#Unexpected guests lore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bi-bard · 6 months

Text

Coming Back for You - Toby Nealey Imagine [I Came By]

Title: Coming Back for You

Pairing: Toby Nealey X Reader

Word Count: 2,004 words

Warning(s): **HEY, LOOK HERE!!!** kidnapping, hostage situation, mention of abuse (physical/emotional, but ultimately vague), mute reader

Summary: Toby finds himself in a far more dangerous situation than he ever meant to be involved in. However, he is saved by an unexpected source. Now, he is determined to return the favor.

Author's Note: I meant to write a story about this character a long time ago, and someone just recently reminded me of it, so I figured it was better late than never.

Also, I'm adding lore to Hector's story so that this story makes sense. I'm just gonna ask that you don't question me about it and just let it exist.

Toby Tag List: @dream-this-nightmare-over

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

The first thing I heard was a thud on the floor.

At first, I assumed that it was just Hector moving around. But that wouldn't make sense. There was no sound after the thud. Hector always made a point to tell me when he was home. The door would shut and then he would call up to me. Or he would have warned me beforehand that he was bringing home a guest, so I could make myself scarce while he enjoyed his evening.

Once I knew that it wasn't Hector, I walked to the door. I don't know what my plan was. To confirm my suspicions, find a phone so I could call the police, try to plead for help, or simply warn the poor soul that had been unfortunate enough to come in. Maybe it was all of the above. Or maybe I had just gotten so lonely that facing down some burglar felt comforting in a way.

My hand paused on the doorknob. I stared at it.

Hector's words rang in my head: "You are not to leave this room until I come and get you. No matter what."

I had learned better than to not heed his warning. Not that he would ever call it a warning. If I had to guess, then I would say that he probably saw it as an act of protection or love. However, I liked to avoid guessing about him. He never liked when he believed that I was assuming things about him.

I had been a permanent guest in Hector's home for a few years by then. A silent presence. I never knew what I was meant to be in his mind. But I guess at some it didn't truly matter anymore.

I was to the point that I could barely remember a life before him. I just knew that I had one... and that I was never getting it back.

I could still remember the times when I would cry every night, sobbing as I shook. I would beg him to just let me go... or to simply kill me and let me have some peace. He didn't like when I did that. He said it made him feel bad for merely offering me a better life. I don't know if he had truly forgotten that he less offered me this life than he forced me into it or if he was just trying to ignore that he had taken me from my family.

It didn't take long for me to learn that he wanted silence from me. I had trained myself to be silent. Quiet at all times. I communicated in nods and head shakes and pointing and kind, gentle smiles that seemed to quell Hector's anger for the time being. It was just less of a reminder that I wasn't truly who he wanted me to take the place of.

It only took a few more sounds of the creaking floor for me to say hell with the consequences. I opened the door slowly and leaned my head out through the doorway. I couldn't see anything from there.

I slowly walked down the stairs, taking note to avoid the creaking steps. I paused, waiting for some sign of a person. There was nothing.

And then, there was a crash. A distinct sound of someone stumbling over something and then falling.

It was coming from the basement. My heart dropped. I had been avoiding the basement for a long time. It made me think of my crying and my begging. I didn't like being around it.

I quickly opened the door, seeing a man hurrying to stand a few steps away from the bottom.

He looked up at me. I squinted at the feeling of his headlamp shining in my eyes. He had all dark clothes on. He was a stranger. Definitely a stranger.

And he looked scared.

I knew what he had seen. I had seen it too.

My head perked up when I heard the gate opening.

It was as if every reaction after that was instinctual. I never considered myself a hero or anything great, but I found myself focusing on nothing more than getting that man out of the house.

I ran down the few steps between us before grabbing his hand and dragging him upstairs with me.

I was quick, as quiet as ever as I dragged him up the main stairs and up to my room. I pushed him inside and quietly closed the door. I continued shoving him to the window. I pointed at it, trying to get him to go to it.

There was a time when the window was sealed. I had managed to get it undone a long time ago but learned better than to try to get out through it. Pavlov's dog and all that.

"Is he... Is he keeping you here," the man asked.

I didn't have time to answer his questions, I just pushed him again.

"How long have you been here?"

I waved him away.

"(Y/n)! I'm home," Hector called from downstairs.

