#〈 ˟ I FOUGHT THE WAR / I FOUGHT THE WAR / BUT THE WAR WON.﹥ musings. 〉

[warborn-tragedy]

Character Verse Tags - SIERRA

[bangelism]

can someone please tell me how on earth i am supposed to just move on doing shit now.

the tortured poets department. the tortured poets department. which sounds like that groupchat name joe awlyn had the “tortured men’s club” or smth like that. the cover and aesthetic being black and white again in contrast to the “i once believed love would be black and white.” 2 years in the making. which takes us back to grammys 2021 when she won for folklore…

folklore which had the running theme of poets and poetry. especially songs like ‘the lakes’ where she positions herself as a poet wanting to go where all the poets went to die. and then the little text on her instagram talked about MUSES saying “my muses acquired like bruises.” where else has she sung about muses??? that’s right THE LAKES. where her lover is her muse, and she doesn’t want to go to the place where all the POETS went to die without her MUSE.

the text she posted with the album cover is also reminiscent of midnights imagery. she puts an emphasis on the “tick tick tick” of a love bomb reminiscent of the ticking of a clock perhaps?? and the clock symbol was so prevalent in midnights.

“my talismans and charms” like a mythical thing? a champion ring?? one price she deemed to win?? she described willow as a ‘love spell’ when she was releasing evermore. now we have more imagery of charms and magic. a talisman is an object that’s usually portrayed as a necklace that has magical abilities of some sort used to ‘avert evil’…maybe like initials on chain round a neck…

all is fair in love and poetry. which comes from the idiom ‘all is fair in love and war’, replacing war with poetry. (“the bombs were closer. my hand was the one you reached for. all throughout the great war.” [that also just reminded me the ‘tick tick tick of love bombs’]. taylor has always fought her battles, internal and external, through music. by writing, through poetry. there is so much to unpack in just that sentence. all is fair in love and poetry.

and of course she is fittingly the chairman of the tortured poets department.

i genuinely cannot wait for this album.

sincerely, a member of the tortured poets department.

[mystra-midnight]

I Declare a Tug-of-war

summery: after a three day hunt you finally had the chance to have a good nights sleep, and a sleep in. except you had the share the bed with dean, a known blanket hog.

warnings: swearing. little bit of fluff. little bit of smut. ooc dean.

words: 1.6k

a/n: this was originally meant to be written as part of another writers challenge but then i disappeared and sort of never came back. after two years in my drafts i finally found the muse to finish it. now i'm reposting it because i was dumb and deleted it by mistake.

It was the biting cold that woke you after only a few hours of sleep. You and the Winchester brothers had been in Kansas hunting a siren, which had been an utter pain in the ass. It took three days to track it down and kill it, and now that the deed was done, you could finally sleep. Except the room was a fucking icebox, and you were turning into an ice cube.

Your skin was prickled with goosebumps, your nipples hardened peaks that were straining against your sleep shirt, and your teeth were clattering. Groaning softly, you peeled an eye open to look at the rickety A/C on the wall and balked when you saw it was set to sixteen degrees. You fumbled blindly for the covers, only to be met with resistance when you tried to draw them up to your neck.

You fought down the urge to flail angrily and instead opted to roll over and glare at the man beside you, who was snuggled comfortably beneath your share of the blanket; you were going to beat him black and blue. Dean had always been a blanket hog, which, combined with being a restless sleeper, meant you often ended up without anything to snuggle beneath.

"Dean," you whined and shoved his shoulder, but the elder brother didn’t rouse. He groaned softly and rolled away from you. This time, you punched him hard enough to wake him before dragging the blanket off him.

"What the hell?" His voice was husky, thick with exhaustion, surprise, and irritation, as well as a bundle of other emotions you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He propped himself up on an elbow and glared down at you, the dull yellow glow of the morning sun seeping through the window, illuminating the room and your huddled form.

He grabbed a fistful of the blanket and your shirt and attempted to cover himself, but you fought him. "You were hogging the blanket again!" You snapped irritably. It was a game of push-me-shove-you that was threatening to rip the blanket down the middle. "Stop hogging all the blanket!"

"Oh," he said, his tone oozing sarcasm. "Would you like to be the pot or the kettle, Y/N? I think I’d rather be the kettle. Or maybe the pot. I guess it doesn’t matter since they’re both black." Across the room, Sam groaned in annoyance when your childish argument woke him. You saw his eyes open to glare at you both before he rolled over and buried his head under his pillow.

Lucky bastard. Sam had won roshambo, which meant he got a bed to himself, and no amount of pleading, puppy dog eyes, or promises of cooking for the next month had been able to convince him to switch.

"Knock it off." Dean snarled. His gaze had darkened, and his tone was beginning to sound like that of a petulant child that couldn’t get his way. It was only natural that you refused. Instead, you rolled away, pulling the blanket with you and untucking them on his side.

"Dammit, Y/N!"

His large hand grabbed your shoulder, his fingertips digging in hard enough to bruise you as he hauled you back to face him. He was sitting up now and was glaring down at you with a hot gaze that didn’t soften when you looked at him with the same puppy-dog pout that failed to win his brother over.

His gaze narrowed slightly, making the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes more prominent. Your own stare roamed over his naked chest, noticing the way his skin was riddled with goosebumps and scars, making you bite the corner of your mouth. It wasn’t that you hadn’t seen him shirtless, or naked, for that matter.

But each time you had to beat down the urge to map the canvass of his body, to spend hours tracing each scar, every harsh line, and every blurred edge, committing the details to memory, and kissing them until his own bad memories were replaced with ones of you. Yeah, okay, you were kind of in love with Dean Winchester. But the smug asshole didn’t need to know that.

It was a good old-fashioned Mexican standoff.

That was until he made a move for the blanket again, and you had to fling yourself away, almost falling out of bed in the process. It was his hand catching you by the arm and flinging you onto your back that prevented you from sprawling on the floor.

"Get off me!" You squealed with laughter as he used his weight to pin you to the mattress. His hips were nestled between your thighs, which you had clamped tightly around him to stop him from getting any closer. One of his hands was on your hip, burning through your clothing until you felt the heat of his palm right down to your bones, and he was pushing you into the mattress as he tried to free the blanket from your grasp.

"Give it to me!" He snapped loudly.

Any other time you would have done exactly that or made some witty retort, but right this very moment you were feeling bratty, so you just held it further away from him. Dean reacted aggressively, digging his fingers into your skin so that you whimpered, the sound tinged with pain and excitement. You were going to have bruises in the shape of his fingers, and that thought lit fires in your belly.

You pulled it to your chest and held it there. Your breasts bounced from the erratic movements, threatening to spill free from the thin shirt concealing them. Your nipples were hard, and your skin chilled from the frigid air. It didn’t escape his notice, and you felt his cock twitching to life against your thigh.

"Give it to you, huh?" You teased.

"You wouldn’t know what to do with me."

Dean sneered down at you and then hauled the blanket away with a huff. He held it over his head, out of your reach, and tried to twist his body away from you. You tightened your thighs around his hips and pulled him closer, so that you felt him through your panties and he felt the damp between your legs against his cock.

And in the split second when his guard was down, when he was staring at you with lust-red eyes and beating down the urge to strip you naked and plunge his cock into your hot snatch, you took advantage. With both hands, you grabbed the blanket and yanked it back, only to be met with resistance once again.

It was a childish game of tug-of-war; it was ridiculous and asinine, but you couldn’t help but laugh. Even Dean cracked a weary grin as you wriggled beneath him, rubbing your clothed cunt against the morning tent he was starting to pitch.

And then it happened.

You wished you could say it was Dean burying his rigid cock inside of you, and you feeling the delicious stretch of your pussy wrapping around him, the length of him stimulating each and every one of your internal sweet spots.

Except it wasn’t.

The sound that broke through the room was like a gunshot shattering the night, and it left both you and Dean in stunned silence. There in your hands was the blanket, and there in his hands was the second half.

"Dean!" You yelled.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He snapped back.

Your reaction was to throw it in his face. Fucking asshole. There you were beneath him, freezing to death and horny as hell, and now your blanket was ruined. You silently cursed every god whose name you remembered, condemning them for having forced you to share a bed with a known blanket hog.

You shoved at the wall of his chest, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he slammed a fist into the pillow beside your head in a fit of sleep-deprived irritability. Really, you couldn’t blame him. That damn siren had kicked your asses up and down the street for days before Sam managed the kill shot.

