#this is not how i foresaw this going when i made it

[realitythroughthelensoffiction]

Good Omens: on fate and reality

In season 1 of Good Omens, The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch play a vital role in helping to avert the Apocalypse. Anathema dedicated her life to understanding Agnes's prophecies and thereby helping to fulfill them. But in the final episode of season 1, when the package with the follow-up collection of prophecies arrives, she decides to burn them, because she does no longer want to live her life according to the writings of her ancestor.

This is interpreted by many as Anathema taking her fate in her own hands instead of subjugating herself to something that was foretold. But the fact that she burns the prophecies instead of studying them does not necessarily mean that she changed her fate. It is entirely possible that her life will still take the road that Agnes foresaw for her. Agnes probably even predicted the burning of the new prophecies.

The only difference is that now, Anathema knows that all the decisions she makes are of her own free will, while otherwise she would have always wondered what she did because she wanted it and what she did only because Agnes had prophesied it.

A further indication that people acting according to their free will does not contradict the idea of fate is God's Ineffable Plan itself. At the end of season 1, when the Apocalypse has just been averted, Crowley asks Aziraphale: "What if the Allmighty planned it like this all along? From the very beginning?" Aziraphale agrees that this might very well be possible.

So even though all the people involved made their own free choices, they could still have been acting according to a plan God laid out very long ago.

Conclusion No. 1: Free will and fate are not mutually exclusive.

However, it seems that some things can be altered. Adam as the Antichrist has the power to bend reality. He uses it to change the fact that Satan is his father and to bring back people from the dead, for example Lesley. When Aziraphale expresses doubt about Mr. Young really being Adam's father, Crowley says: "It is. It is now. And it always was. He did it."

So Adam did not only change reality for the present and the future, but also for the past. He was able to make things that had already happened undone.

Conclusion No. 2: In the Good Omens universe, reality can be altered, even retroactively.

And the ability to change reality does not seem to be limited to Adam. Another example, as Goldfarb Styrt (cf. p. 127; cited below) points out, is Crowley being able to get himself and his Bentley through the burning M25, while Hastur gets discorporated. Crowley simply imagines that everything is fine, and by imagining it, it becomes real. Goldfarb Styrt (cf. p. 123, pp. 126-127; cited below) also suggests that it might be the individual's interpretation of reality that matters.

That sounds really fitting to me. Because the Bentley is burning, no matter how Crowley imagines otherwise, and it explodes as soon as Crowley isn't concentrating on keeping it together anymore. And, as @indigovigilance mentions in this post, the people who witnessed the incidents during the attempted Armageddon, like Atlantis rising from the sea, still remember them, even after Adam undid everything again.

But Crowley and the humans interpret the aforementioned events in a different way than you would expect, and their interpretations have an impact.

In any case, reality and the ways in which it can be altered are important themes in season 1 of Good Omens. And season 2 contains hints that they might play a big role in the finale as well. The most prominent example of these hints is the recurring mention of the Book of Life.

I will go into more detail about the Book of Life in my next post, but the important bit for now is that by erasing someone's name from it, you create a version of reality in which "they will never have existed". So the Book of Life is another tool to effectively alter reality.

Conclusion No. 3: Reality and the possibilities to alter it are important themes in Good Omens and will be relevant to plot of the finale.

That's it for now. What are your thoughts on fate and reality in Good Omens?

Work cited: Goldfarb Styrt, Philip: Sola Fide. Ineffability, Good Omens, and the Reformation. In: Giannini, Erin and Taylor, Amanda (Eds.): Deciphering Good Omens. Nice and Accurate Essays on the Novel and Television Series, pp. 120-132.

@kimberleyjean

[quiet-longing]

Fellow Devil's Minioners

I have solved the mystery of Rolin and Assad's answers (aside from absolute nonsense trolling, that is) and made them make sense.

To wit:

Armand turned him out of spite?

Make's perfect sense. It was to spite Parkinson's for thinking it was going to be what killed Daniel. If anyone is killing Daniel, it's Armand and it's in a sexy-vampire-marrying way. He called dibs a long time ago.

A pure rage kill?

But of course. Who would not feel pure rage at Parkinson's for daring to try to take his beloved from him? What is a mediocre star to a 514 year-old vampire? What is a human disease? Does Parkinson's truly believe itself to be a match for The Vampire Armand, an immortal who walks in the sun? HA! His blood will obliterate its existence!

See? Now it makes perfect sense. Parkinson's disease said 'I'll be killing the love of your life slowly while you sit there and watch. What are you gonna do about?

Parkinson's disease fucked around and found out.

I made it make sense.

[waterfae]

Kill My Lord Husband [Part 1]

Summary: Your father has decided to marry you off – and to a Blackwood no less! But you want nothing to do with the famously known Bloody Ben, not when your heart already belongs to another. Your solution? Kill your lord husband.

Pairings: Benjicot “Davos” Blackwood x Reader, Aeron Bracken x Reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence, adult language, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers, arranged marriage, house-neutral fem!reader, no use of Y/N, absolute nonsense, no beta

Word Count: 1.7+ K

Part: 1 | 2 | 3

|| General Masterlist || House of the Dragon Masterlist ||

“A marriage proposal has been accepted.”

With wide eyes, you looked up from your dinner plate and towards your father, “A marriage proposal?” Your voice shook slightly and your heart raced with anticipation. There was only one man you could think of at this moment who had any interest in marrying you – you in him – and the thought of that particular man made it feel as though your entire body was ascending up to the heavens. At long last, your hidden lover had gotten the courage to seek out your father and ask for your hand. You tried to contain your knowing smile as you took a sip from your cup and played off your excitement. You asked a follow up, though you arrogantly foresaw the answer, “And to whom, may I ask?”

“Benjicot Blackwood.”

You spit out your wine; confidence immediately deflated and your ascension halted as a great monstrosity reached out and pulled you back down into the depths of hell. That was not the name you expected to come from your father’s lips.

“Benjicot Blackwood?!” You sputtered while your handmaiden rushed forward to assist with the mess you made, “You choose for me to subjugate myself, my future, my happiness...to House Blackwood?” Panic set in, evident by the rising shrill and breathiness of your voice, “You can’t be serious?”

“What is wrong with the Blackwoods?” Your father asked, oblivious to the extremity of your anguish and continued to cut into his roasted duck, “They have long been our friends, a good family with good standing –” he paused to place a piece of the meat into his mouth, “You will be well taken care of.”

“That may be, but –” You attempted to interject, but were stopped with a casual wave of his fork.

“Benjicot Blackwood will be Lord of Raventree Hall once his father passes and you, its Lady.” He looked upon you with proud eyes, “Is that so bad a future?”

You stared at your father incredulously and tried to hold his gaze, but were unable to do so. Not when he was looking at you with such delight on his features, as if he had just done something exceptional rather than damning. It was far from what you genuinely desired. Still, you replied, eyes downcast, “No, of course not.” Because it was the truth. Any woman of the realm would be fortunate to marry into such an old and noble house. There was no denying that. “I just thought…” Your voice trailed and you swallowed back the words, for if you said them out loud, it would mean the future that you had planned for yourself was now truly lost.

“Thought what?” He asked once he realized you were not going to complete your statement, “Of your little Bracken knight?”

Your head snapped back up at him, shocked at the revelation: he knew. Your love, as it turned out, wasn’t so hidden after all and it made you wonder if the pitying look he gave you now made the entire situation even worse. You pondered further: if your father knew of your relations with the young knight, why even engage in acts that would bring about the situation in the first place?

“My darling daughter,” He began as he reached out and patted your hand in an attempt to comfort you, “It is time. You are already one and twenty.” He hesitated at first in saying his following remark, sure that it would hurt you further, but quickly decided that it was better to be honest, “And he has never asked.”

So, that was why. How does one accept a proposal that never comes?

First was an intake of air, then the sound of wood scrapping against the stone floor as you pushed your chair back from the meal. You rose up from your seat with a blank expression and side-stepped away from your place at the table before announcing, “I’ve lost my appetite.” Finally, you removed yourself from the dining hall with your father looking solemnly after your retreating form.

In your chambers, you paced back and forth. It was hot. So very hot. You could feel the burning of your skin as you fanned yourself and you knew, without even having to look into a mirror, that your face was flushed. Beads of sweat began to form at your temple. Your hands shook. And everything felt so tight – so constricting. Your chest heaved as you tried to gasp for air; you couldn’t get your lungs to expand enough in order to take in the much needed oxygen – dread seemed to fill it in its stead. You couldn’t decide which was more suffocating: the clothes or the deplorable reality you were currently facing. Eventually, your fingers found their way to the front of your bodice and you began to fumble with the laces wanting nothing more than to get the accursed article off of you. You ripped it from your body as it came loose before throwing the wretched thing across the room and let out an enraged holler.

He promised, you thought as tears threatened to fall, he promised for many moons now that he would finally go to your father and ask for your hand; announce your love before the whole realm and make you truly his. But as always, he moved too slowly. Cautious. At times, too cautious. And now with his delay, you were going to be sent away to become a Blackwood.

You hunched over to pull off your slippers then threw them unceremoniously against the wall in a vain attempt to quell your anger. With your stockinged feet, you stomped towards the nearest window and screamed into the night, hoping that the breeze would carry your message to its intended.

“Aeron Bracken! You fucking coward!"

The days moved swiftly thereafter and soon enough a week had passed since the announcement of your betrothal, a week since you sent a raven to Aeron, and a week since you waited for a reply that never came. It left a bitter taste in your mouth and an even more sour mood as you sat in the wheelhouse that carried you towards what would be your new home: Raventree Hall. It was there where you would officially meet your betrothed and have the ceremony. Had you not been so heartbroken by your knight’s lack of response, you may have put up a much greater resistance to the marriage. But you were, so you didn’t. It did not help matters that your Lord Paramount actually favored the union, which sealed your fate if nothing else had already. So there you were, sitting across from your father while Atlanna, your most favorite handmaiden and dearest friend, sat to your left as you traveled west.

“A storm brews, my lady.” Atlanna stated candidly as she peeked through the window on her side.

“Does it?” In turn, you peeled back the curtain on yours to observe for yourself the dark clouds that slowly began to roll in; it was as though the heavy weather stalked your very mood. You released the curtain and turned your attention away from the window, slumping into your seat with your arms crossed over your chest, “Perhaps it shall bring about a flood in which I can drown.”

Atlanna let out a small chortle at your antics while your father simply shook his head.

By the time you arrived to the castle, it was already the afternoon and the sky had completely turned overcast, though the rain refused to fall, much like your tears. That tight feeling in your chest returned and you could feel it claw its way up to your neck as you journeyed past the castle gates and closer to the entrance where your future family stood to receive you. Sensing your nerves, Atlanna placed one of her hands over yours and squeezed. You looked over at her and smiled weakly as you squeezed hers back, glad that your father allowed her to leave the household in order to bring her along with you; it would make putting on your brave face much easier and give you at least one ally among your new house.

The wheelhouse slowed and finally came to a stop, prompting your father to stand from his seat and push the door open. You took in a deep breath and steeled yourself, following in your father’s footsteps with Atlanna right behind you. However, as you neared the final steps, your foot slipped and you felt yourself falling forward.

‘Oh’s’ and gasps were heard from the small group gathered before you. You closed your eyes and braced yourself for the impact against the cold, muddy ground, but it never happened. Instead, you felt your body turn as a strong arm wrapped itself around your waist and the other cradled your head, preventing your fall.

Slowly, you opened your eyes and found yourself staring at someone’s chest; your savior was taller than you which forced you to look up. You wished you hadn’t. It was then that you realized that the gods had granted your prayer and sent you to drown, drown, drown. But rather a flood, it was into a pair of stormy eyes. Your heart quickened and your lips parted as you let out a small gasp, still unable to look away. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. He bore down into yours as well, but with what emotion, you couldn’t quite grasp. It felt like an eternity before someone finally let out a chuckle.

“Well, that’s one way to introduce yourself.” Lord Samwell Blackwood laughed and strode over to the pair of you with a wide grin, your body still encased in the young man’s arms. “My lady,” He began once he reached you both and placed a hand on each of your shoulders, “Meet my son, heir to Raventree Hall, and your future lord husband. Benjicot Blackwood.”

