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its-callum-everybody · 6 months ago

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I CANNOT DRAW. You see chat, I can’t draw, so I need to think of ways to share my TWST oc with the world. So instead of learning how to draw, I’ll be doing it the best way I know how: In Depth Character Analysis!

Part 1 — Basic Character Information / Relationships

Part 2 — Everything to do with her Unique Magic

Part 3 — Lore

Part 4 — Appearance

Part 3 ➤

LORE.

I love it, you probably love it. (At least I would hope so if you’re still reading this.) Lore is what makes up any good storyline. And makes up even better character because all characters have a backstory! Even if it’s something completely rudimentary. Not every backstory has to be completely tragic. But I am inclined to make my OC (Cyrielle) go through the wringer. So that’s what we’re doing!

Lets start off with some explanation about the movie she is inspired from though, shall we?

The Black Cauldron~!

Now, The Black Cauldron is framed around a young boy who dreams of being a hero. But is in charge of taking care of a pig instead. As it turns out, the pig can create visions and The Horned King (the main antagonist) wants that pig so he can find The Black Cauldron.

The Black Cauldron was the prison/death sentence type deal used to rule over the mystical land of Prydain. He was so good at being evil that everyone was scared of him, even the gods. So when they put him in this cauldron it made the cauldron evil. So now whoever finds it can grant themselves a bunch of power by summoning an undead army. The problem is The Cauldron takes up a lot of power and ends up actually consuming The Horned King at the end because it truly can’t be controlled.

So let’s straighten out one thing, which character is Cyrielle based off of???

Taran, the pig keeper and protagonist? No.

Princess Eilonwy? No.

Dallben? No.

The Creeper or Gurgi? Definitely not.

The Horned King? Surprisingly no.

The Black Cauldron and The Emperor Inside of it whom we barely know any past lore of because the movie doesn’t really tell you anything besides how evil he was? DING DING DING! WE HAVE A WINNER!

Now, while the Cauldron played great inspiration in her Unique Magic (check out Part 2 for that grand explanation) Her character isn’t precisely based ON the emperor. No. She plays OFF of him.

Cyrielle, as explained by her upcoming lore, acts as a sort of explanation as to how The Emperor (Teivel, as I named him.) ties into the world of TWST and sort of just how his legacy played out. Granted. She is still connected to him, a fact I will elaborate on later.

But now that we have that explained lets move onto phase one—

World-building!

World building is important here because I somehow have to manage to literally input the entirety of Prydain somewhere in the TWST-verse.

Now we don’t have names of continents per se, we just have the names of Nations which are on those continents and then places in those kingdoms like- you have The Queendom of Roses but inside the Queendom of roses are villages and cities like Clocktown.

Or in the Shaftlands you have characters from Harveston or Fleur City IN THE SHAFTLANDS. So most of characters are only identified by the nations/kingdoms they hails from instead of the villages. No clue how those Nations/Kingdoms are positioned geographically or how they link up.

But from what I can tell from the Wiki and a now inactive blog (thank you @twstarchives, you are my saving grace.)

They do take up entire if not certain sections of a land mass, except for The Coral Sea obviously because that going to be part of a larger ocean instead of land. Like how the North Atlantic Ocean connects to the Caribbean sea.

[ For those wondering the difference between a Sea and Ocean, here’s the summary of a googled answer:

Oceans — Larger, Deeper, more open divisions of earths salt water, typically higher salinity levels.

Seas — Smaller parts of the ocean, located where land & ocean meet, usually partially enclosed by land, shallower, lower levels of Salt.]

So I’m basically throwing darts at a board here. Except I have no idea where anything else is located. So what better idea than to just have it to not exist!

Prydain simply just won’t exist. Also. Another good reason for just not having it exist will be because at the beginning, as she and Crowley are searching for Prydain. It will make it harder to find information and throw them off the trail, red herring style, even though Prydain will still, at one point have existed in TWST wonderland.

And what better a place to put in than the Shaftlands.

“ A large country with a diverse population. Because it's comprised of several different biomes, it's home to a variety of cultures. ”

In the Black Cauldron we see a grand shot between different area. There is a drastic change between the farm at the start, The Forbidden Forest, and the land where The Horned King resides which is sort of like an Alpine Tundra. So given the difference between all there places and the fact the Shaftlands is described as large. I’m gonna say that it’s sort of towards the Northwest as pure North is very snowy according to Jack’s Wish/Birthday card but we don’t see a lot of snow. So Northwest it shall be!

That leaves me with explaining how Prydain became a lost Kingdom. And just as The Black Cauldron was never really a popular Disney film in its time, I’m going to say it worked the same for Prydain. Prydain. may have been well-known, but as time progressed it grew smaller and many of its people branched off to go to different lands or just generally lost itself. So as these people naturally went away from Prydain, along with a bit of land change from the elements over the years. There isn’t much to be noted about the lost kingdom as there wasn’t much left behind from it besides a few legends, records, and buildings. And most documents and writings left behind probably would be unable to be translated. As many of them would many be in a lost common tongue.

So thats taken care of! Onto phase two,

The Legends and Lore!

Now of course, all the villains and hero’s featured in Twisted wonderland some long, long time ago. So that’s the same for all the characters featured in The Black Cauldron. So obviously The tale of Taran, The Horned King, and The Cauldron is well known. And is probably one of the legends that was best kept alive because of how directly it impacted Prydain as a nation.

Still lesser known, but not entirely forgotten!

Which brings us to how The Cauldron, or Teivel, and Cyrielle are related. I mentioned earlier there wasn’t a direct inspiration from the cauldron in her personality. More so in her ability. Now why is that?

Because she’s meant to both reflect and go against him.

I’m adding a legend to Prydain’s catalog:

~ The Princess and The Thief

“ Long ago, in the faraway land of Prydain there was rumored to be a King so cruel, so evil that even the gods feared him. As no prison would hold him, he was thrown alive into a crucible of molten iron. There, his demonic spirit was captured in the form of a great Black Cauldron.

The King had no wives, though his mistresses were many. And with one he had a child. A princess who at the time was but just a babe. But, just in case she had inherited his evil heart, she was cast away into a manor deep within The Forbidden Forest. Through trees so thick and under the canopy so dark not even the bravest soul would dare venture in.

However, no one dared to consider that even a brave soul would not enter, a foolish one certainly would. A young lady, who laid claim to the keep of gold of an ex-nobles by trickery was the first and last of the fools. She took her goods as the good-men chased her down. Ducking into the forest on the whim no one would dare follow. Her whim was correct though it cost her much.

Loosing her gold to the vicious forest she had no chance but to re-treat. The forest forbade it, growing and churning to keep her inside as she ran in endless circles. Until, instead of the end, she came upon a grody manor to which she let herself inside with no hesitance. Wonder her delight when she found that the inside had been far kinder. Orante walls and Avant-Grade Roofs. Imagine her surprise when at the top of the stairs, peering down at her, was the most beautiful girl she had ever seen— ”

I’ll cut the story off there for everyone’s sanity but to summarize the rest The Theif (Named Verity) and The Princess (Named Enora) begrudgingly start to form a friendship to which Verity promises to help Enora escape her fate [to reside in the manor for the rest of her life] because she doesn’t want to live forever in punishment for her fathers crimes. But the son of the Nobleman whom imprisoned Enora in the manor gets word of it and sends one of his best hunters after them.

The girls attempt to navigate the seemingly endless manor through multiple magic rooms but end up having to lock themselves in the clock tower. In one last culmination, they both decide they know what they have to do. Locking themselves in a kiss as the Hunter breaks through the door. Though what he finds on the other side is two girls, clasped in each other’s arms, a sword through both their hearts as their bodies slowly eroded into nothing but blood. Which then began to form a different woman from both their forms, she removes the sword from her chest, kills the hunter. Then leaves. Disappearing nameless into legend.

As you could guess, the woman formed is Cyrielle. Though she had no recollection of these memories herself and memories she does have of her past actually fake (though no one knows that yet).

It’s a generational process of cycle-breaking.

Teival is the one who does the crimes. He does not feel sorry for anyone, and even trapped inside the Cauldron he will remain wicked.

Enora has to pay for them just as he does despite being innocent, having others fear her and her power simply because she was the daughter of a cruel man. All she wants is a life her own. Undecided by fate and fear.

Cyrielle is the one meant to break it. She is the creation of love between Enora and Verity even during their fates, having but one purpose but to do what they couldn’t, break free from fate. Still. Cyrielle is cursed just like Enora was.

She has Teival’s blood running through her veins just as Enora did. Only now it is less, only now is it covered by the spite that came from love. She can bleed out however much she likes but she will always be the granddaughter of Teival until the world decides she is not that, but just Cyrielle.

Teival’s Lamb. It was once the unique Magic Enora had. Now it is Cyrielle’s. The haunting reminder of their own power drags them back to their Father/Grand-father. Anytime they bleed, they can make it into something else, even something used for good. But will always feel evil because they have bled for it. Bled for it because it is his.

So that brings me to phase three;

Why and how is she at NRC?

Cyrielle would appear similar to how MC/Yuu does. Dragged to school by the dark mirror because she is filled with power magical abilities. In fact, given the fact the mirror may be even older than the school itself; my whole basis is that it immediately sensed someone equal to Teival’s power had appeared and immediately sent a carriage to retrieve them.

The problem is, Cyrielle doesn’t remember anything and what she does remember is [unknowingly] fake. Why is that you may ask?

Because The Manor is magic, I mentioned that earlier. Even if Enora had managed to escape there certainly would have been more precautions in place in case she did. One being a spell that made her drowsy, possibly making her forget everything that occurred so it was easier to transport her to somewhere back to the manor or somewhere with higher security.

Then Why is she so young then if this happened such a long time ago? I head you ask

She’s young because of the forest and because she, on some level, was literally created via magic. She wasn’t born, she was crafted. Meaning that she had more control over how she appears because just as the appearance of clay can be morphed so can she. She doesn’t realize this though as she would spend most time after the manor ordeal trying to find a way out of the forest. So long, that it would be modern day by the time she exited. Only to be subdued by magic that made her forget all that struggle.

And now that I’ve answered your questions let’s move into more of Why she’s there, shall we?

Now. The simple reason to the mirror would be ‘Hey. There was just a weird spike in really powerful magic energy. We should probably get that person an invite.’ And it did.

The more lore-complex, my reason, is because it’s a school of villains. The people here embody on some level what Cyrielle is trying to escape from. (Not that she knows that, *cough* amnesia *cough*).

So what better way to have her do that then to have her also make everyone go on a journey of self-exploration with her by pointing out their cruddy flaws and giving them some accidental therapy. Even though it’s hard because ninety-eight percent of the student population all suck.

But she’s going to try her best and, hopefully, by the time its over with she can be recognized not by her grandfather but as her own person, get her memories back, not have an identity crisis, get a really awesome boyfriend (Silver), and save some people from their toxic and dangerous qualities!

#twst roleplay #twst yuu #twst rp #twst wonderland #twsited wonderland #disney twst #twst oc #twst #twisted wonderland original character #twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland #Cyrielle (twst oc)

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dcbbw · 2 years ago

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Praise the Lord (#MBAW)

This story is my late af submission for #Maxwell Beaumont Appreciation Week. If I’ve done this correctly, it covers many of the topics and themes presented to honor everyone’s favorite Beaumont. You’ll hear from the love interests I’ve paired him with; an ex; family; friends; and possibly the Man of the Hour himself; all will share their thoughts, ideas, and perspectives on who Maxwell Beaumont is and what makes him tick.

I borrowed @choicesflashfics’ Week #17 prompt #3: “You can disagree all you want, but that doesn’t make me any less right.” It will appear in bold.

THANK YOU to those who read over snippets of this endeavor; it truly is a labor of love and took a village. Special mention to @ao719 for her suggestions and insight. THANK YOU to all who will read this; your likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated more than you realize.

Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. MS Editor rates this story as 98% error free.

Going with T for TEEN for the rating

Not really pairings, just some Maxwell appreciation

No triggers or warnings

All characters belong to Pixelberry

Song Inspo: Norman Fucking Rockwell, Lana Del Rey

Word Count: 5,085

Duchess Riley Brooks Beaumont (Acquittal AU)

The Duchess of Valtoria enters the room slightly crouched, looking down at her daughter Annabelle; a wide, pleased smile splits her lips as she watches her child toddle without stumbling or falling.

“I did it!” Annabelle crows proudly.

“Yes, you did, my darling,” her mother agrees.

It’s been six months since her husband’s acquittal on charges of treasonous acts against the Crown. The worry lines that had creased her brow are gone; the wariness in her eyes has faded. But she holds her daughter’s hand a little too tightly; she checks the door alarm, and her glance falls too often to the security monitors that have been installed throughout her Great House.

