#what happened to your wife

[oops-i-tolkiened-again]

People, I am physically straining myself trying to figure out how you even drown a royal-bloodline Numenorean. Any and all advice would be very useful.

[dovewingkinnie]

sew the mouth of your zombie wife shut, now she can't bite you

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Sally is the real neighborhood Rizzler... you all know i'm right...

[brainhanging]

"As we die off, this is... my feeble... resistance."

[saywhatjessie]

[linkedin-offficial]

to forgive or forget

more lore for what ive got going on with carnival hero, for those who wanted to know why he doesnt particularly like kinger.

i like to think kinger was working on the code to remove the collars for a hefty amount of time. poor kinger tried so hard to perfect the code to release his people, but it was particularly hard for obvious reasons. he tried it so many times ; and when it finally worked, it was like a miracle. queenie, along with everyone else was overjoyed!

of course, it wasnt entirely perfect. sometimes, things go wrong when you take your excitement for granted. sacrifices get made, sometimes accidentally. the lovely king ends up forgetting about this sacrifice that was made, like he always does. the reason why shes gone fades in his mind like a bruise.

but others dont forget, nor forgive. hero never forgot this unnecessary sacrifice. he understood everything clearly after that. the collars are there for a reason. sometimes its better to be safe, to stay in ones own lane. to stay confined where you belong, where to remain unchanged is promised. for the greater good.

[wordstome]

kingdom come - i

king König x princess & assassin reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, afab reader, romance, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kind of age gap because König has been king for a good chunk of time but it's not really much of a factor, fantasy/medieval setting, magic exists but it's the creepy kind ordinary people don't fuck with

3.5k words

tw: swearing and König gets a boner. what's new

[NEXT]

GUESS WHO'S BACK ON HER BULLSHIT HAHAAA IT'S MEEE STARTING A NEW SERIES/AU AGAINNNnnnnn. Don't fret, I'm still working on university au! I just started watching The Great (the tv show) and I was like hmm. I should get back to that one idea I had.

p.s. When I mention a "mask" on König, imagine a sort of phantom of the opera, Brahms kinda thing. He isn't always wearing the hood.

Outside, the bells are tolling. Back home, you’ve only ever heard church bells ringing to rally the troops. But here, in these foreign lands, they ring for a royal wedding.

You're wearing a truly massive dress shaped like a pastry. It's a work of art, to be sure, but it leaves you feeling restrained and vulnerable. You should be wearing armor into war—hard boiled leather and curtains of steel rings, not delicate lace and silken ribbons. You're walking into a battle: you would have liked to be able to bend forward further than thirty degrees.

You're at least glad you don't have to wear a veil—it would have been borderline unbearable if you had your vision restricted on top of everything else. It does mean, however, that you can see him standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for you.

A gigantic man with a soldier's physique, wearing a mask that covers more than half his face. Just the sight of him sends a a chill down your spine.

The officiant’s voice booms out over the assembly, but you don’t hear any of it. The sound washes over you, distant and echoing, as if your head is underwater. Your whole being is on alert as you tilt your face upwards to look at the only part of your soon-to-be-husband that you can see properly: his eyes.

They bore into you as if they're looking straight into your soul. As if they're revealing all of your secrets. For a moment, you feel disarmed, even though you can still feel the calming, solid presence of your trusty dagger against your thigh.

As the officiant finishes the wedding vows, he offers his hand to you, his touch shockingly gentle.

You steel your resolve and stare resolutely back at him as you place your hand in his, and the officials begin to bind them together with velvet cords. You remind yourself who you are, where you are, and what you must do.

You remind yourself that you have to kill him as they tie the final knot.

The woods are foreboding, home to a darkness that seems infinite and all-consuming. The heavy old trees that surround the palace grounds shut out most sunlight and all moonlight, and sometimes it feels as if the forest itself is a living, conscious thing brimming with a dangerous unknown. It's proven to be an effective line of defense in the past: citizens don’t dare to trespass on the royal grounds as it is, but an extra deterrent never hurt anybody.

Except perhaps enemy soldiers. But they learn their lesson quickly.

