#craving chaos so much that chaos itself becomes a part of your very soul.... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

meetevieinthehallway · 5 years ago

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just harry.

in which harry is a prince but craves normalcy.

this is all insane.

insane: a word only used for the outcasts of this god forsaken kingdom—god bless the king and queen!—that were deranged enough to be put away and imprisoned within their rights and their own minds.

harry grew up believing he was one of the insane. because the insane were shipped away for having qualities deemed too different to be socially acceptable, so much so that they were deemed inhumane: locked away for life and considered a danger to society.

it’s insane for someone to ponder outside the realm of the king’s religion and it’s insane to visit a neighboring kingdom and it’s fucking insane for you to not bow and break your spine and bruise your knees and hands for those who sit upon the throne.

all they did was think a little differently— all they did was not conform.

and there was always something different about harry—something nonconforming—that he couldn’t place his finger on.

nobody could. and that was a problem.

he was different— would prance around the palace singing and humming and proclaiming he wanted to be a florist or painter with cherub cheeks and messy curls and a twinkling in his eyes.

and apparently, that was enough of a danger to the kingdom—to the king—when he would eventually take the throne.

i’m going to leave my kingdom behind to what? music and flowers and— something disgusting? you’re soft, harry. you’re an ungrateful brat who needs to grow some skin, and be a man.

but how could he grow more skin when it was whipped off in sections across his back?

too soft too soft too soft, it was always the same tirade from his father and harry didn’t comprehend why his love for music and art and animals was considered as a thing of abnormality.

of insanity.

and as a boy, harry didn’t understand. he had no concept of his role in this god forsaken kingdom, or how embarrassing it was to the king that his son embodied some form of anything than what his father wanted. he wasn’t enough to his father, never would be, never could be.

all he was enough of was dangerous: to everything about his family and their place in the world.

dangerous enough to where he was locked away from being himself and a burden on the reputation of his family.

i didn’t raise you this way. you are not my son.

a burden. that’s what he was.

a burden as burdening as the crown that laid upon his head by the time he was four— the one that bent his neck out of shape and twisted the bone structure of his back and his ribcage and with enough gold and silver to blind him when he looked at himself in the mirror.

every time he looked in the mirror he didn’t recognize himself.

this wasn’t him— this poised, royal, locked away self was not him.

a crafted crown fit for a prince like his crafted self— leaving certain parts in, eliminating others, because all he was to be was a beautiful, groomed, shiny exterior that his people gawk at— something that they lower their eyes to.

why look at the empty hole in the middle of the crown when the jades and rubies glisten? the ones that show the strength of his status?

the only jades that never held entitlement and refinement are harry’s eyes—but only if you bothered to look close enough—that hardened as he aged. twinkling eyes turned to crushed, broken jades sorrily held together, like how the impossibly stoic stone imprisoned the sword.

he was helplessly imprisoned from the inside and out.

harry had known to imprison his own feelings at a very early age. although he was a burden, it was never showcased, only forced to be repressed and repressed and every “negative” deep into the core of his being was grounded him so intensely that he was stuck. always fucking stuck somewhere he didn’t want to be— in this stupid crown and cape or at the royal table or in the presence of the people or his father or—

no.

repress the feelings like we oppress the insane and the people of this kingdom who are just the peasants we look down upon—

the crown he wears is not much heavier than his tears.

you are to rule with an iron fist, boy. what good will compassion do for these people?

maybe his crown was heavy in accordance with the weight pressing down on his shoulders.

harry was called insane for disliking war and dominance and carrying no respect for his father—the fucking king of this stupid fucking kingdom—

and the insane are kept locked away until some other bullshit authority takes them out and away and he is really just a burden— trapped in his own lonely swirling head and becoming dizzy with the thoughts of wanting to flee and escape this all or cry or— or die—

i-i’d be free.. wouldn’t i? and wouldn’t my father be happier?

but although his despair held enough strength of its own to pull the sword out of the stone like the legend itself— he was never brave enough to plunge it into his chest.

maybe he was too soft. too pitiful for his own good.

harry has come to believe in past lives.

he isn’t sure exactly where or when the idea formulated among the chaos in his mind, but he believes—he hopes—that past and future lives are real.

he knows they are; they have to be. he prays they are.

(that’s why he’s always been tempted to die at his own hand— take some control and be the one to send his soul into a new life already.)

he has always considered himself an old soul, deja-vu common but disheartening, and he never rationalizes why— other for the reason that he must have an older life still lingering in his body.

maybe that’s why he feels so out of place in this lifetime.

another book was probably crammed down his throat at some point in his suffocating youth— one with the idea of rebirth and reincarnation and how the soul is separate from the body so much so that it keeps moving when the physicality of a person dies— probably from some philosophy, some theological text—some middle-age epic poem that clogged his lungs with dust and imbibed pages of bullshit in his head.

even though he didn’t know where or when this thought came into his head, he sure knew why it did.

there isn’t a possibility that he hasn’t lived a different life before this time.

and he dreamed for the truth of it.

there is a taste of normalcy dancing along the tip of his tongue and the edge of his fingertips— too far in reach to fully grasp and be absorbed into. he’s met other princes and nobles and duchesses and queens— he’s met the love they have for their titles and status and it creates a film in his mouth he wants to spit out for hours. those people would rather die than live a normal, commoner life— wouldn’t he be that way too if there wasn’t some part of him holding him back?

between the mess of words and allegories and praises within the books he read and the poems he penned endlessly—the ones he’s hid from his father—something about the idea of multiple lives lived by the same soul stuck with him.

he wanted to be normal. common. he dreamed of it.

and if there was a chance his soul could be at some point, harry would leave this life soon. or at this point, at least suffer through this one for the hope of the next.

he hoped and he prayed and he dreamed for the sake of his sad, locked away soul that it would get to live a life at some point.

this wasn’t a life— he’s never had one.

harry saw for himself the way kids his age ran and shouted and chased each another when he traveled into the cities or the countryside, and he longs for it— the normalcy of it all— the beauty and simplicity and bliss.

he remembers reading about god when locked into the library for the day after he saw those children—tears dripping off his nose and splatting on worn pages and he’s sniffling at the words and he wonders when he will see god, for real. he wants to—needs to—see if there’s a purpose for him, for this life. if there is a god, he wouldn’t do this to him— make him fall to his knees and to his feet for a life so foreign to him, but familiar to his soul.

god, if you’re there, just fucking take me now, please.

but god didn’t answer.

maybe he was even burdening to god.

and harry wiped his tears and what was left of his heart had dissipated.

but then, an angel was sent to him.

he doesn’t remember the exact emotions he felt when he first saw her, but he knows that he believed his heart to reconstruct itself.

since his fingertips couldn’t grasp the normal life dangling in front of him, he was brushing them against the rose petals as he walked through the gardens. he liked how they felt against his skin— soft and pliant and delicate and this is why he liked june.

for the color. the feelings.

the feel of warmth from the sun on his cheek and the breeze through his hair and the gentleness of his humming swirling around him. the feelings of being lost and being free and being one with nature.

not that he could voice that.

but the older he grew the less his father scolded him— it was embedded in the both of them and the scars on harry’s skin that he was the way he was. it was easier when he pretended to be alike his father in front of the public— in private he could be what he wanted.

that’s why he roamed the gardens at sunrise— nobody would find him here and nobody would correct his lack of being proper.

or at least he thought nobody was there.

“ow! silly thing— was trying to be nice!”

harry had jumped when he heard the gentle voice— and although he couldn’t see who it came from, there was an annoyance in the tone that caught him off guard and dragged his vision towards a rosebush. his eyebrows dropped over his eyes in confusion, and he released the petal between his fingers and moved slowly towards the voice, which was still mumbling in disgruntlement.

and he’s walking towards the sound and thinking about who else would be here at sunrise—“um.. hello?” and he was responded with a gasp—and he’s walking around the bush and he—

he sees eyes.

beautiful, beautiful eyes.

and he thinks he may have finally died because he forgets how to breathe.

they’re glistening up at him, wide and bright and unmoving and he doesn’t know how his expression looked because he was so lost.

so incredibly lost in those eyes.

her lips are parted and his eyebrows raise and he’s staring down at her and the wind blows at the hair draped across her neck.

and it’s silent for a long moment that he can hear the bees buzzing.

“y-you… your highness i-i am so- … so sorry please forgive me i—”

he’s shaking his head as she looks down at her knees and she’s rambling and spewing apologies and bowing low to the ground and he can see her start to literally tremble and he’s so enamored and confused.

“are you alright?”

it cuts her off. i shouldn’t have spoken unless he did first. she sits up again and she’s still looking down in respect and he hates that he can’t see her eyes anymore. she’s silent and still.

“miss? are you okay?”

she sputters. she bows her head lower if that was possible and he slowly crouches so he’s at her eye level. and then he lowers completely and he sits next to her on the grass of the gardens, running a hand through his hair and she’s still shaking and she’s so confused. why is he stooping to a commoner’s level— i’m no ‘miss’—

“i-i’m so sorry, your highness i-i—..”

“miss?”

she sputters again.

“please look at me.”

she chokes but keeps it in the back of her throat. he wants me to look at him? is it so he can get a better description of my face for when he reports me o-or has me killed—

“you can look at me. it’s not a crime.” there’s a softness to his voice and she doesn’t understand why she isn’t being scolded or condemned or imprisoned at this point.

“.. your majesty..—”

“this is no trick, can you… will you please look at me?”

and her eyes flicker up hesitantly, her head still slightly bowed and she meets his eyes again. and she falls in his gaze and he melts in her’s.

and she realizes how utterly beautiful he is. she’s only ever seen him from afar— but up close his lips and skin are smooth and soft and his eyes… they look—… kind.

“there you are.” he gives her a small smile. “beautiful eyes, you have.”

she’s beautiful. prettier than any rose he’s ever seen and he wants to fiddle with her lips between his fingertips and slot them between his own.

“can i ask what you’re doing?” he murmurs, keeping his voice soft and she shivers under his gaze and his low voice.

“i was just… trying to…—” her eyes move in front of her lap and harry sees that there’s one of the garden rabbits in between her and the bush. he chuckles softly.

“tryin’ to pet him? they can be fiesty little buggers sometimes.”

but he leans over and scoops the bunny up easily and holds him to his chest, petting between his ears with his fingers and moving his eyes back to hers.

she’s in awe; she blinks and looks away, shifting in her position.

“you’re timothy’s daughter, no?”

she blinks at him again, nodding slowly, tentatively. how would he know the palace gardener by name? is he mad? will he tell father—

he grins. “like a friend to me, your father. he used to bring your brother around when i was younger too.” he’s still petting the bunny and she’s in awe. “used to play with him. jack, yes?”

she nods again.

“mm. used to help them plant tulips when my father wasn’t here.”

she wonders why her father never told her about him— how different he seemed than his father. she only looks down at her lap and fiddles with her fingers.

“you’re awfully quiet. think this little thing is louder than you, love.” harry smirks at her.

love.

he calls her love.

she blushes when she hears it and can’t help but crack a small smile. she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and chews on the inside of her cheek in apprehension.

“what is your name?”

so she tells him softly— as calm and gentle as the morning breeze and the sun is just beginning to peek out and illuminate her skin.

and with a smile, he takes the bunny and places it on her lap.

her fingers move to nestle between its ears and she smiles softly.

and then his touch melds with hers.

because he takes her other hand in between his two and lifts it to his lips. and he kisses her skin once as if she were royalty, and her lips part as his do from her hand.

“i’m harry. just.. just harry.”

—

that was when they were eighteen.

they fall in love so deeply and so quickly—of course they do—and harry knew he would fall in love with her the moment he saw her and he detests god for not sending her to him sooner.

but he lets it slide.

because she loves and cares for him so wholeheartedly that harry’s frozen and broken heart has thawed in his chest and his stoic eyes have softened.

everyone can see it— but nobody could put their finger on what had happened to the sad little boy that was whipped into refinement for so long. the palace workers are shaking their heads at him fondly again, murmuring how he seems to be back in the clouds and it’s become normalized again by the time he’s twenty-three. he’s asking for paints and instruments and spends hours writing poetry and he feels like himself.

harry feels bliss.

pure blissfulness and it’s all from falling in love with the pretty girl in the garden who loves him authentically. not for his title— not for his riches— just him. just harry.

his flower, his rose, his pretty love who he calls his and identifies himself within parts of her.

he finds solace in her touch and sees her glowing cheeks in the sunsets and he wants to wrap himself in her heart.

he writes her poems and songs and paints her face and eyes and lips and she gets emotional when he does— kissing him endlessly and murmuring how in love she is with him and he can’t help but grin into her skin.

he says it back with a fire in his eyes and he could drop dead from her smile shining his way.

he’s happy. he’s so utterly and unbelievably happy.

even though it’s all a secret.

as much as he wants to shout from every rooftop and into every face of his royal family— she is his, the one thing he has that is his, the thing he cherishes most. and it’s not that she’s a dirty little secret— he just loves that he feels ultimately comfortable and normal around her; he doesn’t need to act.

she’s the taste of love and happiness and normalcy he’s begged and prayed for for all these years.

his fingers are lost in her hair and skimming along her body and he soaks in her smiles and her laughs like they’re rays of sunshine and he could spend the rest of his days basking in her presence. he sneaks out to watch the stars with her in the countryside and they dance in the pouring rain and they bask in the sunrises that appear bright above the kingdom’s horizon. he’s had dinner with her family in their small cottage at the late hours of the night— feeling like he belongs to a family. they’re the only ones who know— kind enough to treat him as their own and allow him to stay the nights or cry on their shoulders when it’s been particularly hard.

he’s attained the normalcy he’s always craved— and it’s all because he’s fallen in love with his flower.

“you’re the love of my life, y’know.”

she whispers it into the space between them in her bed, fingers caressing his bare chest while harry drifts in the floaty space between being asleep and awake. he hums, low in his throat and he feels her lips sponge on his neck.

he shivers.

“and you are mine.” he murmurs, and she’s smiling into his skin and nipping at it softly.

she sits up, rubbing at her eye as he stares up at her from his place on his back. her hand then finds the top of his head, rubbing through his curls and he could easily forget everything and drift back asleep. her sheer curtains let the light pass through from her window and the golden hue that falls on her skin makes him want to kiss every inch of her.

“want to take a bath, love?” she asks softly, watching his eyes flutter.

and he sighs, “can’t. have to be back before they notice i’m gone.”

she frowns, “stay? just a little longer?” she whispers.

“hey,” he speaks softly, eyes opening to see her lip trapped between her teeth. “promise you we won’t have to cut our time short anymore. soon, okay?” he stares at her intently, sending his promise through the sharpness of his eyes.

she nods, looking down. but her hand falls away from his hair.

she’s used to the sinking feeling in her stomach but that doesn’t make it feel any better. she’s sad— it’s easy to tell. she wants to love him openly and outwardly— paint each other in the garden and kiss and dance in the ballroom without being questioned or scrutinized. she hates that it makes her upset—she doesn’t need validation or the attention of being the prince’s new woman! (only ever woman, actually)—but she gets paranoid that he’s ashamed of her. no matter the countless times he’s assured her of the exact opposite or the endless evidence of his character that he doesn’t care about that stuff, it still pangs her insecurities and she finds her reflection judging herself.

she wishes she was poised and elegant and proper and beautiful and enough— enough to where harry could be seen as fitting with her.

but she has dirt under her nails and messy wild hair and it hurts her every time he leaves or every time he smiles at her from his balcony while she’s helping her father tend the garden. seeing him so high up only reminds her of the distance and the difference of who they are.

she wishes his parents could be proud of him and of who he loves.

she also knows that that will never happen.

“love?” he murmurs, his hand finding hers, “upset with me, are you?”

she shakes her head and meets his eyes. “just wish it was different.” she shrugs.

he nods, “yeah.”

“wish i was born into royalty or something—” she takes her hand away from his and tears spring to her eyes. “then i’d get to have you.”

“hey.” he frowns, “you do have me.”

her laugh is mixed with a small sob as she doesn’t meet his eyes.

harry reaches for her touch again, cupping her cheek and turning her face.

“all of me.”

he’s looking at her intently but it’s silent and his heart twitches because there’s something there. she’s holding something— holding something back and away from him and he can tell.

he furrows his eyebrows. “what is it?”

she shakes her head, eyes fluttering around her room and her face falling away from his touch— she’s studying the size of her room, how everything is cramped and small and how everything isn’t as grand as he is.

“i know when you aren’t telling me something.”

she looks at him, chin trembling and he falters at the sheer emotion she’s showing.

“it’s nothing, harry.” she whispers.

“love.”

her lip trembles. you have to tell him.

“what’s going on?”

she meets his eyes.

they’re piercing and confused and she hates that this may be the last time she’ll be able to see them like this.

“they’re marrying you off.” she whispers.

and it’s silent.

she sighs and a sob forces its way out and he’s quiet.

he doesn’t look mad or upset— she doesn’t know what he’s thinking or feeling and so she has to look away. there’s a sudden coldness in the room.

“what d’you mean.” he doesn’t ask, he states, his voice monotone.

she wipes her cheek.

“dad overheard. they... your parents know.”

“...they know..?”

“they know you’re in love with someone they wouldn’t approve of.” she smiles sadly at her ceiling, wishing her tears would soak back into her. she sniffles, “just didn’t say that it is me. said a guard caught you leaving and they found some of your poems.”

he’s shaking. harry’s hands are shaking and he fumbles to hold hers.

“dad told me last night after you fell asleep.”

he swallows.

and then she speaks quieter than he’s ever heard. “i have to leave.”

his heart drops.

“...l-leave?”

she meets his eyes and there’s tears welled at his waterline and she hates that she’s put them there.

“your parents want me dead.” her hand squeezes his. “they’ve.. started investigating who you’ve been seeing all this time. want her dead o-or.. gone before they marry you off to the princess a few kingdoms over.”

and then her lips tremble.

“... i think they intentionally said it so casually—outwardly—in the garden because.. they knew dad would be there. t-they—”

he’s shaking his head because he knows what she’s going to say.

“i think they know it’s me, harry.”

“n-no.. but they can’t do that—”

“you know they can.”

“i-i.. i won’t let anyone hurt you. especially not them.” he swallows. “you… you know that.”

“i know. but that’s not...—” she shrugs.

it’s not enough.

his tears have started to fall.

“you can’t leave.”

she knows he’s not talking about the kingdom.

her hand touches his cheek.

“i was never enough for you anyways.” she cries.

“don’t say that—”

“i’m not who you should be with.”

“that’s not true—”

“you deserve to be happy a-and… this is who you are. you’re meant to be ruling a kingdom and not with some commoner girl who—”

“stop.” he sobs, and he’s leaning into her touch and grasping at her hands and any other part of her he can. he’s losing her through his own hands.

he’s shaking and crying into her open palm and she’s holding everything back because it really is just not enough. she wants to wrap him in her arms but she knows that that will make this so much harder.

“i’m happy with you and not in my role. you know that.” he’s saying it around a bite of frustration.

he stutters for a moment but can only sob, and he holds her wrist and starts desperately kissing at her fingers and her palm and her wrist and her arm, and she’s sobbing into her own lap. he’s hiccuping and muttering pleas into her skin and it’s undeniably pathetic of him.

“don’t leave me. please don’t i-i—...” he’s begging.

but he knows his own father would have her executed without blinking.

“harry.” she says his name like a mantra and his forehead is pressed to her knuckles. “you know i’d die for you. you know that but— i can’t have you dying for me.”

“that isn’t fair.”

“i know, i-i.. i know.”

harry’s throat is burning and he’s trying so hard to think. his head is swirling and hot and he can’t find a way out of this fog that’s trapping him in this fucking nightmare.

he can’t do this— god he really can’t.

this is worse than a knife to his chest and this is more troubling than the thoughts that contemplated his own existence and this is all blinding him— cutting off his senses. he can’t lose her. he wants to bring her in front of his father and mother and give them an ultimatum— but he knows that wouldn’t work— either way she is endangered because of him and—

“i’m sorry.”

he meets her eyes, his two hands holding her one.

then he lets it fall to her bedding, and his eyes follow in shame.

“this is all my fault.”

“h...”

“who i am is the fault of this all.” his tone is stoic and unwavering.

“you know that’s extreme, harry.”

“is it?”

his love swallows.