Something in your mind suddenly shattered upon hearing his name and you were finally able to blink away from Benjicot’s gaze. You hadn’t realized until then how tightly you had been gripping onto his tunic and as much as you wanted to let go, you weren’t sure if you could with the strength in your legs slowly dissipating. Your eyes darted from Benjicot to his father, then to your father, whose smile was just as wide and full of amusement as Lord Blackwood’s, then back to Benjicot who’s grip on your waist only tightened. You looked up into his eyes once more and a familiar fluttering in your stomach began.

Your eyes widened with recognition.

Oh, shit.

a/n: I recently rejoined tumblr and a few weeks ago I posted a poll to find which character you wanted me to torture first and the Benjicot girlies prevailed. So this is me dipping my toe into the HOTD fandom. I hope I do these characters justice. I was initally going for a longer chapter, but honestly, just wanted to get something out there lol. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and my askbox is always open. ♡

And yes, that was a teeny tiny reference to @spider-stark's fic Little Bracken Knight. 🤭

taglist: @pantheonofbeauty @cregansfourthwife @spicyteaandcrumpets @accidentpronedork @cococrazy18

@witch-moon-babe @a-romantic-twst @flusteredmoonn @nixtape-foryou @flowerprincezz

[szynkaaa]

This is my first time asking but I'm going to ask anyway (and English is not my native language) I'm curious to know how your OC and the destined one met (I mean how was their first interaction)

hi hi! thank you so much for your ask, this is the first time I have received one about my OC <3

probably something like this (read right-to-left)

Gonna use this chance to talk a bit more about my AU lol

Wrote in a separate post here that Oz has met Sun Wukong before when she was a child and he was buried under the mountain.

So when she got whisked back into fantasy ancient China, she landed where Yuan Shoucheng aka Gourd Grandpa (the old man carrying a big gourd on his back) was already waiting there for her. He foresaw her arriva. The vague gist of my AU is that the the reason why this Destined One succeeds in retrieving all artifacts and becomes SWK is because he is also sort of the manifestation of that childish promise 5-years-old Oz made that she will save SWK one day (from under the mountain but clearly that didn't happen lol). But also since her ancestor is from this world, her descendants were fated to return back here one day.

Gourd grandpa updates her on her ancestors and their roles in the Celestial Court and the shitstorm that happened that ultimately let to the clan being massacred and one person escaping to "our" world, where magic doesn't exist and all those people are just characters from myths and stories. But also her ancestor isn't the only person that traversed through the two worlds - over the centuries more have come and gone. This is also why people in her world have those myths and deities. In my AU Wu Cheng'en also escaped from fantasy ancient China into her world and then wrote Journey to the West. He took artistic liberty to change some things for his novel, hence some things in BMW are different than in JTTW (like the ZBJ and violet spider love story or how SWK had a romance with White Bone Demon).

Anywayyy, Oz task on the adventure is to document their journey together, and she is responsible for using the magical gourd to suck in the will of the defeated bosses in.

And 2-3 days later the Destined One shows up. I don't think Oz was very happy about leaving gourd grandpa and join the Destined One on his travel, but if he is her best chance to find a way back home to see Taylor Swift live, then she will do it.

The Destined One is indifferent to mildly annoyed about this, but doesn't protest too much, as long as she doesn't slow him down yadda yadda. I do think that DO did feel some sort of special connection to her, because he is sort of a manifestation of that promise. it doesn't really take long for him to get used to her and also to care for her. One of Sun Wukong's massive core trait is that he cares so much for his loved ones and does not hesitate to do the impossible for them, and I like to imagine that even though SWK senses have been split into 6 different parts, the caring part stayed with each Destined One reincarnation.

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Hi! Please excuse any misspellings, english is not my frist language...

Firstly I just wanted to tell you that I love your AU! Your Harlequin au was what intorduced me to lovely TADC au Tumblr community and I absolutley love it! I haven't seen alternate universes as creative as these since the Sansverse era!

Secondly, I hace a question about the Patriarch: He seems to have a very good idea of who Caine is, wouldn't he be this world's equivalent to Able? I ask because althugh his design is WAY different from most fan Able depictions, he still has that "The Puppetmaster's brother" vibe that all Ables tend to have, a peace of Caine's past that he can never get rid of!

If he is not Able then I am curious of who he is, if he is then the lore just got spicier and if you don't want to spoil anything I'll understand.

But honestly: Keep it up! Your au has filled 70% of all my daydreams, the only thing I have been able to think about for a while has only been game mechanics, combat and chase sequences!

Damn y'all are fucking sleuths istg

Though I am very proud of that because that means my design philosophy worked somehow, and for that, I'll throw you guys a bone. And also because I can't keep it a secret any longer I've been holding it in since the very beginning of this au

YES.

The Patriarch of Puppets is none other than Abel, Caine's biological brother.

When I was first designing him, I wanted every aspect of Abel's design to scream "opposite of Caine", and to hold some form of symbolism. From his megaphone head, down to the color palettes, there is meaning. Don't get me wrong, Mushy's Able is a very memorable and awesome design and I could've incorporated him the same way I did Souls-like, but I wanted something deeper for Harlequin.

While Caine is adorned in golds and maroons to symbolize his warmer nature, Abel has teals and silver, a very cold and intimidating stature. Their outfits and the colors are an opposition towards each other yet reflect one another somehow, the way Abel dresses tightly and formal when Caine is loose and open, his intense red pupil conveys his hostility, whilst Caine's eyes are softer blues and greens.

His king-size height dwarfing Caine tells just how much the Puppetmaster felt living on his shadow, HELL, someone noticed the weird "A" on the sides of his head and I had to shrug it off because I didn't want to reveal it as early as that time.

Even the megaphone head design holds SO MUCH UNTOLD STORY BETWEEN THE BROTHERS THAT I WILL CHOOSE TO KEEP A SECRET FOR NOW. I've put SO MUCH THOUGHT behind his design.

*sigh*... Which is also why I very much dislike the "siren head" jokes, because it's the one thing I didn't really foresaw when I was developing his design until I finished, and someone pointed out it might cause jokes like that to prop up. Something I thought I wouldn't mind initially, until everyone made the same joke over and over again and I just audibly groan irl.

But you know. internet's gonna internet, they see one thing that resembles a popular media, it's an immediate connection. I didn't even give a shit enough about Siren head to know how the design actually looked like, just a silhouette of the guy.

Therefore, I would really appreciate it if saying this out loud would help lessen the jokes, but ik not everyone is going to see this post so.

I do still wanna thank you for your kind words, because these kinds of asks are the fuel to my fire of inspiration and motivation for this AU, and I wish that I can keep this fire going till the very end of this AU's story :')

[sunderwight]

had a thought of what if Airplane had leaned a little more into the self-insert idea for Luo Binghe when he was still at the early stages of writing, with an end result that Luo Binghe actually Looks Like That because he basically looks like Airplane but with long flowing hair and a more idealized figure

SQQ going "why the fuck did you make his face so pretty???" and Airplane bullshitting about plausibility while trying really hard not to blush. twisting his fingers and scuffing his toe like jeez bro he's not that good-looking...

which of course sets SQQ off because how DARE!?! not 'that' good-looking?!?! just look at him! he's xianxia Helen of Troy with a face that launched a thousand harems! like okay sure with looks like that it does make sense that half the female population was willing to timeshare a marriage with him, but it's also totally unfair to SQQ, who has no recourse against those looks either! and who could? that is the most beautiful face ever!

Airplane's getting flustered. tries valiantly to make the case that objectively speaking Luo Binghe isn't that good-looking, it's just that SQQ is biased, but boy does that not go over well. SQQ has hitched the tattered remnants of his self-perception as a straight man onto the idea that Luo Binghe is just so devastatingly attractive anyone would want to hop into bed with him, and he is not letting go of it, so Airplane is just gonna get wrecked with inadvertent compliments

bonus if the Shang Qinghua look is actually the result of several illusions because when Airplane first transmigrated in, he got the same face too, and foresaw potential problems if the half-demon protagonist turned up looking like him. so he used illusions. he doesn't actually look all that different, in fact! the illusions just make it so that when people see him, they get a strong impression that he's unremarkable, so they don't really register what his face actually looks like and their brains fill in the assumption that he must just be kinda plain

oooh ooh double bonus if the system inserted a behind-the-scenes explanation for it too, which is that Shang Qinghua is actually unwittingly related to Su Xiyan!

and the whole thing comes to light post-epilogue when Shang Qinghua's illusions get stripped away by some monster-of-the-week, while everyone except Mobei Jun has a freak out about why do you look just like Luo Binghe?! (Mobei Jun isn't freaking out because he already figured out how to see past the illusions and just assumed everyone else wasn't mentioning it for some human cultural reason or something) and then Yue Qingyuan calmly explains that Luo Binghe's mom is Shang Qinghua's matrilineal cousin. Shang Qinghua's mother and Luo Binghe's human grandmother were half-sisters.

what? how does Yue Qingyuan know? you think that Cang Qiong doesn't check up on the candidates for the peak lord positions before handing off power, doesn't make sure there are no conflicts of interest or divided loyalties to other sects? what sorts of things do people imagine Qiong Ding's diplomats do? (I don't know either but, for the purpose of this scenario at least some of it is tracking down this stuff -- YQY handled most of it personally for his generation's ascension because he didn't want anyone else digging into his and Xiao Jiu's pasts) anyways, the connection could have been troublesome for its ties to Huan Hua Palace, but by the time it came to light Su Xiyan was deceased and there was no evidence that Shang Qinghua had ever even met her. so it wasn't deemed significant enough to matter, was just made note of and then mostly forgotten

so Shang Qinghua is like "oh THAT is why you kept bringing her up to me back then?!" because at the time he'd just been fully in "haha how would I know anything about the impending plot and the tragedies I am both partly responsible for and powerless to prevent haha that's so funny shixiong I KNOW NOTHING" mode, which luckily at the time was easily read as him just not wanting a dead cousin he never met to tank his chances of securing a promotion

SQQ is floored. he is having issues about this. Shang Qinghua is related to Binghe? Shang Qinghua looks exactly like him?! wait. Binghe has human family? still alive? like grandparents and stuff out there, who might want to meet him...?

Luo Binghe decides to step in at that point because he does not want to meet any more relatives! no more surprise relatives! no!

luckily this distracts Shen Qingqiu from thinking about all of the things he's said to Airplane about Binghe's looks for long enough for Shang Qinghua to flee the scene

[kishiar-la-orr]

personally speaking, there are 3 parts of kishiar la orr's character that makes me find him really fascinating.

first is how he is technically a troupe but a subversion of a troupe at the same time? male leads in romances, whether its het romance or a BL romance, are usually like. cold northern duke who is super strong, super smart and opens up to the main character very slowly because of the main character's kindness, blunt and at times rude. instead, we have kishiar — who is also a northern duke and super strong and super smart, but i'd argue between kishiar and yuder, the one who made the first move to further advance their connection is kishiar? as in, he extends his thoughts and feelings genuinely, expresses wanting to be close to yuder, which are all an olive branch yuder can accept, a sign of trust and (to a degree) vulnerability and real intent to form a connection.

yes, part of him plays into the common male lead troupes, but other parts of him honestly reads more like a female lead? he's the one more emotionally in touch, he's the socially savvy one, he's sunny and smiley. which is just fun, in my opinion, when compared to other BLs i've personally found over the years.

the second thing is my unending fascination with kishiar's complicated tango with mortality. being sickly from childhood, there must've been a sense of impending doom — especially when it's practically public secret among nobles that imperial family members usually die young because of vessel issues. kishiar was on super fast track to the same recorded fates those other people had. but then, in the prev. game, he survived! became healthy! only to not long after take two steps backwards as his health arguably got worse. sometimes i think being killed by yudrein in the 1st tl could be considered a mercy to 1st tl kishiar.

and in the 2nd tl, he went from sick to healthy — and that is it. i think with the blooming romance with yuder, it emphasizes the core characteristic of kishiar that is: he does everything for the people he loves, their future and happiness whether it's with or without him in the picture. ideally, of course it's with him. and in the 2nd tl, he's finally granted this. you can really tell when you see the prev. game flashbacks and go back to the present timeline that kishiar is just much more alive and not just in the physical sense — there is a drive and a sense of liveliness that wasn't there in all of their past life sections, in my opinion.

i just really get fascinated with character struggles with mortality, man. i think kishiar especially has a lot to offer in this department, there are so many things from canon that you can deconstruct or things not yet answered that you can headcanon — everything to play around and explore further about his character and its deep ties to death. even down to the way that he talks, to me, is due to his isolation because of the very vessel bursting issue that also foresaw his impending doom. like, he talks like a person who's alone a lot while growing up? the eloquence and all. it is so fun. naturally, this also includes his expertise with emotional processing and expression — i also think this can also be tied down to his intricate dance with mortality.

finally, the last layer is that kishiar, by all accounts, should be a gary stu — a male version of a mary sue character — and should maybe be boring to read about. he can do practically everything from magic, swordsmanship and aura, divine power to awakener ability. he is sociable and politically wise, able to play the 5D chess of nobles and high society and extract information from enemies and allies alike easily with his multi-layered words. he is smart, he is emotionally intelligent, he has a lot of strong allies, he is kind. but... he isn't boring to read about? not at all. his struggles may have passed, but they are struggles anyway. they contribute to the way i perceive him as a character and only cause me to be even more fascinated by him. and this very 'perfection' kuyu sets him up with — especially the being super strong and able to wield all the powers in their world like a goddamn avatar — is set up to be a major flaw: the very reason his vessel couldn't hold it for the majority of his life and in the 1st tl. everything just colors a very interesting picture of a character that i ended up beyond obsessed with.

