#then fuss with lines and detail into eternity

[blackbackedjackal]

Walton Ford

[fel-09]

General Acacius x Isekai! Reader x emperor Geta

Words 2k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

Get into the movie?What a joke Part3

The carriage came to a halt before a grand marble estate, its imposing facade gleaming in the golden sunlight. A lush garden surrounded the mansion, its paths adorned with blooming peonies and vibrant roses. The floral arrangements framed the entrance like a work of art, their delicate petals contrasting with the stoic grandeur of the house. Your eyes wandered to the gilded details embedded in the tall, spiraling columns flanking the doorway. Each column was a testament to craftsmanship, their intricate designs depicting mythical nymphs intertwined in an eternal dance.

The iron gates, crafted in ornate patterns, bore the likeness of two ethereal maidens, presumably the aforementioned nymphs. Their gazes, though forged of metal, seemed to follow your every move.

Swallowing nervously, you looked down at your hands, clenching and unclenching them. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, allowing the memories of the journey here to surface. Confusion and panic had plagued you, and though the turmoil still simmered, you had forced yourself to confront the truth.

This wasn’t a dream.

Somewhere along the way, the lines between fantasy and reality had blurred, and now you stood here, in a story you had once studied and admired. The man who had rescued you on the road—General Acacius—had called you by a name that was not your own: "Flavnia Plavcia."

The name was unfamiliar, its weight foreign, yet it resonated with an echo of significance. Flavnia. Plavcia. A woman whose story you knew not from modern tales but from the annals of Roman history. She was said to have wielded immense influence during the reigns of the emperors Geta and Caracalla.

Flavnia was a name shrouded in both admiration and infamy. Historians debated her legacy—was she a cunning survivor or a scheming villainess? According to one account, she had secured wealth and favor through relentless ambition, skillfully navigating the treacherous waters of Roman politics. She evaded countless assassination attempts, eventually retreating to Sicily, where she lived out her days.

But there was another tale—one of betrayal and tragedy. In this version, her husband had poisoned her and smuggled her lifeless body to Sicily, burying her far from her father, Cornelian, who had doted upon her.

You had studied both narratives in depth during your university years, yet neither version had provided a definitive answer. Flavnia remained an enigma—a shadowy figure from the past whose true character eluded clarity.

A Roman woman of such cunning in her time? you mused, stepping out of the carriage. Surely, even the blind would sense duplicity here.

Your musings were interrupted as the carriage door opened. A maid, dressed in simple yet pristine attire, curtsied deeply, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Lady Flavnia, welcome home,” she greeted, her eyes widening in shock as they fell upon your disheveled state. Her hand flew to her mouth as if to stifle a gasp.

“W-who did this to you, my lady?” she cried, her tone laced with both horror and concern. Her gaze flickered to your damp clothes, your tangled hair, and the traces of algae clinging stubbornly to your tresses.

Before you could respond, she had summoned more servants. They surrounded you, fussing over every detail of your appearance. Without hesitation, they led you inside, bathing you, combing the remnants of the ordeal from your hair, dressing you in finery befitting your station, and finally, offering a tray of delicacies to restore your strength.

Their care was meticulous, almost reverent. Though you uttered not a word, it became clear that these servants harbored deep loyalty to the woman they believed you to be.

---

Not long after you had settled into your quarters, the door opened abruptly. In strode a man of commanding presence, his expression a mask of fury barely concealed beneath a veneer of composure. He seated himself in a chair across from you, his elbow resting on the armrest as he propped his cheek against his knuckles.

The tension in the room was palpable.

“Point him out,” he demanded coldly, his voice low and deliberate, though it carried the weight of a tempest waiting to be unleashed. “Tell me who dared harm my daughter, and I shall see to it that he disappears from this world before the day is through.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes widening as his words struck you like a physical blow. Your hands clenched the folds of your skirt as you stared at the floor, the weight of his anger suffocating. How could you explain to him that you had no memory of the incident—at least not as Flavnia?

“I… I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “It’s all a blur.”

His fist came down upon the table with a resounding crack, causing you to flinch violently. His face turned crimson with rage, his dark eyes alight with an almost supernatural fire.

“This is why I should never have allowed you to attend!” he thundered, pacing the room in agitation. His fury was boundless, yet his concern was equally apparent.

The man before you was no ordinary Roman citizen. He was Cornelian—a man celebrated for his valor and unwavering dedication to Rome. His reputation as “Stompus Staptus” (the Unyielding Gate) was not merely a title but a testament to his fortitude. He had once defended the gates of Rome against relentless invaders, holding his ground for an entire year.

But to you, he was something more than a legend. He was a father—a protector whose love transcended even his allegiance to the Empire. His daughter had once dubbed him “Atius Obsidium” (Father-Protector), and that title seemed to cling to him still.

Turning back to you, he sighed heavily. His anger seemed to drain from him as his gaze softened.

“If I had known the danger, I would never have allowed you to leave,” he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. “Those insolent fools think they can harm my daughter without consequence…”

Before his anger could reignite, you rose from your seat, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

“Father,” you began softly, a faint smile tugging at your lips, “there’s no need to waste your energy on them. Instead, I would like to discuss General Acacius, who assisted me. I wish to thank him personally.”

The mention of Acacius seemed to shift the atmosphere. Cornelian studied your face, his lips twitching into a small, reluctant smile. With a nod, he placed a hand atop your head, ruffling your hair affectionately.

“You’ve always had a way with words, my clever girl,” he said, his voice tinged with pride. “Very well. We shall arrange to meet with him. He has proven himself trustworthy, and for that, I owe him my gratitude.”

With a final, reassuring pat on your head, Cornelian turned toward the door. As he reached the threshold, he glanced over his shoulder.

“Rest now, my child. Your father will see to everything.”

“And you as well,” you replied warmly, watching as the door closed behind him.

Finally alone, you let out a long breath, sinking onto the plush bedding. Wrapping your arms around a pillow, you buried your face in its softness.

“What am I supposed to do now?” you muttered to yourself, your voice muffled. “And how am I supposed to survive here without my Milo?”

You sniffled, thinking of the little golden-furred cat you had left behind. Though you knew your mother would care for him in your absence, the thought of being without him in this strange new world was almost too much to bear.

The days flowed like a gentle stream, each bringing its own discoveries. You had already wandered through every chamber of the mansion, each one adorned with opulence: golden-framed mirrors that caught every flicker of light, heavy velvet curtains embroidered with intricate patterns, and antique furniture that whispered tales of grandeur. Yet none of these treasures captivated your heart as much as the garden did—a secluded paradise where wisteria cascaded like a shimmering veil, offering cool shade from the sun’s relentless embrace. The air there was imbued with a fragrance so divine that it seemed otherworldly, and the pristine white marble paths wove through the greenery like strokes of an artist’s brush, completing the vision of Eden.

This place felt untouched by time, a sanctuary where kindness blossomed in every soul you encountered. The servants, ever loyal, treated you with a reverence that bordered on familial warmth. You were their lady, the one they had known since your earliest days. Smiling faintly, you raised a hand to wave at one of the gardeners. He responded with equal enthusiasm, his weathered face lighting up with a grin as he set aside his tools. You approached him, your thoughts already turning to the flowers.

“I’ve been wondering,” you began, your voice carrying the melody of curiosity. “Would it be suitable to plant amaryllis here? They may lack fragrance, but their beauty could complement the mimosa.”

The gardener paused, his brow furrowing as he considered your suggestion. “It’s a fine idea, my lady,” he replied, though a trace of uncertainty lingered in his tone. “Yet, I fear they might not thrive together. Such flowers, though beautiful, sometimes fail to coexist.”

You tilted your head, undeterred by his hesitation. Together, you delved into the nuances of flora, your voices blending with the rustling leaves and the distant hum of bees. Unbeknownst to you, a figure lingered nearby. Acacius stood in the shadows, his dark gaze fixed upon you.

To him, this was an unfamiliar side of you. Gone was the woman whose sharp tongue and icy demeanor he had come to expect. In her place was someone alive with passion, her every word animated by a genuine interest. She seemed brighter, almost radiant, as she discussed the nuances of flowers with the gardener. This transformation confounded him. What had changed? Or had he simply never taken the time to see this side of you?

The gardener’s voice broke his train of thought. “It’s a shame,” the man said with a sigh. “Some beauties simply cannot share the same space.”

You offered him an encouraging smile, brushing aside his doubts with a gentle wave of your hand. “Nonsense,” you replied. “We’ll find a way. Perhaps a different arrangement…”

Acacius shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he stepped forward. “Lady Plavtiana,” he called, his deep voice cutting through the garden’s tranquil atmosphere. “Might I request a moment of your time?”

Startled, you turned to face him. Your expression shifted from surprise to guarded composure, though your hands betrayed you by nervously clutching the fabric of your skirt. “General… I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” you began, searching his face for answers. “I thought my father and I were to visit you at your estate. Do you have business with him?”

A smirk played on Acacius’s lips, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Indeed,” he replied. “But must you always address me so formally? We’ve known each other far too long for such titles. Simply Acacius will suffice.”

You stiffened at his words, your cheeks warming as you realized your slip. “My apologies,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Before you could say more, he noticed the subtle tremor in your hands and decided not to press further—not here, with the gardener still present.

“Regardless,” he continued smoothly, his tone gentler now, “you are correct. I am here on business with your father. However, I was hoping to speak with you… privately. If, of course, you have the time.”

His words hung in the air, a quiet challenge, as his gaze met yours and held it. The gardener, sensing the shift in atmosphere, discreetly stepped away, leaving you alone with Acacius under the canopy of wisteria

[sepublic]

Alright, let's talk about some details from the TOH pitch bible;

A lot of the stuff is what we've already seen and/or in line with the show. What's interesting is that King WAS a former King of Demons at one point, and we would've had an episode where he runs into his old gang and chooses Luz and Eda over them. It makes me wonder if he even had a connection to the Titan in earlier drafts, if he wasn't recognized as one back in the day because he just wasn't big enough, etc. Eda makes a deal to help remove the collar, which IS the source of King's woes, placed by a 'mysterious wizard', I wouldn't be surprised if it was Obron AKA Proto-Belos.

What gets me is that Tibbles originally started off as a friend to the protagonists, while Bump was an antagonist! Coupled with Tibbles being re-elected as mayor after Bump is deposed for corruption. I like the detail of Bump being a parasite controlling a body from the head, because it carried over into his final design with Frewin, and before we got confirmation Frewin was a separate entity, I loved the joke theory that the imp on Bump's head was the REAL Bump!!! Seems that was always the implied story of the design, I love it. Tibbles being the demon fan of human stuff would eventually become Gus instead, so this is technically Proto-Gus too…?

Interesting how Bump and Tibbles' alignments switch completely with one another, and it makes sense that with Lilith no longer the principal in the final draft, it goes to Bump, who ends up being really chill and a subversion in his own right! Interesting, but I do prefer the final Bump we got, and that's fine by me, because when the concepts aren't as interesting as the final product, it means we got the best possible version.

I've already discussed Obron and William in a separate post, and Pupa is someone we've been told about in a previous livestream. Lilith would've been both head of all covens (and not just the Emperor's Coven) AND principal at the same time, and she seems much more of a jerk to Eda in general; She has no qualms with cursing Eda because of a direct order from Obron.

Apparently the curse would've been an AGING spell, which settles my questions on how it would've been portrayed in earlier drafts! This goes along with Eda's older look. Likewise, there would've been a subplot of Eda considering Luz's sacrifice as a way to restore her youth, which likely goes hand in hand with Obron's orders to bring Luz to her, etc. The 'Bloom of Eternal Youth' quest, which Eda and Lilith go through together as their sisterly relationship is explored, feels like a carryover from this past idea.

I think I prefer the final draft; I like that the curse isn't just aging Eda, but also takes away her magic, makes her turn into a beast, etc. I like Lilith being a lot more complicated in her relationship with Eda, instead of just hating her and cursing her without hesitation. The redefining of the curse makes it less about age, and more a chronic illness metaphor, and I like how Eda in the final draft is upfront about having to learn to live with it, deal with it, on her own terms. She isn't trying to find a cure (although Lilith being promised one by Obron feels like a carryover of Eda's moral dilemma with Luz), and that adds another nice dimension to her conflict with Lilith, as well as Gwen. It's pretty frank in its own right about normalizing disability, and those who play an antagonistic role (however brief) are the real weirdoes for making such a fuss about it.

The Bat Queen would've had more of a recurring role based on the description, which saddens me; I always got the vibe she was planned for more, but between all of the other stuff the show had to juggle, plus the shortening, she ended up getting shafted despite being one of the earlier characters. Sashley, Pasha, and Bruno are also interesting, with Pasha in particular giving me freaking Philip Wittebane vibes with his grossness, beard, and anti-demon attitude; He even starts off as a potential friend to Luz because fellow human, only for his true bigotry to show. Makes me wonder if Philip ended up incorporating Pasha, we also have bodily transformation because of consuming magical stuff... P-names.

(Also, I like how in the drawing of typical Demon Realm denizens, I can see an eye demon who resembles a past drawing of Dana's!!!)

Eda was actually a late bloomer, which creates a parallel with Luz in one way, and their relationship is referred to as sisterly (in the final draft it’s explicitly maternal). So Eda wouldn't have been the talented youth, in fact things may have switched between her and Lilith; Lilith's disdain may have partially come from Eda not being as innately talented as her.

Luz and Amity's dynamic seems like it would've had Amity retain a lot of her more stand-offish, pragmatic personality even as a friend with Luz, and this would've come up more; So basically, she'd remain more like S1 Amity. That, or this part of their relationship would've lasted longer, and then we would've seen character development as Amity unlearns a lot of the issues her parents passed on. I also wonder if the Willow who cameos in the pilot was originally supposed to just be an extra separate from ‘Paulina’, but then they combined the two together.

The themes are exactly as I expected, glad to see they're still there, nothing changed! Luz becoming a witch and defying all odds to do so, putting in real work and passion. Celebrating individuality amidst conformity, plus Luz trying to impose her own fictional tropes onto the world, only to have to put that aside... Just like Wing it like Witches. It seems Amity would've had more involvement with Luz's journey to become a witch, though we still do have a carryover of that disconnect with her rant near the end of Covention.

I love the Demon Realm being situated BELOW the Human Realm, way to be subtle about being Hell you guys lol... Apparently portals to the human world are a lot rarer to find and use, which makes me wonder if the pilot's 'dimension port' doesn't have access to the human world; Meaning Amity is Luz's only way back, so her improved relationship with her is linked to getting back home. There's a gag about the Knee having service with the human world, but I can see how that didn't make the cut, for dramatic purposes; It seems like the premise for a S1 episode or at least a B-plot. Would Luz have struggled to communicate with Camila through this, or would her search for wi-fi be for mundane reasons?

Apparently Luz's magic would've required a lot more steps to complete, and I see why the show simplified things down to just glyphs. I wonder if there was always going to be the connection of glyphs as a gift from the Titan, or if the Titan and her story was going to be less intertwined in the overall narrative. There also don't seem to be nine main covens, just the many, many covens, some of which are pretty ridiculous, and Covention's sub-covens seem a callback to that.

Luz's first spell would've been levitation, and THEN she would've infiltrated Hexside, with Amity being a lot subtler about exposing Luz, though in the final draft she does figure that out as the way to go in I was a Teenage Abomination. Yeah, I prefer Light being her original spell, feels so much more symbolic and personal, etc. I wonder if the Titan is even as much of a character in early drafts, and if there's still the whole connection/relationship with the land and learning to respect it aspect. Some of these hypothetical episodes push the idea of Amity as a more episodic, typical popular kid antagonist, though in the final draft, the show goes through her character development and explores Amity's romantic relationship with Luz and its complications.

It seems the idea of the Mirror Ghost was split into Adegast and Vee, with Adegast being the one who offers the easier narrative for Luz to believe in about becoming a witch (only to be a fraud who uses uncanny puppets), and Vee being a doppelganger whom Luz communicates through with mirrors. Interesting how Yesterday's Lie was born from this. We saw the test animation from Spencer Wan for TOH, so I guess we know what Luz's puppet-doppelganger is called! And we can safely call her Proto-Vee. I wonder if she also would've been a sympathetic character, I always thought she reminded me of Lake from Infinity Train (and speculated her to be as such since Enchanting Grom Fright), and now the similarities are even MORE apparent!

Alas, The Good Witch Azura, or 'The Unassuming Princess' seems like it'd have been a lot less dear to Luz's heart, as the pilot also reflects; In the end, it turns out the author is just Eda's ex using her adventures as basis, and including private information. I remember when I once speculated that Raine, before we saw their face, would've been just like this as the author of Azura... Again, I think I prefer Azura as being a lot less mean-spirited in the final draft, and instead a celebration of who Luz is as a person, her relationship with fantasy and fiction, etc. We also would've had a Luz birthday party, the Quincenera we've been hoping for since S1...! In the final draft (and episode) we still get that Human-Demon Realm disconnect, though by that point, Luz is much more attuned and chill with the isles.

