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generalsmemories · 2 years ago

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Admiral, the general is touch-deprived.

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ based on the ask: "Please do one if you haven’t where Jing Yuan is severely down bad for reader and makes it known to everyone and they are just done with him"

✧ content: established relationship, fluff, make-out scene, humor, mentions of other characters

✧ a/n: where did almost 100 of you come- bless this ask for making me write needy jing yuan i love you. not beta-read again anyway buckle up this is another one of unfiltered shame for my love for one mere general with a silly thunder lord that he nicknamed shin-kun in the jp dub because the official title was way too long for this old man.

this was written in a google doc on the phone since I'm on vacation so I apologize if the formatting is messier than the first post 🫡

There's tension in the air.

"... As for Stargazer Navidia, there seems to be another onslaught of mara-struck cloud knights making their way within the area in the next few days. I'll appoint Lieutenant Yanqing to lead a few troops there by the next hour, but be sure to send a messenger cycrane if the situation gets too out of hand or you need to divide the troops up to cover more ground."

You hear a loud "Yes!" as you flip over to the next page, quickly scanning through the documents contents, purposefully ignoring the tension in the air, muttering the details lowly to yourself with a furrowed eyebrow.

It's the sort of tension you wish everyone just ignored, even though it's more difficult than it sounds.

Perhaps being fed up with your avoidance of ignoring the elephant in the room, one of the captains of the Knights loudly cough into the air before meekly addressing you, "Admiral [Name]?"

"Yes?" you look up with a smile, cocking your head to the side. A small gesture to ensure the captain that they have your full attention which makes the knight before you quickly glance to the side and away from you, although that didn't help the pair of eyes boring a hole into the side of his head, "The general…" he starts, coughing once again while glancing back and forth at you and the weapons displayed at the seat of Divine Foresight, "... Would very much like your attention, it seems."

As if on cue, the arms that were wrapped around your waist squeeze a bit tighter than normal. The sudden pressure makes you let out a grunt of surprise while Qingzu lets out another exhausted sigh. Meanwhile you glance down to lock eyes with Jing Yuan, who very much is staring at you with a small pout evident on his lips, "Oh so my darling has finally acknowledged my existence?" he jokes with a grin, meanwhile you merely stare down back at him with a neutral expression before resting your left arm carrying the paperwork on his gray head. The general uses the opportunity to nuzzle his face into your waist, playfully biting into an exposed part of your skin from where his hand had wormed itself underneath your shirt, making you squirm away from him, to which he immediately grabs your back into his hold.

"If you haven't noticed dear, you're practically leeching onto me to the point I can't even stand at my usual side, that is to per say in front of the desk and not literally quite next to you and within your arms." You whisper to him gently. Flicking his forehead before whipping your head around to address the Cloud Knights before your husband can say anything in his defense.

You ignore the looks of disbelief on some of the soldiers' faces.

"I apologize for the awkwardness this position may cause, I can only hope for your understanding being that I've been away from the Luofu for a few months helping Marshal Fua with some matters at her fleet. I've only recently come back." you explain, gesturing Qingzu over to hand over the paperwork to her before waving your hand with a guilty smile, "You're all dismissed, please be safe out there."

"Lady Fu Xuan, how may I be of assis-"

"Are you two arguing or something?" Fu Xuan interrupts before you can even finish your sentence which leaves you staring wide eyed at her with your mouth agape, "Pardon? I'm not quite sure who you're referring to-"

"The general. I'm referring to general Jing Yuan, who else would I be referring to? He sits around the seat of Divine Foresight like a kicked puppy. Which makes it even harder to get any information in OR to him because he's not even mentally present! Can you fix him? Wonderful! Let's make haste to the seat."

You're not even allowed to finish your cup of tea or give an answer before the divination commissioner grabs you by the forearms and drags you out of the teahouse.

"Jing-" you haven't even taken one step into the seat of Divine Foresight before you're surrounded by the familiar scent of your husband. A gentle hand placed by your head while an arm is tightly wound around your waist. You can practically feel the smile of utter glee on Jing Yuan's lips as he buries his face into your hair.

"Darling, I thought you had the day off today?" he mutters into your hair, sounding a bit too happy to have you in his arms again to the point he's ignoring the death glares from Fu Xuan besides you, the divination commissioner just wanting to do her part of keeping the Luofu afloat.

"I was having my day off, before Lady Fu Xuan here dragged me out because someone didn't-" you struggle free to nag at him, but your husband merely smiles softly at you before lifting your chin to give you a quick kiss, "Now that you're here I feel more energized than ever, let me finish the paperwork for today and I'll join you, we can even play a round of starchess." he suggests.

You can practically sense Fu Xuan roll her eyes in disgust, able to hear her mutter about a "lovesick fool" before walking past the two of you, Jing Yuan merely grabbing your hand to lead you towards the seat.

So much for a day off.

You can't breathe.

"Jing-" another press of his lips onto yours as you find yourself pressed on the wall beside the door, "Yanqing-" you manage to breathe out when finally able to pull a tiny bit away from him. Pressing your hand over whatever surface of his face you can reach to try to shove him away, your other hand occupied with bracing itself against the wall.

Your husband ignores your literal hand on his face, somehow having more strength to still slant his lips across your own despite your efforts, the hand he has behind your head pushing you further against him while he shoves a leg between your own to keep you still, "Train-"

There's a rather loud set of knocks on your bedroom door followed by an exasperated sigh coming from behind it, which makes you freeze but Jing Yuan ignores it, sliding his tongue over your teeth while you resign yourself to slam your fist repeatedly on his back to get him to back off.

"General! I know you missed [Name] a lot during the months they were away from the Luofu, but you know that today is supposed to be a training day!" Yanqing shouts from behind the door, and you feel sorry over the realization he's aware of what's happening beyond it.

Feeling sorry enough for Yanqing whose probably already waited 15 minutes before knocking at the door, you muster whatever little strength you have left against your husband's addictive lips to grab his ponytail and yank him off and away from you.

Jing Yuan merely grunts in irritation, looking at you with a glare and swollen lips, but you ignore him. Opening the door before Jing Yuan can grab you again and giving Yanqing an apologetic look, "I tried-"

"It's better than last time, at least." He points out to which you merely sigh before opening the door wider, "I'll give you more pocket money this month, how's that for compensation?" You suggest, shoving your husband out the door before he do anything else, Yanqing smiling in triumph at your generosity.

"You're the best! Give me extra if I manage to land a few hits on the general?"

"5 more than usual and I'll give you an extra thousand." You settle, tapping Jing Yuan on the shoulder. Your husband turns around to face you with a hum, and you lean in to peck him on the cheek, gliding your lips over to his ear, "If you're a bit nicer to him today you'll also get a reward."

Needless to say, there were two very happy boys onboard the Luofu at the end of the day.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x you #star rail x reader #hsr x you #jing yuan x reader #x reader #reader insert

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khaire-traveler · 1 year ago

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Random Greek Deity Facts

- Artemis has been associated with horses in the past.

- Ares has associations with owls.

- There are ancient gravestones with reliefs on them that historians still cannot tell if the art is of Dionysus or Jesus.

- It is common for historians to struggle identifying if a statue is of Artemis or Apollo because they often look so much alike.

- Hephaestus is a god of fire.

- Maia, the Mother of Hermes, was thought to assist in raising both Dionysus and Hephaestus.

- Hypnos is said to live in a massive cave, sleeping with thousands of his sons.

- Rather than blood, Greek gods are said to have something called Ichor running through their veins; no one is quite sure what "Ichor" actually is.

- Both Apollo and Artemis are deities of light; it is not just Apollo. Along with this, it is believed Leto may also be a goddess of light.

- It is commonly believed that the hyacinth flower is not actually the flower Hyacinthus was infamously transformed into; most sources seem to agree that it was likely either an iris or a larkspur.

- At one point in the Dionysiaca, Dionysus wages a war against India. The goddess Rhea is said to have gathered troops for him, and Zeus was said to have been the one to task Dionysus with going to war in order to allow him to join the gods on Mount Olympus.

- Demeter's chariot is pulled by two giant winged serpents; she has literal dragons pulling her around, and no one is talking about it.

- The Python was a child of Gaia, and before Apollo took up the Oracle in Delphi, there was actually an Oracle with Gaia in that location.

- The twins Castor and Pollux, who made up the Gemini constellation, were commonly worshipped throughout ancient Greece under the title of the "Dioscuri" or "Dioskouroi".

- Also regarding the Dioskouroi, the name "Castor" ("Kastor") may translate to "Beaver".

- The famous epithet "Paean" of Apollo was also listed on an ancient Mycenaean tablet that listed the names of separate deities. It is, therefore, possible that Paean was once a separate god who later became associated/merged with both Apollo and his son Ascelpius.

