#Spring Black Bear Hunt

[the-monkeies-girl]

Instead of annoying Koba like you always do … you ignore him for an entire day … I already can see his reaction:😡🤬😤

bark bark

Title: Ignoring Is Bliss. Fandom: ( Dawn of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T ( Mentions of aggression, some minor injury. ) Pairing: Implied! Koba x Human!Reader. Words: 2.8K+ Summary: Koba told you he did not want to speak to you anymore in the phase of a heated argument. You're only giving him what he wanted.

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It was a crisp day and you were intent on enjoying it to the best of your ability. Even though you were well aware you were being intensely scrutinized with every move you made, every word that was spoken, every breath you took --- Even down to the minute details like the breeze and how it would shuffle your hair, how you would draw a deeper breath in with that breeze. All watched either in entertainment or unabashed hatred, it was hard to tell at times.

Tilting your head to the side at the Baby Apes scattered around your feet, you twisted your body in a display of power to the eyes watching you and brought the draw cord of your jacket forward to show what it did to the children. There were scatterings of brown fur, orange black and even some red as the crowd you were entertaining before the afternoon lesson, before Maurice arrived, began. Chimps, Bonobo, Orangutan and Gorilla eyes all lit up the same as you smiled at them, bringing the cord to stretch out and then releasing it to spring back in. They all hoo’ed in amazement as you tilted your head to the side in thought as they bunched around your waist in closeness, wanting to touch the item. The only reason why you were being watched like a hawk at the moment wasn’t even your fault! It was remarkable to you how Apes were just as grudge holding as Humans were, if not more as your eyes slid coyly towards the Bonobo whose one good eye was boring a deep and intense hole into your skull, it was hard to ignore with the glower he was sending your way from the topped perch they too council meetings on. The meeting broke over thirty minutes ago, but he was still there, opting to not follow Caesar, Rocket and Blue Eyes to continue more personal conversations that didn't center around the Colony itself. 

“Do NOT talk to KOBA ABOUT ANYTHING.” He roared in such a fashion as tears hit the back of your eyes as if you actually had any sentimental feelings towards the relationship that teetered on the tightrope between blatant hatred and aggressive toleration. In his own words, he was telling you to back off and to leave him alone, your shoulders drawing in on themselves as he had lunged only a few feet forward, but the movement itself was brute and lashed with irritation. 

The shine of his long canines that displayed themselves were enough to drench your entire body in a cold sweat as you swallowed, cowering back a bit until your back hit the wooden wall of the hut you two were standing in. He could pin you to it and rip your throat out. You wished your mind hadn’t thought of that as you were now preoccupied imagining if it would be a swift death or if he would make you suffer.

You had only made a passing comment that maybe his hunting skills needed some improvement after you had gotten some strenuous details out of him about the hunting trip, about how he managed to kill a bear and save Caesar and Blue Eyes. Not true in the slightest, but you made jokes about each other to filter out the otherwise tedious and smothering tension that was brought to light once Caesar granted you permission to stay. 

You left that night, not a word to be said but the moment you were out of view of the Bonobo, you let yourself shudder a sob out at the aspect that even if you considered him an acquaintance, you were nothing more than an ant to him and he’ll snap your neck the moment he had the chance, without recourse. 

That’s how it worked. You pestered each other. Well, more or less. You found it more enjoyable and you had the feeling that Koba only dealt with it because if he chose to lash at you, hurt you in any way, Caesar was going to have to put his fist down on one of his closest advisors. Koba had intense hatred for Humanity, but he also had great respect for the Ape King. 

Maybe even the milky white eye as well was setting your skin on fire, you chuckled to yourself and readjusted your crouched body just enough that he was unable to get any delectations from your face and only was able to see the scape of your back, the curve of your body dipping into a deep crouch, your feet arched accordingly as the baby Apes continued their inspection of your jacket.

You glimmered with happiness as you looked down at the young Apes, all too entranced by the draw band on your jacket as you pulled it out again, proceeding to let it snap back in again with a small ‘thwup’. Pride bubbled in your chest at the fact that the Koba was still staring right at you, your movements all too intentional and all too vile for him to really look away from, as was usually the case. 

He wanted to see your face, you knew from his disposition as you caught his movements out of your periphery. He'd moved alongside with you to now sit on the rock adjacent to him, a smile forming on your face from that but you were able to blame it on the young gorilla who snatched the draw-band right out of your hand and placed it curiously into their mouth. "Nooo," You laughed gently, letting your eyes peer up only for a second as your fingers fished the item out of the young's mouth with a mild, playful scold, "Not food. Plastic. Gross."

Maurice, a gentle grace himself, arrived only a few seconds later, sitting himself in his usual spot as he chittered for the young to come join him. With forlorn eyes, you watched each of them say goodbye to you in their own ways before bouncing towards him, ready for the afternoon lesson that followed the mid-day meal. You were not a teacher by any means, you could only keep their attention by showing them something they had never seen before, you were not well thought out, not in the way that Maurice was, but it was nice to help when you knew that your other favorite activity to do was scolded and disallowed the night before.

With carefully placed feet as you knew the rock got incredibly slick during the wetter months, you trailed downwards towards the bonfire, snuggly warm and ablaze with large frames in the middle of the Colony. The flames stretched into the sky and despite that small trinkle of rain that caught the wind and brought it downwards, the fire refused its relentless pace and was quite literally a warm welcome against the chill of your cheeks as you drew nearer.

You'd consider your mission of the day a complete success after the last biting words that you had gotten from Bonobo himself the night before, you thought to yourself and admired the blaze for only a minute, letting the heat soak into the pores of your skin in a delicious way that left your retinas feeling hot and without moisture. You replayed the topic Koba spat at you last night, all the implications there that he didn't want anything to do with you any more.  That he never wanted to talk to you again.

Deep down, you knew it to be a farce, he enjoyed arguing with you too much to really draw a close to the pastime but you were simply giving him what he wanted by ignoring him the entire day, trying your best to ignore the looks you got at breakfast as you chowed down with Lake and River, the absolutely abysmal stare that you got when you waved them goodbye afterwards, Lake off to tend to her business, River off to go fishing with Blue Eyes and Ash. You were invited, but declined when you decided that the mud and the weather weren’t up your alley.

So, instead you lingered around, looking for things to do. Not much, you had to admit. But, just enough to keep the set of eyes on you entertained. If he wanted you to ignore him, surely you could do that, but you’d make a show out of it.

 Ignorance was always bliss. Unless you were Koba. Then ignorance was a waste and he needed immediate satisfaction in situations to feel good about himself. 

You had skipped lunch in favor of playing with the babies, a well deserved skip as there was nothing quite like having the attention of so many on you at once. Plus, the eyes of another really big baby, if you thought about it that way. Your hungry gaze scanned over a few wicker baskets that had been set out to be grazed upon. Curiously, you reached for a blueberry, the color all too alluring but before it made its way into your mouth, it was viciously slapped, rolling onto the ground below.

Following it, you traced the movements downwards, the rock slightly slanted under foot until it got caught in a crack. Blinking, you recognized that hand - the calloused and ridged fingers that performed the action. Mouth ajar, you looked over, eyes ample, the expression clearly that of surprise as you hadn't even noticed Koba leaving the perch, much less making his way all the way down here to perform such a petty action. And you thought that only Humans did that, at least in Koba's mind. "What the hell?" "You have..." He huffed, "Been ignoring Koba?”

"No?" You feigned innocence and rolled your eyes, bringing your hand down to grasp at another berry. Cautiously this time, you knew he was watching you and you were sure to make the allure of your curved body all the more interesting to him. "What makes you say that?" Silence. You grabbed a handful of berries to take on the road, but they were scattered onto the dirty ground below, probably to be squashed into oblivion by other Apes who traversed the area. A small whine left your lips, your body reactant as you went to pick them up,"That was my lun----" You were being dragged. Picked up into a standing position and dashed to the right.Harder and faster than you were really able to keep up with, your eyes widening on the back of the Bonobo's head, from the proximity, rare with him in the first place, you could spot the sprinkling of gray against his blackened fur. A minute detail you found amusing until you were torn to shreds back into reality.  Your mind went straight to panic.

He was going to take you into the woods and kill you for playing a stupid petty human game, you swallowed hard as he rounded the fish hut, contemplating grasping at the pillar and holding on for dear life but argued against that as Koba could snap your arm off in one intended stroke of his hand. "Koba, I-I was just kidding!" You tried to get your feet skirted into the ground to potentially stop him but to no avail. The sleek rock underfoot gave no traction and your action only caused you to skirt along like you were gliding on ice.

 "S-Seriously, if you kill me, wouldn't it rather be over something that was actually worth it? So-Something you could justify to Caesar?" That gave him pause and you watched as the cogs turned in his head at the idea. Taking the second of non-movement as a blessing, you looked at the grasp he had on your wrist and felt a mild twinge of swelling start to encase the very fragile appendage from the aggression he put forth to get you to move along with him. Bad choice of phrasing, you muttered inside of your mind as he turned his face.

Your eyes entranced against the scarring aspects that everyone always saw first before you catered to your own delectation and swept your gaze along the deeply ingrained wrinkles that surrounded his nose, the slack of his jaw that was morbidly appealing to you, so animalistic that you’d let him touch you with his mouth if he so chose, just to see yourself and riddle away the idea that it was just as mean as the rest of him. You wanted to touch him, but the one time you had tried, he almost bit your fingers off and you were never tempted again. "Would…" Koba’s voice was hard than usual, maybe a bit joking if you wanted to be more optimistic. Which, you weren’t. He was about to murder you and then hang your skin up on a flag pole as a victory for Ape Kind. "Kill you for just being... human. Need no reason." He continued his movements, the gasp that rocketed through your entire body sent a hardened shaft of shock down your entire spine to rest very tediously in the small of your back, near your tailbone. You were in an area of the Colony you had never been one to venture into. Storage huts that were exclusively left alone unless an Ape really needed something there. Mainly, weapons. Your eyes widened at that. He was taking you to a storage hut and he was going to use a spear and---

You were released suddenly, but the momentum you had from his pulling left you flat on the ground, your face smashing into the rock below as you had no time to brace your hands down. You grunted loudly, feeling heat eradicating at your rib bones. It didn't feel like anything was broken, a small trickle of blood hitting your nose and running down your lips and off your chin from the sheer impact, but hey. It was better than being beaten to death by a Bonobo with a grudge against all Humans. “What the hell, Koba?!” The shrill of your voice dulled out the fact that you had actually called him by name, something rare as he had told you time and time again that you weren’t worthy of saying it.

The hackles along his shoulders frilled up, even more so than you had seen with a Chimpanzee like Caesar. It was mesmerizing to an extent, his fur so dark that it appeared viciously white as you scrambled onto your hands and knees, wiping your nose with another grunt before getting your feet to flatten on the ground below. You were swaying, but balance would come back you were sure as you hadn’t actually hit your head that hard. It dawned upon you as you took in the surroundings that Koba brought you here for privacy. No Ape interruptions, no Caesar sitting high above and watching, making a coy comment towards Koba about his relationship with you. If it were even a relationship. It was… You tilted your head minutely. A Tolerationship. 

“Why… Ignore Koba?” You groaned. 

“WHY?!”

“You told me to, you dumb Bonobo!”

You let your temper flare, and without remorse, your back was pinned to the thick wooden branches that made up the hut that was to your left, your shoulders unable to move as Koba had pushed back. Enough force to keep you pinned, but not enough to break anything. You had no time to react, even to breath as you felt your throat close up, Koba’s face coming in just to enjoy the scent of fear that was rising out of you, he fluttered with satisfaction at that, his good eye narrowing on your expression as you had balled up your face, scrunching it so disgustingly that Koba felt a draw to try to pry your eyes open so you were forced to look at him. Looking at the blood from your nose, Koba’s mouth salivated at that and he wanted to take pleasure to know what it tasted like but that thought was severely undercut the moment it took a glance at blossoming. 

“Not dumb,” The grasp he had on your shoulders tightened and you winced slightly, “Dumb Human for listening to Koba.”

Your mouth flew open. “W-What?”

He released you without another word, watching as you slumped against the wood and staggered to keep your balance. Content to leave it as is, Koba knew you were going to go into antagonistically introspection at the words he had just said and as much as he enjoyed thinking about causing you physical ailments, mental were just as fruitful and easier to come by under the gaze of Caesar. Swearing that he smiled at you, he turned away, hunching onto all fours and began walking upwards. Quickly, you placed your hands onto the wood behind you and propelled yourself forward. “What do you mean?” Koba stayed silent intentionally.

“What do you mean?” Silence. Suffocating.

“Tell me!”

Silence, and that's how remained.

[justatypicalwizard]

Weave your own web, my prince

BNHA royal au x reader ❥⋰ Another marital season bears down Katsuki's shoulders. His mother tortures him with a new guard - one that will follow each and every step the prince takes. Soon Katsuki decides, it's time to act on his responsibilities and decides his target will be the guard. Tons of royals flush the corridors of the Bakugo castle, among others Shoto - the Todoroki prince on the make. What will come out of their rivalry? Will Katsuki be able to break out of his mothers web of plans and schemes? Will he be able to claim what he desires or will it run through his fingers? ❥⋰ Reader is referred to as Cat. Word count: 16k ❥⋰ I just want to say I had so much fun writing this piece. I really tried to elevate my language and make something fun. I hope you find it entertaining!

Katsuki hated Spring with all of his heart. He loved the new life peeking out of every corner, he loved the birds that came from far lands with new stories to croak about, he loved the fresh air saturated with the scent of juicy grass and wildflowers. Katsuki hated Spring because Spring meant courting season, the awful marital hunt.

The young, and only, son of queen Mitsuki and king Masaru attained a position on the grand bachelor and maiden list as soon as his 15th Spring approached and has been on it since. Despite the weight of the crown bearing hard on the prince’s temples he refused to find a wife each and every year. The queen was on the verge of forcing someone on him. On March nights Mitsuki cursed at her son’s undeniable masculinity. It would be easier if he was a girl.

The martial aspect of Spring pricked at his side like a thorn but there were other nuisances. It was a time when not only did you have to stand up to your enemies, you also had to let them into your home. Trains of carriages and caravans climb up the steep hill road leading into the Bakugo lands. The castle swole with lace, silk, gossip and scheme. It was full of two-faced ministers, greedy lords, gasping matrons and pale princesses.

Katsuki wondered whether he preferred to travel abroad for courting or let that multitude inside his own stone and gem walls. At least the army was here, some units preparing as if for war. Units like his mothers personal guards.

Day and night, Summer or Winter these soldiers run at top speed, and at top secrecy. They were always in the corner, lingering to the queen like a shadow, flat and easy to miss. Katsuki was supposed to build his own unit such as this, pull it together, brick by brick from desperate, lonely and crazy, ones that would sacrifice their life in the name of loyalty and gratitude. Ones that would sparkle at his side like gems in his crown. Ones that would slice throats without even a blink at his single word. That was, of course, a massive exaggeration but the queen made sure to give him this lecture every time a new rumour could be heard about the assassin known as Denki flirting with a cook or when the archiver and historian girl Mina messed up a few very important dates in the chronicle of Katsuki’s life. At least Kirishima was reliable.

Katsuki stomped towards his mother’s writing room in her open-for-guests chambers. The guests took off and it was once more high time to try to persuade him. Names and oil paintings were hung up in the representative corridors leading to the ballroom. Small noses, corseted waists and absent eyes that gazed up into the sky peeking out through the grand windows. All of these seasons maidens presented like cattle on a Sunday village market. Soon bachelors would accompany the lonely girls on the other side of the hallway.

The angry boy slowed down, his boots finally giving the echo of the corridor a break. Slick black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. Diamonds scattering the crown of her head, packed onto a delicate silver web, signalling her worth but also painfully reminding of the lack of a real queens’ crown. At least it matched her eyes.

Yaoyorozu was one of the candidates for Katsuki. Despite her mathematical calmness and chin raised to touch the sky, she fumed every time she saw him. The Yaoyorozu family lacked a crow but swam in wealth. Their banks held and operated on the riches of the neighbourhood kingdom making them important players on the royal courts.

Lord Yaoyorozu tried his luck with the family of his own king but with poor results. Many princes adorned the king’s right hand but none of them would marry with someone of a lower status. At least that’s what they officially said. Next on the list was Katsuki who also refused to take Momo Yaoyorozu. The girl was beautiful, smart and wealthy, but it all meant nothing as her father’s ambitions were too high for her crystal-heel-clad feet.

Another portrait that stung Katsuki’s eyes was yet to be hung. He huffed, a short pathetic laugh. What an irony that the cheeky round face that poked through the messily scattered cloth lay beneath Momo. Someone should quickly gather this portrait or else whatever commoner left this will be punished for offence to a highborn.

Uraraka, a princess well known for Katsuki, smiled cheekily from the frame. Another candidate, this time a real princess. Such a pity her royal family had less funds than the Yaoyorozu. A pity for her, a blessing for Katsuki. She was being held as an option courtesy of friendship rather than position.

Leaving the lifeless faces Katsuki wondered which girl had it worse, which was scattered around more. The wealthy but unprivileged lady or the poor but accepted princess. One thing he knew, he would pick none of them.

Three knocks were enough to be welcomed by his mother. She seemed to be alone in the room. Bookshelves that once were mighty oaks bent under the weight of thousands of books, chronicles and registers. Rugs secured the stone floor giving the room a warmer touch, just as Mitsuki liked. Despite a rather early hour candle flames glistered and twitched around the desk, trapped in glass lanterns. Little daylight was allowed through the narrow windows, always leaving the room in a state of half-shadow.

Katsuki knew that in these elaborately planned out shadows figures lingered in defence of his mother. The prince felt the presence right now but he knew better than to comment on it. Those ears will hear everything but speak of nothing.

“So glad you made it that quick.” The queen turned slightly in her rich chair to face him. The old and well-used wood cracked slightly, though the quiet of the room made it seem like thunder.

“Stop tip-toeing around it and tell me what you have to, old hag.” Katsuki knew what this conversation would be about, he guessed what the bulky volumes in front of his mother were - genealogical trees of high families. It was the same every year.

“Fine. I command you to pick a wife this season. You know the old candidates but there are a few new ones worth taking a look at.” She proceeded to open the book but her son’s harsh voice left her only grazing the cover.

“You can command your little chess pieces of soldiers around, not me. I will not take any of these fake, trained pushovers.” His resistance was hardy.

“You know your responsibilities as a male, and only, heir to the throne. It gets more dangerous each year.” Always the same. Katsuki had enough of it.

“You and dad don’t look like you’re gonna drop dead any moment, which is a pity.” He snarled at his mother like a kid throwing a tantrum - which in fact he was. “I will secure the family line just-” The fierceness of his voice lost its momentum. “Just when I find the right person.”

Did he just admit to his mother that he believed in love? Did he believe in love? He thought about it every Spring, what was it that he was looking for. The princesses were obviously not a match for him because they were all a lifeless mass of similar faces, similar gowns, similar smiles. They were taught to be interested in you, to abide by every need and want, to not ask questions but at the same time to demand the best, tastiest, wealthiest and most luxurious. Katsuki did not wish to play this game. Was he really looking for someone who will make his heart skip a beat? Might as well try.

“Anything else?” He walked around the room grabbing objects and examining them, anything to look away from the disappointed mother in the centre. She sighed.

“Yes. Because of the situation at Todoroki’s I decided to have two of my personal guards watching over you. They have a schedule and will follow your steps for the next months, as long as this farce will take.” Now this, this was new.

Mother was letting two of her dogs off leash. Both excited and annoyed, Katsuki gave her a questioning look. He moved towards her desk, and pushing his abdomen hard into the edge he looked down on his mother. Or so he thought.

“Don’t try to order them around, they already know what to do and they will not abide by a single need of yours.” Though sitting lower she was still looming over him, her shadow longer than his, extended by two additional people.

Finally, he got why she decided such a thing. It was not to keep him safe, it was to make him miserable, push him to his limit and make him succumb to her wants. Who knows what these people will do or how much they will foist themselves on him. Katsuki felt a hand creep up on his throat and ball into a vice grip, suffocating him. He also knew that he will peel those fingers off one by one.

“Meet your daytime guard. Then leave.” Mitsuki gestured to a woman who grew out of the shadow behind her chair.

Katsuki looked the intruder in the eye and let out a short huff, turning on his heel and leaving the writing room in a sour mood.

A few mornings and evenings later Katsuki figured out a bit more about the strange duo following him around. The woman was there during the day while the bulky man with dark wavy hair and a scar on his face guarded his person at nightime. They changed in the evening and morning without much talk.

Those past days the young prince tried to ignore the presence but it became overwhelming, always hearing additional steps behind you. This and the preparation for hosting the ass clapping festival as Katsuki liked to title it.

The castle changed into a busy anthill with servants-ants running back and forth, carrying anything from bouquets to wooden tables all around the place. The prince was needed here and there for very important business such as fitting fancy costumes, giving his opinion on a flower arrangement or signing fifty greeting letters that will be left on the nightstands of the guests’ beds. In simple words, Katsuki had enough.

“Your highness, you are needed in the fitting room.” Shall the white, laced blouses be damned.

Maids jumped around his partially undressed form as they tried to baste a rich red robe around his torso. The loose scraps of material and pins scratched at his skin leaving red marks and giving Katsuki a scowl. The air in the room was stiff and seemed to lack oxygen. The blonde was getting dizzy with all the heavy perfume and powder dancing around in the light of the candles.

“Give me more pins, I need to tighten it here.” One of the seamstresses squeaked.

“Take them yourself, I can’t move right now.” The other one argued

His head slumped down and a deep sigh escaped his lips. How much longer will this take?

“Excuse me. The prince is needed for his evening duties.” A new voice made an interruption.

“We were promised the price will be available today. This fitting was due for a few days.” One of the working women bickered while resting hands on her hips.

“Well, your time has passed.”

The half finished robe was pulled down Katsuki’s arms and shoved into a terrified maid's hands. The prince felt a small hand on the back of his arm. The fingers were so tiny, yet they quickly clasped down in a vice grip, pulling him out of the stuffy fitting room and out into the cold corridor.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” He did not even mind who forced him outside. The preparations, the long days of doing absolute shit, the constant feeling of being watched even in his sleep, Katsuki was too fed up to care.

“Nothing. Or maybe a walk outside would be refreshing if you ask me.”

The prince finally looked up at his companion. It was no one other than the guard woman following him around. She was propped up the corridor wall, arms crossed on her chest, looking out of the window on the ground below.

“Is there something wrong, your highness? Do you wish to go back to the fitting room? You looked rather displeased there and the seamstresses did take their time, didn’t they?” The girl asked with a raised brow.

“Did you really just pull me out of there and lie to them?”

“Are you unhappy with that?”

“Not even a bit. Let’s go outside.”

The evening breeze was refreshing, like a cold shower after a good workout. Katsuki and the guard strolled the park outside of the castle. It was a maze of high hedges, fancy bushes and ponds. The long path led to the grand lake far at the back. The further they got from the castle, the easier it was to mistake the small lights in the windows with stars in the sky. It was peaceful here, sleepy.

“If you wish to know, the name is Cat, my prince.” The guard, Cat, opened her mouth without warning, breaking the melodic tune of night critters.

“Cat is your real name?” He questioned with a brow raised over a scowl. His companion only laughed softly, speaking up no more. Of course it isn’t her name. Of course he would never learn it.

Moonlight shone down on the rich overseas rug giving the warm colours a cold tune. Gold thread twisted and turned forming seemingly endless patterns. Katsuki also twisted in his fur bed sheets, unable to fall asleep. Sweat clung to his overheated body like a second skin. He has to ask for summer sheets, thin like his patience with the restless night.

Pouring himself a goblet of lukewarm water he cursed, exhaustion weighing his shoulders down. Nonetheless, he slipped a soft cotton shirt over his head, pulled on the trousers he left forgotten in the corner and took off in search of some peace in the sleeping castle. The nightguard stalking his every step.

Not finding any relief in his own chambers, Katsuki turned his steps towards his mother’s private rooms and squares. The crushing difference between what was Katsuki’s and what Mitsuki owned was a demonstration of power. Everywhere she could, the queen reminded her son that he was her property. Everywhere he was able to, Katsuki pushed back.

Right now his strategy for enraging the woman was strolling through her chambers at times he shouldn’t. He should be asleep, redying himself for a day packed to the brim with responsibilities. Instead, he opted for passing the scarce guards in silence, looking for a place that would put his nerves at ease.