She reluctantly lets go of Annabelle’s hand to allow the child to roam freely throughout the room; the baby runs to play with a stuffed toy collection. It’s a sizable one, taking up nearly a quarter of the area and filled with sea creatures, farm animals, plush dolls, dinosaurs, peacocks, and a life-size, glitter-covered Peppa Pig.

“Her father bought her those,” the Duchess says softly in explanation. “Every piece.” Her eyes cloud over with emotion. “He loves her beyond measure. Belle is an answered prayer for both of us.”

She sits, tossing one shapely leg over the other. “I know no one anticipated Maxwell and I to marry; hell, I don’t think Maxwell and I expected it!” She laughs, a genuine one that tilts her head back. “Our relationship is something neither of us saw coming, which may be the reason it’s so special.”

“Mama, turn around,” Annabelle demands, and her mother looks over to see her daughter making a sequined squid and a bright green peacock dance.

The Duchess claps enthusiastically at the performance before resuming the conversation.

“People ask what I see in him, what he has that a literal King doesn’t. I don’t answer because my choice of a life partner is not and will never be dictated by public opinion or pressure. But in addition to our friendship, Maxwell is a helper. Liam defends me, which is nice and frankly the least he could do since it was his father and head guard behind the scandal.

“Drake could be considered a protector, but his arrival at my door that night in Applewood was sheer luck. But in the midst of the scandal … it was Maxwell. He helped me chase down the reporter, he helped find Tariq. Yes, it was at Liam’s directive, but Maxwell would’ve found a way to help regardless. It’s what he does. Sometimes not well, but that’s neither here nor there.

“During the social season, it was Maxwell who helped me navigate Court. Maxwell was the one who helped clean House Beaumont when the workers didn’t show up, it was Maxwell who came up with the idea of the pretentious description for an ordinary appetizer we pulled together last minute. He helps, and that’s important to me.”

She frowns slightly as she studies her wedding ring.

“He’s forgetful, loyal to a fault to the wrong people, tends to not take certain responsibilities too seriously, and DO NOT get me started on his stress dancing. But his love? His love is magnificent and unwavering and when he bestows it upon you in whatever capacity … it’s forever.”

Her eyes glance at the security monitor before falling upon her daughter who is singing Happy Birthday as she pushes a plastic teacup in front of a Raggedy Ann doll.

“And I wouldn’t have him any other way.”

Riley Brooks Beaumont (ex-wife, UnRomance AU)

Riley Brooks Beaumont enters the restaurant, the hem of her navy dress swirling about her ankles. Her eyes narrow as they adjust to the dim lighting. She makes her way to the table; Maxwell Beaumont’s ex-wife has reached her chair when her head swivels and her eyes widen slightly.

At the next table is a tall Asian man with dark hair and eyes, holding a lunch meeting with what appears to be a client. Spreadsheets, charts, and graphs lay before him, and the low murmur of his voice travels slightly as he explains what the numbers represent.

He looks up; there is no recognition as he locks eyes with Riley briefly before he continues speaking. She’s slightly flustered as she sits, and quickly swallows iced water with lemon. Her eyes, filled with puzzled disbelief, dart to the Asian man before she begins speaking.

“Max and I are still friends, still friendly,” she begins. Her voice is low, her tone nostalgic. “We’re definitely better apart than we ever were together, and it’s no one’s fault.”

A waiter arrives with a glass of wine she didn’t order, and she shakes her head negatively. The water is sufficient.

“We met in Cordonia where we were both backpacking our way through the Mediterranean. We arrived with separate groups, but we ditched them to explore on our own. I never saw those people again.” She chuckles slightly. “Our romance was a whirlwind, much like Max himself. He has an energy … a … restlessness that’s contagious. He sees everything through rose-colored glasses and has an inherent kindness that makes him pretty irresistible. He wants to do right by those he’s closest to, but it’s hard for him to take the necessary actions to do so.”

Her phone pings; with an apologetic look, she picks up the cell and swiftly reads a text message. She sets it face down on the table as she speaks again.

“Not saying that Max is lazy, but he needs pushing and direction at times. He needs focus.

“I need to be the partner, the helpmate, to be able to give up control and let the man lead. But I couldn’t do that with Max; I was the one working, worrying about bills, and running the relationship. I met his needs, he couldn’t meet mine. He was content to let me support his dreams, but not motivated enough to actually work on them.

“I ended up mothering him, and we both resented me for it. Yet for all the accusations and arguments, he didn’t want the divorce; I did.”

The waiter returns, this time with a tray of food. It’s the mahi mahi lunch platter, with rice pilaf and broccoli florets. A look of panicked bewilderment crosses her face; she hasn’t even looked at the menu. Her eyes dart to the next table again; the Asian man is engrossed in conversation between bites of fish and rice pilaf.

“There were good times. Fun times. At our wedding, we delivered our vows via a rap battle. We would get drunk off cheap wine and lay on the rooftop, staring at the stars and making wishes. We danced, and dear God, could he make me laugh! We wanted children, but it never happened for us. Maybe things would’ve been different if it had.” Her voice trails off, and she looks sadly at her plate of food.

“Max and I were what we wanted, but not what we needed. Since our divorce, he’s been focused on his goals and growing up. He’s dating my best friend, which is slightly awkward for me, but she isn’t trying to mold him or control him. Penelope lets Max be, and he thrives best when he can just be. His timetable is different from everyone else’s; he’s always been one to march to his own beat.”

At the next table, the businessman is putting away his paperwork; he stands as he and the client shake hands. He picks up his phone when he sits back down, fingers typing swiftly. Riley’s phone pings again. She glances down, then across at the man who is now signing his receipt.

“I have to go,” she says as she rises from her chair. “Please know that Max is a great guy, he just needs too much support; I couldn’t continue to give it to him.”

Her lunch sits untouched as she walks out the restaurant’s doorway, in step with the man from the next table.

Olivia Nevrakis (Max’s girlfriend, DC AU)

“I can sum Maxwell Beaumont in two words,” Olivia Nevrakis states as she blows over a cup of fragrant tea to cool the liquid. “Perfect peace.”

Her very expression softens as she gazes as a picture of the two of them that sits on a floating shelf. Olivia is facing the camera, her tongue poked out through unpainted lips while flipping the photographer the bird. Maxwell stands behind her, his head dipped downward and his lips pressing into her hair; his face is in profile and shadow.

“I’m a difficult woman; I’m self-sufficient, stubborn, and used to taking care of myself. Max … he doesn’t try to change me. He’s my safe space. I can vent to him, I can laugh with him.” A slight pause; she appears to struggle with her next admission.

“I can be vulnerable with Max. I can cry around him. I can tell him my secrets, my innermost thoughts. Do you know how hard that is for someone as jaded as I am? But with Max, everything is just … easy.

“You know what? We never quarrel. Never. And trust me, I try it. Because he’s a little too good to be true sometimes. But he looks at me with those impossibly blue eyes of his and says, “You can disagree all you want, but that doesn’t make me any less right.” She sips her tea and grimaces at the taste. “Who can argue with that?”

Olivia reaches for a jar of honey and pours some into the cup, followed by cream. She stirs briskly, blending the flavorings into her beverage. An expression of satisfaction settles over her features when she sips again.

“Max is … balanced. That’s the only way to describe it. For all the weed, sex, junk food, and silly dancing … there’s meditation, massages, flowers for no reason, deep conversations, and cuddles. We share the chores and split the bills. We support each other in whatever way we need to. He doesn’t pigeon-hole either of us into roles or societal norms. We’re a team and a team gets in where they fit in.

“Now if I can just get him to curb his generosity when it comes to freely sharing the good green, he would be absolute perfect peace. “

Duke Liam Rys (Max’s fiancé, Laxwell AU)

“Max is my favorite subject; he’s my favorite everything!” The Duke of Valtoria laughs as his cheeks color pink.

“I’ve known him practically my entire life, but it took Drake Walker running away for me to truly see Max, to wonder what he and I could have without losing our friendship. And I want to clarify right now that Max is NOT a rebound! He’s too special, too pure to be anything other than first choice. Hell, only choice!”

Liam looks through his closet, pulling a pair of tan-colored linen pants and tossing them onto his bed. The bed he shares with Lord Maxwell Beaumont. He’s agreed to pick his fiancé up from Ramsford; from there they are headed to Portavira for a seafood dinner with the Ebrims.

“Max is horribly underestimated. Everyone sees the party boy, the slacker, the former fat kid with the jokes. But there is so much more to him than that. He’s in university, working on a double major in economics and digital marketing. His social skills are the envy of Court; he isn’t the best at reading a room, but Max is the best at reading a person. He has not one enemy within Court, and that is a testament to who he is as a person.

“His jokes are his way of covering his insecurities; he’d rather make you laugh than be the butt of laughter. He can keep a confidence. If I had to choose only one of his best qualities, it would be that he doesn’t gossip. Except with me, and even then, it’s on a need-to-know basis.”

A short-sleeved linen shirt the exact color of the pants gets tossed onto the bed as well. The Duke squats as he inspects rows upon rows of shoes.

“He saved me, you know,” Liam whispers, almost to himself. “Max was there at the two lowest points of my life. First Drake, then the assassins. You know how they say when one door closes, another one opens? You just have to get there. Believe me, it is utter hell in the hallways between doors. Max held my hand in the hallways.”

He pulls a pair of cognac-colored fisherman sandals, his eyes narrowed as he studies the contrast in colors. “It’ll work,” he sighs as the shoes join the outfit.

“Max is the yin to my yang. He stops me from being too serious, and overthinking everything. He turns the fear into excitement. Everything with him is an adventure.” The young noble gives a boyish grin. “I need adventures.” The smile falters. “I’m only able to love him because he loved me first. He taught me how to love both of us.”

His cell rings, and his face lights up. It’s Max. With a nod and smile, Liam walks away as he murmurs into the phone. Silence as he listens.

“NO WAY am I bringing ANY of those murderous peacocks with me! I will swim to Portavira first!”

Drake Walker

Drake’s expression is introspective as he takes a long pull from his flask. After a long swallow, he swipes at his mouth with the back of hand as he sets the flask a little too loudly on the wooden tabletop.

“Maxwell Beaumont? So, we’re going there.” Drake rakes shaggy bangs off his forehead as he ponders what he can safely say in appreciation about Lord Beaumont.

He pulls a pack of cigarettes closer to him, his fingers pulling one out of the pack. He digs in his shirt pocket for a lighter. The pad of his thumb scrapes the spark wheel; the small flame briefly illuminates his stubbled jawline before it’s extinguished.

“My relationship with Beaumont is … complex. There’s a lot of moving parts.” He inhales deeply; when he speaks, his words mingle with bluish-gray smoke.

“I’ve been told I’m ungrateful, but what people fail to realize is I’ve been baptized in dirty water. Every break I’ve gotten, every blessing bestowed … it’s come with a price I had no choice but to pay. I don’t owe anyone here anything.”

The Commoner’s hands clench, his jaw tenses. “Beaumont … that bastard KNEW where my sister … the only family I had left in Cordonia … he knew where she was the entire time! I was going fucking INSANE trying to find her. He was there all those times when I was taunted and teased by Olivia as to Sav’s whereabouts. He KNEW where she was when Liam sent security to find her.”

Drake’s voice cracks. “And he never once said a word!”

Silence as he smokes his cigarette, plucking columns of dead cinders into a full ashtray. “Motherfucker,” he mumbles.

“Yet, I don’t hate him. I can’t. For all the bullshit he’s put me through, I can’t help but admire him for his loyalty to and friendship with Savannah. I’m grateful someone had her back and made sure she and Bartie were taken care of.

“And despite our stations in life, Beaumont is the one person I would say gets me. We’re both outsiders, for different reasons of course; we’re the slackers of the bunch …our jobs are being friends with a King, but I’m the one who gets the heat for it. Beaumont gets a pat on the back. And let’s face it, we’re both mooching and sucking at the tit of the Crown.

“The difference is, in exchange, he’ll give them a song and dance and a helluva party. And I give him crap for it. Me … I give ‘em the finger, and he defends me for it.”

Drake scoffs before shrugging his shoulders. “How can someone have your back and still stab you in it? I mean, what are you supposed to do with a guy like that? ”

He shakes his head before barking out a wry laugh. “I swear to God, me and Beaumont are a couple of half-assed orphans … we aren’t complete orphans because as much as they don’t have anything to do with us, we each have a surviving parent … and we’re just walking each other home.”

He pulls at the flask again. “It’s nice walking with him. Sometimes.”

