#the power he wields..... indescribable

[moth-mimic]

Suffocating

‣ pairing: Legolas x Maid/Healer!reader

‣ words: 1639

‣ content: basically childhood friends, unbalanced power dynamic, Legolas is a littleee jealous and petty (as in like… a lot), Legolas being too clingy and a little questionable, suggestive near the end, pleading men <3

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‣ summary: Legolas had chosen you to be by his side from first glance. Even before he could wield a bow, he saw through your status and deemed your soul the same as his. However, his affection for you can be a bit… suffocating.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Legolas had claimed you before he even knew your name. Call it fate if you will, but something indescribable had seized him the moment you were presented to his father. Like a ripe fruit you had been plucked from your cozy orphanage and displayed in front of the king. At the time you were not sure why you were in this place, a grand castle decorated with exquisite, flourishing fauna and marble cleaned so well it glinted in the sunlight, yet the prince very well knew. A nobody you were— simply an Elven child of mixed blood who had been found abandoned in Mirkwood’s forests— yet your excellence had soon shown itself in your healing. With a few whispered prayers and hands delicately placed, a wound could vanish within minutes. This is why you were here.

Mirkwood was exceptionally skilled in archery, but what was gained in one area was lost in another. The kingdom had healers, like many, yet none that could heal a wound with their own hands. So it was a surprise that you, an unassuming child, had been blessed with the gift of life. It did not take a council to decide that your gift must be fostered and taken care of like the most delicate sprout.

Although your skill was doted on, you, however, were not. You were an elf of mixed blood— the classic story of a rebellious Elven man who had seduced a human woman before vanishing for The Undying Lands was not unique. The story between an elf and human royalty was one that was respectable, yet this was not yours.

Although your royal guidance was intended to help you grow in your healing abilities, it became increasingly obvious your current job was not to heal the innocent. Instead, you were frequently assigned the task of assisting the prince after his rebellious endeavors. From healing his scraped knee after he hurled himself off a tree to even pouring his tea, you were practically his maid at this point.

However, Legolas did not see it as this— you did a lot for him, yes, but he found himself frequently getting into trouble and calling upon your help purposefully, simply longing for your care and attention. He did not have many other young elves to involve himself with, and you were perfectly fine as company. He even admired you, in fact, especially as he watched you use your healing gift on him. You both were taught basic skills such as how to wield a bow and how to analyze Elvish texts, yet you were oftentimes dragged away for additional training in your healing. Times like these he wondered if he was too dependent on you.

And now the prince, far past his coming-of-age ceremony, still wondered the same as he scanned the halls for your presence. His boots could be heard clicking against the pristine floor from even a man on the other side of the castle as he paced the area. Elves from Rivendell had arrived to discuss matters on the group of dwarves headed to reclaim their home from Smaug, and you were nowhere to be seen. Embarrassed to make his affection for you so obvious, he excused his worry as simply making sure you were not late to greet the guests.

“Y/N! Y/N, where in Middle-Earth have you wandered off to now?” He shouted, perhaps to himself. The maids rushing down the hallway did not give him a mere glance. His worry for you was not only typical, but also a frequent point of gossip. He let out a loud sigh and turned, frustrated, finally giving up in his search. He would definitely receive a scolding from his father at this point. Perhaps it would be worth it if only to share the burden of being late between the two of you. He hurriedly retraced his trail to the entrance of the castle, hoping the guests would still be there, yet he abruptly stopped as laughter floated through the halls.

He peered around the wall and outside into the garden, which held the source of the sound, and scowled at the sight he saw. You and one of the Rivendell elves— pale-skinned with hair various shades of hickory, undoubtedly one of Elrond’s sons— sitting on a bench and chatting— No, flirting. It was obvious with the way he was leaning into you, your face lit with joy at the jokes he charismatically threw. The sight was enough to make Legolas seethe with jealousy.

“Y/N.”

The unexpected sound of your name prompts you to jump a bit before looking towards the blond elf. You smile at the familiar face. “Legolas! Where have you been? The guests are already seated.”

“Well, that I would not know. I have been looking for you since I noticed your absence,” Legolas makes his way towards the two of you, eyeing the dark-haired elf as if he were goblin trash. “I see you have acquainted yourself with one of our dear guests.”

You rub the back of your neck apologetically, oblivious to the stare-down happening between the two. “Ah, I apologize. I was at the entrance long before they arrived, although I should have noticed you beforehand to ease your worries.”

Legolas is the first to break the glare, quickly changing his expression to one more gentle, more suitable to one as pure of heart as you. He crouches down to provide you comfort. “Of course. My worry for you is natural, yet it’s nothing to burden yourself with. May I?” The Elven prince takes your hand and holds it firm before you can even respond, almost as if the other may rip you away.

“Yes, but—“ You begin to protest as you look back towards the Rivendell elf, but he is the one to speak next.

“No worries, it is time we all join each other in the dining hall.” He huffs, clearly defeated. It is the prince of the kingdom he is visiting, after all.

And with that, Legolas guides you with him to the dining hall. The other merely trails behind in surrender.

With the rest of the night, Legolas is strangely distant. As you make your rounds offering tea to each elf, Legolas holds his hand over his teacup without so much as a simple “No, thank you.” Instead of contributing to the council like a respectable prince, he stays oddly silent and tightens his jaw in what seems to be annoyance. After a considerable time of him being obviously troubled about something, you follow his incomprehensible glare across the lengthy table to the elf you were speaking to earlier. You observe from the sidelines, expecting his glare to waver, yet it lingers. The other elf just seems to uncomfortably avoid eye contact. Even Thranduil notices enough to make an occasional irritated side glance at his son.

You simply excuse it as a harmless quarrel between princes.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

As the moon exudes her care across the darkened kingdom, Legolas can not seem to quiet his mind as he lays down to rest. His eyebrows tense and his chest tightens at the image of the Rivendell elf practically courting you, and you enjoying it. The thought of you being carried away back to Rivendell by this elf seemed none other than a nightmare. And perhaps it was still possible— the Rivendell group had settled for staying in the guest chambers tonight— perhaps he was making his way to your chamber at this moment. He would knock on your door, gently, as to not startle you, the way Legolas had done so many times before— you would answer, dressed in silk, hair ruffled by your pillowy sheets. In a heartbeat he would confess his attraction from the moment he saw you. You would fall into his arms and he would hold you, softly, as if the dream could break. You both would join lips in a passion, and soon enough you would be his.

And soon enough Legolas is making his way to your door— not too far of a journey, considering your chambers are right next to each other. He pauses for a moment, and two, before he gathers the courage to lightly knock on the wooden door. He awaits your presence, a burning inside his core threatening to swallow him whole. As he waits, his mind trails to his previous nightmare. Perhaps he is too late, he thinks, perhaps this is a mistake—

And soon enough you are there, in front of him, dressed in silk and your hair ruffled from your pillowy sheets. He stands there for a moment, silent and flustered.

“Well?” You sigh sleepily, rubbing your eyes at your interrupted slumber, “Are you alright?”

He sighs. With eagerness or longing you cannot tell. “Tell me you do not want him.” He bluntly states, his mouth moving faster than his brain. He grips both sides of your doorway, leaning towards you, keeping himself from joining you into an embrace. You can see his knuckles nearly turn white.

Your eyes are wide now, confused. “Who— sorry?”

“The Rivendell elf. You do not want him. He is an adventurer, he knows no home. He is not right for you, I assure you, he knows nothing about you. You are just a pretty face to him, but I— I…” He pauses, gasps for air as if he has almost drowned, and completely stops at a loss for words.

You stare at him a moment, his eyes wild and pleading. From the soft gazes he’s given you when teaching you how to correctly hold a bow to the seething glare you saw from him last night, this is unlike anything you’ve seen.

“Legolas…” you begin, but words cannot fathom what you want to say. Instead you lift your hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his pointed ear, gazing at him with newfound vulnerability. The back of your hand trails down his neck before resting on his chest. “He is not the one I want.”

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ok dang it’s like 1 am now. anyway sorry for cutting it off so abruptly I was starting to cringe a little and I just couldn’t do it. also thinking about adding 2 more parts to this but idk if I’ll have the motivation 🤕

[sweetdreamsbuck]

napping on the couch together if you feel so inclined 🥺💖

I'm here

bucky x f!reader (gif not indicative of reader description)

w.c: 2.5k

a/n: Col, this strayed far from what it was originally meant to be, but I couldn't help myself. I hope you enjoy it<3

𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤.

Bucky’s never been one to be overbearing, in any way.

Protective and doting, certainly�� never so that his attentive means of care made you feel anything but cherished, supported, grounded.

Your Bucky.

Meeting you, loving you, allowing something so priceless into his world, has changed everything for him. There’s a burning need to be the one constant in your life that knows you. To be the man who can take the pressures of the world from off of your shoulders with ease, weaving himself around every twinge of sadness, eclipsing all murmurs of insignificance and unrest, until all you know is the weight of his breath shouldering your heart.

“You listenin’ to me?” it’s not a question he ever finds himself asking, but tonight, his girl’s exhausted. Completely drained. And she came home with the wind knocked out of her lungs and harrowing sobs strangling her light.

Those familiar knuckles, vibranium and oh-so purposeful, stroked along your cheeks while rosy concern emanated from the swells of his own. Bucky finds it necessary now– their delicate dance of outlining the shape of your nose, smoothing the lines of distress and the tremble of your lips resting against his muscles– they’re the culprit of what coaxed your eyes shut in mere seconds.

His hands wield so much power– fragile, firm, thrilling tenderness you weren’t sure existed anywhere else outside of his touch. Impossible not to surrender to, falling deeper and deeper under his protection. But it’s purely selfish now how desperate Bucky is to touch you, to quell every fiber of worry or unease with the brush of his palm. He lives for the moment your body relaxes under his care, all tension and pain evaporating within the caress of his love. “Someone ready for bed?”

His voice is a whisper, a warm and honeyed heaven blanketing every inch of you. How a man of his size embodies the breeze of gentle winds rustling through blades of grass, well. You never have to wonder.

A fearsome beauty to behold, otherworldly– Bucky shines, burnished and ethereal; all of the terrifying Angel you know him to be.

The patter of freezing rain and rough winds plaguing the windows reminded you of how safe you were inside the life you shared. After all the isolating thoughts, after all the feelings of restless insignificance swimming round and round between your ears– Bucky’s here, soothing it all. Erasing any lingering struggle to find your footing, leaving nothing but the ghost of worshiping lips with husky whispers of how proud he is of you, how desperately he loves you with indescribable devotion rushing from his soul.

Each stroke, each breath, each kiss that danced along your skin echoes the sentiment of words Bucky’d shower you with until the day his heart stopped “Oh my sweet girl, I’m here.”

Crying had never felt so safe than while enveloped in his arms, strong hands soothing long paths along your tense back, lips falling protectively against your temple. He touches you as if you're the very thing that lights the sky; his words are hardly enough to prove how much of a miracle you are. Because to him, you are.

His miracle.