Far off in the quiet wing of the castle he fished out a familiar figure.

“The fuck you doing there, sneaking around?” He calls out, his voice too loud, cutting through the quiet night like thunder.

There’s a shuffle and Cat turns around to face him fully just as Katsuki enters the square. The smell of flowers is heavy in the air, the queen’s private fruit garden oversaturated with the sweetness of spring life. Katsuki thinks, just for a second, that there’s a glimmer of panic in the guards eye, but her usual polite-jaded expression overtakes her face instantly.

“I am enjoying free time, my prince.” She bows slightly upon his arrival.

“Free time.” The blonde weighs the word on his tongue like a caramel drop. “Sounds exotic.”

“Is there anything you need, my prince?” No response, just blind civility. Noone in this castle, in this world, talked with Katsuki. They obeyed, listened and answered by not one person ever held a conversation with him. Maybe not counting the deliberately selected group of idiots that he called his party. But they are gone now, always seemingly busy during spring. The queen just wanted them away from him, so as not to give him any ideas. Friends were forbidden for a prince.

I need you to shut the fuck up and stop rubbing your free-will into my face. He wanted to shout but the memory of the fitting room, how she freed him of the constricting hands of seamstresses brought Katsuki to a halt. She had more freedom than him, she could do as she pleased when her duty hours were off. Maybe he could use it.

“I need you to speak to me as equals.” He stated, taking a step closer, entering the moonlight square.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, my prince.”

“I don’t want you to suddenly call me by my name, I just want - just talk to me for fuck’s sake.” This is embarrassing. Katsuki cursed the moon’s silver dick for shining so finely today. The pink tinting his cheeks must have been in plain sight. Something shifted in Cat’s expression, relaxation passed over her features, mingling with the usual disinterest.

“Fine.” Her steps were silent as she proceeded to a bench carved out in marble. “I’m listening then.”

“I promise this will stay between us.” The prince dropped down bluntly next to her, swinging his arm over the cool backrest of the uncomfortable bench, his other playing with the loose strings of his cotton shirt, untied, letting his chest breathe fresh night air.

“There is no such thing as a promise here, on court.”

His head whipped her way only to be met with a small smirk. So the woman could speak her mind when she wanted to.

A rich, plump flower sat next to Cat’s head. More of them scattered around the bush leaning on the marble. The one that seemed to nearly graze her cheek was big and flashy, oozing with juices that threatened to spill if you touched it ever so slightly. Katsuki found it repulsive, his mind suddenly drifting off to the thought of wetness.

He looked back, straight ahead to free himself from the shameless flower. His mother tortured him with bees and flower analogies, how he would have to find his flower someday to bear a fruit. It was one of these bushes she made him observe to understand his duty.

Katsuki shook off the nasty feeling.

“So, what do you usually do in your free time?”

“I sleep.”

From the corner of his eye the blonde followed Cat’s movement. She was interested in the flower, poking at it only to get her fingers sticky. Her displeased expression amused him.

“You’re not sleeping now.”

“That’s true.” She stood up and wandered the little maze of flowerbeds and dwarfed trees to find the fountain in the centre. Katsuki following her steps.

A figure appeared in the shadow, leaning on a pillar, watching his every move. The beast of a man, his night time guard, too loud for his own good. A string of curses left Katsuki’s lips. He wasn’t allowed any privacy.

“Cat.” She focused on him, shaking her palm, droplets of water flying in the air. “Switch with the other guy for the night. I want you to guard me.”

It took her a few blinks to think through his order. “And what would I have from it? I would have to be up all night.”

“The next day off. He will take your shift.” The blonde shrugged, as if it was nothing, a mere proposition of business partners too wealthy to mind a single thing. “Besides, if you really care about your rest you would be sleeping right now.” A chuckle left Cat’s lips and Katsuki felt like smiling himself. He did not succumb to the temptation.

“Well, I could use a day off. Have business to take care of.” She came closer and the prince once again thought about the flower. “Did you hear Hound? What do you think about it?”

Hound, the man with messy hair and a messy beard, messy uniform and a crystal clear, sharp look to his eyes stepped onto the square. To Katsuki, he seemed to utterly despise his position, impatience and anger dripping from his face.

“Fine by me.”

“Goodnight then.” Hound huffed at the politeness, turning his back to Katsuki after a short and forced bow, disappearing into the darkness.

“Don’t mind him, my prince, he doesn’t like anyone beside the queen.” Despite Hound’s posture the queen was the real beast here, making a person so blindly loyal.

At once Katsuki felt at ease, alone. He looked up into the sky speckled with stars so very prominent in the moon’s silvery hue. His body felt dry, the sweat of his restless tossing evaporated into the quiet night. He felt fresh and lulled, as if he could fall asleep on the uncomfortable marble bench, his guard sitting on the other side, gazing at the obnoxious flower. He would feel like a still life that hung in the dining room, unmoving and eternal. His life would be still for once, peaceful and silent.

All of it a dream that would never come true.

“What business do you have for tomorrow?” He asked as he sat on the flat surface of the fountain. Every time the light breeze flew by it scooped loose droplets from the fountain, lifting them into the air, letting them dance in the moonlight. It was one of Katsuki’s favourite places to sit as a child, the drops of water hitting his back on hot summer days.

“If I can speak to you as equal for the time being then my business is none of yours, my prince.” Harsh, he thought. He didn’t mind.

“Keep your secrets then.” He scoffed, letting one of his hands dip into the water. It was cool and for a second Katsuki craved nothing more but to tear off his clothes and sink, letting his ears fill up, muffling the sounds of the unbearable world around him. But instead he said. “Just wait until you ask me for something.”

“I would never.” Annoyance forced a scrunch on the bridge of his nose, his pretty face going all ugly. Why didn’t she want to lean on him? He was her ruler. “I would never put more burden on your shoulders, my prince.”

My prince, he was hers but she was not his. She didn’t abide by his needs because she was told to refuse. She was a soldier, a sword in his mothers long-reaching hands that would never be held by him. Her presence reminded Katsuki that he is watched, controlled. Her sharp edge was just underneath his neck, forcing him to hold his chin high, like a prince, and to always look forward, like a future king.

“Why do you have more freedom than I do, huh?” The ugliness never left his face.

“Because I'm nobody.”

“You don’t seem sad about being nobody.”

“Because I’m not.”

Anger bubbled in Katsuki’s veins, promising a night robbed of sleep, one spent twirling in his sheets, gritting his teeth together. Why was this lowborn, this nobody so very free. Why was a capitan, a special guard whose whole existence was dedicated to one painfully narrow task so full of life, so nonchalant. Why did she get to take deep breaths while he was bound to huffs and silent screams. She would never be genuine with him, she did not hold the conversation, she did not answer the questions. She did not talk to him like he wanted, needed. This was a mistake, no longer did he care if it was Hound or Cat at his door tonight. He returned to square one. 

Without another word, Katsuki stood up and left for his chambers. This time the steps following him were silent. The exotic flower leaked its juice onto the marble bench, the sweet stickiness running down to pool at the stone path. It cried silently.

Salty water kissed the shore, although it was running away. The sea wanted to override from the adorned tents and sparkish servants littering the beach. Katsuki’s brows were arched in a nasty frown as he gazed into the endless green and blue and foam, sympathising with it. He would also rather be somewhere else.

While in the castle, the whole party seemed quite peaceful, reserved, safe for a few shallow friendships that were now being brought back to life. The closer they got to the shore, the louder the multitude got. Further away from hawk-like eyes of chaperones and scrutinising queens, the youthful spirit flourished.

Looking to the right Katsuki fished out Ochaco’s round face. She was seemingly discussing some matter with a well known klutz. Oh, how Katsuki despised Midoriya. As much as Ochaco’s dusty wardrobe reminded of her rather pitiful standing in regards to wealth, Midoriya was the embodiment of her kingdom’s woes. The greenish boy was a historian, respected astronomer, mathematician was he also? Katsuki was not interested in what he was seemingly good at. His wandering eyes, never bold enough to look anyone in the face, shaking hands that drop anything they hold, stuttering voice that can’t produce one legible sentence. All that Midoriya was Katsuki hated. If not for the fact that Ochaco’s outright crush on her kingdom’s scholar kept her far from him, maybe he would even mock them.

“If you consider princess Ochaco a valuable cover for your marital affairs, my prince, I’d suggest you tell her not to touch her dear servant’s hand that often.” Capitan cat did not budge a muscle, gazing straight into the sea.

“Half of these people already know. They don’t mind ‘cause she’s not a real player anyway.” Katsuki answered, also keeping his gaze steady. He felt as if they were two predators, wild cats still in tall grass, awaiting prey on the horizon.

At the back of the tent Yaoyorozu burned holes in the back of Katsuki’s head. She sat straight like a stick. No need to hold that head up so high, no one's gonna put a crown on it either way. After a few nasty fights Katsuki knew better than to start with the queen-wannabe. It was enough that he called her princess in front of everyone.

To Momo’s right, drinking the same tea from a finely painted porcelain, sat Jiro. Katsuki pitied the dark haired girl. If not for being Momo’s personal maid, she would be a nice companion. Unfortunately, she had to listen to her lady’s venomous whispering, while also sending Katsuki glances, hers apologetic.

“The Yaoyorozu ladies must have received your letter, my prince.” Cat stated disinterested.

“Glad to hear that.” Katsuki made sure to welcome Momo with a letter clarifying that she is not on his personal list of candidates. This way he saved both of them unnecessary troubles.

Wind blew salt from over the sea, slapping the blonde’s pale cheeks. A gasp and commotion could be heard at the back of the party. A maid of honour slipped on a lace and fell face-flat onto the sand. Despite no harm caused she needed fanning, a chair and at least three people ensuring her safety.

At that moment Katsuki agreed with his mother. This didn’t happen a lot but as he looked his companion up and down he did admit, through gritted teeth, that his mother at least had taste. Cat was dressed in black. Her boots reached her lower thigh, she must have at least a few knives up there. Simple trousers with horse ride edging in the inside on her legs. A jacket, not too official, nothing that would catch unwanted attention. Under the fine, black material a white sheer blouse peaked out.

Katsuki caught her gaze, she was looking at him from the corner of her vigilant eye.

“Is everything alright, my prince.” Her stance was fine, elegant even, with knees together, head high and hands behind a straight back. She did not look like she sported a stick in her butt like Momo, but rather, like she was born to look down on others, despite being shorter than him.

Suddenly, Katsuki wanted to see her in that white blouse. The delicate material would surely dance in the breeze, as if someone draped bed sheets over a statue. Would she look less sharp without the black jacket widening her shoulders.

“Aren’t you hot in that?” It was indeed a hot, spring day.

“I am.” Cat answered with a lazy blink.

“Then take it off, the jacket.”

And she did, and Katsuki, for a moment, felt as excited, as if she was stripping naked in front of him. He was wrong and right. The material was indeed soft and loose around her, dancing in the light breeze, catching salt to scrub out later. Yet, she did not look even a slight bit softer. Her strange pupils were still in the corner of her eyes.

“Thank you, my prince, this does feel better.”

In comparison to all of the clownish servants and maids behind her back, Cat looked like an empress inspecting the sea as if it washed the shore only for her.

“Oh, Captain!” Giggles erupted behind Katsuki and the corner of his red eyes caught an intruder.

In between colourful dresses another gem in the Todoroki’s crown entertained the maids with cheap tricks. Their restless feet tiptoed to see him better. They couldn’t decide whether to look at his handsome face or glamorous crimson wings. The hybrid, the mutant, the eyes and ears of Todoroki, Capitan Hawks. Katsuki wondered how many of those drooling maids with hungry eyes knew what the man really did for a living. Behind the adorned misfit a shadow of a man, a certain Shinso.

“I’ve never seen this… maid with you before.” If not for the proximity of the man, his voice would die out in the salty wind. The Todoroki prince grew out of thin air in front of Katsuki.

Of course Shoto wouldn’t bother with a greeting, how could the ethereal prince mind something as mundane. Right now the blonde didn’t know whether he’d rather look at Hawk’s stupid tricks or at Shoto’s stoic face. Neither, if he could choose. Those two rarely came in pairs.

“Cat’s not a maid, she’s a guard.” Although he would rather sit quietly through the fact that for the last weeks he moved around with a babysitter, Katsuki felt that his captain’s rank should be highlighted in front of the Todoroki prince. If he had to move around with a her he’d at least show her off, make it seem as if she was a precious and deadly decoration, a blade fastened to his hip.

“Oh yes, my brother’s emerging a few months ago has everyone alert.” Shoto sighed as if he was talking about an unfavourable score in a knight tournament, not about a serial killer stalking the highbourns. A serial killer who came from his own royal family. “Nothing I can do about it right now.” The half and half prince looked into the sea.

You could evaporate from the world and that would surely make that psycho of a brother happy. Katsuki thought but couldn’t really say anything, shouldn’t. Talking about the missing brother in broad daylight was taboo. Cat also seemed to know that.

“Beautiful day for some recreation on the beach, your highness.” Her strange pupils, now more round and relaxed, locked on Shoto. “Are you feeling well, is there anything you would fancy?” Suddenly, Katsuki felt as if Cat was a bit too hospitable.

“Hm, I do maybe feel a little bit bored.” If that was true, Shoto’s plain face hid all of his emotions.

“Is there anything we can do to change that, your highness?” We? Of course, Katsuki should be the one asking that and walking around entertaining the guests. “Maybe a horse ride?” The stoic prince perked up for a moment, nodding his head lightly. “Very well, I will send for steed.”

Soon three sizable horses were brought over, stablemen with bowed heads passing the reins into royal hands. Before they took off Shoto gestured for his captain to come over. Nestled in the saddle, he spoke in a disinterested tone. “We’re going off for a ride, I will be in the Bakugo captain’s care.”

“Do you wish for me to fly over you, your highness?” Katsuki swore he heard a few gasps upon the word fly. It was not an everyday view to see the captain use his wings for something else than showing off. Katsuki was certain the blonde mutant was a creature of the night.

“No need Hawks.” Without another word Shoto dug the heels of his boots into the horse’s side.

It wasn’t long before Katsuki felt left out. He rode slowly behind his two companions, comparing their stances and words. They both seemed rather stiff. Cat’s hips swayed with the horse’s movement, similar to his, but her shoulders were tense, hands gripping the rein with a strange focus to it. Shoto looked like he mounted a horse for the first time. Sure, he kept in the saddle but his body lacked the natural movement. Katsuki was sure his ass would hurt in the evening.

Despite their weird riding, the two managed to uphold a shallow conversation. The blonde deemed the words that left their mouth absolute rubbish, but at the same time he couldn’t find a moment to butt in. Cat and Shoto created an awkward but sturdy combination.

“I find it a day too beautiful to talk about my work.” Cat’s voice was soft, as if she was talking to a child.

“You simply can’t talk about it.” Shoto learned no new boundaries since they saw each other last time, still speaking whatever came to his mind.

“I’m content you understand, your highness.” There was no sense for Katsuki to feel threatened by Shoto’s shallow discovery. Everyone on the court had their secrets and no person yielding a sword was without sins. Every guard, especially the one designated to a prince, was there for a reason no ears should ever catch. The same went for Hawks, who was left far behind in the avalanche of satin and lace, Katsuki knew the man did some shady business but what kind exactly, no clue.

“But the day indeed is beautiful.” Shoto was a poor rider and the fact was painfully visible. The Todoroki prince wasn’t looking ahead of him and if not for the slow pace of their ride, he would surely divert off the route. His eyes were locked on Cat who guided the small group.

Katsuki wanted her to put on the coat once again and shield her chest chiselled in stone. The white blouse, swept by the wind, seemed too vague, to see-through for her. Shoto was looking at his mighty guard and she presented herself in a blouse suitable for a lady in distress, who wandered off too far in her nightgown. Cat’s high-waisted trousers hugged her form accentuating the movement of her hips and Shoto was looking.

“Yes, the weather is warm, very warm in fact.” The prince breathed out and let the rein loose. His horse started to turn the moment it felt a lack of a humans’ hand but Cat was quick to bend down and put it in its track.

“Your highness, you shouldn’t let it loose. The Bakugo horses are known for being feisty.” She scolded him softly.

“Oh, sorry, I just got a bit hot.” Shoto answered, no emotions lacing his tone, as he shrugged off his rich coat. How can he feel at ease after just being scolded by a guard. He tucked the garment around his saddle and kept on with his poor ride, taking back the rein from Cat. Now, both of them were only in white, cotton blouses and Katsuki felt it was too intimate for his liking. Kicking his horse, he jammed between the two.

“I was fucking bored back at the picnic but now it’s even worse.” The blonde brute eyed Shoto who looked back at him with a slightly shocked expression. The fuck you staring at.

“What would make you feel better, my prince?” Cat still looked ahead of herself, disregarding the disruption to her conversation.

“Some action.” He grunted in response. “Like a race.”

Oh, how his blood started to rush in his veins at the thought of challenging his guard. What if he could make her sweat and gasp? Would she fight for her breath, biting her lips while trying to win? Was she even competitive?

“To the southern beach gate.” Katsuki grinned, snaring her into a battle. He also wished to get rid of Shoto, leaving him behind in his poor attempts to catch up.

“Okay.” Cat answered, looking at him from the corner of her eye, unfazed.

Digging his heels hard into the horse’s sides the blonde rushed forward, forcing a canter. He lay low, nearly hugging the massive neck of his steed, gripping the rein hard enough to leave marks on his palms. The horse cut through the sweeping shore line, water splashing from under its hooves. Without looking behind, Katsuki pulled the rein, forcing the animal to turn, guiding it towards a more grassy ground. As soon as his steed felt soil instead of sand it rushed forward with confidence, making Katsuki’s golden hair dishelve in the wind.

The prince reached the gate in master time. He raced the beach since he was six or seven. Gasping, he turned the horse around, combing his now unkempt hair back with his hand. Neither Cat nor Shoto showed up from behind the tall cliffs that hugged the beach from one side. Katsuki relaxed in the saddle, unclipping his own coat and taking it off to feel the breeze hit his softly clothed skin. The prince couldn’t wait to see the look of defeat on Cat’s face.

Soon the two figures turned and came in view, but despite starting with two horses they only came back with one. They neared him and Katsuki felt as if he lost, despite winning the short race. Shoto sat behind his captain, due to the slow pace at the finishing line he wasn’t hugging her tightly, rather his hands sat loosely in her tights. He was flushed tightly against her back, the saddle too small for two people to feel comfortable. As Cat guided the horse close to him, she made it stand side-to-side so that they all could look at each other. Katsuki had a perfect view of how Shoto’s crotch pushed into Cat’s butt, the saddle still too small despite Katsuki’s displeased look.

“Congratulations, my prince, you won.” Cat said without a hint of discomfort.

“Why the fuck are you on one horse? This idiot has his own.” The blonde spoke but his gaze was locked onto where their bodies connected.

“It would be an utmost disrespect of my if I left prince Todoroki alone, my highness, as price Todoroki cannot race.” Katsuki felt a dissonance. With the delicate highborn strapped onto her back, she looked like Todoroki's guard rather than Bakugo’s and such sharing did not fit into his mind. Now, the blonde wished for Hawks who could assist his damned useless prince, to set his Cat free. “The third horse should follow us.” But of course, the damn thing didn’t.

After a while they decided to head back, Cat and Shoto even closer than before. Katsuki didn’t know if he preferred to ride behind them to keep watch over Shoto’s hands or rather in front to save himself the sight of their phantom hugging. As soon as they wandered back to the multitude, which didn’t ignore Shoto’s position, Katsuki jumped off the horse shooting the two a hateful glare. Cat slid off of the horse first and lent a hand to Shoto who gracefully accepted it. They looked like a lady and knight but reversed. The blonde scoffed and threw Cat’s jacket into her hands after grabbing it from her saddle. He draped his coat back over his shoulders and his captain followed, without a word.

“My prince.” Hawks seemed to catch interest in the strange situation. Shoto stood there, between the massive horses in his cotton undershirt only, like a lost child. Of course he forgot his coat as it stayed on the steed that wandered off. “What happened?”

“We raced.” The half and half answered his concerned guard. “Cat offered to take me on her horse to ensure my safety.” He began picking at the hem of his sleeves, as if only now realising his attire.

“Captain.” Hawks bowed his head slightly to Cat in a silent ‘thank you’ which she seemed to ignore. “Did you like it, my prince?”

Shoto looked up slightly. The sky reflected in one of his eyes. “No.” He breathed out after a second of silence.

“Gather yourself, we’re heading inside.” Katsuki scoffed having heard enough of this nonsense. Few heads turned his way, displeased frowns springing on their faces.

He felt immense anger burning in his inside and bubbling up in his veins. The blonde was helpless despite his raging. Nothing he did, no action he undertook today went out as planned. Everywhere he went, the captain’s attitude reminded him that he did not rule over her, every move she made screamed of his mother’s doing. She was perfect in every ounce. Steady, royal and polite. Reserved but at the same time sweet and somehow caring for the ones she had to be, to the tip of her fingers that grazed Shoto’s as he slid off of the horse. Katsuki had enough of this court coded, pompous bullshit. Cat still had plenty of hours of her duty, following his steps wherever he went, entering every room he went into in spite of his curses. So he will head back into the castle, back into his chambers. He will close the door behind them and show her that even though she is under his mothers rule, he will be the one holding her lead. She is stuck with him just as much as he is stuck with her and he will prove to her that there is not one person in this kingdom that doesn’t do as he pleases.

One thing that day went as he planned so far as tiny raindrops fell from the sky bringing the picnic to an end.

“I want you to guard me tonight.”

“As you wish, my prince.”

Katsuki’s attitude was visible in plain sight, his boot clad feet stomping angrily on the paved floor of the castle grounds. A pair of silent steps following his every turn. The rain was hammering down by the time the whole multitude reached safety under a roof and it swept up the dust in corridors, barging in through arched doorways. As he passed down his mother’s fruit garden, Katsuki spotted the obnoxiously rich flowers being tossed around, their soft and fleshy petals torn off clean, revealing a juicy weeping core.

Serves them right, die. He thought as a chill crept up his spine. The flowers and bees will haunt him till the end of his days.

Laundry girls and guards jumped off of his route, as the angry prince stormed through corridors. Just a second longer, a few passageways and he will be safe and sound in his chambers, by the fireplace devouring on its warmth. And then… then what?

“Stop right there, brat.” A voice, harsh like the upcoming thunder, made him halt. Not her, not at this moment! “In, now.” She looked down on him, a frown passing through her features, a hand rich in golden rings holding the door open for him. “Alone.” She spat, looking at the guard behind his back.

With a heart full of hate and stomach bursting with anger Katsuki entered one of the endless rooms of the queen’s. Half-shadow seemed to stick to her butt, the places she spent her time in never lit properly. Was it her preference, safety precautions, or was it simply her ruthlessness oozing out, never letting her taste brightness.

Rulers pay high prices for their power. She used to say, Katsuki barely old enough to reach her knee, as he gripped the silky fabric of her dress, the two of them strolling through parks.

Did it backlash, mother? All the years you spent moulding me in the shape you wanted hitting you back with twice the strength. Katsuki will never be the same as her, he will not let her rule over this kingdom, through his hands, after she closes her eyes for the last time.

“What is it this time, you old hag?” The prince didn’t even bother stepping inside the room, opting for standing in the doorway, his back pressing into the oak.

“I’ve heard you’re overusing one of the guards.” So she took an interest in his little nightly escapades with Cat. Look how caring she could be when it came to her own pawns, merely the second night and she already went into action. “I don’t care how many kitchen girls, maids of honour of even stable boys you fuck, but listen to me carefully here.” The queen’s accusation finger darted his way. “Don’t you dare touch that guard, she has her own duties to fulfil.”

A few painfully long seconds passed by as Katsuki mulled over her words. He had no such intentions in the first place. Sure, a foggy image of putting the stubborn and nonchalant capitan in her place played on repeat in his brain, but he never even thought it through. There was no plan, no certainty in his actions, just plain and primal instincts telling him to assess his superiority. God, did her lessons get to me finally?

And then it clicked. What better place for the one who held her chin so high, the one who shone like a finely polished blade in his mother’s secret box of knives, the one that treated him with so little respect, what better place than under him? Your own games will eat you up, mother. He thought, as a grin crept up his poorly lit face. Once again he reached for the scarce reserves of self-discipline and fought off the smile.

