, I can assume it was… not pleasant. I hope you are well.”

There was a moment of pause, as Trevelyan considered a response—if she would even give one.

But the Baroness did not require it. “Anyway,” she said, “goodnight.”

Trevelyan repeated the sentiment, and let Touledy walk away. She contemplated that final apology, more than she had any other Touledy had given.

It was not an apology of personal fault. It was an expression of most natural sympathy. Perhaps from someone who likewise knew all too well the times they lived in.

The warmth of this gesture staved off the night, and Trevelyan decided she would remain at least a few minutes more. Besides, her eyes had already drifted away, towards the direction the Baroness had come from.

It was the same direction as from whence the Commander often came. Probably the best route back from his office, too. Most discreet, surely.

Touledy’s unlaid edges and ruffled skirts, could not have been because—?

“She came from the Herald’s Rest,” said the nearby guard. He did not make eye contact with Trevelyan, pretending to keep at his post. But still, he spoke: “Comes from there some nights.”

Trevelyan noted the obviousness with which she was staring at the Commander’s tower, and desperately backpedalled: “I hadn’t thought of such a thing.”

“No, ma’am. Just reporting what I saw, ma’am.”

Trevelyan turned back to her stars. “Well, thank you, anyway,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Trevelyan gazed up. Herald’s Rest? Baroness Touledy, coming back all disheveled from the keep’s only tavern—no wonder she took this quieter route. The rumours would be powerful indeed.

But Trevelyan would certainly not be the one to spread them. Tonight, she had given Touledy a little piece of her. A secret, to seal away from the world. Trevelyan would do the same for this.

And no one would know that the Baroness Touledy was a something of a party animal.

#cullen rutherford #cullen x trevelyan #commander cullen #unwanted #unwanted fic #this one is the touledy version of unloading baggage basically #bit of relationship development w/ her #i hope the next chapter is done sooner because i already wrote most of it out lmao

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tharubyprincess · 7 months ago

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While you wasted your day gooning and losing your money to hot internet brats, I climbed forty rating points in Chess, practiced my archery draw, washed my hair, and made bank. I'm your superior in every way <3

#gooner #goonette #find0mme #f1ndom #f!ndom #money kink #cashkink

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ahb-writes · 7 months ago

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Book Review: 'As a Reincarnated Aristocrat, I'll Use My Appraisal Skill to Rise in the World' #1

As a Reincarnated Aristocrat, I'll Use My Appraisal Skill to Rise in the World #1 by MiraijinA, Jimmy, Tristan K Hill

castle politics

fantasy

isekai

political science

social commentary

My Rating: 5 of 5 stars

Navigating the treacherous course of a territory in turmoil, Ars Louvent is too young to know what he's actually doing. Or, he should be. It's not as if he has much of a choice. His father is ill, his neighbors encroach his borders, and the regional duke's two sons are about to kick off a civil war. Ars is too young to know what he's actually doing. Or is he?

REINCARNATED ARISTOCRAT v1 is a gem. Not because it's exceedingly original and difficult to find, but because this story is nestled comfortably in a niche genre and the author executes its narrative to absolute perfection. This is not a reincarnation story with overpowered heroes, a harem of young hybrid animal ladies, or tales of gruesome death around every corner. This novel is about political gamesmanship, the methodical merging of economic and military interests, and the people-management calculations made in the shadows of increasingly corrupted statecraft.

This novel focuses on the people who manage the land, as well as the personal relationships, economic hardships, and territorial disputes that come with being a minor lord in a much larger chess game. Readers who want their feudal lordship brimming with bloodshed should look elsewhere. Similarly, readers who want their isekai narratives packed with inexplicably outsized magecraft should look elsewhere.

Ars's ability to view people's skills and abilities via an old school RPG status screen forms the foundation of the book's trajectory. He knows when a soldier might fare better as an archer, rather than as a hand-to-hand combatant. He also knows when a political leader is more heavily inclined toward betrayal than facile loyalty. And in the case of his unexpected engagement to a friendly lord's young daughter, Ars also knows when someone is shockingly skilled at political subterfuge.

