#orlando bloom imagine

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 1,057

Gif NOT mine.

Year posted - 2023

Rating - SFW (Includes injuries involving flogging obviously.)

Reading time (roughly) - 10 minutes

It's been a while since I watched these movies, so some things are not going to be super accurate. Just roll with it my lovelies.

Pushing Will aside (Y/n) stepped forward to face Davy Jones. "I will take his place." She stated suddenly, confusing both Will and Davy Jones. "You will take his place?" The Captain asked in bemusement, a amused smirk on his lips. "Yes." She stated confidently, shaking off Will's arm when he tried pulling her back. "(Y/n) what are you doing?" He hissed at her, again trying to pull her away, giving up when she shook him off a second time. "And why should I let you take Mr. Turner's lashings?" Davy Jones asked, several of his crew mates chuckling at the absurd demand. "Because then he'll actually learn his lesson." She stated matter-of-factly before continuing. "Will's a proud man, if you punish him, he won't learn, he'll only disobey you again, and the cycle will continue." (Y/n) allowed the Captain a moment to think before continuing. "But he's also a honorable man, and should I be punished for his actions, he'll think twice about causing trouble." She concluded, and she could tell Davy Jones saw her perspective. "Very well. The woman will be flogged." The Captain concluded, his men quickly grabbing her arms, and pulling her to the mast. "No!" Will argued trying to put a stop to this, he was grabbed by his father and only held back for a few moments before he broke away.

"You can't do this!" He shouted when he reached her, attempting to pull the crew members away from her. (Y/n) pushed them away and faced Will. "Don't." She warned, not fighting the men when they took ahold of her shoulders. "If you interfere, you'll only make this worse for me." She hissed at him, her serious expression turning to shock when the crew mates tore the back of her shirt open. "Captain get a look at this!" One of the guys barked with amusement, turning (Y/n)'s back to Davy Jones who stood with the rest of the crew. The crew burst into laughter, and the Captain chuckled in amusement. Her back bare to his gaze, Will gawked in astonishment at the sight, where over a dozen large scars littered her back. "It would seem this isn't the first time you've been flogged." Davy Jones mused, waving his arm for them to continue. "No no I can't-!" Will shouted when his father dragged him back by the shoulders. "Will you need to stop, if you keep this up, they will whip her to the bone." His father warned, and the young man went slack, knowing his words were true. "But shes- I-" Will muttered, cutting himself off as he locked eyes with her. "I know son, I know." The old pirate pat his sons shoulder in a vain attempt to comfort him. (Y/n) was shoved against the ships mast, her arms pulled around it, and bound tightly with rope. "She doesn't deserve this." Will muttered mournfully, his heart breaking at the sight of the fear building in her eyes. "She's a tough woman, she will be fine." Bootstrap consoled his son, releasing his hold on him, believing Will wouldn't do anything stupid or rash.

The first strike pulled a pained cry from the woman, and blood stained the deck, instantly getting washed away with the rain. Will couldn't control himself, when the second lashing came, rushing forward to comfort her. "Will don't!" Bootstrap shouted, but it was to late. Will stood before her, taking her hands in his, and resting his forehead against hers. One of the crew mates moved to pull Will away from her, assuming he was trying to free her. "Leave him." Davy Jones commanded, knowing Will wasn't trying to untie her, and allowing him to remain so close to her, knowing it would only hurt him more. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Will wept as she was struck again, and again. Her cries choked and breathless, the pain splitting across her back nearly unbearable. "I swore to protect you." His whisper was pained, as he peered into her watery eyes. "I'm so sorry I have failed you." He squeezed her hands, his own heart breaking at the sound of the whip crack. On the eighth whip crack, (Y/n)'s knees buckled and she fell slack against the mast. Will quickly moved his hands to grab the underside of her bent arms, and pull her to stand up straight. Knowing if she was hunched down, the whip was likely to strike her head, and the man wielding damned thing wouldn't care. "It's almost over." He tried to assure her, knowing the sentencing was only ten lashings. "Hang in there." He whispered, their tears mixing with the heavy fall of rain, foreheads resting together.

The ninth strike, and every muscle in her body shook from the shock, and pain of it all. The tenth and final strike came harder than the others, the force making (Y/n) crumble to the ground, despite Will's attempts to keep her upright. "She has the rest of the day to rest, but I expect her to be on deck working first thing in the morning." Davey Jones dismissed, the crew mates departing to go about their work, leaving Will to help (Y/n). "Take it easy, I've got you, I've got you." He murmured quickly untying her hands, and easing her into his arms as gently as he could. She whimpered in pain, clinging to his arms, her body still shaking from the shock and pain. "Easy firefly easy." He murmured softly, the nickname bringing a ghost of a smile to her face. "I'm okay Will." She murmured weakly, trying to stand on wobbly legs. Instinctively Will wrapped his arm around her back, nearly jumping away from her when she cried out in pain. She fell forward in an instant, and Will rushed forward to catch her in his arms. Now chest to chest, his hands rest firmly on her hips. Swiftly he hoisted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, while she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and buried her face into his neck. "I'm sorry, I've got you now." He whispered into her hair as he carried her below deck. Once they were below deck, and away from prying eyes, Will sat her atop a sturdy table.

"I need to clean your wounds." Will stated in a soft tone, slowly moving to unbutton her now ruined shirt. Moving slow enough to give her the opportunity to push him away, should she want him to stop. She didn't fight him, and allowed him to slide the shirt off of her shoulders. Gently he slipped the shirt from her arms, and tossed the ruined fabric aside. He kept his eyes locked with hers, as she sat before him, bare from the waist up. "Why did you do it?" He asked the question that had been burning in his mind like hellfire. "To keep you from causing any more trouble." She murmured, her words only making Will scoff. "Bullshit. Why did you do it?" He insisted. "Because it's what you do!" (Y/n) suddenly shouted as best she could, grunting at the pain in her back. "You protect the ones you love, no matter what it takes." She huffed before slumping forward. Despite the shock he felt at her words, Will was quick to catch her by the shoulders. "You..." He tried to gather his thoughts, a far away look in his eyes. "Forget it." She grunted, holding herself upright and turning her back to him. "My cuts need dealt with." She reminded him, and in a instant Will rushed to work. Carefully he cleaned each of the open wounds, unable to keep his mind from running a mile a minute. His fingers subconsciously tracing over one of the old scars, muttering an apology when she suddenly pulled away from him.

"What happened?" He asked in a soft whisper. (Y/n) chuckled bitterly, glancing over her shoulder. "The life of a pirate isn't an easy one... Especially with a brother like Jack." She muttered the last part so only Will could hear. "Your-?" He cut himself off, knowing if Davy Jones found out, it could end horribly. "He's reckless." She chuckled again. "Just like someone else I know." Will smiled softly when she glanced over her shoulder at him. "I never meant for you to get hurt." Will muttered as he prepped a needle and thread. "Yeah I know." She shrugged a little. "But I also know that what I told Davy Jones is true. Had it been you to get flogged, you would have ended up making the same mistake of pissing off the Captain of the Flying Dutchman." He hated to admit it, but he knew she was right. "And if I was the one to get hurt, you might actually take the time to stop and think, and maybe just maybe you'd learn to keep your head down." She continued, hissing when Will began stitching her wounds. "We can't just do nothing." Will said, trying not to sound angry. "Jack will come for us, we just need to bide our time." (Y/n) said in a soft tone. "Jack? How can he possibly save us? You heard what Davy Jones said." Will argued, trying to keep his hands steady as he worked on her stitches. "He owns one hundred souls... How can he possibly get one hundred souls?" Will's voice was mournful. "Do you know how Jack came to owe Davy Jones so many souls?" (Y/n) asked pain evident in her voice, making Will slow his work.

"To get back the Pearl." Will stated, and (Y/n) chuckled softly. "Eighty souls would have bought him the Pearl. The other twenty were for me." She explained, her words making Will still in his work for a moment. "You see when Barbossa staged a mutiny, and stole the Pearl from Jack, he kept me prisoner. Knowing full well how close me and Jack are, he wanted to rub salt in the wound." She sighed when Will washed away the blood that had spilled as he worked. "I died Will." He froze at her words. "When the Pearl went down, I went down with her. I drowned of all things." She chuckled bitterly. "Jack bargained for twenty more souls to bring me back." She turned to look at Will. "Jack is reckless, a little crazy, and sometimes a selfish coward... But he always comes back, he always does the right thing, and he does whatever it takes for the ones he cares about." Will smiled faintly at her words, she really believes in her brother, and for her he's willing to believe in Jack as well. "You know... Before you told me Jack was your brother, I thought you guys were a couple." Will smiled at the face she pulled. "But I'm glad to know you aren't." He added before kissing her cheek. "I-" (Y/n) tried, but Will cut her off, turning her back around to finish patching her up. "And I'm glad to know you love me back." He added in a soft tone, kissing the nape of her neck, smiling when she shuddered in response.

Once he finished patching her up, he took and wrapped her torso securely with wrappings. And with that done, he removed his shirt, assisted her into it, and buttoned it up slowly. "What about Elizabeth?" (Y/n) asked after a moment, having been unable to think about what he said. "I thought you loved her?" She added. "I thought I did too. That is until I met you." His knuckles brushed across her cheekbone. "How many times have you saved my life, or protected me?" Will asked with a smile. "You need it." She smiled. "Yeah I guess I do..." His smile slowly faded as he thought about what had happened. "I'm so sorry that you had to go through this, that I did this to you... I promise... I promise you I won't let this happen again." Will insisted, resting his forehead against hers. "You know that's what Jack always says, when he gets me into some crazy situation that risks life and death." (Y/n) mused with a grin. "The life of a pirate isn't an easy one, but luckily for me, I was born to be a pirate." She added, making Will smile. "You should get some rest, the Captain expects you to be working on deck in the morning." He helped her off of the table, laid back in the hammock, and pulled her gently to lay chest to chest with him. "Drink up me hearties yo ho." (Y/n) sang softly, a tired smile pulling at her lips. "Sleep love." Will encouraged her, kissing the crown of her head.

