#that there are two very small immortal men trying to take over the world (who everyone has seen but no one remembers)

[ghastbutlikegay]

did i ever tell you guys about my mouse ocs

[silyabeeodess]

SJ Oneshot: A Demonic Mold

Years of carefully done planning wasted: The world's greatest hope against the immortal monster that was Aku had vanished.

Not dead, just... vanished. If the Emperor's son had been slain, Aku would've made a bigger point to boast than he did—and oh, did he boast. It just wasn't the kind of show he usually put on whenever he removed some thorn in his side. This time, there was no body to put on display. This time, he was vague, nervous even, as if the Shogun of Sorrows himself wasn't completely sure of his own victory. 

The Warrior couldn't imagine anyone from the Emperor's bloodline to be the type to turn tail and run, so Aku must've played some trick when the two battled. In any case, the prince was still missing. Aku was still expanding his influence over the whole of the Earth. People like himself were still fighting, holding off the villain's forces which only seemed to grow by the day.

Aku's tower loomed in the distance: A dark, jagged spire that threatened to pierce the heavens. Behind the Warrior stood a thousand more. There was no point in trying to launch a surprise attack by nightfall: It would just give their demonic, shadow-like enemies an advantage. No, he'd catch Aku off-guard some other way. He wasn't exactly bred for combat and he didn't have a magic sword, but he did have his wit. And in the very least, he had to try...

"The men are ready," came a gruff voice from behind, "We'll move out as soon as you give the order, captain."

Biting back fear, the Warrior offered the other a small grin, "Don't call me that..."

"Who else would I call that?" the soldier guffawed in reply, "You're the brains of this operation, remember?"

Yes, and when every last one of them died, he'd have no one to blame but himself. In reality, even he knew that this was a suicide mission. At this point though, they just didn't have any other choice but to fight. And even on the small chance that they did succeed, it was almost assured that most of them wouldn't be around to join in the celebrations...

For not the first time, the Warrior found himself comparing his own shape to that of the men who accompanied him. Most of the soldiers were fierce and loud; big, hulking men that looked like they could snap a tree like a toothpick. Meanwhile, he was that toothpick. The Warrior was tall, toned, but ultimately lanky in appearance. Outside of his gift for strategy, he didn't belong with them.

His only weapon was a long bow, which he now unslung from his waist. He pulled out an arrow wrapped with a tiny, damp cloth on the tip, then ignited it. The Warrior took a deep breath, then fired—launching it into the sky with a parade of sparks.

The army behind him erupted into a roar. The sound was terrifying, like the a massive wave breaking through a ruined dam. However, a part of him had to admit, it was also thrilling. Countless hooves beat the earth as the men and their steeds charged past him, racing on to meet their fates.

Moving with a smaller team, the Warrior circled the main advancement at a distance. For a while, all they could do was lie in wait as their allies clashed with Aku's demonic forces. Then, a break finally appeared closer to the base of the tower. 

They made a mad dash for it. He road almost center while the rest of his team took down any enemy soldiers that crossed their direct path. The way inside was blocked, but not shut, so that the next wave could move out when ready. The Warrior quickly fired off an arrow to take down one of the soldiers, then leapt off his horse and raced inside.

The gate's controls sat on a dais not far off. Again, he launched another arrow and the demon guarding it erupted in a haze of smoke as it struck his chest. He raced up the steps and broke the lever, locking the gates in-place. 

That took care of Phase One—granted, it was far too easy for him to feel comforted in making it this far. Phase Two involved splitting off even further to locate the Shogun of Sorrows and free any prisoners he might be keeping close-by. For the most part though, his role was done. He wasn't strong enough to join in rest of the fight.

The Warrior leaned his back against the porous wall behind him, his bow nevertheless at the ready. He looked down one of the adjacent passages, its harsh, red light seemingly taunting him where he lurked in the equally oppressive shadows. To his growing wariness, Aku's forces only trinkled out in small numbers, which were swiftly dealt with as their own soldiers closed in. There was no sign of the second wave. 

A moment later, he straightened himself back up, shouting down to the others, "I'll scout ahead!"

Without alerting them further, he ventured higher into the tower. He sneakily took out a few more of the demons from a far along his way; however, beyond that, the halls were as eerily bare as the ones below. It could've been that Aku's minions simply spawned out of thin air in the very same vapor they returned to when destroyed. Still, though he did make an attempt to keep himself hidden as much as he could while he progressed, it was as if nothing even truly bothered to register his presence.

At least not until he reached what he thought to be the heart of the tower. The second he entered, he felt an immediate, overbearing sensation of someone's eyes locked onto him. His skid to a halt, his final footsteps echoing throughout the massive chamber. Looking around, he saw nothing.

The Warrior's only company was the low drone of the cavernous pit below. With the red, flame-like patterns of the walls surrounding it, it was like staring into the core of a dying star. There was no clear end to it, and as he stared at it long enough, he could've sworn he saw the shadows it stretch and claw along its perimeter.

A rush of air at his back nearly toppled him. He turned around to find that part of the shadows had molded into a towering, solitary form: Aku himself.

For a moment, the Warrior was completely frozen. The dark entity looming over him gave him a knowing, cruel smile. Before a word was said between him—as if he could even clearly hear anything the villain said, he was so terrified—the former grit his teeth and fired. The arrow pierced the monster in the waist, but Aku didn't even flinch. The weapon was simply absorbed into his body.

Aku then raised a claws hand. The arrow was launched back out, the Warrior lunging away in time for it to only graze him in the arm. He stumbled along the crowd, his mind scrambling to remember how to escape. 

Then, like swatting a fly, Aku knocked him away—directly into the pit. The Warrior felt his body falling helplessly before darkness overwhelmed him, following by what sounded like a chorus of distorted, screaming voices all trapped within the void. He was drowning in them, fighting and kicking at enemies both real and imaginary.

Until they suffocated him.

Until they consumed his every thought.

Until he tired, all while never able to find a moment's rest.

Until he gave into them, feeling the shadows flood every part of his being.

Until, one day—out of the countless days he spent in that sea of horrors—he heard a familar voice call out to him: "From deep within the bowels of the Pit of Hate, I summon you."  

((Author's Note: This has next to no canon basis outside of bits and pieces ducktaped together. It's just an idea I had about how Aku gets some of his minions, and I wanted to put it to words. I mean, when we first see him create them in in the timeline, they're not all of the various monsters we see him manifest later. They're more like copies of himself, or possessed soldiers puppeteered to act like doubles of himself. I also personally don't see how a being like Aku, who is evil and destruction incarnate, can truly creating anything. Still, there's a lot of lost souls the Pit of Hate devoured over the years, even before Aku gained consciousness. I can see, rather than simply dying, some of those souls becoming distorted, demonic entities themselves.)) 

[jigensass]

So I have done nothing but play Like a Dragon Gaiden for the last…16 hours.

And here are my thoughts so far.

SEMI-SPOILERS AHEAD. I’m currently somewhere in chapter 2 out of I do not know how many and I do not know how RGG managed to crank this out in six months.

I just got to point of unlocking sub-stories for a frame of reference of how far I am in.

Yes, I heard this was supposed to be DLC (for what I assume was Yakuza 7 seeing as the story starts in Yokohama and the story crosses over with it for a mere moment), but eventually turned it into an entire two-part game.

I personally have nothing to be impressed about it. This is a standard game in the Yakuza/LAD series. You do not have to impress or disappoint me. Yakuza 6 already was the worst disappointment to the series alongside Kiwami 2, so the bar was low for this.

Okay, the graphics have impressed me a bit.

The fucking car graphics went so hard in that opening scene.

I will say the fighting mechanics have improved and it seems that either this DLC was supposed to be the groundwork for Lost Judgement’s combat or the other way around, the main mechanic of switching between two different fighting style where one is quick and used to get rid of a lot of enemies and the other is used to take on single enemies is nothing new.

The spy mechanics are a bit clunky to pull off because I always have difficulty doing so in the way I want to use them because another new thing I noticed is that the AI for the fighting is somewhat more competent (I’m playing on normal) and will dogpile you given the opportunity. They also like to spam the block button thank god they gave Joryu a block breaker early on. (This is my first major nitpick)

I have ran into a few bugs, just some small clips and weird physics, but nothing like 6 or Kiwami 2 had where dead men jettisoned into space which is good.

And then I got to this part and I felt unsettled.

Like…why? For reasons of game mechanics just why. I’m 100% certain they managed to sneak a porn star into one of these scenarios. Just like how they used porn stars as VAs for the cabaret girls in Yakuza 0.

But then Kiryu says this

Personally I think Joryu is pulling a reverse 4th wall break and trying to get with real life waifus instead of those fake ones. This means Joryu is fully sentient of the world he is in is not real.

I do want to gloat right now I am currently in the 0.4% of the game’s population who has both cabaret achievements.

Also HOW CAN RYUJI AND MINE DIE ON SCREEN BUT IT HAS BEEN THIRTY ONE YEARS SINCE MAJIMA ENCOUNTERED THIS OLD WOMAN AND SHE HAD YET TO KICK THE BUCKET

I swear she is immortal.

The biggest major complaint I have right know is why do power ups have to be spent using both money AND the special points from the Akame missions? Why not just ONE?!

I know for some reason Joryu literally punches dudes for money in this game but tacking the Akame points on as a necessity to do side content is…unlike RGG. Side content is side content for a reason. The completion list was not a shock or a groan for me, the groan came when if I wanted to grind, then I actively had to interact with that list, which because of this some of the feats on the list are manageable and easy to obtain, or the objective is easy to manage.

I understand if you just casually do it, but so far I feel the Akame stuff should have been saved for a later chapter (you know, like how Yakuza 0 did it?) so the real story could settle in and get players invested?

Spoilers Ryuji is not alive he is very dead the Ryuji in the ring is a fake he had me fooled too for a hot second.

[thephantomcasebook]

Did you see the leaks for HOTD season 2?

Helaemond confirmed!

Well, sort of ...

Thoughts?

I've seen a lot of them over the past few days.

This guy I've trusted for years, I've talked to him once or twice during the height of my GOT fandom - he's a solid dude with good info most of the time.

Do I think it's real?

To be honest, it sounds like the kind of dipshit, poorly written, drivel that I'd expect from Sara Hess and the writers. Aegon running around like a psychopath murdering commoners cause he can - making Rhaenys a hero rather than a sacrificial lamb for Rhaenyra's cowardice. Taking away the absolute genius battle command and strategic thinking of Criston during the "Rooks Rest Campaign" and boiling it down to ...

HAR HAR AEGON BAD, WOMAN GOOD, SLAY GIRLBOSS! BIG SPECTACLE! WOMAN IS HERO! HAR! HAR! BLACKS GOOD! GREENS BAD!

But I'm not fully convinced that this is what they're gonna be using for Season 2. I believe that this was Spotchinik's orginal plan for Season 2 before he got shit canned. The Greens are the bad guys, Daeron is nowhere in sight, and the Blacks are all "Punk Rock" heroes of the people.

But I'd expect with Spotchnik gone and George being very public in his lecturing of "Staying Close to the Source Material" - basically calling out the House of the Dragon writers for trying to change his material - such as trying to remove Daeron from the show and continuously writing characters whose decisions don't have any consequences - Aka Rhaenys murdering thousands of small folk and the writers being like "Small Folk Don't Count" which flies in the face of the very core lesson of the "Dance of the Dragons" which is that the people of Westeros will only ever put up with so much before they turn on the ruling class.

I'd expect them to rewrite or at least restructure Spotchnik's ideas and flesh out the settings and characters more rather than rush through the entire War in one season.

However it does intrigue me that some of the rumors are that a good portion of early Season 2 will show Aemond and Aegon feuding over Helaena. And the big argument between them before the "The Battle of Rooks Rest" is Aegon throwing in Aemond's face that Helaena will never be Aemond's. If I were in charge I'd definitely turn into that story line and give Helaena more depth and personality to make her someone that is worthy of two men fighting over.

Also heard that they're gonna hold off on Daeron till season 3, and introduce him after Rhaenyra captures King's Landing and takes Alicent and Helaena prisoner. Which is a huge fucking mistake, if true. So they want to hold off on one of the most important characters in the war till his mother is captured, then give him the "John Wick" Storyline but instead of his dog it's Alicent?

How the fuck is that going to work?

How are you gonna hold off on Daeron Targaryen for two whole ass seasons of a four season show and than just dump his ass into the fray after Criston and Aemond are dead. Who the fuck is gonna care about his character when he's got no relationships to established characters to anchor him to the main storyline?

You mean to tell me that Daeron "The Daring" Targaryen, Alicent's Champion - the Greens' Hero - is not gonna have one scene with Criston, Aemond, Helaena, nor Aegon? That he's not gonna even have a scene with Alicent? His mother? The one person in the world that he loves above everything else? The person of whom is the inspiration for his heroics and valiant actions in battle that are immortal in Westeros history?

And he ain't gonna have a scene with her?

Thank God I don't believe in most of these things coming out, cause I'd lose my fucking mind at the sheer incompetency of the writers if half the shit flying around Reddit these days are true.

[dodo-begone]

Beware the Beast

Pairing: Yandere!Philza x Reader

Request: Maybe some yandere!philza headcanons? You don’t have to!

Word Count: 2k

Warning: yandere, swearing, talk about kidnapping, depression (kinda detailed on that aspect)

A/n: I accidentally turned this into a story- i really need to stop doing that. But I just couldn't resist! Also sorry if Phil is OOC. And this isn't proofread. We die like men here. Can be perceived as platonic or romantic.

This man has lived many years, lost so many loved ones. He’s getting tired of this cycle. It’s truly exhausting. You start to care about the world less. After a while, you start to see too many similarities in things, making it hard to look at. So he starts to close his heart to others. It’s just easier that way, for both parties. Saves him from the heartbreak and them from… well, him. He also stops caring for himself. After all, he’s literally immortal. Nothing can kill this man, so neglecting some self care routines every once in a while wouldn’t hurt…

But this becomes such a bad habit of his. He barely cares for himself after a while. It’s hard to find the energy when it isn’t going to matter in the end. Nothing matters anyways. Every action will always prove fruitless in the end. So what’s the point in doing something so... small if it takes this much energy? If a past version of himself saw Phil now, they’d be disgusted. Telling him to just get up and care for himself. Come on, you’re immortal. Nothing can kill you. Just do this.

He’s a mess when you two meet. His platinum-blonde hair was mostly neat, a little shaggy. It was obvious that he just got himself cleaned up a bit. One can only do so much about deep eyebags, dull hair, and lifeless eyes on such short notice.

