#he just wants to save princesses and slay dragons

[toadtoru]

CLIMB THE MINOTAUR

you’re excited to be chosen as a sacrifice and finally be able to get a proper look at the so-called minotaur. you’re thoroughly disappointed to find out it’s just some tall tattoed guy with four arms.

pairing: trueform sukuna x sacrifice f! reader contents: smut, monsterfucking, sukuna has two dicks, virginity loss (sukuna), cervix-fucking, mentions of cannibalism and killing, greek gods and myths, degradation, name-calling (brat, woman, whore) alba’s note: this came to me in a vision and i was compelled to write it. and then it turned way longer than i anticipated. hee hee. wordcount: 4.8k

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

You’re known to be peculiar. A little weird.

Growing up in Crete, you’ve always heard the stories of the Minotaur. A giant beast that lives in a labyrinth underneath the palace where King Minos lives.

No one really knows how the beast came to live, but it’s said that one day a big white bull showed up on the beach and nine months later Queen Pasiphae birthed the minotaur.

It’s not something that most dare to say out loud, but when it’s dark out and the bards are drunk enough the real songs come out at the crowded taverns.

Pasiphae, the queen who fucked the bull.

Every year a week-long festival is held where young women and men are sacrificed to the bull. It’s supposed to keep the monster at bay. It has a taste for human flesh. Apparently, the first thing it did when it was cut out of its mother’s womb, was to eat the nurse’s hand.

You know you should be filled with dread that a flesh-eating monster lives just underneath the palace. What’s stopping it from leaving its maze and coming for you?

But you just feel intrigued.

You know that it’s not normal. Other girls your age dream of heroes who slay dragons and save princesses. Yet your dreams are filled with a giant monster with a man’s body and a bull’s head, and you haven’t quite figured out if they’re nightmares or just that; dreams.

When you’re chosen to be sacrificed you can’t tell if the emotions toiling inside you are dread or excitement. Maybe it’s a mix of both?

You’re brought to the palace where you’re put in a dress, much prettier than anything you’ve ever owned. You know everyone expects you to scream and cry. That’s what all the other ones have done.

But you just stay quiet.

It only increases the sneers as you’re paraded around. The sacrificial maiden. Thank her for her humble sacrifice to save us from the hunger of the minotaur.

And when the day comes you’re led down a dark passage in the castle. Further and further and further down until the air turns chilly and the only light is from the torches the soldiers escorting you carry.

The entrance to the maze is surprisingly just a small door. Made of metal, there are several locks on the outside. The guard unlocks them one by one.

“Are you ready?”

It’s the first time any of them have spoken to you. You look at the guard beside you. He smiles and unlocks the chains around your wrist. You’re surprised they even bothered to put them on. You haven’t shown a sign of wanting to escape the entire time.

“I guess,” you reply, watching as the guard in front of you unlocks the last lock. You massage your sore wrists and wince.

“Why are you removing these? Wouldn’t it be easier to let them stay on,” you ask. The guard smiles again. This time it’s more sinister.

“It likes the chase,” he replies. You raise a brow. You wonder how he knows that. No one on the outside of the maze has ever seen the minotaur besides its mother and the handless maid. No one on the inside of the maze has ever lived to tell anyone about their experience.

The guard in front of you scoffs.

“Alright, get in there. I want to go home. Wife’s making chicken stew.” he says. You walk towards the door. The guard opens it. The one behind you swiftly pushes you in.

They go to close the door, but you place yourself between the the small gap before he can. The guards frown.

“Don’t make me push you again,” one of them says.

“At least give me a torch. Can you see how dark it is down here?” you ask. The guards share a look.

“You’re awfully calm for a little girl,”

“I’m not a little girl,” you huff. The guard shrugs. Then he hands you one of their torches.

“Sure. It’ll just make it easier for it to find you,” he says. You move back so they can close the door properly.

It will also make it easier for me to see him.

The door is closed and you look out towards the maze. Apart from the little light your torch provides, it’s pitch black. All you can see is stonewalls. You give the door behind you one last look.

“Well, I guess there’s only one way to go,” you mutter, as you walk further into the maze. You have no idea if you’ve walked for hours or minutes. Everywhere is the same, stone, stone, stone. You take turn after turn, keeping your hand against the wall on your right side.

You listen as closely as you can, after hooves on the floor or grunts coming, but the only thing you can hear is your heartbeat and the slow crackle of the torch on your left.

Annoyed, you sigh. “Some chase,” you huff as you look around. It’s cold and wet by now, and your dress does nothing to shield you from the chilly air.

That’s when you see it; red eyes staring at you in the darkness. He’s too far away for your torch to illuminate him, but you can see enough, that he’s tall and big. Your breath hitches, but you can hardly react before he moves towards you. You prepare yourself for incoming death, yet you’re excited to finally see the great minotaur. You wonder how big his horns are if they curl–

Wait, what?

You furrow your brows. The shadow moving towards you doesn’t have horns. Instead, it’s a giant man with four arms. He’s strong, with big muscles and scars all over his body, along with black tattoos on his chest and arms and he’s only wearing a pair of ragged pants. Four pairs of ruby eyes glare at you as he opens his mouth, revealing a pair of sharp fangs, ready to rip open your throat.

“You’re not a bull,”

The monster, or rather, man halts. He looks confused, as though he’s not entirely sure what to do.

“You’re just some guy!” you continue, crossing your arms over your chest. “Where’s your bull's head!”

The monster blinks. His arms which were previously reaching out for you, ready to grab you, are now awkwardly hanging down his sides.

“What?” His voice is coarse, as though he hasn’t used it for a long time. “You’re supposed to have horns! A bull's head!” you accuse.

“Who told you that?” he asks, lips turning downward in a growl.

“Everyone!”

“Stupid rumours,”

You stand there for a while, staring at each other. The guy awkwardly rubs his neck with his top left arm. He clearly doesn’t know what to do. Maybe he’s not used to his victims blaming him for not being scary enough. Or animal enough? What exactly you were expecting, he isn’t sure. All he knows is that you’re thoroughly disappointed.

You sigh and walk up to him. You examine his arms, before you look up at his face. He glares at you. You raise your brows.

The guy’s hot. You can’t deny that.

He shakes his head, before turning around and walking away. You watch him go for a bit before you decide to follow him.

“Aren’t you going to eat me or something?” you ask.

“Lost my appetite,” he replies, not looking back towards you. You continue to follow him, your eyes trailing the black tattoos on his back.

“Where are we going?” you ask. The man stops, causing you to collide with his back.

“I’m going home. You’re not going anywhere,” he states, looking down at you over his shoulder. You step back, looking around the passage you’re in. Stones and stones are all you see.

You decide you are going with the man whether he likes it or not. You’d rather do that than spend the night alone in the maze.

He doesn't say anything as you walk to the place he calls home. You’re delighted when you enter a relatively small chamber. There’s not much more than a bed, a kitchen, a dining table and several books lying around. The latter surprises you, but then again, it’s probably kept him from going completely insane. You wonder who taught him how to read. It is not something just anyone can do.

On the table, there’s a sort of stew. It’s still hot, it can hardly have been there for long. He grabs himself a bowl, before handing one to you. You tentatively grab it, suspiciously eyeing the meat.

He rolls his eyes. “Relax. It's rabbit,” he replies, handing you a spoon. You sit down, slightly wide-eyed.

“There are rabbits down here?” you ask and the man nods.

“Animals venture down here all the time. You don’t actually think I can survive from a couple of sacrifices once a year, do you?” he asks.

You stare at the stew. In all honesty, you’d never really given it that much thought. In hindsight, it feels a little stupid. Like you’ve been caught right in your very own net of assumptions.

“What’s your name?” you slowly ask. He stops eating, looking at you. It’s like he considers what to say for a while, before coming to a conclusion.

“Sukuna,” he replies. You hum.

“Sukuna,” you repeat, and Sukuna grunts, eating a spoonful of his stew. You give him your name, but he hardly seems to register it as he shrugs.

You sit like that in silence, both just eating the stew. Once you’re done Sukuna stands up, stretching his arms. You watch with fascination.

“I’m going to bed. It’s late,” he grumbles, before shrugging off his pants.

You gape, staring. Sukuna stands before you, completely naked. Your eyes trail his body, watching his tattoos, leading down, down, down.

No way.

The fucker has two cocks. You swallow, watching the gigantic things between his legs. They’re almost pretty. Wait, are you turned on right now?

“Do you always sleep naked?” you ask, voice coming out smaller than you’d like.

Sukuna grunts. You take that as a yes. He walks past you, lying down on his bed and turning his back to you. You huff.

Is he seriously going to bed right now?

Tentatively, you look around the small chamber. Kitchen, table, bed, books. There’s hardly anything else.

The bed is big enough for two.

You’re not entirely sure what comes over you. Maybe it’s the dull throbbing in your core or the warm stew clouding your mind, but you take off your dress and undergarments and lay down on the bed, slipping under the covers.

Unable to look at Sukuna’s broad back any longer, you turn around, laying on your side. You feel him turning around as well, feeling his breathing against your neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to sleep,”

“In my bed?” You can’t entirely tell if Sukuna’s angry or just exasperated. Maybe it’s a mix of both.

“Do you see any other beds here?”

Sukuna scoffs, but he doesn’t make a move to push you out. You take that as a victory, settling into the bed. Sukuna’s body radiates with heat behind you, almost like a furnace.

You lay like that for a while, wondering how this has all happened. Why hasn’t Sukuna hurt you yet?

“Do you know what I think?” you say after a little thinking.

“No,”

“I think you’re lonely. I think you want someone to care for you,” you say.

“That’s ridiculous,” Sukuna replies. He doesn’t sound at all convinced.

But there has to be a reason as to why he hasn’t killed you yet, right? Don’t monsters get lonely too?

“Is it really? Or is it just human?” you ask.

“I’m not human,”

“Some part of you must be,” you hum. You lay in silence for a while. You inch closer to Sukuna.

“Have you ever been with a girl, Sukuna?” you ask. You must have lost your mind at this point. You can feel his length against your ass and the mere size of the thing makes you drool. He grunts. You move around under the sheets, pretending to get comfortable, but making sure to rub your ass against his cock, feeling it twitch to life. A giant hand finds your hip.

“Stop that,” Sukuna says. He sounds almost... flustered? You sigh. “I’m just getting comfortable.”

“I’ll throw you on the floor,”

“So mean, big guy,”

It’s too late. His cocks are already awake. You can feel them both coming alive against you, slowly growing.

Sukuna takes a shaky breath. You wiggle some more. The hand on your hip doesn’t stop you.

“You’ve never wanted to try? It must be so lonely down here for you,” you say. His hand digs into your skin. You make circular motions. His breaths grow more laboured.

“All alone, with no one to share these cold nights with,” your tone is teasing. You turn around so you’re facing him. Lidded eyes stare back at you.

“Don’t you wanna know what it’s like?”

Sukuna is no idiot. He knows what you mean. He can feel the heat radiating from your core, every instinct in him telling him to just get on top of you and fuck you till his balls are empty.

You infuriate him. Why aren’t you afraid of him? Why aren’t you screaming or crying for help? Running away? Why is your bare body pressed up against him and why is his groin reacting this way? Why do you smell so good?

Why are you so fucking weird?

The only thing that holds him back is his curiosity. How far will you go to get what you want? How weird are you really?

You want it bad. Or you’re just really weird. A hand comes down to stroke his top cock in languid motions. “Come on, Kuna,” you sigh, free hand snaking up around his neck. Your lips ghost his. The sudden use of a nickname makes Sukuna shudder slightly.

“Fuck me, please,” you whisper. Sukuna closes his eyes. You remove your hand from his cock, to grab one of his, bringing it to your sopping core.

“Feel how wet it is,” you whisper. You lashes fan his face as you kiss the corner of his lips. “It’s all for you,”

Sukuna’s brows furrow as you run his fingers through your folds. You are truly dripping. Almost have been since you saw those two cocks. Your mouth salivates at the thought of being fucked silly on them.

Sukuna closes his eyes. You’re about to give up when you feel his thumb rub your clit. You gasp and Sukuna’s eyes shoot open.

“Are you really that desperate?” he asks, almost angrily, as he quickly shifts to be on top of you. One pair of hands on either side of your face, caging you in as his other is on your hip.

His last hand is still cupping your cunt, as he tsks and shakes his head.

“Can’t believe they sent me a whore,” he mutters. With one hand still beside your face, two others grab the back of your thighs and pull them to your chest. You gasp, now completely exposed to him and Sukuna grins.

“I’m not a whore,” you reply, pouting and Sukuna grins, experimentally rubbing his fingers along your folds. You whine as he sticks a finger inside your cunt, curling his digit. Immediately, his finger stretches you out, and Sukuna hums.

He sticks another in, and another, till you feel stuffed. Your hands roam his chest before the hand beside your head grips your wrists and pulls them above your head. You’re utterly helpless; thighs and hands pinned down.

The sloppy sound of your cunt fills the cave as he continues to stretch you open. You whine and moan, attempting to buck your hips up into his chest.

“That feels good, huh? You like being stuffed like this?” Sukuna asks, and you’re not even sure if it’s rhetorical or not. He explores your body with a weird sort of interest that makes your stomach turn with desire. It’s like you're nothing but a toy to him.

“Answer me,”

“Yes,” you whine, throwing your head around. “Feels good,”

Sukuna’s grin widens. Your walls clench down on him as he curls his fingers into your G-spot. A whine is wretched from your throat and Sukuna halts his actions. You gasp for air before he presses again and you moan loudly.

“Fuck,” you say. The corner of Sukuna’s lips turns upward. His cocks are aching between his legs. Dripping precum all over his sheets and your messy cunt. He doesn’t know why his body reacts this way, but it’s not long before he can’t wait anymore, removing his digits and instead aligning his lower cock with your entrance.

He pushes in and you scrunch your eyes shut, pleasure shooting through your body. It’s like you’re on fire. Inch by inch, Sukuna bullies his thick cock into your tight little cunt. You gasp and writhe, but Sukuna’s got you exactly where he’d like.

“Gods,” Sukuna mumbles. He watches where his thick cock spreads you open, your lips obscenely stretched to accommodate his hefty size. It’s so tight and warm and wet, slick dripping out of you and down your ass.

He looks up at your face. Your eyes are still closed, your mouth slightly agape, your face flushed and sweaty. You’re so full you can hardly think.

“Should’ve gone out much sooner.” Sukuna mumbles. With one pair of hands digging into your thighs, folding you in half, another hand finds your chin, angling your face down to where your bodies are connected. His other cock lies on top of your stomach, reaching all the way to your belly button.

“Look at yourself. Do you like being split open by a monster?” he asks and you whine, opening your eyes and watching him enter you. You gasp when you see he’s not even fully in, yet you feel so stuffed already.

“You’re not a m– monster,” you gasp. Your thighs begin to shake at the stretch of it all, but Sukuna pays it no mind. He replies with a grunt, before slamming his hips into yours, fully seathing himself inside. The whine that leaves you is utterly sinful.

Sukuna frowns, feeling the pressure build in his abdomen. You’re so tight. His cock hardly fits inside, and yet you’re still clamping down on him, causing his cock to throb. He’s unable to resist your inviting heat, causing his hips to stutter against yours a couple of times before he comes deep inside you. His cock throbs as he paints your insides white, filling you to the brim. It’s so much that it spills out of your abused little hole.

His brows furrow together as he delivers a few pitiful thrusts. You gasp at the feeling, your hips bucking uselessly.

“Kuna, did you just–“

Before you can finish your sentence, Sukuna pulls out and flips you around, two hands holding your hips in place, as a third one pushes your head into the sheets underneath you. He uses the fourth hand to position himself, before he slams into you with his other cock, immediately fucking his cum deeper into you.

You moan helplessly, as Sukuna fucks you from behind, his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust, making you jolt in pain and pleasure. You grip the sheets underneath you, hot tears rolling down your cheeks, as you’re reduced to a babbling, pleading mess.

It’s all so much; his grip on you is almost bruising, his balls slap against your clit, his hand keeping your head down as another gropes greedy handfuls of your ass.

“Oh my g– gods!” you cry out, and Sukuna only fucks you faster, meaner. The loud squelching of your dripping cunt fills the room, along with Sukuna’s breathy moans and your whines.

“You say you’re not a whore, but you sure take cock like one, huh, brat?” Sukuna says and you cry out.

“So good, Kuna, you’re so good to me,” you gasp and Sukuna rolls his eyes. His other cock begins to feel lonely, he notes. He eyes your sloppy cunt, wondering if she could swallow a second cock as well as the first one. The stretch would be obscene, but he’s beginning to get the vibe that you want him to destroy you. Which is why he pulls out till just his tip is inside; rewarding you with a slap on the ass as you whine in protest; before slowly pushing inside with both cocks.

A string of curses leave you. You look back at him with tears in your eyes, but Sukuna merely smiles back, as he continues to stretch your walls to the max.

“Don’t look at me like that, woman. I can tell you live for this,” he replies, and you sob, because fuck yes you do. He fucks you in shallow thrusts, hissing at how tight you are.

He bullies both his cocks into you till you can barely think. Body pressed into the sheets below you, your hands reach behind to try to push him away, your body jolting forward. Sukuna grunts, before he leans in, wrapping his lower arms around your waist. Another one wraps around your throat as he gropes your tit with the last one. You can feel his hot breath against your neck, teeth grazing your skin as your bodies are completely flush against each other.

It’s completely instinctual as he makes you take everything he has to give. He fucks you like a starved man, hips rutting against yours as his cocks explore every inch of your insides, molding you, ruining you forever. You whimper, eyes rolling back as pain and pleasure shoot through you.

“I’m g– gonna come,” you gasp and Sukuna hums, feeling your walls flutter around him. It’s not long before ecstasy takes over your body as you reach your high, cunt gushing around Sukuna’s two cocks. The way you grow so tight, walls gripping him like a vice, makes Sukuna come soon after you, both cocks painting your walls white. It’s so much that your stomach feels bloated, cum dripping out of you and onto the sheets beneath you in a puddle. You whine, closing your eyes and melting into the sheets as Sukuna retreats from your exhausted body.

“Thank you,” you murmur and Sukuna huffs, shaking his head at your weakened state. He grabs a cloth and begins to clean you before he hears your small snores.

“There’s no way,” he mutters, giving your ass a smack, but you barely move as your snores grow louder. A small grin tugs on Sukuna’s lips.

“Brat.”

You wake the next morning, every muscle in your body sore. Despite that, you notice that you are clean and that the sheets and furs around you have been changed. You look around the room for Sukuna, but he is nowhere to be seen.

Huffing, you attempt to get up, only to wince as you feel how sore your legs and back are. You explore your skin, to find bruises and nail marks where he ravaged you last night. You poke at one, wincing at the pain.

“You’re awake,”

You look up, to see Sukuna appearing through the door. You blink.

“How long did I sleep?”

Sukuna shrugs.

“A long time,”

You pout. Sukuna’s eyes trail down your body, smiling at the marks littering your thighs and neck.

“Did you fuck a bull last night or something?” he asks. You furrow your brows and grab a pillow to throw at him. Sukuna snickers, dodging the pillow.

“Get up,” he says.

“No,” you whine, burying your face in your other pillow. Sukuna doesn’t say anything, but you hear footsteps. You sink further into the bed, hoping that he’ll go away, but you squeal when you feel four hands grab you. Sukuna puts you over his shoulder, one arm securely wrapped around you. You fight in his grasp, kicking your legs and hitting his back.

“Let me down this instance!”

“So demanding,”

He doesn’t seem to care about your objections as he gives your ass a firm slap before walking out of the little cave he calls home.

He walks for a little while, as you huff and puff on his shoulder before you finally reach your destination.

It’s another small cave, but this one has a lake. The water is crystal clear, and you can see the bottom beneath it. It is shallow, hardly going above your waist. Above it, a small waterfall cascades down and the lake connects to a small river. You gasp.

“This is beautiful,”

Sukuna shrugs, before getting in the water. You squeal at the temperature, writhing in Sukuna’s arms, but he keeps you steady as he sits down in the water.

“Stay still, brat, it will soothe your body,” he replies as he submerges both of you. He isn’t lying. The water is cold, but it relieves your sore body, making you feel much better.

He lets you go, and you sit down in the icy water. Sukuna sits beside you. “What happened to the others?” you ask, curiously.

“Who?” Sukuna asks.

“The other sacrifices,” you inquire. Sukuna raises a brow. You consider you might not want to know the answer, but it’s too late now.