To you, however, the woods are comforting. You’ve spent many lonely nights amongst these trees, training until your body was sore all over. These trunks have withstood many a misplaced blow, these exposed roots have been your downfall many a time, and this mossy undergrowth has cushioned your bruises during many a tumble and fall.

Tonight, however, there is no training. No combat, no groans of pain, no thuds against wood or flesh. You are blanketed in quiet, something sorely needed as you contemplate the days to come.

This is it. The task you’ve trained for all your life is here. Every sore joint and pulled muscle, every tear-soaked pillowcase, every scolding in Father’s office has led to this. Sometimes it seemed as if the day would never come, as if years of reading, shooting, riding and sparring would be for naught. Though your breath rattles the leaves around you, you feel as if you’ve been holding your breath ever since Father broke the news. This is happening.

You leave in a few hours, as soon as the sun comes over the horizon. Your maids have already packed your luggage—you had to enlist their help after it became too difficult to pick what to bring and what not to bring. If all went well, you’d be back in this room in a few weeks. But what could you afford to bring? What did you need for your sanity? What minute details of an object could compromise your position?

Luckily, Calliope, your most trusted lady-in-waiting, was able to step in when she found you sitting on your rug, clutching your set of cloth dolls—the only toys you’d ever owned as a child that weren’t made with murder in mind—and suggest you take a breath of fresh air. You don’t know where you’d be without her, honestly. You may be your father’s pride and joy of a perfectly well-rounded monarch and killing machine, but you would never have gotten here without her by your side.

You sigh and lean your head against the thick limb you’re lying on. If you didn’t already know you’d wake up with a complaining spine that would then have to spend days riding a horse, you’d go to sleep right here, right now. The woods are your home, these trees your solace. You’ll miss it terribly, as the only place you can truly avoid all servants, generals, teachers, and parents.

Well. Parent.

But as with all things—Father’s rare good mood, your training days, peacetime—the sweet, silent embrace of the forest can’t last forever.

Reluctantly, you give the tree one last pat and climb down, making the trudge back to your room so you can at least attempt to catch a few winks of sleep.

It takes quite a few days of travel to get to your destination. You arrive in the empire next door's capital city saddle-sore and on edge. This was the snakes’ nest, the heart of the beast.

And yet…people are happy.

The mood in your hometown is far quieter and more grim—your country has been at war with this one for as long as you can remember, and yet the contrast could not be more vast. Back home, people walk directly from place to place, and don’t make eye contact with each other. Here, children play unsupervised, outdoor markets overflow with people, and windows are thrown wide open as neighbors chat.

You don’t know how to feel. The previous king here was a ruthless conqueror, building an empire by invading neighboring countries and forcing their monarchs to yield—or killing them when they were defiant. Your own land had only escaped being absorbed into the empire by employing rigorous military discipline and strict wartime measures. Yet here, in the heart of the empire, you would never be able to tell it was a nation at war.

And now you’re marrying the king’s son. The current king. The one they call König. So little is known about him that his entire existence is shrouded in rumor: that the hood he wears conceals a monstrous, disfigured face, that he plotted his father’s demise, that his first wife died not of childbirth, but was assassinated in quiet due to being unable to provide an heir.

You don’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out if the rumors are true.

To your surprise, your reception by the people feels more curious than hostile. You’d expected a bit of resistance, or at least a few dirty looks, considering you're the princess of the country they've been at war with for years. But whatever König has told them has been far more charitable than you anticipated.

Your arrival at the palace is greeted by a flurry of activity. Your entourage scatters to put affairs in order, but Calliope and a small contingent of guards follows you into the main hall. Not that you need them—but you need to keep up appearances. No one outside your family’s most tight-knit circle knows you can throw a punch, much less have an assassin’s training.

You don’t feel in the least bit prepared to meet your fiancé—and target—face to face fresh off a days-long journey, but you’re ushered into the main hall anyway. It seems your task has already begun whether you like it or not.

“Ah, princess. Welcome to my humble home.” You hear him before you see him, his voice heavy with an accent. There’s something a bit charming about it, you think—before the sight of him shakes some sense back into you.

