#like there were so many rules that just kind of died before they reached my siblings

[nadia-talks]

worst thing is watching your parents grow out of a certain habit with your siblings. and meanwhile you're here with this inherently different way of thinking cause they didn't know what they were doing

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Rules

Summary: Joel wants you pregnant. And you want to have Joel's baby. And not even a big council meeting would stop the two of you from getting what you wanted.

Pairing: Raider!Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.9k

Rating: E

Warnings: Raider!Joel who has his own little community, smut (public sex, unprotected sex), massive breeding kink, dirty talk, established relationship (kind of), unspecified age gap (around 15 years prob), massive exhibition kink, someone dies because he looks at reader for too long, so guns and death, mentions of drugs, Joel picks reader up and carries her away but this is fiction so Joel has super powers to carry anyone he likes anywhere because I say so

A/N: three fics, four days. I am going to hibernate into my horny jail now. Boop!

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It was getting dark and he still wasn’t back.

He told you he had the council meeting today, but you were running out of time. Every minute getting you farer away from the window you needed him to hopefully grant him his biggest wish. 

Making him a Dad. 

According to your calculations your fertile window for the month was closing and you needed him. 

Joel and you found each other almost a year after the outbreak. You, alone since you fled your college on outbreak day, stumbling towards the abandoned Ikea store in search of just something to drink or eat, Joel stepping in front of you before you could even reach the door, his hand wrapping around your neck, making you look at him as he questioned what you were doing. 

Even years later you felt like he was sent to you from a higher power to safe you. 

To feed you. 

To own you. 

To fuck you. 

You became his wife, not even a month after joining his little group, that now was bigger than ever before, people living in all the abandoned department stores around, living under his protection. 

You were his only wife, even though he allowed all his men to have as many wives as they pleased. 

He was pretty possessive about you, and you over him. Sure, you couldn’t actually do anything against him taking another wife if he wanted to, but he assured you from the beginning that he was a one wife kind of husband. 

And he demanded the same in return, not that you had a problem with that.

Joel was known to be a fair but ruthless leader. He had no time for bullshit and he didn’t give second chances. 

The power he wielded had become one of your biggest turn ons, fascinated how with a flick of his fingers, his men would dispose of every problem, every person he did not trust. 

There weren’t many rules around here. 

Listen to everything Joel says.

And don’t look at you the wrong way.

Something that you had to admit was hard when he was fucking you out in the open hallway. 

Most of his men knew not to look at you too long, no matter if it was in passing or when Joel was fucking you in front of them. 

You would look too, but you weren’t the one who would lose their cock or life for it. 

Glancing at the clock you knew your fertile window was closing. He had fucked you twice today already, but you didn’t want to waste more time. 

Standing up from the bed you took your clothes including your underwear off, grabbing a wrap dress he had found for you years before, wrapping it around your body. Pulling on some high heels he loved to see you in, looking at yourself in the mirror you gave yourself a small smirk, before you opened the door, waiting for your assigned guard of the day to step away from the door, before you started to walk towards where you knew Joel held his meetings. 

„This is becoming a real fucking problem. A problem I pay you for to get rid off. What the fuck is taking so long?“ Joel hissed, his jaw twitching as he sat at the edge of the table, legs wide spread, a glass of whiskey in his right hand. 

He had been stuck in this room with twenty of his men and nothing was going according to plan. 

It was moment like this he really missed Tess. She’d have this shit done weeks ago.

„More clickers than we planned for. We hope we’ll be done by the end of tomorrow,“ Sam, one of the men who had been with his group the longest assured, and Joel sipped on his drink. 

„I want the whole building cleared by the end of the week. Then I want you to extend the outer wall around it. We need more fucking space so we can extend the drug lab. Frank is expecting a new drop by the end of the month in exchange for more ammunition,“ he reminded them. 

„I’ll take care of it personally,“ Tommy said, who was sitting to his right, looking at him and Joel gave him a quick nod. 

„There are to many fucking assholes trying to get into this settlement. Too many to handle. Might be time to stop for a while,“ one of his other advisors spoke up but Joel wasn’t listening to anything after that, cause he heard the familiar clicking of your heels before the door opened and you walked in. 

A vision in purple silk, giving him a big smile as you walked into the room, the men around him staggering to their feet to show you their respect. 

„Please, don’t let me interrupt you. In fact, ignore my presence at all,“ you hummed, giving Tommy a quick peck to his cheek before you turned away from the table and straddled Joel’s lap, his hands coming to rest on your thighs. 

The conversation behind him opened up again, Tommy taking over while Joel stared at you. 

You made quick work of releasing the bow that held your dress together, letting the fabric part, his hungry eyes all over your naked body. One of his hands cupped one of your tits and you smiled at him. 

„Whatcha up to baby girl?“ He asked, already hardening in his pants. 

„Need you to cum in my wet little pussy again. Need you to fuck it deep inside of me so I can give you your baby,“ you leaned in, nibbling at his earlobe. He groaned as he tilted his head, his eyes closing for a moment as you kissed up his neck, his hands now both under your dress palming your ass roughly. 

When his eyes opened he found one of his newer men, Tom, looking at you, his eyes widening for a moment when he saw Joel had caught him, looking away quickly. 

„First strike,“ Joel’s voice boomed and you moaned before you kissed him, your hands in his hair, Joel’s eyes on Tom who had had the nerve to look at his wife. At you. 

Everyone knew the rules.

They look at you for too long, they die. He had lost a lot of men that way, but he didn’t fucking care. 

Your fingers were working on his zipper when the conversation in the room picked up again, one of the other men talking about the greenhouse and what shit they needed in the future. 

Boring. 

Joel grunted when your fingers wrapped around his cock, helping you pull his pants down a little so you could pull him out of his pants and he leaned down, sucking at you tits. 

„You gonna fight our kid for my milk huh,“ you teased and he bit into your nipple, making you moan. 

„Gotta get you pregnant first, baby girl,“ he sucked a bruised just above your right tit while you pumped his cock in your fist. 

„You gonna make me shoot all my men if you tease me like that one day,“ he grunted, bringing one hand between your legs, three fingers slipping inside of you with ease, a smirk coming to his lips. 

„My dirty little whore,“ he whispered against your ear and you gasped, your back arching against him, your dress falling down your shoulders, exposing your naked back to the room. 

Not that you cared. 

You loved when he fucked you in front of other people.

„Put your little pussy on this cock, baby girl,“ the fingers that had just been inside of you pushing into your mouth as you lifted your ass so you could line his cock up, sinking down on him slowly. 

„Fuck baby,“ you moaned and he leaned back in his seat, both of his hands now on your ass as he looked up at you. 

„Make yourself cum on this cock and I’ll fuck your ass later,“ he said and you whimpered as you began to ride him. Moving your hips on top of him, your hands on the armrests of his chair for leverage. He slapped your ass, hard, and you cried out. 

He watched you satisfied as you fucked yourself on his cock, before his eyes found someone behind you. 

„Don’t bother Elijah, his wife is super fucking pregnant. Find me tomorrow morning, and I’ll go,“ Joel said, still clearly listening to the conversation happening in front of him. You clenched around him and he looked at you again. 

„You get so fucking wet for me like this. Maybe I should always let you fuck me in my meetings. Would make them a whole of a lot more enjoyable,“ he hummed at you and you smiled. 

„You’d loose all your men within a week,“ you grinned, turning your head to look at Tommy. 

„Except Tommy,“ you hummed and the man looked at you, giving you a wink. 

„Tommy is family. He can look all he wants,“ Joel said and you winked back at Tommy before you focused back on Joel and began to bounce on top of him. The sound of skin slapping against skin and you moans filling the room. Joel played with your tits, pinching your nipple as you clenched around him. He pulled you against his chest, fucking up into you, his mouth against your ear. 

„Cum for me and I’ll fuck you on the table. And I’ll let everyone look when I put a fucking baby into your belly,“ he whispered and you moaned loudly as your orgasm washed over you, only realising that he had picked you up and sat you down on the table, when he had pushed your back down against the cold surface and began to drill his cock into you. 

„Watch how I fuck my slutty little wife full of my fucking cum,“ he grunted out with every thrust and you stretched your arms over your head, your tits moving with every hard thrust of Joel’s cock into you. 

„Joel,“ you moaned, crying out when he slapped your clit. 

„Gonna fuck you so full, you’ll be dripping all the way back to our rooms,“ he groaned, his eyes on you. 

„Shit baby,“ you whined and he groaned. 

„Watch,“ he grunted and you looked down, his cock pumping into you, your cum all over his cock, fucking you so hard the table was moving over the floor. 

„Shit,“ he moaned, his thrusts getting sloppier until he twitched and filled you with his cum, pumping it deeply into you. 

Still out of breath you gave him a dozy smile that he mirrored, before his eyes darkened, his gun in his hand the next moment, raising it up to shoot someone behind you. 

„Inform Tom’s family that he won’t be back,“ he said to no one in particular before he reached for you, helping you sit up. Apparently Tom had in fact not stopped looking at you before Joel gave his permission to look. 

He pulled the fabric of your dress back over your shoulders, his softening cock still inside of you, before he picked you up. 

„Meeting is dismissed,“ he called over his shoulder, before he carried you back towards your rooms. 

Where he fucked you once more to make sure it would finally take. 

[iloveoldermen-posts]

Idk if you do these kinds of things but I kinda wanna get this off my chest. 141 or whoever you chose with an actual ghost reader? Like they kinda haunt the base and leave little trinkets and notes. Uh little ghostie has taken a liking to them and vice versa. The boys like to sometimes leave little things they find for her to eventually move somewhere else either for a prank or a pick me up to show she’s there. This is my first time ever doing a request so feel free to ignore if it’s too much

- ♠️ s

My Little Note I'M SORRY BUT THE CREATIVITY. My god this ask ateeee. I will try my hardest to bring the vision to life, thank youuu for suggesting it!!

Warnings: open ending, slight swearing, unsure about continuation of the one-shot, gender neutral however i have not proof read ୨୧

Everybody knew the base was haunted, I mean with how many people had died, with how many souls that were lost - it was bound to happen. The ghosts pretty much kept to themselves, wanting to finally be at peace. So unless you were a real pain in the as, they left you alone.

The 141 thought it was all a myth, something to make soldier's feel better about being afraid of their past haunting them. That was until 'little ghostie' took a liking to them. At first it was just the taunting of the man who dared call himslef 'Ghost', he hadn't reached that stage yet and Ghostie thought he shouldn't foreshadow the loneliest part of the cycle of life.

Ghostie thought it was funny seeing these big, wise men pracically shit themselves at the creak of floorboard, especially since everybody else knew about the base and accepted the idea of it being haunted.

When the 141 finally accepted Ghostie was there to stay, they started noticing things, trinkets of sorts. For example, leaving a bar of soap on Johnny's pillow, him replying 'real funny Ghostie.' Eliciting a gentle giggle to be heard and echoed through Johnny's mind for the rest of the week.

Or when Ghostie left a little ghost plush for Simon in his regular seat in the meeting room. He smiled under his mask and stuffed it in his pocket. Later that night when Ghostie was doing rounds of the base, they noticed Simon fast asleep with the small teddy almost engulfed by his arm muscle.

Gaz was given a drawing of himself sitting next to an empty chair filled with small orbs. Gaz classed it as a masterpiece and not only did he hang it up but he had it framed and placed on a wall in their common room, not even caring about the design rules.

Price was the last to recieve any gift at all, some of the boys even had multiple before he recieved his first. He didn't care about all of that when he recieved his gift - a beautifully written cursive letter explaing to him who Ghostie really was and how happy they are now they have all met.

The letter included the fact that when a ghost finally reaches full contentness, they either pass over or come back from the land of the dead.

That was the last time they heard from 'little ghostie' for the past week, unsure of what they finally chose..

My asks are currently open so get the requests in, and check out my masterlist.

THANK YOU FOR READING!! -> ALL REBLOGS, LIKES AND COMMENTS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED!!

[eruanee]

On Round 7 and the utility of sacrifice

⚠️ ROUND 7 SPOILERS ⚠️

I wanted to use this post to respond to some criticism I've seen circulating about Round 7 — it mostly being about Till's death making Ivan's sacrifice useless.

To be fair, this post doesn't aim to dismiss anyone's feelings or criticisms about R7 or Till's (presumed) death, they're all incredibly valid! I even have my own that I will talk about later. This post's only goal is really just to start a conversation about the general narrative of ALNST and how to write a compelling narrative in general. No matter what I'll say, people resonate with stories differently and expect different things from them, and that's okay!

Personally, I truly didn't expect Till to die. Before R7 came out, I even texted a friend saying this:

– If one of them has to die, I think it'll be Luka. Till's protagonist syndrome is too strong and his death would be narratively flat, I believe. – Yeah.

And well, shot missed, unlike the one that shot through Till's neck.

Though, I really do believe Till might not be dead, not only because of the #copium but this isn't really the point of this post — I will assume he is so I can discuss what his death would actually mean to the narrative and how it would impact it.

I understand that no one (including myself) expected R7 to go that way. A lot of it had us realizing we might have gotten some elements of the story wrong — something I didn't take into consideration is that the round was probably rigged to make sure Luka would win, which makes sense because of course that Alien Stage isn't the fairest competition (and if Ivan's pictures on the billboards aren't part of Till's hallucinations, this is plainly evil).

