#golden bastard my beloved

[fandompuppet]

Finally finished drawing oliver

[kyunniebuns]

˗ˏˋ Jinwoo Drabbles ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 028 ✦ ┆・

‼️[ TW: Implied Yandere Jinwoo, suggestive end <3]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Jealous. Jealous Jealous. ] ¡! ❞

What kind of rage is more terrifying than one that is being displayed in the open like a volcanic eruption? 

The type that is silent.

The kind of rage akin to that of a blazing flame that sits beneath calm serene water free of ripples. The kind of fury hidden inside a doll that has been abused and thrown by its own, developing a curse within it’s porcelain glass that is pristine and free of cracks

That was the kind of rage Jinwoo holds beneath his expressionless exterior.

Though his empty grey orbs displayed nothing, there was an undesirable wish to set everything ablaze. To bathe this glorious ballroom in brilliant dancing embers.

Oh but he had to hold back. 

He has to.

After all, his beloved is currently attending as a plus-one in this small gathering of hunters and celebrities alike are present. Jinwoo never really thought much of it, he invited you since for one; you are his lover. Two; he wanted to show you off to the world.

Sure, you could say that he’s doing that just to prove to everyone that he loves you more than anything or to perhaps end the rumours that he is secretly dating famous actresses or some rich girl or someone else. But all those things came in second really. His real priority was to see you dressed up pretty.

Of course, you’re always been pretty in Jinwoo’s eyes. Your figure dressed in an outfit that accentuates your beautiful body. Meek but elegant jewellery on your ears and most importantly— Your pretty face gleaming underneath the brilliant lights in this ballroom. The golden glow on your face just made you more endearing.

You are the apple of Jinwoo’s eyes.

But ah… You two aren’t alone in this little gathering.

People kept approaching you. At first, it was merely small talk and greetings. Nothing really wrong with that. But Jinwoo was perceptive. Too perceptive.

He knew how men do their things, he isn’t that stupid since he is one himself.

He could see the way those grimy bastards flashed you their charming smiles. How their hands were twitching to rub their digits over your skin that only he is allowed to ever touch.

Ah… Jinwoo could feel his head about to burst the more he watches the men flock over you for your favour.

He tried to stay calm really, but the more the seconds ticked by, the more he watched them try to woo you over— He wanted to call over his children and maul them over to death.

Jinwoo stayed in his spot, with hazy grey orbs so far gone in the stirring rage brewing within his stiff body.

The moment he spots someone about to land a palm on your lovely waist— Jinwoo charges forward and stops the hand. His hazy grey orbs now glowing with a terrifying hue of purple.

“Well aren’t you having a good time?” Jinwoo says with his low voice, warning and daring the bastard to do something. 

The man stiffened, paling at the up-close sight of the shadow monarch that is craving to put an end to his life right then and there. Jinwoo has the look that could kill, even his eyes can be enough to put your 6-feet under.

As Jinwoo roughly let go of the man’s hand before wiping his palms and then extending it towards you. 

Of course, you obediently take his palm. The moment he felt your skin, Jinwoo flicked his head to the host and said; “It’s late, my lover is not a fan of staying up late at night. We’ll be on our way now”

Without even batting an eye back to the crowd that froze due to his ministrations.

Jinwoo would have been calm when you both arrived home. But you kept talking about the famous celebrities who  were polite to you. The way you smiled was endearing but irritating at the same time because someone else is causing you to make such a pretty expression.

You didn’t even stop even as you both arrived in your bedroom. 

Eventually, Jinwoo would lose his patience and there would be a visible shift in his eyes.

Eyes had always been mirrors to the soul, and Jinwoo for one— Had especially expressive ones. His blank face may be devoid of anything but his eyes would always manage to show what he really feels.

The way his grey orbs are sweeping over you right now, it was dominating. It was as if Jinwoo was holding back a destructive dam, threatening to swallow him whole and then bursting.

“So, you find that Mr. Cheong is charming?” Jinwoo cocks up an eyebrow, putting one step in front of the other— Causing you to step back with the sudden overwhelming feel of Jinwoo’s shift in his demeanour. “You seem so entranced by his gentle and witty personality, in contrast to me, who is gloomy and awkward.”

You end up stumbling backwards, sitting down on the chair behind you and Jinwoo leaned forward, his hands resting on either side of the armchairs— Caging you down as he cocks up an eyebrow, teasing you to answer him.

“Hm?” Jinwoo muses, lifting his hand out to touch your hand— Making you all the more flustered and confused at his actions. “Maybe I should start reminding you some stuff, baby. Your memory has gotten a bit… Foggy.”

He mumbles, lifting your hand up to his lips and kissing your palm, then your knuckles, then to each digit before his gaze swept up to you again. Those intense, grey eyes, boring into your very soul— Piercing every cell in your very being. It was hypnotising, as if you were a snake being seduced by the sounds of a wind instrument.

The way he was hovering above your head, those ebony black locks of his falling forward as he hovered right above you— You could feel tingles starting from the very soles of your feet rising to your very heart that was already thumping so madly.

Oh you knew, you knew,.. you’re in for one hell of a marathon with the monarch.

“I won’t promise I’ll be gentle, and neither will I promise this punishment will only take one night”

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[nemesis-writer]

[Unwanted Ransom (Chapter 1)]

What was I made for?

TW: Mentions of Death, PTSD, ED, SH, Neglect

Masterlist

🎵Thumbs- Sabrina Carpenter🎵 🎵What was I made for?- Billie Ellish🎵

On my first day of staying here, I was excited to see if I had brothers.

Dick the oldest, supposed to be there for me, and pose as a role model right? WRONG, he instead leaves me on read when I text him. The fucker has enough guts to ignore me, and when he notices me, it's when I either get in trouble at school, or when his teamates talk to me. He had time to look after Bludhaven.

Tim, one of the family's detectives, doesn't find me interesting, and thinks of himself too big to talk to a lowlife like me. AND WE LIVE IN THE SAME FUCKING HOUSE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. With him, I have little to no memories. All he does is twiddle his thumbs, pretending I wasn't there.

Cass, Steph, Barb. I never really cared bout' them, all they do is talk shit about others, and play daddy's little girl. I was never daddy's little girl and I never complained. Not much to really talk about with them, I even learned ASL just for some light communication.

Jason, alright, I'mma be honest here. He was the closest thing I had to a brother, but he only came to the house at night for some food and rest. The best memory with him, was him taking me to school on the first day, I joined grade 5 class because I have an IQ of 190. Everything was great until he died, a part of me died with him.

Damian, the "golden apple" of this whole shit hole. This bitch thinks that he can do anything, because he is the bastard of Bruce Wayne, and Talia Al Ghul. He gets to train with Dick, while I watch them train to become a "hero". He bullied me even when I was a year older than him. Ughh, what a bitch. He was the reason I got the name Jinx, I was the bad luck of the family

Bruce, the man had the guts to adopt me and change my true name to a wayne. I was named Xerxes because it meant warrior, my dad never thought I was one. I'm not even allowed to call him dad.

Alfred, oh sweet innocent Alfred. I considered him as my father when my mother's "sperm donor", couldn't be there for me. He was there to teach me how to bake and cook, the best part was that he never admonished me for my bad behavior at school.

For 4 years I had lived with them, every night I had prayed for a miracle to happen. At night the same dream, every morning, the same nightmare. After the first 5 months of my stay, I started to avoid eating, because of depression.

And before I go to bed I looked for any blade I could, and locked myself in my bedrooom. I cut myself below the wrist, while keeping a first aid nearby. I never felt any pain from the wounds, but I felt the scar in my heart.

It's ironic how a whore with nothing, could love a child more, than a family that has everything. I always laughed at the idea, I never allowed myself to cry or show weakness. Bruce never knew how to deal with emotions anyway, so why cry?