His pink lips barely leave your skin as his words sink in– a devastating touch each inch and scar of your being knows; Bucky’s kiss is final. And it lives within each curve, each insecurity, each smile, each ugly secret he knows took all the trust in the world to let him see, loving them enough for the both of you and then some– “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

Bucky’s lips brand the words permanently, in absolution with tremors of his vigorous desire to be everything for you. “I got you. Whatever you need, let me,”– you need him, always.

Tonight hadn’t been any different. After what felt like hours of being shielded by his unwavering tenderness, of sobbing into his chest so rawly Bucky swore he felt his heart shredding in two, trying his hardest to catch all of you and never let go– resting your eyes for a moment against his stomach seemed to be just what you needed. Your head shook against thick muscle, his relaxing fingers slowed at your hairline, “N’am not, not tired. Just keep talking.”

Cool metal etched silent promises down to your hip, his piercing gaze staring at you with that look– the one that says he’s perfectly intent on staying like this, loving you, holding you until the messy and unforgiving world made a bit more sense. He needs it more than you most of the time. And then he’d get to hold you some more; knowing the overwhelming emotion he felt every time he looked at you was at peace within your veins.

“Really?” that deep voice crooned, playful, “‘Cause I think, you’re fallin’ asleep on me.”

Work had been hell the past few weeks while feelings of being alone were at an all-time high. Between wrestling with self-doubt, a workload that had somehow weaseled its way into your life and into the nightmares that kept you tossing and turning, all of the yelling and berating that shook you to your core because of mistakes that were entirely out of your control– of course. It was impossible not to.

You were falling asleep on the gentle thing you could never, ever, get enough of immersing yourself in. The one thing that proved time and time again, you could never be alone while Bucky still had air filling his lungs.

And maybe that’s why it’s so effortless to do so. The one thing that saw all of your broken pieces, the sharp edges you felt would threaten even the strongest– Bucky saw them, could paint them all by name like the scars marring his own body. He held them so tenderly, cherished each piece of you that you deemed burdensome so fiercely; nothing about you was a burden. Bucky admired all of you, desired all of you with a fervent need. It made your head spin, it made you feel whole.

“I’m not, just wanna hear your voice. Promise, I’m awake.” Bucky could hardly find it in himself to blink, not when your lips spread in a sweet smile he hadn’t seen in weeks. So small, so muted compared to the brilliance that nearly brought him to his knees every damn time he was in the presence of one. But it’s yours. “Please…”.

It’s weakening, mesmerizing, the bruise you leave with every display of your love. The serum only makes a man so strong; he’d never get enough of the way you wounded him.

Bucky gleams, and if you weren’t so spent, you’d see the air of ease filling his chest, the expanse of his shoulders quaking with reprieve.

Just when you thought you’d known everything there was to know about being seen, guarded by your very own earth angel, his hand closed around yours, tugging it gently to rest against his sternum. Bucky closed his eyes, leaning down to rest his nose within your knuckles. Inhaling, pulling you apart by the very seams and mending all at once– it seemed almost silly, how necessary his lips feel claiming the skin of your fingers, but your body felt the sensitive accusation of his kiss tenfold, “Even here. I’m here, too.”

You couldn’t stop the tears that blurred your vision if you tried.

There’s a lilt, always, pleasant and solid in his sigh when his eyes meet yours, your nerves buzzing from the way he always breathes you in vying for more. Vibranium tickles the tears under your eyes with adoration, a confirmation, he’d let you pretend you’re not falling asleep, that you really wanted to listen to him ramble on and on– so long as he gets to wound you, too.

That’s all you’ll ever need.

Your body knows, even on the cusp of sleep it craves him. More him, always more. His warmth, his support, the irresistible smell of his skin that always comes before relief. It slowly shifts, uncurling itself from the dip of the couch and closer to where Bucky’s fingers concealed your own.

His hands revel in that, it’s all they itch for; guiding your frame closer until your body collapses with deliverance, lashes teasing against his skin while your breathing slowed even more.

His eyes certainly never risk closing when you burrow further into his chest, hiding that exhausted pout within the shadows of his neck just above rough scar tissue. How could he miss even a second?

The echo of your heart mirrored the air puffing down his neck with every exhale sighed and it’s a revelation. Bucky revels in how perfect it feels to be wanted, to be trusted so deeply by the person who fills every color of his life with undying affection. He takes none of it for granted, especially not the soft hums the most distracting lips fall to adorn his throat with.

And then they melt on his skin, the featherlight promise of Bucky’s miracle resting against his pulse, again and again and again– it’s hardly his fault a shiver eases down his spine. Those damn lips. He’ll never be able to find language to express to you how good it feels, how addicting you are.

He’d do anything for you, be anything for you.

“Alright, sweet girl,” those strong hands wrap around your waist, plush lips greeting your eyelids with a dynamic song that sings I’m here. It’s okay to let go, let go, sweet girl. Let me love you. You’ve heard it countless times– have felt it endlessly since the first moment you invited him in behind those towering, frightening walls of your heart. But it’s soft, orchestrated with vulnerable direction, scruff-laced harmonies whispered against every inch of you, ostinato declarations of desire with a certain timbre only you know the key of “I’ll take care of you, just let me love you.”

“You’re gonna have to hear all about my perfect girl, but I can do that. Jus’let me hold you right.” The couch pillows already share the imprint of your body pressed up against his, of countless hours of entwined limbs and thick muscles sheltered within your arms. Yet, it always feels new, a different welcome each time, somehow more familiar than the last.

Bucky rearranged you both lying with his back nestled in the cushions, cradling you right atop his heart. “She’s so bright, the smartest.” Long fingers lifted under your chin, catching your eyes in their fight to stay open.

“And she’s the kindest soul, swear she’s made of stars.” He couldn’t help himself; that breathtaking glimmer washing so peacefully over your face, the trying lift of your mouth; he smoothed the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip before placing a kiss just under your nose, “beautiful,” on the plump of your cheek, “so, so beautiful,” on the corner of your mouth, “precious”. Bucky’s lips meld so softly with your own, your breath tasting of surrender, of bliss.

A sniffle slipped out, once then twice. “Strong. So damn strong,” a third time is when your body followed through with its fate, shaking slightly against him.

The way he holds you, knows you, worships you, leaving no room for questioning the torrents of emotion he treads– it’s maddening. Bucky walks with the years of his own pain, yet bleeds with the certainty of just how easy it is to love you, to devour you whole with the joyous bruise of being loved in return.

“Shh hey, hey…what?” he worried, rubbing a calloused thumb from your quivering lip all the way to your creased forehead.

“What what?”

Forced bemusement of his concern rumbled delightedly beneath you, “You’re okay,” his nose bumped against yours, lips following, “but what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, hm?” Bucky’s nose wiggled down to behind your ear, peppering quick pecks on the skin there until you were squirming.

You giggled– oh god you fucking giggle and Bucky’s ruined. It erupted, and he felt it everywhere; goosebumps, swirling until they bled so potent beneath his skin. Nothing else could matter more than the promising sound of the home he’s allowed himself to live in.

“I don’t know,” he feels it in your eyes– so telling of the devotion Bucky deserves– honest, and they can’t seem to get enough of the curve of his nose, the freckles that dance along the high points of his concerned features. Those serene, startling blue eyes. Always seeing you, always longing for you.

Home. Your Bucky.

“I’m just so tired.”

Bucky would relive every moment he’s endured to always know what it feels like to be loved by you, to be clung to in your most vulnerable of states, with glazed-over eyes tormented and drowsy, to know of the rapture that exists in holding you tight until the air drowning your lungs is full of his love, of soothing breaths. To nurture you, accept your feelings and emotions with open hands, however they may present themselves.

He wants it all. Just you.

Bucky could only pull you closer, breathing you in as plump lips gently lay on your forehead, resolute arms embracing you with reverence.

He clears his throat, ready for you to listen, “Sometimes, I wonder how I got here. You know how special this is to me? The light of my dreams, so damn comfortable in my arms. Did’ya know that? Used to dream of you,” his knuckles swiped away the remaining wet trails from your face, calloused fingers softly spidering along your shoulders.

“Really? My Bucky?”

My Bucky– god he could burst.

The flush spreading along his cheeks hardly phased him, he nestled his nose against you further, nodding.

“Didn’t ever get to see you, but I know it. Had to be you, watching over me. Better than I could have even imagined. Sweetest damn eyes, hurts my chest a little just thinking about going a whole lifetime without ever knowing them. Prettiest heart in the whole world, you save me a little more every time I look at ya. When I get to hold you. You have no idea what you are to me.”

Me? your tongue attempted. It comes out as more of a yawn, already asleep.

“All I ever needed. Lucky bastard I am, huh?” Bucky hates how the world seems to take your compassion for granted, walking all over your kindness as if it’s expendable. It’s not. Not even a little bit. God only knows the serenity it’s granted him, of the fresh air it’s offered Bucky to live within each day.

“You’re the first thing I’ve had in a long time. And you make me feel whole, capable. I could be myself, learn to, at least. Not… disappear. Could never do that, not now. I have years to make up for, a whole life to live. A home to get back to at the end of the day. And I got the sweetest thing in the whole damn universe to love. You got no idea…”

A questioning whimper of his name rumbles against his throat, safe and asleep in the soundness of his chest.

“M’right here, sweet girl. I got you.” Your Bucky, he thought.

The rain kept pouring, the night remained dark and chilled, but all Bucky could focus on was the heart beating warmly against his own. He counted your breaths as they landed safely within his black and gold shoulder– the only metal that would ever know the enormity of what a miracle you were– just as his eyelids drift closed.

<3

“M’right here, sweet girl. I got you.” Your Bucky, he thought.

The rain kept pouring down, the night remained dark and chilled, but all Bucky could focus on was the heart beating warmly against his own. He counted your breaths as they landed safely within his black and gold shoulder; the only metal that truly knew the enormity of what a miracle you were; just as his eyelids drift closed.

<3

[cookingcreatkr]

No. Nonononono. This couldn't be happening.

Tad held the body in his arms, having stretches them out to properly hold him. The face, staring with blank eyes at the ceiling, was his beloved. The wrinkles, stubble, everything telling of a life that Stan had lived. And on the back of his head, blood trickled down. A wound from a bloody pipe, wielded by a random person he had probably scammed.

This. This couldn't be happening. Tad had just wanted a normal life. Sure, it may have never been able to happen, but it would have been SOMETHING, as long as Tad just had Stan by his side. He may have not been able to get his home dimension back, but he had made a new home, with his husband. And that had just been RIPPED away from him, his home destroyed once again.

. . . Can you really blame Tad for breaking?

Now, Tad may not be as strong as Billy. He didn't have the flames that could burn without cease, nor did he have the power to create anything he wanted. But, he had been a con man, once. He knew how to manipulate people, and he had studied how the human mind worked, as he helped the man who lay dead in his arms. So, as Tad gently set Stan's body down, quietly closing his eyes, he turned to the murderer, still standing there in shock, weapon still bloody as it clanged to the floor.

They hadn't expected it to actually work, let alone for a floating square to appear, holding that bastard's body so tenderly. And so, they could barely process it as the square snapped it's fingers, warping the space around them. Horrible visions danced across the road as it warped into a casino, indescribable figures gathering around and dancing, celebrating as they tormented this murderer.