“where will you go? will you be safe?” he’s asking her without looking at her, a wave of desperation coaxing through the monotony of his voice.

she nods, “i’ll be a few kingdoms over.”

harry pauses. he bites on the inner part of his lip and shakes his head. “what if… what if i talk to them, huh? get them to-to.. to see and.. understand and—” she’s shaking her head and he swallows and he wishes he never lifted his gaze. “i-i was going to talk to them eventually, love, i-i…” harry sighs. “planned on marrying you soon, anyways.”

her eyes lift to his slowly and her lips part, “really?”

“i told you that you have all of me.” he looks down on her ring finger, “just wanted to make it official.”

her mouth is dry and coated in shock and she doesn’t know what to do. she looks at him desperately.

“love.” he then says seriously, and she nods slowly. “i-... there’s a small cottage in Pratetus. you know where that is, yes?”

she nods again, confused and trembling and her eyebrows are hovering over her eyes.

“used to belong to one of my nurses before she passed. told me it was mine when she died. i want you to go there.”

“harry—”

“listen.”

she does.

“it will take a few days travel. i will give the directions to your father so he can take you safely. go there. nobody will find you there.”

she swallows.

“okay?”

“i- okay.”

“promise me.”

“...i promise.” she whispers.

his authoritative voice fades into a softer one. “i will return to the palace to pack my things and then i will meet you there.”

she jumps. “meet me there?! what?..—”

“i’ll grab riches and jewels and we will live there, together.”

she’s staring at him incredulously.

“harry—”

“we-..we will sell the riches and live off the land.” and he’s smiling now. it’s sad, and cracking and watery but he’s finally looking at her again. “can get married. properly. change m’name or something. a-and we can have kids, like you’ve always said. and animals and—...” his eyes are shining. “we’ll live happily, yeah? together and happily, and we’ll be safe.”

“harry, no.” she breathes. “i will not let you give up your life for me.”

“you know my life is one i’ve never wanted.”

“i—”

“you know that better than anyone. i am not leaving anything behind. i will not be leaving behind a life of happiness, and i am not leaving you behind to pursue my title.” he says it sternly. “i am not going to lose you. i cannot and will not lose you.”

she’s hesitant. her eyes drift away and suddenly his shirt on her body is making her hot. she stands up and off the bed, pacing a few steps as her hands come to rub her face.

it’s quiet.

harry panics.

“do you not wish the same?” he whispers, deducing her hesitancy to to an answer that will break him. “it.. it’s okay if you...— do you not want that?”

“of course i want that— you, harry!” she says it incredulously, her hands falling from her face. he’s staring at her from his place on her bed, crestfallen and desperate and she’s never seen him this small.

“i..i couldn’t ask that of you— couldn’t live that life knowing you gave up your other one.”

“but i’d finally get to have you.” he says it sadly and quietly. “you’ve had all of me, but i’ve been... trapped in this all. i don’t have all of you and not because you won’t give yourself to me.” he murmurs. “it’s because i have failed to commit to sacrificing privileges for what i truly want— and out of fear. i am a coward, and have always been.” he shakes his head at her and she feels a tear fall down her chin.

“but i am no longer afraid. i will give up anything i have if it means that i would be free and with you and i’d get to live with you in the way i’ve always wanted. we could live and.. and build our own garden.”

she can see his eyes longing for her.

“let’s live what we’ve talked endlessly about. i’ll beg you if i must.”

she sniffs and her chin trembles.

“please. i know it’s selfish. i know. b-but...”

another tear escapes and falls to her jaw as it clenches. she moves forward and sits back down on her bed, and takes his hands.

“i want you, too. we’re both selfish.” she whispers. “just me and you?”

his smile is watery and happy, “you and me.” he affirms.

and harry’s love nods slowly.

“yes?”

she sobs in mix with her emotional laugh, nodding faster before launching herself at him and wrapping her arms around his neck. her face lands on his shoulder and her tears splat against his bare skin as she squeezes him tight.

“yes.”

—

“what do you mean you’re leaving? what is this nonsense, harry.”

he looks his father in the eyes. “you’re in my way,” is all he says, brushing past him and grasping for his paints that he was standing in front of.

“harry! i’ve asked you a question.”

“and i believe you know the answer.”

harry’s eyes match his father’s with the malice they carry. harry is challenging him in his expression, looking at him with disgust and carelessness. he was always told he carries a resemblance to his father.

“should’ve done this a long time ago. saved the family from some embarrassment, no?” harry quips at him with sarcasm and his father has nothing to do but glare. “you really don’t know what love is, in any capacity. do you?” he asks, laughing in incredulousness. “you didn’t marry mother out of love, nor were gemma and i conceived out of love. and you still never loved any of us in life, especially me.” harry’s laughing at this sick joke of his father and the older man steps closer to him.

“you really haven’t matured at all, son.”

“oh, really?” he’s fake pouting, finding this all too amusing.

“knew you would never be a man; i guess my lessons didn’t teach you enough.”

“maybe you’re just a prick.”

“excuse me?”

“i said it quite clearly. you were the one who did teach me to stop mumbling.” harry walks to the other side of the room to continue packing.

“you’re making a fool of yourself.” his father speaks again after a long pause.

“learnt from the best!”

“harry—”

“guess your ‘lessons’ weren’t all too bad, hm?”

harry’s heart is pounding with adrenaline and freedom. all the quick wit and i’m-sick-of-your-shit feelings are pouring out of him, having flooded his insides for far too long.

“why am i a fool, father? because i’ve put up with you for this long?... or—”

“you are a disgrace to the royal name.”

“guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“enough!”

harry did shut up at his father’s yell, but not without a sick grin plastered on his face.

the tension in the room pulses.

“father.” he speaks again, half-laughing. “i’m happy and in love, and i can’t live the rest of my life not being with her.”

the king’s face reddens. “you have a duty to this kingdom.”

harry throws his bag to his feet and points a finger towards his father. “as if you would ever let me rule. we all know the crown will go to gemma.”

“maybe it’s because you’re weak. weak as a son, a prince, a man. have you ever thought of that?”

“how could i forget with you telling me since i wasn’t even a man!?” he laughs.

his father falls silent because he truly doesn’t know what to say. so instead, harry speaks again.

“i know you hate me.” he says, “and i’ve long accepted that. but..” he looks at him intensely, “you hate me so much that.. that you won’t let me be happy? you genuinely wish for me to live miserably? i am still your family.”

the king breathes out. “it is not that—...”

“then what is it?”

silence again. because the king still doesn’t have an answer.

harry bends down and grabs his bag again, and then stands tall. “you’ve made my life hell, for fun?”

“i was making you into a man who could hold authority.”

“just like you, i bet.”

his father grins evilly. “yes.”

“well look at me now” harry grins. “i’m leaving, and nobody can tell me otherwise, especially you.”

harry starts to walk towards and out the door where his father is standing in front of, but the king’s gruff hand hits harry’s chest with a thud. harry looks down, unimpressed. and his father’s eyes narrow.

“and you think you’ll make it out of here?”

harry’s eyebrows lift as he brushes his hand off. “is that a challenge?”

the king’s face hardens.

harry grins.

“guards!”

and that’s when harry’s smile cracks.

—

he’s taking a day longer than he said it would.

she’s worried.

the sun has long set and the fire has been roaring with heat for hours, and is now only charcoal and ashes. the crickets have began to sing, and she can’t help but decide that it sounds incredibly solemn.

it doesn’t help her nerves one bit.

she’s been pacing for hours across the floor of the cottage, giving up on trying to distract herself by putting things away or cooking dinner for her and her father and harry, as she had hoped.

and yet, despite her hopes, the third plate at the table was untouched and cold and none of this is helping her nerves.

“honey, he’ll be here.” her father has been trying to soothe her for the hours he’s been late. internally, he’s just as worried— harry was like another son to him and he’s concerned that something terrible is keeping him from being here— not that he’d ever voice that.

“dad, i—...” she chews her lip and turns towards him, “what if he’s hurt? we’re so far away and..” her mind starts to wander dangerously. “what if he’s been imprisoned? you know how cruel the king can be!..—”

“he wouldn’t want you to stress in this way. he’ll be here. something is just holding him up.”

“yes! maybe chains at this point!”

her father sighs and leans back in his chair. he needs to get back to the kingdom soon, or people will grow suspicious. but he won’t leave his daughter when she is distraught.

“it took us three days to get here and he planned to leave a day after we have and it is now creeping into the fifth day and—”

“it’s late. you should rest.”

“i will not until he arrives. i need to know he is safe and—” she trails off, biting her lip. “if he isn’t here in one more day i am going back.”

“you can never show your face in that kingdom again.”

“i don’t care. i need to find him—”

“you’ll be killed for treason if you go back!”

“better me than him!’

the door creaks.

the tension and volume in the room drop to silence, and her eyes lift to the door, as do her father’s.

boots hit the entrance’s floor with a soft thud and the door is pushed open more.

and he’s there. and she can breathe.

he’s bruised and bloodied and there’s sword cuts littering his body, but he’s grinning.

“oh.. oh god, harry,” she rushes to him and holds his face, and he’s smirking in glory and pride.

“y’still love me if i’ve hurt people?” he laughs. “he surrendered after i defeated fourteen of his guards. even helped me load my things.”

she laughs sadly, and her eyes are watery as they scan the wounds on his figure.

“harry.. i— let’s get you fed a-and.. and cleaned up—”

“one thing first.”

harry’s eyes shift and fall to her father’s face, who is just as relieved to see him as she is. harry’s hand falls to her stomach, silently telling her it’s okay, and he stumbles towards him grinning, the older man placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“sir,” he grins mischievously, “my name is harry.”

her father quirks an eyebrow but is smiling simultaneously. “...yes?”

“i come from days away and am exhausted from my journey,” harry says softly, his smile creeping towards his eyes, “i’ve come because i am so in love with your daughter, as she is my light and makes me so incredibly happy.”

her tears drip to the cottage floor but she rolls her eyes fondly.

“do i have your blessing to offer her my hand in marriage? will you let her marry a lowly man like myself?”

timothy chuckles loudly, laughing with his belly and throat and with his eyes shining he nods towards his daughter. “gonna take care of her?”

“with my whole being, sir.”

“eh, a low-life like yourself? hm... think she may be able to do better--”

“you both are idiots.”

and harry’s laugh get mixed into her kiss.

#iTS DONE #im sorry it took so long #im sorry its so bad #harry #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles au #prince harry styles

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sunlightxing · 4 years ago

Text

Show Me Some Respect

After working for years as a secretary to General Hux aboard the ship, the Finalizer, life could not have been better for you.

That was until Hux informed you that Commander Kylo Ren would be joining you on that ship. Almost immediately, you both resent each other, but after being forced to spend more alone time with him, you begin to wonder, what's so bad about him after all?

Chapter 3: Following Orders

Tension rises between you and Commander Kylo Ren on your short mission to a nearby planet. However, upon returning back to the Finalizer, things begin to change between you and General Hux, and a misunderstanding lands you in hot water.

The minutes bled into hours as you impatiently waited for the stormtroopers to finish handling things on the ground. There was nothing but fire, dust, and absolute chaos visible to your gaze from the cockpit. Yet, you could not have been more bored. Of course, Commander Ren made absolutely no attempt to start any form of conversation. Instead, he sat perfectly mute in his seat, watching the violence conspire down below.

You felt guilty for constantly staring at him. One hand pressed up against the side of your face, supporting your head and neck, just to do nothing but study every part of his body. The way his chest heaved with every slow breath he took was mesmerizing, completely and utterly captivating. You wanted to speak to him, have any sort of communication, but he seemed to despise talking to you, or at the very least, despise hearing your voice. That was the worst part about it all, the mixed signals he constantly threw your way, and how he made you question every little thing.

Commander Ren suddenly engaged the ships thrusters, not giving any sort of explanation or instruction. He shot the shuttle down to the village, carefully maneuvering it over the sand dunes, and through the smog and smoke below. The ship slowly lowered itself onto the course ground below, at the very center of the others.

"You will not leave your seat. Is that understood?" Commander Ren demanded as he headed for the exit of the cockpit. His voice punctured your lungs, stabbing at every part of your soul. It hurt to hear him snap at you, the words rippling off his tongue like small knives, unrelentingly digging into wherever his gaze was placed.

You spun around in your chair, now gazing up at him. "I wasn't planning on it, sir," you responded calmly, trying to not show your obvious hatred for the tone of his voice.

Commander Ren let out another sharp, agitated huff before he stormed out of the cockpit, the door slamming behind him. You couldn't help but stare at the way his cape swayed as he moved, how it would brush over his shoulder with ever alternating step, revealing his broad shoulders and muscular physique. You smacked yourself square in the forehead as more sinful thoughts of the Commander flooded your mind, a small droplet of drool slipping through your lips. Those had to go away, or working aboard the same ship as him was going to become nearly impossible.

It seemed to be hours that you were stuck on board the shuttle, though it was probably only a couple minutes. You kept fidgeting in your seat, staring at the door in hope it would finally open to reveal the Commander, carrying on some prisoner, his breath panting as he carries himself onto the cockpit. His tired and aching body flopping into his seat, chest heaving as he took in any air he could. Your mind fluttered into thoughts of him calling you to him, making you tend to his wounds. The thought of pulling of his shirt to reveal finely chiseled muscles, then reaching for his helmet-

You slapped yourself in the face again, using that as a way to punish yourself for the thoughts and fantasies. It was beyond fucked up that you had such a strong craving for him, when all that came out of your mouth when he was around was berating insults, and the same flew from his own. He even said it himself, he didn't like you. Yet, he too must have a fair amount of pleasurable thoughts that fill his own mind, as he had acted on a few of them before. The only logical solution to stopping those strong emotions was getting away from the Commander, but it didn't look like that would be happening anytime soon.

A horrid hissing sound came from the back of the shuttle, the recognizable sound the door made when they were opened. You jumped out of your seat, running to the doorway and hurriedly opening it to see the two stormtroopers who accompanied you on board, but with no Commander. You looked at them for some answers, but they just shook their heads, pointing towards the cockpit. The fools didn't speak unless spoken to, but you doubted they were trained to answer to the likes of you.

"What?" You whispered, hoping they'd go against protocol just to give you a simple answer.

One of them went to speak, and the other responded by smack him on the back of the head. You rolled your eyes as the two troopers began to beat the ever loving shit out of each other, instead of giving you the smallest amount of answers. "Look," you stated, drawing their attention away from their small quarrel. "I just want to know where the Commander is. Can you give me that much?"

The two looked at one another, giving a nod of reassurance that only that information would be allowed to be stated, but then, a loud, and rather horrifying yell came from outside the ship.

"Uhhh, that would be the Commander," one of the troopers said, the other again smacking him on the back of the head as punishment for confusing to speak to you.

You turned back to the pair, shouting to stop another fight from ensuing. "Why is he so angry?" You demanded, hoping they'd answer that question, since they didn't technically answer the first.

"He didn't find what he wanted," the trooper answered. This time, the one who responded was the usual instigator of the fights. You went to ask the pair of them just one more question, about how much they knew about the Commander. You assumed they had worked with him several times, as they seemed used to the little tantrum he threw outside of the ship, but that would have to wait for another time.

Commander Ren came marching onboard the ship, his lightsaber fully ignited. The flashing, blood curdling sizzle of the electric flame sensing you tumbling back in fear. Upon seeing your reaction, or just you in general, he unsheathed the saber, placing it promptly at his side.

"What are you doing down here?" He demanded, his voice showing a vast amount of rage, more than usual that is. He turned to the troopers who were now dead silent, as if they were statues. "Did you speak to her?" The Commanders asked, reaching again for the saber at his side. You didn't want to hear that horrible sound again, so you were willing to lie for the sake of those two poor troopers. After all, they never would've spoken to you unless you practically begged for it.

"No, sir," you cried out. "They didn't speak to me."

The Commander looked at you, menacingly. Even the slightest glances from him would send shivers down your spine. He walked closer to you, stopping so his chest was inches from your face. His hand lifting up your chin so you were gazing into his jet black mask.

"You aren't a very good liar."

You felt your body go numb. "Commander, I'm not lying."

He reached his hand across your entire jaw, clenching it hard. "March your prissy little ass back to the cockpit."

You gulped, trying not to choke on your own spit. "Yes, Commander," you said as you sprinted away back to your seat.

The ships engine roared as he soared it away from the village, and back in the direction of the Finalizer. You kept thinking about those troopers, and how they probably hated you now. You nearly got their asses whopped just for asking a basic question. Why could the Commander not handle you asking just a simple question? It was for his own safety, he should be thankful you cared enough to see what happened to him.

"Enough," Commander Ren interjected. "You should've never left the cockpit in the first place."

"Commander, why do you keep reading my thoughts?" You asked ferociously.

He paused, clenching his fist so tightly you were afraid he might shatter it. "I don't want to, but you're yelling," he hissed. "I cant ignore it, though I desperately want to."

You rolled your eyes, completely and utterly annoyed by his antics, "I doubt that's the case, sir," you responded. He had no reason to keep searching your mind for every little thing that crossed it, and considering most of the thoughts your mind had been infected with, you didn't want him to.

Silence reigned for the remainder of the flight back to the Finalizer. The second you landed back on the base, the Commander shot up from his seat. The two troopers in the back carted the rebel pilot off of the ship to god knows where. You went to exit the ship and head back to the control room, when he stuck out his arm, slamming it into the wall, stopping you from continuing your path out of the ship.

"I expect you to follow my orders more strictly next time."

You looked at him in confusion. "There's gonna be a next time?" You asked mournfully.

He huffed at you in rage, furious with the fact you didn't wish to spend any longer with him. He shouldn't have been that shocked, you thought it was pretty obvious as to why. In a fast and violent motion, he ripped his hand away from the wall, marching off to the ships exit. Then, finally, he was gone. You stood there for a moment in utter disbelief. He should've been happy you didn't want to spend any more time with him, it's not like he enjoyed so much as a second of it.

You walked down through the hallways, passing by large squads of stormtroopers. They looked so rushed and hectic, probably because they faced a majority of the scrutiny passed on by Commander Ren. At least you had Hux, who was usually kind to you, and a very fair leader. They didn't have any one. Not even their Captain, Phasma, showed them an ounce of compassion.

You brushed those thoughts off as best you could, your primary focus to stop the stagnant bleeding of your nose before you entered the control room. You approached the bridge slowly, still wiping away some excess. Before you even fully entered the room, Hux bolted towards you, a pleasurable grin covering his face.

"You're back!" He exclaimed, rushing over to you. He then coughed, acting like it was a mistake that his voice was a bit too cheerful just to greet his secretary, as it would draw suspicion from the people who surrounded you both. You smiled at him, hoping there wasn't leftover nose blood residue on your face.

"How was it?"

"Oh, the mission. Not terrible at all, sir. Quite boring though."

"No," he huffed, "I meant how was it, with Ren."

You gulped, knowing full well you couldn't tell him of every tension filled moments, and the numerous times the Commander had left you bloody and bruised.

"Oh, it wasn't bad," you chuckled. "But, you know him! So serious!"

Hux gave a rather disingenuous grin. You bit your lip in fear, worried he might be onto you, and that maybe he had some hidden mind reading ability like the Commander did. But, Hux was simply just plain old Hux, and he moved on from that awkward discussion with the flick of his trench coat. He turned back to the scanners, radars, all machines that scattered the control room. His breath was stagnant, almost forced. You watched as a single droplet of sweat pooled down from his forehead, down to his cheek before he abruptly brushed it away.

"General?" You asked. "Is everything alright?"

Hux looked over at your fellow pilots, who were plugging away into the ships database. "The Commander is, awfully frustrated at this moment. I'm sure you know that," he sighed. You shrugged, not quite understanding the difference between Commander Rens' frustration, or his overall anger issues. Hux finally managed to focus his gaze on you, and shifted his eyes towards your blood stained sleeve, staring at it with a completely mortified expression.

You tried to draw away his attention from that, shoving your hand quickly inside of your pocket. "When is he not?" You said playfully, hopefully halting him from asking any questions.

Hux gave you an awkward smile, he was never the type for jokes. "He's obsessed with finding part of a navigational chart that will lead us to Luke Skywalker," Hux said sternly.

"Like, Luke Skywalker the Jedi?!" You questioned far too excitedly.

Hux hushed you, placing his hand over your mouth in an effort to keep you quiet. "I thought the Commander would've told- never mind," he whispered. Nervously, he glanced around the room, surveying to see if anyone else heard what you had said and thankfully no one did. Placing his hands on your shoulders, he pulled you in close, whispering the last few details into your ear, his breath hot and trembling. "Skywalker is the only threat to the First Orders' rule. The Resistances' last hope ," Hux added, staring deeply into your eyes. "If we don't find and destroy him, it would be our end."