“If you’re really interested in my bedding so much then remember this: I’m not a whore.” He spat, turning to grab the handle, nearly shaking with excitement.

“She’s to be conferred a title of nobility. Don’t you dare destroy it!” But he was no longer listening, the heavy doors swinging open to reveal the disinterested capitan.

Mitsuki was left in silence and darkness, free to contemplate and place the conversation deep within her web. He may not listen, that idiot, but she surely will. Out of all, this outcome was one she didn’t think about earlier, but all is not lost. An easy way out of this mess popped up in her head and let her back rest deep within the cushions of her seating. If he does something stupid, she strikes. If he reflects on his actions and takes the right path, she may see it as a small parenting victory. Plans inside plan, Katsuki. You still know so little.

Inside his chambers, Katsuki sat in front of the fireplace. Patting the place next to his, he gestured for Cat to sit. With curiosity written all over her face, she entered the dimly lit room and sat, legs crossed.

“Speak with me, Cat.” He said, no doubt she knew what he wanted. In the fruit garden, Katsuki felt the need to have her be true to him. Now, it was only a game. He didn’t care whether she was forcing, lying or spitting facts about herself, all he needed was for her to feel safe. Could he fool her, lure her like a moth to light, or will he just have to take her by force?

He slowly got why they called her Cat. The captain was agile and quick, silent and with a certain liquid-like laziness to her. Cats’ had claws, sure, but they would not stand a chance in front of a lion.

“So, you’re gonna become a nobility? How generous of my mother.” The blonde nearly laughed. So very generous to me.

“My task requires me to attain that title, yes.” She was looking around the room, from the fur draped bed in the far back, through the windows now obliterated with heavy covers, to the fireplace that cast a warm hue on her features.

“If I was you, I’d rather stay a nobody.” A slight scrunch to her nose and Katsuki knew she wanted to say something but her lips remained a straight line. “Not spilling your secrets, huh?”

“You’re not spilling yours, my prince.” Her turn of tables was sudden, she seemed a master at guiding a conversation away from herself.

“What secrets do I have? There is no such thing as privacy for a prince.” His eyes wandered to her crossed legs, just for a second, not to draw unwanted attention from the vigilant, strange eyes. Will she fight? Will she tear her claws into his back or will she succumb, like a cute little kitten?

“Everyone has secrets.”

“And my mother has the most.”

Cat let out a small, genuine laugh. It was like a warm breeze from over the beach on a spring day that you don’t expect, one that has you thinking about the beauty of summer, glistering water and hot days. One that puts a smile on your face. For a second Katsuki thought that making her hate him could hurt. But then, she rested her hands on the floor behind her, her chest stretching, the adorned buttons reflecting the light of the fireplace, the crest of his royal family. His thought was gone, like a single strand of silk that snaps. It was replaced with the need to tear those buttons, one by one, showing her how deep in his ass he had her duty.

“When will you get the title?”

“In a month.” Her eyes never really landed on him since she entered the room.

“So simultaneously with the first engagements.” He stated, matter-of-factly.

There was a shuffle and one of the covers moved as if a strong wind smacked the side of the castle. In an instant Cat went from relaxed and lazy to high alert. It made Katsuki second guess his strength over her.

“Stay put, my prince, I will check this.” With a knife steady in her hand, the captain crept up to the window, her steps silent as ever. After peaking out her head slowly she let her shoulders slump back. “It’s just a fat owl.”

Cat took her place back beside him, hiding the knife away. Just how many did she hold?

“Speaking of engagements.” Something shifted in the way she was looking at him, from under her lashes, her pupils strangely small. Suddenly, Katsuki felt like a prey. “How is your wife hunt going?”

So he wasn’t the only one titling the whole farce a hunt. Nonetheless, the question took him off guard and the blonde promised himself to punish her for each and every time she’d done that so far.

“Like each year. I’m sending hateful letters and pretending not to see Ochaco’s tries to get pregnant with that useless scholar of hers.” He had to take it slow, getting closer inch by inch.

Cat hummed in response, seemingly falling in deep thought. Turning, she lay down, her cheeks facing the fireplace to catch more of the delicious warmth. “Your mother seems to be displeased with your doings, my prince.”

“Nothing I do ever pleases her.” He scoffed, drinking in her vulnerable position, with hands under her head, one leg propped up.

“That’s because you’re acting like a pawn, not like a player.” The punishment of hers will be severe. “Instead of breaking her rules, challenge them. Make your own plans and put them into action, let them collide with hers to see who can weave a better web.” Cat looked him straight in the eye and what Katsuki saw was some kind of amusement, as if the woman was a spectator in a theatre, watching the play unfold before her.

Once again Katsuki felt like he realised something too late.

“Do you want to be a nobility?” He asked, his voice shaky with excitement and unease.

“I’ve already told you, I was fine as a nobody but my task requires me to be elevated.” Her voice was utterly disinterested, as if she was talking about someone else.

She was forced into things just as much as he was. She was a pawn and how could she not be exasperated with his doings. He was indeed acting like the little chess piece in his mothers arms, able to move only one square each side on his own. All the while he had the potential to become a player. Don’t worry my dear, I will answer your silent prayer. With the way she spoke to him, to the best of her ability given her position, the way she moved, the way she looked at him. It was all a quiet ask for him to use the given situation.

Katsuki didn’t know the details of this supposed mission of hers, why she had to become a nobility, but what he knew, finally caught, was that she looked for a way to wiggle out of it. He was the way.

On all fours, the prince crept up to his capitan. She was just about to question what is it that you need, my prince but he silenced her ask with his lips.

His hands roamed the thick black jacket, tearing the upper buttons just as he wished to, lips clasped tightly around hers, tongue exploring the bratty, nonchalant mouth. As he tore down the jacket and blouse from one of her shoulders, revealing her soft skin and one of her breasts, he spotted little scars scattered every now and then. Without second thought he began marking the uneven skin from the crook of her neck to the soft mound. Katsuki felt the need to grind on her tight, his excitement growing at the taste of her cleavage and then he received a hard kick to his abdomen.

He felt the heat of her body slip from under him as he fell forward, cheek hitting the place where she was just a second ago, the prickly rug damaging the side of his face. A weight on his back forced him down, a dull pain spreading from under one of his shoulder blades. The prince wanted to gasp but there was no air in his lungs, his throat constricted by a tiny hand with nails way too sharp.

“What is it that you’re doing, my prince?” Her voice was venomous, like she wanted to spit on him. Her hand grabbed his fair hair, letting him take in a shaky breath. He was forced to look at her from the corner of his eye, his scalp burning with the way she tugged his strands.

Her jacket and blouse were still undone, now both of her breasts spilling out, revealing a set of marks twin to the one he just gave her. Katsuki started to laugh.

“So you’re allowed to sleep around with others but I’m not good enough for you, huh?” The blonde didn’t know what hurt more, the grip on his hair, the knee in his shoulder blade or the rejection and lack of willpower to throw her off.

“You’re my prince, I could not possibly sleep with you.” She spat.

“Prince this, prince that. Fuck you.” He bared his teeth at her, but all that it gave him was dust in his mouth. “I’m too much of a price to get to dick you down but not prince enough to not treat me like a peasant thief! Let go of me, posing danger to your crown is punished by death.”

“I’m not posing any danger to you, my prince. Just keeping you on the right track. My ass is not beside it.”

“Everyone gets to tell me what to do. Get the hell off of me and fuck off, you and everyone!” His trashing built up. The prince tried to surpass the pain in his back but the more he moved, the harder she pushed. Her knee slid dangerously to his spine and dug in, earning a cry from him.

“Then stop fucking around and start acting. Stop pushing your nose in other peoples’ games and start playing your own, my prince.” With that she let go.

As soon as he felt relief in his back, Katsuki jumped to his knees with a hiss, the bruised muscles burning. He swung around drawing a knife of his own but the captain was already at the door. She pulled the loose material of her blouse making her breasts jiggle and fall back into their constricts. Katsuki wished to grab them as hard as her throat to choke all of her curses right out, fuck her until she couldn’t think of any more.

A look of disgust, one of hatred, fear or at least hurt, anything would be better than the expression she held. Her eyes were focused, crazed, corners of her lips turned upwards in a grin, the overall look apologetic. She traced the hickeys on her neck with a finger before letting her arm loose.

Cat pushed the door open and disappeared into the night. Mere seconds after the knife dug into the wood just where her forehead was. Katsuki stood alone in the dimly lit room unable to throw the look of her face out of his head. Once again he felt like his actions were not his own, like he was a puppet with millions of strings pulled by everyone.

The golden prince asking for a private audience with the queen was nearly as rare as getting struck by lightning twice, or shitting out a diamond. Yet, here he was, opening the door to her sombre writing room, the lowlife soldiers and gardeners whispering behind his back.

Yesterday night had him thinking hard, hard enough to cause a persistent headache. He didn’t give a shit about Cat’s rejection. Truth be told, he did not need overflowing affection to force her into a relationship, which is what he demanded right now.

Katsuki has been beaten in training, thousands of bruises littering his skin after every match with Kirishima. The prince was berated for his attitude by scholars and other hotshots of this kingdom. He was feared and despised by damsels who faked their interest, performing the never ending ritual of fluttering their eyelashes and sparing him glances appropriate for virgins. Katsuki was many things and beard even more every day on the court, but never has he felt as used as he does now.

Stop pushing your nose in other peoples’ games and start playing your own, my prince.

He wished never to play any games, he desired nothing more but a truthful life and even more clear ruling. He promised himself that he would never be like his mother. He was supposed to be a lion, a dragon, not a spider sitting in the dark, weaving never ending strings of lies and deception. Katsuki will achieve what he wants, and he will force the woman that used him so badly last night to finally see with her own eyes that a crystal clear world is possible, under his watchful eye.

She will watch and she will gape in awe. Then, she will thank me.

Was it a simple demonstration of power that he wanted? Did he feel the need to snatch one of his mother’s toys for his own use to anger her? Did he want Cat to sob, kneeling and clutching his cloak, thanking him for breaking her out from the web. Did he want to break her out? Was he seeing a reflection of himself in her so very strange eyes, what he could have been if he let his mother toss him around? Or maybe he simply wanted to silence her, show her that at the end of the day he’s the one dealing the cards of their fate.

Katsuki was not sure what his intentions were. What he did plan though, all night long, was his next step.

“Listen closely ‘cause I’ll only say it once.” The blonde shut the heavy door, leaving all of the whispers and commotion outside. The smell of parchment and ink was heavy in the dusty air.

“What do you want from me today, brat?” Mitsuki sighed.

“I decided on my bride. I want -”

The queen started silencing him, waving a ring-heavy hand in front of her face. This indeed was a strange day because Katsuki listened.

“Let me savour this moment, son.” Son. The word left her lips so rarely it sounded exotic. The queen stood up, shoving the dark adorned chair and straightening her dress. She circled the desk, reached for two goblets and poured wine for both of them, blood red wine. “So, who’s the unlucky one?”.

“Cat, in a month. When she will become a nobility.” The vessel felt odd in his hand. Katsuki never really drank with his mother on other occasions than representative ones. This intimate moment, the two of them sharing good wine, discussing the future, and coming to an agreement, Katsuki could almost get fooled. Almost.

“Not a chance.” She threw disinterested, not interrupting her savouring of the wine.

“One scandal is all I need to make the girl utterly worthless, the only option she - the both of you will have is either give her away to me or have her disgraced for life.” The bloody liquid shook in his golden goblet.

“As if you would be able to corner her.” The queen laughed, a venomous, derogatory snicker. “Don’t even get started. I already know about everything from yesterday.”

Katsuki scoffed. So she did run back to her torturer and spill out everything, just as she promised she wouldn’t.

There is no such thing as a promise here, on court.

Of course, she never even promised anything in the first place.

“And here I was, thinking you got smarter over the night.” The queen sat down by the desk, getting back to her initial position and attitude, cold, closed, and angry.

“What is your problem? Why can’t I get her? She’s strong and seems rather clever, knows a lot about the court and will be free of any family baggage.” Katsuki put the wine on his mother’s desk, restraining himself from dousing her mocking face in it.

“The girl has other duties.” Dipping a long quill in ink, she began to write, not sparing her son even a glance.

“Ones that she doesn’t want.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“No. But-”

“Then that is not true.” When Mitsuki finally turned towards Katsuki, her gaze was stern and utterly disappointed. A grimace twisted her face, one that often blemished his. They were so similar. “Make a smart choice, take Ochaco. Her family is too poor to pose any political danger to us and they will gladly agree to whatever we say. If you despise her that much you can beget a son with any whore in this kingdom and we will simply make Ochoco pretend it’s hers. From what it looks like the princess already has a sweetheart so as long as you let her keep that boy in her chambers, you won’t have to even look at her a second time.”

Katsuki gritted his teeth until his jaw cried out in pain.

“Is this the life you want for me?” He asked with unconcealed anger oozing out of every pore in his body.

“That’s a life I don’t want for anyone.” She shoved the quill down the long inkpot and looked at her prince. “But you’re a future king, you don’t get the courtesy of doing what you like or want. You do what’s best for the nation, for all of your people.”

Thousands of thoughts spiralled in Katsuki’s aching head, none of which showed him a route to victory in this war. Either way he will lose something. Now, he has to pick how much damage he will inflict on himself in order to please everybody else, to secure the nation, to become a king.

“And what if I give you a compromise, mother.” Without a doubt the name took her by surprise. For a second she saw her little boy, the fair haired ball of anger, clinging to the hem of her dress, shouting and cursing into the air. Mitsuki knew that time was long gone. If she kept treating him like a child, like a son, she would lose her priorities, their shared priorities - the lineage, the court, the kingdom.

“What compromise would it be?”

“I take Ochaco and you give me Cat as a mother of my children. Ochaco will pretend it’s hers in front of the whole damn world. Inside my chambers I get to savour my real family.”

There was a long while of utter silence. No scolding, snickering or curses left the queen’s lips, much to Katsuki’s surprise. Fear and excitement started to sink into his bones, fear for rejection, excitement for the time glimmer of hope that the silence lit.

“I will think about it. That is-” A long sigh, biting her lower lip and looking at the narrow window. “That’s not the best option but it also ain’t the worst one.”

Their gaze met for the last time this day. Her eyes were distant, calculating something in her head, weighing the options and fitting them into her web.

“I will think about it. For now, Cat is withdrawn from your side due to your abuse. The last outbreak of the Todoroki eldest forces me to strengthen their garda with my own forces. I do not wish to put more of my soldiers into broad daylight than I have to, therefore Cat will be appointed as another guard for Todoroki. Kirishima, who I will bring back, and Hound will guard your side in the daytime. For the night, a new guard will be appointed but do care to keep him out of the picture as much as you can.”

“Did you know that our families would already be connected if not for my sister's holy order?”

“Everyone has their duties.”

The lukewarm conversation between Shoto and his newly appointed babysitter made Katsuki nauseous. They were discussing everything and nothing at the same time. How the weather was nice, who would likely get engaged this year, what tea is the most refreshing for the upcoming summer, how buffed sleeves are going into fashion.

“That’s true, but it would be nice to have Katsuki and my sister married.” Saying this the half and half prince looked at his blonde companion. Biting his tongue, Katsuki forced himself to look away. The Todoroki princess was not needed in this conversation. “We did not suppose that Queen Bakugo would only bear one child. That’s a pity but we are still looking for a way to connect our bloodlines.”

We. Shoto was speaking as if he had a say in his fathers plans. The thought of the ethereal prince having more power in his kingdom than Katsuki had in his angered him further. Kirishima huffed quietly as he always did when his golden bastard of a prince became moody. Hound seemed to be sleeping in the back of the open sun terrace where a small social gathering was being held. Supposedly courtesy of Katsuki, truthly his mother's.

“Creating an alliance between the two neighbourhood kingdoms would be a powerful move, your highness.”

“It would. Do you want to try?” Despite a few wide-eyed stares, Shoto grabbed a golden plate with rich chocolate pralines and offered it to Cat.

“I must refuse, your highness.” With a polite face and a tiny smile, the capitan shook her head.

“Such a pity. You don’t like sweets?”

“I do. I just simply don’t have the appetite right now.” Of course she couldn’t scold him by telling the prince that offering what should be for the royals to a mere guard is a faux pas. Katsuki snickered, catching Cat’s gaze, savouring it as long as she spared it.

“Hawks also likse sweets, don’t you?” The centre of all female attention of the room (maybe beside Ochaco) nodded his head. “You two have something in common. That and the fact that you’re both called with animal names.”

The two guards looked at each other. Hawks flashed his signature grin while Cat answered with lack of interest, looking up into the sky .The warm breeze made loose strands of her hair dance. Katsuki wished to comb his fingers in them and grip tight.

“That’s funny. Birds and cats don’t usually go together.” Shoto laughed and a few other people decided it would be a good idea to accompany, even if the joke was lame.

“It’s just a pseudonym, your highness.”

“Oh, so you do have a name? Hawks also has one.” A few interested heads turned their way. “But sadly I don’t know it. And even if I would, I couldn't really tell you.”

“Likewise, your highness.”

Never in his life has Katsuki experienced such a talkative Shoto. The blonde honestly thought that the lack of expression on the stone-like face of the half and half prince connected with his utter silence was the bane of his existence. A chirping Shoto came out to be even worse.

“Now that you’re in my party-” Katsuki hated the sound of those words. “I should have Hawks take you for a flight. The sea looks magnificent from that height.”

Cat clicked her tongue but shut her mouth, opting for a smile only.

“It would be an honour.” The winged man butted in. “Unless you’re scared of heights.”

“I am not, thank you very much.” The civil smile that Cat graced Shoto with turned ironic when she faced Hawks. Katsuki guessed cats and birds indeed don’t go well together, as the two seemed to hold some kind of grudge.

“You should try now! I want to see Hawks fly. The terrace is a perfect spot to take off.” Shoto pointed at the dead drop that fanned out on the other side of the railing. “Believe me it’s fun.”

Without an appropriate option to say no, Cat was left nearing the edge of the sun terrace, looking over into the ground down below. Every head was turned her way, some glances jealous as the winged capitan’s hands snaked around her waist. She twisted in his grab, placing her arms around his neck.

“Should you feel scared, don’t hesitate to use your legs as well.” A grin sprung on his handsome face and a maid sitting behind Katsuki started to fan herself. Katsuki wished for nothing more than to rip the sticky hands of the capitan away from Cat but any outburst could blow his cover. Shoto looked as pleased as punch.

“Thank you, I’ll see how it goes.” At least Cat’s face made Katsuki less angry as she held a slightly disgusted grimace, looking over her shoulder at the drop. Maybe it could be fun, hearing her bloody scream as they take off.

Nothing like that happened. One second Hawks was standing on the railing, with the captain in his hands, the next they were gone. He fell face-forward into the air and a couple of loud flirts later they were both far away, heading for the sea.

Few girls ran to the edge of the terrace, squinting their eyes in the sun, trying to make out the shrinking figures. Hound puffed out air through his nose, standing up from his sitting point, taking the place of the now gone guards beside Shoto’s back.

“Katsuki.”

“Young prince.”

Young prince. The adjective must have tasted like a well aged wine on the tongue of King Todoroki. He savoured every second of diminishing Katsuki. This, the aggression, dominance, and ruthlessness was a game the golden prince knew how to play, and he was more than happy to compete.

“You are not needed in this conversation.” His mother graced him with a pale cheek and a side eyed look. There was no need for her to go to the extent of turning to face him fully, for he was barely a prince.

“Why so? As a future king he may want to bear witness to changes.” Spite as sweet as sun kissed strawberries.

The Queen sent a dirty look towards King Todoroki, but abided by his unusual invitation. As Katsuki took a step inside the darkened room his gaze met Shoto. Changes? What changes were they talking about?

Suddenly Katsuki was back to his youth. Mitsuki dragged him by the shoulder that stretched painfully with every insistent tug. They nearly ran, passing monumental columns and soaring windows. The small, maybe ten years old Katsuki was thrown into a room, the doors shutting behind them as darkness enveloped his boyish figure.

“You are not to play a king when you are not one!”

She yelled, gritting her teeth. All the young prince did was slam through the door to a council meeting, shouting his ideas to the thousand-year-old ministers, just like his mother did every time she felt the need to be heard.

Was he being stuffed in a costume, with a fake crown and staff just now? Were they going to burst in laughter straight to his face? Were they, once again, leaving him behind, deciding what’s the best for him without bothering to ask the object’s opinion? Was this even going to be about him? With two Todoroki members present nothing was certain.

“What are you discussing?” Katsuki knew better than to allow them such games.

“The possibility of connecting our bloodlines.” The Todoroki King outran Mitsuki in his explanation.

“Have you kept a daughter in hiding all these years?” Katsuki snickered, spreading out in the richly padded chair, the soft cushions embracing his tired back.

“It shall not be a true blood connection but one that will be politically accurate.” His mother swished yet another blood red wine around a crystal glass. Some wondered whether she ever drank them or simply held them as decoration.

“And one that will please Shoto.” Since when did the King care for his childrens’ pleasure?

The ethereal prince kept his cool, the porcelain mask that he seemed to have been born with secured his face, declining Katsuki any chance at guessing what hid under the facade. If anything lay there at all.

Weave your own web.

He will not, Katsuki will stand up to any fight thrown his way. He will clash, head straight, with anything that stands in his way. If he is to become the king he wishes to be, he needs to target the right opponent, one that will one day bear the twin seat of kingship.

“So are you finally getting some bitches, half n’ half?”

“I would certainly not call her that.” Shoto looked down to the floor. He seemed to be tracing the hewed lines of the stone, peaking out of the opulent rugs, as if he longed for their cold in this castle burning with hatred.

“Then what would you?”

“I would like to know if she finally decided to give out her name.”

That sickly sweet, hazy gaze, his ring heavy fingers rubbing mindless circles into the chair’s armrest, the lightness of his shoulders. Shoto, despite being the least persistent, the most insular, the quietest and the most delicate looked like a captor in this very moment. He didn’t even spare Katsuki a glance. Why would he? Shoto already got what Katsuki couldn’t have.

There was always the possibility of a misunderstanding. It couldn’t be the enigmatic Cat he was talking about. As much as the golden prince fought with the idea, his instincts told him otherwise. What other nameless woman caught Shoto’s scarce interest? Who else was soon to bear a political position.

The Queen gazed upon a window, a small one embedded into the sloping ceiling, where the moon showed its palace cheek. It was shamelessly bright this might, no clouds obscuring the view. Katsuki wondered whether his mother was a werewolf or a witch, looking so intensely into the silvery disc, not sparing her son even one glance.

Later that night, away in his chambers Katsuki sought the centre of this labyrinth. He was forcefully removed from the small meeting held between the monarchs, as he started an argument that is and would always be out of his power, his mother’s words.

Was it all planned? Was Cat meant for Shoto from the very beginning? It that why she was getting the title? Was she supposed to get closer to the half and half prince by Katsuki’s means?

That would be pointless. She could just be admitted to the Todoroki prince from the beginning. Katsuki’s involvement in this operation didn’t make sense. He was an additional piece that didn’t fit anywhere. And his mother never used to be futile in her resources.

Ever since Katsuki was fifteen, he was forced into every marital council meeting. They were held in a rather grand room, seating kings and queens, their ministers and right-hands. Servants run round with bowed heads pouring wine to goblets that never seemed to be resting on the table, rather the content was being poured down thirsty throats. The chatter was loud, the whole room buzzing like a bees nest. Or more like hornets with how sharp these peoples’ claws were.

The golden prince paced around the castle looking for such a meeting. Sure as hell he should hear them from one of many open doors, he should smell the rich appetisers resting on the long table, he should get a damned invitation to take part! Just as he got one every year, one that was laced with his mother’s threats. If you don’t come I will kill you. Not this year.

As much as the guards and servants tried to dodge his questions, running away in the halls, hiding in chambers, pretending to be busy, all it took was one, too squeaky, cook’s helper. Katsuki learned the meeting was already being held. His mother sure as hell tried to keep him out of this one.

As he stormed the hallways towards the grand room with the painfully long table he gathered his thoughts. Of course he would burst with his decision - he will be with Cat. Katsuki never before wanted any particular wife, he was never interested in any woman like that. Suddenly, in a matter of a few months, one has given him several reasons to claim her.

