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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

Text

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 5.2 k Summary: Yup it’s König with a Virgin!Nun!Reader folks. This is all @wordstome 's and @melancholic-thing 's and their König & religion post's fault! :( Tags/warnings: PINING. Eventual smut, eventual blood & minor injuries. A cute, sweet, silly story with undertones of religious despair. Watch out for possible mistakes concerning Catholicism, I was more interested in the forbidden love trope.

Part 1

You don’t know how it even happened, but you became friends with a foreign man visiting your city.

You bumped into him one day. Literally bumped into him, or then he bumped into you; you’re not entirely sure who’s to blame here, but you would’ve fallen to the ground had he not grabbed you by the arm and hauled you back up and against him.

It was just to prevent you from hurting yourself, but your mind short circuits for a moment when you’re pressed against the broadest chest you’ve ever seen. The man is tall, so tall you have to crane your neck to see who has such lightning-fast reflexes.

Worried eyes look down at you from above, but the man’s expression softens when he sees how frightened you look.

“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

He starts to fuss about being in such a hurry without any particular reason and asks if he can make this up for you somehow.

Could he offer you a lunch or something? No, how about a drink? He’s truly so sorry.

His accent is charming, and the genuine regret and worry make you quickly judge him as a safe enough person to grab a coffee with. Accidents happen, and it’s not illegal to sit down with a man you just met, right?

You tell him you don’t drink drinks, but a coffee would be nice. The man raises an eyebrow when you reveal to him that you’re not only a teetotaler, you’re also a nun.

“Ah… So you prefer a simple life?”

He takes you to a dark, cosy cafe around the corner. His inquiry leads to a conversation on the joys of silence and simplicity, then on philosophy, faith, and the cons of modern life. By the time he grabs you a table for two, you’re already discussing how people are always on their smartphones nowadays, looking for instant gratification and pleasures and how it wrecks their brains. You both gush about how nice it is to steer away from all that.

You find yourself talking to him with ease about your life choices. How the anxiety reached a point where you wanted to get away from all the fuss, and how much peace this solution has brought you. How you have meaning and purpose these days, and how you doubt you’d be able to adjust into a modern society anymore. He gets what you mean immediately, saying he only feels at home when he’s alone in the mountains. How he’s been alone his whole life, really, and that it doesn’t scare him anymore, on the contrary.

You feel warm and safe with him, lost inside a soft bubble you quickly create in the corner table of a cellar cafe. Perhaps it’s the dimly lit environment or perhaps it’s just him, but you have one of the deepest conversations ever with this mysterious man.

He’s attentive and curious without being your usual pervert on the sly. You’ve had enough of men looking at you like you’re the forbidden fruit after hearing about your life choices.

This man doesn’t try to seduce his way into your pants; he listens to your insights and agrees with you on how silence does you good, especially in times like this. You wonder what he does for work and why he’s here because clearly, he’s not local. You never get to ask him because the conversation ends far too quickly.

He receives a message on his phone, cruelly reminding you that the magical bubble has burst and you’re back in the modern world. He looks crabby about the interruption too, especially when he says he has to go.

You both agree that you had a nice talk and should continue it sometime – why not tomorrow? Same time, same place.

So you meet him again.

And again… And again.

You find out he’s in town for at least two weeks, but when he finally reveals what he does for work, your stomach sinks. He tells you he’s working for some private military contractor and can’t really share any details about his work. When you ask him does this mean that he kills people for money, he falls silent.

“I guess you could put it like that.”

He’s looking at his shoes when he says it, somewhat embarrassed or sad. His feet barely fit under the table, so he has them stretched out, leading to a waitress almost tripping on them one day. Your heart is squeezing inside your chest when he rises immediately and apologises like the perfect gentleman, helps the lady up and never gets insulted by the murderous glares the woman shoots at him.

He gives you his codename, König, and that he comes from Austria, but then refuses to share any other personal details. You don’t even get to know his first name. You do talk about your childhood, you talk about your schools and what you were supposed to become when you grew up. He tells you about his love for hiking, and you tell him about your dance hobby.

The usual “Oh? Nuns are allowed to dance?” comment has you laughing.

“Well… I don’t do twerking, but yes, nuns are allowed to dance.”

“What’s ‘twerking’?”

It’s so funny how you seem to know about modern trends more than him. You know about Tinder and TikTok through your friends; it’s just that these things are really not for you. Still, this König knows even less about dating apps and internet challenges than you.

It makes you intrigued: he could have dozens of women right now if he wanted to. And not only because he’s attentive and kind: he’s so big and tall that most women would beg him to whisk them away. All he needed to do was go to a hookup site and deal out some likes.

Most of his muscles are packed in the shoulders and chest area, making it challenging for him to fit through a door. You can see he hasn’t skipped a leg day either, and immediately chastise yourself for checking out his butt in the coffee queue. You ignore your filthy thoughts of wanting to get pressed against those pecs again, you pay no attention to the fleeting musings on how good that short stubble would feel against your neck if he ever chose to kiss you there.

A soldier and a nun make an odd pair, but you find yourself enjoying his company more than anyone elses. He seems to wait for your meetings with eager but polite enthusiasm, too. You know it’s an attempt to make you forgive his choice of career when he reveals to you that his best mission was when he saved thirty women from sex trafficking. And it does make your heart crack open a little. Killing is a sin, but he has tried to protect life in his own crude way.

You start to include him in your prayers. First, you ask for the Lord to guide this man away from the path of killing. Then, slowly, you ask him to be protected from harm, you only pray for him to be safe.

And you say nothing of this new acquaintance to the others. You ought to, but your lips remain sealed.

You’re allowed to have friends and visit them, and it doesn’t matter if the friend is of the opposite sex as long as the meetings are purely platonic. Which they are. This man could be your brother, you tell yourself. He could be a long-distance cousin. There’s nothing fishy going on around here, and he’s just visiting, so why would you bother to tell anyone? It would only lead to troubled sighs and concerned questions, and you really don’t feel like answering them right now.

You miss a few midday prayers, and once, your chores. The relationship turns out to be far from platonic.

König can’t even keep his eyes in check.

They travel down your neck and land on the smallest amount of cleavage, barely visible in the loose, dull shirts you wear. They slip further down and stop to admire your breasts next, then quickly rise back to your collarbones as if this was just a mistake, just an absent, wandering gaze. You know you’re wearing a semi-helpless stare by the time he meets your eyes. The blue steel in his is completely swallowed by hunger.

You want to believe it was only a momentary lapse, but then he does it again. Actually, you catch him looking at your breasts, scanning your body and cherishing the tender spot between your collarbones more times than you can count. They’re quick, stolen moments, so harmless that you choose to stay quiet. He usually starts to talk about something trivial right after, or asks you a quick question as if nothing ever happened.

Those stolen glimpses stay with you for the rest of the day though. They give you intrusive thoughts during morning prayers and evening silence. You’ve never felt this… adored.

He has a quiet, commanding presence, and you feel like a mouse under his gaze, a mouse who’s always thoroughly examined. At the same time, he’s so polite and so charming that you can’t think ill of him. He always takes your coat and brings you coffee, always asks how your day or week has been, and actually listens to you speak. He listens to your every word with a softening glow in his eyes, a shimmer that spreads across the table and makes you feel warm all over.

König always softens in your presence... You always tense up in his.

Your face is flushed, and you blame it on the overcrowded cafe. You feel both safe and in danger with him, and it must be the virgin inside you talking. But you sense there’s something more at play here. He’s simply not like other men.

You fear he’s seen hell; in fact, he must walk there every day. From what he tells you, you understand that he has suffered a lot and could use your prayers. But it’s also quite clear that he’s not a victim anymore.

It’s difficult to see this utterly charming teddy bear in front of you, enjoying his large cup of coffee and giving you the occasional husky laugh, then imagine the same man bursting through a door and starting a massacre. Marching in some dark, dirty recess with a rifle or a shotgun in his hands, hunting down screaming people and putting down his already bleeding enemies.

Because that’s what you imagine in your mind when he tells you he’s sometimes used as an insertion specialist; a human battering ram in short.

You look at his hands around the mug, long fingers curled in search of warmth. He has short, trimmed nails and no sign of blood under them… But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

…

"Oh honey. Soldiers are the worst," your friend sighs when you meet her at another cafe, different from where you meet your killing machine. It’s bubbly and lively and colourful, just like your friend; it’s the opposite of König, the special operations soldier who’s dark, intriguing, and intimate, just like the dimly lit cellar cafe you meet him in secret.

"He probably owns a Fleshlight," she mumbles with her mouth full of croissant.

"A… A what?"

She starts to cough at your innocent inquiry, and you know you didn’t hear ‘flashlight’ in the first place, it’s just that you’re not sure if you want to know what on earth she’s talking about now.

When she finally survives the munch she almost choked on, she politely tells you what a fleshlight is, and you find yourself not rolling your eyes, but actually thinking about König using one with need.

Christ have mercy…

"Soldiers are crazy. I once dated this peacekeeper,” your friend continues in her usual chirpy way. “Couldn't hold a conversation for his life. Unless it was about guns... And when I went over to his place, the walls were covered with pictures of naked women. It was so pathetic I had to keep myself from laughing. And oh god, now I remember! He offered me microwaved mac and cheese for dinner…"

You sip your coffee and listen politely to your friend ramble about some guy she used to date. She has a lot of these stories, and all of them are worth hearing. Sometimes you think if you’re living your unlived sex life through your friend, the way you’re so curious about hearing all the different descriptions of male genitalia and the crazy, funny, downright unbelievable scenarios that have happened to her.

Some of the tales are so gross you’re quite happy you haven’t indulged yourself in casual sex. And at times, hearing about all the things your friend has gone through, being an onlooker to all that heartbreak and pining and loss, has managed to strengthe your resolve.

Being a nun isn’t so bad... At least you haven’t wasted your time on shallow men.

"He put so much chili in that shit that my makeup started to run," she continues her story about the poor excuse for a dinner and a date. Usually, the food leads to sex in these tales, and you’re a hypocrite for wanting to hear more.

"Did you sleep with him…?"

"After that? No thanks," she looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "I pretty much fled the building."

Even the most sad, pathetic, crappy tales make you both laugh, especially if enough time has passed. You laugh now, too, both at your friend falling for a man simply because he was a hot soldier and at the poor man who was in obvious need of an interior designer and a cook. Or a girlfriend… Or a mom.

"Look. I'm saying this because you're my friend." She says after wiping a few tears from her eyes, "And because you’re a virgin and a goddamn nun. Like come on, how many years have you been locked up in that dreadful monastery?"

"Convent," you correct.

"Whatever. I'm telling you this man is just looking for some easy pussy while he's deployed."

“I wouldn't call a nun an easy…ugh, you know.”

“Perhaps he likes a challenge then, “ she shrugs. “Men like to hunt.”

"It’s not like that,” you quarrel, trying to ignore the way her lips purse with amusement. “He's been very nice to me and… we have these great conversations. We talk about really deep stuff, you know? He explained the difference between Schopenhauer and Kierkegaard to me last time we met–"

"Ok, that's even worse. That's a red flag."

You look down at your beverage, sullen and beaten. She’s the first person you’ve told about meeting a man over a coffee, and you’re already doing it wrong.

"Does he ever look at your tits?" She asks all of a sudden.

"What?"

Your friend crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head, looking like an overly self-satisfied detective.

"Do you ever catch him staring at your breasts," she rephrases the question as if she’s talking to a lame person.

"Well… Uh. Yes, sometimes–"

"Well there you have it. Man's just bored with his fleshlight."

"Shh! Keep it down, would you…? Good God..."

"Don't take the name of the lord your god in vain," she chimes. “But seriously, it’s no wonder. If only we could get you out of that convent, there would be a line of men at your door.”

“Oh for God’s sake…”

“No, seriously. We’re talking about fistfights and broken bones. Dating apps would explode. People would get killed.”

You roll your eyes - your friend always loves to exaggerate things. If anything, you’re scared of men, and you loathe the dating world. You’re put off by shallow commitments and one-night stands and getting ghosted and God knows what else. That’s why you became a nun: to find something stable in your life. You always told your friend that Jesus Christ is the most stable man you’ve ever met, and you will stick with him. As always, your friend was not on the same page with you.

“Stable? Excuse me, but didn’t he start a riot or something at the temple? Are we talking about the same dude who lead an uprising against the Romans? Hung out with whores, raised corpses from the dead, fucked around and found out until someone nailed him at the cross? Stable my ass!”

“Look, even if he wants something more, I’m not up for it,” you try to convince - both yourself and your friend.

“Mm. What a shame,” she smirks. “Is he handsome?”

“Yes, but–”

“Mmh. Deep voice?”

“Umm… It’s memorable?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “Okay fine, it’s nice and deep and I like it. And I love his laugh,” you confess, and your friend does a silent little ‘yay’ and ‘I knew it’ cheer. You know it would be a field day for her if you finally got laid. As cliche as it sounds, you’ve always treated your friend as some sort of devil’s advocate.

You allow yourself to gush a minute, maybe two, about his muscles to your beloved devil. You tell your friend about his broad back, how wide his shoulders are, you tell her about the easy smiles he always sports with you. You describe the tactical pants and the snug black t-shirts he wears in detail, you confess he has a nice butt and that he’s so big he can't even fit the table.

You tell her how König starts to talk with his hands if he gets excited and how you have to fear he’s going to knock something over and make a mess. You tell about his blue eyes and the way they always soften when he looks at you, and looks at you often. All the time, really. He doesn’t even see other women, uh, you mean, other people in the cafe. He’s polite to the waitresses but never fully acknowledges anyone else but you.

Your friend's enthusiastic grin turns into an uneasy, pitying smile when she realises how deep into this man you actually are.

"I'm sorry babe… Someone has to give you the tough love," she reaches for your hand across the table. "Do you understand that if this guy is not working for the regular military, he's probably doing some war crime type of shit?"

The way you rush to defend your steadfast soldier who probably has his hands covered in blood, would make your abbess sigh.

"No, no, actually, he's working against these human trafficking cells–"

"Ok, he shoots human traffickers too, that's great. Good for him. You're still about to step into a pile of traumatised, immature, emotionally unavailable soldier shit. Trust me."

"Just because your soldier was like that doesn't mean mine has to be," you blurt.

Gosh - that was a good old Freudian slip...

"Yours now, is he?"

"No, that was… It just slipped."

"So you've actually thought about banging this guy?"

"What?! No."

"You have," she insists with a widening smile.

"No. No, I–"

"Oh my god. You're about to forsake your vows," she brings her hands together in excitement. "Oh my god, oh my god. This is amazing!"

You feel your lips snap into a thin line.

Just whose side is this woman on? Does she want to protect you from heartbreak or push you into some man's lap just for shits and giggles?

If you're chosen by God, your friend is chosen by the Devil, that's for sure. Nothing exciting ever happens behind the walls of your 'monastery', nothing but endless prayers and boring lectures and monotonous chores. Of course she thinks it's about time you got a round of good dick. She just wants to hear a filthy story when you return from your secret little fling, a fling that could get you kicked out of the convent for good.

"How tall is he exactly...? Does he have big hands?"

Your friend's eyes are shining with excitement - apparently the possible war crimes and atrocities König has committed are forgiven and forgotten.

"What does that have to do with anything…?"

"I can tell you what to expect in the dick department," she smiles with an impish grin.

You eventually leave the cafe with a dirty soul and a skittish heart.

The way your friend described your new acquaintance's probable blessings in the "dick department" left little to the imagination, and now you're actually scared.

This man has been so polite towards you, so kind to you. He's offered you coffee and pastries and cake along with an intellectual challenge, but now it's all ruined because all you can think about is what's inside his pants. How big his hands are, and how they correlate with what's downstairs. How nice it would feel to lay under him, with his chest pressed against yours, how divine it would be to get pinned down by him. How those strong, narrow hips would fit between your legs, broad shoulders eclipsing the view above as he slowly crawls on top of you. How he'd kiss your neck, your collarbones, your mouth, with such hunger that your legs eventually give in and spread wide open.

You return to the convent with a heavy heart and distressed thoughts, but find some solace in your evening prayers.

Nothing has happened, you remind yourself; these are only thoughts. You have seen a man who's interested in you for half a dozen times. You took part in a shallow, mundane, earthly conversation today with your friend, but nothing carnal or wrong has happened. Everything is the way it has always been.

You’re safe now, completely safe here. There’s no chaos and no guns and no tall men with big dicks, no Austrian war criminals trying to seduce you and then discard you after their deployment ends.