You were introduced to him through Ghostbur. Phil was overjoyed that Ghostbur was making more friends. Though much less pleased when Ghostbur insisted that he’d bring his new friend over to meet Phil. Oh come on Phil, you’d just love them. They’re so nice! What tortured Philza more than his first interaction with you? His conversations with Ghostbur about you. He’d just prattle on about things you and him did, about how much fun you two had and how nice you were. Always nice.

And you were nice, an absolute sweetheart. But much too perky for Philza’s liking. You two had been chatting for quite a while when Ghostbur silently leaves you two together. Well, you’re chatting. Phil is just listening to you, hoping that you’d leave at any moment. Some topics were brought up; they were mostly some small icebreakers to get acquainted more.

When your past was brought up, you’d always paint this fucking picture-perfect past. So peaceful. God, the envy he had of you, of the peace you experienced in your life- He felt bad for it, honestly, he did. But he just wished he could’ve had even a fraction of the prosperity you spoke about. For someone living in the DSMP, you had a relatively easy and steady life. No war, no major or sudden loss or anything of that sort. A perfect life.

After that, you just kept coming back. Why? Why are you coming back? Are you here to taunt him for the life he lived? For the life he’ll never have? Is some god sending you as a punishment? A living example of everything he gave up, had to leave behind. That’s what he believed, anyways.

That was far from your intentions. You saw how he was in your first meeting; jumpy yet dissociating from reality. An oppressive, glum aura seemed to just emanate him. So downtrodden and dead inside, yet so obviously alive on the outside. It hurt to see him like that, as you went through something similar. You had no idea how long he’d been like that, but you decided that you’d help him in any way that you could.

You tried to make it a daily thing. Everyday you’d go to Phil’s house around midday to afternoon. You two would talk for a bit, but you’d couldn’t help sprinkling your questions in. Have you eaten yet, mr. Philza? Have you had water today, mr. Philza? Have you preened your feathers, mr. Philza? Have you bathed today, mr. Philza?

Your questions irked Phil. Everyday, without fail, you’d come and talk to him. It’d be small talk at first; what the weather was up to that day, some light politics, Tubbo’s new adopted son. Small. Yet you’d always bring up his self care. He was a fcking grown man. He could take care of himself. What’s worse? You’d pester him to care for himself in that instant if he even showed a small sign of negligence. And you’d stay the entire time, making sure he did everything. And then you’d always add “mr. Philza” on the end. It was a sign of respect, yet it upset him so much. But he couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was.

Though it was annoying, it got him in the habit of caring for himself. It was only to stop your pesting! That’s the reasoning. The only reason. It wasn’t because you’re congratulating and giving him treats when he remembered to care for himself. Or you petting his wings… Those were only bonuses! He swears!

It becomes more steady as time goes on; you go and visit Phil, you talk with Phil and see if he’s caring for himself, and if he was, you’d reveal a delicious treat from within your enderchest. You two would talk while munching on the food, having fun sharing what your pasts were like. Well, more like yours. Phil didn’t really talk about his.

But he still seems so cold, disinterested. Even with how long you’ve been going over for. Like he’s only listening to what you’re telling him. If he’s even listening. And seeing how he interacted with others like Techno and Ranboo, it really disheartened you. He was so much more lively with them, more natural. Loud laughing and silly little antics. It only took a few small, insignificant depression episodes for your self doubt to finally debilitate you. Though it only really affected your contact with Phil; he was a big insecurity of yours.

So you start to distance yourself. You were hurting and saw yourself as a bother to Philza. It would’ve been better if you just didn’t try to talk to him anymore. He’d be so much happier without you bugging him all the time. All of this sudden, open time gives you much more empty hours. There was nothing to do. So you did what you could; you went out to make or strengthen friendships. It was so nice. You never realized how everyone on the smp was so nice. Maybe they weren’t as bad as Phil was making them all out to be…

Philza was upset the first day you weren’t there. You were such a steady element of his day. You were like the very air he breathed; it was extremely hard to live without you. He never noticed before how much he needed you. Yes, he knew that he really enjoyed you, saw that you were a pillar, a constant in his life. He came to enjoy your visits, but hadn’t realized how dependent he became because of them. It was day three when Phil started to worry about you. Why hadn’t you come to talk with him, like usual? He’s taking care of himself, just for you, just like you kept insisting he do. And he made you some cake.

He knew he was acting odd, lovesick even. His love for you was toxic, extremely so. It wasn’t healthy, yet he couldn’t care less anymore. You were like his nicotine to a smoker; he couldn't live without you being in his life. His everyday life. So after some debating, he finally went out to look for you.

Traversing the nether wasn’t too bad, but still a tedious walk. He was stuck in his mind the entire trip there, wondering where you could be and what you could be doing. Maybe you got caught up in making something. A redstone project? That’d be pretty cool. Or maybe moving? No, if you were, you’d have told him. But that didn’t stop him from speeding up just a wee bit. Just to make sure you were actually still on the smp.

His mind was racing, thinking of any possibility of what you were doing. And his mind eventually hit something that absolutely terrified him; you could be sick, injured, or dying. It felt like the world just fucking stopped. This was a sudden loss of contact and you still hadn’t come to talk with him. So that… that means there’s a high probability of you being in danger.

He ran the rest of the way to the main part of the smp. When he came out of the portal, he frantically looked around for any sign of you. For your house. Then it hit him; he had no idea where you lived. You only mentioned it being cold where you lived, just like where he lived. So that most likely meant Snowchester. He started running toward the cold nation

On his way to Snowchester, he observed his surroundings. A little bit. He had to get to you, keep his eye on the prize. And he was glad that he looked around. There you were, on another part of the prime path.

He was overjoyed to see you, especially doing so well. Soon he came to a stop. Just floored by the fact you were there, in front of him. Frantically he tried to view you as best he could, looking for any sign of injury or illness.

Now he couldn’t come across as clingy or desperate. That wasn’t how you knew him. You know him as Philza; the kind but a mild social recluse. Not really going out to others unless he needed something or he was needed.

So he walked over to you, trying his best to look nonchalant. Like he wasn’t just desperately searching for you a moment ago. He called out to you and guess what happened? You started to walk away. He was stunned. Did you just ignore him? No, you must not have heard him. It was kinda windy out at the moment.

Logically he did the best option, following you. He had no clue where your destination could be. You were going to a different area of the smp than he had been. My how the smp changed since the destruction of L’manberg. He knew it changed, but it seemed so much bigger than what you described.

He didn’t exactly pay attention to where you were indirectly leading him. That was until a flash of movement caught his attention. Snapping out of it, he looked to see what could’ve been going on. Who could’ve been there. And what he saw before him was a terrible sight.

Quackity stood by your side, animatedly chatting with you. Phil was confused as to why you were talking to Quackity of all people. You two recently talked about how Quackity was problematic and arrogant. If you knew that, then why were you talking to him?

Awkwardly he watched you. Not within earshot, but where he could keep an eye on you and Quackity. And Quackity was looking at Phil too. His eyes spoke volumes; Quackity wasn’t pleased that Phil was there. Boy was that sentiment shared. It was tense between the two, yet you still seemed oblivious to what was going on.

Then Quackity said something, putting his hand on your shoulder and leading you somewhere else. But gave one last look at Phil, one that just spoke “fuck off”. Phil wished he could’ve told Quackity the same. To get him away for you.

Quackity’s action sparked a thought in him. A reason as to why you hadn’t come to talk to Phil; Quackity must’ve kidnapped you! Yes, that’s why you hadn’t come. It makes so much sense. Quackity knows you and most likely knows you talk to Phil.

With how easily you tell Phil of the people you’re talking to, he doubts that the behavior would just change. But that’s what must’ve gotten you in so much trouble; you were too trusting, too kind-hearted. You gave Quackity a chance and he was stealing you away, imprisoning you. You needn’t worry dear, he’ll rescue you from that foul man.

[hobisfavoritespritecan]

FIGHT CLUB

Johnny Seo X Y/N X Yuta Nakamoto

Just a piece of advice!! This fanfic probably won't make any sense unless you've seen the 1999 movie, Fight Club written by David Fincher. This revolves around the storyline for said movie and previous knowledge of it needs to be present for it to make sense! In that case, read on! :) 💜💜

⚠️ Warnings: swearing, mentions of gore, mentions of nsfw, talk of weapons and violence as well as drugs⚠️

People were always asking me, did I know Johnny Seo?

"We won't really die, we'll be immortal."

"You're thinking of vampires."

"oh-...ra..aH-...oo"

With a gun barrel between your teeth, you only speak in vowels.

With my tongue, I can feel the silencer holes drilled into the barrel of the gun. Most of the noise a gunshot makes is expanding gases. I totally forgot about Johnny's whole murder-suicide thing for a second and I wondered how clean the gun barrel was.

Johnny checked his watch. "Three minutes."

The building we're standing in won't be here in three minutes. You take a 98-percent concentration of fuming nitric acid and add three times as much sulfuric in a bathtub full of ice. Then, glycerin drop-by-drop. I know this because Johnny knows this.

The demolitions committee of Project Mayhem wrapped the foundation columns of this building with blasting gelatin. The primary charge will blow the base charge, and this spot Johnny and I are standing on will be a point in the sky.

"This is our world now. Two minutes."

Two minutes to go and I'm wondering how I got here.

...

Part One:

"I want you to hit me." Johnny said, fixing his posture and squaring up to Yuta trying to get a better position for a fight. They were outside of Joon's on a cold night after Yuta lost his apartment and his job. Both of which exploded in his face. His apartment a bit too literally. He wondered if any of his Ikea furniture survived the blast.

"I- What?" Yuta was confused now. First, Johnny had stolen a bunch of ketchup packets from the inside of the restaurant, stuffed them in his pockets, and walked out with a cigarette dangling between his teeth. Now, he was asking Yuta to knee him in the gut or swat him on the nose.

"You heard me. I know you want to."

Truth is, Yuta did want to hit him. And to be fair, Johnny deserved it. I mean, the guy blew up his apartment with homemade dynamite for Christ's sake.

Yuta reeled his arm back and hit Johnny the best he could. Johnny looked taken aback as he stumbled to regain his footing. Through a bloody nose and determined eyes he replied, "My turn."

And thus, Fight Club commenced.

...

"The rules of Fight Club are as follows:

One, you do not talk about Fight Club.

Two, you DO NOT talk about Fight Club.

Three, someone yells stop, goes limp, taps out, the fight is over.

Four, only two guys to a fight.

Five, one fight at a time.

Six, no shirts, no shoes.

Seven, fights will go on for as long as they have to.

Eight, if this is your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight."

Johnny walked around the circle of men who had gathered before him as he explained the rules of the club; a club which was held in Joon's basement- a restaurant with very few customers. Originally, Fight Club had been something between Johnny and Yuta, something small that would pass the time when they wanted to relieve some stress. It was merely playtime for the two and now it had branched into what it was today.

Yuta continued wrapping his hands in gauze from his last fight. Taeil from one of his previous support groups beat him nasty; blood dripping from the top of the Japanese boy's head as well as a giant cut along the underside of his wrist. It wasn't anything unusual, he had won of course, sending Taeil straight for the floor and knocking out a couple of his teeth. It wasn't the wound that stung, no. It was the jealousy that bubbled in his chest and made way for his throat. Fight Club was never supposed to be this. It should've been just him and Johnny.

"Man. I see in Fight Club the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. Goddamn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose, or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war...our great depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires and movie gods and rockstars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very very pissed off."

Johnny looked at each man once and then swiveled around and looked at them again. He held eye contact with each and every person so that his words were reaching them on every level possible. He wanted them to feel. To feel the pain of the unforgiving world and the passion for Fight Club. He wanted everyone to praise his words like the Bible and for them to go home later that night with a sense of enlightenment. He wanted Fight Club to be burned into the brains and the skin of these men.

But I am Jack's inflamed sense of rejection.

Yuta barred his teeth from where he was sitting. Johnny had a way with words. Even if he was pissed from their earlier conversation with you in the house, he wasn't showing it. Johnny had stripped him of anger towards himself and provided him with anger towards the movement. Yuta was going to make the best of this club- watching humanity's downfall while he sat from his throne looking out towards everyone's anguish. That was where he belonged, Yuta thought. Not in some corporate office building fetching papers for his boss.

He thought back to his life before Johnny. How he would work his 5-9 job in some shitty little office building with shitty little people with shitty little egos. He remembered what a horrible insomniac he was, sleeping a total of one hour a night- if he was lucky. He remembered going to his support groups just to feel something. To cry on the shoulders of others who were going through unimaginable pain as he cried from his position of perfect health. It was all an effort to sleep at night until he realized that he was spending his days in pain and inflicting pain on others. And he was addicted to it.

You had walked into one of his regular support groups on a Saturday; one of the founders of said group griping about the fact he'd lost his balls to testicular cancer and sobbing up on the rickety podium. You had caught his eye that day- and not just because you were a woman walking into a support group for men with non-functional penises. It was because of the first words to come out of your mouth:

"This is cancer, right?"

You were his downfall. You ruined everything at first. Because you had shown up to his daily pain sessions, he was no longer the black sheep of the group- the only one who was healthy out of a room of dying people. Sure, you were dying, but that was because of the shitty drugs you put into your body and the cigarette that was always hanging out of your mouth. But Yuta realized that his feelings of hatred were actually ones of intense sexual desire.

He'd fucked you later that night anyways.

Or at least, he dreamt about it.

"Who's first?" Johnny asked to no one in particular, awaiting a response from one of the eager men around. This snapped Yuta out of his daze as he looked down at his hands. The gauze was wrapped too tight (probably a direct result of his previous thoughts) and the blood was seeping through the makeshift bandage. Oh well, at least he'd shown Taeil who's club it really was.

The first to agree on fighting was a scrawny looking boy with red and white hair. An odd color combination, but Yuta guessed it framed his face nicely. He had a bunch of piercings along his ear and a determined look on his face. A slight grin showed his confidence as the boy took his shirt off and loosened up his belt.

On the other side of the "ring," there was another boy that radiated an equal amount of confidence but looked a bit skeptical as his eyes landed on the others around the dank basement. He too, removed pieces of his clothing and slicked his blonde hair back from his face.

"Alright, first victims are Taeyong and Hendery. Knock yourselves out.....literally."