Of course it would never be love that would be the thing, the force that pushed him towards someone. Katsuki was not sure whether he even knew what love tasted like. But the thought of taking away one of his mother’s swords excited him as if he was a young boy on his first horse ride. The prince would take the guard, a person so very intimate to his mother, and show her how much better he is. Without the web, the schemes, the grand plans and dirty business, without all this gruesome fakeness she will have the opportunity to be free. And he will savour her freedom as if it was his own. He will hold the decision of her title, he will make her stay a nobody - a sweet, safe and secured nobody.

Together the two of them will rub what best they hold on one another. Her confidence, high held chin and perfect stance, will be the best decoration for his crown, one that she will be in his private chambers - a queen worth her place. Then, Katsuki will grace her with all the time, resources and freedom she will want. Of course as long as she fulfils her duties in the keeping of the lineage, but that is a price she will surely be able to pay. That woman is not stupid.

The golden prince, the golden king will make her pleased and he will spread out a new and better world in front of her - one ruled by lions and cats, not by spiders.

Katsuki will beat Shoto in this game. He will never let the ethereal, thin as air and nonexistent in his own way, take away such a precious gem, one pulsing with life that will surely die out in the cold hands of the Todoroki. He will not let her be taken away from the kingdom she is accustomed to.

Cat will be sharp and nonchalant, lazy and harsh, smiling and teasing all for Katsuki, never for Shoto nor for anyone else.

Was it a pathetic feeling of, once in his life, being phantom close to someone? Was his conqueror nature building up in his veins, ready to overflow any given second? Was it resistance or maybe simply a caprice? With all due respect, Katsuki did not care which he chose to side with, the only thing he was certain as he pushed the door to the meeting room was that he would walk out of here with Cat in hand.

To his utter surprise there were no servants moving around in a mismatched pattern around the room. Wine was scarce as everyone, bunched around the far end of the long table, preferred to keep a sober mind. All the heads darted his way as Katsuki strolled closer to them, hiding his shock at the unusual scene.

“I honestly thought younge prince would be absent today.” King Todoroki laughed shortly, propping both of his elbows on the table, observing Katsuki like a predator.

“How could I miss the council meeting where I announce my bride.”

Despite the king being decision making here, the blonde spoke his words to Shoto. They held a short and intense stare - Katsuki fierce, Shoto not seemingly comprehending.

“And who would that be?” Lord Yaoyorozu peaked from behind the King, his gaze held hope, or rather despair.

“That will be…” For a split second Katsuki looked at his mother. He screamed inside, his ego trashing in the golden cage it was kept hostage. Why from all moments did he have to instinctively look at her? It was his decision, his statement, his milestone and step to take. Why did his gaze wander to her face, and more importantly, why was she nodding? “That will be princess Ochaco.”

Murmurs spread through the small gathering. Someone seemed to pat king Uraraka for he perked up suddenly, whispering prayers.

“That girl is disgraced!” Yaoyorozu seemed too enraged with his defeat, spitting venom on the poor princess. “I want her dignity checked!”

“First of all, her ass is no business of yours, Lord.” As much as he hated himself for this, Katsuki mimicked the manner in which King Todoroki diminished him, piercing the red-faced man with undeniable truth - difference in positions. “Second, I’ve known her for the longest time. That green-haired idiot does not interest me, she can keep him or kill him for all I care. I just want you all off my back and my heir on the way.”

Once again Katsuki mindlessly strayed towards his mother’s gaze. She was eying him intensely, her palms gripping the armrests of her throne. A smirk grazed her sharp features. She threw a quick order at the Yaoyorozu Lord sitting next to her and soon the whole row changed seats, allowing for Katsuki to take place by her side.

“We will play this out just as you wanted.” She whispered when he came close to her and a shiver went up his spine. We, as you wanted. She accepted his compromise. Katsuki came out with a proposition and she heard him, thought it through and let it pass. They were playing on the same side. The prince didn’t know what thrilled him more, the idea of his plan working out or the feeling of having one of the most powerful people next to him, with him for once.

“Very well. Now let’s get back to the matter we were discussing before someone decided it was his turn to speak.” Katsuki remembered, it was the Todoroki King who laughed at his mother hard enough, at the counsil meeting, to make her punish her own son so hard. He started to understand Shoto a bit more - if he had a father like this he would also detach himself from reality.

“Shoto.”

“I ask for the hand of a lady from your kingdom, your highness.” The prince, delicate as a flower, bowed his head slightly, but it quickly sprung up towards the Bakugo Queen. He looked like a kid waiting for a response, whether he can go play outside or not.

“With all due respect, I must decline your offer for now.”

It was the second time this day when the small gathering went rampage with whispers. The men in the room looked around each other in disbelief. The show certainly didn’t go along with the script.

With a hard tug of his father’s hand, Shoto was pushed back into the seat from his standing position. The now disorientated prince looked around the room, at the Queen’s face and finally at Katsuki who was now grinning wide. Something flicked behind his glassy eyes, something like understanding.

“And why is that, your highness?” King Todoroki seemed to send the deadliest looks of them all. At first they were directed at the Queen but soon, he caught Katsuki’s unpleasant smile. “So that’s how you’re playing it out.”

He must have caught the act quickly. The night of Katsuki’s bursting in during the small gathering the four of them held, it gave him out. But it didn’t matter, it had already been decided and no amount of the King’s trashing could override his mother’s words. After all, Cat was a property of the Bakugo’s.

“Bring the girl here.” The King demanded.

“There’s no need for that.”

“If we are to decide on an agreement tonight, the girl will come here. I find it obvious that you suddenly decide to gatekeep a thing that, one way or another, was supposed to connect our kingdoms. I want to, at least, hear the girl say it. I want her to pick!” This time it was the King speaking to Katsuki and not his mother. His nails would surely leave bloody marks with how hard the young prince was digging them into his own palms - all out of excitement. “I want her to come here, look at you, and tell us all she picks you.”

Cold sweat seemed to grow on Katsuki’s skin. One look at his mother and she knew he didn’t talk to the very girl. Yet, he was sure she would pick him over Shoto.

“What is going on, who are you talking about?” King Uraraka seemed as lost as the rest of the people, save for the Bakugos and Todorokis. “Weren’t you just talking about marrying Ochaco, prince?”

“And I will. I will make her my wife and then both of us can go back to our own… picks.”

Finally, the Uraraka king seemed to understand. His gaze lowered slightly as his back plopped against the chair. Despite the rather pitiful look of a man who knew his worthlessness, he did not oppose a single word. Maybe he knew what Katsuki was offering was honestly the best option for his daughter. Even though their royal family would most likely be a mixture of green, blonde and god knows what else.

“Fine. Go get the girl.”

A few long minutes passed in silence. The only sound in the room was the cracking of wood in the big fireplace. The air seemed to buzz with anticipation and unease. No one dared to look at each other. No one except for Katsuki drilling holes in Shoto’s mismatched head.

When the doors opened to reveal Cat all faced her way. She stood by the large, wooden wings.

“Come.” The Queen ordered.

Cat looked into the hallway she just came through as if someone would be there. After a second she came closer, with a few long strides, and was now standing with her hands behind a straight back, waiting for more orders. Despite her confident face she was looking upwards.

“Due to a misunderstanding we wish to ask you something.” The Queen turned directly to her guard and Katsuki followed her gaze. Cat was standing just behind his shoulder. If he reached out his hand he could grab her, touch her, signal to her to give the damn right answer to the upcoming question. But she was looking upwards, avoiding even his mother’s gaze, like a good soldier. “Do you wish to attain a title of nobility and be honoured with the possibility of connecting the Bakugos to the Todorokis in a political agreement, or do you wish to stay lowborned and help to elongate the Bakugo lineage.”

Silence fell upon the room as all awaited for an answer, one that could change the political stability of millions of square kilometres. Some feared, some sought possibilities, others clenched their jaws or bore their eyes into the guard, standing alone like a single strand of grass in a thunderstorm.

Cat took in a sharp breath and for the first time, she looked down on the Queen. At that moment Katsuki knew his world was about to fall apart once again. She never would and never will talk to him, with him, as he needs it.

Slowly, the woman went lower and lower, bending her knees, her back, her neck. She dropped onto the floor silently which made her voice contrast even more. She spoke with reserve and power.

“If I may beg you, your highnesses, I wish to finish the original plan.” I pick Shoto, I wish to be a nobility, I hate you. Katsuki braced himself for one of these, what other reason would she have for not looking at him as she made her decision? Cat picked her head up from next to her knee and looked straight at the Queen. “I missed four breaks in my service.”

The Queen gasped. It was short and unexpected, only for Katsuki and Cat to see. She blinked a few times as if trying to get rid of the shock from her features before she faced the other way, back to the awaiting group.

“Enji, I think we might have overdone ourselves this time.” Both Todorokis turned abruptly towards the Queen. Shoto was shell shocked from hearing his fathers name fall out of the queen's lips. The King looked stunned as his son.

“The original plan.” He muttered.

“What the fuck is the original plan? What break in service?” Katsuki cried out like a madman for truthly, he felt mad. Plans in plans in plans.

“Everyone out!” The Queen rising to her feet was all that it took for the rest of the men to usher out of the room. All they did was look back behind the shoulders and whisper. Weak.

It was only the five of them left and the room felt like a gruesome overkill. Without much comprehension Katsuki switched between looking at his mother and Cat, both of whom didn't spare him a single glance since the enigmatic words. King Todoroki was still seated in his original place, with his face in his palms, calculating something meticulously in his head. Shoto looked as disorientated as he was at the beginning, failing to grasp even a strand of understanding in this strange situation. Now, he opted to look at his father’s cheek, awaiting an explanation.

“What is the original plan?” Katsuki hated the need to repeat himself.

“The original plan can come in, I think.” The Queen sighed, gulping down wine that she greedily clawed at the moment she sat back in her spacious throne. Soon, she repeated the same but this time she was shouting.

The doors began to open slowly, as if someone was testing the waters before jumping into the whirlpool before him. A crimson wing was first to enter, then a halo of golden hair and strange marked eyes that quickly fished out his target in the group. Hawks came to a stop just behind his king, mimicking the way in which Cat was holding herself.

“Did the two of you… proceed with the plan?” Enji Todoroki broke the silence first.

“Yes, my king.” Hawks answered for them both.

“When?”

“First thing when we came here, around four months ago.” Hawks looked somewhere far, into a memory maybe, one that was not brought back to life, wrestled out of the nooks and crannies of his privacy. “We did not expect… such obstacles.”

“Because there shouldn’t have been any obstacles in the first place.” The Queen was looking down, on the table, her eyes darkened. “We got caught up in our sons’ stupid games, Enji.” The king's name felt oddly at home on her tongue. The third person she used, how she removed both of the princes from the conversation. Thai was not meant for their ears, they were only unlocking this secret because someone, by mistake, pushed the keys into their hands in a hurry. They stood in the right place at the right time.

“Then we shall proceed with the plan.” The Todoroki King finally looked up and turned towards Hawks. His ever-scolding gaze felt light right now, like he was testing something, looking for a sign on his guard's face.

“I will ask for the last time…” Katsuki desperately tried to earn some attention, to finally know what the whole farce was about.

“What you will do is shut up and listen, for I will only tell it once.” His mother’s words were sharp but her gaze was apologising when she looked at him. As if she was silently trying to tell him, I’m sorry. And Katsuki will understand her, because in the end even she was stripped down from the possibility of choosing who really dealt the cards.

“The original plan, one that has been going on for years now, was to breed, create two strong people - a man and a woman. Many were tested, many like the ones that consist of my or the King’s personal guards.” Katsuki knew who she meant, not the regular soldiers but the ones like Cat and Hound. “When we found two that would perfectly match each other we were supposed to title them nobility and marry them together to produce even better offspring. Children that would join the two kingdoms with a tie so strong that no one would have the guts to attack and expose oneself to the power.”

“And these people are…” Shoto finally mustered the strength to mutter.

“At this point there is no denying that the plan will succeed. There is no chance Shoto will have Cat and neither can Katsuki. Both of you could ruin the royal lineage if your supposed firstborn came out with red wings.”

From the very beginning, from the moment Katsuki wandered his mother’s garden at night and found Cat shuffling around the bush, she already weaved her web. They already weaved their web. The business she had to take care of at free days, the hickeys he found under her collar, around her breast, maybe even further. The fat owl who sat that night on the windowsill. It was him, him all along, everywhere behind her, inside her, with her.

Her strange pupils that now, finally, found a place in Katsuki’s mind. A cat, elongated and extremely sensitive to light and relaxation. Maybe she didn’t have such grand evidence of her animal nature like Hawks but sure as hell she acted on her instincts.

“We need to arrange the wedding quickly or else you will miraculously bear a child in three months.” The Queen sighed.

“Best to do it next week, as an opening of the season.” The King answered.

Katsuki lacked the willpower to fight anymore. How could he win her over when he already lost at the beginning. Soon, he will have a seat in the first row to see Cat take the hand of a different man. In a matter of months he will be able to look at the fruit of their… what was it between them? Nature, instincts, orders, loyalty or love? Maybe he would ask her. Maybe she will tell him what’s it like?

As Katsuki looked at Cat, she was already gazing into him, through him. For the first time since he met her she looked taken aback. Her plan worked and all that will have to settle into her brain. Apart from the trouble on her face there was also regret, her eyes spoke a silent apology. Not for Shoto, not for the Queen but for him. She used everyone she could. From the moment she realised Katsuki was after her, she led him to inappropriate actions and ran off to Shoto. Then, the half and half also started to pose as an obstacle, like he always does. But somehow, in this enormous whirlwind of schemes and lies, they found the way to each other.

What else could push people to do things that crazy if not love? And when she could finally face him, face Hawks, Katsuki saw one of the most beautiful smiles he would ever experience in his life. And as the two could finally close into an embrace, Hawks ever so attentive of her abdomen, and seal their feelings with a kiss, Katsuki couldn't look away, no matter how hard he tried.

Thank you so much for reading! I'm thinking about a small continuation of how Katsuki's and everyone's life is after the wedding, but that's a matter for another day.

[stalkerofthegods]

Lady Artemis Straight to the point info 

Lady Artemis who is the light, and the arrow in the bow, and the bullet in a hunting gun, and the same string In a lyre and a bow. May we all praise the wise huntress, Who is gentle to young girls and the bringer of Swift death from her golden bow.

Herbs • Artemisia, plants that bloom under the moonlight, Cypress, Chamomile, thyme, Lavender, Mugwort (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Birch, Juniper (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Mint, Pine (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Sage, Thistle (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Yarrow (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Angelica (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Bay Laurel (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Coriander, Dill, amaranth, cannabis, cedar, cypress, daisy, date palm, hazel, mugwort, myrtle, ox-eye daisy, silver fir, willow, laurel trees, fir trees, Various nuts or nut trees, Asphodel, Wormwood, wild flowers, Tarragon

Animals• deer/stags, geese, wild dogs, fish, goats, bees, hounds, all animals (she is the creator of all Animals in some discriptons), Calydonian boar, partridges, guineafowls, lions or leopards, bees, bears especially, bulls 

Zodiac • Cancer, Sagittarius, and Scorpio 

Colors • Silver, green, blood red, moonlight silver, Yellow

Crystal• moonstone, Black jasper, Clear quarts, Opal, White or black pearls, Amethyst, Black tourmaline.

Symbols• quiver, hunting spears, a torch, and a lyre, deer 

Jewelry you can wear in their honor• You can veil, and wear a maternity outfit in her honor while giving birth. 

Diety of • Unmarried Girls, Girl Childhood, hunting, chastity, menstruation, fast and easy death in childbirth, nature, childbirth, wildlife, healing, sudden death, animals, lakes, springs, virginity, young women, archery, and the moon

Patron of • childbirth, and fertility (Virgin means unmarried when she got the title before the meaning of it today, she helped Apollo be born, which accords to fertility), lesbians, unmarried women, hunt, chastity, archery, and the wilds, she protects girls and women during childbirth, menstruation, the moon, Nursing infants, Maiden dances, Maiden song, nurses/doctors who help with childbirth

Offerings•  •Bows and arrows, Images of Artemis, Game meat, Amphiphontes (round cakes topped with tiny torches, These are likely a reference to the full moon. White-frosted cupcakes with white or silver candles may be a suitable substitute), Cakes, cookies, pastries shaped like animals (ex-particularly deer), Red wine, Red grape, popomegranate, cranberry juice, Honey, Luxurious clothing, Wildflowers, almonds, goats, Honey, Hunting tools, javelins, nets, traps, masks, flowers, animal bones, tusks, taxidermy, tusks, animal hides, clothing (your favorite clothing or a garment you bought specifically for her), Owl and quail feathers, your hair 

Devotional• Donate to childbirth charities, donate to young girl charities and programs,   Dancing, Herbalism, Donating woman and girl clothes, taking nature walks, enjoying nature, give her offerings at midnight, make arrows, devote your hunting (invoke her before and thank her after), have a feast of her favorite food in her honor

Ephithets & titles • ACRAEA/Akraia - given to various goddesses and gods whose temples were situated upon hills, AEGINAEA/Aiginaia - when she was worshipped at Sparta, AETO′LE/Aitôlê - when she was worshipped at Naupactus, AGORAEA/AGORAEUS/Agoraia/Agoraios - protectors of the assemblies of the people in the agora, AGRO′TERA/Agrotera - the huntress, ALPHAEA/ALPHEAEA/ALPHEIU′SA/Alphaia/Alpheaia/Alpheiousa - derived from the river god Alpheius, who loved her, AMARYNTHUS/Amarunthos - a hunter of Artemis, A′NGELOS/Angelos - when she was worshipped at Syracuse, APANCHO′MENE/Apanchomenê - the strangled goddess, ARICI′NA/Arikinê -from the town of Aricia in Latium, ARISTO/Aristô - the best, ASTRATEIA/Astrateia - she was believed to have stopped the progress of the Amazons, BRAURO′NIA/Braurônia - from the demos of Brauron in Attica, CALLISTE/Kallistê - when she was worshipped at Athens and Tegea, CARYA′TIS/Karuatis - from the town of Caryae in Laconia, CHITO′NE/Chitônê - represented as a huntress with her chiton girt up, CHRYSAOR/Chrusaôr - The god with the golden sword or arms, CNA′GIA/Knagia - derived from Cnageus, COLAENIS/Kolainis - from the Attic demos of Myrrhinus, CORDACA/Kordaka - derived from an indecent dance called kordac, performed in honour of the goddess after a victory,  CORYPHAEA/Koruphaia - the goddess who inhabits the summit of the mountain, CORYTHA′LLIA/Koruthallia - from Sparta, at whose festival of the Tithenidia, CRANAEA/Kranaia - derived from a temple on a hill near Elateia in Phocis, Kunthia and Kunthios - surnames respectively of Artemis and Apollo,  DAPHNAEA and DAPHNAEUS/Daphnaia and Daphnaios - surnames of Artemis and Apollo, DE′LIA and DE′LIUS/Dêlios and Dêlia or Dêlias - surnames of Apollo and Artemis, DELPHI′NIA/Delphinia -Artemis at Athens, DERRHIA′TIS/Derriatis -  derived from the town of Derrhion, 

EURY′NOME/Eurunomê - from Phiglea in Arcadia, GAME′LII/Gamêlioi theoi - the divinities protecting and presiding over marriage, GENETYLLIS/Genetullis - the protectress of births, HECAERGE/Hekaergê - a daughter of Boreas, who were believed to have introduced the worship of Artemis in Delos, HEGE′MONE/Hêgemonê - leader or ruler, HEMERE′SIA/Hêmerêsia - soothing goddess, HEURIPPE/Heurippa -  finder of horses, HY′MNIA/Humnia - when she was worshipped throughout Arcadia, IMBRA′IA/Imbrasia - surname of Artemi, ISSO′RIA/Issôria - derived from Mount Issorion, LA′PHRIA/Laphraia - surname of Artemis among the Calydonians, LEUCOPHRYNE/Leukophrunê - derived from the town of Leucophrys in Phrygia, LIME′NIA/LIMENI′TES/LIMENI′TIS, and LIMENO′SCOPUS/Limenia/Limenitês/Limenitis/Limenodkopos - the protector or superintendent of the harbour, LIMNAEA/LIMNE′TES/LIMNE′GENES/Limnaia/Limnêtês/Limnêgenês - inhabiting or born in a lake or marsh, LOCHEIA/Locheia - the protectress of women in childbed, LYCEIA/Lukeia - a surname of Artemis, LYCOA′TIS/Lukoatis - surname of Artemis, LYGODESMA/Lugodesma - surname of Artemis whose statue had been found by the brothers Astrabacus and Alopecus under a bush of willows, LYSIZO′NA/Lusizônê - the goddess who loosens the girdle, MELISSA/Melissa - alleviates the suffering of women in childbed, MUNY′CHIA/Mounuchia - derived from the Attic port-town of Munyhia, OENOA′TIS/Oinôatis - surname of Artemis, O′RTHIA/Orthia/Orthias/Orthôsia - regarded as the goddess of the moon, ORT′YGIA/Ortugia - derived from the island of Ortygia, PARTHE′NIA/Parthenia - the maiden, PHERAEA/Pheraia - surname of Artemis at Pherae in Thessaly, PHOEBE/Phoibê - regarded as the female Phoebus or sun, PHO′SPHORUS/Phôsphoros - occurs as a surname of several goddesses of light, PITANA′TIS/Pitanatis - derived from the little town of Pitana in Laconia, where she had a temple, SARO′NIS/Sarônis - surname of Artemis at Troezene, SARPEDO′NIA/Sarpêdonia - derived from cape Sarpedon in Cilicia, SOTEIRA/Sôteira - the saving goddess, TAU′RICA/DEA/hê Taurikê - the Taurian goddess, TAURIO′NE/TAURO/TAURO′POLOS/TAURO′POS/Tauriônê, Taurô/Tauropolo/Taurôpos - originally a designation of the Tauran goddess, 

THOANTEA - a surname of the Taurian Artemis, UPIS/Oupis - assisting women in child-birth, Αγροτερη/Agrotera - Of the Hunt, Δικτυνναια/Dictynnaea - Of the Hunting Nets, Φεραια/Pheraea - Of the Beasts, Ελαφιαια/Pheraea - Of the Deer, Δαφναιη/Daphnaiê - Of the Laurel-Tree, Κεδρεατις/Kedreatis - Of the Cedar-Tree, Καρυαι/Karyai - Of the Walnut-Tree, Καρυατις/Karyatis - Of the Walnut-Tree, Λιμναιη/Limnaiê - Of the Lake, Λιμνατις/Limnatis - Of the Lake, Ἑλεια/Hêleia - Of the Marshes, Ευρυνωμη/Eurynômê - Of Broad Pastures, Λυκειη/Lykeiê - Of the Wolves, Λευκοφρυηνη/Leukophruênê - Of the White-(Bird?), Παιδοτροφος/Paidotrophos - Nurse of Children, Φιλομειραξ/Philomeirax - Friend of Young Girls, Ορσιλοχια/Orsilokhia - Helper of Childbirth, Σελασφορος/Selasphoros - Light-Bringer, Φωσφορος/Phôsphoros - Light-Bringer, Σωτειρα/Sôteira - Saviour, Ἡμερασια/Hêmerasia - She who Soothes, Ὑμνιη/Hymniê - Of the Hymns, Ἡγεμονη/Hêgemonê - Leader (of Dance, Choir), Κορδαξ/Kordax - Of Cordax Dance, Αριστη/Aristê - Best and Excellent, Ευκλεια/Eukleia - Of Good Repute, Καλλιστη/Kallistê - Very Beautiful, Πατρωια/Patrôia - Of the Fathers or Ancestral, Βασιλεις/Basileis - Princess/Royal, Ἱερεια/Hiereia - Priestess, Πρωτοθρονιη/Prôtothroniê - Of the First Throne, Μουνυχια/Mounykhia - Of Munychia (Attica), Βραυρωνια/Braurônia - Of Brauron (Attica), Κορυφαια/Koryphaia - Of Mt Coryphus (Argos), Αιγιναιη/Aiginaiê - Of Aegina, Δερεατις/Dereatis - Of Dereum (Laconia), Αλφειαια/Alpheiaiai - Of Alpheus R. (Elis), Αλφειωσια/Alpheiôsia - Of Alpheus R. (Elis), Αλφειουση/Alpheiousê - Of Alpheus R. (Elis), Λυκοη/Lykoê - Of Lycoa (Arcadia), Σκιατις/Stymphalia - Of Scias (Arcadia), Στυμφαλια/Skiatis - Of Stymphalus (Arcadia), Κνακαλησια/Knakalêsia - Of Mt Cnacalus (Arcadia), Αιτωλη/Aitôlê - Of Aetolia, Αμαρυσιη/Amarysiê - Of Amarynthus (Euboea), Αμαρυνθια/Amarynthia - Of Amarynthus (Euboea), Φεραια/Pheraia - Of Pherae (Thessaly), Ροκκαια/Rhokkaia - Of Rhocca (Crete), Μυσια/Mysia - Of Mysia, Αστυρηνη/Astyrênê - Of Astyra (Troad), Κολοηνης/Koloênês - Of Coloe (Lydia), Εφεσια/Ephesia - Of Ephesus (Caria), Κινδυας/Kindyas - Of Cindya (Caria), Περγαια/Pergaia - Of Perge (Pamphylia), Σκυθια/Skythia - Of Scythia, Ταυρια/Tauria - Of Tauric Chersonese, Ταυροπολος/Tauropolos - Of Taurus-City (Scythia), Ιφιγενεια/Iphigeneia - Of Iphigenia (heroine), Σαρωνις/Sarônis - Of Saron (hero Argos), Κναγια/Knagia - Of Cnageus (hero Sparta), Ελαφιαια/Elaphiaia - Of Elaphius (hero Elis), Καλλιστω/Kallistô - Of Callisto (heroine Arcadia), Λαφρια/Laphria - Of Laphrus (hero Phocis), Σαρπεδωνια/Sarpedônia - Of Sarpedon (hero Lycia?), Προπυλαιη/Propylaiê - Of the Gate, Ορθια/Orthia - Of the Steep, Αγοραια/Agoraia - Of the Market-Place, Απανχομενη/Apankhomenê - Strangled Lady, Λυγοδεσμη/Lygodesmê - Willow-Bound, Αστρατεια/Astrateia - Stayed the Advance, Ἑυριππα/Heurippa - Horse-Finder, Πειθω/Peithô - Persuasive, Πυρωνια/Pyrônia - Of the Fire, Κολαινις/Kolainis - Hornless,