R7 also had us wondering what the goal of the rebels truly is: did they even intend to save Till? If not, why did they save Mizi, what did they see in her? Unlike what I first thought, like many others, it seemingly wasn't a rescue mission.

When I watched R7 for the first time, I audibly gasped the moment I saw the "Luka wins" sign appears and Till being shot down. And I thought "Ah, so that's the kind of story VIVINOS wanted to make." I was already a huge fan of their work before ALNST began, mostly of their horror stuff. When I watched it, I knew I was about to sit in front of absolutely devastating content that would leave me sick. The tragedy was always cruel, often unrewarding, but I would always ask for more. Good thing ALNST now exists, uh!

I mention this to state I went into ALNST expecting roughly the same thing and it's essentially what I got. I didn't expect Till to die but his death, in a way, didn't surprise me. Did it make me sick though? It sure did!

I do agree R7 feels incomplete. I think it's interesting that I have not a single idea of what's going to happen next, but my biggest regret is indeed that Till's death doesn't seem to do justice to his character or characterization.

Till, the rebellious misfit, always breaking rules to the point he has to be physically restrained, completely beaten by despair and trauma once again, dying on stage after he got a slight glimpse of hope he can never actually reach.

This is peak tragedy, and a beautifully animated one at that, but it doesn't feel like a compelling character development. If Till is truly dead, then he dies with the potential of being so much more. And this is truly sad and disappointing.

And this is why his death would make me sadder than Sua's or Ivan's. They got to choose their deaths and what it would mean for them, Till didn't. He was suffering and overwhelmed. He only accepted his fate because he got to know Mizi was still alive before his final moments. He got to die in her embrace, which is probably the only thing he could've asked for if that were to happen.

Sua's death got to introduce us to the reality of Alien Stage.

Ivan's death was an emotional climax. It conclused his character arc in a devastating way, but gave him a meaningful ending nonetheless.

Their deaths let us understand what kind of world Alien Stage takes place in : a cruel world where humans are pets to aliens, if not simple disposal. A world where feelings are never reciprocated until it's too late, where you long for something impossible until you realize you should've paid attention to what was right in front of your eyes, too.

Alien Stage is a show where the candidates' suffering are seen and consumed as mere entertainment.

In this system, I believe Sua's and Ivan's meaningful deaths are anomalies. Till's death is the standard. An extremely unfair event, result of an extremely unfair competition. This isn't about who deserves to survive, but about who manages to. If anything, I think the aliens are relieved Till is dead, as he was mostly a bother to them. Luka is beloved and accommodating.

A world where death is the easy escape, if not almost a selfish one. Sacrifice is an act of love, but also an act of egocentricity. The sacrifice aims to be remembered as selfless and generous, but in the end, they only "run away without any sense of responsibility". The gift sounds beautiful when actually, it might only be rotten.

In such a world, how can a sacrifice ever be useful? I guess Ivan's wasn't. A sacrifice only happens to create a possibility, a chance, a what if.

Another very frustrating part of Till's death to me is that I thought he had the power to be a protagonist. I still stand by it but he was robbed of this agency. Him being used as a narrative device for Mizi's protagonist plotline (at least that's what I believe) feels a bit cruel, even narratively.

Alien Stage can be a frustrating story because it seems there is no way out, which is ultimately not something people are seeking for very often in a story. I still hope there's a way out somewhere, maybe not for Till, but that would already be something.

As for now, it seems Mizi's role is to manage to make Sua's sacrifice, as well as all of these deaths, worth something. This is the 50th season of Alien Stage. The pile of corpses is leaking red.

I do wonder where the story is going to head.

At the very least, Till wasn't unknown till the end. You could say that being loved, even for a blink, makes one's life worthy to be lived.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Promise of Rubies - A John Shelby/Reader One Shot Story.

This kind of just happened last night, a bit of dark, a lot of fluff. Enjoy, besties.

(GIF credit - @peakystitches)

Words - 2,956

Warnings - Fluff! Mentions of violence, too.

The horizon bleeds pink into orange, swirling in watercolour as the ink of night begins to dominate, saturating into all that is warm with her cool darkness. The clouds of fluffy white smoke into grey, the evening arriving, the chill whipping against your skin as you stand outside your home, idly smoking a cigarette. No smoking in the house, as per your sister’s rules.  

It’s been just you and her looking after your brood of younger siblings since your mother died and your father hung. A hard life marred with tragedy, but you make no complaint. There are certain ways a poor woman with little in the way of opportunity can make her life better, yours perhaps the most sought after within the slums of Small Heath.

Shagging a Shelby. Many women covert it; few attain.  

It isn’t just sex between you and John any longer, though. At least, you don’t think it is. Surely if it were, you wouldn’t be the refuge he sought in times of crisis, in times where he needs someone to give him the care he usually provides to you. Surely, he’d go elsewhere if you meant so little to him as to solely be a warm hole in which to bury his cock.  

“John?” 

He staggers, his path zig zagging as he moves through the street, hitting the house besides yours, his features scrunched as he grunts in effort. Your heart skips on a beat, realising that he’s hurt beyond a mild beating. “John, Jesus bloody wept, what happened?” 

Casting your cigarette into the gutter, you reach for him, and he slumps against you, his body moulding soft yet heavy against yours.  

“The fucking...” he grits, pulling himself up, face contorted in agony. “The fucking wops. Jumped me, couldn’t get home. Yours was quicker. Fucking... those fucking...” 

Assertiveness kicks in, the same as when you’re dealing with split elbows and grazed knees suffered by your younger brothers and sisters, the protective instinct within your stirred to action. “Okay, don’t talk right now. Let’s get you inside. Come on.” 

Hauling his arm around your shoulders, you pull him towards your front door, burdened beneath his weight, turning to make sure there are no persons of the Italian persuasion around. Him being followed is the very last thing you need. You want to help him, such goes without saying, but if the Changretta’s knew where you lived... heaven help you.  

It isn’t like Jonh is currently in a fit state to assist in fighting them off right now either, and you could do without having to point a gun to anyone’s head. Being in a relationship of sorts with a Shelby means that wielding a weapon simply becomes par for the course. Trust you to fall for a man whose terms and conditions come with the kind of desensitising to violence you never expected to ever partake in.  

“Come on,” you grit, hauling him towards the kitchen table, John heavy against you as you steer him into a seat. “Right, let’s take a look at you. You ain’t been stabbed or shot, have you?” 

He straightens, wincing. “Slashed me, but nah, none of that.” 

You’re involving yourself in unbuttoning his waistcoat and tattered shirt when your sister walks in, the air thickening with immediate effect. “What the bloody hell went on here?” 

You turn your head, scoffing with soft incredulity. “Isn’t that obvious, Ethel?” 

“I don’t want his brand of trouble in my fucking house!” 

“S’alright, Ethel,” he groans, taking a deep breath, wincing again as you gasp upon revealing his banged up ribs. No wonder he can hardly breathe. “I weren’t followed. Wouldn’t have come if I was. Ain’t no fucking way I’m putting you, your sister or the nippers in danger.”  

“You better be sure on that, John Shelby. Because I’ll fucking hang before I let you endanger my family! We’ve already lost mom and dad, for the love of god, we don’t...” 

“Ethel!” you shout, turning to view her. “Leave it alone now. This isn’t the time, alright? Just go to work. The kids are in bed, we’re armed, and he wasn’t followed. It’s fine.”  

Ethel shakes her head, her lips pinching. “The things you’ll put up with for a shag.” 

“As would you if you saw the cock on him,” you fire back, John snorting with laughter despite his state. 

“And here was me thinking it was me raw charm you liked most,” he jokes, laughing all he can.  

“I’ll be back later.” Her frosty statement is followed by her swift exit, the front door slamming shut. You look at John, shaking your head with a soft smile. 

“I do like you for more than your cock, you know.” 

He grins, pulling out his cigarettes and lighting up. Flouting Ethel's rules is one of his favourite pastimes. “Wouldn’t blame you if that was the only thing about me you did like, bab. It’s impressive.”  

Battered six ways to Sunday and still, he’s the cockiest, most arrogant shit of a man you’ve ever met. 

“And the rest of you does come with a certain barrage of shit.” 

A flicker of embarrassment gilds his face in shame, dropping his gaze. “I know, love.”  

Pulling his shirt from him, you study his wounds carefully. Bruised ribs, but his breathing isn’t laboured enough for them to be broken. Cuts and welts to his face, a slash across his upper pectoral leading to the side of his armpit. It could have been a hell of a lot worse.  

Thank fuck Small Heath lads can take a bloody good kicking.  

Stroking his face, your heart flutters when he leans into the cup of your palm, turning his head to kiss the heel of your hand. “Let me get some stuff together, and I’ll get you sorted.”  

His gratitude is delivered in the soft gaze from his steel blue eyes, halting you as you stand, pulling you close. “I’d fucking be lost without you.”  

Of course, he would. It takes a special kind to be with a Shelby, a woman who knows the harder side of life by nature rather than infliction, a woman who accepts that smooth sailing will never come without regular choppy seas, a woman who sees beyond the black clouds for the rays of sunshine.

You think of all of that and more while boiling some water, pouring a splash of TCP into the bowl, a little cold water to follow, taking it back to the table with some cotton to begin cleaning his war wounds.  

“Fucking hell!” he hisses sharply, the sting of the antiseptic meeting the open chest wound too great to merely offer grumbles in response.  

You study the wound closely, knowing that bandaging across his chest will keep it clean, but two places at least are much too deep for the skin to knit together without assistance. “I’ll have to stitch you, John.” Your face is full of lament, squeezing his hand. “Sorry.”  

He sniffs, his shoulders twitching in shrug. “I thought you might. It's alright.”  

A cotton reel and needle are fetched, as well as a bottle of cheap brandy and a couple of glasses. You half fill his, John knocking it back immediately, causing you to reconsider your stance on anything vaguely resembling etiquette and pushing the bottle towards him instead. “Ta, bab.”  

He knocks back the brandy like it's some kind of elixir, and you cannot blame him at all, having to endure the pain of stitches administered by a semi-unskilled hand. Hems and turnups you are adept with; flesh wounds, not so much.  

Pushing the needle into his pale flesh, he hisses a grumble, prompting your lips to press a kiss into the centre of his chest before you continue. Nine stitches close the first of the deepest part of the gash, four to the second, John knocking back the brandy as you knot the thread, cutting the cotton with a sharp knife.  

“There,” you say, sitting back to admire your handiwork. “All sorted.” You notice his skin beaded in sweat, the blood trails bleeding into it, pink pearls of fluid trickling over his chest. “Do you want me to prep you a bath?” 

He shakes his head, placing the brandy bottle down. “Nah, love. You’ve done enough.” He stands slowly, taking the bowl and emptying it before filling it with the remainer of the hot water, washing himself down carefully. Standing, you tip the brandy within your glass down your throat, going to fetch a towel for him.  

“You look like you need to go to bed.”  

Taking the towel from you, he dries his face and chest, nodding. “Probably the best place for me.” Locking the front door, you walk along behind him, hands braced against the wide planes of his bare shoulders, moving to your tiny bedroom. There isn’t much in there, a double bed that takes up most of the room, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe, the spaces between the furniture narrow, John kicking off his boots and the remainder of clothes, wincing in pain as he climbs beneath the covers.  

“I was just about to make some tea,” you state, seating yourself on the edge of the bed. “Only beans on toast, it’s about all we’ve got in. Do you want some?” 

He reaches for your arm, shaking his head. “No ta, sweetheart. I think I just need to sleep it off.” He stares up at you for a few moments and your heart flutters, half with the worry that the wounds that led him to your door could have all too easily been fatal, and half with the absolute beauty of his eyes. You never noticed before, how they exactly match the sunset, smoky blue irises gilded in the golden copper of his lashes, freckled lids that begin growing heavier with every blink.  

Leaning to him, you kiss his lips softly. “Just shout if you need anything, I’ll be downstairs.”  

He’s asleep before you’ve even climbed off the bed, leaving you to wonder just how much he’d had to drink prior to him being jumped. You’ve seen John fight, he’s adept, savage, not the kind of man who would take a kicking lying down. There was bound to be more than one, though, this beating a clear message from the Italians. If they wanted him dead, he wouldn’t have turned up at all. Either that or you’d be walking to the phone box to call Tommy and inform him of John’s demise upon your doorstep, either of the two.  

Putting it to the back of your mind, you go downstairs, searching through your meagre pantry. No beans. Ahhh, yeah. You shared the last tin out between the kids before putting them to bed. You won’t receive your grocery delivery until the day after either, John putting in a standing order he pays for at the corner shop to be delivered twice weekly, so your family never go without.  

Ethel protests it, but often quietens when she sees a bottle of gin just for her there in the box when good ole’ Mr Williams knocks the door with your provisions. Say what you will about John, but he’s thoughtful and makes sure nobody within your household goes without, even if one of those people doesn’t like him much. 

Grabbing the loaf of bread, you think yourself lucky to at least have preserves and butter in good supply, slathering three slices, one plain butter, one with jam and the other with marmalade. You leave that slice until last, the comfort of your mother’s marmalade recipe you’ve finally managed to perfect making you feel warm inside as you sit at the hearth with a strong cup of tea, kicking off your shoes to warm your toes in front of the fire.  