Johnny stepped away from them as they collided with one another, blood already dripping from the eyebrow piercing on Hendery's face and a crack coming from Taeyong's finger. Despite this, the boys looked more fiery than ever before as they tackled one another to the ground, ripping out each other's hair and punching each other wherever they could reach. A quick sharp kick to Hendery's groin left him falling to the ground where the other boy found his footing and beat him to a pulp. Not the first fight that ended up in two broken noses, but definitely the first fight to bring this many people together.

And with Taeyong's win, Yuta followed Johnny back home to the abandoned neighborhood they stayed in.

...

Again, it was another night of Yuta lying restless as he listened to your moans coming through the wall separating him and Johnny. Once you had met Johnny all it took was a promise of a new carton of cigarettes to go up to the bedroom with him. This wasn't anything new to Yuta (who did have a crush on you, he was just too afraid to admit it) who heard it every hour of every day; he wondered if you two ever grew bored of slamming the headboard against the wall.

Yuta figured the only thing he could really do in this situation was to go downstairs to the rotting kitchen and make himself a sandwich out of condiments stolen from Joon's and a couple leftover banana peppers from the night before. He pulled his robe over his shoulders and made his way down the decaying hardwood stairs of the mildewed house, making sure not to step on the soggiest part of the floor.

It was cold, but it felt nice after sweating in his blanket just a few minutes before. He opened the door to the fridge and found the pickles as well as the condiments, but his eyes stopped when he spotted some of Johnny's "lab equipment" which consisted of homemade explosives and torture mechanisms. Why they were in the fridge, Yuta didn't know, but he presumed Johnny had a reason. Just as long as he didn't find any Lye in his sandwich.

After making the shittiest thing Yuta had ever eaten in his life (which is saying a lot because he's accidentally eaten literal shit) he made his way upstairs, past the banister and the bathroom with the lonesome bathtub. He was just about to pass Johnny's room when he realized that it had been quiet. For a minute and a half.

Slowly, he opened the door and BANG Johnny walked straight into him wearing nothing but a robe.

"The fuck you doing man? Hey- is that the ketchup I stole from Joon's?"

"Ah shit! Uh I was just making a sandwich is all," he stammered out as he just about dropped the plate. He wasn't going to admit to Johnny that he was looking to see what had gone on with their sexcapade since he'd had a pleasant couple of seconds to himself for the first time since your and Johnny's introduction.

"Hey! I found the cigarettes."

You were high off your ass as you rolled around in Johnny's horribly stained bedsheets, waiting for whatever the holdup was at the door. "Y'all want some?"

"No thanks, Sylvia Plath."

...

Day two of Fight Club commenced in Joon's basement on a spectacularly cold Thursday, when Yuta was supposed to be at work. Instead, he was sitting on one of the empty barrels by the back of the room, watching everything happen before him. Fight Club wasn't just Fight Club anymore. This pain was all normal. It was expected. It wasn't anything different or new like the support groups Yuta had found solace in when he was an insomniac. He could feel the night of restlessness before him.

"Alright men, get your shit together. Today we have someone new joining our group. And, as the rules state, if it's your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight."

Johnny paced the circle of men, gripping onto the loops of his belt to make him look like more of the leader and less of a member. His shoulder length black hair was tied into a ponytail and his muscles were on full display; curtesy of his white slim-fit tee. Yuta would have to agree with you on one thing- Johnny was sexy as fuck. He was a confident bastard, but he understood why you liked someone like him. He was more than Yuta ever could be.

"On one side we have Jaehyun, an undefeated member of our group- not counting me of course."

This granted a couple of chuckles from the back as Yuta waited in anticipation for the newest member to be announced.

"Welcome, Xiaojun. Hope you find happiness getting your brains knocked out in a basement this small."

And standing before Yuta was Xiaojun, a former applicant of the testicular cancer support group, someone whom he had cried on as he wistfully remembered the days before meeting Johnny on a plane (That was a lot to cover into one fanfiction, but if you've seen the movie you'd know what I'm talking about). The days where pain wasn't measured by the amount of people feeling it, and instead was something to pass the time.

The blonde haired boy walked up to Jaehyun and smiled. It wasn't a 'Oh it's so nice to be here I can't wait to fight!' type smile. No, this smile was nothing more than pure malice.

Xiaojun was taking Jaehyun down. Yuta knew it for fact.

"Alright, have at it."

With Johnny's approval, Jaehyun launched for the boy, one arm balled into a fist and the other ready to strike a blow to the stomach. However, Xiaojun cut right across his ribcage and managed to dodge the blow, that shit-eating grin never once leaving his face.

"Ah fuck," Jaehyun clutched his chest as he doubled over in pain. Not allowing for the opponent to get too far though, he got back up on his feet and positioned himself so that he would be ready for another punch.

Jaehyun went in again, this time he was aiming lower to serve as an uppercut, payback for what the fast guy he went against did on his last move. He just about hit Xiaojun when Xiao ducked and rolled along the floor knocking Jaehyun from his position. Jaehyun was on the ground and was pinned there. Now all that was left was the final blow.

Yuta could hear one of the people in the circle mumble "fatality" in reference to Mortal Kombat as Xiaojun beat the shit out of this guy. Blood was going everywhere, nose was most definitely broken, his seemingly perfect face was now most definitely bruised. Hell, this guy would be lucky to even have a few teeth left from what Yuta could gather as he was positioned farther outside of the circle.

"Hey. HEY! RULE THREE BITCHASS!" Johnny's voice brought everyone back down to earth as they realized 'holy shit, Jaehyun is on his way out,' and they scrambled to help him off the floor. Knocked unconscious and bleeding from almost every orifice (except his ass), laid Jaehyun, once a fearless champion amongst the crowd now a bird with clipped wings.

I am Jack's complete lack of surprise.

Yuta caught a glimpse of Xiaojun, seemingly in perfect condition and a clam expression on his face. His eyes were the same though, the same as Johnny's. He was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

...

You couldn't say you were surprised in the least amount with Johnny's sudden outburst. All you had done was talk to him about his selfish ways; and he most definitely was being selfish- one minute he'd be sweet talking you and explaining how you mean the world to him, to changing every topic you brought up and acting like a cocky arrogant asshole. You figured it had something to do with his new "support group" and that Fight Club had left him bipolar. Even the nights you spent fucking him to no end had no resolve on his character and you were starting to grow annoyed with his sudden change of demeanor.

You rolled out of Johnny's bed and made way for the kitchen downstairs. At least most of the men were at Joon's, so you have the house to yourself and Johnny. That's how it usually was anyways. And that's when it hit you: the dress you'd bought a while ago was still upstairs! Maybe you could use it to sway Johnny into a better mood?

Running back to Johnny's room, you slipped on the semi-pink, alcohol stained wedding dress (or what was left of it) over your body frame and took a look in the mirror.

"Huh, not bad."

You had bought the dress because you liked it, of course, not because you originally had the intentions you do now. You didn't usually give a fuck when it came to the opinions of men, so why did his matter so much to you? You frizzled up your hair and rain your hands through the mess and popped an Adderall in your mouth. Hey, you needed something to get by for the day.

You found yourself downstairs, another cigarette in your mouth and a jacket around the exposed sections of your collarbone. Your feet still bare, you entered the dining room that was full of "Johnny's experiments" and you twirled a bit upon finding Johnny sitting in the chair by the table.

"Well," you said, "Do you like it?"

"What am I looking at?"

"The dress, idiot. Do you like the dress?"

He sat there in confusion for minute before he responded with a simple "It's okay."

Why does he always do this? You wondered. He would show you a sweet and loving side to him and then he'd act all coy and nonchalant as if nothing you said had any impact on him. Did he pretend to love you just to fuck you? Did he care about you just so he could have his way with you in bed?

"I got it for a dollar. Imagine- someone bought this dress with the intention that it would be worn on the most important day of their lives. And now, I'm wearing it as business casual."

He ignored you again, sipping on that blasted cup of coffee and looking through ads in the news. His hair was pushed back from his eyes and his brows were furrowed. He had no interest in anything you said.

"Goodbye," you said, and walked out.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Fuck him

...

(Part Two coming soon!!!!)

[xmarchwarden-of-lothlorienx]

A World Away

Thranduil x fem!human!reader

Requested: Anonymous

Summary: “I want a modern reader thrown into mirkwood forest. Found and thrown into a cell by thranduil. During an escape attempt reader sees an animal and decides to rescue an animal and get caught by thranduil. He takes an interest and reader is treated as a guest. Thranduil starts falling for her and sends her to live with humans. “What did i do? Why are you sending me away?” And then during the battle of five armies she meets with thranduil again and fluff”

Warnings: a little swearing (like twice)

Authors Note: Splitting this into two parts so everyone can suffer (joking lol)

Edit: Not me trying to schedule this and realizing it didn’t post 🤦🏻‍♂️

__________________________________________

With every step, you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. Your adrenaline rush prevented you from noticing the sharp briars that tore at your skin and clothes. You could worry about that later. Your only concern now was making it out of this forest.

You had planned your escape from the Elvenkings dungeon for weeks. Today, the opportunity to put your plan into action had finally arisen. As you dodged fallen logs and low hanging branches, you thought of how you came to be here in the first place.

Your head was throbbing as you came to. You attempted opening your eyes, but the bright sunlight forced you to close them again. You could hear strange voices speaking in a foreign tongue. You attempted to move your hands, but they were bound. Forcing your eyes open a second time, you took in your unfamiliar surroundings.

You were in a forest, surrounded by men and women dressed in strange clothes. All of them had long hair that was intricately braided, revealing their...pointy ears? Okay, what on earth was happening here.

“Excuse me, but who are you people? Why am I here?” You voiced. One with blonde hair, you assumed he was their leader, snapped his head towards you.

“You were trespassing on our lands. You are now in the custody of King Thranduil. He shall decide your fate” You gulped. Oh lord, what had you done now?

You were ripped away from your thoughts when you tripped over something in your way.

“Shit!” You hissed at the pain now shooting up your leg. You turned and looked at what had caused you to fall. A small fawn lay trembling at your feet. It didn’t appear injured, but your conscience wouldn’t let you leave until you checked. You extended a hand to the fawn, but it flinched away. “C’mon, I won’t hurt you. I promise,” you reassured. As you were checking the animal over, the sound of a sword being drawn reached your ears. You turned to see the tall figure now standing behind you. You recognized him as one of the guards that had taken you prisoner when you arrived at this miserable place.

“I see we didn’t get very far,” the elf said sarcastically. You dropped your head in defeat.

“Damn my good conscience,” you thought.

___

The first time you were before the Elvenking, he had been perched atop his throne. This time, you met him in his private study. He was seated in a large chair, sipping a glass of rich red wine. He appeared unbothered. You weren’t sure if anything could sway him.

“Leave us,” he commanded the guards placed at the doors. He took another long drink of his wine, then placed it on the table beside him. Neither of you spoke, and the silence was deafening. Thranduil took a deep breath and gestured to the seat adjacent from him, ”Sit.”

You obeyed, the large plush seat nearly swallowing you. You fiddled with your hands-noting that they had been left unbound this time.

“Do you have any idea what the punishment is for those that try to escape my prison?” He questioned. You shook your head in response, not trusting your voice to remain steady. “A more barbaric king would likely have you put to death.” Thranduil noticed you becoming more anxious. “But do not worry, I don’t plan on doing such a thing.”

“O-Oh?” You stuttered.

“You must be quite clever to have out maneuvered my guards,” Thranduil continued as he poured another glass of wine. “It was surprising to learn that your escape failed because you stopped to help a fawn.”

“It wasn’t my greatest decision,” you admitted.

“Perhaps, but I think it’s ultimately been in your favor,” Thranduil hummed.

“What do you mean?” You questioned.

“What I mean is that I’ve reconsidered my original sentence. I believe I may have been quick to judge when you were first brought before me,” Thranduil paused. “I hear of all the happenings in this forest. Humans are typically uncaring of those around them. Despite your situation, you stopped to help another in need of aid. Quite a noble trait to possess, yes?”

“Yes, I suppose,” you replied. You had never considered yourself noble before. Helping others had always felt like the right thing to do.

“If it would be no trouble, I should like you to remain in Mirkwood-as my guest.” There it was. The point that this conversation had been leading to.

“I-Really?” You exclaimed. Just when you thought you were starting to understand how this world worked, you were blind sided once again.

“If you have family you would rather return to, I understand. We would be more than willing to supply you for your journey-“

“Oh, no,” you cut him off (which surprised him). “It’s not that. I just wasn’t expecting it is all. I appreciate the offer, and I totally except.” You were glad to finally move on from being a prisoner. The treatment in Thranduils dungeon was alright, but a prison is still a prison after all.

“Well, then,” said Thranduil, pouring a second glass of wine. “Let’s drink to the hope of newfound friendship,” he offered the glass to you. You accepted and raised your glass to him. A possible friendship with the king? Oh, this was going to be a story to tell.

___

Life in Mirkwood was very pleasant; spending your days exploring the endless gardens and library. You would share dinner with Thranduil once a week. Then twice a week. Then soon you would dine together most nights. You noticed how interested he was in your life-both before you came to Middle Earth and now.

What you didn’t notice were the whispers between the elves. Since the death of his queen, the king had been closed off. Now, he was showing such favoritism to a human woman. Sharing dinner with her. Strolling through the gardens together. Gifting her with clothes and her own dwelling. It wasn’t until Legolas brought it up did Thranduil notice how fond he had become of you.

“Ada?” Legolas asked one day.

“Yes?” Thranduil replied as he leafed through paperwork.

“I’ve seen you’ve become quite partial to (Y/N),” said Legolas.

“Hm, I suppose I have,” Thranduil paused from his work.

“Do you think you may have...romantic feelings for her?” Legolas hesitated before asking.

Thranduils eyes widened at what his son had said. “O-Of course not! Honestly, Legolas, I don’t see why you would say such things!” Legolas gave his father a look and turned to leave.

“If you say so,” Legolas teased before closing the door behind him.

Thranduil pondered over what Legolas had said. Yes-he could see it now. He had slowly become wrapped around your little fingers. Falling for you so slowly he didn’t even notice. He wanted to feel joy-could he have found a second companion at last? But he couldn’t help the guilt that clawed at his stomach. Many elves only married once. Though his wife was deceased, her soul still lingered in the Halls of Mandos. What then? Should he do you both a disservice and pursue his newfound love? Thranduil stood and paced the room, thinking of what he should do. Finally, he called to the guards outside the room. He had made his decision.

“How may we serve you, My King.”

“Tell Lady (Y/N) to pack her things. She must be gone by daybreak tomorrow. She is not to step foot in the Woodland Realm again, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Thranduil felt sick. This was for your own good, he kept telling himself. To be with you would only hurt you both. It had to be this way.