I panicked, pushing the stranger again. I was silently begging him to go. Save himself.

He finally listened to himself, opening the window and beginning to climb out. He turned around in the windowsill.

"I'm coming back for you," he promised.

"(Y/n)?" Hector called again.

"My name's Toby," the stranger explained. I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to figure out why he needed to tell me that. "I'll... I'll be back."

He quickly climbed out of the window. I shoved it closed as soon as I knew that he was out of it completely. I took a deep breath before going to step out into the hall. I walked down the steps, stopping a few steps from the bottom.

"There you are," Hector said. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, furrowing my eyebrows in the hopes of acting like I didn't know why he would be asking.

"Good, good," he muttered. He looked flustered. Worried. He knew that someone had been there. "You can go back to your room."

I nodded again, turning and going back up the stairs.

I let out a shaky breath as soon as my door closed behind me.

Toby was the first person I had seen other than Hector in a very long time. I found myself scared. Terrified. But I couldn't quite figure out what I was scared about. Was it the idea of Hector finding out that I had let some stranger escape after seeing his secret? Or the idea that I may never see Toby again and all that he said about coming back had been a lie? Or was it fear over what life would be like after I finally got out of that house and back to the real world?

I thought that I was going to have time to forget about Toby. I thought it was best to lose the hope early. Some part of me believed that it was going to save me from some pain in the long run.

How foolish of me.

The next night, I heard a noise downstairs again.

And again, I knew it wasn't Hector. He had left for the night. He didn't give me many details, just that he was going out.

I heard the stairs creaking as someone walked up them. Closer and closer to my door. I backed up toward the wall behind me, pressing my hand over my mouth.

It opened slowly.

On the other side of the door was Toby.

My hand fell away as my mouth fell open in shock. He was there. He came back. He was telling me the truth.

"It's okay, it's just me," he held up his hands. "I'm here to get you out."

I furrowed my eyebrows.

He held out his hand. "Come on."

I stared at his hand. There were a million and one ideas going through my mind. I gave up on the idea of being saved a long time ago. I knew the pull that Hector had. I knew the position of power he was in and after so long being in that room... in that house... I just gave up on hoping.

What was I meant to do when someone was finally giving me a chance?

I couldn't get myself to move.

"We don't have much time," Toby said, walking over to me. "We need to hurry. I... I have a place for you. A safe one. We can get you some food and clothes and stuff. And then, we can go to the police and you can explain what happened. Then, the basement gets found and no one else gets hurt."

Wow. He had thought the whole thing through.

"Please... come with me," he pushed one last time, hand outstretched.

I took a deep breath before slowly placing my hand in his. He grinned and started pulling me to the door. I only stopped him long enough for me to pull on some shoes.

After that, Toby dragged me back down the stairs and outside of the house the same way that he had supposedly come in.

After making it through the house and the garden, Toby started running down the road.

I tried to keep up with him, but it had been a long time since I had needed to run any kind of distance. It was also the first time I had truly been outside in years. The cold air made my lungs burn and my legs felt as if they were going numb underneath me.

But then, I felt a smile forming. The first genuine smile I had experienced in so long that I had forgotten it had existed. Along with that smile came tears. Tears of relief as I felt myself finally becoming free again. It was like chains were falling off of my body with every step I took.

I don't know how long we had gone before Toby finally slowed down. I just knew that I didn't recognize anything in the world around me. I continued walking with him, looking around at all of the buildings surrounding me. I never thought about how much the world around me had changed while I wasn't looking. It was overwhelming.

"So, umm... we're gonna stay with my mom. Just until we track down your family," Toby explained. I found my steps slowing down as I watched him. "She... She'll be alright with it once I tell her what's going on."

I stopped completely. Toby was forced to stop when I did because he still had his hand in mine. He furrowed his eyebrows at me.

"What is it?"

I stopped, still unable to form the words that I needed.

"You're safe now. I promise. He's never gonna-"

Toby stopped talking when I stepped forward and hugged him. I wrapped my arms around him tightly, shutting my eyes as firmly as I could. I felt his arms wrapping around me. He kept mumbling that I was safe. That he was going to keep me safe.

"Hey," he muttered. He pulled back, hands touching my upper arms. "We should keep going."

I nodded, letting him reach down and grab my hand again.

We didn't have to sprint away again. Instead, we walked. We walked in a comforting silence.