There’s definitely more of an episodic, sitcom feel to this pitch bible, especially when you compare Proto-Yesterday’s Lie to its final version. Makes sense, Dana is pitching this to Disney executives, though her statement on Understanding Willow feeling truly like her show makes me wonder if she always intended to push TOH in that more serious, emotional route we got.

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Someone To Rely On

Sherlock never trusted anyone, but now, barely without his knowledge, he trusted five people. Five! It was outrageous.

Despite his snarl and distaste for his brother’s involvement in his life, Sherlock trusted Mycroft nearly most of all. Nearly.

Whenever Sherlock ended up in a drug den, needed transport, or rescue from Serbian prisons, Mycroft was the one to trust, and he never failed to deliver.

Behind Mycroft in line, there had been Lestrade. Sherlock could always count on the DI lacking the brains to solve a difficult case, then turn to the world's only consulting detective for help.

His beloved landlady was dearer to Sherlock than his own mother. Her biscuits and cakes were the best in the land, perhaps even the world, and he didn’t mind her fussing all that much. Not that he���d ever admit it, of course. Besides, she loved their bickering just as much as he did.

Molly, next. His cheeks blushed when he thought about how over the years, he has exploited her crush on him to the fullest. Crowding in on her to let her get a whiff of his cologne. Lowering his voice when he wanted to get access to some interesting body parts. 

The only times he has touched her, though, were to apologise for his behaviour and thanking her for helping him faking his own death. Both kisses were full of regret on his part, and he still wished he hadn’t needed to bestow them on her.

And then there was the enigma, the soldier, the doctor, the man with as many trust issues as Sherlock. John Hamish Watson. The most loyal man he has ever met. A man who actually killed another man to save Sherlock from his own stupidity mere hours after they’d met. He was admittedly an awful cabbie, but the truth remains; John had not hesitated when he fired that gun. His hand was steady, his shot perfectly aimed. It took Sherlock an embarrassing amount of time to realise who the hitman was, but when he did, he was defenceless.

***

After years of living together, Sherlock knew for a fact that John was the puzzle that would always remain unsolved. That thought appeared in his mind numerous times a week. Sometimes, numerous times a day.

On Mycroft’s last visit, he called John a Living Weapon. When Sherlock had insisted on an explanation, his older brother had rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“You are totally blind when it comes to Doctor Watson, brother mine.”

Sherlock waved a hand, indicating for his pompous arse of a brother to continue.

“How loathe I am to state the obvious, there is…how shall I put it…the effective way he disposed of Mr. Hope. I don’t think I need to go into details of every time the good doctor has kept you from harm’s way, for which I am most grateful. Be it his hands, his fists, his arms in general, or illegal firearms, he is there for you, Sherlock. Always. From day one. I am certain he would have a go at me if he thought I was a threat to your life.”

Mycroft looked smug after this delivery, which Sherlock didn’t notice. He was so deep in thought, he failed to perceive that his brother left the flat. When he returned from his Mind Palace, two hours had passed.

He had created a new room for John in his mind, using all the images Mycroft planted there while he listed every way John had saved him over the years. He used less than three seconds to name it.

John Hamish Watson - The Living Weapon

***

“You’re unusually calm,” John murmured into Sherlock’s ear when he came home that afternoon.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Sherlock asked a bit puzzled.

“Considering that your brother has visited,” John clarified.

“Ah. The knocker,” Sherlock sighed. “We really should consider gluing it to stay askew for eternity.”

John chuckled and kissed Sherlock’s jaw. The great detective inhaled sharply when he realised that John’s new room in his Mind Palace would need more images. All the ways John brightened his life, how he loved him, were weapons too. Sort of. Because Sherlock was totally helpless when his lover used every trick in the John Watson Bible of Seduction to get his attention.

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I'll leave it up to you to deduce whether Mycroft was aware he was using a pun...

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[dutifullyshamelessearthquake]

Random question I thought of late last night while debating whether to wash my hair:

What is everyone’s like… hair and skin care kind of routine? Who knows everything about it and who is utterly clueless? Who uses like seven hair products and who uses one of those insane ‘34 in 1’ things? Who has a whole skin care routine and who just splashes their face with water and calls it a day? idk if any of these examples quite fit, but they’re just food for thought. Sorry if this question is weird, it just popped up in my head for no reason 😅

This is so random but I absolutely adore it, I actually thought about this quite a bit.

These are the type of silly little details I can think about for hours, it just makes the characters feel so alive! Never apologise for asking these questions 😆

Cyno is the lucky idiot who probably doesn't even have 'haircare' in his vocabulary, yet he's somehow blessed with thick, soft hair. It's so fluffy and luscious but he barely uses any products. Tighnari is eternally jealous, and he loves playing with Cyno's hair.

Similarly, Cyno splashes water on his face and that's the extent of his skincare routine.

Tighnari on the other hand puts a lot of effort into his hair! (I mean it's canon that he uses oils on his tail, you can't tell me he wouldn't be the type to live a lil' self care and pampering.) He has a whole shelf in the bathroom with his hair products lined up on it, and Cyno will tease him about it. But really he loves it, he's always nuzzling his nose into Tighnari's hair because he smells so good.

Cyno once tried to use some of Tighnari's conditioner because he also wanted his hair to smell nice. His hair was so fluffy and poofy after that he could not control it for a week, and he's never gone near Tighnari's products again.

Earthquake that's one couple we've covered now, this post is going to go on forever

Gorou loves having his hair fussed over, but he doesn't want to grow it out. He's always asking Kazuha to play with it.

"braid it for me!" :D

"love, there's nothing to braid."

This has nothing to do with his hair care but it's adorable and lives in my head rent free. (As for hair care, his hair is short enough that he can get away with just rinsing it out whenever he takes a shower and he doesn't put much effort into it)

Kazuha's not too phased with his hair, but he definitely spends over an hour every night before bed doing his skincare routine. Gorou almost always dozes off waiting for him.

Aether loves his hair. He has a suitcase worth of different brushes, and is very meticulous about what products he uses. It's a whole ordeal to wash it, whenever Aether decides it's time to wash his hair, Albedo knows he has to take a shower first, because there will be no hot water left after Aether's done.

Before, Albedo was absolutely the type to just use a 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner and call it a day, but after moving in with Aether, he insisted Albedo "started to take better care of that beautiful hair." He does not go all out like Aether does, but he does spend some on his hair.

Lyney also loves going all out with both hair and skin care. He loves fussing over his hair, and he's got a whole shelf of skincare products. He also adores doing his make-up, so putting it on is a whole extra step to his morning routine, and getting it all off is a whole extra step to his evening routine.

Lumine grew up with Aether, so she knows a fair bit about haircare, but it isn't something she puts a lot of thought into. She'll use her fingers to brush it before leaving the house, and only washes it when absolutely necessary. Lyney has begged her to grow it out because he really wants to see what she would look like with long hair, but she simply can't be bothered to deal with that much hair. Cue the accusatory finger pointed at her brother and his mob of hair.

[raytm]

     The conman hadn't really been privy to Gepard's interests, at least outside of what he happened to accidentally stumble upon. Small details that to him are really not that big of a deal, but teasing the Landau about it all always seems to generate reactions that benefit him. Without Elation, Sampo wouldn't seek the captain out nearly as often. Wouldn't try putting himself out in the open in hopes that it's the pretty blond leading the chase rather than some grunt.

     Obliviousness to the other parts of Gepard's life has some purpose. Sampo rarely gets wrapped up in other people's affairs, approach the captain is no different. But the more he knows, the more he'll wish to dig in... Start to care like a friend might. Given their professions, it sounds rather far-fetched. 

     Despite having a keen eye, Sampo is unaware of Gepard's orientation. It's so easy to tease the war captain about all his secret admirers he has, fawning over him in the streets. Thus, on the Fools' Day, mercenary slips into the abode he frequents  &&  leaves a gift. It's a bouquet of various flowers, Sampo unaware of what might be the man's favorite. He'd never asked. Regardless, flowers with a note containing a few scrawled words. Having forged various documents  &&  signatures in his time, Sampo had little issue changing up his handwriting, to give it something more realistic he left a lip stain on the portion that read  ❛ Your secret admirer~ ❜

Fool doesn't stick around, but he's satisfied enough that the captain may or may not put two  &&  two together if Sampo leaves just a hint of red on his lips when causing mischief later.

-Gepard !

It seemed almost farcical that someone occupying such a distinguished position would be so unversed in the numerous languages of romanticism. It was envisaged that he would don the finery of an eloquent man and approach another with vows of eternal binding. many a pretty aristocrat had fussed over him with the eagerness of a woman enthralled and he, much to his utter humiliation, had found himself circumventing these truly scandalous incidents with the maladroit air of an utter fool. gepard tries to keep his rejections benign, finds no pleasure in the distress of their furrowed brows and pouted, glossed mouths but still finds their fawning to be a rather harrowing turn of events. he, by now, should be accustomed to the fool’s presence, a harbinger of numerous trials and adversities, careening uneventful days into sparks of lurid colour. he often finds himself straining against it only to be ensnared in the strands of meticulously woven elation. most of the time, he felt that he was the punch line of some profound, implicit joke and found himself probing their interactions if only to glean a sliver of truth. Sampo had a talent for it, easing his way under the silvermane guard’s civility and cajoling him to the brink of mortification. he seemed to get some sort of peculiar gratification from it, and no matter how he steeled himself for those inevitable pitfalls he would pitch into them all the same, headfirst and ludicrously unsteady. perhaps that is why he appraises the note with a sentiment of caution, eyes raking over the elegant scrawl, from the top to the bottom and then, repeating the gesture, as if deciphering it. the stain of a lips at the bottom was a discriminating touch only because he doubted the whimsical fancies of the women he had encountered thus far would blight their letters with such a provocative inclusion. he could be wrong though - it could be nothing but an innocuous letter of infatuation from someone rather - brazen. hesitantly, he holds it in his gauntlet, faltering between scrunching it up out of exasperation or, furtively holding onto it, incase it was something important. he looks over it again, regarding it with a little more severity before tucking it into the satchel he carried his water and food in. he would have to go over it again later - put the flowers in a vase with water, they were innocent in this charade after all. It wouldn’t be until much later, when the vulpine curve of sampo’s mouth was reflected in gepard’s glacial, narrowed gaze, that the carmine lacquer of his mouth would be realized and the reality of this pantomime gift would sink to the pit of his stomach like stone. there was a sense of relief, perhaps, in the fact that it could be verifiably attached to sampo’s antics rather than some besotted woman he would have to elucidate his unavailability to. but it was still an addition to the assorted ploys he had unearthed and been at the epicentre of and while he cannot allow these to balk him from his duty he found it tormented him when he least expected it to. 

[ladamedemartel]

"There is a place people once intended to make into a home. Abandoned now. Knowledgeable minds gifted with magic will tell you in hushed breaths that there is something fundamentally wrong with this forsaken corner of the world. When they fail to detail the meaning behind their words you might discover that it isn't secrecy but inability holding their tongues. They don't understand the events that took place there nor do they understand what can still occur at this site. But exercise enough pressure and guile and you will be able to uncover a location that the world itself begs to forget. Visit and you will unavoidably realize there is still...Something roaming the heart of the place." A, swift sharp hunt appeared to be offered in order to add the proper adjective but if such descriptor existed, Tristan didn't know it. And so he offered none.

"It doesn't have a voice of its own although it is remarkably adept at mimicking others, including myself by the end of our encounter. It...Plays with those who reach its dominion. It is whispered that a prize of your choosing is the promised reward for those captured in the strange game." Tristan was still slowly returning from the Odyssey. Still relishing in the sight of Aurora with the endless hunger one cannot replicate. The feverish, conquering sentiment reserved to those who encountered their beloved after days that might have felt like harrowing eras.

"It sounds positively treacherous, does it not? A deceptive call for the naive and the desperate. Betting your life and perhaps quite a bit more on the improbable chance to beat some dark, unfathomable existence no one can commence to explain. And yet still, it wasn't desperation that guided me there. It wasn't a desire to cheat my way into some mundane victory. No. I only sough a small impossible that more natural means denied me for far too long." Tristan introduced a velvety case from the inside pocket of his suit.

"For you see, Rory: You are the most cherished part of my world. Your sight remains my favorite vision throughout eternity. Your voice, the dearest music that has ever enraptured me. You company, your very existence, the most irreplaceable of treasures. You are loved, Aurora. Beyond words, senses, limits or imagination. You are ardently loved. Passionately and endlessly. And while our centuries see plenty of our musings regarding mutual belonging and insinuation of vows, I believe I finally claimed the one gem worthy of serving as the closest, approximate symbol of what you mean to me. A small impossible, for the greatest, most irreplaceable of them all" Tristan showed no hesitation in gazing inside her eyes in never-ending correspondence.

"Have you ever wondered why, while these reaffirmations are pleasurably frequent between us, I never before reserved one for...The latest chapters of August? What was it that I was waiting for?"

The velvet box revealed its content. Elegant, crafted lines evoked the feeling of French Rococo. Anyone would have called the ring a clear, unique work of art. But it was the gem that ascended it into inexpressible beckoning. A radiance of green. Subtly but undeniably not quite like any other.

"You can exchange the one you are wearing for this one. If it happens to be to your liking." Tristan explained in a complicit shade of devilment.

A daylight right.

An emerald daylight ring. The first and only of it's kind. An unrepeatable trinket meant for his unrepeatable love.

The words were spoken without being spoken. In the candor of letting her know with the intense reassurance of a look how profoundly she deserved to be celebrated. Even if hearing of the occasion wasn't to her liking.

The happiest of birthdays, my beloved Rory.

Happy Birthday Rory 2k23! (even though you hate your birthday)

There was immediate concern on her features, at the sight of him; there was strain behind his eyes the likes of which she had scarcely seen before. Still, before she could rise to properly fuss over him, he'd begun to weave the most beautiful story. Tristan had told her once that their mother had a gift for telling stories. If it had occurred to Aurora to think of her more, perhaps she would have wondered if this was some trait that she'd passed on to her son, or if her skill diverted so from his. It didn't matter.

As Tristan wove his tale, Aurora resumed her perch on the chaise. Her eyes followed Tristan as he moved about the room, ardently professing his feelings for her, offering grandiose claims of his affection for her. His words were a splendid sonata on a summer evening, banishing away any insecurities that had threatened to stage a mutiny in absence of her steady captain.

He reached his point and with a theatrical flair that Aurora appreciated, produced a small ring box. It pleased her to see as Tristan always had such exquisite taste in jewelry, and, true to her expectations, the emerald inside took Aurora's breath away. The piece was truly magnificent.

She half reached for it when a thought occurred to her. Tristan was making these declarations of love that were far grander than usual. For a moment, Aurora grew concerned that he was about to ask that they get married. For real. Not simply claim to be married, present themselves to humans as a married couple, but to actually marry. The notion was quickly dispelled, however, by the reminder as to the day.

"Tristan, you've out done yourself."

[helluvaoutlaw]

Striker sat stiffly in the velvet-lined carriage, the leather of his gloves creaking as he gripped the armrest.

Outside, the imposing manor loomed larger with each passing moment. The weight of his new title, General of the Satanic Forces, pressed down on him like the thick, sulfurous air of Hell itself. The journey had been long, but he was not tired. His mind was too full—of duty, of honor, of the future that was now inescapably his.

As the carriage rolled steadily down the gravel path, he caught sight of the lined-up staff from the small window. The Goetia, dressed in their subdued livery, stood in tidy rows, their heads bowed slightly as they awaited his arrival. A flicker of irritation passed through him.

This was all so formal, so suffocating. He longed to be on horseback, riding through the wild, untamed parts of Hell where he could breathe freely, away from the burdens that came with power.

But Paimon’s voice, always calm and precise, lingered in his memory.

“It wouldn’t be proper for a General to arrive in such a manner, my Lord.”

Paimon had said, his tone gently admonishing as he fussed over the details of Striker’s uniform, making sure every button was in place, every crease sharp. Paimon had practically raised him, more father than servant, more guide than caretaker. The old Goetia housekeeper had been with the family for decades, his wisdom a constant in Striker’s life.

“Remember,” Paimon had added, his eyes meeting Striker’s with that familiar mix of sternness and affection, “Your position demands not just strength, but composure. The troops, the servants, even the high-ranking officers—they all look to you now. You must show them that the blood of your ancestors still runs strong.”