Bertrand Beaumont

“The one question I am constantly asked is if Maxwell and I are really related. The unfortunate answer is yes,” the Duke of Ramsford says slowly as his eyes read over treaties and agreements. “We are blood brothers. Literally.”

Bertrand pauses to sign and seal an arrangement between the Duchy of Ramsford and the Isle of Crete for the import and export of wines between them. He places it in a stack of papers to be couriered to the Palace for final review and approval by the King.

“We have both suffered the consequences and effects of having Barthelemy Beaumont for a parent, but Maxwell definitely received the brunt of it. Nothing he did was ever good enough because in father’s eyes, Maxwell wasn’t good enough. As the second-born, father had little use for Maxwell, so he grew up with mother as his primary parent.

“I believe that is where my brother learned and honed his humor skills, and how he is able to see the potential and not the worst-case scenarios.” A small smile plays upon the noble’s lips. “Perhaps his fear of missing out as well. I believe people call it FOMO.”

Bertrand’s eyes mist over ever so slightly, and his voice takes on a faraway tone. “Maxwell was determined to spend every available minute with mother. He would awaken before the sun rose and sit outside our parents’ bedroom door, waiting for mother to step out. As a toddler, he rarely used the bathroom for fear of being parted from her; he once went 17 hours without relieving himself.

“He and mother would go for walks, they read to each other, they danced. From courtly waltzes to disco to American pop and rap … they danced and laughed and shared inside jokes. However, for as much as Maxwell loved mother, he was never a mama’s boy. He’s always had a bit of a rebellious streak that came to the forefront with her death.”

He glances at the vintage timepiece that sits on his desk, then returns his attention to another agreement. “I admit I haven’t been the best sibling to my brother, and that our relationship isn’t always the best it can be. It’s a clash of personalities, but the difference is, unlike father, I’m learning to listen to and attempt to understand Maxwell. All while struggling with my own FOMO.

“He had mother, who encouraged his dreams. I had father, who killed mine.”

The Duke’s lips purse in disapproval as he reads over another trade agreement. “I definitely got the worst end of that bargain.”

Duchess Savannah Walker-Beaumont

The Duchess stands in her kitchen, her hands and forearms deep in a mixture of raw meat, eggs, onions, peppers, and breadcrumbs; a whining Bartie tugs impatiently at her pant leg.

“Drake’s coming over for dinner, so we’re eating American tonight. Mom’s meatloaf,” she offers in explanation.

Savannah glances down at her son as her hands knead and combine the ingredients in an Amish Farmer bowl. “Mama’s gonna make you some lunch real soon, okay?”

The child nods slowly as his eyes dart suspiciously between his mother’s face and the bowl.

A soft smile curves Savannah’s lips as she speaks. “Max? I love Max. Not in the way I love his brother, but I definitely don’t love Max as a brother. It’s more than that, but not like that.” She laughs in embarrassment. “Quite sure that made absolutely no sense at all, but it’s hard to verbalize what Maxwell means to me.

“You know, growing up in the Palace, surrounded by Court, it’s easy to blend in. Get lost. I was lost. Court didn’t know who I was. I was never Jackson’s daughter; merely Drake’s little sister. The guy who hated their guts was more well-known and well-liked than the person who actually wanted to be there!

“I was one of three things: an oversight, an annoyance, a joke. I had two friends at Court: Maxwell and Kiara. We were the misfits. They were the only ones who knew about me and Bertrand. When I got pregnant and Bertrand pushed me away, they were the ones who helped me plan to run away to Paris. Kiara gave me French lessons, not only speaking it but reading it as well. Max arranged for the travel and helped me find lodging.

“I know lots of folks think I just mooched off Max the entire pregnancy, but I landed a job quickly when I settled in Paris. I was a waitress, just like Riley, until I couldn’t work any longer. THAT is when Max stepped in with offerings of the financial kind. He insisted that Bert owed me and Bartie. I didn’t feel right taking the help, not with Bertrand not knowing, but Max insisted, saying a Beaumont always takes care of their obligations.”

She wipes and washes her hands before reaching inside the refrigerator for barbecue sauce and minced garlic. The mother looks quickly over at her son, who is now loudly banging pots against the floor. Savannah studies the contents of the fridge before pulling leftover chicken, peas, and sweet potato out for Bartie’s lunch.

“I never wanted to be a burden or have Bartie viewed as an obligation, but Lord knows the extra money was a godsend.” Her voice grows quiet. “Max is my guardian angel, even now. Drake has Liam, I have Max.”

The Duchess scoops her son in one arm, and the pot with her free hand; she places the pot on an eye of the stove before pointing to the leftovers, explaining to her son that will be lunch. He grins happily before planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She laughs as she rubs noses with him.

“You wanna call Uncle Max and invite him over for meatloaf?”

Barite nods enthusiastically. “Unca Mack, Unca Mack,” he chants.

She opens a box of animal crackers, handing Bartie one before they leave the room to fetch her cellphone.

Riam

“Oooooh, we’re talking about Maxwell?” the Queen asks eagerly as she joins her husband on the drawing room sofa.

Their three-month-old twin sons are napping, and the monarchs are enjoying a quick lunch during the downtime. Plates of food are strategically scattered along the cherrywood coffee table; the King picks up a plate with a double lamb burger laden with mayonnaise, gouda cheese, grilled onions, and mushrooms; French fries; and a sliced kosher dill pickle.

The Queen chews on a deep-fried, corn-battered chicken fritter before selecting a taco salad. She mixes rice, guacamole, beans, ground beef, and seasoned rice as she speaks.

“THAT mofo! Let me tell y’all about Lord Beaumont. The man can’t tell the whole truth to SAVE.HIS.LIFE! He’s been half-assing it with me from the very beginning! It started when he convinced me to come to Cordonia. Pack a bag, he said. Everything is covered, he said. It’ll be an adventure, he said.”

She pauses to eat several forkfuls of salad and steal some of her husband’s fries. “It was not ANYTHING he said it would be! I wasn’t noble, so I didn’t know a damned thing! Apparently Maxwell didn’t either, so thank GOD for Hana Lee! I didn’t have ball gowns and riding outfits, or the money to buy them! And let me add that suitors did not get a participation discount! I maxed out all my credit cards paying full price, which wasn’t hard because of the stupidly low limits on them.

“I ALMOST GOT KILLED ON MY WEDDING NIGHT! But, to give Max credit, dude can FIGHT! Like, he kicks ass! He beat Anton like that man owed him money. But back to bashing … that fool writes MY STORY, puts HIS picture on the cover of the book, and now he’s GETTING RICH off of me! While I’m sitting over here, a broke single mother with a poor credit score.”

She shakes her head. “I should take his ass to court and sue the pants off him because he owes me ALLLL the royalties, but I’ve heard rumors about him releasing his kraken. Liam wouldn’t want me to see that.”

King Liam stares at his wife for a brief moment; she has abandoned the taco salad for a plate of sliced grilled chicken, garlic pasta, and broccoli au gratin. He dabs at the corners of his mouth before talking.

“My wife is correct, I would not want her seeing any kracken, but I think Riley doesn’t have the complete picture of Lord Maxwell. He is sweet, kind, empathetic. He believes in fairytales and that no one is too old for them. Yes, he’s forgetful and excitable and can be a bit of a jester, but it all comes from a good place. He has good intentions.”

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” Riley interrupts around a mouthful of food. “And where was all this positivity when he dragged us along on his Hollywood tour?”

Liam mulls his answer as he pours a glass of iced tea.

“Maxwell is unused to attention. Once his mother died, he became an afterthought to his father, brother, and the majority of Court. Hierarchy plays a large role in how people are treated, especially within the upper echelons of society; Lord Maxwell is merely noble, not royal. He is second-born, not expected to ascend any higher than his current station.

“Also, he’s used to not being in the spotlight. Any questions directed to him can be fielded to Bertrand, the Duke. His biggest claim to fame before the book and film was being the architect of the Beaumont Bash and even that has to have final approval from Bertrand.

“Now, he’s the man of the hour. He’s the one with the answers. He’s the final approver. Understandably, it went to his head.”

“Are you defending him?” the Queen demanded. “When I am the reason anyone even knows his name? Who’s going to pay off those credit cards? HE OWES ME, Liam!”

“Riley, all your financial affairs were settled upon our engagement … three years ago!”

“Not by him, they weren’t!”

“Is this about your credit score, or settling a score with Lord Beaumont?”

The Queen’s eyes are narrow slits. “You don’t know me. At ALL.”

Lady Kiara Theron

“Agreeing to be Maxwells girlfriend is definitely a tally in the win column for me,” Lady Kiara Theron says happily as she steps onto the balcony of the Midtown Manhattan hotel.

The future Duchess is in New York City for a UN Junior Ambassadors event.

“He has taught me so much about letting loose and having fun. Before Max, life was all work and studies and culture. It was routine. But now, there’s freestyle dancing and late-night rides to nowhere and roller skating and all the things.

“There is a trade-off because we both believe in learning and teaching and growing. So, there are lessons and educational activities, but fun ones: cooking, languages, painting. Life with Maxwell Beaumont is something I never knew I needed, and I wonder what I ever did before him.”

The smile fades slowly from her face as she takes in the view from the 33rd floor, and her expression becomes pensive.

“When I think of all the time I spent pining after Drake Walker …”

She shakes her head. “I think that’s something Max and I have in common. We were never seen by the folks we crushed on because we weren’t seen as threats. And I don’t mean in a dangerous, risky type of way.” She falls silent as she formulates her thoughts into words.

“Drake didn’t see me as someone who could capture his heart; I wasn’t romance material, not relationship material to him. I mean, I don’t know why … look at me!”

She spreads her arms wide and gives a little twirl, her hair flying against her face as she giggles.

“Same with Riley and Max. And when you aren’t perceived as a threat, you’re never seen as a contender.

“It makes sense now given who they eventually ended up with. Drake needs someone who’s going to meet him at his level. I can’t do that. If the best version of Kiara has to show up, the best version of you does too. Not the best you can do, the best version period.

“Riley wants the huge romantic overtures; the glitz and the glamour. Max isn’t an overt person in that way. One thing I’ve learned being with Maxwell is that love isn’t always butterflies and heart palpitations. It isn’t always loud. It’s small gestures and meaningful actions. I’ve discovered that like love finds like love.”

The smile is back on her lips and lights up her face. “Max and I found each other. What I love best about him is that he loves me, he loves himself, but he loves us the most.”

The hotel phone rings, and Kiara hurries inside to answer it. The conversation is quick and one-sided. After hanging up, she rummages in her purse for her wallet before pulling out currency.

“The greatest thing about being in a relationship with Max is, he insists we take time for self-care. One day a week, we spend apart doing whatever it is we need to do for ourselves. Be it errands, business-related matters, or just vegging out. It’s our day.

“Well, today is that day and I’m going to enjoy genuine New York pizza and watch that Netflix series he insists we watch together because my boyfriend is greedy and without fail, talks through movies and tv shows. Sometimes, no matter how deeply you love someone, you just need a whole pizza to yourself and uninterrupted entertainment.

“Don’t tell him that, though. He’ll get over the pizza, but not the Netflix.”

Maxwell Beaumont

“Folks are TALKING about me?? Is it bad? If it is, you can’t believe a word they say! Will it be in the tabloids? Are there pictures? Did they get my good side? I hope so.”

Tagging: @jared2612 @ao719 @marietrinmimi @queenjilian @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @liamrhysstalker2020 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @jovialyouthmusic @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @queenrileyrose @alj4890 @yourfavaquarius111 @motorcitymademadame @queenmiarys @choicesficwriterscreations @burnsoslow @harleybeaumont @maxwell-beaumont-appreciation

#dcbbw writes #about maxwell beaumont #maxwell beaumont appreciation #mbaw #trh fanfiction #writer on tumblr #writeblr

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strideofpride · 1 year ago

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My final Greys character ranking (only mains s1-8):

1. Bailey - Eldest Daughter Coded Character of all time. If you don’t like her, I literally cannot trust you

2. Addison - “and you must be the woman who’s been screwing my husband” enough said

3. Izzie - has done nothing wrong ever in her entire life

4. Arizona - once again my love of blondes has humbled me

5. Teddy - sad I never got to see the alleged “bisexual socialist” side but also putting her with Owen is a hate crime so I will not go looking

6. Callie - okay but she actually has truly never done anything wrong ever in her entire life. Her literal worst crime was allowing herself to be dommed by George

7. Cristina - would I enjoy her if Sandra Oh wasn’t giving the performance of all time? Doesn’t matter cause she really did that. Should’ve been a lesbian and gay for Teddy

8. Lexie - she’s cute. Making her pine after Mark in season 8 is a hate crime

9. Meredith - girl.

10. April - don’t think I really got enough of her to understand her appeal tbh

11. Hahn - she was there for a hot sec idk. Should probably be lower but I refuse to rank a man above any of the women

12. Jackson - he’s just Jackson

13. Webber - he made it this high solely for his mentorship of Bailey & being Meredith’s surrogate daddy tbh

14. George - labor rights king. Stole all of Cristina’s boyfriends without trying so you can’t help but be a little fond of him

15. Burke - sue me. Dancing with Cristina in the kitchen was cute

16. Mark - I liked him mostly except s3 and when he was chasing after Lexie “get a job, stay away from her” etc.

17. Owen - pig murders aside I actually liked him til he went all pro life on Cristina

18. Derek - emotional terrorist. I’m glad he dies and Meredith gets freed to go live her hot milf era

19. Alex - “evil spawn” enough said

#meant to do this and then i forgot lol #s watches greys

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noblehcart · 1 year ago

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i know i know no one really cares, but like for all the hype Journ.ey to Bethle.hem is getting for their songs and for Milo and the fun campy-ness....can we PLEASE just talk about Joel Sm.allbone as Antipater??