I took a deep breath. The air was crisp. It was cold against my skin. I never knew how much I would miss a feeling like that until now.

The only part of me that didn't feel the cold of the world around me was my hand. It was warm, Toby's hold on it serving as a protective shield of sorts. There was something about his touch that brought me a sense of peace that I had never known. One that I may not know for a long time after that night when I went to the police.

But I could cherish it for the time being.

And I could love it for the time being.

And that felt like it was good enough for now.

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

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

#imagine #fanfiction #x reader #i came by imagine #i came by fanfiction #i came by x reader #toby nealey imagine #toby nealey fanfiction #toby nealey x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfiction #george mackay x reader

67 notes · View notes

cerastes · 11 months

Text

Now and then I think about how the nature of temporality in Arknights apropos of the main story relative to side stories (events) means that with a little effort, you can make a really good SRW-style SRPG with Arknights: There’s the myriad storylines, there’s the myriad characters, there’s a good combination of objective mechanical information and lore fluff for a lot of characters that would let you make really good, complete characters in terms of gameplay.

You could easily make something like:

1st Game: Main Story from Chernobog up until Faust and Mephisto; Break the Ice (can be a sizeable arc, allows for a lot of maps across the game’s length, likely early game until start of endgame); Maria Nearl (same as Break the Ice, midgame until the endgame); Under Tides (shorter than the previous two, end of midgame until the endgame, plus you get temporarily playable Irene in the vein of SRW giving you guest units for one or two maps in one game before they are fully recruitable in the next); Grani the Knights’ Treasure (you can cover this in one, maybe two maps); Twilight of Wolumonde (medium length arc and due to its structure, perfect for sprinkling maps about it across the early to midgame); Heart of Surging Flame (one long map-two maps); Code of Brawl (easy two mapper); Children of Ursus (SRW-style revised to be mixed in with Chernobog part of Main Story); Who Is Real (you can squeeze 2-3 maps easily; start of endgame upgrade for units like Lava and Kroos).

2nd Game: Main Story from where game 1 left off up until Talulah and the Deathless Black Snake, effectively ending the game with the end of the first arc; Beyond Here (AKA Archetto; short arc); Both Gavial Events (you can make big maps with Great Chief, whereas Ideal City would be interspersed with other plots to give it meat in terms of combat, a common event in SRW); Pynus Sylvestris & Near Light (you can get either some real long maps out of this or several medium length maps), Stultifera Navis (around the early midgame, you can squeeze 2 to 3 maps easily, and Seaborn can make for versatile enemy types elsewhere), Mansfield Break (you could put this anywhere, and you can milk it for a number of maps); Invitation to Wine (same as Mansfield Break); Guiding Ahead (you can go crazy with Guide Ahead thanks to the setting of Laterano and the structure of the event plus Andoain fits the “fucking HARD endgame RR boss” archetype with strong attacks and high dodge to a tee); Lingering Echoes (same as Guiding Ahead, really); Dorothy’s Vision (you can squeeze out some 3 maps out of it easily and a lot of new enemy types)

In SRW fashion, the Main Story in general would find itself slowed down and modified with downtime much like the main arc in an SRW tends to be a slow, game-length affair that finds itself entwined with many of the other arcs in the game, and likewise the arcs with the main story and between themselves. Of course, this also diverges from actual canon in that a lot of people that Shouldn’t Be There canonically, in this game’s canon, Would Be There, and that goes for the good guys as much as it does for the bad guys, which is always part of the appeal of a good ol’ SRW. It’d also be cool to see secret recruitable characters that you can’t get in canon or that die in canon join you if you satisfy certain secret requirements, like getting playable Big Bob and Monch and Viviana/Candle Knight, or being able to save FrostNova and/or Faust. Hell, sometimes SRW likes to throw curveballs and give you unexpected characters, so catch me with my endgame maxed out Jesselton (unlock: Defeat Jesselton exclusively by using Mountain, Robin and Kafka in the final Mansfield Break mission) and my #KHAGANQUEST (unlock: Every time Tola appears, defeat him with Blemishine).