All three of you were sore, tired, and in a foul mood.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t pissed.

"You guys are actually ridiculous. You know that, right? Fucking ridiculous." Sam groaned from his bed, his back toward you, though there was no mistake about what had happened just now. "You better sort yourselves out right quick because I’m not sharing with either of you idiots."

You barely had time to whine and beg for Sam to reconsider before the air was forced out of your lungs by the delicious weight of Dean Winchester atop of you. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, his warm breath a gentle caress against your skin, and it stunned you into an awkward silence.

This was definitely not how you expected your day off to go.

But you weren’t in a position to complain. The man burned like a furnace even on the bitterest of winter nights, and it didn’t take long for the warmth of him to penetrate you, right down to the bone. You weren’t shivering now; in fact, you were quite content.

It was comfortable. His arms felt like home; he held you like a promise, and Dean Winchester never broke his promises.

And okay, yeah, maybe it wasn’t the same as having his cock buried in your cunt or his tongue in your mouth, but it was a pretty close second. And as you wrapped your arms around him and listened to the soft sound of his breathing as he dozed off, you decided that you could get used to this.

[delemis]

That Lie, Cruelty

I was young, when I married him. Young and afraid, as is only traditional. But he was not the man I expected, not at first. He was beguiling, intoxicating, and I fell in love with him. His smile assuaged my every worry. How did he do it? I have wondered that time and time again. How could such a brazen lie be so utterly convincing? Was it Azura’s favor? A natural charm? Or was it because, like so many young girls, I was all too willing to believe it? And indeed, what else was there than to believe? Only a loveless marriage, wretched servitude to an ungrateful and uncaring husband. So I became his greatest accomplice, living in the lie of his smiles for as long as I could.

The illusion shattered eventually. I never stopped clinging to it, but the evidence continued to pile up until the day I knew the man I married was not the man I loved. And yet? I loved him still. Shared his bed, fought his battles, savored that intoxicating smile, all the while knowing what lurked beneath.

He was a cruel ruler. Cruel, and merciless. And yes, his charisma won him friends and allies, made him lord of all he surveyed, and for that he is still renowned. But there was no slight that my husband would not punish, no threshold he was not willing to cross if it meant that his power was secure. In private, he would confide in me that his actions were out of necessity. That, like a dutiful father, it was his duty to instill discipline in his children even if it meant resorting to harsh methods. Spare the rod, spoil the child. 

I resented him for it with my every breath, but his choice of metaphor was the object of my fascination for a long time. My father had never beaten me when I was a child, never mistreated or abused me. How could he, to the child he had loved so dearly? It was enough already that my fate was to be married off. Was I spoiled, for having been spared such misfortune? I mused that perhaps my husband had been set upon me as a punishment.

And what of our children? Would he treat them the same way he treated his beloved Resdayn? That thought terrified me more than anything else. That I never bore any by him was my greatest triumphs in those days.

What motivated him? A hunger for power, certainly. Faith, blind faith in our ancestors, in Azura especially. It was no secret that she favored him; the poet once jokingly inquired whether he would moan her name in bed. I had no love for them myself, our fickle ancestors who had never treated us as anything but objects of their will. His cruelty was a murky reflection of theirs, shrouded in his natural charisma so as to remain palatable to his subjects. The Daedra have no need for charisma; their cruelty is upheld up by fear and temptation, giving power in exchange for worship. Veloth freed us from the yolk of Aldmeris only to enslave us to a different master.

But I think the most potent motivator was fear. Of what? My husband was the man who unified Resdayn, who made a bloody war against the Nords and a prosperous peace with the Dwemer, heroic feats that would have taken lesser mer decades to accomplish each, let alone in succession. He risked his life and his fortune. But what he feared losing, what he fought so desperately to protect, was his legacy. When I looked into his eyes I could see it, that desperate need to keep what he’d built from unravelling. In my own way, I was afraid for it too; the Resdayn he’d built was prosperous, his children - our children - were safer now than they had ever been. 

But then I’d think back to what he’d said about fatherhood, and I would see the cruelties he inflicted upon his own people simply to protect that legacy which was so dear to him. The sacrifices alone, the intolerable rituals that he demanded of our people simply to keep the Daedra appeased, sickened me. Ultimately his children were nothing but another means to an end, fodder for his precious legend. Every drop of blood spilt was a sweet lie he told himself, each meeting with Azura a means of assuaging his fears the way he had assuaged mine.

He died as he had lived, afraid. I wept bitter tears for him, for the one who I had loved so dearly and who had done so much wrong on me and others. He was a cruel king, a deciever and a coward whose smile could move mountains. He taught me everything that I would need to succeed him.

I will be a merciful queen.

[lixenn]

I have some questions for Dave this time hehe

What was his first meeting with Chief like?

What was his original hair color?

I wonder if he gets along with Bel?

*crawls out of trenches, bloodied and covered in mud*

"I-" *huff* "I have fought in war and it was close but! I HAVE WON! The evil snippet has not defeated me!"

So now, I can finally answer this!! I'm sorry that it took so long Ein 🫠🥺🥺please forgive my tardiness 😣

Let me satisfy your curiosity!

Original hair color

Dave's hair used to be this really mousy brown and it just wouldn't do! No! He refuses! It was boring and common and absolutly clashed with his vibe so it needed to be adressed immediately. He bleached his hair the first time when he was 14 and it turned out horrible but he was still happy with his shitty dyejob because at least it was unique!

Dave and Bel

Do they get along? Ohhh boy, honey they get along like a house on fire! Dave and Bel often team up for pranks and mischief (Levi is one of their regular victims lol). Surprisingly Chief doesn't actually mind this relationship mostly because Dave tends to curb Bel's more ... homicidal tendencies. Dave prefers leaving his victims alive (though there's no guarentee for their sanity) mostly because killing them would limit his options for pranks. So when Dave and Bel plan mischief Dave puts his foot down about murder.

First meeting

As for that question....

Have a snippet!

The world is undoubtedly cruel. Criminally unjust. Life is filled with hurdles and hardships, with unimaginable challenges and dreadful chores.

Dan has been kicked out of his own office by an overly worried Lussuria.

(Honestly, the audacity of his doctor, the inhumanity. He is seriously considering a lawsuit.)

Apparently working for ten months straight without a break is “unhealthy” and “terrible for the skin, just look at those wrinkles Dani-boy”. Which is ridiculous in his humble opinion, he doesn’t have wrinkles. His skin simply has more character, more definition, that’s all. No wrinkles here, just a well-developed background story edged into his outer shell.

Nevertheless, Dan is left with no other choice than take the day off since he doesn’t want to deal with Lussuria drugging his tea again. One time was more than enough.

Well, at least he can use this opportunity to finally get some shopping done. His sister Is going to skin him alive if he shows up empty handed to her birthday again. Finding the perfect jewellery set to make up for his blunder took him some time but now he can at least cross that off his list.

He is slandering down the empty streets, enjoying the sunshine on his face, when his peaceful musings are interrupted by a body landing right in his path.

…

What?

Dan must have committed war crimes in his past life, it’s the only explanation. His former self probably kicked puppies for fun and slaughtered babies in their sleep because he can’t even take a stroll in the city without someone throwing bodies at his feet.

Puzzled and slightly annoyed Dan takes a closer look at the young man sprawled in front of him.

The first thing that catches his eye is the absolutely garish shade of neon green decorating the top of his head. Whoever did that dye job needs to be fired. His hair isn't the only thing that needed fixing though. He’s covered in bruises and dirt, blood is dripping from his nose and - Dan squints - is that a tooth on the pavement? Yes, it is. … Gross. Hopefully the guy knows a good a dentist.

The sound of footsteps alerts him to the arrival of even more people. Dan inspects the newcomers in irritation. There are three of them, all clad in ill-fitted suits, hair slicked back and fake gold rings on their fingers, making them look like stereotypical comic mafia goons brought to life. It would have been funny and something to laugh over with Squalo over coffee if said goons hadn’t interrupted his quiet afternoon with their petty disputes.

What a drag.

“You have five seconds.”

“Hah?” Goon #1 sneers at him, somehow turning even uglier in the process. “What do ya want, shrimp? Don’t ya see we’re a little busy here.”

Only sheer willpower prevents Dan from inspecting his nails in disinterest. Instead, he crooks an eyebrow, giving the idiotic trio his best deadpan fish stare.

“Three seconds.”