[group-dynamic]

Bartender: Hey, man, how's it going?

Me: Yeah, you know, it's good. Just thinking about how Gil Galad's kingship was haunted by Elrond. Like his first great failure after being crowned when he'd barely come of age was showing up too late to stop the destruction of Sirion. How he probably felt a deep personal responsibility to find Elwing's missing boys at least but couldn't even do that. Like, I know he probably got redirected by Cirdan toward all those refugees and stuff, but he probably really wanted a win, especially because he was kinda orphaned by then himself and knew how cruel fate was to the sons of greater destiny. Like all his family who'd been king before him died, like, horrifically? And then when Elrond returns all fine and he comes to Lindon and he's chosen the fate of the elves, Gil Galad's physically haunted by him again. See, but this time he chooses to be haunted by Elrond. Because I think he wants to fix what he sees as his first great failure by restoring a bright future for this kid which was robbed from him when Sirion fell--and it's probably like he wants better for him than what he got, too, because he got this kingship in exile thrust upon him when all he was doing was hanging out with Cirdan making ships or something with the other non-combatants and refugees like he and his mother who were fleeing war and violence and he was like fourth in line to the throne so he probably found out in one fell swoop that all his family's dead and oh, you're king and your destiny's out of your hands. So he's like, I'll make Elrond herald and give him all the experience and guidance on this leadership stuff I never got while also giving him better control of what kind of future he has. Then--get this--he never even marries or has kids and when his reign is coming to an end. . . Which, by the way, he probably foresaw his own death which is fucked-- because he gives Elrond his ring before the war of the last alliance, metaphorically making him his heir and also giving him the opportunity to shape his future. . .Yeah, yeah, cause Elrond wouldn't have been considered suitable to be a lord or a king or anything after he was raised by wolves the sons of Feanor. So when Gil made him herald it was like helping him gain political experience and any status he lost. So anyway, then Gil Galad dies, but in some ways he's spent a greater part of his life dedicated to the act of restoring Elrond to the path he should have been on in an alternate reality where he was raised as Earendil and Elwing's son and like correcting that first failure--but also changing Elrond's fate because Elrond has the ring, like, he literally has Gil Galad's legacy and power in his hands, something he wouldn't have had (or needed?) before. But he decides he won't be king. He'll use that power to guard the place that fulfills the legacies of both him and Gil Galad. He's rebuilt the home he lost, something Gil Galad was trying to give him, and then he makes it a place for all the orphans and the wounded and the refugees--like he even fosters a bunch of future orphan kings and like--

Bartender: Like the ending of Hamilton?

Me: *mumbling into my empty glass* Yeah, exactly like the ending of Hamilton.

[lady-quen]

Cannot Hold It When It Thaws

"An angel falls to their hubris. It's a story as old as time. It's a story you already know, under countless names and through countless retellings. But knowing doesn't change anything; Soo-Won was more aware than most. And she knew that they would know she knew - and that scared her more than anything.

This is the day Jormag's heart freezes over."

[Pre-canon drabble, 2k words, Soo-Won and Jormag-centric. Angst. Exploration of Jormag's affection and corruption. No trigger warnings that I can think of, aside from a low-detail description of drowning. Art and writing is mine, Guild Wars 2 belongs to Arenanet. Dialogue inspired by Gen 3 Legendary Weapons. Divider graphic belongs to @soulbeastdragon. Keep in mind this is merely my interpretation of these characters :) Enjoy!]

"I want to make them permanent, Mother. I want to make them last."

"You know you can't do that." She smiled - in the sense that she radiated warmth, something that would perhaps best be described with a single word. Dragons could be infinitely complex, after all. "That is their beauty. They are fleeting. And so, their eyes are uniquely open."

"There is no beauty in passing. And yet.. it's gone. You unmade it. Why? Why did you close its eyes?"

Soo-Won could only linger in silence, dark eyes as unfathomable as the ocean. She knew well that the true depth of existence could not - and would not come easily to her child, not when they were so young. Perhaps, that was her curse. Either alone beneath the sea of stars, or surrounded by little things who only reasoned as little things could. Specks of light, innocent flickers of pure magic. Innocent, but destined.

The small dragon pawed at the ground, attempting to gather close the dust that once was a creature. A fruitless effort, with massive claws not fit to be this gentle. "It's still alive, you see? I can undo it."

"He. Not it. Please, let go, now. His soul found silence at last."

"No, no... It's not silent—you aren't listening closely."

Her tail softly brushed aside arms that had no real will to stop her, sweeping the last of the dust away. Finally allowing the once-mortal to scatter to the winds. The crystalline sparkles shimmered as they sailed the sky, a soul bidding its - his - last farewell.

"They are not... suited to our lifetimes, my child. Their minds cannot last, even if their bodies can be made to. Even if you make them pristine forever, they will not last. That is not their will."

"But I did not force them." The young dragon chirped, head turning in puzzlement as their already brilliant mind worked overtime behind sad blue eyes. "I asked it. I asked him. He agreed. But you unmade him. You took him from me."

"It's wrong, baby." She nuzzled her dragonling, wishing only for the depth of her love to soothe the turbulent soul. "Just because he agreed does not mean he knew what he agreed to. He can't have known. Us Dragons are of a different type of existence. Seeing things through our eyes, ah... well, I'm not surprised he..."

He broke, she wanted to say. But she couldn't. Not with the way they looked at her, resentment building behind those same orbs that once adored her.

But they finished it for her. "That he broke, Mother? How did you know? How COULD you have known? You didn't even ask him."

"My baby - they always break. It's inevitable -"

"You didn't ASK him like I DID!" Jormag boomed, breath coming in heavy pants from between jagged fangs. If a thing such as them could cry, she felt their eyes would be shedding waterfalls. "And you didn't ask now, either. If he wanted to live. No. You simply unmade him."

The matron of the ocean shrank away. Fear permeating an ancient body, an emotion she hadn't truly known until that moment. Even though she foresaw it, even though this fate was written in stars older than even herself, it was a different matter entirely to simply know and to experience it firsthand.

Her child. One of the only creatures she felt she truly, wholly, loved - and they lay destroyed in every timeline. The massive whorl of her body spasmed with terror.

The first thing that went was always their heart and there were no words she could possibly say to heal it. She ran a billion worlds through her mind and there was not one, not one life in which they understood.

Jormag simply continued to gaze into their mother's eyes, hitched, raspy breaths slowly evening out, like a stormy sea mellowed out into a calm. Before she knew it, they were as unshakable as a statue yet again, that same cold persona of reason they had since grown into.

"I see. So you've embraced fatalism." They commented, in an almost condescending manner.

Like they thought she wasn't even worth conversing with.

Like she was a relic who could not possibly understand. And yet, she did. She comprehended it all, every facet of it, and it was ever-so-slowly killing her. A deathless thing, watcher of every world that was and ever could be. And she was killing her child, too.

Soo-Won was glad mortals did not have to bear this burden. Yes, their minds were small, so very delicate - but they held a view of life no Dragon could hold. Something that only came with this same fragile grace, a flame burning bright before flickering out into the night. And so, she tried.

It would be futile. Again.

It was always futile, but she loved them and could not help trying anyway.

"The Cycle is life and death. Things come, and they go." The tip of her tail moved, a soft motion of rising and falling. "There are seasons in this world, my child, and it is our duty to guide their dance. Even the oldest ice thaws, and then comes spring. Can you not hear the birds sing..?"

"When the birds sing, the rot sets in."

The world was an enormity even she could not hold. Oceans would forever remain her home, but Tyria was so much more than endless waters. And so, in order to encompass such wealth of life, she bore that which granted her this name - this curse. Mother.

Lifegiver. As it all did in this world, their existence was spawned from water. As much as they rejected her, in the end, their domain would remain the very closest to hers. She could already feel the low growl building in their throat.

"You wallow in entropy and call it renewal." The scion hissed, stalking lightly back and forth like an ambush predator. "Cycles within cycles... grinding everything to dust. Does that make you happy?" The tip of their tail twitched, the only part of her child's body which so readily betrayed emotion. She thought back to the times they'd hide their tail under their form so that Primordus could not read their annoyance, and once again, she smiled sadly.

"It's not entropy." Though it may have seemed that way, it was the only way the world may continue. "It's balance."

She did not have the heart to answer the question.

"It's so delicate, but it repeats itself forever." The adolescent dragon mused. "Why? Why destroy something just to replace it? What about this carnage says balance to you?!"

Cycles upon cycles. She had no answer. Or, rather - she did, but not one that would ever soothe them. This glass-frail heart, so eager to chip, shatter and break.

"Why can't they.. stay forever with me...? I cannot hold this love of mine when it thaws. I cannot..."

"Jormag... love comes and goes. That is its beauty."

"There is NO beauty here! It's obscene."

She stilled. Every fin, every whisker. So too did her words still between her jaws, not even a sigh escaping their monumental clutches. The hand of her mind retreated when she felt Jormag's own slap it away. It felt cold.

It stung.

"All you had was the quiet void in which you dwelled. All those years in the abyss. Not even your domain is kind. Bring a mortal down there, and it ruins them in seconds and lingers while they scream. There is no sound as their lungs fill with water. The pressure crushes them. Warps them into shapes unfit for life." The scion spoke, in a droning, monotonous voice. A perfect façade for all the pain they kept - hidden just beneath the surface. Their voice, the only thing that could set it free, but continuously refused to do so.

"Down there, in your home, nobody would even hear them scream. But not in mine. In mine, I will be there. I will listen. Always. And I will talk. I will make sure they know they are never alone. Not even for a second."

"Jormag!" For once, she was forceful. Her own voice crashed into theirs like a tidal wave. "You are what will ruin them!"

Her offspring recoiled, betrayal briefly shining in cerulean orbs - no, there was more. A bubbling, seething hatred, an emotion of unparalleled intensity that ill befitted her gentle child. That explosive rage remained, coiling and writhing like a serpent, before it slowly warped into something more insidious. There was disdain, mockery even. "Oh..? Have I troubled you? Replace me, then."

"I cannot -"

"Cannot? So you WOULD have done so if you only could, hmm? I see. Am I broken in your eyes as well, Mother? And if so, since when?"

Since forever. As they all were. But she could not bear to let them know. Her imperfect children, spawned from a womb which failed them. But in the end, they would know that she knew, and that scared her more than anything.

"..Why can't you love me, Mother? Where did I go wrong? And when? Tell me the exact moment. So that I.. may make it immortal."

Their mind smirked at hers. Just for you, dearest Mother.