“I ate them,” he replies. You gape. Sukuna grins.

He hasn’t actually eaten any. Well, he has eaten some. But most he just killed. But he likes the look on your face.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes,”

“Why?”

“Well, I couldn’t just let them go,” Sukuna shrugs as if it’s the most sensible thing in the world. You wonder if being alone for so long has made him unable to feel real empathy. If the loneliness has just made him a shell of a person.

“There are exits here?” you ask. Let them go. He makes it sound so simple, but the only entrance to the labyrinth is supposed to be the one you came through.

“Yes, several,” Sukuna says. You think your jaw somehow drops lower than it already was. Sukuna isn’t a captive? Does he enjoy being here? You suppose that explains the rabbit stew, although you were too stunned at the moment to investigate when he served it to you.

“The architect who built this labyrinth was a captive himself. He swore to never subject anyone to that same fate.” Sukuna explains when he sees your puzzled expression. Almost as if you’ve opened a fountain, words spill from Sukuna’s lips. He doesn’t think he’s ever spoken this much before.

“He came to visit me quite often. Taught me everything I know,”

You nod. That would explain the reading, the cooking, the having somewhat manners besides undressing in front of you and threatening to throw you off the bed.

“Then he stopped coming one day,” Sukuna says. “I was always an unwanted child.”

The last comes almost as an afterthought, and you wonder if he’s saying it more to himself than to you. How old was he before he was cast into the labyrinth? You can imagine Queen Pasiphae’s scowl on his face, King Minos' bitter words.

That’s not my son.

“He’s dead,” you say. Sukuna’s brows furrow.

“What?”

Everyone in Crete knows the story of Daedalus. Architect and inventor, he was the pride of King Minos, building beautiful ships, looms and other inventions. He’d tried to escape with his son, by building each of them a pair of wax wings.

If only Icarus hadn’t flown too close to the sun.

"It’s Daedalus, right? After his son died, the grief killed him,”

Sukuna nods. There’s a whirlwind in his eyes, a thousand thoughts rolling over his mind. “I figured,”

You sit in silence for a while. Then you move over to straddle Sukuna. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Your naked bodies cling together, as a pair of arms tentatively wrap around you.

“What are you doing?” he asks and you giggle. Sukuna feels the vibrations run through his body. “I’m hugging you,” you reply. Sukuna blinks. Slowly he pulls you closer, four arms now wrapped around you. It feels nice, safer than you’ve ever been. You know you should feel disgusted by the man hugging you, but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to it. You just feel warm. And sore.

You feel yourself being lifted, as Sukuna rubs his cock against your entrance. “Kuna,” you gasp, three arms still wrapped around you. You look up at him, and Sukuna swears you have stars in your eyes. Slowly, he sinks you down on his cock, revelling in the feeling of how warm you are.

Fuck. It’s like he’s getting addicted to your soft body. He never wants to go without you again.

“You must be a witch,” he groans, beginning to bounce you up and down like you’re his little fucktoy. The fullness makes you dizzy, and you lean into his chest, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. The squelching water around you fills the cave along with your little whimpers.

“What the fuck have you done to me, woman?”

i could fix him. (with my pussy)☝🏼😤

i know this isn’t even freaky for tumblr but it’s the first time i’ve posted something like this, so be nice to me. 🥹

also i proof read like three times and i don’t want to anymore so here you go, sorry for any mistakes, i love you.

thank you for reading!

masterlist | divider by plutism

[allfearstofallto]

PLS CAN YOU FEED US MORE hero of the nation knight!childe ON MY KNEES I LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH AND I SEARCHED EVERYWHERE FOR A FIC LIKE THIS

This took FOREVER to write, but here you go!!

Blessings Be to The Hero of the Nation

Historical AU

Yandere Hero of the Nation! Childe x Fem! Reader

TW: yandere themes, stalking, minor character death, blood, threatening, forced marriage/engagement

He kept one of your hair ribbons wrapped around the hilt of his sword. It billowed in the wind constantly and would draw watchful eyes to it. That pastel pink fabric didn't match a single thing on his brutish, usually bloody exterior, but he still kept it regardless. You tragically didn't give it to him in a blatant display of affection and well wishes for him on his journey, instead, he found the little ribbon after it'd blown off your head and up to the wind. A little pout formed on your lips realizing you'd lost it, but you decided against retrieving it. He didn't though. He picked it up and placed it in his pocket, taking it home to clean off the dirt and grime.

That same ribbon was clenched in his hands when he arrived at the gate of your manor, along with a few other gifts that he would give to you. He'd just slayed the dragon, the wretched menace that was terrorizing the nation, now and only now did he feel worthy to ask for your hand. Cleaning off all the blood and gore that was on his armor, polishing it into light metal that could blind anyone who looked directly at it, he was certain that this would charm you off of your feet.

When he was invited into your home by your parents who were surprised to see the hero himself at their door, he didn't care about the tea or the cakes. The praise meant nothing coming from them. He skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the point. He wanted your hand in marriage and he wanted the wedding to be soon.

A skittish expression crossed your father's face as he gritted his teeth, “We've decided to leave that decision up to her.” Childe smirked, that was even better. He'd never met a woman who wouldn't fall for his charms.

You were called down from your room, eyelids heavy and half open, still in your thin sleeping gown with a robe over it. You were rubbing the tiredness from your eyes as you walked down the stairs, your other delicate hand gripping the banister. And when you saw him, you bowed. A deep traditional bow, given to those of a respectable higher status.

He kneeled down on one knee before you. The male kneeled for only one person, the queen herself. His sword pulled from its sheath, he laid it flat against his palms, offering it up to you. That knocked the sleepiness from his body and suddenly your eyes were wide open. Genuine shock was making your body stiff as a board and you looked back and forth to your parents who didn't say a word.

“Your visage has danced around my heart non stop since the first time I laid eyes on you. I wish to use this sword only to fight for you. Won't you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Words spoken in honor, with him meaning every bit of it. You were meant to take the sword from his hands, tapping it gently upon each of his shoulders, but you didn't. You just stood there, lips trembling, but not saying anything.

A marriage proposal via a letter was easy to ignore or reject, you didn't have to see their reaction. But never had you had someone be so bold as to propose to you in person. And not only that, the very hero that saved the Kingdom. Rumors told you he'd be marrying the first princess, she obsessed over him before he became the hero and those feelings seemed to only grow stronger after he waltzed into the city with the bloody head of the beast. Yet here he was at your feet, patiently anticipating your answer which he was positive was going to be a yes.

“I-'' you began, trying to think of the easiest way to let him down gently, “I fear that I'm not ready for marriage yet.” You said hurriedly. That wasn’t entirely a lie. You spent countless hours looking at the list of marriage candidates and scoping them out at balls and parties, but quickly realizing that none of them suited your tastes in that way. The entire idea of being wed barely satisfied you. You wanted to push it off for as long as possible.

“I'm willing to wait for you until the world crumbles. I'd even accept being your fiance until the day we die, as long as I can say you're mine,” he was persistent, you'd give him that.

You fiddled with your fingers nervously. Time felt as if it had stopped and this moment would never end. No matter what you did, he was still going to be there, “I thought you were to be wed to her highness, the princess?” You questioned him.

A scoff fell from his cherry pink lips, eyes looking you up and down, drinking in every inch of your body in that thin nightgown, “She does not interest me. Not the way you do.”

“There is really nothing interesting about me,”

“Won't you let me be the judge of that?”

Your shoulders slumped as you looked to your parents. They seemed as surprised by his persistence as you did, but weren't going to step in to help you, they always affirmed that it was your decision, they wanted you to be independent.

“Forgive me, hero, but I can not accept your offer,”

For just a split second you saw that princely expression slip. His eyes grew dark, lips in a deep frown, a rage you'd never seen before. But he was back to his usual expression in less than a second, that charming smile forming on his lips again as he stood from his knees and sheathed his sword a little too slowly.

“You wound me, my lady,” he'd mutter softly, hands still conveniently tight around the hilt of this sword, “Won't you please accept my gifts? And if you are to begin considering marriage, I hope that my proposal will be remembered fondly.”

Childe showed himself out, a little too quickly, but you didn't dare tell him to slow down. It was only once he was out those large double doors, did the air in your home feel breathable, you finally felt safe again. You watched his carriage leave from a window, watching as his eyes went dull again, losing all shimmers and feeling like a hollow mimicry of what humans were supposed to look like.

You were quite embarrassed to say you fell in love after that. Not with Childe, of course. You mentally tried to push the man from your mind after the way he startled both you and your family. Instead, your feelings developed for a commoner boy. You found yourself eyeing him when he'd deliver produce to your home, his face being one of pure beauty despite his messy exterior. As months went by, you'd catch yourself stealing bashful glances at him, locking eyes only for both of you to look away shyly. When the engagement was announced, Childe was one of the first to hear about it.

You twirled around the house in your wedding dress. Something plain and basic, but it was what your family could afford, and quite honestly, you loved it. You didn't want to take it off. Your fear of getting it dirty lessened as the days went by, until the wedding was only a week away.

“A guest for you, my lady,” one of your maids had said. Typically, when the employees of the house saw you dressed in your white gown, they'd smile at you, overjoyed as well. But she didn't. She looked worried, even a bit tense as she made the announcement to you.

“I hadn't arranged to meet anyone today,” you said a bit quietly, going to you closer to pick out something to change into, “Please tell them to wait in the day room.”

She stood stiffly for a second, then opened her trembling mouth to speak again, “I tried to, my lady. But he insisted on seeing you right now. He's just outside the door,”

A part of you wanted to ask who it was, who would be so disrespectful as to barge right up to a lady's room without her permission. But you already knew. There was a sense of unease sinking into your stomach. Unease and recognition. All the gifts and letters he'd sent weren't enough, were they? The man you were ignoring just had to come see you in person.

“Let him in,” you told the maid. She seemed confused at the ease at which you allowed such a thing, but still opened the door, revealing Childe who stood still in the hallway. He stepped past her, eyes only trained on you, “You're dismissed,” you said quietly, with a reassuring smile to the maid. Hesitance danced across her face, looking back and forth between you Childe, but she still did as told, bowing before leaving.

“You look lovely,” he said breathlessly, taking in the sight of you in that pure white dress.

“Thank you,” was all you could think to say back. Now that he was here before you, your mind was growing blank, all the things you wanted to say suddenly getting lost in fear. You tried not to notice the tension in the room, the way he was eyeing you like a predator about to pounce on a rabbit, but even your tough exterior was easy to see through.

“My heart aches for you, my lady,” he speaks softly while taking slow steps towards you. The terror of this situation made you move backwards, until your feet had made you press your back against the wall, “I fear that my haste might've made me do something…irrational.”

His dominant hand seems focused on the sword at his hip, making you look at it. It was only when you saw the red speckles all over his hand, hilt of the sword, and the oddly familiar pink ribbon he kept tied around it, did that coppery smell fill your nostrils.

With a trembling voice and a fake smile, you tried to assure him, “Any mistake is fixable, Sir Childe.”

“Not this one,” his hand continued to hold the hilt of his sword, squeezing it a few times as of testing the weight of his blade, “Do you know the best part of being the hero? The dragon slayer?” He asked, waiting for your response which was just a slow, forced shake of your head, prompting him to continue, “It's not the riches or the praise. It's not even the women.” As he speaks, one of his hands slides down from your cheek, to your neck, to the bodice of your dress. Tearful eyes look down to see him smearing that red liquid, that blood onto you white dress, staining it.

“I don't understand,” you mumbled, but your words fall on deaf ears.

“The best part of being the hero, is the freedom to do what I want. With no prosecution. Who in their right mind would stand up to the man who saved our failing nation? The answer is no one. Not the king, nor his workers, and especially not your weak little fiance,”

The sight and smell of blood, Childe's deep, hollow blue eyes, the way your heart felt as if it wanted to lurch out of your mouth. All things you tried to focus on as his words pounded their way into your skull, understanding washing over you like a wave that was trying to drown you where you stood.

“Wh-what did you do?” Your voice, so high pitched and breaking as the weight of the words forced through your body.

His hand, cold, soft, wet with blood rubbed your cheek, while his face never faltered, those dead eyes never changing, he had no remorse. It made you sick to your stomach, images of your fiance flashing through your head as you tried to imagine what he looked like, the hopeful ones saying that he was at least still alive.

“I'm going to ask again, nicely this time,” he began while pulling a ring from his pocket. Much more intricate than the one your fiance had given you, seeing as he had the hero's budget. But that didn't make you feel any less light headed when it was slipped onto your ring finger, freezing cold against your warm skin, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?”

[minhosimthings]

Girl Dad!Skz headcannons

Pairings: husband!Skz × wife!fem!reader

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, mentions of pregnancy, reader wears a dress, mentions of food, teensy swearing

A/N: GUESS WHO HAS BABY FEVER AYY ITS THIS BITCH RIGHT HERE. I am so DONE with watching my fav idols play with babies and not expect me to die. WHERE IS MY CHAN WHO'LL GIVE MR A BABY HUH? anyways enjoy my very drunken headcannons

Bang Christopher Chan

DID I JUST HEAR BEST DAD IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD

This man was born to be a dad istg

He'd be so amazing when you're pregnant, like he'd ask his mom for advice, give you belly rubs if your ask and will willingly lend his entire closet to you.

Would be so supportive through the birth process, is not disgusted or anything because he is him.

"She looks just like you."

Would be just a teensy bit overprotective, just a teensy bit.

"And you will bring her back by 7 yes? Oh and what's your address for unrelated purposes?"

*sends the address to Minho incase he needs to murder anyone*

Would be so comforting when she gets her period

"you know I used to do this to your mother.", While massaging her back.

The baby would grow up multilingual and Chan would be so smug about it

"my daughter is my second producer

Lee Minho/Lee Know

Would have such mixed emotions when you tell him you're pregnant

On the one hand A PERSON MADE UP OF BOTH OF YOU? WOAH

On the other hand OH SHIT A PERSON WHO HAS BOTH OUR GENES

Cooks all your weird ass cravings for you but not before giving you a side eye

"Alright y'all are gonna get a sibling." *Is talking to the cats*

Buys everything cat themed

"baby what if the baby is a dog person?"

Y'all have twins, a boy and a girl (manifesting my twin dad Minho fantasies)

Would dance for them when they're babies and would get elated when they try to copy him

Pouts when their first word is mama

Brags so much about them

"I mean they are MY spawn, obviously they're better at dance than your kid, Susan"

Seo Changbin

GIRL DAD GIRL DAD GIRL DAD

So elated when you tell him you're pregnant

PREGNANT CUDDLES KZKSNSNJ

Would be a 100% on board with lifting your belly to save your back

When you find out it's a girl, he straight on sobs.

"I CAN'T HANDLE ANOTHER PAIR OF ADORABLE YN EYES LOOKING AT ME"

Holds the baby extra carefully in his buff ass arms

She looks like you part 2

Tea parties with her are serious buisness for him

"jagi can't you see im currently discussing with the princess about her magical dragon I'll do the dishes later."

Would probably ask her if she wants to go to the gym with her dad and when she says yes he'd be so happy

"you're better than your mother she can't even lift her ass up and go to the gym"

Hwang Hyunjin

When I say this man would paint you a portrait when you tell him you're pregnant-

HE'LL PAINT YOU A FUCKING PORTRAIT

So sweet with you all throughout but also a nervous wreck

Much like me

Would love to paint your belly if you allow him to

Would try your weird cravings with you

And actually like them

Let's not pretend like Hyun doesn't do the pregnant woman pose everyday

Cries so hard when your baby is born

He doesn't mind the gender or anything, but when he found out it's a girl-

"GUYS ITS A MINI Y/N"

She looks like you part 3

Such a clumsy mess when it comes to taking care of her

ART CLASSES ART CLASSES ART CLASSES

"Darling, we painted this for you."

Han Jisung

Immediately freezes when you tell him

Jisung.exe has stopped working

"wait so the protection didn't.... Protect?"

Now Y/N.exe has stopped working trying to figure out whether you actually used protection or not

Talks to your belly all day

Treats the baby like a gossip partner

"girl you won't believe what Hyunjin did today."

"what did he do?"

"yn shush I'm talking to our baby girl."

Is your personal high school cheerleader during the birth

"jagi you are slaying right now you can do this."

Cries when baby is born part 3

Calls her a co-producer part 2

Spoils her shitless

She has him wrapped around her finger, much like her mother :)

Making playlists with her is his love language

Lee Felix Yongbok

Did I just hear breeding kink

Cries when you tell him

Bakes so many brownies when you tell him like one time that you're craving his brownies

Makes your weird cravings part 3

Idk what it is with me and DanceRacha making all your weird cravings

Runs you baths, with bath salts, bath bombs, scented candles and massages your aching muscles I WILL DIE RIGHT NOW

Is the best during the birth, holds your hand allowing you to squeeze it as hard as you want

Dresses baby up like the fashionista she is

Is so amazed and ecstatic when the baby gets an Aussie accent

"JAGI SHE JUST SAID BREKKIE"

Kim Seungmin

Tsundere daddy meow

Will literally melt like his face will be like 🥺

Buys all the cute stuff on day one

I'm talking cradles, blinkies, toys, bonnets for some reason

"of course she needs a ponyo outfit darling come on"

Tones down his teasing a bit

Still makes fun of your penguin walk tho

And if you cry, he will comfort you and never forgive himself for it

Is kinda disgusted by the birth process but he's a strong soldier

Cries when baby is born part 4

Like Kim Seungmin crying is a real thing chat

Singing lessons are free for her, and she has her dad's angel voice!!

Also inherits her dad's roasting style, and she's the only one who can roast him back hehe

He kinda died inside when she told him he was old (he's never been prouder)

Yang Jeongin/ I.N

Bruh this guy istg

Mixed emotions part 2

"IM TOO YOUNG TO HAVE A CHILD"

Calms down eventually (after a slap on the head)

BELLY RUBS

Spoils the shit out of you because obviously

Asks his mum for advice part 2

Sings to your belly at night when he thinks you're asleep

Secretly hopes baby will have his dimple

He loves kids, so parenting is a natural thing that comes to him

Probably more experienced at holding a baby than you are

Feeds her for the first few days when you're tired

Perfect husband honestly he should marry me

Loves braiding her hair and giving her fashion advice

Mini fashion shows!!!

Dances with her a lot

[dark-and-kawaii]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ Tainted Dreams ˖⟡˚౨ৎ⋆

✧₊⁺ Summary: As Zevlor sleeps, a dark shadow named Aradin creeps into his dreams, twisting his peaceful rest into a horrific nightmare. Zevlor dreams about Aradin taking away everything that he’s come to love… ♡

✧₊⁺ Pairing: Zevlor x F!Tav/Lofn

✧₊⁺ Content: Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Nightmare | Character Death | Jealous Aradin | Happy Ending | Sleep Cuddles

✧₊⁺ Notes: Another story I hope you all enjoy xoxo I’ve been wanting to write some angst involving Aradin so here it is!!! Heh heh to be honest I’m a sucker for a story involving some Aradin angst ♡

In the quiet embrace of night, Zevlor lay entwined with his beloved, Lofn, his arms holding her ever so close to him- always acting as a safe haven for her as she slept. Her body a comforting weight against his chest as he too slowly slipped into slumber. When she stirred gently against him in her sleep, her head nuzzling at his neck, his tail gently coiled around her thigh as he returned the gesture, their bodies blending as one.

As the night wore on, their bodies pressed close, their breathing synchronized in that gentle rhythm that lovers fall into with the passage of time, their hearts beat a gentle, steady rhythm of love, contentment, and peace... Until it was shattered by a shadow creeping into Zevlor's dreams, twisting his peaceful rest into a vivid nightmare. His body tensed, clutching Lofn tighter, his tail pulling up into the air, as if in warning. The darkness seeping into his dreams, like the blood of a wound left untended.

His mind's eyes filled with visions of betrayal- a group of men turning against their cherished princess, all because of her love for him, a so called foulblood, a hellspawn who was meant to rot- to die at birth for being what he was... The men who had once looked at him with respect, now looked at him with loathing... The nightmare deepened, his body trembling with each haunting image, a cold sweat breaking out over his body.

Zevlor saw the men first slay her dragons, Aetherion the first to be overwhelmed and slaughtered. His great form lying still in the dirt, his blood soaking the ground... Vyrmoth, the younger of the two tried to take flight only to be brought down and stabbed again and again, until his cries were silenced...  Then they set their sights on her... Lofn, bound by chains that kept her powers in check and helpless, her face, tear streaked and pale from the pain of her dragon's deaths- feeling everything that they had felt... 