Goon #2 spots the Varia emblem on his hoodie and the Cloud clocks the moment he recognises what it stands for. He shakily points at Dan’s chest. “U-uhm… boss?”

“What?” Goon #1 snaps, but his gaze follows his friend’s finger and all colour leaves his face. “V-v-varia?”

Dan puts his hands in his hoodie pocket and smiles. “You rang?”

The way they freeze like a deer in the headlights. How they start quaking in their knock off designer shoes when realisations dawns upon them. The fear in their eyes.

Ah… making grown men piss their pants with a single look never gets old.

“By the way,” Dan drops his smile, his voice turning ice cold. “Your time is up. Better start running, boys.”

One would think that the Vendice are on their heels with how fast they scrammed.

Now, with that sorted.

Dan looks back the stranger who’s still lazing on the street. “You okay?”

“U-uhm yes…” he stutters with wide eyes that are filled with something uncomfortably close to awe. “Thank you so much.”

Feeling slightly awkward now, Dan avoids his shining gaze. “Don't mention it.”

“But-”

“Seriously don’t,” Dan interrupts him, combing a hand through his hair. He wishes this interaction was over already. He’s no good with shows of gratitude. “You should let a doctor check you over.” That should be enough polite concern, right? “I will be on my way then.”

Dan tries to speedwalk away to avoid further socialising but is hindered by a surprisingly strong grip on his hoodie.

Only his ingrained manners (thanks Mom) prevent him from breaking a hand and escaping anyways, which is probably for the best, the poor guy has enough injuries, no need to add broken bones to the list.

Dan turns around and sighs. “What is it?”

The young man gives him a solid try at puppy eyes. “What’s your name? I’m Dave by the way! You can’t just rescue me like a knight in shining armour and then disappear off into the sunset. That’s not fair at all.” He adds a pout to his pleading expression, which – in Dan’s humble opinion – just makes him look even more pathetic.

“Have you suffered head trauma recently?”

Dave cocks his head, confused. “I mean, one of them kicked my face for a bit but that was nothing, I’m good! They mostly focused on my upper body and limbs.” He lets go of Dan’s hoodie and lifts his shirt up to point at his battered torso in demonstration. “See?”

“Then, why are you spouting nonsense?” Dan takes a step back after he is freed from Dave’s clutches. “Run along and try to avoid getting beat up by shady men in the future.”

The puppy eyes start to fill with fake tears. “But they keep on finding me.”

Dan is suddenly overcome with a desperate need for coffee.

“And that’s my problem, how exactly?”

The responding grin sends shivers down his spine. It reminds him of Bel’s smug smile after he caught another one of his employees in his wire traps.

“Well, all your hard work would go to waste if they came back, wouldn’t it? So, how about you help a buddy out?” Dave winks and it would have been charming if his face wasn’t covered in dried blood. “You can start with your name and we will go from there.”

Dan barely lifted a finger, is this guy on crack? In fact… Is he trying to con him? This feels like a con.

Why did I even bother leaving my room today?

“Look, Dave,” he begins trying to salvage the situation, “if I tell you that Varia Housekeeping is always looking for new members, will you go away and let me enjoy the rest of my day off in peace?”

The other man’s jaw drops like Dan got on his knees and proposed instead of throwing in a job offer as distraction tactic.

Dan takes his surprise as an opportunity to exit the premises once again. This time he isn’t stopped physically but a broken “W-wait” still gives him pause and he reluctantly glimpses back. Dave has dropped his cocky façade leaving behind only shattered pieces and a tiny fragment of hope.

“Please. Tell me your name?”

His voice sounds fragile compared his confident tone before.

…

Dan has always been a sucker for the broken ones, hasn’t he?

Fuck it, in for a penny, in for a pound.

“You can call me Chief.”

---

Hope you liked the little sneak peak into Dave's mysterious past 😊! Honestly the delay was mostly because that meeting was fighting me with tooth and nail but I managed to get it done!

I feel like I wanted to add something else but I forgot because goldfish brain lol

Anyways keep being awesome like the legend you are Ein!! Hopefully I could brighten your dim days in study hell 💕✨😊

[riversimmone]

Line in the Sand

Line in the Sand - chapter 1

RiverOfTheSand

Summary:

AU GaaSaku. Because war is coming. Because a king needs a queen. And because no-one warned him his most dangerous opponent would be the one warming his bed.

Notes:

Cross-posted from fanfiction.net. Technically. I'm done waiting for my muse and want to post this here on AO3. Please read the tags and read and kudo and comment. I hope you enjoy. :)

End chapter notes:

Thankyou so much for reading. :)

.

This is a work in progress story you can also find on AO3 and FF.NET.

Enjoy. :)

.

Chapter One: Enough is Enough.

-o-

Death was such a final affair. It couldn't be undone, bribed away, or blackmailed to disappear. Fighting it was a delay tactic at best, and denying its existence was detrimental and foolish.

It was also, sometimes, the only thing that made sense.

"The king is dead!"

The voice came from outside the mausoleum, but echoed through the building like a doomsday proclamation.

Death made sense.

Except the fact that sometimes it didn't. Sometimes it made no sense whatsoever. He was struggling to understand how he had come to be standing here, looking at this particular coffin, feeling these… feelings; guilt, regret, hatred, love and sheer terror.

What kind of omnipotent being let murderers, rapists and other sundry evil men live, but took away a broken country's last ray of hope? The sky was already darker than it should be at this time of the day, so what was the point? Why was he here, mourning, when so many others deserved it more?

"The king is dead!"

Yes, he'd died this morning; the blood in his bedchambers had yet to be cleaned and the redhead staring at the coffin in front of him could still smell the stench of it, hours after having found the body.

Sabaku no Gaara lifted his arms, his eyes travelling over the lines of the palms of his hands. It all seemed so arbitrary.

"The king is dead!"

He growled. Would someone shut that person up?

The words that echoed within the walls of the mausoleum (despite coming from outside), haunted him and he wished they would just die too.

He had never felt more confused, more foolish for believing that death itself would not touch these hallowed halls. He should have seen this coming. It was his duty to his king, to his family, and to his country.

The king is dead. He reminded himself.

And yet somehow, those four words were more comfort to him than he'd ever felt.

Gaara was still torn, however. He hadn't hated the fool, though the older man had given him every reason to. They were family… once upon a time.

But the children of the Sabaku clan had been scattered to the wind when their country fell into civil war. Who would claim the throne? Who would kill their own flesh and blood to get on that throne? And who would be forced on bended knee?

Ultimately, the answer had been: no-one.

And so the war raged. For three years; for three years their loyalists fought for and alongside the sibling they wanted to see crowned. People died then too. And then the outsiders invaded, taking advantage of the chaotic state of affairs; more death had come to them, and the estranged children were forced to put their disagreements aside to force the invading harbingers out of their lands.

And they won.

Gaara stood stiffly, glaring down at his brother's coffin.

Why did you have to die, stupid fool?

It was Kankuro that the people had wanted when the dust settled, and for once, the trio siblings had sat down and listened to the voices around them. It was Kankuro's cheeky face that was plastered around the royal home, the royal city, and pretty much the entire kingdom. The people didn't even know him personally, but somehow he had the kinder face of the Sabaku children, and they trusted that dorky smile.

Gaara groaned inwardly.

And the truth was, they weren't wrong. He had his foul moods just like anyone else, but Kankuro had been the better sibling – the nice one. Even in the heat of battle; Temari could scare a battalion with a glare and he… Gaara didn't have to try, he just naturally terrified all.

But who would the people want now? And how long would that person hold the crown before they too, were betrayed?

Even now, other nations were circling the borders like vultures, sensing their weakness. How long would it be before death visited them all again?

For three years, Gaara had fought his siblings, thinking he wanted to rule. He might not have been the first born, like Temari, or as well-liked as Kankuro, but there was no denying his power. If he wasn't meant to defend their people with that power, then why had he been born with it?

The gods were laughing at him, he was sure of it; give an ant the ability to conquer every ant hill, but deny him the spoils.

"Gaara!"

Temari's voice broke through his thoughts and the redhead looked up to see her striding into the mausoleum, flanked by two guards. She waved at them and they halted, letting her approach Gaara alone. She looked determined.

"The people are going to riot," she said. "Advisor Yura believes we cannot sit on this; the people will want retribution."

Gaara stared back at Kankuro's coffin. This was not how he had intended to celebrate his twenty-first birthday. It seemed so long ago now, that Kankuro had been slapping him on the back and questioning his sexual orientation, given that Gaara hadn't wed any of the noble ladies yet. He was the only sibling without a significant partner.