Hux continued to gaze into your eyes, like he was studying every part of your face. The tension kept building as he gazed at you so longingly, so intently. "Forgive me," he remarked, not once shifting his view away from your now blushing cheeks. "I thought I'd never see you again." Your heart thumped against your chest, feeling his hands gently press into your collarbones. His eyes glittered with passion, a look he had never given you before. He genuinely looked almost afraid, as if he meant what he said, the fear of never seeing you again.

"Hux-"

A loud, blaring sound rang through your ear, stopping you both dead in your tracks. Hux flinched, pulling himself away from you, and losing that shimmering glow in his eyes. "What is going on?!" He demanded, rushing over to the pilot overseeing the ships security system.

"Sir, an X-Wing flyer has been spotted heading towards a nearby planet. It could be our pilot."

A sinister smile wiped across Huxs' face, so horrific it sent a chill running down the back of your spine. He clenched his jaw, now turning back to the bridges large window overseeing the planet. "I'll alert the Commander. We'll end this now," Hux asserted, turning back towards you, his expression unchanging, until he saw yours.

"Cadet," he stammered. "What is the issue?" Hux and every other member in the bridge were staring at you with mixed emotions in their eyes. Most of them confused, halted until you gave Hux the answer he was desperately searching for. But you didn't know what the issue was, why you were looking upon your General with such fear in your heart. It was an unconscious look, but there had to be some reasoning behind it, an explanation for why that emotion had presented itself in your eyes.

You shook your head, dismissing the gazes of every pair of eyes that look upon you. Hux sighed, somewhat frustrated you hadn't given an explanation for your behavior. He turned back to the pilot, clenching the inner part of his cheek tightly between his pearly white teeth.

"Stand down until my return," Hux ordered the crew members, the tone of smugness high in his voice. He glanced at you one final time before exiting, his eyes showing instability in every corner of his pupils. You knew he was fearing the worst, that you'd be ripped from his clutches once more, and be placed into those of the Commander.

You stood, gazing off at the other members in the bridge, wondering if they held as much panic in their hearts as you did. Hux had left you there with no instructions, and not us much as a little bit of information. He had been so disorganized, so frazzled in his movements, and you knew why.

Hux didn't want you anywhere near Commander Ren for as long as humanly possible. You weren't sure how well that would work, since Hux just laid down and took it every time he was berated and abused by the Commander. You felt guilty, but it was rather hilarious to watch, and hearing Commander Rens' smooth, piercing voice, lash out at anyone while in your presence, it made your body ache with desire.

You smacked yourself in the face, catching the eye of two stormtroopers who were standing beside the doorway. They stared for a moment, then shrugged your behavior off as they continued their pointless conversation. Nervously, you bit your lip, embarrassed you had drawn that unwanted attention to yourself, and bitterly unhappy that your fantasies had not rid themselves from your mind.

It was a constant battle. Trying to maintain your professionalism, and fawning over the Commanders sensational touch. The brief, tension filled moments the two of you had shared controlled your mind, presenting themselves in the worst possible moments. Fantasies fluttered around every time he entered a room you were in, and you regretfully knew he could hear every bit of it. You wanted it to stop so badly, practically begged for it, but they just wouldn't go away. You hated him, despised him for spinning your life on its head, ruining every bit of certainty you had. Everything was so simple before he came along, and now, it was beyond confusing.

"Hello."

You shook yourself out of your entrancement, glancing to the side to see the young pilot, Simon, staring at you with the cutest pair of puppy-dog-eyes you had ever seen. "Oh," you stammered, not quite sure how to respond. "Hello."

"Do you know where Hux went?" He asked curiously, still maintaining a glisten in his eyes. You paused for a moment, losing yourself in his deep blue orbs, mesmerized by their beauty and majesty.

He waved his hand in front of your nose, inches from its tip in an effort to snap you back into focus. You let out a nervous laugh. "My apologies. As far as I know, he's gone to retrieve the Commander, informing him of the possible Resistance pilot." Simon nodded, placing his hand in a questioning manner around around his chin. His eyes scanned the room, almost as if he was looking for something. You stood nervously as his gazed moved from the divots on the floor to your feet, then sweat began to form on your brow as his eyes shifted up to meet yours, studying every inch of your body on the way up.

"Don't you think we should try and stop that ship from heading where it needs to go?"

"Uhm, what?" You hesitated, finding fear in his now cocky and smug expression. His tongue curled around his lips, sliding over his perfect, white teeth as a crooked smile formed upon his face.

"Well, we don't want that ship to get what it's looking for. So why don't we capture it?" He scoffed, now beginning to circle around your body. Your bones grew stiff, and blown ran cold. It was torturous what he was doing. Your legs ached, screaming at you to run, and you wanted to. Wanted to move, get away, do anything to escape. But Hux told you to stay put. You had to follow your orders.

A stagnant breath escape your mouth, not purposefully. You coughed as to try and muffle it, conceal the fear that obviously didn't want to hide. "We aren't permitted to debate this," you replied, hoping to sound as sophisticated and intelligent as possible. "General Hux gave no orders other than for us to stay put. Therefore, that is what we shall do."

"You follow him too blindly."

A lump formed in the back of your throat, almost sending you into a choke. "I-I'm sorry?" You questioned, no longer was there any sophistication in your tone of voice. He shrugged, "look I get it, you don't wanna go against his rules-"

He stepped closer to you, stopping inches from your face. Shivers rode down your spine as he looked you up and down, a sinister grin wiping over his face.

"But just imagine how proud Commander Kylo Ren would be with you."

Your body went numb, stiffening as he pulled away from your face, wickedly smirking as he turned back to the front of the bridge. "If you won't give the order, I will. But, I think it'd look a lot better if you did it."

You turned away from him, biting your lip so hard, blood to pool from where your teeth had sunk in to the flesh. It was unfathomable, how he was able to sense the sneaking desire in your body that you wanted Commander Ren to be proud of you, impressed by your abilities. So far, all he'd seen you as was a bitchy little secretary. But you wanted him to see more than that, more from you. It was terrible, frankly stupid that you wanted him to find you witty, radiant-

Perfect.

"Simon," you finally responded, dispelling the sense of uncertainty from your voice. "With all due respect, though your idea does seem rather brilliant, I will not go against my orders. That is not my job."

He scoffed, clenching his fist tightly at his side. "Fine," he huffed, marching towards the center of the control room. "Then I'll do it."

All eyes in the room were now on the pair of you, most of them searching your own for an explanation. No one understood what was going on, why the quarrel between you and an ex TIE-flyer was taking place in the middle of the bridge. You knew if Simon began barking out orders, no one would listen to him. But there was that worry, that when Hux returned with Commander Ren at his side, they'd both be disgusted with your lack of initiative.

"Well then," Simon proclaimed to the enter staff. "Why aren't we going after that ship?"

The men stationed at the blasters looked at Simon with disgruntled expressions, not showing any signs of following his orders. The two stormtroopers stationed at the entrance scoffed. Those two knew authority, and how a true leader was supposed to behave and act. Simon did not have what it took to lead, or give any sort or directions.

You stepped forward, positioning yourself next to Simon, which drew the attention back from those who had looked away. Though Simon towered over you in physicality, in spirit, and in status, you could've squashed him with the tip of your fingernails.

“Our instructions come from General Hux and Commander Ren," you stated firmly, digging back into those months of public speaking courses you took at the Academy. "I trust that none of you have forgotten that."

Simon rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to speak once more, when suddenly, he was thrown away from you, and into the nearby wall. The wretched sound of his bones smacking against the hard, metal desks and control panels was enough to make you sick. He flopped onto the floor below, and picked his head up weakly, staring first at you, and then shifting his gaze to the doorway, where even his pain filled eyes widened in pure fear.

Slowly, you shifted your body from the front of the bridge, to the entrance. There, standing with a fully extended arm which twitched with such a violent rage, was Commander Ren. Hux stood beside him, looking rather annoyed he had thrown one of the pilots like a rag doll across the room in front of the entire staff.

"Cadet," Hux stated plainly, not sounding like his usual self at all. His tone was more cross, and a lot more stuck up that in usually presented. "What is the meaning of this?"

You gulped. "Uh, sir. There was a debate about whether or not the rebel ship should be destroyed before landing on-"

Before you could finish your explanation, and tell both Hux and the Commander that none of this was your idea, Hux walked slowly, and horrifically intimidatingly towards you. He stopped inches from your face, and rose his hand up to strike you. You winced in fear, as it had been years since he had slapped you in anger. There wasn't anything to do in that moment, for if you tried to stop him, the punishment would only be worse. You stood there, prepared to have the life knocked out of you by his cold, pale hands, but there was nothing.

Too much time had gone by, and you knew when Hux was ready to throw a physically punishment at you, he didn't hold back. You slightly peeled open you eyes, looking up to see Huxs' hand being held back-

By the Commanders'.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, General," Commander Ren stated, his gloved hand digging into Huxs' weak and feeble wrist. Hux glared at him, ripping his hand away from the Commanders grasp, rubbing it gently. You knew what Hux was feeling in that moment, that pain. A feeling of remorse tried to rush over you, but it was expelled by gratitude. The Commander, as horrid as he was, had stopped Hux from hurting you. Maybe it was because he himself wanted to, but you didn't get that feeling from him. Not this time.

"You can't possibly think she was in the right to give out those orders," Hux hissed, still massaging his flushed hand. Commander Ren looked at you, an instant pain rushing through your mind. You clenched your eyes tightly, trying to make it hurt less, but thankfully after less than a few seconds, it was gone.

"She did not give out those orders."

A small grin formed on your face. For once, he had read your thoughts when it was most important, when he actually needed to. Hux shuddered, looking at you with an apologetic glance. You knew he felt bad for not listening, and for behaving so differently towards you. The first guess you had was he believed Commander Ren would find him redeemable if he resented you, but that wasn't the case, not anymore.

"The girl is coming with me," Commander Ren ordered, his words so powerful the room practically shook when he spoke.

You went to swallow down the spit coming from your watering mouth, but after that statement, you choked on it instead. The Commander gave you a slight glance, then returned back to Huxs' gaze as you continued to try and muffle your cough.

"Ren, she is my secretary, and she belongs here on the Finalizer. That's been her job-"

"Her job as of right now is to fill in as my secretary," Commander Ren finished after cutting Hux off mid sentence. You couldn't help but hide the excitement on your face, but Hux couldn't help hide his disgust. "I won't be taking that traitor with me."

You looked over to Simon, following the Commanders' and Huxs' gaze. The boy had pulled himself off of the ground, blood seeping from a large gash on his head. He stares into your eyes menacingly, the once glistening blue orbs now pools of darkened misery. You pulled your attention away from him, afraid he might lash out at you. But Commander Rens' unchanging body language showed you if he so much as tried, the next thrown against the metal wall would ensure his death.

"Ren-" Hux begged, trying his best to keep you here with him. He knew he had messed up, showing violence towards you instead of being rational. Deep down, something gnawed at you, saying the Commanders had been waiting for Hux to slip up like he did today.

Then, you would be his and his alone.

"I've made my decision," Commander Ren stated. "She's coming with me."

A warm feeling flooded over your body, the same feeling you got the day Hux picked you to work in the control room of the Finalizer. It felt wrong, to have that strong emotion again, but this time, you were being taken away from Hux. The Commander ushered you to follow closely beside him, and you did as you were told. Hux turned away from the pair of you, looking back to the members of the bridge. You knew that watching you walk away from him with the man he believes you'd resent must've been beyond hard for him. It was hard for you too.

"You'll be back with him soon," Commander Ren assured as the pair of you approached the doors to the landing bay. You didn't respond, as there was nothing to be said. Hux would be stuck on that ship, without you until the Commander placed you back in his care. You didn't understand why this man couldn't just get another secretary. But you knew if he did, you'd despise whoever it was, hate them even.

The doors to the bay opened with a dramatic hissing noise following their unattachment. Troopers were lined up in formation, receiving orders from their Generals. You gazed out at the bay, thinking of how you'd be stepping off this vessel, your home, to be alone in a cockpit with Commandrr Ren for who knows how long.

You weren't ready, he knew you weren't. He could smell the fear and panic off your body every time he inhaled. Yet, he insisted, made a point to keep you near him. Technically, all you were was a fill in, but it felt like you were so much more than that. But that very well just could have been a dream, a made up reality you had created in your mind.

Commander Ren walked past you, heading down the ramp towards the Command shuttle. You stood back, gazing at the way he marched so powerfully, and so assuredly. Every person on that bay stopped dead in their tracks when he went by, not gawking nearly as much as you were. His cape swayed with every step he took, brushing past his shoulders to reveal the smallest outline of his body.

You gulped as he turned back to face you, ushering for you to follow him. The soldiers stationed on the bay looked up at you now, sending a burning sensation across your back, flooding into every part of your trembling body.

This is going to be rough.

#ben solo #kylo ren #general hux #armitage hux #pedro pascal #leia organa #star wars smut #star wars fluff #kylo x reader #rey skywalker #poe dameron #finn star wars #star wars

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years ago

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Goretober Day 19: Death In Baby Blue

Prompt: Crystal Fandom: Winx Club Summary: On Halloween night, Icy crystalizes herself. Warnings: Suicide and Self-Harm

When people think of death they think of red. Red like blood. Like hearts. Like vicera. Or maybe grey like brain matter or certain organs. They often think of black; the black that comes with eternal sleep, the black of mourning, the black of the reapers robes that billow in the wind. They never think of baby blue or that it is not a color at all but clear. But Icy does. Death is always baby blue or clear. As clear is an absence of color, death is an absence of life. Death is clear and it is delivered in soft shades of blue.

Icy is not afraid of death. She is not afraid of pain. She has lost her fear of death long ago and gained an intrigue for pain.

Icy often likes to coax death to call if forward, sometimes in more mundane ways--the swallowing of pills or a blade to the wrists--other times she gets creative. She drinks certain potions and poisons just to see the effects. She purcecess ancient torture devices and tests them on herself.

It isn’t so much about the sadness anymore, but the art and poetry of a unique death. An over appreciation for funeral rites and mourning aesthetics. The beauty of a velvet coffin lining and an arrangement of flowers and lit candles. Tea lights that fade out like a life evanescent. The deliciously subtle atmosphere of oppressive somber, the one that feels like a breath on your back when you’re all alone.

Her depression, though ever present, is replaced by curiosity and intrigue. She looks over heaps of classwork and report cards. Studying has gone stale and she no longer feels particularly interested in pursuing any sort of career. She had a goal at one point, she had many of them. Power, world domination, and other highly ambitious, sinister endeavours. But the longer she tries for them, the closer she gets to achieving them, the hollower they feel.

She thinks of taking her ambitions down to a more normal level, to pursue a position as a high priestess for the dark arts. She can achieve this easily, she has the grades, repute, and power for it. But she no longer fancies it. Not as she fancies a gentle kiss from the reaper itself. A kiss so frigid that it would put her to shame and thrill her in one fell swoop.

She stretches her arms, takes a swig of absinthe, and decides that she is ready. It is the perfect night to die; all hallow’s eve and with a bright full moon. She hears that there is supposed to be an eclipse to boot.

Darcy and Stormy have departed three hours prior for a night of trickery and horrors. At Darcy’s rather well-concealed expression of concert, she promised to join them in a few hours after working through the last of her thesis.

Halloween is her favorite night of the year, she thinks that it only makes sense to celebrate it by letting her soul drift away on the October clouds. She takes one more sip and makes her way down the hall. She will steal away into the forest and do the deed at the climax of the eclipse.

“Headmistress Griffin.” She nods her head.

Griffin furrows her brows, “why aren’t you out wreaking havoc with the others?”

“I have my own chaos to cause.” She shrugs. “An ambitious solo project, if you will.”

Griffin smirks, “well I do look forward to seeing the result. You never disappoint.”

And she won’t this year either.

The forest is shrouded and the animals are several shades of feral with the moon so round and shimmering as it is. They know and sense things. And maybe that is why they keep well away from her as she finds a space in the clearing.

The eclipse is well underway, casting the forest in an even stranger light. If she has timed this right, her body will go limp when the moon disappears. It will be quite a sight, she has perfected it quite well; the ability to harden her ice into crystal instead of letting it melt away. But she needs more exuberance and intrigue than just a simple crystallization. She needs theatrics, drama, that poetry she craves. They won’t forget her, she won’t let them. Nevermind how they will remember her. She didn’t seek love in life and she certainly doesn’t seek it in death. Only infamy and permanence, to be among the legends, those eerie tales that they tell by candle light when storm gales rock the foundations of the campus.

She closes her eyes and throws her hands up, a spike of ice bursts from the ground and impales her through the belly. She thinks to put one through her heart, but she won’t be able to crystalize then. She also won’t have time to appreciate red running over clear. A think rivulet of blood trickles down the large icicle, until it hardens itself and becomes a part of the art. It hurts most dreadfully and her lips curve into a smile. It is more than she imagined. She is inclined to believe that there is a chunk of her clinging to the tip of the spike, a nice addition, she must say.

She inhales as deeply as she can with her lungs in such distress and she proceeds. She cools her body rapidly and coaxes several smaller spikes to rip out of her back, at her shoulder blades like frigid wings. And then even smaller spikes to add a nice shimmer to the rest of her back.

They give another spill of fine red--something to meet expectations. But the real death is the baby blue of her ice spikes--something to make her death memorable. With agony rippling all over, it is time to begin the crystallization.

She drops her temperature even further. Much deeper than she ever has and her skin begins to crackle. The soft light blue of frost spreads over her, taking her fingers and feet first and climbing from there until all but her face is covered. Until all but her face, brain, and heart have become pure ice.

She doesn’t have much time now that her organs don’t function. She wills the ice to crystalize and only after that is done does she let the frost curl its glimmering fist around her heart, brain, and face. These will melt away

And they do melt away on the morning after her passing when the sun rises again. They find her at the very heart of the forest a faceless and macabre centerpiece glimmering like a diamond in the rising sun.

Mostly her death is clear and with a sprinkle of baby blue. But deep within the crystal and buried in her chest is a smear of red. She had died before the frost had reached her heart. And with her, her magic fled.

They don’t move her. It doesn’t feel right to do so. They don’t cry for her. This doesn’t feel right either.

Death is not red but it is as chilly as they say.

#Winx Club #Winx Icy #Icy #Goretober #Fanfiction

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lostsoulaltair · 5 years ago

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OnS Theories (8S). Second Theory - Nonhuman yet owning a beautiful human heart

Hello everyone! We’re getting closer to the date of release but before that, I’d like to share some thoughts I’ve come across different people, the story itself and so on.

First, if any of the readers have felt insulted or anything, I apologize, it is not my intention to offend you by any means; but I’d like to know what you think guys, I’ve had fun writting down the theories and I’m forever thankful that you read them so, please, don’t hesitate to share your views, thoughts about the story and more.

Let’s begin!

To start off with this theory, many have come to a resolution that many cast members within the story are not human at all, the case goes for Yu, Guren, Mika, Shinoa, Mahiru, etc.; of course, all of them had relation with certain experiments or even the way they were born but for now, let’s focus on those who are no longer labeled as humans.

What makes someone human?

First, if many recall, the song X.U, main theme of OnS stated that pain was part of being human but funny enough, every single member within the story have endured hardships, they’ve fought until they couldn’t keep going, which means their emotions faded away through time; but yet, their hearts that become cold still give warm towards those around them and the fact that others care deeply for them is a sign they’ve left a scar/a mark within the others in the story; therefore there are some exceptions of non humans such as:

Yuichiro Hyakuya, Mikaela Hyakuya, Shinoa Hiragi, Krul Tepes, Guren Ichinose and Ashera Tepes.

That being said, let’s start with each of these characters:

Yuichiro Hyakuya/Yuichiro Amane

So far, we’ve known that Yu was created millenials ago and until the current era, a new Yu was born, whenever he was born by natural ways or experiments it is unclear, and yes, many will state that he might have been created the same way but, the sole difference between the previous clones and the current ones, is the fact that the current Yu developed a soul, developed feelings of attachment, developed a warm heart, he is selfless, he doesn’t mind helping others, he doesn’t mind being used if the cause is for a greater good; the point he reaches can be scary and mainly because Mika, his last member of the Hyakuya orphanage left worries that Yu will do something reckless to the point of self sacrifice and indeed, it is not far from the truth but at the same time; he among the rest of the squad see Yu as someone wonderful, someone that even that gave away his humanity is pretty much considered a human being.