One of the men laughed, his hand gripping her face harshly as he leaned down and spoke to her, “The lot of us could have given you the world, but you choose this abomination instead.” 

Forced to her knees, Lofn was made to suffer before Zevlor. He watched helplessly as the man pulled out his blade and slashed at her back, yet she did not cry out, she would not give them the satisfaction... Zevlor's eyes trailed down to her stomach, the faint swell of her pregnancy barely visible under her torn dress... His eyes filled with tears as he realized just what they were going to do, to the unborn children she carried... His child... Their child.

“Please don't,” Zevlor pleaded, his voice broken, “I beg of you. She is still the woman you all admir-”

A famiilar voice- a familiar smug tone cut him off, “Beggin, like the foulblood you are.” Aradin stepped forward, his hands grasping Lofn's head and forcing her to look up at him, “This foul blood has poisoned her, tainted her with his vile touch.” he looked at the men around him, “I aint going to allow it no more.”

Zevlor's brow furrowed his eyes hardening as he stared at Aradin, “You bastard! What has she ever done to you? To deserve this? She saved you! Your people!” He tried to fight the men holding him back, but failed, “I should have done you in the moment my fist connected with your jaw back in the grove…” the hatred and loathing clear in his voice.

Aradin sneered, “I shoulda done her when I had the chance, before you poisoned her.”

Lofn struggled weakly against Aradin's grasp, her voice low, “You were nothing, Aradin, nothing. Just some lowly adventure looking for his fortune.” She spit in his face, “A pathetic boy- not even worthy of calling you a man” her words dripping with venom.

“Shut it wench,” her head was yanked back, then forced forward to look Zevlor in the eye's. Aradin's blade traced a cruel path across Lofn's chest, his gaze locked with Zevlor's then the group of men circling around, “I witnessed it myself, how this devil stained your princess.” 

Lofn's eyes, brimming with pain and unshed tears, never wavered from Zevlor's face. Her sorrow was not for herself or her unborn child, but for him... Knowing the torment he was enduring- the pain he would never cease to forget... 

Zevlor whispered a plea, “Aradin, I beg you. Please. She has done nothing, take me- Like I know you've always wanted to- Rip my horns off, let my foul blood stain your boots- but please... Not her-”

Before his mind could register what was happening, Aradin's blade pierced Lofn's belly, “I should have gutted you and this tiefling back in the grove.”

A yell tore from Zevlor's throat as Aradin's blade descended upon Lofn again... She lay lifeless before him, her eyes wide and empty, her blood pooling towards him…

With a jolt, Zevlor awoke, his heart pounding like a caged bird desperate to escape. Zevlor's heart still raced as his hand came up to Lofn's cheek, her serene face turned towards his, a soft smile on her lips as she slept. He was grateful that she hadn't woken to his distress- grateful that she was still at his side and very much alive... “Thank the gods…” He gently ran his thumb across her bottom lip, his own curving up at the corner as her lips parted and she sighed softly in her sleep. He reached out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, reassured by her peaceful breathing. Taking a deep breath, he slipped quietly from the bed, careful not to disturb her rest.

Crossing the room, he approached the crib where his newborn daughters lay nestled in soft blankets. Two small newly hatched dragons perched nearby, their eyes watching over their girls vigilantly. Zevlor smiled at the creatures, reaching out to rub one of their necks affectionately with the back of his fingers, “Quite the nightmare I had,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “But I know you'll keep them safe.”

As he gazed down at his sleeping daughters, a tender ache filled his heart. They were so small, so innocent, and the thought of Aradin lingered like a poison in the back of his mind. Zevlor shook his head, his jaw clenched tight. It would never come to pass- could never. Aradin would have to kill him first, and Lofn's dragon's, well... Zevlor knew the nightmare lied about how easily they would go down- even Lofn, no such chains could ever stop her from unleashing her wrath… Not to mention their son, now more grown than ever, had his own dragon and was quite good at wielding a sword and magic... And Lynnania, the Queen… Zevlor’s tail twitched, giving away his fear at the thought of what she would do… 

But still, Aradin's eyes always lingered on Lofn since their days at the grove... And now the piece of trash was in Thay for whatever reason... Now, with a life built on love and family, Zevlor couldn't shake the fear that his nightmare might one day creep into reality no matter how hard he tries to find it foolish…

He sighed, brushing his hands against both his daughter's tiny fists, “I won't let anything happen to you, or your brother.” He whispered, his voice a low rumble, “I promise. I'll protect you all.”

Sitting on a lush chair, Zevlor stayed at their crib for some time, watching them and their mother as they all slept, making sure that there was no shadowy figure lurking in the darkness... The tiny dragons lifting their wings in warning to any who might dare approach.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Bai He in the Slow Boiled Au:

Some previous Slow Boiled posts including Bai He.

Bai He has her own personal demons to combat after the events of S3, and Wukong ultimately wants to be there to help her. It's not every day a mortal child just possessed by an ancient demon like that.

Wukong does geniunely hesistate when he realises that LBD's body was merely a host, if he had truly wanted, he would have snapped her neck then and there. But the knowledge that the little girl forced to harbour the demoness could still be saved makes him pause.

And ofc in the Slow Boiled au when Bai He is released from LBD's control, Macaque (realising that she's just a host), leaps to catch her as in canon. He now understands why Wukong let his guard down enough to get possessed in his own right.

Macaque is also the first one to notice that Bai He isn't ok after she's been freed. He can hear every nervous twitch she makes when the others talk to her. He still has trouble fathoming how this petite, scared, cub could have the same face as the witch who tormented them both.

Macaque is still getting used to his more parental side, so he brings Bai He to Wukong for cuddles and hair grooming - mostly out of instinct.

Bai He is terrified of Wukong in the immediate aftermath of S3, because not only is this monkey pretty much a God, but one well known for slaying demons! And now she still holds some of LBD's power!?

Wukong tries his best to calm the human cub as much as possible, explaining that he really hasn't been much of a threat since he sealed away DBK. He's been relying on his troupe of friends ever since he met MK.

But the little girl isn't 100% conviced deep down. After all, she's surrounded by gods and demons and dragons (and mr Tang).

But when Mr Macaque approaches her alongside the rest of the adults, and offers that she could stay with the gang if she has no where else to go, then Bai He starts to get comfortable.

She's a little afraid of Yuebei at first... but it's hard to be afraid of a baby monkey cute enough to make the bodhisattva themselves cry!

Also yeah. Bai He now knows gods. Heaven just has to put up with the fact that this little mortal human child is a presence in their pathos. She just has the ability to charm herself to powerful beings. She has run up to many a celestial tiger or hound and started petting them as though they were housepets needing affection. Erlang's loyal hound even wags her tail at the sight of the adopted Monkey Princess. :3

[dasnercaret]

how ISAT makes you feel like going home

so one of my friends said to me "the first time i played (isat) was when i was home sick, i felt like it had curative properties. analyse that mr playstyle 😎" and i took it as a fucking challenge. i've never written an (tumblr-posted) analysis essay before and i'm going into this with a bunch of haphazardly folded ideas and NO OUTLINE fuck it we ball

so to begin with: DORMONT.

isat, as a whole, is extremely a traditional rpg setup. which unfortunately i know little to nothing about, so forgive me in advance if i put my foot in my mouth regarding traditional rpg mechanics. but like many games, you start at a home base, at home. and the whole vibes of the place honestly serve to only emphasize the safe / at home / storybook atmosphere isat cultivates. you wake up in a field, sleepy and tired. your dear friend mirabelle leans over you and tells you to wake up, because you're going to beat the king tomorrow! and you laugh and you're sleepy but eventually you start playing. eventually, you push yourself up and wander around and meet the townsfolk and your party.

now, the player doesn't know the party. they've just opened the game! they don't know these characters. siffrin does though, and it shows in the interactions he has with each one of them. mirabelle teases siffrin about the quality of his nap. isabeau puns with siffrin. odile smiles at him. bonnie... looks away, because of backstory you don't have yet, because you're leaping into this story at its very end. but siffrin knows.

(...)

siffrin knows. which informs his narration, of course, and overall it gives the sense of - you're watching a story already known, with characters who already love each other. like walking into a family home midway through a dinner party, to know and be known in turn.

(you know where you are. you're home!)

siffrin provides some exposition of course, enough to catch the player up and let them know the basics of the world you've set foot into. these people are here because they have natural ties, connections to the land they've been born or raised in or are travelling through. you all are here to defeat the king, who is the epitome of a traditional storybook villain, the big bad evil you defeat at the end of the fairytale. he's just the generically evil guy, with no focus given to the atrocities he must have committed and been willing to commit in order to get where he is. there's no need to be scared of him, not really. (yet.) he's evil, but in the way a storybook villain is evil. all the sharp edges defanged, sanded away, all the humanity and dimensionality and violence inherent in his character compressed into a set of scribbles on the page, words on a screen. it's not personal. it's not.... scary. not to you, and not to siffrin, who's already been floating above it all.

(the rest is under a cut! spoilers for The Entire Rest Of The Game)

similarly, the exposition is in the form of little childlike drawings, emphasizing the same nostalgia it draws on - fairytales, fables, those stories where the heroes collect the magic sword and slay the dragon and save the princess. you know these stories, consciously or not. you love these stories, (probably), and it all serves to emphasize the familiarity with which you step into dormont. heroic stories are extremely common in the stories we love today, from the old classic prince charming to (somewhat) more modern legend of zelda, and no doubt many people picking up isat have a similar passing familiarity with the overarching story of rpgs. (i in fact was the exception, but that's a whole other essay)

the townspeople definitely do not help this vibe as well. they are practically one and all kind, steady people, precisely the sort of common folk you'd want to save in a story where nothing hurts and everyone is safe and loved. they're happy to gift you a flower or a pan au chocolat and cheer you on in your quest, certain of your victory and at least certain of their continued happiness even if you fail. simple, easy, familiar, comforting in the way redwall is comforting or an old set of childhood fairytales is comforting. there's no real judgement, no anger at you for potentially failing and (almost) none of the gross ugly real emotions that would be present in a more 'realistic' story. simple, easy, familiar, comforting.

(You like knowing what happens next!)

so. i think we all know that isat at its core is a game about homesickness. god's sakes mal du pays is literally right there. the central conflict of this game, beneath the overlaying fluff of an rpg archetype and an evil to defeat, is about siffrin not being able to go home while the rest of his party get to do so. and even at this very early stage (approximately act 1 and i would argue a bit into act 2) you can start to see the cracks. siffrin is shown alone, tagging along with the party because he had "nothing else to do" (read: nowhere else to go.) he laughs and pals and jokes with the party, but like before, like always, he merely mirrors them. he makes puns with isabeau because isabeau likes puns, and siffrin liked making him laugh so much so that he adopted puns into a part of his personality. he comforts mirabelle about her future, jokes with odile about her research, and always, always, avoids talking about himself. when they ask where he's going to go after their journey is over, his answer is always a mirror of their own - pilgrimage, research, travel, comedy. when he makes a wish at the favor tree, there's no option to wish for himself.

because the thing is, right. siffrin never thinks of himself. the only options instead are to wish for his family - his home, his only living and real connections in his life, the people surrounding him that really make dormont feel like a real home and not just another friendly place in vaugaurde he's passing through. cause the townsfolk are nice, sure, they're friendly, sure, but - they don't know him. they're not important enough for him to literally rewrite his personality for them. it's his party instead, that he laughs and jokes with and is known with, even if superficially. he wants to be allowed to go home, to stay home. he's been homeless both literally and figuratively for so long that he's beyond desperate to be allowed to keep what little he's found for himself.

(You want to stay with them!)

except - what happens when you beat the game? what happens when you finish the rpg, when you reach the end of the book, when you grow up and leave this set of children's fairytales behind?

you put it down, right? you go home, right? you go back to your home, you go back to travelling, you go back to your family.

what do you do when you don't get to go home? when dormont and the clocktower and the house are the closest you will ever get to home, are the last moment you will ever have being home before it's ripped away from you forever? (ripped away from you just like before - )

you'd want to stay, right? forever and ever and ever?

siffrin is a character who has a very bad time letting go. just like the king, he wants to have, desperately, enough to kill himself a hundred times over for it. and, through the timeloop, he can pull you, the player, and himself and his hapless party along through the timeloop, repeating the same two comforting days over and over and over and over.

and perhaps after a few loops of settling in you, too, can understand why he would want to do this. it's nice, isn't it? knowing what will happen? knowing that these people will always love you? knowing that you can always get the flower, always get the drawing, always get the pan au chocolat, always beat the tutorial kid and get the jackpot? that the townsfolk will always smile at you, that your party - your family, your home - will never know what you've done?

it's not enough, isn't it?

(Dormont, unchanging! Dormont, stagnating!)

no matter how hard siffrin tries to cling to the past turned present to stave off his inevitable future, he is still human. under the fairytale setting and pretty lights, even under his own desire to stay with them, he needs that human connection. he needs something to change, to give way. needs to be seen, to be known, to be loved for himself and not because he's learned the perfect pretty words and actions to trick them into loving him. you, the player, the person driving siffrin, can understand this frustration perfectly as well - you need something to change. you need something to give way, because you can't keep doing this. because you can't hear the same lines over and over and over anymore. you can't do the same thing over and over anymore. you're not happy. siffrin's not happy. something needs to change.

i finished isat over the course of about four days, playing about 12-14 hours per day. during that time, i experienced possibly the most deeply intensely felt emotion i have ever experienced. to this day when i look back on my first playthrough of isat, the sheer depth and fury of that emotion takes my breath away.

and it was frustration. just like siffrin, i was trapped. i couldn't look away, because i loved these characters, because i loved their story, because i wanted them to keep going and going and living and i wanted to keep living alongside them. but i couldn't keep going like this. i couldn't do the same thing over and over and over. i needed something to change, but both siffrin and i were desperately, agonizingly trapped in the same few days. the same places, the same faces, the same lines said rote until i was zoning out through every dialogue interaction, only pausing when i needed to make sure that i hadn't missed something new.

because i loved these characters. i loved how homely they felt. i loved them, i loved them, i -

needed them to be real. to change, to grow, to have their future returned to them. i needed to see them go home, not trapped in this same endless time-frozen loop. i had been trapped at home too long, and the cabin fever was eating me alive. my desire to be allowed to keep playing (to stay in the timeloop) was duking it out with my desire to see them change beyond what they were allowed to change in the span of just two days. i wanted to see bonnie grow up, to see isabeau change into someone else, to see odile come to terms with her half-vaugardian nature, to see mirabelle learn to accept her sexuality (or lack thereof). i wanted them to remember us as family.

ah, isat, absolute king of getting in my head and making me think like siffrin.

back to dormont. in the end, dormont only changes permanently in act 6, after the time loop breaks. the only time the townsfolk ever change, ever coherently move to different places and act differently (act 5 is similar, but i would argue that's because siffrin changes, dormont still doesn't really meaningfully change) is after the loops.

and it's fitting, isn't it? by this point in the game, you could recite dormont backwards and forwards. but by this point in the game, you are well aware that you need to give them back a future. their future. the one they wished for in the first place. they've been trapped in their fairy tale wonderland for long enough. they deserve to go home, truly home, to go forward and live their lives and keep moving on. to allow them to change, to grow.

to allow yourself to change, to grow. to allow yourself to go home, to admit that you want to keep your home you have now, to keep the family you've built from blood and death and tears and stars.

(You want to stay with them!)

to leave dormont. to leave this fairytale behind, and keep living.

[cvlutos]

OUR FAIRYTALE ENDING

✡︎ May.09.2023 | 2.3K| Commissioned by @starstruckcaptain

✡︎ Yandere! Kalim A. | Fem!Reader

✡︎ Yandere | Angst | Kidnapping | Stalking | Obsession | Lovesick | Different POVs | Timeskips | Noncon | Smut | Blood | Manipulation | Etc | Proceed with Caution, My Love.

✡︎ Synopsis: It started with a simple fairy tale, the devolved into a obbesassion, the became an illness. One that has no true cure.

| One | Two | Three | Four | Five |

“A true love kiss that seals is binding. Ties to lovers together. No matter the odds.”

— Childhood Fairy Tale

The thick pages of the large hard-covered book are heavy in his small hands, placed heavily in his lap, as his wide garnet red eyes dart quickly across the old, yellowed pages, reading the old fading ink. He hears the gentle rustling of wind that dances through wooden wind chimes, creating gentle clattering as he focuses on the pages. Lips a gap in utter awe with the old fairy tale.

The young heir is tucked away in a dimly lit corner of the ancient library, sitting crisscross beneath a dust-covered wooden desk, using a long wax candle, placed upon a golden hand-held candlestick, using the gentle orange flame to light the small corner of where he sat and give him the ability to see. Still dressed in his silk pajamas and barefoot as he sits upon the plush velvet cushion, one that he dragged from his bedroom with the help of his faithful servant and closest friend, Jamil Viper, who has currently disappeared somewhere in the library, though Kalim, knows he’s always near.

He always is.

Yet that isn't what the young heir cares for, not at this moment. He wants to fall in love like the prince in his story does. Who is so kind and sweet, who gives to the poor, who sees the good in everyone. The prince in his tale showers his love in gold and jewels, and dances within sunlit days and cool moonlit nights away. Who holds them close and seals their love with a kiss. Yes, this is what he desires more than anything.

To get married to his own love. To his princess.

══════ •✦• ════════════ •✦• ══════

“Shall I have you for all my own! Yes, I shall slay dragons, fight demons, and save you for all you are! Because I love you! And what is stronger than love?"

— Childhood Fairy Tale

“Do you think soulmates exist?”

Kalim walks along the towered wall, arms outstretched as he balances, placing one foot in front of the other, with Jamil by his side, holding the young heir’s belongings as they walk around the large vibrant courtyard, wasting time before Kalim's next school lesson, which is history. One of Kalim's least favorite, since the tutor is quite rude.

The large grassy courtyard is filled with unique plants--ranging from distant flowers, that fill the air with a rich fragrant aroma, and lush green bushes that hid colorful berries, to elegant and giving fruit trees, that Kalim occasionally takes from, filling his stomach with fresh oranges and plums.

“I don't see why they don't exist.” Jamil’s answer is simple, honest—like he hadn't bothered to think about it more than a mere moment, allowing Kalim to indulge in his fantasies, while he focused on making sure Kalim didn't topple off the stone wall and hurt himself. Which he knows Kalim wouldn't care about, wanting to immediately visit the palace doctor, desiring to be spoiled and given a handful of sweet candy for listening so well. Obviously trying to avoid the stern history tutor. While Jamil knows the doctor will send him to be scolded by his parents for being so careless about the young successor's health.

Which is something Jamil would rather avoid.

Charcoal grey eyes occasionally glance over, watching the heir’s feet skip and balance on the wall, occasionally wobbling, which nearly gave the young retainer a heart attack.

“I wonder where my soulmate is! She just has to be thinking about me!”

Not paying attention to Jamil's clear nervousness and annoyance with constantly having to divide his attention, Kalim continues hopping and bounding along the old wall carelessly. White hair shifting in the mild breeze as the loose clothing he wore sways and is pulled by the wind. Earning a delighted laugh from the young successor follows the wind’s pull, carelessly falling off the wall in one fluid motion. Jamil’s face pales as he rushes to the other side, jumping over the fence, still carrying the heavy school bag. Watching Kalim lay on his back, unphased as he lands in plush grass. Staring up at the bright blue sky, arms spread out gaily.

“And when we met Jamil! I'll give her the sweetest kiss! Then we’ll get married!”

Jamil bites his tongue and merely nods in return, gently placing the bag on the ground, taking the moment to sit in the shade of the stone wall, listening to Kalim laugh away. Letting the young heir to the Asim Family have his daydreams. Cause eventually, he will be saddled with reality, a harsh reality.

Even Kalim Al-Asim is not untouchable to the world of arranged marriages.

══════ •✦• ════════════ •✦• ══════

“Even in your faults of delusion. I shall cherish you—clear your mind of horrors and love you eternally.”

— Childhood Fairy Tale

The pen scratches along the paper, held by a shaky hand that moves across the page, quickly and frantically. Barely aware of what he writes, but knowing he has to write down what he remembers of his dream. A dream so vivid that it seemed real—that it was real. His milky white hair was in complete disarray, with drool decorating the side of his lips, and sweat coating his skin. The cool desert air does little to cool him, as the windows remain open, giving a clear view of the bright full moon that barely illuminates his pages. He can barely see, barely make out the words he writes messily, still in a half-sleep daze, but he needs to remember.