Like, while it sooo wasn't necessary to the plot, it was so gripping to me? IDK I just really attached to his character most because I love the complexity of the role. Trying to be a good son, soldier, and learning to be a future (roman-jewish) ruler whilst keeping in mind the looming beast above them that is the fuckin Roman Empire. What is the line to upholding the legitimacy of his /father's reign, following the orders of a higher order (Rome/God) and what is just plain wrong- like murdering pregnant women and infants in the face of all that? Antipater deals with a lot and I just loved seeing his internal conflict in his song 'In My Blood'.

Never been anything But your loyal son Been a good soldier Followed your orders Never questioning you once You're all I wanted to be But now it's all unraveling There's blood on my hands Don't know if I am A monster or the son of a king

I truly feel like Mary and Antipater were the only ones actually played as a serious role for obvious reasons and I think were the best actors tbh, but IDK I just really loved these two. They had phenomenal chemistry imo, but that's me because I wanted so badly to see this extended in some form or another and maybe because in so many ways it didn't feel like a christian movie so my brain kept thinking what's the next in the series? What's next for Antipater? Which in of itself is conflicting as a believer because I know what I believe and to feel unsatisfied with it is ....-gestures- anyways that's not what this is about.

I do know I have a TYPE and it is Antipater, but I do think Joel did wonderfully in the role, and he has acted in other movies as well and had his music featured in other movies like Ben Hur (2016). He is a fantastic singer I just loooove his group 'For King and Country'. Go check out THIS music video and tell me its not gripping.

I guess my other thing about this is KNOWING that the writers fully well knew what happened to the actual Antipater, firstborn to Herod, and so to tie this in just WRECKED me emotionally because it unsayingly says that he dies in the end and the resignation just destroyed me. Historically, Antipater is charged & executed for the intended murder of his father Herod. I found this section in Wikipedia and wow

Concerning Antipater's execution following on the heel of Herod's executions a couple of years before of his sons Alexander and Aristobulus, it would be recounted in the compendium Saturnalia (compiled by Macrobius) that Augustus remarked "It is better to be Herod's pig than his son."

So for me knowing all that on top of watching (skimming) the movie just wrecked me for Antipater and his role here. So yeah that's my two cents and love for the character and his storyline in the film. I'd love to write something fictional with a similar tone because I really want to see it explored more.

I don't think I have said it anywhere before on the blog, but I am a non-denominational Christian with very open views to many things, beliefs and concepts. So if anyone has any questions on whatever regarding that please feel free to hmu I'd love to discuss it with you <3 I do not believe in bible thumping- that is not what I'm here to do. I believe there's many ways to God and the universe and that we're all entitled to find and discover that in whatever manner is best fitting for you.

#// ooc

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100and1fics · 1 year ago

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(002/101)

Part 1 of 2. Dean/Cas, set post-4x11. Inspired by the premise of an older Destiel fic (which I would link to but it's been taken off AO3; I feel like the references are fairly obvious, but who knows). CW consent issues.

The second time he wakes from now-in-technicolor nightmares of Hell to find Cas sitting on his bed, it’s 3 in the afternoon.

After Angels vs. Demons: Kaiju Battle, he and Sam had been slinging back jobs like it was a sweaty summer night, and it’d been working. Keeping him too tired to even dream. But then Sam had started bugging him again, asking if he wanted to talk about it. No. Telling him he should talk about it, that he’d feel better if—still no. The dreams came back, no matter how long he stayed awake. His head hit the pillow and every every was there in the dark: underneath fingernails, behind eyeballs, between each of his ribs, shuddering flesh beneath hands, skin trembling against his teeth. Even when the sun was shining down from on high.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas.” He sits up, rubs sleep from his eyes. Cas doesn’t move a muscle.

Since the mess a few weeks ago, he’d wondered if Cas was gonna come back at all. 1-800-HEAVEN, the number you have dialed is no longer in service. But he’s glad to see him. Kind of wary. That’s just how it goes with Cas, the confusingly sort-of-attractive tax accountant who could kill him with a wave of his fingers. Still, he hadn’t seemed to enjoy being on CSI: Angel Murder Squad. “I haven’t seen Anna, if that’s what you want to know.”

“We’re searching for her, but other priorities are more important now.”

“Great. You found another seal?”

“It’s being handled,” Cas says, and then abruptly changes the subject: “You haven’t been sleeping well.”

Does the Pope shit in the woods. “Since when does Heaven care about my sleep schedule?”

“Sleep is important for humans,” Cas continues, “and we need you to be battle ready.”

His jaw clicks. “I am ready. You got a battle for me right now? No? Then a little afternoon nap won’t hurt anyone.”

“That’s not—” Cas starts, then stops. He shifts, moving closer, until he’s right next to Dean on the bed. Anybody else, the way Cas doesn’t stop staring at him, Dean would think it was a come on. Except the whole warrior for God thing. “Heaven told me… they want…” He’s never seen Cas grapple for words this much. Angels are decisive, righteous, ruthless; Cas is hesitating. Finally, he ends with, “We want you to be less troubled by your dreams.”

Nonchalance, a shrug and “What dreams?” But Cas doesn’t roll his eyes like Sam, or sigh with impatience like Bobby. Cas just stares right through him with those cold blues. “I’m fine, okay?”

“You aren’t fine. You spent years in the depths of Hell, and any soul would be—”

“Yeah, I’m not talking about that.” Dean’s off the bed and crouched down next to his bag. It’s half full with his crap: the jeans with the tibia-length tear down the side, his two gutting knives, King’s The Colorado Kid. He really should start packing. Sam might be back soon.

Cas’s baritone rumbles from behind. “It wasn’t your fault.” That makes Dean grab one of his shirts and throw it in with too much force. Doesn't help. “My squadron was tasking with reaching you, and if we had truly know what what you were facing, with Alastair—”

“Guess hindsight’s a bitch, huh?”

Some boxers, a towel. Probably the motel’s. Whatever. A flask of holy water, almost empty. Dad’s journal; his usual comfort read. He’d been flipping through before his nap, checking again if there was anything more on the Apocalypse, wishing there was something, knowing there wasn’t.

Cas’s hand was firm, insistent, on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

Anna had said angels were frozen, obedient statues. No chocolate cake, no forgiveness, no sex. They could feel like pigs could fly or fish could tap dance. But Cas sounds so goddamn sincere, his heart is beating double-time.

“What, you want me to say thanks for trying?” Now he’s the one invading Cas’s personal space. Cas doesn’t blink. “Make you feel better about failing?”

“We didn’t fail. I rescued you. But I…” That hesitation again. Then Cas moves even closer, until they’re practically breathing each other’s air. Dean can see the beginnings of crows feet around his eyes. Angels still got wrinkles, who would’ve guessed. “I can’t change what happened. But I can give you what you want.”

And then Cas kisses him.

Hands down the weirdest kiss of Dean’s life, and that’s counting—Cas doesn’t know to move his lips, or what to do with his tongue, and when Dean draws back, Cas’s eyes are open.

“What the hell,” Dean says.

Cas says: “We should have sex.”

Cas grabs at him as Dean’s heads try to catch up to what’s happening. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it. Lots of people he’d want to fuck but never get to. Anna Nicole Smith. Belladonna. Mr. Petrov from his second school of junior year (Silverpark Wolves, let’s howl!), somehow both a history nerd and the hottest teacher he ever had. But imagining was just imagining. Half of it with Cas was the adrenaline, looking over a cliff’s edge and the warm pull in the pit of his stomach, that voice saying, jump, baby.

“But angels can’t have sex,” he says as they land together on the bed. It squeals in protest.

“Circumstances have changed,” like that’s supposed to make sense, but Cas has stopped trying to lead. They’re awkwardly straddling, legs tangled up, with Cas hovering above him and a little lost look on his face. He keeps glancing down at Dean’s lips but doesn’t move to kiss him again. It’s like seeing human eyes in one of those museum marble statues; humanity where it shouldn’t be.

He’ll only live twice. He might not know angels, but he does know this.

Dean puts his hand on Cas’s cheek. Cas’s eyes widen, but after a moment he softens into Dean’s touch. “You sure?” Dean asks, waits for Cas’s nod, then shifts up to kiss him again, gentle.

If Cas was breaking the rules here, it wasn’t like Dean was going to smooch and tell. It'd been sliced apple sweet, getting back in the saddle with Anna, but he didn't think Cas wanted to jump straight to the Kentucky Derby. They'd go slow. Easy. He takes charge, and if there wasn't something nostalgic about a long breathy make-out session. Cas learns quick and Dean is 16 again, rewound half a century, taking Emily Smith’s first kiss at Owl Creek Point and the warm black blood under his fingernails disappearing as he runs his hands over soft tan skin, wet lip-gloss mouth giggling against his, and Cas is kissing him so earnestly, lips open now but still a little rough. Off comes Cas’s old man raincoat, his suit jacket, and then Cas wants to take off his shirts, until they’re both skin against skin. Dean trails his hand down Cas’s chest, and Cas shudders beneath him. No flushed cheeks, no heavy breathing, but no mistaking the curve ball he’s starting to pitch. “Dean,” Cas whispers. “I…” Dean grinds down and Cas groans low. They’re hidden in the back row of a movie theater, heavy petting through explosions and car chases, and there’s no such thing as werewolves or bone saws or the Apocalypse or Hell. When Cas moves his hips, mimicking Dean almost exactly, Dean gasps softly into his neck, and then hands grab his ass and twist and he's back against the bed. Cas fumbles with Dean’s belt until Dean helps, shimmying out of his jeans as Cas undoes his own, and it’s then that something falls out of the pocket.

A gold wedding band.

Cas picks it up and without looking drops it off the side of the bed.

Shit. Dean had forgotten. Hadn’t even thought about the guy at all. Was he a newly wed? Did he have kids? Must’ve been one awkward conversation: Pardon me, ma’am, but I need to tell you your husband’s been touched by an angel.

“Cas,” he says, but Cas doesn’t hear him. “Hey, Cas!”

“Yes?”

“We gotta stop.”

Cas tilts his head. “Why?”

Dean gestures at Cas’s body. “The guy you’re—possessing.”

“Jimmy isn’t aware of anything I’ve done,” Cas replies. “So he won’t be aware of this.”

“Uh, but I will. You will. What, you think he'd be down for an angelic three-way?"

“Why does it matter?”

Through the haze, alarms start going off. “Because I’m not gonna make a guy catch when he doesn’t even know he’s playing the game! Look, I don’t like stopping just when we were getting to the good part, but I won't." Not—again.

Cas is frowning. “But you said yes. You want this.”

“And I’m saying no now.” Dean goes to move up, push Cas off, and hits a godblessed brick wall. His second try’s not any better, and makes Cas grab at his wrists. Pin them to the bed.

“Do we need to fight?”

“Oh, if you don’t get off me, we’re not just gonna fight, I’m gonna kick your ass!” But his anger’s more a whisper than a shout. He just hasn’t gotten his breath back yet.

“You can’t hurt me, Dean.” There’s no threat, no malice, no glee in Cas’s voice; just the facts.

He struggles again but it doesn’t do shit against Cas’s inhuman weight, and his dick’s picked the perfect time to betray him, still flying half-mast. Frustration sets his eyes stinging. “You better believe I can try.”

“I believe you would.”

Dean glares. For seconds that stretch decades he thinks Cas isn’t gonna let him go, or try to kiss him again, or—then the pressure’s gone, and Cas is halfway across the room.