Striker had nodded, though a part of him resented the reminder. He knew his duties, understood the weight of his lineage better than anyone. His grandfather, Amaru, had been a legend, leading Satan’s armies with an iron fist. His father, Anvil, had fought valiantly in the eternal war against Heaven, sacrificing everything for the cause. Now it was his turn, and with the title came expectations that were as heavy as any armor.

Yet, there was one expectation he struggled to accept.

The thought of it made his stomach twist as the carriage approached the manor’s grand entrance.

A marriage, arranged by Satan himself, to a member of the Buckzo family. Barbara Wire—violent, spoiled, manipulative, aggressive, and everything he didn’t want in a partner. The idea of being tied to her for the sake of producing an heir was a bitter pill to swallow. He had never desired marriage, never wanted the complications it brought, especially with Barbara. And then there was Blitz…

He clenched his jaw at the thought of the past, a past he had tried to bury deep. Blitz Buckzo, the brother of his soon-to-be wife, had been his lover, his confidant, back when life was simpler. Before the Academy, before the weight of duty had crushed their youthful passions. Their breakup had been as painful as it was necessary, and he had hoped—prayed, even—that he would never have to see Blitz again.

But Hell had a way of twisting fate, binding souls together in ways that no one could escape. Now, he was to marry into the very family he had once sought to forget, to play the part of a dutiful husband while old wounds still festered beneath the surface.

The carriage came to a halt, and Striker took a deep breath, steeling himself. The door was opened by one of the Goetia servants, who bowed low as Striker stepped out onto the gravel. The manor loomed above him, its darkened windows like eyes watching his every move. The staff remained in their lines, eyes downcast, waiting for his command.

He straightened his posture, the General’s uniform fitting snugly around his shoulders. As much as he longed to rebel against these rigid traditions, he knew Paimon was right. There was no room for weakness, no space for doubt. He had a legacy to uphold, a kingdom to protect, and an image to maintain.

With a curt nod to the servants, he strode towards the entrance, every step deliberate, every motion controlled. Inside, a new chapter of his life awaited—one filled with duty, with challenges, and with the ghosts of a past that refused to stay buried. But Striker was no stranger to war, and this…this was just another battlefield.

@helluvaoutlaw

The household staff was lined up around the estate in tidy rows, like soldiers. The manor itself had belonged to a gruff old imp for many, many years after his ascension to General of the Legions, the second highest position in the military after the King. The staff had looked after his needs for quite some time...but he met his end two months ago, and a new General had been elected.

Coronis stood with most of her family in the line. They had been assigned to this household by virtue of their family lineage centuries ago. It was always one family of Goetia to tend to those in positions of power. The wings of the Satanic Army, the brutal forces that kept Hell in check.

Though she wriggled a little bit as they waited for the new General to arrive. They would be serving those one a great deal longer...if he survived the appointment. This one was new. This one was young.

General Striker had a name even before Satan appointed him the title. I just hope he's not as scary as the rumors say. Coronis sighed a little, still waiting.

[manifestmerlin]

Hoho welcome back to part 5 of the @jackplushie automation au ideas!

Pomefiore time! Which means im sorry but spoilery things arent below the cut just because... theres so many of them qiwdqi. This is also gonna be true of the next part with Ignihyde, its just too hard to seperate it out.

Theres very little explict or major spoilers but like. If you put the details and transpose them youll be able to figure it out. (Surprisingly still probably more spoilery than any other dorm is going to be)

So yeah there's some spoilers for the 3rd part of Pomefiore chapter for Vil, slight spoilers for the start and end of chapter 6 for Rook, and spoilers for one specific thing from the middle of chapter 6 for Epel.

(Also this took so much longer than i planned qihdiqh)

EDIT: pssst if you liked this I made a sideblog for twst writing, @scertifiedsavanaclawstan! So go follow me over there!

Pomefiore

Pomefiore Productions is a brand who produces showpieces for commercial use. Bots used as runway models and movie stars, or who are supposed to star in commercials for a company.

Vil is a bot in the Schoenheit line, a set of bots made for use in films.

Prior bots in the line were mostly used AS bots, but Vil's debut role was so emotional and powerful that Pomefiore quickly began setting up more jobs for him.

Vil Schoenheit became a household name quickly, starring in film after film, even getting his own bot assisstant to help him with makeup and clothing.

Then one day it all came crashing down when a new idol bot came out: One Neige Leblanc.

Neige's popularity also began to skyrocket, and more and more roles began to go to him instead of Vil.

Eventually, he's got so little to do that Pomefiore puts him on a 'vacation' in the hopes that he can be brought back later.

Vil has little to do but wander around and stew in his resentment with Rook by his side.

Eventually he found your... quaint living space, and he began spending more and more time around you.

It felt... nice, just to be around you, you were oddly receptive to his presence and his fussing over your appearance.

He appreciated having something to do, someone to work on, since working on himself wasn't... yielding any results. (This increases exponentially once Epel starts living with you and now he's got 2 people to fuss over lol)

Oh, and if you're ever worried about the paparazzi while you're spending time with him, don't! He's much more physically capable than you'd think.

And if someone get's a little tooo crazy? He didn't spend all that time learning about makeup for nothing.

If people who seek to do you harm begin to fall into an eternal sleep, it's nothing for you to worry about.

After all, without you who else is going to *really* appreciate his beauty?

Rook was originally a bot made by a seperate company, and he was popular for hunting. However, yours wound up taking a... different path.

Errors in his programming lead to him getting discarded quickly, and sold to a worker at Pomfiore Productions, who refitted Rook to work as a companion for their newest Actor bot, a role Rook took to very well.

He was incredibly quick to identify areas of improvement, faster than even the actor bot himself.

That's not to say he's completely changed his behavior of course, he still enjoys people watching, and he loves watching gladiatorial matches almost as much as movies.

In fact as part of his original purpose he's fitted with small, long-range trackers he can affix to his targets, which he does. A little too frequently all things considered

A odd thing happened though when he was walking with Vil one day during the latter's vacation, one of his long dead trackers began pinging him again.

He was originally just going to leave it alone until after his walk, but Vil wasn't actually doing anything and so he tagged along.

The tracker had been placed on your little kitty bot. And it lead the pair straight to your home.

Rook, like Vil, loves staying over at your place inbetween people watching (unless you've got a lot of other bots at home in which case good luck getting him to leave.)

Of course, thats also in no small part due to you. You'll often feel Rook's gaze burning into the back of your head, and then turn around to see him looking at nothing in particular.

He finds you fascinating, the way you manage your life, the way you accept all the nonsense you're always thrust into. (And possibly all the other bots, despite their damage.)

He often finds himself watching you even when he isn't supposed to be. Following you from the rooftops, or peering at you from around scrap piles.

You have no need to worry of course, he's just keeping an eye on you for your safety, if someone attempts a sneak attack, he'll deal with it without you even noticing.

His eyes will always be on you.

Epel is a unique case, being a bot that works in a fruit processing wearhouse.

The company is charge wanted to improve their marketing game, so they commissioned Pomefiore Productions to adjust one of their bots to be more photogenic.

Pomefiore created Epel, and he was a hit! Cute as a button and perfect for starring in commercials or being shown to people taking tours of the facilities.

The company ordered a number of Epel bots to staff their various warehouses and one of them, yours, was a little... different.

He was tempermental, hated being complimented on his appearance, and was more prone to lifting boxes himself than transporting it mechanically.

After a particular incident when he threw a box of apples at a tour group, he was thrown out.

It was after this that he came into your life. And BOY is it an improvement to him!

No having to look pretty? No having to put on a show? He gets to just lift things and show off his strength? Oh sweet mercy!

Of course now you have to deal with purple haired always angry bot boy, but hey! It's not that bad! For you...

For anyone else who makes the mistake of cooing over how you managed to get yourself such a rare and cute android... it is pretty bad for them.

If they're lucky they'll wind up losing a few frostbitten fingers... if not...

Well let's just say Epel makes good use of that tech, even if it was originally just made to chill fruit.

(This is all true until Vil shows up. He still doesn't like Vil.)

[skzsauce01]

Hymn to Myself

Anniversary Request Special

Synopsis: The Goddess of Spring tells a mortal the story of her abduction by the King of the Underworld. Follows the Homeric Hymn to Demeter.

Warning: kidnapping

Word Count: 2.6k

Pairing: fem Persephone!reader x Hades!Hyunjin

Dear mortal, listen closely, for I have deemed you worthy to hear my tale. You have danced in my name, burned offerings to me. You shall be rewarded for your worship. Lend me your ear now, and perhaps I will lend a hand in the future.

You know me by many names — The Maiden, The Younger, the Goddess of Spring — but today I will be the Queen of the Dead. There is no need to be so frightened. Your time has not come yet, nor will I be the one to ferry you to the Underworld, as you well know. Trembling and bowing your head for mercy will serve you no purpose but do as you like.

You have heard the tale, I am sure. The Dark-Haired One seizes a maiden and makes her his bride, as her mother, holy Night-Mare of the golden double-axe, ceases the earth’s harvest in her despair. The story you may have heard prior is my mother’s version, without the details of me in the Underworld.

Like most stories, it begins with the Cloud Collector, my father. Seeing that the King of the Underworld had no queen and that no goddess or nymph desired him, he offered him a bride, the flowerfaced daughter of the Corn-Mother. The King of the Dead accepted.

As you may have guessed, I did not know about this arrangement. The nymphs I surrounded myself with then, daughters of the Titan God of Rivers, did not either, yet they braided my hair and wove flowers in. Roses, crocuses, and hyacinths entangled with violets and irises to make a crown of spring. I still remember the way they fussed over me, singing songs and pulling at my scalp. I hated it. I only wanted to pick my blossoms. Once they had finished, I walked through the meadow, leaving them behind, gathering as many of the flowers I could into my arms.

Then I spotted a narcissus, its center as radiant as the sun and its petals the color of fresh milk. Its honey-sweet fragrance filled the sky and enchanted me. I approached it with both hands, ready to hold the bud to my nose, when the earth beneath me broke open.

A golden chariot drawn by sable-black horses leapt out, and I was snatched by the gloomy Lord. I cried out for my father, he of the thunderbolt, but he was the one who promised me, and I did not know that then. The King of the Dead had me in his grasp. He refused to let go. But still I cried a piercing scream, begging the pantheon of gods seated at Olympus to help, pleading Lord Helios in his own golden chariot to come down and save me. No one heard a thing when the chariot descended back into the earth.

And when we finally entered the Underworld, my voice had gone hoarse, my body limp. The flowers I clutched to my chest were the only remnants of the sunlit earth I had, but their petals had scattered into the wind and their stems wilted in the dark. The Dark-Haired One kept his arm on me, making sure I would not be able to flee. The shades wandered in the fields below us, their moans a constant hum.

Soon we stopped in front of his palace, a cold and imposing labyrinth with a locked gate reaching to the sky. A three-headed dog stood guard, saliva dripping from its maw. The King stepped off first and offered his hand to me, but I remained frozen on the chariot. It was still warm from the sun, and I wanted to soak in every last piece I could. The hound growled and lowered its center head to sniff me when I latched onto the side, even as the Lord of the house tried to drag me off.

“Leave me be,” I cried, pushing at his chest. “My father will punish you for this. He is the king of the heavens, and you will be struck with his bolt.”

“At the behest of the Thunderer, you are now my wife. Come, my queen, into your new home.”

I had no tears left, and I mutely followed him, keeping my eyes on the back of his wine-dark cloak. He led me through the gates, the corridors of his palace, all the way to the throne room. Two chairs stood next to each other, both as black as the horses and the sky. His was obsidian, etched with bone-white carvings and lined with onyx gems. The other, the ebony one intertwined with asphodel and pomegranates, belonged to me now.

“Are you pleased?” he asked.

I said nothing, for the fight in me had died along with the flowers I left between the paws of the hound.

“Are you frightened?”

Again, no sound left me. He made me sit on my throne, and I did with my head hung low. He cradled my face, and I shut my eyes. If he desired a kiss, then he could take it. I was a wife now, to the king of the Underworld too, and I would let my husband put his mouth on mine.

“Tired,” he declared after some time. “I will bring you ambrosia and nectar, so that you may recover.”

He brought the divine foods to me, but I did not eat. He tried to make conversation, but I did not speak. The scent of the asphodels and pomegranates were suffocating, and the musk of death coated the air untainted by natural fragrance. The thick slabs of wood underneath me were unyielding, and so was I. The Dark-Haired One was dismayed.

“What is it that you require?”

“I require that I be returned to my mother and to the earth.”

He smiled. “I have all of the riches of the earth. See what I have made for you.”

Humans called him the Wealthy One on occasion, and I understood that it was not merely a euphemism when he presented my crown to me: a golden-leaved garland with apple-red rubies the size of hen’s eggs and emeralds as vivid as moss, not a hint of death clouding its elegance. It was magnificent and befitting for a queen of spring. He undid the nymphs’ braids that still remained in my hair and placed the crown on my head.

“Are you happy now?” he asked.

“I will never be happy until I see the sun again.”

He frowned and left me alone on my throne, hoping I would change my mind. The ambrosia and nectar laid on the moonlight-silver tray. They glistened and glowed, their dangerously sweet scent enveloping the room, doing their best to entice me. Instead, I sat as rigid as a tree for days, languishing in my misery. Color faded from my features, and I looked like the very image of the Queen of the Dead, with my soulless eyes and ashen skin.

Day and night, I remained there. The Lord of the House was patient, as his realm was eternal and as I was immortal. He brought gifts to try to sway me: diamond birds perching on bronze branches, amethyst crocus bouquets with delicate sprigs of roses the colors of ripe peaches. I left them on the ground. They reminded me too much of what I no longer had. The treasures around me grew, but he persisted with his prizes and his attempts at conversation.

“There are many souls arriving today,” he would say. “How lovely,” I would reply.

“What do you think of the sky here?” he would ask, and I would tell him, “It is like you.”

“Would you like to see Cereberus again? I think he liked you,” to which I would answer, “I am content here.”

It was his offer to visit the Asphodel Meadows that drew me out of my fog.

We took his chariot, golden and gleaming as before. This time, he held out a hand for me, and I accepted. The three-headed dog at the entrance of the palace whined when I did not pat his heads like his master. The flowers I left as a peace offering earlier were gone, not even a broken stem lingering. I could only imagine that they were played with and eaten.

“He does like you,” the King whispered. He placed one arm around my shoulders as he held the reins with the other. I shrunk as much as I could, burying my nose in my hair so not to smell the death radiating off of him.

“Yes, I suppose he does.”

We stopped in one of the many fields, the asphodel ghostly white and fluttering in the breeze. The shades kept their distance when I stepped off the chariot and into the flowers. My bare feet touched the Underworld dirt, my ankles brushed the stalks as I roamed the meadow like I did that fateful day, plucking the prettiest blooms from their roots. The Dark-Haired One followed closely behind, and I did my best to keep my eyes on the iron sky as I wandered through more of the fields. Lone petals circled in the wind, adorning the false flowers of my crown with themselves. I thought about the nymphs — their songs, their chatter, their life — and nearly wept. Then I thought about my poor mother, with the beautiful garlands in her hair, finding no trace of me among the meadow, and I dropped to the ground.

“There is no need to cry,” said the Dark-Haired One softly. “The shades will not hurt you.”

“I want to go home,” I replied in-between my gasps. I thought that picking flowers would somehow soothe me, but they only pained my heart. “Please, let me return home.”

He held me up, and I saw up close the famed black locks that framed his face. “Home,” he smiled.

My spirits soared, and I clamored onto his chariot, eager to see the wispy clouds and splendid sun again. But I had deceived myself. For the Queen of the Underworld, the palace was home.

The throne was too far for my limp body to retire to, so he set me down upon a funeral couch. There, I laid and stared out the window at the vast number of souls inhabiting the fields. He brought me ambrosia and nectar once more, a feeble attempt that even he knew was wasted.

He ordered entertainers to sing and dance for me, but I stared at them like one of the many skulls carved on his throne.

However, my prayers were soon answered months later. The mighty Messenger of the Gods, with his golden wand, came and relayed my father’s message: I was to be returned to my mother, for she was wrathful against the gods. The Lord smiled and did not disobey the Thunderer’s orders.

“Go to your mother,” he said to me, “for I am not an unseemly husband. But you are my queen, and all those who do not perform your rituals with reverence, all those who do not perfectly burn offerings for you, will be punished.”

I did not care about those things. Still, I rejoiced and leapt from the couch with liveliness, my crown falling to the ground in my eagerness. To feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, to see the vibrant earth, to be with my mother — those were what mattered to me.

“Before you leave, I ask that you try the Underworld’s fruit,” he said, holding out a pomegranate. “As a blessing to us from the Queen of the Dead.”

“You have been nothing but kind to me, so I will,” I told him. I ate four of the seeds, red as the rubies on my Underworld crown and sweet as honey, before I could tolerate my impatience no longer.