I never cried, when Damian slashed my arm with a knife. Not when Barbara told me to go to hell, not when Tim destroyed the birthday present I made for him. And especially when Bruce called me a mistake. I only cried when Jason was murdered by the Joker.

I always thought crying was useless, so I worked hard. I got straight A's, I made friends, I enlisted for multiple sports when I turned 10. I even took up art just for the sake of fitting in.

But I will always be the Wayne pushed from the spotlight. Not even then, could I cry.

I just went to my dilapidated bedroom, God, it was ornamented with all of my awards and certificates. I started to pack my stuff, I even took the photo of me and my mother. There wasn't much to pack, all I got were hand me downs, and the dregs of my "beloved siblings."

At night, it was the perfect time to escape, with the villains on the loose, they had to take night shifts. So I slowly climbed out of my window and placed the note I had prepared for Alfred. And I prepared to go to the abyss that awaits me...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N Hiii... I got this idea from reading @acid-ixx, and @luludeluluramblings... I'm making a seperate part for the note Jennifer gave Alfred. HOPE U LUV THIS <333

[justpoliteconversations]

Fool's Bet [Hyrule + Reader]

You made a bet you shouldn't have. And almost lost.

Just something to share while my brain fizzes for while on the rediscovered trash heap. This is pretty rough, but I'll take some time later to edit it.

Masterlist

TW: Choosing not to disclose. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

It was those eyes. That damned honey sweet gaze shimmering under thick, dark lashes and lighting up the delicate constellation of freckles dusting tanned cheeks beneath. It was the glossy tears (fat and shiny and fake as hell, but so damned pretty against the wide round of his dark eyes) rimming those lashes like a string of pearls.

It was the way earthy brown rings melted into golden specks of starlight peeking through the warm swirl of honey and chocolate. How light and shadows intermixed and brought forth an innocent (deceitful) glimmer of pleading. Like fairy chimes in the night. Soft as a whisper, sweet as peach flesh.

Dangerous. Tempting. (Chime.)

Trusted.

"Please." Hyrule pleaded (whispered? chimed?), those bewitching (enchanting) eyes locked on yours. Brows softened and pulled just so into an expression so beguiling, so ingenuous, it pulled a sweat to your own (manipulative, pointy-eared little bastard. damn fairy-borne liar and trickster). "I made it for you!" (Chime.)

You hesitated (a mistake. a death sentence).

Behind you War's quiet curse felt like tiny fairies' feet dancing upon your grave. Sky's mumbled prayer the solemn temple bell tolling over the final, sacred grounds at dusk.

Time gazed upon you with pity. And glee. The light of mischief shining in his hooded eye like moonlight on still water.

(Fairy boy, indeed. May cuccos sully your boots next you rest, farmer boy.)

Hyrule smiled softly then. Lower lip wobbling, the tip of his nose and curved sharp of his cheekbones flushed pink. Ears pinned tight against his thick, dark curls. Beautiful little waves that fluttered in the wind and curled softly against his face and delicate neck.

(The very picture of harmless vulnerability.)

(The perfect little mask. Hiding a gleeful little smile caged around a fae giggle.)

(Chime.)

Your heart thundered at the sight of it, and you swallowed thickly around the knot pulsing in the tender flesh of your throat. Your wide, searching eyes scanning, pleading, begging.

Eyes glanced away from yours in shame (Twilight having to step away entirely, lest he be drawn into a battle he has no chance of escaping unscaved. so moved to compassion as he is by your plight). Though some meet yours with amusement (may your pantless legs be besieged by ticks, bunny boy. And your beloved winds blow seagull shit into your hair, sailor).

(Chime.)

Warm (uncomfortably so. like sitting too close to an open flame), callous-roughened fingers touch the sensitive skin on the back of your hand, drawing you out of your internal cursing (and panic). And from one breath to the next, your lock eyes with the man (fae-borne. liar. trickster. trusted. enchanting) once more and your fall back down into the depths of an emotional whirlwind.

The gleam of honey and gold and enchanting (bewitching) (chime) light swirl in the melting warmth of brown. Dazzling and beloved.

Something is put in your hands. Warm (too warm) fingers wrap around yours.

(What is that?) (Chime.)

"It's good." Hyrule says (whispers? echoes? chimes?) reassuringly, brows still so pleading and eyes so sad. So sad. So sad.

White, straight bones caged by slips of pink, curled flesh. Gold and honey and-

Your hands are moving. Your eyes have not (cannot) break away.

"You can do it." Hyrule encourages (whispers? echoes? chimes?), his hands on yours. Moving. Guiding. (Chiming. Chiming. Commanding.)

A gasp. Someone has to support Sky as he goes feint. Legend's eyes are wide and intently focused. Bright, bright blue and fixated on the atrocity (and curiosity) being committed in front of him.

It's lost to you.

Your mouth opens. The gold is so strong now. Stronger than the honey. The brown. The light.

Stronger than you.

(You're salivating like a dog.)

"What in the Goddess' name are you doing?" Four was suddenly there (where did he come from?), his hand snatching your closed(?) fist away from your face (when had it gotten there?). His expression twisted in some unreadable combination of amusement and frustration. "Hylia give me the strength to deal with these fools."

The gold vanished. Hyrule's eyes dimmed to dark, honey brown. Expression relaxing into a small, embarrassed and natural grin (bright and warm as sunshine. nothing like the intoxicating honey sweet of before). "Don't be mad, Four! They bet me 50 rupees I couldn't charm them into eating my rations!" Four made a face that clearly expressed how much he didn't approve of such an idiotic wager.

None of that mattered to you though. Because you were free once more. Of body and of mind.

And you were holding to most putrid slab of meat you (and probably any of the chain besides Hyrule) had ever come across. The congealed grease of the half dried meat ribbons oozing between your fingers and weaving cold, shinning paths of pinkish-orange gelatin down your wrists and one unfortunate elbow.

On your bottom lip. Something cool dripped down your chin. Down your neck. Pooled at you collarbones.

Twilight, keeping his distance (from the horrendous stretch more than anything) but with eyes full of concern, cast you a pitying glance. "You okay there?"

Eight pairs of eyes found you. Just in time to watch you empty your stomach contents all over your grease streaked hands and boots.

Unsurprisingly, Hyrule was the only one who was surprised by this sudden turn of events. "The Meat!"

And somewhere in the forest, leaning over a freshly hunted buck, Wild's hand twitched with the unexplainable impulse to pinch Hyrule right on the ear. Hard.

---

Time to rest now.

[umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken]

Neslin AU idea -> A ballad of beasts

AU where Tamlin, unwilling to deal with his brothers' power struggle for the High Lord title after their father's death goes FUCK NO, and legs it for the mortal realm.

He eventually finds refuge in a little, faraway village called Carterhaugh. But even though he's fae, he has no idea how shit works in the mortal realm, and he needs a safe place to stay.

BUT, he can't just saunter into the place and be like 'please will you let me into your house and give me a safe place to stay??'

That goes against all the fae rules, sanctuary must be given freely of a mortal's own choice and mind, no asking allowed.

SO

He transforms himself into a cat and wanders around until he comes across Nesta; the prickliest woman of the village, who couldn't give less of a shit about other people, but who is instantly besotted by the bedraggled and clearly malnourished cat that's mewling pathetically at her village bookshop door.

<><><>

"Oh, you poor thing," she cooed, gathering up the golden cat into her arms and scratching it under the chin.

It purred happily, and she immediately made for her small cottage at the edge of town.

"You must be hungry, don't fret little one, I'll look after you."

<><><>

She takes him home and gives cat-lin a bath and feeds him, and everything, but Tam starts feeling guilty so he poofs back into his fae male form and Nesta rightfully freaks out, screaming at him to get out of her house but eventually she listens to his story

High Lord powers -> WILL be killed by brothers

Nesta's still kinda eh,

So Tam just PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE's and Nesta is eventually just like 'jesus fucking hell, fine, but i'm gonna make you do unpaid labour in the bookshop if you're gonna stay.'