AS A REINCARNATED ARISTOCRAT, I'LL USE MY APPRAISAL SKILL TO RISE IN THE WORLD v1 is a fun book but can be difficult to follow. The novel wields dozens of place names (territories, counties, countries), people (attendants, lords, dukes), and alliances (mercenary groups, duchy coups), and it pays to have a notepad at the ready. For example, Ars, the acting lord of the Lamberg territory, finds himself thrust into the spotlight, lending needed information and aid to House Pyres, which is guided by Count Lumeire Pyres, governor of the County of Canarre, in his support of Lord Couran Salemakhia, eldest son of the ailing Lord Amador Salemakhia, the Duke of Missian, of the Summerforth Empire. Got all that? The more complex version includes Lord Couran's rival (brother), Count Pyres's rivals (neighboring counties), a plausible assassination attempt, and more. This is not a book one can put down one day, and nonchalantly pick up a week later.

Layered and complicated though the character dynamics may be, the novel is written very loosely. The book is full of clever writing and amicable characters. Ars is overly cautious but more sarcastic than not. He shudders at the thought of using his appraisal skill to climb the political ranks ("Could you imagine just how much of a pain in the ass being an emperor would be?" page 54). Unfortunately, some supporting characters earn more space on the page than others, but there's plenty of room for them to grow.

Ars recruits a skilled mercenary as his personal retainer, locates and hires a marginally intelligent but comically vain mage to lead his army, and strikes a lucrative deal with a crossdressing information broker whose intelligence and combat prowess are second to none. Ars may find it a royal pain to seek out those capable of helping him achieve his or his greater lord's goals, but the deeper he wades into the waters of governance and intrigue, the more he values the hunt for what it is ("I was starting to appreciate that there was always a lot more to a person deep down than what my little power could tell me about them," page 273).

The novel's pensive approach to domestic statecraft, as well as its deliberately obsequious view of domestic political relations, includes social commentary on enslaved peoples, arranged marriages, feuds among royalty, the economics of betrayal, the imperatives of nursing a good strategist, and more. REINCARNATED ARISTOCRAT v1 goes deep, intentionally, and the book can feel like a tome packed with entertaining but immaterial lore, but in reality, everything boils down to "medieval territory management," as the author says in the afterword. Still, it's a gem.

❯ ❯ Light-Novel Reviews || ahb writes on Good Reads

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13thpythagoras · 1 month ago

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#tv #vs #iq #i'd rather play chess than watch tv #haha #my chess rating is climbing over 2000 #arena level chess master haha #gotta get fide online #get my rating official

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aviculor · 8 months ago

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My sister took me to the pickup location earlier than if I had waited for my mom to come home with my car. She pointed out that the box should probably have had labeling on it like "live animal" or "fragile", but I guess Jamie's Tarantulas is just that cocksure that their animals won't be DOA. But maybe the lack of signs yelling "THIS BOX IS FULL OF TARANTULAS" was good for the sake of discretion since I had to pick it up at a Walgreens. I don't recall having any issues with Jamie's Tarantulas back when I bought my A. bicoloratum in October. But here, I never even got an email for shipping confirmation. FedEx itself told me a package was coming and I had to extrapolate that it was my tarantulas. And a lot of headache would have been avoided if it was shipped to my house. At any rate, I now have three new sexed females.

The A. anax was opened first, and she was very inquisitive and trying to climb out as I was unpacking her. I'll admit, I already love her.

The A. moderatum, the entire purpose of my purchase, was next. She looks a little thin so I filled up her water bowl and gave her a superworm immediately.

Now, because of the cavalier way the first two were bundled up, I did not want to risk giving the H. maculata any opportunity to bolt. So I took it as slow and methodical as I could, placing the container inside the enclosure and pulling at it with tongs. The paper towel came out of the container, which did make things easier where I could basically play chess with pulling the towel out through the lid. When she finally ran out of paper towel, she just lazily climbed onto the cork bark.

#tarantula

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sassykattery · 1 year ago

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Love's Web, Pt 7

Fight fight fight–

CW: Altaira is afab, uses she/her pronouns. Angst. Slight themes of noncon touching. Arguing. Fighting.

Themes: Romance. Jealousy. Multiverse. Angst. Heartache. MiguelxAltaira. Action.

Characters: Altaira (afab oc!), Diavolo, Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, Barbatos, all brothers implied, Simeon, Solomon, Miguel O'Hara

Minors and ageless blogs DNI

18+ only

Enjoy

Masterlist

Miguel stared at the watch for quite some time, waiting to see if it would turn on while he charged it to a nuclear energy housing he built during his stay. He had also made a substitute for rapture, and one of the reasons he wanted to be in the lab alone was so he could inject himself with it when it was finished as well. The centrifuge with the rapture was still spinning, so he began piecing together the watch again, hoping to get some sign of it working.