I have standards. His monotone reply had been met with a laugh and a giggling confession of his brother's own sex life.

Kankuro's widow crept into his head, and Gaara sighed. He felt sorry for her, mostly. She was too kind hearted a person to do what needed to be done next.

Gaara himself didn't want a kind woman. For most of his life, he hadn't wanted a woman at all (he liked them, but only when they didn't talk). He was twenty-one now, and had never held down any kind of relationship. He'd rarely partaken in sex and still had little idea what he was doing – which only added to his desire to avoid sexual situations. He found it too hard to let everything go and open himself up in front of anyone without the pressure of pleasing another person, let alone himself.

He was too easily impressed by feminine curves to trust himself in the sight of them.

It was a free life, but also a lonely one.

"We have to get out there." Temari stepped up next to him. "We have to tell the people that this treachery will not go unanswered."

The warm hand on his shoulder reminded him yet again that he wasn't as alone as he felt.

Finally, he'd been on good terms with his brother, and now this?

He couldn't stand it.

The pain was going to tear him up from the inside and he didn't know how to stop it.

"Gaara?" His sister's voice was soft, almost cautious.

He shook his head slightly. "How could he?"

Temari frowned. Was he asking how Kankuro could die, or die and leave them behind? She sighed.

"He loved you. Even when you were at each other's throats – even when we were all trying to kill each other. Kankuro… never stopped hoping we would all come back here someday. He loved you most of all."

It still didn't make any sense to him.

He didn't get it.

Making his decision, Gaara squared his shoulders and turned to face the guards who had been dutifully waiting for them to finish their conversation. He stared into their faces and they stared back. Loyalty in this country meant equal footing – even a servant deserved to be treated with respect.

He nodded to them. "Tell the advisor to gather the people. It's time to make a stand."

A wide grin spread over the faces of the guards and they rushed to obey his command.

Temari clasped her brother's hand, feeling the same desire for revenge rush through her. Gaara squeezed her hand back, though he didn't feel as confident as he'd sounded. But he was determined: he would not let anyone take advantage of his people again.

-o-

On the other side of Sunagakure, green eyes raked over the city hungrily, taking in every detail.

Silk curtains wafted over her face, falling against her body gently, highlighting the contours of her petite body; she loved the feel of it, but more than anything, she enjoyed the cool breeze drifting in – a sign that even balmy summers in this city could be gentle on the wind. She was taking a moment to admire the beauty of the foreign city beneath her before letting the reality of her situation sink in. Sunagakure. Her new home. It had seen better days – at the height of its power years ago, it had stood as a beacon to distant travellers – but even now it still retained a regal air about it.

It was… entrancing.

Sakura Haruno was the heiress to the last of the nomadic tribes that had come to Sunagakure to parlay with king and request permanent residence, only to hear the news of the man's untimely death. They were a proud people, brave warriors and healers, but they were dying. Country borders were closing in light of the new political tensions, and it was becoming impossible to safely traverse the old travelling roads they loved so much – in just this last month alone they'd lost fifteen people in their caravan to brigands and foreign soldiers mistaking them for spies.

This couldn't continue.

Most people thought they were just gypsy nobles who were hardy and interesting enough street entertainers when they were short on money, but the truth was that they were the descendants of the Kiraaku – a Yakuza-like clan that had once been infamous for manipulating their way into powerful families. They'd literally fucked, manipulated, and murdered their way into the noble court.

But things changed when Sakura's great-great grandfather gathered what was left of their clan (after an assassin killed their patriarch) and turned them into nomads. Slowly, the legend of the Kiraaku died down, and very few knew of their bloody past. Their history was dead. And yet they themselves, survived.

Sakura turned away from the balcony and looked at her sleeping father; she had come to his chambers, hoping he was awake, but now hesitated to disturb him. He was dying, and there was nothing she could do about it. A sickness picked up from a neighbouring country had infested his body and now he had very little time left. Kizashi was all she had left of her mother – the woman who'd been kidnapped, raped and murdered by brigands before Sakura was even old enough to talk. Mebuki had been a beautiful woman, and it was her exotic looks that the pinkette had inherited.

But enough was enough.

They needed to find a new home if they were going to prevent these things from happening again. And her father had a plan to make that happen.

In this country, the daughters of the smaller tribes were highly valued in buying and selling for marriages with nobles because of their exotic looks and rumoured, unique skills. It was a fetish that made her uncomfortable, but what kind of Kiraaku descendant would she be if she didn't take advantage of it?

"Sakura?"

Her father stirred, reaching out for her as she ran to his side.

"Daddy?"

"I knew it was you."

His sight was failing, along with his internal organs. Even she, with all her medical prowess, couldn't save him, and she hated herself.

"Don't cry."

Her tears trickled down his arm as she kissed the back of his hand.

"I can't help it, daddy."

"You can't cry yet."

She nodded. "I know."

"Yuri can lead our clan now, but you need to do something else for them."

"I don't know…"

"Do this, please? For me?"

Sakura tightened her hold on his hand. "I will, daddy."

She had no problem with seducing the richest noble she could catch the eye of. They were all rolling in dough. If they fell for her charms, it was their own fault. But her father had higher dreams and, upon news that the king had died, had expressed his desire for her to aim much higher.

The youngest Sabaku…

He had more wealth than your average noble, and the power he wielded in battle was too much of a temptation; she may not agree with the way her ancestors had hurt people, but the blood of the Kiraaku ran through her and she couldn't deny she really wanted to see this living legend in the flesh. His people mostly feared his power – though they revered it too – but if the rumours were true, he was headed for that ivory throne.

Even if she failed with him, there had to be someone in that court that would find her attractive.

Sakura kissed her father's forehead as his eyes closed and his breathing evened out again, indicating he was asleep.

She would marry into wealth and restore her clan's honour by taking that crown (or similar) by whatever means she felt necessary. But first, she needed to play the marriageable woman. She needed to show off her exotic looks, her unique skills, and charm the pants off that man.

-o-

[amongthevipers]

— open starter

muse: viserra targaryen plot: based on how badly i want this, your muse is betrothed to viserra (basically this could be the start of a plot that leads to some serious angst) ERA : the dance of dragons / NOTE : my muses are era locked

she wasn't thrilled her mother and father had finally found someone they deemed worthy nor that it was so soon. she'd hoped they would deliberate longer or even hold off until the war was won. here he was though, the man she was meant to be married to in a few years time. "so," viserra fought the urge to tuck her hands behind her back or rock back and forth on her heels. "it is to be us then?" she offered him a slight, awkward smile.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt.4

Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader

Warnings: talks of pregnancy loss

Words: 2350

Summary: A stubborn horse tips Jaime over his breaking point.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 3.5  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21  Part 22 Part 23  Part 24  Part 25   Part 26  Part 27 Part 28  Part 29  Part 30  Part 31  Part 32  Part 33  Part 34

Book Two of Heir of Ash and Fire

Book One of Heir of Ash and Fire

“I know I would be a little scared riding a dragon.” You muse while looking up at the sky. Weary from the day’s travel, you had decided to ride atop of the horse that your brother had lovingly named Bastard due to his nature of smacking you in the face with his tail and just being an over all pain in the ass. Even if his name served true, you were still a lady and refused to call him that. You gave him the nickname Bassy. Close enough to Bastard but this way you didn’t have to say it out loud. He was the most stubborn horse you had ever encountered and made it seem like such an inconvenience to be carrying your luggage. Jaime had won him in a fight though, beggars couldn’t be choosers. It would’ve been a complete miracle if you and your brother had happened to get a palfrey like the ones you had as a child. No, nothing as extravagant could be found in your wanderings. Dumpy Bassy had to do.

“Of course. You’d be on a flying beast that breathes fire. What’s not to be scared about that?” Your older brother chuckles, one hand holding onto Bassy’s reins as he lead the horse down the road. His eyes were searching ahead for the city the two of you had been traveling days for. Volon Therys was what your goal was. The last stop before you were finally in Volantis. Surviving off of dried meat and bread was starting to get tiring and made you even more thirsty. “You could fall off whenever the dragon grew tired of you on its back. That’s what happened to Joffrey Velaryon. Took flight upon his mother’s dragon Syrax and fell to his death because the she-dragon tipped him off her back.”

What a death that would be. The very thought made you shiver. To fall to one’s death, destroying all your bones after having such a taste of power.