Tad may not have been as strong as Billy. Hell, his scar hurt like hell as he did this. But he was VERY good at glamour. And he could trap this person in their own mind, not being able to tell what's real from what was simply illusion. Tad wished he could have done worse.

( @void-dude tee hee! Im not that good at writing but i hope you enjoy what i was able to dream up in like 30 min lol.)

[glorianamultistan]

Park Chanyeol x Male Reader

<Part 1> <Part 3>

'You are such a fine specimen y/n; no wonder Duke never turned over to look at us even when we flaunted ourselves voluptuously.' 'To deny the chance of becoming a consort to the crown for this, hmm, must be some witchcraft.' 'I never really liked visiting you all because of this, you might be the heir to the throne, and you might be beautiful, but that doesn't mean anyone would just let their guards down and be with you.'

'Forgetting all the manners are we now?' 'Not really Sohee, I rank as equal as you; you and Suyung both are princesses and I am a prince, I expect nothing but respect for the orders we represent.'

Meeting the princesses was tiring; the constant remarks and counter-attacks had y/n feeling as if he had himself trapped in a pathetic tragicomedy rather than a few days hosting at a castle.

Chanyeol was often out and about leaving y/n with the princesses, and it was getting hard to control his nerves as the days went by. One night, on his routine night visit Chanyeol found y/n sitting on the bed staring at the wall with dried-up tear stains on his cheeks and the yellowish pages of the book he had opened in his lap.

'I don't remember the palace being so ghastly as to push you to the limits.' He went ahead and sat where he regularly did, on the chair beside the dressing mirror, facing the bed.

'I am tired.' 'Your royal highness, I will leave at once if you say so.' He got up and almost left when y/n whispered 'Please, don't.'

Chanyeol turns, shocked, rather bewildered, and caught off guard. This was a new tone he was hearing; he looked over y/n still in bed, looking down at his lap, still as if he was a part of the whole furniture.

Chanyeol went back and made himself comfortable; at least he tried to do so; while y/n put the book at the side table and took a sip out of the glass that had been there for some time now.

'Are you not well? You can skip the gatherings tomorrow and rest; there is no need to over-exert yourself.' 'I am tired.' Y/n repeated, in an even lower voice than before. 'The princesses and their cousins are tiring; at least I had my brother before to accompany me so they were all mostly around him. Now, I am all alone and their remarks never stop. Is this why you brought me here? To leave me all day long to suffer through comments as if I had done something wrong. I never even wanted to marry you. You could have had the heir to the throne here. Why did you do this to me? And why do you never accompany me while I am with them?'

'I...' Chanyeol was at a loss for words; he never thought that the prince would break down in front of him like this. He never really wished for it too. He got up and slowly went to the bed as if approaching a sparrow in the wild; he knelt down on the carpet, near y/n while observing the younger.

'I am sorry. I had no idea that they were going to treat you like this. I thought that since you always visited the palace you all must be good friends. I have to attend the training of the main army heads daily here that is why I am never able to be here. I am sorry. And, I married you because I liked you, I never liked the princesses, I know my ways to procure you were rash, but morality never really worked in favour of love and war did it? I am really, deeply, religiously, devoted to you; if you command me right now, I will behead the princesses, their cousins, and all those who made you cry like this and run away with you to your home and fight if they come for you.' He was already standing with his sword in his hand and that was the moment y/n realised that this man was beyond understanding.

Doing so much harm, on one command of someone, no one should be allowed to wield such powers, yet here, in the middle of the night, in an isolated wing of a palace, y/n sat looking into Chanyeol's eyes directly after weeks, feeling a rush of emotions indescribable.

'You are not a very intelligent person are you, Chanyeol?' A comic relief, his name, uttered by y/n with a smile full of twinkling eyes. Y/n realised later that he called the other by name and looked down again, 'Sit on the bed, then talk, I feel uncomfortable like this.'

Chanyeon went on and sat on the opposite side of the bed looking over y/n with determined eyes, 'I am not joking, I will do it all if you want it and if that will make you leave your gloom behind.' 'You will do no such thing. Hearing such declarations are ghastly enough for me; you should know how much I hate violence.' 'Then what should I do!? Please your royal highness tell me. I will do it, just say it.' Chanyeol was eager and looked more like a big dog waiting for command than a general of the army.

'Take me home.' Y/n whispered looking up to meet Chanyeol's eyes. 'Okay, we can leave for your kingdom right now, I will take you and your luggage can be sent later.' Chanyeol got up and before he could move y/n said 'I - I meant Sandria, not that.' Y/n was trying to avoid the bulging eyes of the general and trying to calm the heat rising in his body. 'What!?' 'I meant take me to Sandria, I miss Lady Park.'

It took a whole awkward minute of silence for y/n to repeat it 'Can we go?' 'Yes!' Chanyeol almost screamed and shocked y/n, again, more happy dog than a general.

So they left, in the night, without their luggage, just the two of them on a single horse. It took them two days and in between Chanyeol stopped at grand inns and was welcomed warmly by the owners, but what surprised y/n was how kind they all were to him, often too kind and reminding him of Lady Park.

They took one room throughout the journey as they were married so to avoid any rumours they had to take such measures, but Chanyeol never slept in the bed; he was always on the sofa, half asleep, half guarding as the threat on the prince was ever looming.

When they reached, Lady Park was not surprised; she got the letter from the palace beforehand; rather she was inquisitive as to why they cut their stay short and why did they not take the train?

'Oh I am sorry Lady Park, I was just uncomfortable at the palace and missed this place so I asked Chanyeol to bring me back, and I never really had the chance to roam the country, outside the manors and abbeys and castles, so I asked him to take the horse, also there was no train available that instant.'

'Oh y/n, please do not worry, I am rather happy that you are back; it gets lonely here without anyone to talk to except the butler and the other servants.'

Chanyeol was shocked again to hear his name from y/n's mouth utter so casually; he did not want to point it out to the other but wanted so bad to ask him to use it more. On his part, he still could not muster up the courage to use y/n's name; it feels — ironically, after doing it all wrong — it feels disrespectful.

'I will go to the room and change up, then I will meet you in the library.' With that y/n was gone.

'Why did you not insist on waiting and taking the train!?' Lady Park asked his son with a bit more hint of anger than he thought he would be facing.

'I did! But he wanted to leave instantly. I had no choice.' 'What did you do now that he left the palace like this to come back?' Before Chanyeol could answer Lady Park led him to the library and motioned him to sit as if starting an official inquiry.

'I? How can I do something in the palace that would make him run away from there? And runaway back to my house? Make it make sense mother.' He should not be acting this sassy to her but he wanted to point out the absurdity of the blame.

'Then what happened? I am sure the palace was more comfortable than here.' 'Well, do not talk to him about it please, he will tell you if he would like you to know, but I guess you are so stuck up with rituals that he would not want to portray a bad image of your future queen to you.'

'What?' 'Yes, he was crying, apparently both the princesses and their cousins always passed remarks and comments about him and other stuff, you know, stuck-up royals. He told me his brother was good at handling them but he was more sensitive to all of this so it hurt him a lot. I asked him to command anything that could be done to make him feel better, and he asked me to bring him back, so on my word, I did, also dearest mum he said he missed you.'

"I cannot believe that such behaviour is sanctioned by our King and Queen. They must be doing it as a jest but if it hurt him so much then it is unacceptable." "Well, you know how they are still pent up about me not marrying anyone of them." "It would have solved so many problems and there would have been no useless war." "Mother, you make it sound like I marrying someone for such reasons will result in a long-lasting relationship." "What about you and the prince then? He married you to end the whole show of gore bloody circus you started! Do you think he is happy here and not half as miserable as you would have been!?"

There was an uncomfortable silence, Ldy Park had such a moment after months, Chanyeol thought she was over it, but all this talk flared her up again.

"Mom, you know..." "What!? You love him!? That!? Please, I am still so ashamed that my son really went out to kidnap someone, that too a prince, at the cost of innocent lives, all the facade which you have created around this seemingly happy, working-out relationship disgusts me to the very core. I am here only for his sake, as I cannot trust you to be with him alone here, otherwise, I would have left for the dower house months ago."

Now, Lady Park was not only angry, she was in tears, all of this built up inside her while the young couple was away. She has been keeping up her smiles around the prince but after getting to know about the incident at the palace and her son's justification for not marrying any one of the princesses, she was not able to control herself.

"Enough, I will have the rest of my life to be blaming you, we mustn't make a fuss over it all when he comes down, at least he should get comfort somewhere."

P.S.:- If you liked it, you can support me by buying me a coffee; link's on my page.

[captainkurosolaire]

Mother of Light

Raging snow petered from a tundra's onslaught, becoming soft bright a sight that'd encapsulated memories and nurtured them. Those flake droplet's fell upon a traversing shadow whose garb stained with old crimson. His cut's and wounds of shrapnel only felt relief when those of snow brought cooling reprieve. Determination carried him. Coming near destination, his mind blurred to multiple distortions, his leg's staggered, attempting to shake a concussion but wasn't able to ignore he collapsed aside a tree. Shortly by moment's a woman appeared crossing a bridge. She gasped, scolding. "Honestly!" With brisk entering his proximity, "You know most women when they've a date their partner tries to appear presentable! You've done the opposite, bloody rebel!" She teased, with life. The injured assailant coldly quipped, "I only came to inform you, I can't see you." She began salving wounds with old medicinal herbs crushed into ointment and surveying his wounds. Crossing over region's by feet just to say this? His dedication to attend, for certain was a silent flatter. "Is that because the blindfold, or because you think it's far too dangerous? Why must... why must, you go to these extents?" Compassion felt bared under his behalf her voice shook briefly. Within her shamanism she felt duty-bound to see the peace of damaged souls, aiding them in finding closures, to pass on and prevent them from being tortured and malevolent. He overpowered a wince as she created a tourniquet around his worst injury, scrapping, tear her own skirt's quilt. "I must, for the outcome larger. Think what you'd like, but I fight for an Age of Peace." Undoubtedly his cause laid noble, yet he fought alone in solitude. Were these his words? She disputed with simple words, that struck. "What of your peace?" Those word's held danger, reason... power. First-threat conceived ever recorded in any reality. Was not of murderous design. Threat was born in love's visage. Many interpret in their ways. Yet, Love encountered can change an entire existence, it's frightening... Invisible even striking the mightiest down. Misused, brought wars. Concern, feelings, he was trained against... He shot it down from his exercises... "I'm just a weapon." Wasn't idea to allow those root's to touch him, allowing an identity beyond his purpose. A tool as used by those who furthered him to exist. They claimed their hand's from the dark and gave him "life". Least, what it'd become believed... He attempted to stand but his body-declined. She shook a head baffled at the display of stubbornness. Her soft-tending hands aided him by wrists, "Come to my cabin, I'll finish ridding these injuries, then you can take off. You aren't off the case, Mister. See... Would someone classified as a weapon, decisively show to meet lowly ole' me? Were you wielded to do as such...? Or did you, act." Countering him. Was she a hidden sorceress? She slew him with mistakes. Why with her presence, did he falter? Invisible assaults, indescribable reigned. He didn't even recognize his body had taken a seat within her temporarily home. His nose took a whiff of a poured tea. "Drink this, it'll mend. You'll be out once again, slicing and dicing." Under those condition's he drank with no hesitation. Sure enough that scrumptious tea worked throughout his system, with renewal, all his symptom's subsided. Magical, delightful, exquisite. Emotion's were attempting to claim victory. He rejected and sat up, gathering his weapon fastening it across his waist. "You've my thanks... Farewell, what I said still, applies." Pushing against it all. He needed to retreat, now! As callous digit's touched the door, she intercepted at his stature. "I'm hiring you. Assassin!" Laughing warmly. Curious came to his brow, movement's paused. Yet he never declined... "Who do you want dead, or brought?" He spoke as a Black Miracle.

