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hangmanbrainrot · 1 year

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Heyo! I’d like to make a request if that’s alright. I want to know how hangman would react to his pregnant wife enjoy sleeping on her pregnancy pillow more than in his arms. Because we can all tell his major love language would be physical touch ❤️ Thank you❤️

hopefully i did your request justice, anon! <3 i'll be labeling pregnancy as a warning in the tags, as well as in the warnings below, since i know that can be triggering for some.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, reader has children, established relationship, marriage, swearing, sierra has decided jake's middle name is michael.

notes: none!

word count: 680

pairing: jake seresin x afab!reader

the pillow thief

The first time Jake saw the godforsaken pillow was when it arrived on your doorstep from Amazon. See, such a large box naturally drew his attention, and he’d just about dragged it in the house when you came waddling down the stairs — you and the children you’d been growing for 24 weeks.

“Oh my god, it's here!” You'd said, and he'd been cursing the damn thing ever since. The problem wasn't with the pillow itself, but rather the fact that you'd rather cuddle it than your husband some nights.

Now, six weeks later, Jake was more than a little grouchy and okay, yeah, he was pouting, but he was tired of not being able to hold you close at night. Every night, you'd beat him up to your bedroom so you were already curled up with the thing and half snoring before he even had a chance to make a move. But tonight, when you'd gotten up to go to the bathroom — and declined his many offers to help — he saw his window of opportunity. In the time you were gone, he'd managed to stuff the grey polyester under your king sized bed before you'd even turned on the faucet to wash your hands.

The man could barely hide his self-satisfied grin when you re-emerged, but he definitely hadn’t prepared for the absolute panic on your face.

“Oh no,” you’d said softly. Were your eyes welling up? “Not again.”

“Baby?” Jake tested, brows knitted together in confusion. “Baby, what’s going on?”

“Lulu stole my pillow, again!” you practically wailed in response, tears already dribbling down your cheeks. “Jakey, you didn’t see her? The pillow thief. I’m gonna start closing our bedroom door at night, I can’t believe this. She’s probably already chewing on it and I’m gonna have to order another one.”

By the time you’d finished speaking, you were verging into the territory of hysterical, so Jake quickly decided the jig was up.

“Wait, wait, wait, before you exile our poor sweet girl…” He released a heavy sigh, then bent to slide his hand under the bed. He couldn’t let your dog take the fall for his theft; his conscience would never let him live it down. As soon as you realized what was going on, you gasped aloud.

“Jacob Michael Seresin!”

He’d just settled the pillow back on the bed when he glanced up to catch sight of the downright fury in your gaze. He knew you loved him, otherwise he couldn’t have convinced you to marry him and have not one, but three children with him. (The twins were a surprise, nobody on either side of either of your families had produced any. Until now.) But Jake was also fairly certain you would love to exact some sweet revenge on him right about now. He had to clean this up, and fast.

“Okay, let me explain. I just wanted…”

“This had better be a good fuckin’ explanation, Jake.”

To say he was on thin ice was putting it lightly. No, right now, he was out in the middle of a frozen lake and cracks were appearing more rapidly by the minute.

“I wasn’t going to hide it from you forever. I just… Um, maybe, sort of wanted you to, y'know, hold me instead. Pretend I'm the pillow.”

For the first time in the history of your entire relationship, Jake had absolutely no idea what your expression meant. It was fucking terrifying. As you crept closer to him, Jake found himself sliding back further on your mattress to be closer to the headboard. You were downright vicious with a pillow when you needed to be, and he was worried he’d provoked you just enough this evening.

But, instead, you threw your arms around him as tightly as you could with your still-growing children between you. The sigh you released was downright dreamy when you spoke, but the contrast between your words and the sound had Jake’s head spinning. “Oh, honey. If you try something like this again, you’ll be sleeping on the couch until the twins are toddlers.”

#sierra answers 💌#anonymous #jake seresin x reader #pregnancy tw #tw pregnancy

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lavenderr-starrs · 10 months

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God I love Solomon Muto so freaking much man, the ideas this event is giving me in Duel Links, of just, him going through gate to gate wanting to see all these Wonderful and unique cards and how he’s interacting with the DM gang treating them ALL as if they were his grandkids not just Yugi. They even call him grandpa which is something I just love about it in the show, because he’s not just yugis grandpa he’s a grandpa to ALL DUELISTS, Haha!

Makes me wonder over him interacting with other characters from other series because he’s just in AWE over all these cards and new summoning method, and being SUCH a grandpa for some of these kids.

Especially my fav little fucked up ones!!

He goes to learn Synchro summoning and meets Yusei and team 5ds, and them just going “Whoa! 😯 It’s the King of games Grandfather!!” , I wanna see him be all sweet with akiza, my girl needs it, and with how kind and wise he is? Girl probably gonna hold back a few tears Haha!! How he encouraged Tea/Anzu and Jou to follow their dreams in the event, is encouraging her to follow hers as well with that warm grandfather charm and support!!

Akiza: 🥹🥹🥹

Would absolutely ADORE Leo and Luna, Leo wants to show off SO badly and wants to be the one to teach him synchro summoning and Solomon is just giggling and smiling warmly at the boys antics!

Oh yeah he’s telling them embarrassing stories about Yugi, maybe pull up baby pictures, he seems like he would—

He meets Yuma and astral and Astral just adores card game grandpa, I’m just imagining him huddled up close to Solomon as he talks about old duel monster strats and old stories of his younger days and Yuma just wants to get outta there but he can’t cause Astral for some reason is so invested!!

Yuma shows off his Xyz summoning and is happily jumping all over the places by all of Solomon’s “Oohs” and “Ahhs” and his compliments to Yuma and his Dueling skills, oh wait nope, here comes bronk here to tease Yuma to Duel Grandpa about the 50 times Yuma lost to him.

But duel grandpa just gives his little hearty chuckle and gives his grandpa wisdom about how Yuma not staying down after every loss after loss just proves how strong of duelist he is or smth.

Yuma: 🥹🥹🥹

Haha! Or just him meeting shark, with him getting all grouchy and being, well, shark, tries to shoo Solomon away but he tries to get him to duel him after he learns how to Xyz summon, grandpa— as old and frail as he’s played off to be—is challenging shark, heck maybe even teasingly calling him chicken (or guppy, HA!!’) and sharks not having it, what? Kite got to throw hands with middle schoolers! So he’s allowed to throw hands with the elderly!

Whether he wins or loses Shark eventually comes to respect the old man! (Also Rio WILL be gossiping with Solomon and she WILL talk shit about shark to the Dueling grandpa)

I feel like if he met Cathy he’d be confused but supportive, “Well whatever makes you happy! Hoho! Children should be able to have fun in their own way!” Or smth like that. It needs to be said he is giving ALL of Yuma and friends old games he’d sell in his shop and shows them all how to play it ASTRAL INCLUDED ☝️ and it’s a fun little bonding time for the kiddos! They taught him Xyz Summoning he teaches them the joy of classic games!

He learns about pendulum summoning and action duels and wants to jump in on an action duel immediately!! But unfortunately Dueling grandpa isn’t a PARKOUR dueling grandpa 😔 He got them old bone hips…

But he still wishes to watch them!! Absolutely adores them!!

He meets Yuya and is just in AWE over the fact he invented pendulum summoning and just adores how upbeat and sweet the kid is!

Sylvio is just absorbing every compliments and praise from him! He wants him to watch every action duel, turbo duel, tag duel, or WHATEVER duel he performs, he wants all of his compliments and praise!!!(Listen man, old people have got to be putting SOMETHING in their compliments!! I get all giddy when someone’s grandparent compliments me bro, best feeling ever, I held the door open for this lovely grandmother this one time and she goes “Oh thank you sweetie such a lovely and kind girl you are!” I F*CKING ASCENDED MAN 😭)

Sora is indifferent to Solomon, unless he’s got that good old people candy, or just has any kind of candy in his game shop gives him +100 of his respect, especially if Solomon gives it to him for free ✊ free candy is ALWAYS sweeter.

The Vrains casts, OOOOH, my fav little fucked up bbys oh how I adore thee (and thine angsts)

Someone save the grandpa the modern meta and link summoning are gonna give him a heart attack bigger then the one Seto gave him oh god!!—

Watches one of blue angels shows and is buying merchandise and just gushing over her dueling skills and her monsters, would probably show Tea/Anzu too he definitely wants to ask Blue Angel if she’d want to sponsor his game shop XDD

He finds out about the Avatar function and IMMEDIATELY makes an Avatar of his younger days, buuuut it takes him a few hours (and yugis help) to figure out how HAHA!!

If he encounters playmaker he is so CONFUSED over Ai at first, but instantly adores him and joins him on his jokes and gags, treats Ai respectfully and as a person too.

Ai would call him Grandpap’s or some funny lil nickname for Mr. Muto, Adores how Solomon will take his side! And he’ll just go “Yeah you heard him! Respect your elders!” HAHA, he’s just behind Solomon’s shoulder with the SMUGEST face his little creature face can pull.

I’m imagining if He witnesses one of Playmaker and Ais classic banters I could see him going “Now, Now son, that’s no way to talk to your partner!”

“Huh?- i- uh-“

“YEAH PLAYMAKER, That’s no way to talk to your partner >:3” <- I can HEAR the smug tone in this LMAO

Soulburner is very respectful to Solomon, and Solomon will talk about his grandson and his friends to him telling him how he reminds him of some of yugis friends. I could definitely see Soulburner respectfully try to help him learn how to ride a duel board, Sol tech has got to have made easy beginner areas for speed dueling. right?

Tell him about the lost incident and he is going on an adoption speedrun 💕

No joke, I want to witness Solomon Muto VERBALLY BERATE Dr. Kogami’s bitch ass 💕💗😘 He is kicking his ass in the after life (JUMP HIS ASS GRANDPA GET HIS SHOES ☝️🗣️🗣️🗣️)

Speaking of which, I want him to give Ryoken a FULL ASS GRANDPARENT LECTURE. Ryoken is reluctantly forced to be lectured and have this impromptu therapy session with someone’s grandparent and it’s working, because it’s Solomon Muto people where did you think Yugi got his kindness and wisdom from? He finna shape this boy with kindness the same way Yugi shaped Yami/Atem with kindness! 😤

And once again he still wants to learn about all these new cards and what not and im just adoring the fact that if he ever were to meet spectre and learn about his Sunavalons and if spectre were to bring up his mother tree and his attachment to his Cards/Momster (hehe get it-)

Solomon would not judge, he’d completely understand, he would talk to spectre about his Blue eyes card how much it meant to him, (and of course about the heart of the cards! )He knows his connection and attachment to his beloved blue eyes card isn’t the same as his attachment to his sunavalon tree’s but he understands where spectre is coming from and how he feels and he also shares that same feeling he’d felt when his sunavalon tree would be destroyed just like how when Seto ripped up his bwd.

Spectre:🥹🥹🥹

HAHA, had to lol-

Anyways that’s just my little word ramble and thoughts~ does it make sense? No. Does it have proper grammar? No. Did I just wanna ramble about a grandpa in a card game Whos literally just an old guy princess peach? Yes. I like Solomon Muto 👍 HAHA, anyway back to murdering people with trickstars to duel the grandpa teehee~ 💕

#yugioh #solomon muto #yugioh duel links #duel links #yugioh duel monsters #yugioh dm #yugioh 5ds #yugioh zexal #yugioh arc v #yugioh arcv #yugioh vrains #long post

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tonguetiedraven · 10 months

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I love your Kyoto stuff! (MarbleWolf too!) and was wondering if you could do something with them all teasing Ryuuji about his crush and him panicking about Rin finding out? Get together?

Thank you so much! @marble-wolf and I took this in a slightly different direction, but we hope you like it! We've got a teaser below with a link to the full fic under it.

-- -- -- -- --

The difference of stepping off the bus and onto the road that would lead them to the ryokan, the temple, and the Deep Keep, was immediate to Ryuuji, though he wasn’t sure anyone else would notice. Konekomaru almost certainly, Renzou maybe, but he doubted his other classmates would notice the absence of it.

The air was clear. Crisp and cold, but fresh. Ryuuji took a deep breath of it, beaming as he did (probably still looking a bit grouchy because he could never quite seem to not look that way) and set a quick pace towards his home that Renzou calling out a frustrated sounding “Bon!”

He slowed back down which proved to be a terrible idea because it put him right next to Rin. Shoulder to shoulder almost.

The last time Ryuuji was here, that would have been a terrible thing because they hadn’t been talking at all and he was frustrated and confused and worried. But now, now he wasn’t worried and stressed about the temple he loved and wanted to restore imploding more with every second before he could possibly restore it, and he understood Rin now, and—

And more than understood Rin and that was absolutely the problem now as he peeked over at the scarf and hat clad boy who was pink cheeked with a red nose and pink ears and looking adorably cold despite the fact he had flames whenever he wanted.

Ryuuji’s eyes shot forward again and he was grateful the chill could hide the way his own cheeks went a bit pink as the chuchi Rin always just summoned in Ryuuji once again surged to life in his stomach.

“Just ahead,” he said gruffly, and a bit stupidly. Rin had been here. He knew where the ryokan was. It was visible and there were a few of the Myōō Dharani hanging in front of it.

Rin gave the happiest sort of bounce to find Ryuuji next to him now. He was happy to be away from True Cross for a little while and it was even better to get to spend the rest of break with his friends — especially Ryuuji.

The young monk had been catching Rin's eye more and more recently. (Actually it wasn't recently, but it had just intensified after the Impure King and the trip into Kyoto and then the undercut … he wanted to run his fingers through it.)

But he couldn't do anything about it because he was certain to be turned down and he was just happy to have friends.

He had enjoyed the final days in Kyoto and he hoped they'd have an even better time now without the Impure King stressing Ryuuji out so much.

"Yeah!" He said to Ryuuji, his tail brushing his friend's hand before lifting higher to wag happily in greeting to the Myōō Dharani monks. "I'm excited to be back!"

Ryuuji returned Rin’s smile with his own growing and let his eyes linger for a second before looking forward to the monks gathered at the front. Kinzou, Yumi (he could feel Konekomaru bracing himself for a flying hug), Shishamo, Mika, Chika, Ao, and Uta were all up front and half of them were waving like they weren’t all the only ones on the street and like they weren’t easy to spot.

They were all dorks, but they were his dorks.

“Hey!” Kinzou bellowed, waving all the hard. “Bon! And Rin!”

The way he said it made Ryuuji immediately miss a step, and his face heated in a hot blush that was mostly hidden by his hat and scarf.

What the hell was that tone about?”

“Koneko!” Yumi squealed and launched herself across the distance with a flurry of movement that had Konekomaru grunting as he was rocked back into an extremely indignant Izumo.

Ryuuji used that distraction to put the smallest amount of space between himself and Rin.

“Bon!” Ao and Mika called out in unison and then leaned into whisper something that had them both giggling and Uta whacking their arm with a shake of her own head.

Chika and Shishamo hurried across the space to help grab their luggage (and ogle Shura and her not at all to regulations Exorcist coat.)

“Aren’t you all cozy,” KInzou hummed, snagging Renzou and pulling him into a head lock as he kept smiling between Ryuuji and Rin.

Rin's hand moved up to where he was practically hiding in his scarf and Kuro who's little head was poking out of his bag.

"Yeah?" Rin agreed simply because at least Kuro looked perfectly cozy in the bag.

He felt like everyone was staring at him and he had sorta hoped everybody would have not been still hung up on the Son of Satan thing or the saving them from the Impure King. He smiled anyway and waved at the gathering crowd.

“Your parents are inside,” Uta offered, giving Bon a teasing smile as half the gazes went between him and Rin. Renzou was trying (and failing) to escape Kinzou’s clutches and Konekomaru was entirely wrapped up by Yumi who was asking Izumo questions about her hair clips.

Shiemi was hanging at the back with Yukio, both of them staring a bit too wide eyed, and Ryuuji could see Kinzou opening his mouth again, so he freed his duffle bag from Shishamo’s hand and jogged up to the engawa to get away as it felt like his face was much too red.

He had to be imagining that. They couldn’t know. It was just that he was standing next to Rin. No one could know about his crush. He’d barely even admitted its existence to himself.

He slid the door open, slipping his shoes off as he stepped inside and smiled (only a bit flustered) at his mother and father and more of the Myōō Dharani, all bustling around busily for the upcoming wedding.

Rin hurried to follow Ryuuji, eager to get inside and hopefully away from all the too wide grins. (And before he could get knocked over by the flailing Shima brothers.)

He tripped his way out of his shoes and caught himself on a grumpy looking Yukio who'd followed him inside and he brightened up at the sight of Ryuuji's parents.

"Hi!" He called.

Ryuuji shifted to give him more space, catching sight of his father slipping past Juuzou and a few Deep Keep exorcists he didn’t know the name of. He made a beeline for him, not wanting to get lectured over his hair and the new spiral by his mom. She was going to be furious when she saw the bigger gauges and he didn’t think she’d approve of the undercut.

(It wasn’t because it looked like that was where Rin was going and his cheeks were still hot about the way Kinzou had said Rin and the fact that he had tried to walk close to Rin.)

“Ryuuji!” Tatsuma greeted, immediately moving in for a hug and hauling Ryuuji into it before he could resist. (He wouldn’t have, he just blushed at the noise he heard Izumo make.)

“Hey, dad.”

“Bon!” Juuzou cheered, coming over with a mildly frantic smile. He had a wedding in two days, it made sense.

“Ah, Rin,” Tatsuma added as he released Ryuuji and he reached for Rin’s hand, using it to pull Rin closer so he could set his other hand on Rin’s arm and give him an affectionate squeeze. “I see you two have still made up.”