- Besides being an epithet, a Paean was also a type of devotional chant/song that was sung in honor of Apollo. Some ancient sources claim that the event of singing a Paean could actually be quite loud, involving clouds of stomping/banging and movement.

- The masculine version of Hekate's name, "Hekatos", was an epithet for the god Apollo; both names can be translated to "worker from afar".

- The first record of the more "traditional" view of a werewolf comes from the Greek myth about King Lycaon, when Zeus transformed into a wolf for ten years as punishment for tricking the gods into consuming human flesh (yes, you read that right).

- In the myths, Zeus and Hermes have a lovely Father-Son bonding trip of destroying an entire village (except for one home) for not showing either of the disguised gods hospitality as poor travellers.

- Both Apollo and Zeus were seen as gods who purified "blood-guilt" - a condition which was caused by the killing of another person and required immense purification.

- Cerberus is described as a fully sentient being who can communicate as other immensely powerful children of Gaia could, meaning he is akin to the gods in terms of intelligence rather than being like an overgrown dog.

- Hermes is said to be the inventor of offerings, specifically animal sacrifices.

- One origin of the Pegasus was Poseidon and Medusa doing the devil's tango.

- There is a tale that claims Hermes to be the one who granted Aesop his knowledge of fables.

- According to some ancient sources, Cerberus has as many as fifty heads, a mane of snakes, the claws of a lion, and a snake tail.

- Iris was not only the goddess of rainbows but was also the personal messenger of Hera and was prominently featured in The Iliad delivering many messages on behalf of the Olympian gods.

- Eros has been depicted as the child of Aphrodite and Ares, the child of Ouranos and Aphrodite, the child of solely Aphrodite, the child of Poros and Penia, the child of Ouranos and Gaia, the child of Zephyrus and Iris, and a primordial being who simply came into being. So, where did Eros actually come from? Your guess is as good as any.

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That's all for now! Let me know if y'all enjoyed these and would like more. 🧡

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|| Sources ||

- Theoi.com (of course)

- The Iliad by Homer

- Theogony by Hesiod

- The Dionysiaca by Nonnus

- Information from various museum trips in Athens and Delphi, Greece (sorry, I don't remember the exact sources 💀)

#helpol #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #hellenic pantheon #greek mythology #please reblog this version with the sources

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crescent-blades · 2 months ago

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What Rank did Michikatsu [Human Kokushibō] Hold as a Samurai?

When we think of a samurai, we often envision a fierce warrior prepared for battle. While this is partly true, we often tend to forget the internal heirarchy among them. Like any military group, samurai had a clear chain of command for smooth operations. However, it's important to note that samurai were a social class rather than a military one.

These "ranks," or more so, distinctions within the samurai were closely tied to hereditary social status, the extent of land ownership, and titles within the clan, rather than personal skills, which could vary depending on the era.

In this discussion, we will concentrate on the Sengoku era, as it is relevant to our topic. I will examine Michikatsu's role based on the available canonical information.

⚠ SPOILERS AHEAD ⚠ | Masterlist

⨳ Where His Father stood

In the image above, Michikatsu talks about his father having a "vassal." A lot could be inferred from this, but it is likely that his father either might be a samurai lord [Sengoku daimyo] or a wealthy, high-ranking samurai who supports smaller samurai.

[Daimyo (大名): military lords who controlled small, unified areas in which all the land either belonged to themselves or was held in fief by their vassals] [Vassals: subordinates who pledged their loyalty and obligations towards powerful lords]

So essentially, he was not just an ordinary samurai but rather a figure of considerable importance. His possession of vassals and land suggests that he must be exercising some form of governance, implying that he is possibly some sort of lord having an independent clan.

As you can see, he seemed to have personal servants:

And also personal messengers:

Though it is rather difficult to tell whether he was a powerful lord or not—an actual daimyo who was the direct vassal of the shogun, or just a lesser lord having a smaller land—possibly a heir to the family head or a landowner with a fief.

⨳ Was The Tsugikuni Clan Powerful?

First, let us understand what was going on during that time:

"This was the 'Age of Warring States', when scores of minor daimyo seized power for themselves in their immediate localities and fought each other until, during the mid-16th century, a comparative handful of 'super-daimyo' competed with each other on a grand scale before Japan was finally reunified" [source]

From this, it seems logical to assume that the Tsugikuni clan was a smaller one rather than a grand one—also considering Michikatsu's father's rather obsessive nature and his intense determination on getting better heirs, even to the point of being willing to harm his own family due to superstitious beliefs. Better heirs: more likely the clan gets to thrive and gain power.

Also, if we consider these words from Kokushibou:

Notice how he says this—he doesn't seem to be very surprised to know that his clan's name has died out, which would only solidify the fact that his clan must not be very powerful to begin with. [Considering that many direct descendants of the major clans today still seem to be thriving, with many carrying out their clan names. Muichiro seems to be an exception here]

So now that we know that his clan was likely not a powerful one, we could also assume that his father was a local lord rather than a full on daimyo for obvious reasons. Not only that, but this would also suggest that their clan must be a retainer family—they would be under a much stronger lord—a powerful daimyo, whom they would had to serve.

⨳ MICHIKATSU'S POSIBBLE RANK [DISTINCTION]

Before moving on, I would just like to point out that holding a high-ranking position as a samurai—such as leading troops— was a result of personal achievement rather than mere familial ties. If a family did not meet the necessary standards of talent and capability, their members would be assigned to lesser roles based on who they served.

With that being said, let us now try fitting in Michikatsu into all of this and find out what military rank he should have based on his family background:

Initailly, I was rather confused and wondered if Michikatsu could be a Hatamoto. They were the highest ranking samurai, considered the most loyal and skilled, who acted as bodyguards towards their lord. Sounds familiar, right? However, there was one piece of canon information that completely debunked this idea:

Samurai usually had to chop off their enemy’s head as proof of their kills; typically that shouldn't be done by the hatamoto, as they typically stayed close to their lords as a last resort instead of fighting on the front lines like the others.

Okay.. so he probably isn't a hatamoto. If his first instinct was to bring the head of Ubuyashiki to Muzan, then it suggests he must have done this before. if that's the case, then he must have ranked lower than a hatamoto, more so in a class where he might have been around collecting heads. After looking into what the manga could offer, I reached two conclusions:

1. He was a Taisho (大将)[general]: These ranked officials were the generals in the Daimyo's army, leading groups of soldiers called kumi. Depending on the troops they commanded, they were either referred to as Samurai-taisho or Ashigaru-taisho. They usually oversaw multiple kumi, each consisting of around 50 to 100 men.

2. He was a Kumigashira (組頭) [captain/platoon commander]: These officers controlled and led a single kumi of troops and were called samurai-kumigashira or ashigaru-kumigashira based on the type of troops in their kumi; which, often consisted upto 15-30 men each.

-> By those conical hats (jingasa) those men are wearing, I'm pretty sure they are depicted as Ashigaru foot soldiers. [This explains why he refers to them as his subordinates, as ashigaru were considered lower than samurai.]

Looking at the image, I doubt there are 50-100 men present there, and it seems more likely there are about 15-30. Therefore, we can conclude that he must be an Ashigaru-kumigashira.

Also, when people talk about Ashigaru, they usually think of peasants taken out of their farms. This is a misconception. Even though they were lower in class, ashigaru were generally treated as full on warriors. Not only were they as capable as their samurai counterparts, some were even stronger than them.The men under Michikatsu's command were fully capable and skilled swordsmen.

⨳ Michikatsu's Troops and His Role:

A general overview of the make up of the sengoku era army

—In short, the troops were reorganised in Sonae, which had between 300 to 800 men. Each Sonae included various types of troops. They were split into smaller units called Kumi, based on their weapons. These included archers, gun squads, cavalry, spear squads, and standard bearers.

By looking at these images, I see no one holding weapons, just a few casual swords thrown in here and there, which I find to be very odd..

Perhaps Michikatsu had set up his base further from his soldiers and gathered them up for a speech about the next day's plans just before they went to sleep? This could explain why they were caught off guard by the demon and didn’t have their weapons ready. After all, it’s strange not to have your weapons out when you are being attacked.

Regardless of the situation, his troops should be either a spear unit [Yari-gumi (長柄組)] or an archer unit [Yumi-gumi (弓組)].

These troops Consisted of: 1 samurai commander/katana samurai, 2-4 servants, ~20-30 foot soldiers, 3 labourers, 1 cavalry horse, and 2 packhorses.

Why you ask? This is because, firstly; guns weren't introduced until the mid sengoku period in 1543 [Michikatsu is theorised to be born around 1432] In the cavalry unit, the troops consisted of samurai rather than ashigaru, and bannermen did not engage in battle.

MICHIKATSU'S ROLE: Although there is not much provided anywhere about these commanders, from everything I have gathered: These commanding officers used to lead a unit of ashigaru soldiers. They were ranked below the sodaisho and samurai daisho (commanders) and an ashigaru taisho.