So that's how life is for a while, they grow closer, and eventually Nesta tells him her story.

Years and years ago, her sisters were out playing in the woods near their home, and she was tasked by her mother with looking after them. But then as she was watching them, a thick wreath of shadow just... gathered them up and disappeared them from sight. They were never seen again, and Nesta's mother had hated her for it until her death, and Nesta has spent every day since then hating herself for it.

<><><>

"I- I tried," her throat bobbed, eyes going distant and hazy.

"I tried to go back for them, I took my winter cloak and walked to the wall to bring them back home."

A tear slid down her cheek, "I failed."

<><><>

Tamlin immediately goes sHaDowS? kidnapping? that fukcing bastard Rhysand -> Shit, I'm pretty sure I know where your sisters are -> cue trip across the faery world to find Feyre + Elain

SO, they finally trek to the wall, trek across the courts, end up in Night, and Tamlin + Rhysand confront each other (bitter ex lovers energy, obv)

<><><>

EXTRA BACKGROUND

Tamlin's father dies of illness or smth and his two older brothers fight to the death for the High Lord title, cept the winner almost forgot about Tamlin until the magic fails to go to him and he's like 'fuck', forgot to kill the other one, so he goes after Tamlin. BUT he makes the fatal mistake of asking Amarantha for help, and she's like, oh, you're trying to kill my beloved??! UNO reverse, fucker.

DEAD.

So now she's taken over the Spring Court and still trying to find Tamlin to make him her 'mate' and become High Lord/ Lady of Spring

BUT fae magic can't be sensed in the mortal realm, so she's just kind of been wasting time being a shitty ruler.

ALSO

Turns out Rhysand has only been taking young girls from the mortal realm to keep Amarantha happy-> she sacrifices them for her magic rituals, or if she likes them enough, keeps them as serving girls/ maids, and she'd originally wanted RHYSAND'S SISTER as her companion, so he was doing it for family. doesn't make it any better, but yeah

<><><>

"But if however, I were to present you to her... I am sure her appetites would be satiated for quite some time." Rhysand's eyes glittered and Nesta's stomach roiled at the implication. Beside her, Tamlin only listened with a stony silence.

Don't. she begged. Don't you fucking dare leave me.

<><><>

Rhysand brings them both before Amarantha, who is instantly threatened by/ jealous of Nesta x Tamlin

So she proposes a bargain.

<><><>

"Is your love true, I wonder?" Amarantha's wicked fangs leered down at her.

Nesta fought to keep her voice even. "It is."

"Would you love him if he were a mere man?"

"I would."

"Would you love him if he had nothing?"

"I would."

"Ah, but would you love him if he were a beast?"

She turned to him then. To Tamlin. To the man that she had grown to love so purely and wholly. It was to him that she spoke her next words.

"Man or beast, I would love him with all my heart. Thorns and all."

<><><>

Thus begins the trial of beasts.

A blood red ribbon is used to bind Nesta and Tamlin by their wrists.

Amarantha uses Tamlin's shapeshifting powers against him and forces him to shift into beasts of all kind without any control over his body.

If Nesta can maintain her hold on him throughout his beastly transformations and endure the claws/ fangs/ gashes/ bites without cutting the ribbon, Amarantha will let them all go (Nesta, Tamlin, Feyre and Elain)

Nesta, being the bamf she is, completes the challenge.

Amarantha, pissed as hell thinking that Nesta wouldn't be able to do it, but unable to break her bargain without repercussions, has no choice but to let them go.

the end

or is it???

AMARANTHA LETS THEM GO, BUT NOWHERE DID SHE SAY SHE WOULDNT ATTACK THEM AFTERWARDS, SO THAT'S WHAT SHE DOES

she goes for Nesta, and THAT'S when Tamlin's High Lord power finally snaps into place, because it was dormant the entire time he was in the mortal realm and he goes full beast mode on Amarantha and murks her once and for all.

[milksnake-tea]

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: he'd wanted to at least see her one last time before his ascension, but it seems that even that is too much to ask of the harmony. ❀ ˎˊ- sunday character study ❀ ˎˊ- wc: 641 ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: set in 2.0-2.1, MAJOR ANGST WARNING, gorey language used like once but it's metaphorical ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: this is all vee and bells fault btw also this tweet that changed my brain chemistry now everyone has to suffer with me. if this had a title it would be "she used to be mine" but its too short so it won't :) ❀ ˎˊ- taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace , @flurrina , @tragedy-of-commons , @cakechase , @kiiyoooo ❀ ˎˊ- img credits

She’s gone.

And with her, goes every thought in his mind.

Ringing fills his ears. He can barely hear the voices of his attendant.

His lips move. What he says, he’s already forgotten.

His vision blurs. His eyes sting.

He sits. He stays. He stares.

She’s gone.

Robin’s gone.

The sweetheart of the cosmos, the idol beloved by all, the beacon of light in a night-filled sky-

His little sister is dead, and he wasn’t even there to stop it.

Muttered voices fade into a disorientated buzz that he can’t be bothered to decipher. Clicking of shoes, rustling of papers, all of it- it’s too much, it’s loud and it’s grating and-

Inhale.

Exhale.

Smile.

His cheeks hurt.

His nails bite into his palms. He wants to dig them into his face and tear off the skin and every horrid pretense he’s had to put up for the sake of this damned Family and that damningly weak Aeon who couldn’t even protect their most loyal acolyte.

And now, his sister is dead. Killed in her own home, in the domain of her god.

He’ll never see her again.

He’ll never see her smile, with the brightest lights and flames in her eyes as she sings on the grandest of stages.

He’ll never hear her laugh, with the voice blessed by the Harmony and the voice that had allowed him to continue fighting, even when he wanted to give up.

He’ll never hold her again, the sister who he had vowed to protect and had failed, not once, but twice now, and this time, his mistake, his carelessness was permanent.

Now, she is gone.

He asks his attendant to leave, as gently and as kindly as he can allow. He wants to scream. He wants to shout, he wants to cry, he wants to strangle and rip into whatever bastard dared to kill the only person he had ever loved, the only thing he had ever thought to be precious.

Was this some sort of punishment? For daring to question Xipe, or better yet, to question Ena? Was their devotion not strong enough? Was their actions not kind enough? Were they not enough?

Or were they simply just… insignificant, despite it all?

Then what was the point?

Despondently, his gaze raises from the cold wood of his desk.

Does Xipe even know?

Do they even care?

Something catches light in the corner of his eyes. There, in one of the many bookshelves in his office, a paperback spine stands apart from the rest. He knows it, bitterness and bile rising in his throat, he knows it better than anything.

He stands, and takes it from the shelf. He doesn’t open it.

The cover smiles up at him, the golden text taunting and mocking.

He grits his teeth.

A weak Path. A weak Aeon.

A weak brother.

He tears into the Odes of Harmony, ripping pages upon pages upon pages of lies, false vows, and cruel, cruel delusions. Inked words that had been ingrained into him since childhood are crushed under the sole of his shoe. The smiling face of a deceitful, lying Aeon is ripped into two.

His teeth tug at his lip. His chest constricts with the effort to keep his sobs down, to keep his eyes dry and to keep his grief and sorrow secret from the halls of Dewlight Pavilion. Every intake of air is a struggle in of itself, and it takes every bit of his strength not to break down and wail to the heavens to give his sister back.

It isn’t long before the Odes are reduced to nothing, and Sunday is left there, alone in his office with scattered pieces of paper littering his floor.

Xipe smiles up at him in two ripped halves of a page.

He hates how he sees Robin in Them.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[dcdreamblog]

Oh. ...Well now look what you bastards gone an di- *recieves email not long after seeing this pop up. Work email* WORK EMAIL FROM WHO NOW?!