He’s huge. He towers over even his own palace guard, broad with muscle, and moves with a deadly raw power even in this nonthreatening setting.

When his father still ruled, before the current peacetime, stories of the empire’s prodigal heir on the frontlines served as frightening bedtime story and a terrifying cautionary tale for the nation’s soldiers. A beast in a hood who fought with the strength of ten men.

You stand your ground as he approaches you. The hood, then, is real—although the stories were so consistent about it that it was never really in question, was it? What the stories had left out were his eyes—striking and green, piercing into your soul as he bends to kiss the back of your hand. It’s an odd sensation that sends shivers racing up your spine.

“The pleasure is mine, your majesty,” you respond, a hint of apprehension in your tone. Of course you had been expecting some form of courtly courtesy, but for some reason you hadn’t expected him to be such a…gentleman. A part of you had been expecting some feral animal, needing to be put down.

"I'm sure you must be exhausted from your journey," he says. "I hope you will find your rooms to your liking." Something about his demeanor is almost...bored? As if greeting his future wife is just another task he's obligated to complete.

He doesn't join you for dinner that night, which is odd. The servants inform you that he's taking care of some urgent business. You hope that your dejection is taken as disappointment that you won't have an opportunity to get to know your fiancé. You are, but not the way people may think.

After all, getting to know your target is half the battle.

You're left to your own devices the next day. König, you're informed, won't be available. That urgent business from last night appears to be an ongoing situation.

Fine by you. You could use some time to prepare.

You spend the day wandering the palace, familiarizing yourself with the grounds and plotting an escape route. You're halted on your brisk survey when you stumble upon a...garden?

Unlike the perfectly manicured hedges outside the palace, or the groomed efficiency of the kitchen gardens, this place is small. Quiet. A little overgrown, but clearly taken care of. The grass is long and soft, dappled in sunshine. Flowers burst forward, crowded around trellises spiraling with vines.

Part of you feels like a trespasser in this private little sanctum, but another part of you is set at ease by the idle tranquility of this place. You pause, feeling a pang of homesickness. It reminds you of the forest: wild in its own way, but gentle and welcoming at the same time.

Something at the corner of your vision catches your eye. A bush bursting forward with round, dark little berries.

Nightshade. Deadly nightshade, in fact. What is this doing in this peaceful little garden? You move forward to examine them closer.

"You shouldn't be here."

You whirl around to find König standing behind you. You had been so absorbed by the garden that you hadn't detected his approach.

Your cheeks burn. You've only been here a day, and already you're letting your guard down. This won't do.

"My apologies, your majesty. I got....lost."

You hold your breath as he draws near. His expression is unreadable—not that you can see most of it, anyway. But when you meet his gaze, you can tell he's sizing you up.

"This is quite a long way to wander."

Shit, is he suspicious? Thinking fast, your brain supplies the best answer you can muster.

"Should a future queen not know the palace she is to live in?"

"Mmm. You make a fair point."

Before you can say or do anything further, he's standing right in front of you. "That's nightshade, you know." You can feel him watching you, assessing your reaction. "Not many can recognize it."

"I..." You can't very well tell him that you know what nightshade looks like because you're an expert in deadly poisons. "I had been wondering what they were."

"I see." He leans forward and plucks a berry off the bush, rolling it between his fingers. "Have you ever tasted one?"

Does he know? Is that a threat? You can't read his expression behind that goddamned mask of his. You stare at him, hoping you look dumbfounded instead of panicked.

"No? They're quite sweet, you know." He holds it out to you. "Care to try one?"

"Your Majesty, I—"

"Don't look so nervous." If you had ever thought he looked frightening before, there's something uncanny about the half-smile that he gives you now. "I didn't expect you to say yes." Before you can say or do anything, he pops the berry in his mouth.

You're too stunned to do anything but watch as he chews for a moment and swallows. One berry won't kill him, but you're more concerned about why he's doing this. Is he trying to intimidate you?

"This was my mother's garden." He gestures to the general surroundings. "I spent a lot of time here as a child. Peaceful, isn't it?"

