#image from x of swords btw

[wishchip106]

I like yapping my random Cherik thoughts at you.

When young Erik gets very outwardly angry and defensive when jealous but as he gets older he just broods.

When Charles is jealous he becomes a catty bitch. Him being raised rich and ability to play with words to make backhanded insults comes out. (And Erik finds it insanely hot even when it’s aimed at him)

i love the idea of catty Charles 😭😭 yes queen use your telepathy to point out their every insecurity and flaw 😻🫶

anyway imagine you’re talking to Charles and then you spot this out of the corner of your eye:

okay.sir calm down

please don’t kill me i was asking for help on my maths homework 😿🙏

[nebbyy]

I have a request, if youre taking them.

Baldwin's wife sneaks into the battle in 1177 with sixteen year old Baldwin, his reaction and what not. make it your own, just thought this would be cool

King Baldwin x reader - My archangel

A/N: I absolutely LOVE this idea! I've never thought of a scenario like this before, so thank you so so much for the suggestion<3

Sorry if this took so long btw, I haven't been active lately because of school and work😔😔

As always, painting is "The Crown of Love" by John Everett Millais (it's so funny to me for no reason, it just makes me think of how Baldwin would be physically dragging you out of danger).

Summary: During the most importante battle of his life so far, the last person king Baldwin expected to see on the battlefield was his newlywed wife

Warning: war, but it's more of a background thing, mentions of injuries and a hint at misogynism

Word count: 5433

It had been decided. Jerusalem's knights and soldiers would be riding towards Saladin's army at dawn, led by their king, King Baldwin IV of Anjou. Your Baldwin.

The mere idea that tomorrow your husband would find himself fighting face to face against the most fearsome of his enemies terrified you, especially knowing that you could do nothing to protect him. He had expressly said he did not want you or his sisters anywhere near the battlefield, it was too risky. You should have waited for his return, for him to be victorious astride his steed, now lying lifeless on a black bed.

You closed your eyes, begging your mind to spare you from the projection of that macabre image in your head. But you could do nothing against these emotions, which were tearing at your mind and spirit. You could not remain still and impassive, obedient and elegant as you always were as a young princess, then as a wife and now as a queen.

No, that image of you had to slumber, if only for a while. You did not have your kingdom on your mind at that moment, only Baldwin and the overwhelming desire to be close to him.

You cursed your nature for making you a woman, for not having had the opportunity to learn the art of arms and war. You cursed your long robes that prevented you from any daring movement, and your limbs because even if they were able to move freely they would not have the strength to even wield a sword.

As Baldwin fell asleep in your arms, exhausted by the fatigue that this imminent battle was costing him, and you held him close to your heart as if to compel him eternally into your embrace, you weaved a plan in your mind. A plan not to leave him alone at dawn, to stay as close to him as possible.

Because even if it was the day God would claim your husband's soul, at least you wanted to be near him as he took his last breath.

How selfish you were, not even death would have been left for him. But then again, poets have been saying it for centuries, love is the gravest form of madness.

You woke up in an empty bed, the spectre of a kiss floating on your bare shoulder where Baldwin's lips had rested a few moments before, when he had to arouse himself to lead his army into battle. And despair pervaded you almost immediately, when when you woke up still no idea had come to your mind to stay by his side, after you had hoped that sleep would grant you a solution to your problem.

Unable to hold back tears of frustration and despair, you summoned your favourite handmaiden, your nurse, old to almost retirement but cunning as a mischievous child. You wept on her welcoming lap, clutching the fabric of her robe in your fists.

"Oh Agnes, how unfair is my fate as a woman. I am asked to stand by my husband's side all my life and yet I am denied a place beside him in these dark times. And they tear him from my arms and leave me here, alone and helpless, these monstrous Saracens!" She looked at you with sympathetic eyes, stroking the long hair that fell from your shoulders, which resembled the waves of the sea as they shook slightly from your sobs. "What can I do, Agnes? You who always have a quick tongue to give solutions to my every worry, tell me what I can do, before his horse and troops are too far away to be seen."

She, like a mother consoling a child who has injured himself while playing, took your face with one hand, inviting you to turn your gaze towards her. As she wiped the tears that streaked your cheeks with her thumb, she spoke softly to you, although her tone had a hint of her typical mischief in it: "My lady, weeping over your fate does not suit you. Instead, I propose you run. Make haste to the armoury, there you are sure to find armour left behind by some lord. Do you follow me? Well, you will simply have to put on the armour, carrying a pair of your husband's breeches underneath. And keep your helmet tightly closed, so that it cannot be seen that beneath the armour there is not a brutish knight, but a beautiful queen.

Go out of the palace through the servants' passages, and buy the horse of the first man you find. Not yours, in the royal stable they would notice his absence. And then all that remains is for you to ride, ride as fast as you can, to reach the Christian encampments as soon as possible, which by then will have been set up. Remain aloof, and reveal yourself to your husband only. And do so at night, in his tent, where no unwanted eyes can see your unexpected encounter. Is it all clear, my lady?"

You merely nodded frantically with eyes wide in wonder and relief. You practically leapt into the air, quick to grab the first slip you could find and a pair of cheap shoes that you could ruin with all your impending travels. You were about to leave the room, but stopped for a moment at the threshold, before turning back to Agnes to hold her tightly in a warm embrace.

"What would I do without you, my dear. You are even better than a guardian angel, I wouldn't be surprised if one day you left some white feathers behind!" The woman squeezed you affectionately before pushing you away playfully, urging you to get out and go and do whatever she directed. "It is the job of a nurse, to solve a child's problems in the same way as a mother. But hurry now or the battle will be over before you have even found a helmet!"

You laughed lightly as you wiped the dried tears from your cheeks, wasting no more time in rushing to get what was necessary to implement your plan. You rushed in front of the crate containing Baldwin's clothes, tossing robes and shirts in the air until you found breeches fit for a ride. You hastily donned them, then dashed down the long corridors of the palace.

Once in the armoury, you began to spin like a wheel, desperately searching with your eyes for any armour. You weren't picky, anything would have been more than enough: you'd have been fine with just a breastplate, chain mail, simple shoulder straps,… But most of all, you needed a helmet. And that you found almost immediately in your mad search. It was crudely moulded and already bore a few dents on the sides, but you paid no attention to it, it was enough to conceal your identity.

You also found a breastplate, and that was all you needed. You considered taking a sword with you too, but quickly changed your mind: it might be foolish to most, but you hoped that if an enemy found you unarmed, his honour would prevent him from challenging you to a fight.

And then, your focus on your sword quickly faded as you remembered that you still had no horse to reach the battlefield. Running awkwardly, like a child ambitiously trying on his father's far too large armour, you stepped back into the corridors, this time frantically searching with your eyes for a servant to follow towards the back exit.

It must have been a hilarious scene from an outside observer, a burly swineherd looking perplexed over his shoulder as a half-armed knight los eguiva like a tin puppet through the narrow corridors. But the scene was short-lived, for after a couple of turns you finally reached the palace exit, and emerged into the crowded streets of the city.

I had to move my helmet slightly above my eyes to better see the road around you, scanning the area for any horse. You could only see two camels, a few cows, a hen with her small flock of chicks, but no horse in sight. But just when you were about to give up hope, a mysterious force swept over you.

More than mysterious force, you were almost overwhelmed by a horse held on the bridle by a dirty, smelly man. "Out of the way, kid!" Looking at the man with wide eyes, taking good care to make sure your helmet covered your features well, you strained to speak in the most naturally deep voice you could muster, attempting to fool the yokel into mistaking you for a mere boy.

"Sir how much… how much are you asking for your horse?" He laughed, opening his mouth wide and exposing his few remaining teeth, yellow and frayed, and looked at you with a look of paucity and mockery, "You're going off to war without even a horse? The Saracens will impale you like a spit, son. Not that the battle would do you any good either way, with the child king we have, they will all be wiped out. before they even reach those bloody Arabs!”

You clenched your jaw so tightly that you thought your teeth might blow out from the pressure, so hard were you trying to suppress your anger at that disrespectful commoner. Breathing slowly, trying to calm your nerves, you spoke in stiff, icy words, "30 shillings. And you leave me the saddle" The man's eyes widened, incredulous at how much a young man was willing to pay for his old, shabby horse. But he wasn't complaining at all; in fact, better for him if the thirst for war drove the youth of today to such lengths. If only he had known that it was not the bloodlust of a daring young man that was before him, but instead the affectionate madness of a desperate wife.

He did not even answer, stretched out his open hand in front of him where a moment later a bag full of coins fell. He opened it for good measure, making sure the hefty sum was true. When he was satisfied, he slowly handed you the bridle, dazed by the small fortune he was holding.

You hoisted yourself awkwardly onto the horse, and it was not a quick operation as it seemed almost impossible for you not to fall off the horse, so much was the armor restricting your every move and weighing you down. After a few minutes of tribulation, you finally steadied yourself in the saddle and with a firm gesture of your leg, spurred the steed, which galloped off in an instant.

At a gallop, the city didn't seem nearly so big. Nor did the streets seem so crowded, perhaps because the people spread out like the sea in front of Moses as you passed, trying to escape the unpleasant fate of being swept away by the running horse and its mysterious rider. You felt as if you were sailing through the waves of the sea, with people's heads bobbing up and down, a current of movement pushing you closer and closer to the city gates. No one paid much attention to you as you crossed the threshold into the kingdom of heaven, most just thought you were a careless rider who had fallen behind, perhaps this was your first battle. Whatever your problem was, it was not about the wall guards. And so your figure disappeared from the sight of the remaining citizens in the city, vanishing into the vastness of the endless desert.

You did not know quite how long you rode, how many hours it took you before you began to locate even the slightest trace of the passage of the army of Jerusalem. At first it was only small details, marks left on the ground, mainly trinkets possibly dropped to the soldiers during the ride. Then the signs of their passage became more prominent, when around a small oasis you even found a few abandoned spears, probably forgotten back by some careless soldier.

And you stopped there for only a moment, as thirst would have prevented you from going any further. As you drank from the body of water, your mind travelled in thought to your husband; who knows if he too drank from this spring? And if so, how long has it been? Will he be far from here? What would he say when he saw you retracing the passage he and his troops were tracing? At that last thought a shiver ran down your spine, most likely he would not be very happy to know you were so close to danger. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the image of the look that Baudouin would give you if he saw you at that moment, alone, barely armed in the vast and merciless desert, with no escort to protect you…

You only hoped that the surprise and joy of seeing you at such a tragic moment might cloud his mind from any concern he might have for you. In the meantime you had quenched your thirst enough. Regaining the reins of your horse, and after a series of ministrations to remount the saddle, you resumed your ride towards the battle with the unknown outcome.

As you rode with the wind blowing in your face, with nothing to entertain or distract you, your mind could not but return again to Baldwin. You could not help it, for fear for his fate had been tearing at your soul for days without respite, ever since it was announced that a battle would take place.

Baldwin was too young for all this. He was barely of marriageable age, he could barely reign without a regent at his side, he was hardly considered more than a child, many nobles even refused to call him an adult! And then there was his illness, which although not yet crippling, had already begun to expand its deadly effect on his body, numbing his nerves and making it impossible for him to wield his right hand properly. It was really unfair, that a man in his condition should lead an army to what everyone considered certain death.

Death at the hands of the Saracens, who were rumoured to be as many as ten times the number of the army of Jerusalem. A sob escaped from your mouth, followed by a faint stream of tears that ran down your cheeks, but they were short-lived on your face, the dry desert wind dried them in no time.

Only an instant seemed to pass, time to bring a hand to his face to wipe away the dried saline tears. Yet when your gaze focused again on the landscape in front, you saw a few hundred metres away a series of white tents, a few faint rows of smoke rising in the air, a massive cross set with precious gems, leaning against a rough wooden construction. It was the camp of the Jerusalem army.

Getting off your horse, you advanced hesitantly through the camp. Looking around, you noticed the stunned gazes of soldiers and horsemen watching you, some intrigued by your unkempt armor, some confused by your clumsy way of moving. But although the attention of their gazes made you stop breathing, fearing that you had been discovered, but fortunately it was short-lived, all the men were too tired from the exertions of the journey to investigate even this oddity. Taking you for an inexperienced little boy, they looked away from you and proceeded to drag their aching limbs back to their respective tents.

But although no one gave you more than the attention you give any stranger on the street, your heart would not stop beating furiously in its cage. You quivered at the mere thought of seeing your husband again, who although he had recently separated from you, already felt as if you had not seen him for an eternity. And your soul screamed at the idea that this might be the last time you would see him alive, and urged your legs to move faster. From hesitant strides, your gait grew brisk, impatient, and faster and faster until you burst into a frantic run through the expanse of white tents.

You scanned one, two, ten, a hundred, so many that by now they seemed to you an endless bundle of the same white cloth. But although your hope gave no sign of existing from your mission, your legs were beginning to give out under the constant strain you had subjected your body to for endless hours. You had no choice but to stop to catch your breath, resting your hands on your trembling thighs as you gasped for breath. And it was in that very instant, while you neither heard nor saw anything but the roar of your heart echoing in your ears and the rough ground flattened by the heavy footsteps of the soldiers, dark because of the blurred evening light, that you heard it. That voice.

"We will discuss this tomorrow, now I need the rest" "Certainly, my lord." The dialogue was followed by a knight of high lineage who came out of the tent in front of which you had pulled up to rest. He did not even dignify you with a glance, and you could not care less, for it was not him you were interested in. He was the first man to speak who had captured your complete attention, making the whole world fade away around you. It was a jovial voice, full of life despite obvious tiredness. It was a boy's voice. It was Baldwin's voice.

You sidled up to the curtain of the tent and, before opening your mouth, breathed slowly, tending not only to ease your nerves but also to modulate your voice to make it more masculine, deeper. The deception was to be revealed only when you were alone in the tent, away from prying eyes.

"My king, I know you are now bereft of strength, but grant me a brief interview with your majesty." You could visualize him rolling his eyes, puffing silently and running his good hand over his eyes, as he was always wont to do when any courtier demanded his attention while he was already lying in your arms. And as whenever this familiar event took place, similarly Baldwin made an effort in this case to stand up and mutter a reply, unaware that the subject behind the cloth was not just any boy, but his beloved wife. "I'm afraid I'm in no condition for a meeting at the moment. We will discuss whatever you need tomorrow." Panic grew in you hearing him so indisposed. After all, you should have expected it; he had more to think about than granting an interview to an anonymous soldier. In an instant, however, you changed your strategy, if you couldn't convince him you would have to bait him, "Please, sir, give me a few minutes! I bring with me a great surprise, a gift that I know will fill your heart with joy and restore your energy!"

He paused, as if weighing his options. At least that was what you thought, but in truth Baldwin was wondering if he was going crazy. If he had only dreamed, due to exhaustion and fatigue, that the voice speaking to him from outside the tent was not any young man's, but a disguise meant to hide the angelic melodic voice of his beloved wife. Were it really her, Baldwin would not have wasted a moment in throwing open the door for her, taking her into his arms and carrying her to his momentary abode, where her presence alone could be savored by him.

But he knew it could not be possible: you, his beloved wife whose image constantly pervaded his mind, were thousands and thousands of feet away, safe within the walls of your palace, as you had promised him. It was just not possible that you were the one hiding outside the tent, his hopes were just a cruel game of his mind. But by now his attention had been caught by the stranger so eager to talk to the king, to give him this phantom gift. Perhaps there would have been cause for concern, for thought of possible deception or assault by an enemy spy, but Baldwin did not give the thought more than a second's attention, before sighing softly and turning away, gazing back at the white fabrics of the tent. "Very well, come forward then. I hope this surprise you tell me about is really that formidable."

You came close to slinging yourself into the tent, throwing yourself into Baldwin's arms in an instant, and never letting go. But you still couldn't do it; it was too risky. You merely placed a hand on the side of the fabric that closed the curtain, pulling it to go through and letting it fall back behind you. And there you stood, facing Baldwin, clad in that armor far too large for your size, your heart pounding wildly from both the fatigue of the journey and the excitement. And he slowly, with a phlegm as elegant as the waters of a stream, turned to reveal the identity of his mysterious visitor, and you had already freed your face from the tortuous confines of the helmet you had worn for endless hours.

His eyes widened, wide as never before. Perhaps for the first time in his life, Baldwin could say he was truly, truly surprised. A thousand emotions passed from his face, from astonishment, to joy, to anger, and then to sadness, and then to astonishment again. For a moment he seemed about to open his mouth, but he stopped, opting instead to run to you, putting his arms around you, holding you tight and lifting you off the ground so tight was his grip. "My affection, how can you be so foolish! This is no place for you, so far from home, close to the enemy… You promised me you would stay safe, let me go, let me protect you! How could you do something so rash, you who are always so wise? Alone through the desert, what if the enemy had met you before I got here? What would I have done if your lifeless body, tortured by the Saracens, had been brought to me?"