Ok Sid don't panic. Don't panic. Don't PANIC. Whiiiiich one of you fuckers ratted me out?! Well I cut out the contact info in the attachment for obvious goddamn reasons but she did indeed give me the contact information of three (3) Golden Age folks who are still around and kicking and evidently each of them has consented to being down for an interview with me! And by extension you guys!

So, while I process this goddamn information I am going to do a quick rundown of who we've got. Please scroll all the way down so you can vote in the poll!!!

Uncle Sam: The spirit of 76 given flesh, Uncle Sam has been an active superhuman for nearly 300 years at this point. A leadership figure in the highly active Freedom Fighters through every one of its many rosters. Also a regular guest here and the museum and, as this last Christmas proved, someone who knows my @#$%& mailing address.

Molly Mayne-Scott AKA Harlequin I: A former supervillainess, responsible for many rounds of grand larceny and general mayhem, Mayne ended up reforming soon after she met Green Lantern Alan Scott. Once Scott's first marriage ended in tragedy, Mayne and Scott married where they have been for the past 60 years despite current revelations about Scott's past and personal life. She also spent time post war, after the JSA's disbandment as an FBI agent tracking down golden age supervillains who had escaped justice.

Airwave II: Son of the original Air Wave, this young and plucky member of the superhero community has been under the wing of names as diverse as Black Canary, Green Lantern and the Atom. Following in his father's footsteps he has become the beloved son of Dallas, Texas.

So these are your options, my friends. I have the contact information for any one of these three people, in my hands. In one week's time I will contact one of them to set up an interview with the questioned picked by you guys. All you have to do right now, this week, is make sure you VOTE as to who it shall be.

God speed and all but I need to go lie down.

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 19 . It’s Only Responsibility

a/n: omg my fav chapter is finally here. i was so giddy when writing this lol

tags: low-key yandere behavior from Cale, implied torture, if Cale says what he feels is irritability then it's irritability goddammit

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist prev . next

Cale feels as though he can’t get a good grasp on his emotions these days. In particular, he feels as though he feels intense emotions when _____ is thrown into the mix.

Maybe it’s because he feels accountable as he willingly took in the healer.

He doesn’t know when it started, he only noticed he felt that when back at the Gyerre Territory. It was the afternoon after he had destroyed a human trafficker’s house, just before he talked with Antonio. Ron reported that he had finished investigating the Perduellios.

“Young master, this old man took a stroll there and I must say that it’s very filthy. It looks clean from a certain distance but there are rats everywhere once you look closely. No wonder healer-nim grew up with a weak body. Someone like them does not fit that place.”

The redhead didn’t say anything but the servant could tell his listening to every word. 

The young master’s eyes don’t lie after all. 

And right now those eyes are filled with anger. 

Unmeasurable Anger

To the point it made the servant do a double-take.

Despite Cale’s brewing anger he still does everything according to plan. He doesn’t let out a single ounce of that anger until later when his talking to Alberu.

“Your Highness, the future shining sun of the Roan Kingdom. No one is as bright as you. Just seeing your face, even through a communication device, brightens my night and brings me hope for tomorrow.”

“Just tell me what you want. Is it another golden plaque? But you still have some.”

“Not this time your highness.”

Alberu was taken aback at the serious expression on the redhead’s face.

“As you already know, the Perduellios were working with the Chryshis. I trust your highness to handle the Gyerres and the Chryshis. However…”

“You want to handle the Perduellios.”

“We really are alike your highness.”

Alberu already saw this coming so he instantly agreed.

“I’ll allow it on the condition that they must stay in Aunt Tasha’s dungeon. Speaking of Aunt Tasha, she said she also wants a piece.”

“Then I shall be generous enough to share.”

Cale himself isn’t sure how he had the time to meet that bastard family. Between the war against the Indomitable Alliance. Fighting Arm and the Empire, and teaching the nobles a lesson Cale still managed to find free time to visit the Perduellios.

Must be the power of unmeasurable anger.

“Beacrox, Raon prepare to move quietly tonight. We’ll be meeting Tasha.”

The two are confused as to why, but Cale did not explain. He doesn’t need to as they instantly understand after seeing who’s inside the cell they are visiting.

“Young master Cale shouldn’t _____-nim be here?”

Cale looked at Tasha as if she said the most outrageous thing ever. Meanwhile, in the background, Beacrox is preparing his tools as Raon supplies information as to what the healer went through.

“Why would they be here when I’m doing this to relieve stress? I’m here to act trash, that’s not something an unofficial holy maiden should see.”

The next morning Alberu regrets taking a peak before the cell was cleaned up. He doesn’t think he can light up any of his beloved candles for at least a week.

+~+~+~+~+~+

Succeeding that incident, the next time Cale was overtaken by his emotions was after Operation Reflection. Unlike the last time, Cale felt two conflicting emotions this time.

Skyrocketing Pride and Plumeting Disgust

_____ was a core player during the navy battle and that made the redhead proud. Of course, he was also proud of everyone else in their group.

…but perhaps his a bit more proud of the healer.

However, it was only because they had come a long way. As Cale’s responsibility, his proud that the healer is doing better under his guidance.

Nothing more, nothing less.

“Human, those useless noble bastards were also talking bad about our _____ when you left. Some of them even had the nerve to directly yell at them. I wanted to smack them, but you told me to not do anything to those people for now so I didn't."

But then Raon’s report came.

Pride had been washed over by disgust.

Good thing _____ had talked him out of doing anything rash.

“Cale it’s okay. People who only know how to leech off other people are not worth your time.”

Did he mention how proud he is of how far _____ has come? Because he really is.

However, rumours say that it was the night after that when Cale first ‘visited’ the Perduellios.

+~+~+~+~+~+

Cale’s next overwhelming emotion is something his already familiar with. He already felt it back when they were in the Whipper Kingdom.

In fact, he has already associated this feeling with the healer.

Heart Palpitating Distress

But this time it feels more intense. Cale feels as if his heart is going to crawl out of his chest and into his mouth.

Thump!!

Thump!!

The redhead had been acting as though nothing was wrong ever since they finished the battle at Castle Leona. Contrary to his calm exterior, the redhead is a mess on the inside.

A wound, a stab wound with a lot of blood gushing.

Just inches near _____ heart.

And Cale has a strong gut feeling that it was _____’s own doing.

Seeing the copious amount of blood they lost was already bad enough. Seeing the nasty wound itself when they had to change the bandages was worse.

Then as if that isn’t enough to send Cale into a coma, the healer had the audacity to stand up not even 12 hours after their injury.

It was at that moment the commander made a conscious choice of sticking the healer to him like velcro.

+~+~+~+~+~

Nowadays, Cale is not ping-ponging between his emotions like a madman. But he did notice that he tends to feel a particular emotion these days.

Jealo– Irritability

Cale isn’t sure why he feels irritated, but he does. He feels irritated as soon as _____ woke up and started talking to Bud.

What happened during the week he was gone that those two are all friendly now?

And what was that? Bud is going to teach _____ how to drink?

Not on Cale’s watch.

It’s one thing for him if _____ themself wants to try drinking, but he won’t let the healer be coerced by some fool.

“Ron, separate those two as much as possible. That drunkard is nothing but a nuisance to _____.”

For a moment Cale got the chills when he heard Ron chuckle. It doesn’t help that the kids are laughing too. Regardless, it looks like the servant will heed his request so he lets it be.

But his jea– irritability doesn’t end there.

The next victim of Cale’s so-called irritable mood was this poor servant in Mogoru.

When Cale got back to Mogoru he unfortunately had to leave _____ back in the castle. There are too many undercover missions they have to do. And while _____ is much better than Choi Han at undercover missions, that man is a lot of things but an actor is not one of them, Cale isn’t cruel enough to make them take on such a taxing mission after being sick.