“We didn’t— it wasn’t a fight.” Ryuuji was blushing again and grateful he hadn’t taken the scarf off yet.

Rin laughed softly, relaxing into the kind, fatherly touch that he missed so much it hurt. He gave a smile because he didn't know…

"The Impure King stuff? That wasn't… was that a fight?" Rin directed the last question to Ryuuji, looking at him with wide eyes.

Torako pulled Ryuuji away from Tatsuma to give him a hug that looked far too tight but entirely loving as she ran a hand over his hair.

"I approve of this hair much more. You look wonderful." She said with a wide smile.

Ryuuji blushed, torn between who he should talk to, but he gave his mom a warm smile and returned the hug. (Better than a lecture.)

“Thanks, ma.”

“Was it not?” Tatsuma asked, smiling mischievously. “My mistake. It’s still nice to see you two getting along.”

“We—” Ryuuji’s attention was immediately returned to them as his blush darkened again “—it wasn’t—”

“Of course not,” Tatsuma said congenially and moved on to greet Konekomaru with a final squeeze of Rin’s arm, leaving Ryuuji there with his mom messing up his hair and a blush.

Torako looked suddenly apologetic, almost exaggeratedly so, as she sighed and ran her thumb over Ryuuji's cheek. (He was getting so scruffy . He wasn't a baby anymore.)

"I hope you two don't mind, but we are having Ryuuji share his room with you, Rin sweetie. The wedding has us booked out! We have Yukio with Konekomaru and Renzou gets to go home." She said in a soft voice.

Rin's heart leapt and he was blushing before he could stop it as his eyes immediately went to Ryuuji as Torako held a hand out to him.

Ryuuji was certain he had to have misheard that for a moment. The plan had been for him to share with Koenkomaru and the twins to take one of their rooms and them to take the other.

But apparently that had been switched and now he was blushing. (He hadn’t actually stopped.

“I—what?”

“Yes,” Konekomaru agreed from behind him. “That was the plan?” Yukio nodded his own agreement and passed by to congratulate Juuzou.

It sure as hell hadn’t been. Ryuuji would have remembered that plan.

“We—” Ryuuji cut himself off and swallowed at how high his voice had sounded. “Is that okay, Okumura?”

Rin blinked dumbly for a long moment before brightening. "Yeah! I don't mind."

Someone coughed in the crowd and Torako beamed.

"Wonderful! You kids go get unpacked and we can get to work." She said, practically herding them out.

Tatsuma shot her and Konekomaru a wink as Kinzou grinned mischievously and Renzou still struggled to get free.

Ryuuji walked towards his room, wide-eyed and only internally panicking a bit.

“Right in here,” he offered (croaked.) He slid the door to his room open and motioned inside, eyeing it for anything weird and embarrassing and blushing darker at a few of the posters he had up.

His futon was rolled up in the corner, and sure enough, there was a second beside it. He’d need to move his prayer mat for Rin, and it still wouldn’t be a lot of space. He didn’t have a particularly large room.

He stepped further into it, striving to keep walking normally (because it felt like he wasn’t at all) and stopped by the dresser, setting his bag next to it and daring to pull off his hat and scarf and set them on top of it.

“Just, uh, make yourself at home.”

Rin went inside, eyes wide and drinking in the room and how rich in Ryuuji's personality it was. There were collections of prayer beads and such a Ryuuji mix of Buddhist flair and punk (that made Rin's knees weak.)

He slipped inside and set his bag close to the door to keep it out of the way. Kuro meowed and hopped out of the bag to probably look for someone to feed him.

"Cool! It suits you!" Rin praised, giving Ryuuji a wide grin. He sat down on the floor and took off his scarf and jacket, already a bit too warm and it was guaranteed to get worse with the room smelling like Ryuuji and him being right there .

Ryuuji’s eyes shot to Rin and stayed a moment longer than they should, and felt his cheeks darken all the more.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, and wondered if that was the right answer. It sounded a bit lame as he tugged off his own jacket and set it on the dresser too.

“I get up early,” he added, absolutely not thinking about the fact that Rin would be sleeping right next to him. This was some kind of devilish temptation. (Fitting that it was Rin, but Ryuuji couldn’t imagine what he’d done to earn that sort of karma.)

“But I won’t wake you up.” He grinned and tried to make it look normal. “Don’t worry. I’ll let ya sleep in past six.”

"Oka— wait! Don't wake me up at six-thirty!" Rin said because that seemed like a smart ass thing Ryuuji would do.

(And he would give Rin that teasing, smug look that had made Rin want to hit him before but now he just loved it. )

"I stay up late!" Rin offered in exchange. He had trouble going to sleep on a normal day… it might be impossible with Ryuuji sleeping so close.

“I sleep like the dead, so that’s not gonna be a problem. And understood, it’ll be six-fourty five then.” He gave Rin a wink and looked away before Rin could see the blush.

“Do—”

There was a polite knock at the door that had Ryuuji looking over in confusion. It slid open before he could say anything and Mika leaned in with a broad smile on her lips and a bit of black hair in her eyes.

“You two are on mochi duty with me, the Hojos, and Shigemichi,” she informed them.

“We’re what?”

“You’re going to be making mochi. For dinner. We’re going to be making a lot. You know how the Shimas eat.”

She gave Rin a grin before looking back at Ryuuji with mischief in her eyes. “You said Rin was a good—no, fantastic cook, didn’t you, Bon?”

Ryuuji no longer had a scarf to hide his blush.

#bonrin #bon x rin #ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #my tumblr fics #ryuuji suguro #rin okumura #ryuji suguro #bon suguro #okumura rin #suguro ryuji #suguro ryuuji #bonfire #bonxrin #bon/rin

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modern-inheritance · 1 year

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An Update and Ramble on the Forgiveness Prompt

The ‘forgiveness’ prompt fill is somewhat completed, but it feels…off. I’ll be honest, I’ve never actually thought out how Brom would actually react to seeing and interacting with Murtagh (and Thorn, who I think would soften Brom up a bit because he’s not only a dragon but has a fiery spirit and let’s be real, MIC!Brom has a major soft spot for spitfire types).

I’m just going to ramble this out here. If you’re waiting for the prompt itself and don’t want anything spoiled, then wait to read this.

I thought back to the two bigger stories where Brom and Murtagh interacting was a major focus: Judge Me Not and Judge You Not. Brom is gruff in those, establishing his baseline of how he interacts with most everyone in MIC. He is reluctant to give any compliment, grouchy, and verbally rough. Murtagh is somewhat haughty, fiercely defending his right to be seen as someone other than a copy of his father, and easily angered but slightly confused as to Brom’s occasional leeway/grudging acceptance. Brom, deep down, wants Murtagh to become so much more than Morzan and also wants him to carry on a memory of Selena. He has high hopes for him, and is almost desperate to steer him away from Morzan’s path.

The only other hints at how Brom would react to Murtagh post war are found in Father and Son and Collateral (Smoke and Mirrors). Brom erupts in rage at Murtagh claiming that Eragon is Morzan’s son in the former, and in the latter Brom is hovering around the same level of rage as he had before he met Selena, but while it is generally around Oromis’s death, the rage is more about how he essentially failed to save Murtagh from that path, and in some way he feels that the only way to save him and Thorn now is to kill them. And he hates that.

Murtagh and Thorn are more wildcard for me concerning how they act and feel post war. We know they are traveling to find themselves and be at peace with what happened to them. I have some interaction between Murtagh and Arya post war, where Murtagh is less haughty than before and is almost humble in a way. I feel like Murtagh is a raw wound. Everything hurts and stings, he needs comfort, and yet somehow he’s almost…calm about it. Constant anxiety over how Brom would react to him and Thorn, always wondering when Brom is going to lose it and try to destroy him, but he deep down wants things to be, if not good between them, at the least okay. He wants to be understood but is uncomfortable with that, and maybe even feels like he deserves whatever Brom says or does in retaliation for what he did under the King’s influence.

So I was stuck. I knew that what was sort of expected was gruff, angry Brom laying into Murtagh, maybe cuffing him upside the head a few times, then realizing that he was under the King’s control for most of it and forgiving him. But that’s not how I see it happening really.

Brom deeply loved Selena. Eragon got his devoted puppy love gene somewhere and it had to be from dad. Selena in a sense gave up after Eragon was born, returning to Murtagh only to die. Brom hated that he couldn’t be there to save her or show her that there was more to live for since Morzan was dead, and somewhat blamed himself for not being able to save her. Murtagh fought the King’s influence for as long as he could, but despite Thorn pushing for more resistance, he also gave up when he saw what the King was doing to torture Thorn.

So Brom, a year after the war, after coming upon Murtagh and Thorn, is hit with the realization that Murtagh gave up to save Thorn. Selena gave up, maybe in part because she knew that if Morzan made it back alive there would be no way to hide Eragon’s existence and so gave up her life to save him. He’s reminded that he was in Morzan’s estate for long enough to have made a plan to rescue Murtagh as a child, that he could have tried to save him and prevent any of this happening.

I didn’t want angry Brom. Brom without that undercurrent seems a bit off. But again, this is post war. He has less to hate. He can finally fully let go of all that rage he had towards Galbatorix and the Forsworn. Meanwhile, Murtagh is trying his best to let go of his own anger and hate towards the world and finds that Brom is someone he still really wants a connection with because he managed to look through his father and see Murtagh as an individual.

I donno. I think I gave up the general plot of the forgiveness fill right there but…I needed to justify what I wrote before I post it and make it canon. This is another one of those that I’ll probably rewrite at some point, as it took me several false starts to get going, and then a few more before settling on that one.

I promise I’ll post in the next few days, just gathering intel and reactions from some people to help guide me on if I’ve established post war characteristics properly. Cheers!

#eragon #inheritance cycle #the cyclists #modern inheritance #ket's modern inheritance cycle #the inheritance cycle #brom #Murtagh #modern inheritance exposition #mic update #modern inheritance update

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daughterofgaston · 2 years

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OC Updates

So for those who have been with me for awhile, you might remember my Descendants Original Characters!

For refresher we have:

Gabelle LeGume- the rough and tumble only daughter of Gaston and twin sister to Gil, just fighting to make it in a man’s world. She is in a relationship with Chad Charming, and is the leader of the G Gang

Holly Olympian- the sweet and spice daughter of Hades and best friend to Gabelle and sister to Hadie (and apparently half-sister to Mal), just trying to find her place. She is in a relationship with Audrey, and is Gabelle’s second in command.

Caine Frollo- the pathetic son of Claude Frollo who is just an annoyance to everyone on the Isle, he is a member of Ginny Gothels group, and is single.

Rochella Heart- If I’m being honest I don’t remember a lot about her character other than she was the daughter of the Queen of Hearts, was a member of Gabelle’s gang, and dated Clay Clayton-

Gabriella Charming- The sweet as sugar daughter of Cinderella and King Charming, and younger sister to Chad. As Princess of Cinderellasburg, she took it upon herself to show Gabelle the ropes of Princess-hood and along the way fell in love and began a relationship with Gil.

Now that we are all reacquainted with my OC’s…

I’m scrapping a couple of them. Or at least thinking about it.

I’m thinking about getting rid of Rochella because honestly I didn’t do a lot with her anyways and I kinda just created her because I was in a OC-creating frenzy at the time. I think it says a lot that I genuinely don’t remember a lot about her character so I’m probably gonna yeet her right out the window.

I’m also thinking of getting rid of… Gabriella. I know- I know- put down the pitchforks and hear me out.

Gabriella might just get a full redesign instead of a full scrap. Just while I was going through my posts she was giving me pretty big Mary Sue vibes and I no longer like the fact that her and Chad (who are siblings) are both in relationships with another pair of siblings (Gil and Gabelle respectively).

I don’t like how similar her name is with Gabelle anymore. At the time I did because realistically there would be some name overlap but now it’s just confusing when I look back.

Gabelle might get a little redesign because I think I made her too overpowered strength-wise and I think maybe she’s a little too… idk, grouchy? But I’m still debating. Overall, her character will probably remain the same with minor changes.

And the same goes for Holly. Overall I like her, but she might get some minor changes.

I also might be thinking about doing a fanfiction with my OC’s so keep on the lookout for updates regarding that if anyone would like to read it 👀

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azu-ita · 3 years

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He's fictional too but I'm still assigning Tasuku a kin.

It's Bert from Sesame Street.

#grouchy confused king i love you

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raewritez · 3 years

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Enough | Sokka

based on this request: You want requests? I have an idea/request if you don't mind and are still accepting them, if not I’m sorry. Maybe “friends to lovers/teammates to lovers” where Reader joins the team from Ba Sing Se and while they’re preparing for the invasion, or beyond, Sokka and Reader fall in love, or start to fall in love? I hope that makes sense. Thanks! Your writing is all wonderful! <3

word count: 3.6k

The last thing you'd expected was for the Avatar to break into your house.

You'd been upstairs in your room when you'd heard a ruckus from down below, drawing you to your feet with nervousness and light footsteps. Who was it, burglars? You made your way down the stairs, body pressed against the wall. You heard muffled whispering.

"We can't just break into random houses, Sokka!"

"Well, what else are we supposed to do?! Do you have any better ideas?"

Silence.

"That's what I thought, Aang. Just trust the process."

You peered over the corner, catching sight of the intruders. A boy, a bit shorter than you, stood awkwardly in the corner of your living room. He was dressed in yellow and orange robes, his head decorated with a blue arrow. Huh. Beside him, pulling the curtain back cautiously to scan outside, was a boy seemingly about your age. He was tall, tan skin and dark hair, dressed in a sleeveless blue tunic. You didn't peg these guys as particular threats, so you stepped down.

"Uh, hello?"

They spun around with a yelp, assuming defensive positions. The taller boy held something in his hand - a boomerang? He narrowed his eyes at you.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded.

"Um, this is my house? Who are you?"

He lowered his arm, glancing around sheepishly. "Oh, uh, sorry. We needed to hide."

You raised an eyebrow. "Hide? Hide from who?"

The younger boy spoke up. "The Dai Li."

You furrowed your brows. "The Dai Li?" You questioned, confused. "Why would you need to hide from them? Did you, like, break the law?"

The older boy crossed his arms. "What? No!"

"Then why are you hiding?"

"Because they're after us!"

"Why would they be after you if you didn't break the law?"

"Because!" He was flailing his arms now, and you almost chuckled with amusement. "They - they're bad guys!"

You looked at him flatly. "That sounds like something a criminal would say."

He groaned. "Ugh, ok, ok. Once we know they're gone, we'll leave."

"Are you sure? I was gonna invite you for some tea and cookies," you teased. He glances back, as if seeing if you were serious, before turning back grumpily.

The younger boy scratches his head awkwardly. "Um, anyway, thanks for not kicking us out. I'm Aang."

You chuckle. "Yeah...no problem. I'm Y/n." You aren't quite sure why you're having a conversation with the guys who just broke into your house, but they seem nice enough. The older one's a little grouchy, but for some reason you feel safe.

Aang smiles brightly. "Nice to meet you. This is Sokka," he says, nudging his shoulder.

Sokka glances back at you. "Hey." You offer him a wave.

"So...why are you hiding in my house?"

Aang glances at Sokka, and it seems like a silent argument passes between them. Sokka shakes his head, Aang gives him an imploring look, and Sokka glares. Then he throws his hands up, mumbles a "Fine", and Aang turns back to you with a grin.

"Well, you see, I'm the Avatar," Your eyes grow wide. "And we're trying to get some important information to the Earth King. But the Dai Li don't want us to, so they're kinda chasing us."

"You're the Avatar?" You breathe. He nods cheerfully. "Wait - so, why are the Dai Li chasing you? Shouldn't they be helping?"

"Yeah, they should," Sokka says. "But they decided to, you know, not."

You're confused. The Dai Li are the highest level of protection for the people of Ba Sing Se. Why wouldn't they help the Avatar? You look around the room, spotting the closet near the door. An idea pops into your head.

"I can help." They both turn to you, looking skeptical. "I mean I can help you get out. Without being noticed."

They look at each other, hold their gaze, then turn to you and nod.

///

"I look ridiculous."

You stifle a laugh, taking in Sokka's appearance. "I think you look great. And it'll help you get by unnoticed, so that's what matters."

He's dressed in your father's trench coat, a heavy, brown beast of a thing that's so long it pools at his ankles. He's also sporting a dashing top-hat; the brim so wide it effectively shelters his face. He glares.

Aang comes bouncing in, dressed in a hooded cape that provides coverage for his tattoo. He stops short when he sees Sokka, doubling over in laughter. "Oh, you look great, Sokka."

Sokka groans, slumping over. "Let's just get out of here."

You lead them out the front door, scanning the road for any sign of threats. You step out, the boys following in tow, and walk as confidently as you can past the agents lining the street. Eventually, you successfully make it out of the middle ring. Sokka immediately sheds his disguise.

"Well, here you go," you say, looking around. Although only one ring above you, the Upper Ring is much nicer than you're used to. "Good luck with the Earth King."

Aang's eyes grow wide. "Wait! You should...you should come with us!"

You tilt your head. "Come with you where?"

"Back to our place! You could meet our friends!" He nudges Sokka, who appears disinterested. "Right, Sokka?"

Sokka's eyes snap to yours. "Oh, uh, sure. I guess."

You're about to politely decline, but Aang is staring at you so hopefully that you can't turn him down. You smile softly. "Sure, Aang."

"Awesome! Let's go."

You're led through the cobblestone pathways, eyes trailing after ornate carriages and towering buildings. Soon, you reach their house. The home of the Avatar. Sokka walks up and turns the knob, jumping back in surprise. In front of him stands a girl, not much younger than you, with her hands on her hips and her eyes bright with anger.