But, what makes Yu a human? Simple, Yu has endured a harsh path, he’s being painfully used to huge causes that remain as a mystery for now but despite that, he always tries his best to live, he seeks to reach that gold end along his new family, to the point he’ll risk anything to see them happy.

The fact that he transforms into a seraph is just a representation that his will stands strong for those he loves; and love among other emotions play a role within a human heart.

Mikaela Hyakuya/Mikaela Shindo

Mika is one of the characters that many readers love, but what makes Mika a human when he’s a vampire that is slowly losing his emotions?

First of all, we learnt throguh the story how he grew up, how he ended up at dead’s gates until Krul saved his life by turning him into a vampire despite his sole refusal of it.

After he turned into a complete vampire, we’ve seen how he slowly became methodic, careful, cold minded unless something happens towards his last family member; but still, the fact that Mika tries his best to understand Yu’s view, the fact that he hangs around Yu’s family despite how he sees human in the current time...what vampire could do that?

Current vampires don’t care about human bonds, nor care about what they think or feel yet, Mika tries his best to support his sole family and his new friends despite him not trusting them; indeed, there are reasons why Mika doesn’t trust humans but within those reasons, there’s a part of him that, to certain extend, values the fact that Yu’s friends are there with him.

Mika has been a special kid mainly for holding two traits, the Michaela trait and the seraph trait; the efforts of Rigr for bringing a new Michaela to Earth but of course, Mika can’t be that Michaela and why’s that? Mika harbors his own soul, he is no one else but him, despite being a vampire, his soul lingers within him which is why he expresses his emotions comapred to other vampires, he still values life itself despite the harsh past he had to overcome.

Shinoa Hiragi

Many will wonder what makes Shinoa human despite being possessed or more likely seeing a character so detached until meeting Yu and company, (no, this is not focused on shipping). Shinoa’s existance was of someone to be used as a vessel for the first which in fact, has been the fallen Michaela that gave blood to the vampires making them crave for it; to certain extend it is almost clear that Shinoa’s creation was not of a conventional way and this is mainly by a sole expression Noya left within chapter 85, when Shinoa called Mahiru elder sister, Noya seemed confused about it, stating that he didn’t see Shinoa as someone instead something that took a physical appearance of a human but well, what makes her human?

If the experiments within her never happened nor Mahiru died, she would have grown in a rather more confident person with vivid emotions; but due to many issues, her emotions had to be sealed in a way and this was thanks to Mahiru, she wanted to let Shinoa live her lfie without a worry of what went beyond the Hiragi family, but no one can’t escape from their duties or fate itself. We’ve seen someone that was detached to someone who cares deeply towards her squad.

The fact that she developed emotions towards others, the fact that she is willing to help those around her is a proof that her human heart is constantly evolving even if it’s little by little.

Krul Tepes and Ashera Tepes

These brothers are the cutest within the story for how close they were and yet, despite the distance that have been taken to the current time, the fact that Krul cares and tries her best to find her brother and bring him back is one of the proofs that she has a human heart despite being alive over thousand of years.

Krul can be perceived as someone who might be detached, cold, and merciless but despite that, there’s a soft side of her, she knows that among vampires, she can’t trust no one in particular specially that many of her actions have been labelled as taboo but despite that, she found solance within Mikaela; Mika has been a figure of her trust despite how she has treated him; in a way she cared for him, and that trust is well reflected on how she gives information about the decisions that would eventually lead them to war, how with just her looks can give signs to Mika remarking their bond.

In case of Ashera, that level of trust can be reflected with Yu, at the beginning Ashera behaved pretty much like other demons, trying to possess its host but with time, Ashera’s heart changed so much, it evolved to simple relation of demon and host to friends; Ashera cares deeply about Yu and that is reflected in the past and the present, their bond has been forged with trust;

Even before becoming a demon, Ashera as a vampire cared deeply about Yu’s well being, he didn’t mind expressing his emotions despite becoming a being whose years wouldn’t matter any longer, he tried to live through inmortality along with his sister; and the fact that the first person he recalls is his sister just gives how much meaning she left within his heart.

As a personal thought, If Ashera manages to break free from the cursed gear, I’d like to see them interact one last time before anything happens.

Guren Ichinose

Lately, he’s the character who has been most controvertial mainly for the actions he has taken towards Yu who the same one considers as family since Guren have helped Yu to stand up, to fight up for all he holds dear, but at the same time, Guren’s someone who has suffered enough, he has to keep as a remembrance the fact that his friends won’t live for long, their time is counted and the only solution for that is to resurrect the whole world.

Guren’s evolution as a character comes from someone that tried his best to not get involved with those who served the Hiragi family to the point he ended up making bonds with time, until the inevitable end came; Guren was allowed to finally cry after the end of the world came, but he knew very well that it was just the beginning of a new chaos that would eventually unfold to the current time inside of the story.

What makes Guren a human being?

His suffering? Indeed it is a part of it but the fact that makes him human is the fact that he still tries his best to save those around him even if it means going alone, even if it means breaking more and more in order to make those he treasures to keep living a little longer; he’s well aware of what Yu means to him, he knows what kind of reaction Yu would have if he were to die and he’s aware that Yu will do his best to save him in order to keep living but at the same time, he has had enough, he has fought for so long, his human heart has gotten tired but not tired in the term of giving up, he’s a fighter who has endured many hardships alone and the fact that the current chapters show him again as an antagonist it’s just a proof he’ll give Yu something which is valued as a final lesson; it will be the cruelest but he’s pouring all the hardships in order to make Yu understand what it’ll be like to face the final enemy of humanity.

What do you think guys? I want you to share your thoughts about these characters, what other things make them human for you? Who else comes to your mind!!

#owari no seraph #seraph of the end #sote #ons theories 8th season #ons theories #second theory #yuichiro hyakuya #yuichiro amane #mikaela hyakuya #hiiragi shinoa #shinoa hiiragi #guren ichinose #ashera tepes #krul tepes #asuramaru #a character analysis

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ayse-buntion · 4 years ago

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It’s time to live for myself.

Now I must move on, let go of these restraints, and all of my mistakes that are hanging onto me. I must accept myself for who I was and love who I became, because only God knows the beauty and success that I have yet to become.

It’s time now — I must free myself from the pain and agony from my grief that has kept me tied down.

All that is old; I must let go. There are so many parts of my heart that I’ve never gotten to show, and there’s so many depths of my soul that I have yet to know. If I hold on any longer, I am only being the wall between myself and my blessings.

He did not love me in the way that God made him a man for him to love his wife as such, so He took me from him because he was not ready for such a blessing as me. And this pain, this trauma, and my every ache at the loss that has stricken me and left me in shock, God called for me to be a woman so I would be strong enough as a whole, alone and by myself, to get through the sunken hole in my chest that has caused me to lose my best, and put my soul to rest while my heart wept. He built me as a woman so I could heal while my heart learn and grew, and my soul slept.

He put ease to my inner being by creating me in this form of womanly existence, so my heart could hurt and grieve my losses and beat stronger as it put itself back together and grew into all that it’s meant to be.

God built me as a woman so I could have the strength to love myself beyond a man’s heart that had once beat for me. He made me in this form so I could relearn myself and learn how to make my own heart beat in love for myself.

My one last word for you, whom it wasn’t that truly lost in losing me;

My love, despite what you may think, who I was is not who I am meant to be. You don’t even know the slightest part of me, because beyond what I had been was all that we could see. It was I who had truly lost in losing me, and I will no longer allow you to make me complete. I will be enough for me. I can no longer listen to your false opinions and ignorant presumptions of me, because how can you know me truly whenever I do not even have the same blessing as such?

I am free. You can no longer hold me, and my heart and soul are no longer yours to keep.

Truth be told, it is God who made this body that I carry upon my soul for this life, and it is Him who made this body the flesh of a woman because only He has known the very greatness and blessings that are meant for me. This body is no longer yours, it is mine. This body is my gift from my God, and I will no longer share it with anyone who does not touch it in love and with pure intent for me.

This body is a temple that I have been given, my heart being a gift that I have been chosen to hold, and I will not allow you to break my soul anymore. It is God who has created me, it is Him who continues to make me and save me from my burdens and stress of this heavy heart, filled with love and purity that you no longer deserve. So, now, I must give my body back to myself and give my heart back to God, so my soul can be replenished and cured of its ailments with God’s dignity, His grace, and His love for me — I know now that it’s God who has always had the most love for me and the purest intent for who I’ve been called to be.

I am learning. I will make mistakes.

God has built me, flesh and bone, as a WOMAN, so I can withstand ANY and EVERY break and tear, the VERY DESTRUCTION of ALL that I am composed of, and build myself up to come back to life and keep walking through the fire that loss and grief will always ignite. He has built me, from skin to spirit, as a woman, to carry and birth the humanity that He has created. Women carry the human body — ones of both the man and the woman — FOR the man, and you had best believe that God will take the woman from a man who does not cherish and place the crown upon his woman. He will take the woman from a man who does not respect, love, dedicate himself to, or devote fully his heart and soul to his woman.

You did not do these things past the point of my flaws, and you did not keep me attached in half to your soul. You undid those strings and did not allow me to carry your heart past the point of my troubles, trials, and tribulations while I fought for myself, lost myself, and battled my hardest to learn who I was again while I was growing and had to mend for me to heal. You cut off your attachment to me and left me halfway incomplete, ripped open and bleeding from the side of myself that you were once sewed onto and attached to. You left your space battered, broken, and bruised with the infection of your memory causing the furthering of my deterioration as I was already bleeding from wounds among the empty places of my heart where I lost battles and part of my soul.

My God is so pure and kind, and He loved me enough, way more than you ever did or ever could’ve, to thread His needle and create me, sewing me back together and mending me as I unraveled and tore, all while He continued to make me into the image of who I’m to become and the plan that He has had for me. Since before He even began to place every piece, God had a reason for everything that I have been through and endured. Whatever God takes, He gives you something better for you in its place, once you learn the lessons that He wants you to learn, and survive the pain that He knows will teach the words of His love and plan for you in the aches.

My God loves me so very much that He gave me the body of a woman, He created me into one, so the flesh of my heart and the skin of my Godly temple could bare the wounds of an empty hand that was once full of love, but burned me and cut deep into the crevices where my soul is its most vulnerable. God gave me the nature of maturity, comfort, gentleness, kindness, love, and strength, in His decision of creating me as a woman. He did this so I could find the pieces that are broken and scattered, fit them all together with the new parts that I have found of myself, and put myself back together again with strength and in gentle love for myself that begins my own healing, so and while He sews me and mends me back together.

If you think, my love, that God would truly gift you a woman whose body is the only thing that you love while her heart and soul is left untouched, unloved, not cherished, unheard, and unseen, while she fights and loses herself for you to grab onto, attach yourself to, and make love to the deepest points of her being, you are wrong. She is not truly yours though she wants to be.

God does not gift the ungrateful and blind man the purest woman in her heart and soul for the man, for him to keep. He is only showing the man what love truly is, and giving the lesson of what the sight that the blind man is missing. God is only giving the purest woman you, just as a lesson. This is one that you must allow God to teach. You must allow God to speak and listen when He has His word to preach. You are nothing but a lesson to the purest woman of what she truly deserves so she can see what is truly meant for her, that way she won’t allow herself to be given less than all of what she’s worth because of her pure and devoting love for somebody who isn’t herself. She is still learning.

She is nothing but an eye opener to you, that God hopes you wake up and see for you to become all that you are meant to be. You must choose to hear God for what He speaks, and not close Him off or shut Him out because those words are not what you want to hear.

Don’t you see?

The body of the woman, the flesh and blood, the skin and heart, the soul and spirit, all that are of her grace and glory, both that are bestowed upon those who are around whenever the world surrounding her is gifted with her presence — it is not meant to fulfill your physical or emotional needs. The body of the woman brings you what you TRULY need in her heart, soul, mind, and spirit.

If you do not take in, hold onto, and love with pure intent, all of the beauty that she comes with, the chaos and gentle oceans that lies within, or the holy and vivacious strength that she resides in, losing you would be the only battle with you that she’d win.

I have been given this body, not for your blessing, but my own. Yes, this body can make you feel good and temporarily fix your urges and temptations to physically release the stress, burdens, and desires that you hold in. This body can make you go crazy — it can drive you to the point of insanity whenever you crave to get your hands onto it and bring it in for you to taste, but it’s not truly yours unless you crave and desire, unless you fight for and hold onto her whole entirety. Her soul and her heart, you must hold onto, see, and hear all that it’s written of in the words of God. Her mind, you must listen to and tend to as a garden. You must listen, understand, and secure her safely within yourself by gently handling and caring for her spirit.

The spirit of the woman is the most fragile of herself. You must speak with words of hope, comfort, peace, and security, in your concern and through your disagreements, during all of your unsettled and untamed anger, sadness, or misunderstanding. The body of the woman can not be taken as all that you need to make love to, it can not be treated as just a monument of flesh that can cause you to climax and give you euphoria in its physical sensations and touch. You must love her spirit and make love to her soul, mend gently her heart, listen and understand her mind, while making love to her body. The place of ultimate pleasure is not the place of the creation of the human.

To truly be blessed with the body of the woman, you must see, understand, know, and cherish the woman is a whole. Otherwise, God will take her from you because you chose to be the obstacle in the road to her blessings instead of being a blessing yourself.

God will take from you, the body of the woman who you only loved that deep whenever she was enough to fulfill your whole heart and ease it’s pain, and bring your soul the pieces and the part that it needed to be complete so you could heal when it’d break. But if you make it your mistake to not give the woman what you take, and create her position in your life as her being nothing but a tie that you can can take advantage of whenever you come to her for an undying love, to get all it is from her that you want, just know that God will make sure that the tie you create to her that’s impure and is less than she is deserving of, will be cut.

You can not keep a blessing that you do not bless.

This is my body. God has given this to me.

He took it away from you so I could be complete and find somebody that who, when opening me up and picking up each piece of me, is seeking my soul when they listen to my mind, hear my soul, learn of my spirit, and heal my heart. God will instead give me to a man who holds onto me, and with each part of myself that I set free to them, they carry pure intentions and attach to every detail, each intimate and vulnerable depth of me, they always hold the closest to their own and hold onto them with intentions to keep.

Since you did not love me in the way that God made you a man for you to love a woman as such, God didn’t take you from me, though I had felt as if it was my loss. But it was rather God taking me from YOU, so I would not be the one to lose. In His separating of you and I, God untangled my wings and unchained you from around them, freeing me from the weight that you had put upon them. He threw you to the sea within me so you could always be a part of me, but lifted you from my my eyes to clear my sight so I could finally breathe. He placed you on the ground gently in front of me since that’s where you decided you’d rather be in breaking me down and not building yourself up with me, just using me for you to feel as if you were accomplishing something in the false sense of sight.

You swore you saw yourself rising with the confidence that I had given to you in knowing that you had me hooked, in the belief that when you’d run, I’d always be there to chase and make you feel brave enough to try and stand above the world. That was so, so wrong, because my God loves me enough. I’m not sure what god you believe in, but he must not love you as much. He made you think that you’d always see me standing there, chasing after you, giving into you, and giving my body to you. My God loves you more than to let you fall under that unreal impression. If you turned to Him, you would’ve seen long before now, that if you did not love me the way God created a man for him to love a woman, I would be released from your grip.

So sad the reality is that, despite what you thought and swore you had seen, for you, there was not always meant to be me, because you decided my body was what you had to need, but didn’t realize that it was all of my entirety, all of my being, and all of my existence beyond skin deep is everything that you needed to keep. Now you only have the empty space that I use to be the capacitor of, that I had given you more than what was enough, and that I have left now because I wasn’t being loved just as much, to remind you of all that you had and all that you could’ve kept, all that you’re worth and have the capability of gaining again. It’s up to you to choose if you deserve it.

You have to choose to be all that you can be — the best of yourself and your best blessing — so you can finally get and keep a love that’s worth the hardship and pain in the change of yourself, the growing into yourself in your best. Your body is not an escape or a sexual stature where you can burn off steam. The body of the man is a safe place and secure presence that is meant to love a woman in complete devotion, passion, and hold her close with gentle, kind, and peaceful energy and strength.

With the same hands that you carry your burdens and soul, you’re supposed to hold the heart of the woman and not use as a tool or set fire to, the body of the woman, because that ignites her soul. The touch of the man is supposed to console, comfort, hold, and bring security and safety to the woman that the man has been called to leave the imprint of their hand upon the woman’s heart. The man is supposed to comfort and ease the pain of the woman as she holds herself together, making it easier and taking the pressure off of her, keeping her strong enough with encouragement and light, to keep holding them together. The hands of the man are supposed to bring a safe place of security and comfort to ease the pain of the weight that the woman bears as she is trying to put the pieces of herself together, and his hands are to help console her and show her the gentle, caring emotions she should have for herself, the same that he has for her, as well, so she can hold it all and herself in place.

The hands of the man are to comfort and bring security to the woman as she gets wounded and bleeds, easing the pain while she picks up her pieces, giving her the bravery and encouragement, the light to see as she holds every part of her together, while God mends her and heals her.

The hands of the man are gifted to him, for him to hold onto the woman and give her comfort and security so she can have the strength to hold the broken pieces of herself together, while God heals her wounds and sews her back together.

See, God made the woman with unimaginable and godly strength, for her to bare the scars upon her heart and soul once He is done sewing her back together, mending her, and healing her. But God made the man to work hand-in-hand with him as He creates the woman and builds her up, since she is what gives the world it’s life and love, bearing and birthing humanity so the world can grow and nature can flourish with her giving of its precious lungs. God created the man to devote himself to the woman, to comfort, cherish, and make love to the woman through her flaws, her weaknesses, and comfort her with his security and safety through the hardest trials and tribulations of her life, when she’s fighting to save herself, her soul, and her heart so she can love the man enough for it to be even more than he’s been deserving of.

He created the man to help the woman have comfort in her own strength while she gains her confidence in her abilities to hold and carry the weight of the universe and its worlds, stars, and lives that it consists of. The man is to love the woman, cherish the woman, give to the woman his heart and soul, while she gives him her heart as her soul is breaking apart. The man is built and designed by God to love beyond his own body, to love the woman beyond hers, gently with passion and wholly with pure intention, so it is weight that is being lifted off of her instead of being put onto her by the man, as she fights to keep herself together for God to mend her.

You are wrong in thinking that all I ever wanted from you was to hold me together, mend me, and heal me. That is not what it was. I have been designed by God to be strong enough, I can do the holding myself together even with no weight being lifted or pain being eased from me. I can do it all without you, though God designed you to be the comfort, the security, and the ease to my struggling soul. All I ever had wanted from you, was for you to love me through the flames, extinguish all that was ablaze and burned in your name, all the damaging and fumigating haze that you were the one to create.

All that I ever wanted from you, was for you to love me as God created the man to love the woman — that being and meaning showing me the sight of and helping me remember that I am enough, and that I can conquer and overcome all of pain and wounds of the battles that I have lost, so that I can become the fate of the war that is that I’m the one who truly won. You were meant to encourage me on and keep me from being blinded to the reality that, even if I seemed to have lost the battle, I did not lose the war. You were the one who was meant to love me through and give me the greatest, best, and biggest parts of you to keep me complete until I found and regained those lost pieces, the best parts of myself.

Never did you once fulfill your position that God put you in, in creating you as a man, to hold me through the battles while I fought to hold myself together, so it would be easier for both I and God, because He is the one who sews and mends every piece. He’s the one who heals me. So, I did not ask that much of you, because that’s a job that is impossible for even I to do. That would have been selfish for me to have asked that of you whenever it’s only God who can mend me and heal me. I just always ever asked of you, to hold me and cherish me through to me core, and through the struggles that left me sore.

This is my body.

God created me, from flesh to bone, as a woman, because He knew my strength could move mountains and expand the universe.

My body was a gift, not for you to find physical pleasure in for a release or fulfillment of your materialistic needs. It was a gift for me from my God, because he loves me enough to give me everything that I need instilled inside of myself to overcome and rise above all that fails me and falters under me, even without a man. He made the man to be an ease, to be security, encouragement, a safe place, and a weight lifting, gentle and kind, loving, caring, giving, and devoting outlet. He created me to be divine, while you and I were created to be a light in this world whilst together.

Do you get it now?