There’s only a man with a kind smile, warm eyes, and a nice, husky laugh. Some good coffee with distant notes of chocolate and perfectly civil conversations about European philosophers and the crisis of modern thought.

Sturdy walls support you; they have held you for centuries, and the crucifix above you has given hope to so many people before you. The ever-safe embrace of your faith envelops you, and you can always trust that you are loved, even when you’re flawed and incomplete.

Even with indecent thoughts, you can pray for mercy and ask for forgiveness. Even if you have impure urges towards your Austrian mercenary, you can still pray for him... It’s the least you can do to repay the kindness he has given you.

But the heaviness follows you to your room; it makes your chest feel dark and thick. You don’t say your last prayer before bed. You don’t want His eyes upon you tonight.

You don’t want to draw the Lord’s attention to you while your hand travels down beneath the sheets, your thoughts wandering to a certain god-like soldier with eyes like burning ice.

…

The next time you two meet, he crosses a clear boundary.

König has started to take you for walks, sometimes suggesting you two could visit a museum, clearly wishing you’d show him around the city. In truth, he’s the one parading you around like you’re his cute little lady. He pays for your museum tickets and brings you ice cream while you sit on a bench at a park, grabs your arm to draw your attention to a few swans swimming in a pond. And that’s ok - physical touch like that is ok. Holding hands is not.

Because…

One time, when you’re walking down a hill path, admiring the sunset, a big, warm hand wraps itself around yours.

It finds you in silence, envelops your tiny palm completely, squeezes you softly and emanates so much heat that a cord of fire shoots across your arm and straight into your heart.

You allow yourself to bask in the warmth of the huge, calloused palm for a few more seconds before ripping your hand away. You take a few hurried steps and turn, noticing he has stopped to look at you with guarded hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise even if König is the one who went off limits, “but this is not appropriate.”

“Entschuldigung… I know. That was out of bounds,” he raises a hand over his heart and bows his head a little, watching you from under his brows. You could keel over from how the gesture reminds you of Arthurian romances, of knights who place their hand on their heart to swear they’ll never disgrace a lady again.

Instead, you nod, your soul saved but your heart sinking like an anvil dropped in the sea. You’d want nothing more than for him to do it again, to grab your hand in his and never let go.

The rest of the walk happens in awkward silence, and you thought he would keep his distance - Christ, you thought you would keep your distance - but he insists on walking near to you, and so you continue down the path with your fingers still touching each other every now and then. You don't even try to move your hand away.

I’m going to die, you scream internally while looking at the bleeding sunset in the distance. You can’t look at him; you can’t even talk to him. It’s like your body is pumped full of some drug these days.

Falling for someone so hard is making you feel faint; your insides are churning and turning and your brain is a mess. Your heart is racing so fast that you’re afraid you’ll end up having a heart attack one of these days.

He’s probably used to this: the thrill and the adrenaline, a world laced with rush and extremes, indulging in things such as guns and explosions and blood and women and darkness.

You only have your safe routines, your sisters, a few friends you meet over coffee, a family you visit thrice a year. You’re not used to being bombarded with hormones and raw emotion like this. You have never, ever lusted after a man like this. The only thing you ever craved for was another slice of cake.

“Do you still want to see me?” He asks apologetically when you approach the convent which has now started to resemble a frigid, uneventful prison.

“Of course,” you hurry to say. “Just… No more holding hands. Ok?”

“Ok,” he chuckles softly, and you stop and turn.

He’s never been this near to where you live, and you’re afraid someone will see you if he escorts you to the door. You can’t be seen with a man in your current state, that would be a catastrophe. Anyone in the building could tell that this friendship is far from platonic.

“I’m sure you’ll find some other girl to… hold hands with,” you say, hating how bitter and self-pitying you sound. You even swallow when you look up into his eyes. They’re so soft now that the ice has almost disappeared, devoured by longing, a thick and sinful darkness.

“What if I don’t want some other girl?”

His voice is so wickedly gentle too.

You can see he’s fighting an inner battle to not touch you again; he’s standing toe to toe with you, towering above you, with his shoulders slightly hunched. If someone walked behind him, they wouldn’t even see you’re there because of how close you two are standing to each other. You can’t back away from him because you’d bump into a tall iron gate - in fact, you’re half-pressed against it now.

“I’ve enjoyed our conversations,” he continues with a throaty voice. God, how you would melt if he used that voice in bed…

“So have I,” your voice comes out as a wavy whisper. “But there can’t be anything more than that... I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” he laments, but the corner of his mouth curves slightly up. “So sorry you wouldn’t even believe…”

It’s mischief and seduction, darkness and deception, and your insides squeeze into a tight little knot.

“Please… Let’s just keep it the way it was,” you plead with eyes that beg the complete opposite.

“Sure... I will try my best, Kätzchen. Is this your convent…?”

You wonder if he’d pay you a visit if you told him where you sleep. You wonder if your single bed would creak if he tried to make love to you on it... You wonder if you could muffle your cries when you clenched with him inside you. If he’d groan too loudly when he reached his peak…

“It’s just around that corner,” you explain with a frail voice, hating how it betrays every single thing that crosses your mind.

“Good to know,” he replies, with no shakiness to his voice at all. He seems to enjoy making you so flustered; he seems to draw strength from people weaker than him. Which is probably 99 % of the population…

“How so,” you peep, already praying that he wouldn’t come to try his luck with the poorly locked windows. The back door is always open too because some of the nuns are smokers. König wouldn’t even need to use his insertion skills to get in.

“Now I know where to find you if I come to work here again,” he shrugs as if innocent. As if his eyes didn’t betray a few filthy thoughts too.

“Are you… Are you leaving then?”

“Soon.”

Your heart is about to break after two weeks of knowing some random guy, and you feel like the silliest woman in the world.

You try to remind yourself of what your friend said: this man just wants some easy pussy. He’s just bored with his fleshlight. Men like challenges, they like to hunt. You think about Lucky Luke and all the other cowboys who came and went as they pleased, breaking hearts and then riding into the sunset.

This cowboy only got to hold your hand though... And he’s saying he doesn’t want “some other girl”. Of course there’s a chance that he simply visits a brothel after discussing philosophy with you, or goes to a club or whatever, but you don’t want to entertain such horrible thoughts.

“I’ll miss you, then,” you try to sound neutral while he’s looking down at you like you’re his first love.

“Ganz sicher, I will miss you too. Perhaps I’ll visit you, work trip or not?”

“That would be nice.”

“It might take a while. But you won’t forget me, ja?”

“Of course not. I will pray for you every day,” you smile with a good amount of affection. It has the same effect as saying something like “I want to blow you right here on this street” because your Austrian giant gets visibly excited. His breath quickens, and his eyes start to wander again.

“...Are you sure I can’t hold your hand?”

You give him a shy smile, then quickly guide your eyes to the pavement. This König is definitely taking it as some love confession when a girl says she will pray for him. Your insides turn to jello when you see his hand close into a loose fist, then open with a spasmlike stretch. He wants to touch you so badly that he has to physically fight against it.

“No…?” He inquires high above you, so desperate that you’re quite sure he’s not frequenting any brothels in the area. He might stroke his cock to the thoughts of you, though…

You shake your head softly, then raise your eyes back to his. What a silly, silly man. If only you weren’t a nun, you’d let him do whatever he wants with you. Even abandon you after using you in every which way, because to be under that adoring gaze is worth a thousand heartbreaks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

There’s more desperate hope in that question, and you wonder if tomorrow is the last time you’ll see each other. Soon could mean anything, but you can’t bear to hear the exact time and date when he leaves. Not tonight.

“Yes. Same time, same place,” you agree, then flee from under the dark, adoring stare to the safety of your cloister.

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig x nun!reader #forbidden love #könig fanfiction #konig x reader #konig x you

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arc-misadventures · 4 months ago

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The Sorcerer’s Dark Magic

Bruised, battered, and bloody.

This was the sorry state of, Cinder Fall.

A member of, Salem’s inner circle had been identified whilst she was in, Vale. Beacon sent several of its highly trained, Hunter’s, and Atlas had also sent in members of its elite team of, Specialists to bring her in.

They had found her, and her cronies in the midst of a pack of, White Fang members lead by the murderous zealot, Adam Taurus.

The fight had been long, and bloody, costing the lives of several Hunters, Specialist, and many members of, Cinder’s entourage, along with scores of members of the, White Fang. Even the murderous zealot, Adam Taurus’s life was taken in the fight.

But, they won, and they had taken, Cinder Fall in alive. And, now it was time for her interrogation to begin.

An event that would scar many who whiteness the horrors about to be unleashed.

~~~

The door opened to reveal a trio standing before a one way mirror, they all turned, and nodded their greetings at the duo as they entered the room. Within the room there was the headmaster of, Beacon Academy, Ozpin. The deputy headmistress, Glynda Goodwitch. And, lastly there was a seasoned huntsman, and a drunkard named, Qrow Branwen.

Entering the room was, Headmaster of Atlas Academy, and General of the Atlas Military, James Ironwood, followed closely by his aide, Specialist, Winter Schnee. They joined the trio at the mirror to stare at the bloody, and bruised body of, Cinder Fall.

Ironwood: So, what’s the plan?

Ozpin; Hello to you too, James. Right now the plan is to wait.

Ironwood: Wait, wait for what?

Qrow: The Sorcerer is finishing up his treatment of the wounded.

Ironwood: The Sorcerer? You have a magic user; why didn’t you notify me that you found a maiden?

Ozpin shook his head as he watched, Cinder pull at her aura suppressing restrains that binded her hands in a vain attempt to escape.

Ozpin: I would have if we did, but no. The Sorcerer is just a nickname he picked up.

Ironwood: He? So it’s a male. Hmmm… Who is this, Sorcerer you’re talking about?

Glynda: His name is, Jaune Arc; He is an experienced, Hunter who is a teacher here at, Beacon Academy, and he doubles as an assistant school nurse when the need arises.

Glynda’s brief rundown gave, Ironwood a simple understanding of who he was, and considering how normal he sounded, he understood why, Ozpin never brought him up before. But, why would he need someone so plain to interrogate her?

Winter: Arc…? Does he have blond hair, and blue eyes?

Glynda: Yes.

Winter: I believe I met him. He seems like a kind, and caring individual who cares deeply for the wellbeing of his students. Why are you having him interrogate the prisoner?

Ozpin: We need her to talk; We need to know what, Salem’s plans are, and who is working with her. If we try doing so ourselves we will get nowhere. But, if we let, Mr. Arc do it himself, we will get all the answers, and more that we are looking for.

Ironwood: Are you sure about this, Ozpin?

Ozpin: Honestly, James if I was being ‘interrogated’ by, Mr. Arc. I’m not sure what secrets I wouldn’t spill to get him to stop.

Ozpin shuddered as he remember the last time he sat on, Jaune interrogating someone. It was effective, but disturbing.

Qrow: Wait, you made that sound like he wasn’t going to talk with her, but more like he’s going to ‘talk’ with her.

Ozpin: …

Ozpin: It must be done…

Qrow: Seriously?! You’re gonna make, Tai 2.0 go in there, and torture her?

Ironwood: What?!

James looked to, Ozpin as he held his head in defeat. He had no other options left. And, considering what, Cinder, and her associates were planning, and how they barely caught it, and just managed to stop it. They needed her to talk to prevent anything else from coming.

Ironwood: You can’t possibly have forced him to do this?!

Glynda: Jaune agreed to do it! He lost several of his friends in the raid to get her, this is his own way of avenging them. And, you know how effect his methods are, we both have seen what he can, and will do to someone.

Qrow looked away before taking another drink from his flask. He knew what, Jaune could do, he knew exactly what he could do. That didn’t mean he liked what he saw.

Qrow: Fuck…

Qrow took a swig from his flask as he turned back to look at the girl in cuffs. Ironwood gave the drunk one fleeting glance before turning to face his friend.

Ironwood: How will this, Arc fellow make her talk?

Ozpin: He will no doubt try, and talk to her at first. But, when that inevitably fails, he will use his semblance instead.

Ironwood: And, what is his semblance?

Ozpin: It’s… Oh, he’s here.

~~~

The door opened, and closed with a heavy click of steel. A blond haired man entered the room. Cinder eyes him warningly as he walked over to the table, and took the seat across from her. He put down a notebook, and a pen, before brushing some unseen dust from the desk before he turned to face her.

: Hello, Ms. Cinder Fall. My name is, Jaune Arc. May I call you, Cinder?

Cinder said nothing, and just stared him down. They stared each other down for a while before, Jaune shrugged his shoulders, and opened his notebook to start taking notes.

Jaune: Not much of a talker, eh? No matter, we’ll get you talking soon enough.

Jaune: Now then, Ms. Fall, let’s summarize the past days events: A team of, Beacon students stumbled upon your little operation going on in, Mount Glenn. A team of veteran, Hunters from, Vale, as well as a team of, Atlasian Specialists came in to prevent you from colliding a train into the old train house in downtown, Vale thus releasing a horde of, Grimm into the city. Did I make a mistake in any of that, Ms. Fall?

Cinder: …

Jaune: Still not talking, eh? No matter, I’ll get you talking sooner, or later. So, pray tell what were you planning to do?

Cinder glared daggers at the man who radiated golden retriever energy, but said nothing.

Jaune: Twas a rhetorical question, since you won’t answer me after all. So, let us speculate then shall we?

Jaune: Hmm… you wanted to launch a horde of, Grimm into the city… but, why?

Jaune: Since the White Fang were involved was it to act as a protest against the mistreatment of faunas?

Cinder: …

Jaune: I expect that was the, White Fang’s plan, at least what they thought the plan was. So logically they would do this to kill people, both human, and faunas as a means of retribution for past, and future wrongs.

Cinder continued to glare at him, but within those burning eyes, Jaune could see her asking him a simple question.

Jaune: What the hell am I talking about? That’s what you’re thinking, I can see it in your eyes. But, well, extremists all ways take the simplest things, that often have the simplest solutions to the extreme. Hence the name: extremists. But, what’s your angle in all of this?

Jaune leaned closer, and stared, Cinder down. Their eyes locked on one another in a staring contest that made, Cinder’s blood burn. And, yet this feeling in her blood wasn’t from rage.

Jaune: We asked your associates what you game in all of this was… And, what were their names again…?

Jaune flipped through his notebook, before pulling out two photos, attached to slips of paper.

Jaune: Ahh yes… Mercury Black, and… Emerald Sustrai, that’s their names. The didn’t snitch on you, they never would. But, as they say… ‘Dead man tells no tale~!’

Jaune could see her eyes flash wider for the briefest of moments. She seemed to not care about her associates, at least, she seemingly didn’t care that much.

Jaune: But, your pal, Roman Torchwik. He sung like a song bird, and told me all of your dastardly deeds, after receiving some proper… motivation~!

~~~

Ironwood watched carefully as he listened to, Mr. Arc as he interrogate the prisoner.

Ironwood: Did you also ‘interrogate’ this, Torchwik fellow?

Ozpin: There was no need to, we offered him a plea deal for all the information he had on her, and he was rather forthcoming coming. Although his information as to what, Ms. Fall’s plans are, were rather limited.

Ironwood: I see, hopefully this, Arc fellow can make use of it. Now, I don’t mean to sound… disturbed. But, when is this supposed… ‘interrogation’ meant to begin.

Glynda: It already begun. As soon as, Jaune entered the room the ‘interrogation’ started.

Winter: How can you be sure of that? All they’ve done is talk, nothing that hints towards torture has started.

Glynda: She’s sweating…

Everyone looked over to see a bead if sweat drip down, Cinder’s forehead as cold air escaped her lips.

Ironwood: What? That rooms kept cold to stop her from using her fire semblance, why is she sweating?

Ozpin: Good question…

~~~

Jaune: Now… Roman told us all about your evil plans. Well… that of which he was privy to that is…

Jaune put on a show, Cinder could tell he was trying to put her off guard, and it wasn’t working. The sweat falling down her head was getting on her nerves though, the room was freezing cold, and yet she was sweating. She could help, but wonder why.

Jaune: You hired him to steal large quantities of, Dust. Though he says you threatened him. Now, I am curious as to why you needed that much, Dust? You weren’t selling it, and you did make several bombs on that train, but the quantity of, Dust that was used in those bombs is no where near the amount that was stolen. Are you trying to artificially inflate the price of, Dust?

Cinder glared daggers at the man, hoping to burn a hole through this golden retriever of a human being. But, still refused to answer.

Jaune: That would mean you’re working for, Jacques Schnee! I knew you were a heartless bitch, but I couldn’t believe you were that heartless to work with that Grimm spawn bastard son of a bitch!