She let out a enthusiastic, pretend-serious voice. "Yes... Well..." Clearly she was clutching something behind, it smelled of beauty. "Protect this Flower!" He was handed a soft-fragile, flower.... Was she, serious? Known as the Sakurasou, It'd follow this duo throughout destiny. "Seven Sun's... It cannot know harm and you've to keep on you! Do this and you'll never see me again." An easy task, he thought. "Very well... I'll see you when the mission is done. Then our known connection, is void." Accepting these terms.

She moved satisfied, watching him depart and continue that unyielding march... into death. Unbeknownst a fellow predatory stare of another shadow watched this exchange, through the lens of a bird as ghost recon...

[Prev:Chapter]: Father of Shadow ~ ♪"Heart of Gold"♪

[blueberrypancakesworld]

The breaking will of man

Faramir x fem!elven reader

warning : dead dove, +18, smut, rape, obsession, dark themes, manipulation, kissing, hair pulling, biting, breeding kink, faramir has some special kind of thoughts

Summary : A ring and an unstoppable power wielded by a group and on the finger of a hobbit. A group in which two Elven traveled the prince of Mirkwood and an Elf a beautiful light from Lórien. But when a shadow of greed and recognition settles over the group, love becomes corrupt and consequent consequences...for the prince of a realm on the brink of war.

Info : It had to be something very dark again after a long time, so only if you can and want to read something like this do it. Thanks as always to the wonderful @rl-nancyholbrook for this idea and have fun reading :)

ps : I have not read the book only watched the movies I try to get everything as good as I can but please bear with me.

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A ring brings power. A ring of seeming gold a pretty expensive but also noble metal but no it was older so much whiter. A material that did not melt in flames, a metal that did not start to rust in water. A metal that would only melt if you threw it into the Orodruin, the mountain that held history and death.

The legends and tales of the ages were known, but it was all so long ago that hardly anyone was still able to tell them, except for the elves and perhaps the dwarves.

Then there were the humans, who existed everywhere but were too weak in the face of natural time. But even if it was in their heads, there were some among them who didn't want to know about it.

A family around the Steward of Gondor. A family that had its own problems the selfish and heartless father a man without love after the death of his beloved his eldest son Boromir engaged in the uprisings and wars to defend Gondor against the creatures of the enemy. The pride of his father in stark contrast to his younger brother Faramir.

A young man only five years younger but it was his softer nature the shadow of his dead mother's mother that must have loomed over him this something of a black creature in the family without recognition.

It was he who was sent by his father to Rivendell to answer the call of the half-living Lord Elrond, a call that could and very likely would end in death, as not only the group knew but also the steward who did not shed a tear for his son as he bade him farewell.

Boromir alone showed concern but in the end Faramir had to make this long journey alone in an unknown group not knowing that when he arrived several moons later he would meet someone who would awaken something human in him. Corruption and desire.

As the moons rose and set, the sun rose and retreated, time passed and the group arrived one by one. A group of humans, elves, a wizard and four halflings.

But when his eyes, which had previously focused on the beautiful architecture, realized the beauty of the ornaments of the flowers and blossoms, he saw it. It was like a presence not a childlike one like the four of them or a welcoming one from Legolas, nor was it protective like Aragorn looking at the younger human.

They had both sensed it this something this light indescribable and yet emerging. He heard the language of the elves from the lips of the blond who saw them first, but the words had no meaning for the redhead.

Words that Aragorn replied to and Faramir felt this tug of jealousy through his body for a long time where otherwise there was restraint and understanding. Empty words that I can speak better only for you. Rising from his chair, he heard the rustling of leaves and the bright white flowers flying across the ground towards him as he took his place in front of her.

His blue met her light-like eyes a white almost blind and yet sparkling like a star. ,,An honor to meet you Faramir Capitan the Ranger of Ithilien son of Denethor the Second. May my bow loyally protect us all,” he introduced himself and bowed slightly, a gesture that brought a soft smile to her lips and a curtsy to her dress.

His blue eyes were like the beautiful natural sky, the red of his hair like the evening sun and a loving manner. A man, a human being someone mortal who stood before her and yet engaging in her way. The doubts her mistress and master had told her that people always gave in to power but how could this stand for this group for him this dear Faramir...no he was sincere.

,,I am pleased to meet you and all of you, your words full of loyalty as palpable as the beauty of this valley” she replied and looked at him for a moment before she sat down and Lord Elrond joined them to discuss the plan one by one.

But his gaze would not and could not leave her and he kept looking at her, unable to move. This innocence and purity. Meanwhile, she felt his sky-blue eyes on her, mistaking his devotion for fascination and kindness.

Because everyone had something good in them, a naivety for which she was recognized, but in a world of darkness one had to see good.

A thought she held on to and smiled at Faramir, smiled at the others and above all saw hope and peace in the four halflings. Four halflings full of joy and courage like our group shall protect you. ,,A light is shining and I know that peace will come like a sunrise” her words supported her and she saw the nods of the four who seemed more sure of themselves than ever, more sure than ever of anything.

Words that lifted her spirits as they mounted their mounts the next morning and she felt Faramir's gaze on her as he held the reins of her white horse. ,,You have been waiting?” she asked as she was one of the last to say goodbye not only to Elrond but also to the ancient artifacts.

She was all the more surprised when she walked up the stairs to the courtyard, her white dress, a gift from her mistress, ending just short of her shoes and she stood by her horse. ,,Of course my lady your horse seemed nervous I wanted to calm him down” he said and she smiled at the nickname knowing no she had sensed that his love of nature was not just from the rangers.

Nature is as beautiful as love, as beautiful as feelings. ,,Thank you Faramir Gil is nervous when the life of the world is fading” she confessed and mounted her ferd accepting Faramir's gloved hand gratefully before finally taking the reins in her hand.

Her body is handsome and graceful above me so I would like to touch her...if the light passes to me. Moving the reins of her almost soulmate only slightly, the horse started to move followed by Faramir who swung himself onto his black horse and after a few more moments the group left the place and headed towards the mountain.

A mountain they feared and hoped for. But it was Faramir who always rode behind or beside them, casting a shadow on her light. He talked to her about his homeland, the animals and nature, and she couldn't help but laugh and listen to him with fascination.

Her senses did not perceive the brilliance in the blue of his eyes, a brilliance that could not be seen in the reflection of the water of the river or the sun.

An invisible brilliance like the metal of the ring, a brilliance that called to Faramir, a brilliance of recognition. ,,Your recognition means everything to me...my father thinks differently” she heard him confess at one point, saw him turn his face away and despite the setting sun her good eyes saw that he was flushed.

My mistress was right people have feelings of togetherness and shame they know what is right and wrong she remembered Galadriel's words and her hand automatically went to his and gently squeezed it, ,,Don't worry your father the steward should be proud of such a son”.

Her words full of devotion, a naivety on her part that did not see how Faramir's heart beat faster and in the breath of a wind he got an idea. An idea, a thought as if whispered by the ring Your words should only belong to me words that reached him and words that burned themselves into his heart.

He gave her a smile before riding a little faster to catch up with Frodo, wanting to feel that breeze, that voice, that attraction again. Could he succumb so quickly?

Should his father's disappointment really be such a disappointment to himself, should he really have fallen for an Elf or was it simply the new freedom and adventure before him? He couldn't answer it didn't know what it was that drove him to keep his eyes gliding to her.

This beauty A queen he thought of this painful dream he had a painful dream that would never be. Faramir the next Steward of Gondor his father finally filled with pride and Boromir as much as he loved his brother would no longer protect him. There had to be something…or someone.

The journey not only of the ring-bearer but also of the others had now begun, a moon had passed and they had all rested together around the fire, talking, laughing, joking and telling stories from their homeland and their past.

Above all, everyone listened to the two elves who had so many centuries of stories to tell about beings and gods, about species that were no longer among them.

The redhead was particularly fascinated by the fact that the flame of fire turned white when she ran her hand over it. ,,A simple feeling of nature full of empathy,” she said, matching the figures to Legolas' story of a fight against his childhood friend while her bright eyes full of knowledge and joy looked from the fire over the group.

Nothing but kindness and openness towards them and of the conversations he had with her as they looked for berries and firewood together, always clearing away a few branches and helping her not to stumble.

A thing that was of course completely unnecessary and because she had taken his hand, ,,You are light” was the first thing that had slipped out of his mind, he had never really looked at the body of elves before and yet it surprised him, he held her clearly and yet she seemed to float almost above everything.

His sentence that made him blush with shame at such a noble lady only made her laugh and let her other hand rest against him as she jumped from a fallen tree trunk. ,,Elves are light and you humans…Misstres Galadriel is wrong you humans have been a changeable people full of emotion and kindness” she replied and leaned her forehead against his for a moment a moment in which he felt her warmth a moment in which he thought he felt everything a moment in which they were close…a moment in which his hand held her as tightly as he would from now on.

Since then, he stayed even closer to her, to her light, to her warmth, to her blessing, to everything. During the attacks, which at first were still tentative and even if calming, he looked away from Frodo, who was actually the target, and even though she had her dagger, he knew that an even greater power lurked in her pretty body. That with every bow shot he fired, every arrow he shot, there was an opponent who looked into her direction.

A fact that not only he himself noticed, everyone seemed to except her. ,,You take great care of her Faramir, you are like your brother,” Aragorn once said to him when they were both fetching water together to wash some clothes and clean their weapons from the blood of fallen beasts and orcs.

A statement that annoyed and even threatened to enrage the red-haired prince's bright eyes looked at the king with distaste, ,,I am not my brother Aragorn and is it not a man's duty to protect every woman and child?” he left the king at the river with the question. He did not see the look on Frodo's face, who saw from afar how he put the ring in his shirt and almost felt something like a pull towards the man.

A metal of strength is about to find a new owner. But the few incidents did not stop there and the days went on, they went on and on and at some point he himself came to the mines full of terrible monsters in which he saw for the first time what she was capable of.

The mine seemed to collapse, the creatures too many and Faramir knew that he would soon run out of arrows, Legolas tried to protect the hobbits while saving Gimli from any stones while Aragorn tried to lure the hell troll to him and was backed down by the red-haired one.

Only she stayed with the wizard who was also trying to free Peri and Meri who were half trapped under stones. There was a loud clamor from all around and Faramir remembered the battles he had fought, battles that seemed so much easier to fight with the one ring.

A thought followed by a glance at Frodo who was wounded, a thought that made him careless he did not see the hell troll throw a stone at him. ,,Faramir!” her voice called after him, his bright eyes looking to her but she was gone, she was just standing there.