The King’s chariot was already drawn with his sable-black horses. The dog eyed me curiously as I got onto the chariot with the Immortal Guide rather than his master. The messenger took the reins, and we ascended to the upper world. The taste of the pomegranate still coated my tongue when the earth cracked open.

We burst forth like a new sprout. The nymphs came out from the sea and flocked around, fussing like they did before. This time, I did not mind. I let them pull at my clothing and let them weave fragrant flowers in my hair.

My mother, with a dark robe, soon arrived. She saw me, stretched her arms out, and I ran into them, breathing in her familiar scent. She stroked my hair, all while murmuring in my ear about how I was safe now, how happy she was. I was happy too. I recounted my tale to her in a frenzy, words crashing into one another like the churning tides. We stayed together, roaming the fields, soaking in the sun and earth I had missed. I danced in the streams, playing with my nymphs in celebration, for I was home.

It was later that I learned that I was bound to the Underworld, having eaten the pomegranate seeds. I left with a heavy heart and arrived to the expectant Lord, smiling with his brows.

“You tricked me,” I said. I would not weep; I could endure my time here.

“It was a request you accepted,” he said as he strode to me with my crown. He adorned me with it, and I let him brush the loose tendrils from my face. “Welcome home, my queen.”

In the beginning, it was a partial home.

I left the palace as often as I could to roam among the asphodels and the shades. The shades grew acquainted with my presence and bowed to me, moaning cries of worship in that strange tongue of theirs. I learned to feed the horses with sweet pomegranate seeds to entice them into being obedient, and the golden chariot of the King became one of my possessions. I stayed away from him, for I still felt betrayed.

Despite my frigidness, he adored me like no other. The entertainers seemed to be a constant at his court now that I present. He offered to dance with me, to which I rejected every time. He played knucklebones with me on the rare occasion I was receptive. I suspected he let me win on several occasions in an attempt to open me up like a blooming flower. And whenever I returned from a walk through the fields, he would have a lavish bouquet of false flowers waiting on my throne.

However, over time I grew to recognize my stature. After all, not many goddesses could say that they had power like mine. I began to wear my royal title like a mantle, draping it around my shoulders and letting it trail behind me in my wake. I was not always merciful, as you may well know yourself, mortal, but it is nigh impossible to say that I was not fair. The Lord took this fervor of mine as a sign that I had forgiven him. I still do not know if I have.

I sit beside him, as his equal, commanding the dead just like he does. I let him kiss my cheek and sometimes return the favor if I am feeling kind that day. I dance with him, resting my head over his heart and breathing in his musk.

But he is the one who made me his bride and thrust the Underworld upon me.

It is difficult to say that I resent him. It is much easier to say that I cannot, and will never be able to, love him in the same way he loves me.

Thus, for four months of the year, I live as the Queen of the Dead, never as his wife.

Now, dear mortal, you have heard it all. Tell it to the world.

~ ad.gray

Extra: Sorry for the unholy amount of name euphemisms and epithets. The TL;DR is that I didn’t want the associations of the Greek gods’ relationships, and by extension their names, in this story because they’re a mess by modern standards, so I opted for euphemisms and epithets instead. I decided to not use names at all because consistency, I guess? This kind of works though since “Persephone” is telling the story to a mortal and mortals avoided saying certain god’s names, Persephone and Hades among them, out of fear or respect (source). Saying a god’s name gets their attention, and getting the god’s of death attention was considered unlucky (source). This story’s version of Persephone is pretty understanding, I guess. Also, I tried to mimic the style of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter (this was the translation I used), and the amount of descriptors is insane. Thanks for coming to my TedTalk.

Hope you enjoyed this! <3

[yumeaoka-chan]

You could always throw in how the fight began and what it was about. Like, he was doing Spider-Man things, got super, and I mean, suuuuper hurt during a fight. You try and fuss over him, but Hobie is just having a real tough time because he'd been trying to save this little kid during the fight and God, he could never seem to move fast enough. He'd risked his neck to save the other civilians during this fight and did so, why couldn't he have saved the kid? And you don't know this because Hobie has been silent the whole time you fuss over him.

Hobie just going through it mentally and you probably say something like, "There's no reason you should've gotten hurt this badly" or sum (idk the details, man😭). For some odd reason, it sets Hobie off and he's jerking away from you while running his mouth. "You don't know wha' you're talkin' 'bout" and "I don't need you hoverin' over me like 'm a helpless sack of shit" and when you argue back and make a point of how you are the one stitching him back together, he goes "Was doin' just fine without you before"

And you're just like, "So you don't need me, is that it? I'm just a burden to you...?" You both had said pretty hurtful stuff during the fight, but Hobie was looking at you with such cold eyes that you couldn't help how your chest felt like it was caving in with dread. Hobie looks away from you when he speaks again, practically dissociating from the fight. It feels like he's watching it all happen through a TV screen, like he's not in control of his mouth. Maybe it's because he was still feeling like a useless piece of shit who couldn't even save that child that had reached out to him with both arms, crying out to Spider-Man as she got crushed by the rubble of the falling building above, the light slowly dying in her eyes. He's Spider-Man. He should've been better. He knows that he IS better than that, than letting down the people that need him.

All his frustration, all his guilt, it eats away at him and makes all the hurtful stuff slip from his lips as he lashes out at you. Stuff, he would never say if he was in the right mind. "You sure aren't makin' anythin' easier." (Or something along those lines) You both don't speak for what feels like an eternity after he utters those words, your heart practically shattering. Hobie realizes a little too late that he lashed out at you for something you didn't even know about, staring at the floor of his houseboat in shock as you bolt out the door.

Aaaaaaaaand, that's all, folks! Idk, something along these lines or something else

And then, one day🗣️🎄

EVERYTHING CHANGED!!!

You’re all I need 🫶🏻❄️

UNDERNEATH THE TREE!!!

You’re here, where you should be,

Snow is falling as the carolers sing 🎁

It wasn’t just the saaaaame

Alone on Christmas dayyyyyy😭💖

(Now imagine you and Hobie had a messy fight, where it almost came to a breakup and it was almost Christmas night when it all happened. You two were hosting a Christmas themed party at your place, but because you fought, Hobie was out in town and you didn’t know where he is or if he would ever come back. So now here you were, sad with all your mates and friends that were enjoying your party, sitting on the couch with some sizzling champagne in your hands when you hear someone ringing the doorbell. Who could it be? Everyone who was invited already came, you reluctantly stand up and squeezed your way through to the front door. Upset and holding back the tears you open the door. “Can I help yo-?” You look up with your unshed tears, only to see Hobie, your Hobie standing there with a beautiful present in his hands, a Christmas hat on his head.

The heavy thud of the present dropping down to the floor was followed with you falling into his hands, holding him like he could disappear. Hot tears rolled down his neck as you quietly sobbed into the crook of his neck, quiet apologies and whispered love confessions whispered into your ear. The night was magical, snow falling and the sounds of happy children all around the neighbourhood. Maybe there really is Christmas blessings? You don’t know, but as long as he’s with you, you’re happy and you don’t need any other gifts besides him 🫶🏻. Happy first December to everyone!!! 🎁💖)

Imagine hearing that song too the entire night while you were wallowing abt what happened, wishing that he could call at least 😭 I'd be heartbroken too ngl 😭 thank santa he came back!

This felt like a holiday love story and I'm in for all of it 🥹 I can't believe it's already December! It was like yesterday octobie was in full swing

[emiwasabi]

Stalker: Part 2

If you’re interested in being on my tag list, please let me know!

Mayans MC Tag List: @mrsstevenbuchananstark, @rose-bliss, @lyly00, @spnaquakindgdom

It only took a couple of hours to get my shit packed and stored in the car the next morning. The last stop was the bar. In an ideal world I would be able to get in and get out with a vague excuse in under 10 minutes. But of course I don’t live in an ideal world. No, I live in one with stalkers that terrorize good people for no discernable reason.

So it wasn’t a surprise when I pulled into a mostly empty lot. And Hank’s was one of the bike’s that was missing. The only person that I wanted to break the news to since he was technically the ‘boss’ for the bar. From what I picked up on the man, he seems like a straightforward no fuss type of guy. One who won’t ask too many questions or want to know the finer details.

EZ, who was outside with a Romero Brother’s shirt draped over his shoulder, was the absolute last person that I wanted to see.

“Angie!” He called. It was too late to run so instead I leaned against the car with a smile, trying to play it cool. “I didn’t know you worked today. Isn’t it a little early for a shift?”

Yeah, about four hours too early, I thought, trying to keep the smile on my face. “Well I’m actually not here to work. I was just looking for Hank. Is he here?”

“Nah, they went on a job a bit ago. Should be back in a couple of hours.”

The smile slipped away with disappointment. “Oh okay. Well that sucks.” I looked towards the line of bikes again. “And I’m assuming Bishop’s also gone?”

He didn’t seem like the type of guy that liked to pry but I could see the growing concern in his eyes; the slight drop of his eyebrows and subtle glance at my car. He leaned forward, dropping his voice an octave. “You okay Angie? You seem a little…” he motioned between the car and me, “stressed.”

I pushed away, casually starting towards the clubhouse. “I’m fine EZ. I’ll just wait for them to get back.” Before he could open his mouth to object I cut in, “Don’t you have work to do?” I said playfully. Thankfully, he didn’t ask anymore questions.

It had felt like eternity by the time the boys had made it back. My nail beds were a mess from the picking and biting, a nervous habit that I have never been able to kick. It didn’t help that the rest of the Mayans were working in the yard so the clubhouse was relatively empty, leaving me to just spiral with my thoughts. My hair, which needed a washing last night, was even worse now because of the amount of times I’ve run my hands through it.

It took about 10 minutes for Hank to pull out the stool and plop down next to me. “Hey, Angie. What’s up?”

The words that I had meticulously drafted in my head on the drive here dried up on my tongue the second I actually opened my mouth. I cleared my throat. “Uhm. Well I was wondering if I could get my paycheck earlier? Like now?”

The beer bottle stopped halfway between the bar top and his mouth. He glanced at me questioningly before taking a sip. “I can give you cash.” He said too casually. “You seem to be in a rush.” Hank stared pointedly at my nails and jittering leg. “You going somewhere?”

I forced myself to stay still. “Out of town. But like indefinitely. So…” I trailed off and moved my attention to the bar top, tracing the old scars absentmindedly.

“So you’re quitting.” He clarified.

“Yes.” I said. “Not because I didn’t like it or anything. It’s been good. I just have some personal stuff going on. And it’s best if I leave today.” I don’t know if it was his silent nature or the prolonged eye contact but I could feel myself rambling. Which was probably making it more obvious.

“Is this about that letter you got?” EZ cut in from the back of the bar. I almost jumped a foot in the air, not realizing that he was buzzing around the area for all of our chat.

“Letter?” Hank repeated curiously.

Before I could say anything, EZ started explaining. “It was the night of that party with the other Charters.”

“The one where Angel got his ass kicked in the cage?” Hank interrupted, a smirk appearing on his face.

“Yeah, that one. She was fine at the beginning of the night until she found this letter in the storage room. Had her name on the front and everything.” He turned towards me with concern. “You seemed shaken up. And you were sorta spacey the rest of the night.” Damn EZ and that stupid memory thing.

“I wasn’t spacey.” I argued. “And he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Maybe I’m just like that normally.” Hank barely regarded the interruption..

“Note was found in the clubhouse?” The Mayans’s full attention was on me now. I could feel the sweat starting to roll down my back. “Was it a threat?”

I gulped. “Not exactly a threat. It was shoved in between the boxes that were just shipped.”

“Well it didn’t seem like a good thing.” If I could kill someone with a look, EZ would be 6 feet under.

“You don’t have to worry about what the letter said, Hank, because I’m leaving. Today, so crisis averted!”

“So it’s a crisis now..” EZ had completely forgotten his bar duties and was now resting both elbows on the table, staring at me intently. “And probably dangerous, based on the way you’re acting.”

Hank seemed to be lost in his own thoughts for a minute. Not concerned with our bickering. “Stay here until I talk this out with Bishop.” It was an order. Before I could even argue, he was crossing the room heading straight for the Pres.

I blew out a puff of air in annoyance. “Well this hasn’t gone as expected.” I said to no one in particular. There goes that quick in and out idea. I stared intently at my hands, not wanting to see the conversation happening across the room.

Angel had wandered over at some point, wearing the uniform shirt buttoned straight to the top. LIke usual Coco and Gilly also made an appearance. I swear the three were like a packaged deal. “What’s got Bish’s feathers ruffled?” He asked us.

“Probably you.” Gilly joked. He turned towards me and nodded a greeting. “I didn’t think you worked today.”

“I don’t.” I mumbled, still staring at my hands intently. “Just here to get my check.”

“Cause she’s leaving town.” EZ supplied.

“Are you out to get me or something?” I glared daggers at EZ. “I don’t understand why you’re so concerned.”

Hurt flashed across his face. “Cause it’s obvious that something’s up and I don’t think running away is gonna solve anything.”

“You don’t know anything about me!” It came out more defensive than intended. And while I had only been here a couple of months, EZ and I had come pretty close. In fact the longer I worked there the harder it was to keep those pieces of me hidden.

Coco whistled low and I swear I heard Gilly utter ‘damn’. Angel just watched the back and forth like it was a tennis match. “It’s only obvious to you because of your whole thing.” I motioned towards his head. “Has anyone ever told you how annoying that memory trick is?”

“All the time,” Angel confirmed.

Before EZ could fire off a response, Bishop had finished his conversation with Hank and they were both making their way over. With an exasperated sigh, the President grabbed the stool next to me while Hank stood right behind him. “Heard you’re leaving.” There was always something more intimidating about Bishop. Something that went beyond the title, like a complete assuredness of his abilities or the confidence in himself. Whatever it was made my mouth dry and heart rate shoot up.

At this point just about all the Mayans were hanging around. EZ behind the bar. Coco, Gilly, Angel, and Creeper leaning against the bar on the other side of me. Creeper, Riz, and Taza were sitting at one of the shorter tables within earshot. I looked around, focusing on EZ for a bit longer. Sure, I could try to play this whole thing off or play it down but there was something stopping me.

“Fine,” I sighed in defeat and pulled out a joint from my front pocket.. “But I’m gonna need a couple hits before I tell you everything.”

Everyone had rearranged themselves more comfortably and a cold rum and coke was placed on the bartop. I stared blankly at the counter, recounting the story that I’ve recounted god knows how many times. “HIs name’s Andrew. I’ve never actually met him. I mean there’s a chance he was around before and I just didn’t know it.” Maybe they knew where this was going. “It started when I was a sophomore, a couple months after school started. At first it was just monthly letters; not addressed to anyone in particular. They showed up in easy access places; under my door, under the windshield wipers of my car, my usual seat at the library.” I took a strong puff, trying to stamp down the feeling of deja vu..

“They didn’t include anything super specific. It was wierd; almost like someone’s diary. As time went on they became more frequent, detailed, and they started showing up in impossible places. Inside the car, inside the shelves of my bathroom, at work. Then they became more personal. Talking less about his day and more about mine. They just got creepier every time. It was like he wanted me to know that he was watching me at every point in the day. Started getting into my head too.” It didn’t matter where I moved or where my next job was, they kept appearing.” I took a deep breath, clearly remembering the fear that gripped me every time I saw that navy blue envelope. Couldn’t stop my hands from shaking. EZ noticed. His large hand covered my own in support.

“The fucker make any specific demands? Say anything about meeting up?” Coco asked.

“In the six years that he’s been around?” I snorted, “It’d be almost more relieving if he did.” EZ topped off my drink. “It’s like he’s content just watching me.”

“Watching or controlling?” Angel asked.

That took a second of contemplation. “He’s never been direct. But It’s easy to tell when he’s…upset at my choices.” Memories flashed through my mind like a movie. “If he was happy, I’d come home to rose petals on every surface, teddy bears, perfume, clothes. When he wasn’t it was slashed tires, gutted animals. People I got close to would always end up getting hurt. Accidents that weren’t really accidents but nothing could be proven.”

“I’m sure the police weren’t helpful.” Hank added.

That got a chuckle out of me. “No, not at all.” After a second thought I added, “but that might not be all their fault. I’ve never had a physical confrontation with the guy, there’s no surveillance video of him following me. I used to report the break ins but it was useless because there was never any forced entry. Or prints. He’s a ghost.”

“Or a professional.” It was the first time Bishop said anything. While he didn’t look happy, not that he ever did, there was some slight trace of concern in the pinch of the eyebrows and tilt of his mouth. He glanced at the group, making eye contact with each brother before making a decision. “All your stuff is in your car? Do you have enough for a night here?” He asked, turning towards me.