He would be assigned to train them, discipline the foot soldiers, and turn uneducated common men into reliable warriors. He would command and lead them, ensuring everyone followed his commands and maintained order within the ranks, and not disrupt the hierarchy. Hmm that sounds familiar doesn't it?

[I might actually make a detailed post about the military formation with Michikatsu if any of you are interested.]

Final thoughts:

[A/n: Hello everyone! It's been a while since my last post. No, I haven't abandoned my blogs. I just took a short break last week. Now I'm back and eager to share a theory with you all! Which I will be posting more of, both here and on my other blog, @gilded-sunrays. Please feel free to share your insights!]

And if you've made it through all of this, then I thank you wholeheartedly!

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gallusrostromegalus · 7 months ago

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Soul Society is top heavy when it comes to power. With rare exceptions (Ikkaku), the gap between captains and rank-and-file troops, let alone normal citizens, is astronomical. How does Soul Society handle the reiryoku classism problem in and out of the Rukongai? Do the lower seats think of themselves as cannon fodder? Are there any major political factions that try to tackle the issue (ethically or not)?

So the gotei-13 is actually kind of a solution to this problem on accident.

The thing is, as powerful as the captains are, there usually only about a dozen of them, and a maximum of 2600 shinigami total. They are VASTLY outnumbered by literally everyone else, and because they need drastically more food than others (everyone in soul society needs to eat, but shinigami are at a drastically higher calorie demand and risk of starvation), they are VERY dependent on the rest of society. Zaraki made a fair fist of being a roaming menace but even he had to bow to the economy and work jobs to eat.

Hence, there IS reiryoku discrimination but it's largely in the other direction- shinigami are extremely exploited as workers, and that's the GOOD job. Other psychics are frequently drafted, kidnapped, enslaved for imprisoned so the rich and politically powerful can exploit their abilities. Even if a captain class individual were to say, take out a whole clan in self-defense, the rest of society would come down on them like a hammer and kill them or let them starve.

Yamamoto didn't found the Gotei-13 all at once. Originally it was just him, Sasakibe, the 200 spiritually aware students in his dojo, and the dojo was there to train the postal workers how to defend themselves against people trying to kill them for the messages they were carrying, but secondarily so spiritually powerful people didn't get press-ganged into serving the noble houses.

The first organization for psychic souls Yamamoto ever made was a... Relatively Safe Haven. He was also up against a wall dealing with the noble houses and other political factions so he needed anyone who could push back to do so, so a psychic would be expected to serve in at least some capacity. But the souls under his care were free to marry who they chose if they wanted or have children or not, or travel if they felt safe doing so, and even to just be weird without major repercussions, which was a vast improvement over the way they'd be treated as livestock by the noble houses. Even 1000 years later, Byakuya had to fight his family to marry who he wanted. Imagine what a psychic born in a random village and no legal protections would be facing.

So everyone with even an ounce of spiritual capacity was joining the postal service for his protection. It was a boon to the non-psychic messengers too- not knowing if a random Mail carrier could set would-be attackers on fire with their mind made all carriers safer.

...and them the Quincy attacked.

Yamamoto was now even more up against a wall because while having a united front had been helping him it was now a problem-the Quincy were attacking psychics specifically, something that endangered his ENTIRE organization.

...so he hired every spiritually powerful person he could find, including thriteen real bastards directly off of death row and organized them into an army to fucking deal with Yhwach.

Once yhwach was gone though, he had an army. And a lot of nobles looking to exploit or destroy that army.

Fortunately, one of the real bastards he'd hired had fallen for his peculiar charms and become his wife, and what Lady Tsubaki lacked in battle prowess, she more than made up for in political shrewdness. Be magnanimous, she explained. Be generous and speak of peace in our lifetimes and extend the olive branch to those who harassed you for so long. They won't realize it's bait.

So with her help, Yamamoto proposed that his army become the COURT GUARD in charge of protecting the very real and definitely alive Soul King, as well as all the people of soul society from the hollows and other misfortunes that may befall them. Finally, *proper* employment for all those spare heirs and potentially dangerous village psychics, doing the noble work of protecting society.

Why, he even helped found the central 46, a council of sages and scholars and general brain trust to work on the greater problems of soul society (a problem later but at the time, a VAST improvement over the eternally warring clans), that Yamamoto himself would be beholden to, just to show how civic-minded he was.

And just to finally, fully bury the hatchet- Yamamoto offered five of the captain's seats to the five remaining great noble houses, to be passed from scion to scion, ensuring each line would have a place in the direction of this army... Not realizing it was a trap to trick them into handing over any psychics they had, but also the high mortality rate of captains would kill scion after scion and gradually weaken the clans to the point of irrelevance.

And it WORKED.

By the time Ichigo turns up, the scion of the Shihouin clan is in exile with no plans of returning, the Shibas are reduced to a roaming band of pyromaniacs, the Tsunyashiro clan has been gone so long they don't even appear in the manga, and while the ISE and Kuchiki clans still both have representation within the captainacy... The Ise clan only has a brother-in-law and the Kuchiki are at a genetic dead end, and both those men are FAR more loyal to Yamamoto than their own clans.

Yamamoto has done what he set out to do- make a safe haven for the spiritually powerful to work the (not great but still best) protected jobs in the afterlife, destroyed his enemies the great noble houses, and largely wrested government control from them.

It's not perfect, but you can't fault the man for his accomplishment.

#aeiwam #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfic

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ceilidho · 1 year ago

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I am also sweating at the image of knight!Ghost putting a golden collar on his pretty little wife 😮‍💨 and that moment when she finally comes crawling to him, begging him to take her, she can’t take the sexual tension anymore and desperately needs him? I imagine Ghost would be just oh so gentle with her that first time, doesn’t want to break her 🥺 giving her little forehead kisses the whole time

Ghost would be so good to his princess when he finally takes her virginity :))) and the whole lead up to it would be so delicious.

You'd probably finally cave after he'd been away on a month long campaign, no way to contact him except for whenever a messenger returned from the battleground to bring news of any successes or losses. You spend the entire month absolutely petrified that Ghost won't come back from war, and for the first time since meeting him, you don't dread the sight of his black Friesian coming up the long path towards the manor house.

That's probably when he first puts the collar around your neck. One of the spoils of war that he brought back with him to adorn you with and remind himself what he went to fight for. And that would be just too much for you; you'd have to clutch his hand tight and whisper that you'd like a private moment with him (because he fit the collar around your neck while surrounded by his troops and the servants).

He'd be so gentle that first time, so conscious of his size compared to you. Ghost would lie down on the bed and drag you up over his mouth to make sure you were properly wet and stretched enough to take him.

Maybe he'd make you sit astride him so you could sink down onto his length the first time and set the pace, and it would come as a complete shock to you because you'd expected to have to grit your teeth and suffer through it (you trusted him enough to not hurt you too much, but you'd heard nothing but horror stories from your sisters and mother when they'd first married you off). You didn't even think ladies could sit on their husbands this way - it seems so crass and unseemly. But Ghost seems so content under you, your barrel-chested, hirsute husband, finally secure enough to let you see his face and trace over all the white scars across his skin.

#cod mw2 #ceil writing #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #simon riley x you #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod

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iiseult · 5 months ago

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𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐹𝒾𝓋𝑒: 𝒢𝑜𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝒞𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈

CWs → FLUFF, angst, depression, themes of war and death, historical inaccuracies, slow burn, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, eventual smut (once reader and baldwin are both over 18), leprosy, time-period accurate sexism

Wordcount: 3.5k

Note: For those of you who have been waiting for actual fluff for like five chapters, I hope this is satisfactory. The next chapter is probably going to involve smut, so maybe that will give you something else to look forward to! Enjoy!

The following days were the darkest you had ever known. The palace was eerily silent, half of the staff left with nothing to do in the absence of their King. There were no more tears, and no more talking– there was only waiting, agonizing waiting. You could not bring yourself to leave the fortified stone walls of your home, not necessarily for fear of a raid by Saladin’s troops, but more for fear of leaving your post at your window and missing a sign that Baldwin might be returning. Whatever that sign might be– a flag, a cross, a messenger, you didn’t know– but you would surely know once you saw it.

For that reason you took all of your meals in your bedchamber, dressed perpetually in a white linen nightgown. Though she had tried and tried, claiming that looking better would also help you to feel better, Matilda could not convince you to get dressed. To you, there was no longer any reason to get dressed and presentable, let alone get out of bed. The only thing that could help you now was seeing your husband living and breathing, in the flesh. So in this way, the days faded dimly into dark nights, and those dark nights into fair-weathered days, whose blissful sunlight and blue skies mocked you and every other citizen of Jerusalem. Still he did not return. You stayed at your window for hours every night, fighting the heaviness of your eyelids and the sag in your shoulders, but inevitably passing into the realm of sleep from pure exhaustion, hunched over the sill with your head resting on your arms. You would wake in that exact same position every morning, accompanied by aches and pains in your muscles.