___

You wiped away your tears as you packed. You didn’t understand. Mirkwood was your home. Thranduil had become your closest friend, but now he was banishing you? You thought the Elvenking liked you, even entertained the thought that he more than liked you, but not now. Now you felt foolish. Of course it would never work. He was a stupidly handsome immortal king. You were a human girl from a different world.

You threw the last of your belongings into your bag. The guards escorted you out of the castle. Before the cart you were placed upon moved, you took one last look at the kingdom, trying to absorb every detail. The coachman urged the horses forward, and that was it. You would never see Thranduil again. As night fell, so did your tears.

Little did you know, you weren’t the only one who cried that night.

Tags: @themerriweathermage

[llamagoddessofficial]

Thank you to @lost-immortality​ for commissioning this Death God Sans x Reader (plus a special guest~) piece! This was a joy to write!

The Mouth of the Underworld was legendary, to say the least.

It made sense that you’d want to see it, even just one time. When you entered and left the Underworld, it was through Sans’ ability to instantly bring himself anywhere he wanted, not via the Gates that separated the mortal world from that of the dead. Sans had been somewhat confused as to why you wanted to visit it (“not much to see, my love, it’s just a cave.”) but he’d been willing to take you. 

He was... concerned, however. If that was the right word for it. Because of what was guarding the Gates.

Cerberus.

Sans had raised the issue that it may not be a good idea to come to the Gates while the legendarily foul-tempered hellhound was present. He mentioned that Cerberus, while at the place he had unfailingly guarded for thousands of years, tended to become aggressive and overzealous; dangerous to be around, even for deities who normally had nothing to fear. Cerberus didn’t quite strike as much fear into the hearts of Gods and mortals as Sans... but that wasn’t a particularly high bar to cross- and it didn’t mean the creature was exactly beloved either. 

He was the reason Souls without Sans’ permission never made it out of the depths.

“Come on, it’ll be fine. I know you’re nervous but there’s no danger. I’m certain I’ll be safe if you’re with me, Sans...”

“you aren’t subtle. i know you’re trying to manipulate me.”

“It’s working.”

“yes, it is.” He stood from his desk, cloak manifesting from the silver brooches at his shoulders and flowing down his back like wine from a goblet. “we should go now, if we want to arrive before mortal sunset.”

...

It was an absolutely beautiful cavern. A cathedral-like white cave, pillars and signs of worship carved into the stone, sun beaming in from the cavern mouth... great ancient boughs of wisteria wound up the walls and ceiling, hanging thick grapelike bunches of violet and lilac flowers that filled the air with a sweet floral scent and carpeted the ground in soft purplish petals.

... And there he was. Cerberus... asleep as far as you could tell (thank the stars). Far, FAR larger than you’d expected- big enough to be mistaken for some kind of titan or hydra, enough to easily swallow unfortunate men whole. A looming skeletal dog; three great crowned heads, skulls bearing terrifying sword-teeth, the length of his body decorated with scars from years of defending the mouth to freedom. He was laying with his body blocking the mouth of the cave... you briefly wondered how many people had this silhouetted image as the last thing they saw before being violently sent back to the depths of the Underworld.

...

One of his heads, the middle one, opened a socket. Not asleep anymore. You flinched back- Sans placed a steadying touch on your shoulder, no doubt used to people fearing the Guardian. Cerberus had lights in his deep void eyesockets, like his master; observant and sharp as they rolled to land on you. How many Souls had he seen come and go? A single breath from one head sent up a cloud of petals.

Something new... 

... As if the central head had whispered to the others, the other two lifted and glared across the cave at you... you were safe with Sans, right? Right. You backed into him even more and he moved his hand to your forearm. Part of you wanted to ask a thousand questions, is this normal, are we fine? but the other parts of you didn’t dare speak in case it agitated the monster.

... Cerberus fully raised all three heads, dragged his clawed feet underneath him, he’s standing? The sound of bone scraping against rock filled the seemingly endless chamber, petals tumbled down from his shoulders and off his back, he must’ve been there for years... he turned...

...

... And leapt toward you. 

You were certain for a moment that he intended to crush you under one humongous paw but, to your shock, as he moved through the air he shrank. When he jumped he was a beast with teeth as big as your head...

... And when he landed in a light shower of petals, just before you, he was merely the height of a lion, his shoulder perhaps at your waist height. The guardian of the gates stood before you...

... Then barked, play bowed, and rolled onto his back.

...

You immediately gasped, dropping onto your knees out of Sans’ hold, rubbing the exposed ribcage like you were ruffling fur. Cerberus’ first head stuck out a glowing blue tongue, and the middle one barked again, skeletal tail thudding against the ground fast enough to resemble a heartbeat.

“Oh my goodness, you’re just... so fearsome, aren’t you?” You cooed, scratching his ribs. “The stories were right, I’m terrified! Are you the scariest beast in all three realms? Yes you are, yes you are...”

Cerberus eventually rolled back over again, jumping up, pushing his middle head against your face- you couldn’t help but laugh, enthusiastically petting him, and the first head insistently pressed against you too to the point where you would’ve gotten bowled over if you hadn’t quickly readjusted your footing to dole out attention to both.

... Sans chuckled. You were hardly paying attention to him. The third head, apparently a little calmer than the other two fussing you, lifted to greet Sans at your side.

“first you steal my heart,” Sans said, giving Cerberus’ greeting head a small, affectionate scratch on the jaw. “then a place in my bed. and now you steal my hellhound... honestly, when are you going to let me rest?”

“Never.” You wrapped your arms around the two close heads. “This is my puppy now, I’ll fight for him.”

“no need. you seem to be his favourite.”

As if to confirm Sans’ observation, you were gifted the blessing of a very gross lick on the side of your face by the head that’d just returned from greeting his master. 

... You soon realised a predicament- something that was, perhaps, the greatest tragedy that could befall you. It made your heart drop. You turned, looking up at your betrothed, rubbing one of the insistent noses that pressed against your cheek. 

“Sans. You can curse people, right?”

... He raised a curious brow. “... yes.”

“Find whichever horrible monster decided I could only have two arms, and give them the worst curse you have.” Two arms, three heads... injustice. “They need to suffer unendingly for their cruelty.”

“i’ll see to getting that done for you, love.” He teased. “until then... cerberus is one being, so i’m sure he won’t mind your predicament. he seems happy to receive the attention, regardless of the head.”

“You’re really going to look at this adorable creature and tell me you don’t want to pet every head at once?”

Sans laughed, seemingly unable to help himself, a beautiful dark sound. You weren’t sure if it was your adamancy to bestow love on Cerberus, or your declaration that he was ‘adorable’ that apparently entertained him so much... but it always felt nice to make Sans laugh.

“... Hey. Now that I think about it... looks big and scary, is feared through both heaven and earth, but is secretly adorable and gentle... you two are more alike than I thought you’d be!”

“come now. you can’t be saying things like that.” He smirked. “i have a reputation to uphold.”

You held Cerberus’ most affectionate head, the first, and pressed a kiss to his skeletal muzzle as revenge for his gross lick.

“... I know you said he comes and goes from the palace as he pleases... but I really hope he follows us. Otherwise I’m going to have to come here every single day.”

... You were half joking, in your dedication to return to see your new dog. But luckily for you, you didn’t need to make the journey- Cerberus, the ‘untamable’ monstrous hound, wouldn’t leave your side for a moment and loyally followed you and Sans all the way back to the palace, barking and wagging his tail the whole time.

...

Well. Now that made two ancient underworld-dwelling skeletal godmonsters that developed an instantaneous affection for you. Maybe you had a knack?

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 29 - ao3 -

“In the future, you should send your children to the Cloud Recesses for me to teach,” Lan Qiren said. He was sitting with Wen Ruohan on one of the rooftop gardens in the Nightless City, watching the moon and stars from a pavilion placed there for that purpose; their bodies were pressed close together, and it felt as if they were far away from all the things that were familiar. “You and Lao Nie both, and naturally I’ll come visit with you often as well, bringing my nephew. Between the three of us, we might even be able to teach them how to be proper human beings.”

Wen Ruohan laughed in his ear and pressed his lips to his cheek – he had taken to kissing him at random, spontaneous, as if still overwhelmed by the fact that he now had the right to do it.

“I will,” he promised. “I agree, I think they’ll turn out better that way…you would really have me educate your precious little A-Huan?”

“If I’m willing to entrust myself with you, why not him? Anyway, I can teach him music, and with the aid of the other teachers in my sect the sword in the Lan sect style, but you can teach him much more than that. You know how to look at the world and see it for what it is, and then bend it to your will, make it sing to your tune. He’ll be sect leader in the future; he needs to learn that, and you can teach it to him.”

“I can, and I will,” Wen Ruohan said, then thought for a moment and asked, “What does Lao Nie bring to the table?”

“Flexibility, mostly.”

Wen Ruohan barked out a laugh. “He certainly has that.”

He didn’t even sound bitter about it any more.

Lan Qiren smiled.

“In the meantime, I will handle the rest of it,” Wen Ruohan added, and Lan Qiren looked at him in silent question. “Come now, Qiren. Did you really think that I would allow you to remain caged in the Cloud Recesses your whole life?”

Lan Qiren paused. That was the sorest part of his heart, his most painful misery, but he didn’t think Wen Ruohan would bring it up casually. If anything, he was a bit more afraid of what Wen Ruohan might get into his head to do about it – there was very little Wen Ruohan wouldn’t dare.

“Da-ge –” he started warily.

“No, no,” Wen Ruohan said, lightly scolding. “Little Lan, be serious! I already rejected the opportunity to cage you here at the Nightless City, playing only for me, despite how much I longed to do so. I refused to do it – me, refusing myself – because I knew it would only make you sad. Do you really think I would allow other people a privilege that I have denied myself?”

Lan Qiren did not laugh, but he dearly wanted to. It might be the first time he’d ever wanted to laugh about his situation – not even Cangse Sanren had managed that. “Has anyone told you that you are extremely self-absorbed?” he asked instead. “Arrogance is forbidden. Do not be haughty and complacent.”

Wen Ruohan smirked back at him. “All true, little Lan, but don’t forget your favorite: Do not tell lies.”

Self-absorbed, narcissistic and arrogant, Lan Qiren concluded, and there was no helping it. It was clearly a terminal case.

He used his sleeve to hide his laughter.

“What are you planning, exactly?” he asked once he had recovered. “If you harm my sect, whether directly or indirectly by denying them my services, I would be even more upset than if you tried to lock me away in here.”

Wen Ruohan waved a hand dismissively. “Do you think me so incapable? I have already begun making arrangements. Discussion conferences may only be once or twice a year, being as they are tremendously irritating to arrange, but there’s no reason that we of the Great Sects should not recognize our greater duty towards the smaller sects, and not to mention our obligations to protect the mortal world –”

“You know that it exists, then?”

Wen Ruohan ignored him. “The resources of cultivation clans are limited, and the world large. There are many places which would benefit from aid that do not see any simply because they are far away or tucked in inconvenient places, and no sect lives nearby – naturally, it is our duty to fight evil no matter where it is encountered. Lao Nie has already agreed that it is critical that the sect leaders demonstrate our sincerity by fulfilling this duty in person, leading by example.”

Lan Qiren’s heart had already felt as if it were overflowing with warmth, and it felt even more so now, almost squeezed to pain by how much joy was there. More than he had known he could contain.

Bad luck in brothers, he thought to himself - but oh, he had such good luck in friends!

“I see,” he said, thankful that his usual neutral tone concealed how happy he felt. “And naturally, where you and Lao Nie go, Sect Leader Jin cannot be far behind in his eagerness not to lose out, and where three of the five Great Sects lead, naturally the rest cannot be far behind. So I, too, will be obligated to...what? Go out on night-hunts in inconvenient places?”

“The world is too large, and the number of cultivators too few – and at any rate, there’s no point in setting up a full night-hunt which draws in every person from a thousand li for a few paltry fierce corpses or a ghost or two. I propose, instead, that we would send cultivators out alone, in pairs or in small groups, to wander for a few months through the remote places in the world and clean them up. Then, at the next discussion conference, the Great Sects could jointly agree that whoever was most enterprising would receive a reward, and naturally, stories of various exploits could be exchanged – ”

“Ah. Another reason for young men and women to gather and boast of improbable exploits.”

“Think of it as giving them more opportunities to win glory,” Wen Ruohan said. “And stop talking down about ‘young men’; you are a young man. Naturally you are also qualified to go out to do such things. Required, even: if our Great Sects do not set a proper example, who will?”

“Mm. A proper example. Even if I coincidentally happen to spend more time playing music than hunting demons?”

Wen Ruohan’s eyes were bright. “Even so. And naturally, you could always bring along someone more powerful to do the demon-hunting for you…”

“How convenient.”

Wen Ruohan smirked. “Do you doubt that I will be able to make it happen, little Lan?”

“No,” Lan Qiren said, then added, honestly: “I think you could take over the world if you wished.”

“Naturally! But it would be quite irritating, I think, if I had to also ensure that both you and Lao Nie did not disapprove of my methods…” He paused, lips twitching. “By coincidence, while we’re discussing convenience, I was thinking that it would be dangerous to send all those wild and reckless young men out there without proper support. Surely it would be only reasonable to set up a few convenient places here and there, not so far away, to provide them with supplies and a place to rest and recover –”

Convenient places that would fly the Wen sect’s flag and spread its influence, Lan Qiren presumed. Lanling Jin would be furious – using wealth to buy influence was their favorite technique, and they resented other people copying it – and would immediately insist on establishing their own set of “supply stations”, and then the rest of them would have to catch up and make their own. Yet another expense, and the Great Sects would need to do more than most; it would probably wreck havoc with the Lan sect’s annual budget.

On the other hand, well the remote parts of the world really did need the help. One of the Lan sect’s newly recruited guest disciples had been talking about a place not far from his hometown that specialized in making coffin goods; it was, according to him, the most inauspicious place that could possibly be imagined…

Not a place anyone might want to go, unless they truly were intent on traveling.

Lan Qiren smiled once again. He thought he might never stop smiling.

“Indeed,” he said, trying to sound dry and rational. “Very coincidental. No one will doubt that this is nothing but a scheme to expand your reach and power, rather than any personal motive.”

Wen Ruohan did not answer, but instead, matching a smile of his own to Lan Qiren’s, pressed his lips against Lan Qiren’s once more.

After a little while of silence, Lan Qiren cleared his throat and asked, “Do you intend to tell people?”