“They’re dangerous lads, but they’re good lads, those Shelby boys.” That’s what she staunchly said of them, always welcoming John with open arms whenever he called to take you out. Him, Tommy and Arthur, they all tried to swing it the other way with the police when your dad was locked up, languishing within the damp, rat-infested surroundings of Winson Green prison. It was sadly to no avail, your father meeting the noose just two weeks after your mother died, her heart giving out on her after a lifetime of suffering with the illness.  

Your heart is now the one that lies damaged, effectively orphaned, caregiver to four small children when you feel like now is the time to be thinking about maybe beginning a family of your own. Your mind turns back to the guest within your bed, smiling as you think of him, wondering what your eventual children will look like.  

You spend a few hours at the fireside, reading a book between bouts of getting lost in thought, wondering if this new trouble with the Italians is going to only lead to further heartbreak for you. Loving a gangster is not an easy path, but you walk it with him all the same. Deciding to head upstairs rather than throw on more kindling, you seek the warmth of his body after you’ve stripped off, pulling your nightgown on and sliding into bed beside him. 

“What you bothered with this thing for?” he mutters, hand reaching to stroke against the winceyette covering your waist.  

“Well, I didn’t think you’d be fit for anything other than sleep, given the fact you turned up four hours ago beaten black and blue,” you state, John nodding. 

“I'm not, but I like the feel of your skin against mine. Get it off.”  

Rolling your eyes, the nightgown is abandoned, settling down at his side again, John grabbing your leg and gently resting it across his thighs. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “It’ll all be alright, you know. In the end. It ain’t alright at the moment, but that’s cos’ it ain’t the end, love.” 

You swear, he can read your mind sometimes, all your little worries you manage to hide. You can never keep them shadowed from John, though. “I know, darling. I know. I accept it, I know I have to harden myself to it all, that it’s the price I pay to love someone as much as I do you. Doesn't make it easy, though.”  

His hand strokes idly at your back, another kiss pressed to your head. “It will be one day, bab. Promise.”  

As you fall asleep beside him, you don’t know if you truly can believe that or not, wondering if you’re cursed to love and lose forever. Many more nights of worry come and go, though, but he still turns up. Sometimes battered, most of the time absolutely fine. The Italian issue gets sorted, and life moves on, until one evening when he fails to turn up at all.  

It would be your birthday, wouldn’t it? He would go missing and thus curse the day forevermore, a day that should be marked with happiness forever blacked out as the day John Shelby failed to knock your front door. Someone else does, though.  

“Come with me, love,” Arthur states, his face blank, tone flat.  

“Why?” you ask, fetching your coat from behind the front door. “Arthur, what’s going on? Why do you look so serious?”  

Your heart begins pounding, the tall, eldest Shelby sibling giving nothing away. “Just come with me.” 

Is this it? Is this the day you’ve been dreading? Surely though, if something had happened, Arthur would just come out and say it, wouldn’t he?  

He would, wouldn’t he?  

You pester him all the way along the walk, out of your street and around the corner, coming onto Watery Lane, the heat from the blast furnaces warming the chill in your cheeks as you pass them by, Okay, so you passed John’s house, too. Can’t be that bad, can it? Surely if he was dead, Arthur would have taken you there to explain?  

“After you.” Holding the door open, he makes a gesture for you to head into The Garrison first, your heart still thumping wildly with nerves, stepping in to the almightiest cheer that makes you jump about a foot out of your skin. Banners and streamers decorate the entire pub, your friends and family all present, John beaming as he walks away from the group of smiling people.  

“Happy birthday, sweetheart” he speaks warmly, pulling you into a huge hug. “Aw, look at her face! Proper got ya, didn’t I?” 

“I thought you were dead! I thought, I though Arthur was bringing me here to give me bad news, and you didn’t turn up, and...” you babble, turning to see Arthur grin. He receives a smack in the chest for his talents in delivering a completely deadpan facade. “You bugger!” 

“I know,” he chuckles, winding his arm around your shoulders and kissing your head. “I’m a fucking rotter, but I was under orders.”  

Your eyes turn back to he who gave the orders, shaking your head. “You’re a bugger too, John Shelby.” 

He raises his eyebrows in acknowledgement. “I know. Hopefully you won’t think I’m one for very long, though.” He reaches into his pocket, removing a small box, taking your hand. Your mouth virtually hits the ground as you watch him lower to one knee before you. “I love you, (Y/N). Always have, always will. Will you marry me?” 

With tears in your eyes, you accept the proposal, and the beautiful ruby and diamond engagement ring, John slipping it onto your finger and kissing your hand as the crowd erupts with cheers, standing to kiss you.  

“Promised you it’d all be okay in the end, didn’t I?” 

Indeed, he did.  

[roserunodays]

@greenbetula This is in response to your post, but I wanted to say my own thoughts here instead of a reblog!

The Mahiru Undercover shot is really interesting tbh because it seems more unclear compared to the other shots shown. Just what is happening here? Is it a shadow of them holding hands while they’re walking like in ILY? Well, I think it could be, but the angle seems to suggest that Mahiru’s bf’s hand is flat on the ground, which would mean his body is laying there as well. If that were the case, Mahiru would either be reaching down to take his hand, or she’s laying on top of him and taking his hand like that instead. Either way, I don’t think that really matters because it’s clear she’s holding his hand somehow, but why? What’s the reason for her doing that? Imo, I think it’s because she was grieving.

At least with how I interpret this, this seems to be right after he died (which would parallel the rest of the Undercover shots seemingly taking place after the prisoners’ murders, most notably Kazui’s where it’s clear that’s right after Hinako killed herself), and Mahiru, who survived the aftermath of her bf’s death, is trying to compensate for him being dead, either being in complete denial in that moment, or she’s coping because she just…doesn’t know what to do. And who wouldn’t know what to do in that kind of situation? What can she do, now that the person she loved is gone? Try and "bring him back" somehow? I don't think these two things are mutually exclusive btw, it really could've been both. I just think she, especially in her grief like state, would do this sort of thing (aka hold hands with a corpse) for two main reasons:

One: Mahiru is a person who wants to be together forever with her partner. Especially in that moment after he literally just died, she would try to be together with him (which is why she holds his hand). She wants that closeness with him, to continue being with him and loving him despite being dead, because that is what love is to her, after all:

She also believes in the afterlife and yet she still wishes to bring the one she loved back to life. In that grief stricken moment, did she try to do such a thing? Did she have some kind of thought that he would come back somehow if she was together with him? Or was it something much darker, where she wanted to join him in death, because living without him and in a world where she had nothing was much more painful than dying?

This is further supported by the name of this drink in TIHTBILWY, which is called “Corpse Reviver” interestingly enough. To be honest, the worst I can see Mahiru do is somehow keep her bf’s corpse around (which would mirror Shidou heavily), although I highly doubt this because I don’t think it’s realistic, and I feel like it should’ve been hinted at more by now if that was the case. Again, I can’t completely rule that out, but it’s a scenario I could see happening in the short term (in the moment where he just died) compared to Shidou’s long term actions with his patients to try and bring back his family.

I think in that moment right after he died, Mahiru just wanted to be together with him somehow, so she's coping with that loss by being close to him, even if he's...already gone. Hell, she's still having trouble even now with fully accepting her boyfriend's death:

There is nothing that can bring him back, so what else can she do, other than hold his lifeless hand out of a quiet moment of respite?

Two: Shidou Kirisaki parallels

The character she is paired with for prisoner pairs, the one who has many similarities with her in regards to grief and not being to accept death that’s right in front of them — it really highlights just how similar they are in that sense. They are both people who have been overtaken by grief before:

Shidou tries to bring back his loved ones, who are nothing but “corpses” at this point, back at the expense of others so they could be together again. Mahiru, even if it was just in that moment, also wanted to try and “bring the person she loved back”, even if she knew deep down it wouldn’t work. But at least they could be together again, right?

That is why I think Mahiru’s reaction to her boyfriend’s death would also be along the lines of Shidou’s reaction to the death of his family: in a state of complete grief and partial denial that drives them to try and “get them back” somehow. And along with that, a horrible realization that they both have to accept that death because nothing they can do will ever bring their loved ones back from it.

[hencvl]

The Devil's Obsession. | Chapter 1

⊱ where the devil in disguise, August Walker trapped a little human in his grasp and claimed her as his ultimate prize.

⚠ | possessive behavior, kidnapping, manipulation, smut, virgin reader, breeding kink, rough play, (a bit of facial hair rubbing?) dom!August- he's a devil after all.

Also be aware that this story was written by an amateur who's still learning how to write a proper story (and also slow update). I sincerely apologize for any mistake that i made, no matter if it's the grammar or the spellings, english is not my first language.

✎✎✎

It was all dark and malicious, just the way he was built. the first time i saw him, i thought he was an angel.. perhaps he is, but the one who was stripped from grace just like how Lucifer was.

A fallen Angel.

It was all Mike's idea that i was trapped here!

❏ 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘉𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦-,

“spooky sleepover, woooo..” Mike said joking, wearing the Ghostface mask as he chuckled. Maya just rolled her eyes at his childish behaviour.

“come on, Mike. we all know that ghosts don't exist.” Maya said.

“then what did you become after you died?” i raised a brow at her. “If ghosts are not what we become after we die, do we turn into gnomes that clean the gardens?”

"I bet Maya turn into a flying pony that farts sparkles.” Mike quipped, looking at both girls with his goofy grin. “anyway, i have some games to play to summon ghosts since Maya didn't believe that they existed. It would probably change her mind a bit.”

“Mike, what kind of board games do you pick from the trash can this time?”

The man shrugged, as he opened the board game that had a black circle in the middle, with a few tokens for the players. The instructions said, if you lose the game or break the rules, the devil himself will come and drag you to his place in hell.

“sounds interesting. who wants to be dragged to the hell by the devil? wooo-” Mike's impersonation of ghosts was cut off by Maya slapping him across his face.

“shut up, Mike. throw the dice already.” Maya huffs in annoyance.

we played the games for a few minutes, Mike was the one to reach the finish first, followed by Maya in the second place. i looked at them after realising that I lost the game completely.

“what now? the devil will come and kidnap me?" i chuckled playfully, as Mike couldn't help but laugh his asses off. for us, it was a bit.. ridiculous that the devil will kidnap one of us just because we lose the game.

“oh, bloody hell! would the devil come and kidnap me to his dimensions? holding me as his prisoner, and even breed me?” i said dramatically, while Mike and Maya couldn't hold their laughter back. Mike started to roll on the ground while holding his stomach from laughing too much.

“𝗔𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆, 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀 𝗮 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗮.” said the deep, husky voice behind us.

❐

For a moment i thought i was possessed, but I'm not. i keep.. hearing things inside my head. the man who keeps telling me to rearrange my guts and don't freak out is the one who dragged me into this dimension of hell. All i saw was his eyes.

The perfect combination of blue, like the cold ice of Antarctica. His eyes are bright but hollow at the same time, as if captivating his prey and charmed them into his wicked desires.

“you can open your eyes now.” whisper the voice again.

does that mean I'm sleeping all of this time? or did he put some kind of black magic on me when he kidnapped me? so many questions in my head that were unanswered.

Once i came to the view, i saw him.

“what the..” i muttered, unable to move a muscle. was this some kind of magic that he used against me as well?

“now that you willingly summoned me and even gave yourself for me to breed,” the man said, before he sprang on his feet and looked down at me. “it will happen soon, don't you worry.”

then i realized, i was under his magic. i couldn't move a muscle as much as i tried, it was all futile attempts. i was laying on his bed on my back, wrists above my head and my legs spread.

as much as i hate to admit, i was naked before his eyes.

he was there, hands in his pockets as he looked down at me with his bored eyes. he stared at me for a good moment before one of his hands reached out to touch my clit.

i hissed when his finger circled it gently, the swollen nub peeked shyly from the folds, inviting his touches more.

he grinned. “regret your decision, pet? it's too late, for the pact has been made.”

He grinned wickedly, i swear i could see him licking his lips hungrily while his eyes hold a somewhat lustful look. i could feel his calloused fingertips on my bare skin, his breath tickling me to the nerves.

the bed creaked as he sat himself between my legs, spreading them open for him. he placed one of my legs on his shoulder, taking a closer look on my cunt.

“my, my..look at that shy flower.” he chuckled, before he pinched my clit harshly that got me gasping and arched my back.

“who..ah! who are you?” i asked in between my breaths, looking at him confusedly. the man only smiled in return before landing a harsh slap on my cunt that has begun to drip.

“A leader of devils, the owner of this dimension, a blasphemy to mankind..but for you, simply a lover.” he answered, placing small kisses on my inner thigh that was on his shoulder.

“..a what..?”

he shushed me once more, dipping his head down to my heated cunt and placed a long kiss on my swollen clit. i gasped, bucking my hips slightly to this stranger. he looked passionate while doing so..

“may i have some of your sweet nectar, my love?”

i was about to ask him what he meant by that, but it was immediately cut off by my sudden, loud moan that filled the room while i felt him thrusting his tongue, lapping my essence. what is this.. feeling..?

“ah!”

i heard him groaned in pleasure, as he continued to lap everything that he could taste while his thumb toys with my clit, pinching and circling it harshly.

his mustache brushed against my folds, making my eyes roll back in pleasure at the feeling of his rough facial hair. i couldn't move at all, even just to wiggle a bit. i couldn't help but moan and whined in pleasure while he eats me like a starved man.

he looked up at me with a grin, his hot breath fanned over my mound.

“you need a name to scream, my love?” he teased, his voice changing to a sultry manner. “It's August. you may scream my name now.”