His voice was exhausted, worn out by weariness and emotion that blocked his throat and threatened to make hot tears fall from his white cheeks. His words were harsh and stern, but devoid of any reproach: it was his fear speaking, his fear of seeing you the next day among the stacked bodies of war victims. And as he spoke he held your arms, shook you lightly, and in the process interrupted himself to place chaste kisses on your face, as if through the touch of his lips he was trying to convince himself that you were really there, standing before him. That it was not a mere illusion, a game of his mind.

Gently, with a touch as light as the morning wind, your hands went up his chest to his beautiful face, which you lovingly cupped. "I swore before God that I would not abandon my place at your side until the breath leaves my body. I have enjoyed with you wealth, pomp, and good fortune. But what you have granted me to witness is only half of the aspects of a nuptial union. Poverty, sickness, and the misery of war are the woes that touch every human being, and which two spouses are expected to face together. So now, my king, I beseech you, do not deny me a place at your side as you fight for the honor and freedom of the Holy Land, do not deny me a duty that has been mine since you and I were joined in eternity. It is unjust what you have subjected me to, to have to watch you ride away from me, toward the worst of dangers! And how could you think I would let you go just like that, without opening my mouth? Now we are even, I have retraced the path you yourself have traced, as bereft of safety as you were bereft of my presence. And now together we face this mortal danger, which, however, will never hold a candle to the pain that distance from you brings me!"

Baldwin's eyes softened, though they had a melancholy note in them. He inhaled with shuddering breath, and his grip became softer on your body, his hands descended from his arm to your waist, always holding you as close as physically possible.

"I was always told that silence honors women. This does not suit you, for depriving you of speech robs you of the royalty that makes you my queen. I ask your forgiveness, my angel, for leaving you alone in such a dark time. But try to understand my choice, how self-centered would I have been to ask you to come with me, in the midst of the greatest danger? It was simply too much for me, my beloved, the burden on my heart, begging me to do all that was permissible to keep you safe, even if that necessitated keeping you away from me. You are too far away now for me to send you back to the palace with an escort, and my heart could not bear to part with you for even another hour. You will stay here, ruling your people as you should. But please do not do me the wrong of setting foot on that bloody battlefield tomorrow. If even God decides that tomorrow my hour has come, and I fall lifeless on the bloody ground, do not move a step, do not show any sign of weakness. Don't follow me into the afterlife, don't even think about it: I know full well that I will never have the honor of lying eternally by your side, I am not worthy of it, so don't jeopardize your precious life in the name of an eternity by my side."

You did not respond, and silence fell. Squeezing together for another moment, you broke away shortly thereafter only to move to the bed set up in his tent, not as luxurious as his usual palace bed but certainly far more comfortable than the hay bunks in which soldiers elsewhere rested. Clinging to each other, you remained silent for a few moments. Or maybe it was hours, neither of you knew. Nor did you care, knowing how much time had passed, how much more separated you from the inescapable fate that awaited you the next day. Silent tears streaked your faces, sobs and sighs filled the air of the room. Then, you took courage to open your mouth, your voice soft and melancholy, weakened by weeping. "How unfair is our fate, affection. How bitter is my soul, knowing that tomorrow I must witness such a slaughter, an open-air slaughterhouse in which you yourself may become yet another victim."

As your first response you heard a snort from your husband, who squeezed you tighter for a moment, as if to secure you beside him, engulf you in his body. His lips pressed against your temple, placing a gentle kiss there, and they remained resting there even as he began to speak, "I know, I know my angel. I too wish things were simpler, that I could retire from this world, go and live with you, away from all this chaos, all this violence. You don't know how much I would have liked to abdicate, to leave the throne to Sybilla and her husband. They would have been good rulers, if only dear William had not passed away so soon. And so we have only to live like this, my beloved. To live perpetrated by the duties and horrors that mankind is capable of, all in the name of God's affection," a pause, a look that said a thousand silent words, and then resumed, "in the name of my affection for you… Tomorrow it will be an honor for me to fight, for like the valiant Lancelot, who fought to his last breath in the name of beautiful Guinevere. I do not care if my life will be endangered, if I return wounded and maimed more than leprosy is already reducing me. No, I don't care, because at the end of the day, whether my heart still beats or not, I know that I will return to lie in your arms.

And that makes up for all the injustices I will have to face." The last words were whispered, softened by a deep affection that numbed the senses and made everything as graceful as the clouds in the sky.

More tears streamed down your rosy cheeks, but you tried to conceal them by hiding your face in the crease of Baldwin's neck. The tone grew sterner for a moment as he resumed speaking, intimating you to listen with a grip on your shoulder. "Just promise me that, in case the battle goes badly, and I am dead and defeated and my whole army with me, promise me that you will escape, as far away as you can. Find shelter at the dwellings of those who have abstained from this conflict, find asylum in churches and in any sacred place you can find. Do whatever you can in order to protect your life. Protect what has always been dearest to me, your life."

"I will, I promise." You would have liked to retort, or much less say what he wanted to hear without really thinking it. But deception did not suit you, not toward Baldwin at least. And the mere thought that that might be his last will, which made you want to throw yourself to the ground and cry every tear you had in your body, also made it impossible for you to disobey that simple request, which after all was the request that you care for your own body and soul.

Whether Baldwin had taken your word for it or not, you were not sure, it was hard to say. It didn't matter, both of you were too tired to linger talking any longer, contrary to your usual routine of endless discussions on all kinds of topics. He whispered something to you in his native tongue, and although the language was vaguely unfamiliar to you and fatigue clouded your mind, you could still discern a sweet "I love you" among the words he spoke.

The next day your awakening was similar to the day Baldwin left Jerusalem: alone in bed, the place where your husband lay still warm. Outside the men were shouting orders and the horses were pawing in irritation at the din. In the distance you could hear the cries of the Saracens approaching, and the horns of war echoing in the air. You tried to peep your head out of the tent, but a guard surprised you right in front of the entrance. "My lady, his majesty has ordered that you do not leave the tent until the battle is over." The tone was authoritative and gentle at the same time, but his spear was stretched across the opening of the tent, an admonition far more direct than his words. You obeyed, as you had promised Baldwin that same evening, and without protest you retreated back inside the small temporary dwelling.

And so you stood there, alone and unaware of what was unfolding beyond the white tent. The last sound you were able to discern was your beloved's voice inciting his men to battle, before the din of war produced such a cacophony that it was impossible to understand a single sentence spoken. They rode for a few hundred meters until they reached the place where the battle would take place. They rode so far that the din they caused as they passed became muffled, barely audible. And perhaps it was for the best, for the distance muffled the atrocious sounds of war, of slaughter.

And so you waited there, within the four fabric walls, white as snow, that you feared at every moment might be stained with blood, friend or foe. You waited for the outcome of the battle, dumb with fear, with tension. You awaited Baldwin's return, dead or alive, victorious or defeated. And you did so by standing there, closer to him than was possible, exhausted and restless at the same time.

A/N: Yallll this was LONGGGG. i really really like how this turned out, and i hope you do too! I'm really sorry for how long it took me to write this piece, but I promise the following ones will take much much less🙏🙏🙏 Anyway, now I gotta go start working on those, feel free to leave a comment or feedback about this fic<3<3

[chibishortdeath]

I actually really like the messed up skeleton Dracula design, it conveys that he’s not at full power yet pretty well :3. More explanations and two unfinished doodles under a cut—

Close up on Drac’s upper half cause the drawing was way too big for one photo of it. Something that I noticed while staring at his sprite for a while is that he’s probably not wearing a hood, but chainmail armor with a helmet on top :O!

Entire page view to get all the Dracula in frame lol. His armor isn’t falling off btw, everything is rising into place from the altar. Hopefully he’s not too gorey for general tags uhhh yeah d(TwT ).

This is him when he’s done coming together. He’s still not fully powerful or physically all there yet, but it’s just enough to be able to troll Simon at the end 💀💀💀. Anyway yeah he’s totally me when my arch nemesis doesn’t find my teeth and accidentally summons me before I’m ready lol.

Simon is literally so fun to just put in poses. He is almost always my model for drawing poses because his big thighs kinda force you to make his pose even more exaggerated to get the same amount of open space and ratio of things— yeah idk it’s fun. He’s also allowed to have some sass sometimes I think. Fun fact! I didn’t use a reference for these :3. I’m so proud! Angles like this are usually hard!!! Oh and rare family heirloom sword moment. I’m taking this as a nod to the recent Haunted Castle remake now, which was so out of no where like (*o* ). I’ll take it!!! Simon game!!! A win!!! Hopefully the next collection they put out has Adventure Rebirth in it X3.

Simon but he is staring at you with the saddest pouty wet cat eyes. Tbh I think this general kinda neutral/resting sad expression is what I draw him with the most.

Which is why I also tried drawing him with other expressions!!!!!! In this one he is surprised and awkwardly responding to being told something so negative it’s almost comedic 💀💀💀. I was imagining the one town in Simon’s Quest with some bangers like “after Castlevania I told you never to return” and “you’ve upset the people now get out of town” X,,,,,D. He’s a little taken aback and was gonna try to defend himself, but he just leaves anxiously.

Please imagine that in this one he is saying that one meme that goes “it is hot as hell in this fucking ass hot ass room I’m in… IS THAT THE GRIM REAPER⁉️⁉️⁉️”.

Yay! Putting him on furniture for background practice!!! He is sitting on a church pew, having a couple micro sleeps cause he’s sleep deprived. He may fall off cause that armor is a little too heavy when sitting down I’d imagine.

These last two are for the images below. First one is just him kinda tweakin idk, he’s been awake too long and seen too much, somebody direct him to the nearest church, bro needs rest 💀. His hand shaking reminds me tho, a couple days ago I played the jojo fighting game so hard I had to put ice on my hand 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀. It SUUUCKED like take it from me don’t play as Polnareff in story mode if you’ve already been playing for a long time ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

This one is just general anatomy practice, just doodling his proportions to keep the skill of being able to draw them d(^^ ). I ended up really liking how I drew his hair in this one though, it’s cute :3.

[plscallmeeren]

C I T I Z E N S O F W E S T V I E W P T 2

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Request: yep

Summary: part 2 lol (btw I added some things to the request hope you don't mind)

Warnings: absolutely none

Word Count: 1.6K+

Wanda peered through the heavy oak door leading to your apartment, gaze flicking tiredly from one unusual carpet to another Eastern lamp. And yet, as she observed every object and decoration in the place, she realised there really wasn't that much around - less, at least, than in an average home.

"You don't have very much," she said simply, the Sokovian accent she harboured thickening as an urge for sleep faded the edges of her vision. Any energy she usually held for advanced English had already laid down beside her end of the conversation.

"It's all good quality. You'll never believe where I got this light," you replied proudly, gesturing at an orange paper hanging lamp.

"I suppose I wouldn't," she murmured, running smooth hands over the even smoother wood of an old armchair.

Her sight lingered on a rack to her left, standing out with shining blades against the cream of the wall. The longest in the stack of three emanated the unmistakeable atmosphere of magic.

"It's overwhelming, isn't it?" you said softly, sensing her thoughts. "Look, we'll talk more in the morning, I promise, but you're obviously exhausted and I can't say I'm feeling too chirpy myself. It's late. Get some rest first. We'll worry about magic swords in the morning. I promise."

Wanda hesitated, glancing at the sharpened and likely deadly weapons on your wall, but was overcome with a wave of drowsiness so strong she wondered if maybe you were toying with her mind. If so, you had done a mighty good job; making her feel safe, luring her into your home, into vulnerability. But she doubted it - and even if she was wrong, she was sure she could take you.

Then the stroke of genius occurred to her - why not just read your mind? It might tickle, but otherwise people didn't tend to notice if she didn't want them to.

She attempted, slithering past some initial mental barriers every brain requires for sanity's sake, diving deeper-

"I'd be impressed if you could see anything against my will," your voice filled her head, and although your back was turned, she could feel the grin on your face. "You're welcome to try."

"And you think you could get past me?" she challenged, vanity seeping through her as a last resort.

"Yes."

"Try."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Try your hardest."

A flash of images and pasts and thoughts and nightmares flashed beneath Wanda's lids, an array of concepts that made up Plato's idea of her. She had had no idea how powerful the feeling was if a mind-reader allowed their victim to see what they were doing. Nevertheless, although proving how old and deeper knowledge you could dig up, she noticed how it was never anything vulnerable, anything that could hurt. She still couldn't stop you.

You were avoiding them for her sake, even though she had provoked you.

You stopped. You had made your point and that was enough. She stared, but didn't say anything. You had half-expected the unjustified upset and anger of doing what she had said you should, but it never came. She seemed lost for words.

"That was incredible," she projected the thought into your mind, making you smile.

"Come on, I have a spare room."

You led her around the corner of the kitchen and up some stairs, holding the painted door open chivalrously. She curtsied in good humour, passing through.

You handed her a towel silently, refusing her help in making the bed, letting her watch from the desk chair instead. When she thought you weren't looking, you noticed - or maybe you sensed - how much she appreciated someone doing something as simple as making a bed for her.

"Good night," you murmured once she returned from washing up, already folded up underneath the copious covers. You would have offered her clothes, but her breathing had already evened.

It would have been so easy to intrude just a little, just enough to see why she was feeling so unwell. She would never know. But you didn't ever seriously consider it. You couldn't imagine the guilt of breaching her privacy that way.

You closed the door behind you, leaving the small reddened lamp on in case she didn't like the dark.

•••

Wanda awoke with a start.

She had slept peacefully until the nightmares had crept in along the edges, stains of blood and madness dismissing her simple dreams of life as she knew it or other cleansing of the mind. She forgot it all the moment her eyes opened, only Vision's mangled body still imprinted on the inside of her lids when she attempted rest.

She sat up. At the edge of the bed, two folded piles of clothes awaited her. One of them consisted of a red shirt and blue pants (she ignored her thoughts when they wondered which woman you had them from) and the other of a comfy flannelette shirt, sweatpants and woollen socks. She opted for the second.

A part of her was disturbed by the concept of someone being in the room while she was asleep and her not noticing, but still that nonsensical trust and arrogance overruled all else.

The scent of coffee invaded her senses as she grew more aware of her surroundings. It smelled delicious and perfect in that moment.

She wandered downstairs tentatively, stepping lightly in some childish attempt to sneak up on you.

By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, she was sure she had the element of surprise under control.

"Morning, darling," you greeted smugly, smirking as you briskly turned around, presenting her with a cup of coffee. "Sugar? Milk?"

"Oh, yes, um, both," she muttered, feeling slightly insulted at how she had been noticed.

You nodded, placing the cup on the counter and pulling out all she required. You stepped back so that she could add as much as she wanted herself.

Wanda looked you once up and down, taking note of your black shirt and black sweatpants, the way the melted together at every languid motion you made. You looked like you were dancing as you crossed the kitchen, back and forth, mixing together the batter for pancakes.

"Pancakes? How did you know-" She interrupted herself upon realisation. "You remembered what you saw last night, didn't you? Me eating with my family?" She thought she might cry at the memory of them all, but other than the salty taste of saliva it just felt like a problem of the past.

She couldn't believe how good she felt all things considered. Neither could you.

"Wait- Did you read my mind again before? Is that how you knew I was there?"

"No, love. I don't need telepathy to sense your presence," you humoured, winking at her playfully. She scoffed, but the smile on her face was undeniable.

"And... here," you said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, throwing the last pancake onto the plate and flicking the stove off. "Let's sit down, shall we?"

Wanda nodded, taking a seat across from you and snatching two pancakes at once. She could think of at least a hundred questions to ask you, but none of them felt like good opening lines.

Finally, she decided. "Are the decorations Japanese? They look sort of... well, not Western. And you. You look... I'm not sure how you look, but judging by your home, I'm wondering whether you're Japanese also?"

"Yeah. My mother's Japanese, and she raised me, so I'm more used to eastern places and behaviour. By the way, you don't have to hide your accent. I love hearing it."

You had picked up on how her accent had lessened by a mile that morning, feeling a little sad to see it go. She smiled.

"Okay." You could immediately hear the difference.

"Thanks. Anyway, yeah, it's a bit hard implementing paper walls, but otherwise..." She giggled, surprising both of you.

"Do you speak Japanese?"

"Yeah. Kesa wa kireidesu ne / 今朝は綺麗ですね." (You look beautiful this morning.)

"And what does that mean?" she asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly.

"あなたには決して分からないかもしれません," you replied smoothly, taking a bite off your pancake. (You may never know.)

"Звучи лепо, згодно, али волео бих да знам шта говориш," she countered in her own Native tongue, sipping at her coffee, grinning. You looked back at her, impressed. (It sounds nice, handsome one, but I'd love to know what you're saying.)

"それはあなたから魔法のように聞こえます。" (That sounds magical coming from you.)

You both smirked, tucking into your breakfast instead of talking for a moment, occasionally making a comment on the food in your own languages. You both loved the sound of the other talking, no matter what they were saying.