So he leaves the healer in the Mogoru Castle with Rosalyn and the others. 

“Young master-nim what about assigning a dedicated servant for healer-nim?”

Was Rosalyn’s suggestion after Cale mentioned _____’s tendency to overwork themself.

It seemed like a good idea, therefore they arranged for the healer to have a servant. The servant’s job would consist of making sure the Medicus is eating and resting properly. That servant would also act as _____’s assistant, taking care of whatever the healer needs.

At that time, Cale was satisfied with that plan.

That satisfaction quickly changed when he visited Adin’s room, (well, it’s practically _____ and Cale’s room now) and saw how the healer kept calling the servant’s name. In the beginning, it was fine, Cale didn’t mind it. But then he noticed how _____ seems to call for that servant every 5 sentences they utter.

Honestly? Even Cale knows his acting irrationally this time.

Did he care though? Of course not. Since when did trash care for another person’s feelings?

So he stationed that servant far away.

“Raon make a call in the underground villa. I must talk to Hans”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Ignoring Hannah’s snickering that turned into full-blown laughter, Cale called Hans over to assist the healer.

Because if the healer is going to rely on someone who’s not Cale, then it might as well be one of his people.

This one is a totally logical decision on Cale’s end. It’s not because of his jea– irritability.

It’s definitely just part of him being responsible over _____.

[isabeauwolf]

A late New Years Party with a Wolf, a Crow, a Stray Cat and a Hawk. @angelblueflame @wtf-ask-baddie-overhaul @number-2-hero-hawks RP

Mary had been cooking and baking up a storm in the kitchen for the last two days.

Why?

She wanted to have a late New Years party with her new family. Pops approval with a smile and no questions asked, however, it was trying to get her husband on board. He didn't see anything wrong with it. Pops would have hosted a party for all of the gang members who didn't have families or lovers to go back home to for the holidays.

A tradition Mary's mother had started when she was alive and hosted with Pops' Wife until their passing.

He was about to agree when she informed him that Dabi and Hawks invited themselves to the party.

The yakuza's golden eyes widen, then his jaw and gloved hands clenched. Dabi, he understood, the walking burn victim had been offered as a temp from The League instead of Himiko Toga. The bastard even dared challenge him for his wife's affection.

Now, this Winged Hero was sniffing around and strutting like he owned the place. Why were both of these other men trying to become mate candidates? He could provide, shelter, and protect her. She didn't need them!

It was bad enough that Dabi was growing closer to Eri, using the girl to get to Mary, knowing his wife adores the child as her own. Dammit, it was working!

He didn't need one of those Heroes diseased with Hero Syndrome making his nest in their home too.

Closing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose through his black duster mask, took a deep breath and let it out. "Someone above or below is trying my patience." He bit out and opened his eyes. The tension leaving his body and shoulders as he meet his beloved mismatched gaze.

[jules-writes-stories]

Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows

Azriel x Eris

Chapter 34

The sky was a gray blanket, and thunder rolled over sloping hills. Rain pelted Gwyneth Berdara as she led a dozen Valkyries along the Eastern Front of the Autumn Court's seat of power. They were bolstered by another fifteen female Illyrians, led by her sister-in-arms. Emerie studied a map, leathers gleaming in the rain.

“Where is Nesta?” The Illyrian asked, not looking up from the soaked parchment. She wiped the water from her face with her sleeve. 

“I don’t know, but I hope she gets here soon.” Gwyn’s voice was clear and strong. She looked around at the females, standing at attention, armed and ready to take on Prythian’s most powerful, ancient, and cruel male. Her heart ached with pride. 

“Did you think I would miss taking down this bastard?” Nesta Archeron asked from behind as the Valkyries turned to see their friend. She was fully armed, Ataraxia strapped to her back, and her spine of steel was unbent. 

The ranks of female warriors stood at attention upon Nesta’s appearance, seeming to walk through a rip in the world. And there they stood, these living legends of their time—the Illyrian Valkyrie who carried her broken wings like a throne, the Warrior Priestess, and Lady Death herself. 

Day and Dawn Court sentries, golden armored and stoic, lined up along the Western Walls as Summer, Spring, and Winter approached the North and South. The Forest House was surrounded, and Prythian united in its cause to take the High Lord from his Court. 

For leading the charge was Eris, their prince and general, in a full suit of golden armor. To his right was Sylvan Vanserra, and to his left, hair braided to her head in a coronet that gleamed as bright as any crown, was their Lady.

The three royal High Fae stopped at the gates of the Forest House. Eris dismounted and stood, but Amaya Vanserra's voice rang out. “Sons of Autumn lay down your arms. Stand with your Lady, princes, court, and Fae.” 

Thanks to everyone still on this journey with me. Special thank you to my beloved @pippsmcgee for beta reading and friendship ♥️

Please let me know if you ever want on our off the tag | @the-darkestminds @fieldofdaisiies @mistandmemories @c-starstuff-man0 @molcat07 @chunkypossum @going-through-shit @talibunny30 @yanny-77 @lilah-asteria @amalhe-kofee @futurehunt @seihdacalling @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @unanswered-stars @that-girl-reading @christeareads @g00seg1rl

[fandompuppet]

Golden bastard (with and without the stupid doodle)

[torchflies]

I was cleaning out my drafts and found this tiny thing about vampires. For you, my beloved 💜 (ahem, middle-aged Val Kilmer).

Tomek Kazansky wakes from a dead sleep when a pair of hands close tightly around his ears, smothering the distant knell of a bell.

His blue eyes fly open to the sight of his ojciec chrzestny — his godfather — bent over him stiffly, stinking of nalewki, with an ax from the barn looped through his belt. 

The old man’s eyes are cold, assessing, as he drinks in the sight of a five-year-old Tomek, the bastard son of a Polish nun who never named a father. His warm skin clings to its golden color, even when winter traps them in their homes and away from the sun. He is ruddy and strong, his little round face always upturned towards the sky and seeking out parts unknown. He is Polish and he holds their secrets in the clicking of his young bones, in the caul he was born with — just like his mother, his Mama. 

“Come, Tomek.” His godfather, Piotr Czajkowski, says. “We must cut off her head by sunrise.”

His Mama’s grave is unquiet, that’s what his godfather says as they walk through the moonlit night and Tomek struggles beneath the weight of the heavy shovel handed to him. She has only been buried a day, dying before she could take The Sacrament.

“She is a vjesci now, lost to us.” His godfather growls — a vampire, as they unearth the pinewood box that houses her now. 

Tomek has heard stories of becoming a vjesci for all his life. Babies born the way he was, the way his Mama was, born en caul — inside their sacs — are destined to wake from death as a vjesci. The only way to prevent the change is to eat the dried remains of the sac on the eve of the seventh year of life. His Mama never did. Tomek knows the rules, the way all the children in his village do, on how to prevent his vjesci mother from rising out of her unquiet grave and killing him. That is the first task of any vjesci, to slaughter their friends and family — ringing the church bell to signify their deaths and harbinging many others. 

His Mama looks like she’s sleeping when they pry open her coffin, her cheeks still ruddy red and her hands flexible when his godfather lifts them: signs of life. 

There are six holes in her white dress, as if she had been eating the fabric away. 

That is the only proof his godfather needs before he — reaches a hand inside and lets her fingers coil around his.

She blinks open eyes of sanguine red and her lips curl in a bloody smile as she looks right at Tomek, her mouthful of sharp fangs reflecting off the light of the moon.

“Hello, Tomek.” She coos, “It’s almost time, little one. You will come home to us.” 

His godfather flashes a mouthful of similar fangs, and Tomek remembers — his godfather died last summer in the barn, his ax slipped while he was splitting wood. 

Tomek’s eyes grow wide and terrified, backing up to nearly trip into an open grave.