“wait-”

before i could even finish he continued his doings before, making me scream out his name. August.. that's the name of this man. his tongue lapping up the elixir from between my legs roughly, his calloused hands keeping my thighs spread open for him.

he nursed on my clit, locking his lips around the engorged nub while his ringer and middle finger pushed past my entrance, massaging the spot that made me see stars. all i did was just moaning intensely beneath him, completely under his mercy.

“ah! August-,” i screamed out in pleasure, as the coil in my belly tightened. August let out a muffled moan as he drank my release.

after a moment he pulled back with a huff, licking his lips as he looked at me with his cold gaze. his hands were still gripping on the meat of my thighs, spreading it open for him still.

“you tasted divine, my dear..it makes me want to bury my cock into you and plant my seed there.. watching it grow and blossoming inside you.” he whispered, his hand moved to caress my belly.

“but not just yet, my dear. we will wait for the Red Moon tomorrow. it will ensure a healthy heir..and perhaps a son that is powerful as me.” he smirked, rubbing his clothed erection against my wet cunt, whimpering slightly at the thought of him penetrating me.

“tomorrow you'll be mine, my dear.”

❦❦❦

Taglist-

@thearcana-moonlight

Dm me if you want to be added or removed-!

[inkprovised]

Pls keep scrolling if you don't like Bowuigi.

+TW Angst

There is so much stuff that didn't make it into the Reunion Comic... but I don't want it to go to waste.

So have a little something in-between the Coronation and Reunion;

Always time;

The day was long. Again.

Kamek dragged himself through the corridors on his way to his last duty of the day. It was past midnight already!

It's been 5 months since they created the healing sphere in which the King of the Koopa was locked in, to- well... heal. It needed four Magikoopa to build that giant thing, but fortunately, only one to run it. Kamek and Kammy took shifts since Kamek still had his duty at the side of their new King. And since this one had no experience in ruling whatsoever, this job was even harder than before.

Not to get it wrong, Luigi's doing great. But since Bowser's absence, things in the Kingdom were going out of hand. But there was no fault to seek in the new Ruler.

Bowser promised Luigi would surprise them all. And this Kamek could confirm almost every day. Luigi was kind. He had a feeling for situations that were in immediate need of de-escalation, he was willing to put himself into everything, and he was fair. Yet scared all the time...

The citizens who came to bring their concerns and requests to the king sure were not convinced at first. But some of them already met King Bowser and sometimes were scared to ask of anything at all. Then, while talking to Luigi, they relaxed visibly, and chit-chating was about to become a common thing with the King. And Kamek was certain they liked their new Ruler.

One time, he wasn't fast enough to react, Luigi jumped from his throne to hug a desperately crying single mother who asked for help. Her husband died in one of the (already countless) riots at the borders of the Lands. He just wanted to get a surprise for their anniversary and wasn't even involved in the sedition....

Kamek was thrown off his thoughts as he reached the healing chambers. The door was ajar, and the light of the sphere was showing through. The Magikoopa could hear a voice, reading with passion about a dragon and a village in flames. He knew this part too well! It was Junior's favourite book. How many times had Bowser or himself read it to him...

Kamek entered the chambers.

"Luigi?" He asked, the reading stopped.

At the bottom of the sphere sat an exhausted looking King, bags under his eyes, book in hand, and a loud snoring Junior on his lap. His hair had grown out, and Kamek didn't know if he did not want them to be cut short or if he was just prioritising other things. Luigi leaned on the sphere, which caused the magic glow to alter.

He smiled. "Kamek. Come sit with us. We're about to get to the best part."

"How?!"

"How- what?"

"The world could go down, and you'd still find enough time for them... how?" Luigi only shrugged. "And how often did you read that thing already?!" Kamek pointed at the book. "And why are you still reading? Junior is fast asleep already. "

"Who says I'm reading to Junior right now?" The King laughed and craned his neck to look at the shadow inside the sphere, then he smiled. "I know Bowser can't stand this book anymore. He told me the last time we read it to our little one here. " Then his smile turned sad. "I keep reading this to him until he wakes up just to make me shut up because he can't stand it anymore. "

At this, Kamek snorts unexpectedly fast and loud

Which led to them both laughing a couple of minutes straight.

Kamek cleared his throat and adjusted himself before talking. "You should go and rest yer majesty. Don't make me use my sleep magic on you again."

I needed to get this out of my system first. Thanks for your patience!

For all of you who don't know what is happening;

Start here

[swanmaids]

the care and feeding of an elven high king

for @tolkienekphrasisweek day 2, culinary arts. remix of @welcomingdisaster 's a note on the pecularities... ao3 link. this is a fic about trauma-induced eating disorders.

Many in Gondolin, from the servants to the lords, will say that His Grace the king was never the same since his crossing of the treacherous Ice; that he was so changed by its horrors that he became almost a completely different man. It has become something of a cliche within our city to say that Turukano of Tirion died on the Grinding Ice, and Turgon of Beleriand was born in his place. 

As for myself, I have never seen the Blessed Realm or the long march to Beleriand, and so I can offer little insight into who His Grace may have been before he reached the shores of Vinyamar where my people joined with his host. But I have no reason to doubt the words of those who did know him then. And If I were to ask one of them: how did he change? They would probably provide me with a great list of examples. The way he speaks to his friends and his subjects and his daughter, the way he carries himself, the way he sleeps, the way he eats. 

The latter is the only example that I have any kind of authority to speak on, but I would hardly be surprised as to its accuracy. From what I have heard of the bounties of Aman, it seems truly impossible to me that anybody could be presented with the spoils of the Great Hunter, the King of the Seas and the Sisters of the Earth, and still maintain the same austere diet that His Grace tasks me with preparing these days. 

Just how austere is that diet? His Grace has almost too many rules concerning what he will not consume for one to keep up with - and he is wont to change them on a moment’s basis - but over the centuries I believe he and I have come close to an understanding. 

First and foremost, His Grace will eat no meat nor fish, and requires that all of his meals be prepared separately from any meat or fish in the royal kitchens. He claims that even the smell and sight of it turns his stomach; and I am inclined to believe this, having witnessed myself an incident in which, when seated next to Her Grace the princess Aredhel while she ate a dish of venison, his skin turned clammy and his hands visibly shook. He did not even attempt to pick up his utensils, and left the table with his own plate totally untouched. 

Regarding what may have resulted in this particular peculiarity, I want to be clear that I have no wish to comment on the rumours surrounding what may or may not have occurred among the Noldor as they fought to survive the Ice. His Grace is a fair and just king, who treats his subjects of every station well, and has suffered a great many tragedies since the Noldor fled Aman. There is nothing to be gained by spreading salacious rumours that would only harm his good name. 

Let us instead return to my original topic. Meat and fish are not the only foods that His Grace refuses to eat - he would not be so unusual here in Gondolin if they were, though his aversion is stronger than most. Instead, His Grace is greatly concerned with only consuming that which he does not consider to be “unclean”, seemingly concerned that such “impure” foods will cause his person to become unclean from within. In practice, this has resulted in an aversion to milk, eggs, butter, yoghurt and cheeses, oils, sweets, pastries, many strong-tasting roots and spices, and excessive salt. His Grace despises appearing intoxicated in front of others, and will drink only a small amount of watered wine on special occasions. Coffee, however, he consumes frequently and in great amounts. 

I will admit that it has not always been easy to cook according to such rigid restrictions, but I should like to think that over time and with hard work, I have been able to reach some workable solutions. His Grace tends to favour simple meals, typically steamed grains and vegetables such as winter squash. Nuts are often eaten, and I try to include them in as many meals as possible for the extra energy they provide. Though His Grace eschews sweets, as previously mentioned, he is able to enjoy most fruits, and a dish of pears poached in almond milk is a favourite. This is quite doable, as the soils of Tumladen provide us with a rich bounty of fruits. If nothing else, the lembas baked by Her Grace the princess Idril is of course suitable, but I try to avoid this as much as possible as His Grace is wont to become agitated over the state of the city’s lembas stores. Yes - Gondolin may well be the fairest and most wondrous of all the elven realms, and the greatest work of His Grace’s hands, but the king’s table is one place where extravagance is firmly eschewed. 

I aim too to plan meals well in advance, for His Grace is known to ask me what I have planned for him to eat in the near future, and to become visibly unhappy if I cannot answer. 

As much as I can, I endeavour to serve His Grace within his private chambers,  with his daughter and his closest lords at most as guests, as he greatly dislikes eating in front of others. However, a king must, on occasion, feast with his subjects. During such feasts, His Grace has become very adept at performing the appearance of eating for his audience, while in reality consuming little to nothing. It is likely that I am one of very few citizens who has noticed this. Still, I do my best to help His Grace on such occasions. After last years’ Tarnin Austa , I sent a kitchen maid to His Grace’s chambers with a plate of figs and walnuts, so that he would not go to bed hungry. Finally, it is worth noting that His Grace’s particular anxieties regarding food and its consumption are not fixed, and are wont to wax and wane in severity. When the Eagle came to Gondolin and told us to prepare ourselves for an assault on our enemy, this goal seemed to energise His Grace and loosen the hold of some of his anxieties - I was even able to prepare small amounts of eggs and dairy to supplement his training at arms, as long as it was hidden within porridges and broths. But during times of tragedy, His Grace is known to become even more restrictive, to the point of what seems like self-punishment. For instance, in the aftermath of the horrible killing of Her Grace his sister, he undertook a weeks-long fast that left him exhausted and skeletal, spreading rumours and fear among the whole population. In the days after his return from the Fifth Battle, it was only due to his daughter pleading with him not to fast again that His Grace did not repeat this disastrous ritual.

Please do not mistake me here, however - Her Grace the princess Idril is quite often just as difficult to cook for as her father. In fact, if I were to describe her own peculiarities, we might be here all day.

[teecupangel]

I don’t know if I sent this ask before but… what if Desmond let the world burn? As a treat? Hehehe! I’m just getting major Dune vibes from this idea.

I know I have a few ideas here where Desmond let the world burn but I cannot find it for the life of me (except this catboy Desmond worship idea XD) so have this

The end of the world was not instant.

It was a slow, agonizing death.

The heat of the solar flare reached them first.

Something was in that heat that served similar to an EMP, taking down every electronic devices that were hit by it.

Phones.

Computers.

Servers.

… life support systems.

Then, the actual flare enveloped the world, burning everything it touched.

Some buildings survived.

Their occupants… rarely did.

While the flare didn’t hit them, the buildings grew too hot for them.

Those who died were the lucky ones.

Those who survived…

They were given the cruel choice.

To do everything that they must to survive.

That was when he appeared.

Clad in pristine white that was clear in this barren desolated world.

He accepted all to his paradise.

He calls it Davenport.

The people call it ‘Eden’.

He was as kind as he was merciless.

Abide by the rules or you shall be removed from paradise.

Only in paradise did flora flourish and fauna roamed.

The sky always held an aurora of gold and white, no matter the weather.

At first, they saw him as a mortal who had been given a boon by some kind of divine entity.

Later, they saw him as their god.

His name was Desmond Miles.

Now, it was simply Desmond.

For gods need not a last name.

.

“Do you regret it?”

He was the first of many.

The people call them his disciples.

He saw them as ghosts coming to haunt him for the choice he had made.

For his hubris of thinking he could change the future Juno showed him if he let the world burn.

Juno… the devil who tempts humanity to the hell.

Or so these supposedly scriptures say.

She was long gone. Destroyed together with the Grand Temple.

By Desmond’s orders.

It was necessary.

She was able to connect with electronics even though she should be imprisoned.

Before Desmond could start rebuilding their technological advancement, all the old ones must be destroyed.

Including any Isu devices remaining.

Until all that was left was him.

And the golden circuitry running through his veins.

Cursed with the database the Isus called the Akashic records.

And Desmond…

“I don’t.”

Desmond looked at the expanse of the city of Davenport.

New Eden, they call it behind his back.

Born from the ashes of Davenport homestead.

His own lounging, a tower with a manor on the roof, founded where the old Davenport manor used to be.

A manor that houses his most faithful… the ones they call his disciples.

And one ‘heretic’.

His first disciple.

The one who did not see him as a god.

The one he had confessed everything to.

“Maybe my death would have given humanity a better future.” Desmond admitted as he relaxed on his chair, listening to the songbirds that frolicked the small garden in front of his manor, cared for by his third disciple.

“But if I did, all of you wouldn’t have been reborn.” Desmond said with a soft smile.

“This is the only life I ever known.” He reminded him like so many times before already.

Desmond’s smile grew into a grin as he said, “And do you like your life, Altaïr?”

The young man no older than twenty five with golden eyes stared at him for a moment before he turned to look at the sprawling city underneath them.

“Yes.” He answered, “I’m sure all the other disciples would have the same answer if you ask them.”

Desmond closed his eyes as he said…

“Then that’s all that matters.”

[bengiyo]

Don't Care for an Old Man's Underwear Ep 11 (Finale) Stray Thoughts

This watch made possible by @isaksbestpillow.

Last time, Daichi's dad came back into the picture and dumped a heaping pile of homophobia right on top of our favorite boy. Daichi, despite all his courage and conviction, balked before his father. No one was able to say much to Daichi; not Madoka, not Makoto. Makoto wasn't sure how to interject himself in this situation, and hesitated because he wanted to move properly. At work, there was discussion about people being downsized and laid off, and how that ruined relationships once a man could no longer provide. Meanwhile, Kakeru is struggling with the ethics of makeup after he helped his friend pretend to be a kind of girl she isn't. Finally, when no one else seemed like they could talk to Daichi, Kakeru reminded us that he's Makoto's son and meddled directly. We left at Daichi's dad being horrible to Kakeru, and Makoto stormed off to confront the man once he found out.