Eventually, you decided on successful communication, and in English, Wanda asked at least half the questions she wanted answers to. You replied to every one. Neither of you held back in your accents and only at three in the afternoon did you realise how long ago you had finished eating.

——————-

So much fluff

Fun fact I've actually learned a bit of Japanese over the years and about one and a half of those sentences was my own....... I know, I know, I'm incredible, right? Anyways looking at foreign typography always makes me happy tbh

I'm snowed into my friends' house and can't keep reading my exciting book at home how's your day? It's kinda a vibe tho I've never been snowed in before

Have a great day lovelies

[gimblegamble]

Gim gimgingim my broski my buddy my boo I literally love the nickname plannonthayssisido that’s so cute oml WOOOOO :DDD

Yes ur walls r great btw I got like snacks n here n shit im lirking in ur shadows I’m sending u invisible appreciation im appreciating u so hard u don’t even no it literally /pos

Oh il ur x desfgin by the way he has such cool hair like if sm1 had fisgety hands imaging if they give it a lil brush u no or a lil tug or put sm cute flowers in it n stuff thatd be cute !!!! he’s a pretty boyi u nko kno u kko yhyhyhyhyh

Also I forgor if I respondede to this yet but ur so correct acc about the new hermits getting thei own crushes on Mumbo too HC stands for Hermits CrushingOnMumboJumbo acctuallye u r so correct n try 💀<<<<333333

…………. Def not m havin thoughts aboy the diff between ppl resctong to gem vs Skizz if they were to find out they gained a hot crush on Mumbo too….. like…. Bro imagine……..

Ppl going to gen like awwww that’s cute bestie we lov that frfr gem welcome to the club bestie n shes so sweet w mumbo n it’s all good n she might be deadly enough to casully take out a sword n death glare any competitors sometime if they’re tryna crash in any dedidcated Mumbo time (COYGHCOUGCVOUGH Grian COUGHCOIYHCIIHJ) but it’s all good ukno all cute :))))))

But like Skizz. And here’s the thing Skizz is such a huge teddy bear o a guy. Fav angel dude fr. But like. I’m lookin at how ZIT already had like a whol competition bet thing going on w seducing Mumbo Outta his sexy pristine normal asssuit pants. I’m looking at the hints of possessivendsc that like Z n I n T all had at times b4 w dear ol mumby boy. I’m lookinh at thr bond ZITS hav going on n how Skizz could b having a gay ol time w mumbo n maybe flirting just a tad (a lot lol) n maybe he throws Mumbo over his arm cus he cute like that n S catches one of the others eye just for a second n motherfucker would SMIRK. LMAO ‘look bitches I got ur man now he’s my man what u gonna do bout it <3’ like iys probs not on the level of Doc n Grian (n X n Scar n probs Keralis lol) petty aaaa possessiveness rivalry becaus ZITS r still a lol goofy w it y’know ykno but like

Sometimesz

Sometimes.

Hffhhffhhffygufhghvvhvjjvjvjvvjjbbj ty gim happy pride btw rip I’m a fruity little plannon today <3

- 🌱 Anon

Plannon it is then! ^^ lmao always a pleasure to receive a message from you. Feels like I have a penpal in the world somewhere. Apparently in my walls though so I hope you're still comfortable in there with how cold its getting again??? (last week we were at the >20C?? Now we're back at single digits???? What happened?????).

As for my Xisuma, maybe no tugging since he has some very sensitive hair roots but flowers are always welcome! (I still think he needs a haircut though)

I agree on your interpretation of the true meaning of HC and shall immediately add it to my dictionary lmao.

Actually I haven't really thought about Skizz all that much so I'm pretty interested in some headcanons about them. I don't really see much of Skizz in general I suppose.

I say that but for some reason I had no trouble hearing this sentence (‘look bitches I got ur man now he’s my man what u gonna do bout it <3’) in his voice so.. lol.

Happy pride as well plannon! go and be your fruity little self and have fun.

[terraxcloud]

Clerra hints in FF7 Rebirth so far

I have been wanting to continue writing more, but I was waiting for the script of Act 4 Chapter 7 Part 2 of DFFOO to release at dff.ooo, but that still hasn't happened...so I'll ignore it for now.

The demo footage from the Tokyo Game Show has arrived. I originally didn't expect anything, but it makes sense that the demo shows the flashback and Junon since they were shown in the trailers already.

Here's a list of general stuff followed by miscellaneous Clerra stuff (#7 is biggest):

Climbing is a part of this game.

You can swim in basically any source of water to reach islands.

Yuffie is recruited during the boss fight that involves Priscilla and it seems like the artificial respiration minigame will be done with Yuffie (?maybe?). They were playing it safe there I suppose.

A giant bird creature (i'll just call it "the condor") snatches one of the black cloaked figures. I feel there was always a hint that Zack should be snatched up by something bird-like and fall on some flowers thanks to what the WoFF DLC scene involving Serah showed (search it up on YouTube if you want) and the fact that the condor appeared before Zack's scene in Intergrade's ending (which is why I mention it). There is a little more information about birds and Shinra involving the "Fonadu" enemy. Also, Fort Condor is now an island (it's may be important for Clerra, but that's a long story).

Priscilla is similar to Rikku. In fact, I felt she was so similar that I can literally just say that my crazy theory has been proven right. Rikku is designed after Yuffie and Priscilla, which is why both of them are now involved in the same scene and already know each other. It may not seem important now, but if Rikku appears in DFFOO, it will be. Plus, it's "lore"...in a way. My original theory started with why the concept art of Priscilla looked similar to Rikku (specifically the hair) and why in X-2 Rikku says she once had a crush on someone which was never ever figured out to be anyone except one guy which couldn't possibly be (yes, it's actually Cloud, thanks Nomura).

Rhonda, the mayor for the town under Junon has clothing that is similar in composition to Terra. She has the pink cloak "scarf" around her neck, interesting earrings, a ponytail, and a piece of clothing wrapped around her waist mimicking Terra's sash. She has a tattoo on her left arm as well, but I didn't know what it was. I'd assume there'll be something involving her with this Clerra storyline in Cloud's timeline. The hair bangs of Tifa, Priscilla, and Yuffie are also similar...they may be imitating Cloud's hair in a way. This isn't a new thing since Terra's hair in Dissidia (2008) also imitates Cloud hair (it's very subtle, but you won't un-see it once you notice it and how it goes away in Dissidia NT). Another character will likely be Kyrie in Zack's timeline (and maybe Jessie again if she exists). Priscilla's hair and clothing look more like Terra's now.

The synergy attack with Cloud & Aerith ("Firework Blade") looks like Terra's "Riot Blade" attack from FF6 (three energy beams are shot from Cloud's sword)...however, the most important detail is extremely important. The attack has the 5-petal flower spammed into existence. This flower is always found on Terra's hints: the flowers on Miss Folia's shirt, a promotional Dissidia Arcade image with Cloud, Terra, and Onion Knight, on the New Year 2020 card with mouse Terra, and on Yuffie's clothing in Advent Children. I think this flower is one of the many 5-petaled ones on Terra's leggings.

So, it looks like Riot Blade, and it only has this specific flower involved in it...this is the most important Clerra clue so far, period, in anything. Sure, it could just be a five petaled flower because it's Aerith's attack, but the main difference is that it is MANY. The Yuffie flower hint is very old, btw.

Now, about Zack's timeline...

In Zack's timeline, Elmyra hints that the world may be "ending". The tornado that destroys and incapacitates the others in that timeline is involved in the end of FF7 with Meteor coming close. The case may be that Zack's timeline is Sephiroth winning.

With Sephiroth's words at the end of the trailer, this means that instead of "going to another world", he will bring two worlds together (FF6 and FF7's worlds). This is hinted at in Opera Omnia where worlds actually are merged into one ALL THE TIME, although Sephiroth mentions he wants to travel to other worlds. It could be that Terra (and maybe others) will just appear in the world, but it seems a bit silly to think of it like that...for now (it was one of my original joke theories from early 2020).

Many people were surprised by what Sephiroth said about the Reunion being "worlds merging" and the general assumption is that the timelines are the worlds, but no one is anticipating anything related to Clerra despite all the hints that have been ignored.

The thing is, following the pattern, Cloud in his timeline is with Aerith doing the "FF7 game story". It makes sense that Zack would be doing the opposite thing with Terra in the "FF6 game story" that Cloud is missing from (as he's the original main character of FF6 and Zack was the originally planned "personality" of Cloud for FF7 before they decided on FF6 Cloud and made a big mystery on who's "the real Cloud").

I know that's hard for anyone to believe, but I guess you'll see for yourself...

Still, I don't know WHEN Terra will appear, but it's completely possible it will happen in Rebirth as all the puzzle pieces are set with Zack's timeline along with DFFOO chapter 4 is building up something and the hints are getting too strong for them to continue the secret for four or so more years. Also that Terra statue will be shipped soon that costs as much as a car...obviously, that can't be ignored (will it ship November 2023? I remember it being that.)

Many people like to focus on Cloud, Zack, and Sephiroth (theorists especially), but don't seem to notice that the three are distinctly tied to Terra, Aerith, and Jenova.

[etes-secrecy-post]

Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.

• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.

⚠️NEW RULE! (W/ BIGGER TEXT!)⚠️

⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️

• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.

⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️

😡 WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER LIKED & REBLOG MY SECRET POST! THIS IS FOR MY SECRET FRIENDS ONLY, NOT YOU! 😡

Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓

#OnThisDay: May 22nd, 2011

Title: Arche Nicole

Well, this is my first time that I draw Nicole Watterson (The Amazing World of Gumball) In an armored "Arche". 🙂

BTW: Happy late anniversary, TAWOG. Sorry, I haven't do anything by drawing TAWOG stuff. But, its "decent" to celebrate, nonetheless.

Arche Nicole Based on the: GNW-20000 Arche Gundam - [CLICK ME!]

Armaments: • GN Beam Saber[1] x 2 (mounted on her feet) • GN Buster Sword[1] (stored on her right arm) • GN Fang Container[1] x 2 (stored on her hips) • GN Fang[1] x 10 • GN Shield[1] (mounted on her left arm)

Special Equipment and Features: • Bit Control System

Optional Equipment: • JAGD Pack

Nicole Watterson - The Amazing World of Gumball © Cartoon Network, Ben Bocquelet Armor (Mobile Suit Gundam 00) - Gundam Series © SUNRISE, MBS

[joytraveler]

79. Death Master II: The Lord Of Death

This one has an appropriately awesome title sequence, showing the Death Master himself ("Alonzo" to our friends here) wielding his giant scythe atop a volcano with a storm spiraling above him! 

john_brown: this looks like the kind of video game that you have painted on your van

"Can you hear the soundtrack too because its really good, it's like Dragonstorm or one of those fantasy-metal bands.. Oh maybe we'll find out what happened to his parents? Remember they were dead and he couldn't bring them back? Spoilers." 

ButterflyDefect: Right, you could only reverse deaths YOU caused, it turned out

The game begins with a scrolling text: 

YOUR REIGN AS DEATH MASTER WAS A REIGN OF PEACE. 

HAVING SEEN SO MUCH DESPAIR ON YOUR WAY TO THIS THRONE, YOU BROUGHT KINDNESS AND WARMTH THAT NO FALLEN SOUL HAD EVER ENCOUNTERED BEFORE. 

YET CRUELTY STILL LIVES, MAKING DIRE PLANS OF ITS OWN... 

DueyDecimal: Still "You", huh? We never learn Alonzo's real name?ButterflyDefect: It's kind of nice the DEATH MASTER is actually a good guy for a change aroseahorseboy flings Butterfly into a giant blender hey i'm nice but we gotta have refreshments, y'know

DueyDecimal: BTW, isn't "Death Master 2: The Lord Of Death" sort of like "Sonic The Hedgehog 2: A Hedgehog Named Sonic"?

"Maybe the Master and the Lord are two different Death guys? It's got to be a pretty big jobs, maybe we're just like the regional manager now" 

The text crawl fades away, to the same image from the title screen... and then suddenly Alonzo is kicked off his high perch, and someone in black and maroon robes grabs the scythe from his hand as he tumbles. "Now I am The Death Master!" it shouts, in a speech bubble. 

"Oh fuckbuckets, that was was quick! HEY, that's, you gotta boss fight me for that, you dweeb!" 

pigbarrel: oh. so it's more of a death usurper HNV: I never thought of the semantics, but 'master' does seem to be a higher rank than 'lord', to me

The game proper begins with Alonzo hitting the ground running! You're unarmed to start with, but this game gives you the power to take weapons from armed enemies and power them up by defeating enemies in combos. A tiny spear that Bea appropriates from a squat little goblin soon grows into a massive lance that can puncture things from across the screen! 

"HWAAA!! Gimme that mace, I wanna see what that turns into next!" It's a good fit for the first boss she encounters too, a giant skeletal turtle! Eventually she manages to flip it on its back and smash its underside! "I AM BEATRIX, THE DEATH MISTRESS! THE "X" IS FOR THE LITTLE Xs YOU'RE GONNA HAVE ON YOUR EYES FROM.. from being dead." 

john_brown: the way your weapons grow reminds me of the sword of omens from thundercats DueyDecimal: ...Am I the only one who sees the Freudian imagery there? ButterflyDefect: War is a long list of big stabbing, thrusting things Syrupentine: hehehehehehehehe.... peenz0rs pigbarrel: this is crime

The second stage is a ruined village, with frightened townspeople being tormented by the animal-headed monsters that seem to work for your enemy now. Surprisingly, halfway through the stage you come to something like a church, and there's a strange moment: the action all freezes, and suddenly there's a wedding happening, and you're the groom! 

HNV: ...okay waht

"Oh is this.. Are we.. are we doing a flashback?? Is that what this is?? Uggh this is going to be sad isn't it!" 

DueyDecimal: Of COURSE the sequel is actually a prequel!!

As the bride and groom come close to kiss, suddenly the lights go out-- and when they come back on, the groom is standing bloodied in a pile of victims, including both pairs of parents! And there's the old Death Master from the original game, exiting out the back door. 

Syrupentine: So he doesn't remember who killed his parents OR girlfriend... OR his girlfriend's parents? Llord_Kuruku: now that's just overkill

"Oh no.. no no NO!! Who woulda done this?! Why?? Why turn this blessed event into Super Grooms n' Ghosts??" 

Then it's back to the game, and chopping and hacking through the village and the monsters; the monsters seem more focused now, and will turn away from the villagers to attack Alonzo! 

HNV: I think everyone had a flashback, now all the monsters recognize you!

"So my family was murdered by the original DM, everyone blames Al because nobody trust the guy with a mustache, whatever you do, but then who.." 

pigbarrel: maybe death masters have families too?? so its like bowser jr. come to avenge his father john_brown: i wonder if it's a translation error that they don't just say 'grim reaper' or if this is supposed to be something different?

Finally comes the stage boss-- and of all places for this boss to attack you, it's right in front of your old house, the very place you came to at the end of the last game! At least it's a cool boss-- a roaring "hangman's tree" that chomps with its gnashing knothole mouth and swings dead bodies on nooses like nunchaku! 

"Stupid- Hgarrrgh, none of my weapons are working! This is why I don't go outside, trees are always doing this!!" 

Once she knocks down one of the bodies from the tree and claims its axe, however, the tide of battle turns in her favor! 

HNV: Axes and trees are natural enemies! ButterflyDefect: I, too, shall die clutching my axe in my hand. After smiting my final foes with my crushing solo

With a few heavy blows, the tree teeters, falls, and becomes a stump! Then there's another flashback... the stump becomes a young sapling, and the Death Master becomes a young Alonzo, shovel in hand, standing over the graves that were revealed at the end of the previous game. 

Syrupentine: why do you do this to us again, game :___;

"It's powered by our emotional suffering" Bea tries to press start but of course it's an unskippable cutscene! "And so from that day on.. he decided.. he really hated skeletons. OH and also probably vengeance." 

Alonzo slowly skulks away, shovel in hand, head hung... And then a shadowy figure appears from behind the tombstones – the same figure that threw him off the mountain at the beginning! 

Syrupentine: ooooh, intrigue

to be continued

[darkened-writer]

imagine| Sapphire Gaze

summary || “You remind me of sapphires.”

request || Could write a fanfic for Aemond where he and his cousin (Daemons daughter) are in love with each other and at the family dinner everybody can sense that they have a special bond, much to Daemons despise. Just some angst and fluff please🫶🏻Btw. I absolutely love your writings. :))

pairing || Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon! Reader

word count || 9,472

warnings || Minor angst, some fluff, Aemond needs a hug.

notes || This took me SO LONGGG, so I hope it was worth it haha. Enjoy!!!

The first time you met him was at your mother’s funeral.

Everyone was amongst themselves, chatting and dwelling on the memory of Laena Velaryon. Your sisters pouting and wallowing in their sadness while sitting upon a bench. Yourself, however, decided it would be better to stick by your father whom was near Viserys Targaryen; looming like a vulture seeking dinner. 