Docked (Animal), Κονδυλεατις/Kondyleatis - Of Knuckles? (kondylos), Λευκοφρυνη/Leukophrynê - White-Toad?, -Bird?, Κοκκωκη/Kokkôkê - Of Berry-Seed? (kokkos), Κνακεατις/Knakeatis - Of Wolves? (knêkias, knakias), Αναιιτις/Anaiitis - (Lydian Goddess?), Ισσωρια/Issôria - unkown, Νεμυδια/Nemydia - unkown, Πωτνια Θερων/Pôtnia Therôn - Queen of Beasts, Ποτνα Θεα/Potna Thea - Goddess Queen, Λητωις/Lêtôis - Daughter of Leto, Λατωια/Latôia - Daughter of Leto, Λητωιας/Lêtôias - Daughter of Leto, Ἑκατη/Hekatê - Far-Shooting, Ἑκατηβολος/Hekatêbolos - Far-Shooting,Ἑκαεργε/Hekaerge - Worker from Afar, Ιοχεαιρα/Iokheaira - Of Showering Arrows, Χρυσηλακατος/Khrysêlakatos - Of the Golden Distaff, Χρυσαλακατος/Khrysalakatos - With Shafts of Gold, Αγροτερα/Agrotera - Of the Hunt, Θηροσκοπος/Thêroskopos - Hunter of Wild Beasts, Ελαφηβολος/Elaphêbolos - Deer-Shooting, Χρυσηνιος/Khrysênios - Of the Golden Reins, Χρυσοθρονος/Khrysothronos - Of the Golden Throne, Ευστεφανος/Eustephanos - Well-Girdled/Sweet-Garlanded, Κελαδεινος/Keladeinos - Strong-Voiced, Κελαδεινη/Keladeinê - Lady of Clamours, Ἁγνη/Hagnê - Chaste/Pure, Παρθενος/Parthenos - Virgin/Maiden, Αιδοιος παρθενος/Aidoios Parthenos - Revered Virgin, Προστατηρια/Prostatêria - Standing Before/Guardian, Αρτεμισιον/Artemision - Temple of Artemis, Ταυροπολιον/Tauropolion - Temple of Taurian Artemis, Εφεσιον/Ephesion - Temple of Ephesian Artemis

Attedees• OKEANIDES Cloud-Nymphai (only 60 of the 3000), NAIADES Fresh-water Nymphai (only some), BRITOMARTIS Goddess of Nets, Apotheosed girl-companions (ex- Phylonoe, Polyboia, Iphigeneia, Oupis), Mortal hunting companions (ex- Kallisto, Hippolytos)

Equivalents (alike but not the same)• Diana (Roman), Selene (Greek), Artume (Etruscan), Flidais (Celtic), Skadi (Norse), Bendis (Thracian goddess), Bastet (Egyptian goddess), Perasia (Cappadocian goddess), Tauria (Taurian goddess)

Signs their reaching out• Sudden pull to research her, to hunt, suddenly meeting people hunting, being a girl group all of sudden, focusing on yourself and not sexuality. 

Vows/omans• being a sacred Virgin/unmarried forever 

Number• 6 

Morals• Morally dark.

Personality• Introverted and independent temperament, practical, adventurous, athletic, and prefers solitude, she loves hunting, she is focused. 

Home• Mount Olympus but does spend a lot of time in the forest. 

Mortal or immortal • Immortal

Facts• Artemis was both a hunter of wild animals and their protector, she helped Leto birth to Apollo (suggesting that she was already mentally developed in the wound.)

Curses• miscarriage, Stunted growth, Illness & disease, Sudden death, plague 

Blessings• Success in hunting, fishing, and fowling, Successful delivery, good health

Roots• She was first mentioned on 700 BC, by Hesiod, In the Theogony she was born on the island of Delos.

Parentage• Zeus and Leto 

Siblings• Apollo (twin brother and full sibling), Aeacus, Angelos, Aphrodite, Ares, Athena, Dionysus, Eileithyia, Enyo, Eris, Ersa, Hebe, Helen of Troy, Hephaestus, Heracles, Hermes, Minos, Pandia, Persephone, Perseus, Rhadamanthus, the Graces, the Horae, the Litae, the Muses and the Moirai.

Pet• Deers/Doe, they pull her chariot 

Appearance in astral or gen• usually depicted as a girl or young maiden with a hunting bow and quiver of arrows

Festivals • Mounukhia, Artemisia (6th June, Modern festival of Artemis where anything goes, celebrating freedom and modern inspiration),  Elaphebolia (6 Elaphebolion, March-April, Festival of Artemis the deer hunter), Kharisteria (6 Boedromion September-October, Festival of thanks to Artemis for Athen’s survival of the Persian assault at Marathon), Mounykhia (16 Mounykhion April-May, Festival of Artemis the light bringer), Philokhoria (Modern observance – Summer Solstice, A joint festival of Artemis and Apollo), Sixth (6th each month, Sacred to Artemis), Thargelia (6-7 Thargelion May-June, Birthday of Apollon and Artemis, first fruit offerings and purification festival)

Season • April and March

Day • Monday 

Secred places• Ephesus/Turkey, Island Delos, Aitolia in Greece, Greek Island Lykia in Anatolia

Status• Greek goddess, in the theoi.

Planet• Moon, (some also believe Venus.)

Her Tarot cards• the high priestess, the temperance card, and the page of wands

Scents/Inscene • Jasmine and lemon, mrryth, frankincense

Prayers• 

Prayer 1

Welcome beloved Artemis, our keen-eyed queen, I beg you hear me now. I pray you guide me that I might find the way. I pray you strengthen me that I might persevere along it. Make my discernment as yours that I might find worthy aims. Make my instinct as yours that I might seize worthy opportunities. Welcome sister of Apollo, golden huntress, we honor and thank you.

Prayer 2

Fleet-footed Artemis, keen-eyed daughter of Zeus and gentle Leto, sister of bright Apollo, we see your shadow in the woods, the curve of your bow, the flex of your arm, we hear the wind whisper as your arrows seek their mark–deadly your art, flawless your aim. Huntress you are, O Artemis, slayer of the stag and the boar, slayer of men and of women, death by your hand is death unforeseen. Maiden are you, goddess, and friend of maidens; ever-youthful one, your favor falls on the young, watching over young girls as they brave the world’s wonders, comforting the mother in the throes of her labor, keeping in your care the newborn babe. Artemis, shining maid of the wilderness, who takes pleasure in games, in contest and in merriment, who leads the nymphs in their carefree dance, whose clear voice we hear in the songs of young women and the hunter’s cry. Artemis, strong and tall, I praise and honor you.

3rd Prayer 

I praise bright Artemis, fair as the budding branch, fair as the spotted fawn, brave as the young bear. From crafty Hephaistos you took the artful bow, the sharp-barbed shafts; from father Zeus you claimed your calling. Far-shooting Artemis, through the thick of the darkened wood you make your way, trailing boar and hare, swiftly and silently, your aim ever flawless, ever kind.

Prayer 4

Artemis, light-bringer, mountain-dweller, graceful one who runs through thorn and thistle with never a scratch, goddess unparalleled, friend of mothers in their travels, friend of maidens, friend of the pretty nymphs, in old Arcadia you roamed the wilderness, in Tauris you took the blood of men, in Ephesus you wore the mural crown. The fire of youth is in you, goddess, the bold and valiant spirit that marks a child as yours. Free-hearted Artemis, worthy daughter of Leto, I honor you always.

5th Prayer

I praise you, Artemis, free-hearted child of Zeus and blessed Leto, courageous goddess who roams the wildwoods with silver bow at hand. Artemis of many names, Artemis of many lands, your temples stood shining and tall, in cities and in villages. In the long days of summer the maidens dance in your honor; in Brauron were the little she-bears under your care. Artemis, the mountains are yours to wander, fleet-footed and firm of step; the wilds of the world are dear to you, O guardian of wood and of beast. Goddess who takes joy in dance and song, companion of the laughing nymphs in all their play, of all young maids you are the swiftest and the strongest, the fairest and the first, in skill and grace the greatest.

Websites/sources in comments.

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Artemis who is the light, and the arrow in the bow, and the bullet in a hunting gun, and the same string In a lyre and a bow. May we all praise the wise huntress, Who is gentle to young girls and the bringer of Swift death from her golden bow.

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Payment to my friend Bri https://www.tumblr.com/briislame

I use resources, I do not own the info, and most deep dives have UPG (that I use in my work.) And I only take some information from sources. I am 14, this is my hobby, I am learning but I spent many hours and days on this, and I am always open to criticism. I have been doing worship for 5 years. Please know you can use the info, I do not sue, but I will take action if this work is used without permission and not put as a resource if used in any work. without permisson and not put as a resource if used in any work, for the public.

[osiris-iii-bc]

Terzo Emeritus: Turin.

Primo | Secondo | Terzo.

We know Terzo spent some time as a Cardinal in Poland (I'm going to do some research on Krakow too, just for fun), but if I had to locate him somewhere in Italy, I know where to place him. For Terzo, the most mystical and mysterious of the Papas, I have thought of the most evil and contrasting city in Italy: Turin. Turin is, literally, the Italian City of the Devil, and it is divided into two sides, one evil (black) and one good (white). Let's see what may have influenced the rebellious Terzo Emeritus.  This will be a long one.

1 - Life and death, good and evil, black and white… 

Turin is geographically divided into two sides: the good side to the east, where the sun rises, and the evil side to the west, where the sun sets, divided by the gates of the Royal Palace. Both sides feature monuments and buildings reflecting their predominant energy, and each side counterbalances the magical influence of the other. Turin, with its duality, is both a point of the Black Magic triangle (Turin, London, San Francisco) and one of the White Magic triangle (Turin, Lyon, and Prague).

On the west side, the dark one, the ancient Romans had built the necropolis and the gallows where condemned prisoners were executed. There was nothing but death and darkness.

On the east side, the bright one, the Mole Antonelliana acts as an antenna that gathers white energy from the ground and projects it onto the city through its tip. (Additionally, there is the Sacra Sindone, the cloth with the image of Jesus supposedly printed with his sweat and blood.)

The combination of the two forces creates a coniunctio oppositorum.

Given that Meliora is based on the concept of a city overpowered by dark forces, I believe a whole city where contrasting forces are so strong that they have shaped its aesthetic would have been fitting for him.

2 - Mysterious spectre wrestles power supplies from oligarchs.

The negative fame of Turin seems to stem from the hard rivalry between the Savoy family and the Vatican, especially during the Risorgimento, when Turin was labeled as "diabolical" due to its strongly anti-clerical positions. Turin (and Savoy family) became the anti-Vatican, basically, and we know how controversial Terzo was considered in the Ministry.

So the Savoy family erected five buildings in five different points of the city to form a pentacle: the hunting reserve of Stupinigi, the Moncalieri Castle, the Rivoli Castle, the Venaria Reggia, and the Basilica of Superga. (I have tried tracing the pentacle lines myself, as you can see in the image. Yep, that’s true.) Additionally, the cremation practice was strongly pushed by Turin, in opposition to the traditional burial.

And you are here to stay and burn with me, right?

3 - Lucifer’s statue.

Piazza dello Statuto coincides with the apex of the black magic triangle and the place where prisoners were executed, and it is right here that the presumed statue of Lucifer stands, above a necropolis that is called both la Vallis Occidanum, “West valley” or "where the sun sets" and Vallis Occisorum "Valley of the murdered". The statue is actually a fountain, built in memory of the victims of the Frejus tunnel accident... but looking at it, it's easy to understand that there is something more. The angel placed on the top of the fountain bears an upside-down five-pointed star on its head, and its gaze is not directed towards the Frejus, as one would expect, but towards the white part of the city. Towards the light.

I don’t know you, but to me, He is.

4 - The Masonic headquarters.

Terzo was known to have included many references to the Freemasons, especially in Square Hammer, where many see in the lyrics the tale of a Freemasonry initiation ritual.

In Piazza Solferino, we find the Fountain of the Four Seasons, where the four seasons are represented by four statues: spring and summer by two female figures, while autumn and winter by two male figures. Those male figures are identified with the giants Boaz and Joaquin, supporters of the pillars of Hercules which, in Masonic symbolism, would represent the first step of the initiate in their Masonic journey. Furthermore, it is said that the water of that fountain it’s a source of knowledge.

Continuing on the Masonic path, on via Lascaris, there is now a bank, but in the past, it was the headquarters of a Masonic lodge (curious that in a former Masonic lodge, there is now a bank... Mummy Dust-curious). On the sidewalks of the street, you can notice cracks in the shape of evil eyes. The gaze of the devil.

5 - The first lightning rod in Italy.

Terzo is often depicted surrounded by lightning, so he must have felt at home in Turin. In 1752, in fact, Gianni Battista Beccaria successfully repeated Benjamin Franklin's experiment by installing a lightning rod above his apartment. He created the first lightning rod ever seen in Italy, but since then Beccaria was accused of wizardry for his ability in manipulating electrical energy.

I know that I set a maximum of 5 points, but Turin is so full of occultism that I had to add a bonus point. 👇🏻

6 - the Devil’s door.

This door could have a post on its own for how much there is to say about it, but I’ll cut it short.

Legend has it that it was built in one night by the devil himself to punish a man who had invoked him in vain, and since its installation, terrifying episodes have occurred inside the building, such as the disappearance of a soldier or the murder of a dancer stabbed during a dance that lasted three days and three nights.

The decorations on the door are rich in esoteric symbolism (There is also a little rat…) and in the center, the clapper is literally the face of the devil with two snakes, while in the central column there is a monster holding the world in its claws.

Today, this building also houses a bank… my Mummy Dust.

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

🧚‍♀️ Anon

Mmm, Naga Risotto (I have a bad case of Risotto on the brain)

He would have you wrapped around his coils in a tight hug to sap your warmth using you as his own personal heater for the colder season instead of his meal (He made sure to eat a lot of live prey for the following winter months so he doesn’t have to hunt)

Risotto would smother you between his Titties to sap your warmth as he wraps his arms tightly around your waist and sleep (You become his teddy bear)

He would love it especially when your chubby because there’s more to love and cuddle (Don’t mind him as he feeds you so you can stay healthy and have some extra energy for when mating season happens in spring)

He’s an Apex Predator so you should no doubt feel honored he chose you as his mate (He uses his animal instincts for logic) and isn’t against threats to devour your loved ones if it means you stay by his side

So stay with him in his cottage in the middle of the woods (He devoured the residents who lived there for the territory) as he breeds you nice and full with his eggs 😭

This has been on my mind for so long. Nagas make the brain go burr

Hibernation pt1

(Yandere Naga Risotto Nero X Female Reader)

There was always the issue of losing livestock as a farmer, however the losses your family's farm was experiencing was suspicious. It seemed like every night something was taken. At this point you'd taken to doing night watch to try and catch what or whoever was taking your livestock.

You regret not bringing a jacket with you tonight, the chilling breeze was a taste of what the approaching winter would bring. You were patrolling the fence with a flashlight in one hand and a pistol in the other when you heard the chickens start crowing. You ran as fast as you could to the coop and threw open the door to see them all running around. You quickly looked around the surrounding area before your attention landed on the chickens once more.

“one, two, three, four, five…” you began trying to count them under your breath. Then suddenly someone grabbed you and you felt something sharp pierce your shoulder. You screamed into the hand of your attacker and dropped your flashlight and pistol.

“You don't know how long I've waited for this,” the person behind you spoke. You wanted desperately to try and fight off your assailant but every kick felt like you were fighting against the pressure of water. You were extremely weak all of a sudden.

“All you need to do is come with me, well… not that you have a choice” he spoke, a chuckle resonating from his chest. You bit his hand and he pulled it away.

“What do you want from me?!” You screamed, unsure you could wake up your family from this distance.

“I've been watching you for some time now…” they spoke. Your attention drifting to the floor, you noticed what seemed like a black and white snake tail illuminated by the flashlight. Your eyes followed it to behind you. It grew quite large from the tip, much bigger than any snake you'd seen before. It slowly wiggle from side to side, like it was anticipating something.

“You're not human” you muttered in a shaken voice.

“You're a smart girl, warm too” he praised

“I'm sure you can be reasoned with” he continued 

“You want to eat me?” You questioned.

“Well that was the plan initially, but you'll serve a better purpose alive” he admitted.you dreaded whatever he meant by that. At this point your limbs were helplessly dangling. You hadn’t even realized how much taller this creature was til your neck refused to support your head, your eyes staring down at your feet dangled about a foot off the ground.

“Why can't I move?” You muttered.

“My venom, luckily for humans it only causes temporary paralysis ” he told you. You could felt something thin and wet flicker over your ear making you exclaim in disgust.

“What do you want from me if you're not going to eat me?” You asked him again. Your breathing was now loud and labored.

“I'm claiming you as my mate” he told you, if you could feel a thing you'd have goosebumps. Oh God this creature wanted you as a mate, you didn't know whether to feel disgust or fear.

“And what if I was to refuse?” You asked. His free hand lifted your head from under your chin and turned it to face your house. None of the lights were on, so you assumed everyone was still asleep.

“Hmm… I wonder if I'd have enough room to eat them all, maybe I'll start with the large ones and make my way down” he snickered.

“No! Leave them alone” you almost screamed out if it weren't for the current state you were in.

“Oh I will, if you cooperate” he told you. You didn't have much of a choice, your weapon was on the ground and you were paralyzed.

“So, we have a deal?” He asked. You remained silent, this monster could do anything right now and you wouldn't be able to defend yourself.

“Silent refusal?” He asked, pushing a response from you.

“Yes, I'll cooperate…” you sighed in defeat. He threw you over his shoulder and you could somewhat see your assailant now. That tail was definitely his and it trailed a lot further then you had initially theorized.

It took for what seemed like hours before he brought you inside a house in the middle of the thick forest. It seemed like another human hadn't lived inside in years by how unkempt it was.

It was a fairly large house, the old wallpaper was peeling off, the windows were covered in a thick layer of dust and the floorboards creaked under any pressure.

In the living room a small fire was burning. Several mattresses were pushed together in the center of the room with blankets sprawled across them. The couch had been turned around to face away from the fire and surrounding the mattresses.

He laid you down on the mattresses before making his way to the fireplace and putting on some more wood. He returned to the mattresses and curled you up in his long tail before laying his upper body on the couch.

You cringed at the feeling of his scale against your skin. You wanted to desperately escape but his venom still had a hold on you. It'd been several hours now and still you couldn't so much as curl a finger.

🐍🐍🐍

You woke up the next morning dazed. It took you a while before you realized the monster had your face smothered between his pecs, you tried to get off of him but he had his hands strongly wrapped around you.

You looked around to see he was now sleeping on the opposite side he was last night. Then he groaned and a hand made its way to his face. For a while you both silently stare at one another.

“This'll take some time to get used to” the monster muttered to himself.

“I can tell you it certainly won't” you hissed but he shook your comment off before rolling you off of him and getting up. You sat up and watched him now that you could get a better look. He had the upper body of a human with fair skin, white hair and haunting red and black eyes. While having the lower body of a snake that seemed to trail on for what you roughly assumed was 8 to 9 feet long.

He made his way outside and you waited, he seemed to have gone somewhere. Seeing an opportunity you made your way to the kitchen and looked around before your eyes landed on a knife. You picked it up, maybe now you had a chance of killing him. So you waited by the door where he wouldn't see you as he came back in.

And when the door creaked open you struck him but he swiftly grabbed the arm you were holding the knife in and twisted it to the point you were forced to drop it.

“Remember, we have a deal” he warned you as he let go of you. You darted back, holding your sore arm.

“And despite that I want to keep you in one piece I won't hesitate to cut something off if it  causes me issues” he continued and you cowered away more. He only slithered closer to you.

“but you don't need to worry your pretty little head about that if you behave, right?” he cooed as he lifted your chin. You were a shaking mess as he was pressed up against you. God you were screwed. His intentions were clear, he was going to keep you trapped here and any attempt to kill him or escape could lead to your family's deaths.

🐍🐍🐍

Shortly after he had left again and you sat waiting. When he returned he presented you with the entire leg of a cow.

“Eat” he told you, but there was no way you were eating it in that state. It was still raw and covered in its hide.

“No…” you responded shakely.

“Why?” He asked, he seemed to take offense to your refusal as he his tail coiled up like a snake ready to strike.

“I can't eat it raw… I'd get sick, also it still has its hide” you explained and his coils loosened.

“you humans are strange… you deprive yourselves of nutrients by charring your food” he spoke before taking the meat to the kitchen bench and using the same knife you'd attacked him with earlier to cut the meat and pull off the skin before presenting it to you once more. He practically threw it into your arms and you nearly fell over before he took it back.

“Worse than I thought” he thought out loud.

“And what do you mean by that?” You asked him, cringing at the slimy feeling the meat left on you.

“You're weak, need to bulk up” he explained.

“You'll set up the fire and find something to cook it on” he instructed as he held the leg. So you entered the kitchen to find a rack that could possibly fit. Luckily the previous owners had a big stove. You took one of the racks and made your way to the fireplace and managed to fit it between the bricks perfectly.

Then you wondered how on earth you were going to set up a proper fire, you'd relied on gas cookers and lighters your whole life. You grabbed some of the torn paper in the center before piling some small sticks onto.

“um, you have any matchsticks?” You asked.

“What are those?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. Oh yeah a monster like him wouldn't have ever used them.

“do you not know how to even start a fire?” He asked.

“well… we had tools for this sort of thing” you explained. He placed the leg on the rack and it surprisingly remained sturdy.

“all those tools have really made humans so weak” he muttered before grabbing a stick and a log that had been cut in half, the center had seemed to be worn through to the end and a piece of paper beneath.

He placed the log on your lap and the stick in your hand and you just looked back at him with confusion.

“Rub the stick up and down the groove” he instructed and you followed.

“Faster” he told you and you compiled.

Your hands hurt after so long, you were going to quit before you saw a spark in the pile of shavings that formed on the paper.

“Now blow on it” he said and you hesitantly did, not wanting to blow it away. Soon a flame emerged, took the paper and carefully shifted the shavings to the paper in the fireplace.

“There, now you know how to start a fire properly” he said, seemingly satisfied by your work. Still it'd take a while for the meat to be cooked and now you felt sweaty and covered in meat juice. You doubted anything worked here with how long it'd probably been abandoned for.

“Is there water nearby?” You asked him.

“There's a water pump outside that works” he told you but that wasn't really what you wanted. He leaned over you and added a bigger piece of wood to the fire.