One night, there was thunder. You thought bitterly that it would be the perfect weather to reflect your brooding and negative mental state, that it only made sense for there to be a rainstorm, bring it on, but then there was the issue of there not being a single rain cloud in the sky. It was the clear amber sky of an autumn evening just around sunset, annoyingly picturesque, and dappled with only pink and orange stratus clouds. But there was the thunder, a deep, constant rumbling, perhaps growing even louder by the minute. Yes, you were certain now your ears were not playing tricks on you and that it was growing closer and closer, resounding low, and sustaining. In fact, you could feel its very vibrations rattling your teeth in their sockets. A flame of hope ignited in your heart.

You leapt to your feet and ran to the window, and you saw over the horizon a dark mass approaching. It was as if the raincloud you had ben searching for was on the ground instead, rolling in for the storm. But it was not a raincloud. It was an army.

The first rider appeared, distinct from the others because he was moving ahead of them. The thunder was the sound of a thousand horses’ hooves hitting the ground. Your heart dropped and your eyes frantically searched for a flag or an emblem, anything that could tell you which army this was. Given the circumstances of the battle, a large, very logical part of you knew it was Saladin and his men. The low chances of Baldwin’s 4,000 poorly trained soldiers beating out Saladin’s 20,000 had been present in your mind all along. However, the tiny part of you that was illogical needed proof, needed confirmation that it was not simply the soldiers of Jerusalem, returning home in glory.

Now you could see more horses, more soldiers, a score more than you had ever seen at one time before, all charging in your direction, creating a terrific rumbling sound that drowned out all else. Then appearing from over the horizon was the sign you had been searching for; the flaming golden cross of Jerusalem! They had come home! Tears sprang to your eyes as you watched that beautiful God-blessed cross-bearer speed past the stone palace walls and onto the grounds, followed by a steady stream of warriors. You swallowed back tears to avoid your vision clouding over and watched in amazement as that indistinguishable mass of soldiers transformed into a group of individuals, each a man with his own thoughts and feelings and loved ones. Your heart jumped back up into your throat from where it had fallen earlier. Jerusalem was victorious, they had won! But had he survived?

You tore your eyes away from the window and began to run, throwing open your bedroom door carelessly. As you did, you saw that you were apparently not the only one who had noticed the troops upon their return, and the hallways were abuzz with life. Servants ran about here and there, clamoring to see out the windows and catch a glimpse of the cross that they so loved, so they could see and believe the good news for themselves. Some laughed, and some cried. Matilda was there. You ran by her as you barrelled down the long corridor, heading for the grand staircase. She called after you, but her voice only succeeded in falling in with the muddled cries of all the others, exclaiming as they were. Shouts of jubilation echoed off the impressively high ceilings and carried throughout the space, filling it entirely. It was a beautiful sound.

You descended the staircase quickly, quickly, dizzy from the spiral shape of it, your legs pumping as best they could. Another pair of footsteps followed in your wake, and Matilda’s calls persisted, but the rushing of blood in your ears overpowered all else. Finally, you rounded the last bend and came out into the downstairs corridor, illuminated by flickering torches mounted in wall sconces. They threw your shadow large and imposing against the flagstones, making it almost seven feet tall, and dancing wildly in the wind you created in your haste. Matilda could not keep up.

The giant oak doors of the entrance loomed above you, very stately, and so impressive that they usually required multiple boy servants to open them. It was held closed by a series of iron bars, chains, and bolts, which shone in the orange light, challenging you to best them. You got to unhooking the lower latches that you could reach and called for someone to handle the higher ones. A wide-eyed servant boy, though very much afraid of you, rushed to your aid, quickly sliding the bolts and turning the locks above your head. Soon, they were all undone, and rather than wait for the boy to find another to assist him, you slammed your shoulder against the giant, solid slab of wood and grunted, “help me!”

“Your Majesty!” The boy called, panic evident in his voice, “Please allow me to find a-” But you cut him off before he could finish that sentence, growling in frustration and shooting him a menacing glare. He gulped and without further ceremony, helped you push open the doors. As soon as the crack between them was large enough, letting a sliver of fading daylight paint the flagstones pink and yellow, you pushed through them, out into the real world. The boy rushed after you, and behind him was Matilda, something clutched in her hands.

Summoning all your strength, you ran, gulping down great lungfuls of the smoky evening air. Your eyes searched, wide and unblinking, as your legs carried you closer to the legion of armor-clad men on horseback. Besides about a thousand identically-shaped silhouettes, you couldn't make out much of anything in detail. No way to tell yet, you had to get closer. Your feet slapped the earth, bare as they were, the sound ringing out shrilly in your ears. The soft flesh stung and turned pink, but you were becoming numb to external stimuli and it made no difference. Your arms swung wildly at your sides, and your hair, whipped into coils by the wind, lashed at your face. There was a growing ache in your chest, but still, you were getting closer. So close that now, you could make out a figure. And suddenly, he was there.

You knew him immediately by his silver mask, glowing in the sun, and his billowing white robes, though they were stained with sprays of brown and red. You ran and ran to him, calling his name and waving your arms, hoping to capture his attention, but it was all so very unnecessary. He had seen you the second you barrelled through those doors, known you by the shape of your body and your movements, even at such a great distance. Quickly, but as if moving in a dream, he brought his stallion to its knees and dismounted sloppily, nearly tripping in his haste, but it was no matter. His mask slipped, lubricated by his sweat, but he paid it no mind. In dreams, he was never able to move fast enough, as if his muscles were stuck in molasses, always preventing him from getting where he needed to be. This time was much the same. He simply could not reach you fast enough, could not feel the safety of being in your arms soon enough. But he ran, his feet digging into the ground, desperate to find purchase, beating into the soft earth viciously. His heart pounded just as hard against his ribcage, which had already sustained a brutal battering earlier during the battle. But now he could make out your face just a little, the curve of your nose and the dark line of your lips.

The white linen rippled frantically around his flaming, aching body, which he pushed to its absolute limit, trembling from exhaustion though it was. Faster, he commanded it, faster! And somehow, it listened.

The two of you drew closer and closer until you could see the way his mask was askew, dangling around his throat like a gaudy, oversized necklace. He seized it in his gloved hand and ripped it away carelessly, breaking the string that held it to him and letting it fall. It hit the ground with a dull thud and rolled away. As your teary-eyed smile came into focus, he desperately clawed at his hood and chainmail veil, discarding those, too, in one fell swoop. Those golden tresses, caked in sweat and blood, sand and earth, rain and battle, flowed freely behind him, cleansed by the wind.

Then you were upon him, there in your nightgown and unwashed, untethered hair and without any shoes, and yet with the biggest smile he’d ever seen, and could all of that really be for him?

You collided with him roughly, unable to stop due to the momentum, and you heard a puff of air pass his lips. A sob passed yours. For the first time, you knew what it felt like to throw your arms around his bare neck and hold him close, and to cry into his shoulder. He held you, too, a bit hesitant and stiff at first, but soon he softened. His arms wrapped around you and his hands rested on your shoulder blades, and he cried. It was silent save for the few sniffs he gave. He let go of himself and buried his nose in your hair, inhaling your warm, rosy scent straight from the source, tears sliding down his golden-blond lashes and landing softly in your hair. He said nothing. Everything he wanted to say, you had already read from his letters. It was your turn to talk.

“I read them,” you cried miserably, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. So much regret, so much wasted time. He knew it all, he saw it there.

“I read them all, and I love you,” you said, then redoubled your efforts, burying your face in him and drawing him somehow closer. He almost believed that his arms would slip right through you and you’d vanish any second, so he cherished every second of your warmth. But you didn’t. You stayed. He broke away for a second, only to sigh in impatience and violently rip off his gloves, whipping them to the ground behind him. The satin sank into the mud.

With his naked hands he carefully, almost timidly, stroked the small of your back. It was something he’d always wanted to do. He did this until he was fully convinced you were real, and here, and not just a pleasant vision conjured up by his post-battle delusion. But you felt firm and warm and alive beneath his hands, the fabric of your nightgown the very thinnest of barriers.

He slid his palms up to your cheeks and looked into your eyes. So full of love, they were, full of fear and relief and joy and love. You gasped, feeling his calloused hands burning their print into your cheeks. He grinned at the privilege of touching his flesh to your very own. You parted your lips, wanting to say something, but you could make no sound. You could only stare wide-eyed at each other, loving in silence.

Behind Baldwin, his army stood still and looked on. Their horses stamped but did not move. The men did not know what to think, or how to behave. On the one hand, they were witnessing something very special; the pure, young love of their master and his betrothed. On the other hand, they were staring at a lady dressed in only undergarments, sharing an intimate moment with her man. Some of them blushed, and some smiled. But nobody, absolutely nobody, could bring themselves to look away.