You were always told, “You’re just like your father.” or “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” All in regards to your attitude and how well you swing your sword. You mirrored Daemon’s skills as if you were his long lost twin, and that worried plenty of people, especially Alicent Hightower.

“I’m old enough to notice your gazes towards Rhaenyra, Father.”

The man let his eyes leave Rhaenyra’s figure and settle on yours, your arms folded under your cloak. It was disappointing body language yet your face was upturned with amusement.

“Old enough? You’re just two years older than your sisters, my oldest.”

“I may be good at fighting, Father. But, I also have brains.”

He chuckles and turns to look at Viserys who was also looking at him.

The winds, however, pulled your gaze to a silver-haired boy looking at you from across the way, in a similar way that Rhaenyra was looking at your father. With admiration, a sense of longing, and yet you only knew the boy's name and nothing more.

Aemond Targaryen.

His eyes were scanning your figure, almost curious of who you are. What your origins were, but your train of thought was immediately interrupted. 

“Your girls are the very image of their mother.” You turn to look at your uncle, the King, “A comfort and an anguish, as I well remember. The gods can be cruel.”

A firm pause, before your father answered, “It seems they’ve been especially cruel to you.”

The King finds the comment humorous, when normally it would be taken as an insult.

“Yes…” The tension was palpable between the two, so you speak.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Uncle.” You bow your head a bit and the man cracks a sincere smile.

“Y/N! My fierce little Niece, It’s great to see you also, even if under such dire circumstances.”

“Agreed, Uncle.” His eyes find Daemon’s again, “You should return with us to King’s Landing. It’s time that you came home.”

“Pentos is my home…and that of my children.”

“Daemon… I know we’ve had our differences, but let them pass with the years. There’s a place for you in my court if that’s something you should need.”

“I need…” His mouth moves to say ‘Rhaenyra’, but he stops himself, “nothing.” The silence hits once again but before Viserys could say anything else, your father walks away quickly.

“Brother…”

You place a comforting hand on your Uncle’s shoulder before walking away also towards the stairs to head toward the beach. The sky was a pleasant shade of gray, mirroring upon the shiny sea water that called to your very soul. The Velaryon blood coursed through your veins, drawing you towards the sea but the fire was just as mesmerizing. 

The sand finally touched your boots, sounding a gentle crushing noise. The waves waning against the rocks, sea foam catching on the grains of sand. It was all too peaceful for such a saddening day, but somehow you knew that the sea took your mother with open arms to become a part of it once again.

“You remind me of sapphires.”

The voice pulled you from your concentration, eventually connecting a face to the voice. Aemond Targaryen stood with his cloak flowing in the high winds, hair also meticulously moving in tandem. 

“Sapphires? Such flattery should only come between those who know each other deeply.”

“Well, I’d like to get to know you better, cousin.”

You tilt your head, “Ah cousin, should’ve known we were related based on the hair color.” Your hand finds the pin holding your locks upward and slide it out, letting the silver cascade down your shoulders and flow to the side. Aemond’s eyes watched your hair with great interest, rousing a laugh from the bottom of your stomach.

“Are you always this curious and interested in hair?”

He stifles a cough, “Erm– yes?”

“You liar–”

You quickly move past him, gently shoving him with a laugh that sounded like pure heaven to the boy's ears. You seemed to be in a playful mood, so the boy chased after you, laugh intertwining with yours. And what a true joy it was to meet someone in the family that didn’t completely anger you.

-

Hours later, after departing from Aemond, you were safe and warm within the covers of the bed you truly loved. Your sisters were asleep, subtly snoring until they were awoken by a familiar roar. Vhagar, Mother’s dragon who wasn’t supposed to even be flying or out this late at night. It worried the two twins, so they did only what they were taught in an odd situation, they woke their older sister. 

“Y/N…Y/N… Y/N– wake up…!”

Your shoulders were being shook until numbness, but you eventually let your eyes fall open and settled on Baela.

“Mm…? What is it, sister?”

“Someone stole Vhagar.”

That sets the alarm bells in your mind off, “What?!”

Quickly, you put your dress and boots on and settled the dagger your father had made for you under your gown. Telling Baela and Rhaena to wake Jacaerys and Lucerys and meet you where Vhagar was going to land. And eventually, you all met up to investigate what was going on. Though, you held your sisters back behind you so you could go first in case of an attack. The distant crash of Vhagar landing made you jump, but alas you waited to see who was riding the Dragon that was to remain unclaimed.

“Jace, what are we doing?”

Yourself and the group of children all quieted down at the sight of Aemond.

“It’s him.”

“It’s me.”

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon.”

“Your mother’s dead. And Vhagar has a new rider now.” Venom was seething through his mouth, and you winced at his way with words, harsh and unruly.

“She was mine to claim.”

“Then you should’ve claimed her! Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride. It would suit you.”

Rhaena slipped from behind you in rage, going to grapple and fight Aemond but was quickly thrown to the side and to the ground. Baela couldn’t stand to see her sister hurt, so the girl took her turn, throwing a punch and landing it, but ultimately getting the same force of a punch back, knocking her down. 

“Come at me again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!”

You leapt to check on Rhaena to see if the boy had hurt her, while Jacaerys began to throw punches himself. With a gentle caress, you wiped the blood from your sister’s nose, feeling Jacaerys fall to the ground and the shrill shriek of Lucerys. It was chaos, but in spite of Aemond’s meticulous strength, you helped Rhaena up and she went immediately to beating Aemond up with Baela and Jacaerys. 

Blood was all over the boy’s face, while you took the liberty of staying out of the conflict and helping Lucerys up from the dirty ground. 

It didn’t last though, Jacaerys was kicked aside, the girls thrown, but Lucerys lunged anyways; getting put into a chokehold. Everyone tensed up as Aemond grabbed a stone from the ground and held it up, your heart dropping to your stomach. Was he going to kill your cousin in cold blood?

“You will die screaming in flames just as your father did! Bastards.”

“My father’s still alive.” Lucerys wailed out with a bloodied face and salty tears, “He doesn’t know, does he, Lord Strong?”

Aemond’s tone became condescending, and within that rage, Jacaerys grabbed the dagger that laid upon your thigh while you were ultimately distracted.

“Jace!”

You grabbed your sisters and held them back with eyes of fear, watching as Aemond threw Lucerys to fall to the ground, but Jacaerys caught him and threw him softer to land. The boy swung the dagger you once had, missing and getting struck by the stone Aemond wielded. The dagger landed near Lucerys, who grew strength in the moment he had of being defeated. And as Aemond had his arm held up with the stone, ready to strike Jacaerys down, he looked to you and your sisters; and you shook your head in disbelief. 

What happened to the kind boy you had met on the beach?

Sand and then the slash and scream that accompanied it.

Aemond cried into the sandy, night air, clutching his face in great pain. Blood pooled and spilled from his left eye, slipping through his fingers like wine being poured from a bottle. You felt a twinge of guilt for not breaking up the fight, but you knew you’d done right by keeping close to your sisters. Because they were most important to you, even if the boy who was now seething in pain was kind to you once.

-

“How could you allow such a thing to happen?”

The king was chastising the knight in front of him, and you let your eyes come to Aemond sat upon a chair, having his eye cleaned by a Maester. Alicent Hightower, the queen, sat next to the boy with a vastly worried expression. A mother’s worry for her son, her boy.

“Who had the watch?”

“Young prince was attacked by his own cousins, Your Grace.”

You held your sisters in a huddled hug, their blood coated on your fingers as you had tried to wipe their faces clean. Though, it had just ended with red smudges on their skin and crimson tips for your fingers. 

“You swore oaths to protect and defend my blood!”

“I’m very sorry, Your Grace. The Kingsguard has never had to defend princes from princes, Your Grace–”

“That is no answer!”

Alicent’s voice chimed in, “It will heal, will it not, maester?” She sounded desperate.

“The flesh will heal. But the eye is lost, Your Grace.”

Alicent and Viserys seemingly reeled at the news of their son’s eye now being lost, and you felt bile rising in your throat. 

“Where were you?” Alicent began to antagonize her son, “Me?”

The answer wasn’t satisfactory, so the woman slapped him and he quivered in fear at the anger on her face. 

“Ow! What was that for?”

“That was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool.” The Hightower woman was seething in anger, a sight that was rare and never welcomed. But before anyone else could possibly speak or do anything, doors opened and Corlys and Rhaenys rushed down the stairs.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Y/N, Baela, Rhaena! What happened? What happened?” The older woman immediately embraced your sisters, pulling you into the hug roughly but with care. Corlys went front and center while Rhaenys was comforting your sisters and rubbing your shoulder in hopes of easing you. The grand doors opened with a creak and Rhaenyra Targaryen came waltzing in with a face stricken with intense, motherly worry, but what was odd was your father was trailing behind her; making eye contact with you before leaning against the doorway to watch the commotion. 

“Jace? Luke!” She rushed to kneel in front of them, trying to assess the damage of Lucerys’s nose. 

“Show me. Show me.” 

His small hand moved from his nose, and a fresh gush of blood fell.

“Who did this?”

“They attacked me!”

“He attacked Baela!”

“He broke Luke’s nose!”

The children continued to shout and make their own arguments and claims of what had happened, “He stole my mother’s dragon!”

“Enough.”

“He was gonna kill Jace! I didn’t do anything!”

“Enough–”

“It should be my son telling the tale!” Alicent now joined the children in their chorus of cries and shouts, until–

“Silence!”

Instantaneous silence at the King’s yell, Jace leaned down to his mother’s ear to whisper something that made her face go pale as she rose. Must’ve been the phrase that started the physical altercation, ‘Bastard’.

“Aemond…” The King made his way down the small bit of stairs ever so slowly, “I will have the truth of what happened. Now.”

“What else is there to hear? Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible.” Alicent chimed in, “It was a regrettable accident.” Rhaenyra argued.

“Accident? The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush. He meant to kill my son.”

“We had no idea it was your son whom was riding, Vhagar!”

Alicent’s gaze turned to you now, “Past conflicts have arisen between them and yet you had no idea it was Aemond?”

“No– and it was I who brought the blade, for protecting my sisters and cousins in case of danger.”

Alicent’s eyes rolled, “And you claim to be oh so high and mighty now, protecting family–”

“It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves. Vile insults were levied against them.” Rhaenyra interrupted the Queen from continuing.

Viserys’ perked up, “What insults?”

“The legitimacy of my sons’ birth was put loudly to question.”

“What?”

“He called us bastards.”

The room went silent, even a drop of wine could sound across the room.

“My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace. This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders.”

The boy peeked from the rather large chair he was sat upon, looking you directly in the eye as Rhaenyra spoke, sending a chill up your spine at the view of his now lost eye, bloody and bruised.

“Over an insult? My son has lost an eye.” Alicent’s hand roughly gestured to Aemond.

“You tell me, boy. Where did you hear this lie?”

“The insult was training yard bluster.” Alicent interrupted, “The lot of boys. It was nothing.”

“Aemond… I asked you a question.” A pause, before Alicent spoke once again, “Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The boys’ father? Perhaps he might have some say in the matter?”

“Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?”

“I do not know, Your Grace. I… could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk.” Your father was glancing at Rhaenyra with eyes you knew well, and your stomach felt like it was weighed down by stones. He was getting involved with his niece, on the day of your mother’s funeral.

“Entertaining his young squires, I would venture.”

No one laughed, not a single breath except for the hateful looks both Rhaenys and Corlys sent Alicent. Viserys was neglectful of the looks and continued his earlier conversation with his injured son.

“Aemond… look at me. Your king demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?”

Pregnant silence, before he spoke, “It was Aegon.”

“Me?” The other boy looked terrified, “And you, boy? Where did you hear such calumnies? Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!”

“We know, Father…” The room suddenly feels hotter, “Everyone knows. Just look at them.”

Most of everyone in the room peers at Rhaenyra and her sons, her hand laid on her youngest head, tears welling up in her beautiful eyes. Alicent visibly looked saddened, but you knew deep down she most likely felt satisfied about his answer, but the complete opposite could be said for Viserys.

“This interminable infighting must cease! All of you! We are family! Now, make your apologises and show good will to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it!”

The obviously sick and decrepit man, our king, began to walk away, his cane clicking against the ground abrupt against the awkward silence. Alicent looked appalled at her husband's words, tears in her eyes mirroring Rhaenyra.

“That is insufficient.” He turns around, “Aemond has been damaged permanently, My King. “Good will” cannot make him whole.”

“I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye.”

“No, because it’s been taken.”

“What would you have me do?”

“There is a debt to be paid. I shall have one of her son’s eyes in return. And if not her son’s, then the one who brought the blade in the first place.”

The room began to murmur, your eyes widening at her proposition. Rhaenys’s grip around you became tighter in her own worry.

“My dear wife…–”

“He is your son, Viserys. Your blood.”

“Do not… allow your temper to guide your judgment.” He shares brief eye contact with your father.

“If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston… bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon or Y/N Velaryon.”

“Mother!” The small boy shouts, and you turn to look at your father who looks more antsy than before, worried.

“Alicent…”

“The one you choose can choose which eye to keep, a privilege neither of them granted my son.”

“You will do no such thing.” Rhaenyra defended, beginning to look just as worried as your father; if not worse. 

“Stay your hand.”

“No, you are sworn to me!” She yells to Ser Criston, “As your protector, My Queen.”

A sense of relief washed over you, Alicent looking more and more disappointed by the second. 

“Alicent, this matter… is finished. Do you understand?” The king and queen share eye contact for a moment, before the king turns to leave the whole situation all together, but he must leave a brief message.

“And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s sons should have it removed.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Rhaenyra leans down to console her sons once again, yourself choosing to kiss the tops of your sisters’ heads, until chaos strikes. Alicent moved steady towards Rhaenyra with the blade Viserys usually carried at his side, looking like a woman on a mission, and various people began to shout which alerted her to the oncoming attack; catching Alicent’s arms in a grapple. Luke screamed in fear and you instantly huddled towards Baela and Rhaena to protect them, not noticing your father trying to get to you but being interrupted by Ser Criston.

“You’ve gone too far.”

“I? What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom , the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you please. Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again.”

“Release the blade, Alicent.” Her father spoke, but she did not listen.

“And now you take my son’s eye, and to even that, you feel entitled.”

“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you really are.” And with a push away, the blade penetrates Rhaenyra’s skin, conjuring up blood at her wrist that slips down, down, until the crimson liquid hits the marbled floor. Her face was open in shock at what had just happened, even Alicent looking shell-shocked at what she did. The blade in her hand tumbling down and hitting the floor to mirror the bloodshed. 

But, now Aemond was up from his seat, eyes turning to him instead of the commotion.

“Do not mourn me, Mother.” She looks at him, “It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye… but I gained a dragon. And Y/N was not at fault at all–”

You both look to each other, “She didn’t even try and hurt me, she stayed out of it, so bid her mercy…”

You let the corners of your mouth slide up in a thankful smile, and he only replies with a nod.

“This proceeding is at an end.”

Ser Criston releases your father, and he makes haste in reuniting with you and your siblings and Rhaenyra, looking at Alicent with the same gaze as the rest of your family, stern, dark, and direct.

-

Ten years have passed since that fateful night.

Baela had traveled to Driftmark to be a Ward for Rhaenys and Corlys, Rhaena deciding to stay with you to keep you company against the hoard of boys. Lucerys and Jacerys were handfuls in of themselves, despite their older age. But now you had little Joffrey and his two brothers to mess about and yell into the halls of Dragonstone. 

Your father and Rhaenyra had wed the morning after the night of bloodshed, happy and content within joining their two families, and Rhaenyra was now pregnant with yet another child after two younger boys with Daemon. You’d hope that they would be a girl.

Though, the peacefulness that was your home was breached by a letter sent by Baela, giving information about Corly’s brother challenging Lucerys’s legitimacy to the Driftmark throne. He was going to present it to the king in hopes of staking claim over Luke, which made Rhaenyra instantly angered by the audacity. And, that is when your parents decided that it would be best to travel back to the kingdom to make their own claim against Vaemond.

A ship ride and a carriage ride, and you were now arriving at the castle that held the man that weighed on your thoughts for a decade.

Aemond.

The boy saved you from losing an eye by claiming your innocence.

How would he look after ten years? Handsome? Stubborn like his mother? The question hung in your head until the carriage stopped and Rhaenyra sent you a small smile to tell you it was time to exit.

“All hail Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne and her royal consort, Prince Daemon Targaryen.”

The bells tolled, and the cold air drifted into the now open carriage as Rhaenyra exited promptly and with a regalness that only royalty could muster. Your father exited just after her without a care of how he looked, but you waited and helped Rhaena out of the carriage before letting Jacerys and Lucerys go and then yourself.

Your whole family was adorned in black and red colors, contrasting the green banners that were in the yard you stood in. Rhaena’s rather cold hand grasped yours, and you let your thumb absentmindedly rub against the frozen skin. She felt anxiety, it was only normal considering where you all stood.