His thoughts were elsewhere, though. He couldn't shake the feeling something wasn't right somewhere. There was no telling if it was about his home or this new place he was in. Surely, he wasn't happy about Diavolo's chess game, but he couldn't let her know that.

There was a click and a beep as the centrifuge slowed. He stood from the bench to wait. Once it stopped spinning, he took the substitute liquid and loaded it into a needle. Very slowly, he injected the new solution in, already feeling the effects of it stabilizing his DNA. The edge came off just a little for him.

Just as he turned to go back to the bench, he saw a red screen projected above the device saying, "Canon Event Incoming." It was a good sign considering that function hadn't worked before, but Miguel tilted his head and clicked the message, allowing it to show him what event was taking place...

"Wh-What?" She asked nervously, leaning back as he continued to encroach on her space.

"I want you, Altaira. I want you in every way humanly and inhumanly possible. I want to be the one that has you so intimately."

"D-Diavolo," she whispered, looking somewhat afraid as he leaned closer. "I don't understand."

"Then let me show you."

Diavolo surged forward and planted his lips on hers, kissing her passionately. Her eyes went wide, and she struggled beneath him. He could feel the heat of her body and her heart rate skyrocketing as he pressed further into her. His tongue gently slipped into her mouth to greet her tongue softly, lapping the insides of her mouth.

He picked her up through arm strength alone as if she were weightless. She made a soft squeak in her throat when she realized what he was doing, and she felt him carrying her to the couch to lay her down on the cushions as he climbed on top of her. His barrage of kisses didn't stop, and neither did his hands from wandering up and down her body.

"Altaira, I have truly been a fool. I've wanted you so badly for so long, but I let my pride get the better of me. From the moment you stepped foot here, I knew I loved you."

Miguel stared openly at the device, watching this unfold. His teeth ground together, feeling his blood boiling at the sight. He hunched over the device, his upper body tensing as he gripped the bench countertop. There was a groaning sound as he clenched it harder, the epoxy resin beginning to weaken. The feed ended, and he was alone again.

"La madre que te parió," he growled. "Hijo de puta." His talons shot out and buried themselves into the counter. He groaned as he was stuck there for a moment. "Ay coño, no, not again."

["Motherfucker"] ["Son of a bitch"]

---

"Say no to me. Tell me you don't want me, that you only want him. Tell me, in this moment, all those nights you stayed here and we talked for hours meant nothing. Say that every time we embraced, you didn't feel your own heart rate jump just like mine did," Diavolo rasped to Altaira, pinning her to the couch cushions.

His golden eyes were filled with intense emotion, almost watering as he bore his gaze down at her. He knew she was frightened. He could feel the way her body was totally on edge and ready to bolt, to fight him if necessary, but she listened, and that's what he wanted.

"I..." was all she could say. Tears gathered in her eyes as well as she stared up at him.

"Say it now! Tell me you don't want me, too!" He snapped at her. She couldn't find the words and blinked several times.

An angered demon was a dangerous demon, and Diavolo was no ordinary demon.

"I'll give you a pact. I'll marry you, Altaira. I don't care about the nobility anymore. I don't care about what anyone has to say about me or my decisions. I can't lose you. Let me show you," he pleaded with her. "Please. I can't... I can't lose you. Not you, too."

Streams began running down her temples. She was still frightful, tense from how he overpowered her and kept her in place with his whole body laying on her like lead weights, his gravity like that of the sun.

"Dia... This..." Her brows pinched together as she tried to find the words. His hand came up to caress her cheek.

"Don't break my heart, lamb. Please, give me a chance. Give me a chance to make it right to you. You won't be without, you won't want for anything. I can take care of you for all your days. I can give you a stable life, like I know you want," he continued with a shaky voice, tears dripping down onto her blouse. "Let me love you. Let me show you what you deserve. You can deny me for anything as long as you stay, but I won't ever say no to you. I have a ring if you want it."

"She can't provide what the realm would want from the prospective royal match."

Everlasting life, and the ability to give life.

She sobbed and turned her head. "I won't live forever, and you know it."

"We can change that."

"I won't give you an heir."

"I don't care about that, Altaira, I never have. If I don't have you, an heir wouldn't matter anyway because you're the only one I can stomach calling my wife. Not a nobledemon's offspring, a greater witch, nor a siren could compare to what I have with you," he insisted, his tone bordering on begging. "Please believe me."