It’s late in the night, and he's awake before either Jamil or any of the other numerous servants checked on him, eager to serve every whim and need. While only the two guards were stationed outside his door possibly awake, but quite unaware of the quiet rambles of the heir, who drew a messy portrait of the woman in his dream. He sits upon the plushness of his bed, with a leather-bound journal in his lap, filled with other dreams of this same woman and stories that were written poorly but stories he adores that speak of you and him.

You have filled his life unlike any other.

Kalim dreamed of a pretty woman with pretty eyes. A woman that loved him, that desired him, heart and soul. That threw herself into his arms and held him so desperately. Cupping his face and whispering over and over and over how much she loved him. How she'd wait forever and ever and ever for him. Those dreams would matter less once they met.

The brain is a cruel thing.

══════ •✦• ════════════ •✦• ══════

“If you do not love me, then I accept that your feelings are your own. But I cannot deny mine, my pure feelings of want! I will love you. Forever.”

— Childhood Fairy Tale

There’s slight worry in his ways, a slight obsession that fills Kalim, as he turns woman after woman away, only holding eyes for one and giving no other a chance. Holding out for the woman he loves and loves him in return.

Still, kindness is etched into his being, rejecting each in utter honesty, speaking of why he cannot love them. Each woman leaves with nothing but understanding, that leaves with the feeling of rejection... Dull.

Leaves each to hope and to find love in one who's as devoted as he, as Kalim speaks of nothing but his true love. As his presence alone emits such devotion and passion with great fervor that you would think that his love was real.

That all he speaks was truth. That this mysterious woman was real—and she is. To him.

Jamil is the only one aware of the truth, the only one aware that Kalim lives within his own lies—within his own delusions.

Yet he keeps such thoughts to himself.

Allowing the young heir to ramble on and on, to speak endlessly about his beautiful, enchanting lover, to show sketch after sketch and mourn that he could never recreate her beauty, but once he found her, he would know immediately. Jamil says nothing, merely sits, and watches Kalim flip through his journal, page after page filled with nothing but her, her, her.

A Her without a name.

══════ •✦• ════════════ •✦• ══════

Night Raven College does nothing to curve his growing obsession. To stomp out this flame that burns and festers within his chest.

"I had another dream."

Jamil tries to keep his placated look, only sharing a brief look behind him, watching garnet eyes look utterly lovesick. Remembering not of his outbursts that follow after he awakes from his dreams—dreams that have Kalim waking up screaming—sobbing his eyes out in pain as if he was being stabbed and ripped apart. Screams that frighten the other dormmates, as their housewarden wakes up covered in sweat, tossing off his blankets and pillows in mass hysteria. While others desperately call and usher Jamil into the room. Who forces the others out as he holds Kalim onto the large bed, forcing his body to go limp from exhaustion. Sobs turning into faint mumbles, silently wailing about how badly he needs them, how he could die from the simple pain of being far from them, and how fate keeps them apart.

"It hurts," he cries, it hurts that he can't be with his love. Eyes fluttering close. After so many years, it's so painful to dream. Nights that force Jamil to remain by his side, forced to console his "friend" who doesn't want kind words but merely wants her.

And in the mornings, it is no better.

With Jamil ushered his heir awake, gently shaking his shoulders, waiting for Kalim to open his eyes—to open his eyes to the waking world. Only for him to throw tantrums, sobbing and begging for Jamil to let him go back. To let him her. "Please, let me see her. Please", Kalim sobs, body limp as Jamil practically drags him from bed.

Kalim wants to spend his days in his fantasy only.

His retainer does well to avoid the topics of love and dreaming, doing well to keep Kalim, for the most occupied with anything else. Leaving no time for Kalim to think about her--you--for a moment.

Yet sometimes this obsession seeps through the cracks. Slipping past the several walls Jamil has built to keep him sane.

Kalim's voice is a whisper amongst the sea of people, walking side by side with Jamil, who carries his and the heir's bag with a tepid look, more focused on navigating through the many students and not be late to their next class. Wanting Kalim to do anything but speak about you.

Kalim doesn't notice his friend's disinterest, used to Jamil's silent air, and far too deep in his mind, far too in love with the idea he has built.

He continues talking.

“But this time it wasn't in the courtyard, but the school gardens.” There’s an optimistic tone in his voice, one that makes Jamil sick. He says nothing, as Kalim walks with a certain breeze in his step as he moves, unconcerned by the weird glances he got as the two glid through the crowd, a delighted smile upon his face. Jamil gives a short hum, letting Kalim know he was somewhat listening, which Kalim believed was highly important. Jamil had to listen, and he had to absolutely like his lover, and care for her as his retainer cares for him.

Which is something Jamil has heard numerous times, from long-time friends to distant guests he was sure that Kalim would never see again. And under any other circumstances, Jamil would give a blunt ‘Absolutely. A friend of yours is a dear friend of mine’, with a deep bow, while easily lying through his teeth with a faux sweet tone, something that Kalim would believe without any worry.

Yet this time, Kalim was serious.

Garnet eyes were unmoving, and lips pressed together, sitting more poised like a ruler--like a king that deserved respect. Kalim was not asking, nor making a random comment nor gesture of goodwill. He was demanding that Jamil swear it--swear upon his oath that he made to Kalim since the day he was born. To vow that he would care for his love.

Forcing Jamil to not see him as an overly innocent man who was hopelessly in love, but as the next heir of the Al-Asim Family who had found his future bride. He, whose word is absolute. And Jamil did, pressing his forehead to the cold marble ground, swearing upon his life to care for her. And after a moment, Kalim was satisfied, returning back to his carefree self a moment later.

“Jamil… She said she was here. Waiting for me to find her.”

Kalim stops, the halls clearing slowly. His gaze stares out into the school courtyard below, standing silently in the open stone halls, wind rustling through his hair as he gathers his thoughts before the large open windows. His hand clutches the ends of his shirt with nothing but a grin.

A chill runs along Jamil’s spine, staring at Kalim with unrevealing eyes, lips pressed together as he gives a firm nod. Inching to move as he watches garnet eyes fill with something unlike him while searching his retainer’s before frowning.

“You don't seem happy—”

“I am.” Jamil’s words are quick, watching the dark look unfamiliar look disappear quickly, his smile automatically returns. Unable to hide his happiness nor remain still, he practically lunges onto his closest friend with a tight hug, squeezing tightly.

“You’ll help me find her…” Kalim speaks, but he follows with a gentle sigh and a headshake, “I know you will.” It’s a command. One that isn't forceful, nor threatening, but an expectation.

Jamil is his servant after all.

“Of course, I will.”

ⓒ 2023 cvlutos — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.

[dreamchasernina]

To cleanse your feed of bullies,any Kataang or Zuko hcs you have :3?

Hiiii. Thank you for this! Here are some of my hcs off the top of my head:

- In the episode “Sokka’s master” while the Gaang are watching the meteor shower, Aang and Katara spontaneously hold hands. They’re lying next to each other and accidentally touch hands and then Aang blushes and embarrassed starts pulling his hand away but then Katara catches it and brings it closer to her and intertwines her fingers with his. They don’t look at each other it just happens, they just lay there in silence with their hands interlocked between them, until the meteor crashes later in the episode (Why couldn’t they put something like this in the show like????)

- When their kids start asking how Aang got the scar on his back, Katara is hesitant about telling them that story since they‘re so young but Aang turns into a sort of bedtime story. Instead of telling it as a scary and traumatic story about how their father died, he tells it as a heroic story about how their mother saved the day. How the fire nation princess took her shot and tried to slay the avatar but their strong and amazing mother did not let that happen and saved his life, and thus, saved the whole world. The kids want to hear the story over and over again before bed.

- Aang proposed to Katara on the Jasmine Dragon balcony at sunset…the exact same spot she told him she was pregnant years later.

- When Aang was struck by lightning and was unconscious for 3 weeks Katara always slept beside him and refused to leave him alone at night out of fear that something would happen. But when he woke up she kinda continued doing that. She’d tell him first that it was to make sure he was completely healed, he didn’t protest. Then it just became a routine, sleeping next to each other helped with their ptsd of that night in Ba Sing Se. (It’s like Katniss and Peeta’s arrangement if you know what I mean??? I love taking inspiration from Katniss/Peeta, they’re so similar I could make a whole post just about that! Aang is the dandelion in the spring for Katara, you know???? *sobbing*)

- So I need to paint the picture for this headcanon. If you’ve never seen Lost, in the last season, as the characters are dying they see their loved ones in the after life. So when one of my fave characters was dying she saw her boyfriend, and the last words she said were the words she said to him in the afterlife. So in my head, as Katara is dying she sees Aang waiting for her, and suddenly they’re both 12 and 14 like they were when they first met and then 14 year old Katara asks Aang “will you go penguin sledding with me?” And those are her last words before she passes away. So the last words her children hear their mother say, are the first words Aang’s ever said to her (Picture Rose and Jack reuniting at the end of titanic) I HATE THIS ONE CAUSE THERE ARE TEARS IN MY EYES AS I’M WRITING THIS.

I have a couple more but I’m gonna save them for Kataang week cause I have to write something! 😭

[melkyt]

Knight!Luffy that goes on quests, slays evil, and saves princesses

While most think that the evil he slays are dragons or beasts, it's really anyone or anything that he doesn't vibe with. He goes by his gut on what is evil. The king who gave him the quest is bound to end up just as dead as the dragon.

Law, a prince from a conquered kingdom that was wiped off the map, is struggling to survive in the courts after Doflamingo took him in to raise the rank of his own disgraced family lineage. Law hates every single royal as they are responsible for the death of his family and people.

He has paid attention to Luffy making waves and that every dukedom and territory he comes to is thrown into chaos, leaving a perfect opening for assassination. So Law talks enough shit, spreads enough rumours that it gets a dukedom in their territory to invite the Chaotic Knight.

Law is assigned to oversee him and decides to travel with the knight and his party. At first, he is using Luffy for his own goals, but as they travel and talk, their goals and ideals start to align more and more. Law has fun for the first time, and together, they burn the world down around them, a more powerful beast in their alliance than any dragon could ever be.

When Law's goal is achieved and he can be king of his own country, he dreads going back. With Luffy, he tasted freedom, and he didn't want to let go. So he leaves the kingdom in Cora's hands, something that is a smarter political move overall and forgets that he was ever a prince, traveling instead with the man he fell in love with :3

---

Check Out The Lawlu Whumptober Event I'm Hosting

[anxious-lee-ler]

Slay the Dragon!

Solar, Lunar, and Earth get to act out a play for Ruin! Things get silly~!

Suon = Ruin (he's not under the virus' influence here)

No trigger warnings! Just fluffy family tickles ((unless you don't enjoy that, of course))

Solar was bored to say the very least. He didn't exactly want to be here, but Suon dragged him here just to be his performance buddy. So here he was… dressed as a dragon with cardboard wings, horns, and a tail. He had a shift soon, but Suon practically brought out the puppy eyes.

“Alright!” Suon clapped his hands together with glee. “Earth, our beautiful princess, is stuck in the tower!”

Earth giggled, feeling pretty in her dress.

“This tower is guarded by an eeeevil dragon~” Suon wiggled his fingers to add effect.

Solar rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smile. Earth and Lunar seemed to be stoked to be here.

“And finally! Our daring knight in shining armor is here to save the day!” Suon continued, playing as the crowd as he cheered.

“I’ll show you, evil dragon!!” Lunar cried out confidently.

“And why should I be scared of a tiny human like you?” Solar tried to act the best he could, but he came off as more tired than anything.

“No, no! More energy!” Suon called.

Solar mumbled to himself and did the line again. Suon still didn't seem convinced.

“More! Energy! Let me hear it!” Suon rapidly squeezed Solar's upper casing.

“ACK?! GYAHAHA-! Ohohokay! Ohohohokay!!” Solar squealed and squirmed. He could hear Earth and Lunar giggling to each other.

“Perfect!” Suon walked back to his seat.

Solar did his line again, and this was more satisfying it seemed as the scenes continued.

Lunar scoffed “I’ll have you know, big ol dragon, that I am in fact fun sized! And with lots of knowledge of dragons weaknesses~!”

Solar was confused. That wasn't part of the script. But he persisted, now improvising. “Foolish mortal! Dragons have no weaknesses!”

“That's what you think!!” Lunar laughed, and discarded the cardboard sword and shield as he charged towards Solar.

Solar got tackled, letting Lunar jump him. He wasn't expecting- “Wh- wahahait LuhuhuhunaHAHA-!”

“This dragon is so giggly! I wonder if it likes tummy scritches?”

“Luhuhuhunar NAHA- EEEhehehe-!” Solar squealed out as Lunar scratched at Solar's stomach light enough to not harm him. He started kicking his legs out of instinct to get away.

“Look at that! The dragon does enjoy it! He's kicking his legs too!” Lunar was teasing, laughing like a little shit alongside Solar's squeaks.

Earth laughed at the two, happy to see them get along. She gasped in almost full surprise as Lunar let out a shrill squeal of his own.

“AAA- Solar- Solar whehehe can tahahahalk about thiiiiiis- AHEHEHEEEE” Lunar laughed as Solar giggly tickled under the smaller one's arms, picking him up.

“Hohohow do youhuhu like it, huh??”

“IHEHEHE GIHIHIHIVE!”

Solar chuckled and put Lunar down, stopping the tickling. Lunar dramatically lied down on the ground, letting out small giggles and huffs, even if he didn't need air.

“Have fun with your tickle fight, boys?” Earth chuckled as she walked over.

“Heh- I suppose-” Solar whispered-

“YOU'RE NEXT!!” Lunar pointed at Earth.

“Oh my! Whatever shall I do?” Earth smiled.

“Hm… Screw it, I'll join.” Solar smirked, turning to Earth.

She grew nervous at the looks in the twos' eyes. “Eheheh…? What's with those looks?”

“Run~” teased both Solar and Lunar.

Suon watched as the three ran and laughed away. He couldn't help but pout that his performance went differently, but he wasn't complaining.

[patchwork-crow-writes]

Thoughts on Kris x Ralsei

This is so long I had to split it up into parts - this is Part 1, which looks into how the roles that Kris and Ralsei are given contributes to the idea of their romance. As more parts are written, they'll be linked below in this handy-dandy TOC!

Part 1: And They Lived Happily Ever After <- (You Are Here!) Part 1.5: I Believe Your Choices DO Matter Part 2: A Pair of Star-Cross'd Lovers Part 2.5: In Another World, We Could Have Been (Just) Friends

Okay, so.

Wanted to elaborate a bit on my viewpoint of this ship, because I don't think it's something I've ever really discussed before and I think it's actually a very interesting dynamic (or at least has the potential to be, depending on where the rest of Deltarune goes).

So, Kralsei is cute, isn't it? It's fun to hug the fluffy boy and watch him melt into incomprehensible stuttering and blushing. All the little signs he's really, really into Kris, all the cute little snippets of dialogue you can initiate with him, all the alone time they spend together, in both chapters... honestly, the game makes it hard not to root for this pairing.

And yeah, it's cute... in a very surface-level, don't-think-about-it-too-hard kind of way. But once you start thinking about it... hoo boy. There is. A LOT to unpack here. So much more is going on just under the surface, and once you see it, it's difficult to un-see it. And in my opinion, it makes the Kralsei dynamic so much more nuanced, more compelling, and potentially quite tragic.

Now, a disclaimer: it's fine to like this ship on a surface level. No real harm is being done, these are fictional characters and it doesn't matter what reason you enjoy it for - if it provides comfort to you and gets you through, then more power to you! This is more me sorting through my thoughts on the subject and is not a judgment on how others approach it. With that said, and in the spirit of full disclosure, this will go into slightly uncomfortable territory - picking apart the idea of destined love, the deconstruction of common romance tropes, how outside manipulation might play a part, and even the potentially incest-adjacent nature of the relationship. If you don't want to deal with any of that, you can stop reading right now, and that's okay. Please continue to enjoy Deltarune in the manner that is best for you, and thank you for your attention thus far :)

If you're still with me, then please click the read more and we'll get started.

Part 1: And They Lived Happily Ever After

The first thing you have to understand is that Deltarune is utterly determined to cram the notion of Kralsei down the player's throat. The game is not subtle about this in any way, shape or form. Everything from the narration, to the dialogue, to major game events, to item interactions, and even the roles that Kris and Ralsei play both in the story and the party, serves to reinforce the notion that these two are very likely to end up romantically involved with each other in some way.

Let's look at the characters first. Kris is portrayed as the noble knight - stoic, unwavering, courageous, a natural leader - clad in medieval-inspired plate armour and wielding a sword and shield. And Ralsei is the archetypal princess - demure, dainty, kindhearted, nurturing - who uses magic to heal his allies and pacify enemies.

I did not mistype there - Ralsei is a prince, but the characteristics associated with him are more commonly found amongst female healers in JRPGs. Think Fina from Skies of Arcadia, or Marle from Chrono Trigger (minus the temperment), and you might have an idea of what I'm on about.

Think of knights and princesses for a moment. Imagine St. George slaying the dragon to save a helpless damsel. Imagine Lancelot and Gwenevere. Robin Hood and Maid Marion. Link and Zelda. Squall and Rinoa. Every single fairy tale involving an imperilled princess and a knightly rescuer. For a more modern take, imagine The Bodyguard. Ness and Paula. I could go on, but then we'd be here all day.

Suffice it to say that there is a pretty entrenched tradition surrounding these archetypes - a male-coded, phsyically-adept, courageous, stoic, action-oriented figure, is paired with a female-coded, magically-adept (depending on the medium of course), less-physically-capable by comparison, emotional, and more passive foil. The (male-coded) knight protects and rescues, the (female-coded) princess nurtures and soothes.

It is a very, VERY emotionally-charged dynamic, by its very nature. Through their acts of service to their protectee, the Knight displays their devotion and care for the Princess, and is in turn emotionally-enriched and cared-for. There is a great deal of physical and emotional vulnerability between them, and it is therefore ideal for romance stories.

Look at Kris and Ralsei again, through this lens. Kris is immediately put into the role of Knight, and Ralsei quickly establishes himself as a classic Princess. Almost instantly, before you've even become aware of it, you've made the connection - they're going to fall in love, because that's what ALWAYS happens in these stories. Ralsei supports and encourages Kris, both in dialogue and in battle, and Kris...

...Kris, uh...

...they...

...hug Ralsei sometimes...?

...they... they give him a ribbon...?

...no, that can't be right.

But it is right, for two reasons. One, Kris doesn't have to do anything. The roles are already established, and Ralsei is playing his part like a pro. And two, Kris doesn't do any of those things in the first place - you do. It's the player who hugs Ralsei, who gives him the ribbon, who picks the dialogue options, who makes the connections. You're the Knight in this scenario, not Kris.

Because Kris doesn't get to make that choice. Kris has to do what you tell them to do. And many of us have already jumped to the conlusion that this romance is happening, becuase that's what always happens. The Knight and the Princess fall in love. They get married. They live happily ever after.

So we ship them, because hey, it's cute, and it's easy. I can't stress enough how easy the game makes this. I'm fairly convinced that Ralsei was designed by comittee, like the Funzo toy in that one episode of the Simpsons. Like he was created with the sole purpose of being the most disgustingly adorable, lovable, awkward little cinnamon bun that ever existed. Like he was created to generate the maximum emotional response in players. It's the cuteness response dialled up to 11, and we are almost hard-wired to want to protect this little bundle of fluff from any and all danger, because lookit how sweet and adorable he is! The glasses make his eyes look all big, his fluffiness is reminscent of that of baby animals, he stutters and fumbles his way through dialogue, and you just want to scoop him up and put him in your pocket or something.

And so, we're more than happy to fulfil the role of the Knight to Ralsei's Princess. Whether Kris actually wants to or not. Because it does become increasingly obvious that outside of our influence, Kris is still their own person, with their own goals and desires, but no real agency with which to pursue them. Would that we could know what they truly want, but we are never presented with an opportunity to find out.

The thing is, Kris is not particularly... knightly. They play pranks on their friends, they swipe sweet treats from their mother, they seem to enjoy getting a rise out of people, and particularly from Asriel, if the story about "dropping the lizard into the pit to jump higher" is any indication. They sleep through class, yet by Berdly's grudging admission they are the "third smartest in the class". The only reason they go to church is so they can drink the "sick fruit juice". They don't seem to have any issue with prank-calling their mom, while she's taking about them with their tutor, while they're standing just out of sight, while they're balancing a trash orb on their head.