I really like how vile this final villain is with his presentation as reasonable and principled. He uses a soft tone, but he's constantly turning things around to be cruel. He made his son suffer, and he was rude to Kakeru. I almost wonder if he provoked Kakeru just so he had the leverage to demand the Okita family stay away from Daichi. He's an excellent villain, because you have to use all the empathy and compassion the show brought out of you to resist this man's flawed logic.

Wow, Makoto gets it. I am gonna cry because I'm so proud of him for not losing his conviction.

Madoka, my guy, what are you doing? This is a big problem you should face together.

Oh, Kakeru, you were so harsh to everyone all season about how they talked to you. It's hard to talk to people isn't it?

OOF Mor is also dealing with the expectations of society at large. We're really building to a finale.

And now Mika might be losing her job!

My family is in crisis!

Truly so special that Makoto has finally reached an understanding with his family that he realized what was wrong with each of them.

No! Don't ruin the sanctity of the park!! Gays, get it together!!

"Why are there so many obstacles to overcome if you're gay?" Bitch, me too, the fuck!!

It did feel like a barrier had formed between Daichi and Makoto. I'm sad and frustrated.

Y'all are gonna kill this old man.

Okay, what bad news did Furuike get, because my man just reiterated that when you grow up your heart dies?

Oh, Furuike, you've come along as well. Responding to the info that Shimura realized what was going on with him that she should be promoted is excellent growth. I also love him reminding Makoto that he's not dead yet. Life is still worth living.

I love Makoto recognizing that he was asked to be the matchmaker. He needs to know that the rules of the society can be turned for the betterment of people even in the modern age.

KAKERU'S TELLING SHIZUKA HIS FEELINGS OVER MAKEUP

"Making noise to help you forget is also what friends are for." Y'all I'm overwhelmed.

"If I'm ever unsure of myself, I'll ask Kakeru-tan to do my makeup." STOP MAKING ME CRY.

Actually so important that this show reiterates that even straight people get rejected constantly by others for failing to be what others want them to be

Of course Moe's full pen name is Pectoralis Major Huge Melons. I love her.

I'm so happy to see Makoto and Mika talking about things over chores together. I'm so proud of Mika, too.

Save us, Carlos!!!

YES, MEDDLE!!

Wow, this is the best show I've ever seen. The Okita family showed up exactly as themselves, with their passions plain, and stood before Daichi in front of this cruel man. Makoto demolished that man entirely, and said plainly that he is cruel to his son.

Daichi said it! If I change myself like that then I won't be myself!

Don't let the door hit you on the way out!!

So thankful that this show gave us that scene between Mihoko and Daichi. Sometimes we have to accept that people important to us won't accept us, but we must remember that we have those who will.

Way to release the tension with an old man's underwear and his kids dunking on him.

THEY SAID THE NAME OF THE SHOW! FINISH YOUR DRINKS!!

Of course Makoto is a crying, sloppy mess during the wedding. I love him.

What a beautiful finish.

Final Verdict: 11, Television Can Still Be Good. Truly, I don't know how else to describe this other than as one of the most important things I've ever watched in the last 20 years of engaging with stories about queer people. Seeing the Okita family reveal their passions and blast Daichi's dad like Care Bears as Makoto tells him he's a cruel asshole jumping to the front of the line to beat him up. This show earned every single beat it hit, and it was so lovely to watch a show where every character had goals and challenges. It wasn't just about making sure two guys have sex. This was a story about friendship and community, and it had strong ideas about how we make ourselves suffer for the betterment of others and yet no one is happy. This is one of the best things I've ever seen. Please go watch it.

[farity]

Obsession, part 5

"Leaving is easy," she said harshly, her voice shaky with anger.

He searched for something, anything, to show her that he not only wanted her, but that he wanted more. "Ask me anything," he said, finally.

She pulled back at that, "and?" she asked.

"I will tell you anything you wish to know," he replied, "unless that knowledge puts someone in danger."

She gave him a look, swiping a hand across her cheek, where the tear had left its track. "Isn't that just about everything to do with your family?"

He could only look at her, and she took a breath, closing her eyes for a second. "Fine. Who cut your face?"

Straight to the heart of things, he thought, and nodded. He could do this. He could relive the hell that had taken his eye and damned him to everyone. "My nephew, Luke."

Her eyes went wide. "What the fuck?"

"It's a long story." Thank the Seven for small favors.

She scrutinized him for a moment, weighing and considering, before she stepped back. "Then get comfortable, and I'll get some wine."

* * * * *

Aemond was offering honesty and you prized that. You'd push him, seeing how far his loyalty to the family went versus his attraction to you. And then you'd see.

You took a sip of the red wine you usually kept on hand and opened a package of striped fudge cookies. Wine and chocolate. Nothing better for a heart to heart.

"My father was married before. His first wife had a daughter, Rhaenyra, but he wanted a son."

Of course he did.

He was sitting on the sofa, facing you at the other end, where you'd draped one of the throws you kept around over your legs. "She lost a couple of pregnancies and then finally got pregnant with a boy. Then she died during birth, and the baby died a day later."

You couldn't help but close your eyes. "That's awful."

He nodded. "Mom had the four of us, but-"

"Four?"

"My brother Daeron is the youngest, he is studying near my mom's family so he lives with them for now."

He'd asked her for some water along with the wine she'd poured for both of them, and drank some. "Anyway, Rhaenyra always did as she wanted, while we had to go by the rules. She married the guy dad chose for her, but then had three kids who all suspiciously looked like her bodyguard."

Bitterness had started to peek through in his posture, his voice, the tension in his shoulders. You knew this wasn't getting any better any time soon.

"Dad decided she'd take over for him when he retired, and thought throwing her kids in with us would make us all like each other."

He pressed his lips together, shook his head. "It didn't work. They hated us, we hated them. Dad thought he'd just ignore everything. Until one day there was a fight, like many before, but this time, Luke had a knife."

"How old were you?"

"I was ten."

You looked at him, "and Luke?"

"Seven, eight?"

The kind, empathic part of you wanted to reach out, to touch him. Like you wanted to befriend Helaena. But you kept your hands where they were and listened.

"I called them bastards," Aemond smirked for a moment, "and then Luke slashed my face." He looked down at the couch, at the space between you, as if seeing it happen all over again.

"I am sorry," you whispered. "I can't imagine."

He looked up, and you nearly pushed back at the anger in his gaze. "And nothing was done about it."

"Wait, what do you-"

"Luke wasn't punished. In fact Rhaenyra wanted me 'sharply questioned' for saying her kids were bastards."

"But your father-"

"Did nothing." He had leaned forward, one hand on the cushion between you. "My mother tried, demanded one of Luke's eyes be cut out. Father just wanted it all swept under the rug."

Against your better instinct, and tired of the strain of holding back, you closed the distance and wrapped yourself around him. He didn't move, stayed still while you felt the tears begin to fall again.

"Do not pity me."

You pushed away from him. "I don't." You felt rage, incandescent and liquid, flowing freely through you. "I want to murder someone."

"You can't."

You grabbed your wine glass and downed the rest of it in one go. "Why not?"

"Because when I'm done telling the story, you may change your mind."

"Okay, then. Continue."

He drank more of his water. "Years later, I was moving to one of the houses on the property, taking some of my stuff in my truck, and I saw Luke, driving his convertible, top down, not a fucking care in the world."

His eye landed on you and one eyebrow went up. "I started chasing him. Just to scare him. He'd barely gotten his license a few days before, and his mother had bought him the red car of his dreams."

You felt your pulse quicken, anticipating how things were going to end.

"I lost control of the truck during a turn, overcompensated, the truck was loaded with furniture. Luke's little red car didn't have a chance."

Your hands had gone cold, fingertips icy. "Did anyone believe you had lost control of the truck?"

He blinked, as if surprised at your train of thought. "No. Aegon threw me a party. Father raged at me no matter what I said, mother said nothing, never has."

* * * * *

He didn't tell her that in his family, to be called a Kinslayer was the worst kind of insult. He didn't tell her that the only one who had held him when he finally broke down, had been Helaena, who caressed his hair while he wept and told him all about the insects she loved. He'd woken up at dawn with his head still resting on her leg, and she'd fallen asleep sitting against the wall.

"Did he die immediately?"

"Yes."

She looked at him and he felt his heart go still. She was going to tell him to go now, now that she knew, because she could tell that some part of him had wanted Luke dead.

"Too bad."

She poured herself more wine. "I wish he'd suffered. You're not going to drink your wine, are you?" she reached over and grabbed a cookie from the table, bit into it.

When he was finally convinced she didn't quite hate him for everything he'd told her, he spoke again. "It was war for a few months. Several things happened, people were hurt. All because of me."

"Fuck that," she snapped.

"That's how everyone saw it. Things are different now. I got into computers, security, and I became the best."

She grabbed another cookie, snapped it in half, extended one piece to him.

Aemond looked from her face to her hand, and leaned in, taking the cookie from her fingers, then pulling it into his mouth. She placed the other half in her mouth, looking away from him, her face flushed.

After washing it down with some more wine, she looked back at him. "It's like you were set up to end up like this," she mused, then looked around her living room, "I sure hope this place isn't bugged."

"It isn't."

"In that case," she smiled softly, "your dad fucking sucks."

Aemond looked down for a long time. "Thank you for listening."

"I asked the question," she shrugged, "I owed it to you to listen to the answer." She grabbed his untouched glass of wine, downed that as well. "I have one more, if you're willing."

He looked up, "I'll answer as many as I can."

"What does 'calling the banners' mean?"

He couldn't help but smile. She remembered. "It means that you have asked your allies to join you in some kind of enterprise."

"Enterprise."

"An attack, or retribution. Or war."

She tilted her head slightly. "Retribution. For Helaena?"

He nodded, then rubbed his face, mindful of not moving the eye patch. "It has to be done."

"Do you know who it is?"

"Yes."

"Will knowing put me in danger?"

"Not just you."

"Will you be okay?"

He felt a small frisson of delight at her question. "Are you worried for me?"

She blushed and looked away from him, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket on her lap.

"I know this world isn't for everyone," he added quietly, "but I will not ignore the fact that I want you, or that I know that you want me."

"It's not that easy, Aemond. I don't belong to your-"

"The only people who get to decide if you belong with me, are you and me," he said sharply. "And I've already made my decision."

When she looked up, eyebrows raised, he stood. "But now, I have to go." He rubbed the back of his neck as he walked to the door and she reached him just before he opened the door, her small, cold fingers grabbing his, and he pulled her against him, bringing her hand to his lips. "Your hands are cold," he said, kissing across her knuckles.

"I am."

"What?"

"Worried for you." Her cheeks turned pink again. "I think-"

He stopped listening and wrapped his arms around her, his mouth now on hers, her little gasp letting him slip his tongue in her mouth as he pressed her against the wall next to the door.

He felt her other hand reach up to cup the back of his neck, her short fingernails raking across his skin and he almost moaned because it felt so fucking good. She was kissing him back, her tongue sliding alongside his. He could feel her breasts as she shamelessly pushed them against his chest, could imagine tasting them, scraping his teeth across the tender flesh. He could sink to his knees, pull her leggings down and spread her legs open, and he'd bury his face between her thighs, taste even more precious flesh, make her come on his tongue before he fucked her for hours on her bed.

The stupid vibration on his watch broke him out of his thoughts, and he pushed back. Her mouth was swollen from his kisses, her hands on his arms as she steadied herself.

There was business to take care of, and so he took a deep breath and let go of her. "I have to go," he said again, annoyed that she could push him to lose control like this. "Let me know when you make your decision."

Without waiting for her to reply, he left and closed the door behind him, ignoring her parted lips and flushed cheeks.

* * * * *

I stood against that wall for half an hour because I wasn't quite sure my legs could support me if I tried to walk.

Holy hell, the man can kiss. I'm sure there are other things he's good at, too.

I finally make it back to the sofa and finish off the bottle of wine, stuffing my face with cookies for the next hour.

What kind of father sees his kid get his goddamn eye cut out and does nothing to punish the little shit who did it? I don't trust myself to be nice to Viserys Targaryen if I am ever in the same room with him. And the wife, she's like the Mafia version of Lady Macbeth.

I have no business getting involved with Aemond. Absolutely none. I have my quiet, boring life, my quiet, boring job, my quiet, boring place. And compared to what goes on in his family, it feels like paradise.

The thought of not seeing Aemond again, and I know that if I tell him I've decided I don't want to be with him, he would respect that and I would never, ever see him again, makes my head hurt. So I reach for more cookies and pretend it's just another boring night at home.

* * * * *

"He'll kill me if I tell you."

Aemond leaned in. "Oh no. I'm going to kill you. Your only choice is whether it will be a quick, painless death, or days of being hacked to death, one inch at a time, starting with your feet."

The man, tied to the chair, let out a sob. "I was just studying, and this guy asks me to let him know when she comes in. See if it's the same time, asks me to flirt with her so she'll want to come back. His email is in my phone, the bank app has the deposit info. I didn't touch her or anything."