"Where have you been?!" She demands, dragging him inside by his collar. "We've been worried sick! I mean, you didn't even leave a note, didn't say anything-"

"We're sorry, Katara," Aang intervenes, hands raised in peaceful greeting. "We got caught up."

It's then that her eyes fall on you, gaze softening into uncertainty. She looks at Sokka expectantly.

"Oh!" He exclaims, stepping back and gesturing towards you. "This is Y/n. She helped us get away from the Dai Li."

The girl, Katara as she'd been called, offered you a slight smile of gratitude. "Thank you for helping my idiot brother."

You chuckled, grinning at the look of betrayal Sokka gave the girl. "It was no problem."

She nodded, extending her arm. "Do you want to come in?"

You glanced towards Aang, who was smiling excitedly. "Oh, yeah, sure."

You stepped inside, feeling a bit awkward. You didn't really understand why Aang wanted you to come so badly, but it was a kind gesture nonetheless. You scanned the interior; emerald walls adorned with gold plating that was probably more expensive than your whole apartment. You fidgeted your fingers, standing by while Katara and Sokka bickered about responsibility. A slam startled you out of your thoughts.

"Who's this?" A girl stepped out of the - hole? Yeah, hole, she'd just kicked a hole in the wall. Katara paused her lecture.

"Toph, this is Y/n. She helped Sokka and Aang with the Dai Li."

"Cool." She yawned, walking past you and plopping on the couch.

"We need to get to the Earth King," Sokka said, assuming a demeanor of focus and determination. "If the Dai Li aren't going to help us get to him, we'll have to do it ourselves." He briefly explained his plan, something about breaking into the fancy party that was happening later that night. They came up with roles, with guidelines for what each person should do, working together like a well-oiled machine. You felt out of place, you didn't know what your purpose was here. Aang turned to you, smiling softly.

"Y/n, you in?"

You stared. You couldn't comprehend the reason this boy had so much faith in you, the reason these kids were so willing to let you in on their scheme after just meeting you less than an hour ago. You didn't understand why you trusted them, either. You smiled.

"I'm in."

///

That was your first mistake.

When you'd agreed to break into an Earth Kingdom party with the Avatar, you didn't think you'd end up having to flee your home. You sat upon Appa's back, knees pulled to your chest as Ba Sing Se grew smaller. Sokka was steering, and the rest had their heads tucked into their hands. Except for Aang, who was lying unconscious next to Katara.

You'd remained in the city with Katara as the rest of the group separated, happy to spend some time with your newfound friend. It was then that things got messy; you found out the Fire Nation had infiltrated the government, the local tea-boy was actually a banished prince, and you found yourself in the crystal catacombs as a battle went on around you. You'd been there with Zuko and Katara, and you weren't sure exactly what'd gone down between them but it was obviously something serious, and you'd been there as he joined his sister - Azula. She was pretty scary.

You fought the best you could, your unpracticed earth-bending not doing much damage against the Dai Li agents, before Aang was struck by Azula's lightning. Now, you sat atop his sky-bison, mind racing and body numb from the shock of it all. You were in way over your head.

The five of you met up with Sokka and Katara's dad after dropping off the Earth King, because, you know, he was just casually there, too, boarding a Fire Nation ship as a means of disguise. Sokka introduced you to his father, Hakoda, who welcomed you with a warm smile and a firm handshake.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/n. Sokka's told me a lot about you. You two must really get along well," he said when Sokka was out of ear reach, voice laced with mirth. You flushed when you registered what he was implying; the mischief gleaming in his eyes. You frantically tried to put a sentence together.

"Oh, we're not - he doesn't...I mean we do, but not like-" He cut you off with a chuckle and a friendly pat to your shoulder.

"I'm just teasing. Come on, let's join the others."

You sat with your friends and the Water Tribesmen aboard the steely deck, huddling with Toph and Sokka for warmth. Katara went downstairs to heal Aang, who had yet to wake. Your meals mainly consisted of rice as it was too risky to stop and buy more supplies. You were still dressed in your Earth Kingdom clothes; green-tinted pants and a tunic, feet clad in worn-down boots. Not ideal for posing as a Fire Nation soldier.

You were still in shock, you supposed, at how quickly things changed and how fiercely your life was ripped from you. I mean, just a few days ago you were a normal kid living in the middle ring of Ba Sing Se, where nothing remotely exciting ever happened. Then, the Avatar and his friend had broken into your house and now everything was different. You weren't upset, it was just a lot to process. You were worried for Aang and a bit overwhelmed at the reality that seemed to be your new friends' normal. So when everyone else returned to their rooms for sleep, you made your way to the overlook.

The moon beamed down over the sea - ivory light caressing the waves and kissing the surface. You breathed deeply, inhaling the cool night air that smelled of salt-water and a freedom you'd never experienced. You sat there, slightly chilly from the cold, when a warm presence took place by your side.

You glanced up, seeing Sokka's skin glowing under the starlight. Woah, had he always been this pretty? It was probably just the moon...that and your sleep deprivation. Yeah, that was it.

"What're you doing up?" He questioned, eyes cast out to the horizon. His hair was loose from its usual ponytail - wolf-tail, as he'd passionately pointed out to you days earlier - the dark locks flowing freely about his face. You tore your eyes away, following his stare.

"Just couldn't sleep," you glanced over. "You?"

He sighed, leaning against the metal. "Me neither. Just worried."

You turned to face him, face softening into concern. "About what?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "About Aang. About the Earth Kingdom...just...everything."

You moved closer, resting your forearms against the edge of the ship. He pressed his shoulder against yours.

"I get it. I am, too. Everything that's happening is just...crazy. There's no way I could've even imagined it."

Sokka tilted his head towards you, blue eyes glimmering with compassion and softness. "Yeah...how are you doing? I haven't really asked, I mean, this must be kinda shocking for you."

You snorted, nodding your head. "Well, yeah. But it's ok. I'm not the one who has it worst right now."

"Sure, but you can still talk about it. You can talk to me...if you want."

You smiled up at him, his face shadowed by the abyss of the night. "Thanks."

He offered you a grin before staring up at the sky. "You know, that's my first girlfriend," he said, pointing at the moon.

"The moon?" He nodded. "That's...rough."

///

It was finally here. The day of Black Sun.

You'd be lying if you said you felt totally prepared, but with some rigorous earth bending lessons from Toph and sparring with Sokka, you felt more confident in your abilities.

A finger poked your cheek. "Hey, are you listening?"

You glanced at Sokka's teasing grin, scratching the back of your neck sheepishly. "Uh...yes?"

"Really," he said, moving to stand in front of you. "What did I say?"

"Something about...food?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "It's ok, I'll tell you later." He looked behind him, taking in the sight of the preparing fighters and looming submarines. He took your hand in his. "Are you ready for this?"

You sigh, squeezing his fingers between your own. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He smiles down at you, and the look in his eyes is pure adoration. He reaches to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "You know, I'm glad I broke into your house."

You snort, swatting his hand away. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks a lot, nerd."

He chuckles. "Hey, I know you're glad, too. Otherwise, you never would've met me and would've been miserable and bored your whole life."

You laugh, but it's probably true. You and Sokka had grown much closer over the past weeks, days spent in playful conversation and evening strolls, in play-wrestling and heads rested on shoulders. You were the one he came to when his mind was troubled, when his energy was too spent to conjure any jokes. Yeah, you were glad, too.

You were called into the submarines - Sokka's invention, something you were unfathomably proud of - and off you went. Into the Fire Nation. Your arrival went mostly smoothly, disregarding the few punctures in the submarine walls, and you ran out of the carrier with the earth at your fingertips. Aang had flown off to fight the Fire Lord, and it was up to the rest of you to deal with everyone else. Your heart pumped loudly, blood rushing in your ears and adrenaline flowing in your veins. You raised your arms, summoning the ground upwards to knock out a few soldiers.

"Y/n!"

You turned around just in time to see Katara swoop down on Appa, Sokka and Hakoda climbing up with her. "Come on!" she yelled. "We're going to take out the soldier's battlements."

You nodded, running towards the bison and pulling yourself atop the saddle with help from Sokka. Appa lifts off, reaching between the battlements.

"Katara and I will take the one on the right," Hakoda said, his voice one of a true commander. "Sokka and Y/n, the left. Let's go."

You climb the battlement, hoisting yourself inside through the window before scanning the room. Pointed outwards is a sort of cannon, aimed perfectly towards the group of fire benders that were advancing towards your friends. You step forward, trying to figure out the mechanics while Sokka climbs in. "Oh-ho," he says, taking note of the projection of the cannon. "This thing is just begging to be fired."

You nodded, toying with the controls. Sokka stepped behind you. "Here, I'll show you."

He placed his palm over your hand, guiding it to where it needed to be. From his pocket he pulled a match - where did that come from, anyway? - and nudged it between your fingers. "Light it up, Sunshine."

You place the tip to the ignition, Sokka aiming the cannon. He pulls you back against him, arms wound tightly around your waist, and you cover your ears. The canon booms, sending out a flurry of smoke. You rush forward, fearful of the damage you might have just inflicted, breathing out when you see that it only landed between the soldiers and your friends. It didn't hit them, something you were a bit grateful for, but it allowed the fighters to evade the onslaught. Sokka chuckled in your ear.

"Not bad, not bad."

"You did all the work."

"That's not true! You were vital."

You shake your head, fighting off a grin. "Ok, we should probably get rid of this thing now."

"Agreed."

You climb back out the window, jumping onto the ground with a thud. Breathing deeply, you concentrated your mind on the earth that lay below the battlement, and with a flick of your wrist, it crumbled. From the cliffside it fell, effectively ridding you of one other thing to worry about.

Sokka let out a low whistle. "Impressive."

You turned to him, out of breath. He stepped closer, brows knitted in slight concern as he lifted your chin with his knuckles. "Hey, you ok?"

You nodded, swallowing and trying to rewatch your breath. "Yeah, still a little new to this."

His thumb stroked your cheek before he moved his arm, placing it over your shoulders. "Come on, just stay with me."

You did, gladly.

///

So...things didn't exactly go as planned.

It turned out that the Fire Lord knew all along about the invasion, and Aang never had the chance to fight him. You'd come face-to-face with Azula again, something that made your blood boil. You'd had to leave - leaving the adults behind while the kids climbed aboard Appa's saddle. You were all exhausted, slumped over and falling to your knees when you finally reached the Western Air Temple.

You tried to mull your sadness; that guilty feeling that it was you who should've been left behind instead. You knew everyone was hurting - some in ways you couldn't really fathom. Aang felt like he had failed - again - and he went to bed that night with a half-hearted side hug and tired eyes. Toph felt weak, something she hated more than anything in the world. And Sokka and Katara...they'd lost their dad again.

So when you saw Sokka on the mountainside, head held in hands, you felt that he was more important. You plopped down next to him, his eyes snapping up and softening when they laid on you. No words were spoken; they didn't need to be. Instead, he sighed, pressing his cheek against your shoulder. You ran your fingers through his hair, soothing him with your touch. You only halted when he laced your fingers with his own, pulling your hand to his lap and tracing patterns across your skin.

"It's not your fault, Sokka."

He nodded against you, but you heard his sniff. You straightened up, his head begrudgingly lifting from its place against you before you cupped his face with your palm. "It's not," you implored, desperate for him to stop feeling so down on himself. "None of us could've predicted that they knew. And with Azula...she knew what she was doing. None of this is because of you."

He glanced away, blue eyes brimming with the tears he'd fought so hard to keep at bay. He dipped his head in silent acceptance, nuzzling against the warmth of your palm. You smiled sadly.

"It's not over, Sokka. There's still hope, now more than ever. And I know we'll figure it out."

He raised his gaze, and it seemed like his soul was carried in his stare. Slowly, enough so that you thought you imagined it, his eyes drifted down to your lips. He leaned in slowly, bringing his calloused hand to brush back your hair. You were frozen, as if one wrong move would shatter you from this dream. His palm was warm against your cheek, and his nose bumped your own. Your eyes met his, close enough together that it was a bit funny to look at, and he offered you a silent question. You answered with your lips against his.

He breathed against you, fingers carding through your hair. His lips were warm and oh, so soft, and they moved against yours with ease. You wound your arms around his neck, bringing him closer. He was warm, and he was familiar, and he was safe. You pulled apart when your lungs ached for air, peeling your eyes open with effort. He was looking at you, and you were looking at him, and suddenly a grin broke out across his face. He laughed breathily, nudging his head into the crook of your neck. You laughed with him, holding him tight. You sat there together for who knows how long, melted in each other's embrace under the light of the moon. He pressed soft kisses against your neck and whispered thanks into your ears. You responded with a peck to his tanned cheeks. You were right, he knew. It wasn't over. There was time left, and there was hope. Wrapped in your arms, he was sure of that.

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blackswaneuroparedux · 3 years

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Anonymous asked: I loved your fantastic account of the battle of Waterloo and how each nation came to define the rest of the century for all the European countries in different ways. However what are your thoughts about the battle itself? Did Wellington win it or did Napoleon lose it? What were the turning points that you think determined the fate of the battle?

Thank you for reading and liking my previous post on Waterloo. I did heavily lean into studying ancient classical warfare when I was studying Classics but I only got into Napoleonic warfare because of a father who was (and still remains) big Napoleonic warfare military enthusiast. Through his keen eyes as a former serving military man, I also looked at the battle as a soldier might as well putting on my academic critical thinking cap. It’s a popular parlour game not just in Sandhurst but also in the officers’ mess (where those regiments actually fought at Waterloo) and around dinner tables - in my experience anyway.

I’ve always seen such speculative and counterfactual questions as an amusing diversion. I’ve never seriously looked at the detail until I came to France and unexpectedly interacted with Napoleonic scholars as well as soldiers (the cultured and historically well read ones at least) that forced me to think more about it. I’ve always been of the ‘if the Prussians hadn’t arrived in time to save Wellington’ school; and this was always enough to get me by in any conversation.

But my vanity was stung by interacting with one of my downstairs neighbours, a high decorated retired army general, with whom I played a weekly game of chess over a glass of wine during the Covid lockdown in Paris. He didn’t spare me as he knew so much detail about the battle. But a typical failing of French thinking is to pontificate around generalities rather than specific reasons. So for him it came down to pooh-poohing the generalship of Wellington (the rain saved him) and lauding the emperor (he had haemorrhoids and thus a bad day at the office). So rain and haemorrhoids were the decisive factors in determining the outcome of the battle of Waterloo.

It was clear I had to raise my game. So I’ve been reading more when I could.

I had recently finished reading a wonderful book ‘The Longest Afternoon: The 400 Men Who Decided the Battle of Waterloo’ by the Cambridge historian Brendan Simms. The book came out in 2015 but it’s been lying on my shelf for these past few years until I actually took this slim book to read on my one of my business trips.

The idea behind this short book is so superbly useful. It places to one side the huge, cinematic panorama of history and instead concentrates on one particular farmhouse, on one particular day: 18 June 1815. History is vivified, lifts itself off the page and into the mind, when a historian of Brendan Simm’s immense stature zooms in on the details - and here the details are compelling.

For the course of one day, 400 soldiers, wet, cold, in some cases hungover, who had bivouacked for the night in an abandoned farmhouse at La Haye Sainte, near a crucially strategic crossroads, found themselves staring down the massed barrels of Napoleon’s vanguard – and held them off. On June 18, 1815, Wellington established his position and sent one battalion and part of a second to the farmhouse under the command of Major Baring. Napoléon’s initial attack was a direct assault that surrounded the house and came near to breaking Wellington’s line; but it held, and the legendary charge of two British heavy cavalry brigades drove back the French.

This is a detailed account of the defence of La Haye Sainte, a walled stone farmhouse forward of Wellington’s centre. Its defenders were the King’s German Legion, which (despite the British army’s penchant for oddball names) was genuinely German. Britain harboured many German expatriates who detested Napoléon, a number augmented in 1803 when he occupied Hanover and disbanded its army. That very year two ambitious officers recruited the first members of the King’s German Legion, which grew into a corps of some 14,000 men and served with distinction at Copenhagen, Walcheren and in Spain before its apotheosis at Waterloo.

Ordered to capture the farmhouse, Marshal Michel Ney - commanding Napoléon’s left wing - obeyed but became preoccupied with his famously unsuccessful cavalry attack. Reminded of the order two hours later, he dispatched infantry that reached the house and set it on fire. The men inside controlled the blaze and continued to fight until Ney took personal charge of a furious assault that succeeded only when the defenders ran out of ammunition and withdrew, having held out for six hours. Had they not defended it so stoutly and if the farm had fallen any sooner then Napoleon would have been able to get at Wellington’s troops before his Prussian reinforcements arrived, and in all likelihood Waterloo would have been a French victory instead; it would now be the name of a train station in Paris rather than London.

I doubt there is a definitive answer to this question which is why certain people love arguing about it because it’s so open ended in terms of cause and effect. You can pick on any episodic event and hail that as the decisive turning point. It’s one reason why we are so fortunate to have so many well researched history books on the battle of Waterloo to replenish the issues for a newer generation to argue with past generations.

If I were to go beyond the ‘if the Prussians hadn’t arrived to save Wellington’ line then I would point to ten decisive turning points which in themselves might not have changed the outcome but taken together certainly influenced the final outcome of one of the most important and iconic battles in history.

Napoleon gives Marshal Davout a desk job

6 June 1815 – All commanders need a good chief of staff to ensure that their intentions are translated into clear orders. Unfortunately for Napoleon – as what is arguably one of the most decisive battles in European history loomed – his trusted chief of staff, Marshal Berthier, was no longer available. Berthier had sworn an oath of loyalty to Louis XVIII – and then fallen to his death from a window – so the job was given to Marshal Soult.