“I… I’ve misunderstood,” Cas says. He’s dressed again, all buttoned up in his shirt and suit and that laughable coat. As if nothing had even happened.

“You think?” Dean rubs at his wrists.

“I’ve upset you. I thought…”

“You thought wrong!” He swallows and his throat’s full of razors. Crappy dry air motels. “When you find another seal, you let me and Sam know, but if you ever touch me again, you’ll regret it.”

Cas says nothing. Doesn’t even look at him. Then he’s gone in a whoosh of air, and Dean’s all alone.

#002

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thepnwvarmints · 2 years ago

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12 Random Facts About Yours Truly

*Sidenote: Rather than answer the 4 asks that are each asking for 3 random facts, four times… I’mma doin’ it this way. Lol! I’ll tag the three of you who weren’t on anon, then just link the anon to this. It got kinda long, so I'mma put it under a "Keep Reading" thing. 🥰

If y'all wanna know more about me, just ask. I'm an open book. Lol! Thank you for the asks @e-dubbc11 ; @ilovewhiteroses and @galacticstar <333

I love all animals and have had MULTIPLE different kinds of pets over the years. To date, I have had the following: 1 quarter horse, 1 king snake, 7 cockatiels, 2 rats, 4 hamsters, 2 guinea pigs, uncountable fish that included large oscars, catfish, guppies, angel fish, goldfish, rainbow fish, and swordtails, 1 conure parrot, 1 budgie, 13 cats, 5 dogs, and 2 guinea pigs. And that is not including the other animals we've had over the years that belonged to my aunt, my birth mother, or my grandparents, nor does it include the multiple wild animals that I fed or cared for over the years that we had feeders for or got food for, such as the squirrels, chickadees, hummingbirds, crows, blue jays, steller jays, deer, baby raccoons, towhees, juncos, bush tits, chickens, rabbits, and geese. I will never hunt and kill animals. I may eat meat, but I'm not a trapper/hunter.

I have a southern accent even though I grew up in Oregon. It never faded and my kids still pick on me for it. Lol! I was raised by my grandma who had a very thick accent. Hers was more of a combo from Arizona, Oklahoma, and Missouri, but she also grew up in Georgia as a kid. She raised me up until I was thirteen. After that, I got a horse, and my best-friends (that I was in 4-H with at the time) had moved here from Texas and Arkansas. We hung out daily and they also had southern accents. It wasn't until after I was about 17 years old that I stopped hangin' out with people that had a similar accent to my own, thus mine just sorta stuck. Neither of my kids have an accent, but Alyx does tend to sound more southern when he's super excited or angry. Then it really comes out. Lol!

I used to own a ‘68 Barracuda that I still miss to this day. It purred like a kitten (more like a Harley), had a brand new, metallic-blue paint job, electric white-leather seats, a Hurst Ratchet shifter, brand new transmission and only 15k miles on the engine. She was a thing of beauty, but my ex messed with the wiring so bad that it was irreparable. Not even the best mechanic was able to fix her without completely redoing the entire damn wiring. Too expensive so I ended up selling it to help a friend pay rent.

I have hazel colored eyes and they tend to get that tiger-eye effect. Depending on what I wear, they often reflect the color. I’ve had people tell me my eyes looked crystal blue before and then brown the next day. Lol! It’s weird, but they’re normally hazel.

Ummm… Oh! I just got a new mattress! Lol! How’s that for random? 😂

I can play a little piano and guitar, but mostly just play by ear. I haven’t played in ages, though. My kids are also very musically inclined and both play guitar and piano.

Uhhh, I have a Tardis Lamp in my bedroom! Lol! Dr. Who rocks.

I attempted to runaway when I was four years old. I went into the backyard and built a snow fort, deciding that I was going to live there from that point on. Lol! Somehow, I thought I could hide in the backyard, sneak in and get food when everyone was asleep, and no one would ever find me. Needless to say, they found me within a half hour. XDDD

My old roommate and I took my kids to Disneyland for the first time in 2018 before Covid was a thing. My ultimate goal was to ride Splash Mountain since it was shut down when I was a kid. However, when we got there, it was shut down again for renovations. So I told my kids, at some point, we HAVE to go back just so we can all ride that thing that's plagued me since I was twelve. However, I just heard on the radio a week ago, that they have permanently shut down Splash Mountain. Noooo! Lol! My twelve-year-old self is heartbroken. Apparently, it wasn't meant to be. XD

I have lived at the beach four times, practically grew up on the pacific coast half the time, and am planning to move back there next Spring with my daughter.

I have been skinny dipping with a large group of friends up at Cougar Hot Springs on more than one occasion. Lol! The largest group was about 14 of us. Smaller group was about 5 or so.

I have been in relationships with cis-het men, bi women, cis-het closeted/bi-curious women, mtf trans women, bi-men, poly-bi men, and poly lesbians. All beautiful, all having a major impact on my life, and all shaping who I am to this day. None of which I ever cheated on, nor would I. I'm a loyal ass motherfucker. When I'm wish someone, I am all in. No regrets. ❤️

#asks answered #4 asks - 1 reply #LOL!#Figured this would be easier. XD #random facts about yours truly #ruflirtingwithme

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cantstandtherainaar · 3 months ago

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I Can’t Stand the Rain: A Crusader Kings III Game of Thrones AAR

Chapter 1: Rain falls on the just and the unjust

The A Song of Ice and Fire series can be a depressing one, at times. Beloved characters die, or if they’re lucky, they just watch other beloved characters die. Protagonists are tortured, mentally and physically; maimed, mentally and physically; and called mean names pretty much all the time.

All of that sounds just about right to our unlikely hero inhabiting this world, as modeled in the video game Crusader Kings 3. Heroine, to be specific; Lady Dolores Tristissimus. Her name describes her well - this woman hates living in A Song of Ice and Fire. Every day, if she could put a name to it, she’d pray at the sept to wake up and be in Narnia, or Middle Earth, or even something less prestigious like whatever the name of the world was in Eragon - anywhere where things happened for a reason, where deaths were tragic but meaningful, and where you could rest assured that plucky heroes under 5’3” would be around to save the day so long as you were willing to give them a rousing speech about destiny and duty before sitting back next to your fire and waiting for the armies of the enemy to go fleeing past your door after their narrative comeuppance.

Not A Song of Ice and Fire. Dolores heard that one time, a dude died sitting on the toilet. Like, a pretty important character, too.

It'd be enough to make anyone depressed. Or, excuse me, melancholic.

Today, I’m starting a playthrough of Crusader Kings III; specifically, the A Game of Thrones mod, by multiple collaborators, available on the Steam Workshop. This mod attempts to recreate, as faithfully as possible, the world of A Song of Ice and Fire inside Crusader Kings III (CK3, henceforth, so I don’t have to type all of those I’s every time). It includes “historical” figures like the Blackfyres, a load of Targaryens with improbable names, and even landless adventurers like Ser Duncan the Tall, whose coat of arms has been as lovingly recreated as Maelys I Blackfyre’s second non-functional head. More interesting to me, it has recreated the world of ASOIAF at the exact moment of Robert Baratheon’s victory over Aerys II Targaryen. The end of Robert’s Rebellion sees a united Seven Kingdoms facing few external threats, though Balon Greyjoy might decide any day to do something truly idiotic like declare his independence long after the massive civil war has run its course.

There might be an opportunity for someone to make some big moves in this otherwise quiet period in Westerosi history. If she can get around to it.

Dolores of house Tristissimus doesn’t have a lot going for her, and it’s getting her down. To start with, she’s the lady of a backwater county whose capital is called The Weeping Town. That might just be because the mountains and forests further inland perform the opposite effect of creating a rainshadow for her muddy domain, but it certainly doesn’t inspire hope.

She’s also depressed. Genetically predisposed, even, according to the game, so that her future children are likely to inherit her exact type of depression. Plus side - life of relative luxury from having a noble mom (meaning the pigs sleep in a different part of your house). Downside - your mom was so depressed, it’s STILL affecting your stats, not to mention your fertility.

Her personality has suffered as a result. I don’t want to be ableist, but it can be hard to be sympathetic to someone’s depression when they’re also a pathological liar - and her peers are all set to despise her for it. -20 opinion is a LOT. It’s absolutely capable of being the difference between “but she’s my rightful liege” and “sure, I’ll poison her pigeon pie.”

Good thing for her that she’s patient, then. She won’t be getting a lot done to start with, with this base of resources. But she can make plans. And plan she will, because she’s ambitious. And disloyal. And, for good measure, smart, but not too smart; pretty, but not too pretty.

So here we are. Dolores is set to rule. She may hate The Weeping Town. She might hate her idiot ruler, Lord Michael. She may resent that all of the Stormlands are being ruled by the child Renly Baratheon. But if there’s one thing that’s certain, it’s that if A Song of Ice and Fire is going to take her down, she’s going to burn down as much of the kingdom around her as possible.

Enter Dolores.

We are immediately presented with some options for a backstory. Our high intrigue stat has unlocked the option that we got to our current place of power through blackmailing our lord into elevating as a noble, at the cost of hatred from the world at large for being an up-jumped thug. Naturally, I jump at the chance - I feel Dolores despising those who would hate her for doing what was in her best interests already. I also am offered the chance to have a friend and a lover. I naturally jump at the chance to start the game with a gay paramour. Her auto-generated name is Amber, and she is the queen of my heart <3.

Oh, shit. Because of my blackmailing background, we have a “strong hook” on our liege. This is POWERFUL. I can use this to become his regent, ruling whenever he’s away. I can force him to grant me counties of his that I have a claim to, or can forge documents pretending that I have a claim to. If it comes down to it, it’ll be that much easier to imprison him and let him starve, if he makes me. Not that it’ll come to that.

He also can’t do anything against me should I decide to make use of my disloyal nature. This gives me an idea - the lands to the north of The Weeping Town are named are part of the province of “Bronzeaxe.” A stupid name! And the guy in charge has a dumb bronze axe on his coat of arms! There’s only one thing for it. This place is going to need some new management. Someone with a superior sense of taste and style. Someone who can use Bronzeaxe’s sworn swords (axes?) to a much higher purpose. Someone like Dolores.

Only one problem. In CK3, you can’t just decide one day to go to war over nothing. You need a casus belli, which is a Latin phrase which roughly means “this is why I put my axe in your face and stole your stuff.” The best casus belli (the plural of casus belli is the same - thank god for the fourth declension) are claims on someone’s lands by marriage to their great-nephew or something like that, but if you can’t marry into a family, a store-bought claim is fine. Fabricating a claim as an excuse to go to war in this base game is as easy as sending your head priest to go talk to the locals over in that county and find out who owns what so you can erase their names and write your own over them. There’s one problem, though. Here, I have a “castellan” instead of a court chaplain, and right now he seems… confused.

Maybe he’ll figure his stuff out in time. It’s okay. Dolores is patient. Besides, she has something to start setting up in the meantime…

Also, she needs a change of clothes, to better suit her general vibe.

Much better. Don’t the rubies set her hair off so well? I just hope no one mistakes her for a Targaryen cosplayer; there aren’t many faster ways to a swift beheading by Robert Baratheon.

We’ll let time pass and see what opportunities arrive for us. Maybe we’ll get married if the days get too boring.

Wait - there he is! Our septon was hiding at the bottom of the UI! Oh, great. He sucks. Not to mention, he hates us. Well, you know what would solve that problem? Sending him to Bronzeaxe to start fabricating me a claim! Who knows; either he’ll surpass all expectations and be successful and be richly rewarded, or a peasant will kill him for asking too many questions about who so-and-so’s father was. Either way, problem solved.

In the meantime, I’ve made Lord Michael appoint me as his regent. Now, if I could only arrange an accident that keeps him in bed for a while…

And he makes me his spymaster, too! This is a good idea, in that I am extremely good at intrigue, the skill one needs in a spymaster. This is a terrible idea, in that I am the one most likely to be plotting to kill him! To his credit, he doesn’t seem pleased with the prospect.

I also decide I need to go ahead and get married. My biological clock is ticking, and while in real life, women don’t need children to have a purpose (the audience cheers), in CK3, dying without an heir of your same dynasty is an instant game-over. I have trouble deciding who to marry, though. The knight named Aemon is smart, cute, and good at managing the tax-books while I scheme, but he’s also a lowborn commoner, like I was just a few months ago, and that will seriously damage my claim to any thrones that happen to be empty in my path.