Buy me a coffee sometime? ☕️

(Click the coffee for my Kofi link, IT'S NOT NECESSARY BTW.)

[imagines--galore]

||Written In The Stars||

Summary: You had met him in the forest. A meeting that left an impact on you, just as it did. Neither of you escaped unscathed from your encounter. At least your heart didn't. And after that fateful run-in, perhaps it was finally time to bring to light what was clearly written in the stars. Pairing: Legolas x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. None. A/N: When I tell you I swooned at the Cinderella bit? I mean I ADORE the live action Disney remake and the dance scene is just gorgeous. Hope you enjoyed it @kililove. Also I couldn't help it! You HAVE to watch that dance to envision the last part of this fic perfectly ok?!

The first time you met him had been a chance affair.

You had been running through the forest, wind whipping through your hair. It was quite the norm to find you racing through the trees of the forest you called home. There was just something freeing about it, with the adrenaline rushing through your body, the wind whipping through your hair, and the near endless shelter of the forest you adored with all your heart.

Lothlórien was truly a place to behold no matter the season. The leaves would dance with the wind, the trees would sing joyful tunes to the morning sun, and lullabies to the moon and stars at night. The flowers would sway in the breeze, the animals would play with no fear of being hunted or coming to any harm. If there were ever to be a place akin to Valinor in Middle-Earth, it would be your home.

As you cleared yet another obstacle in your path, you let out a laugh that echoed against the very leaves of the trees you passed. Your laugh was one of pure joy, of freedom and utter happiness. You felt like you would race off the edge of the world and even then you would keep running because who's to say the world ended there.

And perhaps it was that laugh that pulled him towards you, that compelled him to halt whatever he had been doing and his head to instead follow the sound of your laughter, echoing as you raced away.

Any other person would've dismissed it and went back to their task, but not this listener. He was curious. Curious to know who would laugh like that while racing through the trees. A laugh so full of joy in such dark times. Surely this person had only ever known joy and nothing more. Sorrow, hopelessness, loss, none of these words could ever be associated with a person with such a laugh.

Little did he know why you laughed so. He would come to know later, much later, all that you had suffered, all that you had lost, all that you would loose. But despite it all, you never lost your will to live, and live happily. Live to enjoy everything around you. From the smallest of flowers, to the grandest of trees, nature brought you a sense of joy that nothing ever had.

Well that is until you met him.

You saw him from the corner of your eyes, a figure of gold and green that ran a few paces to your right. He had given no indication for you to stop, not that you were about to. You kept running, hair flying behind you, skirts ripped to allow your legs better movement, cheeks flushed, eyes bright as you turned you gaze ahead.

For him you were something akin to a wild thing as you raced through the forest. Free and untamed, like the horses he had seen racing in the fields of Rohan. He was barely able to make out your face, and wanting to look at you properly moved to step in your path.

But you quickly evaded him, all but dancing out of his way, jumping over a fallen tree, and continuing.

And so began a little dance.

One where he would try to get you to stop, but you would always change course and dash off. You should've found it annoying, and perhaps a little alarming that an elf was chasing you. But you didn't.

In your heart of heart you somehow knew he meant no harm. You had even allowed yourself to laugh at his failed attempts, a laugh that only prompted him to increase his efforts tenfold.

And not just because he wanted to stop you. But because if his attempts would make you laugh so, then he would gladly do so over and over.

Just to hear that sweet sound again.

Perhaps Lothlórien had traces of old magic left, something that was effecting his mind.

As he rounded a large tree, intent on stopping you once more, he skidded to a halt at the sight that greeted him.

You stood at the very edge of a cliff, your back to him, gazing out at the near endless landscape as it sprawled in front of you. The setting sun cast the last of it's warm glow, the wind blowing softly, prompting you to inhale deeply, closing your eyes, and holding out your arms at your sides. Almost as if you were embracing the very beauty of the nature around you.

He stood a few paces behind you. The very scene would remain with him till the end of days was something akin to ethereal. For him, everything in that moment was just that, ethereal. But none more so then you.

He had no idea who you were. For all he knew, you could be a mirage created from the very deepest recesses of his heart. What he did know, was that the moment he had heard your laugh, before he had even laid eyes on you, he had begun to feel his soul slip away from him.

And when you finally, finally, turned your head ever so slightly to look at him over your shoulder, he felt the very essence of his soul, his fëa, leave him to bind itself to you forever.

While he struggled to keep his composure, given how intense the moment was for him, you couldn't help but wander if perhaps your heart was beating so fast because you had just been running, or because it was beating so fast that it was trying to tell you something.

To tell you that the elf who had run after you and beside you, was the other half of your fëa.

Neither of you spoke a word, not as the sun disappeared and the stars peeked out. Not as the forest around you began to come alive with the creatures of the night. Not even when the moon shone down, bathing her cold yet somehow gentle glow on the both of you.

You were each lost. Lost in each other. It was almost as if you could read his heart and mind, and he could do the same to you. You could see his bravery, his loyalty, his kindness, his weaknesses and strength. And him? He could see your empathy, your joy, your devotion, your fears and resilience.

You were the one to make the first move. One step forward. A movement that he matched. One foot in front of the other, the wind blowing softly, pushing your hair back from your faces, the moonlight allowing your elvish features to glow in the dark. You were both only three feet away.

Two.

One.

A brief pause where you were almost nose to nose, your eyes never leaving the other's.

Intense.

Wanting.

Passionate.

Adoration.

Heated.

How were you able to convey all that and more with just that one look, you had no idea.

But then it was over.

You walked past him, slowly picking up speed, until you were running once more.

And this time, he did not follow.

                                             ————————–

You never forgot him.

He never forgot you.

You knew him by name, he was a Prince after all, and a member of the Fellowship.

All he knew about you, was the color of your hair, how expressive your eyes had been, and how, in his eyes, you were the very image of perfection.

He did not follow you that night. Not when he could not make any promises. Not when he had a mission to see to.

Legolas had often wandered what awaited him beyond the destroying of the ring, should he survive. He had no desire to go back home. And while he had made plans to travel Middle-Earth with Gimli once Aragorn was King, it never felt right in his heart.

And as he walked out of the Citadel, where the newly crowned Aragorn, and his Queen Arwen, were dancing so joyfully, he began to envision his own mysterious lady. The one he had met in Lothlórien.

The Lady.

Who was never far from his thoughts.

Who occupied his heart.

Who held his entire soul and had no inclination of it.

He could still picture her so clearly in his mind, he mused as he walked past the blooming tree in the middle of the courtyard.

You standing there at the edge of the cliff. Unconsciously his gaze lifted to the very end of the walkway along which he strolled.

An elleth with y/h/c hair, strangely the same color the figure standing at the end of the walkway possessed.

A figure, dressed in a blue dress, a color that reminded him of open skies during the day and the twinkling stars at night.

.

.

.

.

He stopped.

His eyes widened.

His heart quickened.

His fëa rejoiced.

His feet catapulted him forward.

The figure had her arms open. And while the last time those arms had been open to embrace nature, this time they were open to embrace him.

And while the last time the both of you had walked past one another, wanting, no yearning, for the other, this time it was different.

You watched him dash closer, you stumbled a few steps forward, until finally, you had him in your arms.

Neither of you knew how long you stood there for. Minutes. Hours. Days. Months. Years. Eons.

It was all the same.

"It would seem our meeting was written in the stars." His voice was low and gentle, prompting a warmth to race through your entire body as you hummed in agreement.

"The stars in my dreams were the ones who told me to come find you tonight." You responded, a dream you had had not so long ago coming to the forefront of your mind. "I was flying. On a Star. And it told me it would take me to you."

He joined your laughter, the both of you still holding each other close. Now though, he pulled back so he could look at you, his arms still wrapped around your waist, while yours laid over his shoulders.

"And here you are." He whispered, his gaze searching yours.

You gave a nod and a smile. "Here I am." You reassured him, leaning to press your forehead against his.

The music from the open door of the Citadel was perhaps what compelled him to lean back slightly. While your arms dropped to the side, one of his hands never left your back.

Your eyes never broke their intense stare as the both of you, slowly, began to dance to the song filtering from the Citadel.

You danced, and you danced, and you danced.

Your need to be close to him over-powered all else. His need to touch you overtook any sense of decorum he had.

Neither of you spoke a word, and yet you didn't think anything needed to be said. Not when your eyes spoke for you. Not when your Fëa sang to one another.

You were sure of what you felt for him, and he was sure that his heart belonged to you.

And as the new dawn greeted you with her warm glow, you finally allowed your eyes to close, an act he mirrored.

Before sealing that unspoken promise to never leave each other with a kiss that was more binding and irrevocable, then any vow a living being could make.

[thethreeeyed-raven]

Hi !!! First I wanna say that I love the aesthetic of ur account it’s so pretty and nicely put together I’m obsessed. Second, I was wondering if I could request something for a Legolas x half elf reader where the reader is very like, unladylike, and doesn’t follow elven traditions ?? Like she’s very brash, flirts with lots of people, drinks a lot, doesn’t really have any of that elegance or poise that he’s used to when it comes to eleven girls and is a extremely good fighter. She’s a trusted friend of Gandalf and he brings her to the council of Elrond and she joins the fellowship and all dat.