God made me a woman, not to please you, not to give to you my body. He did not even create me as a woman to give to you my heart, soul, mind, and spirit. Those things are right here with who they’re supposed to be with, so giving them to a man is the last purpose for them. He created me as a woman to carry my heart, nurture the nature, flourish the world, bless the Heavens, comfort the sick, bring wealth to the poor, bring sight to the blind. He created me as a woman to bare and birth the children that are both you, man, and myself, woman, and create His Earth, His universe, into one that glows and thrives with infectious and vivacious prosperity and gentle, loving, and pure intent while living the with purpose of giving and breeding, holy and purity. He created the man to help Him hand-in-hand to care for the woman and ease her pain. He gave strength to the man for him to carry the woman and lift the weight from her shoulders.

My God created the man to help him care for and secure the monument that the woman is built upon for her to not fall, and for her to be sure she is strong enough if everything collapses beneath her. The man is to comfort and cherish the woman as she fights the battles that cause the humanity that she carries and brings to life to win wars. The man is build in God’s form, for him to love the woman in a physical being as God would, and love her in a spiritual being as God does. Since the woman carries the world in her body and the universe in her soul and spirit, the man is God’s right-hand-man to keep the woman strong at mind and on the right track while she births life into us and holds the weight of the universe on herself. She tends to the gardens that she has planted with the most gentle, kind, loving, nurturing, and nourishing parts of her heart, for them to flourish and grow to be their best beyond what she ever been.

The woman does this all and ensures the strength and quality of life in each being of nature that she has created, all the while, creating beings of beauty who will use their own lives to promote the wealth, health, happiness, and success of humanity that all cause the most important and moving revolution to the world. The woman creates and tends to the flowers she plants to ensure their beauty, gentle touch, and strength for the world to move forward and humanity to grow into the best that it can be, by her nurturing, constructing, and loving soul giving all that it is. The woman creates the evolution that is for the better by planting life into the soul of the Earth and growing them from the best of her heart and the softest of it. While instilling our best into us with pure intent and moving us forward, beyond mountains and the Heavens for the better, the greater, and the good, she fights battles against the bad that nobody else sees because she takes the hardest hits from the worst of the earth for us so we won’t have to hurt or be destructed by our very home she planted us upon.

The woman is not just a mother to the humans she carries and births, but to the whole entire world and universe. The blind man is one who can not see the worth of a woman or his place by God to love, hold onto, and honor the woman while she builds herself up in her darkest places of heart, mind, soul, and spirit. God knows that it’s the woman who breaths life into every lung, every planet, every star, every person to be, and all of humanity, for He’s the one who created the woman with that purpose. The man is the one who holds onto the woman to remind her of her capabilities when she gets lost and forgets, to be the light that shines on her when she’s in the darkest paths so see can see where she’s going. The man is to encourage her through her weakest points, to ease her pain with each of her wounds, to comfort her with security of a safe place to turn to when it’s all too much for her.

The man was built by God with strength to take weight off of the woman while she fights battles behind closed doors, so she can be more free and have more room to breathe while she continues to fight for humanity and give to us the heart that we need in order to grow. The woman is the one who carries the universe, so God built the man to carry her burdens and push her forward just enough for her to see again that her in herself, as a woman, is all that will ever be enough to adapt, to overcome, and to conquer all.

It is the truth when I say that the man was designed and built to be a healing agent for the woman, to be a place of ease, while she holds herself and the universe together, and while God sews her back together, mends her, and heals her.

Men are created as a physical reflection of God. It’s a representation of God’s love.

My love, it’s you who lost whenever you lost me. It was me who lost whenever you had me, because I had not myself.

I had lost myself trying to be enough for you, whenever it was and has always been God who has showed me that I am enough. Never again will I forget God, nor will I ever turn a blind eye to Him again, for any love that isn’t His. You were meant to be none other but a lesson to me, and blessed be the one who got away without losing someone who’s love is what it say that it is and means more than what it can ever express that it means.

This is my body — the body of the woman. ✨

My God loves me enough to have given me the opportunity to have loved as I loved you, to have had something meaningful enough to have been something that I had lost, and while I wasn’t the one to lose. He loved me enough to give me a false love and tell me that I was enough, showing me that you didn’t mean enough to lose myself because of.

My body is my gift from God.

It was never truly yours.

You were but a twinkling of the eye as a star passed through the sky, whenever I thought that you were the star. But, God showed me again and again, time after time, that even the stars are just passing by. There will be a time that we must say goodbye to even them. I’d be mistaking if I said you were ever meant to stay for long.

Thank you, God.

I love you for this lesson, for every loss when you take from me, things that you will repay me for.

Thank you for creating me as a woman.

I know that I am strong when I’m alone, but when I’m with you, I don’t need anyone. I can lose myself completely and not need to worry. Whereas, if I leaned upon anyone else, I know I’d be missing everything. With you, God, I have everything. I am a woman, and I am strength. I am love. I am all that is good, kind, gentle, loving, caring. I’m every light in this world.

Without you, I’m nothing.

Still, I move forward and heal by the touch of your hand when you mend me.

You created the man to be a hand to the woman, and a hand to you in building the woman, but you can be the only one to hold me, and there will be nobody else that I need. I know that I was made to carry the universe and birth humanity, but it’s all for you and because of you. For that, all that I am capable of and do as a woman, even though it’s you that created me in this form, you still honor me. You still build me, you still heal me, and you still complete me for all that I do for this world and in my honoring you because you’re the one who made me able to.

Thank you, God, for this body. I am a monument of strength and a temple of Your grace. A love like yours, no one could ever replace. I know you’ll heal the wounds of this loss you placed into my life for reasons that I have yet to find. I know that there are more blessings forward than I left behind. Thank you for bringing me out from the blinding love and hurt that I felt.

This is my body, Lord.

This is my body, my love.

I will not give it to no one again who does not love me in the way that my God has created a man to love a woman, who does not love me in the same amount and way as my God does.

It’s time to set myself free and give my body, my gift from God, back to me. 🍃

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shazos · 5 years ago

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Undertale/Deltarune Theory: The Two Angels of The Prophecy

Since I’ve been playing Deltarune as of late, I thought I would share some very compelling details I’ve noticed in game that have been rolling around in my mind lately...

This is a theory pertaining both Undertale AND Deltarune, because I found connections between both of them interestingly enough. To start my theory off: I will begin with the very prominent theme in Deltarune of religion. There appears to be a strange emphasis on how religious the home town of Deltarune is, with everyone worshipping some deity called “The Angel.”

It seems to be done in such a manner, that it is building up that the town is worshipping some false God of sorts. The town itself feels very…off. A very ominous vibe to it, especially with the very creepy bunker to the south of town as well.

The question is.. who is this Angel..? To answer this question, we will have to dig deeper. Another notable theme in Deltarune, is that many items found in the Light World—represent places and people in the Dark World. It mirrors it, essentially.

In the light world school closet, the cards on the floor represent the card suite inhabitants/card castle. The plush doll represents Seam, etc. Additionally, the red horns in Kris’s house could symbolically represent Ralsei’s presence, with his little red horns.

However... even more interesting enough, is that in the town hospital can be found two angel dolls. One— that was made by Kris and Asriel, where they “wasted the whole time making big wings for it.”

And the other, which was made by Noelle and her friend—looked like a typical angel doll, only “it’s lack of facial features was unsettling.”

This appears to be clear symbolism for two different characters/angels... but whom? The first one, I believe matches the description of Asriel’s final form in Undertale perfectly: it has a rather disproportionate body, with huge over-sized, magnificent wings.

Additionally, Asriel’s final form matches up with the Deltarune of Gerson’s prophecy, with each part of his angel body aligning with the runes. Gerson also mentions an Angel in his prophecy, saying that it will free everyone from the underground—which Asriel does at the end of Undertale, with the power of the seven souls.

Then... who is the second angel, who is symbolically represented in the hospital? An angel we haven’t seen yet, but likely will at the end of Deltarune. Based off the evidence/implications given, I believe it is Gaster.

To begin, the second angel doll is described with a lack of features that makes it unsettling—which is very reminiscent of Gaster.

To build upon this, the angel of Undertale—Asriel— plays a focal point in Undertale’s story. He is not shown until the very end of the game, with the true ending, and is very mysterious at first. On top of this, many.. many songs in Undertale have the leitmotifs of Asriel’s theme: HIS theme.

Meanwhile, Deltarunes soundtrack is heavily focused around Lietmotifs of Gasters theme, with the intro song being called ANOTHER HIM... Another angel, if you will. This implies that he is going to play a heavy role in the story, which is very much seen on the surface level of Deltarune—with the involvement of the “strange knight” as well as the subtext with Jevils backstory, having met a man that made his vision of the world grow “Darker, yet darker” and made him go insane, as told by the tale Seam the shopkeeper tells the protagonist.

Additionally, the very first castle we see in the game--(not card castle, mind you) has wings on it... much akin to an angel’s, and is spewing a dark fountain forth from it.

At the end of the chapter of Deltarune, Susie shows clear concern that they did not get rid of the right fountain. One fountain—the original, brought the dark world its life. The other, an unnatural source of darkness to upset the balance. And Ralsei, strangely enough, eagerly directed Kris to get rid of the Card Castle fountain—not the one coming from the Angel’s castle. The Angel’s Castle is also an empty kingdom, with no subjects.. except Ralsei.

But who is the king? Nobody knows… And a very foreboding music plays in the castle town, adding to the mystery of it. Ralsei, who is quite suspicious enough as it is, (might go into this further in another theory later) will not let Kris inside the castle, stating that Kris must save the world/complete the prophecy first... and then they can come back. Ralsei acts very nervous and distraught when Kris keeps trying to enter the castle, and blocks him from going in. He then shuts Kris out of the kingdom gates, barring him off from going back inside--sinisterly enough.

Additionally, the plot of Deltarune is based off the prophecy, to “banish the Angels heaven”. This makes the Angel seem like a very malicious figure...but why? What are the Angels motives, and what is the “Angels heaven..?” Well, if you talk to Gerson in Undertale, he says an interesting bit of dialogue that could be interpreted a bit differently with my context/point of view. One could argue that he is talking about “the angel of hyper death”, Asriel, when he says the Angel of death, but I believe it not to be the case.

Gerson states the following:

“Lately, the people have been taking a bleaker outlook…callin that winged circle the “Angel of Death”.

A harbringer of destruction, and waitin to “free” us from this mortal realm…”

This seems like a much more sinister view of the Angel, and not like Asriel. Even though Asriel is very threatening, he is still pure of heart, and ends up saving all of Monsterkind in the end. The second angel however? Wants to “free” every one, and brings destruction in his wake. In Deltarune, we see much destruction and chaos being brought about by a strange “knight”, who appeared one day to take over the card kingdom and beyond, using the Chaos King to help him assert control.

Seam also mentions that he hasn’t seen this much chaos, since the incident that occurred with Jevil—which implies that the stranger and the strange mysterious knight are one and the same. So, what then is the meaning of “free us from this mortal realm…?”, from Gerson’s prophecy of the second angel? Well, interestingly enough: in Deltarune Jevil mentions this line of dialogue in his boss fight, which lines up perfectly with Gerson’s dark prophecy:

“I AM INNOCENT, INNOCENT. I JUST WANTED TO PLAY A GAME, GAME. BUT THE BORING KINGS FOUND SUCH FUN TO BE A TROUBLE. AS PUNISHMENT, THEY CRAVED TO IMPRISION MY BODY. THEY LOST THE CHASE, AND LOCKED UP THEIR ENTIRE RACE, BUILDING A PRISON AROUND THE WHOLE WORLD. NOW I’M THE ONLY FREE ONE”.

This is extremely significant, because Jevil was made aware by the Knight that the world is only a game, and that he can become “free” by ignoring the rules of the game, if you will—to become sentient of the game itself. This matches up perfectly with Gaster: who after being shattered across time and space by falling into his creation, became aware that the world was all just a game.

So why usurp the Dark World? Presumably, to make everyone aware that it is all just a game: to save them, from being stuck forever without choice. To make them free…done in a very twisted way of course, taking over the kingdom, locking up the rulers and all.

So why do this? After all he was a former scientist of Asgore’s in Undertale. This is where the symbolism comes in, that I noticed. Gaster seems to be a “fallen angel” of sorts. He was driven into madness after “falling” into his creation— after messing with the balance of things. What that is exactly, is unknown at this time. But it is implied that he discovered the presence of timelines, and tried to figure out how to manipulate them.

This in a sense, was an act against nature/trying to defy god by trying to figure out the interworking’s of the world’s universe.

Additionally, in Deltarune there is a repeated theme of a “shining light” that guides you—where you save your Soul at. In the bible, the fallen angel Lucifer, who defied God, is likewise represented with a “shining light”. In the files, Gaster is also associated with the number 666—which aligns with the prophecy of him being a dark, fallen angel.

One could even argue his font/name Wingdings is symbolic, from the wing in the name. It isn’t a stretch to say that Toby got some inspiration from the Bible--he has gotten many inspirations from Undertale from various sources, including Asriel’s symbolism from a Hebrew god/demon named Azrael.

To add unto this theory that links both Asriel and Gaster together as being both angels, is that both were striken by tragedy. Asriel was killed at a very young age, and is forever stuck in an endless purgatory in the body of a flower. Meanwhile, Gaster was forgotten by everyone, including the ones he held closest, and was shattered across time and space. Both characters are implied to have been driven to madness because of this, but with Asriel having a bit more heart/sympathy to him in the very end, (due to having the power of the human Souls to feel compassion again) and freeing all of monsterkind out of a deep care for Frisk.

Gaster on the other hand…? Seems to be a lot more unforgiving, and much more threatening, seen by his heavily implied actions in Deltarune, taking over kingdoms without mercy, and establishing his power in the Dark World.

Another notable feature between the two characters, is that they both have black markings on their faces, stretching down from their eyes—(Asriel’s markings are seen during his final boss fight.) What are these? Well…one datamined detail (sourced from the Deltarune reddit) from Deltarune might be the answer to this question.

Both Asriel and Gaster have gone through incredible suffering, so this “pain” could have essentially manifested into the black markings, similar to tears. In the beginning of Deltarune, with the player’s encounter with the narrator/ Gaster, (or at the very least heavily implied...he speaks in the exact same manner) he asks the player what their favorite food is. Two answers, that immediately stand out as strange and bizarre—are pain, and cold—which at first glance is just an off the wall comment/dialogue option, but upon second glance gives us a window into what he has gone through—painful suffering, much like Asriel did, on a plane of existence where they could do nothing. Both characters also have committed horrible actions, due to their fall into madness, (Asriel as Flowey, being stuck in a soulless vessel for ages,) and Gaster, due to existential madness from realizing the entire world is just a game, presumably overthrew an entire kingdom to “free” everyone.

(Almost forgot--) Additionally, another piece of dialogue which links together the Knight and the Angel being one and the same—is a dialogue seen from the Chaos King/Spade King himself. During the battle with him—he mentions multiple times how he obeys the word of the Knight, and with him he shall make a “new world out of Holy Shadows”, which backs up my theory even more, that the folks of the Light world are worshiping a false idol, a dark angel to destroy them all.

Sound familiar...?

I believe this is made all the more likely with Undertale being a mirror to Deltarune and vice versa—it would make all the more sense that each game would have an Angel character, considering each deals with a prophecy containing the Deltarune. One Angel of Light, and one of Dark.

EDIT: Here are some additional findings that make this come all together even more.

*In Undertale, every zone’s monsters reflect the boss monster of the area. (The monsters in Alphys zone are all anime related. The ones in Undyne’s zone are all muscular/into piano like her, etc...) the only area in the game that doesn’t make sense is Mettaton’s zone in the Core. The mobs don’t suit him at all: except when you realize that he wasn’t meant to be the true boss of the Core in the first place, since Alphys made him. If Gaster hadn’t died/become shattered across time and space, he would have been the likely boss monster of that area. What is notable, is that all of the enemies of the Core are primarily knights, mad, some of them use crosses as attacks, have wings, one of them uses a “Morningstar” as a weapon, (possible reference to Lucifer Morningstar) and you have to defeat some of the monsters by “praying”. Not symbolizing Mettaton at all—but rather Gaster, showing that the foreshadowing seen in Deltarune is indeed likely correct.

*The egg in Deltarune is a possible reference to the tale of Adam and Eve, as it aligns very well. A mysterious figure tempts someone behind a tree with a “fruit of knowledge”. Kris is offered the egg by “him”, presumably Gaster. Taking the egg to the Light-World doesn’t change it like all the other items in the game—it still exists in the Light-World—showing the forbidden knowledge that the world is all just a game. Even though it is a secret/not accessed by usual means, the egg is additionally a key item—that might prove more important by the end of the game.

#deltarune #undertale #undertale theory #deltarune theory #asriel #asriel dreemurr #gaster #theories #theory #game theory #heree we go again #my incoherent rambles #but at least with more evidence this time!#warning long post

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magus-of-the-color-pizza · 5 years ago

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Beyond the Summary

So here’s the thing. The Story Summary came out and everyone on Twitter is roasting it for not being a real story. However, aside from one or two plot points (which I will identify in a second), a lot of people seem to be missing just how... rushed and plothole dense the story is? So, in order to properly address this, I’ve compiled this little list of grievances regarding the story in and of itself, regardless of the way it’s been “told”.

There were a few additional plot points that I personally felt didn’t make much sense, but which, ironically, could if they were developed well, which of course they will not be. I’m going to go in order with the Summary. Let’s get this over with, shall we?

-me after reading the Story Summary, 2019

Before the gods of Theros rose to power, the titans—horrific primal urges made flesh—roamed the mortal realm, sowing death and destruction in their wake.

Let’s get this out of the way immediately: yes, the titans make sense from a Plot perspective, but hey, did you know? Despite being represented on the cards, in the story they actually DO NOT BREAK FREE and are irrelevant! They are simply a plot device to introduce Klothys! The conflict of THB is unrelated to them! (Also, there are only 2 of them, which I find kind of weird but whatever)

Klothys, the god of fate, volunteered to act as jailer and sequestered herself in the Underworld for eternity.

Ok, clever way to introduce the new god, except for the fact that we’ve been told in the past that the Gods of Theros require constant devotion/followers or they will lose power/cease to exist. How did Klothys avoid this fate?

Ashiok's visions are more real than most, and in one of them, Elspeth seized Heliod's spear Khrusor. When the vision had passed, a twisted version of the spear remained, dripping with darkness and power.

For this to happen, it would have to be intentional on Ashiok’s part. It might be, but it’s weird to omit that. What were their intentions in granting Elspeth that spear?

Secondly, Ashiok learned of the Phyrexians' existence and promptly planeswalked away to learn more of these true living nightmares.

Ashiok is the type of person that plans miles ahead. If they gave Elspeth the spear intentionally to wreak chaos, do they not care to see what happens next? And what happened to all their plans regarding Theros and the nature of the gods and belief? I can understand they’d be very interested in Phyrexia, but it seems weird to just drop everything and go.

And when gods clash, mortals suffer the consequences. One such consequence took the form of rifts to the Underworld from which countless monsters poured forth. Erebos, the god of the Underworld, was consumed by this conflict. He hated Heliod most of all, and in his rage, he neglected to keep a tight grip on the souls under his purview. News travels fast, even in the afterlife, and Elspeth heard talk of rifts to the mortal realm. Realizing her work in the Multiverse was not yet done, Elspeth gripped her shadow spear and headed toward a hidden exit in Erebos's palace—but she wasn't the only one seeking escape.

This whole paragraph is... oof. The rifts are a super convenient plot device, not to mention Erebos’s slight mischaracterization. The whole image of Elspeth just up-and-leaving the realm of death is pretty funny, I have to say.

Klothys was furious. When Xenagos attempted to take her place in the pantheon, she was understandably upset.

I’m sorry, her place in the pantheon? Yes they both fall under Gruul colors but not only does the pantheon not have a finite number of spots, Xenagos became the God of Revels, that has nothing to do with Destiny. Also, Klothys made the decision to remain to seal the Titans, remember? She had no followers.

As Elspeth headed toward freedom, she gathered allies. Along her journey, she faced many battles and powerful foes, and she fought them all off. After each victory, she raised her spear high and proclaimed: "Behold, the true Khrusor! Heliod wields a fake!"