Come home, Tomek…

—

Come home, Tomek…

On the final night of Tom Kazansky’s life — he’s tired. His body is older than it should be, ravaged by a disease more nefarious than any of the monsters that haunted his childhood. Nightmares, dreams long forgotten, half-truths buried by a child who moved to America and left Poland behind to rot — not realizing how the tendrils of that life are woven into his very being, holding him fast. 

He dies in his sleep, a peaceful death, his tracheostomy grows clogged with secretions as he sleeps and he passes without a struggle.

The man he loves is miles away, protecting their child, as Tom Kazansky breathes his last. 

He just never expected to wake up again — or to wake up hungry. 

—

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 52 Hype Posting

Hi void. I am going to vibrate out of my seat. Oh I'm going feral, absolutely feral. Another WSJ cover and lead colour page next week already! Promotion on TV during prime-time in Japan! The insanely good volume 4 PV! Hokazono-sensei judging for a manga award! Kagurabachi's getting the push to be the Next Big Thing at last- you love to see it.

Kind of.

I want Hokazono-sensei to get all the recognition he deserves, but I also don't want the fandom to explode and become yet another annoying dudebro space. The success of the series is more important though, so I'm happy to see Kagurabachi get so much support. Everyone needs to know about this manga! ANYWAY.

LOOK AT THIS TROLL.

It's Chihiro's turn to have a creepy parasocial admirer now.

Hiruhiko's not doing this just for kicks, however- he deliberately (and successfully) triggered Chihiro to orchestrate his dramatic fall. Given what happened at the end of this chapter, I would not be surprised if Chihiro's literal descent is foreshadowing a metaphorical one of some kind down the line.

And this just breaks my heart:

Triggers Chihiro's rage then fucks off only to do this? I will not be mourning Hiruhiko's death.

Chihiro's not built for being a murder bot and it pains him so much to be seen as equivalent to someone like Hiruhiko. But he was taught to see things through and uses his hatred for the Hishaku to keep going. Revenge is probably the only thing he wakes up every day for- he wasn't kidding about that "fresh hatred" line in chapter 1. And neither was Shiba when he said living like this would break him. This kid needs a hug and a safe place to cry out the pain so badly, man...

More than that, though... more than anything...

HIRUHIKO'S THE FUCKIN' ANTI-HAKURI.

"We're equals", he says. "I killed my family", he mentions. "Let's be friends," he asks as he forces his way into Chihiro's life. "I'm the only one who can understand you." The hell you aren't you rat bastard. Hakuri's the one whose soul resonates with Chihiro's. He's the one Chihiro acknowledged as an equal and a friend. BEGONE, FOUL DEMON.

God damn it. Hokazono, I love you for making my most hated villain archetype into a character I want to see more of. I've never understood why playful psychopaths are so beloved but I get it with this guy. Smooth move making him the evil version of my favourite character in all of fiction, Mr. Author. Now I need Hiruhiko and Hakuri to face off over their ideals about who Chihiro really is. It would be the perfect reprise to the Sojo arc! PLEEEEEEASE. There's so much HakuHiro potential in this setup... Hakuri being the one to pull Chihiro forward again would be amazing. But not for his own goals this time- just to help Chihiro as a true friend and partner. Not gonna get too attached to this since it's just one potential development out of many... I won't let myself... (too late).

(Psst... 昼チ or 昼チヒ will probably be the JP ship tag/name for Hiruhiko/Chihiro. Ain't no way Chihiro is the top in this pair for most Japanese fujin lol.)

The Show

The main character of the play's name is Sasuke and Hokazono-sensei is a huge Naruto fan. So much so that he's taken his own spin on Naruto and Sasuke three times now (Enten, Roku no Meiyaku, Kagurabachi). Chihiro is, in fact, his OC donut steel character inspired by the most annoying emo ninja boy ever. I see you, Hokazono-sensei.

The Battle of Soshima might be a made-up title to reference the real historical event The Battle of Tsushima, which fellow Golden Kamuy fans will recognize. At any rate, there aren't any famous Japanese stage plays with the same name, so there's no direct narrative parallels to draw insight from (sad trombone noises). Fortunately for us Hiruhiko is a yapper like I hoped and tells us the plan pretty plainly anyway:

I relate so hard right now, random audience guy.

Hiruhiko says the plan to kill Chihiro's not a bluff. But he's not acting like he's intends to make good on that statement. So that means...

Perception vs Intent

Chihiro looking his best: stressed and menacing

This is gonna be huge I think. Remember what Azami said back in the Sojo arc in ch. 9:

Azami, please come back soon. I need you carnally.

Then consider likes like this...

Local violent gang member still pretty tough after becoming human shishkebab through a moving train.

Chihiro could be set up to tarnish his father's legacy.

The public doesn't know the true strength or capabilities of the weapons that won the war- they just know that Rokuhira Kunishige made them and they were the key to winning. So Chihiro dropping in on a stage play to splatter the audience with a headless corpse's blood is not a great first impression. He looks downright villainous in this scene. Awesome, but villainous.

The Hishaku are going to metaphorically "kill" Chihiro somehow. For some reason, tormenting this poor guy is absolutely vital to John's plans... it's probably more along the lines of Chihiro being a useful pawn to move around to create conflict they can exploit, but still. They're going to try to break his spirit this arc for sure. Leave Chihiro alone! He's been through enough!

I've got a hell of a lot to say about this but I need some key details from the next few chapters before going off on lunatic tangents. Fuckin' hell though, this is great. This is exactly the type of development I was hoping we'd see after Samura's chapter. Chihiro's committed to the cause of killing the Hishaku, who so far have been wholly unsympathetic villains. But killing is a wrongful act. And this chapter sets up that Chihiro might not be the sympathetic avenging swordsman we love him as in the eyes of the public- he appears to be more of a menace like some of the members of the Kamunabi accused him of. He might be challenged on his murderous modus operandi via a Hishaku-backed smear campaign. Seriously, using Chihiro's brutality against them to ruin his father's legacy would be so evil and cruel. I love it.

We'll be able to count on Shiba and Hakuri to make sure Chihiro doesn't go off the deep end at least. I wouldn't be surprised if Hiyuki played a pivotal role in helping Chihiro out this arc too, but I don't want to commit when we've hardly seen anything of her so far (my spaghetti sovereign... please come back to the main story full-time soon).

Whether or not I'm right (I'm not, I never am), Chihiro's murder sprees fueled by Fresh Hatred are going to get looked at in a critical way. High time and I am definitely here for it. Tell me what you've got to say about violent revenge motivated by grief, Hokazono-sensei. You have more space to examine the topic now compared to Farewell! Cherry Boy.

Shorter than usual but that's not a bad thing. I can always come back and edit this (came back to do so twice now already) or make another addendum post, but...

... Just choose kindness, people. For yourself and others. See you later.

[heliads]

can you make a nikolai lantsov x reader?? i've been thinking about one where reader was one of sturmhond's crew as a tidemaker and they were together for a long time, but when nikolai became king, the two separated because royalty had done too much harm to r family and she didn't want to become one of them (besides her being Grisha). maybe after RoW they finally talk and get back together??

yesss pirate!reader x nikolai my beloved

masterlist

If Nikolai Lantsov were to regret anything in his life, anything at all, it would be how he handled her. It’s not that he regrets her, he wants to make that clear. He couldn’t if he tried, and Nikolai has tried many times to get over her, to find some flaw out of an improbability of perfection so he might not feel as achingly heartbroken as he always does.

But when Nikolai lies awake at night, unable to sleep despite a gilded bedroom and dozens of lush pillows and luxurious blankets, the worries troubling his mind are not of a country to run, nor the endless cycles of politics constantly reinventing new problems to crush his world beneath his boot. No, he thinks of one woman. He thinks of you.

Before Nikolai was the latest Lantsov king, before he was a homeward bound prince, he was a boy, and a boy who wanted to run. A much younger Nikolai in body and spirit had signed onto a pirate ship the second his guards turned their backs. It was a terrible decision for a golden prince to make, but the best choice for the bastard who never wanted to see another silver spoon again unless he was stealing it.