Cinder: I don’t work for that, Dust whore… Ahh?!

Jaune relished the sound of her little outburst as a vicious grin crept from the corner of his mouth as he stared down the prisoner as she pulled back from him.

Jaune: You spoke~! Ah-hahahaaa~!

~~~

Winter: Calling my sperm donour a, ‘Dust whore;’ I best remember that.

Qrow: Oh, you’re not upset that people are making fun of daddy?

Winter: The majority of the people of, Atlas, and Mantle despise my father, I among the top three individuals that despise the man. I’ve been using photos of the mans face for target practice for the new recruits.

Ozpin: Really now? And, how is that going, Specialist Schnee?

Winter: Better than I expected; Atlas’s military personnel’s average accuracy when handling firearms has gone up by 27%, and is still climbing.

Ironwood: Oh really? I was wondering how that increased happened. Well done, Specialist Schnee. Start implementing that in, Atlas Academy, I’m curious to see how the students will improve if we implement such a… policy.

Winter: I will see it done, Sir.

Ozpin: Should we implement such a policy here as well, Glynda?

Glynda: We shall discuss that later, Ozpin. The Sorcerer is at work.

~~~

Jaune: So tell me… what was your plan…?

Jaune’s smile sent shivers down, Cinder’s; it was a calculated smile, its intent was to unnerve, and put one’s foe on the backfoot.

Cinder: …

Jaune: …

Cinder: …

Jaune: Hmm?

Jaune: Still no talky?

Cinder: …

Jaune: Okay then… So you don’t work for that dust whore. You obviously don’t work with the, White Fang, you’re obviously not a faunas. Unless…?

Jaune was giving her the once over, as if to find some hidden faunas trait that was hidden behind her clothes.

Cinder: I am not a faunas…

Jaune: No…?

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: I would have guessed you were some sort of snake faunas; Hidden fangs in your mouth, elongated tongue those kind of things. Nothing?

Cinder: No…

Jaune: Well, then you’re obviously working for some sort of hidden secret organization that’s bent on the total, and complete destruction of the world!

Cinder: …

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: Hmm… you’re quite good at hiding your emotions, but your eyes keep giving things away.

Cinder’s eyes flashed for a moment before she looked away. She cursed herself for letting her emotions escape her harsh grasp. She had done plenty of research on the staff at, Beacon Academy, but, Jaune Arc was one she couldn’t find much information on. At most it was common knowledge that if you asked anyone anything about him they would tell you the same thing. Jaune tended to keep his personal life like that, personal. At most it was know that he was single, and the only son if his family.

Well, as secretive as he may be, it was no where near as…?!

Jaune: Why does the witch want to destroy the world?

~~~

Ironwood: Wait, what?! Ozpin, how does he know about, Salem?

Ozpin: One of, Mr. Arc’s greatest skills is his observational awareness. I thought I was being subtle with any information retaining to, Salem, but he picked up on my… unsaid words. And, forced me to talk…

Ironwood: Forced? Did he use his semblance on you?

Ozpin: Possibly…? I am not sure.

Ironwood: Can’t you tell when he’s using his semblance?

Glynda: It depends on how, Jaune’s using it. It can be very subtle, subtle enough that you don’t even realize he’s using it. Subtle enough that even he doesn’t realize he’s using it at times.

Ozpin: But, when it’s obvious he’s using his semblance you become painfully aware that he’s using it. To say it’s blood curdling in its usage is an understatement of the extreme of extremes.

Qrow: Ughh… I remember when I saw him use it to its fullest extent; Can’t say the guy didn’t have it coming, but throwing up my lunch wasn’t what I had in mind that day…

Ironwood: …?

Winter: What the hell is his semblance?

~~~

Cinder: What witch?

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: Oh come on now… I know all about, Salem, and Ozpin’s stupid little shadow war going on behind the scenes. So if you plan on playing dumb well…

(Tap, tap, tap)

Jaune: Let’s just say it won’t work well for you.

Cinder could feel sweat dripping down her head in a freezing cold room, his words caused dread to slowly build up in her heart.

Cinder knew that playing dumb wouldn’t work any longer. At best she could deflect, and feed him bread crumps to cause him to look away from her true objective.

Cinder: I was trying to… trying to cause a, Grimm stampede in the hopes of destroying, Vale.

Jaune: To what end?

Cinder: Spread the seeds of chaos, and show, Ozpin, and his allies that his precious little cities are not as safe as they think they are.

Jaune: To what end?

Cinder: I just told you; To destroy, Vale.

Jaune: Don’t play dumb with me my dear, I’m not an idiot like, Ozpin, or General Ironwood. They would take you words at face value, but I can tell you’re hiding something…

Cinder: What is there to hide; you already know everything I planned to do, you’re just trying to confirm what happened for you reports, aren’t you?

Jaune: Well…

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: You could say that… but, your goal wasn’t to destroy, Vale… No, no, no. Your goal may be quite well thought out, but you don’t care if, Vale fell. No, no, I recon your plan wasn’t to destroy, Vale… A definitive bonus if your plan succeed, but no. Your true goal was to distract, Ozpin… but, to distract him from what tis the question…

Cinder’s heart was beating erratically as this interrogation continued on. She had read, Mercury’s, and Emerald’s reports on the man; they read of a kind, and caring man who would lay his life down for his students without a moment’s hesitation. But, the man currently before her, was not that man.

He exuded an aura of cold, calculating indifference, and a predatory smile that sent shivers down her spine, the exact same smile he was giving her right now. There was a sparkle in his eyes as he came to a simple conclusion; the an answer to a riddle that answers everything he wanted to know, and more.

Jaune: You’re after the, Fall Maiden, aren’t you…?

~~~

Ozpin: The Fall Maiden…?

The answer to a question unasked escaped, Ozpin’s throat in a ragged whisper. It made sense, too much sense that this was, Cinder’s goal, she was after the, Maiden’s powers, and she was willing to destroy, Vale to get it.

Qrow: So it was her, and her cronies that attacked, Amber! Why didn’t I see that…?

Ironwood: She never did finish off, Amber because, Qrow came to the rescue, this is all an elaborate plot to get the, Fall Maiden’s power… I amazed that, Mr. Arc was able to come to such a conclusion.

Glynda: But, to go to such extents to acquire the, Fall Maidens powers seems a bit over the top.

Winter: Couldn’t she have just killed her when she first had the chance, and acquired her powers that way? Why did she plan to destroy, Vale in the process?

~~~

Jaune: Oh? Now isn’t that an interesting reaction!

An involuntary, sharp gasp escaped, Cinder’s lips as he effortlessly hit the nail on the head. Arc, knew about the, Maiden’s, in the case what else did he know! She looked away from him, daring to hope he would not find anymore clues in her broken mask.

Jaune: Excuse me, we’re talking; tis quite rude to look away from someone while we’re talking.

Cinder couldn’t look at this man, there was something off about him…

(Tap, tap, tap)

Jaune: Excuse me, don’t turn awaywe’re still talking here.

Something that could make the skin crawl…

Jaune: Oi, look at me.

Something that was deemed unnatural…

Jaune: We’re not done speaking, Cinder.

Something that was indescribable to the senses…

Jaune: Cinder… Look at me.

But, it was something completely explainable.

Jaune: Haaa…

Something so obvious, and simple, that it was often overlooked as an item of irrelevance.

Jaune: I said…

A semblance.

Jaune: Look at me.

Cinder could feel her entire body being wrenched forward, her muscles screaming in pain as they were forced to move in what felt like an unnatural, but completely natural manner. Her body was set straight in her chair, her head forced to stare at, Jaune face, making her stare into those calm, uncaring cerulean eyes of his. She tried to turn her body, to squirm in defiance as he stared her down, but she could not move her body by a hairs breath.

Jaune: Now, shall we continue our discussion?

Cinder: A-A semblance…

Jaune: Hmm…?

Cinder: A semblance! Y-You’ve been using your semblance on me this whole time! From the moment you entered this room, you’ve been using a semblance on me to make me talk, haven’t you!

Jaune: CorrrrecT!

~~~

Ironwood: Ahh, telekinesis!

Winter: He’s a telepath? That would most certainly explain how he was able to get, Miss Fall to talk.

Qrow: Nope.

Ironwood: What?

Qrow: The kids not telepathic.

Ironwood: He isn’t?

Winter: But, the way he forced her body to move, that’s clearly a telekinesis based semblance.

Qrow: It may look that way, but his semblance is nothing like that. If it was, I would be better at holding my stomachs contents when he decides to… let loose.

Glynda: I’d doubt that.

Qrow: Well… it wouldn’t be as bad… hopefully?

Ironwood: Then what is it?

Ozpin: It would be best to let, Mr. Arc explain it…

~~~

Cinder: Y-You’ve been using your semblance to extract information from me! Haven’t you!

Jaune: Mmmm… In a manner of speaking… I’ve mostly been connecting dots, and what not from what clues you’ve given me. That, and reading your facial expressions, any little bodily ticks you are showing off. I’ve mostly been using my semblance to make you feel a sense of unease. It’s been quite effective if I do say so.

Cinder: What is it; Telekinesis?! Are you some sort of psychic?! What is your semblance?

Jaune: Oh, nothing so… civilized as those…

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: Nothing like that…

Cinder: That tapping! You’ve been doing that ever since you came here… why?!

Jaune: As I said, ‘To make you feel unease.’

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: I take it that it has been working.

Cinder: How does tapping your fingers make me feel unease?! Do you have some sort of telekinesis based semblance?! I demand to know!

Jaune: As I said: It may seem liked that, but no. I don’t have a physic, telekinesis, and sort of moving stuff with my mind based semblance.

Cinder: THEN WHAT THE HELL IS IT!!!

Jaune calmly stared at, Cinder as her rugged gasps of breath slowly tapered out. Before he calmly responded to her question.

Jaune: I’ll answer your question: How is that I am making you feel unease, why the tapping, how I forced your body to turn to face me. I’ll explain it all. But, in exchange you have to answer something for me.

Cinder: And, what is that?!

Jaune: What does, Salem want with the keys to the vault, and what does she intend to do with its contents when they are emptied?

Cinder: W-What…? H-How did you figure it out…?

Cinder’s rage, the blazing inferno that burned within her body was suddenly snuffed out as if it was a match struck in the midst of a typhoon. What was replaced was stunned fear. She hadn’t mentioned a single thing, no clues, no hints, but this freak had managed to put together every piece of her plan, and managed to figure out what her true goal really was!

And, all he did was calmly look at her with a cocky smirk forming from the bottom of his lip.

Jaune: Oh I just managed to connect the dots that others leave unseen. Four kingdoms. Four Academies. Four Maidens, and lastly, Four Relics. My educated guess tells me that one of the four relics is hidden in one of the four kingdoms academies. And, that they are kept behind in a secret, hidden vault that requires a key to unlock them. And, that key, is a maiden. Am, I wrong?

Cinder: …

Cinder: You’re correct…

Jaune: Am I know~?

~~~

The group all stood back as, Jaune turned to give them a dark smile as he managed to make, Cinder spill all her information on why she was going to attack, Beacon Academy.

And, it had only been ten minutes.

Glynda: Salem’s after the, Relics? I can only imagine the destruction she could wrought across, Remnant if she had even one of those…

Ironwood: We need to tighten security back in, Atlas. And, in all the other academies at that! In all the kingdoms! We cannot allow her to gain access to any, Relics!

Qrow: What is she even planning to do with those things? They aren’t all that dangerous no are they?

Ozpin: She not after any one, Relic for its individual capabilities… she wants all four of them.

Ironwood: What is the difference is she has one, Relic, or all of them? The destruction she could wreak across, Remnant could be unimaginable!

Ozpin: Not if those two came back…

Ironwood: What?

~~~

Jaune: Excellent! Now that we have all the speculation as to why you are doing this out of the way. Now I must ask who your other accomplices are, and what they are doing, and we can finish everything up once, and for all. Alright?

Cinder: No…

Jaune: No…?

Cinder: You said you would tell me what your semblance was… I answered your question… But, unless you tell me the truth… I won’t tell you anything! It doesn’t matter if you torture me… I will never talk!

Jaune: No, that’s fair… You answered my question, tis only fair that I answer yours in kind. Tell me… I assume you’ve done your research on all of the staff at, Beacon, myself included. So, I can assume you heard about my nickname?

Cinder: Yes… The staff here call you, ‘The Sorcerer.’ But, none of the students know why.

Jaune: That’s because, ‘The Sorcerer,’ isn’t really what my nickname is all about. And, I can assure you, a few students know what the story behind my nickname is, and my semblance is as a result of that. And, the reason why no one knows that start is simply because they just don’t like talking about it.

Jaune: You see… I can use magic…

Cinder: Impossible… Only five people in the world can use magic, and they all happen to be female… which you clearly are not.

Jaune: True… I just like to referring my semblance as magic, helps others… comprehend my semblance, and its abilities.

Cinder: Then what is your semblance…?

Cinder leaned in and scowled at, Jaune as he returned her scowl with a devious and, all knowing smirk as he softly replied.

Jaune: Blood Magic~!

Cinder: What…?

Jaune: Blood Magic! That’s what my semblance is! I can freely manipulate the blood of any living being! Making them my puppet…

Cinder could feel her eyes darting to the right, and lefr, then back to, Jaune, and yet she had no intention in her mind to move her eyes.

Cinder: M-M-My eyes?! You’re moving my eyes?!

Jaune: I can also regulate your heart beat! Why do you think I kept on tapping my finger?

(Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…)

Cinder focused on her body, slowly she started to feel the controlled beating of her heart as, Jaune tapped his finger to a steady beat.

Cinder: You made my heart race at an unnatural beat… causing my body to go into shock because of my blood wasn’t flowing properly, causing me to…

Jaune: Panic. Yes, tis a very effective way at making people nervous. I have to tap the beat though… I could hold out my hand, and flex my fingers inward, like so…

Jaune held his hand before, Cinder, and simply made a closed fist that lasted, but a hairs breath. However…

Cinder: AHHHHHHH?!!?!

It caused, Cinder to collapse in pain as her breath came in hard, and laboured gasps like a drowning man struggling for air as water filled their lunga. Her eyes widened in horror at the stunning realization of what he had just done to her.

Cinder: You… Y-You… haaahaha… you were crushing my heart?!

Jaune: Correct… My semblance is no doubt among the most powerful there is. I can tell precisely where a person is based upon feeling a persons circulatory systems. I can even tell people apart to some extent.

Jaune turned behind him to look at the one way mirror, and pointed at it.

Jaune: Right there is, Qrow Branwen. I can feel the alcohol in his veins, don’t ask me how, I can’t explain it. Next to, Qrow right there should be, Glynda Goodwitch. I can tell it’s her because the blood flows differently in woman than it does in men.

Jaune: I can also tell it’s her because I can sense more blood in the… front.

Jaune turned back to look at, Cinder; his face etched into a look filled with self loathing, and disscontempt.

Jaune: There are many things I despise about my semblance.

He shook his head in disgust as he pointed back at the mirror.

Jaune: Ahem… right next to her is, Ozpin; I can tell because I can feel his body posture that indicates he is resting on a cane, and that he is holding a bug in his hand. And, all the caffeine in his veins. Guy seriously needs to cut back on the joe…

Jaune: Next to, Ozpin is another woman. I have no idea who she is, but I know she’s there.

Jaune: And, right there is, General James Ironwood. I can only sense half a man partly floating in the air… such a perverse feeling… I can feel the blood flowing to his toes on one leg, but on the other it stops when it reaches his hip. The same on his arms; I can feel it reach his finger tips one one hand, and yet on the other I feel it stop at the shoulder joint… Such a ghastly feeling…

~~~

Winter: B-Blood magic?! That’s his semblance: Blood Magic?!

Ozpin: It is as he says… he can sense, and manipulate the blood in a persons body. To say it’s ghastly is a understatement of a lifetime.

Qrow: He can tell it’s me based on my blood alcohol levels? I better cut back a bit…

Glynda: He knew it was me because of my bust…?

Winter: At least he takes no pleasure in knowing that.

Glynda: Haaa… A gentleman to the end…

Ozpin: James? Are you alright?

James Ironwood gaze was dead stead at staring at his right hand, his robotic hand. It was a terrifying thought, that, Mr. Arc could feel precisely where his body ended, and where his cybernetics began without even touching at him. He understood the pains wrought upon his body in ways no others could, not even the victim of such mutilations could feel.

Ironwood: I can… speculate why I haven’t seen, Mr. Arc until now… Such a semblance must bare heavily on its user…

Ozpin: Jaune tends to keep to himself out of necessity, rather than a desire to be left alone. To many people around is like listening to a thousand voices all at once. Simply put; it’s overwhelming to the senses.

Ironwood: I take it then that, Mr. Arc is done with the interrogations? At least…using his semblance?

Ozpin stared at, Cinder as she managed to regain her breathing, and steadied her heart beat as she stared defiantly at, Jaune. Ozpin shook his head at the notion.

Ozpin: I’m afraid, James… the worse is about to begin…

~~~

Cinder: Haa haaa… Hahahaha!