I think the main challenge of the game would be to have a cohesive roster; SRW games tend to have massive rosters but that’s due to the sheer amount of stories they tend to cover in one single game, it actually tends to be few characters from each individual story, except the “featured” stories, which get more screentime and roster slots. In regards to some of the arcs, this is pretty easy: Abyssal Hunter Arc characters aren’t many (Skadi, Specter, Gladiia in the first game, plus Irene and Lumen in the sequel) and some of them are universal (Kal’tsit and Elysium), but then you have to make a decision of what 3*s, for example, make the cut as fully playable and not just NPCs, so as to not have bloat: Lava and Kroos are easy picks, for example. Break the Ice can give you a lot of people (SilverAsh, Courier, Matterhorn, Pramanix, Cliffheart, Kjera, Gnosis, secret Monch, secret Degenbrecher), which would make sense if you make it a meaty arc in the game overall, plus there’s a good variety of units you can get outta that.

I think the cast also lends itself to the usual SRW archetype of units: Amiya fits the “RR” type of unit that has low health but high evasion (based on her moves in the trailers, she’s highly agile), Blaze on the other hand seems like a perfect fit for the “SR” type of unit that has very low evasion but instead has huge bulk and just tanks the attacks instead (based on her duty as a Centurion, catching a ton of enemies at once and dealing with them while holding them and tanking them). Other RRs that come to mind are Ch’en, Irene, Whislash, Kroos, among others, while other SRs that come to mind are Specter, Blemishine, Mudrock, Matterhorn, among others. Then you have the less common archetypes, like Getters, AKA glass cannons with average bulk and low evasion but BIG damage, which can be units like SilverAsh (with S3 specifically in mind, giving him huge offense but making him quite fragile) and Skadi (very high HP and damage but low Defense means that HP goes down fast). You’d also have plenty of characters that would make sense to have innate Leadership (buff aura for nearby units), such as Amiya, Kal’tsit, Gladiia, SilverAsh, Big Bob, among others.

It goes without saying that you can make full use of the SRW tradition of giving units specific, very powerful team attacks, some of which could be pure fanservice, like Amiya and FrostNova having a team attack, and others which simply make sense, like the Sui Sisters (Nian, Dusk and Ling), the Abyssal Hunters, Pramanix and Kjera, Big Bob and Mudrock, among many others. The possibilities are legitimately really cool to imagine.

The setting and cast just works for an SRW style game, man.

#ended up getting lost in the sauce oops #dreamknights #srwbrainrot

121 notes · View notes

gepardling · 6 months

Text

night-time rendezvous II w/ gepard .

desc. : another short chapter. serval is nice she doesn't bite ( i promise ) gepard tho i cant promise 4 dat one. keeping track of time in this is soooo haaardd my own mental clock is confusing me so much when i picture these scenes ( wc : 787 )

tags / cw : sfw, but mentions of blood, injury and vampirism, gn!reader, (they/them used), vampire!AU for the Landaus, reader is a human, this is slightly cliché but I LOVE MY CLICHES, proofread but lore may change

index : prologue, part 1, part 2

— Day 1

A few hours passed as you slowly regained consciousness, and as the first light of the moon passed through the curtains, you arose from your slumber. Gepard hurriedly ushered you to your feet, and together you made your way to the villa's gardens. As you reached a secluded spot amidst the foliage, a strong presence lurked behind you. Gepard swiftly positioned you behind a tall, flowering bush, concealing your injured form from view. The scent of the blossoms masked your presence, at least to some extent. Just in time, his older sister, Serval, emerged from the shadows. The moonlight played upon her ivory skin and accentuated her glistening fangs, making them appear even more dangerous.

She looked at Gepard with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "What are you doing here, Gepard?" Her voice was a velvet whisper, belying the tension that lingered between them.

Gepard's eyes met hers, and in that silent exchange, a myriad of emotions passed. His loyalty to family, his newfound connection with you, and the weight of secrets carried over millennia clashed in that moment. As Gepard attempted to weave a half-truth, Serval's sharp eyes caught every tick of his body language. She knew him too well, and it was impossible to hide anything from his older sister.

Serval's gaze pierced through the garden's shadows until she locked onto your concealed form. "Who do we have here?" Her voice retained that velvety edge, concealing her true intentions.

Gepard hesitated, torn between his loyalty to family and his desire to protect you. Finally, he nodded subtly. "This is... a traveler who was injured. They needed shelter for the day."