Nothing about this behaviour screams "Knight." If anything, it would make more sense for Kris to have become a Rogue-type character upon entering the dark world. So the question remains - why is Kris forced into that role? And to what extent is the seemingly "fated" romance between Kris and Ralsei part of that role?

Folks, we have barely scratched the surface here. If I keep writing here this will become a novel, so I have to stop for everyone's sanity. But I will follow up soon, looking into the ideas of Purpose and Destiny and how they relate to Kralsei in-game. If you've stuck with me up to this point, let me just say thanks, because wow I wrote a lot here, and it's probably a bit rambly and says the same things two or three times, but I just. Had to get this onto the page in some way or another, so... here it is.

Thanks for reading, and see you in the next one :)

[blueathens]

Once Upon A Time - Chapter One

Summary: Charles was never allowed to leave the castle, until one day he, and his best friend Pierre, decided to break the rule and leave the castle walls, only to bump into the well-known criminal, Robin Hood, who doesn’t see them in the same golden light that they were raised within. But Charles decides to ignore her hatred and becomes the bane of her existence.

Song: Whistle Shop by Roger Miller Quote: ‘You’re invited to The Royal Leclerc’s Masquerade Ball.’ Word Count: 9819

TW: A direct narrator (only at times, then switches to third person - give the feel of a book being read to you like someone usual did for us when we were children), mention of death, mention of murder, 

A/N: Not proof-read or edited. A/N 2: Taglist and detailed references found in reblog!

Masterlist//Main Masterlist

          ACT ONE, CHAPTER ONE

(Ah, where to begin? How about once upon a time…

…How many times have you heard that to begin a story? Let’s do something else.

In a far-off land, where – what? That’s been done too? In fairy tales? Ha, no, this story is far from a fairy tale, in fact it isn’t even one. Nor is it a legend or a myth, or even a bedtime story that you were grown and raised on as a child, this isn’t a story that you’ll know line by line, and this is not something that will be turned into a film or tv show.

No.

This is simply life.

With our Planet Earth that holds vast oceans, forests, and lands such as England, Greece, Monaco, Zosnurg and – you’re kidding…you don’t have a country called Zosnurg on your version of Earth?

What about pirates? Mermaids? Sirens? Dragons? Fairies? Krakens? Vampire Mermaids? Chimeras?

…None?

So, this would be like one of your stupid fantasy books then? Okay…well, let’s just get some things straight then before we start this boo – these lives that I’ll be talking about.

(Which I suppose in some way is a story if I’m talking abo– I, as a narrator, will stop talking now…)

(I do apologise)

Rule One.

This is not a fairy tale.

Yes, we have witches and princes’, and balls, and enchanted forests, and adult-eating witches, and even the children-eating witches too, mermaids of all forms, dragons, chimeras, and even werewolves and lycans, pukwudgie, and dryads.

And yes there is a yucky love story.

And yes there are sword fights, and war, and love and hatred, and death and –

Alright, I know this may sound like a ‘fairy-tale’ but isn’t everything a fairy tale? You have two love interests who have to go through a lot to be together? Sounds kind of like one to me…Only difference is that we don’t need to battle a dragon, well talking to my mother sometimes feels like I’m battling a–

Anyways, life is a fairy tale, a rubbish one, but a fairy tale, nevertheless.

But this isn’t the typical annoying fairy tale where the knight in shining armour goes and rescues the princess from her tower and shares a true loves kiss once the dragon is slayed.

No, that’s just fucking lame.

Instead the prince befriends a dragon, and he doesn’t save a princess, there are no princesses, well there are, but they aren’t important, this isn’t about them.

This is about the prince and the criminal and – what on earth are you talking about? You’ve seen fairy tales like this before? Get lost.

I told you once, and I’ll tell you again, this isn’t a fairy tale – this is real, not make belief, but real.

This isn’t so called Aladdin or Rapunzel – I mean Tangled – this is real life.

This isn’t a fairy tale.

In fairy tales life is presented as blissful and magical and makes you want to gouge your eyes out because you know you can never live a life where birds will get you ready for the day. Whilst in other fairy tales you feel like you are on the spinning teacups, and nausea creeps up on you from what you’re experiencing.

(Cause I’ll come clean now, I’ve never had any of my grandmothers be swallowed up by a wolf or ever seen a man become blinded by brambles).

No, these lives I’ll be telling you about will either leave you crying or smiling or perhaps even laughing – but most likely you’ll be crying, cursing my name for ever telling you about these people.

I am not sorry.

But just a pre warning – this is not a fairy tale.

Rule Two.

Don’t worry, you won’t have to hear my lovely narration voice all the time, I chose not to.

(I don’t get paid enough for that).

But when I do decide to talk with you I will do so in italics and in brackets (as so illustrated) – I have a few notes about these people for example how bloody stupid our main female character is and –

Rule Three.

We do not, and I mean, do not break out into a musical number, we don’t do that here. Absolutely not. And no singing birds are going to help get anyone dressed either or clean their house – they aren’t lazy – life doesn’t allow anyone to be this lazy.

There are no such things as true loves kiss – a little kiss is not bringing anyone to life – unless magic is involved of course, but that’s an entirely different story.

There is no happy endings too, that doesn’t exist, never has, never will, people will die, we will cry, but then we’ll move on and carry them with us.

Even she will di–

Rule Four.

No spoilers.

(Now, that’s all the rules I can read in my messy handwriting across this coffee-stained napkin that obviously didn’t contain the pretty barista’s number.

…

There was no pretty barista

It was just Sue, the sixty-old woman who knows my order off by heart, but claims to dislike me – however, she did smile at me earlier after I spilt coffee all over myself, so guess she doesn’t hate me…)

Oh and –

Rule Five.

This is not a fairy tale.)

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This is the story about a girl named Y/n and it starts with the sun.

Most are unaware how the once worshipped as a god by various of religions and cults ever came around, and just like the star that’ll burn the believers who venture too close, no one could remember how their King became King and when the Queen fell pregnant three times, gifting their world with three beautiful boys.

The first passed the crown down, the third shall remain a prince, and the second is deemed to be king one day.

To the world, this families beginnings felt like a fever dream – a gorgeous one though, and most carried such a strong love for them, but not all, some carried a strong hatred for them and had been wanting a revolution for ages.

A passerby once told his children, after a trip to Eynsworth one spring, that he never had much thought of their sun being a star, he knew it was, but he never felt like it was. Not until he, after meeting the royal family, had the pleasure in holding their second born, a few months after his birth, and my, the passerby never felt so close to the sun, nor did he fear being burnt. In his hands he was holding something golden; something godly. Just like the sun. But it wasn’t the sun, no, it was a gift from the golden beams above them, he was a star. He was their new star, their sun.

On the 16th of October a son was born. A prince. And he was given the name Charles.  

Their future king.

Our star, our sun.

It was hard not to love the prince who found himself trapped within castle walls, barely venturing out into the world, but when he does he’s constantly close to his father as they enter new lands (for him at least) where all hand his gifts to his knights – his protectors – with flowers and gifts. Only soft smiles were what he was allowed to retrieve, no other gifts of any sorts should be handed to him directly.

(There were many soft smiles which later turns into flirty looks from those his age as he grew up).

Along with growing older, where falling in love was more on someone’s mind, Charles never become blind in seeing how his best friend and his first knight-in-training, Pierre Gasly, wasn’t shy of the extra attention that was given when Charles was allowed to see the world outside the castle walls. Little winks thrown around and bright smiles whilst the prince watched in disgust before taking a strong interest in the world around him, watching how the clouds glided through the sky, forming different works of arts for all to enjoy, and how the branches of the trees waved them off for their travels, knowing the next time they are seen a new image will be formed, quite possibly a picture of what they saw on their travels.

(All in all, one person stayed on his mind, the one he meets growing up, the other main character of our stor–of these lives).

Once, at the age of seven, he saw the sea for the first time, and he wondered what it would be like to feel the salty air tickling his skin, embracing him in a warm hug where his cologne is replaced with the smell of the sea. He even wondered what life as a fish would be like, swimming endlessly through the waves as it dodged every obstacle in their way. He wondered if they felt lonely down there just as he does within the palace walls, hoping for a struck of bravery to hit him to just leave and see the world for a moment, even just for a second, just to go on an adventure without anything bothering him.

He wondered if the sea felt grateful to be holding such beauty in their arms, cradling it, kissing it, and bringing it deeper into their warmth, with some even grazing the sandy fingers of Poseidon. He imagines that the graze occasionally turns into a handshake, welcoming those to a new view, begging them to lie down in the pit of darkness to try and spot a single beam of light – they never do, they’re in too deep.

Charles questioned his breathing ability, the young boy would hold competitions in the pool at home where he timed himself on how long he could hold his breathe as he sits on the bottom, he thinks maybe one day he could be like those aquatic animals that reach the bottom to shake Poseidon’s fingers. Poseidon’s ‘spot the sun’ game would eventually become to easy then, as the sun would be in his grasp, smiling brightly at him as he whispers, “I did it.” And all Poseidon would do is nod as he looks at the boy’s eyes that (of right now) resembles the colour of the sea on postcards that grandparents send to their grandchildren.

The sun child even wondered if the sun felt any different if he was elsewhere, maybe it feels warmer if he was in a place he loves instead in one of the many gardens of his castle or the small amount of times he’s with his father in a different country doing something of work – which his father calls father and son bonding.

Maybe his skin becomes painted in various shades of gold, letting him stand with a cheery smile whilst looking like a lost jewel in a faraway land. Where he watches the clouds shift and change like a person’s mood and observes the sky’s colour platter shattering from the phenomenon of the sun setting.

The Prince of England, Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc of many of the Grandale Islands (a group of various places, islands, and countries that the family have ownership over. One of the most recent ones that the Leclerc’s took ownership of was when Charles was just five years old, after a neighbouring (and independent) country (Zosnurg) became littered with destruction, gore, and weapons as England battled them for land. (Charles’ second home country, despite being born in Monaco, his father decided to move the family to England after the birth of his last son) The air of Zosnurg was filled with numerous of smokes that contributed to the deaths of many on the battlefields. An army of rebels and an army of warriors would once constantly fight each other to the death for the land that both kings desired. It was unclear of what side would win; it formed a tiresome fear for those nearby as they dreaded to think of the war becoming never-ending. The fighters were grimed with pain, exhaustion, and their spirits were broken. The war was soon ended by King Raphaël (the father of the Leclerc’s) killing the King of Zosnurg with his sword.)

Charles recalls growing up with some of the kind souls around the castle, watching with a frown as the lower statuses had to clean the mess up, rebuild the economy that was destroyed by the war with the rich bossing them around. He remembers watching them nearly everyday from his bedroom window, or from the carriage as they rode through the towns like Aramore (a poor town that was mainly affected by the war as it was often targeted with bombs for a few months). Most of England was left undamaged though, only a small percentage of the country was damaged, it was Zosnurg that carried most of the destruction and those of Zosnurg had to rebuild their country like the first citizens of their country once did.

It was the Leclerc’s property now.

He wasn’t allowed to do anything about the mess, nor ask to help, or even ask his family about it. All he got told was it was not his business yet and that he was far too young to worry about such a thing.

So, growing up, trapped in the castle, and venturing out as little as possible, he watched as far as he could see get rebuilt, and become better than it once was. Soon, he was allowed out, it was about a year later, his godfather – his older brother’s best friend – Eric Russo– was given the permission to take him out karting in their city, Eynsworth. He grew to love the sport, later watching Eric, from the TV, travel the world to race.

Along with karting, the prince took up other activities to keep him occupied within the castle walls, even going as far as painting, but was quick to discover that was not his forte.

Charles was ten years old though when he first heard of a person who stole from the rich and gave to the poor. And it was a month after the discovery that he learnt how much his father hated this mysterious figure who’s blacked out silhouette littered the tea-stained wanted posters that was flown to country-to-country, hanging round in various places.

Wanted for £3000. Alive. Name: Robin Hood

That was the name the whispers would call them after the fourth robbery. It was a cool spring evening, and the robbery affected a close family friend, Mr Clive. They took anything that was valuable, and when discovered that there was a robbery, the bells of the townhall began to ring, people of Eynsworth then began to venture out and onto the streets in the early morning, sleeping dust prickling their eyes as they stood in the breeze. They were all dressed in their pyjamas as they watched Mr Clive – the man who was robbed – walk around in nothing but boxers as he stormed right towards the castle with his very young-looking wife begging him to do this at a better time.

No, the only good time was of right now. He demanded for the thief to be found, and the King agreed as he stares at the barely dressed man in the front gardens of his home from Arthur’s (his youngest son) bedroom window.

The following week new wanted posters were being sent out.

Wanted for £10,000. Alive. Name: Robin Hood. Presumed Description: Professional man around the age of twenty to thirty, who’s a skilled thief, fighter, and archer.

The days after Mr Clive’s robbery, many more got robbed, some even finding arrows outside their houses or even watched how the thief dodged the thrown slippers, wooden spoons, chairs and even vases sent their way.

Many questioned on the presumed age of this criminal, but they never thought on the matter long as they presumed that due to everything happening so quickly they couldn’t quite judge on how old this criminal may be.

However, at first thought they believed the criminal was too small to be of around presumed age, but as mentioned before, they never allow themselves to dwell on the matter long enough.

The week after new wanted posters were sent out along with a new wanted poster for Robin Hood’s partner.

Wanted for £30,000. Alive. Name: Robin Hood. Presumed Description: Professional man around the age of twenty to thirty, who’s a skilled thief, fighter, and archer.

Wanted for £5,000. Alive. Name: Little John. Presumed Description: Professional man around the age of twenty to thirty, who’s a skilled thief and partner of the notorious Robin Hood.

It was discovered that the archer was partnered with someone after Mr Clive got robbed once more. After falling down his stairs, hurrying down to capture the intruders with a broken torch in his hand, he watched the moment he swung his front door open with a throbbing head, as the pair, already at such a great distance, carried sacks of money over their shoulders, laughing with their heads thrown back as they pushed the other around.

On his 13th birthday, the discovery of Robin Hood and Little John being children were uncovered. No one was quite sure who leaked this piece of information, some say that someone accidently let it slip, some even mentioned that perhaps the duo robbed them and then they caught sight of how young they looked, some even suggested that maybe the duo wronged the anonymous person and they wanted to get their revenge.

Charles believes none of the suggestion were the correct reasons.

Robin was 12, nearly 13, (an age that was incredibly shocking and was being slowly processed by the world) and Little John was just 15.

And once again, prices were raised.

“Your dad should hire them to be one of his knights,” Pierre suggested one night in Charles racing themed bedroom, all of his brothers, Pierre and Eric being locked in there whilst a meeting was being held right outside about Robin Hood and Little John after they easily battled and escaped the King’s best men – no injuries were occurred, nothing but bruised egos and dignities.

Lorenzo, Charles’ older brother, scoffs whilst Eric shook his head in disagreement. “Why would someone who sounds like they hate the rich, join them?”

“People change,” the young French boy tries to argue. “Right amount of money and he could be running to Raphaël’s side.”

“The price over their head is a lot already. I don’t think they–”

“He?” Charles arched a brow as he looked over at Pierre, who sat on his bed whilst Charles sat on the windowsill to watch the chaos below him. “What do you mean he? I don’t think it’s a he by how people talk of their movements.”

“It’s a kid our age, Charles, they’ve been doing this for years, they aren’t going to be noisy.”

“Still don’t think it’s a he though. Doesn’t make sense – maybe Little John is, but Robin Hood can’t be.”

“What are you–”

“I think Charles is right…” Arthur looked up from the game device he was playing on, handed by Lorenzo to keep the 11-year-old entertained. “I heard whispers that it is a she.”

“You went out?” Lorenzo’s firm voice came, laced with concern. “You’re not supposed to–”

“No way,” whistled Pierre. “Impossible.”

“Cool.” Charles nodded. “Maybe she can give you all a tip or two on how to fight, shoot an arrow and not be as noisy as a Heffalump.” He teased as he looked at Eric, Lorenzo, and Pierre as he mentioned the skills they’ve been lacking most in.

“Mate do not relate me to those things in the forest,” Pierre groaned. “They’re not cool.”

“How are purple elephants not cool?” Arthur piped in, furrowed brows as he stared down the older boy.

“Are you trying to say you are cool?” Eric smirked as he folded his arms.

Heffalumps are said to be dangerous creatures, but Lorenzo had told Charles about the whispers among the caring citizens (the poor who lived in their lack of riches town; Aramore) that those hunter’s stories are all false, that these creatures were actually rather friendly, and they are cruel to the hunters as they are the ones trying to kill them.

He even told Charles the story of how he even was lucky enough to meet and touch a Heffalump with these three children of Aramore that was around Charles’ age. It was a few years ago, but it was a memory Lorenzo would carry forever as for once he wasn’t treated as a prince, or a knight in training, he was just treated as himself, as Lorenzo.

He felt free.

Charles and Arthur envied him for it, envied how he was allowed to go out and do what he wishes whilst they befriended the paintings on the walls.

Charles looked away from the group and turned to look back out the window only to find a butterfly pressed against his window, his vibrant coloured wings not at show, and Charles begin to hate the insect he was staring at.

Hated how it was allowed to sore the grey skies, hated how it was allowed to taste the sweet nectar of the plants around and he wondered if he would ever be deemed lucky enough to taste something as lovely as that. He wondered if he was beautiful like a butterfly, if someone looked at him like Aphrodite herself, and be able to memorise every part of him with their eyes closed.

Charles doesn’t think he’ll ever be that lucky, so he left himself wondering if a butterfly knew everything about flowers, wondered if they knew which one had the sweetest nectar, and which ones to stay away from, he wondered if they ever felt safe in those cocoons they break out of after the transmission from a caterpillar to a butterfly was complete – he wondered if they felt that change, if they realised they were now a beautiful and elegant insect that everyone admired from afar but were too scared that a simple touch would shatter them.

It was a month after his birthday that two faces were placed onto the wanted posters after they attempt to rob from Eynsworth Castle. Failing to do so due to the amount of protection these places were gaining over the years, his home being the most. A knight caught them, and after a difficult battle that ended with an arrow in the Knight’s thigh, he was able to give the King and Queen a detailed description on their Robin Hood and Little John.

No name was given, and no name was being found out any time soon. But his parents and those of riches were ecstatic with this newfound information.

Wanted for £50,000. Dead or Alive. Name: Robin Hood. Age: 12 approx. Gender: Female

Above the silhouette changed to a drawn picture of the girl and the presumed personal description was ripped out and in came her age and gender. And after the attempted Eynsworth Castle robbery, King Raphaël and Queen Anna agreed that they didn’t not care how this archer was handed in.

Death may even be better as there was no way she would be able to escape.

Wanted for £10,000. Alive. Name: Little John. Age: 15 approx. Gender: Male

And just like Hood’s, his silhouette was changed to a drawn image of him.

Everyone was still in shock about the age, but now their shock grew at the thought that it was a female who was causing them so many problems for so many years. Charles and Arthur were the only ones who weren’t shocked as they collected their packets of chocolate buttons from those around the castle who all disagreed with the idea of Robin Hood being a female.

“It’s not really criminal though, is it?” Pierre asked as he, Eric, Lorenzo, Arthur, and Charles laid on the grass in one of the many gardens of the castle. “It’s more deviant, no?”

“I wouldn’t say it such a bad thing,” Lorenzo muttered, arms under his head as his eyes stayed on the stars above them.

“How bad is it out there? For the poor?” Charles asked curiously, never truly knowing how bad it was for them, only seeing small sights of it when he did go near those areas.

“They have it bad,” Arthur muttered, eyes closed as he too rested his folded arms behind his head. He could feel Lorenzo’s eyes burning into the side of his head at the mention of his little trips outside the castle walls without anyone. “It’s like dad forgets they exist and just shoves them to the side.” He shifts to French casually as his mind thought on the way they live.

“Oh,” he nibbles on his bottom lip as his eyes counted the stars.

He loves the stars, truly does, he wishes he could join them for a moment and just sparkle and dance up there as they guide people home, forming little imagery onto the sky too. He wouldn’t want to stay forever, would find it too boring, but he’ll like to know what being a star was like.

He even wanted to know how to find these constellations, he reads books and searches the web for tips on how to spot them, but still, as night passes he still finds himself struggling to even find the beginning of one.

“When I’m King I wouldn’t push them to the side…we’ll be equals.”

“Cute vision,” Eric utters in French. “But that isn’t as easy as you make it out to be.”