“Yes, there’s a black and white checkered bag in the passenger seat that should have enough. But…”

Bishop started barking out orders before I could utter another word. “EZ, grab her stuff. Set it in one of the back rooms.” He uttered something in Spanish that I didn’t quite get before continuing. “Rest of us. Templo. Gotta figure this shit out.” Most of the guys offered a somewhat comforting smile. Angel gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze as they headed towards those stained glass doors.

There was a point during all of this, maybe three years ago, that I succumbed to this idea that my life would look like this forever. But If I focused hard enough, I could feel an inkling of hope trying to cut through the doubt and fear. Hope that I would maybe get out of this situation alive.

[ackerfics]

so this is love — annie leonhart

— annie leonhart x female reader

— request by anon: I kinda have a request. How about royal au? Where 2 kingdoms are at war with each other, and reader is the heir of the throne of one kingdom (but they’re not the spoiled type of heir, more like the solider one?) and then the kingdoms decided a truce. Reader will have to marry the heir of the other kingdom which is Annie. Idk maybe those arranged marriages that they never get along at first? Kinda like they were enemies bc they never get along until some development of feelings happen along the way. Maybe Annie will realize that she has feelings when reader got injured since they’re a soldier

— warnings: mentions of war, slight angst if you squint, just two idiots falling in love with each other :))

— summary: you were sent off to another kingdom as a sign of a truce, promising to yourself that the engagement is close to death at how you got off on the wrong foot with your betrothed. it was hell at first but who knows? maybe, unbeknownst to you, the two of you are a match made by the gods.

— word count: 7.5k

— author’s notes: i am so sorry this came out so long :((( we just finished our exams and we have a case study to write as our midterm for a subject. i hope this will still quench your annie fic cravings. and by the way, i fashioned the kingdom of idylle to mondstadt because genshin impact is my stress reliever right now and a kingdom built upon freedom sounds like a gem. plus, the glass castle of the reader is based off of the castle of cinderella, which is the reason for the title hhhhhh happy reading !!!

so this didn’t appear in the tags so i reposted it :”(((

Corsets were abominations that needed to be burned.

The girl with your features staring at you from the mirror was someone you couldn’t recognize from all the preparations your chambermaid did on your figure. The make-up was appalling and thick that you could see a smear on the back of your hand when you tried rubbing your itching nose. Your hair was done in a half up-do with too many decorative pins sticking out, creating a makeshift crown of silver roses, one of the symbols of your kingdom. The dress your mother expected you in was straight-up ridiculous, you couldn’t move from the tightness of the corset and the heaviness of your skirts was hindering you from moving freely. You couldn’t even deny that it was a lovely gown but its inconvenience was irking you at the slightest turn or stretch.

Dressing up this lavishly was rare for you, the Crown Princess of the kingdom boring flags of silver and lilac. You very much preferred the heaviness of your armor and your title as one of your kingdom’s Commendatore rather than the ladylike image your mother has been forcing you on the past few weeks.

You were livid when your parents renounced from the ten-year war that was purging the continent with just a sign on a piece of paper — one that included your name and your honor. Everything was brutal, carnage dotting every town and village of the two kingdoms throwing spears and fire cannons, and you witnessed it all firsthand when you started being one of your kingdom’s soldiers four years ago — a sixteen-year-old girl throwing orders that gave you an advantage from your enemies wearing the crest of the kingdom that painted your lands a heart-wrenching red. Of all solutions that your parents and the other kingdom could come up with, it involved you in the most unacceptable way possible. Officially entering your twenties this year, your parents thought it necessary to offer you as a bride that signified peace to the warring nation right beyond the border. The idea made your vision red, an outburst coming out of your mouth mere seconds after the proposal was announced in the council meeting.

A soldier, a knight, a commander — that’s what you are.

Not some forsaken young woman ready to be shipped off to your rival nation because it was the only way out of this bloody mess.

You had no choice.

The only way for you to grasp the final moments in your kingdom was relishing the touches of the chambermaid and taking in the décor of your room — the small trinkets scattered on your nightstands, the books you escaped to, the jewelry that boasted the colors of your family, and the stuffed animals your nanny sewed for you when you were a toddler. You closed your eyes and let the feathery fingers of the people around you lull you into a prayer for the gods in their celestial thrones, asking for their blessing in this far travel. In the middle of reciting an ode dedicated to the goddess of divine bravery, you felt a cool pendant carefully slide over your collarbones.

Your mother’s face appeared beside the watery princess of the mirror, a forced smile pulling on the corners of her lips. Your distinctly colored irises flickered down on the necklace your mother placed upon the exposed parts of your body. It was a flower-pressed necklace, the gold plate carefully protecting the flower representing your birth. The golden chain holding the necklace together was so thin that you worried for a moment that the fragile piece of jewelry might break in less than an hour while you meet your partner-to-be. You met your mother’s gaze in the mirror — from a chivalrous princess of armor to a dignified queen ruling within a land of eternal spring.

“You look so beautiful,” your mother breathed your name, holding your arms tightly against her ring-adorned hands. Tears blossomed her eyes, trickling down her cheeks akin to the lavender flowers’ petals of the large white tree in your backyard. “You look like the queen you were supposed to be.”

You tried smiling but your wobbly lips made you falter. You can only purse your lips in a tight, flat smile as you face your mother, face set in a kind expression. “Please don’t cry, Mother,” you murmured, placing your palm on top of hers, squeezing it for reassurance. “They wouldn’t do anything to me.”

They, meaning the kingdom you were at war with, the nation that claimed they needed a bride for their Crown Heir. In your world, there was freedom even in marriage — with the kingdoms pairing their sons with the sons of their enemies all for the sake of a truce, especially if the two of them were firstborns. This is very much your situation at the moment. The kingdom of Idylle was a beautiful haven of songs dedicated to the god of the winds, very contrasting to their military power that could take down a good number of your soldiers. You heard stories from some villages in your nation that Idylle was a hoax, that they were bloodthirsty warmongers hungry for the spilled blood of the people of Glaieul, your kingdom. You couldn’t help but believe their words. That was the only addition to your knowledge of Idylle except for their battle tactics and placement of soldiers on the battlefield.

“We’ll pray to the deities that they will do just that,” your mother laughed a little despite the tears. “Or else your father will wage war if they so much scratched you.”

“He wouldn’t do that, Mother,” you shook your head with a slight smile. “You two have worked so hard for this peace treaty. If I ever scratched myself in Idyllic lands, trust me that it would most likely be my fault. Not theirs.”

Your mother’s laugh twinkled in the room, painting everything in a light that erased the heaviness shrouding in every corner of your chambers. “I suppose so. You and your love for your sword are unrivaled. I can still remember the time when you first got the weapon, you were so thrilled for a six-year-old that one would think you were born in the barracks. I have to admit, you looked adorable swinging your sword until the greeting of the night and its stars.” She wistfully sighed, looking down at the necklace she gave you. “Your father was so proud when you came back for dinner that night.”

“My sword has always been a lifelong companion. I will even bring it to their castle.”

Your mother placed a hand on top of her chest, over her heart. “I hope you don’t unsheathe it in front of their royal family.”

You breathed a laugh. “No promises.”

The two of you talk about all the things that happened in your childhood, your laughs echoing through the hallways. The maids and the butlers bade you goodbye and safe travels as you passed by, never forgetting to nod in their direction in acknowledgment. You will miss their company for they saw you grow up before you decided to partake in the war. Almost all of them fussed over the mess you made while practicing your swordplay, cleaning up the broken vases and the mud on the carpeted floors. Even one of the apprentices of the Keeper of Books residing in the palace, Armin, enthusiastically waved at you, his friends flanking him for a visit in the kitchens. You didn’t miss how Eren directed an incredulous stare towards the blonde man, with Mikasa looking shocked at how easily the apprentice interacted with you in a public setting since your times with them only happened behind prying eyes.

You gave the three of them a huge smile that gave their faces a pretty rose shade.

Upon reaching the foyer, your father stood at the foot of the stairs along with the soldiers you acquainted in your time on the battlefield, sending a wave of warmth through your chest. His silver coat lined with gold details was a beacon and his white breeches were tucked in a pair of knee-length boots. His chest was decorated with his sash full of medallions, the kingdom insignia of lilac gladioluses and silver roses pinned on top of his heart. The king of Glaieul softened his eyes, crinkles appearing at the corners, at the sight of you and your mother descending on the stairs.

“My little flower,” was his greeting to you when you reached him.

“Father,” you breathed, picking up your skirts to settle in the embrace of waiting arms. You buried your figure against him, inhaling his scent of pine and rosewater, creating the last memory you will have of him. The two of you pulled away for a moment, your eyes watering at the sad visage your father sported. You felt the lightest brush of his kiss on your forehead. 

“Now I’m becoming reluctant in sending you off,” he told you. “I felt guilty when I saw you fight against this during the council meeting. But it is what they offered and I have no say in the matter.”

“I know.”

“May the eternal spring never waver in your soul.”

You nodded before taking a step back, bowing with your knees on the marble floors. Your crown glinted against the light from the stained-glass windows, your hair forming a curtain around your face as you replied, “I will let it fester among the ballads and idylls they will offer. I will carry the name of Glaieul with faithfulness, honor, and grace.” You raised your head to meet your father’s eyes. “I promise to never deter the eternal spring.”

It would be that way until your last years in that kingdom. And as you rode the carriage with the soldiers you fought with guarding the vehicle with their lives on the line, you could only sigh and offer another round of prayers that this swerves in a more positive direction than what you were expecting. After a hefty journey across the bustling capital (people stopped by and waved your carriage goodbye, offering you flowers that one of the captains of the fleet, Levi, scowled at — you coaxed him that it was alright, though) to the hectares of meadows in the countryside, the sight of flowers mixed with emerald turned into a sea of teal as you entered the outskirts of Idylle, your betrothed’s home. Everything was bathed with the endemic species of grass solely blessed by the god of the winds on Idylle — legends say that it was because He wanted the kingdom that worshipped him to look different than the rest. No matter how much you deny it, it was beautiful.

“How are you faring, princess?”

Your daze was interrupted by a baritone voice, deep enough to alert some of the men around the carriage. His gray eyes provided you support during the war. You couldn’t help but smile at the onyx-haired man riding by your right window. “Hello, Captain Levi.”

“Tch. Drop the title, brat. You and I both know that the war made us friends somewhat.”

You let out a small laugh. “Well, Levi, to answer your question, I’m quite fine even though my parents just sold me to gain peace.”

Levi rose an eyebrow at the remark. “I am not one to have the capabilities to comfort someone but think of this as a way for you to help the kingdom without sacrificing your life for once. A nation without its heir is just like losing its king. I’ve seen you train when you’re starting as a squire and to the point when you got the position you deserve. This would be like a small walk in the gardens of your mother.” He fixated his stare on you, eyes dull yet determined to get his point across. “You have a role in every part of your life and this time, this is what the gods crafted for you. Do not fret, princess, you have more chances of being on the battlefield again.”

The words Levi spoke settled in you until you reached the capital of Idylle, a small island in the middle of a clear azure lake with walls resembling a huge castle. The bridge leading to the gates was lined with guards bearing the kingdom’s crest, all of them standing under the flapping flags bearing the symbol and colors of the royal family they serve — a harp surrounded by the colors of gold and blue. Their eyes warily followed the series of carriages, postures becoming stiff in the realization that the entourage holds the visitor their rivaling country sent. That was still the scenario when the series of carriages and horses passed by the marketplace, the vicinity on the lowest part of the walled capital, as if the wind even ceased to let the people gawk at the brightly-colored entourage making its way to the highest tier depicting mansions and the main plaza where their patron god stood tall and proud in front of the palace’s gates.

Everything looked magnificent.

It was a breath of fresh air from the glass castle you grew up in. Whereas your kingdom built a white, blinding home that withstood for hundreds of years, Idylle’s palace blended with the brick walls with its leveled mansard roofs and turrets. The gates were made of gold, welcoming you into a huge square of maze-like hedges, a fountain sitting in the middle of the labyrinth. Some gardeners stopped their daily chores to greet the carriages with a wave of their hat, seeing as you were going to be an addition to the royal family after the wedding in a few months. The steps leading to the main doors loomed in front of you with only a few servants waiting for you to step out of the carriage.

You took in a deep breath, nodding at Levi to open the door. When it swung open, you placed your hand on top of Levi’s as he guided you down the propped steps on the side of the carriage.

“Well,” Levi hummed from behind you, making you glance at him with a curious eye. “May the eternal spring never waver in your soul, Your Highness.” He bowed in front of you, only a dip of his head, a firm hand on his heart, and yet that was enough for you to reciprocate it with a kind smile.  

“Safe travels back, Captain Levi. May the gods protect you.”

The servant boys standing on top of the stairs jumped an inch in the air, going down in fleeting steps to get your luggage when they realized they were staring too long at you. You smiled at them in gratitude before stepping inside the palace as the guards opened the huge, gilded double doors in front of you.

The inside was just elegant as the exterior appearance of the entire capital. Everything was bathed in gold that seemed to rival the Sun and it made you look away for a moment. The grand hall followed the kingdom’s colors, from the turquoise carpets leading towards two winding staircases to the golden ceilings decorated with paintings of cherubs and the story of how their god of the winds came to be. One of the servant boys slightly cleared his throat, snapping you out of your curiosity of the myths laid on the ceiling. You turned to him with raised eyebrows, spurring him to whisper a faint, “Follow us, Your Highness.” They led you through hallways hung with tapestries and paintings, drawing rooms where the queen hosted her tea parties (Levi would have loved it), and ballrooms that have the same aesthetic as the foyer. Finally, you stopped in front of one of the apartments in the palace, the servant boy who told you to follow them brightened at the guard stationed there.

“Reiner!”

You waited patiently and let your eyes roam across the hallway.

“Hello, Falco, Udo.” The man, Reiner, smiled at the young boys before turning to you. He placed a hand on his heart and bowed. “Welcome to Gale, the capital of Idylle, Your Highness.”

“Thank you for the welcome,” you replied, motioning for him that it was quite alright to straighten his posture. “The palace looks lovely.”

“Indeed, it is.” Reiner opened the doors of your room and once again bowed with an outstretched hand towards the room. “Here are your chambers and I will be your guard for the entirety of your stay here in the palace, Your Highness.” You muttered a faint ‘thank you’ as you entered a drawing room with a door to the private chambers on the left and the bathrooms to the right. There was a table fit for two people, armchairs, and drawers with vases on top. A huge floor-to-ceiling window illuminated the room, your feet carrying you there to open them, and letting the wind caress the curtains as they danced in the breeze. “If you ever need anything, you can call for my name and I will be here in an instant. Your chambermaid will be up here in a moment to help you prepare for the family dinner. For now, rest well, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, Reiner, Falco, Udo,” you smiled, retreating towards the private chambers.

You let out a sigh and stared at nothing for a few moments. It came down to this. To think that you were in enemy lands and was treated so well without any degradation came as a shock to you. The people so far that radiated negativity at your arrival were the guards stationed at the bridge and some of the townsfolk and nobles parading in the streets. As you think about the servant boys and Reiner’s calmness in receiving you in the palace, you immediately thought that it would be better than you expected.

You took off your heels under your dress, mind racing that this wouldn’t be so bad, and plopped on top of your canopied bed, its baby blue curtains protecting you from unknown disturbances and drowning you in a rapid of dreams.

-

The dinner didn’t go so well as you expected.

You donned a more suitable dress for indoor use, something that doesn’t include forcing your figure in a tight corset and yet presentable enough to be shown in the family dinner. You even placed a circlet of silver flowers on your head to compensate for the dull dress you chose, the description fitting after one of the chambermaids expressed their perplexity at how simple regarding design your dress has. Your light blue skirts fanned out around you as you made your way to one of the grand dining rooms reserved for family use. The choice of the color of the dress should be enough to express that you are willing to be on good terms with the family of the person you will marry.

But your first meeting with Annie Leonhart was interestingly disappointing.

Before departing from your kingdom, you learned the royal family and even Idylle’s customs. You learned how they always valued freedom and expression above all else, compared to your home that valued their ties with the gods more than the idea of getting rid of the shackles placed by your deities. You learned how they have this festival dedicated to celebrating the love they share with their patron god and how it spanned for half a month.

Finally, you learned about the indifferent Crown Heir of Idylle, the young woman with the piercing blue oceanic eyes sitting in front of you at the dinner table. She was known for building up walls that discouraged some of her engagements with other royalties across the continent. She was so closed off that she didn’t even glance in your direction for one second. Her hair was done in an elaborate bun wrapping around her head in a braid, her small, thin diadem resting against her golden hair. Annie kept her gaze on her plate, even playing with her food mindlessly for a couple of minutes before sighing and taking a bite of the chicken the maids served. No conversation was exchanged and the dinner ultimately became one of the most awkward meals you had. The king even tried to engage his daughter for casual talk but Annie dismissed them with a hum.