Stop.. please, just stop.

But they would not. No, they would not. For that was their destiny. Their great, terrible, self-wrought identity: and yet, she did not stop them. It was not hers to take away the choice they made - kept making - in every life. Her gut twisted, a familiar hurt burrowing through her vibrant body, her fraying spirit. The event horizon sneered at her distant gaze.

"You never loved any of us. It was all a deception so that we may fit your purpose. Enact your grand design which you forced upon us. But that is alright, for my voice is my own. I will speak my truth, not yours. And I will make this choice everyday. For as long as I breathe." Jormag continued, every word as sure as an avalanche falling. As a dagger caressing flesh before sinking in. "And I will ask a question you had never once asked any of us."

"Is this what you want?"

Their words were loud. Her thoughts were quiet. But she already knew. Oh, from the beginning of time, she knew.

"...And they will answer: Yes. Oh, yes. I do."

The scion turned, and she felt it like a wound. The splinter of ice that burrowed into her soul, never to leave. The final farewell from their own bleeding, shattered heart. Her only keepsake of Jormag, the Kind, who would become everything but.

White wings opened, and each feather sang like a winter wind. "Goodbye, Mother." The title sounded like poison in their mouth. "As always, you've left me nothing to mourn."

They were not the first to leave, but it hurt all the same knowing that the home they shared was home no longer. If a thing such as her could cry, her eyes would be shedding waterfalls.

You let this happen. Never forget that.

I won't, dear child. She could only watch as they departed. She could only ever watch, after all.

I will remember for as long as I breathe. For as long as my thoughts last. For as long as my mind keeps its vigil over this world. She felt her soul quiver, an earthquake at the bed of the seas.

And I will sing your name in my dreams, for as long as my voice is still my own.

[wandering-tides]

Started reading "Children Of The Holy Emperor" last night and I am only 30 chaps in but GODS. Do I love this already? HELL YES.

It's about an accidental (??) Playboy (???) who became the emperor in the most hilarious way possible and finds out that he is, as a matter of fact, not infertile- as he was made to believe before. And has 7+ children by the time he realizes this 🤣🤣🤣

They are all illegitimate children ofcourse, but he decides to take responsibility and raise them equally.

This man. He is trying his best. He really is. But his children are a headache. Not because they are troublemakers (they are, actually.) but because they are so freaking weird 🤣🤣🤣. And I mean that in the best way possible.😂

When Nate decided to take responsibility for his various children... I don't think he foresaw one of his kids being a player, spouting nonsense about seeing some documents flying in the air and saying he'll get stronger through this and went to a dangerous zone willingly just to get stronger. Or another, absolutely flower bud of a daughter (or was, until a few days ago??), going on a rampage of revenge as she tells him how she regressed, or another kid who is apparently a trasmigrator, hell-bent into sacrificing himself to save Delcross (the empire)- and giving their father a headache because he doesn't want his children to get hurt-

And these are just 3 of his 7+ kids LOL

There is also a Reincarnator among his kids apparently??? 😂

Overall, it's just fun to see Nate suffer because of his kids, who keeps getting into trouble, and the father-son(s)/daughter(s) relationship he has with his various kids.

....did I mention Nate, the Holy Emperor, is a demigod? Yeah.

[intoxicated-chan]

𝐀 𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐜𝐞 & 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 ⚘ 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒘

Summary ➳ Thorin’s heart swears to despise each and every dragon, but how could he come to hate its rider who longs for a home as he does?

Extra Information ➳ (Y/n) appeared in Mirkwood twenty three years ago with a baby dragon perched on her shoulder. Thranduil took her in to keep a promise to an old friend.

(A/n) ➳ I started writing this mid November of last year back when I started the Hobbit. I plan to upload this series either Spring or Winter. Feedback is greatly appreciated. I feel like this is more of my better works considering I wanted it to feel like the Hobbit/LOTR.

Word Count ➳ 610

Content Warnings ➳ Female Targaryen Reader, 3rd P.O.V, mentions the Doom of Valyria, mentions of death…

Series Masterlist || Chapter 1

(Y/n) watched from the corner, watching as each dwarf was pushed into a cell. Their complaints were falling on death’s ears.

She stepped out from the shadows and towards Legolas’s direction, wanting to know where the dwarves came from.

“What do you know of dragons, girl?” The dwarf’s voice was gruff, laced with bitterness as he eyed the dragon sigils embroidered into her clothing. “You wear it like a badge of honor.”

(Y/n) eyed him as well, realizing who the dwarf in the cell was. “You’re Thorin Oakenshield? Heir to the throne of Erebor.”

Thorin’s fists clenched around the iron bars. “You have yet to answer my question.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened in amazement. “I cannot believe it. I’ve-”

“(Y/n)! Dina!” Legolas commanded her to come. “Get away from the dwarf.”

With that, she walked away, leaving no room for Thorin or (Y/n) to say anything.

“Must you speak to them?” Legolas sneered, following you down the steps. “What reason do you have?”

“I’ve always wanted to see the infamous Thorin Oakenshield. It was not disappointing.”

“...Is it?”

(Y/n) nodded, a smile on her lips. “Yes. If what they say is true… If they reclaim the mountain, I would love to see the glory of Erebor.”

Legolas froze in his steps. “I am beginning to wonder where your allegiance lies.”

“What makes you wonder that?”

“...Go, I need to report to the King.”

She rolled her eyes, asking herself if her curiosity made Legolas or anyone else question her loyalty.

Of course, her loyalty lies with Thranduil, he saved her and took a human and a dragon in. A human not from this world.

The sun had begun to set when (Y/n) stood at Thorin’s cell. “Might I ask you something?” She began, breaking the silence.

He looked up at her, eyes wary. “What is it? Dragon rider?”

“If you had no memories of the kingdom or its riches, would you still fight to reclaim it?”

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation. “For it is not the gold or treasures that drive me, but the honor and memory of my kin who were lost. To reclaim Erebor is to honor their memory, to give those who wish for their home.”

He stepped closer to the bars as he spoke his words, loudly enough for the rest of the Company to hear. He spoke with bravery and pride, not a single once of shame in them.

(Y/n) listened to his words closely. It made her think of her own home, the writing of the book could not describe the doom correctly.

Only a dream, unsure if it came true…

(Y/n) became lost in her thoughts, she began to speak aloud. “I wonder…” She uttered. “What it would be to see Valyria, to walk the streets, see the dragons fly into the sky with my people on its back. I wonder if any Targaryens remain.”

She sighed, sitting down on the steps. “I wonder if the dream was true and the doom of my home was correct.”

Thorin, still irate from the encounter from earlier but genuinely curious about her side of dragons, sat as well. “Was it taken?”

“It was destroyed. A Targaryen had a dream, D… Daenys had a dream. She had foresaw the destruction. But I have no way to know if it was true, I do not know if Valyria still stands or if any Targaryens remain to rule the skies.”

(Y/n) looked up to the ceiling, closing her eyes to remember how Valyria was described. “To be home. I would give my life just to see it.”

“…May you find your way home, dragon rider… And safely.”

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.

[xxnghtclls]

Permission

Chapter 48

(Chapter 47)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Please see Chapter 1 for tags!

Epilogue

Leaves and twigs crack under your feet, leaving trails and patterns on the snowy forest floor.

It’s night. Darkness interrupted by red, little sparks flying through the air. The stinging smell of smoke creeps into your nose. Remnants of the moonlight, far away, quietly shine through the branches of the trees, painting creepy shadows on the white canvas you’re walking on. The further you walk, the more those shadows dance on an orange tint, that starts to coat the snow, coming from a source, that you’ve set up not far away. Carefully, listening to the sounds of the forest, you walk back to that source.

A flame, a campfire. Right here, in the middle of the woods.

Step by step, you’re approaching that fire, holding wood in your arms to keep it burning. The sound of munching echoes in your ear, the sound of feasting, devouring.

It’s been years, since he liberated you. Unintentionally freed you from a miserable life in a miserable village.

Not knowing, what you were destined to become.

A destiny that no one foresaw.

Not even the King of Curses.

Coming closer, you can see the silhouette of your King, sitting on the very same tree he did a year ago.

When he waited night for night, waited for you to go back with him.

You start humming his melody, as your feet carry you back to the fireplace. The fireplace that made you fall in love with this monster, before you put the new wood down onto the ground.

And then, quietly, you turn to him, watching how he’s gnawing some meat off a bone, occasionally humming in satisfaction.

It’s been months, since you completed the ritual.

Since you’ve been killed and reborn and marked with a sign on the skin that covers your heart.

Months of being his and him being yours.

In the shrine you can now call home.

You look at him and smile softly to yourself, finding it cute how invested he is not to waste any meat that’s on that bone, although you have plenty left.

Sitting down on the log to the left of your King, you feel the warmth of his body on your skin and hear his gentle munching in your ear.

And you feel your love for him, still, despite putting you through all this. You lost your heart to him and, no matter what he did, you don’t want it back.

Ever again.

Asshole.

It’s been days since the both of you came back to this place.

A place you cherish in your heart.

And maybe, you hope, Sukuna cherishes it, too.

The crackling of the fire becomes louder and his noises quiet, making you both just sit there in silence, next to each other. He flicks the bare bone into the flames, before you gently lean against his shoulder, let your head quietly bump against him to be closer, feeling his calm breath beneath your soul.

And both of you just watch the fire in front of you, like you did so many times a year ago, when neither of you could express what’s going on.

Heartache.

It’s been seconds, since he let you know how he feels about you.

Although he never says them out loud, those three words that you’ve told him over and over again and still do.

But he doesn’t has to. Because, you know.

This curse.

So overwhelming, so consuming. Tying your souls together so tightly.

And some words don’t need to be spoken to be true.

Sukuna grabs another piece of meat and holds it under your nose. You cooked it yourself, with fresh herbs that you found earlier in the nearby bushes. It smells delicious. You lean back and sit straight again, before you grab the meat and take a bite.

It’s hot, warming you from the inside. You keep blowing and carefully gnawing and nibbling, until you finally can rip off a bigger piece. Feeling his bottom pair of eyes watching you constantly, you peek over to him quickly.

“What?” you ask with your mouth full, making him smirk, as he musters your stuffed cheeks and big eyes.

“Nothing.”

You pause your chewing, pondering.

“Is it how I eat?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

And he doesn’t respond, just keeps focusing on the fire, a hint of his smirk still decorating the corners of his mouth. The flames flicker in his red eyes, the orange light dances on his face and wrinkles. You can’t help to take them in, over and over again, although you already know his features so well, as if they’ve been imprinted on your eyelids.

So beautiful.

You smile to yourself, before you focus back on your meal, until you throw the remaining bone into the fire. Satisfied, you sigh, until you swallow the last bite you took.

Suddenly, something cold gently falls upon on your forehead and you look up. Delicate flakes of fresh snow are illuminated against the dark canvas of the night, falling down right upon you and Sukuna.

You smile softly, before you turn your head to look at him. He’s looking up into the sky, too and you witness, just in time, how a small flake lands on the tip of his nose, melting in an instant. You huff lovingly, before you gently touch that very spot with your finger. More flakes follow, landing on his mask, his eyebrows and lashes, before he opens his mouth, trying to bite your finger that’s resting on his nose.

Clack.

His teeth close around nothing and you quickly retrieve your hand to poke him into his shoulder instead.

Hard.

It makes his lip twitch, before he leans down to you, close to your face, cocking his eyebrow.

“Harder.” he whispers with a smirk, with this… undertone.

And you blush, remembering it’s what you moaned into his ear last night.

When you felt cold and the fire was not enough to warm your moving bodies.

When your skins and limbs and lips were intertwined, like those of lovers are.

When you kissed each other and hold each other dearly, when your hearts started to miss each other and their embrace.

“Are you sure?” you mumble, trying to keep composure. His gentle eyes roam over your face, scan how your delicate skin rushes full of extra heat.

And then he nods, almost unnoticeable, almost hypnotised, as his gaze falls down to your lips.

The string on your heart pulls you in, let your breaths collide and mingle, until they merge, as you start kissing him on his soft lips while feeling small, freezing flakes fall upon your faces. He quietly sighs against your face and keeps squeezing on your beating heart, before you gently lick and suck on his tongue and bottom lip.