Jaune: What’s so funny?

Cinder: You told me what your semblance is… I now know what you can do with that semblance of yours… it doesn’t matter what you do now! It doesn’t matter what! I will not tell you anything! You’ll crush my heart before I let anything spill! Come on, Arc! Do your worst!

Jaune: Pfff! Haha… hahaha… Aaaahahahahahaha!

Terror filled, Cinder veins as, Jaune let loose a laugh that found everything, down to most minute of details, in, Cinder’s attempt to show her bravado, her arrogant pride absolutely, unequivocally hilarious.

Jaune: Haha-ha-haaaa…

Jaune: My worst? You think me grasping your heart is the worst I can do…? My dear sweet summers child… I can do so much worser things than that, that honestly; I’m not sure what my worst is!

Jaune: I can bend every bone in your body till it shatters, then put them back together! I can stop your heart, kill you, and then bring you back to life! I can cause a brain aneurysm, and kill you on the spot! Cure you, and again I could bring you back to life! I could crush your entire body, turn every muscle in your body in on yourself until your body is nothing more than a meat cube! And, I know I can do this, because I’ve already done it before, and I will do it again!

Jaune: So tell me, Cinder Fall… Do you want to just tell me who else you are working with, and what are your other plans. Or, shall I torment you with pain unimaginable that I may break your mind from the pain?

Cinder could understand that he was just saying this to scare her, that he wouldn’t got that far to break her. But, she knew deep in her heart, that he could do it. But, she knew he couldn’t kill her, he needed her alive, otherwise all her secrets would go with her to her grave. She resolved her, and she would grin, and bare what was to come.

Cinder: Do your worst asshole! Hak-sptoo!

And, with that she spat on, Jaune’s who merely rubbed it off, and shook his head in disappointment.

Jaune: Haa… very well… I did warn you…

Jaune leaned back in his chair, and held his hand up, before he turned to gaze at, Cinder one last time.

Jaune: You know… They say there are different ways one gains their semblance; Personality, or circumstances… I believe the later one is applicable for me. Cause you see… everyone thinks I’m an only child. When in reality, I’m the only son in my family, when I actually have seven sisters. So, I think I developed my semblance, just to shut them up, because I swear…

Jaune leaned forward, and gave, Cinder one more predatory smile.

Jaune: That seemed to happen at least once a week!

Cinder pondered for a moment what he meant by, ‘once a week.’ Until it dawned on her, and a terrifying thought appeared across her mind. If he knew how to deal with that, then he knew how it was cause, and if he knew how it was cause…?!

“Snap~!”