Jaime glances at you. “As history has told us, having a dragon isn’t a wonderful as the Targaryens made it out to be. True, they’re the ultimate weapon in a war, but a dragon can never be fully tamed. That’s why I would never want a dragon.”

“That’s understandable but just imagine, Jaime. Being up in the air and just being able to go wherever you wanted.” You hold out your arms as if they were wings and close your eyes “Just like this.”

“I prefer the ground. That’s where the fighting is.”

“You can take control of the ground. I’ll take control of the sky.” You laugh, coming to an agreement. “I’m not much of a fighter anyway.”

Begging to differ, Jaime tells you “You’re getting there. We just have to keep practicing and you’ll be a woman in armor in no time.”

While along the coast of Essos had been populated by beautiful trees and agreeable weather, heading more inland you and Jaime were met with somewhat of a tropical warmth that made your skin feel tacky. The Disputed Lands of Essos had been fought over for centuries by those of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh and you could tell why. Not only was it beautiful but it probably yielded quite a bit of fertile land to be used. Since you left Myr though you had not run into anyone else on your trail, despite this land being riddled with bandits and ruffians alike that were desperate for any amount of coin.

Rifling through your saddlebag, you go to look at the map again. Your journey in Essos had made you cartographer, something you had no need of learning back in Westeros. There were a lot of things you had picked up in Essos that wouldn’t have served you much in King’s Landing. Swordsmanship, cartography, even being slight of hand when you and your brother were desperate for food and low on coin. The latter skill you weren’t very proud of but Jaime had told you that desperate times call for desperate measures. Jaime knew best in these situations so you always did tend to listen and obey, for it meant life and death.

There was a slight uncomfortable struggle though as Bassy decided to be. . . well, a bastard. He flicked his ears in annoyance as he felt you move around on him, even though it was just the slightest bit. Bassy brayed, pulling his head this way and that in an attempt to get the reins out of Jaime’s grip.

Your brother curses and stops walking, standing his ground as he dealt with the meddlesome beast. “Calm down, Bastard.”

Oddly, Bassy always seemed to understand when Jaime called him that negative name. There were certain moments where you swore that Bassy had the intelligence of a human. Bassy let out a louder noise of persistence as he now tried desperately to get away from Jaime.

In an effort to stay atop of him, you let go of the map, not bothering to see where it flew, and clung onto Bassy’s neck. “Be nicer to him!”

With an exasperated grimace, Jaime dug his heels into the dirt and tried again to get the horse to stop thrashing. “He’s an animal (y/n). He doesn’t understand what I’m saying.”

“Oh I think he does!” You were quick to shut up though when Bassy whipped his neck back, your jaw snapping painfully shut. You could’ve sworn that a few of your teeth may have cracked from the action. At least you didn’t bite off the tip of your tongue.

“Stupid beast!” Jaime hisses. Possessing the strength that he had, it was no match against a horse that weighed 70 stone. Getting onto his hind legs, Bassy was able to rip the reins out of Jaime’s hands; causing your brother to fall backward.

In a hasty attempt, you reach for the swinging reins; barely catching them before you fell off.

Bassy started bucking, thrashing his body this way and that as your heart hammered away. Never had any of your palfreys acted in such a vicious manner. You clung with every muscle in your body. Clung for dear life.

In the middle of the panic you caught the sight of Jaime brandishing his sword.

“No!” You screamed at him. Finally losing your grip, Bassy succeeded in bucking you off. There you went flying for a moment in the air before Jaime threw aside his sword to catch you. The two of you collided into the ground, the air being knocked out of your body.

Bassy seemed to glare at you and your brother, beating his hoof against the ground. Worry that he might charge at you entered your mind. Instead he simply took off with what meager belongings you had.

Jaime slammed his fist against the ground. “Fucking animal!”

You rolled off of your brother, choosing to lay on the ground, panting and trying to get your heart to stop loudly pounding. Your hands shook terribly. That could have gone a lot worse. You thanked your lucky stars that at least Bassy didn’t kick you or trample you and your brother.

“Are you okay?”

Opening your eyes, you look up at Jaime. His blonde hair had grown a lot since his days in the Kingsguard. It looked wild, especially after the fight he had just had with Bassy.

“I’m fine. . . Where did the map go? I let go of it before that whole thing started to I could try and stay atop.”

Jaime’s head snapped off to the side and then the opposite direction, squinting his eyes in the hope that he would be able to find the sheet of parchment. By the way his jaw clenched you knew the map to be lost. You close your eyes again and listen to Jaime’s string of curses. At least the last time you had checked it, it looked like you were almost close to Volon Therys.

“Calm yourself Jaime. Come lay down with me.”

“I can’t relax now. We don’t have the map, we don’t have food, AND we don’t have water!” He growls not at you but the situation that you are now in. Running a hand over his forehead, Jaime sighs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. That fucking horse. . . I knew that guy ripped me off. And here I thought I had won a free horse.”

“We wouldn’t have needed him for much longer. We traveled so far without a horse before, we can do it again. Besides, Volon Therys shouldn’t be too far away.” You try and cheer him up. “We can hunt whatever game is out here and we can find more water. We’re near the coast after all. There’s bound to be more rivers and lakes. All is not lost. Just made a little bit more complicated.”

“Complicated is the last thing we need.” Relenting, Jaime finally plops down beside you. “We were so close. I wish that stupid horse would’ve just given us a little bit longer. Just until we made it to the outskirts of the city. He was such a bastard.”

You giggle a little bit and slowly sit up. Dirt and dust was starting to settle down on you from the fall. “Till the very end.” Exhaling a sigh, you get up to your feet slowly. “Well, we won’t do ourselves any favors by just laying down here all down.”

Jaime’s hands cover his eyes from the sun as he makes no intention on getting up. “We don’t have a map. How will we know where we’re going?”

Holding out your hand to him, you give him your best smile. “Have faith, brother. The Crone will guide the way.”

After a second of wallowing in his own self pity, Jaime grabs your hand and you help lift him up. “Oh great, we’re going to be relying on an invisible old woman.”

Playfully you swat at his arm making him grin. “If our septa and mother had heard you say that they would surely have pulled your ear.”

“Mother wouldn’t have meant it. I bet you she would’ve pulled my ear while grinning. She’d probably say ‘Tsk, tsk, my Jaime is a heathen’ all while smiling. You know what smile I’m talking about.”

You nod, remembering sweetly of your mother. “The one that always reached her eyes making them light up.”

“Yes, that one. You know, you have her smile. That smile.” He says while beginning to walk forward. Voice far off as if his mind was bringing him back to the days spent in Casterly Rock when Joanna was still alive. “You remind me so much of her sometimes. You took after her more than Cersei ever did.”

Falling alongside him, you muse “I think she took more after father.”

He chuckles. “Hah, yes. It’s a good thing she was born a woman. Otherwise I believe she would very well be ruling Westeros with an iron fist.”

“Heavens forbid.” You gasp and put a hand to your heart.

That made him laugh louder before he grew quiet in contemplation. “You would have made a good queen, (y/n). I’m sorry that that opportunity was ripped away from you.”

Pausing for a moment you reflect on your own feelings. Rhaegar always said the same thing. And so did Thalina. “I will be queen one day. Once we get to Volantis and do whatever it was that Thalina wanted us to do, I plan on returning to Westeros. I want to return to Rhaegar and resume being his wife. I don’t care about really queen. I just want to be with Rhaegar.”

“You think we’ll return to Westeros?”

“Of course. I don’t want to live out my days here.” You stand your ground while walking a bit faster, feeling the heat in your cheeks rise. “Rhaegar probably thinks I’m dead.”

Annoyance in his voice, Jaime stops walking. “Why are you so determined to return to him? Have you forgotten-”

“I haven’t forgotten anything.” You snapped at your brother unconsciously. When you see his stunned expression you reel yourself back with a big inhale. “I’m sorry. But you shouldn’t be so quick to cling to the past. Rhaegar apologized. He promised he would never hurt me again.”

“And then he up and left you when you were dying.” Jaime refused to let it go as his own face grew hot.

“I’m sure he had his reasons! Why are you so quick to hate him?” You couldn’t keep the glare out of your eyes.

“Why are you so loyal to him?” He countered with a growl. “That urchin has done nothing for you! Nothing that would garner loyalty from you!”