I notice that there are some Strongs with claims on their ancestral seat of Harrenhal. That could be very interesting for me to take advantage of, for myself or our children. CK3 naturally trains you to start thinking of your children as pawns in the larger game, and I’m ready to stack as many claims as I can onto my firstborn child that my dynasty might someday grow greater. Ser Duncan seems like a fine young lad; and all this stuff about a “curse” on Harrenhal’s probably so much superstition anyway…

Now that I’m married (Amber remains my true love, of course), I can see to expanding my territory a little bit more. The time has come, and my worthless septon has come back with a claim on Bronzeaxe. Huh! I didn’t think he had it in him. Better chuck some gold at him as a reward.

Eugh… That’s a lot of gold. I thought septons were supposed to live simply. Never mind, Grance. If you don’t like it, you can leave. Actually, could you see about doing that anyway?

Back to it. I have more soldiers than Bronzeaxe. Both of us lack allies. Neither of us has enough money to hire mercenaries. This war is mine for the winning.

But on the other hand… war is so messy. There’s a lot of marching around and being sweaty involved, not to mention the blood. Could there be a cleaner way to get what I want?

I'm going to let this go for a little bit. I look forward to seeing the fruits of my labor. Not too soon, of course. Dolores is patient… and pregnant! Nine months later, and I have a beautiful - um, well, I have a baby boy. I continue the family tradition of not expecting much from the world and name him Sadness.

And while I am still recovering from Sadness’ birth and plotting my abduction scheme, I wake up one morning apparently by rushing to the privy to throw up in a chamber pot (is that how morning sickness worked in medieval Europe?). I’m pregnant again. Giving birth to this one is apparently uncomplicated. Unlike his brother, my new child is not smart, but is “comely” (how a baby can be “comely is beyond me). In true Crusader Kings spirit, I name him as befits a second son: Backup.

A break in my scheme! I have fabricated proof that my rival’s son and heir was actually the bastard child of his wife and some minor vassal in their court. I decide to use this in the best way I know how - blackmailing his wife to join me in my attempt to abduct her husband!

Success! He’s mine! Hm… An odd feature of CK3’s has made itself known. I cannot declare war on a man I hold prisoner, despite all evidence that I should be able to. I can at least demand some cash from him for his life and THEN declare war on him. This will stop him from hiring mercenaries, at least. Maybe I should set my abduction sights a little higher?

I can’t declare war just yet. I need a little bit more prestige to do so, so I’m going on a hunt with all my vassals, and throwing a feast. In the meantime, someone has found out about Amber, and is blackmailing me. I’m sorry, Amber - I’m not ready for the world to know about us just yet. I give in. I hope he doesn’t do anything meaningful with this information…

Finally, we have what we need to go to war. It is quick and decisive - after a short siege, Bronzeaxe is ours. I waste no time in making much-needed changes.

Much better.

Meanwhile, in checking in on the other characters in the world, I notice some striking changes. Cersei Lannister died in childbirth at the age of 16, having a notably black-haired baby. Ned Stark has an interesting nickname…

Stannis has had a son, not with Selyse Florent but with… LOLLYS STOKEWORTH???

She has been given the trait “imbecile” by the creators of this game. How cruel.

I can’t tell you how much that detail has already shocked me. This might be a good time to wrap up the first chapter; we’ve expanded our territory, we’re plotting to abduct our liege, Stannis has Lollys to keep him comfortable through those cold Dragonstone nights…

Dolores has a lot to do before she can burn down the world of ice and fire, but she’s already one rung higher on the ladder than she was before. Can the tears falling on The Weeping Town extinguish the hatred burning in her heart? Only time will tell, but for now, Dolores has her sights set high.

#asoiaf #crusader kings 3 #crusader kings iii #a song of ice and fire #sorry to the 99% of people in the asoiaf tag who will think this is boring. i learned how to do a readmore for you in particular #paradox games

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anime-academia · 9 months ago

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Adding on to this because it is smth I am frequently distressed by. My L1 is English. My tweede taal is Afrikaans. Afrikaans is basically the child of Dutch and English raised in RSA.

Afrikaans has a diminutive form - there are various suffixes one can add (the word determines the suffix) to change the word to a diminutive.

Hond (dog) -> hondjie (little dog/puppy)

Tafel (table) -> tafeltjie (little table)

Klein (small) -> kleintjie (used more as a term of endearment: little one)

Koning (king) -> koningkie (little king)

There is no English equivalent to this. Sure, there are diminutive form for certain nouns, but it's so limited.

Dog -> doggy

Pig -> piggy

Table -> ???

King -> sure, you can say kingy if you want, but it sounds reaalllyyy bad :/

But, what you can do, since English doesn't have a proper diminutive form and steals everything anyway, is use Afrikaans (or Dutch .. idk how they work) suffixes to create your own diminutives in English.

Have a horrible bastard example of a word from yours truly

Smol ( Internet speak for something small and cute) -> smolletjie (very small and cute and baby)

I used to call my dog this when she was still a baby. My mother used to get vaguely annoyed I think agsjdk which is fair given she can actually speak afrikaans.

You can also change names using verkleining (diminutive form).

Asra -> Asra'tjie

Now, this isn't something original at all. Students across the wonderful country of South Africa, when faced with trying to remember the afrikaans word and failing, often just make an English sound Afrikaans. Apologies to all my Afrikaans teachers ever.

I fully understand op's point. It's a problem for me too. However, unless what you're doing is for like serious work related reasons ig, there is no reason to not bastardise the English language once again <3

It is a real tragedy that English does not have a diminutive suffix. There is no way to properly translate that from Dutch to English and it's tragic because in many cases the diminutive adds a layer of meaning that you can only translate with like a dozen extra words

#i think its a travesty that English does not have a proper diminutive form #but i have afrikaans so its fine <3 #and ofc the south african habit of just... completely not giving a shit about mixing my languages #even zulu has some words it took from afrikaans like damn bro #or maybe it was the other way around idk #goes both ways either way #trust me bro you can add these beautiful little suffixes on to any word #langblr #language #diminutive form #afrikaans #english #dutch #ps it can also be used with other languages #犬 (inu - dog in JP) -> 犬き (inu'tjie)#translation as well ig #more like lost in translation bc english is like that #asra talks

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libdarkheart · 2 years ago

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Aemond x chubby reader

requests open

Being engaged to Aemond was amazing in so many ways but there were a few things that put Y/N off. First was the looks she would get as she walked through the castle, it was very obvious she was not like the other lady's around court with her chubby thighs, bigger stomach and larger breasts and everyone seemed to love to point it out like she already didn't know she was different.

second the people did not believe her whenever she were to tell them she was to marry the prince and would just laugh in her face and throw insults at her such as.

"I doubt he would marry you, he wants children and I don't think he could ever find your cunt between all that fat to even make a child"

"he need a real women not a pig"

"you know maybe you could marry my cow you two seem to have a lot more in common than you and the prince like your weight."

But usually she would brush them off knowing the prince loved her just as much as Y/N loved him. But tonight was a celebration feast for the two young almost weds and everyone from the court and more would be showing up for it.

"I must say it has been a while since I last say you my prince" a lady of the court had exclaimed as she sat down next to Y/N's fiancé as she sat on the other side of him.

"yes, it has but I have been preparing for my wedding with my love" He responded as he looked at Y/N only for her to smile back at him.

"yes it must be dreadful for you to be forced into a marriage" she said while nodding and giggling only to realise that the man next to her did not find it so funny.

"oh we were not forced into marriage we chose to get married. he saved me from being married to a man 3 times my age" Y/N butted in as she kissed her betrothed's cheek making his lip twitch up slightly before he stood up and held his hand out to her.

"my lady would you care for a dance?" he requested making his love giggle and laid her hand in his as he dragged her of to the middle of the room.

"It is a full time job fighting all those women off from you" Y/N laughed as Aemond smirked.

"well you wont have to do that for long because everyone will know I am your just like you are mine" he whispered in her ear before dipping her down as the music came to an end and Y/N yawned.

"I guess it is time for bed my love I shall walk you to your chambers" as he escorted her from the hall and walked down the corridors but paused as they heard whining and whispering.

"he was meant to be mine not that bitch whale" The lady from the court cried as her friends tried to console her.

"I am sure he is only doing this out of pity for the fat slob of meat and is truly in love with you" one of her friends whispered as the couple behind them came closer.

"yes that has to be it, he belongs to me I was meant to be the princess" she said determined as she was about to march back into the hall and confront the prince but stopped as she say the couple.

"my prince I-" she tried to excuse her self but Aemond cut her off.

"I want you, your family and your friends out of the kings landing by morning and if I see you after that I will feed you to my dragon DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND?" he demanded as the lady cried and begged for forgiveness at his feet but all he done was kick her off him and pick up his love making her yelp.

"now I am going to take my betrothed to her chambers and make love to her showing her that she is the women I love not you. Her curves are my favourite part of her appearance not that I need to prove anything to you" He said as he stalked off with his love in his arms as she kissed his cheek.

"my savour once again."

this it my first post so I hope everyone likes it and if you have an idea or request message me and ill do it. I love to do crossovers and soulmate story's so don't be afraid to ask me to write about anything because I love to write.

thank you bye

#hotd x reader #house of the dragon #aemond x y/n #chubby love #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x you #house of the dragon x reader

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coalitiongirl · 3 years ago

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Fic Recs (under 300 edition)

So I wanted to get back to reading Swan Queen fic regularly, and I asked people to rec longfic that they'd read (not written) and loved that had fewer than 300 kudos! I haven’t read most of these, but I’ve collected them here so y’all can go through the list and discover some new fics with me! Please try to kudos and review every fic that you read! It means the world to the writers and will keep em writing, and then we all win. 😁

Atonement by SgtMac (M): With Regina's magical heart failing thanks to years of previous evil, Emma and Regina and Henry (and Granny!) set out to save her life by traveling to the Enchanted Forest and requesting help from ancient magical beings known as the Guardians. Given a mission as simple as it is impossible - to achieve atonement by creating peace - the ladies find themselves joining a rebellion and fighting for the very soul of the Enchanted Forest all while trying to help Regina to understand that the self-loathing and guilt which have driven most of her actions don't have to doom her chance for a new beginning or even, a chance to live and love again. A S4(ish) SQ love story set against the turmoil of war and the chaotic savagery of the old world.

Blood and Sand by cheshire6845 (E): A/U The Savior is a slave forced into the role of fighting as a gladiator for the House of Hearts. The odds are against her survival as she will have to win in the arena, navigate Cora's schemes, outlast a general's vengeance, and not be killed out of spite by the current House of Hearts Champion - Regina the Undefeated. This story follows the major plot points of Starz Spartacus with some twists along the way.

But what if there was no time by KizuRai (M): When she wakes up, it's dark. She can't move, she can't see, she can't feel and she can't hear. Where am I? She feels a forceful oppression, pressing her down, draining her of her energy and she's powerless to stop it. How did I get here? The question of here is relative, she's not even sure where here is. What happened? There must be some reason for being stuck here but her memory is fuzzy, like all her thoughts are being sifted through a filter. Who am I? She's not sure if she actually exists or she suddenly became sentient in the darkness.She hears a voice reverberating in the distance, it's distorted and quiet but she hears it all the same. It breaks the monotony of the silence. Someone's coming for her, they will get her out. She's just not sure she wants them to as the price might be too great.

Finding Home by evl_rgl (T): “I wanted to remember you so badly that I pulled back your cursed town just so that the memories would make sense. I needed you so badly that even when I had no memory of you, I still tried to find you.” Regina gave Emma and Henry memories of a happy life together before they fled Pan’s curse, leaving them with no memories of their lives in Storybrooke. However, when the memory spell shows signs of failing, threatening to rip apart the minds of both Emma and Henry, Regina makes a drastic choice to go back and fix it, understanding that it will mean living alone in a world where her son doesn’t know her. Was the spell really faulty, though? (swanqueen)

Five Flames by MariaComet (U): In the past, Emma Nolan disconnected from her peers in high school, preferring to keep to herself. In her sophomore year of high school, she decided to try and join the boy’s wrestling team because she was bored. She didn’t expect herself to become the champion of the most bullied kid in school or the secret best friend of the school queen. She also didn’t expect to join a club that would change her life. In the present, Emma is trying to cope with a humiliating loss in her martial arts career. She claims to be “training” but is stuck in limbo between wanting to retire and try again. She is isolated from her former best friend, Regina Mills, a local celebrity chef and the rest of her old friends. When one of them calls her with an idea to honor their deceased teacher, she is confronted with unresolved feelings and questions about how powerful love truly is.

A Glamour of Truth by PrincessCharming (T): After 2x10, Regina uses magic to show Emma the obvious truth. A tentative trust forms between them amid hilarious bickering. With Emma's help, Regina struggles to regain a place in her son's life... until Cora arrives, wanting her daughter back. Pieces of Regina's past emerge showing that the board was set long before the game started. The final battle begins soon.