Soult was an experienced field commander but he was certainly no Berthier. Napoleon’s two main field commanders were also far from ideal. Emmanuel Grouchy had little experience of independent command. Michel Ney’s heroic command of the French rear-guard during the retreat from Moscow led Napoleon to dub him “the bravest of the brave”, but by 1815 he was clearly burnt out.

Worse still, when on 6 June Napoleon ordered his generals to assemble with their troops on the Belgian border he chose to leave behind Louis-Nicolas Davout, his ‘Iron Marshal’, as minister of war. The emperor needed someone loyal to oversee affairs at home but the decision not to take with him the ablest general at his disposal would deprive him of the one commander who might have made a difference.

Constant Rebecque ignores orders

15 June – In June 1815 Napoleon assembled 120,000 men on the Belgian border. Opposing him were 115,000 Prussians under Field Marshal Blücher and an allied force of about 93,000 men under Wellington. Faced with such odds, Napoleon’s best chance of victory was to get his army between his two enemies and defeat one before turning on the other. On 15 June his army crossed the frontier at Charleroi and headed straight for the gap between the two allied armies.

Wellington was taken completely by surprise: “Napoleon has humbugged me” he said. Uncertain what Napoleon’s intentions were, he ordered his army to concentrate around Nivelles, over 12 miles away from the Prussian position at Ligny. This would have left the two allied armies dangerously separated but fortunately for Wellington, a staff officer in the Dutch army, Baron Constant Rebecque, understood what was actually needed. He disregarded Wellington’s order and instead sent a force to occupy the key crossroads of Quatre Bras, much nearer to the Prussians.

D’Erlon misses the show

16 June – Two battles were fought on 16 June. While Marshal Ney took on Wellington’s army as it hurriedly tried to concentrate around Quatre Bras, Napoleon led the main French force against the Prussians at Ligny. Blücher’s inexperienced Prussians were given a severe mauling but despite this they managed to fall back in relatively good order.

This was partly due to a disastrous mix-up on the part of the French. Confusion over orders saw General D’Erlon’s corps instructed to leave Ney’s army at Quatre Bras and join the fighting at Ligny only to be recalled as soon as they got there. The result was that 16,000 Frenchmen who could have intervened decisively actually took part in neither battle.

Blücher stays in touch

17 June – Wellington succeeded in beating back Ney at Quatre Bras but Blücher’s defeat left the British general with a large French army on his eastern flank. He was forced to fall back northwards towards Brussels. The Prussians were retreating as well. Normally a retreating army tries to withdraw along its lines of communication (ie the route back to its base). Had the Prussians done this they would have headed eastwards. The two allied armies would then have been even further apart and Wellington would have been overwhelmed. But instead of doing that, the Prussians retreated northwards towards Wavre. It was to be a crucial move. The two allied armies stayed in contact and on 17 June Wellington was able to fall back to the ridge at Mont St Jean, and prepare to make a stand there until Blücher’s Prussians could come to his aid.

The weather takes a hand

17 June – The night before the battle was marked by a thunderstorm of biblical proportions. Rain lashed down, turning roads into quagmires and trampled fields into seas of mud.

It was a night of tremendous rain and cloudbursts. Wellington said that even in the monsoons in India, he’d never known rain like it. To wake up cold and damp, wet and terrified, then you have this slaughter in a very small space. By evening there were over 200,000 men struggling to kill each other within four square miles.

Private Wheeler of the 51st Regiment later wrote: “The ground was too wet to lie down… the water ran in streams from the cuffs of our Jackets… We had one consolation, we knew that the enemy were in the same plight.” Wheeler was right of course – the rain would inconvenience all three armies, not least the Prussians as they struggled along narrow country lanes to link up with Wellington.

It’s often said that Napoleon delayed starting the battle in order to allow the ground to dry out but the chief cause of the delay was probably the need to allow his units, many of whom had bivouacked some distance away, to take up their allotted places. Napoleon enjoyed a considerable advantage in artillery at Waterloo but this was lessened by the fact that the mud made it difficult to move his guns around and that cannonballs, normally designed to bounce along until they hit something, or someone, often disappeared harmlessly into the soggy ground. Macdonnell closes the gates

11:30am, 18 June – On 18 June the two armies prepared to do battle. Most of Wellington’s troops were sheltered from enemy fire on the reverse slope of the Mont St Jean ridge. The position was protected by three important outposts: a group of farms to the left, the farm of La Haye Sainte in front and the farmhouse of Hougoumont to the right.

At about 11.30am the French launched their first attack – an assault on Hougoumont. This soon developed into a battle within a battle as the French threw in ever more men in a bid to capture the vital chateau. They nearly succeeded: led by a giant officer nicknamed ‘the Smasher’, a group of French soldiers worked their way round to the rear of the chateau, forced open its north gate and burst inside.

James Macdonnell, the garrison commander, acted quickly. He gathered a group of men and they heaved the gate shut again. The French inside the chateau were then hunted down and killed. Only a young drummer boy was spared. Hougoumont was to remain in allied hands all day and Wellington later commented that the entire result of the battle depended on the closing of those gates.

Ney loses his head after his cavalry founders

1.30pm – The infantry of D’Erlon’s corps finally saw action as they attacked the left wing of Wellington’s army. As they reached the crest of the ridge they were met by the infantry of Sir Thomas Picton’s division. Picton, a foul-mouthed Welshman who rode into battle in a civilian coat and round-brimmed hat, was shot dead but his men stopped the French, who were then driven back by Wellington’s cavalry.

The next major French attack was very different. Ney unleashed his cavalry in a mass frontal attack, and thousands of Napoleon’s famous cuirassiers – big men in steel breastplates riding big horses – thundered up the hill. But Wellington’s infantry stayed calm. Forming squares, they presented in all directions a hedge of bayonets that no horse could be made to charge.

Ney needed to call the cavalry off or support them with infantry but he lost his head and threw more horsemen into the fray. When he abandoned these fruitless attacks, Wellington’s line was still unbroken, two hours had been wasted, and the Prussians were arriving in force.

The Prussians arrive

4.30pm – Blücher had promised to come to Wellington’s aid, and kept his word. Napoleon had detached nearly a third of his army under Grouchy to prevent the Prussians joining up with Wellington but Grouchy failed to do this and, by mid-afternoon, the first Prussian units were in action on the battlefield.

At about 4.30pm they launched their first attack upon the key village of Plancenoit near the rear of Napoleon’s main position. This savage battle would rage for over three hours. Faced with this, Napoleon was forced to send many of his remaining reserves to shore up his position – leaving him with precious few troops to exploit any success his troops might enjoy against Wellington.

Napoleon says no, and von Zeithen turns back

6.30pm – At about 6.30pm the French captured La Haye Sainte. Posting artillery and skirmishers around the farm, they unleashed a storm of shot, shell and musketry into Wellington’s exposed centre. The regiments there suffered horrendous casualties, but Wellington’s line held – just.

Ney asked for reinforcements to press home his advantage but Napoleon refused. Instead he sent troops to recapture Plancenoit which had just fallen to the Prussians. Von Zeiten’s Prussian I Corps arrived on the scene. These much-needed reinforcements were set to join Wellington when a Prussian aide de camp rode up with an order from Blücher instructing them to head south and support his troops at Plancenoit. Von Zeiten obeyed. Realising that Von Zeiten’s troops were desperately needed on the ridge, Baron von Müffling, Wellington’s Prussian liaison officer, galloped after Von Zeiten and pleaded with him to ignore this new order and stick to the original plan. The Prussian general turned back and took his place on Wellington’s left, enabling the duke to shift troops over to reinforce his crumbling centre. The crisis had passed.

Napoleon’s last roll of the dice ends in panic

7.30pm – With Plancenoit back in French hands the stage was set for the final act in the drama. At about 7.30pm Napoleon unleashed his elite imperial guard in a last desperate bid for victory. But it was too late – they were hopelessly outnumbered and Wellington was ready for them. His own troops had been sheltering from the French fire by lying down but when the two large columns of French guardsmen reached the crest of the ridge Wellington ordered his own guards to stand up. One British guardsman describes the scene: “Whether it was (our) sudden appearance so near to them, or the tremendously heavy fire we threw into them but La Garde, who had never previously failed in an attack, suddenly stopped.”

Meanwhile Sir John Colborne of the 52nd Light Infantry wheeled his regiment round to attack the flank of the first French column while General Chasse ordered his Dutch and Belgian troops forward against the other. Soon both French columns had withered away under the deadly fire. Their defeat led to widespread panic in the French army: amid cries of “La Garde recule” (“the Guard is retreating”) it dissolved into a disorderly retreat mercilessly harried by the Prussians. “The nearest-run thing you ever saw in your life,” as Wellington described the battle, was over.

This isn’t an exhaustive list but it will do.

Waterloo was a watershed moment for Europe, and indeed the world. The end of the Napoleonic Wars heralded a peace in Europe which was not broken until the outbreak of World War One in 1914. In the century following the Battle of Waterloo an increased respect developed for the figure of the soldier. True the Battle became mythologised in the nineteenth century and is now embedded in our cultural memory as one of the great British success stories.

We still celebrate Waterloo because it was a great British victory - even if we had a little bit of help from the Prussians. It embodied the British bulldog spirit and marked the moment we finally overcame Napoleon and his empire after a decade of being at war.

The ramifications from Waterloo and the Napoleonic Wars are still felt today in contemporary European politics. I think because of this the battle continues to fascinate and to court intense discussion and disagreement.

No doubt my French neighbour the retired army general and I will continue to stubbornly argue our differing viewpoints until the wine bottle empties. But we both agree that we would enjoy having dinner with Napoleon and talk about his military campaigns. I admire Napoleon a little more having read more and for living in France. He’d be a very amusing and stimulating companion.

In many ways, he was also an enlightened and intelligent ruler. His Code Napoleon is an extremely enlightened law code. At the same time this is a man who had a very, very low threshold for boredom. I think he was addicted to war.

General Robert E. Lee, at Fredericksburg said, “It is well that war is so dreadful, otherwise we would grow too fond of it.”

Napoleon would never have agreed with that. War was his drug. There’s no evidence that Wellington enjoyed war. He said after Waterloo, and I believe him, “I pray to God that I have fought my last battle.” He spent much of the battle saying to the men, “If you survive, if you just stand there and repel the French, I’ll guarantee you a generation of peace.” He thought the point of war was peace. And he sure gave not just Britain but also an entire European continent some respite from the spilling of blood on a battlefield.

Thanks for your question.

#question #ask #waterloo #battle #battle of waterloo #napoleon #wellington #history #britain #france #prussia #austria #german #europe #military #british army #soldier

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middleearthpixie · 3 years

Text

More Than Meets the Eye ~ Chapter Twelve

A/N: Home today with a bit of a sore back, so it is entirely possible there will be more than one chapter update today...

Summary: Belle enlists Dis’ help in trying to win over Thorin, while Thorin, after an initial bit of awkwardness, opens up to Arielle about how he hurt his shoulder.

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Arielle (Elen) Farran (female OC)

Characters: Arielle, Thorin, Dis, Belle,

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,757

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being

If you'd like to be added to the tag list, just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here and on AO3

Dis frowned as she stared down at Belle. “What were you thinking?”

Belle didn’t even look the least bit ashamed as she shrugged and said, “Oh, don’t look at me that way, Dis. I was only hoping to… to hurry things along a little.”

“Hurry them along? You’ve been here only a few days, Belle. And I feel I should warn you, trying to force Thorin’s hand into anything will not end well for you.” She shook her head as they crossed the plains between Dale and Erebor. They’d spent the morning in Dale, wandering the amazing open-air market, when Belle finally confessed to Dis about her scheme to get Thorin to ask for her hand.

“I just… oh, it’s silly and I know it’s silly,” Belle replied, tucking a wayward curl behind her left ear. The breeze picked up to rattle the beads in her beard, making them clack softly. “But, he seems to be somewhere else whenever I’m with him.”

“Somewhere else where?”

“I don’t know and that’ s the frustrating part.” She looked over and Dis could see the genuine confusion in her friend’s eyes. She and Belle had known each other for several years now, and Dis had seen firsthand how dwarves practically fell at her feet for her attentions. It was easy to see how one could become spoiled that way, but Thorin was not a typical dwarf and that was something that escaped Belle.

“Belle, you have to take care where Thorin is concerned. He… he tends to keep everyone at arm’s length, no matter what. And for you to try to—to manipulate him that way? That is the worst approach to take because he will back away from you.”

“Is there someone else?” Belle stopped and faced her, catching that same wayward curl as the wind blew it across her eyes once more. “Does he fancy someone else?”

Dis laughed. “My brother? The brooding, grumpy, growly King Under the Mountain? I’d be surprised if he realized there were any available dwarrowdams within sight. He leaves skirt chasing to my sons, as they are quite skilled at it.”

Belle’s face fell and for a moment, Dis actually felt sorry for her. Belle was genuinely baffled as to why Thorin wasn’t falling at her feet, begging for her hand, and she did not know how to get him to do so.

Well, Dis could tell her it wouldn’t happen, but she didn’t think Belle would believe her. But, she couldn’t recall ever seeing Thorin beg for any woman’s hand, and he’d had enough of them seeking his attention, even before he became king. He and Frerin both had their pick of dwarrowdams, and yet both focused on their duties, on the battlefield, and marriage was the last thing on either one’s mind.

“Dis, I am serious. I just think he is so… beautiful…”

“Beautiful.” Dis made a gagging sound and shook her head. “Please remember he is my brother and there is nothing beautiful about that scruffy, grouchy walking ball of grump.”

“Oh, that isn’t fair at all and it certainly isn’t very nice.”

“You forget, I know him. You see his face, I know the man behind it and have for a very long time. Don’t get me wrong, I love him to death, but I am not so certain I’d wish him on anyone.”

“I will be more than happy to take my chances.” Belle slipped her arm through Dis’. “Could you talk to him for me? Maybe just find out if someone else is wandering through his mind?”

“I can, of course, but I cannot promise you anything. Although, I’ve already spoken to him about the fair this evening.”

“Oh, the fair! That’s right!” Belle brightened and gave her arm a squeeze. “I know. As long as I know I am the only one he thinks of, I will be happy.”

****

Try as he might, Thorin couldn’t get Arielle out of his mind. He was up and dressed well before the sun, to avoid any early-morning awkward conversation and then spent most of the day deep within Erebor, sitting down with Balin and several of the others as they went over inventory and the like. It wasn’t easy, as he had a deuce of a time trying to focus on anything other than her and their kiss. Why had he kissed her? She’d been in his company, in his employ for five days. And for four of those days, he thought she was a young man. How did that change so quickly when she finally told him the truth? By all rights, he should’ve been furious with her, should’ve ordered her out of Erebor, and told her to tell her brother to not bother with coming in her stead.

And yet, instead of doing that, he kissed her.

He wanted to smack himself in the forehead for his idiocy. What had he been thinking?

Aside from the fact that he just simply wanted to kiss her, that is.

He wanted to kiss her as he’d never wanted to kiss another woman.

And it was one of the best kisses he’d ever had, truth be told. Her lips were soft. Her breath sweet. And instead of being angry with her for her deception, he rather understood why she and her brother had thought they could get away with this. They weren’t hurting anyone. Weren’t swindling or conning anyone. She was merely stepping up to protect her brother, to keep a roof over their heads and food on their table and he understood that.

But, what troubled him was that she’d performed those intimate tasks for him. Tasks that only a wife should perform (or a valet who wasn’t a woman in disguise.) He didn’t necessarily mind that he’d been naked before her, although, it was a little disturbing, since he wouldn’t have done so had he known she was a woman out of respect for her sensibilities more than his own sense of modesty.

So, had she grabbed his butt by accident then? Or had that been deliberate?

Accident. He remembered how she reacted to doing so. Definitely an accident.

He sighed as he made his way back toward his apartments. It was late afternoon and he had to change for supper. Dis had mentioned something about a fair in Dale that evening and wouldn’t it be nice if he escorted Miss Caisys to it for her to enjoy a few games of chance and some different foods?

He didn’t feel much like it, but Dis left him no room to back out of it, so, he’d be going to Dale that night.

With Miss Caisys.

When he’d rather be going with Arielle.

He scowled as he rounded the corner to the corridor leading to his apartments and his gaze landed on Arielle as she emerged from her own flat. She looked up and her cheeks went pink as she said, “You were gone by the time I arrived this morning.”

The words seemed glued in his throat, so he cleared it and said, “I had an early start.”

“Trouble sleeping last eve?”

“A bit. You?”

The color along her cheeks deepened and her curls bounced as she bobbed her head. “I did, too, yes.”

“About last eve,” he said, moving to unlock the door, “I should apologize. I should not have pounced on you that way.”

“Pounced on me?” A hint of laughter wove through her words. “If that is what you think pouncing is, have I news for you.”

He glanced at her over his shoulder, turning the key. “I beg your pardon?”

The door swung open and he gestured for her to pass by him and go in. She smiled up at him, her blush receding now. “I mean, that is not exactly what pouncing is. If you’d pinned me to the wall—“

“I did pin you to the wall.”

“Oh,” her smile dimmed, “that’s right. You did. Very well, if you’d thrown me down on the bed and pinned me there, that would have been pouncing. And, either way, I do wish you wouldn’t apologize. It was a nice kiss.”

The tension thinned then and he relaxed some. “It was a nice kiss.” He paused as she went to the wardrobe to pull open one door, then he added, “In fact, it was one of the nicer ones I’ve ever had.”

She bent to peer into the wardrobe’s depths. “Have you had many?”

That took him aback. “Some. I don’t know I’d say many.”

“Well, more than… say… fifty?”