Did it matter if he was going to be crushed by the stone at any moment? The pain would be strong but short and then a light a light in front of him a light that deflected the stone with a blow and it crumbled against the wall.

A light with a power he never knew she had in her, so strong that it could not reach Galadriel but so strong that even Gandalf looked at her for a moment. ,,Are you all right?” she asked standing in front of him in this fight and at that moment he wanted nothing more than to pull her close and finally kiss her to show her that he was not only worth saving but that he could be more than just a helpless twelfth son.

A greed that commanded him and would not let go, a lust for power and light within her. A desire something that matured in him as this battle ended as they moved on as they lost Gandalf their tears glistened in the dark and Faramir held her close and he not only felt her heart beat in his chest, he held her tender hands and gently stroked her back.

It was a time in which the group rode more and more into the dark world in which they were pursued and hunted and crossed the river and the courage of the group sank significantly after Gandalf's death, he was now an important part of the group, a powerful ally who was now gone. But now, as they looked back at the campfire, the sun was setting after their arduous journey across the lake.

The rays no longer illuminated the group and he saw how the gleam in her eyes seemed to have dimmed after the grief, ,,Do you want to go fetch wood with me again?” he leaned over to her without sitting close to her, his hand next to hers and brushing against hers again and again.

He knew that the others saw when they wanted to, he knew that the others saw him…that the others looked at his pretty Elbe. That the others wanted her too, but he paid attention to her, he was the only one who dared to look at her beauty like that if it was only for him. A prince with treasure for his father's appreciation forgiveness and obsession spreading in him.

She nodded and gave the group a gentle smile, reassuring the hobbits that they would be right back and they could take care of themselves before the two of them walked away from the group of hobbits that was sitting on the riverbank and into the forest.

Despite the fact that the sun had already set slightly, the leaves shone in a yellow orange and red hue making their own field and Faramir saw how his pretty light seemed to adore the forest.

Her eyes were closed, ,,I've never seen the dark streak before,” he commented as she tucked a few of her loose light hairs behind her cute pointed ears, a single cob black streak beneath the light blonde hair.

She nodded and opened her eyes to look at him, ,,The darkness that spreads the journey will be so desperate by the time we reach the mountain that even Legolas will feel uncomfortable. The connection to my home is fading…the streak a symbol of the loss and rebirth of Gandaldf” she replied and continued to walk a little ahead looking for wood on the ground but the further they walked not only seemed to move away from the others but she did not see the same darkness behind her.

As the prince's bright eyes went from her to the small old ruin an old constuction a well whatever it was a constuction of times past. But they both no they both had something together a future it was only clear that he had something special with him in that future. ,,I'll have you by my side for the future to come,” he said, moving slightly around her, seeing her sit down on the stone, seemingly feeling the past and a soft smile playing around her lips again.

,,Yes, it is good to know you are a loyal companion with us, Faramir,” she replied, a hint of naivety in her eyes, her good humor almost cute that such a high holy being was so stupid, a stupid elf made for him. His pretty queen at his side and it would only take a bow shot to kill Frodo, he would kill the hobbit himself with his hands if he got the ring that way.

She didn't see the dark cloak's hood blow off his head in the breeze, his usually bright eyes darkening as something corrupted him. The wolf of the group released his cloak and bit. Reaching his hand out to her he took hers and pulled her up from the stone she stood before him hearing her slightly confused, ,,Faramir?” before he pulled her closer finally kissing those lips as that voice inside him demanded, as that voice had demanded from the beginning.

He heard another stifled sound from her, like she wanted to say something else but was lost in the kiss. He felt her strength as she tried to break away, her voice sounding like she wanted to call for help, but with a swift push of his foot he made her topple over, her graceful manner seemingly gone in the face of a situation that was new to her. He could feel a trepidation in him at the thought that he would be her first in all her lifetime, her first and only.

A human prince, no, soon a steward who would make such a pretty maiden his. ,,Shhh not so my light I'll take care of you the others won't hurt you” he murmured to her after he had detached himself from her her body hit the leafy ground but she seemed to catch herself for a moment he saw her holler.

A fist that would have hit had he not slipped a hand under her dress and squeezed the skin of her thigh. Feeling the soft flesh in his hand, he knew now how soft she was, how soft her skin was, how beautiful his bites and kisses would look on her skin.

Her blow was little more than a light push against his chest she tried to crawl away from him the leaves crunched but he wouldn't let her shift his weight forward too hard for her to get away.

,,Faramir, please, not me-I never have,” she tried to say in her sweet belief that she could still get rid of him that way, but she cracked as the redhead laughed and his one hand, still running over her soft skin, moved closer to her hair with the other, his lips kissing her clothed breasts.

But the fabric could hardly have done any harm, it was not yet the right time to sacrifice the group for her, he would still need time. But the wolf had plenty of time to feast on her. ,,You've never been such a pretty creature, tell me?” he asked, tugging lightly on her hair and watching the warmth of shame flinch away from her body, such a pretty emotion on her, simply enchanting.

She seemed so vulnerable and almost as dirty as a human being, degrading such a beautiful creature with abilities he would never have into something despicably sentient. Heavenly. ,,Come on tell me dear,” he demanded, letting go of her hair and pulling her ear instead before biting into it, smirking when he heard her sigh and she seemed surprised by her own noises and avoided his gaze.

But he wanted to see her, wanted to see everything of her, which is why his lips ran over her breasts, the fabric showing slight dull wet spots where he ran his tongue over them, she wasn't wearing an undergarment, dangerously so when they had crossed the river…but she probably wanted it that way too. ,,Say it!” he hissed, increasing the pressure on her neck so that he could clearly hear the air sing out as she gave him a pleading look before she nodded, or at least what he thought was a nod.

She stifled a cough before admitting softly, ,,I-I've…never had a man before,” a fact he could have guessed without looking but now it seemed like an invited feast for him, for the power, for his love, for his obsession for the kindness thrown away for his apparent true nature.

His hand moved from her neck to her jaw and he turned her head to his, ,,So will I be as your first worthy of a true warrior” he gave her a hint of his inner freedom a hint of his plan a hint of his things. Satisfied, he saw her nod in fear, agreeing with him, her mind seemingly overwhelmed by the situation, ,,I'm here, just let it go my love,” he told her before his hand moved up from her thigh, pulling down the fabric of the loincloth, but he saw her seemingly trying to escape again.

He felt that light again, the warmth of that something, saw that light again on her hands, ,,An attempt at your charms my lady,” he stated firmly and simply reached up to kiss her fingers, feeling her shudder and recoil as the light of her home disappeared in such a revealing act.

His lips kissed her knuckles and he licked greedily over the palm of her hand, tasting that warm power she would love, he knew. ,,But you are enough for me,” he murmured to her before he opened the waistband of his trousers and her plea was muffled with a palm. he knew that if Legolas had heard her, he would have been here minutes ago.

He would not even have been able to touch the elf before legolas would have shot him. ,,The prince and the others might even like what they hear and therefore don't come to help,” he joked, smiling at his own words before he pushed her dress up and pulled her back towards him by the bone, so pretty in front of him, so disheveled and belonging to him.

He felt her shiver and sniffle as she cried again and his fingers brushed it away to soothe her, ,,You'll see as soon as father sees what I have, he'll agree to this marriage. He will approve of me and you will shed tears of joy dear, believe me,” he told her before he grabbed her leg over his shoulder and entered her with a final brush away of her tears.

Warm and soft was her body and tight he was her first he could almost feel the slightly warm blood flowing between them as he took her maiden head he took her for himself first.

He would have loved to give it to his father, no to the whole kingdom of Gondor what the second son the real son did. ,,I'll take ah-an Elven woman,” he murmured between heavy breaths after so long he finally had the body of a woman again, had an Elf beneath him with twisted eyes and reddish colored ears, a rapidly lowering and raising chest and her delicate hands over her lips.

The thought of having her so naked in front of him only made her even more undressed in front of all of Gondor in front of his father who gave him that grin.

That grin that the steward had when anger and injustice entered his mind, the expression of Boromir full of lust and restraint, ,,You are mine alone, do you understand?” the redhead asked from his lustful imagination, his world around him disappearing in a dream of lust and reverie. He could already hear the chains of her collar rattling and she looked unbelievably beautiful to him and only to him.

But all she did was sniffle, a low moan escaping from between her lips every now and then, and he could see that she was praying herself away. Naivety makes you vulnerable. His hand on her hip, his nails pressing into her skin, he would leave marks on her, he would mark her with his lips, his teeth, his fingers, his sword and his blood.

She would be a sign of his achievement for the first time while his father gave him the throne. But this pain seemed to be enough for the poor girl, she nodded her panting, crying, almost that of a cow, but that would be his pretty elven cow, his wife and one day the mother of his children.

Children prettier than anything in Gondor, children a sign of his love for her with the sweet light hair and bright eyes and the human stature. Everything he would do to her he would do to Gondor, everything he would do for her approval, possession and for his father.

Thoughts that drove him to take her faster and deeper, her other leg also over his shoulder, her protests drowned in his moans and her stifled cries that were barely suppressed by a kiss from him.

He took her deeper faster driven to his climax by her every sound, noise and look, his thoughts the mix of gentleness to her completely melting and sinking into those words of the power of the ring, his father and his brother.

Her hands sometimes clung to him out of fear, trying to push him away completely worthless, he saw the nipples of her soft breasts that fit so perfectly in his hands when he kneaded them against the fabric and he didn't have to look between them to see her overtaxed cunt taking him a mix of the first drops of his lust, her blood and juices.

,,Ah if-if Galadriel saw you like this…my ruined Elve whore,” he chuckled darkly between lustful noises as he sucked on her neck again, hearing her rapid heartbeat, shaking her head and a reply that only ended in another moan.

It went on like this for a few more moments as he took her as he pleased and her protests remained minimal. He knew he was getting close to his climax knew he was cumming inside her knew how scared she would be, ,,I'll stay ah-fuck you” he told her as his fingers gripped her body even tighter, his lips seeking hers and taking her pleas with him as he buried himself inside her.

He felt her tighten around him, a jolt seeming to go through her body as he stayed inside her for a few more moments while he continued to kiss her, his hands caressing her. A monster would have killed her, but a noble prince took care of his pretty whore.

Before he slowly pulled out of her, her whimper was only a small sound as he readjusted himself and stood over her. His hand caught lightly in her hair and played with it for a moment as she pulled the dress back over her uterine crown as quickly as she could.

Her eyes looked up at him and he looked down at her, ,,A stranger is not believed in a land ruled by men dear…you only have me” he said to her not seeing the shadow of his father behind him that Faramir was the true son after all as his father was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

She wanted to turn away from him to be alone but he grabbed her chin and bent down to her, ,,Did you understand that? Do you understand that you belong to me?” he asked before his lips twisted into a greedy grin and he gave her one last kiss on the head.

She had nodded her head in agreement as her abandoned, tearful, bright eyes met his dark ones. He pulled away but they both knew he was right she had no one her mistress would go to the eternal lands and she had no one she had only him she had the prince…she had Faramir and was not only at his mercy but also at the mercy of dark forces.