Ok I’m done sorry if that’s too detailed feel free to not write it if you don’t want to, don’t want you to feel pressured to jus cause I asked 😅

i think you are beautiful

navigation | warnings : gimlis a little bitch, a little bit of angst? a little bit of gimli/dwarf slander😭 | a/n : if this isn’t what you want then i’m sorry😭, also of the elvish is wrong PLEASE LMK i literally used an sindarin, i kind of forgot about the flirty part and half elf part, but it’s mentioned a little bit, i asp used british slang for ‘hello’ IM BRITISH | lotr masterlist | tags : @knight-of-flowerss @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

Legolas hadn't expected to see you at Elrond's secret meeting.

He didn't even know you knew Gandalf. Well, he didn't know much about you at all really. Of course, Legolas has seen you before, with the adventures he went on with Aragorn and what not, he was hardly ever seen around Lothlórien, and he was sure you were too.

But when you entered the circle of middle-earth creatures with your eccentric aura and manly stance, he thought of you intriguing.

"Another bloody elf?!" Gimli explained in disgust.

Legolas turned to the dwarf seated beside him, opening his mouth ready to throw a remark back when you interrupted.

"Well you are in the Rivendell, dwarf. If you are willing to help with the destruction of the ring, you must watch your tongue, before I cut it out." You threw him a smirk, and watched as Gimli shrunk back in his seat.

"Y/n! I've been expecting you for quite some time." Gandalf made his way over and enveloped you into a hug, which you reciprocated.

"You did show up in the middle of nowhere when I was trying to fish, you owe me a pint, don't forget."

You patted his back and made you way over to an empty chair, which was ironically beside Legolas.

"Oreyt there Legolas?" You patted his shoulder and look towards Elrond. "Let's get on with it then!"

It had been about a week since you and the fellowship had attended Elrond's secret council meeting, and since then, you hadn't really bonded with anyone like everyone else had, though you thoroughly enjoyed flirting.

You knew Aragorn already had his heart set on Arwen, Gimli couldn't stand you (you found it funny to rile him up).

Legolas was your favourite to tease.

He wasn't used to your heavy drinking, swordsmanship, the way your eyes glistened in the moonlight...

You weren't at all what he had thought.

You had a kind heart. And your beauty went beyond those of the other elven women.

And Gimli made sure to point out that you were different.

"Are you sure you're not a man?"

You turned around to look at him, holding back a frown.

"Wait, you're not a man?" Pippin chimed in, finally causing the frown to appear and you started to walk ahead of Gandalf. "Did I say something wrong?"

Nearly an hour later, you all had found a place to rest, yet you didn't talk throughout the whole way through.

Legolas and Aragorn were relieving themselves of their weapons when Legolas peered over at you who stood in the far corner away from everyone else, but near enough for you to hear him insult Gimli.

"I norn na- an imbecile." He placed his arrows next to his bow and Aragorn turned to look at him.

"Whui ceri- cin eithad Gimli? Does ha gar- something na ceri- with ui/n?" Aragorn questioned him.

"-o iór ha does! How berth- ho ask hen such a nad! At least with ammen galadrim mín know what mín are!"

Gimli looked up at Boromir who wasn't paying any mind to the rather loud conversation they were having.

"What are the elf and the man speaking about?"

Boromir just shrugged. "I don't know, I don't speak Sindarin.

You, having understood their conversation, smiled a little to yourself, happy that at least someone here would defend you.

You sat quietly beside a lake, inspecting the flora surrounding you, when you heard footsteps.

You swung your body round, placing your hand on the blade strapped to your leg.

The sound revealed itself to be Legolas. "There you are, Gandalf sent me to make sure you weren't missing."

You nodded and motioned him to sit next to you.

"You were being rather loud with Aragorn earlier." You chuckled as you watched a red tint spread across Legolas' cheeks. "Thank you."

Legolas nodded in acknowledgment and he was about to stand up when you grabbed ahold of his hand.

Your hand was rough, no doubt from the countless weapons you have wielded or practised with.

"Legolas, do you think I'm pretty?"

He was taken aback by your sudden question.

Since you were little you had struggled with femininity. Your hobbies were 'un-ladylike', your looks were considered to be 'manly'.

The silence was too loud, too long. So you took that as a no.

"I think you are beautiful. And I think you're too good for anyone here." He sat back down next to you. "Not only are your combat skills exceptional, but the way you carry yourself outshines any of the elvish women. They can't compete."

You moved closer, until your pinky was touching his.

"I may not know you that well, I've hardly ever seen you around Rivendell or any of the elven parts for that matter, and quite frankly, I couldn't care less if you were half elf, or half dwarf, or half whatever. I've still admired you from afar-"

You shut him up with a quick kiss to his lips.

Aragorn watched further away from the bushes, shaking his head with a grin, then going to tell Gandalf that you were safe.

"Im like cin verui limb legolas, a im gar- admired cin o palan too."

ELVISH TRANSLATION

‘I norn na- an imbecile’ - the dwarf is an imbecile

‘Whui ceri- cin eithad Gimli?’ - why do you insult Gimli?

‘Does ha gar- something na ceri- with ui/n?’ - does it have something to do with Y/n?

‘-o iór ha does! How berth- ho ask hen such a nad! At least with ammen galadrim mín know what mín are!’ - of course it does! how dare he ask her such a thing! at least with us elves we know what we are!

‘Im like cin verui limb legolas, a im gar- admired cin o palan too’ - i like you very much legolas, and i have admired you from afar too

[streets-in-paradise]

I will never get over how well casted they were

They actually look like brothers

Just look at them

[virusofthemind]

Ok actually scratch all my other stuff i want more stories about Orlando bloom there’s a lot of Legolas but not a lot of just him or in my opinion my favorite character he’s played William turner where are they??!!! Please more stories of Orlando bloom!!!

[americaswritings]

The best fucking race driver the world has ever seen

They all told him how lucky he had been. What a miracle it was that his injuries turned out to be so minor, considering his speed and the impact when the car had hit the barrier, broken through it and flipped in the air. He had killed someone. And yet everyone kept telling him how lucky he was. It was sick. All of it. And in his bad moments Jann wished he wouldn’t have been lucky.

or

Jack visits Jann in his hotel room after the accident and they have a much-needed conversation.

[starboymp3]

love watching kingdom of heaven i always wonder if orlando bloom and csókás márton reminisced about the lotr days.... did they sometimes speak elvish and all <333

[donde-el-diablo-parquea-la-moto]

Question: why does the tagging system in AO3 includes the CC's names? Wouldn't it be easier to just go like "q!whoever"?

[thoughtfulstarlightcreation]

OMG 👁️👄👁️

May your day be blessed by this amazing edit

[imagopirateversion]

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales; Why It Shouldn’t Exist

Or how I invested time and energy into an analysis of a relatively dead franchise instead of doing it for my actual media analysis university course.

An essay by: a bitter and obsessed PotC fan since they were 7, with a lot of free time.

Lads, this is going to be long. You have been warned.

The Beginning

At the very beginning of the movie, we see a young Henry Turner looking for his dad.

Now, we're not talking about characterization problems or how likely it is that a ten-year-old child would risk his life to look for a man he technically only saw once; we're talking about plot problems, actual logical fallacies. My questions are:

How? The Flying Dutchman is a legendary ship, impossible to be found unless She wants to be found. The only reason we see Her in Dead Man's Chest is because Davy Jones himself is looking for Jack to collect his debt, and in that occasion the Dutchman's captain wasn't even doing what he was supposed to do, so he was most definitely in the living world. Will otherwise, he's doing the job Calypso gave him, so he's constantly in between. Is the movie trying to convince me that a kid was able to do something no one in the history of piracy was ever able to do? And even if he did, why hasn't anyone explained me how? He simply looks at a map and throws himself on the bottom of the ocean. How did he know The Dutchman was there? How did he know it would've come to surface?

Where is his mom? We got to know Elizabeth in the first three movies; we know she's a smart woman and we can assume she's an attentive mother. She didn't notice her son preparing himself for a trip in the middle of the ocean to go look for his dad? Was she distracted? Was she outsmarted by a 10ish-year-old? Or is she just not contemplated in this scenario?

Why does Will look like that? Will is doing his job, so... why does he look like he's slowly corrupting? That kind of corruption is the punishment Calypso reserves to The Dutchman's crew when the captain fails her, which isn't the case. Did they forget about it? Was the idea of putting algae on Orlando Bloom's face just impossible to resist to?

Alright, this isn't actually from this movie but it's bothering me, so I have to write it; also, it would make this whole movie unnecessary, so it's somehow related to it. Why (and I can't stress this enough) can't Elizabeth be on the Dutchman? Why can't they do the job together? Is it because she's not a pirate? I'm pretty sure se actually is. Is it because she's a woman? Last time I checked she was the KING. She wants to stay with Will forever, Will wants to stay with her forever, they can literally live forever on the same ship. Why aren't they?

Whatever the Hell Happened to Jack Sparrow

Imagine creating a character that is so iconic whenever you ask a person who was a kid in the early 2000 to imagine a pirate, they imagine said character.