He grinned, shaking his head although she couldn’t see it from the wardrobe’s depths. “I haven’t counted, but I don’t think it’s anywhere near fifty.”

“Really?” She backed out of the wardrobe, a head blue tunic in her hands. “Well, whoever taught you, taught you well.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh, yes,” she turned to set the tunic on the bed. “It was my first kiss, but I had no complaints.”

He just stared at her for a moment. Her first kiss? “You’re joking.”

She shook her head. “Why would I joke about that?”

“But…” He never would have thought that to be her first kiss. Not with the way she kissed him back, the way she teased him with her lips, her tongue, the way she let her hands move over him. There was no hesitation in her touch, no uncertainty.

And if he thought about it much longer, he would pounce on her right then and there, for it had been on his mind ever since he tugged her hand from his trousers. He wanted to unwrap her bandages, wanted to see her for himself, wanted to slip off her leggings and lift her against him and—

Mahal, allowing her to stay is a terrible idea.

But making her leave was a worse one.

She smiled as she tugged trousers from his wardrobe. “Are you actually speechless?”

“It would appear so, wouldn’t it? I’m just a bit surprised.”

“Why?” Her eyes narrowed. “Do I look like a woman of loose morals?”

He arched one brow. “You are my valet, and you are pretending to be a man, so…”

“One has nothing to do with the other and you know why I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want to lie about it, but let’s face it, you never would have let me stay if you knew I wasn’t actually Elen, and I really am sorry about grabbing your butt cheek the other morning, because I absolutely did not mean to and—”

“Arielle.”

“Oh.” She pressed her lips together briefly, then said, “I need to work on that.”

“Yes, you do. And you’re forgiven for grabbing my butt cheek.” He bit back a grin as she snorted. “What is so amusing?”

“You. Saying butt cheek.” She set out small clothes, then gestured to the door. “Call me when you’re decent.”

“Go.”

He waited until she left the room then shed his boots and stripped off his wrinkled, somewhat sweaty clothes (it was unbelievably hot in near the forges that afternoon) to give himself a quick wipe-down using the ewer of water and basin on the far side of the room. To his surprise, once that initial awkwardness between him and Arielle had been broken, he was quite comfortable with her around him. He didn’t think he would be, once he knew the truth, but he was wrong. And perhaps it would come back to bite him, but for now, he was glad he’d not let her go.

“Your Highness,” her voice floated through from the other room, “how are you faring?”

He stepped into the clean small clothes and trousers and was about to tell her he was fine, when he tried to draw on the tunic and the second his right hand rose about his shoulder, a fiery pain shot through it. He bit back an oath. “I think I need help.”

She came into the room, her brow furrowed. “I thought you were going to see Narnerra?”

He scowled. “I am.”

“In this lifetime?”

“Arielle.”

“I’ll not apologize for that, Your Highness. You need to see her before you bloody arm falls right off.”

He sighed. “I know.”

“When did this first happen? Your shoulder, I mean.” She gestured to the bite mark scar. “Did that cause it?”

He shook his head. “No. I think it happened when I faced off against Azog at Ravenhill.”

“If you’d rather not speak of it—”

“No, it’s fine, really. I thought I’d had him cornered up at Ravenhill. Kili, Fili, Dwalin, and I left the battle outside Erebor to hunt the Defiler down. I was tired of being hunted, it was his turn to be the prey.”

She moved closer and sank onto the edge of his bed. “You went after him?”

“I did.” A rueful laugh bubbled to his lips. “The height of arrogance on my part. Anyway, I had seen him run Fili through. I heard Kili scream, but couldn’t see him, so I assumed the worse. He slaughtered them up there, you know.”

Without thinking, he brought his left hand to his sore shoulder. A faint scar was already there, given to him in Moria, at the Battle of Azanulbizar, when he was much younger, inflicted by the Defiler as well. “My history with Azog was long and tangled and I was going to end it. Anyway, I brought my sword down, swung it about, and felt something pop. And it’s hurt ever since.”

“Go see Narnerra. I should hate to see you lose use of your arm.”

“As would I.” He sighed and held out the tunic. “If you would?”

“Of course.” She helped him tug it on, then added, “So, I heard the fair has returned to Dale.”

He peered at her. “You know of it?”

“I remember my mother’s stories about it. Apparently she brought me and Elen there when we were very small, but I don’t remember it. She said there was a wizard there who made the most excellent fireworks she’d ever seen, but Elen was afraid of them and cried the entire time.”

“Gandalf?”

Her eyes lit up and she nodded. “Yes, I think that was what she said his name was. Oh, I wish I could remember them because she made them sound amazing.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her to come with them. He hesitated for a moment, then gave in. “If you would like to come with us, you’re more than welcome to,”

She smiled. “Is everyone going?”

“I’m taking Dis and Miss Caisys, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the others found their way there as well.”

Her smile faded and her eyes dimmed. “Oh, then I probably should remain here. I wouldn’t want to arouse any suspicions.”

She stood. “If you no longer need me, then.”

“Arielle, wait—”

“What?”

“I’d like it if you came with us. The only time you’ve been away from here is yesterday and that only for a few hours.” He stood, sweeping up his discarded clothes to toss into the basket.

“Won’t the others wonder?”

“I doubt it.”

For a moment, she seemed to be considering it. But the, she shook her head. “I’m certain I am the last person Miss Caisys wants to see. Remember, I spoiled her plans last evening.”

He grinned. “I have not forgotten. But, are you certain? As I said, I’ll think of some explanation, even if it’s simply that I am the king and entitled to take my valet with me if I bloody well want to.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll go see if Kusela has any more mending for me to do. You are rather hard on your clothes sometimes.”

“If you’re certain.”

“I am. But thank you.” She moved to the doorway. “Enjoy your evening.”

The front door opened and closed and the silence that followed was deafening. He hadn’t wanted to go into Dale at all earlier, but now he really didn’t feel up to it. But, since he would hear about it from Dis come the morning, he sat to tug on his boots, then left as well.

He paused outside Arielle’s apartments, his hand hovering above the door handle. He could order her to go with them, if he so desired, but that didn’t sit well with him. So, with a soft sigh, he turned away and went above to find his sister and Miss Caisys.

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #AUJ #Thorin Fic #Everybody Lives AU #Is it hot in here?#Woman in Disguise

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holykillercake · 3 years

Text

Strawberry and Cigarretes

pairing: Sanji x Reader

word count: 2.6k

highlight: ¨Everything hurt, and for the first time, you wished to forget what the ocean sounded like.¨

warnings: slight angst

notes: This was a request from @vemuabhi! <3 Very special because it was my first ever request! I wanted to doge the obvious path (which I almost took) and do something that didn´t involve Whole Cake Island, so maybe it is not the biggest angst (hats off to Mr. Oda cause he is Father angst) but I did my very best! I hope you all enjoy and Happy Birthday, Sanji-kun! <3

𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤, 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤, 𝕠𝕣 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤!

Do you remember when you were a kid, and you´d find a shell laying on the sand? And you would pick it up and put it on your ear, hoping to listen to the ocean? It´d always make a smile grow on your face before you tossed it aside and jumped into the water.

That time was different. When you heard the ocean share its endless secrets and tell its adventurous stories, you just wanted to sit there all day and listen.

This specific event happened a couple of months after you joined the Strawhats. Chopper had borrowed you his stethoscope cause you thought it was cool, and in the middle of thousands of things you´ve already heard in your life, good and bad, the heartbeat was something that you were oblivious to.

Some would think that asking to hear someone else´s heartbeat was weird, but inside the Thousand Sunny... well, those guys put ¨weird¨ on another level, and you would have to work your ass off to surpass that.

Chopper got all blushed when you leaned closer to his tiny and furry torso, Usopp told you stories about a war he once won but had to have his heart replaced by a lion´s, Franky said that if you wanted to see a heart he could simply pull it out for you, Brook invested on the same ¨Oh, I don´t have a heart. Yohohoho¨ joke, Zoro let you listen to his wrist, Nami and Robin almost had you sinking into their generous breasts, and Sanji... you left him for last because you didn´t know how to ask him. So you just tiptoed quietly inside the kitchen, sneaked behind him, and tried to listen to his heart through his back. You feared that your nose would start bleeding if he faced you while you were doing it.

That was exactly what he did, by the way. He poured more water into the stew he was cooking and turned around, putting out his cigarette so ashes wouldn´t fall on you. Immediately you began to sweat, your breath quickened, and hold the stethoscope with a steady hand became a herculean task.

His lean fingers moved to the collar of his blue shirt and started to unbutton a few, enough for you to have better access. At that point, you believed that the reason why you weren´t bleeding yet was that you were slowly having a stroke, and Sanji´s action was God´s gift to you for being a good person while alive.

Then he didn´t do anything else, just put both hands in his pockets and waited while you listened to every single bubble popping inside his chest like you were afraid to miss one. In the end, he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and went back to his stew.

But that was all about it. The following months were just like any other, the crew kept acting as weird as their minds allowed, and you kept shutting whatever your stupid heart was yelling at you. Although... if you could be honest for one moment, deep down you were hurt.

Maybe you scared or crept him away with your childish curiosity. Maybe he had noticed your feelings for him and got disgusted. Well, not disgusted, he probably didn´t like you the same way and didn´t know how to tell you, so keeping words to a minimum was his way to go.

He stopped singing and twirling around you, he´d rather call your name respectfully; when you shared the night watches, he just remained quiet by your side, answering briefly to your questions or comments; he even stopped trying to sneak into your baths or make suggestive comments - which you didn´t love before, but you know, you only miss something when it's gone.

The whole crew had noticed the change in both of your behaviors, but they too were not sure how to address it. Whenever someone asked something about it you would say ¨Really? I didn´t notice anything.¨. Either too proud to confront him or too afraid of the truth.

¨Oi, you ok?¨ Zoro asked, breaking into your personal bubble of sadness.

You knew it was Zoro because you two were taking the night watch, but you didn´t expect him to show interest or concern about your upset state.

The night was chilly, so you were sitting on Sunny´s grass, arms around your knees, holding them close to your chest to keep the warmth.

¨Why do you care?¨ you answered bitterly, but he didn´t mind since he was the king of freaking Bitter Land.

¨I don´t. But I´ll go crazy if I hear you sigh one more time.¨ he sat close to you, not too close, just enough for you to listen to each other.

A chuckle left your mouth involuntarily, you never expected his grouchy temper would come in handy in times like this. Then your frowned expression came back, and you let out another sigh.

Before you realized Zoro had pushed you with his Sandai Kitetsu scabbard, making you fall to your side with a squeak.

¨I told you.¨

You sat again, taking some grass off your leg ¨Yeah. Can´t deny it.¨

¨Yeah, you´ve been doing that a lot lately.¨

He didn´t look like he was teasing you, his eyes focusing on the line where the sky met the ocean, where the stars disappeared and became blurry white brushes on the water.

¨I... I don´t-¨

¨I think you can do better than the stupid cook.¨he kept his usual tone ¨ But I guess we don´t get to choose these things.¨

You were taken aback by his words, and despite you trying to fight your lips from trembling and tears from falling, it was useless. You had been crushing these feelings inside you for too long, and it killed you the more you ignored it.

The swordsman wasn´t saying those things because he loved you or anything like that, but because the entire crew - except for Luffy - had already noticed and began acting weird about it. And despite being the captain´s duty to solve any problem or an uncomfortable situation, your captain was a bit too oblivious, so he had to step in.

Besides, his nakama was getting hurt. He didn´t care about the ero cook.

¨If you want me to beat him up... just let me know.¨

He said it to cheer you up - not that he didn´t mean, he´d do it for much less - but nothing seemed worth smiling for now. You just bit your lip in order to avoid an embarrassing whining, since you were unable to stop the painful tears from rolling down your cheeks.

Everything hurt, and for the first time, you wished to forget what the ocean sounded like.

¨W-What should I do?¨

¨That´s not my problem to solve, Y/N.¨ he stood up beside you ¨But sometimes, when I have a difficult problem that I can´t solve my way...¨ his gaze still locked with the horizon ¨... I think about what my captain would do.¨ he left without any further words, leaving you not only sad but confused as well.

You slept on it for the next couple of days, still not understanding what he meant. Maybe he just wanted to leave the conversation and said whatever came to mind. But even that didn´t fit right. If he didn´t want to be stuck in an uncomfortable conversation, he wouldn´t have started one.

So you took as a personal mission to observe your captain until you learned how to think like him, hoping that figuring that out would solve your problem.

You had joined the crew as a historian, the person responsible for writing down every adventure meticulously, every tiny detail of every battle, and every glorious victory along the Strawhats journey. So in one dusk, when you were in charge of the night watch with Robin and the moon was full and bright, you took your journals and began rolling through the pages, looking for a pattern, something that anticipated every major decision of your captain.

You even borrowed old diaries from the time you were not part of their crew. The stories lacked details, but they served to paint a picture. Basically:

Luffy insults an ugly lady, saves a kid, eats something, finds Zoro, beats the crap out of a crazy marine, saves the day, gets his first crewmate.

Luffy gets eaten by a bird, then vomited in a town, finds Nami, eats something, is put in a cage, beat the crap out of some pirates, saves the day.

Luffy wants a new ship, meets Usopp, eats something, gets thrown from a cliff, beats the crap out of some pirates, saves the day, gets Going Merry and a liar.

Luffy wants a cook, explodes a restaurant, becomes a waiter, eats something, meets Sanji, beats the crap out of some pirates, saves the day, gets a cook.

Luffy eats something, finds the fishmen, goes for a walk, is thrown in the water, beats the crap out of some pirates, saves the day, gets a navigator.

Luffy wants a doctor, eats everything, fights some crazy ass bunnies, climbs a mountain, meets Chopper, beats the crap out of some pirates, saves the day, gets a doctor.

Luffy eats something, wants to fix Going Merry, meets Franky, loses Robin, beats the crap out of some world government agents, saves the day, gets an archeologist, a shipwright, and Thousand Sunny.

Luffy hears a ghoulish singing, finds a speaking skeleton in a busted ship, has his shadow stolen, beats the crap out of some Warlord of the Sea, gets a musician.

When you finished the last journal, the weight of your body pushed you to the floor, and you laid on your back for a couple of minutes, overwhelmed by the amount of information in your head.

¨I know what to do...¨ you took a deep breath ¨... I´m gonna eat something.¨

You mumbled something to Robin, telling her that you´d be back in a few minutes, and wandered to the kitchen.

As soon as you entered the room a sweet and comforting aroma like whipped cream and strawberries invaded your senses, making your head turn to the counter immediately.

¨Y/N-chan...¨ the cook said.

You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times, looked at him, and then to your feet, your fingers fidgeting as a sign of your anxious state.

¨D-Didn't know you were awake.¨ you marched to the table and helped yourself with some sugar cookies.

¨Oh... It won´t take much longer...¨ you heard his muffled voice somewhere in the back of your mind, all you could hear was the blood pumping in your ears ¨... cake because today is my birthday and I thought we...¨ your vision was focused on the cookie jar, crushing the granular biscuit with your fingertips ¨...and I...I didn´t know if-¨

¨What would Luffy do?¨ you whispered to yourself.

¨W-What?¨

¨What would Luffy do?¨

The question wasn´t for him, it was for you. You felt something growing inside your chest, like the blood that pumped in your heart was boiling and burning, giving you the strength and courage you needed.

¨I have been trying to find answers to a lot of things, you know?¨ you stood up to face the cook, palms spread on the table, ¨I ... do you hate me, Sanji?¨

He stopped what he was doing and let the knife rest on the cutting board. When his gaze found yours, there was no way back. That is what Luffy would do. He´d eat something, do whatever came to his mind, and deal with the consequences. No need to go back.

¨Y/N-chan... why do you...¨

¨I mean, I ask this because...¨ you clenched your hands, cursing yourself for feeling the need to cry ¨I can´t take this anymore, Sanji! If I did something to offend you or if I said something...¨ your voice was broken and weak, and you were a mess of tears and sobs ¨You don´t have to love me back, that´s not what I am saying, but... I can´t stand-¨

¨Y/N-chan... why do you think I hate you?¨ he wiped his hands with a towel and made his way towards you, slowly.

¨Oh, come on, Sanji... You treat me differently, you´re cold and distant, you don´t say a word to me even when we share night shifts! If you don´t hate me, then this must be a sick game you´re playing.¨ your legs felt wobbly, and you sat back in the chair, not being able to face him anymore. The courage and strenght you had minutes ago was gone.

You just watched him get closer and kneel in front of you, his cold fingers gently brushing away the hot tears on your cheeks.

¨I could never hate you, Y/N.¨ he said softly ¨I am sorry I made you feel like this, I am sorry I made you cry...¨ his fingers touched your trembling lips.

¨Then why...¨

¨I didn´t want to scare you away like I always do, Y/N... I know I can be too much sometimes, with the nose bleeding and everything. But that´s how I am, and I didn´t want you to think of me as an idiot... so I prefer being silent, then say something stupid and... ¨

¨You don´t have to say this. I don´t need pity talk...¨you spoke as more tears fell, giving him a chance to take his statement back.

¨I have to, Y/N. But not because of pity talk.¨ he gently pressed his forehead against yours, like bunnies do when they apologize.

¨Then why?¨

¨Because I love you, Y/N.¨ the blonde closed the space left between the two of you, kissing you passionately.

He helped you get up without breaking the kiss and leaned you against the kitchen table, his hands holding your body close while yours ran through his golden hair. His mouth tasted like strawberries and cigarettes, a flavor to which you could easily get addicted.

You parted the kiss just enough to get some oxygen, your noses were touching, and you could feel his heavy breathing against your skin.

¨I didn´t know today is your birthday...¨ you whispered, afraid that this was a dream and you´d wake up alone again.