As the red-haired man laid down his fangs like the wolf, the blood had been gleefully deposited into his flesh and he had put his hooded cloak back on as the cheerful expression put into his gaze when he saw his “friends” again and the grip on his weapon strengthened it.

The wolf in sheep's clothing waited before he struck again and ended up with the path of necessary sacrifices and corpses behind him and his queen at his side ruling over Gondor.

[bardic-perdita]

Aoough I have too many questions I wanna ask. 4, 29, 41, 91 for all your guys?

Thank you for the asks once again lovely! I am incapable of writing short answers for these asks, so hopefully this is still interesting to read.

I'm still answering the other asks in my inbox, but they're taking a tad longer than I'd expected ^v^;

Answers under the cut

4. Is there a reason why your Tav starts out as Level 1?

Shrike is a durge, so they start out at level 1 due to Orin.

Zeke’s powers come from his fiendish patron, but when he is infected by an illithid tadpole, his ‘father’ temporarily limits his power until he can figure out what’s happened. The presence of the Emperor also disrupts the usually strong connection between the two. 

Breoch was a relatively powerful sorcerer (level 14 or so) before he was killed by his ex lover. When he was resurrected 100 years later (by the same ex), he was resurrected with a new body and therefore it takes some time for Breoch to confidently wield his innate magic once again. 

29. What does your Tav do about the Goblin camp? Do they free Halsin or side with Minthara? What's their opinion of them?

Shrike is fully embodying their oath as a paladin at this point, so is determined to avenge the tieflings by destroying every single goblin and Absolute cultist that dare get in their way. The goblins were no real match for them and they reveled in the massacre. As a fellow paladin, they respected Minthara’s skill, though found her taste in company abhorrent. They had a kind of kinship with Halsin and they shared in his drive to fulfil a duty to protect his land and people.

Zeke also wished to help the tieflings as he is caring by nature. He was less willing to fight the goblins, although he felt an indescribable pleasure from satiating his bloodlust. Destroying enemies of his father was a regular pastime when he lived in Maladomini. Fighting enemies of his own choosing is a little more difficult for him to comprehend. The only reason he sides with Halsin over Minthara is because he met the tieflings first. If Minthara and the Absolute had captured him before he met the refugees, then his story would have gone very differently. 

Breoch had a lot of mixed feelings about the goblin camp. On the one hand, he found the goblins disgusting– not even fit to take as slaves in the usual Lolth-Sworn fashion. On the other hand, having swathes of creatures calling him ‘Master’ and treating him like the drow nobility he is did stroke his ego significantly. He instructed Astarion to poison half of the goblins, and threatened those goblins that tried to avoid their fate with a more excruciating death. He immediately identified Minthara as being from House Baenre, and took great pleasure in denying her the information about the tiefling camp that she so desperately sought. Being both a male drow and from one of the lowest ranking noble houses in Menzoberranzan, the flipping of the power dynamic is too enticing an opportunity to pass up. Breoch was less interested in helping Halsin or the tieflings; choosing only to help out as a means to freeing himself from the tadpole. It didn’t take long for him to notice that Halsin was drawn to him, even if he didn't know the reason why until much later, and he exploited that obvious attraction to keep the archdruid around. 

41. Which way did they take? Did they run into Elminster? What was their opinion of his news for Gale?

(in game I did both paths, but for the sake of this I’ll explain which would have been their preference XD)

Shrike would have chosen the Mountain Pass to appease Lae’zel. They felt strangely at home within the Crèche due to their military background that they had forgotten about. Despite not being particularly close to Gale, they empathised with his devotion to his goddess and supported his choice to decide which path was best. They made no secret that they would rather he chose to live, but respected his choice to follow Mystra’s wishes. 

Unsurprisingly Breoch chose to go through the Underdark. He’s a city dweller, so has no idea how to actually survive in the Underdark but he found the constant darkness and familiar fauna comforting. He didn’t realise how much he’d missed the Underdark until he returned. He was never particularly close to Gale; the sorcerer and wizard rivalry was too strong. Breoch did express feeling a little smug that the supposedly 'good' goddess of magic was capable of demanding such a sacrifice from her former chosen, after Gale had lectured Breoch on the evils committed in his goddess Lolth's name. Despite his bluster, Breoch is not entirely heartless and would only consider using the orb as a last resort. Not that he'd tell Gale that he actually sort of cares...not yet, at least.

Zeke also went via the Mountain Pass. There was an immediate attraction between Zeke and Gale (because purple I guess), so Elminster’s news was devastating for them both. Growing up in the Hells raised by two devils, Zeke holds no fealty to the Gods and has no qualms fist-fighting with Mystra. His soul and subsequent afterlife has already been promised to his father, so he doesn’t fear death nor the wrath of deities. He doesn't really know all that much about gods anyway. Despite not having known Gale for very long, he fell fast and hard; there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his beloved wizard.

91. Does your Tav get a happily ever after?

I still love the idea of all my Tavs and Durges living in camp at the same time, so that’s the ending I’ll explain for this particular question because I'm just cringe like that. 

Context: Shrike and Breoch would be in a four-person poly with Astarion and Halsin. It started as Astarion trying to play both ends against the middle, but realised too late that he didn’t want to have to choose between them…so he didn’t. Shrike was the one who brought Halsin into the relationship, and it takes some time for both Breoch and Astarion to be open to physical intimacy as a poly of four. 

After the events of the game, Shrike moves between helping Breoch and Astarion in the Underdark and helping Halsin with his rebuilding efforts. They never fully recover their memories, but they work hard to rekindle their paladin oath and support their elf boyfriends to create safe communities for those that need it most. Eventually they can spend more time as a poly in the Underdark: adventuring, relaxing, and generally enjoying the life they have made for themselves. 

Breoch would go back to the Underdark with Spawn Astarion and 7006 vampire spawn. He would draw upon all of his former connections in Menzoberranzan, as well as reconnecting with his family, to build a 'city of immortals' where the vampire spawn could live in relative peace. All of his energies would go into making the city a success, and it would often fall to Astarion and Shrike to get him to stop and breathe every once in a while. Despite the gargantuan task, Breoch could not be happier: he’d be using all his negotiation skills (minus the sex) for a meaningful cause whilst surrounded by his family and the three people he loves more than anything in all the realms. 

Zeke would move to Waterdeep with Gale. The wedding would be an interesting affair as Gale has to explain to poor Morena Dekarios that her future son-in-law’s parents are a devil and his erinye consort, and they insist on attending the wedding. Caedes (Zeke’s father and Patron) and Solaris (Caedes’s partner and @critical-goat ’s OC) would surprisingly get along rather well with Mrs Dekarios as they share tales of their sons’ childhood mishaps. For the most part, the purple husbands would live in peaceful marital bliss. However, the ‘permission for Caedes to treat Zeke as his own flesh and blood’ clause of his pact is never far from Gale’s mind. One day, Caedes could theoretically choose to control Zeke’s whole body and mind, thoroughly destroying their happiness and every memory of their life together. Caedes said that he wouldn’t, but he could. And that alone terrifies Gale. 

[anamnesis-aeternus]

Stasis

Scenario: Using his potent psychic abilities, Caesar helps a young man in resisting being turned against his will by another vampire's bite.

He settles into meditation with a hand on the patient's shoulder, reaching out to the shaken mind running out of corners to retreat into and assuring this young man that he wouldn't have to go through this alone. Only jagged, stark emotions like glass shards come back, their edges too sharp now to form anything resembling words; he knows exactly how to continue.

Frightened to the bones, the patient feels as if he could breathe again when a fatherly warmth envelopes him and soothes the most primal of his fear. 

With further assurances that this presence would do its damnedest to help, he tentatively feels ready to stop the indescribable corruption that had been tearing through all of him for far too long already.

As if taking him by the hand and leading him into a new and unfamiliar place, the presence opens further to him. Now there is something almost as horrific as the callous and uncaring hunger he had caught a glimpse at the moment the ravenous vampire's teeth had pierced his skin - force, boundless, focused, tightly controlled force that he only had to tell where to strike.

Force that had never cracked under pressure, never given in to another. 

The fight is long and exhausting, fraught with tears and weak whispers of I don't want this, please, make it stop, I want to go back. 

The corruption bites and scratches in a frenzy, hungry and never satisfied until it consumes him whole, but there is always the presence at the patient's side lending him its unending strength against the wild beast. 

His tears won't stop, but he gasps, I won't let you.

I'm not yours to control.

The presence burns, relentless and powerful, as he cries out, "I'm not afraid of you!"

You will not make me yours.

You will not.

Finally, the patient's vital signs stabilize, the imprint of his attacker torn out at the root and their will shattered through brute force. Was he in any state to articulate such a thing, he could've only described it as having taken part in a miracle.

The presence remains with him just a little longer, enveloping him in warmth again like a loving father's embrace. Rest, child, soft whispers reach him. You have shown such courage. Be gentle with yourself.

author's abundant ramblings under the cut. please heed the content warning.

TW: (discussion of) mind control

like feeding, turning is the least unpleasant when done entirely consensually. when the mortal is unwilling, though, it's a matter of their willpower + immediate medical care and counseling in a tug-of-war against the will and overall power of the vampire who attempted to turn them. one day a team of Seeker agents bring in a young guy in pretty rough shape - minor injuries that are easy to treat, but the agents confirmed that he was bitten by an unidentified vampire and shows all the signs of the turning process having begun, and mentally he's effectively in a shutdown state. being on the 'vampire urgent care' team's speed-dial for several reasons, 'Mr. Kadingir' comes in to help. he's assisted in many other cases, supporting another vampire helper who has healing abilities or approaching a terrified fledgling who would've otherwise been dangerous. here, this poor dude who doesn't want to be turned needs a bit of a hand in fighting off something he can't even comprehend.

Caesar's greatest power of mind (thanks for the banger, Cicero*), aka what would make him incredibly dangerous if he had a single genuinely malicious bone in his body and/or didn't simply have no desire anymore to basically take over the world, is the other side of the same coin as the charm and charisma he already had as a mortal. y'know how D&D describes the charisma stat as overall force of personality, not just being likeable? yeah, that. *vis ingeni; speech held on January 1, 43 BC, trans. Shackleton Bailey, Phil. 5.49 now wielding psychic abilities as a vampire, and being abundantly experienced with them by virtue of his sheer age (even if he could only relatively recently begin exploring and training in a controlled environment with proper support), merely reading someone's mind is almost an afterthought when they have his undivided attention. actively reaching into their stream of consciousness to plant an idea, spark some emotion or cast a veil of forgetfulness over some knowledge feels as simple as redirecting the flow of water from a faucet. there's gently nudging someone in the direction you want their thoughts and decisions to go, just enough exertion of influence so they're none the wiser. a little less subtly, there's combining it with a few choice words; an outside observer would very well notice the 'actually, nevermind, you were right all along' kind of flick of a switch. the wills of mortals tend to be far easier to bend if they think it's their own idea than to more openly press and coerce them. and then there's the BRUTE FUCKING FORCE this man could muster from nothing but his own mind. with corresponding effort, this can't even be called breaking someone's will anymore to make them compliant - he can utterly crush it, forcing them to do and say things, or going even further, to shut down like smothering a flame and leaving that unfortunate soul in a catatonic or nearly vegetative state. of course the mere idea is horrifying. a person with psychic abilities of their own might be able to muster some resistance, but there's really not much anyone can do against Caesar's tremendous willpower focused to a pinpoint like this. realizing this, the Seekers are glad that their most interesting study subject is effectively too chill to pose a danger to anyone who hasn't already passed up many chances to not draw his ire.