Aemond smiled gently, "thank you. You have been very helpful." He stood and pulled out a gun as the man screamed for mercy, aimed and sent a bullet through his forehead. There was a red mist as it exited the back of his head.

He'd already found the emails and the financial stuff, although he expected it to lead nowhere. He nodded to the two guys to clean up the place and left with the phone in his gloved hand, ready to go home and work through the night.

* * * * *

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[lunaewriting]

The Healer: Xavier x OC

Chapter 2: Pretty Little Lifeform

You just get to keep on living…

When Sirona’s eyes came into focus, she realized the body next to her was William. He died trying to protect her. The stench signified how long it had been. Days. Corpses littered the field, and all the buildings had been burnt to ash. 

Immediately, bile rose in her throat as she realized the disarray William’s body was in. He had been gutted, his entrails spilling out of his body and tainting the earth he had spent his entire life protecting and nurturing. He was gone, and there was no way to bring him back. 

These people, whom she considered family, had been decimated. No, not again. How could I let this happen? It’s all my fault.  

Sirona attempted to stand, but her legs buckled beneath her. Instead, she ended up doubled over William’s ruined body, his half-dried blood staining her skin. She gazed into his lifeless eyes, cloudy pupils staring back at her. She wished that she had fought more fiercely. Sirona had put everything into that fight, but it wasn’t enough to save these people. Now, she had nothing. When her pain and anguish reached a crescendo, she let out a scream of pure agony and then felt nothing at all. 

⭒✦✵✦⭒

Xavier was satisfied with how content Sirona had become. Since their fateful meeting, she was all he could think about. The all-encompassing aura of her soul enraptured him, and her eyes were like nothing he had ever seen before, gold but with a touch of purple. Xavier wished he could get closer to her, but watching over her recovery was the only option because of his rule. Sirona had been spending more time in the town and seemed happy. It was that thought that convinced him to leave the vicinity of the town to visit his friend Jeremiah in the city.

Jeremiah had been his friend for hundreds of years. They had trained together, traveled through spacetime together, and, over the years, he had become his closest companion from his previous life on Philos. Many others had abandoned him to reach their own ends or lost their minds.  But Jeremiah remained steadfast. He was a good friend and an even better man. 

When he returned from his short vacation, Xavier decided to check in on Sirona one last time. When he got there, however, he was shattered to find nothing but gore and rubble. Bodies scattered the dirt, bandits and innocents alike. Buildings had been burned along with the people inside. When he took a closer look, he noticed the bodies of the bandits were all gaunt and shriveled. It was Sirona’s doing; it had to be. Her unique ability had been her saving grace—siphoning her attacker’s energy to keep her alive. 

Xavier spotted green-black tendrils of mist rising from the town center, something he’d never seen before. The miasma of death was causing all life in the area to wilt and decay.  Only one person had that kind of power. He knew he had to act. If he didn’t, their environment was doomed to become a wasteland. The rules had just changed drastically. Countless lives could be lost. No one knew how far this could spread. 

With that potential calamity in mind, he ran into the heart of the miasma. 

The pain was excruciating. He could feel his life force being ripped from his body. But his pain only urged him to move faster. There she is. The aura of decay was originating from Sirona, as he suspected. He ran and fell to his knees before her.

“Sirona!” he rasped, cupping her face in his hands, which were already shriveling up and decomposing. 

When he looked into her eyes, he saw no awareness. She was dead to the world. The effects of the trauma had caused her to lose control. He knew that kind of loss all too well. He wouldn’t leave her. He had to snap her out of this. 

He was dying, and so he desperately screamed. “Sirona please!”

He exhaled hard in a last-ditch effort to save both of their lives. He embraced her. He guided her head to his shoulder and wrapped his other arm around her waist. 

Shocked out of her trance by the sudden contact, Sirona gasped as if waking from a nightmare. Then, the world went quiet. She felt the familiar warmth of another wrapped around her. She took in his smell, Xavier, her salvation.

 Xavier let out a relieved sigh. The pain of Sirona’s attack upon him subsided, and her miasma had dissipated. He felt his life force flood back into him. As well as the environment around them. 

She leaned into the embrace momentarily before quickly pulling back to look at him. In Xavier’s eyes, she saw recognition, which could only be shared between two people who had lost everything. He looked devastated for her. 

“They’re dead, they’re all dead. I couldn’t save them,” Sirona wailed. At that, it was as if the dam holding back the flood of emotions had broken within her. She could hold in her grief no longer. Sirona collapsed into Xavier’s arms and buried her head into his neck. Sobs wracked her body violently, and she gripped onto him with such force he thought bruises might form. His arms tightened around her as if he were trying to keep her from falling apart, but he knew that no matter how tightly he held her, it would not bring back any of the people either of them had lost. 

So, instead, they held each other as if they were the only people left on the planet. 

At that moment, Xavier knew that he could never leave her. Now that they collided, there was nothing that could break them apart.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, Sirona’s sobs had subsided. Silently, she stood, breaking her contact with Xavier. She may not have been able to save her people, but she would see to their eternal rest. 

Mindlessly, she grabbed a shovel and began the herculean task of burying all of the men, women, and children of her village. She knew them all. They deserved better than her. She prayed that they would forgive her for her dereliction in the afterlife.

Xavier watched as she began to work. Without a word, he joined her in her task. She did not acknowledge him. Sirona was too tired after the day’s events to muster a thank you. Together, they dug graves for every person. Finally, she placed an item of importance atop each of their final resting places. Her work had been completed, but as she finished, Sirona realized she had nothing else to live for. In a haze, she began to shamble aimlessly towards the woods. 

Xavier caught up to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to stop walking and look at him. “Sirona, I am so sorry.” 

“So am I,” Sirona murmured impassively and tried to pull away to continue her purposeless endeavor. Xavier’s arm prevented her from doing so.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here.”

Xavier exhaled sharply. “Let’s just get you home.” 

Sirona looked over at him; truthfully, she was drained. She hadn’t eaten since before the attack.  The longer she walked, the more she stumbled before finally collapsing from exhaustion. 

He dropped down next to her, a question in his eyes. 

“It’s nothing,” Sirona said. 

“Please, Sirona, let me help you,” he whispered to her so gently.

“I don’t deserve it,” she croaked, looking at the floor beneath her.

“Yes, you do. Please, let me prove it to you.” 

With that, she nodded. Xavier smiled softly at her. He slung her arms around his neck and slid his arms under her legs and back. He picked her up tenderly. Too fatigued to resist, she rested her head on his capable shoulder and allowed him to bring her home. She could not keep her eyes open and fell into a deep, dreamless slumber. 

When Xavier finally reached Sirona’s cottage outside the village, he was surprised to see the vibrant garden surrounding her home. There were flowers and herbs of every variety. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. Xavier looked down at her and smiled to himself.  She looked so peaceful in his arms, unimpeded by the horrors of reality. It would take a long time for her to heal from this, but he would be there to help her through it. If anyone knew what she was going through, it would be him. 

He carried her through the threshold of her home. The smell of jasmine filled his senses. It was long past dusk, but Xavier used his evol to make a ball of light to guide him. It was small and comfortably cluttered. There was one bedroom, though the couch in the center of the living room looked comfortable enough. With great care not to wake her, he laid her gently on her bed and covered her with a plush blanket. As he tried to pull away, Sirona caught his arm. 

“Please,” Sirona mumbled, still half asleep, “Xavier, please don’t leave me.”

“Sirona, I am not going to leave you,” Xavier said, brushing a strand of her chestnut hair out of her face, “I’ll be right here, but we both need to eat.” 

“Okay…” she whispered, content with the answer. Eyes half shut, she watched Xavier walk through her home before sleep overtook her again.

He was a terrible cook, but he knew Sirona was hungry, as was he. Xavier found his way to the kitchen. Each surface in the home was covered in trinkets of all uses, books, and crystals. The walls were blanketed with art, and some appeared very valuable. It was odd that such a young-looking woman would have so many time-worn items in her home.

An antique-looking ice box caught Xavier’s eye, and when he looked inside, he found it stocked with an assortment of dried meats, bread, and eggs, as well as a plethora of fruits and vegetables, likely picked fresh from the garden outside. Xavier then gathered wood and lit a fire to cook and warm the chilly home. Once the fire had been lit, he set upon making a proper meal for himself and Sirona. He settled for something easy, cracking a few eggs into the pan and warming some slices of bread for the two of them. 

“Hey, I made you something.” 

When he returned to wake her, she remained in a deep, mournful sleep. She was tossing and turning, her sleep obviously tumultuous. Xavier touched her shoulder and squeezed to jostle her from her nightmare.

Sirona awakened with a start. Her mind was torturing her with memories of the people she had damned. She looked around frantically, trying to discern where she was before her eyes finally settled upon Xavier’s worried face. At the sight of him, her heart calmed. It was as if his very presence was a salve for her broken mind.

“Sirona, I made something to eat,” Xavier repeated.

“Oh, thank you.” Sirona swung herself out of bed and hurried towards the dining room. It was a simple meal of eggs and toast, but it looked like a veritable feast to her hungry eyes. She sat and began eating, Xavier smiled and joined her a moment later.

Once every scrap of the meal had been devoured, Sirona again yearned for sleep, and it was evident on Xavier’s face that he felt the same. 

“Thank you for the meal, I’m exhausted,” Sirona said, eyes flickering towards her bedroom. 

“As am I. I’ll sleep on the couch,”  Xavier said all too quickly.

“Oh, you don’t have to–”

“I don’t mind!” he rushed, seeming slightly embarrassed. “Truly.”

“Well, alright,” Sirona conceded, wondering why a wave of disappointment washed over her at his insistence to sleep on the couch. Without another word, they both retired to their respective places of rest.

⭒✦✵✦⭒

In the dead of night, Xavier was awakened by a harsh scream. He launched himself from the couch and followed the sound to its origin. There Sirona lay, tears streaming down her beautiful face. Her knees had been brought up to her chest. 

“Sirona,” Xavier whispered hesitantly. Startling slightly, Sirona glanced over at him. The sorrow in her eyes made it impossible to resist approaching her. Gingerly, Xavier sat at the foot of her bed next to her. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Sirona shook her head. “No,” she said hoarsely, “But if you wouldn’t mind, could you stay with me? It seems like the only time I can stop thinking about the attack is when you are close to me.”

“Of course,” Xavier said. “I won’t leave,” and I am beginning to believe I will never want to. The invitation resonated between them. Sirona opened the covers for him and beckoned him to join her. Xavier obliged as he crawled into bed beside her. Xavier thought of his own mind. No one deserved to go through what the two of them had in their lives, but fair or not, they now had to live with the scars. He would not allow Sirona to suffer in silence like he had for a millennium. No, she deserved better.

Sirona placed a hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes. “Thank you, Xavier. You saved my life. I will never forget it. I do not know how I will ever repay you,”

Xavier closed his eyes and leaned into Sirona’s hand. “The only thanks I need is your company.”

⭒✦✵✦⭒

1894

Since that fateful night, Sirona and Xavier would rarely spend a day apart. They began that day as strangers but ended as life companions. For the next 10 years, Xavier and Sirona lived at that cottage in complete peace. Sirona often visited the village she used to call home to pay her respects. The two would also travel to the city to acquire new art pieces and peruse the latest exhibits. Before Xavier entered her life, she often opened a traveling cart selling herbs for various uses to make ends meet and purchase the occasional piece. Xavier had changed that; he had a mysterious wealth that he would dodge questions about when asked; whenever Sirona showed any interest in a painting, it would mysteriously be delivered to them the following day in the city. Their trips were always brief; being away from the village made Sirona uncomfortable. 

As the years drew on, Xavier began to notice Sirona’s stagnation. They knew each other almost as well as they knew themselves. Although his greatest secret still gnawed at him, he just could not bring himself to disclose to her what he truly was. She thought he was merely an exemption to mortality as she was. He wished the burden of immortality was the only one they would have to carry on their shoulders. There would still be a few hundred years of peace; he could pretend until then. But one day, that peace would be shattered. 

Their relationship had always been a mystery to him. He realized long ago that he loved Sirona. Maybe he had loved her from the second he saw her. Still, he could not bring himself to tell her how he felt. The prospect of losing her would be a fate worse than death. Maybe that made him a coward, but he did not care.  

Xavier thought back to those precious few months when Sirona was helping the town’s people. In all his time with her, Xavier had never seen her as happy as she was then. In the beginning, he had thought that Sirona just needed time to heal. Now, he realized for as long as she lived in this cottage that she would only be surviving, never genuinely alive. Xavier had repeatedly suggested they could move to a new place, but Sirona met every suggestion with an immediate no. 

It wouldn’t be fair to either of them if Sirona continued on like this for eternity.

With that thought in mind, Xavier approached her as she tended the garden.

She gazed indifferently at her beloved jasmine as she pruned and watered the plant. A task she had performed countless times. 

“Sirona, can we talk?” 

Sirona paused before looking over at him. He sounded especially serious. 

“Of course, you know you can talk to me about anything!” She managed a small smile. 

“I think it’s time to leave this place,” Xavier suggested firmly. 

An alarm sounded in her heart, no. This had been the only thing that Xavier and Sirona had ever disagreed about. She was bound to this place; there was nothing either of them could do about that. 

“That’s ridiculous. I can never leave this place.”

Xavier squeezed his eyes shut. He had heard that so many times, and it was becoming frustrating. 

“But, why?”

“I just can’t.”