She sobbed again, more tears streaming down her temples and into her hair. "Why now?" She asked venomously while looking back at him, slapping her hand against his hard chest, though he felt no pain. "I've waited so long, and you kept me at arm's length. Why now?!" Her voice increased in volume with every word, barking on the word "now."

"I told you, I've been foolish, and I'm sorry, my love. I'm so sorry. I see he's taking you away from me. But please, give me a chance," he replied hastily, understanding of her anger. He waited for a moment before adding a desperate, "Please."

Another flash of anger crossed her eyes, and she started to squirm beneath him. As a last-ditch effort, he kissed her again, holding her head in his hands carefully. Their tears mixed together as their lips melded to one another. She let him continue, feeling how true to his words he was, how much he meant everything said and left unsaid. One hand remained cupped against her cheek, and the other wandered lower, caressing her arm, side, hip, even her thigh that he could reach.

"I love you," he whispered. "Let me love on you," his lips ghosted her ear, sinking to her neck to kiss her there too. She stared up at the ceiling, questioning herself in that moment.

She wasn't saying yes.

But she wasn't saying no.

He pressed his lips harder into the delicate flesh of her neck, causing her to gasp and hold him tighter. His wandering hand landed on her hip, his thumb passing up and down over her jeans. The warmth of her body was inviting, and he wanted to be enveloped in it. He sank lower and kissed the skin across her chest that peaked out around her shirt. His own senses picked up on the captivating scents her body released, like an aphrodisiac he didn't have to directly consume to feel its effects.

"My love," he murmured to no one in particular. He focused on kissing her body over her clothes, content to just show how he felt about her. "I've always thought you were beautiful. I know what you think about yourself, but you must know that demons see you differently."

She listened to him, still staring up at the ceiling while she tried to decide her next move.

"This is so soft, so easy to hold," he murmured as he gently grasped at her stomach, his long fingers carefully digging into her. His hands left her stomach to reach up to her breasts while he kissed the soft swell of her abdomen. Her eyes finally flickered down to watch him. "Your breasts are absolutely perfect. Don't get me started on your gorgeous thighs."

The woman swallowed thickly, feeling a blush high on her cheeks.

"All of you is perfect. I could hold you every night, and it'd never be enough. I've longed to touch you, to caress you like this. Your body is perfectly made... made for me," he whispered and then finally looked up at her.

Her brows pinched together again. A very hesitant, much smaller hand reached out to Diavolo. He leaned toward her, and her hand came to rest on his cheek, sliding around to touch him. All she did was blink as she watched her own hand move.

"But to feel you touch me like that..." he whispered in awe of her. His eyes were wide and glittering, pupils dilated as if he were a feline about to pounce. He kissed her wrist as her hand reached up higher to feel his locks through her fingers. Slowly, he pulled himself up to level his face with hers again, his chest pressed to her abdomen. "Altaira, you don't know what you do to me..." He sighed. That deep inhale, however, forced more of her scent onto his senses, and he gripped onto the couch to try and control himself. "I can smell your... Fuck, you're irresistible."

He kissed her roughly that time, grinding himself into her and trying to keep his hands locked onto the couch to avoid doing something he possibly shouldn't.

"Dia–" she started to mumble until Barbatos called out from the hallway.

"Apologies, my lord, but there's an emergency."

Diavolo growled and hung his head, trying to stuff down his feelings and reel in that straining erection he had.

"Can we continue this?" He asked her.

"My lord, I'm afraid it's urgent. It's Mr. O'Hara."

Within seconds, Diavolo was on his feet and striding toward the hallway, and Altaira scrambled to follow.

The three left the castle in a hurry to head toward RAD. Even from a distance, they heard the quakes and shatters within the building. They met the brothers outside the main doors.

Lucifer stepped forward first. "Satan came back to look through the library when he heard a commotion, and when he found Miguel, he– Wait!"

Altaira stormed past all of them and ran inside, hearing shouts of disapproval behind her. She followed the sounds of the destruction and found herself opening the door to the Student Council Room. She took maybe five steps into the room and was knocked to the ground. When she was rolled onto her back by her captor, she saw Miguel hovering over her.

"Miguel! What happened?" She asked. There was a feral look in his eyes as he glared down at her.

"That sneaky hejo de puta, he fucking touched you. I can smell his stench," he snapped, the eyes of his suit narrowing.

"M-Miguel, wait–"

"¡Cállate! You're mine. I had you first, cosita linda," he barked. The door opened again, and he took hold of her, dragging her back and plastering her against the far wall up high. Guarding his prize, he watched as Diavolo, Mammon, Lucifer, and Barbatos all filled the room in their demon forms.