Cinder:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Then she would know what true pain felt like.

~~~

Haaa…

To think I went through all of that just for that last bit…

#rwby #jaune arc #cinder fall #emerald sustrai #mercury black #rwby roman torchwick #winter schnee #james ironwood #qrow branwen #glynda goodwitch #rwby ozpin #rwby salem #rwby amber

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dropsnectar · 2 months ago

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Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x Afab!reader

PART FOUR

So I know I said this part would have smut but it would just mess with the pacing, so the whole next section is where you will find your spice. This part is a little shorter for that reason. Anyway, I hope you like!

When you woke up, you felt incredibly warm. Your legs were tangled up with… someone elses? You would say it was someone else but human skin didn’t feel like this. It was firm and a bit fuzzy, but not like hair. Your nose was being tickled by… fur? Whatever it was smelled amazing.

You recognized this scent. You opened your eyes to Lyith’s round, sleeping face. His impossibly big eyes were closed, revealing his long blonde lashes. His expression was serene, and a bit of drool had escaped his half open mouth. Your sleep-addled brain vibrated with excitement. He was so cute you could just kiss him…

Nope! Awake brain was working now, bringing some clarity to your head. Lyith and Rena had made a habit of covering your face in kisses but it had all been platonic. Excessive affection was a Bee-men trait. Probably? You thought back to yesterday, when he had kissed you and you had kissed him… was that truly platonic?

There was a heat in your stomach, butterflies whenever he would hang off of you or tease… A part of you wanted to face these feelings but you weren’t ready yet. After all, how could a bee-men be with a human? You had heard of monster-human relations being something that could happen, but was their species even compatible with you? Was there a future there?

“You're thinking awfully hard for 8 in the morning.” Lyith breathed next to you.

Your awareness returned to you, and you were very cognizant of the fact that he had been holding you in his sleep. You pulled yourself back a bit so you couldn’t feel his breath on your face. He narrowed his eyes and his lip jutted out. A childish but cute pattern of his.

“W-What are you doing in my house?”

His mouth twitched. “You are a sick person. You should have someone to look after you. I’m glad though, you only slept for a day this time.”

You looked at him, eyes squinting, “Are you okay though? Don’t you need to be at the hive for your… bee duties?”

Lyith sputtered at you, his body rocking with laughter. “And tell me, what are “bee duties”, Little witch?”

Your cheeks heated and you sat up, crossing arms over your chest.

“I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be in trouble, is all. What exactly is your duty in the hive anyway?”

Lyith stared up at you under his long lashes. “I am a forager. A scholar. An ambassador who goes to human town to get our supplies. Actually..”

He brought himself up and stretched out his wings. They seemed sturdy enough not to get too bothered by him laying on them all night.

“.. I used to know your grandmother. She used to let me forager her garden. Of course, she was a lot more sparing with her magic, so it was nothing like what you do.” He gave you a pointed look, “But she taught me how to speak human. An interesting person, your grandmother. We used to buy seeds for flower monsters off her. She must have had quite a life.”

You stared at him in surprise. Your grandmother had always been somewhat of a stereotypical grandmother. She’d spoil you and laugh at your jokes, leave little candies in your pocket when you weren’t looking. You had never imagined her to be the type of person to deal with Flower Monsters of all things. It also explained why Lyith seemed so trusting of you, off the bat.

“Hey Lyith?” You breathed out, trying not to think about how your legs were still touching.

“Yes?”

“Do you want some breakfast?”

***

After that, you saw Lyith almost everyday. He made a point of stopping to talk to you every time he visited your garden. Once a week he would take you to see Rena and you would work more magic over the plants. As the spring progressed into summer, the flowers changed. You learned that your magic, while creating magical nectar, only stayed within the plant and not the soil. You were right in your worry that a different approach was needed.

You met a lot more of the hive, as on their days off, some Bee-men would come and watch you work on the flowers. Not all of them were able to speak human, but they communicated their gratitude through sharing their emotions. As you experienced this more and more, you started to pick up on what could even be counted as them asking you questions. You’d try to answer in kind, putting a hand on their arm or shoulder and trying to push images or feelings at them. This worked only half the time, but when it did, the Be-men would look so pleased they would dance.

Rena, had always seemed a bit jealous by this.

“Why don’t you speak to us like that? We speak human for your convenience you know. Aren’t I closer to you then some random creature?”

“Don’t call your hive mates ' creature’, that's rude.”

Rena would get up in your face, throwing her arms around your shoulders and touch her nose to yours. In your mind you would feel her jealousy. A possessiveness that you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy about. You tried to straighten out your feelings, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Then, you’d try to project some calm, warm energy at her. She just looked at you, sighing.

“You humans are a lot more dense than I thought.”

Then she’d buzz off to deliver her nectar to the hive, leaving you behind in the company of her Hive mates. Lyith and Rena had been giving you more space lately when it came to your magic. You’d take more breaks, and often were given time to socialize. The Bee-mens youngest hive mate, Haven had grown especially fond of your company recently. He was your friend in gossip.

Rena and Lyith had a habit of glossing over the issues of the hive, but Haven was very different. He would answer any question you could think of. You had learned that Rena and Lyith were actually pretty high up there in the social hierarchy, as they were both scholars who taught the rest of the hive in their free time.

He was also very honest about the struggles of the hive.

“It's been about two decades since the last Queen died. We were having some issues with ambassadors from hives from the northern hive when a squirmish broke out. A lot of Bee-men died that day. Several of the Queen's favorite drones passed on and upon hearing the news her heart gave out.”

“Immediately? She wasn’t sick?”

“Do humans get sick before they die of heartbreak? For us it is impossible. Our bonds are our happiness. Without each other, our home isn’t a home, but an empty structure…” Haven trailed off, his expression wistful.

“But what was the squirmish about? I thought Bee-men were a friendly species.”

“You see, the two Queens had been sisters. The Northern Queen never liked our late matriarch and had been up to some mischief. She had convinced the Bunny Hybrids and the werewolves to move out of our territory. Eventually, the flower monsters left as well, and all the magic in the area just… disappeared. And Queens usually travel and make their own hives, or pick up abandoned ones. We’ve been waiting for so long!”

“Thats got to be hard. I mean, your guyses population can’t grow right?”

Haven looked at you weird.

“It’s more than that! Our Queens Pheromones give our magic structure! Without a Queen our magic grows weak and it's harder to communicate! Even making our honey properly becomes difficult because our grasp of our magic slips. We are so lucky we found you, little witch! Your magic is so easy to convert. I told you, you are a blessing!”

“But if you guys haven't been able to make honey properly for a while, how have you survived?”

“We haven’t. It's like your mana sickness. Sometimes our magic just eats us up.” You stared at Haven, your stomach turning. Haven looked at you sadly. “You should know this. Your Lyith and Rena have been sheltering you way too much. You're basically part of the hive at this point.”

You reached forward and hugged Haven. He trilled happily.

“Honestly it could be so much worse!”

You spent the rest of the day in silence. You had known they were starving, but you hadn’t realized how badly. Something else didn’t sit right with you either. The fact that the monster races had left their territory had been something that had been bothering you. That had to be the reason why the soil wasn’t absorbing magic, right? That was the only thing that had changed?

Then it hit you. What was soil? It was broken down waste. No Monsters. No decay. No shit. And how did the Bee-men manage their own waste anyway? Could you do something with this? Could it really be that simple?

You got so excited to tell Rena about it that it surprised you when you saw her at your door. Rena never made the trek to your house, saying that human civilization had a terrible smell to it. When you saw her face, she was crying.

“You have to come with me. Now.”

“Rena whats wrong, are you--”

“It's Lyith.”

All you could hear for a moment was the large thudding of your heart. Without another word you jumped into Rena’s arms and she held you, giving you a huge squeeze before buzzing off into the forest.

Part Five (Beware NSFW)

#monster fucker #monster lover #monster #monster x reader #terat0philliac #teratophillia #bee hybrid #bee hybrids #bee hybrid × reader #bee hybrids x reader #monster romance #fantasy romance

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leonw4nter · 8 months ago

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Hi! I love your works sm and have a silly little idea.. Maybe planning and having a wedding with leon? Like im seeing you in your dress for the first time, choosing flowers, the rings, and having all of your friends/family at your wedding etc? Just little headcannons about it would be super cute!!!

DI!Leon Headcanons on planning + having a wedding…

RE:DI!Leon x F!Reader

Leon was supposed to propose to you during an out-of-the-country trip to Switzerland but unfortunately, he left the ring behind and had to secretly beat himself up over it. One beautiful evening, after you and him had just gotten home from the orchestra, he fished the tiny velvet box from his pocket and got down on one knee, too overcome by nerves to remember the speech he swore he memorized and too much in love to stall the question.

“You’re the last person I’d want to lose and the first person I’d think of growing old with. Y/N, will you marry me?”. In the end, he got the most unforgettable ‘yes’ he’s ever heard from you.

The wedding planning took 12 months, enough time to plan the wedding straight out of your dreams. He made sure to make the occasion magical, ensuring that the wedding is fit for a goddess amongst women (in his humble opinion). The wedding rings you and Leon agreed on were perfect, eager for the day that you two will finally have them on forever and ever, the rings facing wear and tears as you go gray and feeble with him.

Everyone saw your wedding dress before your wedding day– everyone but Leon. As soon as the large doors opened up and revealed you, Leon could no longer stop the tears flowing down his cheeks– you were so beautiful and breathtaking and it was as if veiled light itself was walking down the aisle. He was unable to keep his gaze to the front, head tilting to admire you every second. “You look so beautiful,” he excitedly whispered. “I can’t believe I’m marrying you.”

Since you and him agreed on a wedding color scheme of black, different shades of pink, and varying shades of warm white, the flowers you had for your bridal bouquet also followed that scheme, the flowers being cashmere anemones; white and baby pink tulips; vanda orchids; white limonium flowers, and white mink proteas. Everyone else also wore their dresses and suits in pinks and black; Chris opted for a sleek black turtleneck and blazer with a pink flower pinned to his breast pocket. Most of the women in attendance at your wedding opted to wear pink, with the men opting for black. Everyone was buzzing with excitement in their placements: Rebecca and Claire making joking bets that whoever cries first will pay up; Jill and Hunnigan were talking about how pretty you will look; Ethan and Chris were hyping Leon up since the groom was nervous but nevertheless excited; Piers and Carlos were talking about how good everything looks and how magical the air feels.

When the priest said “you may now kiss the bride”, Leon took a small step closer to you, gently lifting the veil that covered your face. He did everything slowly, as if he wanted to savor the moment and commit every single detail– the sparkle in your eyes, the music in the background, and how everyone and everything else seemed to be a blur of colors except for the glowing bride in front of him. As soon as he removed the veil from your face, he took a few moments to admire you and pepper you with sincere compliments. He placed his left hand on your waist while his right gently cupped your cheek, big hands handling you with so much caution as if you were made of porcelain. He leans in and presses the gentlest, softest, most tender kiss ever, a small spreading on his lips when it really sinks in that he finally gets to call you his wife.

You and Leon had your first dance somewhere private since you wanted it to be a moment only you and him will share so after the first dance, you and him walk back to the reception hand-in-hand with the brightest smiles. The ring looked amazing on both your hands and Leon couldn’t stop to admire your hand. “You’ve got a ring like mine too, you know,” you’d softly tell him. “I know. It looks better with you though,” he’d respond sweetly before kissing the back of your hand. For the bouquet toss, you decided to use an exact replica of your bouquet since you wanted to keep your flowers in your own home; Rebecca ended up catching your bouquet, much to everyone’s surprise. She happily swung it around, showing it off to everyone, before walking with a happy sway of her hips towards her boyfriend Billy, which made Billy chuckle before pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

You and Leon left early, waving everyone good night and good bye as you got in the bridal car that would take you to the hotel you were going to stay in. Since Chris was sober and had already volunteered to drive you to the hotel, he also left the party early. As soon as you two were out of the reception, it was immediately all kisses and giggles and I love yous muttered. Chris had to look you two through the rear-view mirror and say “I’m still here. You’ve got a room for all that when we get there.”

Married life won’t be all smooth sailing and conflicts are unavoidable but in facing and resolving those conflicts together, you will discover just how strong your commitment to each other is.

NOTE - TYSMM to the anon that requested this, I know I took long before I finally got to answer it but I hope it was worth the wait (despite this drabble being shorter than usual) <33 Currently craving ramyeon and mushrooms and seafood... naw but eating noodles late at night?? TOP TIER EXPERIENCE. Kinda stressing rn since one of my groupmates can't do their part on our research paper and it's getting on my last nerve BECAUSE I GAVE US SO MUCH TIME GIRLIE PLEASE 😭😭🙏🙏 Anyways, let's hope that I passed my entrance exams and the exams I took last week bc my grades cannot take another beating 🕯️TYSM for reading my fics, I <33333 UUUUUU !!!!!!!!

The hanging star divider is made by @benkeibear , the images are colored by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#fluff #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy fluff #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #rebhfun #biohazard #death island leon #resident evil death island #resident evil x reader

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berenwrites · 5 months ago

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A Simple Question - Steddie - PG13

for @steddie-week Day 2

Prompt: Hands / touch starved / Invisible Touch by Genesis

rated pg-13 | 1155 wds | tags: kissing, fluff, everybody lives, post vecna, mentions of sex

Eddie is a little tipsy and he has a question for Nancy.

(Also on AO3) ( My Other fic on Tumblr)

A Simple Question: Ha! What Boundaries?

Eddie was on his way to drunk, which was why he sat on the couch next to Nancy and cut himself off. Ever since his brush with death, he was something of a lightweight. At least everyone else seemed to be pretty buzzed as well. He’d passed on Argyle’s weed because of the aforementioned lightweight status, but the others hadn’t.

Jon and Argyle were currently lying on the floor having a deeply philosophical discussion about mushrooms, and not even the magic kind. Steve and Robin were draped all over each other in the corner giggling. And Nancy had been staring into space until Eddie sat down.

“Greetings, Wheeler the Badass,” he said with a smile as she looked at him.

“Eddie the Not-So-Banished,” she replied with a smile, “to what do I owe the honour.”

That made Eddie giggle.

“Came to ask you a question,” he told her. “Probably an ill-advised question, but I figured you’re too mellow to hit me.”

Nancy lifted an eyebrow at him for that.

“You’re probably right,” she agreed much to his surprise.

“Really?” he asked, because he would have shut his mouth if she’d objected.

“Really,” she said. “Ask away.”

“So,” he began, drawing out the ‘o’ sound, “Steve…”

“Ah,” Nancy said with a smile that Eddie couldn’t quite interpret.

“What do you mean by ‘ah’?” he asked.

“That your question?” Nancy replied.

“What? No,” he protested.

“You only get one,” Nancy told him.

“You’re changing the rules,” he complained.

“I could go and talk about mushrooms,” Nancy said.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie said, pretty sure if he had had one less beer the conversation would have been a lot less annoying, but then again, they probably wouldn’t have been having it at all. “So, Steve, reputation with the ladies deserved or hyped up?”

Nancy snorted a laugh and patted him on the leg in a rather unsettling way.

“In a sexy way or romantic way?” she asked.

“Um … sexy,” Eddie admitted quietly.

“Totally deserved,” Nancy told him, “and actually in a romantic way too. Probably would have eaten that shit up if, well, the stuff that happened hadn’t.”

She looked sad for a moment, so Eddie patted her hand in what he hoped was a sensitive gesture.

“So totally deserved?” he prodded when no more was forthcoming because his brain to mouth filter was on low power.

“God yes,” Nancy said, turning to look at him. “You would not believe how good he is with his hands, oh and his mouth. Fuck, his hands and mouth in combination.” She beckoned him closer. “Jonathan’s good,” she whispered, “but he’s never given me three orgasms in a row.”

“Three?” Eddie whispered back.

Nancy nodded.

“And that was just for starters,” she assured him. “I think he gets off on getting his partner off,” she revealed.

“Wow,” was the best Eddie could do with that information.

“You should shoot your shot,” Nancy said and all but shocked him sober.

“What … me … but …” he babbled.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him,” Nancy said quietly.

He wondered if she was actually as high as she was pretending, because the look in her eyes was anything but vague.

“I’m that obvious?” he asked, sagging into the couch cushion.

He’d come out as bisexual to this older group of friends when Robin had accidentally outed herself at another of their exclusive get-togethers and panicked. That Steve had known since Starcourt and been Robin’s number one cheerleader really shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise as it had really.

“Only among friends,” she told him, wrapping her hand in his. “You should talk to him.”

“He’s straight,” Eddie pointed out.

“Not if the way I saw him making out with Argyle is anything to go by,” Nancy replied.

“Argyle?”

“Yes, my dude?” Argyle asked, so possibly Eddie had said that louder than he had meant to.

“Just passing on your haircare tips,” Nancy covered for him.

“Always here if you need advice, Brochacho,” Argyle replied with a wave before going back to talking to Jonathan.

“I couldn’t hear what they were saying,” Nancy said, leaning in again, “but I did see Steve thank Argyle and walk away with that, wow I’ve discovered something face he does when he’s processing new things.”

“The one with the adorable little crease right here?” Eddie asked, pointing to the top of his nose.

Nancy lifted both her eyebrows this time.

“Wow you have it bad,” she commented.

“I know,” he admitted and sighed dramatically. “But he’s Steve and I’m me. He’s an adonis and I’m a wet cat.”

So maybe he deserved the laugh from Nancy for that one.

“Talk to him,” Nancy encouraged.

“But what would I say?” Eddie asked kind of desperately.

“You could try, ‘Steve fancy kissing me’,” an all too familiar voice said from just behind him.

It was at that moment he realised Steve and Robin were no longer in the corner, far, far away from the current conversation. He kind of froze, only turning very, very slowly to find Steve standing directly behind the couch with a couple of cold sodas in his hands.

Apparently, adrenaline was amazing stuff, because Eddie felt one hundred percent sober in that instant. An embarrassing squeak escaped from his throat.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Robin said, throwing herself onto the couch on the other side of Nancy, “the romantic tension was getting really annoying.”

“Says the woman who still hasn’t made it to first base with Vicky,” Steve bitched back.

Robin just made a kissy face at him, while Eddie continued to freak out.

He’d been daydreaming about Steve ever since he’d woken up in the hospital with Steve standing guard over him like some angel from heaven. Apparently, nobody argued with Steve Harrington when he looked like he might bring down the wrath of God at any moment, which had given the rest of the Party enough time to get Eddie’s name cleared. The whole ripping a demobat in half had started it for Eddie, and that had totally clinched it.

Steve was looking at him now in that earnest way he had that kind of melted Eddie’s insides.

“Hey Steve,” he finally said, “fancy kissing me?”

It was all kinds of pathetic, but it was all he had.

With a cocky smile, Steve passed the sodas he was holding to Nancy, leaned over the back of the couch and slipped one cold hand into the hair as the base of Eddie’s skull. The kiss was long and deep, and Eddie never wanted it to end. Of course it had to, especially when Jonathan, the traitor, wolf whistled.

Steve picked up a cushion and threw it at Jonathan’s head as Eddie sank back into the couch with what he was sure was a dreamy expression on his face. Nancy leaned in.

“Wait until you get the full magic hands too,” she whispered.

The End ( My Other fic on Tumblr)

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fluff #romance #eddie lives #post vecna #steve x eddie #steddieweek2024