“Is there maybe something else, I'd like to bathe” you explained. 

“There is a river a little further that way” he pointed just beyond one of the windows where the glow of the sunset could be seen.

“We can go there after you've eaten” he continued. A groan passed your lips, you knew the water would be far too cold by then.

And so you waited for an hour or so. The monster had turned the meat to cook on the other side and then brought it to the table to carve for you before coming back with a mixing bowl piled with the beef. Some parts still horribly undercooked for your liking.

You hesitantly took the bowl and picked through to find the more cooked pieces and eat those. When you felt like you'd had your fill you'd put the bowl down. He looked at the bowl, that you'd barely managed to eat through a third of it before looking back at you.

“You need more,” he told you sternly.

“No I'm fine, I couldn't possibly eat anymore” you told him but refused to listen. He picked up a particularly rare piece and held it to your lips. You shuffled back but he swiftly caught you up in his tail.

“No wonder you're weak, you expect your body to run on such miniscule portions” he said before once again putting the meat to your lips but you didn't budge.

“Eat” he demanded as his tail constricted around you. You gave up and opened your mouth, cringing at the feeling of barely cooked beef in your mouth. It was hard to chew and the feeling of swallowing it nearly made you gag.

Then he held up another piece. You whined before eating that piece too, much to your displeasure.

“This is for your own good, I don't want to accidentally snap you in half when spring comes,” he said, which alarmed you.

“Why…?” You croaked, knowing full well you were not going to like his answer.

“Because the start of spring is when my kind mate, and at your current rate I wouldn't be surprised if you perished”  he explained.with a chuckle. The involuntary groan that came out of your mouth was tame in comparison to the scream you were holding back. You wanted to claw at your own face at the thought. Of course this already horrible situation got a whole lot worse. You didn't even want to imagine the intricacies of that ordeal.

He'd probably gotten you to eat up to half of that bowl before he stopped, probably seeing the lethargic look on your face. You couldn't eat anymore or you'd be sick. He didn't seem pleased about your lack of an appetite but he hoped he could gradually get you to eat more.

He ended up eating what remained, not enjoying the cooked meat that was dry in comparison to the raw and even still living flesh he had partaken in.

[noxturnalpascal]

WIP Wednesday: Man or Bear: Cult Joel Edition

Devotion🖤 III. Path to the Future - Ch 9

Unedited, raw text from the chapter 9 document below the cut. I know it's been delayed but I'm working on it. Thank you all for your patience.

He jolts awake, a sound skimming his senses and alerting him to danger. He lies there, statue-still, and tries to listen past the woosh of the pumping blood in his ears, taking deep breaths to slow his thumping heartbeat. It’s dark here in the thick trees and the sun is low in the sky. He must have slept most of the afternoon away but he can tell it’s not evening yet. Suddenly Joel realizes it’s not a sound that woke him but the lack of sound. There are no birds singing, no insects buzzing, just the eerie sound of the branches creaking and the new spring leaves dancing on their boughs.  He slowly sits up - weapon in hand and his head on a swivel - trying to listen for the clues that nature around him has already picked up on. A predator is nearby. Infected wouldn’t be this quiet, they’re mindless and insatiable and only care about one thing. This is either a large animal or a human. He actually finds himself hoping to catch sight of a black bear as opposed to the alternative.

🖤

Cult Leader Joel on the hunt for his woman.... {he once said... “You can’t fuckin run from me, girl,” he points his finger in your face where you lie. “You can’t fuckin’ escape.”}

[tinyattack09]

ALLL MORAL OREL FANS

you wanna see a fix where Clay is confronted by literal god???

Here it is!!!

Beseech

After the Danielle incident and the hunting tragedy, Clay Puppington receded to his study most of the time. Making no attempt to change, he would waste his days drinking and having an affair with both Censordoll and Stopframe. But, we all know that the lord giveth, and the lord taketh away.

“Clayton Middleinitial Puppington!”

“G-…God!?”

“It is I, the Heavenly Father.” His voice shook the room, and boomed into his body.

“Wha-…Why have you visited me, Lord?” Clay said, clearly in a daze.

“You have a lesson to learn, Clayton. You give your own

lessons and stories while convoluting their meaning to fit your way of destructive, abusive life. It is time that you learn, mortal. The Lord’s mercy only reaches you if it remains pure.”

A sword of pure light appeared. As the Lord held it, the power

changed its hue.

“Lord, what are you doing!?” Clay stepped back. He knew that

he was in trouble, and he couldn’t bribe this one to go away. The sword was raised, and all the light in the room was focused only on Clay.

“What is necessary to keep my world pure.”

“Why…?!”

"Why!? Pathetic. Unable to realize thy faults. Let us see your life, and what it really was."

Everything fades. There is a young boy holding a gun. It shakes in his hands as he struggles to bear such a deadly tool.

"It's a tradition in the Puppington family that the head of the household would pass off this gun to the eldest son."

"Wow, dad… But I don't think I could kill an animal. That seems too mean."

"Son, nature was made to be hunted. We get to 'play god.'"

“Play God?? Golly Pops… that doesn’t sound very right…

You know the sixty-third commandment! ‘Thou shalt never hold a gun without anything to shoot at!’ And we have to follow God’s rules!”

The memory switches to a young Puppington, holding that

same gun, while ketchup was spewed all over the child’s body.

“Clay! Clay! Clayton! Open your fucking eyes!” Clay’s body was shook violently.

“What?? I didn’t do anything!” Clay springs back to life, having

pretended he was dead. His mother then cried out

“Oh thank the heavens! Lord, thank you-“ She froze in the

middle of her sentence. She fell to the floor, her heart unresponsive.

“Mom!” Clay ran to his now dead mother, understanding what he did.

“Get back!” Clay’s father pushed him back, slamming him to a wall. No CPR could be done, and Amanda Puppington was declared dead. The memory fades to black.

Clay was frozen.

“I-… I was so young, Father! I didn’t know what I was doing! I was only six years old!”

“Then let us watch something more… recent, yes?” The memory flashes to the wilderness. Clay is an adult, and stands there with his twelve year-old son, Orel.

“Dad… I think you might be *too* drunk.”

“I… Let me tell you something, Orel! Drunk is nature.”

“I’m not really comfortable hunting with you, Dad.” Orel is tense, gripping to the log he’s sitting on.

“You aren’t comfortable hunting with me? Ever tried hunting with you!?” Clay gulps down his liquor like it’s the last bottle of water in the desert.

“Y’know kid, your cup is always half empty. Look at me. You should be more like your old man and look on the blight side of life.”

“B-Blight?” Orel said, shivering from his fear.

“No, I didn’t say ‘bright,’" Clay interrupted, "I said blight. My life is sunny and blight. ‘Bright’ means the opposite — it means sudden withering death. And that’s… not… Oh, who am I kidding, my life is full of bright…”

“Dad..?” Orel replied, terrified that his father would lose composure.

“Oh, God.”

“What’s happening, Dad!?” Orel cried.

"Oh, I hate myself…”

He runs out of liquor in the bottle. He stares at his reflection, silently hoping that it would be the last time he’d have to see it.

“Why do you quit working on me!?!”

Everything goes silent. No birds chirping, no crickets, no owls in the night.

“She always fools me, Orel. ‘I’ll make things better dear! Drink me! Put me inside of you, I’m great!’ And then she chokes me just like every other whore out there!! They’re all worthless, kid! Every woman. Don’t let ‘em get ya! All of them just wanna get ya! They just grab you and pull you into ‘em! And then you’re forced to stay in, pull out. Stay in, and pull out!! And then they cut ya! And they grip ya by the… right where it counts! And then they start SQUEEZING things out! Things that are like weights around your head! You’re stuck there for the rest of your life, with NOWHERE to go and NO ONE to be!!! AAAAGH!!!”

The scene faded out.

"What's so bad about that?! It's useful advice!" Clay exclaimed, deluded by his own prejudice.

"Just wait, mortal."

The scene reappeared. It opens to clay and Orel sitting across from each other, with clay in a drunken stupor. Orel is now as far away from Clay as he can be while still on a log.

"It's time you became a man. Where's my rifle!?" Clay yells, searching for it/

"Dad, I don't think-"

"There it is! No mistakes, no accidents, no fuck-ups, no blunders."

"Dad! W-What are you doing?!"

"Somethin' important!!"

A single, lone spark flew. Following it was an ear-splitting bang. No noise could be heard after that, other than the ringing going through both of their ears.

"D-...Dad…"

The scene fades for the final time.

Clay was frozen.

"Do you realize thy fault now? Are you able to comprehend the weight of your sin?! Do you finally see that your actions have consequences, Puppington!?" The ethereal voice boomed. Its volume was so loud that Clay was shaken back into reality.

Clay was speechless. Instead of pleading for his case, he simply stood there thinking. He didn't need to speak, for his god could tell exactly what he was thinking.

I couldn't have done that. But I did. How? Why? What do I do!? What do I do?!

But then a thought hit him.

Just give up. You've been so dedicated to your Lord your entire life. Give everything to Him.

"Please…" Clay said, hopeless and weak. Clay then fell to his knees. He didn't dare to raise his head, or so much as stand up.

"Please what?" The deity spoke. Tears began to roll down Clay's cheeks as he remained there kneeling before his God.

"Please… Have mercy," he muttered. He was too weak to raise his voice.

"Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me. I'm weak without you, God."

"You beseech for something you could not give to your own, Clayton. The kingdom of heaven does not allow those like you."

The sword of light raised up once more, as Clay said his final vow.

"I'm sorry, Orel."

A scream rang out. The scream of a weak, hopeless, self-destructive, and miserable young boy. The light disappeared, and all that was left was a soul, going to neither heaven nor hell. The soul was trapped in the mortal world, and had a chain around its neck.

Suddenly, Orel walked into the study. As he stepped further, something came into view.

The end of a chain that led directly to his neck.

RB AND LIKE I SPENT SO MUCH TKMD ON THIS OKAY BYE

[popjunkie42]

Blossoming in Winter Chapter 3

@witchlingsandwyverns I bring you the new year chapter! Chapter 3 just wouldn't quit. I tried very hard to bring you some lovely gardens and wilderness in this chapter, I hope I succeeded!

Blossoming in Winter (read on AO3)

Chapter 3: Endure with Patience the Hours of Waiting

(snippet below!)

Summary: Prince Rhysand accompanies Feyre on a mission among the rooftop gardens of the Dawn Palace. While Feyre hunts for absolution, the armies of Prythian and the Continent get ever closer to Hybern.

A first war ACOTAR AU inspired by the story of Faramir and Eowyn. For @acotargiftexchange 2023!

A million thank-yous to @witch-and-her-witcher, @temperedink and @wilde-knight for the beta reads and helping to keep me sane!!

Snippet:

Rhysand’s eyes were on her again as they slipped through arched vines of jasmine, hanging so low they trailed down her hair. She turned to warn him about a loose stone in front of her and when she saw him, she thought the blossoms that snagged free in his raven hair looked like a crown of stars. Feyre stopped at the sight as he smiled at her and batted away the last vine on his face. 

The smell of oils and mineral spirits wafted through her mind as she imagined the swaths of grey and blue and black she would layer on canvas with a knife to capture him. She watched as he raised a hand to her hair, plucking a white blossom gently between two fingers. 

“You’ve got flowers all through your braid, darling,” he said with a softness in his eyes that made her stomach jump, made her yield half a step to him.

He regarded her with curiosity. “Have the healers and nurses been able to look at your wound?” he asked quietly.

Her skin burned with cold. Last night it had begun shooting jolts of pain down the muscles of her back. “I’m fine.”

“Are these all the answers I’m to get today?”

“What would you like to know, my lord?”

He sighed. “Everything.”

He released her from his gaze and she finally took a full breath, turned away from him to stalk down the path, the prince still close on her heels.

“Are you so used to that boor in Spring that conversation seems unnatural? I’d fault you but I’ve met the male, and he is admittedly better with a sword than he is with his tongue,” he said behind her.

Feyre bristled at every implication. “Maybe I simply do not speak unless I can improve the silence.”

He grinned. “Good thing I’m such a tolerable conversationalist, then.”

Feyre continued walking, taking her bearings by the sun and paths and hoping she was not leading them astray. Rhysand’s eyes were upon her with an amused twinkle.

“What?” she asked, annoyed. She tried to set a fast pace to keep his breathing too fast for words, but the prince excelled at conversation all the same.

“I’m simply trying to work out your attraction to that horned brute. I can certainly attest you are not the type to be impressed by a title alone.” Feyre snorted at him. “So tell me, how do we compare? You prefer your High Lord’s sons thick in body and in the head? Tamlin is quite dashing, but I must say he’s a bit lacking when it comes to the verbal arts. Or did he turn into that golden beast and win over your wild side?” He smiled as she walked faster, turning her head away from his gaze with a snap. “Oh, no one could blame you. All that muscle and fur - he’s quite a spectacle. Even I’ve cast an eye his way when he’s wrapped in all that natural glory.”

“You forget our bargain yet again, Prince.” she said with steel in her voice. “We aren’t speaking of Lord Tamlin.”

Rhysand clicked his tongue. “I’m speaking of you, darling. Tell me,” he asked, “How did the Prince woo a creature such as you? Somehow I doubt he plied you with jewels and dresses. Did he make flowers spring up wherever your feet fell? Did he recite love poems in your ear? Did Tamlin play that ridiculous fiddle of his and waltz into your heart?”

Maybe it was the bargain she had already accepted, maybe she was angry and tired, but Feyre felt her stubborn quietness waiver as her annoyance grew. He was gallingly good at chipping away at her defenses, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of winning this game, of sulking back to her stifling room and the worrying nurses. 

She had dealt with one High Lord’s son. How bad could another one be?

She barely paused as she spoke, throwing her words over her shoulder. “You seem awfully focused on the subject,” she said. “One might be excused for thinking you jealous.”

As the path rounded and they breached more wild hedges, it split again into two diverging trails. Feyre stopped short, assessing the options.

When she turned back around she gasped to find the Prince so close to her. In another half a step he stood chest to chest with her, her words about their journey lost on her lips. Her nose filled with his scent, citrus and the sea, and she couldn’t take her eyes off of his face.

“Jealous?” he asked, his voice quiet in the garden. “I told you, Feyre, that you’re finally getting closer to it.”

Feyre felt a flush on her chest that had nothing to do with exertion. “I know what you’re doing,” she said with a whisper.

“Do you? And what is that?”

His look was challenging, amused. “Throwing me off my guard. Disarming me. Probably fishing for information.”

He smiled. “Did you ever consider that perhaps I just enjoy watching you squirm?”

Perhaps the most insulting answer, if she was just a plaything and without any relevant information to pry from her mind. Her anger grew, especially considering the trust she was putting in him this afternoon. “You’re a shameless flirt. Was it your plan to wait until you had me in the middle of the gardens to show your worst side?” The birds sang around them, oblivious to her rising anger.

Rhysand flashed an arrogant grin. “Am I such a villain in your mind? Your sister, obviously wise, insisted on a chaperone. Consider me an applicant for the position.”

Feyre snorted. “On what qualifications?”

“I’m a High Lord’s son, honor and chivalry are woven into my very bones.” Her eyebrows were skyward. “Haven’t I been a complete gentleman, seeing to your needs, joining you on…what is it we’re looking for, again?” Rhysand looked around the gardens.

“I’ll know when I find it.”

Read on AO3

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Captured -- wild humans hunted and captured to be used as servants part 4

Warnings: captivity, starvation, starvation whump, cruel whumper, kidnapping, etc.

Corbin sucked in a gulping gasp of air as the hand disappeared from his mouth. He was too terrified to scream, the icy wind howling past his ears as his stomach flipped with the nauseating drop. He couldn't see anything but dark storm clouds as gravity tugged him down, still held captive in someone's arms.

He felt powerful muscles bunch and coil and release like springs as whoever was holding him rolled over in the air so that he was facing the distant earth far below.

Wings snapped the sides, halting the rapid descent, and Corbin found himself flying instead of falling. Ice-cold wind lashed his sensitive skin as wings as black as night beat on either side of him, someone holding him tightly to their chest.

The biting cold quickly stole his warmth away, frighteningly fast, leaving him shivering violently. How high was he? Too high. Much too high. Too much altitude. The air was thin, and freezing, it felt like he was turning more into an icicle with every frigid breath he took.

Corbin craned his head and could see a mountainside mansion growing smaller in the distance, snow-capped peaks blurring into the background. Or maybe that was his vision blurring instead. It was hard to tell.

There was warmth where the arms gripped him and the body pressed against his back, but it wasn't nearly enough to stop the fierce cold from seeping into his bones. He could feel himself growing weaker with every heartbeat, the terrified adrenaline rush combined with the cold was straining his already-vulnerable body too far. His head lolled forward and he slowly went limp in the person's grip, black spots eating away at the corners of his vision.

Don't pass out... Don't pass out... he told himself, but he was exhausted, starving, and oh so cold... a tingling numbness crept over his limbs, taking away his pain and lulling his senses. The world was slowly slipping further and further out of grasp, and eventually he gave in to the waiting darkness, letting it carry him away completely into unconsciousness.

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

Corbin came back to his senses slowly, a rough awakening from a long, dreamless sleep.

Warm. He felt warm. He could feel that he was in a bed with fur blankets, and he instinctively pulled them tighter around himself, clinging to that warm fuzzy feeling. Oh, how he'd missed the feeling of safety and the comfort of his own bed back in the human town.

But... he couldn't possibly be at home. Nakita--

The memories came flooding back and he snapped wide awake with a jolt, body aching terribly. He was... alive? He hadn't expected to ever open his eyes again after passing out. He blinked a few times, gathering his bearings as he peeked out from the large mound of blankets he was under. He was in some sort of big wooden cabin, it appeared. There was a crackling fireplace in the middle, and someone with wings was sitting in front of it and--

Oh gosh, he must have slept in. Nakita would shred him to bloody ribbons for this -- but Nakita's wings were snow-white, and the figure by the fireplace had black ones. He'd practically had a heart attack.

Corbin slowly sat up and rolled out of the bed, quietly testing out his legs and creeping toward the door. Maybe he could sneak out unnoticed--

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," a voice rumbled. The bird-man by the fire didn't even turn around, his back still facing Corbin.

Corbin froze in his tracks, heart hammering with terror. His whole body was weak with pain, and his legs trembled unsteadily beneath him.

"It's a pretty high drop if you fall," the man continued, and got to his feet, slowly turning around.

Kazimir. Corbin instantly recognized him, and it all clicked. Kazimir had kidnapped him from Nakita's mansion. He probably planned to do even worse things to him if he'd gone to the trouble of stealing him like this.

He glanced from the bird-man to the door a few feet away, and made a desperate run for it. Even if it was a high drop, he couldn't handle being a slave again to a new master. Death would be better than more pain. He tripped and stumbled toward the door, lurching into an awkward adrenaline-powered run. He was mere inches away when hands grabbed his arms, dragging him back further into the cabin.

Corbin struggled uselessly with every ounce of strength in his devastated body, but it was no match for Kazimir's supernatural strength.

"N-No! Nonono l-let me go! Please let me go!" He begged desperately, descending into panicked hysteria as his legs buckled and he collapsed.

Kazimir caught him before he could hit the floor as Corbin dissolved into a sobbing mess, tears streaming down his bruised, hollow face. He pinned the human boy down on the soft bed by the wrists with surprising gentleness.

"Take it easy," he growled quietly. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Calm down."

But Corbin was terrified. He quickly gave up trying to fight, the last of his energy sapped, leaving his panting and breathing hard, wild-eyed as he stared up into the face of his captor.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

[yumeko2sevilla]

<Conductor>_ anonymous observer

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ

"Despite everything, it's still me in the mirror.."

_'Conductor'_Observer of the World

'Full Name': 'Kuemori Aoi'

⤿Kuemori (玖枝森): A name of Japanese origin. Combines between '玖枝', meaning 'A beautiful black stone's branch' and '森', meaning 'forest.'

⤿Aoi (青唯): A name of Japanese origin, meaning 'blue only.'

Japanese: 青唯玖枝森

Other Names:

↳Yukikaze/Aoi_ Preferred Name

↳(Mx.) Conductor_By most

↳Monsieur Conducteur_ Rook Hunt

↳Moon Jellyfishie_Mizukurage-chan_Floyd Leech

↳Insurrable Asshole_Yuzu Sakamaki (@/anxious-twisted-vampire)

↳The Seconded Storyteller of Reality

↳Anonymous Observer of Timelines

↳Kue_....

Title(s):

↳The Seconded Storyteller of Reality

Twisted From: Levia Barisol_ Evillious Chronicles_mothy + Es_Milgram + Azami_Kagerou Project_jin

Voice Actor(s):

↳Japanese_V Flower_Vocaloid

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Age: 18 (Appearance Wise)_Unknown

Gender: Transmasc Non-Binary (Any pronouns -She/Her. Prefers He/Him)

Species: Undead Storyteller_?

Birthday: October 11_ Libra

Height: 194 cm

Dominant Hand: Right

Hair Color: Gray-ish Mint Green_ Human Form + Dark Blue_ True Form

Eye Color: Twilight Purple_ Blue Hues

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Homeland:___

Family: [ERROR]

Dormitory: Ramshackle_Unofficial

Grade: Sophomore

Class: 2-A_ No. 36

Club: Literature Club_ Light Music Club

Best Subject(s): Literature, Arts, Alchemy

Favorite Food(s): Spring Rolls

Least Favorite Food(s):??

Talent(s): Observant, Diverse Vocal Range, Storywriting, Weapon Mastery, DJing

Hobbies: Singing, Sleeping, Observing, Spending Times Alone, Listening to Musics

❝The infamous Storyteller of Ramshackle. Known for his mysterious identity and observant eyes, he never really let anything out of his worldview less alone a single detail.❞

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ───╯

┌──��━┈━═──┐

ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ

'Kuemori Aoi is cold.' Does that sounds familiar to you, especially when you were the person they were talking about?

Well, that's the situation for one Yukikaze.

Yukikaze wears a mask of unmeasurable coldness, always acts like an apethetic audience even if the situation may cost his life. He cares little for those around him, drifting him away from unnecessary attentions.

He is rarely seen with a smile of his face, unitentionally makes people on edge with him. After all, no one can guess what he will do next, for there isn't a sound that can be count as a voice he let out.

That's until you get to know him really. He will let his guard down, and put on you tooo many love. He doesn't want to let you down.

Maybe because of his timid nature, that Yukikaze was able to blend in so well. So don't ask if he notices something that most forget or just simply don't care. It created a rumor that he can watch you from behind when you don't notice..

For even if in another universes, Yukikaze will always watching his creations.

†•°•══════ஓ๑✬๑ஓ══════•°•†

✬Unique Magic: Heartbeat of Untitled Stories (題名のない物語の鼓動)

"On that blank page, we write our stories that's left unnamed. Creating the world we want, building our wonderful monochromatic tales. Heartbeat of Untitled Stories."

↳The user is capable of changing fates. When using this ability, they can shift the 'fate' of others and themself- most will call it, but sometimes it is simply just the battle's situation- by creating multiple events that help to change it into what's benefical for them and the people they loved.

↳Just to clarify, a price must be payed if the fate they have changed was deemed "opposing to God."

†•°•══════ஓ๑✬๑ஓ══════•°•†

↳ Backstory: [Unnamed Reflections]

↳Main Theme: Bug_Kairiki Bear • Life-Cheating Game_kemu

↳Although pretty much prefers the name 'Yukikaze' or his surname, Yukikaze actually doesn't mind being called 'Kuemori' by his friends. Expect for a certain Vampire, then he is fine with it.

↳He has a very strong voice range! In one second, his voice may be soft and calming, but then another second and he turns into a metal screaming monster.

↳Yukikaze likes to spending time wandering in the campus alone. Just himself, among the beach of humans. He likes to walk aimlessly all by himself, honestly.

↳ After the previous Storyteller of Reality got banished, Yukikaze was created to take the place of it. Although he usually takes his job seriously, when 'he' doesn't notice then he will change up the fates of those he considered innocent.

↳In total, Yukikaze can speak around five languagues, English, Vietnamese, Japanese, German and Russian.

↳Yukikaze claims that he was born by someone who's named "Kisaki Aoi." There is no recording of such a person.

↳No one really knows his real Unique Magic, even Yukiharu and he's much prefer it stayed that way.

↳Seemingly always know where the first years are.