Aside from being salty at the fact that we’re just going to leave Elspeth’s struggles at the generic “many battles and powerful foes” (Who? Why? Where? How? When?), keep in mind that we are still in the Underworld for this part of the story. So the faith she is supposedly gathering for herself/the weapon by proclaiming its true nature to, I guess, random people that were hanging around while she beat up her foes (unless you’re telling me she gathered an army, which raises way more questions) (which will be relevant in a second) comes from Returned, not living denizens. That raises so many questions I think I’m just going to move on to the next part.

She also clashed repeatedly with Calix, emerging victorious every time. After all, she was a seasoned warrior, and he was freshly made. But with each battle, Calix did a little better—he was learning his foe as he learned himself.

This part might be the one that irks me the most, to be honest. As previously stated, Elspeth has defeated many powerful foes. This Calix guy, who is a masterwork of sentient mana-construct created by Klothys, wants to return her to her place in the underworld. So first of all, he finds her, ok, that I can accept. And then...? They fight. So Elspeth beats him up and leaves him alive? Or does he make a daring escape? Because they “clash repeatedly”. Did they just agree to meet every day at the same hour? Why does Calix not play it smart and ambush her if he can track her so well? Why does Elspeth not kill this severe threat to her mission? Wh- you know what, let’s just move onward.

Heliod stood in Elspeth's way, refusing her passage out of the Underworld. She could not be allowed to escape. She would be the end of him. She was the cause of all this. Ranting under his breath, he charged Elspeth with his spear Khrusor . . . which promptly shattered in his hands. For each time Elspeth repeated that her shadowspear was the true Khrusor, the onlooker souls believed her. And it was the power of that belief, that devotion, that caused her lie to simply become truth. Staring down the point of a spear that was no longer his, Heliod yielded.

Heliod’s descent into paranoia is actually something I really regret not being able to see in full (must’ve been some powerful paranoia indeed since it made him wage a solo war against ALL the other gods). What I’m going to point out is that Elspeth’s plan... works. Really? You managed to gather so much faith (again, from dead Therosians) that you managed to surpass the unofficial Main God of this world and his very much official Khrushor to become fake? I mean I know Ajani and the leonin did their fair share of spreading doubts regarding Heliod (speaking of, where the hell is Ajani for the events of this set?), but I really have a hard time seeing how Heliod loses this battle even though he is the one that started the conflict, yes Therosians may begin to turn against him but to lose their faith completely... I’m not sold. Also, Heliod just gives up? Damn, this dude started an entire war based on the fear he might be replaced and then when a mortal challenges him, he yields. This is a god that has erased entire cities from existence!

Erebos simply took the defeated sun god and placed him beneath a giant boulder, where he would suffer for all eternity, or until he was forgotten by his worshippers above. As for Elspeth, Erebos gifted her his eternal gratitude—and safe passage back to the mortal realm.

Like a random boulder? A boulder big enough to be a nuisance to a god? And why can’t Heliod just move? It’s not like he has the responsibility to hold up the heaves/surface/underworld, it’s literally just a boulder. Also, reminder that Heliod is the most venerated/important god on Theros. The fact that he is so nonchalantly removed from his duties and placed under punishment is downright absurd! Especially since the whole Xenagos thing was a huge controversy among the gods, who are, in a wonderful metaphor of the capitalist status quo by the way, way more interested in preserving their collective status as deities than actually going after the other gods, despite being rivals (it is canon that they have technically agreed not only not to harm each other but also to not interfere directly with each other’s affairs on the surface). Also, he’s alive! Who will take his place as God of the sun/day/light/whatever? Sure generations would forget him eventually but for the meantime, Therosians will just live on with no deity of so many important things? What? WHAT

After a brief reunion with Daxos, Elspeth planeswalked away.

Oh ok. So Elspeth is finally free, meets up with her lover, who has been transformed into a demi-god (is it reversible? Is he sentient? What happens to him now that Heliod has been defeated?), chats, and then leaves. How was their reunion? What did they say? Can Daxos be saved? Is he gonna be a regular Therosian now? Do they care about each other anymore? Does Elspeth get the catharsis/absolution she craves for being manipulated into killing him? Guess we don’t care, huh.

Calix looked on, his very being in agony. It was his purpose to return Elspeth to where she belonged, and now he could no longer reach her. But in his darkest hour, a strange idea sparked within him—and he simply planeswalked after her.

And finally, the line most people have been nitpicking on (for good reason). Calix is a freaking “created being”, which according to MtG rules, should NOT be able to innately possess a spark! What’s going on, huh? We’ve been bending “spark rules” for a while now (Jiang Yanggu and Mowu, the Royal Scions, Kaya’s ABSURD ability to transport non-planeswalkers to other planes) but this is a straight-up break. Also I love the “Rip to your mana construct but I would simply planeswalk” memes people have made about this, but one more thing. Did Calix miss the part where Erebos says Elspeth is free to go? What would happen if he brought her back, huh? “Oh no man don’t worry, she’s good”. Even if Calix believes Klothys’s will is more important than Erebos’s (if Klothys even still wants Elspeth back in the underworld after Erebos pardones her), how does he think he’s going to get her to stay there if Erebos doesn’t want her? Just gonna straight-up kill her? And again I ask, WHY didn’t Elspeth kill this guy? ARGH

-a visual metaphor of being a Vorthos right now

That concludes... whatever the heck this was. Thank you for listening and if you have any comments or additions, please let me know. I will say one thing: it is terribly ironic that the world that first sparked my interest for both writing and the magic story by kicking off the “golden age of mtg story” is also the one where the story is reduced to random blurbs on cards and whatever this garbage fire was. Truly a sad day for all of us.

#mtg #magic the gathering #theros beyond death #magic story #elspeth tirel #heliod #ashiok

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maloosh-baloosh64 · 4 years ago

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🎶

too many good ones from both dark souls and demons souls! so ill list multiple if you dont mind and talk about each one!

the one who craves souls - this is the end credits theme for the bad ending of demons souls. This song sounds so beautifully distraught and tragic, like the game itself is grieving over the poor decisions you made.

youtube

return to slumber - this is the end credits track for the good ending of demon souls. it’s so beautiful and serene and really captures the feeling of winding down to rest after overcoming tremendous odds.

youtube

maiden astrea - this is a very sad bossfight from demons souls. The boss takes place in a poisonous valley full of poverty and death. A saint from the church of boletaria comes here to help the people of this place. When the demons invade and the world falls to chaos, she takes one of the demons souls and uses its power to help those around her. The hero of the game is on a quest to gather all the demons souls in order to lull the old one back to slumber. So they have to kill the innocent maiden astrea and her loyal bodyguard garl vinland. this boss is one of the most tragic in the souls series and the song sends chills down my spine every time.

youtube

Then there’s dark souls music

Menu theme (dark souls 1) - this song is very pretty sounding, it plays while you make your character, while dark souls 1 wasn’t my first dark souls game, (i started with 2), this was a really good introduction to the series. It’s deceptively calm and welcoming for a game so brutally challenging.

youtube

dark souls 2 menu theme - i love the piano in this one. I love how minimal the first two games menu themes are.

youtube

premonition (dark souls 3 menu theme) - super foreboding and ominous. With the end of the dark souls world shortly upon you in the third game, it makes sense for the tone to shift dramatically from the previous two games. I love how evocative this piece is. Really sets the mood for what the game has to offer.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U0MdnNCC3j0&list=PLo3tUmuTyaRsgLjRQdHPyLnbOkccUGbuO&index=20

Iudex Gundyr - This is the tutorial boss of dark souls 3. I love how epic and also sad this song sounds!!! It’s incredible! The fight itself and the lore behind it are also really really good and part of a big reason why i love this song. Iudex Gundyr was supposed to be the hero who would link the fire, but he was unfit for that duty and was tricked into becoming nothing more than a judge, who would stand guard outside of firelink shrine to test the might of any unkindled people who would try to link the fire.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R415WZruPdE&list=PLo3tUmuTyaRsgLjRQdHPyLnbOkccUGbuO&index=22

the abyss watchers - another dark souls 3 boss theme. The vocals in this are hauntingly beautiful, i especially love the point when it swells up in harmony with the violins. The abyss watchers are a group of undead warriors who fight the abyss, but soon they became engulfed by the abyss and corrupted by it. But even in this corrupted state, their objective remained the same, to fight the abyss. But because the abyss was now within each and every one of them, they all ended up fighting themselves, dying and resurrecting over and over again to fight each other. The idea of a band of brothers united under a righteous cause becoming corrupted and fighting each other is very very cool to me and I will always love the abyss watchers for that.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TmccPPaRb3w&list=PLo3tUmuTyaRsgLjRQdHPyLnbOkccUGbuO&index=23

Gwyn, the Lord of Cinder - the final boss of dark souls 1. This song is a classic. I love how minimalistic it is. It has so few instruments and so little going on yet conveys so much. I remember bashing my head on the wall trying to figure this boss out, finally getting it right and beating dark souls 1 once and for all was a huge rush of relief and it really made me fall in love with the series. The song works so well for a final boss fight because it subverts your expectations entirely of what a final boss song would sound like!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AB6sOhQan9Y&list=PLo3tUmuTyaRsgLjRQdHPyLnbOkccUGbuO&index=15

Epilouge (dark souls 3) - this song is super epic and sad sounding and aaaaaaaaaaaaaa. It makes me feel things. It’s such a good note to end the series on. Its perfectly sad yet hopeful sounding towards the end. It really makes you reflect on the entire journey you took across all three games and demons souls and bloodborne if you count them.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSfPcFdqOz8&list=PLo3tUmuTyaRsgLjRQdHPyLnbOkccUGbuO&index=26

there’s still like many others but im not gonna bore you any longer with them.

thank you for asking!!!

I love dark souls so fuckin much!!!!

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romanticatheart-posts · 5 years ago

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The Winds of Change

@cora-nova @allaboutchoices @ao719 @emichelle @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @cordonianroyalty @dangerouseggseagleartisan @eadanga @texaskitten30 @janezillow @jared2612 @dcbbw

A message from the author -- The following is nothing more than my attempt to recreate a fictitious tale that has been written and re-written a million times and in a million different ways (by some very talented writers I might add) since Choices aired its first chapter of The Royal Romance in April 2017.

The short prologue below will hopefully give you some idea about how the story will unfold and just for reference, it’s part canon and part AU, but all of it centers around Riley and Liam. Thank you in advance for liking or commenting and just know that doing one or both is the sweetest form of flattery and also keeps me motivated. Though, if you truly enjoy this first chapter, a re-blog would just put the icing on the cake! --

Prologue After her fall from grace, Riley was forced to board a plane headed for New York City. Back to her origin of birth. She returned with little more than a broken spirit and a broken heart, but what she left behind was a trail of shattered hopes and dreams with no possibility of restoring all that was lost. As difficult as it was to believe that her name had been smeared because of false accusations against her, it was even harder to accept that the man she loved had rejected her because of it.

It had only been a few days since her arrival from Cordonia, but even so, it seemed like a lifetime ago. She realized the big city no longer held promise for her, nor did it feel like home anymore. And while earnestly seeking refuge in the concrete jungle once more, she encounters one obstacle after the other, forcing Riley to face a hard reality. With her resources shrinking as fast as her optimism, if she doesn’t catch a break soon, not only will she be standing in front of a breadline waiting for a handout, but by that point, she will already be homeless. However, as the winds began to shift in her direction yet again, this time they would blow in her favor bringing a welcome reprieve from the hardships that had befallen her recently. This much-needed relief and support would come swiftly, and from a very unexpected source.

Back in Cordonia, Liam had just been crowned as king when all hell broke loose. And the award for most fortunate that night goes to the culprit who rained all-out chaos on an otherwise civilized ceremony because their timing was impeccable. But not so lucky, was the one who’s plans for the future came to screeching halt when his closing speech was interrupted by a devastating news release. It just had to be that moment when photos of his beloved Riley surfaced that captured her in a compromising position with another man, deeming her unfit as the potential queen.

Liam knew immediately it had to be staged and most likely part of a conspiracy, but who would do such a thing? And why? Needless to say, he was shocked, confused and angry all at the same time, but as the mayhem tapered off and old fears began to emerge, he made a split-second decision to protect her the only way he could. Under the scrutiny of his peers, the people and the press, he unwillingly fulfilled his last obligation by becoming formally engaged just as Riley is being forcefully escorted from the ballroom. When he learns later that she is on a plane headed for New York, his despair is replaced with overwhelming desperation. And as the old saying goes, ‘desperate times call for desperate measures’… Well, in spite of the circumstances, Liam found the courage he needed to assert his first official command as reigning monarch. It was a decision that would shake Cordonian tradition to its core.

Without further ado, let the chaos... Ahem. I mean, let the story begin!

The Winds of Change is a term used to describe various instances in which our paths are altered by unseen forces. A metaphoric phenomenon that will touch the lives of every living, breathing soul on the face of the earth. It is believed that change is inevitable and oftentimes occurs without a noticeable impact. However, when this invisible dynamic begins to whip and thrash around its next victim, what’s left in its wake can either bring joy or it can bring misery. And no matter which way it blows, no one is immune.

That cliché holds a particular truth for one spirited young waitress who, because of one incredible night, decided to follow her heart in pursuit of true love. If anyone had told her even a year ago that she would live amongst royalty as a member of the elite, and perhaps win the heart of a prince, she would have declared them insane. Ironically, she had little to none of the typical childhood fantasies about knights in shining armor and happily ever after’s. Her approach to life has always been more... down-to-earth. Even if it seems extreme, be open to adventure and embrace every opportunity that presents itself. But in the process, keep your head out of the clouds and remain true to yourself. Everything else will just fall into place. And when fate decided to test that philosophy by throwing a handsome stranger and the chance of a lifetime into the mix, without hesitation, she accepted the challenge. Although unaware at the time, Riley Brooks came face to face with a real-life prince and his three unlikely cohorts on a not so typical Saturday night. This was just the beginning of what would set her on the course for an adventure of a lifetime. So, let’s go back to where it all began...

Living in New York City and working at a local bar gave Riley ample opportunity to meet people from all walks of life and most of the time, they’d come and go without ever leaving so much as a smidge of an impression on her. Though, when these four men walked in, she could tell right away they were... different, but in a good way. And maybe the word unique would be the best way to describe them.

It was clear that they were not native to New York, or even anywhere near, but there was a distinct brotherly bond between them that was rather endearing. Not only was their comradery entertaining to watch, but they would often draw her into their trivial disputes and discussions as she brought food and drinks to the table. And for once, working an extra shift didn’t seem so bad after all. These men were so completely different in terms of character that she wondered how they managed to become acquaintances, much less friends, to begin with. But even so, she sensed right away that they’d be fun to hang out with. Though, only one of them had awakened her other senses.

His name was Liam. The man whose eyes were like mystic blue orbs that seemed to flash more vibrant each time he looked at her and when combined with that radiant smile he wore, well... let’s just say she tingled from head to toe. Throughout the evening she did well in her attempts to keep from staring, but that didn’t stop her from tossing a few subtle glances his way when she thought he wasn’t looking. It was hard not to, especially since he was so unbelievably handsome. Each time though, she was met by his hypnotic gaze that almost made her go weak in the knees. Riley found that even though her motto was to never get personally involved with any of her customers, there was just something about him that made her want to forget that small detail. There was no denying the connection that existed between them and if given the opportunity for something more, she would gladly seize it. But, since the bar was about to close and neither had made a move in that direction, she resigned that this would just be another classic tale about the one that got away. However, fate had other plans.

While Riley was busy finishing her tasks for the night, as luck would have it, the bachelor party was wrapping up at the same time. It was then that Liam approached her with an apology for keeping her so late and offered to buy her a drink as a thank you. The look in his eyes told her he was sincere and trustworthy, so without hesitation, she followed her instincts and agreed to be their tour guide.

Instead of the usual club scene that had been suggested, Riley decided to charm them all with a visit to a place she called her secret spot. It was a cove just off the beaten path that she frequented for the peace and serenity that came from being near the water. That night though, it provided the perfect backdrop for her impromptu date with destiny. While the others cavorted in and around the shoreline, Riley led Liam on a short walk to climb a small cliff overlooking the ocean just to show him an amazing view. Although, the only view he was interested in at the moment was literally standing in front of him. Afterward, they wandered over by the bonfire Drake started upon their arrival, both thankful for the warmth of the crackling embers. They sat side by side and spent that time just getting to know one another better. This is when she learned Liam was a prince of some country in the Mediterranean. The Crown Prince of Cordonia to be exact and seeing that his mood had shifted as soon as he mentioned it, it was obvious the subject was a source of contention for him. Instead of focusing on the noticeable conflict that was written in his expression, Riley thought a change of scenery would be the perfect distraction and might do them both some good. So, after stating his desire to see the Statue of Liberty on his last night here, she cashed in a few favors and fulfilled a lifelong dream and in the process, brought the spark back to his eyes.

This was a pivotal moment for Liam when he recognized she wasn’t just some pretty face that used her wiles for personal gain. She showed him a side of human nature that was as sincere as it was unfamiliar, and yet something he craved all the same. It was simple really. His greatest desire was to be regarded as Liam the person, instead of a title that he was born to bear, and that is exactly who he was to her... just, Liam. The longer they talked, the more he realized that the feelings she’d stirred in him at the bar were multiplying by the second and once they shared their first kiss he immediately began dreading the moment they would have to say goodbye. Though the time did come, and it was much harder than either could have imagined.

At the point when they reached her apartment, Maxwell, Drake, and Tariq had all but crashed after their trip to the cove and were fast asleep as the limo rolled to a stop. Liam and Riley shared amused glances and then edged quietly out of the vehicle while stifling laughter at the sight before them. Though, once they both stood facing the apartment building, their expressions became more passive as neither was ready for the night to end. But after a few silent moments of contemplating the inevitable, Liam smiles ruefully as he gently takes her hand into his and they began the long trek down a short footpath that led to the front door. The entrance was not that far from where they were but wanting to hold onto these last precious moments together, they walked at a slower pace.

Upon reaching the threshold, the two stood looking at each other and for a brief moment, neither knew exactly what to say. Liam finally broke the silence, but not before lifting her hand to his lips for a sweet kiss and then held it tenderly to his chest, forcing her to take a half-step forward.

“Thank you for tonight, Riley. Believe me when I say that I thoroughly enjoyed every moment I’ve spent with you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Liam. I had fun too.”

“That’s... I’m glad.”

With emotions running high and hearts racing, their eyes were locked solely on each other. Knowing their paths would never cross again, Riley leans in and captures his lips in hers one last time. It was a long, deep kiss and without hesitation, Liam wrapped his arms tightly around her as though he’d never let her go. But then, it was over way too soon and both knew the time had come to part ways. He reluctantly let her go and took a small step back.

“I’m glad to have met you, Riley Brooks. I’ll never forget this night...”

“Neither will I.”

And with that, she turned to go inside as Liam waited until she was safely behind the glass entrance and then headed back to the limo. As he opened the door, he took one last moment to look back only to find that she was no longer there. It was a bittersweet moment, to say the least.

The next morning, only seconds after reaching the bar where she was just about to begin her shift, Maxwell, one of the four guys she’d met the night before, showed up with an off the wall proposition. It was an invitation to join a contest of sorts, where she would rub elbows with royalty, ski the Alps, and visit places she’d only ever imagined... but the best part of all was the fact that she would get to see Liam again. And if their connection the night before held true, it would definitely be worth the trip. And then there could possibly be a proposal at the end which seemed a little farfetched, but she was game. With Liam being from a sovereign nation, it was a tradition and expected that its Crown Prince would choose a wife from those that came from noble houses in and around the kingdom. Since Riley didn’t meet this small requirement to participate, Maxwell gladly offered to be her sponsor. Within an hour after receiving the invitation, she was on a plane headed to a place she’d never seen before. And before she met Liam, she’d never heard of it either.

From the moment she stepped foot inside the palace of Cordonia, until tonight, the time just seemed to fly by. And with good reason. Beginning with one ball and now ending with another, the social season had been a continuous string of parties and social gatherings where she sailed a boat, danced with royalty and even got to show off her skills on the slopes. As soon as one event ended another began, and each was more dynamic than the last. Aside from sleeping, not one minute was spent idly. Although her ability to hold stamina in this fast-pace environment was no different than growing up in the hustle and bustle of New York City, that is where familiarity ended.