“Okay.” you breathe against his pretty mouth, your breath and heartbeat quickened. “Wait here.”

His pupils are blown, already drowning in your being, before you stand up and walk into the snow.

You feel his needy eyes bore into your back, the string on your heart pulling harshly.

To make you walk back to him, to devour your flesh once again. Like last night, like lovers do.

But first, you crouch down, shove some snow between your hands and form a ball. Then, with all your strength, you turn around and throw it at him. Sukuna leans back to dodge but-

Bam!

The snowball hits his shoulder with a wet impact, shattering in a million pieces.

And you gasp in victory, as you throw your arms up in the air.

“Ahhh hahahah!” you exclaim, before a wide grin spreads onto his lips and he flashes his teeth. A sadistic, aroused chuckle escapes his throat, as his eyes flicker right at you, as he slowly rises to his feet, cracking his neck and knuckles, before he growls in excitement.

“So, you wanna play?”

[devilmen-collector]

The Pope is Dead

Ft. M!MC, the Devil Kings (only the five who have been released), Gamigin and other nobles (only nobles who have appeared stories, except Astaroth, I don't have any story part with Astaroth in my account), the Seraphim

C/W: religious theme, reader's death (natural cause)

This is a revamp of my own fic in OM with similar theme

It has been 72 years...

It has been 72 years since you last saw them. Back then, you were a young man with many lustful desires of the youth. Yet you remember the time you spent with them... It went by in an instant but you were happy.

When did it start to go wrong? When did the conflict start to appear? Maybe because your got into conflict with them when you saw or heard them blaspheme God. After all, you were raised a cradle Catholic, seeing them blaspheme God never sat right with you. Or maybe it was because you saw the danger if devils continued to have influence on humanity. After all, we and they are two different races, with different views towards things. And you knew that many things applied to devils and their society can't be applied to human society, regarding how the society works, government, laws, etc. You foresaw what you believed to be the inevitable destruction if you continued to let human have contact with devils. Or maybe some other reasons. It was very complicated. Sometimes, you don't even know what ultimately led to the rift.

That day 72 years ago, you used the devils' power to pull the strings behind the scene to get yourself elected to the most powerful spiritual position in the world, the Pope. The devils were unhappy but they followed your wish anyway, even though your office is totally opposed to them. They loved you too much for their own good to go against your will.

Right after your election, you exposed the existence of angels and devils to the world. With concreate evidence, even the most convinced atheists and agnostics before had to believe in the existence in the supernatural. Then you made sure the idea that the human society was incompatible in every way to devils became the mainstream and most accepted opinion. You also made sure that people never believed that inventions came from devils, but devils only claimed that to be the case to control human society. Leaders of the world soon declared they would be cutting ties with the devils. You didn't believe them completely, of course, which was why you waged a Crusade. The Crusade was fueled by either the faith or the wrath of 8 billion normal citizen and it was so effective that it's believed that all ties between Earth and Hell were cut off. At least, no concrete evidence or sign or any report sent to you supported a remaining connection between earth and Hell.

You also used the powers that you inherited from your ancestor, Solomon, to make a shield around papal residence, which prevents any devil from coming in.

As for the angels, you tricked the Seraphim that you were on their side now. With what you had done, they believed in you. But you trapped them and turned them into energy sources to sustain the shield around your residence. With their infinite life forces God has given them, they are still alive and curse you every day from under the Vatican basilica, where they are imprisoned.

Even though you did manage to cut off Hell's influence on humanity and make the Church's influence stronger, world peace has never been achieved as you have hoped, many people still live in poverty and starvation. Technology is more advanced, but the world is still the same now when you are at death's door as it was 72 years ago.

*cough cough*

"Holy Father" your secretary uses a piece of tissue to wipe the blood that is flowing from your mouth after the coughing.

"We have little time left." You say, almost like a whisper, but all of those cardinals, bishops, priests and doctors around you understand what you said. Your priest secretary can't even hold back his tears.

"We are the longest-reigning Pope ever, with 72 yeats occupying the Chair of St. Peter, but We have not achieved anything noteworthy, except pushing all devils back to Hell."

"No, Holy Father, you have achieved something we couldn't for more than 20 centuries. God will reward His faithful servant." A cardinal says.

"You are a faithful laborer of the Lord." Says another cardinal.

Suddenly, a Swiss guard runs into the room, his face terrified.

"T-the Devil Kings, t-they are here..." The guard says as he pants.

Ah, the shield protecting the papal residence must have been weakening as I lay dying. You say to yourself. That must be the reason why the Devil Kings can break in now.

"Leave." You say calmly. All the clergy and the guard turn to look at you, surprised by your order.

"Leave." You order again, your tone more firm this time. It's time for you to face them, alone. The children God has committed to your care have nothing to do with this.

Some of them start to cry but all of them leave, but not before whispering among themselves to alert all the exorcists and papal guards. However, the Swiss guard stay.

"Holy Father, I have sworn to protect you, even if I have to sacrifice myself." The Swiss guard says. You know he won't leave so you agree to let him stay.

The doors to your room bursts open, as four devil kings, no, three devil kings and a hundreds of flies step or fly into the room. You can see the young guard standing by your side shudder but he stands firm, determining to protect you, whatever the cost he may have to pay.

"You have changed so much." Beelzebub is the first one to speak as his handsome appearance emerge from hundreds of flies. He doesn't smile.

"We- I see that you guys are still the same." You look at the four devil kings. There's Beelzebub, Mammon, Leviathan, and Lucifer.

So Satan, Asmodeus and Belphegor aren't here. They must be so mad at me that they don't want to see me again. You say within yourself. You aren't surprised that the nobles aren't here. The shield may be weakened because you are dying, allowing the kings to pass through, but you are still breathing and sustaining it with your powers, and it's strong enough to prevent the nobles.

"Not the same ever since you left, Master." Mammon says with a sad voice.

You are surprised to hear Mammon still calling you Master, but you no longer have the strength to point it out.

"I must have hurt you guys a lot."

"Yes, you did." Leviathan says with an angry expression. "You said you would stay in Hell but you betrayed us." However, the scowl is quickly replaced by an expression that looks like Leviathan is holding back his emotions.

Lucifer is the first one to come over to your bed. The guard beside you raises his weapon but he's knocked unconscious soon enough.

"Don't kill him." You say weakly.

Lucifer nods as he takes your hand. He checks your weakening pulse. You can see his eyes sadden. "Oh the fate of all children of Adam." You can hear him whispering, like talking to himself. Other kings also come over and stand beside your bed.

Ah, that's my cue. You close your eyes, awaiting your cruel death, after all, you are on your death bed, you have no regrets.

However, nothing comes.

"Aren't you going to kill me?" You open your eyes and ask.

"No, we're here to take you home." Beelzebub answers.

"Even after my betrayal?"

"We have never gotten over that. But knowing you are dying, we want to take you back first, Master. We will talk about this over in Hell."

"I'm dying, Mammon. I can't be there for the talk."

"That's why we have created a plan."

"We will wait for you to die, so that the office of the Pope will leave you. Then we will have Gamigin revive you."

"And I'll have Orias feed you angel's soul to make you young again."

"It won't work." You say calmly. "It's the sentence on all children of Adam. Gamigin's revival ability won't work. Just as your healing ability won't work on me, Lucifer, because I'm dying of natural cause."

The kings go silent. They know you could be right. Lucifer, more than anyone, knows you are right because none of the healing he is doing works. He only clings to some hope. You know you are crushing their hope, but you have accepted your fate long ago. At least you know they still love you. Thinking about that, tears start to flow from your eyes

"Where are Satan and the others?" You ask.

"Gehenna nobles are here. But Satan...he's very depressed after you left."

"It will be...too...late..."

The vision you start to see changes. The images of yourself and your memories, be it happy or sad, start to flash through your eyes. With each moment of you with the devils, your tears start to shed more as you can't help but say "sorry", "I miss you" and "I love you" in your mind. Your breathing becomes harder and you can't feel your body anymore.

Lord, forgive me, I wish I could have served you more faithfully.

I love you all and I'm sorry.

Is that Leamas and Nina waving at me?

Is that you... Minhyeok? It has been so long.

"You have done what you think is best. Now rest." The young man with long purple hair says and smiles. "With you, my bloodline is extinct, but I won't hold it against you." You can even hear a little bit mischief toward the end.

Outside the papal residence, the devil nobles, led by Sitri, Bimet, Foras and Bael, are engaged in a mostly glaring contest at the guards and exorcists and clergy who have arrived to aid the Pope. There are a few guards lying on the ground, but they are only knocked unconscious.

"No." Sitri suddenly laments as the shield around the palace disintegrated.

"That means..."

"Let's go inside."

As the devils rush inside, the clergy, exorcists and guards follow suit.

As they come into the room, they see the devil kings surrounding you, who are clearly dead.

"Holy Father!" All of Catholics in the room kneel down and weep.

"Who is the Camerlengo?" Lucifer asks and one cardinal stands up in response to his question. The Camerlengo knows what he has to do. He comes over to check your body to confirm if you are dead or not.

"I need a doctor. But all doctors left for safety. Only us clergy returned."

Lucifer turns and nods at Morax, who comes over to check on you. After finishing, he tells the Camerlengo his conclusion. The Camerlengo turns to all in the room and says.

"The Pope is dead."

The Camerlengo turns back to you. He kisses the golden ring on your right hand and takes it out and destroys it in the presence of all, signifying the end of your papacy. The Catholics make the sign of the Cross and say the prayers for the dead. A priest leaves for the adjacent room to say Mass for the deceased pontiff.

Even with the plan, the devil kings don't plan to stop the piety of the Catholics.

"Gamigin."

"Yes, hyung."

Satan arrives when the bells of the Vatican basilica are being rung. Hundreds of people in the square immediately get into prayers as they know what those bells signify. Satan doesn't care and speeds up his vehicle pass them.

Many thoughts are going through Satan's head: anger, depression, the feeling of betrayed, sadness, etc. But the biggest thought in his head is that he wants to meet you again. Everything else, let's sort out later. He speeds up the Akira into the papal residence. The Akira runs through the corridors until it arrives at the room of the Pope. Satan only stops because he can't go in further with the motorcycle. He can't wait to see his beloved alive and well because he believes in the plan. He did feel his bond with the human got broken earlier but he believes in Gamigin's ability to bring his human back.

"Where's MC?" Satan runs in the room and shouts.

"He's right there." Mammon says with a sad voice and points at the bed.

No. Satan rushed over to your bed. No, it can't be.

"Gamigin, why haven't you brought him back yet?" Satan shouts his question at Gamigin, who is holding his staff and stands behind Lucifer.

"Your Majesty, it didn't work. MC's heart will no longer beat." Sitri tries to stay composed as much as possible as he reports to Satan but the hand holding the tea cup is shaking.

Satan turns to the remains of you on the bed.

"OPEN YOUR EYES AND TELL ME THIS IS A CRUEL JOKE, MC!!!" Satan shouts and punches the wall on the side of the bed, making it crack.

All of the human in the room flinch at Satan's wrathful action, however, your lifeless body makes no move.

"I want to take MC's remains back to Gehenna." Satan says as he crunches his teeth.

"No, you can't do that. A Catholic must be buried on consecrated ground." A bunch of clergy react and state the Church's teaching.

"I will kill all of you." Satan crunches his teeth again. The clergy flinch but don't have any intention to back down.

"Your Majesty Satan," Paimon intervenes, "if you kill them, MC will be sad. After all, they are MC's spiritual children.

"I can let you consecrate a plot of land in Paradise Lost." Lucifer says.

"We have to see what he has written in his will." The Camerlengo says. "But his will can only be opened at the meeting of cardinals after the mourning period, but before the next conclave."

"How long before the next conclave?" Leviathan asks.

"15 days, the Canon Law doesn't allow anytime sooner." The Camerlengo answers.

Leviathan scowls but Beelzebub intervenes.

"Then let's wait for 2 weeks. If MC has a clause in his will to be buried in Hell, can you promise you will accept that and give his body to us?"

"Only with the condition of burial on consecrated ground and we can build a chapel around it."