"You idiot, she doesn't like heights. Put her down," Mammon snapped, lurching forward until Lucifer stopped him.

"You pinche demonio, I thought we went over this," Miguel called out to Diavolo.

[Fucking demon]

"She doesn't know what she wants. I don't remember her ever saying she was only yours," Diavolo replied, stepping closer. "But I highly recommend letting her go. You seem to be outnumbered."

"Gilipollas, over my dead body, now vete a tomar por culo," Miguel replied hotly.

"Oi, that's not nice," Mammon murmured as he watched Diavolo take the lead.

"The part where he called us dickheads or to go fuck ourselves?" Lucifer asked with a sigh, measuring where to retrieve Altaira from.

Diavolo and Miguel collided in a fury of arms and snarls, keeping each other in an arm hold.

"How dare you take advantage of her like that," Miguel berated the prince, shoving him back and shooting a web to bind his feet together. Diavolo fell to his knees but held out his hand to shoot a bolt of fire at Miguel, scatching his left arm and temporarily destroying the left arm of his holographic suit.

With the spiderman temporarily stopped, Diavolo looked up to Altaira, and she turned her face to avoid looking at him. He blinked and focused back on his opponent. "You don't belong in her world. You're nothing but a character from a story where she's from. Does she know you're destined to cheat on the woman who helps you with your tech?"

Miguel growled and lunged at the Demon Lord again, both of them toppling into a heap, rolling back and forth as they clawed at one another, using brute strength against one another. Diavolo threw him off and flew up in the air. The spiderman used his web to attach to one wall, pull himself up, and from the wall, he kicked himself off to tackle the prince in flight, knocking them both down to the floor again and webbing the demon's feet together again.

"That's not my story!" Miguel screamed as he tore a slash onto Diavolo's left lower wing. The prince hissed and shoved the man off him using magic, tossing him aside like a ragdoll.

Out of the corner of Miguel's eye, he saw Lucifer and Mammon approach Altaira, and quickly shot out a web for each and pulling, binding them together, back to back.

"Dammit," Mammon sighed. Lucifer snarled at the spiderman while trying to break the webbing.

Turning his attention back to Diavolo, Miguel lunged again at the prince, throwing his elbows up to use his blades, but the demon dodged away. The blades tore through the desk they landed on, cleanly splitting it. He pulled away and had the air knocked out of him as Diavolo tackled him down again, having broken the webbing around his feet.

"You come to my realm, touch and try to take away my human, destroy my building. I simply cannot allow you to exist here anymore," Diavolo whispered menacingly.

Miguel dismissed the mask of his suit and lurched forward enough to land a bite into Diavolo's shoulder, along with lending some of his paralytic venom. The Demon Lord hopped back and held his shoulder with his opposite hand, panting as the venom burned in his body.

Miguel slowly stood, his shoulders hunched as he stalked toward the prince and wiping his mouth.

"You have no one to blame but yourself," Miguel spat.

"Now that will be enough," Barbatos stated, walking calmly toward the two. He held Miguel's watch up in his hand. The man looked at his wrist, realizing it had been taken.

"Don't you dare," Miguel snapped.

"Don't worry. This is your ticket home, and I have no intention of letting anything happen until you are safely back into your realm," Barbatos replied neutrally. He stopped next to his master. "Besides, I think you already know this can't go on much longer unless you want to destroy her too, just like Gabriella."

Miguel flinched, his face instantly going dark.

"If you haven't figured it out, I'm the reason why you can't seem to leave, or totally fix your little device here," Barbatos continued, sounding apathetic as he looked over the watch and rotating it in his hand. "My presence alone is enough to maintain this dimension's timeline, and your entrance is merely a disturbance, so I am obligated to keep you from altering anything. I'm perfectly aware that the young master's love for Altaira is canon, and you know it, too. Therefore, I can not allow you to keep going like this. You must leave if you want to leave our universe in tact."

"What?"

The sound was small, unimposing, and weak. All of them looked toward Altaira, who had managed to get down on her own but at the expense of a broken ankle during their fight while the brothers were still tied up. She drug herself up, and both Miguel and Diavolo moved to help her, but she held a hand up as Lucifer and Mammon were at her side, helping her to meet the others. She leaned against Lucifer as she looked between the other three demons. "What's this about?"

"I knew what had happened because I saw the Canon Event through my watch," Miguel gestured toward the device in Barb's hand. "I just..."