The boys laid in silence as they watched different things. Like for Arthur he was seeing those weird dots you see when your eyes are shut. For Lorenzo, he was still admiring the stars along with Charles. For Eric, he was watching the trees wave in the gentle breeze. And Pierre was sat up, knees brought to his chest as he pulled out strands of grass and twisted them around his fingers to act as a ring.

“She’s quite pretty, no?” Pierre whispered in French, loud enough for them to hear, but they knew the question was more aimed towards his best friend than any of the others.

“Who?” Charles asks, responding back in the same language, oblivious to what Pierre was getting at as he connected the dots his own way to form a future for himself.  

“This ‘Robin Hood’ girl.”

“Does it matter?” Pierre sighed as he looked up from the strand of grass, only to stare at his friend’s side profile as he babbled on in French and avoided a simple question. “I’d prefer if she’s a good person than if she looks nice.”

“But she’s pretty, no?” Pierre arches a brow, corner of his lip pointing up into a smirk as he hears his friend sigh and close his eyes.

“Oui.”

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                             Present Day – February.

 Leather boots walked among the cobblestones, dressed in a cream shirt, dark trousers, and a navy hooded jacket, with the hood over their heads, the two now fourteen-year-olds moved beneath the ever-blue sky with lacy, white-edged clouds that formed a perfect line-up in the blue, as if they were boats safely moored in a celestial harbour, with the singing birds soaring above as they acted as the fishes of the skies.

Across the cobbled streets, critters ran across, dodging the horses trotting down, nodding their heads side-to-side. One of the fourteen-year-olds had to resist the urge to stroke the horses’ head, as they didn’t know what would happen if they were caught outside the castle.

The two made their way towards a concluded alleyway and as they grew closer to the towering brick wall at the end, they decided they would climb over it once they reached that issue. The taller one of the pair, kneeled down first, linking his hands together as it hovered over his propped up knee, the other placed their foot on the other hands, feeling them boost them up for them to be able to grab ahold of the top edge of the wall, their hand brushed against a tea-stained paper hanging on the wall, but before it could move up any further, an arrow whistled past them, skidding the side of the shorter one’s fingers as it hit and wobbled in the poster beside him.

The action made the pair pause, the kneeled down one looked up whilst the other looked over his shoulder to try and find the one who shot the arrow. The taller one let the shorter one down before he takes a watchful step in front of him as they watched the alleyway’s self-crafted shadows in front of them carefully.

Approaching out the shadows was a slightly shorter, and hooded figure, the bow in their hand was still raised whilst the other was over their shoulders, plucking out another arrow from their brown quiver. They stepped into the light more as they nocked their arrow, drawing the string back as they made the pair their target. The archer was dressed in a dark forest green cape with black cargo trousers and ruined boots. Their clothes were already covered in mud, and they watched as the figure instructed with their head for the two to lower their hoods and raise their arms.

“Money, now.” The hooded figure demanded.

“You can shove that arrow right up where–”

“That’s not very princey of you,” they smirk under their hood. “Did the King never tell you how dangerous it was out here?”

“Princey isn’t even a word,” the tallest of the pair folded their arms, muttering.

“Money, now.” They released the arrow; it skimmed past and shot threw the first arrow they released.

One of the two threw a small satchel of coins and the hooded figure just sighed as they placed their bow over their head, nestling it at a safe angle across her back.

“You’re Robin Hood.” The Prince breathlessly says as he watches her pick up the small satchel of coins.

She hums, bowing down dramatically as she grins up at the pair. “It is I,” she then raises from her bowing position and places a hand on her chest as she takes a step closer to the two. “And you two are Prince Charles Leclerc and his…Pierre Gasly?” The figure now stands a few feet away from them now, pushing down her hood for the pair of them to look at her. “Shouldn’t you two be…I don’t know…anywhere but here?”

Pierre mouth fell agape at the sight of her.

“You must know,” she continues, “we don’t like your type very much?”

“And what is our type?” Charles arches a brow, arms mimicking his best friends as he folds them across his chest.

“Rich pricks,” she offers them a fake smile, as she rounds them, ripping the poster off from her arrows as she inspects it, the two boys didn’t dare to make a run for it. They knew the stories already, even if they ran she would still catch up with them.

Her brows raise. “Still just £50,000? Is that all I’m worth to you guys,” the corner of her lips quirk up. “Suppose I should do something soon to make that go higher, ay?” The pair stayed silent as she span on her heel and moved closer to the wall to take down the other poster from the wall.

Their eyes were on her back as she looks down at both posters, they hear an airy laugh leave her lips.

She now turns back to face the two as she presented the two posters to them, as if it was the first time they ever saw them. “At least they can get my nose right,” she comments as she peers over at the other wanted poster. “Unlike Danny’s.”

“You just–”

“Told you Little John’s name?” She looks up, a smirk still playing at her lips. “Thought our little rat told the royals that already?” They shook their heads as she hummed in surprise. “Well, it be rude to not introduce ourselves, no? Considering we’ll be the ones who will take down your type of people.” She scrunches the posters up in her hands before stuffing it into her trousers pocket, she then holds out her hands for the pair to shake. “I’m Y/n – Y/n L/n, and my mate is Daniel Ricciardo.” She awaits for them to shake her hand, but their pair just stays staring at. “Suppose you don’t shake a peasant hand,” she puts her hand down, “proves to show why we don’t respect you.” She spat out before shrugging her shoulders as she too mimicked the way their arms were crossed against their chest. “Do what you wish with our names, no doubt that little mole be telling that King sooner or later.”

“You’ve got quite the reputation.” Pierre couldn’t help but say.

“Reputation?” She tilts her head, smirk still playing at her lips, they thought it was painted on as not once have they ever seen it fall, except the small falter of it when neither of them shook her hand. “I have a reputation?”

“Yeah, the steal from the rich and give to the poor reputation.”

She lets out another airy laugh.

“I’m just doing what the King can’t do.” Y/n half-shrugs as she pulls her hood back on. “We aren’t lucky like you, Princey.” Her eyes shifts to just focus on Charles.

“It’s still not a word,” Pierre comments next to Charles.

“Still don’t care,” she rubbed her dirty hand down her face. “We don’t have people running us a bath and we don’t have someone baking my bread, but at least I know that I earned that bread; and my god do I deserve it.”

“They say you’re a common theft.”

“Can’t be common with that price over my head.” She teased, sniffling her nose slightly as she looked around before looking at Charles again, the one who was mainly speaking to her now.

She noticed how clean the pair looked and how well put together they were. They didn’t look as slim as she did as they were able to get the food they needed. Their hairs were slightly longer than she expected it to truly be, she thought their highly paid hairdressers would be there giving them a nicer cut, but instead they looked like two teens who were just experiencing different styles for their hair.

The thirteen-year-old girl looked at the two fourteen-year-olds curiously, examining every difference they had over her. They held themselves tall, but their eyes held a sense of disorientation in them, it was like they were a lost puppy, not knowing what to do or where to go.

“Do you think I’m a criminal?” She questioned. “It wouldn’t matter if you do. We’re not going be friends,” she rambles. “Just curious to know how you see u–”

“No.” Charles answered over her short rambling, and she stopped and looked over at them. “I don’t think you’re a criminal for trying to keep everyone alive.”

Y/n titled her head to the side.

“You don’t know what it’s like do you?” She asked quietly, and for once in their meeting she wasn’t carrying that smirk. “You really don’t know how bad it is, do you?”

They just shook their heads.

“It’s best you don’t,” she cleared her throat. “Don’t need to save anymore of you guys.”

Pierre raises a brow. “Who have you saved?”

“Eric and Lorenzo,” she purses her lips, “more times than I can count on one hand.”

“My younger brother, Arthur,” Charles begins, “he hasn’t been around here, has he?”

“Why? Scared we’ll do something?” She rolls her eyes. “I haven’t seen him, but I hear he’s with Wyatt and Lando a lot.”

“Who are they exactly?”

“Good kids that you won’t ever go near,” she narrows her eyes at them. “In fact, it be best if the pair of you leave Aramore and don’t come back. Tell those three that too. Stick to your little rich friends and the things you know, alright? And I’ll go home and tell my folks that I hit the jackpot, that I robbed the Prince and his knight in training.” She takes one more step closer to them. “If this was a story, I’ll die in the end. You know, with being wanted and all. They know enough and I’m surprised they haven’t caught me at least once yet.” Y/n shook her head as she walks past the pair. “Go back to your little castle.”

“Huh,” Pierre unfolds his arms. “She really don’t like us.”

Charles shakes his head, “but perhaps we can change her mind.” He states as he too puts his hood back on, Pierre copying before they walk out of the alleyway. Despite her leaving mere seconds before them, she was nowhere in sight when they exited the one-way alleyway.

“Get your Daily News right here!” A voice yelled as he held a stack of newspapers whilst the boy next to him waved one in the air, holding his cap out for change to fall into. “Get your Daily–”

Charles hits Pierre in the arm, nodding his head towards the two, what he presumes, are twelve-year-olds. They swiftly make their way towards them, standing in front of them as Charles places two coins into their cap.

“Bonjour,” Pierre greets with a smile as he takes down his hood, watching as the boys faces drop at the sight of his hood falling, their eyes then switch to Charles, who also pushed down his hood. “We’ll like a paper, s’il te plait.”

The boys looked between one another in confusion before they handed the dark-haired boy a paper.

“Not to be rude but what you doing here?” One of the British boys asked as the other elbowed his side.

“Lando!” He whispered loudly.

“Wyatt – they shouldn’t be here. What if Y/n and Daniel–”

Pierre and Charles looks at one another at the mention of the boys names. These must be the ones that Arthur sneaks out to hang out with.

“Oh,” Pierre smiles, “we’ve met that Robin Hood friend of yours. Robbed us and everything.”

Wyatt looks into his hat with a frown, “clearly not well enough.”

Charles tucks the paper under his left arm.

Lando carefully looks around to see if anyone else has noticed the Prince and his Knight in training with them, he then leans forwards slightly to speak with them quietly. “Aramore doesn’t like your family very much, your highness,” Lando quips.

“But our Robin Hood and Little John have always held the highest of hatred for those in Eynsworth and spits at the names of the Leclerc’s who has wrong us all,” Wyatt continued off from Lando.

“My father is a good man,” Charles tries to convince the boy, perhaps even try and convince himself, but the two Aramore boys just shakes their heads with laughter.

“Suppose she is right after all. All you rich folks are as stupid as it comes.” Charles and Pierre share a look.

“But you met her?” Lando speaks up again. “Like you actually met her?”

They both nod.

“And she didn’t knock either of you out?” He watched the pair freeze. “Oh,” Lando pauses, “I only asked because of how much she hates your – your type. But Y/n isn’t a bad person. Sure, she’s made mistakes – but she’s a good person.”

“Thought you be more careful with sharing other’s names like that.”

Wyatt shrugs at Charles’ pointed look. “Don’t need to when the whole city now knows it,” he nods his head to the newspaper under Charles’ arms. “It’s the headline today – Y/n L/n and Daniel Riccardo are the Robin Hood and Little John. The King doesn’t want this shared with the whole world yet though, perhaps that’s the smartest thing he’s ever asked.”

“So the mole has already told my father?”

Wyatt only shrugs.

“You two should really leave though,” Lando stutters out slightly. “Aramore won’t be safe for either of you and when night comes it will only become even more dangerous.”

“It is a full moon,” Wyatt smiles and now Lando elbows his side.

“Dude!”

“What?!”

“You saying that werewolves be out tonight?” Pierre laughs slightly. “Ah, werewolves don’t exist.”

Lando and Wyatt share a look.

“Just,” Lando starts again, “just return to your castle, your highnesses’.”

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(As long as anyone could remember, it has always been the Leclerc’s throning their land, but it is to be known that they aren’t all as bad as Raphaël and Anna, in fact, they are the only two that anyone could remember being so terrible. His father was a good man – a good King who died far too soon, and then there was Raphaël’s older brother, but no one can remember what happened to him, one moment he was there preparing to be King himself, and the next thing they heard was that he left and wouldn’t be returning and that Raphaël shall be King instead.

Many things crumbled when Raphaël become King, our Robin Hood was about two years old when life become worst, never seeing what life was like before, only knew them from the stories others would tell her, and those stories sketched the idea of revolution into her brain, one could argue that it’s always been in her blood and all she needed was a single lit match to guide her to see it.

So, for as long as she could remember, she always had a desire for revolution, to overthrow Raphaël Leclerc in any way possible and bring back the life that only her ears were ever blessed with hearing. Bring back the world where one shouldn’t be afraid that in a matter of a second they could be stabbed, or questioning if that snap of a twig was a person following them instead of an innocent deer, and even bring back the world where everyone isn’t just waiting for another war too happen.

She wants to bring back the world where others were seen more as equals, the world where the poor was being helped and weren’t clinging onto their last seconds of life, and the world where the rich weren’t so greedy and treacherous and kissed the ground for a man who usurped the crown.

Robin Hood was the people’s only hope. She robbed from the rich to feed the poor. She was beloved by all people from England, and by the age of twelve, she was known and loved in other countries. Robin and her best mate Little John – also known as Y/n L/n and Daniel Ricciardo – are found hidden in Aramore, one of England’s poorest town’s.

King Raphaël has heard rumours on this information, but it is yet to be confirmed to the rich if it she truly awaits in Aramore.

You know, there’s been a heap of legends and tall tales about our Robin Hood. All different too. Well, fellow readers, here is the true version).

                                               ❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

“This is the story of how I died.”                                                                                                  

“Y/n!” Daniel shoved the younger girl’s shoulder who was left chuckling at the frozen states of youngster’s with their mouths wide open.

“How can you be dead?” One questioned, tilting their head. “You look alive.”

“Because she is.” Daniel gave a short glare to his best friend before turning his head to beam at the kids. “She just messing with you,” he elbows her side. “Jokester this one.” The children looked between the two. “Now, Y/n, tell the real story.”

“Fine,” she rolls her eyes, “this one is more boring though – Once Upon A Time…”

(Y/n L/n and Daniel Ricciardo weren’t originally from Eynsworth, instead they were from a town called Neverland – which was a small island in the region of the Harsano Islands. They were both raised in an orphanage that was ran by some very cruel people. They all evacuated though when their country got overtaken by Raphaël.

They all escaped to England; Y/n was just nine).

The Orphanage – The Lost Boys – were a worldly known orphanage that many thought to be a good, well-run place, instead, for the children that lived there, it was like a game of survival. Y/n L/n and Daniel Ricciardo were always trouble, even back then, both being secretly taught how to survive by a woman who was only meant to teach them English, but instead she was their mentor for fighting, how to use a bow and arrow, and basic survival skills.

It happened away from eyes that would hurt them terribly if they ever discovered the truth, whether that was children that will tell on them or if it was Peter Pan and Cruella De Vil themselves catching sight of this little self-made club.

Growing up, they were taught on how to be everything wrong – in the eyes of the owners it was everything right – with being raised with the wrong thoughts of the poor and how they should be mistreated, that creatures out there should be killed, and even the fact that if one isn’t hurt then they will never learn.

Children shouldn’t have parents, and they shouldn’t grow up either.

They shouldn’t know how to survive in the real world, and they shouldn’t be able to protect themselves.

Y/n was told she was wrong in the way she thought, that children have a mind of their own, and that they will all grow up and leave Pan and Cruella here in this huge building alone – Pan didn’t like what the six-year-old was telling him, not one bit, so in front of everyone’s eyes, he bashed a rock into the side of her head until she fell unconscious, only waking up at the feeling of a cold flannel being pressed against her head by Daniel and their mentor – Tania – checking her over.

She still carries that scar on the top of her head.

She was six years old when Peter Pan and Cruella De Vil saw her as their main target to hurt, Y/n didn’t mind though, as long as the other children were left unharmed, then she’ll carry as many scars that will tell her tale.

“My mother wasn’t a good person,” Y/n mentioned one day in her training, when she was just seven years old, Tania raised her brows in surprise that Y/n knew this, she wasn’t meant to know but here she was talking about it, “She – it was mentioned in my file.”

“You read your file?”

She nods. “I just wanted to know more about…I just wanted to find out–”

“No,” Tania shook her head. “You shouldn’t have looked at that.”

“I didn’t think it be bad,” Y/n frowned, looking down at her feet as she kicked a piece of gravel from the ground away. “Why did you agree to do this after what my – what she did? I could be the same, you know.”

“You aren’t,” Tania was quick to mention. “You aren’t the same and you never will be. Your mother was a bad person, I know this to be true. I know this as she was the one who slit my daughter’s throat. But if I’d seen even an ember of that cruelty in you I never would’ve agreed to mentor you,” Tania took a step forwards, rubbing a gentle thumb across Y/n’s cheek before holding her hands in a motherly hold. “She may have given birth to you, but she doesn’t get to decide who you become – you do that.”

“Was my father a better person at least.”

“He was one of the greatest men I have ever met, he just, he fell for the wrong person and death caught up with him sooner than we would have liked.” Tania squeezes the youngster’s hand. “He would have loved you and would been so proud of you.”

“Maybe not,” Y/n shrugs, “maybe not because if he was still alive then I wouldn’t be here, I would be living with him and I would be a different person.”

Y/n was still seven years old when there was news that Cruella’s new fur-coat belonged to the creature that she yells to all on how she believes they’re all bad, and all should be skinned alive, she never was quiet on her hatred for werewolves. It was still the same day when a friend of hers questioned her opinion on werewolves – Wyatt Poitier.

“Are they bad?” The girl shoots them a confused look. “Werewolves? Are they bad? Cruella says they are – says they deserve nothing but painful death. She always said that when she finds one, she will kill it, and wear it as a fur coat.”

Y/n doesn’t think they are. Not all at least. She knows a few, all nice and all just scared humans who have extreme attributes that the average human do not carry, and perhaps their even more terrified of themselves than others are of them, because each time the moon is full they must go through the painful transition that causes others to call them a monster.

However, she was never clueless on the horrifying one that lived over in England.

Her werewolves’ friends never asked to be who they are though, they never asked to be something people find only in their nightmares. Where once someone discovers that secret, most will treat them differently, will want their death to full upon them, and some will begin to silently judge them before a simple hello is ever spilled again.  

“No,” she shakes her head. “I don’t think they are. They’re just people who also happen to be wolves. Some are good. Some are bad. Just like people.”

“Pan agrees with Cruella.”

“Well,” Y/n sits up, and leans her back against her headboard of her bed. “They would say that when they’re just the same as the bad wolves.”

The two days before they evacuated to England, Y/n and Daniel’s mentor was found dead, the news the next day insisted she died from the fire of the orphanage burning from the children – but Y/n knew it couldn’t be right as she knew no one was left in the building when she lit the match to start the amber glow.

Y/n carried the belief that it was Pan, Cruella, and the King – who was seen in Neverland earlier that week.

Y/n was just nine when she escaped to England, and she was still only nine when she become the Robin Hood who had revolution fogging up her brain.

 “And just at that moment, the ugly little frog looked up with his sad, round eyes, and pleaded, ‘oh, please dear princess, only a kiss from you can break this terrible spell.’” Y/n spoke to the kids as she told them a story she had memorised in her brain due to the amount of times the children of the orphanage read it to one another. “And–”

There was a sharp three knocks that echoed throughout the small, stoned room, all the kids that sat cross-legged on the ground whipped their heads round to look at the door, whilst only Daniel and Y/n had to lift their heads up a little. They all await for the handle of the door to be pulled down, but yet, it never does, not until Daniel calls out a “come in,” did the handle move and the door was pushed open ever so slightly, enough for young Wyatt to nervously poke his head in as he looked at the duo.

“Er,” he looked over his shoulder at something, “you two won’t like this but,” he looks at them again, “there’s a visitor for you,” he mutters before moving away and slamming the door shut.

The pair moved away from the self-crafted beanbags as they moved towards the door, ignoring the pleads from the children as they asked them to come back and finish the story. Daniel was quick to reassure them that they be back after they see who was outside. Slowly, the children moved from the floor and went off to play with some of the toys in the room.

The two slowly moved out of the door, but a hand was quick to land on Daniel’s chest as they tried to push him back into the room before he could even close the door behind him.

“Wyatt what are you-”

“Change of plans, they only want to see Y/n right now.” Wyatt whispers as he pushes Daniel back into the room whilst Wyatt followed closely behind, closing the door as he goes, leaving Y/n outside, hands on her hips as she squinted to try and find this visitor.

“This is ridiculous where is,” her eyes fall on a slightly taller figure standing in front of her, her face scrunches up in disgust. “What are you doing back here?”