Now imagine fourteen years pass and you decide to ruin that character by making him the most hideous, annoying, idiotic person in the whole saga, and we're talking about a saga that has Philip the Missionary in it. Why? Jack Sparrow is THE anti-hero. Never on the right side, but never on the wrong one. You can tell he's doing something morally questionable, but you still find yourself rooting for him. He's stupid enough to make you laugh, but he's secretly clever enough to always get away with it. Now he's just... drunk. And that's not even an excuse for this horrendous new characterization, because he was always drunk. The guy FORGOT HE WAS ROBBING A BANK, the same guy just one movie earlier was able to escape from the King of England's palace and steal a lady's earring (by pretending to be a literal slut) in the process. He just switched from the iconic drunk bi bestie everyone loves to my cringe uncle that drinks too much at Christmas parties and makes everyone uncomfortable. Please, if the risk is ruining an entire generation's beloved character, either don't make the movie or find a better explanation than "Bad luck dogs you day and night".

The Pearl in The Bottle

So... what you're telling me is that Jack Sparrow, the guy who was able to defeat Hector Barbossa, Davy Jones and Blackbeard thanks to his slyness, and who loves his Black Pearl more than anything else in the world, had said ship in a bottle in his pockets for FIVE YEARS... and he never thought about breaking the bottle to free Her. That's what you're telling me. This is the pivotal point upon which the entire Jack's plot hinges. I... I don't even know what to say. Was this supposed to be funny?

What an Incredibly Lucky Coincidence

A guy needs a treasure to save his father. To find it, he needs the help of a notorious and legendary pirate. He looks for him everywhere, sailing on dozens of ships just so he has the remote chance to stumble across the pirate. The last ship he's been on has sinked, he's the only survivor. He's been found in the middle of the ocean and someone brought him to the nearest city. Which city? I mean, the one that has both the pirate he was looking for and a lady who's the only person in the whole planet who's able to find the treasure he was looking for! And, oh my... he finds the both of them! In that same city! Without even LOOKING FOR THEM! A hell of a coincidence, if you ask me. Also known as lazy writing.

What's Wrong With the Guards?

Now, I know Pirates of the Caribbean isn't exactly known for its accurate historical reconstructions, but why are the guards in this movie acting like they're some sort of hellhounds ready to kill anyone in sight? Even pirates and traitors as Jack and Henry were supposed to stand trial before being sentenced to death. It would've probably been an unjust and barbaric trial, but there should've been one. We literally saw it, in the previous movie. Why's Jack been sentenced to death for simply existing here? He gave pirate vibes and they decided that was enough?

Paul McCartney

This is not an actual point of the analysis, I just wanted to remind people that Paul McCartney is in this movie and that's the only valid reason to watch it.

Salazar

I am confused. Once again, I have questions.

El Matador Del Mar was so good at his job he had almost defeated piracy. "The last ones joined together to try and defeat me". The last what? Pirates? There were no pirates left? This happened when Jack was young, so a lot of time before the first movie, right? Where were, I don't know... Blackbeard? Davy Jones? Barbossa? All the other Pirate Lords? I might be wrong, but I guess Salazar didn't kill them, did he? Why weren't they there during that "last battle" in which "the last ones joined together"?

The Devil's Triangle. I just don't understand what's the logic behind it. So, this is a cursed place. Whoever enters there, can't get out. One would think it means that if you get there, you die; and Salazar does die, but he somehow also becomes a ghost whose only purpose is to find Jack Sparrow and have his revenge. So, do people become ghosts when they get in The Devil's Triangle? We have to assume people have gotten stuck in there before; otherwise, there wouldn't be legends around the place. So why isn't it like full of spirits ready to haunt people? Why are Salazar and his crew the only ones?

Poseidon or Calypso?

What's the Trident of Poseidon? Does Poseidon exist? Isn't Calypso the Goddess of the sea? Breaking the Trident, you break all the curses of the sea, so the Trident must be more powerful than Calypso, which leads to a question. Where is she? She IS the sea, right? So she must have known someone was about to find the Trident and brake all curses, including her one. She just decided it was okay? It really feels like someone decided to suddenly change the world's mythology without giving explanations.

The Compass

This is possibly the most blatant plot hole in the whole saga. Probably the most blatant plot hole I've ever witnessed, and man, I watched all the Harry Potter movies. In Dead Man's Chest, Jack meets Tia Dalma in her "shop" and he tells her he's looking for the Davy Jones' key. She asks him "The compass you bartered from me, it cannot lead you to this?", making another pivotal point of Dead Men Tell No Tales factually senseless.

That man couldn't have given his compass to Jack, because that wasn't his compass.

So either Salazar is lying while telling his tale or they forgot about that line in the second movie. Anyway, let's pretend that line doesn't exist; even if that captain gave Jack his compass in that exact moment, why would it be the key to free Salazar, exactly? How is the compass in any way related to The Devil's Triangle or to Salazar? In the movie, they try to explain it with a sentence: “if you betray it, your greatest fear comes true”. So, is Salazar Jack's greatest fear? I really doesn't seem right, Jack almost didn't remember Salazar when Henry mentioned him. To Jack, he's only a guy he outsmarted decades earlier. Also, Jack technically already gave the compass away, twice: to Elizabeth in Dead Man's Chest, to make her find the chest, and to Beckett in At World's End, when they're negotiating.

That's... That's Just Body Shaming, Mate

Let's talk about her. So, the woman's ugly. It can happen that a woman is ugly. Was it necessary to build an entire scene around some blatant body shaming? This scene wants to mimic the similar scene in Dead Man's Chest: Jack's on an island, running from the main villain, and he's forced to do things he doesn't want to do until someone saves him, then it was Will, now it's Hector.

Except in Dead Man's Chest it was LITERAL CANNIBALISM he was facing, and yet he looked LESS TERRIFIED and DISGUSTED. What's exactly the message here? Lads, is marrying an ugly woman worse than cannibalism? I don't know... that was just bad.

Justice for Hector Barbossa

If you know me (you probably don't, but if you do) then you know about my obsession with Hector Barbossa. I truly believe he's the best written character in the saga, and he's in my top five of the characters I love the most in all media. I watched The Curse of the Black Pearl when I was seven and I am autistic, so I had all the time to develop a literal relationship with these characters in my head. As much as Geoffrey Rush's interpretation was impeccable, as always, it really hurt to watch Hector in this movie. He just doesn't sound like him. First of all, why isn't he on the Queen Anne's Revenge? Why's he letting someone else sail around on his ships? He would've never. Why's he just sitting on a throne and shooting musicians instead of, I don't know... being a pirate? Being a pirate is the only thing that matters to him. He says it at the end of On Stranger Tides, and he even says it in this movie, to the witch. "I'm a pirate. Always will be".

So, why isn't he pirating? What happened to him? And what about the pact with the witch? He made her curse all his enemies; that's honestly the most out-of-character thing he could've done.

Seriously, watch this movie, and then The Curse of the Black Pearl and tell me he sounds like he's the same character. Then there’s his death... was it necessary? And I don't mean if it was necessary to the plot (it wasn't), but the way he died, did it make sense? He takes the sword and sacrifices himself to kill Salazar, but WHY? Salazar was back a mortal. They could've brought him to surface and then shoot him. What was the point of his death, Disney? I will never forgive you.

I would've preferred if they never showed him again. He's alive and living his best life in Tortuga, if you ask me.

How does Carina Smyth exist?

Let's do the maths. Carina Smyth has approximately the same age as Henry Turner, who was born around nine moths after the end of At World's End. At the end of that movie, Barbossa once again stole the Black Pearl (he's iconic we stan a legend), so we have to assume it is during that time (between the At World's End and On Stranger Tides) that he conceives Carina. He stays with this woman during the whole pregnancy, bacause he says he was there when she died. So nine months, at least, right? Except; Jack makes it clear that he and Barbossa met Carina's mom, Margaret, together.

When, exactly, did this happen? It can't be between On Stranger Tides and Dead Men Tell No Tales, because Hector himself says only five years passed between the two, and Carina doesn't look like a five-year-old;

it can't be between At World's End and On Stranger Tides, because we know Jack and Barbossa weren't together, and Hector was too busy losing a leg and planning his revenge by working for the King of England; it can't be during At World's End, because Barbossa was too busy rescuing Jack and then slaying (literally and metaphorically) Beckett's men to save piracy; it can't be during Dead Man's Chest, because he was dead; it can't be during The Curse of the Black Pearl, nor during the ten years before it, because he was... he was a skeleton, I hardly believe he could reproduce, despite what’s written in some fanficions; it can't be before, of course, because Carina would be too old. The only chance, but it's a stretch, is that Hector and Jack met this Margaret Smyth years and years before, and that at a certain point (while he was still busy slaying, losing a leg or planning his revenge), for some reason he decided to come back to her and accidentally had a daughter. That would mean that Jack remembered Margaret Smyth's name DECADES after he met her.

The Post-Credit Scene: What?

WHY'S DAVY JONES BACK? The Trident technically broke all the curses of the sea. He is THE cursed man of the sea. AND HE'S DEAD. The only answer I was able to give me, is that the moment the Trident broke the curses, the curse that said if you stab his heart he dies was also broken, so he technically didn't die, but it makes even less sense, because if the curses just aren't real anymore, then a man shouldn't be able to... carve out his heart and put it in a chest, right? (Which by the way, makes Will Turner being alive senseless as well). Even if so, Davy should've come back as a human.

My conclusion is that this movie should not exist, and we, as a community, should pretend it was never made. Hector is alive. Bye.

Imago

[streets-in-paradise]

You know what i am wondering now?

If they would do an Odyssey sequel to Troy, would they bring Orlando Bloom in it even if his character doesn't belong in/has not much to do in that part of the story like it happened with the Hobbit or the last POTC?

Imagine the Sean Bean Odyssey film, but Paris is arround the corner somehow cause some executive said " yeah, just slap Orlando Bloom in it. That allways sells".