That was it. You stopped walking and turned full force to your brother. “He got me out of the hell that was Casterly Rock! He showed me that I was worth something, Jaime! All of my life I had been treated. . . treated like I was nothing. By father, by Cersei. . . even by you. And for the longest time I believed it. I believed that I would never grow up to be anything worthwhile. That because I wasn’t like Cersei I would never find someone who would love and adore me. Ever since I met Rhaegar my life has changed so much. For the better. He gave me confidence. That confidence is all my own now. He taught me that there is strength in my kindness unlike father who thought it was a weakness. I’m not going to sit by idly while you bad mouth him.”

Jaime stood there with wide eyes, staring at you. Slowly he held his hands up. “Okay. . . Okay. . . I’m sorry (y/n). Please don’t cry. . .”

Fiercely you use your sleeve to wipe at your eyes. Indeed there were tears staining the fabric of your sleeve. “I love him. . .”

“I know.”

“We were going to have a baby. . .”

“I know.” Slowly, Jaime drew you against his chest until he was smothering your sobs.

[helluva-hazbins]

muse's life experiences Bold what always applies. Italicise what could apply / applies only to some verses.

Killed Someone Under Orders | Had Someone Killed On Their Orders | Killed Someone In Self Defense | Spared Someone’s Life | Invented Something | Been Hungover | Kissed Someone | Slow-Danced | Been In A Long-Term Relationship | Had Sex | Had Sex And Regretted It | Had A One-Night Stand | Had A Threesome/Orgy | Experimented With Their Sexuality | Had A Kid | Adopted A Kid | Wanted To Have A Family With Someone | Done Something On Impulse They Regretted | Gone Traveling | Had A Bounty Put On Them | Eaten An Insect | Been Groped By A Stranger | Been Groped By Someone They Know | Been Dumped | Dumped Someone | Smoked | Gotten High | Flirted With Someone To Get Free Drinks | Put Someone In A Headlock | Won A Bet | Lost A Bet | Forgiven Someone Who Wronged Them | Indulged In Petty Revenge | Hallucinated | Has A Noticeable Physical Defect | Gotten A Noticeable Scar | Been Permanently Disfigured Through Injury | Kneed Someone In The Groin | Had An Unattainable Crush | Laughed Themselves To The Point Of Tears | Been Kidnapped | Been Brainwashed/Hypnotised | Had A Recurring Nightmare | Been Bullied | Bullied Someone | Experienced Survivor’s Guilt | Been Tied/Chained Up | Given Someone A Massage | Received A Massage | Been Backed Up Against A Wall | Shot Someone | Stabbed Someone | Saved Someone’s Life | Cheated On Someone | Been Cheated On | Been In An Open Relationship | Had A Friendship With Benefits | Been In A Queerplatonic Relationship | Had A Stalker | Been Betrayed | Been A Traitor | Been Possessed | Been In A Bar Fight | Been Thrown Out Of A Bar | Been Arrested | Broken Out Of Jail | Been To A Funeral | Been To A Brothel | Had Surgery | Broken Someone’s Trust | Broken Someone’s Heart | Had Their Heart Broken | Broken/Damaged Something Out Of Anger | Broken/Damaged Something Out Of Spite | Gotten A Piercing | Gotten A Tattoo | Used A Fake Name | Been Beaten Up | Been Tortured | Tortured Others | Been Abused | Been Blackmailed | Gotten Away With A Crime | Framed Someone Else For A Crime They Committed | Shared A Bed Platonically | Been In Love | Suffered From Sleep Paralysis | Been Forced To Flee Their Home | Learned A New Language | Joined A Rebellion | Fought On The Losing Side Of A War | Fought On The Winning Side Of A War | Become A Godparent | Become An Aunt/Uncle

Tagged by: @hells-musing-along

Tagging: Anyone who wants to make time and tag me so I can check!

[sgt-cookie-2]

We are both old, and it is our final fight. A word, a fist, a slam with an errant oxygen tank. We fall over to our knees, then onto the floor. I am clutching a mask of air, taking deep, solid breaths. My enemy falls close. Close enough I could just reach out and... No... I've just no strength left. I am very old.

I take off the mask briefly, my opponent breathing steadily. "How long you old bastard? How fucking long?"

They reply:

"For as long as we've known one another, I suppose. Children, in school. Or maybe, even younger."

I laughed: "Children, younger, yes, our mothers lived next door to each other. Then it was school, yes then it was when we had to divide into a class team, then when we went into separate teams permanently. And then political sides, then wars, then atrocities. Then this."

My foe spoke solemnly: "Always in different places, touching, but never... being on the same side." They laugh. "Damn Alice and her looking glass." I respond, regretfully:

"It was the first time we fought. Not with bullets. Not with swords. Not with fists. No, the first time. The time we fought with words. I made a promise, no, an oath that I would be."

They laugh even harder: "I scan't remember every tussle we had. Our first being mere debate, foolishness. But, I suppose it brought us where we are now."

I turn my head and look at my rival, my breathing getting heavier and faster: "I didn't mean it, it was just after one of our poetry lessons. I suppose my heart developed into a muse of wrath and beauty, and thought to make use of it." They smile

"Sounds like you. Spinning the greatest of words into the noblest threads of the most ignoblest deeds ever to grace a tapestry of beauty and time."

I laugh at my equal's words again. Hacking a cough.

"I believe it was your trick first, I copied it just to piss you off. It worked, so I kept doing it and you didn't."

They look back in time mounfully. "We spent too much of our lives trying to kill each other. Even today, after all this time. We passed each other every day, so why today did you decide to end it once and for all?

I think back to them, my equal, my opposite, my... reflection.

"I think... we both knew I was going soon. And I think... you couldn't let me die that way."

We are both the oldest we have ever been. And almost the oldest we will ever be.

My friend hacks a cough, as I did. Passing them the oxygen mask is not difficult, not yet.

"Thank you. I'll pass it back when you need it," they say, lifting the mask as I did, before putting it back, taking a deep breath and asking again:

"If one of us had just ever... won. Even just once. We've lost, both of us, plenty of times. But, even then the other side only ever just... didn't lose. And it was never satisfying."

I hack, the mask is passed back, I talk again: "But one of us did win once. And you hated me for it. It's why it started in the first place. It was love. Real love. I hope, at the end, that's enough?"

They think for a moment. "No. Of course not. It never was. But I will have to make do. The oil will last 7 nights." they say, biblicly.

They hack again, I pass it back.

"I think I've got two more passes in me." they say. "Or rather... takes."

I laugh "Because whoever doesn't have it dies first. And you intend to make me break one last oath?"

Everything was starting to go white. I could hear their breaths, their shallow, weak breaths, making the rattling plastic sound of an oxygen mask not held down.

"I had an oath to keep you fucker!" I yell out. With herculean effort, I reached over, grabbed the oxygen mask, pulling it to my face. I can barely see anything, but the intake of pure gold scented air stops the light from coming closer.

I keep taking deep, slow, oderous breaths, as my compatriot's breathing gets weaker, dimmer, slower. At a certain point I feel a hand, grabbing the mask back. I fight against them, but I fail. The mask is torn away. I never know if it makes it to its destination. But for just a moment, the breathing seemed to improve. But then was back to normal. My breathing slows, the oxygen in my blood transforming and being ejected.

I purchased two syllables from my air supply"My... oh...". Inexcusable, but the encouragement seemed worth the price. But the light keeps getting closer. My soulmate, oh, what of you?

I listen over. The light is getting brighter. My soultwin's breathing gets weaker as the light in my eyes gets brighter and brighter. Eventually, the breathing gets even weaker. Slower. Further away. Until eventually, the breathing stops, just as the light turns to nothing...

With the last molecule of air I have left, "Lo?"

[justassorted]

Life Experiences

Tagged by: @archerwhiterp

Tagging: @magicmonstersandmischief, @zodiac--muses, @stellafortunae, @stcrmborne, @scxrytxles, @needleandstory, @matrixs-treasuryofmuses, @lichbrarian, @writedisaster. Anyone I've forgotten, steal it if you like! And tag me so I can see :)

.

Ithadel

bold = always/most verses ; italic = verse dependent ; strikethrough = never

.