"I apologize, but it would be wise for you to go," Barbatos stated to Miguel, extending his hand with the watch. He took the watch but approached Altaira. Lucifer gripped her tighter, glaring down the human mutant.

"Altaira..."

---

Thanks for reading! <3

Post made by sassykattery. Do not repost. Reblogs and comments appreciated.

Tags: @itsmeninerz @delphi-dreamin @bite-sized-devil @attic-club-sandwich

Something new! Choose your own ending!

1. "But... The Canon."

2. "Only One."

3. "Everybody Wins."

#obey me #obey me shall we date #sassywrites #sassystories #obey me fanfic #love's-web #crossover fic #obey me x atsv #obey me x across the spiderverse #miguel x altaira #Miguel x oc #diavolo x altaira #Diavolo x oc #sassy spider stories #for you diavolo haters #this for u bb #if you like him or love him like i do #im sorry

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the-fiction-witch · 6 months ago

Text

We'll Find Her

Media - The Queens Gambit Character - Benny Watts Couple - Benny X Reader Reader - Y/n Watts Rating - Adorable + Sad AF! Word Count - 2467

I woke up feeling refreshed and excited for the day ahead. I carefully selected my favourite pair of jeans and paired them with a simple yet stylish button-down shirt. After a quick grooming session to ensure my facial hair was looking smooth, I made my way downstairs.

As I descended the stairs, a wave of joy washed over me as I caught sight of Y/n and Violet. Y/n looked stunning in her sweet black dress, her vibrant Y/H/C hair styled in a flawless, long braid with a chic black headband. She was bustling about, expertly cutting up fruit and preparing a delicious lunch for Violet.

Meanwhile, Violet sat at the table, her school uniform neatly in place as she enjoyed a breakfast of French toast and fresh strawberries. Her sweet golden blonde pigtails added an extra touch of charm to her already adorable appearance.

Overwhelmed with affection, I hurried over to Violet and enveloped her in a warm, loving cuddle, showering her with kisses to start the day off on a delightful note.

"Dad!" She whined trying to push me away,

"Dad Tax," I chuckled stealing one of Violet's strawberries, and I went instead to wrap my arms around Y/n and gave her a neck kisses, "Ummm Good Morning Sweetheart,"

"Morning," She cooed turning and giving my lips a soft kiss, "It's Tuesday, your turn."

"I know, You ready to go Violet?"

"Actually..."

"Oh?"

"I was wondering if I could walk to school today?"

"Walk?" Y/n asked,

"It's only a ten-minute walk and then no one has to drive me," she suggested,

"Or do you just wanna stop at the corner store and grab a bunch of candy?" I asked,

"...No," she said sheepishly,

"I don't know Violet..." Y/n answered,

"Please! I'll call you from the phone box outside school as soon as I get there I promise,"

"You're call," Y/n told me,

"...Okay, here's the deal." I sighed grabbing my keys, "I am driving you to school,"

Violet sighed,

"But..."

Violet perked up a little,

"I will allow you to walk home, so long as it's okay with your mom. But you are to call us when you leave school from the phone box, and you are to come straight home no little corner shop snack stops, straight home before it gets dark." I told her,

"Is it okay Mom! please!"

"...it's okay, so long as you straight home,"

"Yay! Thank you!" She smiled giving us each a hug finishing her breakfast and heading down to the car, "Make sure to go slow this morning so you know she knows the way to walk home."

"I will do, see you in a bit sweetheart," I cooed kissing her,

"See you soon," she smiled, "Have a good day, love you, Violet,"

"Love you too Mom!" she called,

As I chuckled at Violet's morning antics, I headed out of the house and down to my car. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm glow over the neighbourhood. I drove Violet to school, taking the opportunity to point out the few landmarks between home and school. I wanted to make sure she knew the route well so that she could walk home by herself. As we approached her school, "You sure you know your way?"

"I'll be fine Dad,"

"Alright, you just know your Mom worries about you. Have a good day, remember to hand that algebra homework in we worked hard on that, and you have to tell me something you learned when you get home."

"I will," she smiles going to climb out of the car,

"Hey!" I stopped her,

"Yeah?"

"Love you, Violet,"

"Love you too Dad," she smiled hugging me, so I kissed her head,

"Good girl, go on," I told her tapping her head,

She happily climbed out and headed inside school to meet up with her friends,

As I settled into the plush cushions of my favourite armchair, the crackling fire cast a warm glow across the room. With a newly arrived chess book in hand, I eagerly delved into its pages, immersing myself in intricate strategies and timeless wisdom. Lost in thought, I contemplated the recent evolution of my chess game, analyzing my moves and considering new tactics. It was in this moment of deep concentration that Y/n, my dear friend, suddenly interjected, drawing me out of my reverie.