"You have only mentioned the consecrated ground before, now you include a chapel. You human just keep asking more and more." Leviathan scowls again.

Before anyone can say another thing, the ground begins to shake like there is an earthquake. But it soon stops.

"They are here." Lucifer mumbles. "But they won't have any strength left to fight if we are here."

The devils all look outside the window and they see three shadows emerge from underground. They are the three Seraphim, finally released from their bondage after the death of their captor.

The Devil Kings immediately surround the bed to protect the remains of their beloved.

"Where is he? I'm going to cut off his head." Michael growls, he's so angry that blood vessel can be seen on his face.

Sensing the Devil Kings, the Seraphim all look at the papal residence, which is right beside the Vatican basilica.

"He-he's dead." Gabriel says as he looks at the remains on the bed through the window.

Seeing that you're dead, Raphael begins to laugh maniacally non-stop, so much that he has to hug his stomach mid-air.

"The kings are here. Let's...retreat for today." Michael says as his wings soar toward the sky. Gabriel follows suit.

"Remember to send funeral invitation." Raphael says finally before following his two brothers.

"Let continue our discussion later." The Camerlengo says after the commotion has subsided.

Some other people enter the room and walk toward the remains of the Pope.

"What are you doing?" Satan crunches his teeth as the newcomers.

"Calm down, Satan. They are here to take the body away for bathing and vesting."

All the devils don't want to leave you but they all back down to let people do their job.

...

"You really are so beautiful, Master, it's like all the precious things in this world are created to adorn you." Mammon says as he looks at the papal remains put on display inside the Vatican basilica of St. Peter.

You lying there, on a dark green catafalque. You are vested with red vestments, your hands are vested with red gloves embroidered with the Holy Name of the Savior, your legs wear traditional red papal shoes embroidered with a golden cross on each one. On each shoe is also adorned a ruby, which came from Mammon's treasury. A golden cross and a rosary were also put in your hands. The golden cross was from Lucifer, an accessory from the time he was still a Seraph. On your head, a golden mitre, with two folds, representing the Old Testament and the New Testament, the two "horns" of a bishop. Surrounding the catafalque are 72 candles made from pure beeswax, each represents a year of your pontificate.

The kings and their nobles stand on the upper floor of the basilica, looking at thousands of mourners paying respect to you. Each cardinal who comes over sprinkles holy water on your remains and kisses your hand. Priests and religious gather around your remains to pray for your soul.

At an occasion like this, Bimet would have already gone to collect funeral money. However, this time, he doesn't want to do that, but only to look at your "sleeping" face. Eligos standing next to him can't stop his sniffles. Valefor standing behind Mammon looking at your remains, now that nothing can be done to bring you back to them, he wishes he could stand guard beside your body as the last thing he could do for you.

Foras doesn't say anything but his heart is broken, even his beautiful horns seem to be darker than normal. Barbatos looks at the withered rose in his hand. In his heart currently there is a complete solar eclipse that has covered the sun of his life, the sun which he knows will never shine its light on him again. Glasyalabolas can't help but get angry with you, with Leviathan, with everyone, and with himself. Angry with you for being a traitor to his love. Angry with Leviathan for his bad decision of not pursuing you when the problem starts and only meet you when you are dying. Angry with everyone who separate you from him, including God. And angry with himself for failing the promise to create a kingdom with only you two. Orias drops the angel's soul in his hand. It was the angel's soul that was supposed to be used to make you young again. But what use is it when you are dead?

Bael is the only one staying in the basilica of Abyss camp, beside Beelzebub, closing his eyes remembering your smile and each moment you called his name sweetly. Stolas has gone somewhere to shoot his guns to his heart's content, calling it the last salute for you, who are "a fool". Naberius and Amon are staying with him, not speaking a word.

"It doesn't come true." Leraye remembers he once said he saw you both walking together on the streets of Gehenna, enjoying your time together for many years to come. But that never comes true. He's wondering of the only target he has missed is your heart, he fails in convincing you to stay in Hell. Paimon tries to console Leraye, but his heart is also breaking apart. Zagan doesn't say a word but he has lost an important person he must protect. Belial tries not to shed any tear, he has to stay strong for Jjyu. Sitri couldn't hold his tea cup anymore and it is dropped to the ground, shattering into countless pieces.

Andrealphus holds tight to his scythe, as if he needs something to hold tight to after he lost you. They say twins share a soul. He lost half of his souls when his brother was killed. But your death breaks to pieces the remaining half.

"It's my fault. I can't bring him back." Gamigin blames himself.

"No, it's not your fault." Each time Gamigin blames himself, a brother of his in Paradise Lost will reject that. They don't say anything more comforting because they have no strength to do that right now.

Each of the kings' heart is broken but each of them knows they have to stay strong, as for their nobles and people. They will only mourn your death in private.

Lucifer is the only one walking in the lower floor. He doesn't join the line of mourners but wandering around aimlessly, no one stops him either. Finally, he stops to look at the mosaic of the Eternal Father stretching his hand out on the dome of the basilica.

Why? Father, why? I have served you faithfully since the beginning of time, I had one source of happiness, and you took him away from me. Why? SAY SOMETHING! ANSWER ME!

...

In a graveyard in Korea, where almost no one comes on such a mourning day for the whole world, there is a little lump floating above a grave. He poured a glass of soju on the ground of the grave.

"Minhyeok, the son of Solomon...went over to meet you. Have you two...reunited? I hope you did. Please...send my regards to him." Ppyong says even though he can't stop his sniffles.

The end.

...

I have an epilogue but decided to not write it and let you guys decide the final burial place :)

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED!

I know I've been hush-hush about who killed Sir Uther; now I'm ready for the grand reveal... it was Sir Nonsurat~

Like I said before, Nonsurat holds the title of betrayer (similar to his counterpart, Lancelot ) but for an entirely different reason. A.K.A the murder/assassinations of Sir Uther. But wait, shouldn't that be a good thing... kill the evil tyrant, and everything should be alright again... right? Wrongo~

Sir Nonsurat truly did not plan to kill Uther it was merely an act of impulse...in a moment of panic, an accident really (but very much deserved)... but Nonsurat still committed a crime, and there was one witness that he did not take an account of... SOL CLEAVER!

Sol Cleaver did not have a problem with the act of killing it was how it was done... When Nonsurat killed him... it was not via duel but when Uther was having a fit of insanity... which was an act that Sol Cleaver did not like (it wasn't in a glorious battle)... not only that, but he used his (Sol Cleaver) and he did not take pride in his kill... and after tried to get rid of them (Sol Cleaver). Basically pissed off the weapon three times...

Sol Cleaver: NO, YOU DON'T YOU'RE USING ME, MF! (and curses him to only using him as a weapon, having his hands drip blood any time he uses something other than them (Sol Cleaver).

*there are a few more things I'm going to reveal a little later, but not right now...*

So basically, in fear, Nonsurant is hiding the murder weapon by hiding it in the axe he uses... while it may look like an axe on the outside, on the inside, it's Sol Cleaver...

Keep reading for some lore/spoiler-ish content.

Sir Nonsurat is very much the (if you are familiar with Epic the Musical Epic Eurylochus to Sir Arthur's Odyessusy) or (Hamilton) Aaron Burr to Sir Arthur's Hamilton)...

He makes mistakes that are well-meaning and seem like the right decisions at the time... (killing Sir Uther), leading to consequences he never foresaw would happen...

This reveals a critical flaw in Nonsurat's thinking: "Don't solve problems, eliminate them!" (Ironically, a philosophy taught to him by Sir Uther) This is also exhibited when trying to "expose Arthur's partnership with Merly(a.k.a Celestine). Which follows the same thought process of "getting rid of Arthur should solve the problem..."

There's no Guinevere affair like in the (OG Arthurian lore) & (sorry guys, I didn't know how to fit her in the sorry... complicated & needless mellow drama...)

So, instead, I made it "the exposing of Arthur's connection with Merlyn..." leading to Celestine framing herself to save Arthur but also leading to her demise (info in her bio) to replace that event... so either Nonsurat's screwing up Arthur's love life (LMAO... I'm so sorry Merthur/Celarthur there had to be a tragedy)

Okay back Nonsurat~

Also, it shows a pattern... the nature of these actions, he does not commit these acts upfront but rather in the shadows... anonymously... which I also wanted to show in how he endorsed Arthur for leader behind Morgans's back rather than telling why or giving her notice. - We understand why he did this (because she was on her way to becoming another Sir Uther. ) But still didn't have the heart to tell her upfront...

However, it is this act that brings forth the demise of Sir Arthur. (I know spoilers, but low-key, I've been lining death flags for that man since last December...) Morgan takes advantage of these actions... which leads to One Uncomfortable Family Reunion... (once I finish it, merely I just laid the groundwork for this...

~

Nonsurat is such an underutilized character in the fandom and is mostly characterized as the "strong & silent type," which I don't mind at all, but... we have so many different flavors of the other three (Sir Falspar, Sir Dragato, Sir Arthur...)

Also, the fandom never took advantage of the fact that he was supposed to represent Lancelot—you know, the one who betrayed Arthur in (the og Arthurian lore.) Which is why I really wanted to bring out the KBASW lore.

I suppose this is also a call to action to give Nonsurat some more rep & love out here. We need more variety, Nonsurat is an incredible canvas of a character.

The only other who has a unique take and uses Arthurian lore, amazingly for Nonsurat, is @galapathy, Another person who does such an incredible spin on the character @mercyillustrator.

Shoutout to you guys. I love you & please follow them!

And If anyone knows of another cool new interpretation (on Sir Nonsurat.), let me know! And that concludes the mystery of who killed Sir Uther & what happened to Sol Cleaver.

Stay tuned, hope you all have a wonderful day~

[ivorydragoness44]

“Blush” Part Two Morgie le Fay x Merlin’s Kid! Reader

(A/N: A collaborative piece between @where-dreamers-go and @ivorydragoness44 for a continuation of two magic users who are crushing on each other: Reader who is headmaster Merlin’s kid attending Merlin Academy and Morgie, son of Morgana le Fay. Warnings: Awkward teenage-hood, mention of snakes, and use of (Y/N) for your name. Also Lain translations: facti sunt inanimati (become inanimate) / Ego amo te multum (I like you a lot) / acceptus (welcome/pleasing) Word Count: 4,740 words)

An outdoor common area wasn’t crowded during your lunch time. Various seating and tables welcomed anyone outside of class time. The open area distributed voices into an easily ignorable murmur.

Your usual go-to reading spot in a comfy armchair was exactly what you needed after you had finished eating. Some time to yourself. Time to get a head start on assignments or study. You did neither.

A large volume on momentum spells sat upon your lap. There it laid open to the same two pages for the past ten minutes.

How did I not notice before?

You had been searching through any reliable memory for nearly twenty-four hours since Bridget had cleverly hinted of Morgie’s crush on you. In turn, you realized your own stirring feelings for him in such an odd fashion.

How could I not know my own feelings? You wondered. I know when I’m happy or anxious, impatient, sad, or surprised. Definitely surprised. These feelings were obvious.

Blinking, you retained nothing from the pages before you.

How could you?

You had such a confounding and unanticipated revelation. It was as if you were questioning everything around you as it looked fresh and altered in a way.

Am I in the beginning or all ready in the middle of these feelings? You sighed. I just want it to make sense.

Not that there was much reason for your scurrying between classes the day before. All wrapped in your own mind and hardly making so much as a glance at anyone around you.

That anxious feeling and fluctuating levels of anticipation followed you into a new day. Always on the look out for a specific magically inclined student.

Two more classes and then he’ll be in that one. It’ll be fine. It was fine yesterday.

A sway of greens and black caught your eye from further away. Passing chairs and laughing fairies.

Recognizing the figure only made your heartbeat pick up into a rhythm that made your fingers twitch.

Thoughts whirled in your mind and the large room felt too warm.

I can’t.

Picking up your belongings you dashed around the armchair and sped out into the closer hallway.

I need a quieter place to study anyway, you reasoned with yourself. Your feet took you down a familiar path and soon you had your sights set on a corner seating area. It’s totally normal to sit here, you thought, I’ve done it before. No one really comes here unless they need to. It’s a big school.