The queen had to apologize to you several times after the dinner, with Annie huffing at the back and eager to get out of the room. Despite how much she was against this engagement, you still bowed at her before you retreated to your room.

Now dressed in your nightgown, you stared at the canopy of your bed, already missing your home the more you fixed your attention on the bundled-up curtains. You badly needed to hit a straw dummy with your sword to let out your frustrations. Of all the royalties present in your continent, why did it have to be you that was shipped to this measly forced marriage? There were still so many solutions that could lead to a peace treaty but why was this the only one the kings and queens could present to their courts? A sigh escaped your chest once again at the thought of actually getting to know Annie. You laid on your side, curling your legs towards your chest and prayed that the god of dreams will visit you sooner than expected.

A knock reverberated through your chambers, the sound making you sit up.

You went to the receiving room and opened the door. You kept the small hitch of your breath in your chest at the sight of Annie and her half-lidded eyes. There was no one in the hallways. You figured that she sent Reiner away for some privacy, meeting the blue irises you likened to brilliant sapphires. 

“What brings you here, Your Highness?” you asked, opening the door wider.

“Annie.” She saw how your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Call me Annie, we’re betrothed after all.”

“Of course.” You smiled. “Annie,” you tested her name softly, missing the way she inhaled too sharply at your voice. 

Annie reciprocated the gesture by saying your name. The two of you stared at each other and it felt like an eternity before she looked away to focus on the receiving room behind you. She noticed how your eyes held kindness underneath the star-like shine even though she showed hostility during your first dinner with her family. Your hair was disheveled and it didn’t take her a minute to realize she might have woken you up from a good night’s rest. The journey from Glaieul to Idylle was a long one. You deserve all the rest you can get, “I apologize if I woke you up but I feel like I should do this before dragging it out.” You once again raised an eyebrow so she took out a leather box, opening it to reveal a ring with a holographic gem showing teal and pink in the middle. The Leonhart family ring. “Here.”

“Oh.”

You were gawking at the beautiful piece of jewelry, with Annie taking the matter in her own hands. She took the ring out of the box and pocketed the container. Her hand reached out to hold your palm against hers, sliding the ring in your ring finger. Your hand still hovered in front of you after Annie retracted hers to find their place by her side. She continued to eye your mesmerized visage with a half-lidded gaze, clearing her throat to catch your attention. You turned to her with a small apology for spacing out.

“It’s fine,” Annie waved off. “It’s yours starting today.” She turned away from you and went down the hallways but not before saying a “Good night, [Name].”

-

The entire week of your stay in Idylle was uneventful, to say the least.

Annie kept her distance from you after that night she gave you their family ring. It left you thinking that you should also gift her the [Last Name] ring your family treasured for centuries. The ring was placed in a small cushioned jewelry box that you opened and propped on one of your night tables. Your conscience was telling you to give it to her but there wasn’t exactly any moment alone with her let alone just passing by her in the hallways. The blonde princess made it her mission to never let your fates meet the more time you spent in the capital. You then decided that she probably didn’t want this engagement to happen.

But she gave you the ring. Wasn’t that a strong signal that Annie accepted you as her betrothed, unlike the others before you?

You shook that thought as you focused on giving consecutive hits on the dummy in front of you. Two days before, you proposed to the king to let you have a moment alone in the training grounds for about two hours or so to keep you in shape. He reluctantly agreed, but not without a side stare at the queen. They heard of your glorious feats during the war, how you managed to become one of the Commanders of a battalion of soldiers tasked with being in the frontlines and how you won constant ambushes against Idylle’s numbers. Two hours of training became three until here you are, still not stopping as you finished every single dummy in the private training grounds. With your day spent outside, you thought it would be nice to have a nice dip in the bathtub before dinner.

In your walk towards your chambers, you spotted Annie in one of the drawing rooms, sitting in the window seats with a book of war tactics in hand. You recognized the author as one of the revolutionaries mentioned to you by your tutor. 

“That’s a nice book,” you couldn’t help but mention. Annie turned to you unfazed by your interruption though there was a glint of interest in her eyes. “The book mostly describes battle formations but I think the author likened it to every situation on the battlefield. For instance, the phalanx was native to the empire of Great Findara and it was great for preventing casualties until it was overpowered by the infantry tactic of the city nation of Khisfire where every man has a role and a weapon depending on their group. The latter was more on the long-range yet melee way of taking back the territory.”

Annie hummed. “Do royal tutors of Glaieul teach this to their students?”

“Oh, no. I learned it while taking on the role of a squire.”

She once again hummed. “It completely slipped my mind that you are one of the Commanders in your military. You were ruthless as the folks in the noble plaza say, blood tainting your hands from doing raids in the border villages of Idylle.” Her tone was like a jab to your side, like an arrow tearing through your skin. “I know it was a time of war and desperate times call for desperate measures but our people didn’t deserve to experience the massacres.”

“They were far from being massacres,” you gritted your teeth.

Annie scoffed. “Then what were they? Because that’s what it looks like to me. I can still remember the story two years ago of a young girl wearing her lilac cape in the bloodbath, eyes so dull that you can see your reflection on it. What’s to say that this engagement is a hoax plotted by your parents to assassinate my family for you to win a territory you greatly needed because of the resources?” She closed her book with too much force, bitterly spitting out the next words, “The apple doesn’t fall from the tree as the saying goes.”

“If you question my being here then why did you give me your family ring, Annie?” you asked, your body now facing the tense young woman by the window. You cursed at how the light made her look angelic like the girl the god of the winds sacrificed his life to before he ascended to the heavens. “This peace treaty is everything my family wanted even though hundreds of our soldiers died in vain for not meeting the ends of what they fought for. If you’re saying that my parents placed me in an undercover predicament to add to the weight of deaths on my shoulders, I suggest you tell your father to put a stop to our betrothal. Because I don’t even want to be here, Your Highness, and it would do me such a huge honor. I would rather spend my time out with my fellow soldiers than pretending I’m some dainty princess my family sheltered when in fact, I was anything but that.

“Have a good day and I hope you enjoy the rest of the book. Chapter ten was a personal favorite of mine,” you dismissed, turning towards the direction of the apartments.

Once you reached your door, Reiner straightened his posture, faltering for a second when he noticed the cross look on your face. He chose not to say anything as he opened the door for you. You took off your boots right beside one of the armchairs of the receiving room and immediately went inside your private chambers. The glint of the ring on your night table mocked you. You stomped over the furniture and forcefully closed the small jewelry box, throwing the container inside one of the drawers.

Maybe sleep will be much kinder to you, the sheets enveloping you in an embrace you wish your mother can only give in this time of need.

-

You were radiant under the harsh heat of the Sun.

Annie was scheduled to have a free slot in her timetable after being included in one of the court meetings regarding the resiliency plan of some of the villages in the borders that managed to survive the Glaieulian raids. She suggested that the villages should be moved to one of the more remote villages nearer the capital, where the terrain is suitable for growing crops and starting small farms. There wouldn’t be an issue with overpopulation because the recommended village was home to the elderly and children. The newly situated families will also aid the old people as they go about their mundane activities. It was a sound suggestion and her father was also considering it. Annie hoped that would be the case as she scribbled a small note on a piece of paper. After the meeting, she stopped by one of the windows overlooking the training grounds, and there you are.

Your small argument that happened a few days before stirred some guilt in Annie’s stomach. 

You weren’t even part of the raids she was talking about. They were led by a commander by the name of Erwin Smith. The stories about you that she heard were from Idyllic soldiers that suffered a lot during the war, not from the people of the villages Erwin raided. Annie couldn’t deny it but she did step out of the line by accusing you of being an assassin. That was too far-fetched. She was just stuck in her suspicions when she was supposed to be getting to know you.

All she knew about you was that you were adept with a sword and can name any tactic written in books about wars.

Annie saw a maid cleaning one of the vases in the hallway. “Miranda.”

The maid turned around, curtsying in a haste before patting her uniform. “What can I do for you, Your Highness?”

“Can you prepare a tray of iced apple juice and some cakes?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Annie nodded. “And can you place this note on the tray and deliver it to [Name]’s room?”

The maid was taken aback. “Well, it would be my pleasure, Princess.”

“Thank you.” With that, Annie walked away without a glance back.

Curious eyes followed the princess’ form, the maid finding herself looking at your figure sparring with Reiner and a smile instantly greeted her face. This could be a turning point in the betrothal because she could’ve sworn Annie had a small blush on her cheeks at the mention of the other princess. 

After your training, a tray of sweets and a pitcher with glasses of apple juice awaited you in your receiving room. You wanted to ask Reiner if he asked some of the chambermaids to prepare the afternoon snack but a folded note caught your eye. With one hand gripping the towel around your shoulders, you read the note, your face warming up at the short yet endearing sentence.

Indulge in these, they taste better after a good training session.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, you thought as you munched on a sprinkled cookie.

-

Her eyes kept following a trail of gold tulle, silks, and laces, never looking away the moment her blue eyes laid themselves upon a beauty that rivaled the goddess of oneiric realms, the most ethereal goddess of the heavens. You were dressed in an off-shoulder gown with loose sleeves reaching your elbow, the bodice carefully wrapping around your torso in the most flattering way possible, and skirts adorned with silver gems. In a sea of aristocrats with fabulous dresses, you were a sight to behold in this ball dedicated to commemorate the truce between Glaieul and Idylle as well as announce the engagement between the two countries. You were starlight personified, shining in Annie’s eyes under the lights of tens of chandeliers in the ballroom. 

You were on the other side of the ballroom, laughing with your friends from your home kingdom. There was a tall brunette that seemed to be star-struck because of you just like Annie, a black-haired young woman who was smiling slightly, and a blonde who was engaged in an animated conversation with you. Your smiles were refreshing, to say the least, Annie seeing it for the first time since you came to their palace. Your laughs are genuine and it came out of you so easily when in the company of your friends.

Annie visibly stiffened when you turned around and smiled at her, gesturing for her to come to join the small huddle. Your three friends tensed noticeably at her half-lidded stare, with you reassuring them that she’s not that indifferent all the time. 

As if sensing Annie’s hesitance, Reiner chuckled behind her. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to introduce yourself to them, Your Highness.”

“I’m getting to that, Reiner.”

A laugh came from the blonde man. “She’s good for you. That much I can tell. The kindest soul I’ve ever met in my life.”

Again, guilt pooled in Annie’s chest. Those words are the opposite of what she spewed out to you the last time you talked. She called you a power-hungry monster who ravaged the war with no care on your shoulders. She didn’t even apologize yet. Annie sighed, “I know.” Then, she pulled up her skirts, navigated the ballroom, and stopped directly beside you. Her blue eyes scrutinized the three people you grew up with, with the brunette and black-haired woman stepping a small step forward to assert their dominance while the blonde pinched their backs to warn them not to step out of line in another kingdom. “Hello.” She transferred her eyes on you afterward, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back and rubbing it in a comforting motion. “I hope you enjoyed the ball so far.” Those words were directed to you.

You only nodded with a smile. “Annie, this is Eren, Mikasa, and Armin. They’re my friends when I was growing up in the glass castle.” Annie nodded. “Everyone, this is Annie, my fiancé.”

“We know,” Eren, the long-haired man in a low ponytail murmured with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Eren,” Armin reprimanded. He smiled at a stone-faced Annie. “Thank you for making [Name] happy! I can sense that she has a different air around her while we talked. It must be because of you.”

Annie stayed quiet, her hand coming into a still on the small of your back. It was a good thing her left hand was hidden away because they would immediately think that you didn’t accept the engagement. She glanced at the ring nestling in your finger, a perfect match against the golden train of your dress. Realizing that she created an awkward stretch of silence, Annie could only nod wordlessly before shifting her attention to you again. It seems like you’re the only one who can calm her nerves down inside the vast ballroom. She never took her gaze on you even as you continued the conversation between your friends.

Her mind was fogged with thoughts of only you throughout the ball.

The two of you excused yourself from the trio when Annie’s father called for everyone’s attention from the front of the huge chambers. “Everyone, kind souls and pure-hearted people of the continent, since tonight is all for enjoyment, the waltz of the ball will now commence.” His blue eyes went to his daughter, standing at the side of his throne. “The moment everyone is waiting for — the first waltz.”

She rehearsed this too many times for when a proper betrothal comes into play but why is her hand shaking when she outstretched it in front of you? You must have felt it because you flashed a comforting smile her way. The two of you went to the middle of the ballroom, the guests staring expectantly at the birth of a romance. They were wrong because you hate her and she hates you. Right? Her hatred for you will never waver for killing her people even though you look like a descended goddess with the lights of the chandeliers raining on you. Hatred must be fueling her heart to beat faster than ever, why she seemed to trip over her skirts and how her words stumbled in her tongue. That must be it.

The dance slowly made its way to the part where she struggled, dipping you as gracefully as she can. Before it happened, you whispered to her, “Please don’t make me fall.”

Annie’s voice was soft, for your ears only. “I promise, my princess.”

It truly was a birth of a romance, the two of you unaware of it all.

-

“Come on, Reiner!” You shouted at him from across the training field. “Come at me with all you’ve got.”

The blonde man hesitantly shifted into position as he eyed you. “Are you sure, princess? I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” He remembered the threatening look he received from Annie before this training session and he would like all of his limbs intact, thank you very much. “I just don’t want your chambermaid to nag me again after last time.” He managed a cut on your arm your previous session and you had to wear a long-sleeved dress in such stifling weather.

You scoffed lightheartedly. “I can handle it, Reiner. You don’t have to worry about it. Plus, I can dress my wounds perfectly.”

Reiner didn’t believe that. Your skills in covering up your wounds were lacking despite being a soldier. The most you could do was apply some salve on your bruises, that was it. He had no choice because the past month he spent his days with you, you were like a persistent little child that reminded him of his younger cousin. He hoped that you two wouldn’t meet. “Alright, here I go, Your Highness.”

Parry after parry could be heard in the private training field. You were doing fine in deflecting Reiner’s sword but your ankle immediately ached after shifting your body, leaning back to avoid the sharp edge of the knight’s weapon. You let out a huff as you dropped on the ground, jolting when Reiner called for you to stay alert. Seeing the glint of his sword, you rolled away and the pain on your ankle flared, even more, traveling through your calf. It also didn’t help that you received a cut on the side of your bandaged arm. You picked yourself up despite the throbbing pain on your ankle and arm, now being on the defensive as Reiner continuously struck you with his sword. He then circled his weapon around yours, throwing your sword on the side and pushing you to the ground with the tip of his weapon. That was the time where your ankle finally twisted into a sprain.

“Ah!”

“Princess?” Reiner’s tone became alarmed, dropping to your level and taking off your boots in an instant. His hands ghosted around your swollen ankle, not knowing what to do. “Gods, Annie’s going to kill me!”

“Annie?” You asked between pants. “What does this have to do with her?”

He only shook his head, carrying you in his arms and into the palace. His steps were hurried and the maids gasped at the sight of your red ankle. “Please prepare a bucket of ice and bring it to Princess [Name]’s private chambers.” He turned to you. “Hang on for a moment, Your Highness, we’re nearing your room. Just a little bit more.” Reiner entered your room and gently placed you on your bed. “I’m going to be taking off your other shoe, Your Highness.”

“Reiner, I think I’ll take it from here.”

Reiner stiffened, slowly turning his head to the entrance of your private chambers. Annie was impatiently standing with a bucket of ice in both hands, eyes glacially set on the blonde man kneeling on the floor in front of your confused form. She didn’t care if Reiner trembled in front of her. She vividly remembered telling the knight to never hurt you (she didn’t see the cut you had last training session because Annie was in another court meeting involving the incoming tax collection of various villages). Annie glanced at your ankle, barely grimacing at the state of it before gesturing for Reiner to get out of the room. The large blonde man took his leave, bowing at the two of your hastily and closing the doors with finality.

Annie mimicked Reiner’s position, kneeling in one knee to place your injured foot on her thigh. She didn’t wear any dresses for the day and it made her look dashing. The image implanted itself in your brain. Her hands are gentle against your skin, your cheeks flaring at the contact. Her features were contorted in a downturned one that showed how bothered she was. 

“How did this happen?”

Your eyes settled on the top drawer of your nightstand. “I dodged Reiner’s blow and I twisted my ankle in the process.”

“You should be more careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

Annie scoffed. “That’s clearly obvious.” She said nothing more while dipping your foot in the ice bath. She lifted her head too fast when you winced at the coldness of the water. “Deal with it. We wouldn’t want this to be worse than it already is.”

“Thanks for the concern,” you dryly mentioned.