Lord Caswell suddenly came from the entry doors with careful consideration, before coming to stand in front of Rhaenyra and bowing his head. His wrinkled hands found her soft ones, eyes speaking with care.

“Welcome back, Princess.”

“Lord Caswell.”

The man kindly escorted you all into the castle, and the decor change seemed to alarm both of your parents. The green, the religious symbols, it was all so daunting for two people who were raised here. Alas, you had to separate from them as they had duties to attend to, so you followed your brothers to the training yard, their black cloaks dragging behind them like crows feathers. 

Two knights were sparring, catching the eyes of the boys, however you were focused on the blades sat against wood planks to be picked up.

They were awfully shiny and caught your eye, the indistinct chatter all around you becoming void.

“See? I told you this would still be here. And you thought you could swing Criston’s morningstar. And you almost took your own head off.”

Lucerys grumbled beside you, looking at the weapons also as Jacerys rustled the boys’ hair, yet he was focused on the various people staring at you three with curious eyes. Jacerys noticed immediately, “What’s your problem?”

You picked up a shiny blade, twirling it in your grasp, “Everyone’s staring at us–”

“Hyah!” Jacerys tried to play, even smiling a bit but it was shut down by Lucerys’s sour attitude. 

“No one would question me being heir to Driftmark… if… if I looked more like Ser Laenor Velaryon than Ser Harwin Strong–”

You quickly dropped the sword and placed a hand on your brother’s shoulder, gathering his attention, “It doesn’t matter what they think.”

It seemed to ease him, before a crowd had gathered and cheering began, grunts from the middle of the crowd. Jacerys dragged you two immediately to whatever was going on, and the view shocked you.

A white-haired man brandished a shield and sword, moving swiftly towards the Dornish looking knight, taking a hit to his shield and causing the crowd to react with “ooo”’s and “ahh”’s. But the white-haired mystery was smart, he threw the shield to the side and began relentless swipes towards the knight, but he dodged anyways, now revealing the face of the man.

Aemond–

This alarmed Lucerys, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. He moved meticulously, like a spider on a wall, fast and deadly. His moves were awe-inspiring, and every jab of his sword made your heartbeat faster and faster; until the pointy end was at the knight’s neck and the crowd applauded.

“Well done, my Prince. You’ll be winning tourneys in no time.”

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys. Nephews, Niece… have you come to train?”

His one eye was wide and awake, an unnerving chill being sent up your spine just by his glance. But before any of you three could reply, a guard shouted.

“Open the gate!”

There was a large creak before your relative, Vaemond, waltzed through with his battalion, making a huge deal out of his arrival. Until you feel a hand grasp yours and pull you back and away from the crowd. The hand was warm and inviting, callouses from sword handling prominent but the veins in the arms were so very noticeable. 

He was pulling you fast towards the library, not even giving you a second to rest before the library doors shut and his gaze was on you once again. His singular eye wandered your entire figure, starting from your face, down to your neck, your chest, your waist, legs, and then back up. He hummed a content, “hmmm”, before speaking.

“My– how you’ve grown, Niece…”

“Could say the same to you, Aemond.”

He circled you now, like a shark circling blood in the ocean, but your desire was probably ten times that. You missed him even after only knowing each other for a day, and it scared you; how much you wanted to kiss him, bite his neck, or nibble on his ear. The possibility of hearing the low, guttural noises of pleasure from him was surfacing in your mind.

You hoped whatever god or gods there were that he couldn’t read your mind right now.

The eyepatch slung on his head looked to be made of fine leather, of course made by someone of exceptional skill and yet, the man most likely saw himself as a cripple due to the loss of his eye. His hair was long and flowed down his back almost like a ravenous river, uncontrollable and wild. What brought out a slice of curiosity from you though was the blue glimmer from under the eyepatch he adorned, did he really stick a gem into his eye socket?

“You still remind me of sapphires.”

“Such flattery should only come between those who know each other deeply, Aemond–”

He smirks, lips upturning, as if remembering the very same day you both had met and spoke. Of course, it was hard to forget you, and the way you didn’t join your siblings in crippling him. You were merciful to him, yet, you were known to have the same anger and rage boiling in you as your father, Daemon. And after these ten years that had passed, there was never a quiet moment where he wasn’t pondering about you, your whereabouts, or how you might have aged and come into your own body.

And you sure had matured in all the right places.

“What did you hope to achieve by pulling me into the library?”

Were you hoping to get a rise out of him? Because the palpable tension of ten years was straining like a rope at its breaking point. About to snap.

“Privacy, mostly, Niece.”

He stood firmly in front of you, now closer than he previously was but just far enough to where you could feel the lingering touch of his hand. His fingers were long, slender, and strong; built for sword fighting and taking down armies of men. He was stronger than he looked. His hand trailed up your arm, settling just under your ear within the crease, cradling your cheek longingly. His gaze mirrored that of when he first saw you, adoring and curious. How is it that such a violent man could stoop into a passive state around a woman he cares for, admires and cherishes.

“You’ve gone soft, Aemond. Where is that daring sword fighter I just saw outside?”

“Even a man as violent as direwolves would falter under the eyes of the woman he loves.”

“And you love me?”

“Of course, I do… ever since we were kids. Ever since the day I lost my eye. I gained a dragon and a person worth fighting for.”

His thumb stroked the skin of your cheek, “Do you feel the same, Sapphire…?”

Before he could even utter another word, your lips were on his.

-

You didn’t see Aemond the rest of the day after the shared kiss.

He had duties to attend to and Daemon had called upon you for your sword training, which he always let you handle Dark Sister since you would be the one to inherit the blade. A powerful symbol and an even swifter blade then the dagger you’d been carrying since you were a kid.

The same dagger that took out Aemond’s eye.

The guilt of even taking the blade in the first place to the cavern was still apparent in your older age, but even your sisters liked to assure you that it was the right call.

You were their protector. Their older sister and through marital laws, could be the heir to the Iron throne if Rhaenyra deemed it so.

The oldest of all your siblings, you were also the fiercest, yet the most gentle.

‘The Realms Essence’, you’d heard in villages.

‘She embodies love and hate, the wind and the flame.’

Yet, you were always drawn to the sea and the color of sapphire blue.

-

The next day was the day of defending Lucerys’s claim to the throne of Driftmark, his birthright and exactly what Corlys’ would have wanted.

Rhaenyra awoke you in the morning, carrying a red and black dress with a blue dragon sutured up the back. It was the color of your dragon, Bessoarth, The Nocturnal. The glimmering yellow of the eyes of the dragon drew you in as your mother helped you put on the dress, smoothing out any creases and beginning to braid your hair in a Dragon riders’ style.

She had said she used to wear her hair the exact same way when she was younger, and a swell of pride bundled up in your heart.

You missed your true mother, Laena, but the attention and love from Rhaenyra brought new light to your inner child.

Eventually, you and your whole family were gathered in the sacred room that held the Iron Throne. The crowds chattering about whatever came to mind but all was put silent as Otto Hightower began to speak and start the meeting.

“Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.” He takes a seat on the throne.

“The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.”

Your relative walks up to speak his truth, while you immediately tried to find Aemond’s gaze, once locking, a smile arose on his lips that didn’t go unnoticed by a certain someone. 

“My Queen.  My Lord Hand.”

Alicent looks at Vaemond, “The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’s closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins.”

“As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon–. If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition.”

Rhaenyra was right in her correct interruption of Vaemond, yet Alicent Hightower interrupted her immediately.

“You will have chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.”

The tensions between the two formal friends was sharp and unyielding, but to make matters worse, Ser Vaemond came with a rebuttal to Rhaenyra.

“What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn’t recognize it.” Rhaenyra nods to herself, “This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.” The man lets his eyes land on Lucerys, which you firmly reply with shoving the boy slightly behind you, looking Vaemond in the eyes with haste. How dare he look at him with such satisfied eyes, who did he think he was? 

“My Queen, My Lord Hand.” He was an ass kisser, that much was obvious. “This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor… the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond.”

He sent one last glance at your family before taking his place once again. 

“Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.”

She took firm steps to the front, holding her wrist with a certain amount of anxiety that was only a bit noticeable. But even in her worries, she gave off a sense of knowing it would all be okay somehow. 

“If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly twenty years ago, in this very–”

A noticeable creak sounded throughout the hall, taking everyone's gaze to the grand doors behind. The almost toppled over body of your Uncle came firmly to enter the meeting, a golden mask clad on the right side of his face. His white hair was sparse and thin, just about all of it gone and yet his head still held the crown with delight. His cane clicked on the cobblestone ground, and you couldn’t help but notice the small smile on Rhaenyra’s face.

Her father was here to save the day.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

The room bowed their heads to the King who would die being known for the kindness of his heart, and the love he held for his family. A truly noble man.

He moved slowly and with a limp, but kept his gaze on his only child, knowing what he had to do, and he would not fail. 

“I will sit the throne today.”

“Your Grace…”

The determination your Uncle exhibited was noteworthy and brought a great comfort to you, knowing the bloodline you stem from ties into a man so oddly heroic, even in his last days.

Through his difficulty to climb up to his lofty seat, the crown on his head fell with a thud which prompted yourself and your father to try and aid him.

Daemon held Viserys and helped him to the throne and you had the honor of placing the crown back onto his head. Even after bickering and arguments, the brothers knew they would always have each other, even if one were to pass. And you gave your Uncle an adoring gaze and a loving smile, before joining your family once again.

“I must… admit… my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present… who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’s wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

“Indeed, Your Grace.”

The whole room peered keenly at the older woman, herself stepping forward with her black grown dragging against the ground behind her.

“It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son… Lucerys Velaryon.” Rhaenyra perked up, “His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’s granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

Baela looked to be smiling a bit, Alicent shaking her head to herself as if in disapproval. 

“Well…” Viserys began, “The matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucery Vvelaryon of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.”

He wheezed after his proclamation, Rhaenys rejoining Baela and Vaemond, staring daggers into Rhaenyra, making a ‘tch’ sound.

“You break law… and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir.” He steps up to speak once again, “Yet you dare tell me… who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.”

“”Allow it”? Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

The man turns and points at Lucerys, face drawn up in a flame like anger, “That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine.”

You draw Lucerys back behind you, Rhaenyra turning and looking him in the eyes. 

“Go to your chambers. You have said enough.” She looks to Vaemond with pleading eyes, not wanting to argue over something so realistically small. However, Viserys decides to chime in again. 

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you… are no more than the second son of Driftmark.”

“You… may run your house as you see fit… but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides.” His venom laced eyes turned to our family once again, “And gods be damned… I will not see it ended on the account of this–” He pauses.

Daemon seeks the words Vaemond wishes to utter and says, “Say it.”

The whole room seemingly freezes, the air thin, but Vaemond couldn’t restrict his tongue.

“Her children… ARE BASTARDS. And she… is… a whore.”

The crowd stirs with gasps and while Viserys tries to rise, you put a comforting hand on Rhaenyra's shoulder.

“I…” The king pulls his dagger from under his cloak, “will have your tongue for that.”

But before anything could even happen, the sound of a sword being swung erupted and Vaemond Velaryon’s top half of his head fell to the ground, soon following his body. Everyone gasped and Alicent pulled Haelena into a hug, knowing the view troubled her. Rhaenyra was shocked but even you knew your father would not let those words go without punishment. 

“He can keep his tongue.”

“DISARM HIM!”

“No need.” Daemon quickly cleaned his blade with his cloak and sheathed it, Aemond now meeting your wandering eyes with one thing on his mind. 

You certainly inherited your father’s flare.

The King fell back into the throne, Alicent calling for the maesters and Rhaenyra rushing to his side to check on him. The dagger sheathed at your side seemed to burn and itch every second, yet that didn’t even disturb you. Aemond’s almost excited gaze towards Daemon is what truly did you in.

-

With the day just about gone, it was time for dinner.

The whole family, including Alicent’s children, were all to attend. You dreaded the ordeal simply by the fact that you knew trouble would most definitely stir up. It was bound to happen with the tensions rising between Rhaenyra and Alicent, not to mention Aemond’s anger towards Jace and Luke. The only person who seemed to not even care about what was going on was Haelena, as she was sipping her wine and smiling to herself, muttering phrases that made anyone shiver. You felt bad for her.

The doors opened to the dining room and Viserys was carried in, everyone standing in greeting to his royal majesty. He had looked tired, exhausted even, and that saddened your heart. 

The sadness could never really last with Aemond staring into your very soul any chance he could, wearing a lustful smile, mind wandering to where the kiss prior could have led. The feelings stirring in your heart were that of love, the very thing that slays duty. A dangerous thing.

Once Viserys was finally seated, everyone else followed suit. His lowly eye looking around the whole table, taking in the sight of his family together, even if torn all the same.

“How good it is… to see you all tonight… together.”

His adoring gaze landed on Rhaenyra, before Alicent spoke.

“Prayer before we begin?”

“Yes.”

An odd thing that your mother had pointed out to you, was that Alicent was never religious during the time they spent together in their youth. The randomness of the religion she was now devout to had caused her great confusion, though she was not one to deny someone the freedom of worship.

“May the mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest.”

Your father sent a playful gaze at you, which you dismissed with an eye roll towards his attitude. 

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young princes… and their betrothed.”

Aemond’s eye was on you once again at the mention of betrothal, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Hear, hear!”

Everyone raised their glasses, the bitter wine wrapping around your tongue and slid down your throat with an aftertaste that was oddly sweet. The aroma had accents of earthy tones that reminded you of the sea, your home. Aegon’s whispers to Jace were heard but not acknowledged by you as you enjoyed your wine.

“Let us toast as well Prince Lucerys… the future Lord of the Tides.”

“Hear, hear.”

“You’ll be great.”

Aemond’s lingering stare towards Lucerys was dark, one of extreme distaste, which reflected directly how he felt towards Jacerys also. But not you, never you, you were a person with an attitude that mirrored the harsh waves. Yet, you were delicate and sweet like his favorite fruit, the blueberry. 

“You look beautiful, my daughter.”

Daemon laid a hand upon yours that sat on the table, smiling at you proudly.

“Thank you, Father. Rhaenyra has helped me pick the most beautiful of dresses. I owe it to her.”

The lovely couple now peer at each other lovingly before your Uncle rose up to speak, back hunched and breath coming out rugged and wild. Even while his face was covered, it was obvious his health was declining by the second. 

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world… yet grown so distant from each other… in the years past.” His hand reaches up, grasping the gold mask and unclasping it, making you tense up immediately from surprise. 

A skull. His skull. 

The right side of his face had sunken in and molded to the bones of his face, the eye gone forever like his son’s. It was a horrible sight, but knowing that the man who had to endure it was your darling uncle made your heart ache.

“My own face… is no longer a handsome one… if indeed it ever was. But tonight… I wish you to see me… as I am. Not just a king… but your father. Your brother. Your husband… and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems… walk for much longer among you.” The mask is dropped to the table with a loud CLUNK, “Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown… then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”

Viserys shrinks back into his seat, being helped by Alicent who assists him in wiping his mouth, Rhaenyra now abruptly standing and holding her cup up. Her foot visibly shook from under the table, “I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen.”

The two women looked each other in the eyes, Alicent’s gaze softening a bit at those words before she continued. 

“I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood… more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with… unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude… and my apology.”

She takes a quiet seat, setting her cup down, and Alicent responds.

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We are both mothers… and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow.” She stands, ringed hand grasping her cup, “I raise my cup to you… and to your house. You will make a fine queen.”

Rhaenyra and Alicent are both smiling to themselves as Alicent finally sits, and oddly enough, Rhaenyra raises her cup once again and looks to you now with a soft gaze, one of a mother.

“I’d also like to announce… Here and now, since Y/N is now my oldest child by law, I want to grant her the title as heir to the Iron Throne after me. A title very deserving of such a smart and beautiful woman, I loved your mother and she’d be very proud of how far you have come.” She raises the cup higher, everyone now doing so except Aegon whom was too busy drowning himself in booze.

“Hear, hear!” 

Daemon clasps a proud hand on your shoulder, but your eyes gravitate to Aemond who tilted his cup to you with a smirk before taking a rather large gulp. A sign of respect perhaps? 

The positive feelings were always to be interrupted, with Aegon now up and refilling his cup of wine. He was whispering to your sister, not loud enough for you to hear until Jace slammed his fists into the table, seat skittering as he rose quite quickly. 

Jace clears his throat, but the tensions didn’t stop rising, Aemond now stood and eyeing up Jacerys, almost mentally telling him to stand down. And instead of attacking Aegon, Jace raised his cup to toast, patting Aegon on the shoulder rather awkwardly.

“To Prince Aegon and… Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s good health, dear uncles.” He takes a swift swig of his wine and gives Aegon another pat on the shoulder for the second time, making the man audibly groan, “To you as well.”