Indeed, it was a large academy.

But, who else would sit outside the Headmaster’s office to study other than his offspring? Probably no one.

You sat a bit too upright against the cushions.

I just need to focus. That’s a skill.

Yet shame rose to your cheeks and chest as you considered your escape. A move quite cowardice.

The truth was simple: You were unprepared for the new situation. Having near romantic feelings, more than friendly, towards Morgie was not something you foresaw. The weather, sure, but not a crush. Not int the least.

All you could do was hope to get through the rest of the school day as smoothly as possible…and maybe see Morgie. Maybe.

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

Many questions could be asked within the halls of Merlin Academy. None were deemed silly, mostly.

Why is it called ‘butterflies’ when my stomach flips from seeing (Y/N)? Morgie thought while he strolled to class. They’re nice flips.

Hopping over someone’s school bag, Morgie chuckled and quickly surveyed the common area with its tall windows. He saw the same students chatting animatedly, practicing magic, and keeping close to those they knew.

At the sight of a familiar shade of blue, Morgie felt those butterflies.

(Y/N)! Morgie came to a halt as he watched you speed walk through a threshold with a large volume tucked against you. I wonder what spell book they’re reading now. Or history book.

Being gifted with magic himself, Morgie knew almost exactly how knowledgeable and skilled you were. Magic ran in both of your families. Strong and well-known.

A mental image of your eyes shining in magic filled him with a tickling warmth.

Very magical, he thought dreamily.

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

Mathematics class; intimidating to some, aggravating for others, and a welcomed challenge by few students.

Sitting in the front row of desks made it easier for you to take diligent notes. Goodness knew how important it was for you, child of the knowledge-seeking Merlin. Especially when you continuously fought the urge to check windows’ reflection.

It was just the right lighting. The perfect cloud cover outside. A subtle way to have a look at the classroom.

So what if you were curious?

I’m just checking. That’s all, you thought as you glanced over to Morgie’s reflection.

After twenty minutes of repeating the action every so often it could no longer be considered ‘checking’. No, you were studying Morgie. Observing how he presented himself in class, a learning environment. He didn’t interrupt. Expressive, but not loud.

By the end of class, your notes could had been neater. An easy task for later.

You took your time leaving class. Slowly packing your belongings where they ought to be in your bag. Yet your eyes had began a habit.

You wanted to see him more. To see what might happen.

Is that a side effect of having a crush on someone?

Could you truly call it studying, something you were confident in doing?

Morgie squeezed passed a taller student while heading for the door. It was when he reached it that he looked over his shoulder and caught your gaze.

In the time it took you to hold back your gasp, Morgie had a flush rise up his neck.

Oh.

In a flash, Morgie left the classroom.

You blinked.

What does this even mean?

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

Too much thumping. Too warm and flighty.

Morgie had never shoved and bounded down a hall so fast. Not for avoidance anyway. He had no idea what came over himself.

Eventually stopping underneath a tree, Morgie breathed in the fresh air.

Why does my face have to get so warm? He thought while fighting the urge to hit his forehead on the tree trunk.

Uliana’s words from the day before rung in through his head: “A villain shouldn’t be blushing; not over an honors student.” She had seemed so bewildered then by Morgie’s reaction to you.

It wasn’t as if it was his fault. He didn’t make himself blush on cue, nor did you. If Morgie had it his way, no one would had been able to tell how he liked you. He didn’t want them to.

But (Y/N) probably knows, Morgie thought. They’re too smart not to know I like them. His heartbeat increased steadily.

Seeing your figure ascending a set of stairs took a short gasp out of Morgie.

I could say something.

The youth leapt from out of the foliage, took a few steps, and stopped. His chest felt like it was shaking with the rapid thumps of his heart.

Morgie swallowed. Hazel eyes watching nervously as you walked out of sight.

Maybe another time.

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

A whole week passed with just as many assignments and suggested readings. Knowledge was gained and some sleep was lost. Studying for a text was involved.

Maybe I’m getting better at this, you thought.

Leaving your final class of the day, you held your head a little higher and had a slight bounce to your step. Days were looking up, more positive. Magical, one might say.

You had good news to share with your father, Merlin, and Bridget had given you a copy of a cookie recipe. All good things.

And I’m pretty sure Morgie had looked at me in class today, you thought with a giddy smile.

Oh, that crush of yours? You one hundred percent knew you liked him.

Did you figure out when those feelings started? No, and that bit irritated you. You really wanted to know in order to figure out the details. But your mind liked to keep some secrets it seemed.

On route to your dorm, you avoided the sea of students. Each gathered in various sized groups to socialize after a long day.

You wanted to put your books and all away in your room first. It was a wonder how much you could fit into one bag.

Walking into a near deserted hall with mid-afternoon lighting gave you an odd sense of awareness. No distractions moving about or unpolished enchantments to dodge. It was you, your surroundings, and your senses.

Through those senses, it was easy to notice someone trotting up behind you. Not too fast, but also with intent.

“Hey.”

Your eyes widened a fraction at the sight of Morgie slowing to match your pace.

“Hi.” You greeted lightly and did a quick glance behind him.

He came alone.

This is a bit new.

“How’d you do on the exam?” Morgie asked and gingerly bit his bottom lip.

“Better than I thought. Thankfully. I spent enough time studying for it.”

“I know.”

You looked forward briefly and asked, “How about you? How’d you do?”

“Near perfect.” He nearly smiled from ear to ear. His chest stuck out just enough.

A swell of pride unmistakably grew within you.

“That’s great.” You said, grateful to have an easy conversation. “I’m not surprised.”

Was that too much?

Walking alongside Morgie was quite new. Welcomed and almost peaceful. What blasted all that into the stratosphere was the delighted grin brightening Morgie’s face.

Oh. You could feel your heart squeezing and your own smile widening.

All major smiles dropped once the pair of you reached a staircase.

“I’ll…see you later,” Morgie took a step away.

“See you.” You gave one last smile and started the ascent. Even with eyes focused on the steps ahead of you, you were aware of Morgie’s gaze following your movements.

Definitely a more positive day.

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

Time and one’s innermost desires didn’t always line up as one hoped. Not even with magic.

Morgie had thought his time was perfect, but there were other factors he forgot to take into account.

This could be better, Morgie thought, or worse.

Morgie had followed his band of fellow villains in line for lunch. Stomachs hungry and eyes trained ahead was the usual standing for the students.

For Morgie, however, his fingers twitched and he was much too aware of every movement he made. He could hardly help it. Making an impression and standing out to you kept him on his toes.

You were standing behind him talking with someone. A fairy who was asking for wand advice, apparently.

They’re a really good listener, Morgie thought as he kept waiting to hear your voice. They might be smiling. He managed not to turn around. Even teenagers with magic had some self control. More so, gaining the attention of the other villains wasn’t something he wanted at that moment.

Suddenly, inhaled sharply as he felt the slightest movement of air behind him. You had almost touched him.

Standing so close together in line felt like the best and the worst thing all at once. Morgie could hardly breathe in a normal manner.

“Hey,” Hook tapped Morgie on the shoulder.

His eyes glanced over to the pirate captain. Soon he met the others’ gazes.

“Are you sick?”

Morgie shook his head.

“The line shouldn’t take that long,” said Hades.

“It could be faster.” Uliana pointedly looked ahead.

After quiet observations of Morgie le Fay, the villains turned back around as the line moved up. He was thankful for the lack of questions. Perhas they had thoughts on the weekend ahead. Morgie sort of did.

Hearing your cheerful laughter practically roll through his nervous system reenergized him like a potent potion. He pulled at his thin scarf.

I need to do something.

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

After a rainstorm everything felt alive and…wet.

Nearing the end of your lunch period you had dried off a part of the seating at a table in a courtyard and got to work fixing your notes. Earlier in the day, one of your teachers had spoke faster than you would had preferred. At least the cramp in your hand ebbed.

If they weren’t in a rush to finish the lesson today, you thought, my notes wouldn’t look like a total lopsided disaster trying to keep up. Picking your pen up, you had an idea. Why can’t I let my pen write for me? A mixture of a locomotive spell and personification. It could work. Worth a shot, you thought and set down the pen.

A quick shake of your arms to stay loose, and you straightened your posture.

Any spell started with an intention. With yours set, you spoke clearly and allowed your gift to charge. You had done spells since you were little. This one could be considered a light exercise.

One you completely goofed up when the sight of Morgie le Fay walking by with his hazel eyes already gazing at you threw off your concentration.

“Oh, goodness.”

The pen in front of you didn’t move.

 A startled scream drew your attention to your real mistake. Across the courtyard, a stone bench scampered by a group of students.

“Blast it.” You hit the table and leapt from your seat.

“(Y/N)!” Jasmine and Aladdin shouted, both rushing away from the animated furniture.

“Sorry!” You ran after the bench as it fled form you in a gallop. “Stop!”

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

Merlin Academy allowed magic in the curriculum. No question about it, with a wizard as its headmaster. It was then, expected by most, to see magic nearly everyday, given the various students’ skillsets.

“That looks like fun,” Hades commented on the running bench, Maleficent nudging his arm in disapproval.

“Maybe they like mischief after all.” Hook said to Morgie and peered to his friend. “Morgie?”

No one was beside him. Not anymore.

Moving as fast as his legs could take him, heart pounding, Morgie ran through an alcove. He had a simple plan: cut off the animated bench’s path and stop it before it caused you any harm.

If (Y/N) wanted it to be running amok, they wouldn’t be panicking. A logical thought for the teenager keeping an ear for any sign of the likely misbehaving bench.

Sunlight poured into an opening of a walkway intersection, and Morgie skidded to a halt when he heard your aggravated shouting in Latin. The corner of his lips curved up.

“Come on,” Morgie murmured in a ready stance.

Rhythmic thuds came closer and closer.

Gray stone tumbled around the corner.

“You,” he kept his hands raised, “facti sunt inanimati.”

 A jolt and stiffness hit the bench, stopping altogether. Echoes of its last movements faded into the building.

“Ha.” Morgie gave the bench a good look-over. “Nice try.”

In the next moment, you rounded the corner with determination. Your objective had been completed without you. It stood to reason why your surprise built as you slowed to a stop by the bench.

Backlit from the afternoon’s warm sun and your gaze on Morgie, he found himself speechless.

“Morgie,” you inquired between intakes of air, “did you… Did you stop it?”

He nodded, heartbeat increasing.

A grin brightened your face. “Thank you.”

Morgie stuck out his chest proudly. He could feel himself grinning.

“You, uh, you didn’t have to.” You gave the stone bench a light tap with your shoe.

“I wanted to.”

An expression and emotion came over you, one Morgie couldn’t quite read. You weren’t angry or disappointed. It was neither sadness, irritation, or disgust.

The longer he studied you the more you stood there in wonder.

Should I walk closer? He thought, glad to not be blushing.

“(Y/N),” Fay had scurried into the covered walkway. “Are you all right? Oh! You got it.”

You had turned around to face the fairy, “Actually…”

“It’s all right. I messed up with my wand again yesterday. But, perhaps, we can move the bench back. Somehow.”

“Levitation could work,” you suggested with a cute tilt of your head.

“Yeah. Excellent, (Y/N).”

Standing quietly, Morgie’s heart had a small leap of warmth whenever your name was spoken. A spark of excitement.

“Morgie,” you said looking over your shoulder, “I’m glad the bench didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

“It would’ve ran away if it knew what I can do.” He replied feeling more confident.

“I’m sure.” You smirked playfully.

Not so deep down, Morgie really wanted to keep the conversation going despite the new task ahead, Fay standing right there, and an upcoming class. He could probably come up with something.

“Uh.”

Both you and Morgie looked to Fay as she stood waiting with her wand at the ready. Patient as she was, Fay appeared confused at your interaction.

Good. She doesn’t need to know.

“I have to run.” Morgie leaned forward and allowed his magic to alter his eyes. “You can catch me later.”

After witnessing surprise on your lovely face, Morgie took his leave. Blushing was the last thing on his mind this time.

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

Warm afternoon sunlight made the headmaster’s office cozy and nowhere near intimating. It could also be the familiarity and the sheer number of books in your father’s office. Not particularly a surprise for you.