The figure removes his hood.

“I’ll keep my hood up if I were you, don’t want anyone to pass by and see who you are.” She utters as she takes a look around to see if anyone was close by whilst he pulls his hood back over his head. “I thought I told you earlier that you should return back to your castle. And where’s that friend of yours? Not out here is he? Better not be causing any trou– ”

Charles rolls his eyes. “He’s with the horses.” His fingers nervously reach to the side of his cloak, running up and down the steam of it as he looked at the girl in front. “I wanted to come back and apologise.” Y/n raised a brow. “Look, I just think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Well, I think we did too.”

“Okay–”

“But I appreciate your apology.”

“Apology?” Charles breathlessly laughs before scrunching his face up. “Who said anything about an apology? I was just saying–”

“Please don’t talk anymore, okay?” She crosses her arms over her chest as she turns to look away from him. “It’s only going to upset me.”

“Well you have already me upset so–”

“Is this about robbing you?” She turns to look at him, hands dropping to her side before raising her right hand to gesture towards him. “Come on, like that’s going to hurt your bank account.”

Charles chose to ignore this as he put his hand into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, he held it out for Y/n to take.

“So you wouldn’t shake my hand, but you’ll happily hand me things?”

“Your really annoying, has anyone ever told you that?”

She pinches the other side of the envelope, leaving it to dangle down as she held it from a corner. “What is this?”

“Real mature–”

“Hey if you didn’t want to shake my hand, then I don’t even want to touch you.” She eyes the golden colour of it, it almost matching her reward posters. There was no cursive writing addressing to who it was for, but it did have the blue royal stamp sealing it shut. She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at it, but she should have guessed it was an envelope from the Leclerc’s due to it being handed to her by one.  

As she ignores the colour of the envelope, she notices, without much surprise, that it was made of high-quality paper with a slightly rough feel to it – it wasn’t like the recycled stuff with bits in it like the people of Aramore use. It was just thick and heavy like letters from hundred of years ago.

Well, it be no shock if they were still using material for letters that they once did many times ago, the rich liked the traditional, they weren’t ones for big changes, so it should come to no shock that their paper felt like a rich metal, or that they weren’t even with the times and recycling their paper.

“I wanted to give you one,” Charles shrugs. “I thought it be a nice thing to do and–”

“This isn’t going to be the leading cause to my death is it?”

His eyes widen, “I hope not.” He responds in French, watching as Y/n’s face scrunches up from not understanding a word he just said. “Oh,” he frowns slightly, “I said I hope not.”

She clicks her tongue at the root of her mouth as she continues to eye the envelope and the boy in front. “Can you go now?” She questions, and before she could even watch if he does leave this time or not, she was already heading back inside to the small room she once was in, coming face-to-face with an annoyed Daniel and a Wyatt wouldn’t stop shifting on his feet.

“What’s that?” Daniel points to the thing that was still pinched in between Y/n’s thumb and forefinger.

“Poison,” she mutters, still eyeing it up in disgust.

“O-Oh, Y/n,” Wyatt stutters, “You must go,” The duo’s brows knitted together at Wyatt’s wording as they watched his eyes lit up at the sighting of what she was pinching. “You must! It be an amazing opportunity for you and, oh, Y/n, you can’t run forever; he’ll find you one day,” Wyatt warned. “Just go and have some fun and do what you do best; steal.”

“Who says I’m running?” Y/n lets out a scoff, which was slightly merged into an airy laugh too, “I’ve been here for the last five years, and if he ever gets the courage to come for me, I’ll still be right here.”

She understood that Wyatt must have figured out that this was from the royals, and by he, he must mean the King, and perhaps Wyatt thought this was a letter personally from the King, and maybe he believed this letter was going to mend everything.

But it wasn’t – that only happens in fairytales.

“But Y/n–”

Her finger slides underneath the lip of the envelope, tearing it open. She watches how the royal blue stamp that had a golden rose engraved onto it and is then surrounded with an aureate circular frame, splits into a near perfect half.

She tugs the folded black card out; she then holds it in one hand whilst the other crushes the envelope into a ball.

With her other hand, her thumb slips up from the bottom of the card, pressing down on the lined spine to open it up. Swiftly falling down like snow on a winter’s morning came two glistening silver and black tickets. The silver glitter littered across it shimmered like those elegant mirror balls found hanging from those darkened ceilings, producing thousands of different circular lights around the room.

She ignores them, but Daniel doesn’t as he bends down to collect them, eyes widening just like his friend’s as they read the same word, however one read it from the tickets, and the other read from the letter itself.

 You’re invited to The Royal Leclerc’s Masquerade Ball.

References (in order of appearances): reference to chicken little || reference to tangled || reference to swan princess || reference to robin hood || reference to robin hood || reference to tangled || reference to robin hood || reference to tangled || reference to peter pan || reference to peter pan || reference to peter pan || reference to 101 dalmatians || reference to the princess and the frog || reference to anastasia ||

Detailed References and Taglist found in reblog Likes/Reblogs/Comments always appreciated along with any ideas one may have as this very long series proceed. 

Act One Masterlist//Character Profiles//Playlist

[botanybulbasaur]

love through fiction

stuff below cut because its just stuff im writing while i cry

a quote i keep remembering over adnd over and over again is tahta stupid "the love was there and it changed everything. if you even care" quote because. i dont like change. i like having positive impacts on people but i dont like when i change or when they change. it feels like im losing something, an aspect i cant gain back, a feature that people mightve counted on me for. even worse sometimes, it can feel like im losing people.

so its easier to just ignore change. act like the love and the hate is the only thing that changes, not time. act like we, humans, control how long we have and how the world changes what we love.

but we don't, and we never will. the world will keep spinning and the people will keep changing against their will, against the beat of their hearts. but the fiction i keep reading

it keeps sayingt hat the love doesn't need to change anything. the love being there in the first place is a miracle, a gift, proof that we mean something and that our actions give us something. thte change was there and it made love if you even care.

'slay the princess' does a good job at taking just what i fear and placing it before me. how terrifying it is to be the one who changes, and how terrifying it is to see people change before you. but despite that everybody tried to work together. the love was there. the love was there and it told you to try and change something

then there's the love that transcends change. dragon maid be damned because kobayashi (human character) tells. uak. tells this teenage dragon character "i am. im lying to you. im trying to charm a chaos dragon with sweet lies" after the teenager tells her that she's just a human and she'll die and she's inferior and she's lying to her dragon girlfriend. i think its been a while my memory is shitty. and the girl didnt leave her side later on when she was in bed for a while. she knew that kobayashi was ignoring their differences, keeping it stacked away that theyd die at different times and i cant stop crying. the love was there and it told you that you dont have to change anything. the love was there and it told you that to be happy you have to ignore the change sometimes

amd TOHRU (kobayashi's gf) dont get me fucking started. her short monologue in the train ride back home about how kobayashi will die soon but shes just trying to enjoy what she has now. her conversation with her dad knowing she'd get hurt when kobayashi dies, following her near breakdown just thinking of kobayashi dying. the love was there and it told you to hold on and slow down, that the change is later, you don't have to be scared yet. it's okay, the love says, because it was there.

last but certainly not least dunmeshi. i know i usually bring up marcille here because i resonate with her but i want to bring up senshi and his backstory. like youre telling me he too feels guilty about his family (i know theyre not related to him shut the fuck up theyre family thats what family is) sacrificing for him but it gave him the inspiration and the courage to be who it was. the love was there and it changed me from the inside if you even care. the love was there and it changed me for the better. the love was there and it saved me

yeah im just crying now. the love was there. the love was there and it meant cooking and exploring and selling your desires to the nearest demon and it meant befriending people you'd outlive by a couple hundred years if you even care. the love was there and it made more love despite the change if you even care. the love was there the love was there im jfn,. :( THE LOVE WAS TEHRE. THE LOVE WAS THERE

the love was there and it made kobayashi risk her life for tohru. the love was there and it made laios, marcille and chilchuck risk their lives to kill the red dragon and get fain back. the love was there and it made toshiro wander deep without food to try and find someone who exhibited warmth. the love was there and it made laios and toshiro really become friends because the love was in us all all along wasn't it. the love wasn't because of change the change was love. what made us what changed us was love. what we all have that leads us forward, even in fiction. god i need a minute.

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons:

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Some suggestive content up ahead.

Also mentions of pregnancy and labor.

------------flashback: King's Landing, the Red Keep-------------

"What songs shall I play for you today, Princess?" you inquire of Rhaenyra, who had summoned you to her chambers to entertain her while she dined with her friend and lady Alicent Hightower.

"I would like to hear more songs from the Continent across the sea," Rhaenyra. "Anything specific?" you ask as you tune your lute.

"Anything with magic and monster perhaps," the princess answers, "do you know any ballads with more cursed knights." "Maybe not knights," you admit, "but I do happen to have written one about a cursed princess."

Alicent looked to Rhaenyra, clearly not comfortable with such a subject, yet Rhaenyra nodded in approval and you did as the princess bid.

So you sang of the tale of the striga and the witcher that saved her.

"That was beautiful," Rhaenyra praises, sipping her tea, "this witch chose to spare the princess rather than kill her. Sounds like an honorable man." "Not a witch, princess, a witcher," you correct. "What exactly is a witcher?" Alicent asks curious. It just occurred to you no one in this side have the world have probably ever seen a witcher, let alone knew what one was.

"A witcher is someone, a man usually, who hunts monsters for coin, my lady," you explain, "they are taken to this place somewhere in the Continent as boys and fed magic herbs that mutate their bodies that heighten their senses and allow them to use magic. They are trained to fight using silver swords along with the art of alchemy to allow them to make potions that aid in slaying monsters that roam the Continent."

"You say witchers are meant to slay monsters," Rhaenyra brings up, "yet the one in your song chose to spare this monster."

"As you said, princess, it was an act of an honorable man," you point out, briefly experiencing a flashback to the time you spent with the White Wolf.

After that, you continued to play a couple short songs until Rhaenyra had enough and dismissed you from her chambers. You nod and walk out, only to bump into what initially felt like a wall of bricks. Instead it was the one person you least wanted to see.

"What do you want, my Prince?" you ask, rubbing the bridge of your nose from where you bumped him. "I believe you were the one who ran into me, Little Lark," Daemon says, smirking as he usually did.

This was something that happened every now and again in the last couple months since you've been brought into the princess' service. Whenever Rhaenyra would call on you to entertain her and you would leave afterwards you would almost always run into Daemon who would just look at you with that characteristic arrogant look on his face. You were certain at this point he was doing this on purpose, but of course he would deny it each time, and this often led to you exchanging words of venom towards him. To your surprise, Daemon really never made much of an effort to retaliate.

You turn and leave, not wanting to waste your breath anymore on this man, but Daemon only stepped in front of your path, "What's your hurry, Little Lark?" he ask, making you turn your gaze away, really hating his pet name for you at this point, "perhaps I would wish you to entertain me this evening." "I'm here to entertain only the princess, your Grace," you point out, "you were not part of that deal."

"What if it was a different kind of entertainment?" Daemon asks, making your eyes widen when you saw his smirk grow even wider, and you realized what he was implying.

"I'm not a whore," you point out. "Of course not," Daemon agrees, "that would imply coin was exchanged for a moment of your time beneath the sheets, which would not be the case."

You scoff and turn your back, intending to walk away before you said or did something you would regret, but Daemon was faster and got in your way again, "please let me go about my own business, Prince," you say, teeth clenched at this point.

"I will after you give me a moment of your time, Little Lark," Daemon says, making you huff out in annoyance. "Fine," you cross your arms, wanting to get this over with.

Small smile on his face, the Rogue Prince takes a hand, placing it on the small of your back, gently pushing you towards his private chambers.

-------end of flashback: Kaer Morhen-----------

"Feels like everything is going well so far," Triss Merigold states after examining your baby bump. The sorceress had just moved into Kaer Morhen a few months ago at Geralt's request to help out with Ciri's gift, and she had also taken it upon herself to help you out with your pregnancy.

"When do you think this little one's going to come out?" you ask, placing your hands on your lower back. This baby had grown a lot bigger than you anticipated, and it was causing all sorts of pain at this point. You also found yourself needing to get up to make water more often, which was made inconvenient by how difficult it was to get up now.

"Hard to say," Tris admits, "but judging by the size of your belly, it should be any day now."

"Ugh, that day can't come soon enough," you grown, sitting down, "I swear this babe will pop out of my belly if it gets any bigger." Triss laughed at that, "I've yet to see that happen."

"Have you delivered a baby before?" you ask. "Not quite," Tris admits, "but I've supplied herbs and potions before to ease labor pains."

"Have...have you ever witnessed any difficult births before?" you ask.

"Is this something your worried about?" Triss asks. "I uh, well..." you looked a bit, "I didn't witness it, but the father of this baby, his sister-in-law she died in childbirth. It was a breech birth apparently and in order to save the baby, the maesters cut open the woman. She died from the blood loss." "Did they even give her any herbs or some kind of sedation?" Tris' eyes widen. "I uh, I don't think so." you shake your head.

"Oh, how barbaric!" Tris says in disgust.

"Yeah it was," you agree, "and it turned out to be futile as the babe only lived for a few hours after birth. It was a boy."

Tris takes your hand in hers as a gesture of comfort, "should this birth happen to be breech, I will use every spell I can to turn the babe. What happened to that woman is tragic. I'll see to it the same fate won't befall you."

"Thank you, Tris," you nod.

Right at that moment, Geralt walked in, "everything alright?" he asks. "As well as it can be," Tris answers. "Easy for you to say, you're not the one carrying this baby," you say, struggling to stand up.

Tris was about to help, but Geralt was faster and rushed to help you on your feet, "What a gentleman," you joke, "Is supper ready yet?" "Just set up in the dinning hall already," Geralt confirms, leading you to said hall.

You saw Eskel, Coen, Lambert, and Vesemir were already seated and eating. Ciri was nowhere to be seen, but this was a normal occurrence recently. The girl would train to the point of exhaustion sometimes and end the day crawling back to her room and falling asleep.

The other witchers had adjusted to your presence here the same way they adjusted to Ciri being here.

Although you would get questions, mostly from Vesemir, every so often about the baby and the baby's father. You couldn't really blame the old man; Kaer Morhen was an unusual place for a pregnant woman to hunker down and raise a child.

The old witcher, however, figured you reason was for protection, but how was he supposed to protect you both when he didn't even know who it was you were wanting protection from.

Geralt meanwhile didn't question you about your past dalliance with the baby's father. All he knew was that you were scared of this man to know of your child and you had sought the witcher out for help.

In truth, Geralt was happy to have you back in his life; he had often thought about you over the last few years, especially the memories of your intimate moments together.

Whatever you had done in between was in the past, there was no need to interrogate on such things.

Later that evening, when everyone had gone to bed, you had tossed and turned in your bed. It was so cold in here, colder than usual. You weren't sure if the pregnancy had something to do with it; you've heard most got hot when they were this close to the end.

Maybe it was the baby. You remembered what was said about dragons, that they prefer heat; perhaps the little dragon inside was using your warm as its heat source.

You stood up, knowing you weren't going to be sleeping anytime soon. You needed some warmth.

You walk to the one place you were sure to get it.

You knock on the door next to your room and Geralt answered it. "(y/n)?" he frowns a bit, confused as to why you were knocking at this hour. "I uh, I'm cold, I can't sleep because of it," you admit, "Is there room in your bed to uh..."

Geralt nods, knowing what you were asking and pulls you into his room.

He lays down and helps you lay down next to him.

"Just like old times right?" you ask as he drapes a blanket over you. "Old times didn't involve this," Geralt jokes, placing a hand on your bump. You turn to face Geralt, "this still feels good," you burying your face in his chest, "I feel cozy now."

It was quiet now. You started to feel lulled by the warmth the witcher provided, "I missed doing this with you," he hears you say right as you fall asleep.

---------flashback----------------

Once there in his chambers, Daemon took a seat at the table, pouring a glass of wine for himself. After taking a sip, he pours another one after glass and offers it to you. You accept, taking a fairly big gulp as this was the only way you could tolerate this man's presence.

He gestures for you to sit next to him, which you oblige.

"So, which is it? A song or a quick romp in the bed?" you ask sarcastically. "Maybe I just want to talk," Daemon shrugs. "What would you want to talk to me about?" you ask, taking another gulp of wine.

"Your songs perhaps?" Daemon suggests, taking a sip from his own glass, "particularly the one I overheard serenade my niece earlier."

"Oh, you heard," you realize, "I don't suppose you heard anything while eavesdropping on what was supposed to be a private conversation."

"Something about witchers," Daemon admits, "unlike Rhaenyra I have heard of them. I hear they snatch boys from their beds in order to produce more of their kind, and the magic that is used to mutate them also deprive them of their emotions. Where is honor in such a fate?"

"Those things aren't true," you tell him, "only reason people say that is because they haven't met many witchers, they simply despise what they don't know."

Daemon raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your passion in defending such beings, "speaking from experience?" he asks, "have you known many witchers?" "I've actually only known one," you admit, tongue feeling a little loose from the wine. "The one being from your song of the cursed princess?" Daemon asks. You said nothing, turning your gaze back to the wine goblet.

"You said he was an honorable man," Daemon said, leaning in close to you, "how can a mutant swell sword possibly be honorable?" "He slays monsters and save lives," you say, feeling very aware of how close you were to the prince. "You speak highly of this man," Daemon states. "He's...despite his reputation and rough exterior, he's a good man deep down who cares about others."

"Did he care for you?" Daemon asks, sense of jealousy creeping up in him, "enough to make a woman out of you?"

You backed away, "I really don't think that's any of your business," you feel your face heating up.

"Huh," Daemon says, not moving from his spot, "I've also heard witchers are notorious for being lecherous." "You're hardly one to talk about lechery," you lightly laugh, not being a stranger to Daemon's extramarital exploits. "Tell me, Little Lark," he continues, "did he seduce you? Did he force himself on you when he took your virtue?"

You knew then what Daemon was implying. Did he think you've never been with a man this whole time? Was that his plan for you? Was that why you intrigued him the way you did?

"Whatever he did to me wasn't anything I didn't want," you scoff, standing up and turning to leave, "And just so you know, prince, I may not be a whore, but I was far from virtuous long BEFORE I ever met him."

You weren't sure why you said that last part, but if Daemon was only interested in you because of your perceived maidenhood, hopefully this would be enough to drive him away and leave you alone at last.

Unknown to you, that only did the opposite. Now more then ever, Daemon was determined to seduce you and take you in a way that would make you forget this witcher or any other man that had been inside you before.

------end of flashback: Kaer Morhen, a few days later--------------

You lay with Geralt once again that night, his warmth comforting you. The last few days were uneventful, but at this point you just wanted this baby to come out right now and be done with all this discomfort.

You had Geralt had seem to have grown a little closer since your first night sharing his bed. The night before the two of you had even shared a kiss after reminiscing on some rather fond memories.

It really made you wonder why you had parted ways with the witcher in the first place.

This night, you moved and squirmed a bit, something that didn't go unnoticed by Geralt. "Is everything alright?" he asks, groggily waking up and rubbing his eyes.

"I uh, I'm not sure," you admit moving around some more due to sharp pains, "it hurts."

"Is it the baby?" Geralt lifts his head up, now alert. "Uh, maybe," you say, feeling another wave of pain rush through you, "Ah, I think I might be in labor."

"I'll get Tris," Geralt says, helping you sit up.

Over the course of the rest of the night, as your contractions started to become more frequent, you spent the whole time panting and crying and screaming and everything else in between. It hurt to sit so you elected to move around the room as much as you could, Tris got to work with the herbs, which she wasted no time administering. The herbs did indeed help, but you were still in pain from the contractions. Geralt was there to help you move around when you needed to.

As the time drew closer you laid on your side in the bed, screaming from the unbearable pain. Tris gave you more watered herbs and had Geralt help you sit upright so she could see what was happening, "looks like this baby is coming soon," she announces. "I change my mind," you say in between pants, "I don't think I can do this." "Well you don't exactly have a choice at this point, (y/n)," Tris says, "this baby is coming. When you feel you need to push, you better do so." "Please tell me it's not a breech," you say, praying it wouldn't be.

The time came to push, "it's not a breech," Tris announces, "I can see the head, you just need to push a little more." "I don't think I can," you say, exhausted from this whole thing. "Yes you can," Geralt encourages, "you're a strong woman (y/n), you made it all the way out here when this little one was still in you. You can handle this."