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ac0531 · 4 months ago

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youtube

Did an analysis and got some of the most interesting things Aaron said during this interview!!

“Whatever it unlocks, do you have to be connected or master some arcanum to unlock that? Anyways, I will say that there is a big reveal about the key of Aaravos in season 6”- Aaron

“We have many plans for Terry’s character. He’s a main character and we’ll see a lot of him in seasons 6 and 7. In terms of the meeting story between Terry and Claudia, yes we do have a story in mind but I don’t know how it’s going to get told. Sometimes we’ve talked about a book 3 and a half that’s sort of Claudia’s story that’s focused on the two years Claudia is moving around Xadia trying to solve the problem of saving Viren. You’d also have the story of Rayla hunting for Viren and you might have them cross paths, but yeah during that time you’d see her (Claudia) meet Terry- so we’ve talked about Book 3 and a half as maybe a novel or maybe a movie between season 3 and 4.”- Aaron

“That’s another story we’d love to tell at some point. That story sort of involved her rise from her being an orphan to her becoming the queen of Katolis- part of that story also connects to Aaravos and what happened a few hundred years ago. There is more story after season 7 that is important and I’m actually going to talk about it at SDCC.”- Aaron!

“You’ll learn more about Leola in season 6 and the questions you’ve asked will be answered very clearly.”- Aaron (Goji asked “Who is Leola, if she has a connection to Aaravos and if she’ll play a role in season 6”)

“The two examples that came to mind in your list are one: the symbol on the coins which is also the symbol on the book, and yes it connects to old deep magic and you will see a bit more of that in the coming season.”- Aaron

“And then the second thing you mentioned was the staffs in the starscraper, so I’ll share something a little meaty which is that is where they came from, so the question would be- how did it go from there to Viren? I know we’ve seen the scene with Ziard talking about the staff and it being a gift from a great one but yeah, that (the starscraper) is where it’s from.”- Aaron

“A lot of the origin story on who and why (Aaravos backstory) are going to be revealed in season 6.”- Aaron

“Who is he? What does he want? How has he come to be in a situation where he has somehow been involved in magic passing from Startouch elves and you know the elves and dragons to the humans- what is his involvement in that? Some of those questions will be answered in season 6”- Aaron

#tdp #the dragon prince #tdp spoilers #tdp lore #Aaravos tdp #aaron ehasz #HYPE STUFF!!#Youtube

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slytherinboysappreciation · 6 months ago

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OMG OMG i see ur fic abt prof riddle w the mreader n im in loveeee god its so cute 😭😭💖💖💖 have you ever thought when the roles were reversed? Like reader is a wizard that came from the future, he adopt tom from the orphanage n becomes a father to him n he's also the one that stopped tom from kill1ng ppl n shi omgg that would so cute give this man sum parental figure yall he needed it 😔🫶🫶

Adopted - T. R. x platonic male!reader

A/N: thank you so much for the request!! 💛 I’m so glad you like my fic!

This is the first part of a short series I’m planning for this request. It’s completely unedited and barely proofread. There’s no use of Y/N

CW: alternate universe, death mention, lying, manipulation, Reader is from the future, Reader lies to adopt Tom, slight Dumbledore bashing, slight fluff during the middle/end, this is kinda fast-paced sorry

691 words

In another universe, Tom Riddle was introduced to magic by Professor Dumbledore, a cunning old man who saw the evil before he saw the boy.

In another universe, Tom Riddle becomes Lord Voldemort, the most feared Dark Wizard since the old days.

In another universe, a couple dies for their baby, a boy too young to remember anything but his mother’s scream.

This is not that universe.

In this universe, Tom Riddle is introduced to magic by a very unconventional wizard. A man with no friends, odd mannerisms, and a habit of using strange spells.

You.

You appear in Tom’s life exactly half an hour before his fated meeting with Dumbledore.

You hurry up the steps to the orphanage and knock on the doors. They open to reveal a haggard woman with a sharp face. She questions you, and you lie as smoothly as still water.

A few moments later, you’re face to face with the boy.

Because that’s who he is, after all. An eleven year old boy with no friends, odd mannerisms, and a habit of talking to strange snakes.

He looks up at you, half scowling, half nervous. “Who are you?”

The lie rolls off your tongue with ease. “I’m your uncle.”

Tom waits till you get in the cab before asking questions.

“Are you really my uncle?” His expression clearly says he doesn’t believe it, but you can see the flicker of hope in his eyes.

“For all intents and purposes, yes.” You give him a slightly sympathetic look. “But no, I am not your kin.”

Tom wilts a bit. Then tries hard to hide it. “Oh. Okay.”

There’s a brief pause, then his forehead wrinkles. “Who are you, then?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” he challenges.

“I am a wizard,” you say calmly. “Sent back in time after an unfortunate mishap with a Time Turner artifact.”

Tom blinks. Stares. Tilts his head. “You’re… not lying… are you…?”

You give him an odd smile. You had to give it to him, the boy knew how to spot his lies.

“Of course I’m not lying. It’s far too ridiculous for me to have come up with something like that.”

You settle into your seat. “Besides, you’ll understand more once we reach my house.”

Tom, who still seems to be having a hard time digesting your earlier words, just nods quietly. You give him the silence of the car ride to figure his thoughts out. As a courtesy and all.

Tom seems to like your little house. It’s tucked away from the city, in a small village that’s used to your odd antics by now.

It’s quaint and cozy and just big enough for separate rooms for the two of you.

Tom surveys the house, then turns to you. “If you’re a wizard, I want to see your magic.”

You look down at him, amused. You can already tell he has a sharp mind, important for the days to come.

You pull out your wand and cast a simple spell. One that causes pretty blue butterflies to flit about the room.

Tom goes still, eyes wide. One of the butterflies flutters over to him and lands on his nose. He goes cross-eyed trying to look at it and you stifle a laugh.

“Is that proof enough?”

He waves the butterfly off, looking at you in awe. “You really are a wizard…”

You stifle a grin, trying not to seem too proud. “I am. And you are too.”

His eyes go wide. A slow flush creeps up his cheeks, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“I knew it,” he breathes, “I always knew I was special. Everyone else called me crazy, but I knew.”

You pat his shoulder and smile down at him. “You are special. You’re a wizard, Tom.”

His answering grin is worth all the problems you know are coming.

Dumbledore, especially, will be furious once he finds out.

But you’ve done what you’ve done, and you’re prepared to face the consequences. As far as the wizarding world will be concerned, you really are Tom’s uncle.

And you’re going to keep it that way.

#tom riddle #male reader #platonic reader #divider by cafekitsune #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x male reader #tom riddle x you #tw death mention

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true-blue-sonic · 2 months ago

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To Make Amends

In which Silver and Tails talk out what happened in Sonic Rivals 2.

----

This isn’t precisely how Silver envisioned an alleged super genius would live.

The little workshop tucked away in the forest is nothing remarkable. It’s tiny and quaint, made of wood and metal sheets with a large water wheel spurring and prattling around on one side. In the light of the afternoon sun it looks charming enough, if it weren’t for the fact this place is supposed to be Tails’ bastion of knowledge where he invents new creations up the wazoo. The exterior of the place hardly looks impressive enough for that, Silver decrees. But Espio and Amy had assured him that in here, magic could happen: Tails is able to repair anything, they had said.

Hopefully also futuristic Extreme Gears made with materials that the past has never even seen.

Oh well. The only thing he has to lose is a race wherein he’s ended right in the stands with his Gear on the fritz, the hedgehog figures. Either Tails is able to repair the thing and all is well, or he isn’t and Silver’s got weeks left to find another solution before he’s going to partake in the competition. And thus the psychic flies over to the large metal doors on one side of the building, adorned with a logo of Tails’ namesakes. At least he knows he’s at the right place, a firm knock getting bonked against them.

“Coming!” resounds from inside, footsteps running over and the doors sliding open to reveal Tails.

…Whose eyes first widen as they meet Silver’s, before blinking, before furrowing into a deep frown.

“Silver,” the greeting comes. If Silver didn’t know better, he would describe it as icy.

“Hey,” the hedgehog nods back. “My Extreme Gear is broken and Amy and Espio said I just had to go to you so you could help me out.”

“Oh.” Tails makes very few attempts at moving out of the way. “Is that so.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with it. It keeps twisting to the left when I want it to go straight,” Silver explains further.

Slowly blue eyes drop from glaring at him to the Gear in question. “Really now.”

“Yes,” the hedgehog agrees; the beginning of a long, long silence wherein he stands with his Gear under one arm and wherein Tails’ narrow-eyed leer has flitter back up to him to stare. Intriguing, Silver muses. And awkward. Apparently it’s not a custom to invite people into a house in the past, or something. Doesn’t fit with Amy altogether dragging him into her apartment the few times he paid her a visit, but whatever. “Should I put it inside so you can take a look?” he thus speaks up, giving the Gear a little hoist.

An awkward clearing of Tails’ throat follows. “Actually, I’m a bit… busy?”

“I can put it down so you can look at it when you’re not anymore, if you want. Amy and Espio said that you’ve always got things to do, but it’s still weeks before the race.” Manoeuvring the Gear so it doesn’t hit Tails right in the face as he enters Silver walks past the fox cub, studying the interior of the place with a hum. Lots of technology, and tables with gadgets and items galore strewn about on them, and in their midst a bright red vehicle that gives the hedgehog pause. “You own a plane?”

Tails comes rushing closer, all but throwing himself in front of the thing. “Well, it’s Sonic’s!” the response comes, a tad yelp-y. “But, uh… Maybe you should-!”

“That’s cool. I won’t put the Gear close to it, then,” Silver assures him. His Gear is big; he can’t fault Tails for being worried the plane is getting damaged, with how delicate and outdated it looks. So somewhere tucked away it is; like in the corner between two tables, that looks like a nice spot without anything nearby to break if it falls over. “There,” the hedgehog nods, placing his Gear down. “Do you need my help with anything for it?”

Turning around back to Tails he perks his ears up helpfully; except Tails is looking a tad… frazzled. Awkwardly the fox tugs at his gloves, mouth open as if he wants to say something yet nothing coming out. “Or is this not a good spot,” Silver figures the problem is.

“That’s not… Sorry,” Tails mumbles back. “But, uh… Perhaps it’s, well… a bit audacious to put your stuff down just like that while asking- uh, you know?”

Audacious, Silver muses. That means that he’s bold? Or something. “I don’t follow,” he speaks up, Tails swallowing. But something more dour and irked crosses the other’s face the longer he stares at Silver, twin tails flicking most irked behind his back.

“I mean that you’re just waltzing into my lab like this.”

“Amy and Espio said I could,” Silver naturally responds, because they did and told him Tails would be happy to help.

Even if the sight of the fox cub in front of him is, well, very much not that. “I don’t think they meant like this,” Tails grumbles back, whipping around to return to a table with a ton of stuff and trinkets strewn about on it. “Anyway, you’d best leave. The sooner I can concentrate, the sooner I can work on your Gear.”

“Great! Thanks,” Silver nods at him…

And no response follows, other than a huff and a shrug.

And even Silver can tell that’s not the reaction of someone more than happy to lend a hand.

“You’re annoyed, aren’t you?” the hedgehog speaks up slowly.

Tails tenses, just a bit. “Hmh.”

“If you’re too busy, I can just take the Gear to someone else. That is no problem.”

“That’s not… it.”

Right, Silver muses. That tells him absolutely nothing indeed. But there is something going on, and if it’s not the Gear, he can think of a handful of other things: either Tails is so busy that he’s just stressed, or he’s annoyed by Silver. And only one thing is something he can tackle.

“It’s something I did,” the hedgehog guesses next.

A deep sigh follows, Tails shooting a look over his shoulder. “Silver, I appreciate you’re trying to talk to me about this, but maybe you’d really better leave.”

“I want to know what’s going on,” Silver shoots back, arms crossing. How can he solve whatever it is if Tails won’t even tell him? But the fox turns away once more, fiddling with some of the stuff laying on his table.

“You don’t. It’s in the past.”

In the past… This is honestly the first time he’s ever talked to Tails face-to-face, so they don’t have a lot of past together. “Something about when we met?” Silver thus guesses next. Not much remarkable about that, except the fact the world was literally on the brink of destruction and the only person being even remotely helpful in that situation had been Espio…

Yet Tails tenses only more. “It is!” the hedgehog promptly figures. “What precisely?”

Shooting Silver a look that he’s received from many a person before and that always makes him bristle – it’s the “You’re so dense” look, the “Why are you not following us, what isn’t making sense about this to you, stop being so wilfully ignorant” kind of mocking leer that makes Silver see red – Tails scoffs. “I’m just saying that you’re walking in with a lot of audacity asking for me to repair your Gear after you stole my rings.”

And Silver blinks.

Oh, he remembers. Oh, yes. He did very much do that.

“I needed them,” he answers, running a finger over the glowing cyan mark on his other hand. Espio had come up with the plan; he’d looked altogether horrified by how Silver had been shambling along with trembling limbs and body swaying like it could collapse any second, his powers exhausted entirely. That collapse had been mere moments away if Silver hadn’t gotten the rings in time, even if the hedgehog had refused to tell his friend that lest Espio would be too worried. But he has to commend the chameleon for how efficiently that situation had been resolved… even if it apparently still leaves Tails bothered.

The fox’s eyes narrow even more. “And you called me small.”

“That’s not true. I called you a half-pint,” Silver helpfully jogs his memory. “Because you’re smaller than me. That’s quite obvious.”

…And apparently also the wrong thing to say, because Tails is looking altogether peeved.

Raising an eyebrow at the sharp teeth getting bared in his direction and the way the fox’s ears pin right against his head Silver opens his mouth for something to add; before faltering. He also doesn’t like being called a half-pint, and if anyone were to lay a finger on the things he rightfully collected he’d probably just murder them on the spot. Same with anyone idiotic enough to call him a half-pint, actually. “You’re mad about it,” he concludes instead, a scoff following.

“You could say that.”

Right. That is easy to figure out, honestly, but it does leave Silver wondering. “What did you need the rings for, actually?” he prods some more. If that’s not resolved yet, he can just go get a bunch of them right now!

“Knuckles and Rouge asked us for help to collect rings for their Emerald detector. Not that we were able to lend it in the end,” Tails grumbles back at him, whipping around to return to his tinkering and leaving Silver disappointed.

“I see… So getting you rings now to make up for it wouldn’t do much, huh?”

“No.”

“Hmm.” That’s one potential way to make amends down the drain, Silver figures. And asking Tails about what he wants seems risky, considering the altogether murderous way he pokes a screwdriver into his gadget. But then what… “I understand that you’re angry,” Silver tries a new angle. “I wouldn’t appreciate being called small either.”

Tails makes a noise not unlike an overheating kettle. “Then why did you say it?!”

“I was about to collapse and you were in my way,” Silver recounts, twitching his ears as Tails glares at him disbelievingly. “No, really. My powers were completely exhausted. You and Sonic had collected all of the rings in the area already, so taking them from you was my next best shot. It was either that or fainting and then the world would have been completely destroyed because I couldn’t have done anything to stop the Ifrit.”

“…Right.” With his angry movements slowing down Tails stares some more; up and down over Silver’s body before halting at the marks on his hands, brow furrowing. “What exhausted you so much?”

“Running around collecting Chao for days, mostly.”

“Did you not… sleep? Rest?”

“No!” Silver huffs; Espio had asked the same, with his opinion that Silver had been pushing himself far too much clear to even the hedgehog, and yet the agitation inside Silver had spiked up in the exact same way as it does now. “How could I rest, when every moment I’m not working is one wherein more Chao could have been stolen and the chances that the Ifrit would destroy us all could have become bigger?”

A hum follows at that. “I see what you mean, even if you can’t know for sure that would have happened… But then, why didn’t you ask if you could have some rings? If it was that important?” Tails inquires, more pensively.

Promptly it’s Silver’s turn to bristle. “Because we’re not friends? Or on good terms?”

“So?”

“So you wouldn’t have given them to me because we’re not friends or on good terms? And you were already collecting them for someone else?” Silver repeats, spelling it out slowly. Jeez, he thought Tails was smart.

Yet one of Tails’ ears flicks. “Silver, even so, if you tell me that you’re actively dying and need rings, I’d have shared some with you. Maybe that’s hard to see in such a moment, but…”

“It would have earned you nothing.” And it wouldn’t; if anything, it would have earned Tails the ire from Knuckles and Rouge for not having enough rings to help them out, Silver figures. Although now maybe he earned their ire for not having any, even if there’s a reason for that. Hmm.

Slowly Tails shakes his head. “It would have earned me the knowledge I helped someone in need. Is that not something good to achieve? Do you not get happy when you’re able to lend others a hand?”

And Silver’s eyes widen.

“Oh. If you put it like that…” the hedgehog mumbles, gaze flicking up to the ceiling. If he had rings and someone came up to him proclaiming they needed them imminently¸ he would have given them all away… Heck, if he didn’t have rings, he’d have torn the planet asunder if that was needed to find someone. Even for a stranger… “I know what you mean. Knowing that you helped someone… It’s a nice feeling,” he adds.

Something just a bit more warm flickers over Tails’ face, though the tiniest twitch of a smile on there dissipates moments later. “But now you just took them from me.”

“And I called you a half-pint,” Silver recounts further. “And you’re angry about both.”

A scoff follows. “You could say that,” Tails sighs back; and with that, he turns around to return to tinkering once more.

That leaves Silver, pensively staring at the ceiling. Tails is mad, and Silver understands why Tails is mad, and if he’d been in such a situation himself he’d also be mad, and if he’d been mad, he would have appreciated it if…

“I’m sorry,” he speaks up. “For insulting you. And stealing your rings.”

The flicking of twin tails freezes. “…You are?” Tails asks, turning around slowly as Silver nods.

“I hurt you. And especially if you’d just have given them to me if asked, that’s… not nice of me. So, sorry.”

Blue eyes regard him warily, Tails’ head tipping to the side. “Would you have been sorry if I hadn’t told you about this?”

“Probably not. But I am now, and that means I won’t say it again. You’re not even that much smaller than I am, really, so I was wrong about that too,” Silver shrugs back earnestly.

For a few seconds Tails just stares. A prickle of discomfort goes over Silver’s spine at it; was that also the wrong thing to say…?

…But then a snort follows. “You’re a really interesting person,” the fox remarks, with a smile on his face; but this is a true smile, Silver is sure of it. “Apology accepted. Promise that if you ever find yourself in such a situation again, you’ll ask us to help you?”

Ask for help… He didn’t ask Espio for help, not at first, the hedgehog muses. Only after extensively running into each other with the chameleon relentlessly following him did they even get to talking. But he’d asked then: if Espio would help or keep getting in his way, and his not-yet-a-friend had chosen the former. And that had made them be friends, the working together and the aid Espio had given him when he needed it most. “If I ask you for help, will that make us be friends?” Silver inquires, Tails hesitating for a second before nodding.

“I think so. If you’d like that.”

“People in the past are nice,” the hedgehog tells him; not the most competent when it comes to mitigating calamities, clearly, but Amy has welcomed him with open arms and the Chaotix are an altogether amiable bunch. Who is to say Tails isn’t the same? “And is there really nothing I can do to make up for it?” Silver does add, after a pause. “I’d feel bad if I didn’t at least try to do something for you.”

“I’d feel bad for asking,” Tails notes back, screwdriver dropping on his desk as he turns to Silver’s Extreme Gear. “Although… You can tell me everything about your Gear and how it works and what it’s made of, and then it’s okay. Deal?”

Studying his broken Gear too Silver nods. “I’m not a technologist. That’s why Amy and Espio said I had to go to you instead, because you’re the greatest at it. But I can do my best, if you want.”

“Heh.” Tails blushes at that, the hedgehog swears, even if it’s hard to see with how the windows mute the light from the afternoon sun. “The greatest?”

“That’s what they said,” Silver recounts. “And, I mean, you do have a plane here. That’s pretty cool!”

“She’s Sonic’s pride and joy. I’m happy to take care of her until we need her for adventures,” Tails all but beams, the little vehicle getting a few pats on her side. “I can tell you all about the Tornado and the versions I made, if you want…?”