“You always say that to me, and I have never pressed you on it. I always thought that if I gave you enough time, that you would eventually heal from what happened…but Sirona.” Xavier crouched beside her. “I can’t live another day knowing that you are living in the past, you are torturing yourself.”

She looked away. “The past is all I have, I did not even deserve to live through that day.”

He stayed silent for a moment, taking in her every feature. Her freckles came out in the sun; they peppered the planes of her face, framing her beautiful golden eyes. He reached out to caress her cheek.

“Please don’t think like that.” He understood what she was going through better than anyone in the world. Seeing this reflection of his own pain struck him to his core. 

“Xavier, this is not up for discussion. I am not leaving.” Sirona stood at that and began to walk away.

“No, I will not allow you to give up on yourself like this! You are still alive, Sirona. Stop pretending that you died alongside them.” His voice had an edge that he had never taken with her before. She stopped in her tracks. The words he said stung, threatening to open old wounds. 

And you just get to keep on living… 

She still would not look at him. “Enough, Xavier!” Her fists clenched. 

“No! Would you stop and look at me for one second?” 

Sirona raised her eyes to his as he closed the distance between them, grasping her face with his hands, making it impossible for her to turn away from him again. “Do you think your people would want you to waste away for the rest of your life?”

Sirona blinked, surprised at the sudden force of his voice. He had never raised his voice at her before. But then she realized the truth in his words. Mistakenly, she had felt that if she left this place, it would mean abandoning them. Leaving her people abandoned and unguarded yet again, failing them even in the afterlife. She realized her folly; no one would ever hurt them again. Because of Sirona, their sole survivor, they were at peace. She was their legacy. To give up on herself would be to dishonor their memory. 

She searched Xavier’s eyes. “You’re right. I am sorry.” 

Xavier’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but he said, “So you’ll consider it then?”

Sirona let out a long sigh. “Yes.” 

Xavier’s face broke into the most radiant smile she had ever seen. He hugged her, bringing her off the ground for a moment.

“Thank you for trusting me, Sirona,” he said quietly, cupping her face with both hands. Suddenly, he noticed how close their faces were. For an agonizing moment, they stood there, breath mingling. They both seemed incapable of looking away. Just as Sirona’s eyes fluttered shut, Xavier pulled away. 

He cleared his throat, “Well, where do we start?” 

[daenysthedreamer101]

Youngest Original ~ TVDU

Ch 11 - A Moment in Time

Mikaelson!OC

Warnings: NSFW, it's my first time trying to write it so be kind pls (It's after the first pic)/ mention of infertility/ blood, death, vampire feeding, angst

A/N: This ch took an embarrassing amount of time to finish lol. So sorry for the wait. Hope you enjoy this flashback ch

Masterlist

1002, France

Kassandra found herself in a strange new land, alongside her siblings. The reason why they fled was because they were running from their father. Now, they were impersonating 6 noblemen and women. 

Very quickly the Count's children, Aurora and Tristan, became interested in her family. She mostly kept to herself; she was more interested in learning their language. She chose to ignore the growing attraction between Klaus and Aurora.

Soon enough, the De Martels found out their secret. Aurora didn't seem to care and was determined to become a vampire like them. As far as they knew they couldn't turn anyone. After a crazy chain of events and accidents, the Mikaelsons learned they could pass their curse to other people. 

After creating the Trinity, the Mikaelsons fled to Normandy, once again under the disguise of nobility. One night, a great feast was held in honor of the ruling Count's birthday. Kassandra wasn't the biggest fan of these balls. They were loud, rowdy, and worse of all there were many, many people. Her new instilled bloodlust didn't help her anxiety.

~

(the words in bold are characters speaking in Old Norse)

She quietly left the Great Hall, careful not to catch her siblings's attention, and escaped into the large gardens behind the castle. On her way out, a pair of hands grabbed her and pushed her into a dark corridor. Quickly coming to her senses, she sprang into defense and slammed the person into the wall. She instinctively hissed at them, baring her fangs. 

"Kassandra! It's me! Axel!" The person croaked and the sound of her native tongue reached her ears. 

"...Axel?" 

Focusing on her supernatural vision, she realized it was him! Instantly, she released him and started apologizing profusely. 

"...What? How...How are you here? I-I thought you died!"

"No, my love. I'm alive and well, as you can see. I'm here for you."

"Me?"

Axel explained how he sailed across the ocean and reached the Old World. He told her of his plan to sail to England and asked her to come with him so they could be free and start a new life in London. 

Kassandra wanted nothing more than to run away with the love of her life, but she knew it wouldn't and couldn't be that easy. On top of all of that was the fact that she was turned into a bloodthirsty monster.

"I'm a monster, Axel. You- You don't want me. I'll just hurt you." She muttered, distancing herself from him. 

"I did not sail across the ocean for you to say no. I know what you and your siblings are. I don't care. It wasn't your fault. I still love you."

He pulled her closer and caressed her face with his fingers. She looked up at him, his brown eyes filled with nothing but honesty. She put her hands on his face and spoke quietly. 

"I can hear your heart drumming in your chest. I can hear your blood flowing through your veins. I hear even the littlest breath you take...All of it drives me mad, makes me want to-"

Before she could finish the sentence he crashed his lips against hers, pulling their bodies together. He held her tightly, afraid of losing her once more. She placed her hand against his chest and could feel his heartbeat picking up. She suppressed the thought in the back of her mind telling her to rip out his throat.

Instead, they advised a plan. Kassandra would, once she found a suitable moment, escape her siblings and join Axel in England. 

"It could be months, it could be years...I'll try my best to run as soon as possible. Just try and stay in London if you can. That way I'll know where you are."

And six months later, exactly to the day, she fled. 

~

1004, Kingdom of Norway

After two years of running from Klaus, they decided to settle down (temporarily) in the capital of Niðaróss. They themselves were Vikings and spoke Old Norse so it wasn't difficult to blend in. In such a big city it was easier for Kassandra's hunts to go unnoticed. She, of course, tried her best to not kill people when feeding, but she did slip up on occasion. Without Elijah to guide her, she didn't have such a tight grip on her urges as she did after a few centuries. 

Speaking of her vampirism, Axel was insistent on becoming immortal himself. Kassandra refused profusely, saying how the hunger was a curse most unimaginable and she didn't want him to suffer such a horrible existence. 

He pointed out that they wouldn't be able to live together if she stayed immortal and he died of old age. He wanted to be with her forever, no matter the cost. In the beginning, Kassie refused, being preoccupied with running away from not just her father but now Klaus as well. But now that they were settled, Axel was once again pushing her to turn him. 

"I want to get married first." She said to him. 

In the chaos of always running and hiding, marriage was put on hold. Now they finally could.

"We shall do it first thing in the morning," He responded with a smile. 

And so they did. 

In the early hours of the next day, they were married in secret by a Viking priestess Kassandra found. 

Their witnesses were the fading stars, the rising sun, the cold wind, the morning dew, the thick fog, the birds on the trees, and unbeknownst to them, the spirit of Kassandra's dead mother. 

Kassandra was near her breaking point. 

With every touch of his fingers, thrust of his hips, kiss of his lips, she was closer and closer to the edge. The lust coursing through her veins only made her hunger worse and she was actively fighting the urge not to butcher her now husband on the spot. 

She wasn't complaining about the position she was currently in, quite the opposite. It's just that, instead of letting herself drown in the pleasure Axel was giving her, she could only think of the ever-growing hunger in her belly. Only her immense love for him was shielding her husband from certain death. 

How could she focus on anything else but on the way his heart wildly beat in his chest, his ragged breaths, the moans of pleasure leaving his throat? He was enjoying this as well, she could tell. Even though this was her first time, she knew he was close to reaching his peak. 

The coil in her belly was dangerously tight and would break at any moment. The pleasure was flowing through her, burning her sweetly. Was love-making supposed to be this good? Were other women getting this much pleasure out of it as well? Did they feel as good as she felt now? She doubted that. One thing she quickly realized about her new state of being was that her feelings were heightened and she felt everything with double the force. 

Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all. 

Grabbing her hips, he picked up the pace and pressed her further into the mattress. Most of his body weight was now on her and if she wasn't already (un)dead she might have been scared he would crush her. But she knew that wouldn't happen. 

She grabbed onto his broad shoulders as his thrusts became erratic. She dug her nails into his skin, making him hiss. His face was buried in her hair and the whole of his neck was exposed, inches away from her mouth. She nuzzled her nose into his neck, inhaling the smell of his sweat and blood. The coil inside her tightened painfully and she clenched around him, making him groan. 

It was overwhelming, the amount of things she was feeling. All her senses were heightened and fully engulfed with pleasure. He brought his hand down and rubbed her pearl with his thumb. Her breath hitched and she swore her heart stopped for a second. 

The coil snapped and a guttural moan left her throat as waves of pleasure washed over her. Her legs shook as her mind blanked out, and for a short time, she forgot about her bloodlust. He spilled inside her and with a groan, his arms gave out and he laid on top of her. 

Her fingers found their way toward his head, where she played with his dark curls, now wet with sweat. A bitter thought appeared in her mind - his seed will never take, not in my womb at least. 

Before dying, before her parents turned her into a monster, Kassandra spent days and nights dreaming about how she would give Axel many children. She fantasized about their future sons and daughters and how they would look. None of that mattered now, seeing as her womb was barren and would never carry a child - yet another thing this curse took away from her. 

His soft kisses brought her back to reality. The sound of his heartbeats rang loudly in her ears and her bloodlust resurged.

~

"Are you alright, my love?" He asked her softly.

She looked back at him, her eyes roaming over his face. Her eyes focused on his neck. The longer she stared, the faster his heart beat. Suddenly, black veins appeared on her cheeks and the whites of her eyes turned red. He couldn't control the gasp that escaped his mouth.

She pushed him away and sat up, turning her back to him. Her breathing was erratic, her shoulders shook as she clawed at her throat. 

"Kassie..."

"I'm hungry." She whispered while covering herself with a woolen robe. She stood up only to falter immediately. Her knees buckled and she cursed under her breath, rubbing her aching thighs. She slowly walked toward the window and opened it, letting in the cold night air. 

"Drink from me."

The words seemed to catch her off-guard. Shaking her head, she fully opened the window, letting the cool air wash over her skin. She gripped the stone framing and inhaled sharply. 

"Why not?" He asked, getting up himself. 

"No, no, no! I'll hurt you, or worse..."

He slowly walked up to her. Her entire frame shook; he didn't know if it was because of the cold or her hunger. 

"My love-" He tried putting his hand on her shoulder but she pushed him away.

"Don't tempt my patience!" She yelled at him, her face dark and terrible as she pushed him against the wall, his back hitting the stone bricks. 

Never before had she yelled at him. Never before had he seen her so furious. She looked wild, ferocious...animalistic. Once she realized she lashed out at him, she recoiled immediately and guilt washed over her. 

"I- I think it would be best if we slept separately tonight." 

"You promised me, Kassandra. You said you would turn me." Axel said, exasperated. 

"I will, on the morrow." She whispered, rubbing her throat once more.

"You said the same thing yesterday."

"I know what I said!" She yelled again, her anger bubbling and fueling her evergrowing hunger. As she approached him, she noticed the white fabric of his robe had a red stain in the area surrounding his shoulder. 

Grabbing onto his robe, she moved the cloth, revealing his shoulder, bloody and wounded. She watched as the droplets of blood rolled down his arm. Axel could only watch as her eyes turned red.

"Kassandra-"

This time she could not stop herself. 

~

The next thing she knew, she was biting Axel's neck and sucking on his throat. His warm blood filled her mouth and its sweet taste made her head dizzy. She gripped his body harder, swallowing more and more of his blood. 

Feeling the need for air she removed her mouth from his neck, moaning in pleasure as the smell of blood filled the room. Her whole body buzzed as the feeling of ecstasy washed over her. But, only when soft groans of pain reached her ears, did she open her eyes.

The junction of his neck had a huge, bleeding bite mark. Axel looked like he was moments away from death. Seeing the lack of color on his face shook Kassandra out of her high. 

"Axel...Oh my- What have I done!?"

Quickly trying to save him, she bit her wrist and forced some of her own blood down his throat. 

"Please, please!" She whispered desperately as she moved his body back on the bed. To keep herself busy and from going insane, she cleaned his body and later the rest of the room while waiting for him to wake up. 

She watched as the wound slowly healed and closed. Kassandra was nervous for Axel to wake up, because, well, she hadn't been completely honest with him. She once told him that to become like her, he would need to drink her blood. She kind of forgot to mention the part about dying. 

She gravely wounded him, yes, but, he didn't die. No, she would need to kill him for the transition to start. And she didn't know if she could do it. 

The next thing she knew, she was biting Axel's neck and sucking on his throat. His warm blood filled her mouth and its sweet taste made her head dizzy. She gripped his body harder, swallowing more and more of his blood. 

Feeling the need for air she removed her mouth from his neck, moaning in pleasure as the smell of blood filled the room. Her whole body buzzed as the feeling of ecstasy washed over her. But, only when soft groans of pain reached her ears, did she open her eyes.

The junction of his neck had a huge, bleeding bite mark. Axel looked like he was moments away from death. Seeing the lack of color on his face shook Kassandra out of her high. 

"Axel...Oh my- What have I done!?"

Quickly trying to save him, she bit her wrist and forced some of her own blood down his throat. 

"Please, please!" She whispered desperately as she moved his body back on the bed. To keep herself busy and from going insane, she cleaned his body and later the rest of the room while waiting for him to wake up. 