Killed Someone Under Orders | Had Someone Killed On Their Orders | Killed Someone In Self Defense | Spared Someone’s Life | Invented Something  | Been Hungover | Kissed Someone | Slow-Danced | Been In A Long-Term Relationship | Had Sex | Had Sex And Regretted It | Had A One-Night Stand | Had A Threesome | Experimented With Their Sexuality | Had A Kid | Adopted A Kid | Wanted To Have A Family With Someone | Done Something On Impulse They Regretted | Gone Traveling | Had A Bounty Put On Them | Eaten An Insect | Been Groped By A Stranger | Been Groped By Someone They Know | Been Dumped | Dumped Someone | Smoked | Gotten High | Flirted With Someone To Get Free Drinks | Put Someone In A Headlock | Won A Bet | Lost A Bet | Forgiven Someone Who Wronged Them | Indulged In Petty Revenge | Hallucinated | Has A Noticeable Physical Defect | Gotten A Noticeable Scar | Been Permanently Disfigured Through Injury | Kneed Someone In The Groin | Had An Unattainable Crush | Laughed Themselves To The Point Of Tears | Been Kidnapped | Been Brainwashed/Hypnotised | Had A Recurring Nightmare | Been Bullied | Bullied Someone | Experience Survivor’s Guilt | Been Tied/Chained Up | Given Someone A Massage | Received A Massage | Been Backed Up Against A Wall | Shot Someone | Stabbed Someone | Saved Someone’s Life | Cheated On Someone | Been Cheated On | Been In An Open Relationship | Had A Friendship With Benefits | Been In A Queerplatonic Relationship | Had A Stalker | Been Betrayed | Been A Traitor | Been Possessed | Been In A Bar Fight | Been Thrown Out Of A Bar | Been Arrested | Broken Out Of Jail | Been To A Funeral | Been To A Brothel | Had Surgery | Broken Someone’s Trust | Broken Someone’s Heart | Had Their Heart Broken | Broken/Damaged Something Out Of Anger | Broken/Damaged Something Out Of Spite | Gotten A Piercing | Gotten A Tattoo | Used A Fake Name | Been Beaten Up | Been Tortured | Tortured Others | Been Abused | Been Blackmailed | Gotten Away With A Crime | Framed Someone Else For A Crime They Committed | Shared A Bed Platonically | Been In Love | Suffered From Sleep Paralysis | Been Forced To Flee Their Home | Learned A New Language | Joined A Rebellion | Fought On The Losing Side Of A War | Fought On The Winning Side Of A War | Become A Godparent | Become An Aunt/Uncle

[strdstd-m]

REFLECT—Zhongli, regarding fight with Azhdaha or Guizhong’s death

Send REFLECT for me to explain a traumatic event in my muse’s past and talk about their perception of events ★ @underxworlder ★ Accepting

{OH BOY HERE WE GO...

Gonna go with Guizhong bc it's what I'm most familiar with/feel like I'd be able to articulate my/his thoughts on it better.

Never in his long, long life would Morax ever think he'd formulate such a bond with anyone. He was a war god, intent on slaughter and conquering, not on alliances and relations. That is, until one day amongst a field of Glaze Lillies, did he meet a fellow god. Guizhong. Someone his complete opposite in her benevolence and eagerness to learn about the humans. The very god who helped him formulate his beloved Liyue into the prosperous nation it was today. And perhaps most importantly, the woman who managed to wear down his heart of stone. Teaching him little by little how valuable humans and their emotions were, how not everything is won by bloodshed and violence, and just how important kindness itself was.

Him feeling a strange twinge in his soul upon witnessing how joyful she became hearing him gain more understanding of humans. How surprisingly entertaining it was, watching her work on her latest invention, how he actually smiled when around her.

At first, he tried to ignore it, thinking of it as a weakness. A god such as himself shouldn't get this attached to someone. Much less a war god. How he was allowing her to mold him into a gradually kinder being, it was something he should have resisted much strongly than he had. Yet... why did he protect her so fiercely, why did he allow himself to teach her combat, why did he feel this warmth in his chest whenever he saw her? A solace, she easily became, from all the fighting he took part in.

Then, the Archon War struck. And with it, came chaos and bloodshed.

He couldn't find her. The almighty Morax feeling fear seep into his being and cage him in a vice. Impossible. Gods shouldn't, can't, won't feel any form of fear. But this was Guizhong he couldn't find. It was then, then of all times, he realized. What he felt for her went beyond simple alliances, beyond even friendship. The desperate calling of her name as he searched told that well enough.

He found her. In a field of Glaze Lillies. The resemblance to their first meeting was agonizing.

Anger, was his first emotion. The gnawing desire to rip apart whomever gave her any wounds or pain. They deserved it-

It was her weakly saying his name that snapped him out of it. Like it always did before. Returning him to reality as he used the very hands the wielded a spear with beastly aggression to gently gather her into his arms.

Forget? No! Forgetting the dumbbell could equate to him forgetting her. Never could or would he do that. He'd have to deny her, just this once.

The unflinching, brutish, unfeeling Morax broke. Like carving a stone in half, he wailed and begged her. "Don't leave, Liyue still needs you- I still need you!" The earth was covered in dust regardless of the Geo god's pleas. The Glaze Lillies wilting alongside her.

Grief gave way to outright fury. Fissures, boulders, spear strikes. That was how Morax showed his grief masked by violence. Tears cascading as he fought his way through. Falling onto his knees once it all was done, only his spear supporting him where she once did.}

[cruelprincae]

MUSE’S LIFE EXPERIENCES

Killed Someone Under Orders | Had Someone Killed On Their Orders ( half of madoc's army in fact ) | Killed Someone In Self Defense  | Spared Someone’s Life | Invented Something  | Been Hungover | Kissed Someone | Slow-Danced | Been In A Long-Term Relationship | Had Sex | Had Sex And Regretted It | Had A One-Night Stand | Had A Threesome ( listen..... ) | Experimented With Their Sexuality| Had A Kid ( verse dependent but yeah ) | Adopted A Kid ( oak ) | Wanted To Have A Family With Someone | Done Something On Impulse They Regretted | Gone Traveling | Had A Bounty Put On Them | Eaten An Insect | Been Groped By A Stranger | Been Groped By Someone They Know | Been Dumped | Dumped Someone | Smoked | Gotten High | Flirted With Someone To Get Free Drinks | Put Someone In A Headlock | Won A Bet | Lost A Bet | Forgiven Someone Who Wronged Them | Indulged In Petty Revenge | Hallucinated | Has A Noticeable Physical Defect | Gotten A Noticeable Scar | Been Permanently Disfigured Through Injury ( his back :/ ) | Kneed Someone In The Groin | Had An Unattainable Crush | Laughed Themselves To The Point Of Tears| Been Kidnapped | Been Brainwashed/Hypnotised | Had A Recurring Nightmare | Been Bullied | Bullied Someone | Experienced Survivor’s Guilt | Been Tied/Chained Up | Given Someone A Massage | Received A Massage |Been Backed Up Against A Wall | Shot Someone  | Stabbed Someone | Saved Someone’s Life | Cheated On Someone | Been Cheated On | Been In An Open Relationship | Had A Friendship With Benefits | Been In A Queerplatonic Relationship | Had A Stalker | Been Betrayed | Been A Traitor | Been Possessed | Been In A Bar Fight | Been Thrown Out Of A Bar | Been Arrested | Broken Out Of Jail | Been To A Funeral | Been To A Brothel | Had Surgery | Broken Someone’s Trust | Broken Someone’s Heart | Had Their Heart Broken | Broken/Damaged Something Out Of Anger ( homeboi burnt his entire room ) | Broken/Damaged Something Out Of Spite | Gotten A Piercing | Gotten A Tattoo |Used A Fake Name | Been Beaten Up | Been Tortured/Tortured Others | Been Abused | Been Blackmailed | Gotten Away With A Crime | Framed Someone Else For A Crime They Committed | Shared A Bed Platonically | Been In Love | Suffered From Sleep Paralysis | Been Forced To Flee Their Home | Learned A New Language | Joined A Rebellion | Fought On The Losing Side Of A War | Fought On The Winning Side Of A War | Become A Godparent | Become An Aunt/Uncle

tagged by: it has been sitting in my drafts for so long that i forgot :/ tagging: *aggressively points at you reading this*

[chaoticjoke]

MUSE'S LIFE EXPERIENCES !!