Aemond slowly shuffled back down into his seat and Helaena muttered a phrase under her breath while messing about with a thing in her clutches, “Beware the beast beneath the boards…”

“Well done, my boy.”

Helaena stands a bit off kilter, raising her wine glass, “I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you… except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

A bit of laughter choruses from the two families and the bright girl takes her seat once again, smiling wider than before. She was definitely your favorite between her and Aegon.

“Let us have some music.”

The prospect of hearing gentle tunes eased the anxiety of being sat at the table, and you visibly relaxed, holding the hand that Rhaenyra had held out to you, tightly. Jacerys stood up and excused himself before offering a hand to Helaena to dance, the girl taking his hand with a faint enthusiasm. Aegon, however, looked offended at that fact, yet the two still jumped around merrily with large smiles on their faces, putting a smile on your face also. 

What shocked you was the tap on the shoulder you received, followed by the piercing eye of the man you adored staring down at you.

“Would you care to dance, Princess…?”

You hesitated at first, feeling your father’s eyes barreling into your head, yet your hand found Aemond’s, his fingers gently cusping over yours as he guided you to rise from your seat and stand near your brother and aunt.

One hand stayed clasped in his, the other on his rather broad shoulder as his free hand slid down to greet your waist with a singular touch. He guided the whole waltz, taking the liberty of spinning you and adding flare to the dance, making you giggle and laugh out into the night, all to the displeasure of your father, intensely watching the whole interaction with distaste. Yet, your uncle only watched you two adoringly, seeing himself and Aemma within you and Aemond. A tough man and his adoring wife, a misunderstood boy and the one who understands him the most.

Eventually, the man who held your very heart in his palm guided you back to your seat, kissing your hand ever so kindly before taking his seat, grabbing his chalice to take a hefty gulp of wine. Rhaenyra looked fairly happy, face turned upward and eyes sparkling with child-like wonder that she had lost ages ago. Alicent looked just about the same, smiling at her. It felt… good, and normal, and like home, to be with all the people in your family.

The moment was cut short when Viserys began to groan in pain and Alicent called for the guards to escort him back to his chambers for rest, your father’s face dropping at seeing his brother in pain. Yet, servants came in with various food items as the king was just leaving, a finely cooked pig being set in front of Aemond. 

This aroused a laugh out of Lucerys, who was looking Aemond in the eye while openly laughing, the music coming to a stop once Aemond slammed a fist into the wooden table. His thin and wiry fingers curled atop the wine chalice, raising it up.

“Final tribute.”

Discomfort surfaced over every other emotion you felt, and you pleaded with him through desperate eye contact which seemingly egged him on further. 

“To the health of my nephews: Jace… Luke… and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…”

Alicent almost seems to stiffen, eyeing up her son, while his eyes bounced between his nephews and you. He was going to say it, you knew it, you felt it in your very heart of hearts, so you braced for the outrage.

“Hm… strong.”

“Aemond–”

“Come… let us drain our cups to these three…” Aegon raises his cup, “Strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again–”

“Why?” He gazes at Jace, “‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?”

The two boys strided towards each other quickly and Jace quickly swung a punch towards Aemond, striking him in the face. It sounded like Lucerys was also getting in a squabble, but you were only focused on Aemond being okay and Jace being unscathed. 

You quickly rose and went to grab Jace to separate him and Aemond, but Aegon took the moment to let go of Lucerys and throw you into the table with him, causing your sisters to shout loudly and stand up, ready to defend you. 

The guards quickly ended the fighting, but not before Aemond shoved Jace down to the ground with a chuckle. 

Daemon was quick to help you from the table, holding you with loving arms of a father who cared heavily for his first-born daughter and future heir to the throne after Rhaenyra. Your eyes were on Aemond, who seemed satisfied with the petty squabbles, and even though he wasn’t looking at you, he could feel how hurt you were, like it was raining upon him from the very skies. 

“Why would you say such a thing before these people?”

“I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother.” Daemon looks at you with eyes of suspicion due to your lingering stare towards Aemond, “Mm, though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.” 

Jace lunges for Aemond, but you step up, “Wait, wait!”

You hold your arms up to keep distance between Aemond and Jace, everyone's face contorting in confusion. Rhaenyra excuses her sons to go to bed and you keep eye contact with Aemond. 

“You went too far–”

“Y/N–”

“You went too far and you know it, Aemond. I thought you… cared for me.. Enough to at least not claim my brothers are bastards.”

His face contorts to one of guilt, looking almost sorry for even causing such trouble. His eyes suddenly look behind you, and you know your father is most likely staring arrows into Aemond. 

“Mm..” You hear Daemon behind you, and Aemond shrugs it off, now walking away with haste. Before you could chase after him, Daemon gently grabs our wrist to hold you in place.

“Daughter, do you hold affections for the boy who just insulted your brothers?”

Rhaenyra stared intensely from beside him.

“If I did… then what? Would you have me exiled like you were? Fulfill what everyone thinks, that I am a mini version of you? I just want everyone to get along for once, but it seems there will always be a strain upon both of our families…” You look at Alicent, whom looks visibly happy that you are finally saying something about how you feel. Something she could never do as a young woman due to the men in her life.

“I will love who I want, and if Aemond is the one I choose… then so be it. Disinherit me from the throne, throw my name from our family books, I could care less.”

Before Daemon could speak, you walked past him, sending Rhaenyra an apologetic look with your hands balled into fists. You had to find Aemond.

-

You would eventually find Aemond within his chambers, clutching his eyepatch in his left hand while staring wearily out of the window to his left. You couldn’t see his lost eye from the angle you were standing at, but you could see his other eye, blue and almost glowing with the light of the night. 

“You defend me against your family, yet when I insult them, you barely bat an eye… why?”

His voice is calm, low and tired. He had a point, why did you defend him? Should you have just sided with Rhaenyra and her blood children?

“Aemond…–”

“The connection we felt as young children was fleeting, yet you didn’t partake in beating me to a pulp. Why?”

You took firm steps to get closer to him, but he kept his head tilted just so you couldn’t see the other side of his face. He looked almost scared to be vulnerable with you. Yet, you brought a hand up to his cheek and slowly turned his head to look fully to you, and you stifle a gasp.

A sapphire glowed faintly in the socket where his eye would have been, the blue striking and beautiful. It held a sapphire glare, one that made your heart skip a beat. 

He was beautiful, even if his mind told him he was imperfect.

“I’m monstrous, aren’t I?”

“Not in the slightest.”

His face softened significantly at your words and his head leaned down to be against yours, cold yet inviting.

“You always reminded me of sapphires, and I wanted to always keep you in my mind’s eye.”

“Such flattery should only come between those who know each other deeply-”

Before you could utter a word more, his lips were on yours. 

The ocean and the flames, The sapphire and the ruby, together at last.

[kaizoku-gary]

The calm before the storm

Pairing: Kinemon x reader with afab/female reader

Genre: smut, fluff

Word count: 2102

Warnings/Tags: unprotected sex, oral sex (reader giving), cockwarming, age gap (no underage).

Summary: the reader notices how tense Kinemon is the night before the big battle and decides to give him a little head help.

A/N: I find the lack of Kin'emon smut disturbing.

Where are my fellow Kin'emon simps!?

BTW, this is a little AU where everything stays the same except Kin'emon is not married (O-Tsuru doesn't deserve to be cheated on) and he's not a freaking giant... because ouch.

Read it on AO3

Cover by: ヤシヨ

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As the big day approaches, the tension grows like an ominous wave menacing to drown everyone's hopes. In two days you’ll all be sailing to Onigashima, to avenge Oden’s death and restore the rule of the Kozuki clan over Wano. But that's easier said than done; the enemy is too powerful to be taken for granted and the rebel group is notably outnumbered. As much as you try to ignore it, and no matter how strong your conviction is, these two facts manage to keep you awake at night. Still, you're willing to give your life if that means Wano will be freed from Kaidou's reign of terror.

The night begins to fall while the group discusses and revises the last details of the plan. Defeating the emperor may be a long shot, but the rebels aren't weak, and having the support of such a strong crew like the Straw Hats increases the chances of winning the war. After a while, when there's nothing left to say, it's time for everyone to go to bed and rest.

Despite your worries and anxiety, you fall sound asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. But it isn’t long until your recurring nightmares begin. Your friends and allies die one by one on the battlefield. You're badly hurt, but you keep fighting like a wild animal. Then you hear a deafening blast. An enormous shadow rises over you. Kaidou traps you between his claws and you hear your bones cracking... You snap awake and sit on the bed, panting and trembling as you try to shake those horrible images away. A moment later, you decide to take some fresh air. Maybe a short walk will calm your mind down.

As soon as you step outside the house, the bright light of the moon and the soft breeze coming from the sea welcome you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, focussing your mind on the sound of the waves; remaining there for a couple of minutes, as the melody of the night slowly eases your soul.

After a moment, you begin walking towards the cliff, planning to sit there and admire the ocean before going to bed when a dark figure sitting on a stone catches your attention. You approach it as carefully and quietly as possible. The chances of it being the enemy, are low, but letting your guard down is never a wise choice.

As you come closer, the mysterious figure becomes more familiar to you. Soon you notice Kin'emon staring at the sea with a deeply concerned expression on his face. The samurai notices your presence and quickly turns around with both hands on his swords, ready to attack.

"Y/N! I thought you were already in bed." Kin'emon says relaxing his posture.

“I guess I’m not the only one who can’t sleep.” You mention with a tired smile as you walk closer. “May I join you, Kin-san?” You ask pointing to the empty space next to him.

"S-sure!” He replies avoiding your gaze as he sits, resting his hands on his thighs. For a moment, you could swear he is blushing.

The stone is smaller than it looked and your bodies are barely millimeters apart. A shiver runs down your spine when you feel Kin'emon's warmth so close to you and you let out a faint nervous sigh. The tingling sensation between your legs makes you blush and you press your thighs together trying to make it disappear. Having such thoughts for your master it's quite inappropriate, even more now as the biggest battle you've ever fought approaches. Still, you can't help but let your mind wander and create different scenarios, where you finally get to tell him how you feel.

"What’s keeping you awake, Y/N?” Kin'emon asks after a long silence, and by the tone of his voice, you can tell he already knows the answer. You sigh, bringing your hands together and rubbing them nervously.

“I- am too worried to sleep.” You finally reply, leaving away the gloomy details of your nightmares.

Kin'emon lets out a sharp sigh and you lift your hesitant gaze to look at him. He looks pale and the circles around his eyes appear darker; despite the fatigue and the weight he’s carrying on his shoulders, the samurai's spirit remains unbreakable. Nothing will stop him from accomplishing his mission and you admire him deeply for that. It breaks your heart to see everything he's going through to keep his promise and you wish he could relax and forget about everything for a while. 

"Y/N, what are you thinking about?” Kin'emon asks softly, turning around to look you in the eye. It occurs to you now that maybe you’ve been staring at him for a little too long.

Your face and ears feel suddenly hot, but in a rush of adrenaline, you ignore the impulse of apologizing, as well as your common sense. Instead, you hold his gaze and clear your throat.

“I,” your voice comes out as a trembling whisper and you make a short pause to calm down, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath. Don't do it. You're gonna fuck it up. He's gonna be offended. Your inner voice warns you again and again, but you've made up your mind. It is now or never.

“I was thinking…” you continue while moving closer. “…that maybe you'd like to release some tension before the big battle.” You finish, placing your hand on his.

This time is Kin'emon’s turn to blush. The samurai freezes in place, unable to think properly after your bold proposition. It's been a long while since he's been intimate with someone. His body is aching to take things further, and his mind is having a hard time keeping everything under control.

After what seems like an eternity, your hand reaches for his face, stroking his cheek as you lean forward to kiss him tenderly. Kin'emon lets out a long sigh and it doesn’t take much time for him to start responding to your caresses. A hesitant hand moves to the small of your back and squeezes lightly at your muscles. You break the kiss to look into his eyes and a faint whimper scapes him. Kin'enmon's cheeks are flushed and you smile at how cute he looks.

“Are you okay with this, Kin-san?” You ask and he nods right away. The poor man is awfully touch starved and it shows.

You stand up, and a “where are you going?” appears instantly on Kin'emon's face.

"It's okay," you reassure him, giving him a peck on the lips before kneeling between his legs. The samurai bites his lower lip in anticipation while you slowly untie his belt, exposing his perfectly sculpted torso. 

Carefully you place his swords on the floor before letting your eyes relish the view: his toned chest going up and down with every breath, his stone-hard abs glistening with sweat, and his growing erection already dripping with precum. If he only knew how crazy he drives you...

Soon you give in to the urge to lick his abs, leaning forward to pepper his skin with kisses and let your hot wet tongue travel on his abdomen. Kin'emon lets out a low groan, briefly closing his eyes as his muscles twitch under your touch. He'd almost forgotten how good it felt being touched like this and anything you do takes him closer to heaven.

Your mouth leaves his abs and your eyes look for his before your hand wraps around his shaft. Kin'nemon lets out a deep moan after you begin slowly stroking up and down his erection. He is having a hard time trying to keep his eyes open and focused on yours, and his blush refuses to disappear.

“Is everything okay, Kin'emon-san?” You tease and can swear he goes harder just to hear you pronounce his name. The samurai only nods, unable to form any coherent sentences when you rub your thumb over the tip of his hard member, spreading precum all over it.

Giving him a last mischievous look, you lower your head to give his cock a slow flat-tongue lick from the base to the tip. Kin'emon shudders, pressing his eyes shut as his fingers dig into the cold stone beneath him. Heaven is even closer now.

"Oooh, Y/N” He moans, biting his fist when you begin leaving wet kisses all over his shaft; trailing the veins on his member with the tip of your tongue. The noises you're eliciting from him are better than any melody you've heard before, and your own arousal is becoming more difficult to ignore.

You wrap your hand around the base of Kin's erection, licking your lips at the sight of his dripping cock before taking him slowly in your warm mouth. Kin'emon's grunts become louder as you bob your head up and down his length; letting your tongue swirl around his tip, to go down again. His hand moves to your cheek, stroking it tenderly as you slowly suck on him.

"That feels so good, Y/N," Kin'emon whispers between pants. His muscles begin to tense and his breathing becomes shallower. You can tell he's about to come and gradually decrease your tempo until you finally let him slip out of your mouth.

“Not yet, Kin-san.” You reply at his surprised whine, smiling sweetly before standing up to let your kimono fall to the floor. Kin'emon gasps and his eyes go instantly wide as they travel across your naked body.

"Do you wanna touch me, Kin-san?" You offer, taking his hands in yours to place them on your breasts, turning the man into nothing but a babbling mess. To your delight, his erection twitches, and his blush deepens even more.

"It's okay. There's no reason to be nervous," you coo as you straddle him, throwing your arms around his neck before your lips meet his again. This time the kiss is desperate, hungrier. Hands explore every inch of each other's bodies as your tongues fight for dominance. Kin's strong hands grab your hips, bringing your closer until his rock-hard erection presses delightfully against your core.

"Kin-san~," you whimper, bucking your hips against him, seeking friction.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N," Kin'emon whispers in your ear before his lips travel to your neck. His beard tickles your skin as he nibbles gently on it. You tremble under his touch, closing your eyes to savor the sensation as your fingers massage his scalp.

"I need you, Kin-san~," you whine desperately and he lets out a breathy chuckle. "May I?" You purr, staring into his eyes.

Kin'emon nods impatiently and you adjust your position, guiding him to your entrance. How is he still blushing like that? Is the last coherent thought you manage before slowly impaling yourself in his member; letting out desperate moans as his girth stretches your velvety walls.

"Oh, you're so wet, Y/N,~" Kin praises between your breasts, gently squeezing your buttocks, as he leaves soft kisses on your sternum.

"Kin-san~," you moan while you ride him at an agonizing pace. His hands now guiding your movements.

Right now, both of you are lost in sensations. Nothing else matters but the feeling of skin on skin, the hunger, the passion; the joy of sharing such an intimate moment with someone you deeply care for. Tomorrow doesn't matter anymore, nor does anything else.

You increase the pace of your movements and Kin'emon buries his head in the crook of your neck, muffling his moans against your skin. His hands hold you tightly as if you were going to float away and you mimic him, gently pressing him against you as your hips roll faster and faster. A few moments later, the tension that has been building up inside you explodes in a colorful blast of bliss. You cry out Kin's name as your orgasm hits you violently, making your muscles spasm without control. Not even a second after Kin'emon spills himself inside your walls, holding you tightly as he rides his own climax.

For a long while, both of you remain still, buried in each other's arms with no intention of letting go. Enjoying the ecstasy that brings each other's warmness. The sounds of faint delighted sighs and gentle kisses join the melody of the waves, and you wish you could live forever in this moment...

"Y/N?" Kin'emon whispers and you look tenderly into his eyes. "Would you stay with me tonight?" He pleads, before nuzzling your neck. 

"Of course, I will," you reply before pulling him for a soft kiss.