You let out a tiny sigh of relief now that the conversation appears to be moving on. "Yes. Quite."

"It's always been a place to get away. The first time I ate a nightshade berry was right here, when I was six. I was violently sick for weeks." His tone is a little too light for someone describing being poisoned as a child, and it's unnerving.

"That's when I learned to be careful of things that are too sweet. A good lesson to learn, don't you think?" He walks towards you, and you brace yourself for anything.

He stops next to you, you facing one way and him the other. "Take care then, princess. I will see you tomorrow."

You stare resolutely ahead. "Yes."

And hopefully you won't see him for much longer after that.

Fuck. You forgot about this part.

You had been prepared for this, of course, but you only realize now that you hadn't been mentally prepared. It wasn't until Calliope was helping you undress that you remembered what usually happens between a man and a woman the night of the wedding.

You pace the room, stewing and plotting, getting increasingly antsy before the door swings open and the man himself comes strutting into the bedroom.

"You look like a cornered deer." You hear König shut the door behind him, but you don't turn around.

"I've never done this before." Mentally, you curse yourself for the quaver in your voice.

"Well. Tonight won't be your first."

"What?" You do turn at that, watching him carelessly shed layers all across the room between swigs of his drink.

"I have no interest in bedding you. We do have to sleep in the same room for appearances, though." He plucks a grape from a cluster sitting on a side table and throws it up in the air, catching it with his mouth.

You haven't been in his presence much in the past few days, but each time you have, something about your encounters with him have shaken you up and set you on edge. Somehow, he's kept you on your toes even with a limited presence. Your meeting in the garden was dizzying and confusing, the ceremony set you on high alert. And now, he's thrown you another curveball.

It feels almost too easy. He's just going to go to sleep in the same room as you? No fanfare? "You don't want to...consummate the marriage?"

"You sound upset." He cocks an eyebrow at you. "Were you hoping to?"

"No!" Your face feels hot as he gives you that lopsided half-smile again, more like a smirk this time.

"That's a shame. I prefer fucking willing participants, you see." He drapes himself over the elaborate chaise lounge opposite the bed.

"Are you usually this vulgar?" you retort.

"I see no reason for pretense. We're married, after all." Curiously, he hasn't taken his mask off. Does he sleep in it? Or is he only keeping it on because you're here?

You feel silly now, dressed in a flimsy little silken thing, wrapped up like a present for a brute who won't even touch you. Considerate of him, you suppose. Not that it will matter for very long.

"Sleep well then, hmm? You should be well rested for your first day as queen tomorrow." There's a dangerous gleam in his eye, but it disappears so quickly you wonder if you had imagined it.

"Yes," you say, sitting on the bed while not taking your eyes off of him. "Sleep well."

You give it a few hours, just to be safe. A few hours of laying awake staring at the ceiling. A few hours of watching as moonlight bathes the room in silver light. A few hours of watching him.

The deepening darkness casts sharp shadows across his face, making him seem even more inhuman. What do bloodthirsty emperors dream of? Dominating the weak? Slaughtering the innocent? Conquering women? You shudder. Best not to know.

It's well past midnight when you slowly, quietly get up and pull your dagger from its hidden holster. One downwards thrust, and you're going home. One quick motion, and all of this is over.

It's a little anticlimactic, you think. But this is for the best. For you. For your people. For your family.

Light as a feather, you straddle him, hovering over him just enough so that your weight doesn't wake him. You try not to think about how intimate this position is, and remind yourself that this is the best way to prevent him from getting up or struggling, should your first strike not end him immediately. Which it will, of course.

You take a deep breath as you position the blade right over his heart, calming the fluttering anxiety in your mind. The beginning of a new chapter of your life begins now.

You plunge the dagger downwards.

In an instant, König's eyes fly open. Before you can react at all, his hand has seized your wrist in an iron grip, the tip of your dagger a hair's length from his chest.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" He purrs. "A little assassin?"

You grit your teeth and attempt to overpower him: you're so, so close. But his strength is so overwhelming that you can't even get the tip of the dagger to make contact. Panic starts to set in. This isn't good. This is disastrous, actually. He was supposed to be asleep!