[sailoryooons]

Incubus yoongi x reader

Go wild with smut maybe theres fluff and angst too! Love your writing so much

☾ Pairing: Incubus!Yoongi x archdevil!Reader

☾ Summary: 

Sunder (sun·​der) transitive verb : to break apart or in two : to separate by or as if by violence or by intervening time or space Sunder (sun·​der) intransitive verb : to become parted, disunited, or severed

☾ Word Count: 5,297

☾ Genre: Smut, Forbidden Romance, Angst, Fated Lovers

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Vague worldbuilding - this takes place in a Hell setting so.. Lots of talk of literal hell, implied violence and war, themes of classism/species racism, hint of political scheming, depiction of servants who are chained/collared, implications of sex work/incubi being bread specifically for sex work, honestly Yoongi and reader kinda give co-dependant vibes, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, a little bit of overstim, cum eating if you squitn, multiple orgasms, bleeding/scratching/biting, possessive themes… um I don’t know the smut scene is more PrOsEy than straight-up smut. 

☾ Published: Sunday, April 7 2024

☾ A/N: We are using Forgotten Realms (dnd) lore because I was randomly inspired to do so. You need zero knowledge of Forgotten Realms or dnd lore to read this - there is vague world building and references to a plot on the side that I imagine Yoongi and reader are a part of but that does not happen in this little one shot. I just did it for the tension and because I’m out of control. 100% change I got some dnd lore wrong - don’t care, I kinda made it my own in parts as needed!!! Thank you!!! 

☾ A/N 2: Dear anon, I don’t have a clue what this is, but it was inspired by a very specific scene in the movie Troy when Paris (Orlando Bloom) sneaks up to Helen’s (Diane Kruger) room while the Greeks and Trojans are downstairs partying and he’s like hehe let’s bang it out. That’s it. I really hope you like this because sometimes I fill requests and I'm like ..... that probably was not what they had in mind and yet here I am, delivering whatever ??? this is ??

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾Filled Requests ☾ Masterlist  Milestone Request Event ☾ Ask

Note: I don't use my tag list for requests!

A pair of dark eyes in the shadows around the party catches your attention as you listen to Archdevil Belial's drone about his victory in Phlegethos. The fiend’s words fall on deaf ears as your gaze narrows to a deadly point on the man lingering in the shadows across the room, keeping away from the revelry with a single chalice in his hand.

And he’s staring at you. 

You feel your muscles constrict as you flick your gaze away, your heart rate picking up speed as you try and focus on Belial again. It isn’t a story you care to hear about - he’s been droning about his defeat of the Kelemvor worshipers on the fiery planes of Phlegethos. Hardly a battle as much as a skirmish outside of the city gates that demanded his attention. 

Archdevil Belial is none the wiser that the creature he really desires to kill is lurking at the edge of the party, burning eyes on you as he cocks his head and glances toward the empty staircase that leads toward the living quarters. 

There’s a twitch of irritation in your stomach as Yoongi turns and vanishes into the shadows. He is good at being seen only when he wants to, which works in his favor when he enters the hall of his greatest enemies, all in one room because of war meetings against the very fiend who now slips upstairs to your bedroom. 

It was only a matter of time before Yoongi showed up - despite the level of stupidity it takes to show up in the hall of your sworn enemy. Yoongi likes to show off though. He likes to remind his enemies - and himself - that he is not so easily kept out of places that he wants to be. 

Especially if those places he’s being kept from have you inside of them. 

“Thank you for the conversation, Lord Belial,” you interrupt. The devil looks at you with his mouth open, eyes blazing as you interrupt him to dismiss yourself. You feel a small twist of satisfaction. “I must retire for the evening. I am returning home tomorrow before starting my campaign through the realms to ensure my father’s army are being… led properly.”

Belial’s face twitches in irritation. You’re above his station - though not too far - and decorum is everything in matters of spoken insult. “Yes,” he agrees. “It is important for our… figureheads to inspire. The Whip of Asmodeus paints a threatening picture, to be sure. It is hard to be of influence on the battlefield - we do appreciate your efforts off the field.” 

A laugh like cutting glass bubbles from your lips. “You honor me.” You feel the ice in your mouth when you dip your head politely, pretending to be unbothered by the implication that you’re nothing but an empty threat. “I will see you in a tenday, Lord Belial, when I come to inspire in Phlegethos.”

With a curt turn, you cut through the party toward the stone dias. Those in attendance part for you like water parting around a sharp boulder, hurrying to get out of your way. Figurehead or real threat doesn’t matter - you’re the daughter of their lord and by rights their lady. 

Your father sits on his throne of twisted bone and fire ahead of the party, crimson eyes drinking in all that happens from his seat of power. Yet he has missed something incredibly important that now lingers upstairs waiting for you. The thought makes your lips twitch in a smirk as you ascend the stairs to where Asmodeus sits, a giddy tingle in your belly. 

A beautiful incubus boy sits next to the throne on the floor, a gold collar around his neck with a glittering chain that leads to Asdmodeous’ hand. The incubus looks at your father with adoration, gold eyes burning. Mouth agape. Breath catching. 

You don’t know how much of it is performance. It’s always hard to tell with the lower level fiends what is real and what is an act. It’s part of the dangerous game they play, and thought you’re more accustomed to their kind - especially the one lurking in your room - you’re still unsure how to tell the difference with this one.

You catch the scent of honey and vanilla as you step nearer, though the incubus doesn’t look at you. You immediately feel the ebbing power of allure from the creature, battering your senses just being so close. Asmodeus seems unaffected by the battering power of lust radiating from the incubus, but you see the two guards behind him glance toward the creature on the floor. 

You grit your teeth and ignore the twist in your gut, trying not to be irritated. Only one man has power over you this way. It isn’t the incubus’ fault that he’s doing what he was trained to do, but the sudden pitch in your stomach and dizziness you feel around him unsettles you. 

“I am returning to my chambers, Father,” you murmur, bowing deeply. “I have grown wear of Belial’s peacocking.” 

Behind him are two massive Orthons, no less than eight feet in height and wide like a troll. Their horns are curling and battle-scarred, ugly tusks showing from thick, fat lips. The beasts are hellish weapons from wars passed, now assigned to the personal guard of your father. You note that they also did not notice the shadowy incubus slipping into their party and up the stairwell.

It almost makes you tsk. Even for a creature as skilled and powerful as Yoongi, slipping past an entire party full of the most powerful infernals in the realms is impressive. He is, of course, more than just an incubus now, but still. The sheer magnitude of doing it successfully is not lost on you - and makes you worried for his sanity. 

“Sleep well,” Admodeous voice rumbles, his voice like stones grinding together. “Tomorrow, you return to Malbolge and ready to set out on your campaign.” His fiery eyes turn to you and you feel the weight of the burning Nine Hells press against you. “They will feel the crack of the Whip of Asmodeous and know that we are mighty. 

“It will be done.”

“She is as pretty as My Lord is,” the incubus boy purrs from where he sits at the foot of the throne. You glance at him, realizing that his golden gaze has broken away from your father and turned to you. Your stomach twists in equal parts anger, guilt, and disgust as you feel the lick of his power. “The House of Asmodeus is as beautiful as they are powerful.”

Again, it’s hard to discern if the incubus is performing or if he means it. Asmodeus pulls the chain hard, yanking incubus toward him. You hear his neck pop, though it doesn’t break as the creature wimpers at the sudden show of violence. “Do not speak to her, worm. You are nothing. She is the Heir Apparent and Princess of the Nine Hells. You are fodder.” 

The incubus cowers, and ducks his head away from you, curling in on himself. The sensual allure to him lessens distinctly, the energy souring. You feel your fingers twitch as you think of Yoongi. It is not difficult to guess that Asmodeous’ newfound desire to humiliate and dissipate incubi and succubi are inspired by his hatred and inability to rid himself of Yoongi’s stain. 

Swallowing thickly, you bow once more, slipping backward off the dias and toward the stairs that lead upward. No one guards them - there are supposed to be no enemies at this party - and shadow falls over them, the torches flickering as though watching you ascend.

Music and voices follow you up the stairs, the soft click of your shoes against the carved stone louder in the growing silence as you navigate to your bedrooms. The staircase winds and the sounds drift further away from you until it’s only the crackling of occasional sconces and your steps.

Two heavy doors in the west wing of the Citadel belong to your bedroom. The crackling energy of the arcana buzzing along them acting as a lock makes your skin tingle. You mutter the password and feel the pop of magic as it vanishes, allowing you to push heavily against one of the doors to grind it open. 

The room is both yours and not. It was your room for most of your life growing up under the ruler of the Nine Hells, opulent and dark, full of old possessions and heavy, draping curtains to keep out the smoke and ruin, rich art painted by careful hands with red and purple splashed across canvas. 

Now, it feels like a room that belonged to someone else entirely. You’re no longer the vicious little thing that thought would sit on the throne in Nessus one day. You’re no longer the unthinking weapon that Asmodeous uses to maintain order and public punishment. 

A large bed stands on a lifted dais, covered in silks and piled high with pillows. They lay undisturbed as you close the door behind you and mutter the password again, feeling the static of magic seal them shut behind you. It would take a small army to batter through them, thankfully. 

Your eyes scour the room. Embers burn in a smoldering fireplace, offering little light in the dimness of the bedroom. A large sitting area stretches to the right with leather chairs and velvet chaises, tables covered in untouched books and scrolls. 

To the left is an open study, a heavy wooden desk in the middle of the room backed with bookshelf-covered walls and heavy chests locked with tombs inside. You see the cover of a journal flipped open, the only sign that Yoongi had been lingering in your study snooping. 