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[isolationaroundus]

I posted 38,452 times in 2022

650 posts created (2%)

37,802 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@looshipoh

@nospheratusblack

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I tagged 10,871 of my posts in 2022

#q - 1,119 posts

#fav - 986 posts

#important - 496 posts

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Longest Tag: 136 characters

#i was cleaning my room the other day and i found the ticket from the misfits concert i went years ago and it's also signed by jerry 🤘🏻

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Attack on titan really just released 3 10/10 episodes in a row like it's nothing.............

10/10

actual 10/10

i really do not know any other shows that have like multiple pure 10/10 episodes... maybe breaking bad and got have a few but like holy shit dude 3 in a row? get the fuck out of hereeee

64 notes - Posted February 7, 2022

#4

Btw rip the Morbius character... It's forever and ever ruined by the memes.

Idk about how good the comics are but oh damn what a death of the image of a character 💀

74 notes - Posted June 13, 2022

#3

89 notes - Posted February 2, 2022

#2

wait... people are actually mad that the first episode of the moon knight series "didn't show the action scenes"???

y'all serious??? you're telling me you didn't like the mystery?? we as a viewer experiencing the same confusion the character is experiencing?? finding shit out as we go???

OF COURSE THERE'S GONNA BE A SHIT TON OF ACTION... literally calm the fuck down..

139 notes - Posted April 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Fuck it I'm going back to sleep

447 notes - Posted January 12, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[bthump]

Hi!! This is my first time asking from my account hahaha. Feels kinda surreal tbh. I was re-reading some chapters from Berserk for a fanfic I have on the way and I saw this panel.

So I was wondering what are your views on Guts’s feeling regarding reading? I don’t think the guy has time to think about stuff like this, but then I wonder if phrases like ‘You have to do x and y in order to be great besides fighting´ coming from Griffith got stuck in his head? Again, I don’t think Guts knows how to read and neither has the time to do so, but I saw him as both being ambivalent about it, dismissing it completely or wanting to try it, but being too embarrassed to ask Griffith. Maybe it fuels his low self-esteem too?

Btw, in case you can’t see the image, here’s the link. It’s chapter 9, page 72

Have a nice day! :)

Hm, good question. I always assumed Guts was illiterate with no real interest in learning, at least not for his own sake. I feel like in Berserk's setting the vast majority of non-nobles would be illiterate so it wouldn't be like, an issue or something he'd be ashamed of or anything.

Though that's an interesting point about how Guts could've potentially taken Griffith's words there to heart.

I guess I assume that Guts is more focused on Griffith's Promrose Hall speech where he's pretty emphatic about how dreams are all very different, yk a blacksmith devoting himself to making one perfect sword is just as #Valid as an empire builder. Plus when Guts is reflecting on his dream he says, "Maybe it's different from the dream Griffith talks about, but for no one else's sake" etc, so he seems to be aware that it's not the same type of Greatness Griffith is after, and content with that.

But idk the panel you posted is pretty straightforward wording, and it feels like it should reflect on Guts' own dream as somewhat inadequate. It honestly feels kind of like a pointed statement on Guts' chosen dream, if not deliberately from Griffith, then from the narrative. Especially because like, Guts left to find a new dream and concluded that he just wants to keep doing the exact same thing he's been doing (fighting) except alone this time, and I always take that as one of the big signs that it was a bad decision on Guts' part.

So yeah idk, it seems like if Guts ever considered that line, he rationalized it to himself so he could keep focusing solely on fighting anyway. But it would be interesting to see Guts thinking about it, maybe remembering it while brooding about how all he does is fight, or something.

Thanks for the ask! Hope your fic writing goes well :)

[pazii]

Making a post about my Genshin OCs because some people seem to be interested

None of them are really fully developed and I have not settled on most of their designs...Most of them are really old OCs I came up with, their stories probably will change a lot in the future, especially designs

I love talking about my OCs so don't be shy to interact with me about them too!

All art belongs to me!

Yukina Fuyuhiro

Age: Early twenties

Ethnicity: Inazuma/Liyue

Race: Kätzleins

Birthday: August 25

Gender:Female

Affiliation: Kinji (made up name for her well known family company)

Vision: Cryo

Weapon: bow

Yukina is a fashion designer working in her family’s well known fashion company. Her family company has became popular in Teyvat over time. The company, Kinji is easily over 90 years old. Her father is the current CEO of the company but he is currently in terrible conditions due to a serious sickness, leaving his eldest daughter, Yukina to take his role temporarily.

She has been residing in Liyue ever since her family moved out of Inazuma when she was young. She is a hard worker who spends most of her time in her workshop, working away with piles of paperwork and new orders for new designs. In her free time she tend to go to Wanmin Restaurant to enjoy a meal and relax for a bit. She also likes to go into the mountains and wilderness of Liyue and other nations to look for new inspirations and materials for her next clothing line.

There’s suspicions of her having dealings with the Fatui since she could be seen talking with the eleventh Fatui harbinger,Childe. Although those are false claims, Yukina couldn’t care less.

Yukina cherishes her vision more than anyone would think. Her vision originally belonged to her mother, who passed away due to an “accident”. The vision was brought back to her, when she held the now “empty” vision it started glowing a bright blue light of the cryo vision. The cryo vision reawakened when being resonated with Yukina, therefore granting her a vision.

Extra information

So I had a thought about Yukina’s mother being a Fatui harbinger but she betrayed the Fatui somehow and went on the run with her family to Liyue. After living a few years peacefully the Fatui finally caught up with her and ended her life, faking it as if she died in an accident. Yukina will find out about it at one point in the story, not fully thought out...

Uh yes... Yukina and Childe have a special relationship (if you dislike OC x CC I’m sorry )

Coffee is the only thing keeping her alive at this point, like me

She is a distant relative of Diona

And yes she has cat ears and tail like Diona too

She likes creating images of moving ice animals with her vision since that’s something her mother used to do when she was little to cheer her up

Taiyang

Age: 4000+

Ethnicity:Liyue

Race:Adepti

Birthday: June 14

Gender:Male

Affiliation:Liyue adeptus

Vision:Pyro

Weapon: (Dual) Sword

Taiyang was originally a creation of the pyro archon during the archon war. The pyro archon created a giant bird made out of pure flames, who possesses divine powers. Ok so, this part of his backstory is not fully developed like at all- So he somehow ended up in Liyue, something happened that made him choose to serve the Geo Archon, Morax and not the pyro archon. Joining Morax’s line of adeptus to fight along side him.

In present times, Taiyang enjoys taking a human form. He is very interested in mortals and their world. He think he had lived in his own world with the adepti, having almost no chance to understand the people he was supposed to protect more. He enjoys making conversations with people in Liyue, Liyue harbour mostly.

People in Liyue harbour knew him as a kind young man who enjoys making small talks and helping people with random tasks. He was once approached by the adventurers guild with an offer for him to join them but he politely declined.

He kept his identity as an adepti well from the people of Liyue. A fellow adepti and friend of his thinks it is dumb to try and understand humans, despite that he still listens to Taiyang whenever he talks about them.

Extra information

Taiyang did know about Zhongli’s plans of retiring and he respected his decision

He still often pays Zhongli random visits and they chit chat while enjoying some tea

Taiyang is really close with Xiao, they’re good bros

The feather on his necklace is one of his actual feathers, Taiyang can control each one of his feathers individually like Hawks from my hero academia!

He is baby and I love him :)

Meilin

Age: early - mid twenties

Ethnicity:Liyue

Race:Human

Birthday: haven’t decided yet

Gender:Female

Affiliation: Liyue Qixing

Vision: Electro

Weapon: Catalyst (might change)

Ok so here’s an OC that I recently made and literally have not thought much of yet and I don’t have much to tell you- I’ll be thinking more about her soon I swear 😭

All I know is she’s dating Ganyu because when I made her I really wanted a lesbian ship with an OC and I love Ganyu- number 1 waifu fight me 😤

The bunny ears she has are fake btw, the flowers on her head are these, does anyone know what they’re called? They’re really pretty and I know nothing about them

That’s all for my OCs! I hope you like them! Let me know if you want more of them <3

[ayzrules]

✶ 𝐇𝐗𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒: 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 & 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 & 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   Long story short, I have been thinking about this for wayyyyy too long now and wanted to get some ~thoughts~ & analysis written down! This post is going to be...fairly long, lol. Apologies in advance :D

  Also, if you can’t see the last gif (the one for ‘holy’), click here. Tumblr keeps fucking up the image when i try to upload it :////

  This post is probably going to be about 2/3 yorknew & phantom troupe/kurapika focused, 1/3 chimera ants, maybe with some references to other arcs (including manga-only arcs) mixed in. so, ofc, tons of spoilers ahead! also, i realize that my blog theme is hard to read (and i’m p sure clicking ‘keep reading’ sends you to the og post itself), so i’m linking the post w/ full text copy/pasted in on my art backup side blog (which has a more legible font) here. 

✶ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇   I’m sure absolutely nobody is surprised with me starting here - there is just. SO. MUCH. DEATH. in hxh. & right from the start, one thing I noticed that togashi really emphasized was the #4 and its connection to death. in japanese, chinese, and im p sure some other asian cultures the number 4 is pronounced like the word for death so it’s associated with death in general, and boy oh boy does the ‘deadly number 4′ thing show up E V E R Y W H E R E. we get to the hunter exam, and hisoka is applicant #44. kurapika is #404. i didn’t notice it at first, but this was so intentional holy shit. togashi is NOT SUBTLE.

  So pika & hisoka are, right off the bat, associated with death. okay. and then there are even more clues to drive the point home: hisoka is member #4 in the phantom troupe, kurapika’s birthday is april 4th (aka 4/4). 100% not a coincidence (!!). with hisoka, it’s pretty obvious why togashi’s throwing all this death 444444 stuff around - dude is a psycho murder pedo clown, literally gets off on killing people (and there’s also the fact that judas sits 4th from the left in the last supper painting, and he’s sort of the judas equivalent for the phantom troupe). with kurapika, though, it’s a bit more subtle and woven deeper into his characterization, which i LOVE. togashi puts the mans in blue & gold & white (traditionally ‘pure’ or ‘heavenly’ colors), makes him so fucking kind & so good-hearted.....when he’s not relentlessly pursuing his revenge, ofc. more on this in the next section, but pika = death. togashi has made that v v v clear.

  Backtracking a bit to hisoka, though, I also just wanted to point out the 4 is death symbolism in the fortunes too (GOD i love the fortunes): in one translation, he’s the false fourth moon, and in the og japanese (i think), he’s the false hare (4th in the lunar zodiac or w/e it’s called. i don’t know the japanese cultural influences here, but in the chinese legend that established the zodiac animals, they race across the heavenly river & the top 12 animals got zodiac slots. the hare finished 4th, so it’s #4 in the cycle). 

  And just as a final note, Tserriednich is the fourth prince of the kakin empire, and also another dude who has a hard-on for murder & other gory shit. again: togashi is not subtle with this, lmfao

✶ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐘, 𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐘   As probably everyone who’s gotten to yorknew knows, togashi is so 0 fucks given when he wants to be. I mean there’s the whole thing where he just. took New York and decided, Yorknew. LMFAO, but also, he made the main antag of that arc be named chrollo lucilfer, sit around in a ruined church, have a reversed cross coat, pale & dark-haired/dark-eyed, generally dressed in dark colors, very terrible murder guy. liiiike......chrollo x devil symbolism game is 1000/10 at this point lmaooo

  And i know absolutely nothing about christianity in general, but pt/kurapika & yorknew arc is just so full of christian imagery/symbolism! one thing that i L O O O O O O V E though is how togashi really blurs the traditional christian-coded good/evil, holy/damned boundaries.

  Back to kurapika: he wears gold and blue, his coloring is very stereotypically ‘angelic’, he’s precious and good and kind. his chains are all about ~judgment~ and ~healing~ - some of the chains are also in literal cross shapes, aren’t they? And the chain dagger in his own heart...the imagery is very startlingly similar to the immaculate heart of mary, where the swords stabbing thru the heart apparently represent seven sorrows. IDK much about this stuff other than the visual similarities; literally had to google ‘daggers through heart christianity?’ to even get the name of that thing LOL. anyway, at first, it seems like togashi establishes him as the ‘angel’, the ‘good’, the ‘holy’ in the angel/devil, good/evil, holy/damned dichotomy between him and chrollo.

  But that’s not the end of the story. his entire storyline is driven by a huuuuuuuge giant desire for vengeance, first of all, and then there’s the scarlet eyes, which canonically are seen as demonic/cursed/what have you (according to one of the movies or smth? where they show pika as a 10 y/o?), and then we also have red eyes in modern culture being associated w pretty much the same thing (vampires, anyone?). the fight scene with uvo has everything in b&w besides the blood on his face & his red eyes & the moon (<<< more fortune foreshadowing & symbolism, i love to see it), and there are tonssss of scenes where he has to suppress his rage. so all of that is obviously not very angelic of him i would say LOL. in fact, what i find super interesting is that the scarlet/red eyes (which are ‘demonic’) is actually the driving factor behind his super powerful nen abilities; this ties in so well with the fortunes & death associations imo! the fortunes call him the ‘death-bringer’ in one translation, or ‘half-angel, half-death’, so that’s one side of pika = red eyes = death, but there’s also the fact that emperor time is literally draining his life force. so pika = death for both himself and others namely the pt, question mark?

  Now for chrollo: togashi’s devil symbolism is EXTREMELY overt with him, but i love the subtler jesus references too. the church thing, obviously, and the st. peters cross which is cuz st peter respected jesus too much & didn’t think he was worthy to die in the same way as him (or something like that, i am the most atheist person in the world & hxh is literally my entire christian education pls) but is also used as an anti-christianity symbol these days. bandit’s secret looks like a bible, lbr, and mans has a cross tattoo.

  Other things beyond visuals - 12 spiders, 12 apostles; hisoka’s betrayal, where member #4 can be thought to correspond to judas sitting 4th from left at last supper. and this miiiiight be a bit of a stretch, but i think the meteor city being the place of origin may also play into the blurred line between angel/devil and holy/damned here; meteors are defined as space rocks that are in earth’s atmosphere, becoming incandescent in the process. meteorites are for the kinds that actually reach the ground. and idk, lucifer was cast out of heaven / sky too right? so i think there might be some subtle fallen angel imagery/symbolism playing into the pt as well

✶ 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒)   Last section yay! i don’t have as much to say about this, besides when i was making chimera ant arc edits & realized that there might have been some subtle gon/meruem parallels???

  So obviously, everyone knows that line killua says to gon - “you are light” - and then i was just remembering that meruem’s name means.... “light that illuminates all” (!!!!). maybe it’s a coincidence, but knowing togashi, i’m leaning towards nahhhh. there HAS TO be some kinda meaning there (!!).

  Going back to the events of the chimera ant arc....ooh boy. let’s see: gon is optimistic & hopeful even in the face of kite potentially being dead, killua says he’s light, they find kite & dude is fucked up, gon is pissed. gets all angry & ~dark~, especially during the palace invasion when he’s staring pitou down as she fixes up komugi. then the actual fight against pitou: more darkness, more anger, but through it all there’s still light, namely his jajanken being very orange & fiery lookin.....and that final sequence, where he puts all his possible nen he’d ever have into his ~final form~ or wahtever & turns into a male version of true form!bisky but dressed in a crop top & short-shorts (i am SCARRED, btw. s c a r r e d !). there’s just huuuge flashes of light as that’s going on, and it reminded me of supernovas or dying stars when i was thinking about it, where the star is like, collapsing under its own weight? & burning thru its own fuel, until there’s nothing left except a dwarf or black hole or what have you. one final, extremely deadly burst of light & energy before death.

  On the meruem side of things: born into a dark cave, exhibits a traditionally evil/cruel/wicked/whatever personality/traits so that has ppl associating him with darkness. then he gets to know komugi, starts to appreciate other aspects of humanity, seems like he could have actually turned into a decent person who doesn’t want to eat everyone - so that’s a ‘path to light’, maybe? - and then the extermination team yeets themselves into the palace, netero takes him out to bumfuck nowhere, they fight. netero’s fighting is just ALL light, from his giant ass golden 100-type guanyin bodhisattva to the poor man’s rose. again, there’s the sense of finality to it all, in a similar vein to dying stars: netero comes in determined to kill meruem no matter what, and we all know netero doesn’t flake. then we see netero get destroyed after the zero hand, and he triggers the rose, and everything is burning & on fire before the flames are put out and all turns dark again.

  But wait!!! pouf & youpi revive meruem and all he does is play gungi with komugi, even with the poison of the rose. he eventually dies, and the gungi pieces in that final shot of them together (i am BAWLING just thinking about it holy shit) has one that’s all white, one that’s a black ring and white inside. i assume all white is for komugi, who has never done ANYTHING wrong in her LIFE, so i like to think that the 2nd one is for meruem - born “into darkness”, literally & figuratively, but he turns something like ‘good’ by the end. it’s interesting how togashi has sort of gone for a bit of a subversion here: the hero going from light to darkness, and the main antag from darkness to light.