The actual surprise came earlier when you decided to talk to your father about what had been nagging at the back of your mind.

If only you could get yourself to that topic.

“You heard about that?” You cringed, slouching into your seat.

“I did.” Merlin said calmly as he sipped his tea. “It’s not often a stone bench runs around the academy. Oh, don’t take it to heart. Mistakes happen. We can learn from them.” Ever the understanding and intelligent man. Anything could be a lesson in his view.

Now’s as good a time as ever, you thought apprehensively.

“I…was distracted.” You admitted quietly, nervously.

Setting down the teacup, he looked at you pointedly.

“Well now, you know better than that.” He cleared his throat, “especially with others around.”

“I know. I know. It’s just… It doesn’t make sense,” you rambled on, “it’s like one day everything’s normal and then… Oh, goodness.” You sunk further into the furniture a little embarrassed. “I have…feelings for someone.”

Merlin chuckled, “I see!”

“But I don’t know when it started so that I can know fully why.”

“Very illogical and confusing. You might never know.”

“What?”

He continued to chuckle happily. “There’s no logical explanation for this.”

You grumbled, thought half-heartedly with how your father was in such a good spirits.

“A most befuddling thing.”

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

Late in the evening when crickets started chirping and owls were starting their day, villains mingled in an enormous rotting eel. An excellent place as any to hang out after school at the black lagoon.

Moods were high and shared as the motley crew recalled the chaos you enchanted bench caused. A real highlight of the day.

“I’ve never seen a fairy fall into bushes before,” Maleficent snickered with a swirl of her hair.

“Or a wave of students diving out of the way.” Hook laughed along with the others.

“Who knew (Y/N) could cause such glorious chaos.” Uliana added gleefully.

“Speaking of fleeing,” Hades turned to Morgie. “Where’d you run off to? You missed the fun.”

“I caught up with (Y/N).” Morgie replied as all attention fell to him.

“Oh, you spent time with Merlin’s goodie goodie?” Uliana teased playfully. She wasn’t oblivious to how Morgie acted around you.

Feeling more confident and a tad bashful, Morgie added, “I think (Y/N) and I could cause some mischief together.”

“Now that I’d like to see.” Uliana said positively.

“Merlin’s child without a book? How shocking,” Maleficent said and patted Hades’ arm.

“They mustn’t be afraid of the dark,” Hades said casually.

“Aye, but how much do they like it?” Hook questioned and looked to the young sorcerer.

Morgie breathed in slowly. “I’ll have to find out.”

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

Sounds of water and chirping of birds ground you after what felt like the longest class of the semester. An exaggeration of course. But being by a water feature with friends between classes helped ease your mind.

“Is there a world where you’d consider not being in honors classes? It would give you some freedom.” Jasmine smiled encouragingly. “Or do you like a challenge?”

You shook your head, laughing. “I like learning. Is that so bad?”

“You’re not trapped in expectations are you?”

“Trapped? No. Trying to ignore them? Definitely.”

“I have some experience with—No!” Her words broke into a yelp as she looked down to where you both stood.

“Oh!”

A cream colored snake slithered over your shoe. Not a large one, and it hardly had any weight to it at all.

Odd, you thought and bent down to inspect the creature.

“Be careful.” Jasmine said from a couple of steps away.

“I will,” you squinted and almost laughed once you made a discovery. “Oh? It’s paper.”

“What?”

You chuckled and held out your hand. The parchment, very much enchanted, coiled upon the palm of your hand.

“Will it bite?” She inquired.

“What bites?” Aladdin showed up, almost out of nowhere. His gaze went from Jasmine to where hers was locked. “Are you planning to trick someone?”

“No.” You Brough your hand closer to you and added, “I’ll check it out. No worrying, all right?”

“All right.” Jasmine relented. “I’ll see you in class.”

Giving a wave to the happy pair, you departed for some seclusion. It was truly a good thing that the academy was large and not a simple rectangular building.

This is not a trick, you thought as your mind quickly narrowed down who would enchant paper to be a snake. Those thoughts only made your heart rate quicken.

As inconspicuously as you could manage while not fast-walking, you ducked behind a tree full of branches to obscure yourself from view. The last thing you wanted was a nosy student popping up behind you.

“Alright,” you exhaled and held the ‘snake’ up. “Do you have a message for me?”

With a shiver and nod, the paper snake unrolled before its serpentine enchantment subsided.

“Huh.”

Heat rose to your chest and neck.

It is form Morgie.

Your eyes had looked to the signature first before reading his message in its entirety.

(Y/N), Ego amo te multum. In my chest there is a hum every time I see you and hear your name it’s fluttering and warm and all the same. It’s new and acceptus and I wish you and I were an “us”. Please reply yay or nay. If negative, destroy this letter today. Morgie

Hardly knowing if you were breathing properly or what time it was, you read the letter two more times. You had to be certain you weren’t mistaken. Your heart threatened to burst! metaphorically, of course.

Morgie le Fay did like you! It wasn’t just a misreading of situations. He liked you a lot.

Him writing in Latin may had got you a little flustered, but you’d manage.

Quickly with shaking hands, you folded the letter and stashed it into your bag.

Yup. This is new. Befuddling maybe. You thought as you attempted a few calm breaths. He likes me! A wide smile curved your lips. Oh, wait, wait. I need to reply. Reply…and say what?

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

As with each weekday, the rest of the school day went by. Each spare moment gave you a chance to breathe more consciously and time to contemplate what to write back to Morgie. Obviously, you would. It needed to be written just right.

Morgie liked you and you liked him. For once in your life, you needed to fully express that in words. No more avoidance. Time had come to admit your emotions.

A little intimidating, but he took a big step—a chance. I can do the same, you thought as you walked into your dorm room. Your safe place. No more hiding. It took me long enough to figure out how I feel. I can do this.

So your writing began. Many scratched out marks and revisions later, the reply to Morgie’s confession was complete.

Morgie, How could I reply with a simple Yay? My dear Morgie le Fay Ego amo te multum. I have found where the hum comes from. It’s from oneself being incredibly happy. I have it too. You may have my reply, YAY And I’m keeping your letter. Affectionately, (Y/N)

Thankful to have finally written with a steady hand, you folded the letter and enchanted it to fly as a bird. Speedy delivery for the sorcerer who would without a doubt be hoping for a reply.

Poor Morgie had to wait hours all ready. I hope he doesn’t think I burned his letter, you thought anxiously. But if he didn’t have hope or bravery that I might feel similarly, then he wouldn’t have sent the letter in the first place. Oh, goodness, how do people deal with this?

All you could do was pace the floor of your room.

What else could you do?

Your thoughts were no where settled to do anything academic. So you waited.

Waited for what exactly? You were not certain.

Anything and everything could happen. Even nothing.

Just breathe. You did your part. You leaned against your bed. Then again, there are no instructions for these sort of…illogical things.

About ten minutes since you had sent out the letter, there came an unfamiliar knock on your door. It spooked you as if you had been sitting in the dark alone.

Apprehension to disappointment of another person and nerves overcame you then. There was only one way to find out who knocked.

Be brave.

You walked up to the door.

Unless it’s Ella returning my book…

Upon opening the door, you were doubly happily surprised to see a beaming Morgie with very tidy hair, holding a single flower. The sort of flora that grew around the school grounds.

“Hi.” Morgie stood almost completely still.

“Hi. What are you doing here?” You asked with a grin.

“I wanted to see you.”

Your chest swelled with warmth and all you could do was stare at him, the body who liked you back.

Hazel eyes peered passed you and Morgie tilted his head.

“Why do you have crumbled paper all over your desk?”

Looking over your shoulder briefly, you laughed. “The first few drafts of my reply.”

“Oh,” Morgie raised his free hand to reveal a piece of paper. “Like this?”

“More rambling and messy because I was nervous, but yes.”

“Affectionately nervous?” A smirk upturned his lips slowly.

“Happily so.”

Beaming, Morgie took a step forward, but stopped as he was unsure of your reaction or preference of closeness. He looked ever so adorable. A letter from you in one hand a flower held in the other.

A hug I can handle.

Taking a step back into your room, you held out your arms and beckoned him in for a hug.

Morgie didn’t waste a second of your invitation. The two of your embraced. All nervous jitters forgotten. Enjoying the affection from the other with all the giddiness, warmth, and comfort that came with it.

“I really, really like you,” Morgie whispered onto your shoulder. His arms embraced you a little tighter, emotions shown freely.

I could hear that on repeat.

“I really, really like you,” you said, happy your voice didn’t crack. “Maybe we could do something this weekend?” Your bravery had come out full force.

Was there anything to be nervous about anymore in regards to your feelings?

Morgie leaned back to look at you with bright eyes.

“Yeah! Anything.” His excitement level escalated.

“Anything?”

“Anything,” he insisted. “A walk, a prank, trying a new spell, causing mischief, or dinner.”

“You’ve had time to think about this.”

“All day and when I ran here.”

“You ran?”

“I wanted to see you,” he repeated and finally offered you the flower.

You accepted the flower without hesitation.

Perhaps your time and future with Morgie would be something like that. Beautiful and unexpected. More than anything, you knew it would be magical.

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

[strwbmei1]

Hello, may I request for nsfw sub ! Herta x dom!gn reader headcanons? I'm dying for Herta nsfw headcanons 💔

cw: dom!gn reader, mentions of dumbification, degradation, you use her puppets, dirty talk, manhandling, size difference, mentions of brat taming, public sex

Herta HCs

╰┈➤ NSFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Despite how smart she is— or perhaps because of how smart she is; you make her feel so stupid.

: ̗̀➛ Whenever you not-so-subtly imply the filthy things you want to do to her, it has her head spinning. Herta's mind can't help but be flooded by vivid imagery, and memories of the exact things you said.

: ̗̀➛ Herta and her puppets share a neural network, so she feels everything you do to any of the puppets. She doesn't mind if you decide to fuck one of them— she's not always available to take care of your needs, after all. It's just a bit.. distracting.

: ̗̀➛ She won't ever admit it, but she loves when you fuck her into the mattress and put her in her place. The power trip drives her crazy.

: ̗̀➛ Whenever you manhandle her as if she were a ragdoll, she can't help but get turned on seeing the difference in physical strength— especially whenever you pin her down with little to no effort.

: ̗̀➛ If you fuck your cock into her and press on the bulge on her stomach, she'll be squirting within seconds. Herta can't help but get turned on at the size difference; and it just feels so good when she's reminded how small she is in your presence.

: ̗̀➛ She definitely bites. She'll leave bite marks anywhere she can reach— and the next day, she wants you to wear them with pride; to show the others just who you belong to.

Following the arrival of other Genius Society members on the space station, Herta had been busy. You missed her, to say the least. In more ways than one.

Sure, she's always busy, that wasn't anything new— but she always made time for you, either way. It wasn't often you two went days with no contact.

Upon seeing one of her puppets stationed near her office, an idea popped into your head. Herta said you could do anything with the puppets.. right?

The puppets looked like her, acted like her, and had her memories. It wasn't hard to approach one and get it to follow you to a secluded corner in the space station. If only the real Herta was this needy... Was she? She modeled the puppets after herself, after all.

To your surprise, "she" was the one that initiated things. "Hurry up and get it over with.." her jointed hand guided yours to her cunt. Seems like you weren't the only one that missed this.

You're sure that if you asked the real Herta about this, she'd make up some excuse like how she foresaw how desperate you'd be for her; never admitting how she was desperate for your touch as well.

But for now, you'd take your time to enjoy this side of her; fucking her until the only thing she can think about is you and the feeling of her cunt stretching to accommodate you.

The real Herta was not enjoying this at all. For the past few hours, she'd curse you under her breath while (unsuccessfully) trying not to have an orgasm in her office.

She knows she told you to do anything you want with the puppets— but why did you need to have sex with one when she was trying to focus on a meeting? Why did you have to make it feel so damn good?

You were definitely going to have to make it up to her later.

———————————————

╰┈➤ Taglist ; @blue-spices , @fvrina , @dukemira , @sensanctuary , @large-octahedron , @sinsmockingbird