Your mouth twitches at the corner as you look away from it. Yoongi leaving something out of place is only ever on purpose, a confirmation to you that yes - his visit has double meaning. You might be the primary reason the incubus and favored chosen warrior of a death god has snuck into his enemy’s home, but you’re not the only reason. Of course he is looking for any extra information he can use against his enemies. 

It stings a little more than you’d like. 

Stepping further into the room, you swivel your gaze back and forth, looking for a sign of the slippery man himself. A master of shadows, Yoongi is only seen when he wants to be. Strange, for a fiend whose very nature is to be seen and devoured, to give and to receive, to lure and enjoy. Most of his life has been spent in spectacle, and now he spends it in the shadows. 

Warm breath brushes against the back of your neck, making your skin prickle. “I like this dress.” 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Yoongi’s callused fingers brush up your arm. It’s a ghost of touch but it makes your eyelids flutter shut, warmth thrumming in your stomach immediately. Unlike the incubus downstairs, you don’t feel a magnetic pull that is arcane here. You just feel the pull to Yoongi - a desire that is your own and fueled by nothing else. 

He has no reason to use his charm here. It makes you shiver as you lean backward into him, eager to feel the solidness of his chest and smell the sweet wine on his breath. 

“You always say that,” he purrs, the words low and scratchy. His other hand comes up to brush his fingers up and down your other arm, pulling you toward him full. You melt, fading into him faster than you should. “When will you learn that I will go wherever you are?” 

“Even if it means your own demise? You’re in the Citadel of Asmodeus.” 

“He’s killed me before.” Yoongi’s touch is more solid now, hands exploring your waist and curves, squeezing your flesh, pressing you against his waist. You rest the back of your head against his neck, inhaling cedarwood and sage. “I’m not so easily destroyed.” 

“Don’t.” 

You don’t want to recall the many times Yoongi has been wrenched away from you. Each time a little closer to permanence than the last. Time and time again, he has been ripped from your hands as your father attempts to destroy the fate linking you, to burn it until there is no tether there. 

“You’ve been good,” Yoongi notes. His hand goes to the silk strings on the side of your dress, pulling them undone. “He truly thinks you no longer think of me? That he has succeeded where he has failed a dozen times before?” 

“Yes.”

“His arrogance knows no bounds. He’ll think he’s a god, soon enough.”

You turn your head to the side, brushing your mouth against Yoongi’s. His lips are warm and taste of wine, urging your tongue to swipe across his bottom lip for a taste. “Is he not?” you ask against his mouth, fighting the need to shiver as one side of your dress falls open. “He rules the Nine Hells absolutely.” 

“Oh come off it,” He laughs. “You and I both know that isn’t true, otherwise he wouldn’t be in a civil war. Plus… I have recently acquired Avernus and Dis.” 

You straighten and turn around sharply to look at him, brows furrowing. For a moment, you forget what it is he’s said to shock you. You’re hypnotized by eyes dark enough that they reflect the stars when in the mortal world, a mouth that is soft and sensuous, a gentle, round nose that is opposed to the way he can turn it up at someone in a sneer. A faded scar over one eye - one of many that he's received over the years.

Yoongi is beautiful the way the moon is, distant and cold, but with a glow of softness that is often underestimated. 

You had made that mistake before. A long time ago, incubi and the lower creatures of the Nine Hells hadn’t been a blip on your radar. They were nothing to a princess of the Nine Hells, someone whose entire purpose for existing would be to one day step into ruling over all nine of the realms crushed in your father’s fist. 

Now, you know better. You’d been a silly, arrogant girl then, head filled with dreams of ruling over the dread cities and bringing the dukes and duchesses to heel. You’d never considered that perhaps your existence was more for appearances and leverage than anything else. 

A puppet. 

Belial, was, unfortunately, quite right about that. 

“What do you mean you have Avernus and Dis?”

“The skirmish in Phlegethos was a distraction. The dukes and duchess’ have been so frenzied about making sure they don’t have any disruptions in their rule that Belial scrambled to deal with his, turning his eye away from the others. Mammon… well you know Mammon. He is not a concern, for now. He cares little who holds Avernus and Dis.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I had help with Dis.”

That sours your stomach. “Bel.” 

“He has no love for Zariel. And he’s from Dis.”

“He’s a traitor. You’d do well not to trust him. Who knows when he’ll turn on you if promised something.”

“The Nine Hells are full of traitors.” Yoongi’s deft fingers undo the other side of your dress. “Including me. You think I would not sell out every single one of my fighters for you, hmm?” Yoongi presses a wet kiss to your jaw. You lean your head back to give him access to your throat. “You think I wouldn’t throw away being Kelemvor’s chosen and carrying his mantle for a chance to have you forever?” 

“You do have me.”

“Not in the way we are designed.” His voice is a growl as he bites at your throat, teeth scraping. You feel dizzy in his arms, but he holds you steadfast. “You were designed for me by the wheels of fate, and I for you. All of this - war, death, political scheming - it stands in our way and I would betray the god who gives me my many lives to cut to the chase in an instant.” 

The rage-laced words are an anger you’re familiar with. Two creatures born to exist for one another - more than fated mates. Your very existence tied to Yoongi’s is a matter of universal balance, two threads of fabric that must remain woven together, lest the realms collapse. 

Divine Scales. Two lives bound together that must remain in balance for the rest of the world to exist. You and Yoongi are not the only Divine Scales in the realms, but you’re perhaps one of the most difficult to balance in a world set on keeping you apart. 

You, the daughter of the Archduke of the Nine Hells. Yoongi, an incubus servant whose purpose was to lure, steal, and spy on behalf of Asmodeus. It was an unfit match that your father was set on destroying - his daughter an heir would not be tied to a lowly creature of lust and servitude. 

“Careful,” you murmur as Yoongi peels the fabric from your skin. The air is warm but you feel a shiver anyway, nipples pebbling at the temperature change. “Your god might not like to hear you say such things.”

“He is not my god,” Yoongi mutters. His eyes are hungry, burning with desire as he drinks you in, his fingers gripping the flesh at your hips. “He is a convenience. I need power to take control of the Nine Hells, he gives me power. You are the only being I worship. The only goddess I recognize.” Yoongi sinks to his knees and your stomach flips. He looks up at you, lips parted and pupils blown, eyes so dark you could spill into them and never find your way. “Let me prove my devotion. Let me worship the only divinity I’ve ever known.”

Yoongi’s words are a spell on you, and not because he’s in an incubus, created and bred to be alluring and lead mortals to the Hells to give up their souls. Yoongi’s words have power because he is Yoongi, a being who he designed to be your other half. Another being you love so entirely that you intend to sacrifice the realm you call home, that you actively betray the people you’ve known since you were a child in order to be with him. 

These snatches with him are so few and far between. He fights a war against your father and his archdevils while you unravel them from the inside. Two knives carving away at the system which fights to keep you apart. 

You forget about all of the atrocities committed and to come. You push away the anxiety that Yoongi is thwarting his power by coming to the seat of his enemy’s power, just because he can and because he wants you. 

Instead, you focus on the way his mouth leaves wet kisses across your thighs. Yoongi’s fingers press into the back of your legs, holding you to him as his tongue lavs at a small scar on your hip, his teeth nipping the flesh.

Your world falls away as his tongue and mouth suck at your skin. Heat gathers between your legs, feeling the wet ache in your folds as Yoongi purposefully avoids going toward the apex of your thighs, instead showering your inner thighs, calves, and hips with soft kisses. 

Strong hands pry your legs apart. You let him slide your foot over, widening your stance easily. You cannot recall a single person you have ever been pliable for. You are the Whip of Asmodeous, a sharp weapon made to force subservience and delve out punishment. 

You are no whip in Yoongi’s hands. You are silk, sliding through his fingers as his mouth presses closer and closer to your heart. To everyone else, you are a weapon. To Yoongi, you’re just you. A mind to adore, a body to worship. 

Your knees threaten to buckle when the first, slow swipe of his tongue runs up your drenched folds. Yoongi chuckles, the sound throaty. Gently, he lifts a leg and pulls it over his shoulder, providing a counterweight as you stand but also giving him access to your aching cunt, pressing his face close as he licks you from hole to throbbing clit again. 

“Yoongi,” you whisper, a hand shooting to his hair. Your fingers slide through soft, silk strands and twist, rooting him there. He groans in appreciation, focusing his tongue on slow, up-and-down licks, avoiding your clit as he works. “Fuck.” 

He hums, the feeling buzzing through your pussy as he closes his mouth over it, sucking gently. His mouth is wet and warm, tongue soft as it circles your aching bundle of nerves. Your legs feel gummy as you waver, holding onto him to keep yourself standing as much as you are to keep him in place.

Yoongi’s hunger can rarely be sated. He devours you, mouth eager as he sucks and licks at you, lips smacking loudly as he does. You barely register the obscene noise, canting your hips up into his mouth as the pleasure begins to build slowly. 

A hand presses into your ass, pressing you harder against the flat of his tongue. Yoongi opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, looking up at you with fucked out eyes as he urges you to fuck his face at your pace, to use him like a god would use a conduit. 

Yoongi is your conduit, and you are his. You vowed centuries ago to be his whip, a weapon at his command. He vowed to be your shield, your knife in the dark. 

The powers of the Hells would keep you apart. Beyond the impropriety that someone so lowborn could be fated for one of the highest powers among the infernals, the two of you together are too much of a threat. Too much power tied to one another, a divine match that cannot be broken.

Still, they try. 

The two of you have died before. Keeping you dead isn’t easy, though. Neither can truly die while the other lives and no one has quite managed to kill you both simultaneously - a familial crutch that Asmodeus cannot seem to overcome. 