Profile Inspiration by @rosietrace

@anxious-twisted-vampire @writing-heiress @achy-boo @yukii0nna @abyssthing198

[spaceratprodigy]

OCs as Obscure References

Thank you for the tags @darkfire1177 @bokatan @hibernationsuit 💖💕

👇❤💜 Faith, Iris, Maril, AND Poppy 💙🖤👇

Name:

Captain Faith Hawthorne

Animal:

Rat / Bunny / Sprat

Colors:

❤🖤💛

Month:

August

Songs:

Pressure – Billy Joel

Chop Suey! – System of a Down

Autoclave – The Mountain Goats

Angel with a Shotgun – The Cab

I Think We're Alone Now (Cover) – Billie Joe Armstrong

In Your Eyes – Peter Gabriel

God Only Knows – The Beach Boys

The Longest Time – Billy Joel

Number:

2

Plants:

Peony / Spider Lily

Smells:

vanilla and sweet bakery smells, old books and paper smells, a nice cologne, the smell of the forest when she would go hiking on Earth, gasoline (x)

Gemstone:

Villiaumite / Peridot

Time of Day:

Sunrise / Middle of the Night

Season:

Spring / Autumn

Places:

Fallbrook, Devil's Peak Station, Botanical Lab, Edgewater, Grand Colonial Hotel Penthouse Suite, Purpleberry Orchards

Food:

Empanadas, Rice, Sofrito, Sweets and Pastries, Cheese, Potatoes

Drinks:

Water, Tea, Orange Juice, Milk, Rum

Element:

Fire

Astrological Sign:

Leo

Seasonings:

Adobo, Sazón

Sky:

Full of Stars

Weather:

Warm Spring Day

Weapons:

The Vermin II

Hunting Rifle Hyper

Phin's Phorce (sentimental)

Social Media:

Tumblr

Makeup Product:

Black Nail Polish

Candy:

Dark Chocolate

Method of Long Distance Travel:

Spaceship (via The Unreliable)

Art Style:

Art Nouveau / Baroque

Fear:

loneliness, alcoholism, addiction, abuse, not being good enough, the drastic consequences of failing or not making the "right" choice, how many people she's hurt, never being safe, never being happy, whether or not she's capable of love or being loved back, never finding comfort, her numbness and anger consuming her

Mythological Creature:

Phoenix

Piece of Stationary:

An old, worn, well loved paper. The edges have started turning brown, on it is written all sorts of calculations and schematics that probably only make sense to her, some doodles in the margins where she was lost in thought.

Three Emojis:

⭐🐀📚

Celestial Body:

Cone Nebula / Carina Nebula / Eye of God

Name:

Miss Iris

Animal:

Deer / Bear / Radstag / Yao Guai

Colors:

💜💙🖤❤

Month:

December

Songs:

Invisible Touch – Genesis

Everybody Wants You – Billy Squier

Black Sheep – Metric

I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For – U2

I Want You to Want Me – Cheap Trick

Babe – Styx

All Night Forever – TWRP

Number:

4

Plants:

Iris / Forget Me Not / Hyacinth / Lily of the Valley

Smells:

gentle floral scents, wood and sawdust, the smells of spices and nice hearty soups cooking, petrichor (x)

Gemstone:

Rhodolite Garnet / Scorodite

Time of Day:

Sunset

Season:

Winter

Places:

Red Rocket Truck Stop, Sanctuary, Valentine Detective Agency, The Third Rail, Diamond City Radio, Atom Cats Garage

Food:

Soups, Fruits, Veggies, Breads, Breakfast Foods

Drinks:

Coffee, Milkshake, Fruit Juice, Whiskey

Element:

Earth / Water

Astrological Sign:

Sagittarius

Seasonings:

Garlic Powder, Onion Powder, Rosemary, Parsley, Coriander

Sky:

Warm Sunset Colors

Weather:

Chilly Jacket Weather

Weapons:

Agamemnon the Fuck Upper (10mm pistol)

Amadeus (rifle)

Le Boom Stick Terribles (combat shotgun)

Social Media:

Pinterest

Makeup Product:

Dark Eyeshadow

Candy:

Chocolate with Caramel / Toffee

Method of Long Distance Travel:

Walking

Art Style:

Rococo / Art Deco / Impressionism

Fear:

losing everything and everyone she loves all over again, not being good enough, not being able to help or save people, causing harm or pain to others, being a burden, never being loved, never being wanted, never being able to free herself, never being able to rebuild a new life with people to love and be loved back by, failing her son, becoming a mother again, failing as a mother again

Mythological Creature:

Siren / Fairy

Piece of Stationary:

A love letter handled with the utmost care. She poured her heart into her elegantly written words. The precision is not lost on you, she wants it known you were worth the time. She signs her name with a lipstick kiss that makes your heart flutter. The parchment smells slightly like her gentle perfume.

Three Emojis:

💋💐🎭

Celestial Body:

Fireworks Galaxy / Pandora's Cluster

Name:

Maril Highwind

Animal:

Crow

Colors:

🖤💙💚💛

Month:

March

Songs:

Shipmeisters' Shanty – Yoko Shimomura

Traverse Town – Yoko Shimomura

The Afternoon Streets – Yoko Shimomura

A Twinkle in the Sky – Yoko Shimomura

Asteroid Attack – Yoko Shimomura

Number:

21

Plants:

Hydrangea / Morning Glory / Sunflower

Smells:

oil, grime, workshop smells, ink, parchment, wood, paint, dusty old books, the smell of food cooking in the Twilight Town Bistro (x)

Gemstone:

Azurite / Malachite

Time of Day:

Early Afternoon

Season:

Summer

Places:

Traverse Town, Hollow Bastion, The Grid, 100 Acre Wood, Twilight Town

Food:

Sea Salt Ice Cream, Sugary Skies Ice Cream, Royalberry Ice Cream, Carrot Potage, Beef Sauté, Tarte aux Fruits

Drinks:

Lemonade, Limeade, Orange Juice, Apple Cider, Hot Chocolate

Element:

Lightning / Air

Astrological Sign:

Aries

Seasonings:

Basil, Oregano, Cumin

Sky:

Clear Blue

Weather:

Perfect Summer Day

Weapons:

Custom Twin Shooters / Rifle

Social Media:

Instagram

Makeup Product:

Sparkly Cosmetic Stars

Candy:

Sour Gummy Worms / Cotton Candy

Method of Long Distance Travel:

Gummi Ship

Art Style:

Futurism / Neon Art

Fear:

abandonment, something bad happing to her family and friends, not being able to protect the people she cares about, the darkness, her world disappearing while she's away

Mythological Creature:

Wyvern / Harpy

Piece of Stationary:

A stack of worn, rolled up scrolls. The dustier ones are filled with spells and runes you're not quite sure how to read. The ones that smell of inks and paints are beautiful illustrations of various gummi ship designs. The newest scrolls are countless blueprints, they are quite fascinating! Many are for building gummi ships, some are for custom weapons and defense systems.

Three Emojis:

✨🛸🤖

Celestial Body:

Cosmos Redshift 7 / Saturn

Name:

Poppy

Animal:

Snake / Deathclaw

Colors:

❤🖤

Month:

May

Songs:

Foreign Object – The Mountain Goats

Choked Out – The Mountain Goats

Raining Blood – Slayer

Light Up the Night – The Protomen

I Am... All Of Me – Crush 40

Want You Gone – Jonathan Coulton

Number:

7

Plants:

Poppy / Bleeding Heart

Smells:

Blood, Filth, Campfire, Mildew, Foul Stench of Death

Gemstone:

Cuprite / Amber

Time of Day:

Evening

Season:

Summer / Autumn

Places:

Nuka-World, Grandchester Mystery Mansion, Pickman Gallery, The Combat Zone, Goodneighbor

Food:

Candies, Jerky, Noodles

Drinks:

Nuka-Cherry, Smoothie, Slushie

Element:

Fire

Astrological Sign:

Gemini

Seasonings:

Paprika, Cinnamon, Crushed Red Pepper

Sky:

Dark and Cloudy

Weather:

Stormy and Slightly Windy

Weapons:

Disciples Blade (from Nisha)

Pickman's Blade

Chain-Wrapped Aluminum Baseball Bat

Triple-Hooked Meat Hook

Social Media:

Twitter

Makeup Product:

Red Lipstick

Candy:

Cherry Flavored Candies

Method of Long Distance Travel:

Walking / Train

Art Style:

Expressionism / Surrealism

Fear:

weakness, not being able to defend herself, being captured or imprisoned in any way, loss of autonomy in any way

Mythological Creature:

Hellhound

Piece of Stationary:

An old, torn, crumpled up piece of paper. It's covered in dirt, or maybe that's soot. Did someone try to burn this? The handwriting is sloppy, but the words tell a story. Perhaps a diary entry. It's hard to read, but it's heartbreaking, desperate. This is something someone had to tell, to get it out of their system. It looks as if they tried to destroy it when they were done but swiftly changed their mind. Maybe, in the end, they hoped someone would find it, someone would know their story, maybe even find comfort in it that they're not alone if they've been forced to endure the same pain.

Three Emojis:

🗡💀🍒

Celestial Body:

Sun / Engraved Hourglass Nebula

–

open tag to anyone who wants to jump in!

[friesian]

ockiss prompt 2: rain and whos to say the gothic monsters can't have a little kissy in a rain of rose petals. :3 now EAT my bestie's @kamiporterbridges writing with this. he did SO SO well with the gothic motifs and imagery. PLEASE LOOKSIES!!!

---

Thunder roared over the dense forest south from Divinity’s Reach, and Wakeland looked up, pushing a thick strand of hair off behind her pointy ear. The air was thick with anticipation, and the wind carried that unique, humid smell of rain towards them.

“Henry?” she called, strutting up ahead to catch up with him. Henry glanced up, sighing.

“Yes,” he simply replied, boots stomping the soft, wet soil. It had been an unusually rainy spring in Kryta. “We must simply bear it, I’m afraid. Not to mention, it will wash away our tracks.”

Wakeland’s ears droppéd slightly, and the hair strand became loose, framing his face once more.

“Well thought,” he said, looking down at her white, leather boots, covered in thick, black ooze.

Even when the hunt was a success, the walk back home had some drag to it. They bore new scars. They learned new fears. Demons were resourceful; always watching for an opening, for a weakness. But so were they.

Demons are relentless, as Henry always said. But so are we.

Wakeland didn’t feel relentless. The cold pressed against her, and the pull of exhaustion made her legs heavy. As his condition worsened, fighting became a truly miserable experience. But if Henry wasn’t giving up, he refused to be less.

The first raindrop fell and bounced off Wakeland’s wide-brimmed hat. Soon, another one followed.

The promised storm unleashed not with violence, but with a quiet shower pointed by thunder and lightning. Rolling over them in shadows and silver, as the water soaked into their hunting armor, dripping from loosened, brunette curls over Henry’s black glasses, and from long, pale blonde locks down Wakeland’s back. The world was tinted in grayscale, as the demonic blood washed away from them; the thick, oil-like substance diluting in the cleansing rain before seeping into the ground.

There was something beautiful about the stillness of the rain, of a storm rolling in. How the world held its breath for a moment before unleashing a bellowing thunder. Wakeland tilted his face up into the sky, feeling that same cleansing water washing over him as he breathed in.

“Henry?” she called once more, stopping in a small, sudden clearing.

Framed in deep, washed out greens, a shadow deeper than the shadows around him, Henry turned to give him a questioning glance.

Even in the growing darkness of a storm, Wakeland could feel the burning fires of his passion. Even behind those glasses.

The clouds seemed to part around them, and weak rays of light bathed the forest. Insinuating the oncoming bloom, as the soil soaked in the rain, nurturing the life within.

“In one of my books, the protagonists dance under the rain,” she explained, hands clasped behind her back, wriggling them nervously. “It’s very nice.”

Henry turned completely to face him; his stern face not betraying any emotion. But when Wakeland clumsily twirled in place to demonstrate, tripping on her own legs, Henry quickly reached out to hold her upright, avoiding her inevitable collapse on the muddy floor.

“Caution,” he warned, pulling Wakeland close by the waist. “You’re tired. Don’t overexert yourself–”

“Would you dance with me?” Wakeland interrupted, looking at him with a soft, almost saddened smile. “A little waltz won’t kill me.”

His hand sought for Henry’s; holding it, feeling its warmth despite the rain. And Henry sighed, glancing down at their interlocking fingers briefly before meeting Wakeland’s eyes once more.

“Then we will make haste for home,” he warned, stern as ever, ignoring Wakeland’s brimming, bright grin. “I do not wish to expose you to the elements any further.”

He cared so much for her. But if Wakeland didn’t experience the whimsy of the world, if she was to be forced to lay in a bed for the conceivable future, he would be as good as dead.

As Henry took a step backwards, interlocking fingers sliding off to a soft, gingerly contact, Wakeland’s smile seemed to seep into the ground like the rain. Henry bowed, and the forest was a castle, a dance hall, a masquerade they both attended dressed in silk and velvet. Swept away in a waltz, Wakeland didn’t feel the rain. He felt soft petals caressing her skin, joyous as they swayed and turned and made a ball out of that muddy clearing.

The greens seemed greener. The hidden flowers bloomed. For a moment, the clouds parted, and the rain glistened like the endless crystal tears of a candelabra. Just like in those novels - no, even better than his romantic, starry-eyed novels. For Henry wasn’t a collection of eagerly expected words; he was real, warm against her chest, stern yet soft when he guided her steps.

The imaginary music of raindrops ceased, easing into a light rain softly kissing Wakeland’s cold skin. And Henry finished their dance with a polite bow, as the illusion vanished, and they were still soaked in the forest.

Wakeland giggled, cheeks warming up with a light pink blush - all the blood his body could spare. And Henry leaned up to kiss her briefly, never allowing him to sink to his level. Not even for a kiss.

His lips warmed hers in a soft caress, before he parted briefly to speak.

“We should get moving,” he murmured, lips still gliding over Wakeland’s. “Before the storm winds up again.”

It was a reasonable request. But the rose bushes were bright red, and the sun danced on the raindrops clinging to the deep green leaves. The world was shades of love and pink, and Wakeland leaned down, despite Henry’s quiet protest, to kiss him once again.

From the maws of desperation, he’d reclaim his happiness. Over and over and over again.

[dastardly-imbecile]

Not the Dungeon pt. 3

I've accepted i'm continuing this.

---

His gaze snaps to the person in front of him, still laid out upon the bed. For a moment, they are a thin white creature marveling over a stone cube, and then they are a dark priest trying to comprehend the speech of crows, and finally the flicker of a knight, eyes wide, forgotten words spilling frantically from his lips. 

---

Flashback episode?

Wordcount: ~2500

---

Rudimer is standing in the grand hallway of a palace. Around him, marble columns do the work of giants, holding up a ceiling splashed in vivid murals, old saints and prophets conjoining and copulating in cracked glory. 

“Rudimer!” Calls a voice from behind, jovial and perhaps touched by too much wine. Tonight is the night of his promotion, of a sort—no longer is he a mere knight, one cog in the wheel of thousands, but instead he is a Captain. 

Of the Dungeons of Fear and Hunger no less, an ominous name if he’s ever heard it. He turns, already knowing who he will see—Seril, brother, who throws a heavy arm around his shoulders. “What are you doing away from the party? We’re all celebrating you.”

“I don’t know,” he admits, placing a hand upon his brother’s. “Is it not all an elaborate excuse to drink?”

“Yes,” he admits, but surges ahead, “and that applies to you as well.”

“I cannot afford it. I’m setting out tomorrow.”

More than that, his true goal was to make it to the library. Find out what this dungeon truly is—for the sixth sense inside him, honed from years or battle, says that it is not all of what it seems. 

“We will miss both you and the stick up your arse,” Seril remarks fondly, and Rudimer musts a half-smile. 

“Me as well.”

Tomorrow, he will leave, and after that, he will see what these dungeons truly contain.

***

Rudimer is sitting in the darkness of his office, watching the snow fall in gentle flurries outside. It is a stark contrast to the rust on his blackened walls—he tried his best to clean this room out when he arrived, but he swears that every morning they have redirtied themselves. 

Briefly, he remembers chucking snowballs with Seril as young boys, or running through the wilds around the palace, all carpeted in plush white, and there is the urge to stand and take a moment in the snow—but that is quickly quashed. 

Too many things to do, too many things he cannot afford to lose. If he catches a chill, then there is little medicine to help him fight his way through, if he ruins a bit of his armor, it will not be until spring that he can request a new shipment. 

A flurry of papers on his desk. All unread, but for the letter sitting apart from the rest. Seril’s. Inquiring of his health, of the dungeon’s health, whether it has loosened him up a bit—he has half-written a dozen replies, but nothing he pens down feels right. Can he really say that when he sleeps, the space behind his eyelids feels darker than it used to? Tell him that when he ventures into the deeper cells, the prisoners press against their bars and tell him how his great-great-grandchildren will die?

That two days ago, a man crucified himself, spilled his intestines into the shape of something he does not know, but couldn’t bear to look at for too long. That priests file in with two black-robed children and come out with only one, and yet he never finds a body. 

But he cannot sit agonizing over this forever, not when there is so much to do. So, once again, he grabs a quill and a blank sheet of parchment and scrawls something out. 

All is well, Seril. Life is more difficult than anticipated, but I believe I can do something here. I miss you and the palace as well. 

After a brief hesitation, he puts the quill down. It is short, but it has to do. He has not the time for anything else. Not with a dungeonful of strangeness to manage. 

***

Rudimer is stalking through dark corridors with a sword in his hand, hunting. Lately, strange creatures have been coming up from the depths—little chittering things with many teeth and many eyes and many limbs. He doesn’t know where they come from, but he doesn’t care to find out either. 

Days ago, a request came through to transfer the mercenary captain deeper. The blonde man who does not seem to have succumbed to the quick insanity that takes most prisoners—despite the violence that Trotur seems to revel in inflicting. He could barely walk when Rudimer ushered him out of his cell, passed him to two other guards to take deep, deep down. 

Mostly because he was too scared to go himself. 

For good reason too, he’s sure, because only one of those guards returned. When he asked about the fate of the other one, all he received was a vague shrug, one scarred arm pointing towards the ground below. 

Everything goes that way eventually. There is a strange gravity inside these dungeons that pulls all things intangibly downwards instead of physically, whether that be sanity, health, or strength of mind. 

He has done his best to stay strong, but in his lowest moments—when he finally allows himself to succumb to sleep—he has been hearing the soft sounds of clicking, of pattering, of movement in the dark. Small creatures, many of them, beady little eyes blinking-blinking-blinking. 

If he looks at the walls for too long, then he can almost see them again. 

He thinks they are birds, maybe. 

***

He is walking into the center of a town he cannot imagine existing, surrounded by creatures small as children and thin as winter, watching him with wide saucer eyes. In his hands, watched ardently and eagerly, is a small gray cube, disproportionately heavy for how small it is. 

The guards are dying of starvation and suicide alike, but even then, there has not been enough supplies. He has stopped rationing food for the prisoners—but they simply grow thinner and thinner instead of dying. 

This deep, he can almost hear the cawing of crows, the flutter of a thousand wings echoing behind every step. It makes him jumpy, but he stills the hand upon his sword—he’s well aware that the only reason he is allowed down here at all is the cube in his hands, and he was lucky enough to have been able to strike a bargain furthermore. 

Two sacks of unidentifiable rations. Told to him in broken speech, barely understandable, to be food, weapons, clothes. The food, these creatures grow themselves, but the rest is what they’ve taken from the dead that decorate their village. 

Does not matter. He hands the cube to the largest, strongest monster, taking the supplies swiftly in the same breath. It takes his left hand a moment to close—recently, it has been growing numb, stiff and hard to control.

For a split second, he is on high alert, gauging whether they will turn on him after all, but none even spare him a glance anymore. All are surrounding their leader, clamoring eagerly for the cube, thin fingers reaching like a child’s for fruit upon a tree too tall. 

Quickly, he leaves, not willing to overstay his welcome. The guards he passes are near-catatonic, staring blankly into empty space. Most have grown larger in this time, despite lack of food, for it’s not the organic blossoming of muscle or fat—but instead the swelling of their limbs, strange tumorous growths sprouting from hard flesh. 

The prisoners are worse, purely because they are all too aware, and he must dodge the thin hands that snake through their bars and attempt to gouge out his eyes, try to rip the armor off his body. They speak in tongues as well, and though he can’t understand a single thing, he somehow knows that they refer to Gods and rituals and deities floating in the primordial mire beyond reality. 

As he is depositing the scant supplies earned from this foray, he catches sight of a window. Strange. Somehow, despite the presumed abundance of windows, he cannot remember the last time he saw morning light. 

For a split second, he considers going outside. Taking a walk—distancing himself from the dungeons, at least for a while. 

The notion vanishes just as quickly. Too much left in here to leave. If he walks out, he will never return—he will keep going until his legs give out, or the wolves get him, or somehow, miraculously, he makes it back to some semblance of civilization. 

He cannot go. Not until he has finished whatever job he was sent here, originally, to do. 

He cannot remember exactly what it is. 

He will remember. 

But he cannot. 

He cannot. 

He cannot. 

***

He is crouched upon his cot, knees pressed up to his chest, trying to silence the flurry inside his head. There are whispers, and there is birdsong, and there are strong beaks scraping the last of his brain from the crevices of his skull. 

When he closes his eyes, it does not help. When he drives his fingers into his skin, bites his tongue so hard that it feels like it might bleed, it does not help. He cannot remember what he has been doing. He cannot remember the last time he ate, drank, stood. 

Upon his desk, the glint of an inkwell catches his attention. There is something important there—and then, as he forces himself to rise, he finally sees the paper set neatly to the side. Seril’s. That of weeks ago, perhaps months—they wrote regularly in the beginning, he’s sure, but the spaces between have grown larger and larger. 

With dirty hands—when was the last time he washed them?—he grabs the paper, scans it fervently. Nothing important. Seril has found a nice woman, she is with child, all is well, all is fine, he is not stuck here in this cursed dungeon, he cannot fathom a single iota of his experience. 

There is a scrap of dirtied paper upon the ground, but it is the only one he can find, so it will have to do. When he grabs at the quill, his hand—so rough, so uncoordinated, it is as if he cannot move his fingers individually anymore, but the entire arm is instead an odd, stiff mass—knocks the inkwell off the desk. Now, limited to one dip of ink, but there are only a few words he needs to say. 

seril i require help these dungeons are full of crows plea

The quill runs out of ink before he finishes, but it is all the words he needed to say. 

Except, there’s something missing. It takes a long moment of staring at the paper to realize. 

It is missing a signature. 

Well. He has no ink left to write it, and besides, when he imagines penning it down, he realizes that he does not exactly remember what it looks like. What name he would use. 

He finds her lower in the dungeons, drawing out a sigil in what’s probably blood. A dark priest, skin and hair both sickly white, clad in the robes that are customary for her kind. He does not know when she entered, but somehow, he knew where to find her—the only person who could deliver his message. The only person in this entire dungeon who is any modicum of sane. 

Besides him, of course. 

She looks up at him when he approaches, lip curling in confusion. 

“...Captain?” she guesses, putting a hand into her pocket and grasping some hidden weapon inside. He smiles, to try and placate her, but it doesn’t seem to work, so instead he launches into instructions. 

She cocks her head, brow lowering. Does she not understand? They are simple words, or at least he thinks they are, but when he attempts to concentrate on what he is saying, all he hears are the guttural rumbles and screeches of something that cannot conceive human speech. 

Sharply, he shuts his mouth, and simply shoves the paper into her hand, points towards an approximation of the entrance. 

Finally, she gets it. Looks down. “...Seril?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but settles on nodding a moment later. The memory of how to mold his tongue around comprehension seems to have somewhat, somehow, escaped him. 

“Deliver this?”

Another nod. 

“I know of him,” she says shortly, and then returns to drawing out her ritual, which he takes as a confirmation of the task. 

Seril will come, he’s sure of it. He will come, and he will stand inside the dungeon and find patterns in the blood and hear the chirping of crows and neither of them will be alone anymore. 

***

He is standing behind a thick stone wall, listening to the footsteps on the other side. How he found himself here is not entirely clear in his mind, nor is the wooden apparatus where a left arm should be, nor is the strange heft of his head. 

“...happened,” comes a thread of muffled conversation, “I cannot imagine. Do you think he is dead?”

“He cannot be dead.” This voice is sharp, impassioned. Familiar?

Is it familiar?