Serval's gaze didn't waver as she studied you, and there was a hint of something unreadable in her eyes. After a few moments, she let out a sigh, and a rare hint of warmth entered her tone. "Very well, you can stay... for now." Her cryptic response left you uncertain about her true motives. She approached you with a grace that only a being of her age and experience could possess, her hand trailing through your hair as if consoling a distressed sibling.

"You should know better than to treat a guest like this, Gepard," she tsked gently, her fingers cool against your skin. "You poor thing, you're so tired you can barely stand..." Gepard looked at his sister with a mixture of confusion and gratitude, knowing that her soft demeanor could change in the blink of an eye. For now, her unexpected kindness was a lifeline.

"Come inside, dear," Serval said, her cold hand in stark contrast to your warm one, and offered a polite smile that barely masked her sharp fangs. Gepard walked beside you, still trying to steady his racing heart. Serval led the two of you back inside, and the familiar scent of your blood was picked up by her keen senses. "How bad did you say your injury was?" She asked, her voice holding a note of genuine concern as she led you further into the estate. Gepard followed, glancing between you and his sister.

"Not... That bad," Gepard was lying through his teeth, knowing just how much blood you had actually lost. He shot you a quick, apologetic glance, trying to maintain the facade he had crafted. Serval's sharp, crimson eyes settled on him for a moment, as if she could see right through his words, but then she turned her attention back to you.

Her elegant fingers brushed a lock of hair from your forehead, and a shiver ran down your spine. Her touch was almost unnatural, and yet strangely comforting. "We'll have our family physician tend to you," she decided, her voice softening slightly. "You're a guest, after all. And it seems like you've grown quite attached." Gepard's eyes widened slightly, but he couldn't deny the truth in his sister's words. You had become more than just a passing traveler; you were someone he couldn't bear to let go of.

"You may sleep in the guest quarters for tonight, but..." Serval paused, inhaling deeply through her nose, "I suppose you'd already gotten comfortable there." She chuckled softly before walking away, her footsteps echoing in the vast corridors of the villa.

Gepard breathed a sigh of relief as his sister's imposing presence retreated. He turned to you, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Well, it seems you can stay for a while longer. My sister can be... quite persuasive. You should rest, you've been through a lot." Gepard escorted you back to the guest quarters, where you could finally get the respite you needed. The events of the night had taken their toll on both of you, but with Serval's peculiar blessing, you found yourself under Gepard's protection once more.

literally insane tht's what u are. ur circadian rhythm is gonna get all messed up

#honkai star rail #gepard landau #gepard hsr #gepard x reader #gepard x you #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #♥︎ | milky writes #gepard fluff #serval hsr #serval landau

50 notes · View notes

allaganexarch · 2 months

Text

wip whenever ♥

Thank you so much to @myreia for the tag!

It is once again time to bother you with original thing! Up til now I've been posting pretty much sequential pieces but I'm skipping ahead a lil bit this time bc I'm way too excited about the Lore TM.

part 1 || part 2 || part 3

It's been awhile since I bothered ppl so let's see I shall tag @eemamminy-art @delirious-comfort @quinnthebard @thepapernautilus @yourlocaldisneyvillain and anyone else who feels like sharing a wip!

===

At first glance, the town of Nodig does not appear so very different from Godsplace. It has the same small, crowded feeling and a similar sort of age-old architecture. But as they make their way into the little town, Tamsin quickly decides that two places could not be more different. There are streetlamps and shops, all of them well-lit and welcoming, and the streets are bustling with people even at this late hour. The people are happy, smiling and laughing and greeting one another as they pass, not huddled together with eyes downcast, afraid to be seen or heard.

The tavern, too, bears almost no resemblance to the one Tamsin knows. That place is well-known as the dominion of lechers and drunkards, not a place anyone who cares a whit for his reputation would like to be seen. This tavern is clean and well-tended, and there are a mix of men and women, most sat at tables and ensconced in their own private conversations. They barely take any notice when Althea and Tamsin enter. Nodig is used to travelers from all over the world.

The only person who takes any note of their arrival is the man standing behind the bar. He is grey-haired and nondescript, and he greets Althea with a curt nod of his head.

“I’ve brought an unexpected guest,” says Althea. “I hope it won’t be any trouble.”

“Of course not, Miss,” says the man with another nod. Then he disappears into the back room.