She watched as the wound slowly healed and closed. Kassandra was nervous for Axel to wake up, because, well, she hadn't been completely honest with him. She once told him that to become like her, he would need to drink her blood. She kind of forgot to mention the part about dying. 

She gravely wounded him, yes, but, he didn't die. No, she would need to kill him for the transition to start. And she didn't know if she could do it. 

With a loud gasp, he woke up. 

Rubbing his eyes, he sat up and touched his throat - the wound was gone and it was like nothing ever happened. 

"What was that? What did you do? Am I...Am I like you?" He asked her quietly. She had her back turned to him as she looked out of the window. 

"No...not yet."

He furrowed his brows. "But, I drank your blood. I don't understand."

She finally turned back and looked at him; her face was covered in tears and a look of guilt was on her face. 

"I lost control. I- I knew this would happen sooner or later. I'm sorry." She apologized as she sat down next to him on the bed. She took his hand and held it, refusing to meet his eyes.

He was confused. What was she hiding from him? Why wasn't he turned?  

"What else do I need to do? You promised me eternity, Kassandra. Why are you denying me of eternal love with you?"

Sighing, she shook her head. "It's not that. I want nothing more than to be with you, Axel. But, there will be obstacles and hardships along the way, my family being the first of many."

"I know. But you'll be with me all the way, won't you?"

She finally looked at him and with a soft smile put her hands around his jaw, holding his face. She rubbed her thumbs over his cheeks and then kissed him gently. "Forgive me." 

Her hands tightened around his neck and before he could even ask what she was doing, darkness took over him. 

~

1104, the Caucasus Mountains

The first century of her existence passed by quickly. After a couple of decades, she stopped paying attention to human politics. Kingdoms rose and fell, countries changed their borders but she stayed the same, forever young and cursed to walk this earth with no way to rest and find peace. 

But at least she wasn't alone. 

Axel quickly adapted to his new vampiric nature and way of living. Shortly after turning her husband into a vampire, Kassandra needed to find a witch who was willing to make a daylight ring for him. 

Luckily for her, the village priestess that married them turned out to be a witch. The woman was reluctant at first, not wanting to aid bloodsucking monsters in moving more easily. But Kassandra bargained with her and told her they would leave her village if she did. 

Kassandra was present when her mother enchanted the rings so she knew the words of the spell. She revealed the spell to the witch who in turn spelled the lapis lazuli ring. 

Now armed with a simple silver daylight ring, Axel could move freely in the sun. They used this to their advantage and traveled across the continent. A hundred years later, they were now situated in the Caucasus Mountains, on the edges of the Byzantine Empire. 

They lived in remote mountain villages. Over the years rumors spread of bloodsucking monsters lurking in shadows, ready to snatch unsuspecting travelers and suck them dry. Axel and Kassie were always careful to not kill the people they fed from but over the century they encountered other new vampires who must have been sired by one of her siblings or the Trinity. 

One other thing to note was that Axel and Kassandra were the first known case of the sirebond among vampires. Once he became a vampire, Axel's feelings toward her tripled in intensity and he became fiercely loyal to her. Nothing could come between them. Or so they thought. 

~

May, 1104

"Today was the most splendid day. Axel gifted me with the most beautiful present - wedding rings! Mine even has a blue gem at the top! Today marks 100 years since we made our union official—one hundred years of pure bliss and joy. I pray for an eternity of peace with him by my side. Destiny has so far been kind to the two of us. My siblings were nowhere in sight and I haven't heard from them in decades. I intend to keep it that way."

Kassie finished writing in her diary. She watched as the sapphire sparkled on her finger while she waited for the ink to dry. Axel was out all day. He left early in the morning, in search of people to feed on. Usually, they would feed on the local villagers so Kassie was confused why it took him so long to return. 

After a day, she realized something was wrong. For seven days and seven nights, she searched for him. With her supernatural speed, hearing, and vision she went over the entire valley they lived in. On the eighth day, someone knocked on the door of her little cottage. 

Kassie rushed to the door, hoping and praying it was Axel. But to her utter shock and horror, Niklaus stood in front of her, a smirk on his face. 

"Long time, little sister. I heard you got married. Where is the groom? I much desire to speak with him." 

"...Nik? Wh-what are you doing here?"

He strutted inside, inspecting the little cottage with a frown. He turned to her, paying no mind to her disheveled appearance. 

"You left us, little dove. No words, no letter, nothing...Why?"

Kassandra, who was already exhausted from searching for Axel, was on the brink of collapse. The last thing she needed was Klaus. How did he even find her?

"How did you find us?"

Klaus tsked, cocking his head. "You didn't answer my question, love. Why did you leave us?"

She sighed and pinched her nose. "Because I love him! I promised him we would be together no matter what. So once he found me, we ran away."

"And what about family? Do we matter so little to you?"

She had no energy left to fight with him. She just wanted to find her husband. She thought it was suspicious how shortly after Axel disappeared, her brother showed up at her doorstep. 

"Nik, just tell me what you want and leave. I need to find Axel."

"What I want is for you to come back to us."

"Not without Axel!" She yelled tearfully. 

"He's not coming back, Kassandra! He used you to become immortal and left you!" He yelled back, grabbing her shoulder and shaking her. 

Kassie shook her head, refusing to believe Nik's words. No, that wasn't true. Axel loved her. He truly did. He would never betray her like that. 

"No! He'll come back, I just- I have to keep looking!" 

Yet, a certain part of her had already given up. By now he could be hundreds of miles away. Doubt took over her; what if he really did just use her to become a vampire and get a daylight ring? What if he got tired of her and ran away to be with someone else?

"He used you," Klaus whispered in her ear as she collapsed to the floor.  

The thought was too terrible to imagine. The pain coursing through her was too much for her. A little voice in her mind was whispering to her: 'Shut it down. Close it off.' She gave in, the seams of her already fragile heart breaking and a state of apathy took over her. 

"Kassandra..." Nik called for her. 

She looked up at him, her eyes dead and emotionless. Klaus wasn't sure what happened but one thing he knew - he could use his sister's newfound apathy to his advantage. And boy, did he take advantage of it.

A/N - Leo Suter is BAE, how was I not supposed to choose him as my fancast for Axel. Also, him playing a Viking helps so much with fitting him into the story cause obviously the Originals are also Vikings.

Taglist: @ashaluuler I know you asked about my fancast for Axel so here you go, hope you liked this ch!

[dragon-fly34]

After the Mushroom Kingdom, we have now the...

✨The koopas and the Royal Koopa family✨

1)King Bowser koopa, Magikoopa Kamek, a koopa oc and a goomba

Bowser Koopa is the king of the Koopas, he is one of the antagonists in my AU, but even though he is a villain, he houses many armies that have been abandoned.

Kamek Koopa is the Magikoopa of the koopa family, even though he is just a wizard, he is a father figure to Bowser.

Goombas are a species that lived in the Mushroom Kingdom for many years, but after King Toadstool became king, he expelled the Goombas, but the Koopas helped them.

Koopas are a very different species than we think, they are a mix of a dragon, a turtle and with spines.

HEADCANONS:

-> Goombas are smaller in size than Toads, they can reach 1.20 to 1.30 meters.

-> Kamek is a very old type of koopa, there are only a few of them today, they don't have horns, just tails.

-> There are several types of koopas, the main ones are those with shells or those with wings.

2)King Morton koopa and Queen Beatrice koopa

After Peach's parents, we have Bowser's parents! Their names are Morton and Beatrice!

Morton Koopa was king of the Koopa Kingdom before Bowser, his face and Bowser's are both similar, but unlike Bowser, he was a little colder than him, but he was very romantic.

Beatrice Koopa was the queen of the Koopa Kingdom, before being queen she was a rebel without a cause, but she was also very nice and kind.

HEADCANONS:

-> Before Morton and Beatrice got married, there was no Koopa Kingdom, there were only divided territories, Beatrice was princess of the Darklands, her parents (Bowser's grandparents) were king and queen. As already said, she was a rebel, she never liked being a princess. Morton was prince of the Kuros (Huko sighifies dark in Japanese) fan of the arts, he loved painting and playing instruments.

-> Despite being different, the two had something in common: They both hated events where the kingdoms came together. One night, hear these events, Beatrice went outside the castle and Morton was there and she was like "don't you like these events too, prince?" and he replied "always princess", they both laughed and then gave some romantic looks ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

-> Soon the two started dating and later got married!

-> When Beatrice is producing Bowser in the egg, Morton asked Kamek for help (I have headcanon that Kamek was a brother figure to Bowser's father) to help him be a father. Soon they had Bowser! When Bowser turned 2, his parents started having arguments, they almost got divorced, the two stopped talking for days, until one night everything changed...

-> One night, some stranger threw bombs that blew up the castle and killed koopas and... the king and queen, when they started shooting, Morton, Kamek and Bowser managed to get out, but Morton came back to save Beatrice, but the two were not left, That night everything changed, even though they fought, the king and queen died... together as a couple.

A king and queen who ruled for years were killed by some idiot and caused damage to the castle

-> I like to think that Kamek was like a brother to Morton, when he was fighting with Beatrice, he said the following to Kamek "if something ever happens to me, will you take care of Bowser?" and the sorcerer agreed. After his and the queen's death, Kamek and Kammy cleaned up the mess in the castle and took care of Bowser, Kamek became a wonderful father (even if he spoiled him a lot) to Bowser.

-> If you're wondering how Bowser became king without his parents, here's the explanation: In Bowser's family moranquia, when you're a prince or princess and you get married, you become king, so Bowser married Clawdia when he was a prince, there was also something else, Bowser was already heir to the Koopa kingdom since he was born.

When Bowser was just a child, he always wondered what happened to his parents, Kamek always told him "they are in a better place", the little koopa never understood that, after Bowser became king, Kamek told him everything and he was devastated , so he decided to protect those who needed help, so he helped many rejected species and strengthened the guard, he did it for his parents.

------

And that it guys! bye!

[herbeloved82]

Love through Time (Bed of roses and thorns)

Written with the amazing @complicitsacrilege we offer you a different couple this time....

I am Seth, the Golden Prince they called me a long time ago, when I was still a child in my naivety. 

I was born in the lands of the great rivers, where life and prosperity were brought by the waters and the floods every year were celebrated as interventions from the gods themselves. I won’t say those lands’ names for all of you are too young to remember and the ancient pronunciation has been lost for millennia now. 

I was the son of King Enkil and his Queen, Akasha. I was born to rule and trained to do so since I was old enough to walk. They were gods in the eyes of humans, as was I, despite being brought up in their shadows. I watched them conquer village after village, city after city, land after land, and I learned.

I learned many things about myself and what I was, what we all were. Enkil and Akasha had been mortals, once upon a time. Cursed to the blood by a powerful being who sought revenge for the one he loved. 

Then they were monsters, blood drinkers, doomed to a half life only lived at night. They thrived in this new nature. Their innate cruelty finally fed by the new lust they discovered. The world was thrown into wars and chaos and they ruled upon it all. 

They were mated.

Such a strange word to indicate the bond between souls. The power of a bond was, and still is, the most inexplicable of all the secrets my kind keep. So powerful that it can destroy the wall of silence between Master and fledgling, it is one of those things of which no one speaks freely. 

When I was reborn, the secret was bestowed upon me: a new guardian for the most powerful weapon, one that could control even the strongest of us. 

How I wished they never shared it with me. If I had been ignorant I wouldn’t have been foolish enough to look for the one creature born for me, and perhaps I wouldn’t have found him, and left him exposed to their violence. 

I found my mate in a young physician who had cared for me when I was merely a prince with all the trappings of mortality. 

Fareed, my Imi-ib. Beloved. That was his title. One I would have cherished for all eternity.

I loved him, and he loved me. We kept our love a secret, something precious and only for us. But then I was turned and the secret became even more dangerous to keep, and all the more important. 

Until the night I lost everything. 

Akasha found us, in a secret chamber and came with guards and fury in her eyes. 

My beloved was taken from me that night. The things they did to him before he died in my arms I will never forget. 

Just as I never forgot who took him from me. 

They taught me that loyalty was rewarded with even deeper commission, but only the worst kind of revenge was reserved for betrayal. So I took everything from them, as they did to me. 

They loved to be worshiped as gods, so I took them away, hid them in a magnificent golden temple that I buried in sand. So deeply no one would ever find them again. A grave where their bodies, now akin to statues, would be forever. 

They loved power, and I took everything they had for myself. I expanded my kingdom through the lands of the whole earth. 

One by one newborn kingdoms fell under my influence and power. There is no place I can’t reach. No man I can’t break, no ruler who hadn’t been destroyed by me. 

I took their firstborns. 

I took their thrones. 

I took everything I wanted by the mere measure of my army and the fear that view inspires.

Of those boys and girls I always demanded as payment, some are now part of my army. Some are so old they are called children of the millennia, like I am. Some have been food for my men, and the others have been turned into objects for their entertainment.

The pain of my loss would have driven me to insanity eons ago otherwise, and I would have sought eternal refuge in the ground, leaving the world to pass on above.

So why do I still rule over these lands instead of rotting below?

The answer is simple. 

Even if my kind was born from a curse, we were also given a second chance. Sometimes, when a bond is broken, there is a chance that what was once lost can again be returned.

Incarnated in another body, with another history and even another name, but we will always be able to recognize our mate. 

That is why I am the one who remains.