It wasn’t a secret that she was an outsider with no formal education in navigating through this strange yet exciting world she willingly leaped into. And as such, it put her at a slight disadvantage over the born and bred noblewomen that came with their pedigrees primed and ready. But with guidance from a few close friends she’d made along the way, coupled with her God-given strength and determination, Riley was quickly thrust into the spotlight, becoming favored among the others. Not only did she find success in every event of the social season, but she also earned well-deserved respect in the process. Surprisingly, nothing about the methodology ever made her feel as though she was out of her element. In fact, it gave her cause to believe that this is where she was meant to be... the place where she belonged.

Though, her growing fondness of Cordonia was only secondary to the increasing affection toward its prince. And by the third or fourth event, there was no doubt that she had fallen deeply in love with Prince Liam, and as much as he tried to be fair to the others, it was evident from the way he looked at her that the feeling was mutual. Tonight marked the end of the social season and a hopeful beginning for the future. But, before she could seize her moment of triumph, she was literally carried away in a hell storm.

Sitting idly inside the Cordonian airport, Riley’s expression can’t hide the true depth of confusion and pain she feels at this moment. And how it runs all the way to her soul. How could one misunderstanding get distorted and be so far from the truth, that she was forced out like a common criminal? On second thought, at least a real criminal would have gotten to make a phone call before being exiled. There is no doubt she has a lot on her mind... and her heart. As she sifts through the scattered fragments of what brought her to this moment, a flashback of the not so distant past streams through her mind...

“Right now, I want to have this moment just with you. Not in front of the entire court. Not with nobles and servants watching. I want to remember this moment... before our lives change forever tonight. And when I remember it, I want it to be just for us. Riley, even if I didn’t need to choose a bride tonight, I’d still be proposing. Because I don’t need any more time to decide. I already know.”

“Liam... What are you saying?”

“Riley, I never expected to feel this way about anyone. I never expected to meet anyone like you. These past few weeks have been torture... wanting desperately to spend time with you but being held back by this damned process. Wanting so badly to hold you... to tell you that it was always you in my heart. You’re the brightest spot in my world. When I’m near you, I can’t help smiling, laughing... you’re the funniest, sweetest, most daring person that I know. And every time I see you I find myself thinking how lucky, how incredibly lucky I am that I’m the one you’re spending your time with. Ever since my brother abdicated, I was worried about finding a woman worthy of being the Queen of Cordonia. But since I’ve met you, I worry about being worthy of you. Riley Brooks, you’re incredible in every sense of the word. And I don’t want to spend another minute without you knowing exactly how I feel. I’ve never said this to anyone before, but I know it’s more true than my own name. Which is all to say... Riley, I love you.”

There was so much sincerity in the way he said those three little words, and as pure and unwavering as the look in his eyes when he said them. Leaving no doubt, that they were spoken from the heart. In vivid detail, Riley replays those tender moments she and Liam shared inside the garden maze tonight and can only be described as magical. At last, a spoken confession of deep and abiding love, one to the other. Then followed by the most beautiful display of affection that neither had ever known before... making love under the stars for the very first time. Their devotion to one another, sealed in that moment. No more hesitations... no more doubts. Just two hearts, two souls, converged as one... Even now, his intoxicating aroma is still fresh on her skin. Oh, God... I just can’t believe this is happening...

These were the sweet moments prior to her world being torn apart and there was nothing she could do to stop it. What began as a dream, suddenly turned into her worst nightmare and no words can describe the pain in her heart. Was it not enough to be falsely accused as unfaithful and then publicly chastened while guards practically dragged her from the Coronation Ball? Fate obviously thought not and had one last, cruel trick up her sleeve. Just as the doors to the ballroom were about to close, Liam’s voice echoes above the crowd, delivering the final blow...

“I choose... Lady Hana.”

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cinnbar-bun · 5 years ago

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Siegfried is Actually A Demonic Otherworld Dragon (100% Real!! NOT FAKE!!!)

Everyone, it’s time. Put on your tinfoil hats peeps, and I’ll reveal the TOTAL TRUTH ON SIEGFRIED. Reveals spoilers for JJBA AND SOME GBF THINGS

For starters, I want to show you something.

This is Siegfried when he was first revealed. Okay. Legit. Dudes been on the run. Definitely would look like he’s been not sleeping for over a hundred years.

Then look at this:

Do you see something strange?

Hm? Maybe it’s the fact that he looks... younger, even?

He permed his hair and dyed it a lighter caramel, and somehow got rid of his bags? Sorry. I don’t buy it.

But you know what I do buy?

He sucked the life force out of his enemies and victims and made himself younger. Let me tell you a story.

Long ago, an asshole enigmatic nobleman, Dio Brando, wears the stone mask and becomes a vampire. As a vampire, he sustains his life force and youthful appearance by sucking the life energy of his victims.

Simple vampire stuff.

But the creator of the stone mask is one of the most prominent Pillar Men ever, Kars.

See something familiar? The long hair? The bulging muscles?

What if I enlightened you ignorant fools and said they had the same voice.

Kars=Siegfried.

You might be a bit confused, but all shall be explained soon.

Kars, after getting the Stone of Aja and placing it on the mask, becomes the Ultimate Lifeform. He has the ability to control nature itself and turn into whatever he would like (ie, he can grow wings like a bird). How is this relevant-ITS VERY RELEVANT BECAUSE KARS HAS BECOME SO POWERFUL AND UNSTOPPABLE. SO MUCH POWER IN AN ALREADY POWERFUL MAN WHO CAN DO SO MUCH DAMAGE AND PRACTICALLY DESTROY THE WORLD WITH HIS MERE HANDS.

At the end though, it doesn’t last long and he gets blown to space, where he becomes a rock and floats for eternity and stops thinking.

OR SO WE ARE MADE TO BELIEVE

Do you really think a god could merely be stopped like that? I highly doubt such an object in space could remain passively existing there.

But as GBF has shown us-there is a way a God could continue. How?

THE MOON PEOPLE.

The Moon People, from what Second Advent has shown us, is very technologically advanced and promotes efficiency, work, and advancements over ‘inefficient’ things like love, leisure, and enjoyment.

IF KARS WAS FLOATING IN SPACE, I BELIEVE THE MOON PEOPLE CAPTURED HIM AND TOOK HIM IN TO RESEARCH HIM.

Kars has stopped thinking by that point probably, but because it was stated he could not die, he still has some parts of his soul in him. Second Advent also showed us that due to moon research, people are able to transfer consciousness into a vessel/another host (see Alandus).

My proposal is that the Moon People wished to create a powerful vessel that they could study and use to enhance their own race.

But, I’m going to take it a step further. It was simply too much to create a creature that powerful, furthermore, they would need something to transfer Kar’s soul into.

I mean, I dunno if any of y’all ever seen Shadow the Hedgehog, but Shadow was created by combining the blood of an alien named Black Doom with the power of the chaos emeralds and stuff. Same gist over here.

The Moon People, wanting to test their limits, made a pact with an Otherworld creature in order to gain some of their blood to help revive the vessel they would use to research. The Otherworld creatures work and deal in lives/souls. Think Dark Jeanne and Aglovale. Sacrifice is needed to keep the vessel going.

So, the Moon People, after finally creating this creature, try to deal with it but find it’s much too chaotic and too uncontrollable to deal with, so they send it to live amongst the skydom. It is equally as chaotic and unpredictable as the vessel they made, so they try to study it in hopes of seeing different results they never would have before.

Now here’s where shot gets crazy. I’m gonna take a page out of @tainbocuailnge ‘s book and borrow their theory about FGO Siegfried being Fafnir and apply it to here.

Basically, the vessel the Moon People and Otherworld creatures worked to create is Fafnir. Of course, since the Otherworld creatures demand sacrifice and ‘balance’ they decide to go ahead and transfer a bit of Fafnir’s power into a knight that tries to slay it. Fafnir is simply too destructive to exist on its own, and they need to create something that can be capable of defeating that destruction.

The knight that comes is ‘Siegfried’ or basically, what he was before he became the Siegfried we know and love today. Siegfried ‘slays’ Fafnir, although as we later find out that he simply sealed it away (more on that later). The knight that exits is not the ‘Siegfried’ he was before, but instead a new, reborn and potentially powerful creature that the Otherworld can use.

Siegfried tries to be the good knight he was before, but due to the Otherworld blood in him, he too has his moments of chaotic feelings and emotions. The Otherworld knows this.

Siegfried, now paraded as a hero, can freely live his life and continue to be the ‘savior’ everyone wants him to be. He now has the ability to infiltrate and gain trust of those around him. The Otherworld’s desire to take control has him act as a loyal Knight and Commander to King Josef and all of Feendrache. He can’t go exploiting his cover too soon. Not when there’s just so many things he needs to do.

But, since like I said before, to maintain his life force, he needs energy from other people. He can’t just exist at full strength and do what he needs, nor can he just drink peoples life energy away.

So he continues on, doing his best to carry out King Josef’s will. In that time, he finds out about Isabella, and the two co-conspire. In exchange for helping her get rid of Josef, she will offer him human sacrifices. They both have their own ideals, but realize they can’t do it alone and need to gain Josef’s full trust.

Siegfried manages to, as Josef entrusted him with the location of a secret passage/stairwell that leads to a jail cell where prisoners could secretly be out there without anyone knowing.

Then comes the day when Isabella murders Josef and frames Siegfried. This is a part of their plan. Isabella plans to kill Josef, frame Siegfried, and have him go on the run. While he’s on the run, he can form black-market level connections and discreetly find out about other kingdoms and magical/powerful things that can help in their quest for power. Isabella then becomes King Carl’s advisor and plays him like a puppet, while Siegfried’s name was slandered.

Notice, Siegfried always brings up his loyalty to Feendrache, but I want to show THIS evidence that proves otherwise.

After Lancelot, Vane, and Danchou go down the staircase and find the village Chief as well as Siegfried, this convo appears.

Siegfried basically admits that at any point in time, he could’ve broken them out. He has the power to stop the knights trying to fight them, he has the power to break the villagers out, and he knew they were in there the whole time.

And yet, for years, he did nothing.

Would a hero reaaaalllyyy do that? Why would he simply leave them there?

Like I said earlier, he has the power to do so, and the following cutscenes literally show him beating them with ease.

This, much like most of Siegfried’s appearances, is to seem like a hero and continue his facade of a valiant and strong warrior.

Consider, also, he knew about Aglovale, and did nothing to stop him earlier until war was about to break out.

Siegfried does this routinely to make himself appear trustworthy. The more people who trust him, the more powerful he can become. The more powerful he is, the more he can enact the will of the Otherworld creatures and do what he was created to all along- Test Potential. He was created to continuously overpower himself again and again, doing feats seemingly impossible with a calm and demure smile.

The moments he spends with his Dirt Kids are to distract from the obviously shady person he is. I mean, hell, his behavior even continues with Danchou too. Just because you are nice and trustworthy, it doesn’t mean shit to him.

In the Dragon Knights skin, the description says:

“Every gentleman knows that stepping out in style requires both polish and an eye for fashion. The contrast in the dark and light theme lends to the attire's mature calm and allure. And while a cool expression may veil one's true intentions, a simple bouquet of deep red roses whispers secretly of love.”

I mean, ‘a cool expression may veil one’s true intentions’-INCREDIBLY SHADY. And also, notice the mention of ‘contrast in the dark and light’. Also shady.

Look at his outfit closely. Most colors are used to symbolize different things, and usually, white represents purity, while black usually represents dark and more repulsive emotions.

His coat is WHITE. When you wear a coat, you’re concealing your body from the cold. In this case, it’s symbolistic for Siegfried acting on his facade as a pure righteous hero, defending justice and being loyal to those whom he serves.

But it’s not the full trust, as Siegfried is wearing a black suit, and notice, one of his hands (concealed with a white glove too), is in his pockets. The other hand, carrying a bouquet of roses, is concealed in his slouched form, partially covered by his coat.

He’s using you. Saying ‘I love you’, as to convince you that he’s there for you and cares for you. He is. But not for the reason you want.

As you’re the Singularity, you have potential. You have the potential to exceed potential, each time overpowering what was thought to be impossible. I mean, plenty of creatures/characters were interested in your potential.

But, by this theory, Siegfried was created to exceed potential as well. You are a perfect example of what potential is, and he craves for that kind of power that you could have. He loves your potential, the power you could provide, the change you can make.

If he could just grasp your potential, perhaps even take your life energy, he could become the powerful entity he was always meant to be.

#granblue fantasy #shitpost #gbf #siegfried #granblue fantasy shitpost #long post #theory #this is a joke #unless.....?

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bitchwhoreofastorm · 5 years ago

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And not so long after his task is given to him Lorkhan discovers a place where Padomay has plucked at Auri-el’s long scaly hide and churned it slate-grey. He reaches his hands into it, to cleave something out of it, for it swells with potential, and he’s been charged to cleave things.

The grey resists him. Such is its first action in the new world: stubborn defiance.

But Lorkhan, too, is stubborn, and oozing with useful black, and he plunges into it. He wrestles with it for a long time, pouring into it all his will to coax it from the aether. And eventually he succeeds. The spirit, such as it is, peels away, writhing in his arms.

“What are you doing!” cries the spirit. “Leave me be, let me go back!"

"You must exist!” Lorkhan says to it.

“I do not know what that means!"

"Yes you do!" It thrashes but Lorkhan takes it by the shoulders and guides its gaze to his own. "Look at me, look at you. I, you.” He presses a hand to his own chest. “I,” and then presses its chest, “And you."

It becomes still and stares at him with a strange expression. "There is a difference."

"Yes! You and I are different. Do you see it?”

“Yes."

"Now you may exist."

Lorkhan releases it, and it takes on an aspect of him, like a reflection: masculine. But there is more to it, tri-angled and complex even at its inception. It is very perfect, chaos and stasis mingle within it in equal measure, and when the light from Auri-el’s shredded hide falls on its face it becomes handsome and splendid and dark and sinister. It is shining dragon-light marred with deep black handprints where Lorkhan wrested it into life.

And it– he, for he’s growing more real by the second– he is full of that stubborn willpower Lorkhan felt in him upon creation. "But why?” he asks of Lorkhan, unhappily. “For what? What purpose?”

Lorkhan smiles. “I don’t know."

"You don’t know?"

"You are you and I are I! I am not you. I cannot tell you. But come! Give yourself a name.”

“A name?"

"Sound is everything. Use it wisely.”

The beautiful spirit frowns. Now Lorkhan sees that he is not so beautiful as he first seemed; he is still very perfect, of course, but he’s wreathed in Padomay, laced through with Padomay, and far more complex than the Anuic skin he’d wriggled out of.

He opens his mouth, then shuts it again. Then he opens it again and sputters out: “Malak.”

“Malak!”

“Mauloch.”

“Mauloch! I am Lorkhan."

"Lorkhan."

"It is good to meet you."

"And you.” But the spirit looks about himself, perplexed again, and still full of that defiance– a strong will and, there’s that whiff of Padomay, the strife. “I still do not understand, Lorkhan. This– existence– why have you done this? What is existence?”

“Well, you are different now,” says Lorkhan. “Separate and in contrast.”

His voice must have caught on one of Padomay’s scales because Mauloch’s brow wrinkles. “Separate and… in combat?"

"That’s not what I–” Lorkhan pauses. “… Actually, yes.”

“In combat."

"But you want to fight? I see in you a desire for strife.”

“Desire?"

Lorkhan presses a hand to his chest again. "Hunger. Need. This is your key to existence."

Mauloch places a hand over his own and looks at him seriously. "Is that my purpose? If I… desire… I desire a task. Tell me what I am for."

"Oh, Malak! I cannot tell you what you are for. I have only pointed out to you a truth: that you are you, and I am I, and that there are differences. Do you desire to do? Then find something to do and go do it. Are you angry at me for my act, and wish to be in violent contrast with you? Then go seek out that strife. What you choose to do– it is a choice, and yours, not mine."

Lorkhan disentangles his hands from Mauloch and retreats. "What will you do?”

Mauloch considers this carefully. “… I think I will fight."

Lorkhan is well amused by this.

***

So Mauloch tries that tricky business of existing. Despite Lorkhan’s faith in him, he soon finds that he’s not very good at it.

His first desire is to fight and he does. He invents a sword for himself and hits a lot of things with it. It’s fun, for a bit, but he soon finds that it doesn’t fulfil him at all. Even in those early days there’s a bit too much of Auri-el in him: he wants grandness, he wants victory, he wants triumph, he wants to be proud.

Pride is what’s most alluring to him. There’s a cavern in his chest, a cavern seeking achievement, like the sconce of a lamp, aching for light. So it is soon not enough that he can fight. He wants to fight for a cause; it’s that stubborn defiance that dragged him into existence in the first place, now growing purer and cleaner, becoming a defiance with a noble goal in mind. Like rebellion that knows no master, or a crusade with no enemy to target. If only it had a purpose to achieve!

In the meantime he develops other, pettier desires: a desire for beauty, a desire for glory, a desire to be praised. When he finds foes and defeats them it slowly feeds the fledgling spark of pride in his chest. Something like a real heart begins to grow in him, something very strong and very sure of its existence: a bright orb of that golden pride, hot and soaked in vanquished blood. As he fights he becomes surer and prouder and stronger and more beautiful.

But it is not enough. It is never enough. The light is always swallowed. Lorkhan’s handprints are all over him and he is so hungry. Padomay’s legacy wriggles through his skin. He aches and he needs: a purpose, a cause, a success, a sure source of praise, his next fix of glory. He roams like a mad-man, striking down lesser spirits, fighting Anuics and Padomaics and In-Betweens alike. He seeks out challenges and learns to abhor kindness for the opportunity it deprives him. Like all things touched by Lorkhan, he wants.

It is earlier than that when he becomes infatuated with Auri-el. In those beginning days Auri-el alone is the font of beauty and pride; really, it is no surprise Mauloch would be drawn to that, he who wants a purpose that will bring him a good dose of admiration on the side. And oh is Auri-el admired! Is he successful! Beautiful and good! All of the Grey Maybe is built on his serpentine back. His wingbeats create direction and his fiery breath churns out purpose. He is a king among kings, generously bestowing beginnings and ends, so kindly providing linear time for their narratives.

And Auri-el accepts Mauloch– tentatively. He doesn’t really have a choice; Mauloch craves a challenge, and the chance to win a place in Auri-el’s esteem is a surer bait to service than any promise of payment.

Winning that place is another matter entirely.

“Tri-Malak,” says Auri-el one day to his glimmering faceted warrior, “You are strong, but you are not a knight. You can fight, but so can many, and none are worthy to be in my service.

“Tri-Malak,” (for Mauloch is like three beings wound together, complex as he is, and Auri-el is amused by this, and calls him Tri-), “Your desire to serve me does you credit, but you are no servant. You belong more to yourself. For therein is the problem– you desire to serve me– and a servant with desire is no servant at all. So long as you want you are a slave to yourself and serve only ‘I’.”

Mauloch kneels before him. “Instruct me how to become worthy.” (For, weak as he is, he wants to become, and he wants to be worthy.)

“How can you eat desire?” Auri-el pauses, and raps a long talon against the gleaming marble floor of his throne-room. “Fight. Fight, until your hunger is sated and your need slaked. For you desire strife, do you not, knight-would-be? Return to me without desire and I will name you Trinimac.”

***

So Mauloch goes and he brawls without weapons against Mehrunes Dagon, four arms to two, and they roll about fields of lava like lovers, sparring until they are made of bruises and shouting. Their fight is glorious and their combat raises mountains and they resolve absolutely nothing and at the end of it they look each other, laughing, and are forced to admit that they’ve been wasting their time, and there was no point to this battle but strife itself.

***

So Mauloch challenges Kynareth and for many days and nights flees fast and daring across a great meadow of rippling barley and through labyrinths of tall trees as her beasts pursue him. He crowns a great mountain-range and plunges through gorges and soars like a comet in his beautiful golden armour. When the wolves corner him, after many weeks, he turns and fights them, smiting each one in turn with Vosh Rakh, until they overwhelm him and he must flee again; and then he surprises them by fleeing straight into the wolf-mother’s den, and lopping off her head, and the gory victory only kindles the fire in his belly.

***

So Mauloch confronts Lorkhan. Lorkhan, who has never fought, whose way is not to fight, but nonetheless delights in Mauloch’s strife and struggle and perpetual dissatisfaction. “You are like me,” titters Lorkhan, pointing at the handprints left from Mauloch’s inception, “It is no shame! Auri-el cannot understand it, but that’s only proof of its merit. You are like me. It is good to hunger and want, that’s the soul of existence.”

“It cannot be,” says Mauloch, “Because to serve Auri-el is not to cease existing!”