[santoschristos]

Goddess Shakti

The divine feminine power who is one half of Lord Shiva and is responsible for the manifestation of all mattter and energy in the universe. Shiva is latent energy, the potential source of all cosmic powers. Shakti is dynamic force which releases and converts the energy to matter and the elements.

Lord Brahma took the elements and created the planet Earth and all its species. Shiva along with Shakti wield the greatest power.

Iccha-Shakti

“The Kabbalah is lost within the night of time, within the womb of Maha Kundalini (Iccha-Shakti), the Great Mother (the Ain Soph), where the universe was engendered. The Kabbalah is the science of numbers.

The author of the Tarot was the Angel Metatron. He is lord of the serpent wisdom. The Bible refers to him as the Prophet Enoch. The Angel Metatron, or Enoch, delivered the Tarot in which the entirety of divine wisdom is enclosed. The Tarot remains written in stone. He also left us the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet. This great master lives in the superior worlds in the world of Atziluth, which is a world of indescribable happiness.” -- Tarot and Kabbalah by Samael Aun Weor

[rarepairnation]

I can't believe you've called me out like this. This fixation is literally your fault! (Not really, but you’ve made me worse!) Anyway while I'm here do you ever wonder about how Sauron is the one of the villains from Beren and Lúthien, and Denethor probably knew that story as a child? Then as he grows up he learns about his role in Númenor’s destruction, and how that links to Denethor’s own relation to his ancestors? Yet his response to this is that it's his duty and destiny to lead Gondor against him? Just "Yes, why else would I have been born than to mind-wrestle the evil demigod?" Gah why is he like this, I love it so much.

LOL im so glad you saw that post (ages ago now because i draft one of these and then pick away at it in my notes app during my commute for days and days) it really does bring me indescribable joy when you go through the tag though. this is a beautiful feedback loop i think because well you have also made me worse. i think about denethor has to either defeat thorongil or claim him for himself every day. and like. boromir can be boromir but faramir has to be denethor is just a sentence that lives in my mind. you know?? sometimes i think about going through your whole tag and reblogging all of it

ANYWAY YES!!! WHILE WE'RE HERE!!! GET IN LOSER WE'RE NOT LIVING PAST THE END OF OUR MYTH!!! we’re dying at the end because thats how the story goes!! everyone always dies at the end and so too shall i!! and YET i have been granted the powers wielded by my ancestors and i must take up the fight where they have failed, knowing how it ends, knowing how their fates haunt my dreams and the dreams of my son even after the passing of an age. i will take up the role in this narrative that has been written for me. i will take this sword with my eyes wide open, knowing fully about the one that hangs over my neck. i know i will fail and yet i shall try, not for hope not for glory but because it is my task and my destiny. Yeah… there’s this line from a fic i read once that goes “what is he but an improved repetition of his ancestors” which i believe was in reference to aragorn but like……..oughhh. the thought of “it is my duty and destiny to lead my country to war” feels like it’s inextricably tied in his mind to “it is my duty and destiny to die for my country” and like i just don’t know what to do with that!

hey wait a second im thinking about your denethor and ecthelion post again. do you think part of why denethor is Like That is that he has the numenorean powers where his father does not, he knows the lore of the palantir, he knows that he is the one person in all gondor who can vie against sauron directly. he will not take power where his father will not give it to him but i feel like maybe he does believe that he is ready and willing to take up his destiny and that ecthelion perhaps should step aside because he’s clearly less well suited for the task/it would be the dutiful thing to do, from a purely tactical/utilitarian standpoint.

you know for the whole length of this post i kept wanting to write that in some secret part of him he hoped to outrun the fates of his ancestors and the fates of all the heroes of legend - that in some part of him there was still blind hope, because to me it feels so impossible to go on and go on and lose everything and keep fighting without it. and maybe he did, maybe there was - i won’t know! but its crazy to think about the very real possibility that he had none of that. that he had completely excised the part of him capable of hope and replaced it with relentless grinding duty, and the knowledge that giving up is not a choice that he is given and thus he shall not. if he is the hero of his own myth he is destined to die at the end and he must simply continue on until that destiny finds him one day. god he’s so fucked in the head i love him so much.

[xflashbastardx]

Crowley you wield the most formidable power the universe has ever known! You can make Aziraphale laugh.

"Not all that special, it's not like he never laughs at anything else."

That's what he says, but in reality, every time he's made Aziraphale laugh is indescribably special to Crowley. Every smile he's earned is etched onto his heart, he positively lives to make the angel happy.

[mrseeker]

Seekers journal

Journal Entry 1: The Fall

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

My name is Seeker, once a celestial being entrusted to protect and guide humanity. However, I have now become a fallen angel, cast out from the heavens. The reasons behind my fall haunt my thoughts day and night. It all began with my insatiable curiosity and unyielding desire for knowledge. Seeking wisdom beyond my divine station, I delved into forbidden realms and unraveled secrets better left concealed.

As the tendrils of darkness gripped my being, I felt a gradual, irresistible pull away from the light. The allure of forbidden knowledge consumed me, blinding me to the consequences of my actions. And so, I embraced my newfound liberation, shunning the celestial bureaucracy that sought to suffocate my thirst for understanding.

My banishment from the heavens was swift and severe, and as I descended through the ethereal mists, my wings, once shimmering with divine radiance, were tainted with shadows. Falling from the heavens, I landed upon this Earth, now stripped of my celestial duties and plagued by a profound sense of loss.

Journal Entry 2: Experiences in the Mortal Realm

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

Since my fall, I have traversed this mortal realm, exploring the depths and heights of human existence. I have watched empires rise and crumble, witnessed the euphoria of birth and the despair of death. As an eternal being burdened with mortality, I gained a depth of understanding I could never have comprehended before.

The human experience is teeming with contradictions — both immense suffering and indescribable joys. I have marvelled at their resilience, in spite of their inherent flaws. Mortals possess a unique capacity for love and a fervent pursuit of happiness. These experiences have ignited a glimmer of hope within my fallen heart, a flicker of redemption I never deemed possible.

Journal Entry 3: Embracing the Unlikely

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

Today, I find myself in the company of Sue Kingdom, an unlikely savior adorned in the form of a male penguin. Sue, a once-lonely creature with a heart as vast as the sea, took me in without hesitation. Despite our physical differences, a kinship formed, bound by our shared sense of being outcasts seeking solace in each other's company.

Sue's loyalty to his newfound family is unwavering, and he introduced me to the world of the Kingdom, a sanctuary for those shunned by society. Here, I am seen as more than just a fallen angel; I am valued for the person I have become amidst my trials. Together, Sue and I stand against a common foe, the Chicken Army, a force that seeks chaos and domination.

Journal Entry 4: The Third Strongest Army

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

Today marks a significant turning point in my journey. I have joined the OMS, the Kingdom's third strongest army, seeking to protect my newfound family and rid the world of the Chicken Army's tyranny. Led by who cares, whose tactical brilliance is renowned across the mortal realms, the OMS stands as a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness.

Within the ranks of the OMS, I am no longer a fallen angel but merely a comrade, united by a common purpose. Here, my skills are honed, and my former celestial powers are transformed into a formidable force to be reckoned with. The strength I once wielded as a guardian of the heavens has found new purpose on this terrestrial battleground oms was formed by our leader awesome cat I was the first member.

Journal Entry 5: A Glimpse of Redemption

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

Today, as I fought alongside my comrades in the OMS, there was a fleeting moment where I felt a semblance of my former self. Embracing the chaos and danger of battle, I tapped into the righteous fury that once fueled my divine powers. For a brief moment, the light within me shone brightly, instilling hope in the hearts of those fighting alongside me.

But as quickly as it came, the flicker of my former glory vanished, leaving me yearning for more. Though I am still a fallen angel, I have started to question whether redemption and forgiveness can truly be attained.

Journal Entry 6: The Suffering of Mortals

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

The more time I spend in the mortal realm, the more I bear witness to the immense suffering that plagues humanity. The weight of their pain and struggles is oppressive, often leaving me feeling helpless in the face of such adversity.

Yet, amidst their suffering, I see the indomitable spirit of mortals. They persist, they fight, and they find solace in one another. It is through these valiant acts that I am reminded of the innate goodness that exists within humanity.

Journal Entry 7: A Glimmer of Hope

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

Today, we were able to rescue a village from the clutches of the Chicken Army. The joy and gratitude that radiated from the villagers touched my fallen heart. In that moment, I realized that even as a fallen angel, I can still make a difference in this world.

Perhaps my fall from grace was not an act of punishment but rather an opportunity for growth and redemption. In the depths of my despair, a glimmer of hope has emerged, and with it, a renewed determination to fight for what is right.

Journal Entry 8: Struggles Within

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

As the days pass, I find myself grappling with an internal struggle. A part of me yearns to be embraced by the heavens once more, to regain the sense of purpose and belonging I once possessed. But another part of me recognizes the beauty and value in the mortal realm, where my experiences have granted me a level of understanding that I could never attain as a celestial being.

I am torn between these two worlds, unsure of where I truly belong. For now, I will continue to walk the path laid before me, trusting that clarity will come in time.

Journal Entry 9: Betrayal and Heartbreak

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

Today, a comrade I held dear revealed their allegiance to the Chicken Army. The shock and betrayal cut deep, leaving me questioning the true intentions of those around me. It is a painful reminder that even in the pursuit of righteous causes, darkness can still seep through the cracks.

This betrayal has awakened a dormant anger within me, directing my focus towards eradicating the darkness that plagues this world. I will not allow the actions of one to overshadow the resilience and goodness that still exists within humanity.

Journal Entry 9: losing a brother

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

We lost a friend someone close to me forever let necron be missed

End of journals

[olivereactsaboutgarbage]

Higurashi When They Cry - Watanagashi Chapter 7

I bet this one is going to have a scary transition into the scary zone if there is such a thing. My smart bet will net me lots of money.

OH IMMEDIATELY??? OH IMMEDIATELY...

Well the scary transition already happened. I have no clue what any of it means.

And sure enough, the content is already scary now!

Gigantism... *shudders*

Anyway, everyone is planning on having fun at the festival, but they can’t fool me. The Scariness Transition ALREADY HAPPENED.

When Toddler 02 shows up, Mion is immediately kind and Keiichi and Rena are immediately racking up Rena Points with their disgraceful behavior and Toddler 01 is immediately her sidekick. Normalcy!

Keiichi has the power of making people care about things by saying they are good. Hmm... I wonder which club member has the power of making people care about things by saying they are bad... probably Toddler 01 or maybe Mion.

Ah, got it in one, Toddler 01 is the person who has that power. Or should I say “got it in 01″. Unfortunately, she wields it for evil, rather than for good, by inverting it and repelling everyone. So Keiichi has to use his power. Then he tries to homogenize his friend group into a group of people who all wield that same power.