As the bartender leaves, a man sat at the far end of the bar turns on his stool to take a look at them. He speaks up in a clear, piercing voice.

“Unexpected guest?” he wonders. “Not a soon-to-be initiate?”

Although he is sitting down, he appears to be a slight man, and his sweater hangs loosely upon his shoulders. He has dark hair cut in a simple, clean style and wears thick, dark-rimmed glasses. He doesn’t look particularly young or old, but he lacks Althea’s gravitas.

Althea, for her part, seems markedly unimpressed. “Tamsin,” she says, her gaze fixed upon the wall somewhere behind the bar, “this is Vivius Moonbright.”

Tamsin looks from Althea back to the man, matching the name to the face.

“A pleasure, I’m sure,” says Vivius, extending his hand in greeting.

Tamsin takes his hand. “Moonbright?” she repeats curiously. “Forgive me, but I’ve never heard a name like that.”

Vivius laughs good-naturedly. “Yes, it does sound rather frivolous around these parts,” he says. “And in most parts of the world, if I’m being honest. But in my homeland of Almyst such names are quite common, I assure you. Moonbright, Silvermist, Windsong, and so forth.”

Tamsin smiles. “They sound like names out of a heroic tale. What is it like there, in Almyst? Do you miss it?”

Vivius hums. His thoughtfulness strikes Tamsin as markedly different from Althea’s. It is bright and animated, like the overture to an old, favorite song. “It is beautiful there,” he begins. He gestures that Tamsin should sit, and retakes his own barstool next to her. “And the people are largely…how shall I say this? Good-hearted, to be certain, but decidedly serious. The nation has a difficult past, and its people reflect that, in some ways.” With a wink, he adds, “And let me tell you, they would not take kindly to any comments on their peculiar naming conventions.”

“Oh,” Tamsin flusters. “Forgive me, I meant no offense.”

“None taken, I assure you,” says Vivius, waving a hand dismissively. “And you, Tamsin? Where did our Keeper Althea find you?”

Tamsin glances nervously over her shoulder toward Althea, hoping for some guidance, but Althea is still pointedly ignoring them both. After all she has been through in recent memory, Tamsin is not inclined to trust in someone Althea doesn’t seem to like very much, even if he seems perfectly friendly. But Althea does not acknowledge her, and so Tamsin is forced to make up her own mind. She reasons that whence she hails is no great secret.

“Godsplace,” says Tamsin at last. “Have you heard of it?”

“Heard of it, yes,” says Vivius. Even when he speaks severely, there is a certain lightness to his voice. “Not for the best reasons, though. I’m sure it possesses many charms that go unreported.”

“Maybe,” says Tamsin charitably, but she labors to think of any at the moment.

“Not too sad to be taking your leave, I see?” Vivius observes.

“No,” Tamsin agrees with a self-effacing smile. But it feels wrong to speak ill of her homeland without some further explanation, and so she amends, “There’s…not really much left for me in Godsplace.”

“Ah,” says Vivius knowingly. “And so very much to be found for you at the Academy.”

Again Tamsin glances uncomfortably in Althea’s direction. “You know much about it?” she presses hesitantly. “The Academy?”

Perhaps it is her imagination, but Tamsin is sure she hears Althea let out a quiet, derisive scoff.

“Actually,” says Vivius, with the air of barely-contained excitement, “I am nearly as new to the Academy as you.”

Tamsin whirls around to face him fully. “I beg your pardon?”

Vivius ducks his head and shrugs sheepishly, the kind of affected modesty borne of one who is in truth quite proud of his achievements. But before he can say anything else, Althea cuts in coldly. “Don’t bother demonstrating. She can’t see.”

Both Vivius and Tamsin look up, surprised by her sudden interjection. Althea is still looking away from them.

Tamsin’s mind is slow to catch up. New to the Academy, demonstrating, can’t see— “You have the Gift?” she turns back to Vivius.

Her tone is perhaps more openly incredulous than she had intended, but the idea is something of an absurdity. She’s never heard of a man with magic. Why, the people of Godsplace would be in an uproar. She tries to imagine one of those gruesome scenes in the Town Square with the roles reversed, nonmagical women in official uniform dragging unwitting young men up onto the stage to put them to the flame. It would never happen.