You’d die every day to have this moment with Yoongi, your breath caught in your lungs, sweat beading on the small of your back, head tilted back as your heart beats so loud it's all you can hear. You feel every part of your body coil before there is a moment of white noise as your orgasm crests over, your cunt squeezing, your hand pulling his hair. 

Yoongi drinks you in like he cannot get enough. Gluttonous, ravenous man, pressing into your heat as he sucks. Your hands tug at his hair, the stimulation going from warm and fluid to sharp and biting. He grows a little when you pull his face back by the strands of his hair, a picture of madness with the lower half of his face covered in your slick, lips red and swollen, eyes unfocused. 

You pull and he stands, knocking you back as he does. You stumble the remaining footsteps to your bed, mouths connecting in a tangle of teeth, tongue, spit and cum. You taste yourself on him, sucking his tongue greedily into his mouth as your hands claw at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. 

He complies, letting you push the shirt off his shoulders as he climbs over you, pressing a knee between your legs as he traps your lips in a searing kiss again. Your lips feel bruised where you kiss, his mouth demanding. His hands claw at your hips, pulling you down into his knee, grinding your slick cunt against his leg.

You let out a breathy sound, both from the feeling of pleasure blooming between your legs once again and the warmth of his skin, your hands rubbing across his chest, seeking to chase the inferno within. Yoongi has always been warm, but something hotter burns in him now. Something divine, vicious, and powerful lurking beneath his skin, the unlikely power of a god of death lurking just beneath the surface. 

You know that Kelemvor, the God of Death and Lord of Judgement has chosen Yoongi as a conduit of power because Yoongi seeks the balance of the world - he is a part of the balance of the world. His very existence is paramount to a deity whose very nature is to maintain the scales. 

It doesn’t stop you from wanting to eat away at the divinity under Yoongi’s skin, to drive out the influence that isn’t yours, to assert your dominance over a god and remind him that Yoongi does not belong to Kelemvor, he is not an extension of death. He belongs to you and you alone. 

It is an irrational, violent bout of jealousy that overtakes you for a moment. Your nails rake down his chest a little too hard, leaving trails of blood beneath. You bit his bottom lip a little too hard, the taste of iron and salt spilling into your mouth with his tongue. 

Yoongi smirks against your scarlet mouth, pulling back to look down at you. He knows what it is you seek. Yoongi always knows. Your minds are not connected, but your souls are and there is little you can hide from him. “You cannot rip him out of me, no matter how much you want to.” 

“I will try.” 

“Good.” He leans down and bites hard on your collarbone, making you gasp. “I will tear Asmodeous’ influence from you in kind.” 

Your hands are less harsh as you undo the laces of his pants, pulling them down powerful thighs. Your viciousness cools in the shower of the whisper of his love against your ear and the scrap of his tongue against your skin. Every single part of you burns hotter than the deepest part of the Hells, driven there by him alone. 

You love him - such a simple word could convey it accurately, anyway.

It seems too small of a word, unable to fit the fountain of want, desire, trust, and yearning that spills out of you into such a small cup. You don’t know if love can truly hold everything you feel for him, if it conveys that there is nothing god, archdevil, or fate that would stop you from being here with Yoongi, getting to touch him, to taste him, to whisper into his mouth as he presses the head of his cock into your weeping entrance. 

“You’re mine,” you gasp, rolling your hips forward to meet the slow, powerful strokes of his cock. Yoongi cradles you to him, his hands gripping you tighter as he presses your bodies together, as though you could meld. “Mine mine mine.” 

“I’m yours,” he agrees, voice throaty and strained. “Who else could I belong to?” 

You have no answer. Stars dance behind your eyelids as you move to his rhythm. Yoongi’s skin is heated and sticky as he moves against you. You feel his heartbeat in exact time with yours, twin rhythms. Your arms wind around his shoulders, fingers twisting in the hair at the nape of his neck. You feel the muscle of his back and shoulder flex as he fucks you slowly, each stroke pointed and driving you to the edge again. 

Yoongi’s mouth brushes yours. You breathe in his air, unable to put anything else into words, thoughts consumed with him. With how he tastes, with how he smells, with how he feels. Nestled in the deepest part of you, you feel home. It is such a rare feeling, only discovered here like this, connected. 

It makes your breath catch, barely audible above Yoongi’s low groaning and the loud smack of skin against skin. Your heels dig into the bed, head pressing into the mattress as you throw your head back, unable to do anything but take what Yoongi is giving you. 

His pace quickens, slamming into your cunt with enough force to break you. But you do not break - you could never break with him. You squirm in his hold, babbling and panting and trying to breathe as he drives you to the edge of madness - and then you peak. 

A wild sound escapes you as you seize into him, muscles clenching, cunt spasming. Yoongi’s thrusts turn vicious, fucking you through your orgasm as you clench down on him with a vice grip. His fingers grip the back of your neck, pulling you toward his chest as he leans backward, your legs sliding as he seats you in his lap, fucking up into you. 

“Imagine thinking they could take you away from me,” Yoongi hisses. His thrusts are sloppy and hard, spearing you and sending you hurtling right toward the edge again. You submit to him, head lolling to the side as he takes you. “Imagine thinking that you could defy a prewritten fate that you are mine, that you are anything less than what was made for me.” 

A sob slips through your lips. You cannot think of a response, only able to cling to him as though to say yes. 

“They cannot take you away from me,” he growls. “I will destroy this world again and again if they try. They cannot sunder what is here, they cannot rip you away from me any more than you can rip the stars from the sky.” 

Just as you begin to teeter on the edge, Yoongi slams his hips home, clenching as he comes. “You cannot be anything else but mine.”

It sends you hurling over the edge again, so powerful that you forget where you are for a moment. It is intoxicating, this bliss that unfurls like the flowers of a petal. Nothing exists here but calm water and the scent and taste of Yoongi. There is no war here. No fight to keep you apart. No demands, no expectations. It’s just you and him. Like it was always meant to be. 

Slowly, awareness creeps back toward you. It is a lumbering, lazy thing. You only feel somewhat aware that you’re in a bed and that you feel the heat of Yoongi next to you, the press of his mouth against your shoulder. The aftereffects of sleeping with an incubus are not lost on you, even as a powerful infernal. 

Everything feels melted, like it could fall through your fingers like grains of sand. Perhaps you could float away if you tried, but Yoongi grounds you. The feeling of his hand on your hip and his mouth on your skin is the most solid thing that exists in this world in between, keeping you tethered to something real. Something substantial. 

When you blink away the sticky high of the post-orgasm daze, Yoongi is watching you with soft, round eyes. The burning desire is still there, but at the forefront is adoration. Worship. Love. Anything stronger than words can describe. 

“Are you okay?” he kisses your jaw before drawing back to examine your face. You nod, head heavy. “Too much?”

“No. Not with you. Never with you.” 

His mouth twitches like he’s unsure. You nestle closer to him, closing your eyes as you’re cupped in the safety of his presence. “With Avernus and Dis at your command, you can take Phlegethos,” you murmur. “Mammon will give you Minauros if you can do that.” 

“Hmm.” 

Your eyes flutter open, watching as Yoongi closes his. You can tell by the twitch in his mouth that he is thinking. “I will deliver you Phlegethos.” He cracks an eye open and looks at you, seeing the hunger that burns there. “Belial needs a good whip to put him in place.” 

“The Whip of Asmodeous?” 

“No.” You grin. “The Whip of Kelemvor’s Chosen.” 

[charlidos]

Now's the time make an essay-ishly long post about the whole business with Stuart Townsend and his brief time as Aragorn.

There's probably really no great mystery here, just a casting gone wrong. But I'm still intrigued by how this happened and how it affected the rest of the cast both by the loss of Stuart and the addition of Viggo. And how this became just another in the long line of the lore of the rings.

In the summer of 1999, Viggo Mortensen and his son Henry set out on a 15,000-mile road trip to visit family and friends across the United States. At the same time, Irish actor Stuart Townsend was just auditioning for the role of Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings. But, after the film went into production and filming began in New Zealand, Peter Jackson discovered that the 26-year-old actor was not working. “Every time I told Peter about it, he said, ‘Well, make him a little older,’” says Lord of the Rings makeup artist José Perez. Each time he added more and more gray hair. into Townsend's beard, but to no avail. “We tried to create a resemblance artificially. But both of us, Stuart and I, knew very well that someone older was needed for this role . On the morning of the third day after filming began, it was announced that Townsend had to leave the set. “Some of us were very upset ,” recalls Elijah Wood. “ Just imagine that you spent two months with someone and thought that you would be together for at least another year and a half. We managed to become fast friends. Right or wrong, for In any case, this decision was traumatic for us . "

Orlando had time to become quite close with Stuart. It makes me wonder how he felt when Stuart was suddenly cast out. It was Orlando's first big project, so I imagine it might have made him nervous about being chucked out himself.

Also makes me wonder how he felt when Viggo arrived instead. Someone so different, older, seasoned. And maybe not immediately a good friend. Of course, that changed quite drastically! I just don't know how long it took before Viggo became the light of his life.

Viggo says he only met Stuart the once:

I wrote to him when I arrived in New Zealand to start work on the trilogy, but I never met him. I did finally come across him one night in Los Angeles in late 2001. Driving on Santa Monica Boulevard - with Orlando Bloom as my passenger, as fate would have it - I pulled up to a red light. It turned out Stuart was stopped next to us. Orlando, who knows Stuart fairly well, spotted him. We rolled down our windows and greeted each other. He seems a very good person and is obviously a serious artist.