His Dark Materials 'verse by MoonlitMidnight (M): A modern Alternate Universe in which Dæmons (the external physical manifestation of a person's 'inner self' that takes the form of an animal) are present. In which Emma and Regina have led slightly different lives and they make slightly different choices.

How Many Miles to Avalon? (WIP) by RavenOutlander (E): Regina would do anything to save Emma from the darkness and bring her back home safe and sound. Even put up with the two idiots, Captain Guyliner and a bunch of dwarves she decidedly wanted to drop off at the nearest exit. But in their search for Emma, they find that she might not need that much saving after all. Caught up in a search for the infamous Philosopher Stone, an all out war between DunBroch and Camelot, and ghosts from the past to haunt her every waking moment, Regina finds herself scrambling to keep her and her family's happy endings from falling apart.

The Hyperion by FrankenSpine (M): After wishing upon what she believes is a shooting star, Emma Swan finds herself aboard the Hyperion, the royal starship of an alien Queen from a faraway galaxy. She quickly learns of the tensions between the Queen's people and her own, but the Queen takes an interest in her and agrees to take her away from Earth forever. Adventure awaits. *(Loosely based on Guardians of the Galaxy with just a hint of Farscape)*

If Wishes Came True (It Would've Been You) by Angeii_K (M): After Regina films a guest appearance on her friend Neal’s popular show, he invites her to spend the weekend with him and his girlfriend. What she never expected was to actually like the woman. Sparks fly between the two, which results in them questioning everything and making choices they will later regret. 4 years later, they meet again in the most unexpected of ways. Now co-stars on the same show, they are forced to work through the emotions from their last encounter. What will happen next? Only time will tell.

The King Doesn’t Have To Know (WIP) by highheelsandchocolate (M): The White Knight had never seen anyone like her before: the Queen was nothing short of mesmerizing. Her possessive yet neglectful husband, however, was another thing entirely.

The Lich by Dangereaux (M): Gay disaster Emma, exasperated Regina, and a monster. A Halloween special.

Maybe if We Close Our Eyes we Can Reach the Stars by wellthizizdeprezzing (T): Emma is a lonely astronaut. Regina is an adventuring alien. Their paths cross leading them onto a journey of new discovery. Between galaxies and many miles of cold black space, despite not speaking the same language, they manage to fall for each other. An out of this world love story.

A prisoner long forgotten by sugarsweet_19 (M): ‘I wish I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood and as black as the wood of the window-frame. Soon after she had a little girl, who was as white as snow, with lips as red as blood and with her hair as black as the ebony of the window-frame. She was therefore called Snow-white.” This is how our story starts but how will it end?The evil queen as been locked up in a tower and forgotten that is until princess Emma looks for a place to hid from her parents after they tell her she has to marry Neal the son of the dark one.

Revenge of the Three Little Pigs by mskyo (M): Regina and Emma find themselves alone and looking for the rest of their party. The Evil Queen must face the consequences of her past actions. Will Emma come to her aid, or understand that justice must be served... *Some chapters have fairly graphic sex, and violence*

Things I Almost Remember by cheshire6845 (T): A/U Despite an oncoming war between the Dark and the Light, Emma and Regina are best friends growing up in the Enchanted Forest. When war does come, they find themselves on opposite sides. Regina will have to defy her mother to save Emma. Will Emma be able to save Regina when Cora curses her daughter to live in the Land without Magic?

What We Make (WIP) by DiazTuna (M): “My mother.” He says calmly. He’d known all along, she’s aware. But he’d known that today would be the day that would get this going. She wants to ask what it was like, to have woken up this morning, laced up his boots and walked into hell just knowing. “It’s programmed the cyborg to kill her. Before I have a chance to be born.” -In which the leader of the future sends his best soldier back to the past to save his mother from a killer cyborg. Terminator AU.

The Wrong Way by pcworth (M): Takes place right after Zelena steals Regina's heart. Zelena offers Regina a chance to go back in time with her and change both of their lives for the better. But what will be the price of that decision. Slow-burn to SwanQueen

zombie trash by 13pens (T): Zelena could have her brain and eat it, too. Fic operates on three premises 1. this takes place in any universe where zelena is a reformed asshole 2. zombies are a thing and exist iZombie style 3. i have NO chill

#swan queen #fic rec #ouat

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piduai · 3 years ago

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finally sat my ass down and read vol 31 of gk properly

1. i know that i personally was fed like a pig about to be sent for slaughter but i'm greedy so i'm still a bit annoyed there was nothing new for the epic saga of tsurumi and ogata. like i'm feeling antagonized here. is it my own fault for having unrealistic expectations? yes. will it stop me from complaining? no.

2. the line about becoming bait is gone, now he's saying just 'sugimoto and co are coming here'. i thought it was weird af when the chapter came out so i am not displeased

3. reading these chapters reminded me of the convos around each of them i either took part in or saw glimpses of and reaffirms my strong conviction that if you sent a handful of pebbles to first grade they'd put the vast majority of gk readers to shame in terms of intelligence. anyway i remember particularly how much weird fucking discourse that page of sugimoto looking at asirpa after she shot ogata brought. funnily sometimes the volume versions give a little bit more insight into the most controversial things that went down in the eng speaking part of the fandom, so i imagine japanese readers could have had some difficulty with that too. there was an added page in 309 of sugimoto thinking "her alone i can't take with me. her alone i can't put on a vip seat on the train to hell"

and then two additional ones in 310 after ogata yeets himself off the train

in which he's like "at the end of the day, i couldn't treat her like my partner, not truly, not from the bottom of my heart... not until i saw that she's resolved to follow me to hell". don't get me wrong if you're a stubborn dumbass with less emotional depth god granted a rusty kettle no matter how pre-chewed and soft the food you're being spoon-fed is you'll still be fucking stupid i guess. and not GET IT. but the story tried, it tried

4. the close up page of ogata blowing his brains out has been wiped, now it's a distant focus and shiraishi, asirpa and sugimoto are shown looking at him in shock. very disappointed, it was my favorite page in the chapter

5. the whole seemingly random exposition in 309 of tsurumi's plans he just tells us because he wants to is not random at all, it was strategically placed there as a set-up for the omake. lmfao. so that has always been planned as the true ending i guess. except in the volume he tells all of this to a corpse because why not

6. 306-308 were gk's greatest flop era, genuinely the worst 3 chapters in the entire manga. i was mad as shit when i read them as they were coming out and i was mad as hell reading them now. absolutely disgusting. and also 0 improvement on them too, tho i guess since they're unsalvageable it would have been a waste of effort. but i am tired of those two. i am tired of everything related to them so i'll just pretend they don't exist

7. in the mag version sugimoto only punches ogata once, but in the vol he goes oraora mode on his ass. lmfao

8. the way the tsurussy has been kept shadowed for half a chapter before he lost his bones (which he kept in his HEART POCKET) and THAT page... chef's kiss

9. also not pertinent to the volume alone but i love how sugimoto beat ogata's ass but tsurumi gave him a good fight <3 close combat competent king

10.

i love her

#overall good volume... is what i want to say but it's not what i believe. but there's more good than bad. so.

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soratoninn · 3 years ago

Text

antagonist.

content/cw; angst, mentions of graphic murder.

ft; eren jaeger x black!fem reader

songs; are we still friends? — tyler, the creator

an angstshot based off of the infamous movie, Carrie.

word count; 444

You snapped. After 3-4 years of your dreadful high school torture, you snapped. Over some foolish and ignorant prank. Your once white dress painted a rich red as you walked the streets, confused and cold. The last thing you'd remember was being crowned queen next to the boy you loved dearly since god knows when. Eren Yeager. His beautiful and shiny green eyes always made your days better even throughout the continuous bullying and torment the high school girls put you through. His silky brown hair and his well put together attitude/personality had always brung a smile to your face in the thought.

but not tonight.

A mess was all you were as your arms crossed over the other, hugging yourself, shivering coldly. You had no idea why he even decided to go with you to prom. You were out of his league. Completely. When you'd finally rack up enough courage to ask him, he was at practice and replied to you with a smile on his face and a simple, "sure, why not?" You had almost crumpled right then and there with your Stephen kings 'Carrie' book in your chest, your hands hugging the book close.

The night air was almost suffocating as you felt your heart speed rapidly. Was it possible that the wire missed him...? You continuously asked yourself that, tearing yourself apart. It was no way he still could've been alive at the consideration the sparked cable cord from the lights struck him straight in the chest, electrocuting him until he stopped moving falling face first. You reminisced the kiss he passed onto your lips on the stage. Your first kiss.

It was emotional full of nothing but delicacy. The way his lips moved onto yours as if it were the silk you'd place on your bed made your head spiral further out of control. You truly ripped yourself apart. Your hands went to the sides of your head, covering your ears as if you were a little child. Oh, how he tried to get you to calm down from the prank involving embarrassment on both sides of your parts. Your dress was not only covered in some liquid that seemed to be pigs blood but it was covered in regular human blood.

But in sequence, he lost his life because of you losing control. You dropped down to your knees, covering your ears harder as your field of hearing clogged with questionable static. It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to conquer happiness. But your pathetic attempt, caused the deaths of not only several high school students, but teachers, and chaperones. Hence, in further conclusion.

You were the antagonist.

@dayestic @mrssmiya @tenkosii @armuhin @fiercy

#toruzakiwritings #eren angst #eren x black reader #angst

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

By the king’s hand 🐍 X

Warnings: noncon/rape, forced oral, violence, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage.

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find yourself in a new prison.

Note: In advance, sorry. Guess that’s all I can say hahaha.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your shoulders ached as your weight tugged at your muscles. A folded length of ribbon was tied around your eyes and your hands were bound above you. You dangled on your tiptoes in the chill cellar. Your gown was little protection from the late autumn air that permeated the underground. Your teeth chattered and you shivered ever now and then.

How long had it been since you’d been left there? Magnus had been gruff and silent as he dragged you down the steps, nearly tossing you down them. He shrouded your vision almost at once and shackled your wrist with a warning that he would break your fingers. You thrashed out at him blindly as he secured you to the hook above; like a pig awaiting the butcher.

The door slammed and a heavy locked churned, signaling your desolation. You screamed at first, until you were breathless and hoarse. None arrived to save you from the trap. Silent, you hung weakly and nodded off for only a few minutes before you were roused by the thought of your reality.

You felt as if you would cry but sniffed it back. You wriggled in the thick metal cuffs and kicked out as you tried to free yourself. That didn’t work either and the hours passed in helpless paralysis or frantic writhing. You felt death in the cold air of the chamber.

When at last the rusted hinges shrieked, you raised your head cluelessly and tried to see through the cloth at your eyes. Heavy footsteps entered the cellar and you counted two pairs as they shut the door in their stead.

Had Magnus brought Loki to you? Would the king dole out another punishment to you for a crime not your own?

It was quiet, tense, as the footfalls paced around you. You gripped the chain that held the cuffs together and sensed a warmth before you. A large, thick hand framed your chin and turned your head back and forth. A dark chuckle made you gasp.

“Was it very hard to catch her?” Thor asked as he squeezed painfully and tilted your head up.

“Fish in a barrel,” Magnus replied. “The challenge was going unseen.”

“Oh, yes, my brother is rather upset,” Thor pulled down the strip of fabric to fall around your neck. “And how could he not be.” He ran his thumb along your bottom lip, “Without his little pet?”

“Why?” You quivered as you tried to shake him away. “Why are you doing this?”

You were shocked by the strike across your cheek. Your head spun and you turned at the end of your restraints before the prince righted you and brought you to face him again.

“I have no reason or obligation to explain myself to a peasant,” he sneered, “But you can assume that I have the same needs as any man. As the king himself.”

You hung your head as metallic blood gathered at the corner of your mouth. Your cheek throbbed as you tasted iron. Thor forced your head up again and admired the way your lip already began to swell.

“Did you do anything to her?” Thor asked.

“Not yet,” Magnus snickered. “Can’t say I wasn’t tempted.”

“Good,” The prince released you and untied his cloak. The scarlet cloth fluttered to the floor. “And you say he took her from the dungeons?”

“Put her there first,” Magnus replied flatly. “She never knows when to shut her mouth.”

“Mmm,” Thor hummed and reached to unsheath a blade from his belt, “Among her other charms, I’m certain.”

He slid the knife beneath the top of your dress and tore it through the satin easily. Your bodice fell open as he sliced through the skirts. The gown unveiled your nudity as he stood back and nudged you so that you spun from your shackles. He grasped the loose fabric and cut it entirely away from your body, letting it fall in shreds atop his cloak.