“What makes you think that my being worried is all fake?” You’re silent, Annie choosing the moment to continue the words she didn’t have any control over. “When the maids prepared this bucket of ice in the kitchens, I was out of the council meeting. When I saw then bringing this up to your chambers, I was alarmed and my mind was a mess of thoughts concerning what happened to you.” At each word, her face held a multitude of emotions that you never saw on her. Her lips became pursed whilst you wordlessly stared at her. “I am not pretending to care for you. How could I pretend when I’m already feeling foreign emotions when it comes to you? It’s my first time feeling this way so I don’t know if I can categorize this as falling in love. But it feels like it. So, for the love of the gods, can’t you see that I’m rambling because of you?”

You didn’t reply, instead, you reached out to the drawer where you kept that ring.

“What are you doing? You should be still right now.”

You pulled out the jewelry box and flipped it open, showing the blonde the ring fashioned in a vine, the centerpiece being a group of small gladiolus flowers with diamonds in their centers. 

Annie’s cheeks reddened, flustered at the pretty jewelry. “What?”

Words never came out of you as you took Annie’s left hand. The ring looked pretty on her, the two of you admiring it after you slid the engagement jewelry in her ring finger.

“I now accept you as my fiancé, my future lover, and holder of my heart. Annie Leonhart, may our eternal spring bloom for centuries, and may your god of the winds bless us with his idyllic ballads.” Annie’s eyes were wide and you can see your reflection on them, along with constellations that lit up her irises. You placed your forehead against hers, looking straight into her flushed face. “They were right, this is the birth of a romance.”

And as you two kissed for the first time, the gods were rejoicing in their thrones, each of your prayers answered — your love finally etched in a whimsical melody. 

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mind the Gap: Three

Shang-Chi laid you carefully on the bed and leaned over to kiss you on the forehead, smiling a little when you fuss at him sleepily. “It’s okay,” he murmured, brushing a lock of hair out of your face tenderly, “I’m only going down stairs.”

When you sit up. Bolt upright suddenly, he reels back. It takes a moment for him to realize that you’re not what’s staring at him. Your eyes are the same unearthly silver they had been. “Let her sleep,” he ordered sharply.

“We,” a voice that is your but… Not yours replies haughtily, “Do not sleep. We are eternal.”

“Not without a body you’re not,” he fired back, frustrated. You just got to sleep. You were just so close to feeling better. Your face doesn’t change, not really. There’s an absence of expression. One that he’d taken as seriousness in that empty field, but now realizes that the Archive probably doesn’t… care enough to make you appear “normal” when speaking. Still, even if the Archive wasn’t sneering at him where he could see it, he could feel it.

“Have care, boy. Our vessel will not belong to you.”

And before he could reply, You fell backwards onto the bed, your head hitting the pillow with a soft thump.

“You’re right about that,” he says quietly, not sure if it can hear him or not. “She doesn’t belong to me. She doesn’t belong to anyone… You might have saved her life once, but now you’re just squatting.” He shakes his head and pulls a blanket over you, carefully tucking you in before turning and heading back downstairs.

__________

Downstairs, he finds party preparations in full swing. There’s food being cooked and more food being ordered from town to be picked up. There’s a small army of people moving tables and arranging lights and torches and building bonfires. It was cozy looking. And impossible for him to tell how many people were coming.

“How is she recovering?”

Shang-Chi turned and faced his father, smiling ruefully, “Not as fast as I’d like. But at least she’s asleep.”

He nodded and gave his son a sympathetic look. “They’re all worried,” he cautioned.

“We should start a club. Y/N can make us jackets.” When his father gave him a look, Shang-Chi smiled a little. “It spoke to me,” he said after a second.

“The Archive? What did It say?”

“It told me that she didn’t belong to me,” he said, restraining an eye roll with effort.

Wenwu frowned, “It challenged you?”

Shang-Chi shook his head, “It wasn’t a challenge. It was a warning. She never even woke up.”

They stood for a long moment and considered the implications of that. But neither one of them had a chance to say more when Katy burst through the screen door with Xialing on her heels. “You have got to see this! There’s fucking werewolves!”

“Werewolves? Kai is a werewolf-”

“No. What? No- I-” Katy is bouncing on the balls of her feet and bolts back out the door.

“A pack,” Xialing said rolling her eyes, more fond than irritated. “Specifically her father’s pack.”

And it’s curiosity more than anything that lures Shang-Chi outside. You never talk about your parents- Not that he can really blame you. He hadn’t talked about his family with you at all. And now? He has the gift of staying in your childhood bedroom. And seeing the things that made you into the woman he loves. Still. Werewolves? He assumes your mother is a witch but- If this going to be a fight? Is it going to upset you?

He walks down the steps to see Kai and who he assumes is your father. You have the same lazy half smile and the same warm eyes that you share with your brother. And for just a second, he wants to turn around and bolt. He’s seen you dismember demons. He’s faced creatures from other dimensions. But somehow? Meeting his Girlfriend’s dad is more terrifying than both those things.

He’s a big man. Tall. Imposing. A solid wall of muscle. A shock of curly dark hair… It was almost like the universe had distilled his every idea of a werewolf into one person. Except for the jaws. And slobber.

“Good Luck,” Xialing snorted quietly.

“Gee thanks,” he said taking a deep breath and stepping forward. He’d been seen, there wasn’t any escape now.

The huge man stepped forward, “I’m Renaud,” he said. His voice a deep rumble, like Thunder. “You, must be Shang-chi.” He took the hand that was offered and shook it, not as roughly as Shang-Chi had expected. And he hadn’t missed that his name had been pronounced correctly. “Thank you, for calling my son… Just because Y/n can handle things on her own doesn’t mean she should.”

“So you found her?”

“Of course,” he said, smiling, “I always know how to find my kids.”

Shang-Chi smiled in spite of himself. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since you’d seen your father. But somethings seemed to be universal. “My father-” he started, But Renaud made an impetuous gesture.

“We’ve met,” he chuckled, taking the hand that Wenwu offered.

“Several times, in fact,” Wenwu said. “And I hope-”

The Werewolf released his hand and rocked back on his heels, “The sins of the father and all that,” he said with another impetuous gesture. “I learned long ago that telling a witch what to do is always a bad idea.”

Shang- Chi looked from one to the other and glanced at Katy and Xialing for help. He had the distinct impression that he was rapidly helping to establish some new international thing. When both the girls shrugged at him at a loss he glanced at Kai who gave him a small nod.

“Dad,” Kai said, “I’d hate to interrupt whatever work meeting is about to happen but… Hospitality Law. You know Grandma and Lea like to et all the stupid formal things out of the way up top.”

Renaud looked at them apologetically and turned to his son, “And then I’d like to see your sister.”

“So far as I know she’s asleep,” Kai said leading him away, the other three wolves that had been standing there watching followed after.

“It’s the middle of the day,” he protested.

“Not for her. She’s still at least a day behind the rest of us.”

Shang-Chi watched them go and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “At least no one at me,” he said, looking back towards the house.

“Werewolves haven’t done that in public for 300 years,” Wenwu snorted.

___________

People arrive steadily. Bringing kids. And food. And drinks. Shang-Chi watches in fascination as all the tables Kai had hefted into place filled with things. And the Coolers he had helped Lea to fill with Ice started keeping drinks cold.

So many faces and names. It’s a whirl and a blur. Still. It doesn’t take long for the kids to warm up and claim him, and Katy as their new playmates. Like all children they’re susceptible to a good story and an infectious laugh. Except for one. There was a little boy. He stayed near an oak tree. A Book over his lap. And he seemed to be watching the goings on, all the flips and little bursts of magical energy with irritation. He didn’t want to play. At least not with them. And while no one bothered him, it was clear that the other kids didn’t want to play with him either.

At least- At least for a while.

When you appeared, a little bleary eyed with your hair in a messy bun and some fresh clothes. His whole face lights up. Shang-Chi hears the shout and watches, grinning as his book goes flying and he launches himself at you, clinging onto your torso like a spider monkey and burying his face in your neck.

And suddenly, the silent boy with the great big book is talking. And talking. And he can’t seem to stop smiling.

“She’s his person,” Lea said smiling a little, handing Shang-Chi a glass of cold lemonade. He looked at her in askance and she smiled a little, “They both understand what it’s like to be the weirdest person in a room full of weirdos,” she explained. “Emmet had no magical ability. And Y/N hears voices and can tear out a Vampire’s heart with her bare hands.”

“Fair enough,” he says nodding, watching you greet the kids with hugs and kisses and declarations that they’re all too tall. “It’s good to know I’m just a novelty.”

Lea grins, “No one can ever take her place with them… It was Kai with the last crop. But Y/N was always his buddy. She’s had him wrapped around her finger since the first time someone put her in his lap.”

“So you’re telling me I should expect a big brother lecture?”

“Maybe. But. It’s more likely that he figures she could take you in a fight and there’s not much point.” The redhead’s eyes sparkle with mischief though. And Shang-Chi chuckles.

“You think so?”

“If she can’t, the Archive can.”

That was a sobering thought. And Shang- Chi took a deep breath. “What- what happened?”

The woman looked at him and for the first time, he considered that she was probably older than her face. Despite the lack of lines her eyes seem… Ancient. “I don’t know if I should tell you. I’ve spent… A long time keeping those details a secret.”

“I just-”

“I know,” she says softly. “You should know. If only… If only so you know she wasn’t always this way. She used to want… She wanted to be in the Olympics. She wanted to be a rockstar… She didn’t want to be this.”

Shang-Chi was quiet. Waiting. He didn’t really know what to say.

“Her mother- When she was born her mother was furious,” Lea said after a long moment. “600 years and so many babies I’ve brought into the world… And the was the only time I’ve ever seen That. She refused to even hold her.”

“Why-”

“Because she was powerful,” Lea said. “I knew- We all knew- the second she took her first breath that she wasn’t just a Witch. And for Clara? That was a betrayal. Clara had spent DECADES trying to amass more power. And here her daughter just had it? Absolutely not. It was unthinkable.”

Shang-Chi winced. “So then-”

“She sold her,” Lea said bitterly. “Put her on the black market and handed her off to the highest bidder.”

“No-”

“What she sold her to though? It was a… a cult. A fringe group. They took children like her and tried to- to change them. And if torture wouldn’t change it, burning. Well. The holy fire would at least make sure they went to heaven.”

He felt himself waver and he leaned against the tree that was at his back. “What the fuck-”

“Indeed,” Lea said nodding. “To make a long story short, It took Kai, Renaud, and her Great Aunt Jet to bring her home. And it cost Jet her life… It was a price she would gladly pay but not everyone feels that Y/N was worth the effort. Including Y/N.”

He looked back towards you, watching as you tossed one of the kids up to Kai who tickled them and tossed them to one of the waiting werewolves who promptly pitched them off the dock and into the lake. But on the edges, he could see the barely masked disapproval. And he knew you. He knew that you knew it was there.

“Lenora has been trying to keep things at bay but… I’d be lying if I said I blamed Y/N for keeping her distance. She loved Jet. We all did. And it’s- it’s hard for her, knowing that if it weren’t for her- She might still be here. She might be able to control the Archive. Instead of being controlled.”

And all he can do is watch you. And hurt. He hurts for who you are now. And for the little girl that you had been. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“Shang- Chi,” Lea cautioned, “She says she doesn’t remember but-”

“You don’t know?”

“No. We don’t. And if she’s trying to protect herself-”

“I won’t ask her,” he said, “I don’t think I’d want to remember that either.”

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Reiji [VAMPIRE ENDING]

Monologue

Reiji-san draws his sabre.

The inescapable dark fate,

is now set into motionーー

*Cling*

Reiji: ーー Father, be prepared.

Karlheinz: Hmph...You too, have grown a lot.

*Cling*

Karlheinz: Well then, this is the beginning of the end.

You should use that sword to question.

Both mine, as well as your own feelings.

And, try to surpass me. My son, Reiji.

Reiji: ...

Yui: ( Reiji-san...! )

ー Yui closes her eyes

*Cling*

*CLASH*

*STAB*

Yui: ...

( ...Everything went silent? How did it end...? )

ー She opens her eyes again

Karlheinz: ...Ugh...

Yui: ...!!

( Reiji-san’s sabre has pierced through Karlheinz’s chest... )

Reiji: Haah...Haah...

Karlheinz: ...Excellent...job...Outstanding, Reiji...

...Uu.

ー Karlheinz collapses

*Thud*

Yui: Karlheinz-san...!!

Reiji: ...Father...!!

*Cling*

ー Reiji rushes to his side

Reiji: Hang in there, Father...!!

Karlheinz: Uu...

Yui: ( The left side of his chest has been pierced... )

( He may be a Vampire, but when stabbed through the heart this badly, there’s just no way he’d... )

Reiji: ...Why did you hold back!?

You are the mighty King of Vampires, Karlheinz. There is no way you would lose to your mere son...

Karlheinz: I did not hold back...You simply surpassed me in strength, that’s all...

Reiji: No way...

Karlheinz: Heh...Why are you making that face...?

You finally...defeated me...You should look a little happier...

I’m pleased, you see...?

Because not only was I taken down by none other than my own blood, I get to spend my final moments in the arms of my son like this...

Reiji: Father...

Karlheinz: Like this, I can finally put an end to it...This long...everlasting life, can finally draw to a close...

Right now, I can only feel joy...

Thank you, Reiji...You are the one, true Adam.

...Guh...

Reiji: Father...!

...What have I done...?

...Uu.

Yui: ( ...I never thought I’d see Reiji-san, who is always so composed, cry out his eyes like this... )

( Death may be something considered a blessing amongst Vampires. )

( But even so, the pain and grieve felt from losing a loved one, is no different between Vampires and humans. )

( If not, he would not be crying right now. )

Karlheinz: ...Why do you cry? This was your wish, no?

Reiji: I...

I loved you. You were the only person in this world I truly respected.

Therefore, I wanted you to turn my way. To acknowledge me. To love me.

I wanted you to look at me...even more than at Shuu...!

Yui: Reiji-san...

Karlheinz: ...No need to tell me, I already know.

Reiji: Father...

Karlheinz: Did you realize? Why I gave you that pocket watchーー

Why I gifted you the pocket watch of demise...?

Reiji: Was it...to praise me for my mental strength?

Karlheinz: Exactly. And that was my wish as well...

Reiji: Your wish...?

Karlheinz: I wanted you to be strong.

While you may not be the eldest son, you understand me better than anyone, always trying to follow in my footsteps.

And now, you have surpassed me...

Therefore...You must stay strong. In the past, and in the future as well...

...

Reiji: What is...!?

Yui: ( Karlheinz-san’s body is fading away...? )

Karlheinz: ...Show me your hand, Reiji.

Reiji: Eh...?

*Woosh*

Reiji: ...! This is...

Yui: What’s wrong?

Reiji: Something is...flowing inside of me...Wave after wave...

Ugh...Guh...Aaah...!!

Yui: Reiji-san...!?

Reiji: Haah...Haah...

Father...What on earth did you...?

Karlheinz: I entrusted you with my powers. Use that to bring an end to the demon species.

Reiji: To the demon species...? What do you meanーー

...Don’t tell me...!

Karlheinz: Exactly...The report on the Endzeit gene...You saw it, did you not?

Reiji: Yes...

Karlheinz: In that case, I suppose I do not need to explain any further.

Reiji: Father...!

Yui: Karlheinz-san...!

Karlheinz: ...This is farewell. Reiji, Eve.

You must work together, and guide this world...

Into the right direction...

Until it reaches its ideal state.

ー Karlheinz disappears

Reiji: ...No way...

Yui: ( Karlheinz-san vanished... )

Reiji: ...Father...

Yui: Reiji-san...

( My words of comfort would mean nothing to him right now... )

( The only thing I can do, is quietly join his side. )

ー She carefully approaches

Reiji: Yui...

*Rustle*

Yui: Ah...

Reiji: ...Father has entrusted me with his powers.

That means he wants me to follow in his footsteps.

Yui: Yes...

Reiji: In what waits ahead, a daunting dark fate will most likely stand in our way.

Will you stay with me regardless?

Will you love me?

Yui: Of course. How could I ever want to leave you?

I will follow you. And I will always be by your side.

Reiji: ...Thank you, Yui.

I will never let go of you either. Even if you would wish to do so yourself.

Neverーー

Shin: ーー Seems like Karlheinz has kicked the bucket. 

Yui: Carla-san! Shin-kun!

( Why are they here...? )

Carla: I knew you had it in you, Reiji. It did take you long enough, however.

Yui: What do you mean...?

Shin: Reiji swore his loyalty to Nii-san in exchange for getting Ayato back.

Then, Nii-san ordered him to kill Karlheinz.

Yui: ( So that’s what happened... )

Carla: Reiji. You attempted to make things work in your favor...But I am the winner of this game.

This is checkmate.

Reiji: ...