killed someone under orders | had someone killed on their orders | killed someone in self defense | spared someone’s life | invented something  | been hungover | kissed someone | slow-danced | been in a long-term relationship | had sex | had sex and regretted it | had a one-night stand | had a threesome | experimented with their sexuality | had a kid | adopted a kid | wanted to have a family with someone | done something on impulse they regretted | gone traveling | had a bounty put on them | eaten an insect | been groped by a stranger | been groped by someone they know | been dumped | dumped someone | smoked | gotten high | flirted with someone to get free drinks | put someone in a headlock | won a bet | lost a bet | forgiven someone who wronged them | indulged in petty revenge | hallucinated | has a noticeable physical defect | gotten a noticeable scar | been permanently disfigured through injury | kneed someone in the groin | had an unattainable crush | laughed themselves to the point of tears | been kidnapped | been brainwashed/hypnotised | had a recurring nightmare | been bullied | bullied someone | experienced survivor’s guilt | been tied/chained up | given someone a massage | received a massage | been backed up against a wall | shot someone | stabbed someone | saved someone’s life | cheated on someone | been cheated on | been in an open relationship | had a friendship with benefits | been in a queerplatonic relationship | had a stalker | been betrayed | been a traitor | been possessed | been in a bar fight | been thrown out of a bar | been arrested | broken out of jail | been to a funeral | been to a brothel | had surgery | broken someone’s trust | broken someone’s heart | had their heart broken | broken/damaged something out of anger | broken/damaged something out of spite | gotten a piercing | gotten a tattoo | used a fake name | been beaten up | been tortured | tortured others | been abused | been blackmailed | gotten away with a crime | framed someone else for a crime they committed | shared a bed platonically | been in love | suffered from sleep paralysis | been forced to flee their home | learned a new language | joined a rebellion | fought on the losing side of a war | fought on the winning side of a war | become a godparent | become an aunt/uncle

tagged by i snatched this from @moonwayned

tagging: (if you haven't done this already) @sheldoney @batsie @apphrodite @quynzel @whyscserious @twcfaces @woeddams

[kyberled]

SAD HEADCANONS

@commandsir​ asked:

1, 13 & 17 for sadness 🙃 

1. who does your muse hate?

This is a hard one. He doesn’t like hating people. He wants to see the best in everyone. He wants to believe anyone has the capacity to heal and change. Anyone can turn back when they’re on the wrong path, and all that. But some people just push things too far. The first is, obviously, Palpatine, post purge. Braig despises him. Palpatine is one of the few who Braig thinks cannot change, and cannot see reason. It’s on sight. He also… Okay, here’s the thing. For the majority of the war, I don’t know if he really hates Dooku, as much as Dooku just makes him sad. That man was part of his lineage. The Jedi are a family, yes, but Dooku especially is part of his direct heritage. Seeing a Jedi Master fall so far… It’s humbling, but not in a good way. It’s not until farther into the war that he thinks he might hate Dooku. He decides he does. He hates Grievous, he hates Grau, the warlords who just want to spread violence. He has personal beef with both of them. He only kills one. He also - surprising nobody - isn’t a fan of Imperials, though he feels pity rather than hatred for the Inquisitors. They must have suffered greatly to be the way they are now. 

13. how does your muse outwardly express their anger? 

He tries to keep a handle on it. He’s a Jedi, it’s their  job. It’s their culture, and, let’s be real, it’s part of their survival. The Force eats people who don’t control their emotions. It’s not fun. That being said, Jedi still have emotions, and are encouraged to have a relatively healthy relationship with them. So there are a few things you can look for, when Braig is mad. The first is that his shoulders get tense. Not all of him, just his shoulders and maybe his fists. In most situations, even when he’s mad, the rest of his body stays loose. This is actually a defence mechanism. When your muscles are tense, you can’t move quickly. Staying loose means staying mobile. He also keeps his eyes on whatever set him off. Yes, the Force keeps him aware, but he likes the visual confirmation, too.  This can be a bit childish of him, but he also likes them to know he's watching. Just because. He also gets a certain expression on his face. It can range from subtle to obvious, but you'll know it when you see it. There’s a set to his jaw, usually the result of him gritting one or both sides of his teeth, and there’ll be a slight furrow in his brow. And usually, when he's pushed to the breaking point, he'll close his eyes, inhale, exhale. He'll try to steady himself. Sometimes, it works. Sometimes it doesn't. When it doesn't, he can get pretty scathing. He's a space psychic who's good with people and he's not afraid to use that to his advantage. He won't get violent unless they do, don't get it twisted, and he knows enough to not cause lasting physical harm unless he's given a VERY GOOD REASON, but he can be petty and catty and will read you for filth. 

17. who does your muse wish they had said goodbye to, but didn’t?

His master. That’s the easy first one. He never really said a proper goodbye to Obi-Wan. He didn't think he needed to. He didn't know what was going to happen. Yes, he understood it was a war, and that anything could happen, but– It was Grievous. They'd fought him countless times. Nine out of nine and a half times, they won. Obi-Wan had Cody and the men with him, too. He should have been fine. They should have gotten more time together. 

The next one is his Gathering Group. They've been his best friends since he was very young. In the case of Hano, they've been friends since they were three. And by best friends, I mean they've been inseparable for their entire childhood. If you knew where one of them was, you could find the others, because they either weren't far, or they just knew everyone's usual schedule by then. He loved them like siblings. Like extensions of his own body. So losing them was like an amputation without anesthesia. Sudden, painful, messy, and debilitating. The only one he feels like he said anything close to a goodbye to was Naweh. She was tired, and went to bed early instead of joining the rest of them for sparring. The last thing Braig ever said to her was “Alright. Sleep well, and come be with us again when you wake up. I'll see you then." He wishes he could have said something more - not just to her, but to all of them. 

He also - once he understands Order 66 for what it was - wishes he could have said goodbye to the men. He didn’t know them as long as his master or his group, but they were still his friends. They still fought together, struggled together, mourned their dead together, ate and laughed together, kept watch while each other slept. 

Then we move on to the rest of the Jedi not so far mentioned, especially those he was close to - A’Sharad, Bultar, Shaak, Mace, Quinlan, and so on and so forth. 

In fact, if you think about it, he didn’t really get to say goodbye to anyone. Sad.

( @gwiazdowe​  also asked for 17, so tagging you too!)

[aestasrosis]

muse’s life experience :

Killed Someone Under Orders | Had Someone Killed On Their Orders | Killed Someone In Self Defense | Spared Someone's Life | Invented Something | Been Hungover | Kissed Someone I Slow-Danced | Been In A Long-Term Relationship I Had Sex | Had Sex And Regretted It | Had A One-Night Stand | Had A Threesome I Experimented With Their Sexuality I Had A Kid I Adopted A Kid | Wanted To Have A Family With Someone | Done Something On Impulse They Regretted | Gone Traveling I Had A Bounty Put On Them | Eaten An Insect | Been Dumped | Dumped Someone | Smoked I Gotten High | Flirted With Someone To Get Free Drinks | Put Someone In A Headlock I Won A Bet | Lost A Bet | Forgiven Someone Who Wronged Them | Indulged In Petty Revenge I Hallucinated | Has A Noticeable Physical Defect | Gotten A Noticeable Scar | Been Permanently Disfigured Through Injury | Kneed Someone In The Groin I Had An Unattainable Crush | Laughed Themselves To The Point Of Tears | Been Kidnapped | Been Brainwashed/Hypnotised | Had A Recurring Nightmare | Been Bullied | Bullied Someone | Experienced Survivor's Guilt | Been Tied/Chained Up | Given Someone A Massage | Shot Someone I Stabbed Someone I Saved Someone's Life | Cheated On Someone I Been Cheated On | Been In An Open Relationship I Had A Friendship With Benefits | Been In A Queerplatonic Relationship | Had A Stalker | Been Betrayed | Been A Traitor |Been Possessed I Been In A Bar Fight | Been Thrown Out Of A Bar | Been Arrested | Broken Out Of Jail | Been To A Funeral | Had Surgery | Broken Someone's Trust | Broken Someone's Heart | Had Their Heart Broken I Broken/Damaged Something Out Of Anger | Broken/Damaged Something Out Of Spite | Gotten A Piercing I Gotten A Tattoo Used A Fake Name | Been Beaten Up | Been Tortured/Tortured Others | Been Blackmailed | Gotten Away With A Crime | Framed Someone Else For A Crime They Committed | Shared A Bed Platonically | Been In Love | Suffered From Sleep Paralysis | Been Forced To Flee Their Home I Learned A New Language | Joined A Rebellion I Fought On The Losing Side Of A War | Fought On The Winning Side Of A War | Become A Godparent | Become An Aunt/Uncle

tagged by : stolen

tagging : anyone who wants <3