When Nikolai was a young man, he determined that he would be the captain of a ship, and a captain always needs a crew he can depend on to carry him through thick and thin. Nikolai sailed to countless foreign shores, finding friends and enemies in oceans sapphire and stormy, cerulean and calm. He wore dashing waistcoats and ruined them with the blood of slashed throats. He blockaded and benefitted small towns with equal joy.

And, most importantly of all, Nikolai found his first mate. It is a difficult thing, of course, choosing someone who could be your successor. If he picked someone a little too captivating, he ran the risk that they could depose him in a mutiny. If he gave that spot to someone the crew hated, though, his leadership would be undermined all the same.

He was just starting to think it would be impossible to find the right sort of figure, and then this young woman he’d never met before had simply walked up and asked for it. Technically, it wasn’t such an easy meeting as that. She had actually stolen one of the rowboats off of his ship while it was tied to their ship in the harbor with her abilities as a Tidemaker, then used the water to ferry her over to him.

From anyone else, Sturmhond would consider that a punishable offense. However, the privateer in him was also a politician, and one used to fronts and facades at that. Nikolai looked at the woman in front of him and realized that she wasn’t looking to use him as an avenue for a coup to captainship. She’d done her research and figured out that he was the best captain to serve under, and was simply ensuring that she made a good impression.

There is nothing Nikolai can appreciate like a fine display of showmanship, so he’d accepted her acceptance of his non-offer and told her to move her belongings into the first mate’s cabin that night. The crew woke up to a new member, and they took to her as readily as Nikolai himself.

After that, it was easy. Nikolai skimmed over frothy waves and he had someone by his side, a proper companion. He has liked his crew heartily all this time, but Y/N– he likes Y/N even more. Saints, he loves her. It takes him a while to realize that, but he does. Once that knowledge is common to him, the fact that he could have felt anything else is nothing short of absurd.

He’d given her his name a long time ago. Part of it, at least. They’d been on night guard together one shadowy twilight and she’d begged him for some sort of name she could use. Sturmhond, although great for inspiring fear and leadership as he saw fit, wasn’t personal enough for a friend, and Captain was too formal. Nikolai had witnessed many years of his father forcing everyone to refer to him as the king and nothing more. Never will he force a title on anyone.

So he’d said Nik, she could call him Nik, and that was more than good enough. It feels like cheating, a little, to have her bypass his real name and go straight to the familiar nickname. If anyone could do it, though, it would be her. Captains aren’t supposed to have favorites among their crew, but this is Y/N, and he loves her, so she calls him Nik, and he– he lets it happen.

All this truth, this love, and he never told her who he was. Not by choice. How could he? Y/N hated the monarchy, and so did he. The elder Lantsovs did not treat Grisha kindly, only tolerating them in the confines of the Little Palace. There was nothing Nikolai could do to protect them, to protect her, half as well in Os Alta as he could as Sturmhond, so he kept it a secret.

You could call that selfishness. You would be correct in doing so. Nikolai did not tell Y/N he was a prince because he was terrified of how she would push him away. In the end, there was nothing he could do to avoid that. The Darkling called on his help in capturing Alina Starkov, and Nikolai revealed that last ace in his sleeve the night before he was to dock in Ravka and personally escort the Sun Saint and her friends back to Os Alta.

He will never forget how Y/N had looked at him when she finally learned what he was, not as long as he shall live. He had asked her to come to his office, to lock the door so no one could hear. Y/N has been host to a great many of his secrets, good and bad and terrible, so she thought she could handle just one more.

She was wrong. Nikolai stood before her, and said, “I am the son of the king.”

She’d laughed, actually, but that had dried up when she realized he wasn’t joking. “No. You can’t be serious. All this time we’ve been out here, and you haven’t told me? You would have told me.”

Her eyes were desperate, pleading. Y/N L/N is one of the finest pirates Nikolai ever had the pleasure of meeting. He’s seen her go into no-luck gunfights with a grin on her face, and now she looks like all of her luck has finally run out. How awful, that he would be the one to finally crush her spirit underfoot.

“I knew you wouldn’t like it,” he tries to explain.

Y/N shakes her head. “No. I don’t like it when Tolya borrows my knives to slice fruit. I don’t like it when we stay in small towns too long. Nik, it’s not that I don’t like it that you’re a royal. It’s that you’ve betrayed me. You know how the Lantsov kings have treated Grisha, how they’ve treated anyone who isn’t an elite.”

It occurs to Nikolai that this might be how he loses her, in truth. “Y/N, please. We can change everything. Why do you think I came out here in the first place? I want to help Ravka. I want to help my people. Just come with me. We can do it together.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “No. I don’t want to be one of them.”

Not like he is, at least. Nikolai is endlessly, ineffably them, but she doesn’t have to be. She’s safe from them. From him. “Y/N. I love you, and I want you with me. Please, come to Os Alta with me.”

She turns to him abruptly, eyes violent. “No. That’s final, Nik.”

Ah. So it ends. And so Nikolai had gone to bed alone, heart a bitter mess of hurt, and he had disembarked from his ship with Alina and Mal and the rest. He had taken them to Os Alta, he had reclaimed his position on the throne, and all the while, he knew that he would never want anything in the world half as strongly as he just wanted her. 

It’s funny, isn’t it? Nikolai is a king now, and despite all his reach and power, the one thing he desires most will never be in his grasp again. She will always be the sea’s, and, as of late, that means she will never be Nikolai’s. Nikolai is chained to the crown; he will never leave it, he can never leave it. Y/N will be out there on the storm-tossed waves forever, as wild as the night he met her, and that will cause him grief until the day that he dies.

Nikolai grows up and it gets no better. He watches friends lose themselves to war and misery. He wears the crown upon his head, and then, surrounded by the clamoring voices of those who wanted him gone, he relinquishes it. Nikolai had tried to do his best while he was in office, but, walking back from the meeting with a strangely light feeling upon his head and shoulders where a great burden no longer rests, he wonders if it had ever been enough.

No one can ever be enough for Ravka. This he has known since he was a child. He had tried, though. The trying should at least get him somewhere. Nikolai passes blind laps around the Great Palace, attempting to remember every garden and room before he leaves it. He’ll have to pack his bags at some point, move out and find somewhere else to call a home after so many years in this one place.

Zoya has already offered for him to stay here, albeit in a different room. He’s a valuable advisor thanks to all his years on the throne, and he’s still as good a diplomat as ever. Nikolai will probably take her up on it; he wants to help Ravka, and this seems like the best way to do it.

About a week later, Zoya knocks on the door of his new rooms before letting herself inside when he invites her in. She’s taking to her new royal title very well, even if this seems to include her stealing his tea far more times than is strictly proper. 

This time, though, she isn’t here to stop and talk. Instead, Zoya hovers hesitantly at his door, and says, “There’s someone here to see you.”

Nikolai arches a brow. “I didn’t realize relinquishing my crown meant I got to have the Dragon Queen herself here to announce my visitors. Will you do this every time?”

Zoya laughs sarcastically, but her voice is still stilted when she adds on, “Just this time. She says she knows you. She was on your crew. First mate.”

Nikolai swears his heart stops in his chest. This is– no, it couldn’t be. He told Zoya about Y/N a long time ago. She’d asked why he hadn’t been more invested in finding a suitor and he’d admitted that he was pushing it off for as long as possible, knowing he couldn’t love unless it was her.

He nods a little frantically. “Alright. Where is she?”

“Here,” says a voice behind Zoya, and then the queen of Ravka is disappearing back down the hall and Nikolai is alone in a room with someone else and– and it’s Y/N, Y/N after so long, and he doesn’t really know how to think straight, let alone say anything at all.