Over your shoulder, Baldwin could see the palace staff lined up in front of the great doors, some hunched over in tears of relief and joy, others standing tall and triumphant, filled with pride for their nation. Among the latter were his lady sister Sybilla and her son, and Matilda and Amelia, though they were too far away for him to see. Still clutched in Matilda’s hands were a pair of your shoes, which she had been intending to give to you to put on before you ran outside. As soon as she heard the army approaching, she’d known you would abandon everything and go to him.

Baldwin pulled you into his side with his left arm, and with his right, he cupped a hand around his mouth and shouted to the sky, his voice ringing clear across the field, “Today, we have won a great victory!”

In an instant, the field erupted into cheers and shouts of rejoicing, almost deafening in volume. You laughed and smiled up at your husband, whose eyes reflected the pink and purple sunset on the horizon. Then he led you towards the castle, just the same way you had come before, only slowly and fulfilled this time. As you looked at him, your eye caught a glint of something gold and glittering against the bare skin of his neck.

“Heavenly Father, thank you.”

Together, you walked home.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

A feast was thrown to celebrate Jerusalem’s victory, and for the first time in over a year, Baldwin sat at the head of the table with his Queen at his side. He wore no mask, and no bandages on his face, and he was adorned only by the golden crown that sat atop his cornsilk curls. So many nobles had greeted the two of you that you lost count, but there was one man in particular that stood out, and his name was Reynald de Chatillon.

His beard was red and scraggly, spreading across his chin like a wildfire and complimenting the equally red hue of his face. In fact, his skin was florid all over; it wasn’t limited to just his face, though his pudgy cheeks were mottled with patches of red, and full of craters left behind by the pox he’d had as a boy. The pox had almost killed him, but it seemed nothing could snuff out his lifeforce, least of all a silly illness, so he just went on living. The same was true of him when you met him at the feast. Despite his constant brushes with death on the battlefield, he was likely the most alive person in that room. An insane, cruel look glinted in his perpetually open, bloodshot eyes– you weren’t sure you ever saw him blink– and his lips shined wetly beneath his mustache, for he was constantly licking them, his fat pink tongue darting out of the corner of his mouth like some kind of tic. But it wasn’t a nervous tick, and that you could be sure of, because Reynald de Chatillon was never nervous. He was a warlord, equally bloodthirsty and wine-thirsty. Mean, short, fat, and clever, though he didn’t look it. Perhaps therein lied his power. You shuddered to think of how he must appear to his enemies. Thankfully, he was on your side, at least for now.

Reynald entered with his wife, two sons, and three daughters in tow, and to your surprise the girls were rather delicate and pretty, despite harboring the genes of their brutish father. Each of them had fine and flowing red-blonde hair and fair skin, indicating a life of luxury. Both sons were brawny and imposing, though one was much taller than the other, and perhaps more slender. But absolutely none of the children inspired fear the way their father did. You decided that you did not like him, but at that moment, you couldn’t help but at least respect him, just a little. After all, he was apparently an integral part of Baldwin’s army, given the fact that he was invited to the feast, and you had heard that he was one of the main forces that had led Jerusalem to its bloody victory.

Just as everyone had said, Baldwin was an excellent King, as you came to see for yourself that evening. He held himself with grace and humility, and his kindness inadvertently demanded the respect of others. In a way, he was just as powerful and intimidating as Reynald, but he greeted his soldiers and knights with gentle, welcoming words and tasteful compliments. You couldn’t bite back your smile as you watched him interact with his guests. It truly was just as you had been told. He was a great King, and a great man. You hoped you could be an equally good Queen.

Though you were each too busy greeting and entertaining guests to really converse, you and Baldwin stole secret glances at each other whenever there was a second to be spared. Sometimes those seconds between you lined up, causing you to accidentally make fleeting eye contact, only to both look away hastily, knowing you’d been caught by the other. He’d blush, and you’d fiddle with your sleeves, and as subtle as you might have thought you were being, most everyone noticed anyway. To see a young King Queen, so green behind the ears and so obviously infatuated with each other, was something to be read about in fairy tales and great love stories from ancient times, but not to be seen in person. Reynald’s daughters whispered to each other and giggled behind their hands. It was a bit of a scandal.

When the feast had finally concluded and the last drunken guests trickled out of the great hall and to their respective rooms where they were put up for the night, you and Baldwin finally turned to look at each other without embarrassment. A grin spread across his face, and then one broke across yours, too. Finally, a moment alone.

Since his return, the two of you had decided to drop the formalities and titles, opting to simply call each other by name, at least when you were in private. He took both of your hands in his and held them gently.

“Y/N, you make such a wonderful Queen.”

You couldn’t help but beam.

“You are the most perfect King. And everybody says so, Baldwin.”

He looked down at the table, shaking his head and blushing a little, but his smile never faltered. Then he furrowed his brow, opening his mouth quickly as if he were about to say something, and then thought better of it and closed his lips again. You raised an eyebrow and squeezed his hand gently.

“What is it? You were going to say something.”

He smiled a little and only shook his head, still gazing down at the table, but you persisted. “You can tell me anything, you know. I’m your wife. Now, please,” you urged. He looked up at you, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes as he raised his head again. He held your hands a bit tighter for support and took a shaky breath before asking, “Would you…maybe…want to sleep in my room tonight?”

//taglist: @eatmeandbirthmeagain @lzsia @likeanecho344 @lunargraveyard @yoursoulisinyourkeepingalone @stickparrot @ainselthegreat @luigisang @sad-bag @vamp-hira @madeleinerosexxx

#baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven #baldwin iv x reader #king baldwin iv #king baldwin iv x reader #baldwin iv one shot #baldwin of jerusalem #baldwin iv fic #kingdom of heaven fandom #kingdom of heaven fluff

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yoongikapi · 9 months ago

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returning injured || levi || oneshot

angst

aot masterlist

levi waited restlessly in his office for the scouts to return. his injured foot kept him from the most recent mission and he’s never felt more anxious. of course he was worried about everyone and hoped they’d all make it back in one piece, but his mind kept wandering to you. why am i so worried about her? he had no reason to be, you were riding along commander erwin and other strong squad leaders, so why? i have no reason to worry about her, they’ll all be fine. but even so, he ignored the throbbing pain in his foot and paced around his small workspace.

a messenger suddenly knocked on the wooden door, making levi freeze in his tracks; “sir! the troops are back!”

he couldn’t stop himself from leaving his office; couldn’t stop himself as he practically ran outside, and couldn’t stop himself from gasping in shock, not only at how many didnt return but also from seeing you on the back of someone’s horse, knocked unconscious. he took in how blood ran from your head and leg while your arm was heavily bandaged.

“what happened here?” levi asked, walking up to the man on the horse as he attempted to get off without you falling. before he could think, he reached up and pulled you off the horse himself, barely hearing the man as he walked away with you in his arms. “she was cornered by titans, we’re lucky she’s even here….”

once again, levi’s forgotten about his own injury as he studies yours. as he studies you he realizes, he wouldn’t know what to do if you didnt come back. yes you’re unconscious, but you’re here now and hes gonna do everything in his power to ensure you wake up.

he gently places you in a cot at the infirmary, covering you and taking the seat next to your bed. he stares at the dried blood clinging to your fingers and he reaches out to you, brushing his rough fingers against the back of your hand.

you better wake up brat.

please wake up.

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yuurei20 · 2 months ago

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Lilia Facts Part 6: Lilia's Past (pt6)

Sebek translates an explanation of the situation that he and the others find themselves in upon landing in Lilia’s dream: “Under Lilia's command, we royal guardsmen are fighting desperately to drive the Silver Owls out of our land…but there are so many of them, it's an uphill struggle."

Lilia tests Sebek and Silver by ordering them to capture a group of ironclads, and intervenes when they fail.We see Lilia do a “poison test” of Silver and Sebek’s cooking before allowing them to feed his troops.

Lilia and Baul explain that they are palace guards who have been dispatched as a delegation to delivery a letter from Maleanor to the ironclads’ eastern stronghold. The letter is an ultimatum, warning the Silver Owls to behave themselves.

Lilia explains that flight magic is not an option for the letter’s delivery, because “every other delegation that set out for the eastern stronghold has gone missing," so part of their task involves searching for the missing delegates, as well as expelling the Silver Owl miners raiding the country's resources.

During their journey they come across a mask that once belonged to one of the missing envoys. Lilia says, “safe bet that the owner is no longer with us.”

Lilia’s troops are met with an armored excavator that they manage to destroy despite not knowing what it was.

Sebek suggests that it may be a machine designed for construction work and Lilia says, “How long have they had these things? Just 20 years ago, they were digging up dirt by hand with wooden shovels,” sending a messenger to inform Maleanor at once.

At one point Lilia’s troops find the commander of a search party from three months prior. They ask what happened to the others, and while we do not hear what he says, he proceeds to provide them with the magearms and healing potions the other envoys had been carrying.