“I’d be happy to listen,” the hedgehog agrees; and Tails’ eyes light up, the Extreme Gear grabbed and hoisted onto a table as a torrent of words about technology and planes and Eggman ploys and gadgets begins bursting out.

Silver can’t follow even half of it, but he listens closely, and Tails marvels at his ability to psychokinetically lift up dozens of items at once to move them closer or put them back in their place, and before he knows it the sun has sunken away in full and all the light outside comes from Tails’ lamps and the stars. “It should work again just fine!” the fox tells him, handing over the Gear with a beaming smile of pride.

“Thanks, Tails. I’ll give it a spin immediately.” With careful touches Silver runs a hand over his Gear; it looks just as sleek and pristine as always, but Tails had found tons of little points and places to improve it, he’d said. Amy and Espio hadn’t lied one bit; he truly does know what he is talking about, the hedgehog concedes. Even if his lab is still a bit on the tiny side as Silver walks out of it, but perhaps also here there’s tons of things hidden that the hedgehog would have no knowledge of. Tails definitely has surprised him today.

“If anything is wrong, just come back and I’ll take a look at it.” Following Silver outside Tails rubs behind his head, a more awkward little cough following. “And if you’ve got any other tech from the future, or maybe something with your powers, ah…”

Muffling a chuckle at the shy but inquiring peek sent at him Silver nods. “You’ll be the first to see it, promise.”

“Thank you!” gets grinned at him, Tails’ namesakes twitching eagerly. That hopefully won’t cause any paradoxes or anything, Silver prays to the gods, but so far he’s been to the past a couple of times already and everything has been a-okay. “Take care in the dark, and don’t do anything reckless,” the other adds, giving the Gear a final pat.

“Will do. And thanks again,” Silver agrees, readying himself to go run with his board before jumping up. But before he does so, he draws a deep breath; leaving matters unresolved is not something he’ll ever accept doing. “And thank you for letting me stay. And that we could talk about what happened,” he adds. He’d never have figured out Tails was angry about it otherwise, probably, and that just won’t do for someone he's friends with.

His companion jolts, just a bit. “Oh! It’s really no issue,” the response comes, almost hurriedly… before it falters, and Tails squares his shoulders up as well. “But, it’s also… kind of you that you apologised,” he smiles. “I appreciate it.”

With a nod Silver returns the warm look. “Of course! I’m glad it made you feel better.”

“Hmh,” Tails agrees, ears twitching… before he peeks up and adds a: “And now you’ll never do it again, right?”

Head tipping to the side Silver studies Tails close; but where his words are sharp, something playful twinkles in the fox’s eyes, head tipped to the side and little grin on his face. So he’s joking, the hedgehog figures. “I promise to not call you a half-pint again and not to steal your rings again,” he thus nods back gravely, a snort following.

“Also for Sonic?”

Quite promptly Silver finds himself overtaken by a dour glumness. “Sonic’s on thin ice. Can’t promise anything about him, sorry.”

“Too bad. Any friend of mine is a friend of Sonic. You two will befriend each other as well, and that is a threat,” Tails winks back. And he remains unrelenting in that statement even as Silver huffs and shrugs him off, eventually leaving the fox in stitches with laughter at Silver’s protests while the hedgehog rolls his eyes and gets ready to blast off on his gear.

But there’s something happy and fuzzy bubbling in his chest as well, that Silver can’t exactly place but which he appreciates. And if befriending Sonic will feel like that too, and if Sonic is willing to have him around in the first place, then…!

Maybe he should go hang out with Tails more often, Silver decrees, and the trip back to where he’s staying at Amy’s is a happy one indeed.

#this shit is NOT showing up in the tags as the Ao3 link so we're also getting it like this lol #silver the hedgehog #miles tails prower #blue's writing #sonic rivals 2 #fanfic

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ladynoirfanao3 · 1 month ago

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Here is my entry below for @verabraun-art's WTIYS challenge (congrats on 5k followers!) to write the best letter to Ladybug, with the twist of keeping the author hidden until the signature at the end.

Can you figure it out? Also, see my daughter's bonus entry at the end, it's quite funny!

Dear Ladybug, I know it must be strange receiving this letter. You must be what, twenty-one or twenty-two right now? I tried to pick a good time to bring this to you, but you know how wonky time travel can be. And I realize I probably shouldn’t be doing this at all, but Bunnyx hasn’t swooped in yet to stop me. She actually let me use the burrow to get you this, so I have to believe that it’s worth bending the rules. Because I can’t handle never being able to talk to you about your identity as Ladybug ever again. When I learned that you first received your miraculous when you were fourteen, it blew my mind. All that responsibility, and you were just a kid?? And on top of that, you couldn’t even share your identity with your partner? Geeze, I told my partner who I was the first time we met. Granted, I’m not dealing with anything close to what you went through fighting Monarch. It’s hard for me to fathom you having to deal with all of that, and mostly on your own. And then I learned everything, all of the amazing things you’ve done, and we can’t even talk about it in my time. Because not only did you take on the responsibility of wearing a miraculous, but you also took on the mantle of Guardian. Guardian. At fourteen?! Not just anyone could do that. And you succeeded! So that’s why I wanted to write you this letter; I’m sure you have heard variations on what I want to tell you plenty enough in my present time from those who eventually found out your identity, but you’ll never be able to hear it from me, because I learned the truth too late. Of course I’ve always looked up to you, but I never knew about this huge part of your life, and it kills me that I can’t sit down with you and talk about everything that you did. I hate that relinquishing your Guardianship caused you to lose your memories. And we aren’t even allowed to mention the miraculous to you, because the magic won’t let you understand. Which is why a part of me will always despise Master Fu for choosing you in the first place. But I suppose I get it. Who better to save the world than Marinette Dupain-Cheng? I shouldn’t be telling you all this, I know. But hey, I’m not revealing your whole future! I know it must be hard to hear that you’ll lose your memories, but I’m guessing you already knew it would come eventually. I do want you to know that you are not alone when you go through it. It isn’t the result of a villain, or anything that you’ve done, but merely some unfortunate circumstances I won’t go into. Mostly, I want you to take what I tell you and hold it close in the coming years in between, and know just how much I will look up to you. Even though you won’t be able to tell me your secret until the end, I hope it brings you comfort that I will know, and that I think the absolute world of you for it. You have always told me how proud you are of me, so let me do it now: I’m so proud of you. You are amazing, and I only hope I can follow in your footsteps in a way that would continue to make you proud. Yes, I’m the new holder of the earrings. Don’t worry, I didn’t take over the Guardianship. I did try — but of course, Dad wouldn’t let me. Anyway, I wanted to tell you I love you, and that you have done — and will do — an incredible job. Your (future!) daughter, Emma

#miraculous ladybug #ladynoir_fan #myfic #ladybug #hidden identity #verabraun_5k #miraculous #mystery letter #did you guess right?

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gd-dollopole · 1 month ago

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I cannot stop thinking about the comparison between BBC Merlin and Smallville.

As the directors of BBC Merlin have said, an inspiration has been taken from the ten long seasons of Smallville, an US TV show I always loved, and literally grew up with, and since a few months back, I also made a re-watch of Smallville, I can’t stop thinking about the potential BBC Merlin could have had, if it actually followed some bits of the storyline of Smallville.

We can already see some of the similarities between the shows:

Merlin wears a red neckerchief with a blue tunic and viceversa, like Clark Kent, and whenever he’s hopeless or sad or angry, he wears worn out grey colours, and as an avid fan of Smallville, I can assure you that Clark Kent wears the same things;

Clark Kent has to hide his powers in a world that would hurt him, kill him, or experiment on him, if he let on his deepest secret, and for that, he not only loses the people he cares about the most, much like Merlin does, which are his father, his friends, his lovers, and almost even his mother, but forbids himself to fall in love, and therefore pursue any kind of relationship;

he’s witty, yes, like Merlin, but also shy and brave and lonely.

But the difference between Smallville and Merlin is that in Smallville, there is the closure I would have liked to see in Merlin:

Clark kent does hide his secrets, and he is good at it, until everyone else finds out about him, all on their own.

We’re talking about everyone (maybe because Clark/Merlin are not as sly as they think):

Lex and Lionel and Luthessa Luthor, Lana Leng, Chloe Sullivan, Pete Ross, Oliver Queen and so many others, either because they already had their suspicions or because someone else showed them.

And this brings the right amount of angst in the show, mixed with the betrayal and the lies and the secrets and the love triangles and the tropes that come out of them.

But where is Arthur in this picture?

Oh, this is the good bit.

For very obvious reasons, apart from the fact that he doesn’t talk as much as her, Arthur is definitely Lois Lane.

FROM THIS MOMENT ON, SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THOSE WHO HAVEN’T WATCHED SMALLVILLE:

Lois Lane makes her appearance as a main character in the later seasons, after Clark understands that he has officially lost Lana, and starts working at the Daily Planet, in the same office as Lois.

But, unlike Arthur, Lois loves Superman (or The Blur, as he’s called for the entire ten seasons of Smallville, because he’s always caught on camera, but just as a blur). She talks to him in secret, and Clark masks his voice through the phone, he helps her and she helps him, he saves her innumerable times (does this remind you of anything?), and each time Lois compliments The Blur, Clark gets angry, because it’s his alter ego who gets the praise for a job well done, and not him, the clumsy idiot of the Daily Planet, much like everyone else in Merlin’s life has always got the credit for saving Arthur’s life, instead of him.

But what they should have given us in Merlin is what they gave us in Smallville, and it would have honestly made for the biggest magic reveal:

once Clark needs to fend off another enemy of the year, and thinks he’s going to officially die, he goes to say goodbye to his friends and his most loved ones, Lois included (“I’m happy to be your servant, until the day I die”).

Although, unlike in Merlin, where Arthur is a sweet himbo, who doesn’t inspect, and who doesn’t suspect anything, Lois had her suspicions, given that she and Clark had not only started falling in love, but now worked together too, and since she cared a whole lot about him, she follows Clark.

In the Smallville TV show, Lois hides behind a building from where, minutes later, Clark falls from. Lois believes he’s dead (Clark is immortal, and this begs the questions again: does he remind you of anyone?), and notices that he’s been stabbed in the chest with a blue crystal (context: the blue kryptonite removes Clark’s powers, and renders him human, and therefore mortal, unless the kryptonite, much like the green one, gets away from him). Following her guts, and sad and desperate that the man she loves the most might die, and believing in her suspicions and instinct, Lois pulls the crystal from Clark’s body, but the moment she hears some clutter, probably thinking they’re the enemies, she runs away, and goes back hiding.

And there, she sees him.

Clark grunts, gets up, completely safe ad healthy, sees that the crystal may have fallen by itself, or simply disappeared (and actually asks himself how that could have happened) and runs away:

by using his super fast power.

And Lois sees him.

Now, what could have been perfect was, if Arthur did the same.

After an attack gone wrong in the woods and losing sight of Merlin, he goes searching for the idiot, yelling something very along the lines of, “Where’s that useless buffoon?”, when he’s actually worried sick, and finds Merlin stabbed in the middle of a clearing.

Now, Arthur despises magic. He loathes it, he doesn’t trust it, yet, bless him, he still tries to understand it. This could have happened after Uther’s death, the moment Arthur’s reign begins.

He watches Merlin.

Arthur’s alone and shocked and scared and sick, so he drops to his knees next to him. He does not cry, he does not scream, he does not faint, that’s not really him at the end of the day, right? (Lois is the same. She grew up in a strict household with a strict solider father, and has lost her mother, and she had to be the parent to her older sister… Very, very much like Arthur). Or that’s what he thinks, and out of pure desperation, and something that sounds a bit like love, just like Lois Lane, since Merlin flinches, when he should be dead, for goodness’ sake, and out of instics and probably destiny, Arthur pulls whatever has stabbed Merlin out of his abdomen.

But as soon as he does, and as soon as he hears the knights coming close to him, and not to alarm anyone, and because he does not want them to see him in this sort of shocked state, Arthur hides behind a tree.

And there, he watches as Merlin, half dead and half alive, calls for Kilgharrah.

And Arthur has the same reaction of the finale.

He does not act on what he just discoveres.

At first, he’s sceptical, once Merlin comes back like he always does (and now he knows why and how), so he avoids him, he makes awful jokes, or hints about magic and about how powerful and dangerous it can be.

But once he’s sort of gone over this phase, noticing that Merlin hasn’t done anything with his big powers, like showing him off or anything of the likes (because Arthur has always known, magic or not, that Merlin would have never hurt him or Camelot), Arthur becomes… Curious.

And here comes the part that aligns with Smallville (we can also add the sexuality/gender identity/coming out metaphor):

much like in Smallville, and with magic and superpowers, and like in real life, someone does not force this information out of people, but Arthur, like Lois, is dying of curiosity, and just wants Merlin/Clark to trust him/her and tell him/her his secret, because he/she already knows of it.

So Arthur starts doing what Lois did.

The day after everything is well, and Lois now certainly knows about Clark’s superpowers, and the fact that he is The Blur, she goes to work, until Clark arrives too, and tells her that he must be quick for something, and needs some documents for a research. Lois stalls, and pretends she’s being SUDDENLY clumsy and a bit of an idiot (this would go perfectly well with Arthur, because he is an idiot, and he is also smitten with Merlin), and let her pen fall under the desk, to see what Clark would do.

And he uses his powers.

So imagine a wild Arthur in his natural habitat (his chambers), bored like no one else, and on the verge of imploding, because his manservant and best friend and love of his life he’s being stubborn and an oaf and an idiot and a toad.

He lets the apples or the sword or the belt fall under the table, pretends he’s keen to an act of kindness, and picks up the items himself, instead of letting Merlin do it, while he instructs said servant to do something else in the meantime.

Shocked at first, but following through with the orders, Merlin does as he’s being told, after throwing several sceptical looks at his prat of a king, and as soon as Arthur gets up from his crouched down position on the floor, the bed is already done, and the clothes are already folded, and Arthur goes mad, because, oh, he was right, and what else can Merlin do?

The curiosity gets him as much as his developing feelings for the cretin, with apparently super magical powers, who could also break a neck with a flick of his eyes, if he wanted to, and Arthur starts pretending to be even more of an idiot to see more magic, without Merlin knowing that he’s actually showing Arthur his abilities.

And the best part of it all?

The magic reveal.

I love Smallville, because the way Clark confesses his secret to Lois isn’t anything grand or majestic.

Yes, Clark does take Lois flying; yes, he also shags the living brains out of her, IN THEIR FARMS IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE (I must do this again but, does this remind you of ANYONE/ANYTHING IN PARTICULAR?), but he’s just built and hot and intelligent, but also very, very shy and a bit silly.

That’s why I love Clark the most as the best version of Superman, and Merlin as the best version of the famous wizard.

So Clark calls Lois to meet him in one of the Daily Planets departments, where documents and papers are stashed and kept there, on the last floor of the building, and where no one ever goes, and he fidgets a bit with his fingers, and he stammers a lot, and Lois is about to lose it, because still, after all these years, and our love? And how can Clark not tell me? Does he not trust me? Does he not want me like I want him? And all these emotions are well encompassed on her face, because Clark fails to tell her, and he says that he’s sorry, he can’t lose her, he can’t take that risk, he has lost so many loved ones already, and what does Lois do?

She understands, because she loves Clark, and she does not want to force him.

She gulps her tears, she miles brokenly, she nods, she tells Clark that it’s fine, but when she’s about to turn on the elevator, Clark realises that the love of his life is about to slip away from his fingers, and just blurts his secret out like a bloody moron.

Much like Merlin would do.

“I’m The Blur.”, he says, and Lois smiles, she turns around, and she runs to him, and literally jumps him, until they both fall back together, and laugh and stutter out their words and yes… They end up snogging.

Now, I want you to imagine a wild Arthur standing on one of the towers or balconies in the Camelot castle, while Merlin is being the usual insecure, oblivious man Arthur’s known for over ten years, and he turns around at the confession, and he runs to Merlin, and he pulls him to him, and while in this version, Arthur gives Merlin a concussion, as he hits the stone floor (because they are romantic, but also more stupid than Lois and Clark, since they’re, you know, a bloody gay disaster), he snogs the shit out of him too, and they start working together, and getting rid of the enemies together, and form a bond that is even deeper than the one they had before already, and Arthur meets Hunith’s mother as someone else entirely, while the chaos ensue, and so do the messy feelings:

like it happened in Smallville, but did not, because Lord forbid the gays, happened in BBC Merlin.

The knights of The Round table are the other DC superheros, and Guinevere could either be a superhero of her own or the wise and smart counsellor, who would be the journalist in Smallville, and Morgana is still Arthur’ sister, good or evil, it does not matter (she could either be after Merlin or after him, the options are innumerable).

Morgana is basically the obnoxious sister Lois’ has always had, who even gets a fake crush on Clark/Merlin to manipulate the two (these TV shows are too similar, I swear).

But I’m not done.

Oh, no, I’m not.

Because imagine all of this, imagine Smallville, but as a literal crossover with Merlin:

a fanfic where Merlin is the apparent imbecile employee at the Daily Planet, who actually has so many super powers, and he’s invincible, and his boss is Arthur Prat Pendragon, who is sceptical of superheroes, and his father Uther haunts them down, and is the owner of said Daily Planet, and loathes Merlin, because he talks about superheroes in his newspapers, and about his dad, because sodding fucking hell, he could control dragons.

Imagine the mess as these two fall in love, even if Merlin thinks he hates the rich, twat boss, whose order he has to follow, while Arthur treats him like a servant, rather than a journalist; Gwen could be either Chloe or Lana Leng, the best friend or the past lover, and Lancelot becomes Guinevere’s Jimmy or Oliver Queen, and Pete Ross is Will for Merlin, and Uther, is still the mad man they have to defy.

Merlin could have had so much potential, and a plethora of ways to have the magic reveal happen, and yet it was not used, and yes, if you didn’t notice, I’m still so mad over it.

I cannot fathom the amount of happiness I would have felt if they actually merged two of my favourite TV shows ever together, a good crossover between Smallville and the Arthuriana, in this case, BBC Merlin in particular.

#i also read a lot of superheroes fanfictions and i don’t even know if anyone has ever used smallville?#because we have all the material #even the colours and the scripts and THE ENEMIES TO LOVERS #because lois and clark bickers as much as merlin and arthur #ARTHUR AND MERLIN ARE BASICALLY THE GAY AND MEDIAVEL BRITISH VERSION OF LOIS AND CLARK #come on nowwww!!!#if anyone has fic recs like this👀#i mean i wouldn’t be too displeased👀#i might end up writing one myself once i’ll be done with the other 2748 fics i need to finish #BUT STILL #oh the potential #merthur #bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #merlin fanfic #smallville #lois and clark #ao3 fanfic #this also reinforces my theory that if arthur and merlin had been a man and a woman #then no one would have denied the romantic undertones #it’s basically there #and if the couple was heterosexual #we would have seen them together ROMANTICALLY #lmao everyone #if i made this mess and the directors have taken inspirations from smallville #IMAGINE A CROSSOVER WITH SHREK #I’M DYINGGG #they also took inspiration from THAT animation movies so there’s that

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captainzigo · 8 months ago

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hey hi hello , as a fellow trans girl pony enjoyer i love ur art and posts and the like!!

do you have any headcanons abt how HRT affects ponies? personally when i transitioned i made my self insert OC have a lighter coat & mane color and changed her name a bit so she transitioned with me :) the hormones been brightening her up quite a bit

:3 yes! i think it changes your cutiemark

on the left that’s marble pie from the show. pinkie’s sister. and that is octavio pie on the right. pinkie’s brother. from the silly pony life show. identical in design to marble, and not mentioned once in any of the many friendship is magic episodes about pinkie’s family. that’s because these are before and after transition pictures. i doubt anyone thinks of pony life as canon, but if it were then what im saying would be straight up canon. like not even headcanon.