A gigantic Mion telepathically declares her desire to devour living beings without moving her mouth... ah... I see... this time, Mion is the horror movie monster...

wow mion truly IS the best character

Shion asks Keiichi if she’s allowed to hang around and immediately gives him reason to say no:

Giants... so terrifying...

No one asked for your input, Normal Toddler.

1. I think this is the first on-screen instance of Mion biting Shion back that wasn’t direct self-defense 2. is shion incapable of being normal? why are her only two options “seduce” and “retreat”

Why are your greatest affections reserved for people’s deepest vulnerabilities, freak? 5 Million Rena Points for you.

Keiichi decides he’s impatient for Toddler 02 to be an arc’s main character, so Shion decides to help by taking him to the woods. Camera and his girlfriend are also there.

What a... curious specification. “Either of you would want to see”.

oh NO she was going to PLANT A BOMB

Oh, she wasn’t going to plant a bomb, she was going to look at tools. Now she has declared a tool-viewing foursome and Shion is being terrifying again. However, Camera of all people has decided not to view something. What good is a Camera which doesn’t even view things? Well, whatever.

I don’t know about that one.

Wow!!! Found

...It’s been a while since I drew a red circle on an image for this blog. I should start doing that again.

Camera’s girlfriend decides now is a good time for a fairy tale. It’s the tale of scary immigrants. The end.

Presumably if I’m geniuspilled, that’s an allegory for mental illness. Keiichi decides to try being geniuspilled and declares it to be an allegory for white people.

Ah... LOVE, too, is an acronym...

Wow!! Keiichi is standing normally!! Someone should have given him an actual character design with noteworthy features. Sad... so sad, what happened to his general physical appearance...

Keiichi decides he doesn’t want LOVE to be an acronym because he’s a Chara stan, but Shion uses her social grace and wit to prevent him from causing Megalovania to start playing. Or something. Maybe this analogy is actually stupid.

Hmm... I don’t trust the story behind that to be very pleasant. But for wildly different reasons than Camera’s girlfriend’s loony accusations.

Wow, this is ALSO just like Danganronpa 2!

Woah... Keiichi REALLY IS geniuspilled... I guess that means Higurashi is a story all about white people...

*indescribable facial expression*

There are also little ceiling cages. Shion thinks someone is in one of them, but Camera’s girlfriend thinks that’s probably not true. However, Camera’s girlfriend DOES think she’ll be a victim. Hmm... well she certainly Disappeared last time.

Also, many decades ago, there was an extremely unidentifiable corpse. Ain’t that just the way.

Camera’s girlfriend summons Camera by saying “canned flesh”. I guess a Camera who is also a Human would know a thing or two about that. The tables have turned, however. Camera’s girlfriend is the one who is a Camera now. She Cameras so hard she wants to siphon Camera’s life force, but he doesn’t consent, so she can’t.

Shion seems to be ready to go directly into Loneliness Mode, so eagerly does she destroy all chances to continue being near humans. She also declares that she doesn’t like banging. Keiichi doesn’t see why that’s relevant.

Hmm...

Siblings...

Banging...

On my door...

What? Why did you have an urge to shout at her? Jeez louise.

Well, Camera also heard it. Keiichi, you really oughta pay more attention to this type of thing.

Wow, that means Camera is also a liar! I hope he dies.

Oh, Keiichi actually IS capable of listening.

The normal fivesome has now reconvened, except Toddler 01 is missing.

“Were you watching me?” Toddler 02 asks. “Yes,” Keiichi says, “I was never at any point NOT watching you. I loved your lack of mistakes.” “Um, yeah,” Rena adds. “You totally didn’t make any mistakes, for sure. Yep. Definitely.”

“By the way,” Mion says. “Shion wasn’t an impostor. There are massive differences between our character sprites.”

What an ominous stopping point, under the circumstances. A stopping point where Toddler 01 is absent, I mean. Not the thing about character sprites.

Meanwhile, in Side Story Land...

Journalists love writing about murder.

It’s KINZO!!! Also what?! Something this important is happening in Side Story Land? But this content is skippable!!! Although maybe it’s a temporal fakeout of a flashback.

Ooishi has a clever theory about whatever the hell is happening: No disappearance this time.

Hmm, I guess “last time” was a pattern breaker too, because Keiichi’s Big Freakout was entirely superfluous. But Keiichi hasn’t even freaked out this time, so it shouldn’t be a pattern breaker yet.

I’m a little concerned about Ooishi’s clever theory. It implies the existence of two highly visible corpses. This DOUBLES the likelihood that one of them is inexplicably Toddler 01!!!

On that note, using teeth, it can be revealed why Kinzo was hiding in a Donkey Kong Barrel. Ooishi is so happy about that, he could do a little dance!

[art-of-manliness]

The Power of Personal Atmosphere

Note: This excerpt, condensed from the original, was taken from Masterful Personality by Orison Swett Marden, a book which was published in 1921 and is worth reading in its entirety. “A man is not all included between his hat and boots,” said Walt Whitman. There is something in a man which does not inhere in his flesh, which is not in his brain, not in his body, something which eludes the biographer and evades the camera, something we feel, something which radiates from his presence, a real vital force, as mysterious as that of electricity and as difficult to understand. We call it a man’s atmosphere, or magnetism, and it extends beyond his physical body. In some personalities it is much more pronounced, more extended, than in others. When we go near some people who are very magnetic we positively feel their impelling presence before we get near enough to touch them. A subtle radiation of real force surrounds them like an aura. There are people who claim that what they term the “human aura” is an electrical emanation from the body which takes various forms according to the character and personality of the individuals. Call it aura, magnetism, or whatever you please, this indescribable, indefinable, mysterious, personal atmosphere is a tremendous power. It draws people to or drives them from us. A famous blind, deaf-mute said she could feel a distinct force when certain people came near her which either attracted or repelled her, according to the character of the person. She could sense their moral status and, her attendants said, would instinctively shrink, as though something was going to harm her, whenever an evil person came near her. She could feel their character. Everyone has an atmosphere peculiar to himself, pervaded by all of his characteristics. We cannot radiate anything unlike ourselves or our ideals. The qualities you radiate will either attract or repel people. Your atmosphere will affect your career. We all know how vividly we feel the personality of certain persons after they have passed out of our homes, or even have passed out of life. There remains in the homes of those who have left us and in the places they habitually frequented, a certain something, a presence which we cannot explain, but which we feel very keenly. The ideal mother lives long in the home after her body has been laid away in the grave. Members of the household distinctly feel her presence, sometimes for many years. A similar thing is true of a loved child after death. This is not mere imagination. There is something left from the personality which we feel for a long time after a dear one is taken from us. Those of us who have visited the homes of great characters like Washington, Shakespeare, Beethoven, and Roosevelt have felt their personality very decidedly. An individualized something seems to radiate from the furniture, the draperies of their sanctums—the desk, the chair they occupied, the library table, the silent piano, or other musical instrument. There is, indeed, an atmosphere, an aura of personality around strong, magnetic characters which time cannot erase. With my children I have been privileged to visit the home of Theodore Roosevelt since he passed away (as I had often done when he was alive) and in viewing the wonderful articles in the celebrated Trophy Room, I could feel this great man’s presence among his treasures almost as plainly as though he were indeed present in life. His remarkable personality seemed to cling not only to everything about the home, but even to the great outdoors he so loved—the grounds, the woods where his marvelous energy was so often employed in wielding the ax and in athletic sports; it even pervaded the little church where he had habitually worshiped. We all have felt the quickening of ambition, the subtle influence due to the active, forceful, positive vibrations which fill the atmosphere of the places of business of successful men. If a business office is dominated by a powerful personality, we feel the dominating force all through the… http://dlvr.it/TCX9ML

[zaldritzosrose]

The feeling was indescribable, the feeling of finally understanding and belonging. Masema thought he had felt it when he saw Rand al'Thor .

The fight between Rand and Ishamael, the Forsaken, had drawn more than just normal spectators. It had drawn followers. Those who had heard the prophecy - the Dragon Reborn. Many believed Rand to be the Dragon, though the man himself had vehemently denied it. Claiming he was little more than a messenger.

But the question was, a messenger for who?

It was only when the fight seemed to steer in Ishamael's favour did she show herself. Dark. Ethereal. Masema knew immediately she was more than a human. She was something else entirely. He could feel it, almost like threads tugging at his very soul. A need to fall to his knees and pay reverence.

Whispers surrounded her . That she was the Dragon. A being not of this world. A soul bound in fire. Just as Rand had claimed - he was merely a weapon for her to wield.

When the fight was done, Rand lay near dead, but only after having slain Ishamael. No one questioned when she knelt at his side. It was like those around knew not to. But all Masema could do was watch. Watch as her hands drifted over Rand's motionless form, all manner of fire around them seemed to blaze stronger every time she moved or spoke. Like it was drawn to her. Just as he was.

That's when Masema knew. It was solidified within him the moment Rand awoke, as alive and healthy as he had been before battle. All at the her power and will.

She was the one he must follow. The one he must devote his very life to.

His Dragon. His goddess.

For my Masema girlies! @whitedarkmoonflower @foxyanon @sihtricfedaraaahvicius

Hopefully it lived up to expectations!!!

And credits to @whitedarkmoonflower and @sihtricfedaraaahvicius for the Masema stills! They are beautiful!!

[yutianlei]

Azathoth: Lord of Cosmic Chaos (Outer Gods)

In the boundless abyss of the Cthulhu Mythos, there exists a being beyond human comprehension, and that is Azathoth, the Lord of Cosmic Chaos. He is an indescribable, blind force, his existence akin to an unknowable star in the darkness of the universe, emanating a chaotic and disorderly radiance.

Personality:

Azathoth's personality transcends human understanding of morality and good or evil. He symbolizes chaos and ruthlessness, devoid of reason and purpose. He does not care about the existence of life or the fate of individuals; he is merely an indifferent observer, seated at the center of the universe, witnessing the interweaving of chaos and order.

He is the mad king of the abyss, and his existence is itself the source of madness. Humans who come into contact with Azathoth often suffer mental shocks, their thoughts becoming twisted, ensnared in endless nightmares. He is the unknowable, incomprehensible truth, surpassing the limited wisdom and rationality of humanity.

Abilities:

Azathoth wields the power of chaos and madness, his existence influencing the movement and evolution of the universe. As the center of the cosmos, he is an intangible force, blurring the boundaries between reality and illusion, reason and madness.

His dance of music is a mysterious cosmic dance, playing melodies beyond human perception. This music is not an expression of beauty but the genesis of chaos and the song of universal disorder. Within his music lies boundless power, a power that can create and destroy.

Azathoth's existence is indifferent and blind; he does not actively interfere in human affairs but silently rules over everything. His power is like a wild storm, unpredictable, yet always carrying deep madness and chaos.

Azathoth is one of the most mysterious and unknowable entities in the Cthulhu Mythos. His personality and abilities surpass human understanding, becoming a dazzling yet dark star in the universe. His existence reminds us that on the edge of the cosmos, there is a force beyond everything, deeply hidden in the darkness of chaos.