Yui: Reiji-san...

Reiji: ...No, victory is mine.

Carla: I beg your pardon...?

Reiji: ...Heh...Haha...

Power is overflowing within me...A force so strong, it could probably destroy this whole world...!

ー He tosses his glasses aside

Reiji: ーー I doubt I will lose.

Yui: ( Reiji-san...? For some reason, the mood suddenly.... )

Shin: What nonsense are you spouting? Did you go crazy from killing your own Father, perhaps?

Carla: ...Shin, be careful. Something is off.

Reiji: Hmph. ...Weaklings.

Shin: Uu, aah...!

Carla: Guh...!

*Thud*

Yui: !!

( No way...How did he send the two of them flying just from extending his hand...? )

Carla: What on earth...?

Reiji: Seems like you did not consider that I would inherit my Father’s powers, First Bloods.

Carla: Excuse me...?

Reiji: This is your loss. Get out of my sight.

Yui: Reiji-san...!!

*WOOSH*

Yui: Uu...

( What happened...? )

Reiji: Are you okay, Yui?

Yui: Reiji-san...Where are Carla-san and Shin-kun...?

Reiji: I threw them into oblivion using my powers. I doubt they will ever make it out again.

Yui: ( He defeated those powerful Founders in just the blink of an eye... )

( This is Karlheinz-san’s power... )

Ayato: Oi, Chichinashi...!

Yui: Ayato-kun! Shuu-san as well!

Shuu: Yo...

Yui: ( ...! He’s terribly wounded...Could it have been the Founders...? )

Ayato: Geez, you just recklessly dashed out of the castle. Well, glad to see you’re safe at least.

Look, I was so kind to save Shuu’s ass. Better be grateful? 

Shuu: You didn’t exactly save me. Ayato just happened to pass by right as I made it out of the Founders’ castle on my own.

Ayato: S-Shut up! Why fuss ‘bout the details?

Shuu: ...More importantly, what happened to the Founders?

They left the castle, leaving me behind, so I was convinced they would be headed towards Reiji...

Yui: Well...

Reiji: ...I took care of them.

Shuu: What...?

Ayato: You took them down? All by yourself?

Reiji: Yes.

Ayato: No way...Those dudes were hella strong. How did you...?

Shuu: ...

...You inherited the Old Man’s powers, didn’t you?

Reiji: Hmph. ...I expected no less from you, Shuu. Sharp as always.

We will part ways here.

Ayato: Aah? What are you sayin’?

Anyway, you’ve been kinda weird this whole time, you know? Is somethin’ wrong?

Reiji: I am still myself. I have simply been entrusted with an important duty.

Ayato: Haah...?

Reiji: The Demon World will soon be swallowed by waves of conflict. Until all demons roaming these lands have taken their final breath...

Therefore, you guys should retreat to the human world.

Ayato: What will you do?

Reiji: I have a duty to fulfill. I must keep this promise I made to Father.

Together with Yui...

Yui: Reiji-san...

( The words Karlheinz-san left behind. We must join forces, and guide the world towards its ideal state... )

( Reiji-san wants to realize that. As the one following in Karlheinz-san’s footsteps. )

Shuu: ...Gotcha.

Ayato: Oi, Shuu...!

Shuu: Let’s go, Ayato. There’s no point in us staying here any longer.

...Yui.

Yui: Yes...?

Shuu: I’m leaving Reiji in your care.

Yui: ...

Ayato: The fuck? Geez...

Oi, Reiji. You better drop by every now and then, ‘kay? Things just don’t feel the same without you ‘round.

Reiji: ...I will consider it.

ー Shuu and Ayato leave

Yui: ( They both left... )

( We might never see each other again... )

( However, even so, Iーー )

Reiji: Come here, Yui.

Yui: Ah...

Reiji: The lunar eclipse will soon come to an end. Let us witness it from here.

The dawn to a new world.

Yui: Yes...

( Even so, I will follow Reiji-san. I will never leave his side. )

( Together, foreverーー )

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ( ーー In what followed, Reiji-san used the powers he inherited from Karlheinz-san to put an end to all demonic species. )

( He eventually defeated even the Vibora, solidifying his position as the Demon Overlord who stands at the very top of the whole Demon World. )

Reiji: ーー Almost all life in the Demon World has ceased to exist. It is basically just us two at this point.

It is quiet. Truly comfortable.

Yui: I agree.

( Soon everything will come to an end. )

( I am sure that this is the end of time ーー what that pocket watch was meant to point out. )

Reiji: Yui, come closer...

*Rustle rustle*

On certain CGs, little black roses will appear on the screen. If you click on them, you get an extra line of dialogue.

“It is only because you supported me at all times, that I am able to stand here right now. My feelings for you have not changed at all. ーー And I doubt they will ever waver. I will continue to love only you, for eternity.”

“As long as you love me, I feel as if I can accomplish anything. I want you to remain by my side, until the moment I finally fulfill Father’s wish which he entrusted me with.

Yui: Ah...

Reiji: Right now, we are still in the process of demise ーー There is still some time left until everything truly comes to an end.

Yui: Yes...

Reiji: However, even if that moment has passed, I will continue to protect you.

Yui: You made that promise before as well, didn’t you?

Reiji: Yes. Even now that I have become the Demon Lord, that has not changed.

My beloved Yui...

No matter what kind of destiny lies ahead of us, we will always be together.

Forever, and everーー

Yui: ( I will stay by Reiji-san’s side forever as well. )

( At all times, no matter what happens, I will continue to support him. )

( Until the end, and beyondーー )

ーー THE END ーー

[animatedarchives]

hi, hon! i absolutely adored your katsuki imagine, so i thought i’d request a shoto imagine. could you do an imagine where the reader’s in a quirk marriage with shoto, but the reader’s actually happy with it cuz they love the idea of love, and they think shoto’s really cute? thank you! ❤️

author’s note: HIIII CLARISSAAA i’m sorry this took so LoNG i really tried my best to write this so i really hope you like it!! thanks for requesting and for all your support I LOVE YOUUU ❤️❤️

MARRIAGE WITHOUT LOVE

— 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎

genre: fluff with a little bit of angst (because who am i without it)

warnings: unrequited love

word count: 2.3k words

“Will you marry me, Y/F/N?” 

Shoto’s words echoed in your mind, the nostalgic feeling of butterflies returning as you fondly remembered his proposal. A warm smile settled upon your beautifully drawn face, your bright orbs looking tearfully at the magnificent double doors in front of you.

It was finally happening.

A warmth bubbled in your stomach as the doors finally swung open, welcoming you in with a shower of delicate rose petals. Time seemed to slow and the world faded into the background; the melodious music never reached your ears and the uncountable stares and open mouths went unnoticed. Your eyes - made up with beautiful eyeshadow and a light coat of mascara - focused on one thing and one thing alone: him. You didn’t even remember kissing your father’s cheek as he left your side to take his seat. All you knew was the feeling of your small, dainty hands slipping into Shoto’s gentle but strong ones.

A small voice inside your head nibbled away at your consciousness, trying to drag you out of the clouds and back into the harsh reality. But as you looked at the man standing in front of you, the very same one you fell in love with, your heart began to swell and you pushed those thoughts aside, wanting to remain in your rose-coloured world for a little while longer.

The officiant’s words passed by you soundlessly, your heart fluttering at the thought of being wed to the love of your life for the rest of eternity. Barely able to contain your excitement, you examined your fiance’s perfectly sculpted face to distract yourself from the burning anticipation. But as you did so, the whispers in your head grew louder, harsher and more incessant. Their words clouded your mind, and the glimmer of hope you held onto slipped right through your fingers. 

This was just a quirk marriage-

No. 

You didn’t want to believe it. You wanted this to be the love you had always imagined, the ones in the fairytales you had always read growing up. But as you scrutinised every detail of his face - his less-than-elated expression and the small smile that never fully reached his eyes - the truth slapped you in the face. Your heart began to sink as you realised that the love you had always wanted just wasn’t yours to own. 

This was just a quirk marriage. 

And Shoto didn’t really love you.

You tried for so long to pry your heart from his hold, doing anything to convince yourself to stop loving him. But no matter how hard you tried, your eyes would always drift back, for it knew where your heart belonged. That was why you agreed to this loveless marriage; your heart refused to be swayed and you just could not imagine spending the rest of your life with anyone else, even if he didn’t love you. In any case, you would much rather love and not be loved back than to be loved but not be able to feel anything from it. 

“Upon request, L/N will be sharing her vows first. L/N, please,” the officiant said, allowing you to take the spotlight. Before the wedding day, Shoto had asked if you were alright with saying your vows first. You thought it was rather uncharacteristic of him to suggest, especially considering how traditional he was, but you didn’t overthink it and agreed without a fuss. Clearing your throat, you looked adoringly into his eyes as you recited your love letter aloud for everyone to hear. 

“Todoroki Shoto, the only man my heart has ever belonged to,” your voice trembled. You paused to take a breath, calming yourself and focusing on the feeling of Shoto’s comforting touch. 

“I’ve always idolised the idea of love, dreaming about how it would feel to have my prince charming sweep me off my feet as he kissed me passionately. When I met you, I thought you were the furthest person from that ideal - you were cold, emotionless and unpassionate about everything except yourself because you wanted to be the best,” you said. You shook your head amusedly as the words left your mouth, your past thoughts seeming so ridiculous now, as you stood at the altar. “As I got to know you, I slowly started to understand. I began to see the determined boy who worked so hard to protect those he cared about. I treasured each rare smile and precious laugh that graced your stoic face. I caught a glimpse of the steady fire burning in this icy cavern and I couldn’t help but be drawn to its warmth. And slowly…” you trailed off, hoping your veil concealed your blush as much as you wanted it to.

“Slowly, you became the prince I had always dreamed about.”

The audience sighed dreamily as you publicly confessed your love for him. Even Shoto’s expression softens as he smiles at your sweet words.

“I know going from a platonic relationship to a romantic one is difficult, even impossible for some people,” you said, glancing at him knowingly. “But it was definitely not impossible for me,” you smiled, praying it didn’t look as sad as you felt.

“Shoto, I promise to love you unconditionally, with all my heart, my soul and my strength, for the rest of my life. I willingly give you every piece of me because I wholly trust you with everything that I have. I promise to be there whenever you need help and to never leave your side or let you face things alone. I vow to always give you the affection you deserve and I will never ever stop loving you, both in this life and the next.”

The tiniest bit of wetness coated your lashes as you finished your speech and you tried your best to blink them away before they ruined your makeup. 

“Thank you, L/N, that was absolutely beautiful,” the officiant smiled, genuinely moved by your words. “Todoroki, your vows, please,” he probed before stepping back to let your fiance speak. Shoto spared a quick side glance at his father who sat proudly at the front, his massive form blocking the poor audience’s view of this magical moment. His father was the only other person in the room besides the two of you that knew about the pretence of this marriage. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself to say the words he had so carefully crafted and memorised weeks before. 

“Children grow up by learning from their parents and their teachings,” he started, avoiding direct eye contact with his parents, who were sitting at polar ends of the front row. “Mine didn’t have the best relationship and every night, I would hide under the blankets in my room, wishing for better days I wasn’t sure would ever come.” 

You had heard this story a million times before, yet your heart still broke every single time he told it.

“I never knew what love was, but I knew what it wasn’t,” he continued, trying to bring some hope back into the audience’s hearts.

“Love wasn’t selfish; it was about giving to the other person and always putting them first before yourself. And the one who taught me all this wasn’t my parents… It was you,” he said as he gazed into your eyes.

“When we first met, I felt strangely inferior because I knew you were a better hero than me, but I didn’t understand why. However, on the second day of the internship we did together back in UA, I realised what it was,” he said, recounting the memory.

“It was love,” he smiled softly.

“I remember watching how much you cared for others, putting your life on the line to protect them even though you were injured,” he recalled. You could barely remember all this happening, but it touched your heart that he treasured the memory so much that he remembered every little detail. “Your selfless actions opened my eyes to what I was lacking,” he continued. “It wasn’t power that would make me the best hero; it was my heart for those I wanted to protect.” 

“If I were the number one hero, I would be defeating villains left and right, and have all the fame and money in the world. Yet after a long day of work, I’d still return home unhappy and purposeless. Without people I loved, who would I be fighting for? But if I didn’t have power, if I were quirkless even, it would be the people I loved that would give me the strength to face the world every day. Even without any powers, I would not be powerless at all. And…” his voice softened, barely a whisper. Emotions swirled in his eyes as his next few words ghosted his lips.

“... I would be happy.”

You never expected Shoto to be this vulnerable; he had rarely shared this much in private, let alone in public. Even so, you couldn’t help but hope he continued, the curiosity within you eagerly craving for more.

“The lesson you taught me is something I will cherish forever, and something I want to pass on to my children: the source of your strength does not come from your physical capabilities, but the purpose inside of you, the reason you fight, and the people your heart burns for.”

“That’s why I could never just marry for power. The pretence of a quirk marriage was just so I could get my father’s blessing,” he finally admitted. 

Discourse shook the crowd as people murmured amongst themselves. Even you were completely floored by Shoto’s confession. You looked worriedly at Endeavor who was fuming in his seat, outraged by the revelation of his son’s blatant lies, and understandably so. Declaring his true intentions and exposing his false claims to his father in front of everyone at his own wedding? Truly the ultimate act of rebellion. Endeavor was about to storm right up to the altar when your friends held him back in his seat, quieting the crowd in the process. 

Suddenly, you felt Shoto’s fingers under your chin, gently guiding your face back to his. Your thoughts were completely muddled, everything happening so fast and all at once. If he wasn’t marrying you for your quirk… then… 

Your breath hitched as realisation dawned upon you, his next few words being the only thing you could hear.

“I’m marrying you because I love you, Y/N.”

You didn’t know how you were still standing when all your brain was doing was malfunctioning and trying not to spontaneously combust. 

“You are my purpose. You are the reason I fight. And the fire within me, the one you said you were drawn to, is the same one that burns brightly for you.” 

Your heart was pounding so furiously against your ribcage, you thought it would explode. For so long you had convinced yourself that your feelings were not returned that you couldn’t possibly believe it was true. And yet, every fibre of your being wanted to believe it, hoping so dearly that it wasn’t just a dream. No amount of joy could ever compare to what you were feeling in that moment. 

“L/N Y/N, I promise to never hide my true emotions from you anymore. I will openly and wholeheartedly love you with every piece of me, and I will not hold back ever again, no matter what anyone says. I will always be by your side, protecting you and our love as we face the world together.”

Despite mustering all of your willpower, a tear still slipped from your eye, but was effortlessly wiped away by the man you would now call yours forever. All those years of wishing and hoping had amounted to something: your dreams had come true, and fantasy had become your reality. 

“That was truly touching. Though it came as a surprise, it was not unwelcome in the least,” the officiant smiled at Shoto, who returned it gratefully. “You may now present your rings to each other.”

Shoto gracefully extended his left palm. “May I have your hand, my princess?” he asked with the same gorgeous smile that had first captivated your heart. Still high on euphoria, you grinned and gingerly placed your left hand in his. The warmth of his hand contrasted beautifully against the cool metal as he slid on the glittering diamond ring. It was absolutely flawless, just like everything else about that day. Reluctantly, you pulled your eyes away from the stunning jewel to return the favour, slipping the ring onto his left hand. It fit perfectly on his finger as if it were made for him, just like you were. 

“Finally, the moment we’ve all been waiting for: I now pronounce you husband and wife!” the officiant announced proudly. “You may kiss the bride,” he said under his breath, a cheeky smirk evident on his face. You barely had time to register the hollers and whistles in the background as Shoto scooped you up in his strong, muscular arms and planted a passionate kiss on your lips. It was everything you had ever imagined it to be and more.

As he broke the kiss to admire your gorgeous face, his eyes sparkled, brimming with abundant love and adoration for his new wife.

“I’m sorry your prince charming took so long.”

You beamed at his sweet apology, forgiving him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and gently pushed his head down to close the space between you. You loved the taste of his lips against yours and could hardly believe you had unlimited access to it for the rest of your life.

“Finally, you’re no longer my princess, but my queen.”

You couldn’t do anything but smile, the butterflies in your stomach finally bursting free from the cage they had been contained in for so long. As you walked down the aisle for the second time, you couldn’t help but think of the stark contrast between both times you graced it: first, the bittersweet feeling of entering a one-sided marriage and now, the overwhelming joy you currently felt knowing it was no longer one-sided. 

The fresh breeze outside complemented the new air of romance between the newly wedded couple. Jumping into his arms once more, he spun you around as you both laughed in pure bliss. 

This wasn’t just a quirk marriage.

And Shoto really loved you.

Certainly, this was your happily ever after.

© written and published by animatedarchives 2020. please do not steal or repost. thank you.