one of the reasons people headcanon trixie as trans is she uses some animation assets normally used for the boy ponies. the only one i remember is her irises, but i seem to remember she may have also had a bigger horn? i don’t know if there’s any headcanons to form from that lol. but i like coming up with really alien biologies. like maybe some ponies wear contacts as an affirmation thing? that’s weird but it’s kinda cool to me. also possibly getting horns reshaped somehow

also i think they probably do transitions with magic. or maybe they do it with potions. but whatever they do its all fancy and whimsical like the rest of the stuff they do. when trixie and twilight had that magic duel they said no one can do the spell that “turns a mare into a stallion” but that’s not really what gender affirming procedures do anyway.

Prickly Pear, my oc from my profile. was just an oc long before i started using her as a sort of sona. i will not be revealing her assigned gender. but i did draw an actual sona one time and that bitch definitely used to have a different cutiemark. probably something i hate but was still kinda good at. like choir

man i drew her a while ago. her proportions are weird. although i guess i do have a lot of ass in real life so maybe that’s fine

i realize now i talked mostly about affirming procedures and not just hrt, but close enough. i think your cutiemark changes magically when you redefine your own identity for yourself. also this is just a headcanon i have. i’m not denying the transness of ponies who’s cutiemarks stayed the same through transition.

#mlpfim #my little pony #ponysona #octavio pie #marble pie #transgender #trans headcanon

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dawnagustd · 2 years ago

Text

the misfit toymaker || myg

The queen has made her list and checked it twice. She’s visiting those who have been naughty, and punishing them in ways that are oh so nice.

- Part of the Unholy Night Series.

It wasn’t hard to locate your next stop. A toy store on Christmas Eve is like a flashing billboard sign. Especially when the only toymaker loves to burn the midnight oil.

Yoongi searches for any excuse not to go home to his estranged wife. The only reason they’re together is because of his kid, who just so happens to be one of Mr. Park’s pupils.

He loves bringing smiles to all the youth’s faces, but Yoongi’s no saint. Mrs. Min wants nothing to do with her lowdown cheating spouse, and Yoongi couldn’t give a bigger shit.

He’s never been a monogamous man; whenever he finds a new playmate, the old one is no longer interesting.

But you, however. You just might be his favorite. He couldn’t wait to drag you down to his dungeon of misfit toys and show you all of his erotic creations.

“Are you comfortable, doll?” he asks. “Your restraints aren’t too tight, are they?”

You don’t hear him because your attention is set on the image of the toymaker’s veiny hand wrapped around his cock. He pleases himself while drinking in the sight of you, his delicate pink lips parted slightly as small, labored breaths slip past them. Each time his palm slides over his similarly textured shaft, arousal oozes from the tip. Suddenly, your mouth is dry, and the urge to fill it with–

“Hey. Eyes on me when I’m talking to you, beautiful.”

He uses the other hand to lift your chin, gently demanding your undivided attention. The authority in his voice places you back in reality.

Your eyes wander up his figure, admiring his skin while getting drunk off of his touch.

“Sorry about that, Sir.” You tug on the straps lightly to ensure they’re secure. “Yes. This feels nice.”

Yoongi insisted on putting you in one of his many “swing sets” hanging from the ceiling.

It’s thrilling being suspended feet in the air, your legs spread wide with your weight only supported by rope. Your wrists are bound also, leaving you entirely at Yoongi’s mercy.

But mercy, is not a term the toymaker is familiar with.

“I promise you, doll. You’ll feel even better once I stuff my cock inside of you.”

Yoongi spreads your folds and reveals your wetness. The cold dungeon air hits your center, intensifying your sensitivity.

“Damn, you’re wet,” Yoongi comments.

“Make it wetter, Sir.”

You respond with so much need that he can’t resist the temptation. He’d rather drag this out and keep you down here for as long as possible, but the growing urge to fuck you senseless is too demanding.

Yoongi leans forward and allows his spit to drip into your opening. He watches in awe as your cunt accepts it graciously. Using two of his lengthy digits, he enters your pussy and prepares you for his throbbing cock.

“Fuck, Sir!”

Yoongi’s thumb rubs your clit while he fingers you slowly, relaxing you so he can continue to stuff your dripping crevice.

“Take one more for me, doll?”

On your command, he adds another finger.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispers.

The room begins to fill with the lewd sounds of your squelching juices, gushing out of you and covering Yoongi’s hand and wrist. He twists and curls his digits inside of you, searching for the spot that’ll have you falling apart. You cry out for him once he finds it, and he responds with a cocky smirk, knowing he’s about to ruin you before he even fucks you.

“Sir.”

“Come if you need to, doll,” he says. “I won’t get mad at you.”

His voice is so gentle and sweet, a contrast to the dark lust-drunk eyes staring at you.

You can feel your core tightening with each passing second. Moans leave your lips, but the pleasure is so intense you cannot hear how loud you are. Eventually, you have no other choice but to let go.

His fingers guide you through your orgasm while he praises you with the sweetest words you’ve ever heard. He bends down to suck your pulsing clit between his lips, and your mouth falls open. Nothing comes out; you’re just reacting on nerves. Your brain has yet to catch up with the moment.

You slump over once you’ve finally calmed down, but you’re only given a few seconds to recharge before Yoongi’s cock is teasing your entrance.

“You ready to tap out, doll?”

You shake your head.

“Please,” you beg. “Continue. This is light work for me, Sir. Do your worst.”

The toymaker wipes the smirk off of your face with his thumb; you know you’re fucked but you still play along.

“I sure hope you know what you’re asking for, baby doll.”.

His cock enters you slowly, not stopping until he’s filled you with every inch. Your pussy constricts and he’s unable to move. You both struggle to adjust to the tight fit.

“How are you so fucking big?”

“Maybe you just can’t take dick like you think you can, doll.” His tone is condescending, making your face heat up. “I prepped you and you’re still having a hard time. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Bullshit.”

You speak out of turn and earn yourself a slap on the thigh.

“Now, don’t get disrespectful, doll.”

You bite your tongue and settle into your position. When Yoongi starts moving, the fullness becomes more bearable. The sensitivity ebbs away, and pleasure replaces it. The chill in the room fades as your body begins to heat up, and your sweat does little to keep the feverish desire at bay.

“You’re still so tight,” he points out. “Let’s loosen you up, doll. This won’t do.”

Yoongi surprises you when he grabs one of his little toys. He flips the little switch, making the object buzz in his hand. “This one’s going to fuck both of us up.”

He places the vibrator directly onto your clit, and instantly, you see stars.

“Fuck! Sir, I can’t!...”

You beg him to turn the settings down, but Yoongi only chuckles.

“Baby doll, I really haven’t turned it on yet.”

A press of a button, and it reveals another feature that has your mind scrambled within seconds. The suction pulses around your sensitive bundle of nerves, stimulating you in ways you’ve never even dreamed of.

Your babbling gets you mocked and teased by the toymaker. All while he’s still stuffing you with his cock.

“Look at my sweet little doll,” he tsks. “So confident in thinking she could handle my cock but can barely keep it together. The nerve; what were you trying to achieve, baby?”

As if you weren’t already a mess, he turns up the settings. If the entire town didn’t hear your scream, then the room has to be soundproof.

“I’m going to come!”

You sob and tremble as your body dangles in the air. Yoongi’s thrusts send you flying, but the hold on your waist never allows you to slip through his fingers.

“Oh, yeah? And what are you gonna do for me if I let you?” he grunts.

He intentionally touches your cervix, making your eyes roll back. You don’t miss the twinkle in his eyes when he notices the outline of his dick each time he enters your guts.

“Anything, Sir,” you promise. “Please. Just let me come!”

You aren’t sure what sound is filthier, the noises your cunt makes as your juices gush onto the floor, or Yoongi’s wet sticky sac slapping your ass with every impact.

“Well, when I fill this cunt… You better not spill a drop. Understand?”

“Okay, I won’t. Now, please.”

“I hear you, doll. I hear you.”

But relief doesn’t come as quickly as you thought it would. He turns the toy to the highest setting, making you lose your mind in seconds. Yoongi doesn’t hold back. When your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks, he keeps fucking you like you’re a rag doll, bouncing you up and down on his hard shaft.

“You feel so good, doll,” he growls, slowing his pace. “I should keep you all to myself and pump my cum into you every night.”

“Sir, fuck!”

You try to calm down but hearing his deep voice filled with lust makes you hotter.

“Ahh… You like that. You wanna get knocked up, huh?”

His cock starts twitching inside of you at the thought.

“Please.” At this point, you can’t even recognize your voice, but you continue to fill his ears with everything he wants to hear. “Sir, fill my pussy. I promise I won’t spill any.”

This is probably the closest Yoongi has ever been to finding true love because the look he gives you tells it all. He’s never met anyone so perfect, so willing to accept him. His orgasm snatches him out of his reverie, reminding him of a reality he’ll have to face very soon.

A moment later, ropes of his warm cum paint your womb, drawing pleasant sighs from your lips.

“Goddamn it, doll,” he whispers while his cock slips out of you. “You’re a fucking slice of heaven, you know that?”

Yoongi uses his finger to stop the seeping cum from dripping to the floor. He pushes it back inside of you repeatedly until he’s satisfied. He lowers you and then carefully helps you out of the swing, so you don’t fall.

“You’re quiet, doll. Are you okay?”

You don’t respond but Yoongi still takes your hand and guides you up the stairs. Your palm feels so warm wrapped in his, and he can’t stop a smile from spreading across his face.

He takes one look at you and realizes he’s in deep shit.

“What’s on your mind, doll?”

Doll.

He thinks that name is perfect for you. You may be a goddess, but you’re so delicate and cute. He wants you. He wants to keep you to himself despite knowing that he can’t.

“I’m hungry.” He wasn’t expecting that reply, but he doesn’t mind treating you to dinner after the things you just allowed him to do to you. “I want something… Sweet.”

“Well, there is a bakery across the street. He’s closed, but I know him so he’ll—”

You’re already heading to the door before he can finish his sentence. Yoongi quickly grabs his coat so he can cover your body. However, you turn around and place a hand on his chest to stop him.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“You said you wanted to get something to eat.”

Yoongi is slightly confused, but he laughs it off.

Those beautiful eyes stare into his soul, and he has no choice but to accept the fact that he’s whipped.

“Yeah… but not with you, hun.”

Your words leave him in shock, and he can only stand there frozen, watching you walk through the door and head over to his best friend’s store. The toymaker is heartbroken, and sad. But what can he say when this is how he carries on? You’ve got him, and you’ve gotten him good.

He laughs to himself, basking in the sweet smell of you that still lingers in the air.

“Damn, that was one wild sleigh ride.”

#yoongi x reader #bts x reader #suga x reader #bts smut #yoongi smut #suga smut #bangtanbathhouse #btsdreamcourt #bangtansorciere #kvanity #bts imagines #yoongi imagines #bts fanfics #fic: unholy night #sugakookitty

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annymation · 8 months ago

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Could you write an agnst scene inspired by this sketch please 👉👈?(no pressure of course)

ALED YOU’RE SO EVIL!!!

I’ve taught you well >:3

And yes I will GLADLY write something extra angsty for this! Hope I can make the illustration justice!

TW: Blood, character death.

It was cold.

The atmosphere was chilling in the deep dark woods of Rosas, but it wasn't the common weather of the night, there was something different. It was quiet, ominous, even the animals could feel something was coming, and perhaps that's because of the wishing star currently hiding from the evil sorcerer king.

So far, all Aster's attempts of stealing the magic staff failed miserably, at this point, the star boy is getting quite frustrated, and so was the king.

"I don't know about you, but I'm getting quite fed up by this game of tag, little one" Magnifico sensed Aster's presence nearby, he didn't even raise his voice, knowing the star could hear him. The king chuckled darkly as he walked through the woods "So how about you just come out and fight me like a man?"

Aster was hanging on a tree, far away from the king's line of sight. They smiled, for that comment just gave the star an idea on how to get under the king's nerves some more.

"I'm not a man though" Aster chimed in from the tree tops, his voice echoing all around.

The king didn't know where the voice was coming from as it seemed to come from all sides, but he could tell by the overconfidence in the star's tone that they were trying to throw him off his focus

"Well, yeah I know Bu-"

"I'm a star" Aster interrupted with a child like playfulness in his voice

"... Sure- But that's not my po-"

"This whole gender thing humans have going on is so weird honestly"

Magnifico could practically hear Aster's smirk, which peeved the evil king even more

"Listen here boy-"

"Not a boy heh eheheh" Aster giggled

"SHUT UP! UGH YOU ROTTEN BRAT!" The king was on his last nerve, much to Aster's delight

(Fun fact, this is a deleted scene I wanted to include in KOW to emphasize Aster is nonbinary (He/They). But the scene didn't fit, so I'm glad I can recycle it here)

Aster smiles victorious, but the king's next statement caught him off guard "You think you can beat me by vexing?! HA! This is not a battle of wits, lad! It’s a battle of strength, something you clearly lack!”

Lack strength? Why? Because he can’t hurt others? That’s not a weakness, Aster knows that, to inflict pain on others doesn’t make you strong, it just makes you cruel. Aster knows very well that strength comes from many places, and he’d NEVER be “strong” the way Magnifico is.

“I’ve got plenty of strength, actually” Aster claimed wisely “I’m strong in the ways that matter. Strong to care, to keep trying, and to trust my friends even if all odds are against us…” a smile grows as Aster thinks of yet another remark to throw at the king “Also, you’re one to talk hehheh without that magic staff you’d be as strong as any average nobody”

Oh, Magnifico was officially pissed off. He wanted to wipe that smile off the star’s face in any way possible… And Aster’s comment about “friends” just gave him an idea

“Oh yeees, your friends, of course… All 7 of them huh?” The king had an wicked smile as he casually brought up the 7 teens

“Yup! All sev-“ Aster stops himself onde realization hit him like a truck… “W-wait… How did yo-“

“If I were you, I’d be more careful with who I place my trust” Magnifico’s eyes scanned the trees above, trying to spot any glimpse of yellow light that could be Aster hiding. His wicked smile only grew as he noted the star’s silence, that was exactly the reaction he wanted “For example, trusting that the son of my most loyal knight wouldn’t spill your plans? Tsk tsk tsk not very strategic~”

“… Simon?” Aster muttered in a shaky whisper

The king and queen knew their plan?… So that means-

“Asha!”

Aster quickly jumped from the tree branch he was hiding, revealing his location to the king. But Magnifico had no time to capture the star, no, in the blink of an eye Aster was already flying towards the castle, leaving the sorcerer all alone in the dark woods

“……….. *sigh* Cursed be my monologuing mouth” Magnifico sighs in frustration as he began flying with his magic, back to the castle he calls home.

Aster flew faster than the wind itself, the usual optimistic star had his head filled with worst case scenarios of what Asha and the others could be going through. What if Magnifico set up a trap? Or what if the guards caught them?? Or even worse, what if the QUEEN caught them???

No no no. Aster can't think like that, Asha has a magic pencil and her sketchbook after all, she can handle herself without him just fine... Right?

Aster reached the top of the tower, and upon entering though the window, he was met with a shocking sight

Asha and Queen Amable were dueling with swords, Asha using a hand drawn one, while Amaya used one made of metal, that was strikingly sharp.

Aster instinctively called out to her

"ASHA!"

Aster doesn't know why they just did that.

Neither of the two women had noticed his presence before that scream.

Aster could've disarmed Amaya.

Aster could've just moved Asha out of the way.

There were so many things the star could've done...

But he chose to scream.

Making Asha lose her focus.

She took her eyes out of Amaya for one second, turning to the source of her lover's voice.

One second was all Amaya needed.

S L A S H

Asha didn't even have time to speak a word...

The piercing blade cut right through her heart.

The star did not move.

It was like time itself had stopped for him, and deep down, Aster wished it'd stay frozen. They didn't want this nightmare to keep going.

But it kept going, once the queen swiftly pulled the sword out of the girl, her wide smile was reminiscent of a crescent moon.

Once the sword left her body, Asha fell to the ground like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

Aster finally felt movement return to their limbs, as he caught her in his arms just before she hit the floor. His protective embrace was so firm it was like he was trying to keep her from falling apart... She didn't hug him back.

"A-... As-ter" She croaked in agony, barely able to breathe and let alone speak, as she felt her body grow weaker and her mind become hazy.

"I'M HERE! I-IT'S OKAY! Yo-you're okay!" The star's panicked screams made Asha flinch, with everything sounding even louder in her head. Aster realized that, and with an wavering voice they try to comfort her "I'm sorry... I- I'm here with you now, just keep breathing-"

Aster's soothing words were muffled by the queen's sickening cackle, followed by an heartless rebuttal of the star's whispers

"Oh something tells me she won't "keep breathing" for much longer, dearie" there was no sign of pity or remorse behind those eyes, just sadistic mirth as she watched the girl's violet dress slowly turn crimson.

If only looks could kill. Aster tear filled eyes glared at Amaya like he wanted her to catch on fire, much like the burning flames that was set ablaze on his forever moving hair.

But even with all that rage, the star tried to ignore the older woman. Asha needed him now. They turned to look at her face and-

...

Her eyes no longer had that spark Aster fell in love with...

There was no glimmer of light...

No sign of life at all...

She was gone.

...

Aster just kept staring at Asha's vacant expression, his eyes wide and pupils shrunken. The star held onto her lifeless body carefully, shaky hands still caressing her hair as if she could still feel it.

Amaya just walked away from the two of them, a victorious smile plastered on her face, as she admired her own reflection on the now blood stained blade in her hands. She sat on a comfortable velvety chair in the study, to wait for her king's return.

She was not at all afraid of the literal star in the room, after all, her husband assured her they were harmless, a being literally incapable of hurting or killing anyone. So she was eager to just sit and cruelly watch and make fun of the boy's misery.

Aster was oh so aware that he couldn't hurt her... But he wanted to.

The young star could already hear the stars above, calling for him. They were watching through the open window, urging him to just leave, go back to the sky, accept he failed to save Asha but he can at least save Rosas by not letting the king capture him... But Aster didn't want to run.

He recalled an old song he heard once, a song that old stars sang when they were on their last dying breaths. The other stars always said he should never repeat that song in his young age, otherwise he'd be a danger to those around... But that's exactly what Aster wanted to be right now.

And so... Aster began to sing it.

(........... In case you don't know what this song is about, hi, welcome to the madness that is my rewrite, and HERE is a blog about some AUs I made. Go read it and skip straight to the "Aster turns himself into a blackhole" part to learn what this is all about, cause' I'll actually skip the whole Aster morphing into a blackhole bit, sorry, but basically same thing that happened in that AU blog happens here: He sings, slowly goes crazy and creepy, Amaya has her soul sucked out of her yaaaay let's move on)

Magnifico was pretty much sprinting on air as he used his magic to make himself levitate to the castle, it was a shame that his magic limited him to only fly as fast as he could run.

"*huff* *puff* Ough I'm too old for this" The king was panting as he reached the tower's window, his head lowered as he attempted to catch his breath, but he still chimed in to cheerfully call his wife "Darling I'm home~ heheh I trust you've given our little star a warm wel-"

The king shuts up with a gasp stuck on his throat. For once, he was speechless.

Asha's body was laying on the ground, that was to be expected, it's by far the least shocking thing in the room for him.

What truly made his world shatter was witnessing his queen laying lifeless on the floor, it was clear she was not breathing. The pain in his blue sky eyes ran so deep one could even feel sorry for him, but there was no one in the room to care about his tears...

For the only living thing in the room had no mercy left to give.

"So, your highness" the former star uttered the tittle with sarcasm, as he walked around Amaya's corpse, his pitch-black eyes stared at her almost as if they were admiring their own work. And he kept not making eye contact with the king as he asked "Is this strong enough for ya?"

It was cold.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Very proud of how this one turned out, thank you @uva124 for the inspiration!

@gracebeth3604 @emillyverse @signed-sapphire @oh-shtars @rascalentertainments

#wish rewrite #wish reimagined #kingdom of wishes #ask #angst

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