"I'm getting worried..."

"That I'm getting too sexy for you to resist, I know. I was concerned too." I chuckled,

Y/n rolled her eyes and smacked my shoulder playfully with her wooden spoon, "No. Violet, she should be home by now..."

I glanced at the clock on the mantle and it was 3:45, "Humm... you're right,"

"What time did she call?"

"Called from the phonebox outside the school at 3.06 said her English teacher kept everyone back an extra couple minutes to find a pair of scissors. Turns out the teacher had them. But she grabbed her stuff and was just heading on her way."

"It's only a ten-minute walk..."

"Maybe she stopped for snacks... even if we told her not to,"

"Even still, at 3:06 she calls us. Let's say she was chatting with friends and walking slowly to the shop at 3:16 or so, even if we say she was in that tiny corner shop for ten whole minutes that's only 3:26 and it's only a five-minute walk from the house ten is she's really being slow 3:36 she still should have been here ten minutes ago."

"... You're right," I nodded shutting my book and setting it on the table as I stood grabbing my keys, "It's a small area, how far away can she be? I'll go pick her up,"

"Okay, I'll wait here in case she gets home. Or calls that she's gone to a friend's house or something,"

"Good call," I nodded, "Y/n..."

"Yes, Benny..."

"I am going to circle until I find her, but if I still haven't found her... I will call you at 4:15. If she's not back or you haven't heard from her by the time I call..."

"Call the Police." She nodded,

"Exactly," I nodded kissing her, "I love you, Y/n,"

"Love you too Benny." she nodded,

So I grabbed my coat and headed down to my car,

As the clock hands in my car slowly turned, each click filled me with a sense of growing unease. The fading light of twilight cast an eerie glow over everything around me as I anxiously scanned the surroundings, hoping to catch a glimpse of Violet. When the clock finally ticked over, I let out a heavy sigh and decided to pull over to a nearby pay phone. My fingers trembled slightly as I dialled the number, and it barely rang twice before Y/n's voice came through the receiver,

"Hello!"

"Hey, Sweetheart..." I answered doing my best not to sound frightened and tearful but her voice showed she already was,

"Benny! Good news or bad news?"

"Well, the fact you have to ask tells me you've heard nothing?"

"Nothing, not a single call, no sign of her... nothing. You?"

"Nothing, streets are dead. No sign of her anywhere..."

"Okay," she sighed, "I... I already called them,"

"And?"

"They took the report but said... it's common for teenagers to just go missing for a day or so,"

"But that's not normal for Violet she's a good kid she wouldn't just up and disappear off with her friends without telling anyone."

"I know but they didn't want to listen, they said if she's not back by tomorrow night -"

"Tomorrow Night! She could be halfway across the world by then!" I yelled but stopped myself, "I'm sorry Sweetheart... keep calling them, do everything you can. I'll stay out and look for her."

"But Benny-"

"I'm staying." I told her, "All night if I have to. I am going to find her. And I will drive down every street in New York TWICE if that's what it takes. I am going to find her." I explained, "I'll call you on the top of every other hour till I find her."

"Okay, I'm gonna call around all her friends, everyone locally that I can and see if anyone has seen or heard from her,"

"Hopefully I'll hear from you soon... with good news," I told her before hanging up and quickly getting back in the car to get on with my search,

I sat at the table my hands shaking, as we listened to the officer.

"We have put an officer who is going to be standing at the school daily with her description, name and a list of her common contacts. The School has promised her status will be on their morning announcements daily as well as asking anyone to come forward with information. Posters have gone up in a five-mile radius. Radio stations are running the story daily. How long do you want this to -"

"Until we find her," I answered,

"The reality is after 73 hours the likelihood of finding her becomes far lower, this is very common we deal with runaways every day."

"She isn't a runaway!" Y/n snapped, "I- I'm sorry..." She gasped fighting back her tears, as her body trembled.

"Violet isn't a runaway. Why would she run away?"

"Did you have any disagreements?"

"No, no nothing. She was happy, we barely ever argue, and every day we tell her how much we love her, why would she run away?"

"She has a boyfriend perhaps? any secrets she'd want to hide from you?"