He was not referring to Wen Ruohan’s plans for the future.

Wen Ruohan understood.

“In time,” he said. “As much as I would love to shout that you are mine and I am yours from the rooftops and perhaps have bulletins be posted to every town -”

Lan Qiren grimaced. It would be one thing if he thought Wen Ruohan was exaggerating for romantic effect, but unfortunately it would be just like him to engage in that level of over-the-top grandstanding.

“– but your position is not yet certain, and my reputation is too questionable. People would make assumptions and spread malicious gossip, and I – I would not harm you to please myself.”

“Sweet-talker.”

“It’s not sweet-talking when it’s true,” Wen Ruohan protested, although he was chuckling. “When you are more renowned as a teacher than a sect leader, when little A-Huan is old enough to have passed the worst stretches of childhood – then we will announce it, and let the rest of the world choke on it if they like. You, me, Lao Nie…hmm. Jin Guangshan will probably think we’re concealing a conspiracy and ask to join in.”

Lan Qiren gagged. “I refuse,” he said. “I don’t care if I’m not physically involved, neither you nor Lao Nie are allowed to even think about it. That man has visited so many prostitutes that one might be forgiven for thinking he believes that the road to immortality is paved with venereal disease.”

“…thank you, that was an image I did not require.” A pause. “Jiang Fengmian –”

“Remember when he punched me in the face in a fight over a girl I didn’t even want?”

“It wasn’t a serious suggestion.” Wen Ruohan chuckled once more and pressed another kiss to his cheek. “Some years ago now, I swore to your Cangse Sanren that I would do right by you. I ought to invite her here and show her that I’ve made good on it.”

“You haven’t made good on it.”

“I haven’t?”

“No. Such a promise is fulfilled through the keeping – if you want to do right by me, there is no one singular moment that would qualify, but rather a continuing obligation.” Lan Qiren smiled up at him. “I’m sorry, da-ge. You’ll have to continue to do right by me for the rest of our lives.”

“I will,” Wen Ruohan said, and smiled back. “It would be my pleasure.”

-END-

[imalwaystiredzzz]

C5: Sisyphus happy. Yan Zhongli x Reader

#genshin x reader

Warning: Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationships

< Sisyphus happy chapters >

Once, from a time long before records and memories were written on ink and paper, Morax walked upon vast lands rich in history, watered by tears of tragedy and love lost. He turns to an old woman who stood before her destroyed village, eyes downcast and hollow on bodies drowned by the war of an unrelenting sea and the mountain that does not bow. 

Morax did not understand, maybe once when he had held a goddess’ body to his own, but to him that was one thing and this is another. This is love of a mortal that does not even know who the child that cried next door nor the man that walked past their door, this is to love a complete stranger and the love that Guizhong once had when she was still by his side.

“What must I do to learn the love of mortals?” He asks, voice devoid of emotion; genuine curiosity and the hope to understand beneath.  

The old woman smiled, warm and full of wisdom as if her short years were thousands compared to the god. “To love mortals, one must sacrifice eternity and learn of the passing time. Of death and partings. The gods have forgotten that they may live long but even you have an end, it is the same thing that pains us yet we find delight in.”

He didn’t understand then, those words ring true and wise as Cloud Retainer’s advice to his ears on leading the people that he had now to care for. Even so, he still finds himself wondering, “What would Guizhong have done?”

In his heart, he knows that she would’ve understood and took a moment to explain; unlike the way time leaves nothing but confusion in its wake, only pondering and no straight answers?

Even as hundreds of years pass, when all that remains of that old woman is nothing but ashes on the soil and the land had been turned to marsh, the people traveling and settling in a mountain, and the war marching on to its bloody conclusion; Morax found that answer to be much like the dumbbell that he may never come to solve. 

But once more, reminiscent of his unexamined love with the goddess had bloomed too late, fate had played him right into its hands. 

Because the answer had come in the form of you- still a child, a bud in the nursery of glaze lilies under the morning sun. You and your small hands that gripped the end of his robes, with teary eyes that looked at the dying people and held these strangers hand in their last breath with as much intensity for a small comfort to let them know they did not die alone.

“Will the war end soon?” Your small voice asked him, even Mountain Shaper had not the stomach to look at a child’s plea for peace and spout lies.

“I am trying to end it, as fast as I can.” 

“Then this is for you.” You reached into your pocket and gave him a dried glazed lily contained in glass, “thank you for trying though we cannot give much back.” You bow, as courtesy knowing that you had just talked to the very god that protected the lands you step on and ran back to the shack that housed the sick and injured, your parents much too busy to notice you had snuck out. 

Blissfully unaware that the god of geo, gripping the gift in between his hands, amber eyes following your form and telling himself that humans have much to learn and yet they surprise him nonetheless, just like as his love used to tell him.

But even answers are confusing, much like a child who asks why is 1+1=2 and the process of it, he didn’t understand till he saw you once more. Not yet a lady but not quite the child that you used to be. Now you are the girl who provides healing, growing up to be a herbalist like your mother and no longer simply holding a basket of them for your father. Carefully, with your mortal hands you comfort the injured beyond salvation as the calamities of gods that hold much power rages on. 

Surrounded by dying men of the war, miasma, curses and death lurking in the air, in his eyes you remained untouched. Unblemished, as if the air in your little bubble had been purified by innocence and unconditional love for the crowd of strangers, neither pitying them for death nor numb to their tragedy. Then for a second he thought he saw her - the glaze lilies and the goddess that he loved so much and he begins to wonder if she’s come back to him through you.

“I should thank you for treating the wounded.” He tells the man before him, the bags of herbs laying behind his form and a sigil in hand, “use this in times of need, when the people are crying and I am away, surely the adeptis are quick to answer and would not turn you away.” 

“My lord, Rex Lapis, there is no need to thank us. Knowing that you protect the people is enough, we are just a family of healers who help the ones in need.” Your father was a grateful man, and he can see where you get your eyes, especially your kind heart who reaches out to those in need, not because he seeks power or his blessings.

“Even so, Liyue will remember your kindness but none more so than I, Rex Lapis.” 

He does not know if you remember him nor what you did, only that when he dons a mortal face to take a walk in the calms before the storm, he finds himself wandering to your garden, mostly on cold nights where you would just sing to the lilies and watch them, with unfading enchantment, bloom. 

In a distant memory of an old lover, he hears the same voice but now there stood you. Now a lady, barely a woman with your innocence and mischief.

And he knows that this is wrong, mortals are fleeting as the dust, that he can never grasp with his two hands. Wherever his heart is on anything, other than Liyue, it only ends in tragedy. And oh, how ironic of it all that if you really were his goddess that had found her way back to him, why this form? Why a mortal who is a flower that will wither compared to a mountain that does not crumble?

“It’s a beautiful song, pardon me for interrupting but may I know where you have learned it?”

“Only if you tell me what the god of earth is doing in a place like this, barely even concealed?” Playful, you smile at him playfully as if you knew all the time that he had spent staring from afar and he was not an immortal that could smite the very life out of those pretty eyes.

“The breeze carried your voice and I wondered where you had learned to entice it to your will.” He couldn’t really put a finger when it began, when your singing had lured him like a siren to the depth of the sea.

“You befriend the wind, unlike the earth, you do not command rather ask of it like a companion,” was your simple answer and he smiles like he has found something long lost. You drown him in your presence, but he is not breathless; rather he sighs filled with curiosity like a child who has more to learn from the world that he had been in for thousands of years. 

You who had rekindled a reason for his actions, much like Guizhong. This love does not ruffle his heart out of his rib cage, the dust settles and it is as calm as you talking about herbs in this small patch of garden late at night and as calm as the things settle falling into place in his beloved city by the gentle waves of the sea.

“What happened to them after?” You ask your husband, the snow falls outside and you are oh so exhausted to the bone as if the cold had taken all your warmth. He smiles and brushes your cheeks that lost their flush and your skin cold as a corpse, his arms glows gold in the intricate cracks, and you know that this is a bedtime story - though not quite for the night but for the long winter.  

The memory scratches at the back of your mind to be remembered, but a part of you warns that you wouldn’t like how it ends. 

“According to the books, the lord of geo took his love to the heavens.” He finishes with a chuckle of the irony in it all, a kiss to your temple as your eyes drop, heavy and slumber dragging you to its clutches.

Then finally, Zhongli smiles to bid you goodnight.

He watches you sleep soundly. Sleep if humans can even call it that with the lack of breathing, as still as a corpse that had died peacefully in bed while he is left to wonder of a future that had things ended the way his winter story did.

War ensures losts. Victories demand sacrifices. And the price to pay was always his love.

Zhongli would like to believe that had you died of a natural cause: sickness, accident or of old age where he would have held your aging body, he could’ve had the strength to let you pass on.

Rex Lapis would have had your funeral handled by the esteemed WangSheng, and took your passing as another promise to meet on the other side.

But Morax knows, he could never really.

Never let you go, even after thousands of years and all that you know had returned to the soil. Even when the truths of history had been forgotten by the people and you are nothing but a distant whisper to this land, a footnote to his folklore.

Not even now, when every winter is a reminder of the way he held your cold body against his chest, “I worry about you.” You told him with a supposed to be parting smile, how pitiful must he be for a dying mortal that had not even lived half their life to worry about him. 

“Why are you saying goodbye, my love? You aren’t supposed to say goodbye, not yet. It’s much too early,” He tells you with a broken laugh, the war is over like you had asked of him the first time. He is an archcon, the land is his to rule and care, and you are supposed to live many many peaceful years with him, but here you are the embers of war digs its claws in your frail body and had robbed you of life.

 Why does the war take and take and take and he who fights only lose things that he keeps to heart? 

He doesn’t relent, even if it means breaking the laws of nature itself.

Even when you wake in spring, and you look at him with those empty eyes and ask who he is. At Least you’re here, still there somewhere and it might take thousands of years and more, when the mountain has crumbled against time, one day he believes that you will wake again with love in your lips and warmth in your hands.

[greensaplinggrace]

What Is There To Celebrate About the Darkling? (Part 4)

1 2 3 4

He’s calculating but impulsive. Gentle yet firm. Stubborn and adaptive. Just a real mess of contradictions that makes him all the more interesting.

He loves nature. He loves the forest.

Fond of luxuries and nice things. After growing up as he did, I think he deserves them.

Very socially awkward. Introvert just trying his best. Anything that isn’t manipulation and therefore something he’s planned in his head is just a social train wreck waiting to happen.

The way he pushes up Alina’s sleeve when they first meet. This man had zero compunctions about acting completely unprofessionally in front of his soldiers and I think that’s very sexy of him.

He’s constantly tired and exasperated with the people around him.

The way he says “quiet” with the softest voice imaginable and a room full of laughter instantly goes silent.

He had no interest in Elizaveta even though she was utterly obsessed with him and I think that’s hilarious.

Elizaveta: I have a plan to resurrect the Darkling Everybody Else: Oh the Darkling is so evil for trying to come back! The Darkling, who just wants a nap and is sick of this mortal bullshit: Why am I even here? This is such a pain in the ass. I should have killed Elizaveta when I had the chance.

How he asks if Alina “will have” his name like a man proposing.

Has his bedroom attached to the war room.

Constantly checking up on Alina just to know how she’s doing. Never pushing her beyond her limits as she’s training.

Very creative with his shadows and the extent of their abilities. So many of the ways he uses his powers are genius.

His ending in RoW is a tragedy and an injustice. He deserves better.

This old man pouting at Alina in episode seven as he says “please, I just want to talk to you 🥺”

There is a black kefta made for Alina after like two days in the Little Palace. He really was already planning their entire immortal futures together as Mr. and Mrs. Starkov wasn’t he?

His bed is covered in maps and notes when he’s plotting how to find Alina. Also before that, the way he’s poring over the notes at his desk and giving orders is 👌🥵

Him acting like a real General at all is simply amazing.

The fact that he trusts Luda with his life. That they have a whole intimidation routine set up around him purposefully getting himself fatally injured knowing she’ll heal him.

He looks like a vampire in the show and a fae in the books.

His favorite ABBA song is probably “Lay All Your Love On Me.”

Looks composed but that’s only a façade. Is actually an unhinged feral terror of pain and misery.

That scene where he tells the king she will remain in the Little Palace to train undisturbed and he puts his foot down. ON THE RED CARPET. the king’s carpet. and uses a commanding voice that’s just on the edge of an order…I’m surprised he didn’t get flogged for that. IMO nothing conveys the fine line he walks with those in power while wielding his own like this scene. Literally he should just be celebrated for this alone.

“‘Why won’t you leave me alone?’ I whispered one night as he hovered behind me while I tried to work at my desk. Long minutes passed. I didn’t think he would answer. I even had time to hope he might have gone, until I felt his hand on my shoulder. “Then I’d be alone, too,” he said, and he stayed the whole night through, till the lamps burned down to nothing.

Trapped a bunch of Saints in the Shadow Fold like a true amoral disaster villain. What an icon.

His barely concealed amusement and half hidden smile when Alina comes to put his kefta on. The way he finds Alina utterly hilarious and tries so hard to act like he doesn’t.

That small amused smile when Alina jokes about finding Volcra hilarious. Please he’s so adorable 😭

“‘I know what you feel when you’re with the tracker,’ he said. ‘I doubt that’ He gave a dismissive wave.” - My Malarklina obsessed self, vibrating at the edge of my seat: but what does it mean?!?

Mal and the Darkling’s entire fight in the Fold: dumbass on dumbass violence.

The way he stands with his back turned to Alina when she enters his tent the first time they meet and then does the slowest Godfather turn in history. 1999/10 - points removed for a criminal lack of cat petting.

“I may lead the second army, but the king is still the king.” - the delivery of that line. the implications, the history behind it and also the foreshadowing for his plans.

That slow turn face reveal in episode one though. Like okay we get it you’re pretty alkjsdflkj

Confused Old Man Face™ whenever Mal or Alina do anything remotely defiant in his presence.

How he tells Alina to come closer and she only takes the tiniest step and he doesn’t even react.

His little head cock whenever someone says or does something that just doesn’t vibe with him.

Darklina tumblr has now convinced me that the Darkling is a cat in human form.