Upon reaching the enemy stronghold it is revealed to be empty, converted into a trap for Lilia and his men.

A messenger returns with the news that the missing enemies are besieging Castle Wildrose and Maleanor.

#twstlilia #Lilia Vanrouge #twisted wonderland #twstfacts #liliafacts

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laxmankodadala · 5 days ago

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Best Communication Platforms to Enhance Collaboration for Small Businesses

Team members can no longer rely on one-on-one conversations with coworkers or provide important files or detailed information via email, which might take a long time because of protocol, in today's modern workplace. Using team communication tools might be the ideal choice because it enhances communication as well as time management, team productivity, and collaboration.

Social chat apps are used by small and microbusiness owners because work chat platforms are too expensive and don't satisfy their needs. Some had to utilise them because of an unforeseen pandemic illness. But thanks to their subscription plans, some of the best brands are able to provide top-notch services at affordable prices.

The following are some of the most effective team communication tools for your business.

Troop Messenger

Troop Messenger is considered the best team communication tools, which can be used as a business messaging tool, work chat tool, and instant messaging tool for both office and remote work.

Many organisations decided to embrace Troop Messenger after learning about its new features, which might not be found in apps that are presently accessible or would probably be included to major application upgrades in the future. Troop Messenger quickly upended the industry.

New features were developed as a result of Troop Messenger's extensive research, and the device is affordable and suitable for usage in any field. This safe and secure team messaging software allows NASA and the military to share classified information.

Features

Remote screen sharing and controlling

Join Now, allows the user to join the missed group audio or video call while ongoing

Burnout

Live Location Tracking

Jointly Code

Advanced Search Filters

Forkout

Seamless Communication at Work

Troop Messenger is more than simply a team communication tool; it's a full-featured commercial team communication solution. Regardless of the size of your organisation, Troop Messenger makes it easy and quick to communicate at work. Your team will always be in contact, no matter where they are in the world, because to its easy-to-use interface that makes communication, content sharing, and decision-making simple.

A Communication Tool for Every Need

The growing demand for remote work solutions is satisfied by Troop Messenger, an all-in-one team communication tool. It's a versatile communication tool that integrates messaging, video conferences, and team collaboration onto one platform. Teams can stay engaged and productive whether they work in an office setting or remotely. With capabilities like file sharing, group chats, and direct messaging, it's the greatest business communication tool for improving internal communication and team efficiency.

Why Troop Messenger is the Best Communication App for Teams

Efficient Team Communication: Troop Messenger is a great tool for team communication. It makes it possible to communicate instantly, cutting down on time spent on long meetings or emails. It's ideal for both remote and office-based teams because it allows you to message anyone instantaneously, whether in groups or one-on-one.

Collaboration Made Easy: Troop Messenger and other internal communication applications encourage improved teamwork. Team members can simply stay in sync and work together effectively with features like file-sharing options, shared channels, and instant access to previous chats. This guarantees that no information is overlooked and streamlines project management.

Secure and Reliable: In addition to enhancing communication, Troop Messenger provides a secure platform for businesses. With end-to-end encryption and compliance with data privacy regulations, businesses can ensure that sensitive information remains confidential while facilitating smooth communication.

Versatility for All Business Sizes: Whether you're managing a startup or a large enterprise, Troop Messenger adapts to the needs of your organization. Its intuitive interface and flexible features cater to a wide range of business sizes, making it the perfect internal communication software.

Real-Time Communication: Real-time communication is essential for both remote and office employees. Teams can communicate updates in real-time, address issues without waiting for an email or planned call, and respond swiftly to critical communications thanks to Troop Messenger's minimally delayed live communication features.

#team communication tools #communication apps #best communication software #communication #troop messenger #collaboration

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hoverboards-and-dragons · 4 months ago

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can we possibly get more michael and adam content, analysis/art whichever YOU HAVE GOT ME INTERESTED

Adam has a thing for Michael, he thinks Michael is fondly exasperated of him and all their arguing is sexual tension and flirty. Enemies to lovers and all that, Michael is a Challenge and Adam has been in Heaven a long time.

One - just to get out of the way; Michael is both some level of sex and romance repulsed.

Two; Michael just fucking hates Adam, vehemently, here's the itemized list of reasons.

Personal:

Loud and obnoxious with little respect for Heaven's customs, especially refusing to learn anything about Heavenborns's unique ways of life.

Michael was the original leader of Heavens armies before lending the title to Gabriel, Adam abuses Authority as a commander, that's Michael's Authority and troops he's disrespecting.

Adam general tendency to sleep around with angels, Michael's creations.

Will not leave him alone.

General least impressive of the og3, Eve and Lilith making him look worse through comparison.

Michael thinking Adam is just projecting Lucifer onto him, that he'll trip over himself to earn the favour of a first human 'like he did' either as the backup choice or for him to prove he can score just like Lilith did.

Constant off handed demeaning remarks. Insisting that its not gay since angels aren't gendered (despite Michael clarifying that most aren't but he very much is) it's not cheating if it's just 'you little God things' and other implications that Michael's 'kind' simply doesn't count.

Related, Adam's focus on his early role in creation and child of God status as if it makes him the most important person in every room while never acknowledging the same for the archangels, again as if you only count if you're human.

Impersonal projections:

Michael blames humanity in general for 'taking his brother from him', it would be worse for the first man himself.

Winners are the most difficult sector of Heaven for him to manage.

The archangels are pettily defensive over their Father, its why even the most serious and professional among them still call Him 'Dad,' He's more their Father than anyone else's. They were raised by Him, they'll never stray from His side.

Disliking Adam makes Michael feel like he's questioning his Father's choices.

His general superiority complex to 'the plight of man.'

AAAANNnnnnndddddd the big one. He is physically incapable of processing any of these emotions.

Angels cannot possess negative thoughts towards something beloved by the Lord, personal distaste yes, but not genuine contempt. As servants and messengers, Michael’s devotion to his Father binds him to serve Adam by extension, and protects Adam from malicious intentions.

This leaves those feelings float around untethered, compounding in on itself, and causing problems like mould spores in their chest.

He had to just, tolerate him, with all of this, for ten thousand years.

and Michael is bound by a few extra Commands around Adam because he would have just killed him otherwise. And everytime Adam is being annoying Michael mind strains against itself to express or solidify his hatred in anyway And He Can't.

And then he can.

the thrilling sequel to Michael going apeshit and hacking both of Adam's wings off the second he was broken free from the commandment to not cause Adam harm.

Also listing out everything wrong with him rapid fire, mocking him for his unearned title of first man when Michael is older than him, that he only got into heaven because he had a use not because he deserved to be or anyone wanted him and any other insecurity he could grab off the top of his head.

Losing restrictions suddenly can make angels weird sometimes, pulling at a leash so hard that when it breaks you go flying back.

#hazbin hotel #hellaverse #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lilith #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel michael #hazbin hotel archangels #hazbin hotel god #lucilith

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ikeromantic · 1 month ago

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Mercy

A Chevalier Michel fanfiction. Approx. 3900 words. This scene takes place in Chapter 21-22 of the romantic route and is told from Chevalier’s POV. Part 19 of a series.

Chapter List

Chevalier motioned the advance, the order communicated down by trumpets and flags. Soldiers on the battlefield surged. The Obsidian forces were putting on a good defense, but they would be overwhelmed soon. They had no reinforcements, while Rhodolite could field more troops each day. It was simple strategy.

He hoped Leon’s troops were as successful on their front. It would take all of them to press forward. Them and their allies from Benitoite and Jade. They were pressing on their own borders with Obsidian, forcing the military to split its forces to keep them at bay. Chevalier knew he’d done everything he could - now it was up to the skill and will of others to see the plan through.

A messenger burst past his honor guard and fell to a knee. “Prince Chevalier!”

“Speak.” Chev felt an uneasy tension settle in his belly. This was too soon for bad news from the front lines and too late to expect a missive from the palace. Something had occurred that he did not account for.

“It’s the support camp. Some men attacked it - knights and soldiers. No one is left there but Prince Luke and the wounded.” The messenger fell silent.

Clavis smiled, the same grin he always wore. “Oh no! Someone went after the logistic support? Why ever would they have done that?”

Chevalier felt a pressure in his chest, cold and heavy. Emma was there. And he knew without more inquiry that she was the target. His thoughts raced even as he was already moving. “Saddle my horse. You -” He pointed to his most trusted knight commander, “follow the battle plan. I will be back soon.”

He rode for the camp without delay, with Clavis in tow. His body felt numb inside and out. This was his fault. He should have predicted that the Belle would be a target. But who would have given away her position and location? Few enough knew.

The village was quiet as he rode through the street to the central building where the medical support unit was housed. Nokto was already there, waiting. Chevalier gave the clown a nod in greeting as he leapt from his horse and strode in, his gaze taking in the blood and overturned tables.