“Of course,” comes the other, now softer, placating. 

The crows chatter and caw and talk amongst themselves. It is a long moment before they come to a conclusion. 

Forward. Bludgeon. Intruders. 

Intruders. He raises an arm and slams it against the wall, even as he remembers a single name. 

Seril. 

It must have been his own, back when names still mattered. Nothing that has use to think of now. 

He wonders, briefly, why it is only now that it’s come back to him, and it doesn’t feel exactly right as his former moniker, but then it slips away in the lieu of blood. 

***

He is all that, and he is none of that, and he is a man-no-longer that tries to catch memories in his hands like water. 

“Rudimer?” 

His gaze snaps to the person in front of him, still laid out upon the bed. For a moment, they are a thin white creature marveling over a stone cube, and then they are a dark priest trying to comprehend the speech of crows, and finally the flicker of a knight, eyes wide, forgotten words spilling frantically from his lips. 

Slowly, hesitantly, he nods. 

“What happened?” they breathe, looking at him in what he cannot tell is marvel or pity. For a moment, all that he has newly remembered attempts to push its way out of his heavy beak, but it will not be in any understandable configuration. “Do you… have you been here, all this time?”

Nod. 

“Can you leave?”

Now, he hesitates. No, logic dictates, but he has never actually tried. Still, though, he does not think he’s the sort of creature that could survive in the world, not without the dungeon’s lifeblood coursing through his veins.

At his nonanswer, there is another question.

“...Do you want to?”

His beak is dipping down, and at first it is because of the weight of gravity, but then he is lifting up, dropping again. 

Nod, one more time.

[fourtyfourcatss]

Hi! Hi! I saw your message about the inbox that you had requested and am willing to do the matchups! For my fandom, I would like a Demon Slayer and Percy Jackson matchup just like how you requested. Let’s start with the basic:

Personality: I am an INTJ Slytherclaw, Aquarius and a Type 6 when it comes to anagrams. I am a huge overthinker and stress a lot with anxiety. People tell me that I can be blunt which results in people thinking that I can be cold but in reality I try to be a kind person when it is needed. I am a realist and many consider me to be intelligent, often asking me to help with their work. I’m incredibly passionate about things I like to do and have a thirst to know everyone’s opinions as I feel that if someone is left out. I’m a creative person but sometimes my brain just goes blank, I hate when it does. I sometimes follow the rules and can be serious if I wish to be but normally I like to goof off and break rules, adrenaline rushing through my body is just a different feeling I can’t explain. I have a really dry sense of humour that usually is a mix of sarcasm, fandom jokes or self degrading jokes. I’m not that good at describing personality but here are a few kins if it is helpful : Navier, Mikasa, Regulus Black, Annabeth, Shinobu, Shoko ( Jjk), Geto etc.

Looks: I’m slightly chubby and have a pear body shape. Upon seeing me, many people point out my eyes which are hazel with slight flecks of many colours such as green and amber being the prominent ones. I have a button nose and thin heart shaped lips. My face is round and my eye shape is almond. I am approximately 5’3. Two small moles are fixated on my right cheek and underneath my lip. My clothing style tends to be anything comfortable and classy. I prefer to wear black and colours that are darker, you will never find me wearing orange or neon colours. My clothing always consists of a dress of some sort. 

Likes: Chocolate, Anime, Reading, Drawing, Strawberries, Smell of Rain, Sleeping, Being the Best, Baking, Daydreaming, Murder Mysteries, Romance , Name hunting, Pinterest and Flower Languages.

Dislike: Loud noises, Jerks, Slow Walkers, Insects, Studying, Fake People, Self-pity, Getting below 90% in a test, Coffee, Snow and the feeling where your brain is blank and can’t tell what you feel like.

Love Language: Physical Touch and Quality Time

I hope this is enough information and I am soon starting your matchup too.

-> giyuu tomioka

✤ “stay a bit longer” running in the rain together, umbrella in hand, forgetting about the weather, too consumed in the sweetness of each other’s company.

✤ have you realized how bright a person you are? not only that; your values, how your eyes are when the sun lights them — giyu is lightly attracted by your first appearance in his eyes. the other hashiras saw his noticeable interest lingering on you - he was a pretty obvious guy contrary to his own exterior.

✤ you’re going to have to be the one to break his shell, and break it you do. its the type of love that builds up with time on sturdy foundations; charming him with little actions.

✤ how is your relationship? calm, but exciting. is that a contraction? perhaps. i’d expect the two of you to someday meet at the same place over and over again, basking in each other’s presence. it would be a sunset during late spring where the wind is still warm, and holding hands despite that.

✤ here is the thing; he isnt into physical touch at all. but then you grew on him. have fun dragging this giant teddy bear around now. hes so attention and touch starved he’ll be clinging to you whenever you allow him to.

✤ leaning down to land a kiss on your temple. sleeping in bed together. you’re watching shows: he’s watching you.

✤ well, you do anything and he’s sort of watching you. he’s just curious what you’re doing all the time.

✤ honestly he just likes everything you do girl 🙏🙏 down tremendously bad. he’s the type to fall first, then you fall, then he falls even harder. what a loser /j

✤ 10/10 comfortable and healthy relationship

ok its not because you kin annabeth. you actually seem cute together.

✤ to be fair, you already know how he is in love. here’s whats different: your dynamics with each other

✤ bickering. like, good bickering. no shade on the novel, but its, its really bland sometimes. HoO threw romantic quality of relationships out the roof. the loyalty is shown, sure. but you have the superior dynamic.

✤ overthinker x overly dramatic. elusive, inner chaotic x smartass. percy is eccentric, like off the walls sometimes, and you seem like that one person who gets a critical hit by his personality and grow a Weakness to his presence

[swallowerofdharma]

What Guts is for Griffith

a dispassionate analysis written for a better understanding of both characters and of Berserk

Part 7: Only warmth covers and protects me from this world

A recurring theme in Berserk is “hopeless suffering”, as Godot the blacksmith calls it, nourished by fear or the regret for losing something irreplaceable, especially if suddenly and senselessly. When man answers his fear or his suffering with revenge, violence and war, and only relies on the sword, he ends up adding more fuel for it, but what is the counterpart, where does hope reside? Casca thought about Griffith: “You were the one… who gave me the sword and the blanket”. A sword alone wouldn’t have meant anything to Casca without the warmth, without hope: “But that was the real helping hand he extended to me. The fear didn’t vanish completely, but the feelings of guilt and regret faded… his magnificence… and the warmth of the blanket he gave me filled my heart”.

After two years of wandering around hunting apostles and looking for revenge, Guts, now the Black Swordsman, is being confronted by Godot’s words and Rickert’s actions: “Two years… plenty of time for a person to change. In the time I’ve gone on hating, Rickert’s done this… Funerals to accept the death of his comrades. He found a new way to live through that vigorous strength of his”. As readers, we enter the world of Berserk through the Black Swordsman arc, and then we’re shown the very origins of it, to understand what is behind it all and ultimately to walk the same path that Guts on: to find strength in another way to live, for vengeance isn’t it.

The night Guts is back to Godot’s mine, his sword is being repaired and he can’t sleep without one, he never did. He thinks that and then he looks at the fire (light, warmth) and remember Casca and Godot’s words: “You went alone. You were right beside those irreplaceable things… yet you couldn’t bear to immerse yourself together in sorrow with them. So instead you ran away so that your malice could burn within you”. Suddenly he understands that he made the same choice as Griffith during the eclipse. Griffith still had the band of the Hawk, and Casca and Guts, but he couldn’t deal with his immense pain and left them behind, causing the death and destruction that followed. But at this sudden realization, Guts is enraged once again and his train of thoughts has never been so close to Griffith’s one: “Fear, malice. I don’t know… possibly it’s both, but I can never atone for this dark flame! If I can’t atone, if I can’t escape all I can do is burn myself and my enemies with it”. That’s when behind him the Beast of Darkness makes an appearance as the manifestation of his own malice and his potential to be exactly like Griffith.

Considering Godot’s words another time, Guts thinks then back to the time he abandoned Casca, and the time before, when he abandoned the band of the Hawk to pursue “some dream”. The recurring image associated with that thought is that of that cold morning in early spring when he is walking away from the figure of a defeated Griffith kneeling alone in the snow. Thinking about people, about Casca and the days in the band of the Hawk, Guys realizes that: “I declared this war myself. But… but still what’s burning me ain’t just this black flame. The campfire from those days still burns in my chest. (…) What’ve I done? Did I… Again. Did I go and do it again? You mean… did I lose something before I even noticed it again? (…) No… not yet… the flame. It’s not yet blown out. Not yet! It’s not too late! This time I swear! I’ll never lose her again”.

In Guts’s internal monologue, “the campfire from those days”, from visually being represented as “the campfire of dreams” of the band of the Hawk, that warmed him for a bit, becomes an image the simple burning desire he felt around both Griffith and Casca and that he shared with her: it depicts the sexual connection between him and Casca and on one side Griffith’s back - as Guts’s burning desire was also the sting of ambition and competition he felt around him - and on the other Casca, two focal points - two “love interests” - that have now become opposed, because now following Griffith means fueling the black flame of hatred, revenge and malice, whereas choosing Casca is strengthening “this last feeble flame left to me”.

This feeling of warmth is one thing that even the most powerful or successful people in the world can’t go without. The queen of Midland didn’t take part in the scheme to assassinate Griffith because she was worried about nobility lineage or Charlotte, but to avenge Julius.

What was an affair born from the need to fight the cold of being alone in a foreign country, from meaningless “burning desire”, through “the warmth of the skin” became love, after all. In the same way, Guts and Casca’s sexual relationship stemmed not exclusively from sexual attraction and curiosity, but from a desperate need for comfort and the opportunity to offer it back. Miura managed to capture that sense of reciprocity between the two of them, and that’s in my opinion what makes this specific encounter special. Guts and Casca’s relationship is based on a friendship, a bond born from being comrades and strengthened from living through common experiences, sharing their position of looking at Griffith from a distance, feeling something preventing them from reaching him. Whereas Guts felt that he couldn’t approach Griffith directly because he hasn’t accomplished anything for himself yet, Casca’s sadness around Griffith hailed from the realization that he couldn’t or he didn’t know how to accept her attempt at comfort and her warmth. Acceptance of those things she offered came instead from Guts after his return, even after the reemergence of his traumatic experiences around affection, sexual touch and trust. There is undoubtedly a premise of love: “Not just being given to, maybe I can give something as well”. For Guts, it is undoubtedly a temporary relief in the turmoil of his complex and unresolved feelings around affection: “As I dozed off for some reason I recalled myself as a boy, rubbing in the medicine Gambino gave me”. As Griffith did with Casca, Gambino gave him the sword and a flimsy blanket. If Griffith had died during his imprisonment, Casca and Guts could have gone in the direction of falling in love with each other and nurturing the feeling through their physical and emotional connection. But in the circumstances that followed, they couldn’t commit fully to that path. What I appreciated about Berserk is that it doesn’t resolve romance in the usual simplistic ways that are too common in contemporary mainstream storytelling, especially between men and women, a kiss, lovemaking, a declaration. Sincere love isn’t something that just happens between attractive people, because mature love isn’t infatuation, nor desire, nor the premature phase of falling: being in love in itself isn’t a complete form of love, because love implies a choice that needs to be renewed and accepted from time to time as the circumstances change.

The talk about warmth is also particularly related to the king of Midland, “the king on his throne” who, through the feeling of being cold and alone, becomes dispossessed of his powers. The confrontation between the king and Griffith, in the chapter called The Fallen Hawk, is interesting because Griffith’s using his words against himself and the entire conversation reveals similar things about the king and Griffith: “What value is there in this world? Wars rage on and the people’s lives are lost like they were insects! After how many decades of war and tens of thousands of corpses, we’ve finally built a time of remembered peace, but only for an instance! On the underside, the monster named war is always seeking new blood, starting to brew itself anew! In the face of that monster, the will of one land’s king is powerless! The wisdom of one man is folly… and yet, I cannot cease being king! There’s no way I can stop!”.

Is Griffith talking about the king: “While you were born to the sword called the throne and held it… it was nothing more than a burden to you. You’ve done nothing more than not fail. How worthless…”, or about himself too? Griffith felt like he was born to something big, a dream he envisioned, a sword that he was able to wield but that brought upon destruction within the success, and the dream has become a burden. Those words, that will bring him a harsher punishment, are mostly directed at himself: “How worthless…” Griffith’s deliberately angering the king. The reason he is there in the first place is the same exact thing that the king put in words: “In this blood-stained, meaningless world, if there is one single ray of hope to be found… it is… warmth”.

After Guts’s departure, Griffith was left kneeling in the snow, defeated, alone and cold. Not being able to find a source of warmth in the band of the Hawk without Guts, Griffith finds himself outside Charlotte’s window. She welcomes him in her arms and she accidentally puts words to his feelings, out loud: “Nothing but frightening and sad things have happened. I’ve been so alone”. And Griffith respond to those words, because they are true for him too. “Take all the frightening and sad things and cast them into the fire”. Only the fire doesn’t warm him when he is confronted by two different things. One is the recollection of Guts’s words about how Griffith does cruel things in the pursue of the dream but he shouldn’t stop. And he can’t easily keep his feelings for Charlotte, even in the moment, separated from what brought him to her in the first place, the path to the dream. Griffith doesn’t know anymore if he is taking her for himself alone, for comfort, for warmth or if he is using his body/her body to pursue the dream, caught in the path to the dream again and unwillingly. And this brings to the second aspect of that night. Griffith couldn’t separate the act of taking Charlotte’s virginity from his own experience. A series of words used in connection with the night spent with Lord Gennon and his young age, as referenced by Casca “a boy in his innocence”, are evidence that that was his first sexual experience.

As opposed to the act with Charlotte, where there isn’t verbal consent but she nevertheless accepts him - from her or from the king, who calls her a “foolish frivolous girl” that behaved “with the rashness of some town girl”, there aren’t any accusations or perception of rape towards Griffith, and being seventeen makes her fully an adult in this context, so I see no reason to diminish her agency or her choices - the act with Gennon implied verbal consent and compensation, but was nevertheless implicitly rape in the imbalance of power, the age difference and Griffith’s mental state: it was certainly perceived like one by Griffith - and he uses the expression “and myself alone not to be unclean” (汚れずmeaning not dirty) where 汚 means dirty, polluted, disgraced, in connection with 汚れ (kegare) meaning uncleanness, disgrace, rape, defilement. When Charlotte falls blessedly asleep, he is still cold and in a whirlwind of complex emotions. When Guts revives his trauma, Casca is able to offer him the chance to verbalize it, be acknowledged and comforted. When she was much younger, she had offered the same to Griffith right after the night with Gennon, but he wasn’t able to accept her touch so soon after or to abandon his role of higher rank and being comforted by her. What’s more, his refusal to be pitied is tied to his pride and self worth, things that have been severely wounded by what just happened. Once again, even if, in response to Guts’s departure, this time with Charlotte he tried to take something for himself alone, he wasn’t able to find a meaningful connection or even enjoyment. Nevertheless he leaves something to her that can be seen as an attempt at tenderness, a sign of care and thoughtfulness that doesn’t align with the selfishness he has often been accused of. Together with returning the lodestone necklace as he promised, he leaves a sprig of fresh flowers that can be recognized as Leucojum vernum (大待雪草) and similar to snowdrops.

[epicthemusical]

Alright I’m actually so bad at writing, and this wasn’t beta read, so any feedback is appreciated!

The noise and heat of the celebrations faded, beat back by the limbs and lengths of the black poplars. I was glad for their shade, even under the darkening sky - after the days before, any number of gods could’ve been watching. Usually said number was only one, hovering at the edges of my attention, right at the line of divinity. If not for the lingering remnants of my own godly heritage, I wouldn’t have been able to sense my patroness’s eyes.

But enough of the gods as, for the time being, I was just a man. My hands were stained, and I had no hope of ever cleansing them.

The day had been beautiful, cool and damp in the wake of spring. I’d tried to enjoy it: the lovely weather, the doling of spoils and treasures from Priam’s rich city, the sacrifices and feasts that followed. Most of it I’d spent crouched in the hold of a ship though, tallying supplies and calculating how many days of rations we had. Not enough, but with any luck we’d find an island on the way home and resupply our stores. I had gold enough to pay now, and men to hunt and forage.

After ten years, I’d learned the landscape of the forest bordering the Achaean camp. The trees soon gave to rocks and boulders, cliff overhangs and lichen. Just past these one could find a gentle stream, clear and cold as it eddied along its banks. Here, sat in the silence, I could truly think (even if that thinking traced one well-worn path).

Astyanax, his name had been, a boy of only a few months old. His blankets had been crisp and white and embroidered finely along the edges. His eyes, large and dark as the sky above. The King of the Gods spoke, voice ringing like the crack of thunder through mountain gorges. Astyanax was tiny in my arms, soft against bronze plates, softer still against the ground below. No one forced my hand.

These were the facts, indisputable and true as my own title. Still, was I to solely bear the blame? The King of the Gods had given me a task, threatened my family, denied my contrary offers. What choice did I have? But it was my steps that had taken us to the edge of the wall, my hands that released their hold in his swaddling. My eyes averted during the fall, sparing myself the view.

Something crunched at the treeline a few dozen yards away. Something, or - no, definitely someone. The sounds came in connected pairs, with definite breaks between. This was all that kept me from turning my head, whipping around and seizing the sword at my hip. That, and the knowledge of my advantage if I could take them by surprise in those first few seconds.

They moved delicately, but not stealthily - with caution if not cunning. So, if not to attack, what were they there for? If not an attacker, then who?

I wagered a guess. “Polites?” My voice was far too loud in the night. I could practically hear his smile behind me, beaming bright as the sun.

“What’re you doing away from the festivities?” I continued as walked past my side, “I thought you of all people would have fun.” It was not a pointed remark. Someone, at least, might enjoy the night, I’d hoped.

My friend settled just in front of me, perched at the edge of the stream. He seemed to truly ponder his answer, humming lightly as he leaned forward to dip a finger through the water. Finally: “Same as you, I guess. I’m all for celebrations, but not like this. I’m just glad it’s over.”

“And on that, we’re agreed. We’ll be home before we know it though, my friend.” White lies slipped out as easily as breaths.

Polites paused a few seconds. “So how bad is it, exactly?”

I narrowed my eyes, though he didn’t see from where he sat. “What do you mean?” All innocence.

“Nothing,” his voice was easy and light, “just that you don’t speak like that unless something is wrong.”

“Like what? I didn’t even say anything!” My indignation surely gave me away, but I didn’t seem to care when it was him.

“‘We’ll be home before we know it, my friend,’” Polites said, his voice slightly lowered in imitation. “It’s unlike you. If everything was fine, you’d be going on and on endlessly about maps and charts and labor division. You’re an awful liar, Ody.”

“Says you,” I retorted automatically, dully.

He reached back and fiddled with the ends of his headband, which were limp in the still air. “So, what’s wrong?”

I sighed. “I wish you’d let me pretend everything’s alright.”

“No can do!” His words were bright with victory; Polites usually didn’t try to ‘win’ in banter, but on occasion he’d best me.

“I can tell. Anyways, we only have a few weeks of food. We could maybe get to Ithaca on it alone if nothing else went wrong…”

“But the gods are angry,” he supplied. “We have the sea god on our side, at least!”

“There’s that, I suppose.”

We lapsed into silence, my words inviting no further conversation. Polites continued anyways. “There’s something else, huh?”

“No.”

“You want to tell me about it?”

“No.”

He seized upon this, quicksilver bright. “So there is something else!”

“No! Polites, stop. It’s nothing. It’s not up for discussion,” I snapped and stood up from where I’d been sitting. “Goodnight.”

My friend didn’t follow me, didn’t even glance back when I did. He did call out, though, “You know you can tell me anything, Ody, right?” The nickname, one I usually didn’t mind from him, only fed the guilt flaring in my chest. For a heartbeat, I wished he didn’t care, that he’d never asked, even if it was unlike him.

Then, softer and more distant as I reached the tree line, “Please. I can’t stand to see you like this.”

I clenched my teeth and froze just as the shadows began to slide over my skin. It would be easy, so infinitely easy, to head back to my tent and forget this conversation. Polites might’ve even had the tact to not bring it up for a while. I’d win a few more days or weeks of guilt, but he’d still love me for that time. If he knew what I’d done… well, Polites had never had the stomach for war like me, and even I was struggling to swallow the facts. He’d never keep them down.

Still, when I glanced back over my shoulder at him, curled up with knees to his chest by the stream, I found myself unable to leave. The water and stone and his unstained clothes seemed to glow in the moonlight, which softened the world, turned it a bit kinder. It wasn’t like I could leave him, I reasoned, not without a weapon of his own. It only made sense for me to go back.

Polites had moved away from the water, so when I sat we were companionably side by side. He glanced back at me, one arm lifting from where it held his knees and settling so his palm cupped my shoulder.

“You’ll hate me if I tell you,” I said, my voice thick and clumsy.

His eyebrows lifted in acknowledgment. “So there is something?”

“Polites-“

“Just shush. For half a second, please. I could never hate you, Ody, you know that. I’m probably physically incapable of it,” he joked gently.

“You don’t know that! You’ve… never really had a reason to hate me before this.” I’d started too loudly, volume dropping at the end of my second sentence.

His voice lowered, lost its joking edge, “We’ve all done awful things, my friend, things we wish we could take back. Even me, even your men. You didn’t choose this war. I know that nothing is certain, but I trust that whatever you did, it was the best you could’ve done at the time. I’ve never known you to be cruel.”

As long as I’d known him, Polites had a seemingly-genius way of always cutting to the heart of the matter. He was like a perfectly sharpened blade, leaving behind minimal pain and a wound healing without a scar. To extend the metaphor, he didn’t hide behind pretty, cunning insignias and jewels that caught and tore in flesh, nor was he dull and hacking.

Still, this one would leave a scar. It was simply buried too deep.

“Then you’ve never known what I’m capable of.”

Polites inhaled slowly. “Not unnecessary cruelty, then. You don’t burn fields and claim women for the fun of it. You fight to get your men home, and no more.” His grip tightened on my shoulder in a gentle squeeze.

I sighed deeply. “If you insist. During the taking of Troy, I received a vision from the Sky God.”

My friend didn’t interrupt. He stared with solemn, owlish eyes as he scanned my face.

“I’m not even certain what it was of. Someone stabbing me from behind. It would come true if I didn’t kill a certain enemy, I was told.”

I felt tears filling my eyes, but forced myself to continue, “A foe who won’t run.”

“Oh no,” Polites barely breathed.

“Hector’s son- just an.. an infant. I did it. Right off the Trojan wall. They - the gods - said he’d kill my family if he lived.”

The tears came freely now, choking any further words I might’ve used to justify myself. Polites watched me, and I swore I saw on his face disgust, horror, malice, shame. I looked down at my hands, unable to face him any longer.

It took him a few seconds to say anything, and I’d prepared myself for the harshest rebukes. When he spoke, however, his words held only grief. “I’m sorry.”

There had been no need for me to worry, really. I’d never known Polites to be cruel.

“What?” I managed to force out through sobs. He wrapped an arm tightly around my shoulders and, despite my guilt, I leaned into the embrace.

“I’m sorry that you had to make that choice. That’s an awful thing to have to do.” I had to strain to catch some of his words, soft as they were and muffled by my shoulder. Hesitantly, terrified that Polites might come to his senses, I hugged him back.

We stayed that way for a few minutes. When I trusted myself with words, and him not to leave in utter disgust, I spoke, “So you don’t- you don’t hate me?”

“Not at all. I told you I couldn’t, right? I don’t lie.”

“No,” I sighed, wiping my face, “you don’t. You should try it sometime. Add some excitement.”

“I’m good, thank you. You’re evasive enough for the both of us.” He stood, leaning down to offer a hand.

“Thank you,” I echoed quietly. “We should be heading back. We’re leaving early tomorrow, you know.”

Polites nodded, but didn’t respond, just squeezed my shoulder once more and disappeared into the trees. I didn’t follow for a few long minutes but, upon returning to my tent, I slept better than I had in days.

omg I am screeching this is so good! I love it so much! Ahhhhh Polites and Odysseus deserved so much better than they got😭 I saw a few spelling errors and the wording was a bit awkward at times but in general it's beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing this! If you would like a more in depth review I would be happy if you DM me! But seriously this is such good hurt/comfort 🥹 feel free to share any future writing with me as well!