“You’re an amplifier,” she said. He glanced at where Sylvi was pouncing on another helpless tree, oblivious, and gave a single, frightened nod. How could he have been so stupid? He would have to tell his mother now, and she would insist that they leave right away. If word got out, they’d both be in danger. Amplifiers were rare, hard to find, harder to hunt. Their lives would be forfeit. Even if they got away, word would spread. He could already hear his mother’s voice: Foolish, careless, callous. If you don’t value your own life, show some concern for mine. Annika touched his sleeve. “It’s okay,” she said. “I won’t tell.” Panic crowded in. He shook his head. She slid her hand into his. It was hard not to pull away. He should. He was breaking his mother’s fundamental rule for keeping them both alive. Never let them touch you, she’d warned him. - 😥 I just want to give him a hug all the time.

His strangled shout when Mal tackles him off of the skiff.

His smile when he’s summoning the sun. The expression on his face when he does so. Like I know I’ve mentioned this before but damn. If you ever needed a reason to celebrate him, this would be it.

“Shame, I’ll have to give that speech again now.”

The way he flips Mal over his shoulder in the Fold after Mal attempts to strangle him.

His little lecture on the Small Science to Alina when they’re going to meet the King. Info dump.

“You make it sound so easy.” “A bird makes flight look easy. But it was born to do so.”

When Alina looks at him for guidance on whether or not to remove her veil and he gives her a small nod.

The handhold in the throne room after Alina’s demonstration is absolutely precious, but it’s in a room full of people he should be keeping up a façade for and it’s so unwarranted and yet he does it anyway, I’m-

The way he says “welcome home, Ms. Starkov,” in the most tender voice I’ve ever heard and then goes “ok that’s enough emotions for one day” and then just straight up leaves without even a goodbye.

He has his symbol?? Sewn into Alina’s kefta??? bRo???!?!

Disaster Simp never gets tired of introducing Alina to other people or talking about how she’s the best thing that ever walked this earth.

The Darkling lying: honestly

“I have devoted my life to undoing the great sin of my forebearer, but I am never seen as the solution. Only as a reminder of the problem.” Sasha you were literally the problem. What a manipulative little shit. We love to see it.

The way he closes his eyes and kisses the coin before he makes a wish at the wishing well.

“I think the Grand Palace is the ugliest building I’ve ever seen.” - I love him your honor.

This man has the most intense lines for Alina. Like straight up I would have booked it when he said “you and I are going to change the world”. But then the head grab?! “I’ve been waiting a long time for you.” He’s so intense like sir can you tone it down a bit please I am begging you.

“I shall be right by your side.” / “We can do anything. Together.” / “For us.” / “You cannot do this on your own. And neither can I” / “I want you to know my name. The name I was given, not the title I took for myself. Will you have it, Alina?” - WEDDING VOWS

That scene in the war room when Alina comes to find him and he instantly drops his guard and lowers his arms and welcomes her with a soft voice.

“Am I bothering you?” “Not at all.” - girl you could be stabbing him in the chest and you still wouldn’t be bothering him.

This whipped disaster sounds like the proudest man on the planet when he talks about how much more his enemies fear Alina over him.

His shadows react to his emotions.

“YoUr’E nOt IvAn.” asjlkdfjs god he’s so embarrassing.

Local Dark Lord Sasha offering Alina the throne after she literally tries to kill him.

He gets so jealous of Mal.

Has a great relationship with his soldiers and his men. His men trust him implicitly and believe him to be an amazing general.

When he turns around after Alina puts the kefta on him and looks flustered/has to take a breath because she’s a lot closer than he expected. The way he’s breathless and literally can’t string a sentence together because he’s so distracted by her closeness.

His jokes are absolutely terrible.

GF: *jokes about throwing herself down the stairs to get out of an event* Sasha “no thoughts head empty only Alina” Morozova: haha I’d just have my healers heal you right back up again.

How genuinely touched he is by Alina admitting to wanting to help Grisha and Ravkans.

That scene in Demon in the Woods when he notices the intricate details of the politics in the Grisha camp after one meeting with the Elders. He has the Ulle pegged almost instantly.

Born to be a leader. Born to take care of others. Born to protect. Even in Demon in the Woods he’s protecting people. Even in Demon in the Woods he’s leading them and caring for them.

The way he cups his hands around Alina’s face when they’re kissing.

This man gets so starstruck by Alina walking into the Fete that he doesn’t even excuse himself from the King’s side to go to her.

Long haired Aleksander rights!

Ok I know the wig was kind of ugly but he looks pretty with long hair and I think it would look very good on him naturally.

The way he slams his hands together in the Winter Fete scene and instantly turns the room pitch black.

Literally any times he summons shadows is a blessing and we should all celebrate him for it. They are so beautiful. On god if I ever saw his shadows in real life I would be awestruck.

He asks Mal if he’s okay when they first meet.

The pure, barely contained fury directed at the Conductor for daring to harm Alina and kidnap his Grisha.

He always has to make a grand entrance.

This man is like a bloodhound when it comes to Nina. He is very invested in finding her and I feel like that’s never really talked about.

“I know exactly how she felt. The King’s soldiers treated me the same way. Because they knew- they knew that I was more important than any of them.” - the way he says it, like it’s something he has to remind himself of in his head constantly. a justification for the way he’s been treated, the fear he evokes in others. a way to protect himself from the hurt of being ostracized and reviled. arrogance and conceit as a defense against emotional harm.

Also the way his face instantly changes after that, like he’s said too much. vulnerability. lowering his eyes. shifting his eyes. literally just everything about this scene makes me love him all the more.

Dark carriage rides up to the Crows’ hiding place. Grisha circle the area as Aleksander steps from the carriage slowly, dressed all in black, floofy cloak high on his shoulders. Villain Entrance™

Him slowly pulling a knife out of his chest like it shouldn’t have killed him is hot as fuck and also totally badass. Big dick energy.

“I’ve had enough of your lies.” “And what lies are those?” - Alina, pulling out a fifty mile long scroll of grievances: Well, for starters-

This man is literally just an Alina Starkov compliments machine.

He cares so much about the Grisha and their protection. He loves Ravka and his people so much.

He had an entire cult dedicated to him.

“They would approach him. They always did. But he felt more anxious than usual. He’d stopped trying to make friends in the places he and his mother visited—there was no point when they moved on so quickly. Now he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.”

Save a Villain. Murder the King.

Openly admits to staging a coup like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He speaks so slowly. He moves so slowly. Everything he does has to have Purpose and Gravitas.

Theater Nerd™

He knew Nikolai for years and yet couldn’t recognize him as Sturmhond. We do stan an oblivious icon 💕

The Darkling after he gets his ass whooped in Siege and Storm: Mom can you please come pick me up? I’m scared!

He’s here to manipulate sun summoners and murder cities. And unfortunately he’s all out of sun summoners.

Would absolutely get drunk on real alcohol. This man thinks kvas is strong liquor.

Has his wrists exposed exactly one time in the most skin he’s shown all season and it’s when Alina visits him at night in the war room. WHORE!

Was too emotionally slutty and fell for Alina. RIP.

He’s passionate and cold and beautiful and hurt and twisted up in ways nobody could ever hope to understand and he’s stunning.

I would literally kill for this man 🖤✨

[phenomenal1500]

~Goddess Of Death~

Masterlist

A/N: This was requested by kloy344 on Tumblr. I really hope this is what you wanted, enjoy.

Summary: Hela's married partner learns about the death of their loved one and goes after the ones who were responsible, avenging hela's death at any cost.

Timeline: After Thor Ragnarok.

Pairing: Hela Odinsdottir x Married!Reader Warnings: Blood, Violence, Death & Spoilers for Thor Ragnarok.

After a long mission you could finally return to Asgard, a beautiful place your wife had been raised and had managed to take over once again after her father captivated her, but your holographic map didn't seem to recognise the planet at all.

It was as if it had disappeared from your radar.

Nervously you continued to fly through space until you came across pieces of dead planet and undead yet now dead soldiers, your wife's soldiers. You had no idea what happened and it really started to frighten you, especially when you suddenly understood Asgard had been fully destroyed because of all the flying gold and damaged statues. 

Desperately you began to scan the area, holding back the burning tears that bottled up in the corners of your eyes.

What if she had left this world, your world?

What if she had died too?

What if she was gone for good....

Your scanner suddenly began to make a quick beeping sound, a sound that normally casino machines would make if you had won something, but for you it wasn't such a victory.... the thing you 'won' was your dead wife. It hadn't really hit you until she was retrieved from the floating carnage and was brought into your spaceship by the 'gatherer', a robot arm that gathered stuff you hunted for in space.

You stared into her glassy, ​​lifeless gray eyes that once were bright green/blue and unnoticeably to yourself the hot tears finally ran down your cheeks.

She was really gone....

Her skin was blue and gray, looking like it could crumble and turn into dust any second now and her black hair was stiff, frozen by the coldness of space.

Everything about her shouted that she was dead, that her own purpose had claimed her. Goddess of Death.... that title made you hope that that meant she was immortal, but you were proven wrong.

You knew she had wanted you to move on.... avenge her death instead of mourn her and so you picked yourself up, dried your tears and straightened your clothing. The ones who were responsible for your dear wife's death were going to pay.

You would bring chaos their way, make them suffer.

You very very carefully picked up your deceased wife, a stone cold expression on your face, and brought her to a cold place on your ship while you made one of your robots work on a coffin. You couldn't just leave her like this, she was going to have a proper burial after all this was done.

After a few hours of searching, changing clothes and sharpening your weapons, your emotionless but yet raging eyes fell on your new victims, Thor Odinson, Bruce Banner and Valkyrie and funny enough they were all in the same place.

~~~

Earth

~~~

Valkyrie was harder to find than you thought, but killing her wasn't such a problem. The scared woman was currently trying to crawl away from you to try and get to her swords, but your heavy boot landed on her back to stop her before she could reach out to it. "Where do you think you're going?"

"You're a~.... a monster." She coughed blood because of all her stab wounds that you had created.

"You made me a monster when you decided to kill my wife." You corrected her and watched her slowly bleed out on the pretty white floor, her body becoming as lifeless as your wife's was back in your spaceship. You decided to let the two other men come to you instead and for the fun of it left a dark red blood message above her dead body behind so when they would come back, they knew you were close by and were coming for them next. 'Never kill Death herself because she will always find others to do the job for her.'It took awhile, but you could hear the front door of the small home finally open and then spotted Banner and Thor rushing inside after they took note of the dried blood trail.

They both were trying not to cry and held onto the lifeless woman the same way you had held onto Hela.... seeing them like this somehow gave pleasure.... to see others suffer the way you did. A strange feeling suddenly ran through your veins as they turned black and you stepped out of your hiding spot, the urge to kill them becoming too great.

Something had taken over your body, your strength.

Thor called Stormbreaker and Bruce ripped his shirt to try and turn into the Hulk when they noticed you, but they were too late.... two big black spikes had already impaled them before you could even say something to them....

Perhaps you were right in what you had written on the wall 'Never kill Death herself because she will always find others to do the job for her' because your dear wife had chosen you-.... Chosen you to gain her power and continue her purpose.

However, before you could do so there was one more thing on your list: Give your wife a proper burial.

You returned to the place where you two had been married, Hela's black coffin in two of your robots' arms while you chose the most beautiful spot you could find and started digging. After you had dug enough, they placed the coffin in the ground and you ordered the robots to leave so you could be alone with her. You stared into the horizon, seeing all the pretty trees in shades of purple light up when the sun disappeared and the sky grew darker. You had buried your wife on the top of the highest hill the secret planet had underneath her favourite type of tree and you sighed, closing your eyes as you finally let the suppressed tears spill.

"I love you, Hela.... and I will miss you."

[kikuism]

here are the books i've read lately that i want to talk about!! all of them are debuts too.

the witch's heart: a story about the giantess angrboda, whose union with loki produces three unnatural children: the wolf who will swallow the sun and moon, fenrir; the world serpent, jormungandr; and the keeper of the realm of the dead, hel. they live their life at the edge of the world, away from prying eyes, in domestic idyll bliss...until angrboda’s visions plague her, and she sees her children responsible for a large part of the destruction that ragnarok—the end of times—will bring about. are her children monsters? how far does a mother's love go to protect her unnatural children destined for destruction? these are the questions at the heart of the book and they really truly tugged at my heartstrings. i wasn't prepared for how emotional this book made me feel. at its heart it is a story about family, about motherhood most of all. my budding interest in norse mythology also greatly upped my enjoyment of this book. i'm definitely going to keep an eye out for more books by this author in the future. i can't believe this is her debut!

these feathered flames: inspired by russian folklore, twins asya and izaveta are thrust apart by two separate destinies: asya trains to become the firebird that keeps magic in check in the realm, and izaveta trains to be the next queen. however, tragedy brings them back together: the death of the queen. suddenly izaveta is crowned the new queen, and asya prematurely must take on the role of the firebird. tensions rise between the sisters, who not only have not seen each other in years, but whose new positions have never really worked in tandem with each other before. the sisters must navigate growing political tensions as well as try to figure out what—or who—killed their mother.

in my personal opinion this book promised more than it delivered, and i think if the execution were a little sharper I'd have enjoyed it more. i wanted to get more of a feel for the characters. it was there, but i wanted more. i admit i enjoyed izaveta's parts more than asya's—i think i have a thing for ice queens trying to navigate their new roles (god....not to bring up frozen, but i was so excited for elsa's character and....they just didn't do anything with her). izaveta reminds me of what elsa would be like. also, i'm sorry, but...the f/f enemies to lovers romance that was a big part of this book’s hype absolutely failed to do anything for me. i so wanted to like it, but unfortunately i couldn't care for it. and i know it's because i didn't care enough about the characters that i couldn't get invested in their romance. if i can't care about them as individuals, how can i care about them together? also, the pacing of their relationship was just not it. i also expected this book to be steeped in russian folklore and culture the way the bear and the nightingale was—with that book, i felt like i had truly stepped in medieval russia; it was dripping with culture. but with these feathered flames, it felt like just a little dip into what should have been a richer world. yes, there is russian food and clothing and names, but i still felt the impression i was reading about some vague european setting rather than a fully established russian one. all in all, it wasn't terrible, but it didn't really do much for me. i give it a generous 3.5/5. i might pick up the sequel.

ariadne: ariadne and her sister phaedra are princesses of crete, who have grown up hearing the thunderous bellows of their brother, the minotaur, in the massive labyrinth underneath the palace. every year fourteen tributes are brought over from athens to be sacrificed to the beast. until one year, one of the tributes turns out to be the legendary theseus, who vows to defeat the minotaur and end this cycle of violence and bloodshed (yes! suzanne collins was inspired by the myth of theseus and the minotaur). ariadne falls in love with theseus and aids him in killing her brother. but what does this mean for her—is this betrayal worth it?