You attempt to pull away, to get away, to do anything, but it's no use. "You don't seem surprised," you spit.

"It's not every day your most bitter enemy offers you his daughter's hand in marriage as a truce," he replies, clear amusement in his voice. Is he enjoying this? "Of course I smelled a rat. You must think me a fool."

"No." Yeah, you kind of had.

"Lying ill suits you, princess." You cry out as he jams his fingers into the tendons in your wrist, forcing you to release the dagger. You watch, helplessly, as he picks it up with his other hand and turns it over, studying it in the moonlight.

"What a delicate little knife," he muses. In your hand, it's a sizeable weapon. But held in his fingers it looks small, harmless. To your dismay, he then proceeds to chuck it at the opposite wall, the blade sticking itself solidly in between two panels.

"You knew?" you ask, a tremor in your traitorous voice.

"Oh, I suspected. You had me disappointed for a while—I thought you would have made an attempt well before this." He lets out a deep chuckle that sends terror through you. "For a moment I even thought that you were as you presented: just some poor little lamb, a peace offering given up to the slaughter." His eyes narrow behind the mask. "I am glad to see that you have proven to be much more interesting than that."

"Interesting?" Out of all the reactions you would have expected him to have, this is not one of them. Fear, anger, even immediate violence. Not...interest.

"You have no idea," he says. Your eyes widen as he you feel his hand run up your thigh.

That's not the only thing you feel, though. He shifts a bit underneath you, and it's then that the earlier flush to your cheeks returns in full force. Is he...hard?!

"If you're going to kill me, then get on with it," you ground out through your teeth.

"Little one, if I had wanted you dead immediately, I would have already pinned you down and snapped your neck. No, you've given me a gift: a gift I intend to cherish." You shiver as he slides a hand up your thigh. "A challenge."

"Is this a game to you?" You're not sure if your breath is running ragged from fear or anger, now.

"I could end this at any time, you know." You gasp involuntarily as a hand closes around your throat. "But that would be no fun, now would it?"

"You are a fool, then." You stare at him defiantly, even as his grip constricts your breathing. "Because I will kill you."

His eyes dance with some mad glee. "That's what I like to hear."

Hiiiiiiiii besties. I've been chewing on the idea of a medieval royalty sort of au since before Shrike, and I came up with this premise like. At least a year or two ago, before I was even in the COD fandom. So I'm glad to finally be making some real headway on it! I have no idea how many parts this is going to have. I have a lot of plot planned for it, so we're just gonna have to see where the vibes take us!

I'd like to thank @danibee33 my angel as always. I bounced a lot of royal/medieval/king König ideas off of her, some of which I still may use, but I changed the plot drastically when I had an epiphany a week or two ago. Hope you like this one babe <3 Also, thank you @kneelingshadowsalome and @gremlingottoosilly for their historical/time period aus. Your fics gave me a real kick in the ass to finish this.

Also shoutout to Pedro Pascal fans? I stumbled upon some breathtakingly kinky fanfiction on this beloved hellsite featuring the Mandalorian, and thought: you know what? If people can proudly write and publish the nastiest, most shameless smut I've ever read, then I can push through whatever impostor syndrome, perfectionist embarrassment I have with my work and get it done.

As usual, please let me know your feedback! I'm trying out a bit of a different characterization for König (not that much different, he's still our beloved violent horny maniac), and I want to know what people think.

I'm also going to be using my taglist again. If you were tagged here and don't want to be tagged anymore, please let me know! And if you would like to be added to the taglist, drop a reply <3

@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr

[skywerse]

I designed finch's dad!!!!

[raainstorms]

Karen Page Appreciation Sad Moments (1/3)

[chai-en-kaadhale]

imagine if the museum fight got put on the news and han sooyoung just had to go to work the next day with all of her students REQUIRING the tea

[nevertheless-moving]

Hesina Willshaper AU

Step one canon divergence: Amaram's army doesn't do the kind thing. Kaladin's listed next of kin are sent a letter stiffly informing them that their son is a deserter and, thanks to the highmarshall's mercy, has been sold into slavery.