Rio met them at the door to a small backroom.

“Where is she?”

The butler took him inside and began to explain. “It was Flandre and the anti-war faction,” he explained. “They tried to take Emma, but we didn’t let them. She was trying to help this one knight they brought in. He looked injured, but during the fight, when Flandre began to lose . . .”

“I understand the particulars,” Chevalier said. It was exactly the sort of assassination attempt the Belle had no defense against. Using her sweet nature and kind heart against her. He felt his throat close up over his breath, an icy cold overtaking him.

Emma lay in a narrow cot wedged into a small room at the back of the village’s gathering hall. Her breath was labored, rasping in and out of pale lips, her chest barely rising and falling. Rio sat at her bedside, gently wiping her forehead with a cool cloth.

Clavis studied her with a puzzled smile, as if something in the scene confused him. “They seem to have thought of everything. I can’t believe they stabbed the Belle with a poisoned knife as they retreated.”

“And we’ve been told that if we want the antidote, we must give her up to Obsidian.” Nokto’s tone was glum.

Luke slumped against the wall. “There has to be something we can do.”

Nokto shook his head. “According to the physician, they used a poison unique to Obsidian. They are the only ones with an antidote. We’ll have to hand her over to the messenger they are sending, if we don’t want her to die.”

“This is . . . it’s all my fault,” Rio said miserably. He twisted the cloth in his hands hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

“No. It’s mine. I was in charge of village defense but I couldn’t even protect one woman.” Luke sagged further down the wall, knees bent.

Nokto gave them both an irritated look. “Why are you wasting time beating yourselves up? The Belle is alive. You did protect her. And you managed to push back the Obsidian forces. Thanks to you, the damage was kept to a minimum.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the village homes. “If you look at the end result, things turned out great. Even if what happened to Emma is terrible.”

“What exactly is great about it? Even if I died, that wouldn’t be atonement enough for letting this happen to Emma.” Rio’s voice wavered between anger and grief.

“You’re both mistaken,” Chevalier interjected, his voice cool and quiet. “All the blame in this falls on me.” He should have known. Prepared for it. Protected her. Failure hit especially hard for a man that seldom felt its sting.

Rio and Luke turned to stare, surprise clear on their faces.

“It happened under my leadership,” the second prince continued. “You have no right to blame yourselves.”

“But,” Rio began.

Chevalier didn’t let him finish. “If you have the time to lament, why don’t you use your head instead?” He brushed past Rio and bent down to look at Emma. He removed his gloves and laid two bare fingers to her neck. Then he touched her lips. Then her eyelids.

“Are you playing doctor now,” Clavis asked.

“I’ve read about symptoms similar to these.” He gently rolled her over and tugged her shirt up to look at the stitched wound. “Labored breathing, irregular pulse, full body spasms, and the way the wound is festering. Take into account the method of delivery for the poison . . .” Chevalier roughly pulled the shirt back down and sat at a small table to write.

He did not have the luxury to revel in his guilt. There was only the path forward, and it would have to be good enough. One step at a time, a logical progression. A direction for the frigid fury building in him.

Nokto and Clavis watched him the way one might eye an agitated tiger, worried when - not if - it would lunge. But Chevalier only made his notes, and then tossed the page to Rio.

“Give that to the village doctor. The physician from the capital may not understand it all.” Chevalier’s lips twitched up in a bitter smile.

Rio scanned the note and then looked up again. “Are you saying you figured out how to make an antidote just from that simple examination?”

Chevalier returned his stare. “Hundreds of medical books, foreign and domestic, are stored in my head.”

“Hundreds?” Luke’s brows lifted.

Nokto smirked. “King Highness’ memory is perfect. He has such an inhuman ability to remember things that once he’s seen something, he’ll never forget it.”

“There isn’t time for pointless chatter.” Chevalier moved toward the door. “I still have the small matter of purging the traitors to see to.” His expression was as flat and cool as always, not a hint of the anger that churned in his chest. A storm of ice, a rage as cold as the deepest winter night. Cold as death.

No one said a word. They could feel it, hiding beneath his tranquil demeanor. Clavis was the first to break the silence with a laugh. “You look calm but you’re really angry, aren’t you?”

“Angry? Don’t be ridiculous.” Chevalier rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. “However, the traitors will continue to be a nuisance if we let them. It’s better to crush them now.” The beast in him rose to the surface, ready to be unleashed. The anti-war faction would not live to cause harm after today. Not one -

“Ngh . . . Pl-please . . .” Emma breathed, the words barely audible.

Chevalier turned toward her as her fingers closed on the hem of his cloak.

Her eyes were open but there was no light in them, no life. Only a flicker of desperation as her pale fingers clutched at the fabric.

“Let go,” Chevalier said.

“Eva.” Rio laid a hand on her.

The second prince watched her, uncertainty creeping in at the edges of his thoughts. Was this her will? His ridiculous, naive, kind-hearted love . . . how foolish. How precious. He felt an aching warmth return to his heart, a hearthfire in the midst of that icy chill. “I’ll talk to them first. Does that satisfy you?”

Emma’s hand dropped away from his cloak. Her body relaxed again, eyes drifting closed.

Chevalier knelt down and took her hand. His fingers twined with hers, squeezing gently for a moment. Then he tucked it beneath the sheet. He hoped she would understand.

“I feel like I’ve witnessed something priceless,” Nokto quipped.

Clavis nodded. “From that alone, it seems the Belle has become an excellent animal trainer.”

“You’re coming with me,” Chevalier told him, his gaze pinning Clavis to the spot. He was not going to grant their commentary any response.

“Wait. Just the two of you are going?” Luke straightened.

“That will be enough to deal with the anti-war faction,” Chevalier replied.

Clavis laughed again. “You’ll keep me entertained, won’t you Chev?”

“Indeed.” Chevalier gave his brother a grim smile. “The hunt begins now.”

He was aware of the Clavis’ gaze as they followed the trail left by the fleeing anti-war faction. It was an annoyance akin to a fly, nothing worth his attention. And yet. Chevalier finally let out a breath. “What?”

Clavis grinned wider. “You almost seem human like this. I didn’t think it was possible.”

“I am what I have always been.”

His brother snorted in disbelief. “If I’d known all it took was a woman to -”

“Quiet.” Chevalier studied the hilltop ahead, the unnatural arrangement of brush, the sad attempt to hide horse tracks.

Clavis fell silent as he too picked up on the signs ahead.

The two of them approached at a slow walk. Chevalier stopped in ear shot, aware he was taking a risk as it was close enough for a long bow. “I am here to speak with Baron Flandre.”

Several arrows zipped through the air toward them. Chev cut the close ones from the air, knocking them aside.

“I don’t think they want to talk to you,” Clavis laughed.

Chevalier grunted in response, and nudged his horse closer. “I am here to negotiate.”

More arrows fell, but now they were in sight of the poorly hidden entrance. Clavis rode forward, and as he closed in, three men leapt out with swords drawn. The third born prince was no stranger to swordplay, and his skill quickly dispatched the three. They were left alive, but too wounded to fight. A clean death might have been kinder.

“We’ve come to talk,” Clavis shouted. “Won’t you come out and chat with us?” He laughed and flicked the blood from his blade.

They did not seem to believe the princes.

Chevalier exchanged a look with Clavis.

“How exciting! You’re going to leave this to me?” Clavis sounded like a child on holiday.

“Try not to kill all of them.” Chevalier felt his jaw clench.

The next several minutes were pure chaos. The anti-war faction soldiers were few in number, but desperate. Unfortunately for them, their frenzied violence was no match for the laughing Clavis. He took them out as easily as cutting daisies from the stem.

Chevalier dismounted and strode forward, heading for the largest tent in the most protected spot. Flandre’s arrogance was painfully clear in everything he did, right down to how he set up his camp. The baron was there, sword drawn, his chest heaving with panicked breath.

He looked at Flandre with distaste. To think this man had once been a knight in his service. “You appear to be the only one left.”

“Impossible . . .” The baron’s eyes scanned the dark camp and found no allies standing.

“I didn’t expect it to be this easy. Disappointing. Were you just a group of amateurs?” Chevalier let his lips curl in a cruel smirk.

Flandre’s temper flared, battling his defeated apathy. “You know that’s not true! Are you mocking us?”

Chevalier scoffed. “You are a disgrace. You have no right to complain about being mocked.” He tilted his head, studying the man as if he were no more than a strange insect. “Besides, I thought I told you that I wanted to talk.”

“Who would believe the lie that the Brutal Beast just wanted to talk? You intended to kill us all anyway.”

“Regretfully, I didn’t come here tonight to kill you. If you open your eyes, you would realize that.” The prince felt suddenly tired. He did not want to be here, talking to this man. This fool that would sell out everyone in Rhodolite for the possibility that his loved ones might be spared. He deserved nothing but the sharp end of a sword and an unmarked grave. But Emma had asked . . .