i enjoyed this book. i think by now i have a soft spot for mythology retellings (thank you madeline miller 🤍), and the writing in these kinds of books is close to my own style, so i love that. i had originally thought the entire book was going to be about the maze and the minotaur, but it's just the first part! i won't say what happens, but...things happen. like all mythology retellings, this story too takes place over the course of the subject's life, so there's a sense of the passing of time. i must say that the writing is gorgeous and so expressive. it was a real treat to read. i think the overall reason i don't Love this book though is because 1) the ending was rather abrupt, and 2) the main theme, to me, really just boiled down to 'men ain't shit'. which....yeah, valid, but also i sort of wish it was a little more substantial than that. i wish it had something more to say too. i remember sometime around the middle of the book i just paused and was like, ‘okay but what's the point? what is this book trying to say?’ but regardless, i really and truly sympathized with the women in these book, mortal and immortal alike. they had it rough....we still have it rough....the universal timeless experience of being a woman.

the poppy war: *shrieks* i'm so glad i gave this book another chance. i could not put this down. it's the better 'orphan goes to boarding school' story. in fact, the first part tricks you into thinking it's going to be cutesy boarding school antics. but holy shit....no. no. this is a horrific story about war.

the poppy war is a historical military epic inspired by the second sino-japanese war and overall china’s bloody twentieth century. knowing a bit about east asian history myself i could actually recognize some of what was going on in this book. main character rin aces the keju, a nationwide exam that seeks to root out only the most talented youth—and is accepted into the most prestigious military academy, sinegard. however, tensions are fraught just across the sea as the federation prepares to make its move against nikan, her home. rin soon realizes she has an affinity for shamanism, a mythical power that calls upon the gods, and which might just be the key for winning this war and saving her people. but is this great power worth the even greater cost?

the best way i can describe the writing in the poppy war: it's a shounen anime come to life. the action is so amazingly written and explosive, from the swords to the magic, especially the way it's interspersed with the emotional moments. the way everything is written, i can see everything happening so clearly in my mind's eye. it's such a visceral experience. the writing just flows.

but this book is about war, first and foremost, and all the horrors that come with it, down to every last garish detail. it takes a lot for a book to unnerve me, but this one did and more. it made me uncomfortable and disturbed and horrified. this book delves into war intimately, not a small dip but rather a full submersion. there's a section detailing carnage in a city that's just going to stay with me forver. it's like that scene in mulan where they abruptly fall silent as they reach the massacred village, except every inch of that carnage is described in full intimate detail. it's not for the faint of heart. at one time i clapped my hand over my mouth because i couldn't believe what i was reading.

and it asks questions about war, too. who's right, who's wrong? is any of this justified? is vengeance the way to go? and the thing is....it's not. duh. venegance is Not the way to go. we all know this. but oh my god the way r. f. kuang writes, you want Nothing more than pain and death for rin's enemies. you want to see them suffer in the worst way possible. like rin, you want to get back at them in the worst possible way. and it's like...yes venegance is not the answer but you want her enemies to hurt So Badly. you start thinking, maybe it's okay, because they're so horrible and vile and inhumane, retaliation is the only possibly course. vengeance Must be served. but then.....what does that make you? what is the cost of vengeance? can you pay it? can you ever? is it worth it?

this book is insane and epic in the best way possible. i'm so glad i gave it another chance. the world building is so rich and lavish and the cast of characters is huge and i care for each and every one of them and i'm just. So Invested in what's going to happen next. SO MUCH happened in this first book, i'm still reeling, i feel like i've read two books in one sitting. i can't even predict what's waiting for me in the next book, which is a whopping 650 pages....i'm going to be fed so well.

also, here is a list of triggers. please exercise caution going into this book as it deals with some very dark themes:

[janedrewfinally]

Well, if I’m engaging in this whole….string-covered wall-of-crazy calculation, I might as well post it.

Given how much of “Word of Honor” is a Glazed Armor quest/shell-game, it seemed useful to note exactly where the fool pieces start out and what happens to them. I’ve split up the “Glazed Armor pieces” and the “Armory Key,” because the Key doesn’t come up until later in the story and follows a different trajectory.

As we know, twenty years ago, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked Rong Xuan, the runaway disciple of Changming Mountain Immortal Ye Baiyi, gathered a group of martial artists from different sects, plus the Longyuan Cabinet, and together they created the World’s Armory, using an abandoned stronghold/library from an ancient kingdom, filling it with texts from the various sects. Their idealistic plan to combine all of that knowledge failed; Rong Xuan was poisoned; his wife, a member of the Miracle Healer Valley, saved him using forbidden techniques that caused him to go insane, whereupon he was defeated in a massive battle outside of Ghost Valley.

The Magical Wuxia McGuffin Glazed Armor, the key to the World’s Armory, was divided between the five young men who would become the leaders of the sects that make up the Five Lakes Alliance. They did not share the Glazed Armor or the Armory with the rest of the martial arts world- at least partly because, without the key, the doors won’t actually open. “Word of Honor” opens with an Armory/Rong Xuan-related flashback, setting up the extent to which the pieces of the Glazed Armor (and later the Armory key) will shape the plot.

The Glazed Armor Pieces:

Imaginary Glazed Armor: “Hanging Ghost stole my Glazed Armor!” Wen Kexing declares, in full murder make-up mode having a) just killed Hanging Ghost and b) never had a piece of the Glazed Armor. However, this imaginary Ghost Valley piece of Glazed Armor is the justification for sending out all of the Ghosts into the human world to supposedly try to track down Hanging Ghost, but really to start Phase One of Wen Kexing's complicated revenge plot. The idea that Ghost Valley has at least one piece of Glazed Armor also causes complications later.

Glazed Armor Piece 1 (round exterior bit): In the possession of Gao Chong, leader of the Yue Yang Sect and the leader of the Five Lakes Alliance. He hands it over to Mo Huaiyang, leader of the Gentle Wind Sect (Qing Feng Sect), before the Hero’s Conference. Later, Xie Wang (Scorpion King/leader of the assassin's group Venemous Scorpions, just wants his adoptive father Zhao Jing to love him and be proud of him) takes it off of Mo Huaiyang’s corpse, sadly without stabbing him some more.

Glazed Armor Piece 2 (round exterior bit): In the possession of Shen Shen, leader of the Da Gu Shan Sect, part of the Five Lakes Alliance. He gives it to Gao Chong when Gao Chong asks for it, and Gao Chong hands it over to Mo Huaiyang before the Hero’s Conference. Later, Xie Wang takes it.

Glazed Armor Piece 3 (small connecting bit): In the possession of Zhang Yusen, leader of the Jing Hu Sword Sect (Mirror Lake- and why I am having trouble finding the other sect names in English I could not say). When Mirror Lake is attacked by a group from Ghost Valley, Zhang Yusen makes a cut in the stomach of his youngest son, Zhang Chengling, and hides the Glazed Armor piece in the wound. Since everybody assumes (correctly) that Zhang Chengling is carrying his father’s piece of the Glazed Armor, Zhang Chengling becomes a target for kidnapping by the Begger’s Guild and the Scorpions and for very loud lectures from Shen Shen and Gao Cheng. After telling Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing about the Glazed Armor, Zhang Chengling tries to give the piece to them, but Zhou Zishu, who is extremely disinterested in it, tells him to give it to Gao Chong so that he’s no longer a target. Back in the Yue Yang sect, Zhang Chengling dramatically removes the piece in front of Gao Chong and hands it over. This is the third piece that Gao Chong collects and hands over to Mo Huaiyang before the Hero’s Conference, all of which are then taken by Xie Wang.

Glazed Armor Piece Four (the third round exterior bit): This piece originally belonged to Lu Taichong, leader of the Dan Yang Sect, who gets killed offscreen, along with almost all of the members of his sect. Before he dies, he entrusts his two remaining disciples and his piece of the Glazed Amor to Ao Laizi, leader of the Tai Shan Sect (which is part of the Wu Yue Sword Alliance). Ao Laizi fends off both Lv Liu Weng and Tao Hong Po when they come after the Glazed Armor, and then also manages to use the arrival of Zhao Jing and co. to fend off Shen Shen. Then he gets killed by Happy Ghost (it’s implied), and Long-Tongued Ghost puts the Glazed Armor piece into the bottom of his box of soul-winding thread, heading off to the ancestral hall (“Coffin House”) of the Zhao family to wait for Xie Wang to show up for the hand-off. Exceeept Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing manage to defeat the various traps, and Wen Kexing kills Long-Tongued Ghost and takes the box. When Zhou Zishou opens the box and discovers the Glazed Armor, he tosses it over to Wen Kexing, who a) is shocked that Zhou Zishu really was serious about not wanting the Glazed Amor and b) immediately starts trying to figure out how he can leverage this to cause maximum chaos. Wen Kexing later gives this piece to Xie Wang as part of their deal.

Glazed Armor Piece Five (the spiked circle in the center): In the possession of Zhao Jing, leader of the Tai Hu Sect. Zhao Jing takes advantage of the banquet welcoming Zhang Chengling and the murder of Ao Laizi to have his godson Song Huiren, who is one of the favored disciples of the Yue Yang sect, “steal” his piece from its hiding place and “escape” with it, killing Yu Tianjie when Yu Tianjie pursues the “thief.” Unfortunately for Song Huairen, Xie Wang is NOT here for their yifu having other sons he might like better, so Xie Wang kills him, takes the Glazed Armor, and tells Zhao Jing that Song Huairen had been a traitor. Xie Wang keeps this piece on a chain around his neck, as a statement of his loyalty, but also inadvertently kind of sort of as a future creepy trophy for Worst Yifu Zhao Jing.

Fake Glazed Armor One: When Wen Kexing gets Glazed Armor Piece Four, he cheerfully visits a glass maker and demands thirty copies, which he proceeds to scatter around in advance of the Hero’s Conference in the hopes of creating chaos (oops). In addition to interrupting a lovely moonlit date and causing his first quarrel with Zhou Zishu, the Fake Glazed Armor leads to the tragic deaths of the Four Sages of Anji… and, much later, to the tragic death of Han Ying. However, it also seems to have given Gao Chong a useful idea….

Fake Glazed Armor Two-Four: Gao Chong, having handed the real Glazed Armor pieces to Mo Huaiyang, comes to the Hero’s Conference prepared with three fake pieces, which he then very publicly smashes. Sadly, this does not fool people for long, and the Gentle Wind Sect becomes a target. Even more sadly, Mo Huaiyang does not get stabbed at this time.

The Armory Key

Yue Feng’er, senior disciple of Miracle Healer’s Valley and wife of Rong Xuan, gives the key to Gu Miaomiao and Wen Ruyu (the "Divine Hands" of Miracle Healer Valley) to take to Ye Baiyi at Changming Mountain. Unfortunately, this goes… poorly.

Imaginary Amory Key: In a vain attempt to take the target off of Gu Miaomiao and Wen Ruyu’s backs, Longyuan Cabinet leader Long Que spreads a rumor that Longyuan Cabinet has the Armory Key and then relocates the Cabinet to a more secure, secret location.

Fake Armory Key One: Wen Kexing holds up this fake key when he’s carrying out his fake death plan as a way to rile up his opponents (who, frankly, don't need any more riling).

Fake Armory Key Two: As part of their deal, Wen Kexing hands this fake key over to Xie Wang, who for some reason is shocked- SHOCKED- that it then doesn’t work.

Actual Armory Key: Gu Miaomiao and Wen Ruyu hide the Armory key by putting it in their son’s hair; he keeps it, and wears it frequently. Later, of course, he gives it to Zhou Zishu because they are very very married… and then uses it to open the Armory.

[innocentbi-stander]

Can you do demigod jaskier? But this time he is the son of Hecate?

@localhalfvampire I need to preface this by saying you’re an absolute GENIUS

Demigod jaskier, but son of Hecate has so much untapped potential and I’m LIVING for it

A jaskier who has magic, who hides himself from detection by using his abilities to manipulate the Mist that shields demigods from discovery from the rest of the world (he shivers to think of what sorcerers like that bastard Stregobor would do if they realized that demigods, sources of pure godly power and ability were walking about the Continent, free to manipulate)

Obviously children of Hecate possess an innate talent for magic, each level of magical ability depending on the child, but nobody, not even Hecate herself, had been prepared for the unintentional powerhouse that is jaskier

And how fitting is it that the person who would care about ability levels the least ends up the most powerful child of Hecate to walk the Continent since Circe herself?