She pauses over the threshold before finally going inside and shutting the door behind you. “I suppose I should be glad you’re speechless. Shows you still care, at least.”

“Of course I do,” Nikolai chokes out. “But– you do too? You’re here.”

She inclines her head, taking a seat on the chair opposite him. “I came as soon as I heard that you would no longer be king. I thought it would be hard. To lose this one last thing from your family.”

Nikolai frowns. “You hate my family.”

“I don’t hate you,” she says simply, “and even if they treated you harshly, they were still your blood. That means more than any of us want to admit, I think.”

Nikolai sighs. “You’ve always been the wise one, Y/N.”

She smiles at that. “Isn’t that why you hired me, Nik?”

The nickname again. His heart contracts painfully in his chest. “I should have told you,” he blurts out. “I should have told you everything.”

“I knew a lot,” she replies, “Enough to love you. I’m glad for every moment. There would have been fewer if you had told me sooner.”

Nikolai grimaces at the truth in that. “So you’re alright with me being a Lantsov now?”

She furrows her brow. “I heard some whispers that you aren’t entirely a Lantsov at all.”

He can’t really argue with that. “Who am I, then?”

“You’re Nik,” she tells him, “My Nik. My captain. And yes, my king, even if you’ve given over the throne. I always kept track of what you were doing during your reign. I was always proud of you.”

A bright burst of pride flares in his chest. “What do you advise I do now, if my reign is over?”

She stands, extends a hand to him. “We could always go back to a good time. The sea only gets bigger.”

Nikolai looks up at her, and he thinks– this is what he’s missed. Nikolai makes a fine king, but he has always missed adventure. He’ll have that now. And, when they both get old and tired, they can come back here, and continue making policies now that they’ve lived the lives of both the rich and the outlaw. It sounds wonderful to Nikolai.

He takes her hand. “Shall we go, then?”

She smiles. Radiant. He loves her just as much as he did at the start. “I think we shall.”

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy, @budugu, @aoi-targaryen

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[pooks]

straw hat!Ichiji during Whole Cake Saga, but he's having a very Bad Time™

---

He was locked up, like a feral animal in a cage.

Ichiji had always known that he was running on borrowed time, that it was only a matter of time until Judge caught him and dragged him back to Germa.

Panic and anxiety grew in his chest, making it harder to breathe. Out...he wanted out of here...he needed to get out of here! Every primal instinct went haywire inside him. His heart kept banging against his ribs, trying to break its prison. His skin felt hot and cold at the same time.

Cuffs on his wrists. They were different than the ones forced on Sanji's own wrists. No, these were Germa-made and instead of blowing off his hands, electric volts would be sent through his body. Judge didn't want him to be "harmed", but to teach him a lesson about loyalty and obedience.

The bastard wasn't going to let him escape this time. Not when he got his "masterpiece" back. Ichiji was, after all, the one who was most successful. He had taken on two sets of genetic modifications and surgeries.

He was Sparking Red and Stealth Black at the same time.

Ichiji shook his head. This place was already messing with his head. He had to get out, he needed to escape...back to the ocean.

He turned and looked at himself in the mirror. His long red hair had been cut, against his will. He sported the same hairstyle he had as child...before he became self-aware...before he realized he loved his little brother Sanji and was prepared to die for him.

'I'm going mad...I'm turning insane! This cursed place is driving me crazy!'

Ichiji sat on the window sill, staring out through his bedroom window and watched the ocean in the distance. He thought of the Sunny and felt homesick, he longed for the gentle sway of the waves and the howling winds of a storm.

He missed Franky's booming laughter, how he could easily sit on his shoulder and smile softly when the cyborg talked excitedly about the latest upgrade on their ship. He missed sitting in the library, typing away their latest adventures on his beloved typewriter and Robin, sitting next to him, reading her books and inquiring about his theories regarding the next Poneglyph.

The ones he loved most in his heart, filling the empty void Ace had left in him and showered him with so much love and devotion. More than he certainly deserved.

He would never see them again.

Ichiji stared at the metal bars covering his window, attached from the outside. His bedroom door was automatically locked from the outside as well, trapping him inside four walls.

It didn't matter how the room was like he had left it. All interior made of the best material in existence, decorated with the most expensive and rare items...it was still a cage. He was a prisoner inside a golden cage.

'Congratulations, Vinsmoke Judge.' Scarlet Ichiji, the archivist of the Straw Hat Pirates, thought bitterly. 'You've finally caught me.'

After the wedding, Sanji would belong to the Big Mom Pirates. but he'd at least leave Germa for good. His hand would be the price for a piece of freedom.

But he would never leave this hellhole again.

'My dearest Robin...was this how you felt at the Enies Lobby? Shackles on your wrists and chained to tyrants who would only use you as a weapon? Stripping away your humanity...was this exactly how you felt? This agony, pain and humiliation?'

Ichiji swallowed, his throat felt thick.

'Franky. I'm sorry. I don't think I will see you building the ship of dreams, after all. I hope you and Robin can forgive me one day.'

[delicatebluebirdruins]

Lockwood and Co episode 8

yay we're here i meant to get this up yesterday but cat wanted cuddles and i don't have tumblr on my phone (also someone needs to take the screenshot button away from me)

I love the shot of the ghost lamps every time we see it and I love the music (Homesick according to Netlfix subtitles) and Ruby killed this scene

What would George have done if he did come home and see the egg cup in use?

I love the thinking cloth and the doodles and notes

I want Pamela's silver scarf and I really love what they did with the character in the show

I love the skull going for the sore spot

"For George"... how about I cry (and rewatch Narnia which i have not done for ages... hey if you're thinking of the Last Battle and feeling bummed about the everything find a shitty copy and rip it up you might feel better)

i love how long the catafalque ride is everytime we see it

"For George"... how about I cry (and rewatch Narnia which i have not done for ages... hey if you're thinking of the Last Battle and feeling bummed about the everything find a shitty copy and rip it up you might feel better)

i love how long the catafalque ride is everytime we see it and the conversation/ monologue almost Lockwood and Lucy have in the taxi

I love Kipps still coming even though he's losing his talent and the cracks in George's relationship with Pamela is coming

"big bastard" I love this so much

"right amount of reckless"... again what if i cry

kick the door down babies it's fun

Bobby, Kat and Ned* are cute. (Did they notice the backpack? discuss I think yes but too many things are happening to acknowledge and question it).

*would love to see what they would do with him knowing that he {spoilers} in the Hollow Boy

Lockwood letting Lucy go and calling her the secret weapon has me so happy (what did Kat think of that discuss), rallying speech you'll always be famous.

i love the red head goon's gauntlets there's so many sparks and I love Winkman using a actual cross to fight is great

more cracks between Pamela and George

okay this scene is the Addam's family playing "wake the dead" but you know more desperate

"to save my friends... and kipps" my son, my beautiful boy

Lucy taking George's place is so good and I love it

I love Love, Lockwood looking around going "ahh how am i going to get down again" and I love the comment about Lockwood's parents and their deaths

I love using the skull to see what happens and the shot of what could only be Lockwood in the Other Side

the freed ghosts make such pretty lights vs the reds of Bickerstaff

(Golden blade is a lousy shot and a useless assassin) Lockwood thinking he's going to die is so sad

I love the long ride up and the 100% needed cheek rub (I would love to know how everything went down on the walk back to the catafalque like untying George and Kipps, leaving the skull behind etc)

I adore Kipp's speech in the book and the actor really brings it to life so well and really makes it shine (and the actor will really sell the joy at seeing what the goggles has to offer him)

I love Inspector Barnes so much and the handshake and "you're alright Lockwood" solid foundation

I love them walking off together (also how did the skull get back)

Golden hour my beloved, the ending narration which i do love I just wish it was a little better (see whichever post it was as I did talk about it more indepth earlier on) and cliffhanger my beloathed (fuck off Netflix)