With a little encouragement from Geralt, with you holding onto his hand, you push once more, and then again.

Finally, the baby was out. And when you heard that little baby's small cry, you had never felt more relieved then you had your whole life.

"It's a girl," Tris announced, joy in her face. "A girl," you say, laughing a bit, "I gave birth to a girl. I have a daughter."

Tris took the babe away to be cleaned up while Geralt held you, giving you a small kiss on your temple, "you did well, (y/n)," he praises, "I knew you could do it." "I'm glad one of us thought so," you say jokingly, "Cause I wasn't sure if I could." Geralt chuckled at that.

"I'm sorry about the mess I made on your bed," you tell him. "Don't be," Geralt shrugs, "there's plenty more beds to go around in this keep."

Tris came back with your daughter wrapped up in a bundle. She hands the babe to you. "A babe with silver blonde hair," the sorceress comments, "how odd. If I didn't know any better, I'd almost say Geralt here was the father of this child." "Geralt's hair is more white than blonde," you point out, "And if he was the father, this little one would probably have his eyes." "Her eyes are violet," Geralt notices, "blonde hair and violet eyes. She wouldn't happen to be part elf would she?" "Not quite," you admit, though there had been times if you wondered this girl would end up being part dragon. She had her father's traits, now part of you wondered if she would end up having his personality.

You wouldn't worry about that right now. Now, you would just focus on the little one in your arms.

The moment was cut short when you heard a knock at the door. On the other side was Vesemir, along with Eskel, Lambert, and Coen. "Oh, you lot heard me didn't you?" you realized. "I'm pretty sure the whole mountainside could hear you," Lambert jokes. "When you stopped, we figured the baby had finally arrived," Coen says, "so, boy or girl?"

"It's a girl," you tell them. "Ha! I knew it!" Eskel exclaims, "pay up, men," Coen and Lambert groan and each hand Eskel a small sack of coins. "You were taking bets?" you ask. "Not everyday an expecting mother comes to Kaer Morhen," Vesemir shrugs, "the lads wanted to make the most of it."

"What did you bet?" Geralt asks. Right on cue, Lambert and Coen reluctantly toss Vesemir another sack of coins his way, "you couldn't help yourself could you?" Geralt shakes his head. "You may find it hard to believe, wolf, but I like to have fun and gamble every so often, I'm not some stuffy old man," Vesemir points out, "besides, I never doubted. If the babe is strong as the mother, it was bound to be a girl."

"Thanks Vesemir," you say.

"What is the little brat's name?" Lambert grumbles, still sore that he had lost the bet. "Lambert, be nice," Coen scolds.

You look down at the baby. You had been thinking up names the last few months, but none ever really stuck out at you.

In this moment you thought of one that would suit this baby well, "Aemma," you say, "Her name is Aemma."

"That is a beautiful name," Tris says.

Vesemir had a certain look on his face, though no one else seemed to have noticed.

The witchers gather to get a close look at your daughter. "I'm assuming her hair and eyes match her father's," Eskel states. "Yeah, you can say that," you answer, giving Aemma a kiss on top of her head.

It was dawn when the wolves, excluding Geralt, left to give you some privacy so you could bond with your daughter.

Around this time Ciri had just woken up and was about to go to breakfast, but she noticed the door to your room was slightly open. She saw the bundle in your arms and realized you had given birth.

"Can I come in?" she asks. "Of course," you nod and the young girl came in, "I've never actually seen a newborn baby before" she admits as you pat a spot on the bed for to sit on. "Come take a look for yourself then," you pull the wraps back a bit so Ciri could see, "it's a girl."

"She's beautiful," Ciri says with a smile, "her hair almost looks like mine."

-----------flashback-------------

You awoke the next morning, sunlight shining in your eyes. You open your eyes, squinting, and turn away.

Your hand mindlessly stretched out and you felt something soft, almost like skin. Naked human skin.

Your eyes widen, now fully awake, and you sit upright. The sheet covering you fell off, making you realize you were naked. The person next to you was sound asleep and just naked as you were.

Looking over to see a curtain of silver blonde hair sprawled out on the pillow next to yours.

It was the Rogue Prince himself.

You could feel the panic inside you growing. You thought this had all been a dream, a dream that already been haunting your slumber every night for the last few weeks.

Since that time Daemon invited you to his chambers, the Rogue Prince took any chance he had to corner you, press you against the wall with his body. During those times, he'd put his lips to your ear, to your neck, pressing light kisses and speaking soft words as he did so. You wanted to fight him off, but for reasons unknown, you didn't. You would find yourself melting underneath him, especially when he would grow bolder and sneak a hand under your skirts to touch you, tease you.

You would push him away, but only after briefly experiencing a sneak peak of the pleasure he could give you.

You couldn't stand this man, yet he managed to make you feel good all the same.

One night, being last night, it was the final straw for you, for both of you in fact. He cornered you in the hall when you were walking back to your room after a night of singing to the princess. You pushed him away determined not to let him get the upper hand. You slapped him away, hurled insulting words at him, calling him a snake.

This had led to him grabbing your hair and pushing you against the wall.

Next thing you knew the two of you were kissing passionately.

You had placed your hands to his chest, intending to push him off. He deepened the kiss and soon your hands were clinging to his shirt, wanting more as he drank you in like a man dying of thirst. He pulled back when you needed air.

Then suddenly he had turned you around, and lifted your skirts while releasing himself from his breeches. Before you knew it, he was inside you and taking you from behind. You could only make a lusty moan in response, especially when Daemon snaked a hand around your waist and in between your legs to enhance your pleasure. You cupped his neck, pulling some of his hair as you did so.

Eventually, you fell over the edge and came, Daemon falling not far behind. The prince grunted and groan when he spilled his seed inside you, you being a panting mess when he finally pulled out, panting himself.

Your knees felt like they were going to give out.

That was when Daemon gathered you in his arms and carried you to his chambers, closing the door behind him, intent on making sure you would forget the men you fucked before him.

Which brings you to the morning after in Daemon's bed, naked and hating yourself not only for letting this man have his way with you but that you actually enjoyed it.

You quietly slipped out of bed and scrambled to collect your clothes.

"Wherever are you going off to in such a hurry?" you hear Daemon ask from behind you. You sigh, having hoped you wouldn't end waking the prince.

Yet there he was laying the bed, eyes open, tired smile on his face, and the sheets barely covering his hips.

Chapter 3

Masterlist

[tragcdysewn]

plot/starter call for event 18 under the cut! i'm soft capping at three, but if we plot and discuss things i'll very likely be willing to add another one on! hit the like and i'll be in your dms to figure out vibes!

abigail bishop (0/3)

unaware of anything being wrong, abi is an assassin for hire. it's an easy way for her to get blood, one that no one will ever question because she's just doing her job and the how doesn't really matter

ahsoka tano (0/3)

ahsoka is unaware of this new event, and thinks she's been the queen's captain of the guard since arriving in washington. defend and protect is her mantra in literally every form of reality

alice tonner (0/3)

unaware that things are different here, but very much misses her gun and tech. she's still a monster hunter, trying not to go too deep into the hunt even if she's out killing dragons and hags on the regular

allana solo (0/3)

a princess turned adventurer, allana believes dc has been this way since they arrived, and has taken it upon themself to live out the full fairy tale storyline, slaying dragons and saving pretty maidens

ariana dupont (0/3)

she definitely practices some witchcraft, and leads a cult of hecate. she gets away with it by being the prince's bethrothed and therefore above reproach by anyone but the queen. she has no memory of modern dc, this has been her life for years now

asmodeus (0/3)

a lord of a neighboring kingdom, ozzie is aware that things aren't right, but he really doesn't care all that much. everyone seems to be unhurt, and enjoying themselves for the most part, so he's going along with it

bail organa (0/3)

bail has no idea anything is up, he's living happily as his daughter's advisor and the royal astronomer. the most excitement he gets now is going on a short adventure every now and then

baxian argos (0/3)

bax believes the city has always been like this, and has become a hired sword. he definitely misses his guns, but he's just as capable with a blade, so he's managing just fine

bela dimitrescu (0/3)

one of the local harlots, because it's fun and an easy way to get a meal. will seduce and take money from men only to eat them. will also definitely fool around with a pretty woman free of charge

bryce quinlan (0/3)

has noticed things are wrong, and is absolutely pissed. she wants her guns and night clubs back. will probably end up as a tavern wench of some kind while she tries to figure out what the fuck is going on, or take up some quests to assist people

cassie lang (0/3)

she's got no idea anything is wrong, and lives life as an adventurer and a thief, using her powers to complete quests for people that can't do them themselves. mostly a robin hood type, but could be persuaded to do something a bit more questionable

davina claire (0/3)

davina is unaware anything is wrong, and simply works as an artisan. a very simple and peaceful life with her husband, though she can't help but feel something is missing

dewey riley (0/3)

dewey is a sheriff in this world, and believes it's been that way since he arrived. and he can also be found in the local tavern more often than they would care to admit. he's doing the same thing as they were in the original dc really

eleni vanserra (0/3)

eleni is another who is unaware of anything being off, she's just assumed she ended up in another world similar to prythian, and is employed as a tutor for the children of wealthy nobles

elphaba thropp (0/3)

swamp witch. i do not know what you expected from elphaba she arrived in another magical realm and immediately retreated as far away from society as possible. might do magic for you if you ask nicely but probably will just ask you to leave

eveline (0/3)

i guess i can't say she's literally the plague, right? but some people in medieval times definitely would, so she's just kind of retreated and become a bit of a bog witch, with mold creatures guarding her little cottage

feng xin (0/3)

a monster hunter who will gladly take on the most insane and powerful beasts. doesn't even really charge, he's just in it for the glory and the adrenaline rush he gets. he'll accept rewards but if you're broke that's fine

feyre archeron (0/3)

she's still a noble lady, unaware that she's ever been anything but a lady in this world or any other. she's basically functioning exactly the same as she would have in velaris, working to maintain peace

hazel levesque (0/3)

hazel is entirely unaware that things are different here, and will be doing magic and necromancy very publicly for a small fee. feel free to accuse them of witchcraft, her brother is the local priest, nothing will come of it

he chunyu (0/3)

chunyu is honestly living very similar to her canon life. she's of the belief that dc has always been this way, and continues to be a seamstress and avoid all kinds of trouble please just let her have peace

howl jenkins pendragon (0/3)

unaware of this current magic twisting reality, and is just living in their castle hidden in the forest. if you can find her, he'll do magic if you can pay the price and amuse him enough that it's worth her while

james witherdale (0/3)

james didn't live through this time period, but he believes he's been in it since arriving in dc, so he's gotten used to it. he's mostly doing what he always does, luring in the shadows for his next meal

jin zixuan (0/3)

zixuan is an adventurer, and is unaware that anything is wrong. he's just chilling and enjoying a pretty carefree life and i think he deserves that tbh. send him on whatever quest you want he will do it for free

jun wu (0/3)

jun wu is unaware of this city ever having been a modern one, and believes he arrived here as the prince of a foreign kingdom. he's still a manipulative weirdo, and might try to sow a bit of chaos while in foreign territory

kore sekkari (0/3)

kore is aware that things are different here, and is using that to her advantage. you'll find her in the woods claiming to be fae or a witch or whatever suits your needs to trick people into deals that will not actually come to fruition

korra (0/3)

completely unaware, korra thinks she's lived in this setting her entire life, and has established herself as a sword for hire. they'll be a bit picky on what jobs she takes, but they're good when they do accept

kriya dura (0/3)

kriya is unaware things have changed, and thinks she appeared here from space. she's become an assassin, and is almost as good with a bow as she once was with a blaster, but she charges a ridiculous amount of money

lan wangji (0/3)

man is living on a quiet little farm, occasionally going out on adventures to protect the innocent from some kind of horrific monster or terrible plague. he's unaware things are different but he honestly would prefer this if he knew

liu mingyan (0/3)

mingyan is definitely also an adventurer and hired sword, and for cheap too. her real money comes from writing nsfw novels about the nobility. i hate that this is how sheev and leia smut ends up getting written

lucifer morningstar (0/3)

believes things have always been this way, and settled pretty easily into a role as the king of a nearby kingdom. he's pretty reclusive still, but will delegate tasks if necessary

lute (0/3)

lute has no idea dc was ever modern, which is alright by her. she's lived through so many time periods that going back was nothing. now she's a hired sword, hunting monsters and demons to protect the innocent

lyra ayala (0/3)

aware of her real life, but believes that dc has always been like this. has made a career as a traveling bard who plays modern songs on a lute because no one recognizes all star by smash mouth in this world

lysandra ennar (0/3)

a lady from aelin's kingdom and aelin's emissary when she isn't available, lysandra is incredibly used to this. and not having any memory of modern dc, they fit right in to this scenario

manon blackbeak (0/3)

manon is a queen and warlord from a neighboring kingdom, and is somewhat here to make peace, though she isn't opposed to a bit of bloodshed if it becomes necessary. she doesn't remember modern dc at all, and likes it better that way

marinette dupain-cheng (0/3)

marinette doesn't remember modern day dc, but is still a baker in this new world. she's also still running around as a vigilante at night, hunting down monsters and beasts under cover of darkness

melinoë (0/3)

melinoë is a princess, but one who's run away from her kingdom to be an adventurer and explorer. she's not cut out for leadership, and she knows it, so she's doing this instead. no memory of modern dc at all, just the underworld and now this

mj jones (0/3)

mj doesn't remember anything of modern dc, but she is still aware of living in modern day new york, so she's not loving this setting even after years. she's a scribe, and probably apprentices under someone

mo ran (0/3)

mo ran owns a tavern and also cooks there most days, with no memory of the modern day. he's got really cheap alcohol and solid food because holy shit people must need it with dragons flying around everywhere

mobei-jun (0/3)

mobei-jun is a lord, and doesn't remember modern dc at all. he's truly just your typical haughty, stuck up nobleman, with a definite potential to be a bit of a warlord himself if provoked

monkey d. luffy (0/3)

luffy is definitely a really naive, over eager adventurer. he thinks he's been in this setting the entire time, and it never gets old seeing dragons and monsters and the like. someone keep him from dying please

nangong jingnu (0/3)

another one who remembers nothing of the modern day, jingnu is a visiting princess, one who definitely sneaks away from her guards to go and have a drink in a tavern on the down low whenever possible

nie mingjue (0/3)

mingjue is a knight and a minor lord, but honestly the knight bit is the important part. he's very much an honorable, fighting for justice and protecting the innocent white knight type, and will jump in front of dragon fire to save someone else

patroclus (0/3)

patroclus is entirely unaware, and thinks this has always been his life. he's a healer for jousting tournaments and the like, and probably owns an inn to get a bit of extra money and give the idiot jousters a place to crash

qi rong (0/3)

he's very aware that things are different, and is thrilled. he's fucking with people so much. he's stolen an apothecary from some poor victim and is selling absolute garbage remedies for a laugh

renesmee cullen (0/3)

renesmee is a harlot, i do not make the rules. they remember nothing from modern day dc, and spends her time in taverns flirting up a storm rather than doing anything serious

rhiannon matthias (0/3)

rhi is aware that things are different here, but is simply establishing herself as a sworn sword and going with it, because this is honestly closer to their reality than anything in modern day dc, and she likes it quite a bit

ryden samos (0/3)

ryden is a woodsman, as per usual. has a little cabin in the forest and is very content with that. he doesn't remember modern dc and frankly that is fine by him, he really doesn't like that anyways.

sasha james (0/3)

sasha is aware that things are different here, but is honestly fascinated by the clear display of magic around her. she'll probably find some apprenticeship under a wizard to keep herself occupied until things settle

shadowheart (0/3)

shadowheart is aware things are different, and is thrilled. she hates modern technology, and would so much rather be in this kind of setting. she'll be searching for other shar worshippers, and potentially monster hunting or healing for money

sheev palpatine (0/3)

queen leia's top advisor, sheev is unaware that anything is different here. he is a reluctant not so bad guy because his father is a grand duke and has his siblings back under his thumb so he has to play nice until he can kill the guy

shen qingqiu (0/3)

whoever wrote this event is a really shitty writer, honestly! he's aware of the change, but is just kind of disgusted at the lack of effort that comes with throwing european rennaisance and classic fantasy into fucking america. is studying everything though he's definitely a top tier scholar

shi wudu (0/3)

he remembers the change, and is okay with it, because this is far more his speed. he likes being worshipped as a god, and these are the people who would worship a god. someone start a cult about him it'd be funny

thanatos (0/3)

they're just the grim reaper. they have no idea dc was changed at all, they just lurk around plague victims to take them when their time comes. can give off both menacing and calming vibes to the local plague doctors

wen qing (0/3)

wen qing is unaware anything is wrong, and is a plague doctor trying to help whatever people they can, and avoid death wherever possible. if you have the plague hit her up she's got you

xaden riorson (0/3)

a black knight who used to serve his queen but now roams the lands acting on his own whims, xaden believes he arrived in this setting, and is honestly alright with it. it's similar to home, and allows him to fall off the grid a bit

xiao lanhua (0/3)

xiao lanhua is absolutely living in the forest as a flower spirit, and working at sophie's flower stand. she is aware that things are different, but this is far closer to their home, and it's honestly comforting in a way they've missed

xiao qing (0/3)

a-qing is unaware of this time jump, and is operating pretty much the same way she did back home. uses her blindess for sympathy while they rob people blind and sell whatever they can

ziggy berman (0/3)

ziggy is unaware anything is wrong, and is definitely just working as a tavern girl serving drinks. potentially flirting to get better tips because she has no respect for anyone and is a monster of a person

ziva desilijic tiure (0/3)

a mercenary, serving only her father, ziva is entirely unchanged. she's planning to support their father in his attempts at a coup, and serve at his side when he eventually takes the throne for himself

[sherlokiness]

I think your Sansa chicken metaphor as foreshadowing for jonsa marriage is stronger than the blue flower sweetness meaning jonerys marriage. /s

Hi, anon! Why do I feel like you're making fun of me? I am serious about Sansa being a chicken!!! I'm sure you're familar about the trope in stories where the hero gets a reward after saving the day.

The hero will slay the dragon and get a princess' hand in marriage as a reward. Is it crazy to expect this? I don't think so. The series is ultimately a song. All the stories can't be lies. There are true knights and heroes.

The bitch growled low in her throat and moved closer. Ghost looked up, silent, and fixed the dog with those hot red eyes. The bitch snapped an angry challenge. She was three times the size of the direwolf pup. Ghost did not move. He stood over his prize and opened his mouth, baring his fangs. The bitch tensed, barked again, then thought better of this fight. She turned and slunk away, with one last defiant snap to save her pride. Ghost went back to his meal.

In the first book of the series, Ghost faces off against a mongrel bitch bigger than him and will successfully defend his prize. What's the prize? Sansa/Winterfell.

"Hungry again?" he asked. There was still half a honeyed chicken in the center of the table. Jon reached out to tear off a leg, then had a better idea. He knifed the bird whole and let the carcass slide to the floor between his legs

The chicken is a honeyed chicken. It's sweet. *insert quotes of Sansa involving honey and being honey sweet* I'll make smth longer than this later. I think.

Arya was always quick and clever, but in the end she's just a little girl, and Roose Bolton is not the sort who would be careless with a prize of such great worth.

"Do you blame me, my lord? Such a prize is not easily won. A nubile girl, I hear, and not hard to look upon. Good hips, good breasts, well made for whelping children."

"She is old enough to be Lady of Winterfell once her brother is dead. Claim her maidenhood and you will be one step closer to claiming the north. Get her with child, and the prize is all but won. Do I need to remind you that a marriage that has not been consummated can be set aside?"

Who will win the prize that is Sansa Stark? Is this sexist? Even Jon says Arya is a prize.

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade. A hunger . . . he could feel it.

Jon's hunger for Winterfell gets mingled with Ghost's hunger. Since Ghost gets to successfully eat the honeyed chicken, I'm gonna assume Jon's hunger will be satisfied.

Red eyes, Jon realized, but not like Melisandre's. He had a weirwood's eyes. Red eyes, red mouth, white fur. Blood and bone, like a heart tree. He belongs to the old gods, this one. And he alone of all the direwolves was white. Six pups they'd found in the late summer snows, him and Robb; five that were grey and black and brown, for the five Starks, and one white, as white as Snow.

He had his answer then.

Indeed, Jon forgot about the WF hunger because of the appearance of Ghost and how he's different.

Jon said, "Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa."

Winterfell belongs to Sansa.

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him.

They look as though they belong together.

And Sansa belongs with Ghost.