“But you, as you now exist, cannot serve him.” Lorkhan laughs. “You must be Malak. And being Malak is not such a bad fate.”

***

And despite all this trial, his want is so keen that it hurts him.

***

Then, after it all, with no other choices left to him, Mauloch goes to the edge of the Grey Maybe and sinks his hands into himself and rips.

Lorkhan’s handprints part from his flesh and fall before him. Those hungry, needing, chaotic, changing parts of himself, coalesce and begin to boil. They surge at him, trying to return, but he beats them back with Vosh Rakh; and they scream, a hideous agonised wanting scream.

"You are gone from me now!” Trinimac shouts at them, striking them back. “I revoke you! You are not part of me. Be gone and cease to exist!"

But he has forgotten, perhaps, that he was born with stubborn defiance at his core, and that mark is on everything of his now. Lorkhan’s handprints writhing in midair splay their palms at him. "NO!” they say. They lunge at him again.

Trinimac strikes them down once more. “You are nothing now, be gone! I revoke you!"

"I refuse!” replies his desire. “I will not! I will not!”

“It does not matter! You are no longer part of me!"

The imprint, now slim and void-wounded and steaming, darts at the wounds where Lorkhan’s hands once touched; Trinimac knocks it back.

"I want to exist!” cries the darkness.

“You may not!”

“I want to exist!"

They clash again, and then fall, and tumble, and Trinimac feels the vestige of Lorkhan’s arms wrap around his shoulders–

"You are not I!” Trinimac shouts against its ear. “You said ‘I’! You said, 'I’! You and I are different!”

Roiling with ugly heat the spirit draws away. "I, yes, I! I do not want to disappear! Do not cast me away, I refuse to be smote into nothing, I will not be erased, I will it not!"

Vosh Rakh’s tip falls at the neck of something that is now corporeal and sentient. Trinimac is trembling with exertion. "Then go,” he gasps, “Go and be different from me. I want you no more– I want nothing any more, I am no longer a thing that desires."

And this Lorkhan-shaped outline of Malak looks at him with blazing eyes, its essence dancing at a sword-tip, so full of strife and hunger and stubborn defiance. But it departs without even telling him its name.

#this is a repost of something old i deleted but its actually ok so here it is again #trinimac #lorkhan #fic

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breg21 · 5 years ago

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Ladynoir Month: Blindsided

@ladynoirjuly2019

Ao3 FFN

I'm not ready for this. I don't like angst, I just don't. But you gotta do, what you gotta do.

No worries though, its not too terrible, and it doesn't stay. I like my fluff, and my fluff it shall stay. We just gotta get through the next few chapters.

Lemme know your thoughts! Until next time! Lots of love!

Time came and went as it always did.

Adrien, for all his seventeen years of life on the planet, had thought he'd seen it all. From his mother's untimely disappearance, to becoming a superhero at just fourteen years old and battling monsters that just got victimized because of their emotions, to find out he had been in a weird love square with the love of his life.

Yep, he thought he had seen it all.

But nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared for being blindsided the way that he had been.

He was never the nosey one, that was Plagg. Apparently, the kwami was bored. With his father out of town with Nhatile for business, and Marinette spending some time with her grandma who was in town for the week, Adrien and his kwami had some time to themselves for a while.

Plagg, being the creature that he was, decided to go exploring.

Adrien almost wished he hadn't.

Because the second Plagg found what he did, he came rushing back up and into his room like a bat out of hell. And for all the years that they had known each other, Adrien had never seen Plagg so panicked. He was mumbling words like butterfly, lair, and mother.

If he didn't know any better, Adrien thought that Plagg might've been spending a little too much time with his girlfriend.

He scrapped that idea, because who could ever spend too much time with Marinette?

"Plagg." He spoke slowly, as to try to calm him down. "I need you to take a deep breath, grab your cheese if you need to, and tell me what's all going on."

He did as instructed, and minutes later, was guiding Adrien to stand almost directly in front of his mother's portrait, and Plagg disappeared through the floor for a second before the very ground he stood on, moved and he was being lowered into an unknown place.

The next thing that he laid eyes on, was that of his mother, laying in what looked to be, a glass case, asleep for all that he could guess.

His heart sunk to the lowest pit of his stomach as his whole world went and shifted upside down, knocking him off his feet. His mind left and any thoughts he had vanished in a snap of the fingers. Fear started to crawl in as he just realized the situation in its entirety.

"I was hoping you'd never find out about this."

He turned in a flash to see his father standing there, cold face as ever, hands clasped together in front of him. Yet there was a hint of emotion in his voice. A hint of shame.

Adrien took a step back, everything settling in his mind. "Please don't tell me this is what I think this is." His voice barely breaking through the silence the room held.

Because he saw the butterflies, he saw the little cacoons, he saw it all, and it fit. Everything just fit. While he and Ladybug never knew why Hawkmoth wanted their miraculous, they knew what he wanted from them. A single wish that could change reality itself.

And the reason was stared into his soul with eyes that once brought him comfort.

"I think it's perfectly clear, son." His voice was even, as if he was just talking about the weather. "I need to fix her, no matter the price, we can fix her."

It made Adrien want to puke. "No. No, you aren't him." He kept backing up until his back hit the cool glass of what was becoming a very real nightmare. "You can- you can't be him."

His father didn't seem off put by his reaction, more so as he if he expected it if this were to ever happen. "I was hoping for you to join me. It's okay if you don't underst-"

"Oh," Adrien hissed through clenched teeth. "I understand completely and I would never join you. You've been fighting me and Ladybug for the past three years so you can get your wish to bring her back. Do you not understand the cost of that? If you bring back mom, you take someone else."

"I'm fully aware of the price of my wish." The only change in his father's expression was his eyes widening for a fraction of a second, before they fell in their natural place. "I expected you were Chat Noir once. But then you were somehow in two places at once when I had your bodyguard akumatized. Let me guess, a decoy?"

Adrien didn't answer, rather, growl from deep within his chest. "I can't believe you."

"Son, your mothe-"

"Is dead." He spat the word out like it was venom. "She's been dead for the past three years, and I've accepted that. I've moved on. It was hard, it was sad but I had to. I had to do it alone, when I needed you. My father!"

The cold facade was beginning to crack on Gabriel's face. "All this, all that I sacrificed was to bring her back! For you to have your mother again!" He yelled.

Adrien let out a low, dry laugh. "And how were you trying to do that, father? By locking me away in my room? Leaving me caged without friends, without giving me a drop of attention even though I craved to be loved by my own father? Was that you trying to support me? Because here's some news, Gabriel. It wasn't."

The older man paused as he seemed to be considering something. "Marinette... is Ladybug, isn't she?"

It didn't sound like a threat, but it had the color drained from his face in an instant at the mention of his girlfriend's name. Everyone knew now that Chat and Ladybug were dating. And now that he knew Adrien was Chat, Gabriel could easily piece together that Marinette being his girlfriend meant she was Ladybug. "You leave her alone."

Gabriel sighed. "Knowing you, you'll scarfie yourself for her, so don't worry. I won't go after her, at least not at the moment."

He had to go. He had to have her in his arms right now. "If you so much as touch her, you won't have to debate which life you'd have to give up for mom to be brought back. I'll make sure it's yours."

Gaberial's eyebrow arched, "Is that a threat?"

"No." He shook his head, calling on Plagg to transform and pushed past Gabriel without a second thought. "Cataclysm!" He shouted as he pressed the ball of anti matter against the elevator, disintegrating it in an instant. He didn't even stop while doing so. He only had one thing on his mind.

Getting to Marinette.

He jumped down the now empty elevator shaft as his last words echoed through the hollow room "It's a promise."

He called Marinette, telling her to suit up and meet him at their usual spot.

She must've heard the urgency in his voice, because she was there before he was, and even with him having a headstart. Worry was etched clear across her face, and her arms were already open, ready to catch him as he fell into her, his body practically going limp. "It's okay. Shh. I've got you, kitty. I'm here." She whispered as he cried into her shoulder, petting his hair.

She was always there.

"You were right." He got out between sobs. "You were right the first time, my father is Hawkmoth." She stiffened for a minute before she pulled him closer, trying to offer what little reassurance she could at this revelation.

She pulled back, only to look him directly in the eyes. "We're going to figure this out. You and me together. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be by your side through all of this, and we'll be okay. I promise."

As crazy as it sounded, he believed her. Always would. Because as long as he had her, he wasn't alone. They could face this together, and while it didn't make everything magically better, it helped.

He had a shelter within the storm and he knew he wouldn't drown. She'd become his grounding in the chaos after so long together. "Thanks, bugaboo." He tried to break apart the flem in the back of his throat by coughing a few times. It only worked so much. "So, where do we go from here?"

The arms that were holding him never left, but her attention went out to the city as she looked for a good enough answer. Eyes going back to him, she gave the only answer she knew. "We talk to him, if it comes to a fight, then it comes to a fight. But maybe we can reason with him. We.. we have to try."

Chat nodded, eyes still swollen from tears, but he parted from her nonetheless. "Okay." He blinked. "Yeah, let's go."

They took off into the evening city below, jumping from rooftop to rooftop. No matter the fear that churned in his stomach, he knew one thing as they made their way to the mansion.

At the end of all of this, he would have a home to go back to. He had his lady.

And that would always be enough.

Husband's thoughts:

Yeah, I got nothing funny for this one, Y'all just gonna have to cope with this sad $$ chapter.

On a related note, the song I listened to while reading this chapter was "The Sound of Silence. Cover by Pentatonix.

#ladynoirjuly2019 #ml #mlb #miraculous ladybug #LadyNoir #love square

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i-stan-too-much · 5 years ago

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Sope Fic Recs

Here are some of my favorite Sope (Yoonseok) fics, because I’ve read a LOT and I’d like to share some of them with you :-

[ these are in no particular order and there are also some others I’ve wanted to share but unfortunately, they’ve been deleted :( ]

* - omg, this is very good

**- wow, this is a work of art

***- this is so good to the point that I’ve reread it so many times and yet I still fall in love with it just like the first time

1. Darling!*** By margotty (orphan_account)

— Hoseok is an aspiring writer who keep notes about a certain boy with soft black hair, lashes that feather in the wind and a nose that twitches when he's pissed.

Hoseok wakes one day to find that boy, the one he'd so often referred to as "Darling" is in his kitchen, making pancakes in Hoseok's pajama clothes.

(Basically Yoongi is a figment of Hoseok's imagination and he's come to life.)

This fic is one of those fics that when you just read the first sentence, you know that it’s going to be a good one. The plot is especially well thought out, the idea behind this fic is really cool, from the way that Hoseok first deals with the fact that there’s this ‘stranger’ that’s come to life from his notes, to how he learns to welcome Yoongi pretty soon after and learns to love him in such a short period of time. I also really like this fic’s ‘soft aesthetic’ like when Yoongi and Hoseok ride on Hoseok’s bike all over town, and how Yoongi is described with a certain delicacy. The first time I read this fic was on a school night - or shall I say day, at 3:00 am and after I was done, I had to go and reread it.

2. i can be ur pretty boy (i’ll wear a skirt for u)** By ohh

sugarmin, from what Hoseok gathers, is a goddamn tease. His profile picture is the lower half of his face, dewy cheeks, button nose, and a dangly earring hanging from one of his ears visible, but what puts the icing on top of the cake is this: his pretty pink mouth, suckling delicately on a heart-shaped lollipop. i have a gun in my bag, his bio says. Angel or devil, Hoseok doesn’t know, but he craves.

And oh, how Hoseok craves.

or, a story of new neighbours, boba teas, hidden identities, and riding the penny board under the summer sun.

This fic has two stars because it incorporates smut with a nice plot. Again I love the ‘soft aesthetic’ vibes that Yoongi gives off. I also like how Yoongi shows a more feminine side, and how both characters aren’t subjected to toxic masculinity. The fic itself is great, Hoseok kind of has a crush on this instagram model, the model being Yoongi, and Yoongi ends up moving to be Hoseok’s next door neighbor, and the rest is history.

3. Canvas** By Daebon

The paintbrush is poised above skin, ready to continue its work, but Hoseok finds that he's suddenly in far too deep. Now, the man beneath him has become the artist, coloring Hoseok’s world in vivid shades of passion.

His trembling hand lets go, brush clattering to the floor, splattering paint.

“Yoongi, I want you,” he whispers, voice low.

The elder stares back at him with a peculiar expression. “I already agreed to let you paint me.”

“No,” Hoseok rasps out, shaking. “Yoongi, I want you.”

———

Haunted by strange dreams, Yoongi begins to question the blurry line between right and wrong. Hoseok has the perfect life, but yearns for a muse other than his provocative boyfriend. Unfortunately, these troubled men find each other before they find themselves.

This fic has the potential of getting three stars, but the reason I gave it two was for the ending (this fic contains angst.) Now that being said, this fic is on a whole other level of literary techniques, the writer could even be a bestselling author, with how well this is written. Even if you don’t like angst, I’d recommend you give this one a go, because of how well written it is.

4. Love Yourself*** By endearings

It begins when he’s ten.

“Yoongi-ah,” his brother says, eyes glinting meanly. “You look a little chubby these days. Maybe don’t eat the ice cream, yeah?”

Yoongi puts the spoon down; curls into himself, drawing his knees to his chest despite the countless times he’s been told to sit properly at the dining table. “It’s just--just one bite, hyung; It’s not a lot.”

“Suit yourself.”

This fic will make you cry!! I put this one on here because of the message. You can tell that Yoongi has been insecure, and his family didn’t really help him feel better about himself, but Hoseok did. And maybe I put this one on here because I can relate personally to it (my best friend has been dealing with insecurities and body image for a long time now) but I still think that you should read this. I feel like it will really open your eyes. Disclaimer 99.9999% you’ll cry when you read this, so I don’t advise to read it in a public place.

5. The Diner** By psychojimin

"He tried really hard not to stare when that new employee came out of the kitchen for a second time. He tried really hard not to sniff when he passed by. There was just something about the man that made something stir inside of Hoseok, that made a comforting warmth grow in the pit of his stomach. The coffee in his mug had seemed to be cooled down enough and he took a sip, but the still scorching drink almost felt refreshing against his heated tongue."

I kind of debated putting this one on here, because I know a lot of people aren’t really interested in a/b/o, or are uncomfortable with smut. If you are, then you can go ahead and skip this one, but I put this one down for the people that have been looking for good ‘Alpha Hoseok’ and ‘Omega Yoongi’ fics. Not to mention, the smut in this is really good, but there’s still a plot.

6. Under the Same Sky*** By Lastwhalien For Mia95 [on going]

"The sky he wakes up to is not his sky."

One night ends as another begins.

Yoongi and Hoseok are half a world a way, living very different lives and yet they are intertwined when they begin to share their senses, irreversibly connecting their worlds.

Hoseok is the son of Durumi, not just a criminal empire but the empire, it is the machine that turns the world, manipulating money, world leaders, crime, and the rise and fall of power. He's good at his job, he was born for it, raised for it, but a coup has given his father the perfect chance to remove Hoseok from power, trapped in his apartment he's restlessly waiting.

Yoongi has escaped his past carrying the guilt of his mistakes he has rebuilt his life near the sea where he works on recreating the world as best he can, His life is calm, removed from the chaos it once held, but it still follows; a name he can never have, a family he can never truly be a part of.

One day they start to share their worlds, to see, to hear, to touch, to smell, to taste, to be two souls, two bodies, bound.

This one is so good!! Yoongi and Hoseok start off as complete strangers who appear in each other’s dreams. Then they realize that they can communicate with each other, and read each other’s thoughts. This one isn’t complete yet, but it’s so interesting and I can’t wait for the next chap. The plot is very interesting and the writer knows how to thicken the plot without dragging it out too much. The suspense will eat you alive!! Whether you want to start this fic right away or wait until it’s completed is totally up to you though.

7. wake up (to the sound of your fleeting heart)*** By inkingbrushes

Yoongi walks into Hoseok's dreams and it's surprising, sure, but it's a surprise that Hoseok welcomes.

This one too, is one of those that makes you wonder, how do people come up with such things?! This one is one of the older ones, and yet I still remember the first time I read it and how in awe I was, that someone wrote this and that they were THAT GOOD. Ever since, this writer has been one of my favorites and go to for bts fics.

8. stay (a little longer)** By ineedmygirl

That part of Hoseok that shut down when Yoongi left, that huge gaping space left in his brain and in his chest - it shut down to protect him

It was the part of Hoseok that knew, deep down, all along, that he was in love with Yoongi. And it knew that if Hoseok realized it back then, the heartbreak would devastate him beyond repair.

And now, that part of Hoseok is awake again.

or, Hoseok's best friend disappeared two years ago without a trace. They run into each other again in a seedy hotel in the middle of nowhere, and somehow Hoseok convinces him to join him and his friends on a road trip.

This one is a more recent one, so if you’ve read the ones I’ve listed above there still might be a chance that you haven’t read this one. This one is perfect for when you just need a casual fix to read when you’re home alone on a weekend and you’re bored and just snuggled up in your bed all warm. When I read this one, it just made me go aww. And when I reread it, it also made me go aww.

9. we’ll be looking for sunlight* By inkingbrushes

Yoongi thinks Hoseok's got a smile that can rival the sun.

(Or: the one where they meet during a cold winter night and Yoongi has no idea the boy with the million-dollar smile can turn everything he touches into ice.)

This one is the Jack Frost au you didn’t know you needed. I love all things Disney and Dreamworks and this fic was no exception. After typing all of this out, I questioned whether this one should really be on here, but why not. Who doesn’t like Disney or Dreamworks am I right?

10. The Things Worth Going To War For*** By softlyblue

“Spice and silk and trade and cloth. These are the things one goes to war over, but in my heart of hearts, I know they are not worth it.”

- quoted from a letter penned by the Crown Prince to his lover, at the end of the Southern War

“It’s got ears,” says the man that’s choking him. Hoseok. “Look, look. It’s got - like a cat.”

“Let me-” Yoongi wheezes, phlegm in the back of his throat, stars in his eyes, “Let me-”

“So Jungyoo wasn’t lying.”

Hoseok pushes harder. Yoongi realises faintly that he isn’t even touching the ground; Hoseok is holding him against the wall, Yoongi’s feet dangling uselessly a foot from the floor. “Why are you here?”

“He’s got the house markings,” Seokjin stretches over Hoseok’s shoulder and presses a thumb to the centre of Yoongi’s forehead, smearing the makeup there. The warpaint. “Maybe-”

“But why’s he got ears?”

Yoongi claws ever-more desperately. (Oh, if Jeongguk could see him now - he’d be a disgrace.)

“Hoseok-ah, I think you’re choking it.”

This one is also really good. I really like the relationship between Yoongi and Hoseok. Both start off hating each other at first, but slowly turn to acquaintances, then to friends, and finally to lovers. I remember this fic used to get updated every Sunday, and I would look forward to the end of the week just for this one. Disclaimer though, there are A LOT of ocs (original characters) so if you get confused a lot or are a little slow, you may want to at least skim through the previous chapters for names to have an idea of what’s going on (trust me this is from experience, I had to reread the entire thing)

11. Ripped At Every Edge, But We’re A Masterpiece** By superrunnaturall

Min Yoongi and his muse, Jung Hoseok.

I really like this fic, because you can really see the contrast between Yoongi and Hoseok’s background and where they came from. This one is also pretty old, but there might be a chance that you haven’t read it yet. The fact that Yoongi is a painter is a really good bonus might I add.

12. the prince’s vivisected* By cherryfluffyfuzzysocks [ongoing]

while the rest of the household worries over namjoon's strange behavior following prince jungkook's birthday, yoongi sets his mind on a different task.

he wants hoseok back in the house, whatever that takes. five years of enslavement together was horrific, but one month apart is unbearable. as yoongi prepares to work himself dead, the past continues to haunt the present.

**second work within a continuous series

This fic isn’t even my favorite of the series, but I added it because I think that this entire series is SO COOL. The idea of a kind of dystopian universe, where all humans are controlled by aliens has been overdone, but not when Jungkook’s the alien, that’s controlling everyone. I think that kind of adds a special touch especially when you see that even though the rest of bangtan are slaves to Jungkook (minus Hoseok) each one of them is kind of struggling with something different, and this series is covering exactly that. Each member (or two) will cover a fic and even though not all the fics will be sope I think that this one is still a must. Disclaimer, Jungkook is a huge asshole, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

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smcrtmouth-blog1 · 5 years ago

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