He forced a calm smile. “I came here tonight to offer you redemption.”

Flandre blinked, uncertain. “Redemption?”

“If your faction cuts ties with Obsidian immediately and sides with Rhodolite, I’ll consider it atonement for your crimes.” Chevalier’s eyes narrowed. “However, the essence of the anti-war faction is protecting your loved ones.Those loved ones migrated to a number of islands off the coast of Benitoite several months ago.”

That put the baron on the defensive. “H-how did you . . . you’re not - not threatening them, are you,” he sputtered.

One blonde brow rose. “What do you think?”

Flandre trembled with rage and fear.

“Treason or obedience. Either way, it doesn’t matter to me. Choose what you prefer.” Chevalier waited, though he was past impatient to be done here.

“Why?”

The prince sneered. “Why what? Why haven’t I punished them after I discovered where your family was hidden?” He shook his head. “Using force to suppress those who hold differing views about the country is called dictatorship. I’ve never once desired that for our kingdom.”

Flandre stumbled and caught himself. His hand fell away from his sword hilt. “But you’ve killed anyone who might bring harm to the country!”

“Yes. Anyone who might cause real harm. Dissenting opinions regarding the way the country is run are valuable sources of information when making policy decisions.” Chevalier skewered Flandre with an icy glare. “We declared this war because we deemed it necessary, but I would have respected your grievances if they were justified.”

The baron’s jaw clenched as his rage won out over sense and fear.

“However, apparently you all believed from the very beginning that I wouldn’t listen to you and so you chose this path. The path of hostility.” The prince let out a slow breath, reigning in his irritation.

“I know you’re not the kind of man you just described,” Flandre grumbled. “No one but you could mercilessly slaughter people and do whatever you please regardless of the wants or needs of others!”

Chevalier felt like laughing at this fool. Feeding himself to the wolf to save himself from the tiger. “You weren’t discerning enough to see my true nature. That’s all. And now you have given up everything for nothing.”

The truth of his words sank in slowly. One breath. Two. Another. Then Flandre collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands.

Clavis began to clap, a slow overly dramatic gesture that fit the third-born perfectly. “Goodness. My. Well done!”

“Did you find the antidote?” Chev didn’t dignify his behavior with a reaction.

“Yup. And I grabbed the poison itself while I was at it.” He pulled out two vials, one a horrid thick, dark fluid and the other a light, turbid concoction. Clavis’ grin promised some planned use for the foul stuff, but his brother did not pry. He only cared about the antidote for now. Whatever else Clavis might do later would be handled then.

Chevalier gave a slight smile. The cloudy liquid looked exactly the way his recommended cure would look. “I believe the antidote the doctor made will suffice.”

“I’m impressed, Chev, really. But to be really sure, let’s give her this one too, hm?”

“Indeed.” Chevalier glanced at the bloody carnage around them, the remains of the anti-war faction camp. “I’m leaving the cleanup to you. After all, this was your fault.”

Clavis shrugged as if he did not care one way or another. “Are you sure you want to entrust me with my ‘friends’?”

The unspoken threat was there, threaded in his words. Did Chev trust his brother not to take what remnants were here and turn them into another threat? Chevalier’s lips lifted a little more at the corners, widening his smile. “You can entertain yourself with them if you wish, but keep your hands firmly on the reins.” His smile fell as if it had never been. “If you ever do something like this again, you’re going to get what you deserve.”

His brother laughed as if this was a joke, but his eyes told a different story. He knew that Chevalier knew he’d nudged these malcontents. “I’ll bear that in mind.” Clavis’ smile stayed firmly in place as Chev turned away.

“Seriously though, I can’t believe you didn’t kill a single person here,” Clavis added. “If you let them live, you know it may be more than a rebellion next time.”

“It doesn’t matter if they rebel or not,” Chevalier replied, glancing back. “However, the day you lay a hand on the Belle again is the day you die.” His eyes were ice and his tone colder still.

Clavis did not have a ready quip for that.

Chevalier left, giving Clavis instructions on what to do with the remnants of the anti-war faction. He tried not to hurry obviously as he returned to Emma’s side.

Rio was still there, sitting beside Emma’s bed. His expression was one of pure misery. He looked up as Chevalier came in. “She’s breathing easier.”

The prince nodded and sat at the small table. The room felt crowded, but he did not ask Rio to leave. He could see the unrequited affection in the butler’s eyes, a loyalty beyond friendship or servitude. He wasn’t threatened by it, only reassured that this man would also protect the Belle.

They sat together in silence for awhile. Chevalier took the time to martial his thoughts. Now that she was safe and dosed twice, he could consider how this had happened. It was his fault. Not because of the war, nor because he’d allowed her to accompany him. No. It was his fault for allowing her to become precious. A token, one that could be taken or destroyed, or used in barter. A tool valued only for her connection to him.

The longer he allowed her to stay by his side, the more he gave in to the stirring warmth in his heart, the worse it would be. For her. This would be one of many assassination attempts. But she faced them bravely. She did not give up or give in. She had not panicked or fled. The Belle had a spine of steel and a heart strong enough to match.

He sat, and watched her in silence, ordering his thoughts. He had a decision to make. The quiet was only broken when Emma began to stir. Her breath changed, a new strain entering it. And then her hand moved and her eyes slowly opened.

“What . . . where . . .”

“Emma!” Rio clasped her hand in his. “I’m so sorry. I - I should have -”

“Ngh . . . n-no . . . Rio . . .”

Chevalier could hear the unspoken words, the forgiveness behind them. She was too kind. Entirely too kind.

“Thank you,” Rio murmured. His head bowed.

“What happened,” she rasped.

“Prince Chevalier diagnosed you and came up with a cure. Then he and Clavis went to the anti-war faction camp,” Rio supplied.

“I . . . rem-member . . . Prince . . .” She struggled to sit up, but couldn’t manage.

“It’s ok, Emma,” Rio stroked her hair back from her forehead. “Prince Chevalier went to the anti-war faction. But he didn’t go there for a purge.” The butler glanced toward him for a moment, then looked back at Emma. “In fact, he brought several members of the faction back here.” He smiled. “Everyone was so surprised!”

The Belle’s lips lifted in a smile, radiant despite her weakness.

“He must love you, Emma.” Rio spoke gravely, as if these words were a eulogy. The start of a dirge. It was a strange juxtaposition to the joy in the Belle’s expression.

Chevalier knew the truth of those words, and felt the tone appropriate.

She tried to say something, but her breath rattled in her chest and her eyes fluttered closed.

Rio stroked her forehead gently. “Sorry. I’m talking too much. You’re not back to normal yet. You should sleep.” He smiled and tucked her hand back under the covers. “Let me sing you a lullaby.”

The song was Benitoite. Chevalier knew the butler was more than he seemed, and this only added to that certainty. That was a question to answer later. Whatever the song, it seemed to ease Emma’s breathing, and soon she was sleeping again.

“Why didn’t you join the conversation,” Rio asked him.

“I didn’t feel the need to.” He stood. Now that she was awake, he could go. He could walk away clean. Leave Emma to live her life without interference.

The butler frowned. “I think it’s a mistake not to do that just because you don’t want to bother her.”

Chevalier smirked in response. No matter how well Rio thought he knew her, he clearly didn’t know everything.

“Ahhh,” Rio sighed. “I thought you were the one prince that would never be my rival in love.” He looked down at the sleeping Belle. “But ever since she came to the palace, she’s been talking about you every chance she gets. So even though I hate the thought of it, I came to realize that she loves you.”

The prince felt a sharpness enter his expression.

The butler’s gaze came back to him, ocean blue and earnest. “Prince Chevalier. Could you do me a favor? Would you make Emma happy for the rest of her life?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” His cold blue gaze pierced the butler where he sat.

Rio froze, the response surprising him.

Chevalier frowned. “It never ends well for women who get involved with royalty.” He eyed the butler speculatively. “Seeing as there are eight of us half brothers now, perhaps you have some idea what I’m talking about.”

“But I think she wants to be with you.” Rio resumed stroking her hair gently.

“A temporary delusion.” He turned his head away, unable to look at her there. “Once she leaves the palace, she’ll forget about me.”

Rio made a choked sound. “Are you serious?”

“Does it sound like I’m joking?” When the butler did not reply, Chev added, “Even supposing she doesn’t forget about me, I’m sure I will forget about her.” He knew that was a lie. He thought he could stop loving her. Lock those feelings away behind a wall of ice as thick as it needed to be. But forget? Never. She was inscribed on his mind as surely as any text.

“So you mean to leave it at that, huh?”

Chevalier grunted in response. His mouth did not want to shape the word yes, nor his lungs to breathe sound into it. He left before Rio could push him any further. As he closed the door, he allowed himself one last look at Emma. He would not see her again until the war was over.

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