Step two canon divergence: a light spren has started following Hesina around.

The letter reaches hearthstone.

Hesina cries the bones of the first ideal through labor pangs. Their wretched diamond lamp grows slightly dimmer during childbirth.

Hesina and Lirin discuss if there's anyway they could possibly find their son and pay his slave debt. They're not optimistic.

Hesina talks with her lightspren.

Lirin and Hesina talk again about trying to find their son, now that Oroden is starting to be weaned.

Hesina appears to have grown taller. No one but the two of them seem to be aware but they're worried other future changes might be more noticeable.

Hesina and Lirin realize that she can mold rock as if it was clay with stormlight. A spark of hope for freeing their son emerges.

The two leave town.

They find a slave market in the nearest city. They see other parent's sons, but not their own.

Hesina swears to free those in bondage. Stormlight starts coming easier.

They make a tunnel. Rebellion follows. Lirin is horrified by the violence (the violence is not actually that bad all things considered. a couple guards dead. some bystanders frightened. Fair amount of property damage as they rob the military barracks food supply, steal every sphere that's not nailed down. and also steal the spheres that are nailed down. (Lirin won't admit it but the stealing from lamps part is kindof fun.)).

Many of those they freed flee. Some return to slavery willingly, scared of retribution. Many decide to follow the Radiant woman who has vowed to see others like them freed.

The group proceed to the next town. They find another slave market. They make a tunnel. There is more resistance than last time, clearly they were warned something might happened. Hesina kills a man.

Lirin is terrified by what his wife is becoming.

Hesina swears to shelter those without homes. The lightspren forms an unbreakable hammer, perfect for knocking crem free from buildings. And for knocking down men.

A now larger motley group seeks shelter in a mountain town razed in one of Alethkar's many skirmishes over the last decades. Hesina builds homes. Lirin begs her to stay here, to stop fighting before she goes to far down this path, not to go to war. The slaves they've freed are split, many wanting to stay, hide, some wanting to fight and free more, with a radiant at their head, there's a real chance to change things. Hesina lingers, practicing, spends some time falling in and out of shadesmar.

Lirin and Hesina separate.

Lirin stays with Oroden and the noncombatants. Hesina leads those who want to fight to another city, still trying to find their son, still trying to free everyone's children.

The town settles into a routine. Hesina and Lirin miss one another. This is the first time they've gone longer than two days without seeing each other in the last 25 years, and the two days was only when Lirin had to travel to where someone had overturned a cart on the road nearby and Hesina had to stay and watch the children, too young to travel. besides that, it had been every day. they keep turning to talk to each other.

While the army is gone, the free town is attacked by those trying to reclaim her property.

Hesina swims deliberately through shadesmar for the first time. reaches lirin just in time.

Lirin accepts that not fighting won't stop the violence. (It breaks him just a little bit)

Hesina shouts that one person's freedom ends where another's begins. She vows to fight against powers which would rather see their people in cages then homes. A thousand light spren rise up to grant her strength.

(yes I know she's moving fast through the oaths. but she's always been a thoughtful woman and she raised two children who asked difficult questions and now shes mother to another several hundred. honestly she had already worked through some of these concepts before they became actionable on such a grand scale.)

Lirin vows to support his wife through whatever trials the Almighty seems inclined to put her through.

The lightspren, who has started to get some memories back, remembers Oathgate Spren not terribly far from here by physical realm measurements, guarding a hidden human city

the stone remembers the way the radiants once traveled.

The path to a kingdom in the sky is slow — there are many cages to break on the way.

Kaladin doesn't know it right away, because people weren't exactly telling slaves about the freedom riots, but slave wagons start having harder and harder times reaching the shattered planes after him.

Someone mocks Lirin for having a wife so determined to pursue the masculine art of war. Lirin gets pissy and decides to show them by learning to read and write to help support the administrative side of his wife's kingdom wide asskicking.