First, I just love the image of Viggo and Orlando driving around in LA, just hanging out. Secondly, Viggo is being terribly diplomatic here; I imagine he never got any answer to that letter for one. And you know he would never have spoken a word to Stuart had not Orlando, exhuberant, friendly and full of joy, greeted him. I so wonder what went through Stuart's mind at that time. Seeing he wasn't happy about what happened. And here was Orlando, his former co-star, having the time of his life with his replacement. It must have been an awkward moment for everyone - except perhaps Orlando (who was enjoying his ride too much to notice). :)

Viggo:

Over the last few years, Stuart has met up with Elijah, Billy, everyone really. It was something that we all felt incredibly bad about, and it was something I certainly had to struggle with before accepting the role. It was just one of those things, where Peter felt he'd made the wrong choice – he became convinced Stuart was too young for the role – and he had to make a tough decision. It's the nature of the business, you know, and I would hope Stuart doesn't feel it was anything personal. I have nothing but admiration for him.

And it's quite obvious Stuart was NOT happy about how it went down. Even in 2005, he sounded rather bitter, tbh.

Two weeks ago I finally read an article where the filmmakers said, ''We were totally wrong about Stuart and we accept that it was our fault,'' which was so nice because I did get shafted up the a--. I was there rehearsing and training for two months, then was fired the day before filming began. I have no good feelings for those people in charge, I really don't. [Peter Jackson] wanted me and then apparently thought better of it because he really wanted someone 20 years older than me and completely different. There's always some good to be found in a bad experience. The guys who played the Hobbits are great people, and Orlando Bloom became a good friend.

And lastly, some only marginally interesting bits from Sean Astin's book:

And when [Stuart] was gone, he was simply gone. Vanished. There were no long good-byes. By the time we found out, he’d already left the country. I left a message for Stuart on his cell phone, but never heard back. Everyone was really worried about him for a while. There are certain elements of his persona that would have been interesting in Aragorn. There is a brooding romanticism to Stuart, a genuine pathos you see in his eyes; your heart wrenches when you see him on screen. Viggo is a much more austere actor, and that is reflected in the way he portrays Aragorn. His strength and beauty and sex appeal derive from some other place, so it’s pretty hard to compare the two of them.

I think almost everyone thinks it was one of the very best decisions of the production to bring in Viggo. I'm quite sure the films would not have been the same without him as Aragorn.

Just look at him.

(I stole this gif from somewhere, but now I don't know from where.)

And what's more, the fellowship wouldn't have been the same without Viggo as their captain. And you know I'm absolutely sure his arrival changed Orlando's life.

[sgiandubh]

Inuendos and timelines? call it a wake up call Yesterday Cait followed Orlando Bloom again, after unfollowing him as soon as The Cut's wrap party took place. Today Sam reminds us that he was VERY distant from C between July and August 2021. I think C's absence from social media is about to come to an end. Promo season is upon us. Embrace yourselves.

Dear Wake Up Call Anon,

I posted that innuendoes and timelines thing also to see which brainless moron will take the bite.

Congratulations are in order - it's still you, as always. With the subtlety of a pick-hammer and really entertaining spelling and grammar.

I don't give a flying fuck about who C follows, unfollows and re-follows. And isn't that wonderful Social Zero a media manager ('additional personnel', anyone?), as far as we all know? Since he needed something (anything) to conceal the fact that their horribly dismissive cobbled narrative portrays him, in all logic, as sponging off C?

Couldn't that glorious, multi-millionaire media manager (nobody heard of) find one minute to say thank you, on that Instagram account? Really?

Nah. That is about something else and you know it as well as I do. And throwing confusion about timelines again is not working, not with this 2020/2021 post.

I also do not care about what you think. Promo season is not upon us by any stretch of the imagination and the Onlies' impatience is what prompts the hysteria on X, chez Terry Dresbach, for example.

Also, thank you for the laughs at 2 AM. It's not 'embrace yourselves', you cretin:

It's...

Yeah: it's brace yourselves.

You realize that your stupidity severely compromises the credibility of anything you might write in that box, don't you?

Now fuck off and get some proper English lessons. You'll easily find something on the Internet, maybe even for free.

PS: Don't flatter yourself. You haven't hit a nerve. You're just an incredibly obnoxious imbecile, not welcome here. Go back to your people and wail collectively while you wait for The Goddess to throw you a bone, which she won't.

[ladymercury8]

Neither of you noticed, but throughout his visit, every healer there passed the room to catch a look at the prince who was in love with the commoner. 

Elven Healing

Pairing: Legolas x Elf!Reader

Word Count: 780

Warning: Breif mentions of illness, nausea, pain

Summary: When you fall ill, your childhood friend, the prince of Mirkwood comes to comfort you.

Mellon: My friend

Meleth Nin: My love

You groaned in misery and shifted on the cot until you were wrapped in the tightest ball possible. You watched the Elven healers buzz around in the hall outside your room. You rolled your eyes at the thought. Your room. You weren’t even supposed to have your own room. Spaces like these were reserved for the High Elves of the Wood, but when Legolas discovered you were sick, he insisted you would stay in a private area of the healing center. One of the perks of having a close friendship with the prince, you thought. 

The thought of your friend being so protective made you smile, though it quickly faded when another round of pain and nausea came over you in a wave. You had never felt this awful in your life and longed for the days when you were healthy. 

Deep in your thoughts, you didn’t realize Legolas was standing in the doorway. It pained him to see you like this. Though you were a quiet elf, you were usually so happy and full of light. Now, you looked miserable and small. Your face was contorted in agony and your hands were balled up into fists. His eyes swept over your body until they reached your hair. He had never seen it undone, it was always in some kind of braid keeping it away from your pretty face. Now, you were too weak to do it yourself, and you had no other to do it for you. 

“My prince, you may go in,” a healer said while she passed him in the hallway. 

You opened your eyes to see your friend and prince. You started to sit up to greet him but he quickly stopped you.

“Mellon, do not rise,” he said to your relief. You weren’t even sure you could stand. 

He crossed the room and you almost wished he didn’t come. It was comforting, seeing him there, but you knew you looked as awful as you felt. He sat next to you on the cot and lifted your head to place it on his lap. 

“Legolas, I do not wish for you to fall ill at my fault,” you warned. Thranduil already disliked your friendship with Legolas because of your lower status, imagine what he would do if his son fell ill because of you. However, Legolas ever so gently ran his fingers through your hair, making the tangles disappear, and all your fears melt away.

“Do not worry, (Y/N), I have always been stronger than you.” He took advantage of your time of weakness to tease you. You glared up at him and saw a small smile on his face that was soon mirrored by you. 

You hummed disapprovingly at him and rolled your eyes before closing them all together. He saw your eyebrows furrow tightly and assumed you had once again been taken over by the pain your illness was causing you. 

“Rest, mellon. You will feel better soon.” Legolas rubbed soft circles on your forehead with his thumb between his pets of your hair.

You sighed and turned into him, your face now hiding in his torso with your fists seizing his tunic. “Take me away from here, Legolas. Tell me one of your tales of adventure.”

At any other time, he would have laughed and called you childish, but now he agreed. You listened intently to his soft voice, laughing with him when he told you again of the dwarf he had befriended and feeling your heart swell when he told you of elves, dwarves, and humans fighting side by side. 

As he came to the end of his tale, he felt your breathing slow and deepen. You had stopped fidgeting minutes ago and were finally asleep, but he still spoke to you.

“There seldom comes a time that I do worry I will not come home to you. But I know everything I do, no matter the danger, I do for you. To keep you safe, meleth nin.”

He watched you sleep for a while, but before long you awoke. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked you.

You thought about the question and raised your eyebrows in disbelief. “Better, actually.”

“Elven healing,” he mumbled, gathering your hair behind your neck and dropping it over his knee to get it out of your face. 

“Thank you for staying here with me, Legolas. I know there must be many other things you have to do.”

“Now my only duty is to be with you,” he said.

Neither of you noticed, but throughout his visit, every healer there passed the room to catch a look at the prince who was in love with the commoner. 

[cottoncandiescupcakes]

Elden Ring population be like,

Woman #1: A literal anime girl with breathy voice

Woman #2: 6'7 milf knight who sounds vagualy Scottish

Woman #3: OI MISTA ARE YOU ME DAD I BE HAVING THE BONE ROT oi don't catch it

Woman #4: evil Milf. Cersei on Game of Thrones basically

That's it we're out of women

Man #1: Literally a femboy. It's just a femboy.

Man #2: 9 foot tall 75 year old man covered in horns, fur and snakes

Man #3: A random Orlando Bloom looking regular ass knight guy

Man #4: Individual t-too p-pathetic to l-live may also h-have bone rot

Man #5: Boc, the only pure being in this entire game that's not a turtle

Man #6: An old perverted authority figure. Welcome back Judge Frollo we didn't miss you

Man #7: OI MISTA I'M ABOUT TO STAB YOU IN THE BACK

Creature #1: A SLUG RIGHT. But get this? It's made of poop. I love designing for video games

Creature #2: A man goat?? Thing? That one shot kills you

Creature #4: A literal... just an ordinary chimp. It's just chimps

Creature #5: Imagine a bear. BUT ITS BIGGER. Imagine an ant. BUT BIGGER. Imagine a sheep. BUT BIGGER. AND IT ROLLS

Creature #6: DRAGON. RUN BITCH ITS A DRAGON

Creature #7: A man... thing crawling on the ground in a cloak covered in legs, crosses and ??? are you ok sir

Other:

JELLYFISH. TURTLE. TURTLE POPE IN YOU WE TRUST

Those jar things that are a LIE. You guys aren't cute I know the truth now... the horrible, horrible fetus hell truth