¨Yeah, I was hoping to get a Happy Birthday from you, you know.¨ he chuckled.

¨I think you´ll be getting more than that.¨

You stared into each other´s eyes for a moment before he pulled you to a hug. When you leaned against his warm chest you heard it again, the same babble of the ocean, only this time you smiled, knowing that it wanted to listen to your stories and secrets as well.

¨Sanji?¨

¨Hm?¨

¨Happy Birthday... I love you.¨

¨I love you too, Y/N.¨ he kissed you again.

¨Please, don´t have sex on the dinner table.¨ you jumped when Robin spoke.

When you turned, you saw all your crewmates dressed in pajamas and messy hair staring back at you with sparkly sleepy eyes. You spot Zoro back in the crowd, you smiled and gave him a silent ¨Thank you.¨. You couldn´t help but wonder how the guy who manages to gets lost walking down a straight path was able to guide some sense into you.

In any way, you´ve found it. Inside of his chest, inside of his heart was the All Blue you heard so much of. Maybe that was the thing with it, and why only a few people found it. Everyone assumes that it is a place, where the four Blues meet, but it´s easy to forget that when you´re a pirate the ocean becomes the essence of who you are.

Little did you know that Sanji had found his All Blue too.

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sapphire-dreamsky · 3 years

Text

Red Night

Starring: Ryomen Sukuna, Curse!Reader, OCs

Pairing: Sukuna x Curse!Reader

Warning: Death of minor characters.

A/N: It's kind of a historical AU? I mean Sukuna has his original form, and it takes place in the past. But it's also historically innaccurate😅. I apologise in advance.

In retrospect, (y/n) knew it was fruitless. The gap between curses and humans was far too large. It was already set in the humans’ heart, the fear which accompanies ‘their’ apparition. By ‘their’ they mean curses of course. People were so scared of them that the mere utterance of their name, in their superstitious mind, meant immediate death.

But (y/n) wanted to believe in the hope that one day, curses and humans could understand each other. She wanted them to be able to make a compromise so that both can live in peace. This shouldn’t be impossible. Curses are born from humans. Some humans even become curses. But that hope was squashed down as the townspeople grew to fear her.

Sukuna watches as the town which once worshipped the ground (y/n) walked on, were now chanting her demise. They brought forth their pitchforks, their torches all in the hopes of killing the abomination. The abomination they once worshipped as if she was a goddess. Well, she was one in his eyes. A foolish, naive goddess, but still his.

The woman looked around her, eyes gleaming in the orange glow of the fire. She so desperately wanted to turn back time. She wonders where it all went wrong. Did all her good deeds disappear as quickly as the day turned into the night? Her mind takes her back to a few months back. When she was arguing with her king.

“You are being foolish, (y/n). I once was a human exterminating curses. I know how the human mind works. They will hate you whatever you do.”

“But Sukuna, don’t you want a world where we can both live freely? Without the omnipresent fear that humans will always want to kill the likes of us?”

“I live for killing humans. I live for the carnage. But if you’re so stubborn, go on to that town down our mountain. Prove me wrong if you so desire to get along with these pests.” Sukuna rolled his four eyes, four arms crossed on his chest. He could care less about living with humans. He thought that the life they were leading up that mountain was enough. No one could disturb them there. But no, (y/n) had to have this stupid idea in her pretty little mind. Sometimes the King wonders how she became a curse with so much kindness and compassion in her heart. He could hardly see her curse anyone. She was too kind for her own good. That’s a part of her personality Sukuna cannot get rid of.

And so she headed down to the town at the foot of the mountain they were residing at. She remembers their warm smile as they welcome her into their ranks. She looked like them after all. Mere humans wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between human curses and themselves. They merely thought that her tattoos were among one of the oddities which she had. She stayed in the town for six months. Six blissful months where all their woes disappeared thanks to (y/n). She healed the young and elderly to her best abilities despite using curse energy. She helped the crops grow even during floods. The town is prospering more than ever since her arrival. And so, they made a shrine for her. They showered her with praises, thanking the gods for sending their messenger to their town.

Sukuna watched from the temple as his lover went and made friends around town. He watched her giving her warm smiles to children as they tugged on her kimono for attention. He watched her become known as the merciful goddess of that town. The king of curses didn’t know what to think. Her ideas were foolish. Humans and curses can never coexist. That’s the truth. But he let her run around. He only watched from a distance because he knew that he was the one who would be right. It won’t be long before she realizes that humans were monsters in sheep’s clothing. It won’t be long until she comes back to his side.

(Y/n) felt happy. She was glad that she could help the people. A positive feeling accompanied all the good deeds. The people were happy with her presence. ‘It won’t be long until they see that curses have feelings too!’ (Y/n) though ecstatically. What she didn’t know was that she gained the attention of not only the people living in the town but also those who ruled that town. And cruel was the man who watched the beautiful woman in the pink flower-patterned kimono as she walked around town carelessly, with an easy smile. He shall have her. She will be his newest concubine. He was the Lord of that land. Everything belonged to him. And that included that peculiar woman. Messenger of the gods or not, that had little importance in his eyes, for he was the Lord who ruled over everything. It didn’t matter if she was married or engaged, for he lived only for his own pleasure.

It was a cloudless day. (Y/n) was going to visit Sukuna again as was her habit. In her hand was a wooden basket an elderly woman crafted for her after learning she was going up to the shrine on the mountain. “Be careful,” said the elderly woman with a concerned tone, “I hear that there are wild animals up that mountain. It’s dangerous. No one goes there anymore because of them.” (Y/n) smile reassuringly at her. She knew for a fact that there were no wild animals. Sukuna was merely protective of the place he decided to claim as his own. The elderly woman was the first one who welcomed her to that town. She introduced to the young curse everything she had to know about the town’s custom and their cultures. To the curse, she was like a grandmother. The elderly woman had no family and was a widow. She lived alone in her house of stone on the outskirt of town. So, (y/n) took it upon herself to visit her as often as she could. She would often bake (y/n) some treats to repay her help around her house. The curse would often bring them up to Sukuna so that they could eat it together. The King was disgusted at first. But after much nagging, he relented and begrudgingly said that they tasted “alright”. That meant to (y/n) that they tasted good. That he liked them. So she would always bring him the treats the old widow prepared for her. Watching him enjoy something so simple makes her so happy. It’s like a reminder for her. A reminder that Sukuna used to be a human. Watching him eat is so grounding because she could pretend that they were normal. That they wouldn’t get shun should they decide to live amongst humans. She wanted to go to the market with her king. She wanted to do domestic chores that her parents used to do a long time ago. She wanted to go to festivals with her king even if he would complain the whole time. It was these little wishes which kept her trying to make peace with humans. She wanted Sukuna to enjoy something human. Something which would remind him that he too used to be human.

The road to the mountain was always quiet. It was not very used since people rarely travelled this way. But today, there was a very fancy carriage with some guards obscuring her usual route. (Y/n) came to a halt in front of the carriage, head cocked to the side, confused. The guards open the door and help a tall man down. He was a tall human with black hair and green eyes. He might have been handsome in humans’ standard. But he paled in comparison to her beloved grouchy King. He gave her what he considered his ‘best smile’. It was a grin really. It was so different from Sukuna’s. The grin of this human makes her uncomfortable. The grin of Sukuna made her feel butterflies in her stomach. It made her nervous in a good way.

“Rejoice woman! For, the great ruler of the town has decided to make you his concubine! This is not a favour which is given to many. You are special in my eyes so get in the carriage and let’s head back to the palace immediately! I want to get acquainted with you, lovely flower.” The woman cringes. Sukuna who was rude and crass was finally not that bad. ‘There are people who are worse than him when trying to flirt, after all. How shocking.’ But nevertheless (Y/n) politely bows her head in apology. It would be bad if she upset the Lord since she wanted to get along with his people after all. “ I apologize, My Lord. There is already someone in my life at the moment. I’m certain, however, that you will find someone more fitting for the position you are offering.” With that, the young woman leaves the flabbergasted man behind and continues her road to the mountain. The road which led to the king of her heart.

The man watches her leave in anger. No one was ever brave enough to simply brush him aside like that. How dare she humiliate him in front of his guards like that. The lord was turning red. With a cold cutting voice, he orders his guards to spread a rumour. ‘The pretty little woman will soon run begging for mercy at his feet.’ He thought, chuckling maniacally.

After she spent her night with her King who was attention-starved, not that he would admit it. He would rather fight a thousand shamans than admit that he missed his annoying woman. (Y/n) decides to go back to town to see if there was anything she could help with. Instead of the warm welcome, she always gets, all she receives is cold shoulders and glares. The people cowered away from her. ‘Could they know about my real identity?’ Worried, she decides to go to the one person who would tell her everything. The old woman’s shop was closed today. (Y/n) had to head to the house on the outskirts of town. Just going there took the young woman the whole morning. She knocked on the woman’ door. In the corner of her eyes, she sees a curtain move. The door opens quickly, a frail old hand grabs the curse and drags her inside before quickly shutting the door.

“Oh my poor child. You should not have come back! You have to run away before nightfall!” (Y/n) looks at her confused. “But why?” The woman shakes her head gravely. “The lord of this town is awful. He takes whoever he wants. If they don’t go along with him, they are killed by the townspeople.” The curse recoils. Frozen in her shock, the elderly woman goes on. “He told everyone that you were a witch. You fornicate with the devil which is why you can heal, do so many miracles for us. Everyone is scared right now. They will-”

A loud bang resonates. Shouts of anger can be heard from outside. The moon shines in red glows as torches illuminate the night. The old woman drags the curse to the side door and pushes her outside. “Go! I will distract them!” “Grandma, no! You have to come with me! I can protect us both!” The old woman shakes her head and smiles at the curse gently. “You might not be human, but your heart is kinder than most. This house means everything to me. I want to die between these walls.’’ The woman pushes (y/n) one more time. The curse watches as they condemn the human who has been so kind to her from the very first day. The curse watches as they burn this house to the ground. The memories she made with the woman burning and disappearing in the fire. Oh, how cruel humans can be.

Alerted by the smell of fire, Sukuna exits his temple and watches as the town below chases after his lover. Their torches and angry shouts can be heard in the silence of the night. Sukuna watches as his lover stands in the middle of the crowd. The lord watches in satisfaction from his home as they chase down the woman who humiliated him. Ready to intervene, Sukuna runs down the path leading to the little town.

(Y/n) shocked at the turn of the events, looks around her. These people that she helped in the past. These people who would always smile at her when she is passing through town. They were now cursing at her, wishing her dead. They killed one of their own because of a sin that she didn’t commit. Because of the old widow’s kind heart. Her eyes are glassy. She can feel a tear falling down. It hurts. It suffocates her. She can barely breathe as they keep on chanting her demise. The people she loved turned against her. Sukuna was right. Even without knowing what she truly was, humans would always chase away those who didn’t appear humans.

And so, during that full moon, which would later be known as the Red Night, she burned that town to the ground without Sukuna’s help. She became their worst nightmare. Their worst fear came to reality as they angered the goddess. The lord who instigated all of this tragedy watches in fear as (y/n) burned his town to the ground. He would become the only living witness. He would later tell his children about the story of the goddess of his old town. The scar which marred with once flawless skin that he received from her would be the only proof of her very existence. The proof that you should not anger a curse.

Sukuna held her as they went back to their temple. For once, he spared her of his snide comment. He doesn’t complain as she wets his kimono with her tears. His four arms encircle her form protectively. She might have been foolish but she was his. And the gods forbid, Sukuna took care of everything which was his. Even if they annoy him by forcing him to eat sweets, even if she would hug him without the fear that he would snap and kill her in an instant. Sukuna might not understand the concept of love, as a human, he loved no one but himself. But as a curse, he knew that he loved her as he let her sit comfortably in his lap. He knew he loved her when he let her make a home in his temple. She knew Sukuna loved her when he held her tight and never let go.

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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chimeric-art · 2 years

Text

Silky had absolutely not been listening to the quiet chatter between Nette and Amelie as they sat drinking tea. The Puppeteer King had become a somewhat frequent visitor to Amelie's studio, a fact that annoyed Silky to no end. The grouchy spider would typically keep busy in the corner, embroidering this or that, playing cat's cradle, anything to keep his hands busy so he didn't have to pay attention to their sickeningly casual and friendly conversations.

This time, he perked up when he heard the Puppeteer himself admit to not being able to sew--a skill Silky himself was quite proud of. He decided to listen in.

"I know it's something I should be able to do, but for whatever reason the stitching always unravels," Nette was saying. "It's beyond frustrating."

"Mm...maybe you just need the right person to teach you? Maybe there's some kind of hidden trick to it," Amelie replied with a sympathetic tenderness that made Silky's teeth clack together. Hard.

"Maybe." Nette sounded unconvinced.

"I was useless at fixing mechanical things until my grandfather showed me how to repair clockwork--ah!" she yelped mid-thought, clapping her hands over her mouth--"I forgot to package up something for a customer! Can you excuse me for a minute?"

Nette waved her on with a deceptively languid smile and she disappeared downstairs with a rushed "I'll be right back!", leaving the Puppeteer alone with the spider. Wonderful.

Mischief welled up inside Silky. As nonchalantly as he possibly could, he said, "You know, Puppeteer, if you wanted sewing lessons, you could've just asked."

Nette visibly tensed. His gaze turned flinty as it flicked to the shadow. "Ah, but I didn't ask you, did I, Vasilka?" His tone was friendly, glib--a grinning wolf baring its sharp, sharp teeth.

Oh, but Silky loved these games. "Now now, there's no need to be ashamed," he purred, laying the patronization on thick. "A spider is born in thread; you Puppeteers and your little strings could never compare, especially if you can't even sew."

As Nette surged to his feet, murder in his eyes, Silky realized that perhaps he had made a mistake.

------

Amelie was stamping the shop seal on the package when she heard a dull stomp and raised voices from above. She fisted her skirt and dashed upstairs, images of a thoroughly crushed Silky flitting through her mind.

"Oh, I'm sorry I can't just be magically perfect at everything like he was!"

"Like who wa--"

"I'm not Dominique, okay! I know that makes me fucking useless, but--"

Amelie shouldered open the door and found Nette, half-shadowed and glowering, standing off against Silky, who was the picture of sputtering confusion. They both turned to look at her, tempers reigning in automatically as they noticed her wide eyes and clear fluster. As much as they could rile each other up, they both felt an instinctive desire to not upset her--quite convenient in times like this.

"Silky, wait downstairs, please," Amelie said into the tension, although her eyes were on Nette who had turned his back to her.

"But--" Silky protested.

"Please," she repeated, glancing his way with a pleading smile. He huffed and pouted, but kissed the top of her head as he passed by and retreated downstairs. Amelie took a deep breath and approached Nette. "What happened?" she asked softly.

He seemed to take a moment to compose himself. When he turned, his human mask had repaired completely, if a little frayed at the edges. "Sorry if we worried you, it's just...I let him get to me. I really should know better by now." He smiled, and it would have been reassuring if not for the bitterness still shadowing his features. "I should take my leave. I think I've embarrassed myself enough for one night." He grabbed his coat and moved as if to leave by the window.

"Wait--" Amelie reflexively grabbed his gloved hand in both of hers. Her heart hammered fast as she tried to put the right words together.

"You've been saying 'I should' so much tonight. It's like...like you feel you don't measure up, like you need to do better. Be better." She swallowed hard, encouraged by his pensive silence. "I don't know who Dominique is, but you don't need to be him. You're enough, just as you are. Just as Nette. I promise." She gave his hand a little squeeze. "Okay?"

(Nette belongs to @miss-mossball !)

#in case it's not obvious Nette was notttt talking about regular sewing :) it's shadow stuff!!#amelie is a good egg and doesn't like her favorite people fighting #supportive little sister mode activate!#(as always bunny I hope dis okay <3 )#amelie the timekeeper #marionette the puppeteer #silky the spider #shadow au #my writing #.txt #ficlet #my art

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squishytenya · 3 years

Text

Cooking For Them Headcanons

Could I have some hcs for any teachers of your choosing with a s/o who cooks a lot and often makes cute little bento boxes for them to bring to school for lunch?

↬ Parings: Aizawa x reader, Midnight x reader, Present Mic x reader, All Might x reader, Vlad King x reader

↬ Reader: Gender Neutral

↬ Warnings: fluff, slight PDA

Midnight

As much as nemuri might not seem like it, she's a sucker for cute, simple things

There’s something about coming home to her cute little s/o dancing around the kitchen, flour in your hair that just gets her heart racing a little bit.