The highprinces lead a fairly successful misinformation campaign about the slave riots, lots of accusations of rampant violence, the dregs of society lashing out, you can probably imagine

The ongoing rebellion is large enough that word trickles to the bridge crews, encouraging bridge four's hope for escaping, while also making it substantially more daunting, as the crews are even better guarded than canon.

Rumors of a female radiant swirl around. Most people assume it's a woman in shardplate with some sort of tunneling fabrial, which is still pretty crazy, but several major players Take Note

A very large and tired huddled mass of people reach Urithiru. there's just enough squires, and two new willshapers with their own oaths, to make tunnels through the shattered planes and reach the oathgate without being seen by the alethi armies

the parshendi army is another story, but some are willing to take a chance listening to the neshua kadal, and come with them.

The political implications of Dalinar freeing 1000 slaves is slightly more complex, especially considering the rebellions have been impacting Sadeas the hardest

About a week after being freed, Kaladin hires a spanreed intermediary to write home and find out if his hometown is alright (again, a lot of misinformation and rumors about the violence of the riots)

Is informed by Laral that his family left town looking for him shortly before the riots started, were presumed dead

Kaladin is under the impression that 1) his parents are dead because of him 2) the Rebellion is not the righteous fallback plan that he and the men were hoping it was.

Hesina has many reasons to go to the shattered planes. Nearest part of the trade network for food and necessary goods. Many slaves to be freed from there, and a part of her still hopes to find her son, even thought its been so long. Home of Alethkar's political leaders, the source of Alethkar's slavery.

I have spent. A LOT of time imagining many possible reunions between kaladin and his mom in my highly specific high oath hesenia au. She has a couple faces she could wear when visiting the planes. Brightlady. Radiant. Cagebreaker. Queen of Urithiru (not her real title, they're tentatively trying the Listener council model, but they know what the Alethi will understand). Even darkeyed mother, if she and Lirin approach slowly from a different direction. Honestly, pleased as I am with all of the above, a lot is flexible, the key here is kaladin going "MOM??" In some fashion One possible Reunion Here

Thank you @sorchasolas for conversation and the urithiru ideas and for leading me to actually write all this down <3

[buckleydiazmp4]

not to get all "actually☝️" about it but. the whole point of this is the fact that it isn't at all eddie's fault and buck just doesn't know how to properly process or recognize his feelings and know what he's missing *until* he gets presented with a specific situation. in truth buck has no right to be mad at eddie for building bonds with other ppl and it's why he has to do some introspection. this is not a "oh no poor buck eddie apologize to him!!!" thing, it's about buck getting, for lack of a better term, a good emotional humbling. eddie deserves good friendships and relationships, full stop. and if he likes the way he feels when he hangs out with tommy then great!! he's his own person and not a tool to further buck's character. but you also can't expect buck to immediately recognize that because, again, and for the millionth time, the whole POINT is that he doesn't. so if it has to get ugly and uncomfortable and embarrassing for him to do so then that is what will happen and that doesn't make either of them bad people. this is not a blame to be passing around. it's just them being human beings

[cheruverse]

currently thinking about enemies to lovers trope with muzan kibutsuji and immortal human reader who's fought for centuries just because reader has the blue spider lily with them

(i might make a drabble about this..)

[lazybakerart]

house getting blackout drunk after seeing wilson happy with his girlfriend/ex-wife vs. wilson acknowledging house is depressed seeing him happy with his girlfriend/ex-wife and paying the ducklings to take house out so he can fuck his girlfriend/ex-wife guilt free.

[nomoretumbler]

i’ll be chilling thinking hahah i love dr two brains he’s so silly and funny but then i remember. the horrors related to his existence.

[icarusredwings]

For science-

Thinking about this and I really don't know but I would love if 14 comes home one day and just sees Missy standing there in sweatpants and shes pouting like "This is unacceptable!"

14: Honey im ho- Ooh noo what happened?

Missy: I fell down the fucking stairs. Also im burning these clothes. Take me shopping.

14 with his UNIT paycheck: Consider it done darling though you might have to reconsider the Victorian era from last time.

Missy: what?

14: NOTHING DEAR I just meant-

Missy: Victorian and edwardian era had such class. It will be acceptable.

14: dang it-