Jaskier was brought to camp at a young age, his noble father unwilling to deal with the baby of his one night stand with a goddess

He is raised amongst demigods and taught to defend himself and defend others from the monsters that plague the children of the gods

A sword is placed in his hand as soon as he is strong enough to grasp it, he learns to throw daggers with deadly accuracy, to shoot arrows at a target blindfolded

For all that jaskier is taught to be fierce, and witty, to speak gracefully with a silver tongue, there is nothing he picks up faster than magic

Magic to jaskier is like breathing, for he was born from the goddess of magic herself, it is woven into every piece of his being

Hecate is a tough parent, and she believes in  challenging her children and their abilities, and so it is no wonder when jaskier leaves camp to explore the world on his own, though he visits often

And then jaskier meets geralt and the rest is history

He spends twenty years chasing after the witcher (and though twenty years is not really a blink in the eye of an immortal demigod such as jaskier, that still matters) , there’s many hunts and contracts, aftermaths of jaskier stitching up geralt and lying about where he learned to sew skin so neatly

There’s evenings spent by the campfire, playing his lute and trying to ignore the way the firelight dances in geralt’s amber eyes

There’s laughs in taverns after a bit too much to drink, there’s lute strings tucked into his bag and no word of where they came from (though he knows), apples for Roach amongst complaints of destroying her diet, doublets ruined by days in the wilderness, and geralt’s barely there smile when jaskier produces honey cakes ‘given’ to him by the local baker

There’s inns, and shared rooms, then shared beds, and shared baths closer than close, and then there’s the djinn, and yennefer, and growing apart bit by bit

Jaskier possesses some of the greatest magic in the world, and there’s nothing he can do except watch the love of his life pick someone else over and over again and pretend not to be slowly falling apart

And then the mountain

Jaskier is alone for a little bit after that, wandering aimlessly 

He travels across the Continent, killing monsters that the rest of the world can’t even see, wiping yellow sulphur dust from his hands and wishing he was somewhere else

Jaskier visits camp and stays there for a while, but no matter how many times he comes back jaskier is a traveler at heart and never stays for long

Not far past the borders of camp, at a nearby village, jaskier learns that nilfgaard has been looking for him

He can’t bring himself to be even remotely surprised then when he’s ambushed on the path a day later

The first few parties of soldiers are easily dispatched with the use of his sword and daggers, but then at some point nilfgaard realizes that the ‘harmless’ bard has teeth and sends a small army

Jaskier really should have laid low and hid himself amongst the Mist ages ago, but he’s never been one for hiding (and frankly he’s a little bit insulted that nilfgaard seems to have thought him so easy to defeat and resolves to knock them down a few pegs)

Unbeknownst to the demigod/bard/whatever the hell else he is right now, there’s been a rather frantic witcher accompanied by a witch and a princess that have been searching for him for ages, following the trail of bloody groups of soldiers

Geralt hears of the army sent after his bard and reacts first with confusion on why an army is needed to take down one human man, and then feels blind panic. Rather hysterically, as he’s shoving his, yennefer, and ciri’s things into roach’s saddlebags, is the thought, he’s going to tear them apart

Which really makes no sense given that jaskier is fucking human, but geralt has always felt something off about him, something bigger, and regardless of that he’s seen jaskier’s more feral side and is comforted slightly by the thought that jaskier is hardly the type to go down without a wicked fight

Yennefer is less reassured by this information (your bard is going to get torn apart, not the other way around!) and ushers them off immediately 

When they reach the clearing where whispers of nilfgaardian soldiers has lead them, there is an entire small army present, at at the other side in the most bizarre looking fashion, is jaskier

He stands alone, but he does not look afraid

Jaskier faces the army of nilfgaardian soldiers, his doublet a shade of midnight blue, sword in hand, and a fierce look in his eyes that for some reason sends chills down geralt’s spine

He assesses the army, silent and calculating, finding something that nobody else can see 

The captain of the army shouts an order and the men charge forward, a smirk reaches jaskier’s lips

The army’s movement sparks geralt into action, what is he doing just fucking standing there, and he unsheathes his sword to somehow help his bard

But then there is a well manicured hand on his arm and a spell stopping his feet from moving farther, and geralt looks to yennefer to ask her what the hell she thinks she’s doing and pauses at the curious look in her eye

“Wait” she mumbles to him, brow furrowed, “Something isn’t right”

And geralt turns back to the battlefield and jaskier’s eyes are glowing

Jaskier sees the army charging forward and it takes everything in him not to laugh. They are fools, every single one of them

Jaskier whispers a quick prayer to the gods for luck (even though he doesn’t need it), and lets his magic explode

When the screams fade and there is nothing in the clearing but ash and blood drying in the dirt, jaskier wills his magic to return to his body

He scrubs at a little spot of blood that had managed to stain his sleeve, a new doublet at that, and considers maybe it is time to hide amongst the Mist, if not to save his poor beautiful clothing

The snap of a twig interrupts his musings and brings jaskier to alert, the hum of his magic singing through his veins, hands at the ready

Jaskier goes deadly still when across the clearing he spies two ghosts from his past, one of them with a rather unflattering look of shock across his face, and the other looking way too pleased with herself

When they both start to make their way to him, jaskier debates on whether he still has enough energy in him to shadow travel, anything to make a speedy getaway and the fuck away from this horrible confrontation

He raises his hands , willing the shadows to lengthen and warp, ignoring the persistence dizziness and figuring there’s no better way to find out than to try, only to be stopped by a sharp, “don’t even think about it bard”

His response is instant and without hesitation, “who the fuck made you the boss of me? If I want to get the hell away from here I’m very well going to, I don’t give fuck all what you’ve got to say about it”

Yennefer’s eyes narrowed and she snatched one of his hands, still shaking with overexertion. “I think your hands tell a different story, you’re exhausted.”

“Yes, well defeating armies will do that to anyone I suppose”, Jaskier reclaimed his hand and tried to ignore the fact that geralt had yet to do anything but stare

Purple eyes examined him carefully, “You never told me you had magic”

Jaskier laughed, a hollow sound even to his own ears, “I don’t really, not your kind. It’s a long story”

“Then you’ll have plenty of time to tell us when we get to Kaer Morhen”, at last, the White wolf had spoken and unsurprisingly jaskier liked absolutely none of what he had to say

He sputtered, and he was sure his cheeks were turning that infuriating shade of red they always assumed when he was particularly pissed off, “I’m not going with you anywhere!”

Geralt turned to the bard, focusing on him with an intensity that jaskier before the mountain would have killed to receive “Nilfgaard isn’t going to stop. They want Ciri. The armies will keep getting bigger and bigger, until whatever fucking powers you have aren’t enough”

Jaskier scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest “I can handle myself”

Something in Geralt’s eyes softened “I know you can. But you don’t, shouldn’t, have to. Come with us. Just for the winter. Then you can go wherever you want. Please”

There was a long moment between them, amber and blue staring into each other’s depths. Jaskier didn’t know what to think. It had been made clear on the mountain that the witcher didn’t give a damn about jaskier, and jaskier wasn’t big on wasting his time in places he wasn’t wanted. His heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

But geralt had never pleaded with him like that, never said please. There was a desperation in his eyes that jaskier had never seen before and without his permission he felt his heart melt a little. What was one winter?

“Fine.” jaskier spoke carefully, trying to ignore the small smile that formed on geralt’s face. “I’ll come for the winter. But after that I’m leaving and I’ll be out of your life for good”

Jaskier hadn’t forgiven Geralt. He was owed an apology, and a thousand other things. Yennefer was still a bitch, and he had no idea how geralt’s brothers and mentor would react to a demigod in their midst. But jaskier was lonely, and tired of being on his own, and as much  as he hated it there was a part of him that had desperately missed his witcher, no matter how much he had hurt him. 

It was just one winter, right?

He’d figure it out….. somehow

_______________

That went in an entirely different direction than I was originally intending, but the story just got away from me... I hope you enjoyed!

What do you think folks, worthy of a part 2?

[the-chick-of-the-air]

Hello my lovelies!!

Ok let me just start by saying- 600 followers?! Are you kidding?? Thank you all SO much! I can’t even begin to describe how grateful I am to have every single one of you interested enough in my blog to be following me! Thank you thank you thank you!!!🥰🥰

Now I’m gonna repay you by breaking your hearts!

This is my first try at anything super angsty, so if your gonna yell at me afterwards please feel free to do so in the comments or in my ask box or even just reblogging and cursing me in the tags🤣 please let me know what you think!

TW: Major character death, mentions of vomiting and allusions to body mutilation- nothing graphic just vaguely indicated but whatever you are comfortable with is up to you! If any of what I warned makes you uncomfortable please don’t read! Your mental health is more important than a work of fiction!

Update: I’m sorry- I posted this and for some reason the tag list wasn’t working but it should be now! If your username has changed please let me know so I can tag you properly down below!❤️

Summary: Someone important dies. Cardan deals with it. Grab your tissues❤️

Final Resting Place

“I’m…I’m so sorry.” The folk are not in the habit of apologizing, much less for something that is so common. It matters not, Cardan has ceased listening, has heard nothing after The Bomb uttered those damning words.

Jude is dead.

He recalls, distantly, a time when Nicasia drug him halfway to her underwater kingdom, wishing to show him its beauty and splendor. He recalls how helpless he felt, how he could breathe but it wasn’t right. How he was silenced and the pressure from the water was crushing his chest so painfully it didn’t matter if he could breathe or not.

This feels near exactly like that.

“Your Highness?” Someone is asking a question he doesn’t hear. He doesn’t even ask them to repeat themselves. All he can do is state,

“She is to be brought back here. Burned on the pyres.” A Queen’s funeral. The only funerals the folk bothered to observe.

Someone, The Roach, likely, grunts in disapproval, “She… we…are not able to bring the body back. It was…”

Cardan isn’t sure what part of that statement makes his stomach churn the worst, the fact that they just referred to his wife, their queen as a body, or the fact that there apparently isn’t too much of her body to bring back.

He tries not to think, not to guess at what death was so brutal that she doesn’t even have a body left.

And that really is it, isn’t it? She, his fierce, vibrant, deadly queen, who always looked over her shoulder, is- was always so cautious, secretly ruling over a land that was designed to kill her, the mighty Jude Duarte, slayer of the folk-

Killed by something mortal.

In the mortal lands.

Where he sent her.

It was almost laughable, Cardan did laugh. Hysteria bubbling up in his chest like bile, which it might have been because suddenly the churning in his stomach was no longer violent but imminent and he’s throwing himself into the bathing chamber.

He doesn’t hear the court of shadows, her court of shadows, retreating as he retches into the chamber pot.

~.~

Time has lost all meaning.

It’s been days, weeks, months. The days pass in a blur, marked only by those who knew what she meant to him coming to give their condolences. Like it could lessen the pain of her being gone. Lessen the pain that came with the knowledge that this was his fault.

It was so ironic it hurt. Had he not exiled her to the mortal lands for her protection, she would have still been alive, ruling where she belonged, right by his side.

And now, she would never get to rule her kingdom openly. She would never share his throne, his crown, his name, his bed again.

She was gone before he got to have her.

And it was his own damn fault.

He refused to hold any audience with Taryn. It wasn’t fair, her twin was dead and she was parading around wearing her face. He knew that should he take one look at her, he would break beyond recognition.

The only thing keeping him alive on the throne being Jude’s memory, how she would have wanted, commanded him to keep ruling, even if she wasn’t there to do it with him.

He did allow an audience with Viviane, once. She had all but demanded it and would hardly take no for an answer. She arrived, eyes puffy and bloodshot, looking as terrible as he felt which didn’t seem fair either.

He wanted to be alone in his pain, for it to be all his own, because no one could understand, could relate to how he felt for her. Why should they share in his grief? The newest plate of armor he has cast over his heart?

She wasted no time on condolences, which in itself was strangely comforting. She got straight to the point, “You missed the funeral.”

“A mortal tradition.” His voice was hoarse with disuse. Had he gone so long without speaking to anyone? That didn’t seem possible.

“Dammit Cardan! She would have wanted you there.” Her anger was refreshing, a nice change of pace compared to the complete emptiness that was left behind in the shape of a mortal footprint upon his heart.

He almost wants to disagree, but that would make no sense. The folk can’t lie, not even half-fae.

When he doesn’t respond, Vivi crosses her arms, “Will you at least come visit her? Say your goodbyes? You have to say yes, we both know you need it.”

And painful as it was, she was right. The one thing that hurt worse than Jude being dead, knowing that it was because of him, was that he didn’t get to say goodbye. That all his letters to her went unanswered. That she died without knowing how much he needed her. How much he missed her and all she was to him. How much he…

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he silently rises and follows Vivi to his queen’s final resting place.

~.~

The mortal world is bright and loud and reeks of iron and is so alive it feels audacious. How dare anyone else continue living when someone from this place, someone so important, so above them was forced to forfeit that right?

The plot of land where she- what’s left of her- is laid to rest is small. The headstone sits, new and clean, next to two more that are dulled with age.

Justin and Eva Duarte.

Madoc had somehow procured graves for the two mortals he slaughtered, and now their youngest daughter lay beside them.

They are standing there for ten minutes before Vivi speaks, “You know, when someone visits the grave of someone they love, they usually look at it.” Her voice is monotone as she stares at the slab of stone sitting at the head of a patch of newly sprouted grass.

He’s not sure he can. If he looks, if he sees there is in fact a final stop, a final holding place for this restless mortal, then he will know it is real. That this wasn’t all some elaborate trick or punishment of her own making to get back at him for her banishment.

Foolish as it is, that was a dark hope buried deep inside him. That she was really still there, biding her time, waiting until he was just ruined enough to waltz back into his life to teach him a well deserved lesson. Perhaps on gratitude, on not taking things for granted.

It would be such a Jude thing to do.

A hand rests on his shoulder and he nearly flinches away, “I’ll give you a minute.”

Her footsteps recede, utterly fae and silent. So unlike the ones he desperately wishes to hear a final time.

It takes him maybe two minutes more for his eyes to finally find the headstone. He is shocked to find he can barely read what is inscribed upon it through tears that have filled his eyes.

Jude Duarte-Greenbriar

Beloved sister and wife

2001-2019

His tears come in earnest, then. How had he never known she took his name as well? Had cared enough to do so? Or was this something her sisters did to spite him? He pressed his lips together in an attempt to stifle any sobs trying to break free.

Cautiously, so cautious she would be proud, he runs his fingers over the inscription of her name- their name. When he knows his voice will be steady, he speaks.

“Well, wife.” He presses his eyes closed as a fresh wave of tears pushes at his senses, “I doubt either of us saw it coming to this.” Gently, he tugs something out of the satchel he brought with him.

“It was yours. For you to wear upon your return. For when you came home.” He couldn’t stop his voice from breaking as he carefully laid the crown down at the foot of the headstone, glamoured so mortals would see it as a pile of painted rocks.

“I guess in a way, I got what you thought I wanted. For you to…” He can’t even bring himself to say it. He had never wanted this. When in palace lessons, he thought that dreams plagued with her scent, her voice, her touch had been the most horrid nightmares. He was wrong, this was far worse than any dream he had of her angry face, her soft hair. This was a nightmare terrifying enough to cripple the strongest of men.

“Well. I guess it doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t matter that I wish I could take back what I said about you in our childhood. That you would return to the earth, worm food.” He shudders, recalling that he had said those things while imagining that they would have followed a long life. One filled with her aging slowly due to living in Elfhame. Secret imaginings he only allowed himself in the darkest hours of the night- ones where he was by her side and they wreaked havoc together for the rest of their long, full lives. His next words are whispered, “I never imagined it would happen so soon.”

His hand returns to the headstone, gripping the cool rock tightly.

There is nothing left to say aside from one final message. Nothing left to do other than leave this place and continue on in his immortality, letting her fade into the backs of everyone’s memory as the Last Mortal Queen.

Taking a final shaky breath, Cardan utters the truth he had spent nearly his whole life repressing, trying to lie his way around. The words he now so desperately wishes he had said to her before he cast her out of their home in hopes of preventing this very thing from happening.

With one final look upon the place his wife, his queen is forever to rest upon, he whispers,

“I love you.”

~.~

Years and years and years later, young children of the gentry sit in their history lessons amongst their mortal classmates, and learn of the beautiful, treacherous life that was led by the Last Mortal Queen, Jude Duarte-Greenbriar

And that is that! Did I make you cry? Do you want to throw crumpled tissues at my head? Let me know!❤️ (I left out details of Jude’s death on purpose, it’s up to your imagination to come up with what happened to her, sorry for pain😬)

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Till next time, loves!🥰