She raves about you to her co-workers a lot too, before you even started making her bentos which means that, when you do start, she is incapable of shutting up about it

The first time you ever gave her one, you were slightly nervous so you just slipped it into her bag without her realising

But when she opened it, she solidly almost started crying and immediately pranced over to Hizashi and Shouta to show off what her amazon s/o had made her

She made sure to give you a suitable thanks when she got home don’t worry ;)

Ever since then, she gets kind grouchy if she doesn’t get her bento, even her students have begun to notice when she’s having an off day

She can’t help it, she misses the little hot dog octopus you would make her and the onigiri with a puppy face on it

So whenever you can, you bring her the bento at work and she always thanks you with a massive, probably slightly inappropriate kiss

Doesn’t really matter who is in the general area she has to say thank you for your hard work

Aizawa

This man lives off of jelly pouches, you’re a god send

he can cook but he very much prefers your cooking

chances are he’s gonna leave the bento at home the first few times you make him one

not because he doesn’t like it but because everyone knows he hasn’t made it and he prefers not to be asked about his private life

but the moment you notice you bring it to him anyway so that plans out the window

he usually just grumbles when you appear to give it to him

but he does take you outside to give you a quick thank you kiss

he tells you to bring it during his break next time he forgets because he walked in to his students wiggling their brows and Denki’s ‘was that your s/o sensei?’

usually brings it in the morning after that incident

he really does love them though and saves photos in his ‘y/n‘ folder

All might

genuinely almost cries the first time you cooked a meal for him, no lie

especially since you took his stomach into consideration and made something he could actually eat that didn’t have too much sugar etc

plus, if anyone deserves a little domesticity, it’s Toshinori

so thankful every time you cook for him because a lot of the time he is too tired to cook for himself

He can only really make deserts so that is his thanks after most dinners or he brings you little pastries at work

adores when you show up at UA to give him his bento

especially if he can show you off to his students

has an appreciation for the cute bento food

if there is any hot dog squids, shaped rice or seaweed drawings you bet he’s taking a photo to keep

always eats it all and makes sure to thank you when he sees you with a little present of a cuddle

Vlad King

the king of being domestic with you

he’s a pretty great cook himself so expect to be cooking together a lot

he eats a lot of meat and if you’re not okay with cooking :/ but he does his best to help you

Sekijiro loves complimenting you to anyone that will listen (usually an enthusiastic Nemuri or a less-so Shouta)

when you bring him a bento he definitely puts it on his desk in a way people can see it

class 1B know about you by now but they use that opportunity to ask about you

partially because they want to avoid work but also because they like seeing how happy it makes him to talk about you

any social medias he has pretty much just have you and the bentos you make him on them

please make him something vlad king themed, he deserves it

Kan is always so grateful too, he never takes your food for granted and finishes it all

expect a lot of thank yous kisses and food in return

he just wants to show you how much he loves it

Present Mic

Oh boy if he wasn’t whipped for you before

As loud and garish as he is, Zashi has a soft side and you bring it out immensely

Hes always first to give feedback on your food, which is mostly just happy chewing, and just about dies the first time you show up at UA to give him a bento

You even got a present mic themed bento wrap for giggles but he genuinely loved the fact that you just had that lying around

He yells his thanks very loudly down the halls while you leave which made you giggle because Shouta smacked him soon after

He took like fifteen photos for his instagram of the one bento, especially because of the car you had put into it

He loved how everything was meticulously placed and cooked exactly how he liked it

He makes it up to you by cooking you dinner when he gets home or cooking with you and sitting with you to feed you if you’ve had a long day

One time you made the present mic logo in his rice in seaweed and he almost steamed the school down

His bentos really are the highlight of his day though no matter if you bring them during teaching hours or his radio show, he just likes seeing you and what you make for him.

hope you guys liked them, sorry for not posting for so long!

Remember that reblogs help content creators!

Taglist - @gayfanficanonymous @bisexual-confusion @dahlias-love @miyaflix @ivemadecoffeemywhore @lover-boy-in-red @corpse-monsterfucker @floriophrastus @xweeb-central-stationx

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kantrips · 3 years

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Alistair & Celia Headcanon Collection

Some Amell x Alistair (largely fluff) headcanons! Includes some from Origins, Warden time at Amaranthine and the Inquisition-era. Some of these I have had since my first playthrough, but others I may have read elsewhere, loved and thusly absorbed so please let me know if I can link anyone!

Origins

The first time they meet at Ostagar, Celia thinks Alistair is the most fascinating person she has ever encountered because no one in the Circle had a particularly boisterous sense of humour. Alistair is oblivious to her heart eyes, and also holds back because he’s worried she won’t survive the Joining.

Even after the Joining, Alistair tries very hard not to ~feel feelings~ despite the clear signals Celia is hurling at him because he assumes she won’t like him once she gets to know him more/she will get bored of him/ she will leave like everyone else i.e. the boy is hecking damaged.

Celia laughs obnoxiously hard at all Alistair’s jokes because a) she finds them unexpected, and b) because, like a dork, she wants to prove she gets the punch line. Alistair is perplexed by her reactions at first, and cautiously wonders if she is mocking him. Once he realises she is genuinely amused, it bolsters his ego significantly.

Celia has no concept of personal space and sits and walks very close to everyone. There wasn’t a lot of room at the Circle so she forgets she can spread out. Morrigan makes it clear she needs to back off (Celia doesn’t need telling twice) but Alistair is more relaxed and gets used to it quickly after the confusion of the first night when she blithely sets up her bedroll right next to his. Alistair assumes she is a bit scared of sleeping in the forest but really she is just accustomed to the need to cram as many apprentice bunks into a room as possible.

In a way, Alistair is also used to sharing small spaces (Chantry and Wardens) so it doesn’t bother him at all when Celia chooses to sit pressed against his side, walks so their arms bump together, or unconsciously brushes an eyelash from his cheek. He quickly grows to like her overfamiliarity (for some reason…).

Similarly, Alistair eats Celia’s leftover food if she can’t finish it or doesn’t like it, even before they’re a couple. She just offers one day and after that it becomes a given. The others side-eye them but they are happily oblivious.

Celia gets in trouble from the rest of the party for getting distracted yelling encouragement and cheering Alistair during combat. In turn, Alistair gets in trouble for turning around mid-battle to thank her when she buffs or heals him. Morrigan advises that if they are both so determined to get killed, she is more than happy to assist with hastening the process.

Celia’s mabari, Trevor, is quickly accepting of Alistair and his proximity to Celia because he observes Alistair protecting Celia in battle and thusly deems him to be a ‘good dog’ and considers that they are equals in the pack.

Alistair and Celia vandalise each other’s wanted posters whenever they come across them. It gets competitive.

Celia doesn’t really want to be in charge of saving the world but has three things working in her favour: 1) she absolutely hates letting people down 2) has an intense need to finish what she starts 3) she is in possession of a bossy streak.

That said she spends the entire Blight screaming internally to an extent not even Alistair fully grasps.

They go to the Circle Tower first, because Celia thinks she will have the best chance of getting help from people she knows and is also ‘homesick’ in the sense that she is very glad to be free of the place, but stressed enough with everything going on to crave something familiar even if she resents it. The events there devastate her. Along with the loss of friends and mentors she has known since childhood, being trapped by herself in the fade particularly terrifies her as she has never truly been alone for so long before in her life. It reminds her of the Harowing which totally blindsided her. She is very teary, untalkative and introspective for some time afterwards, but both Trevor and Alistair have the correct instinct to stay close without trying to interact with her which she finds incredibly comforting.

Accustomed to making potions, Celia will not under any circumstances deviate from a recipe while cooking, whereas Alistair just chucks everything in to use up leftovers and see what happens. Alistair gets meals together super quickly whereas Celia takes forever. A little unfairly, Celia is perceived as the better cook because she produces very consistent meals, while Alistair’s experiments sometimes do work, and sometimes don’t, with people tending to focus on the disasters rather than the successes. Meanwhile Celia is rather: “should I add half a sprig of rosemary? No I mustn’t: it would be far too daring!” so everyone learns to tip their own seasonings into their bowl before even tasting her food.

When they’re travelling and walking for days on end, Alistair and Celia make up a lot of games in the vein of ‘I spy’ and ‘would you rather?’ They can occasionally persuade others to participate though no one enjoys them or gets quite as invested as Celia and Alistair (who are actual children).

A game stops abruptly one day when Celia guilelessly asks if Alistair would rather be Emperor of Orlais or King of Fereldan and he gets extremely defensive and answers, “Neither.” Having no context for this reaction (yet), Celia (a stickler for the rules) pushes him, insisting his answer isn’t allowed and that he’s cheating until Alistair gets grouchy, stomps off and refuses to play anything for days.

Celia figures he must be overtired, but his unhappy reaction does come back to her later at the Landsmeet and contributes to her already firm resolve not to put him on the throne.

When bored, Alistair also periodically asks Celia to, “Do a trick!” with her magic and she usually obliges with something small and silly which Wynne always scolds them for (but they continue to do anyway).

Celia does not like Eamon one bit and makes it clear from their first meeting. Alistair actually gets a bit annoyed at her because she is polite to 99% of the other people they meet and he can’t understand what her problem is. Celia won’t say because she doesn’t want to drive Alistair away so she remains coldly civil towards Eamon and commences a long, looong process of nudging Alistair towards having the realisation himself that a) Eamon is manipulative, selfish and cruel and b) Alistair deserves better.

Celia wants to collect some of the books they find which is not practical given they are constantly travelling, but Alistair carries as many as he can in his pack and suffers in silence for it, ultimately finding it worth it for her enthusiastic gratitude.

Celia cuts Alistair’s hair and does a very respectable job after weeks of him complaining it’s flopping in his eyes (they used to cut each other’s hair in the Circle). Zevran pretends she did an awful job, gasping in horror at Alistair’s appearance, much to Celia’s ire. Alistair (internally weeping) tries to be brave until he can check his reflection in some plate mail and see it is fine.

Celia is very naïve about how the ‘real world’ works having been at the Circle since she was a child. This is especially evident in Denerim and Alistair has to explain how money works and grab her before she wanders down dicey looking alleyways.

Alistair nearly dissolves into a paroxysm of agony when he points out his favourite type of cheese at the Denerim Markets and (accustomed to the very limited range of bland foods provided at the Circle) Celia innocently asks, “There is more than one type of cheese?” Alistair makes it his mission to educate her. She doesn’t like most of what he feeds her but doesn’t say so to protect his feelings given he seems to take the matter so incredibly personally.

Leliana convinces Celia to sing one evening at the campfire. She’s breathy with a very limited range but manages okay, and Leliana plays and harmonises in support. Watching on with a goofy smile plastered over his face, Alistair comments to the surrounding companions about how talented she is and they’re like “…she’s really not mate.”

When they both wake up from a blightmare (or Celia has one and wakes Alistair with her flailing) they sneak about and eat anything they can find then sit up and have massive deep & meaningfuls (i.e. in the spirit of going for a long drive with a friend or being in the garden with someone outside a party and spilling your guts). Eventually they start blaming the depleted food stores on Leliana’s nug, Schmooples, much to Leliana’s displeasure.

Given Celia usually responds so well to his jokes, Alistair gets a bit peeved when Celia starts replying to some of his more severely self-deprecating humour with an unamused, “No you’re not,” or, “That’s not true.” He defensively argues it’s just a joke, but he does stop doing it so much as time goes on.

Celia is SO excited when Alistair gives her the rose. She never in her life thought she would be the recipient of a proper ~romantic gesture~…however she accidentally sits on the rose about five minutes after she gets it. Celia is devastated. There is a lot of panic and tears and she keeps one petal pressed in a book but has to unceremoniously ditch the rest in secret.

Celia doesn’t tell Alistair about this until years later and she’s terrified he’ll be hurt but he just laughs because he was so worried he was going to be the one to squash it and then she destroyed it basically the minute she got it. Alistair acknowledges it was an impractical gift given their situation. Celia gets mad and says it was a PERFECT gift and is annoyed at how funny he finds it given this has been a crushing, guilty secret hanging over her for years.

Following this, every time Alistair gives her any kind of gift, he can’t help but throw in a ‘Don’t sit on it!” and cracks himself up, especially when Celia gets grumpy about it and accuses him of spoiling the moment. It happens so often that when Alistair chooses a horse for her and plans to teach her to ride, Celia manages to cut him off with, “Yes, I know Alistair: I can sit on this one,” and steals his thunder.

Alistair periodically says Celia’s name just to check if she’ll answer, especially after a long period of quiet or to see if she’s awake à la screaming in the chantry because it’s so silent. When she responds he says, “Nothing” or “Never mind” but he finds it vaguely comforting just to hear her reply and it’s a habit he never loses, even when they have been together for years and he is much less isolated generally. Alistair doesn’t realise he’s doing it, and it never happens frequently enough for Celia to notice: she just assumes he has lost his train of thought.

They sometimes conspire to purposely fall to the back of the group while on the road so that they can hold hands. Everyone knows full well what they are doing, but Alistair and Celia think they are being incredibly ~sneaky~.

The first time they sleep together they laugh. A lot. Before, during and after.

Alistair snores loudly but only when he’s on his back. Celia is used to the noise of people sleeping around her at the Circle so it doesn’t bother her and she doesn’t want to disturb him because she knows he needs the rest.

When they are known to be sharing a tent however, their companions will slap on the walls of it and demand she kick him until he stops snoring. Celia will relent and gently prod and nudge Alistair until he rolls over with a bit of sleepy grumbling.

I think everyone has this headcanon to the point it is basically actual canon HOWEVER I am legally obligated to include it: Alistair is a professional body heat distributor and Celia drastically cuts down on the number of blankets she uses once they are sleeping together. If she stands in front of him on cold days, he understands the non-verbal signal and will automatically wrap her in his cloak.

Also might as well be canon: Alistair likes to be the little spoon. He doesn’t say, but Celia knows.

Decidedly not a fluff one (you can skip to Amaranthine to avoid) but the ritual with Morrigan fairly significantly messes Alistair up (both the act itself and his consideration of the repercussions i.e. Kieran). He’s jubilant and relieved at their victory over the Archdemon, but in the background struggles to process and there is some fallout once the victory celebrations lull and he has time to fully register what happened. Alistair grapples with a lot of guilt, disgust and confusion. He doesn’t know how to express it or where to direct his emotions so it mainly manifests as self-loathing. He wants to talk to Celia about it but can’t articulate his feelings which makes him feel worse.

Celia tries to comfort him, but he needs space on and off for a long while after and she gives him it. She feels a lot of guilt too, and never stops wondering how much it was actually his choice to do the ritual, worrying that she made him feel like he had to do it. Eventually they discuss it openly and honestly, which eases both of their minds somewhat, but it takes a long time to get to a point where they can talk on the subject. Meeting Kieran at Skyhold also helps Alistair down the line, though it’s obviously painful.

Amaranthine & Inquisition

Alistair keeps an eye out for people struggling, especially new recruits who are having trouble fitting in. He takes them under his wing and is very good at building people up and making sure everyone is included. He’ll just start enthusiastically greeting people like they are his best friend and squeezing himself onto the bench next to them at meals until everyone else follows suit.

For recruits that don’t respond well to his ‘mother hen’ type attention, Celia is good at assigning tasks that specifically highlight their strengths and builds their confidence/sense of purpose which also gains them the respect of their peers.

Alistair has been known to stand behind Celia while she is giving mundane orders/making speeches and pull faces or impersonate her, turning stony and impassive when she spins around accusingly because people are laughing.

But if anyone else talks smack about her he gets very, “Sorry mate, just to clarify was that comment directed at my wife, your Commander, the hERO OF FERELDAN, VANQUISHER OF AN ARCHDEMON!? That’s lucky, I didn’t THINK IT LIKELY. Because that wouldn’t be WISE, would it now?” etc. with some loud, fake laughter and firm backslapping for the worst offenders.

The plan for them to part ways so that Celia can search for a cure goes very badly, especially because Celia (under a lot of stress and not coping™) eventually devolves into, “I’m in charge and I say so,” which is a big betrayal of their agreements both to stay together, and make decisions together on equal footing. She realises this and takes it back but Alistair is demoralised and gives in with a bit of petty, sarcastic reverence e.g. saluting and, “Whatever you say boss, don’t know why I dared to utter an opinion how foolish of me...” so they still part on slightly strained terms, even after later mutually apologising and trying to make the most of their time together before they go.

Both regret the argument during their separation and write horribly soppy letters to each other, but something still feels uncomfortably unresolved until they are together again. They pine. So much. It’s disgusting and cliched. There is considerable sighing and staring at the moon or deep into tankards, very much to the ire of those around them. Alistair can be particularly annoying: “This roll reminds me of my wife...she eats bread sometimes...”

After Celia sends the letter to the Inquisitor, she writes to Leliana directly along the lines of, “I know it was incredibly subtle but I wanted to check: did they get the message? That I will destroy them if Alistair gets hurt?” and Leliana replies in the vein of, “Hon, it wasn’t even remotely subtle ffs…”

When reunited, though ecstatic and nearly delirious with joy and relief, it takes a while to rebuild the trust they once had, especially for Alistair. There’s an unfamiliar awkwardness that flares up unexpectedly, but it doesn’t last and they’re both fully committed to each other and to staying together permanently this time.

Celia and Alistair have a conversation recapping everything that happened while they were apart in which Celia is all, “Poor Hawke. Honestly I’m shocked you didn’t do something obscenely idiotic like try and sacrifice yourself thank the Maker for that…” and Alistair is there, nervously sweating, looking for an exit, loosening his collar etc.

As they settle back into their old routines Alistair will occasionally blurt out things like, “I really like having breakfast with you,” and then berate himself internally for how trite that sounds but Celia replies on cue, “I love waking up next to you and the way you groan when you stretch your back out and the way you check your hair twice before you leave the room and the way you complain if I don’t eat my crusts and the way you still hold my hand when we’re walking...” and basically they’re just blissfully happy being comfortably domestic and even as they get older they are forever just teenagers in love.

The Wardens at Amaranthine acquire/receive a griffon egg and the hatchling imprints on Alistair and decides he is their mother. It can’t cope with separation, crying constantly if Alistair goes out of sight, and won’t let anyone else feed or handle it so Alistair carries them in a sling 24/7. He gets to give orders and run training sessions with the tiny griffon occasionally poking its head out just to glare at everyone.

Whenever the baby griffon squeaks, Alistair automatically replies, “Well said,” or “Excellent point, Ser Beaksly” with a totally straight face.