You pulled at the cuffs and grunted as you kicked at the stone floor. A wave of panic mingled with your anger. “You can’t--” You were silenced by another smack, this one across your ass.

“I could gag her. Or break her teeth?” Magnus offered.

“You will do as I bid,” Thor rebuffed, “I’ll have my fun first.”

He turned you to face him again. He took your head between his hands and rubbed your temples cloyingly. He dipped his thumb down to your mouth and pushed it inside. You bit him and he hissed. He curled his thumb beneath your tongue and sent a pang through your whole body.

“No biting,” he snarled, “Or I will do worse to you.” He warned. “Use that mouth wisely, pet.”

You glared at him but did not try again to bite him. You were terrified truly. The two men could kill you easily and you had little faith that they would not when all was at an end. Your mortal cowardice stilled you and had you prone to the prince’s will.

“Let her down to her knees,” Thor ordered as he let go of you and took a step back.

He picked at the top of his breeches as Magnus moved to the pully which held taught the rope attached to the hook above. He turned it and Thor grabbed your shoulders. He pushed down until you were on your knees, your hands still held over you.

“Alright, pet,” he purred, “You may pretend I am your king, if you prefer, but I promise you will know it is me.”

He pushed open his trousers and reached inside. He pulled his member out and stroked himself until he was hard. You looked away as Magnus’ shadow caught your eye. The guard watched without emotion. You closed your eyes as the prince came closer.

He pressed his tip to your lips. You held your mouth closed at first. He growled, a low wordless threat, and you parted your lips. He slid inside, just a little and groaned. He caressed your head and his fingers stretched across the back of it. He urged his cock deeper and prodded at the back of your throat.

Your eyes watered as you tried to steady your breath. He forced himself deeper and sank down until no air could pass his girth. He held himself there and wiggled his hips. Your neck strained and he retreated slowly before thrusting down your throat once more. His voice was smoky as he rocked against you.

“Mmmm, fuck.” He swore, “How long it has been.”

Your mouth made sloppy noises around him as he sped up with each tilt. Your head pulsed as you struggled to catch your breath. Your eyes streamed and rolled back as spit leaked out around your lips. You shuddered in disgust as he used you, his grunts and groans feeding your derision.

“You ready to taste me, pet?” He snarled, “Be a good pet and drink me up.”

He hammered into you even harder, your throat raw and ragged as he did not relent. He turned your head up as he plunged into you over and over. His voice bounced off the walls and a tremor rippled through his body as he came. The heat of his seed flood your throat and mouth around his thick cock and he slowed a little at a time until he was still.

He pulled out of you and quickly forced your mouth shut. He covered your mouth with his hand as his other spread over your neck. He bent over until his nose met yours and you opened your eyes.

“Swallow,” he hissed.

You obeyed and withheld a wretch. He smirked and stood straight. He sighed and lifted you to your feet. He rounded you and pushed on your shoulders until you bent. He gripped your hips and pulled you back. His wet cock rested against your ass as it twitched.

“Just a minute,” he rasped as he rubbed your bottom with one hand. You kept your eyes on the floor as your arms were bent awkward around your head.

He slid two fingers along your thigh and felt around your folds. He tutted as he felt how wet you were. You shook your head, ashamed of your body’s deceit. He circled your entrance and pushed into you, stretching you around his thick fingers.

“You’re fucking tight,” he said, “Is my brother not using you enough?” He pulled his fingers in and out of you, “You sure do feel as if you are wanting, pet.”

He fucked you with his fingers and his heady breaths sent tingles across your flesh. When he withdrew his digits, he spread your folds and guided his cock to your entrance. He slid between his fingers, carefully, and pushed his tip inside. You tensed around him and he groaned. He retracted his hand and grasped your hip, impaling you in a single motion and jolting you entirely.

“Shit,” he croaked, “Oh, pet, you are delightful.” He moved you against him as your walls clenched around his thick cock, “You fit me so well.”

He rocked your body against his and had you back on your tiptoes as you struggled not to topple. If you did, you would only wrench your shoulders and injure yourself. He grabbed your shoulder as he rutted you and brought his other hand around your neck to force your head up.

“Use her mouth,” he demanded. You looked away as Magnus neared at the prince’s order. “Be a good pet,” he squeezed your chin and you opened your mouth weakly.

You closed your eyes as Magnus fumbled with his belt and you quaked around Thor’s intrusion. Thor’s hand snaked down to your other shoulder and Magnus replaced his along your jaw. He slid into you without warning and filled your throat painfully. His other hand went to the back of your head and he bobbed you up and down his length.

“Yeah, like that,” Thor uttered, “My brother is so selfish not to share you.”

You twined your fingers together as the men moved you between them. As Thor slid your cunt up and down his cock, Magnus did the same to your mouth. The two men rutted into you until only the clapping of their flesh and their grunts could be heard. Your own thoughts were scrambled as you only prayed for it to be over.

Thor sped up and hammered into you. You choked on Magnus as you were forced closer to him and the prince mewled as he emptied inside of you. He slowed and still but did not pull out, instead guiding your head.

Magnus growled and you felt him quake. He muffled his voice as he spilled into you and you tasted his salty seed as it bubbled around his cock. He pulled out of you roughly and his cum leaked from your lips as Thor kept you against him, still buried deep in your cunt. He jerked his hips and you whimpered, coughing up more spit and seed onto the stone.

He slid out of you carefully and you felt his cum leak out as he did. He slapped your ass and you fell to your knees. The prince moved around you, a shadow beyond your haze, and you felt a tug above you. He wound the gears until you were on your feet again, your soles nearly off the stone.

“Fuck her,” Thor commanded.

Magnus turned you to him and lifted your leg. He reached to your cunt and pushed his hand roughly against you. He stopped and looked to the prince. “Can I have her ass?”

“No, not yet,” Thor snipped as he tucked his cock in his trousers only to rub himself through them.

Magnus huffed and his nostrils flared. He lined himself up with your entrance and took you off the floor as he plunged into. He brought your other leg up, hooking his arms beneath your knees as he tilted into you. You hung your head back as you were held aloft by the shackles. He bounced you against him without restraint; every thrust harder than the last.

“You fucking little bitch,” his voice was low as it rumbled through you, “This is what you want. What you always wanted.”

You whined and your thighs trembled as you tried to resist the heat that bloomed in your core. You bit your lip as his pelvis rubbed against your clit and he slammed into you over and over. Your tears fell freely, almost without notice, and you squealed as you were overcome with pleasure. You bent your legs around his thick arms and came around his cock.

He grunted louder with each thrust into you. He worked your body against his and let one of your legs fall loose as he gripped your neck. He choked you as he lost himself in his lust. You heard Thor too, his breath shallow and shuddery.

Magnus climaxed with a snort and held himself deep inside you. He lifted you from his cock and left you to dangle again. Your thigh grew slick with cum as you hung helpless, awaiting their next move with dread. You whimpered at the tenderness between your legs and in your throat.

“You still there, pet?” Thor snapped his fingers in front of your face as he fondled your tit. “Come on, we’ve only just begun.”

🐍

You were numb. If life with Loki was harsh, your existence in the hands of Magnus and Thor was the worst hell one could know. You languished in the dank cellar when they were away with only the frightful anticipation of their return. Those times you did manage to sleep were little relief as your nightmares were haunted by the same men who controlled your reality.

There were hours, maybe days, when you were left alone. You had no way to keep track and you suspected your guess wasn’t very close. You were let down every now and then to relieve yourself or to eat the meagre meals provided by your captors. The stew that turned your stomach and tasted worse than the bile always rising in your throat.

You could barely recall what came before. Your life in the city, your time in the dungeon, your months spent in the king’s chambers. It was as if none of it had happened and this had always been your lot.

When you did think of Loki, you were foolish enough to miss him. Was it any better than this? You remembered him using you too; remembered his cruel green eyes and his restless hands. And yet, it was all just a blur to your addled mind.

You cried often but tried not to when they were there. When they were there, they used you. You lived on their will, you served your purpose and were easily tossed aside like a doll. Your body was not your own; had it ever been?

The pain was unending. It surged through every part of you; your muscles, your bones, your very soul. There was no way out. You would die in this place, at the hands of these men. You would be forgotten to this grim cellar, just another casualty of aristocratic greed.

You were half-asleep when the door woke you. You hated that noise; dreaded it more than anything. You didn’t look up; you didn’t need to; couldn’t bring yourself to. The men’s faces were etched into your mind; they were all you saw, waking or otherwise.

A shadow loomed over you. You felt a warm hand on your chin and your head was lifted. Thor stared at you and turned your head back and forth.

“Pet,” he rubbed your cheek, “Can you hear me?”

You nodded dumbly and he smiled. Your vision cleared and his features came into focus.

“Get her down,” he gently released your chin, “Sit her down and get her a blanket.”

Your arms fell before you, still held together by the shackles. You were moved to sit on a stool and a musty wool blanket was thrown around you. Thor sat on another stool as Magnus paced behind him.

“Do you know how long you’ve been here?” He asked.

You shook your head and hugged the blanket around you. You shivered. “Forever,” you whispered.

He laughed and reached to rest his hand on your knee. “What is it, Mag? A month, now.”

“Just over,” the other man assured.

“And after all this time, the king continues his search,” Thor said mockingly, “Not realising you are right beneath his very nose. Beneath his own brother.” He laughed loudly and smacked your knee before he drew away. “But Loki is not that stupid. He will catch on. We must move you.”

“No,” you rocked and kept your head down, “Kill me.”

“What?” Thor sputtered and it was Magnus’ turn to laugh. “Pet, what use are you then?”

You raised your head and blinked. You looked between the men and your eyes stung. How awful they were. You had never thought any could be so vile.

“Please,” you begged, “Just do it.”

“You are confused.” Thor said, “You don’t seem so unhappy when I’m inside you.”

You recoiled in revulsion and lowered your head again. Your stomach ached and you felt sick. Your nausea had grown worse with each day. You didn’t know if it was the rancid stew they fed you or the unyielding anxiety. You rubbed your stomach; it was firm and warm beneath your hand. You were surprised by how full it felt at your touch.

Thor’s eyes went to the movement beneath the blanket and you peeked up at him. He nodded and for once, his blue eyes were serious. He stood and grabbed your elbows to bring you up to your feet. He pushed the blanket open and you flinched. He touched your hand.

“Have you not looked at yourself?” He asked.

“What?” You breathed.

He slid his hand beneath yours and pushed his rough palm to your stomach. You looked down and bit down at the sight of your body. There was a subtle roundness to your middle not there before. Your breasts were swollen too and tender as the edge of the blanket tickled them.

“You’re with child, pet,” he said glumly.

You gaped up at him in shock. You shoved him away and covered yourself. The chain between your shackles jingled as you turned and hid your face. “No, I cannot…”

“It is neither of ours,” he said firmly, “You are further along than that.”

“Then…” you gasped, “Then why keep me?”

“I’ll find a place for the bastard. I cannot say my brother would do the same.” Thor said. “And you are still early, you are still…”

“Capable,” Magnus intoned. “If we’re lucky, we can fuck the child out of you.”

“Don’t be so crass,” Thor reproached. “Pet,” he neared and touched your shoulder, “If we move you, and you promise to behave, then we will settle you somewhere comfortable. For you, for the baby, until your time comes.”

“And after?” You kept your back to him and shrugged away his hand. “What am I to do with a child?”

“You wouldn’t be able to-- A royal bastard… must be hidden. You cannot stay with the babe. It would be dangerous for both of you.”

“Dangerous?” You spun to him, “For me or you? You only want to keep me hidden from your brother. To keep me to yourself and for what reason? You’ve a wife, a child? Was she not due already?”

He scowled and crossed his arms as he backed away. “Now, pet, you must understand--”

“A child would ruin me. You wouldn’t want me after so why--”

“Because I am a prince and I can do as I wish,” he hissed. “Now, I am giving you a choice, and let me tell you, I do not do so often so I can move you somewhere where you and your child will be healthy or I can keep you in another cell and fuck you until you are bleeding.”

You reeled at his tone. Your stomach churned again and you groaned. A child? It was too much to think of, but to be kept as you were? That was unbearable. If it was only your own life, it would be an easy choice, but it wasn’t just you anymore.

“I’m…” you sat before you could collapse. You hunched and hugged your stomach with one arm. “I’m sorry.” You looked up at him, “I’ll be good.” You swore and bent over. “I’ll--” You wretched onto the floor and your entire body convulsed. “I’m scared.” You admitted as you stared down at your vomit.

“Good,” Thor taunted, “You should be.”

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