✶ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍   AahhhhHHHHHhhh so if you read all the way down here through my LONG rambles, tysm! i would LOVE LOVE LOVE to hear what other people think about all this, and i’ve FOR SURE missed tons and tons of stuff - chimera ants is just. SO MUCH. and i don’t know it as well as yorknew eeek.

  I’m not sure if i’m really ~knowledgeable~ in any other areas relating to hxh, so this might be the only one of these that i do, but i definitely think about some of this - esp all the religious symbolism & #4 stuff - a ton! so in the meantime, if it’s of any interest, i’m just going to shamelessly plug my hxh x religious beliefs/superstitions edit series :D lots of love to all!!!

[practicalmagicintuitions]

Feelings around HC’s birthday

All information and statements made in this reading or any other post of mine are all alleged until proven to be fact and for entertainment purposes & usage only. All information stated is based on my intuition and my tarot cards. Opinion only. The readings have no intention to cause any harm for the individuals, people featured in it. 

Deck: Rider Waite Centennial

HC’s feelings toward his birthday? ( cards pulled on 24/04)

The Tower reversed, Temperance.

Okay, it’s a very interesting combo. The Tower, no matter what, is always a drastic card. 

Lies remain hidden and just getting worse and worse, and the liars just keep going with bigger and bigger lies. Even if he wants to reveal the truth, the scandal and the lies are too big, he would suffer the most.

Temperance is thinking about the next move, blending things together, balancing, an adviser, a healer, knowing when to speak. Temperance also represents Sagittarius in Zodiac. I looked around HC and his manager is a Sagittarius… ( btw The Tower represents Aries…. awkward silence...) 

So. I think HC and his team are brainstorming right now what to do on his birthday, what post on Instagram or post at all. I think it could mean they are thinking how to blend NV and HC together in order not to reveal the truth, protect some lies. How to blend the truth with the lies. 

Alone this card is a strong card for travel, maybe he is thinking about traveling somewhere to spend his birthday there. I have no idea about UK Covid rules, so I am not sure traveling to Jersey is possible or not, but even if it’s forbidden, he or his team is thinking about a trip. 

Knight of Wands rx, X of Wands rx ( cards pulled on 25/04)

 10 of W rx

This card means you are being taken advantage of. And this will keep going because you don’t say no. You are overestimated yourself and now this is like a heavy burden on you. Pressure, nervus energy. But you are too stubborn to admit defeat and just keep going with this dead, unproductive situation. This card also means pretending. This is a very strong meaning of this card. Pretending everything is alright, smile while you are upset inside. You have some secret agenda and you are just going to keep with it. It also means you will take the blame for others. For others who give you (maybe purposefully) bad advice. It also means you bury your head in the sand and refuse to acknowledge the situation. 

With the Knight of W rx, this means loss of power, not moving forward. He is frustrated with this situation, but cannot really do anything. People block his way and all of the opportunities are gone to make this situation better. 

All in all, I think he is not looking forward to his birthday, he is not excited or happy about it. I see  lots of pretending and staying in a certain, unproductive or dishonest situation. I think it’s not decided yet whether he will post on his birthday on IG or not. I think he doesn’t want to, but he is advised to do that. Something cheerful and happy. And this advice contains to blend things in his post, for example a BD post and a Durrells post, or him and NV together or even some merch, so something two in one. 

NV’s feelings thoward HC’s birthday. (cards pulled on 24/04)

9 of wands, 4 of swords, Judgment rx, 10 of cups rx.

Nine of wands, again. As I said before in her personality reading, she is strong, determined, ready to defend herself, ready to fight. 

With the 4 of Sw it means she is still standing, won’t give up but she is extremely exhausted mentally. The last few days/ weeks worn her out. It’s a low time for her, she doesn’t know how to deal with all of this mentally. 

She also isn't excited about his BD. She expects a very nerve wracking time around that day. Maybe she is expecting a negative opinion wave, stronger then in the last few days.

Judgment rx is a cross road, not listening to an inner call, harvest time but it’s not what you wanted, fear holds back to make a change or make a decision, feeling blocked. And obviously poor judgement.

10 of C rx This is one of the worst, saddest, most negative card in terms of emotions and family. Broken dreams, falling apart, lack of happiness etc.

Because I specifically asked about his birthday…. I think bad decisions will lead to very unhappy family situations. I feel this is not only HC and NV but HC’s family too. I think it is a very strong possibility that because of his bad decisions, he feels isolated or alienated from his family and NV knows and feels that. This is also why she is not looking forward to that day.  She expects a sad birthday. I see a slight possibility that they will have a family gathering in a way but still, it will be sad. 

Even if he is isolated, he is part of his family, but there is a slow disruption which is erasing the happy family environment. It also means a problem, a mental state which is eating away your soul but you don't have a desire to give up on the other person. And this is again what I said, she doesn’t want to give up, she is just simply not that person. She will stick, she won’t leave until he doesn’t say so. 

If I see this as a career card, it means there is a group of people, a team maybe and they are not working together. And if I think of his social media presence and image as a team work it could be a problem. 

It also can mean she is homesick too.

This is the core of the reading, I could go on but I’ve tried to shorten it as much as I can, focusing on the possible scenarios. 

Asks are open now. 

[thegoodomensdumpster]

I WATCHED GOOD OMENS IN FRENCH SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO

and it wasn’t that bad. Here are my thoughts, barely edited as I wrote most of them while watching the show.

EP 1

OK i like god’s voice so far

possibilité d’embarras gastrique is a good formulation, I wonder if it’s the same in the book ( I think I kinda need to read it in french now...)

aghghdhgs « primo-délinquants »

of course subtitles don’t match the audio for a variety of technical reasons but when you get things that have very different underlying meanings i find it… not good This one about Crowley being evil / a demon : subtitles : « c’est ton travail » - « it’s your job » audio : « c’est dans ta nature » - « it’s in your nature » i mean dang

crowley sounds like a little shit asking az about his sword

« T’AS FAIT QUOUA » - he just loses his shit (kinda giving me some le coeur a ses raisons vibe)

ok crowley sounds very nerdy when he tries to explain that he took down the phone network, i think i actually like this voice acting

ligur sounds… very suave (im a little ill at ease)

crowley getting called mon chou by satan freddie mercury is a thumb up from me

i see the part where aziraphale speaks japanese wasn’t dubbed over and we can still hear michael sheen. it’s a bit disturbing considering french aziraphale has a higher pitched voice (and he sounds soooo much more anxious than sheen, give this angel a xanax )

“sandwich bœuf cresson” ( beef and cress sandwich ) deirdre really who makes this kind of sandwiches

im being reminded that the chattering nuns prepared little cut outs for their explanation about the antichrist switch… such dedication to useless crafts (it made me laugh on my first viewing and it’s still funny to imagine that some of them either ordered or built these things themselves just so they could make this two minutes long presentation for the most important act of their satanic nun careers)

retire-toi vil démon infernal, créature des abysses XD i swear az doesn’t sound even remotely convinced when he is saying the « get thee behind me foul fiend » line in french, it’s just too over the top for credibility, it sounds like it’s straight out of some super intense dnd session

they still can’t say bouillabaisse (which, like, weird because french, but still valid). nice touch is crowley couldn’t say soupe de poisson (fish stew) either and said poupe de soisson (sish ftew)

warlock mah boy how can you be a teenager and not like dinosaurs

c’est un dinosaure un nullosaure plutôt - apply burn heal

La façon dont warlock s’est exclamé « C’EST NUL » m’a fait penser au nain de naheulbeuk

the english version has nothing on french speaking aziraphale for the second hand embarrassement during the magic tour. it’s over 9000 i literally hid my head in my jumper when he was presenting harry the bunny. Horrible experience, 0/20, would not recommend

EP 2

oooh agnes has a lovely voice !

why is young newton having such a quality dub for the three sentences he has to say

dick turpin’s name is jesse james (tbf dick turpin is not known AT ALL in france, i discovered him reading good omens)

shadwell is pure chaos (as expected). No particular accent for him though, the chaotic energy was probably enough. Would have made me laugh if he had like, a chti or a marseilles accent.

aziraphale is so fucking stressed out by crowley’s driving i thought he was gonna explode

« tu es un gentil garçon » => « you’re a nice boy » said az to crowley DANG THAT’S SO INFANTILIZING AZIRAPHALE YOU’RE TALKING TO A DEMON FROM HELL NOT TO PINOCCHIO

ARGH FIRST MON ANGE OF THE SERIES i’m hit straight in the heart

anathema’s mom doesn’t have a spanish / latino accent at all when talking in spanish…. why...

dog being called toutou is definitely adorable (it’s basically « doggy » but way cuter imo)

tickety-boo has become ça gaze. that’s valid. it’s corny but i still use it unironically from time to time so ... i stan

EP 3

« je répands la fomentation » « i’m here spreading foment » « quoi tu fais des crêpes au froment ?????? »  « what you’re making crêpes with wheat ??? » love the fact that we shoehorned in one more ref to crêpes

az called crowley mon cher camarade, unintentionnal communist propaganda ftw

« pas de repos pour les… bah, pour les bons » « no rest for the… good »  – az was so deflated about the ineptitude he realized he was saying, he felt zero percent commited to his sentence

i was wondering how they would play aziraphale not being able to speak french in the bastille and they opted to have him stutter a bit and say to his executionner « excuse me i’m anxious » XD

« vous êtes le 999e aristo à mourir par mes soins. Mais vous êtes le premier en costume beige » « you’re the 999th aristocrat I’m going to kill, but the first one in beige attire » yeah i guess now that az isn’t english anymore his most noticeable feature is his cream aesthetic

« c’est au cas où ça tournerait en eau de boudin » « j’ADORE le boudin » => « in case it all goes pear shape » - the literal translation featuring food in french is « turning into black sausage water ». I don’t know what pear shaped inspires to english native speakers but the mere mention of boudin always make me giggle, it’s such a funny word and such a funny food

OH !!! no terrence rampa for the tv series, we’ve got anthony J. rampa. Rip terrence petit démon parti trop tôt :’(

« tu roules trop vite pour moi rampa » SERIOUSLY i know we can still infer « rouler » (here as in driving, but literally rolling) as a metaphor for their relationship but you could have said TU VAS TROP VITE that would have been so much better argh

has anathema got an emergency stock of potteries to break in case of emotionnal crisis ?

« Rampa, un démon très futé, il m’oblige à redoubler d’effort » « crowley, a very clever demon, he forces me to make double the amount of effort » oh so admitting you’re making an effort there aziraphale ? :))))))

dang i really want to know how shadwell said that major milk bottle died because not only did he die in combat but aziraphale’s reaction is a bit intense, it must have been quite a tale (this could be a crack fic prompt : «The Epic Tale of the Death Of Major Witchfinder Milk Bottle, by Sargent Witchfinder Shadwell» )

des sorcières et des phénomènes sorciéreux x)

CROWLEY CALLED AZIRAPHALE DUCON ?????? EXCUSE ME ????? #NotMyCrowley #CrowleyWouldNeverDoThat  #CancelAnthonyJRampa2K20  => ducon would be an insult, the gathering of du and con, con being a very nasty but common swear word, and associating it with du- makes it extremely patronizing. it’s like « absolute pathetic digraceful moron +++ ». thanks i hate it *frowny face *

EP 4

l’apocalypse c’est pour aujourd’hui juste après le goûter : it could be translated as « apocalypse is scheduled for today right after tea time » except that « goûter » is not quite tea time but rather the little sugary snack kids take when they come back from school and that most adults drop out of (i haven’t and i’m sure az hasn’t either). thanks aziraphale for having exclusively food related notion of the time because tbh same

ligur has no right to be this sexy between ariyon bakare and his french voice actor that’s just not allowed

radio crowley’s voice vs french ligur’s voice, who has the sexiest voice : FIGHT

(jk french agnes nutter’s voice is by far the sexiest)

gender neutral doesn’t ‘quite’ exist in french but pollution has been assigned a female voice actress and masculine pronouns (i’m saying it doesn’t quite exist because officially we have no gender neutral, but it’s a serious wip among lgbt+ circles to the point where it’s started being used in a few medias)

hastur « en attendant qu’un plombier vienne » / « while waiting for a plumber to come » does hell have a special plumber unit or do demons have to call on human plumbers for their pipes damages ? Dang hastur having to call a human plumber for hell’s plumbery is another damn good writing prompt for a crack fic

Michael is called Michel in the subtitles but Michael in the audio *shrug emoji*

EP 5 

to get a wiggle on has become « il faut qu’on se remue les fesses », literally « we need to shake our butts » like, yes, se remuer les fesses is a common expression to say « we need to act in order to get things done » but it really casts the image of people shaking their booty to some music and obviously crowley thinks the same Weirdly enough I have almost nothing to say for that episode. Sorry. But we’ve discovered most voice actors and actresses so far and no bit of dialogue really struck me as worth discussing or pointing fingers to mock it.

EP 6 

« on va BROUTER quelques derrières » - « we’re gonna lick some butts » OK THIS IS UNQUESTIONNABLY FAR SUPERIOR IN FRENCH THAN IN ENGLISH you thought LICKING butts was good ??? you really thought that ???? AZIRAPHALE HERE SUGGESTS TO GRAZE BUTTS. TO NIBBLE THEM. TO EAT THEM. TO. MUNCH. ON. THOSE. BUTTS!!!! not just licking, guys. This is as serious step beyond licking. (oh yeah he should have said « botter » instead of brouter btw, which is really just kicking, fyi)

« moi je crois en la paix, pétasse ! » wow, language, pepper (fyi i think « pétasse » is far far worse than « bitch » even if it means roughly the same, pétasse is almost never used while bitch is rather common, so it’s a swear word +++)

Dagon sounds like she’s got a nasty cold. #GetDagonIbuprofen2K20

I can confirm that Crowley offers Aziraphale to not just stay at his place, but to move in with him. « tu peux t’installer chez moi si tu veux ». omg they were roommates.

Bad translation strikes again : i don’t know why, but the french dub doesn’t have the « tickety-boo » / « ça gaze » being referenced as Rampa / Aziraphale is being knocked down, which is… a real mistep. It was narratively significant and I’m quite mad the translators missed it.

The Jesse James explanation from Newt has become very nonsensical, instead of the neat and to the point pun « wherever I go I hold up trafic » we’re getting a circonvoluted « because it’s a crime to mechanic’s diligence ». I’m not judging that one too hard, I have no idea how to make it better, and that’s probably how it was translated in the book as well thirty years ago, but it definitely doesn’t have the same impact. On the other hand, it definitely IS a very bad joke that doesn’t even deserve a chuckle, so Anathema’s embarassement really matches the audience’s (aka mine).

OVERALL :

I wasn’t convinced by Crowley… I mean, Rampa’s voice at first, but as the nerdiness showed up it really grew on me. I still think that french dubs have often problems with some voice inflexions every here and there, and for instance in Rampa’s case it was when he was annoyed or frustrated ( at the Globe when complaining about horses and Shakespeare’s plays that aren’t comedies, and also when discussing Azirphale’s magic tricks, it’s like… there is a step between having the right amount of grumpy complaining and overdoing it that is overlooked. It’s overacted, it should have been a bit quieter imo. I don’t mean to criticize voice actors too hard either but as an audience watching french dubs this is a very recurring problem and it always feels off to me. It’s actually one of the main reasons I avoid french dubs whenever possible.)

I have a hard time judging Aziraphale’s voice dub because it clashes so much with both the idea I had formed with it when I read the book and Sheen’s delivery that I just… kinda filtered it. It was too high pitched for me, and too anxious (though for this last point I must admit it could be funny at times, but I’m not fond of this character portrayal). The rest of the cast was rather good, nothing to complain about. There wasn’t anything stellar either, but everything that needed to be conveyed was and it was professionnal. It was also very homogeneous, no voice really struck me as being way too bad or way too good compared to the others, so it was really consistant.

So I don’t have much to complain about overall despite a few wonky translations here and there, BUT there is one thing I felt very robbed of : Crowley calling Aziraphale « mon ange » happens only once, when giving a lift to Anathema, and I’m almost certain they translated it that way because otherwise the joke about Anathama mistaking them for a couple wouldn’t work. So, they were forced to make it that way. The rest of the time Crowley calls Aziraphale « l’angelot », and despite being literally translated by « little angel », it feels sarcastic more than anything else ( the « L’ » in front of « angelot » is part of the reason why, it creates some distance, the other reason being that this word in itself has a very corny vibe and people being affectionnate to each other wouldn’t use it as a term of endearment). So, that’s a shame.

I like the English dub much much MUCH better than the French, but the french wasn’t nearly as bad as I was expecting it to be. The voice actors and actresses were quite good, the dialogues mostly faithful and endearing despite a few really missed steps. It really had its moments. Props to brouter des derrières, that one was fantastic.