For the first few months, Celia gets nipped or scratched if she approaches Alistair unless he wraps the griffon up. It so badly wants to fight her. Celia is permitted to sleep in her own bed, as long as the griffon sleeps curled on Alistair’s chest and Celia doesn't try anything outrageous like touching her husband even fleetingly. It gets a little frustrating as the months drag on, but the image of Alistair with the sling over his armour, or with the griffon snuggling possessively around his neck staring daggers at everyone, is so entertaining that Celia can’t get truly annoyed about it. As the griffon gets older it does learn to tolerate other people and becomes more independent but remains very protective of Alistair and favours him above all others. Insert the ‘Ah yes. Me. My husband. And his thousand pound murder-bird-cat child’ meme here.

Modern AU Bonus Round

They share headphones while commuting.

They occasionally end up wearing sort of matching outfits, mostly unintentionally.

They consistently refer to their dog, Trevor, as their son to the point that people who aren’t familiar with them assume that they actually have a child.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #alistair theirin #warden alistair #warden x alistair #amell x alistair #warden amell #headcanons #my art #my writing #file under no one cares but me #but my goodness do I ever care #I can't wait to delete a bunch of these from my phone where they have been lurking forever #this draft is weeks old why am I so scared of posting on tumblr???#the problem is the longer I leave it #the more I add #I'm out of control #this is too many headcanons #I must be stopped

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neonponders · 3 years

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I never thought I’d write a court jester!Steve x King!Billy fic, but here we are. I entirely blame @ghostofjellyfishforgotten and @drinkingbeerfroma for this 💋

The original king!Billy and jester!Steve fics are here~ (this is a gift for Ghost and meant to be read in tandem with their fics 🌹)

Drinkingbeerfroma’s fanart is here~ (the enabling source, send them some love 🌹)

P.s....you can probably tell how much of The Witcher: Blood and Wine influenced this for me lol Ch. 2 coming soon! Or, you know, some time!

Read on ao3.

• • • • • • •

Billy strolled into his royal chambers with a tune on his lips. Usually the rustle of clothing, the scoot of furniture, reacted to his whistle so that he could meet his jester right at the door. Or by the bed.

Then again, Steve did wander. Perhaps that’s why he worked as a jester: always the desire to move, to fidget, and it had lent into a natural proclivity for acrobatics.

Billy had never much cared for the athleticism of the job. Not that it wasn’t impressive, but the stunts were the bottom of his jester’s abilities. His Steve.

Steve, who was nowhere in the expansive rooms. Billy huffed a sigh through his nose. He began loitering around, investigating what his jester had left behind and what it could mean for where he’d gone.

Except…he’d left everything behind. Billy’s gaze locked on the sapphire and green velvet of the suit he’d gifted Steve himself, now left in a rumbled state on the bed. The gleaming silk fibers moved with the midday light of the window as Billy circled around the bed to touch them, as if to test that they were real. The fool as good as lived in the king’s royal chambers by this point, so he opened the dresser beside the large writing desk and—

Steve’s original suits and garments sat in the drawers, untouched. The yellow shirt Billy had torn—twice—until Steve left it in disrepair, tired of mending it. The red and purple suit which he’d first strolled into court wearing. His blue boots. The red boots. The god-awful yellow boots to go with that shirt apart from how stained they were from daily living.

What the hell is my fool wearing? Billy mused in disbelief, his amusement only checked by worry.

Amusement that snuffed out under the weight of a paper he finally saw on the desk itself. Both of Steve’s jester hats stood on either side of it, crowning the white square to garner Billy’s attention. More than once, Billy had marveled at his jester’s ability to read and write. This was not one of those times.

Majesty,

An emergency called me home. Nothing to worry about. I’ll return soon.

Yours,

Steve.

Billy read those four lines over and over again, worry tussling with indignant rage, and then confusion. He wanted more out of a note from Steve, which ought not be the prior concern in his mind, but there it was.

Why not address me by my name? This note is for me, nobody else. Who did you fear seeing it? In my own chambers? We’re far past courtly manners.

Largest understatement of his entire reign, but whatever. More annoying and concerning details eclipsed Billy’s focus.

He had no idea where ‘home’ meant for Steve. His Steve. Billy’s pride ordained that Billy is his home; what other place—or person—could have the audacity to yank his fool right out from under him?

Billy’s voice roared down the corridors outside his chambers. His staff was certainly used to making haste in their duties, but this was something else. The king had lost something precious to him, and hell would shiver until he had it back.

It is both a blessing and a curse that the lesbians in his court did not fear him.

“Would you shut the hell up?” Heather barked, swinging out of her room fully dressed in robes but hair a disaster. “Some of us like to do our own fucking now and again.”

“Where is Steve?” Billy growled, damned note in hand. “When did you last see him?”

“This morning,” she sighed with a tone that Billy did not understand until she added, “When he left with Robin. He warned me that you might be grouchy—”

“Grouch—” he began to seethe, but Heather took the paper right out of his hand to give it a look.

“He said he left you a note, your majesty,” she purred through a voice he now noticed to be quite raw. Overused. Her eyelids hung low like she was drunk, or three orgasms gone to the wind.

This only abated Billy’s nerves slightly. Steve genuinely left on his own?

“Where is home?”

Heather frowned at the lines. “For a musician, he isn’t great with words.”

“HEATHER.”

“Same home as my lady, Robin’s. They complain about their corner of the kingdom often enough,” she retorted while surrendering the note as if it had caught flame. “Good grief. How many months has it been? You really don’t pay attention. Your majesty.”

He grimaced pointedly at her lackadaisical manners this morning, but snatched the page up. The sour expression did not fade as he asked, “Who are you fucking if Robin’s not here?”

Heather’s groggy eyes rolled. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself many times over. You’re not the only one around here with an abundance of energy.”

Fuming and feeling too hot for his clothes, Billy marched back to his chambers, yelling orders about a horse.

* * *

More than one person urged against this decision. The more people who tried to talk him out of it, the more disheartening the whole point of secrecy became. Then again, roaring for the whole castle to hear, might not have been the wisest start.

So he sent a rider in one direction, on some pointless “errand for the king,” while he road in another.

It had been a long time since Billy wore commoners’ clothes. He also did not usually go clean-shaven, but he was a different person now. A lone rider on the king’s road, journeying his way to the edge of the kingdom. Two advisors had urged him to take an entourage, at most his best guardsman—but Billy is the best guardsman. First knight and crown prince under his father, The Tyrant. Every dawn stolen from him until the late king’s passing, utterly devoted to training hard, practicing consistent, and never, never losing.

Until the old bastard finally croaked from pneumonia. How simple. How mortal. And ironic, considering his playboy—rat of my blood—heir paraded around with open shirts whenever he was off duty. Constantly challenging gods and climate to do away with him whenever they wished.

The gods took a different king, though. Billy is the monarch now, and for a while, he will be nobody. A fool searching for his fool, and it was not lost on him how ironic his own death might become. But traveling alone on his own roads did not deter him. He’d been on these highways many times—hell, he’d even been assigned to designing and monitoring the reconstruction of the kingdom’s infrastructure.

His last steps on these roads occurred during the funeral tour for his father. An obnoxious tradition, but he’d made the journey in his first month as king. He wondered if anyone would recognize him now. He’d grown his hair out, and so often adorned his face with nothing less of stubble; often indulging in his own shaving kit to manage his facial hair himself and styled it differently whenever he wished. He liked the way lovers shivered against him when he touched their skin. When the lion pressed his lips against the lamb’s pulse.

He liked applying creams to Steve’s inflamed, beard-burnt skin.

He sighed over his horse’s even, medium paced trot. He was a fool, indeed.

* * *

The only thing keeping Billy from scolding himself for knowing so little about his jester, was the fascination of where he came from. Lady Robin entered court to jeers and teasing over her humble, bumpkin origins—before she rightly debated and venomously talked her way around every gnat who dared flaunt a lower intelligence over her.

Billy knew she and Steve got along, but not how much they had in common. Originating from one of the farming districts was one thing, but specifically the dairy and vineyard region proved a fascinating piece of information.

As well as a gorgeous journey. It took a day and two nights, but forests soon exhaled into rolling hills for lines of grape trees, pastures for cattle, sheep, and goats. Billy knew he was getting closer to the center of it all because grapevines began to line the road, with signs every couple of miles encouraging travelers to eat their fill, along with a number informing how far they were to more accommodating civilization.

The smell of shit and manure dampened the experience, but Billy could not claim ignorance over how his own city smelt during the summer. Even under royal decree that half the fleabags leave the capital in order to minimize summer fever and pestilence, the place still reeked.

The road began to veer down into a lush valley of hills; below was the bustling city of this region, and above stood a number of large homes. One ought to have appeared bigger than the rest, but such shared opulence suggested a wealthy middle class instead of one lord standing above them all. Economically, this was healthier. Socially, Billy felt utterly foreign to this hierarchal shape. His court was an uneven, pyramid hourglass. With himself standing on its point, a bloated pool of lords and deceit, then a strangled middle class before an even bigger pool of lower class just trying to feed themselves. It is a shape which cannot hold itself up, and yet he tirelessly managed it.

It’s not my fault, he defended to nobody. It’s what I inherited.

He pat his horse’s neck, feeling the silken grey fur that drew passersby’s glances. He had a beautiful mount: a grey so vibrant she looked blue under storm clouds. His saddle and bridle were humble; couldn’t very well walk around with his embossed leather saddle or a bridle glittering with the king’s golden medallions on every buckle.

When a woman gazed a little too long at him instead of his horse, Billy eased to a stop and smiled charmingly. “Excuse me, where might I find the House of Buckley?”

She adjusted the basket in her arms to hold it on her hip while she swayed coyly. “Peach-colored house on the hill, sir. May I ask what business you have there?”

“Visiting a friend.” Unless she’s in disguise too.

“Best to wait until evening time. Everyone’s in the market or out in the fields right now.”

Billy tilted his head at her. “Buckley is a noble house.” Nobody is working in the fields from that family—

Then she laughed. Laughed. “Are you from the capital?”

Billy’s charm faltered on his face, but he picked it back up easily enough. “Thereabouts. Why?”

“Because people from the capital believe everyone’s rich. Rich enough to sit or poor enough to not own a chair. We all work here, and we’re all in the market or the fields. I can tell you which are Sir Buckley’s, though.”

The little twit liked being a know-it-all, but it served Billy a great deal to be given the tour. Here, property decided who reigned, and property came in the form of land, livestock, or both. With that came a handful of useful names: Buckley, Hagan, Harrington, Wheel—

Billy’s eyes widened like a cat’s pupils dilating on prey. “STEVE!”

Because…there he was. His Steve, strolling right up the cobbled road from the hills and into the market with a donkey loaded with grape baskets beside him. He hadn’t heard his name, giving Billy the time to absorb every new detail about the man who vanished from his castle.

The white, puffy shirt held close to his body with a waistcoat. High-waisted trousers made his legs look long and lean over workman’s boots. He shoved up the colorful fabric ties around his biceps, holding up the shirtsleeves but failing due to all of the sweat from a day in the sun. A belt sagged a little diagonally around his hips, on which such things as pliers, shears, a garden knife, and a pair of leather and canvas gloves waited for use.

Steve took off a large sunhat and set it on the donkey’s head, combing both of his hands through his voluminous, brown hair—

“Steve!”

Billy began to walk his horse in that direction, having long since dismounted for the courtesy of his guide, but now the latter gripped his arm in warning. “That’s Lord Harrington to you.”

Billy blew a raspberry right into the air, scoffing, “Excuse me?”

The woman rolled her eyes so hard, she would have been thrown into a stockade for behaving like that to—well, to a king. But she let go of him and went on her way, leaving him to his fate.

So off he went. Billy walked his mount over to where a collection of people were attending to the donkey and the grapes, and Steve nodded in discussion with an older man.

“Lord Harrington, I hear?” he crooned in greeting.

Two heads rotated toward him, and Billy felt rather smacked in the face by the matching eyes and nose. Father. This is Steve’s father.

Lord Harrington. Twice over.

Steve’s features opened with shocked eyes and a dropped jaw. His eyes darted to his father’s frown, and Billy quickly backpedaled, “I apologize. I know the younger, but not the older. My name’s Billy Hargrove.”

He’d bowed his fair share as a knight, though the gesture felt far removed since he was out of practice. Never the less, Steve gaped at his king bowing slightly at the hips and extending a hand for Lord Harrington to shake.

Thing about being king, not many people actually know the monarchy’s family name. They knew William the Second. William of the Grove. Some whispered the Second Tyrant, but only because Billy was still young and new to being king. They were waiting for him to prove them right.

Lord Harrington shook his head with a glance at his son. “You didn’t say anyone was coming with you.”

“I didn’t think anyone was,” Steve answered bluntly, but he picked up the gist of Billy’s disguise easily enough. “Billy’s been a big help to me in the capital.”

“How so?”

Billy’s brows lifted, but before he could provide a veiled innuendo, Steve chirped, “Roommates. Got me a job. Kept me fed.”

“I did my best,” Billy crooned. He watched Steve’s apple bob in his throat.

Lord Harrington, with his similar, albeit shorter and silver, hair and weathered skin opened his arm to gesture Billy up the road. “You’ll be our guest, then. I’ll show you along. Are you staying at the inn?”

“No, my lord. I’ve only just arrived.”

“Very good. This way. Steve, remind Roger about the textiles. We’ve sheared the animals twice already this season. He needs to either wash it or sell it. We can’t hold onto it or else it will mold and be useless to barter.”

Billy peeked at Steve, who similarly veered to go on his separate way. He met Billy’s gaze for the briefest second, and he looked…not entirely happy to see Billy.

The king did not like that at all.

* * *

Billy looked around the Harrington estate, taking in every detail that Lord Harrington granted him. He had yet to see an inkling of whatever this emergency could have been to rush Steve out of the capital. Out of Billy’s bed. It made sense, now, why he had left everything behind, since he had a home and full wardrobe waiting for him here. Billy had not seen a glimpse of Lady Buckley, though.

People are supposed to ask my permission to leave, damn it. Or at the very least, inform him first. Not skip town like bandits.

The Harrington house looked out over the estate’s vast hills of grapes, goats, and sheep. It would have been endearing, the farmers using their canes to nudge the goats along the alleys of vines so they could snack on fallen grapes. Endearing, if Steve had been the one to show him all this. Billy wanted Steve next to him on this veranda—if it could be called that. The house and its balconies overlooking the city and hills were much smaller than his castle’s, of course.

Billy did not stay long in his rooms—room. Just a room. You certainly acclimated to luxury, he reminded himself. One of his first orders in the castle had been a complete renovation to his chambers. He would not live in his father’s rooms. Those were turned into a storage branch of the castle, and Billy had several walls knocked down to make way for the new royal apartments. Let the old bastard haunt the broom cupboards.

Billy trotted down the narrow stairs into what felt like an abrupt arrival at the dining room. Further down in the house would be the kitchen but there was a smaller, stewards’ pantry, of sorts, in which a woman stood and rotated upon hearing him. It took a second, but Billy remembered to bow.

“Am I correct in addressing the lady of the house?”

“You are,” smiled Lady Harrington. It came as no surprise that she looked at least ten years younger than her husband, but the blonde hair did catch Billy off guard. She offered her hand, which he took and kissed its back.

“For some reason, I didn’t think Steve took after his father so much.”

“In looks only. He has all his personality from me.”

Billy rocked a little on his heels, humming an acknowledging sound. He certainly did not voice his amusement that she might’ve just revealed more about her marital bed than she meant to. He simply replied, “I believe it. May I ask: Steve and Lady Buckley rushed out with hardly any explanation. Is everything all right?”

“Oh, everything’s no more out of the ordinary than it usually is,” she began, returning to her task of preparing what looked like a fruit-soaked wine for their dinner. She sliced up apples and peaches with a curved blade and a practiced hand. “However, our ordinary can be quite sudden and busy.”

A different hum came from Billy’s chest at that. “I understand. Is there anything I can do?”

“Well, if you’re offering, you can half those grapes right there.”

Billy sent the wooden bowl of fruit a dubious glance and then laughed breathily, “I meant—”

“I know what you meant,” she smiled. “For now, you can help me prepare the wine.”

A long dead growl moved through Billy’s mind. Woman’s work—

Stay dead, tyrant, Billy hushed with finality. He accepted the spare knife from her and did the task he was given. She couldn’t know that he was who he was, after all. No one in this town apart from Steve knew that Billy could supply the money, machinery, and manpower at a moment’s notice for whatever reason they might need—

Chatter and laughter moved like a reverse echo outside the house, blooming quickly until, of all people, Robin Buckley herself clapped on the stoop of the Harrington’s side door. Open as it is for the breeze to come and go, she waltzed right in, and stopped at the sight of Billy. Her laughter cut off only to be replaced with, “You!”

“Me,” he threw right back. He raised a brow at a woman of the royal court wearing trousers and boots.

Lady Harrington chimed, “Oh, so you are friends.”

Billy peered back at her. “Was there any doubt?”

“Oh, dear, you look like you’ve never worked a field in your life.”

Billy had never heard his jaw hit the floor until that moment. Robin’s chuckle arrived beside him as she ripped off a handful of grapes for a snack. “When did you get here?”

“Not an hour ago.”

“You could’ve stayed put.”

“You’re enjoying this,” he growled, hoping that she heard his meaning through the words. I’m still your king even if no one here knows it.

She smirked, hearing loud and clear. “Steve gave me the heads up.”

He matched her smile, tone dripping with charming venom. “And where is he?”

She shook her head at him, cooing a tone that was both soothing and condescending. “He’ll be around. You’re in…his house, after all. Thanks, Anne.”

“You’re welcome, dear,” came Lady Harrington’s reply, but Billy hardly heard it.

He was in Steve’s house. A lord’s house. Lord Harrington’s house…and Billy was just some nobody.

Robin really was enjoying this too much.

#harringrove #jester!steve #king!billy #ficlet #neonponders #ghostofjellyfishforgotten #here we go again #pondermoniums

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