"No, She tells us everything." I answered, "She doesn't have a boyfreind, closest thing is her crush at school Melody."

"Melody?" The officer asked,

"Yes, Melody."

"You're daughter Violet's crush? Melody?"

"Yes." I glared already knowing what he was implying,

"And this... wasn't an argument?"

"No of course not." I answered, "We love her no matter what. What kind of parents would we be if we didn't!" I told him, "She had no reason to run away, and she told us she was coming right home."

He nodded and took notes for his paperwork before he left.

Once alone I turned to Y/n and saw how empty her eyes were, I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her head as I pulled her to my chest, "We'll find her. We will never stop trying to find her. I promise,"

I headed upstairs after a long day of searching, My feet were sore, and my body tired, but as I reached the top of the stairs I saw Violet's door open, I went over slowly seeing everything exactly as it was when Violet went missing, Y/n sat on the bed her face so empty. I sighed and went over sitting beside her putting my arm around her, "We'll find her sweetheart. I promise we will."

"...And if we don't?" She asked,

"But we will. Do not even think for a moment about that. We will find her. We have to find her." I answered kissing her head, "We will find her, I know it in my heart. Come on you need your sleep."

"A little longer Benny,"

"Okay... a little longer," I nodded,

"You can go to bed, I know you're tired,"

"No. I'm staying with you for as long as you need Sweetheart."

The longer it went on the more our hope faded, slowly but surely the posters were covered or turned to nothing from the rain and wind of the city, the officer at the school was needed elsewhere, and the announcements were pushed back and back until they where gone, the radio reports replaced by more important news of the day. The police stopped caring, told us to give up, and thought Violet was nothing but a runaway statistic. And slowly but surely any hint of Violet disappeared, But we never stopped.

We drove around looking for her, went on radio stations, and made a point in any press for chess tournaments, spending every penny we had just to keep her name in people's minds. Until even that wasn't enough anymore.

Y/n sunk away, into a depressive pit. She didn't speak, she didn't do much of anything but sit in bed. I did what I could for Y/n in what little time I had looking for Violet and still doing tournaments to keep us paying the bills. I missed My wife's sweet voice, and her smile as much as I missed Violet. But slowly even I began to lose hope after so long of trying and getting nothing back.

I began to believe I'd never see Violet again... That she was lost forever.

It was a horrible thought but after three years I didn't know what else to do, So my attention fell fully on Y/n. I went to see her lying in the bed, been three weeks since she showered, longer since she did basic things like brushing her hair and teeth, and laying in her PJs in the bed catatonic. Even though all this... she never cried. Not for three years when I had shed thousands of tears over Violet, Y/n didn't it was like she shut down. Barely ever said a word to me or anyone. A shell of the woman I once married.

I went over and got her up out of bed picking her up in my arms and taking her to the bathroom where I ran her a hot bath with all the trimmings for her, I washed her body, cleaned her hair, and did everything I could to make her feel better.

"I- I'm so sorry Y/n..." I told her, "We did all we could..." I whispered,

Her body trembled in the hot water her legs pulled to her chest and the first words I had heard from her lips in more than a year, "Our baby..."

"Our baby... our poor poor baby," I muttered holding my forehead to hers as tears slipped, "Our sweet baby, Our little girl..."

"Our Baby. Our Violet."

"Our Violet..." I nodded, "Our sweet Violet,"

I sighed as I sat reading my book often glancing at Y/n as she sat by the fire knitting as it gives her some mild peace, even if she very rarely spoke. When the door knocked, I sighed and put my book down kissing Y/n's head as I went to the door pulling it open to reveal an officer.

"Mr Watts?"

"Yes," I nodded,

"We have something you and your wife will like to see."

"Y/n..." I called her over,

The officer led us down to the street where a police car sat, I put my arms around Y/n keeping her close to me as he opened the door.

And there she was, She climbed out in some fresh clothes her golden blonde hair matted and messy, and her body shivered as she climbed out. Even after three years... we knew,

"Violet!" Y/n gasped,

Violet fell into our arms and all three of us fell to our knees, and for the first time in years, I saw Y/n cry, between my own tears. We both held her tightly as Violet cried and held us tightly too. "I thought I'd never see you again," she cried,

"We never stopped looking, we never gave up, we knew We'd find you."

"I'm so happy to be home," Violet cried,

"It's okay you're home now and we will not let anything bad happen to you again," I told her kissing her forehead, "We love you so much, Violet."

"SO so much!" Y/n added,

"I love you both so much too!" She cried,

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