Again Vivius shrugs good-naturedly. Tamsin begins to feel acutely embarrassed by her inexperience. “I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I don’t mean to be rude, really, it’s just that…” It’s just that where Tamsin comes from, women are put to the flame for witchcraft, a fate even the most dreadful man, someone a thousand times worse than Teddy Page, need never fear.

“It’s all right, Tamsin, I’m quite accustomed to the shock,” says Vivius, holding up his hands in a show of surrender. “Men who possess the Gift are exceedingly rare, but we do exist. As I would gladly demonstrate, but the Keeper informs me such a show would be lost on you for the moment.”

“Yes, what a shame,” says Althea icily. “One wonders why you ever left the Academy at all, Vivius, if you’re so fond of impressing wide-eyed idiots with parlor tricks.”

Tamsin winces at Althea’s cruelty, but Vivius seems remarkably unfazed. “Don’t mind the Keeper,” he says to Tamsin. “She’ll be a different person once she gets her meal.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” says Althea.

As if on cue, the bartender emerges from the back room balancing three large plates on his arm, all filled to overflowing with foods that are unrecognizable to Tamsin. She’s been so preoccupied, she barely even noticed her own hunger, but now her mouth waters, and her stomach aches.

The food is rich and heavy, not at all what Tamsin is used to. She cannot identify a single thing on her plate—even the type of grain is unknown to her. The meat is cooked in a way Tamsin could never have imagined—it seems to her to be covered in some sort of bread crumbs and cooked in a heavy oil. When she wonders aloud at this ingenuity, she draws both Vivius and the bartender into conversation with her, and they happily explain the origin and preparation of each of the unfamiliar foods, and many others besides.

Althea continues to ignore them. She eats her food at the other end of the bar in self-contained silence.

In spite of Althea’s coldness, Tamsin finds herself warming to Vivius. He is friendly and forthcoming, and he doesn’t answer her questions with long, weighty pauses or meandering riddles that aren’t really answers at all.

“Keeper Althea mentioned that there aren’t very many new students at the moment,” Tamsin prompts him, attempting to sound casual. To her left, she would swear she can almost feel Althea bristling, but Althea doesn’t say anything.

“Yes, well, it’s to be expected,” says Vivius.

“Why is that?”

“Well, because of the prophecy,” says Vivius, as though this should be obvious. He takes a bite, evidently unaware that this warrants any further explanation.

“Prophecy?” Tamsin echoes.

Vivius looks up mid-bite, his eyes rendered somewhat comically wide by the thick lenses of his glasses. He finishes his food and sputters, “Oh, goodness, forgive me, I really thought even the nonmagical knew about that.”

“Not me,” says Tamsin simply.

“Oh, well, uh—“ Vivius glances somewhat nervously toward Althea. “I don’t know if I’m the best person to explain it.”

When Althea remains steadfastly silent, Vivius amends, “But I’ll do my best.”

He puts down his fork and steeples his fingers while he thinks. “So, how to put this? I think I ought to start by saying that the average person cannot actually confirm whether the prophecy really exists.”

“It does,” says Althea quietly.

“Right,” Vivius falters, “as I’ve said, the average person. It’s important because interpretations vary widely the world over. And of course, like all prophecies, the actual contents are extremely vague and open to interpretation.”

“What are the actual contents?” Tamsin asks.

Again Vivius glances hopefully toward Althea, but she keeps her counsel.

“The story goes,” Vivius continues cautiously, “that a child born at the crossroads of time will set the darkness free of its shackles.”

A moment’s silence follows. “That’s it?” asks Tamsin.

Vivius nods. “That’s it.”

In spite of her stony silence, Tamsin glances back toward Althea. “But that’s hardly anything! That doesn’t answer my question at all!”

Vivius chuckles. “Yes, it is infuriating, isn’t it?”

“Why does that amount to no new students at the Academy?” Tamsin presses, not a little exasperated.

“Well, let’s break it down, shall we?” says Vivius, in the manner of a kindly schoolteacher. “What do you suppose qualifies as a ‘crossroads of time?’”

Tamsin balks at him for a long moment before she even deigns to consider what he has said. Nameless nobodies do not get much education in Godsplace, and it has been a long while since she was a student of anything.

“All right,” she sighs at last. “I don’t know. The start of a new year? The changing of an Era?”

Vivius nods. “Excellent guesses. Also the most common interpretation. Most people believe that this fabled child was born at the changing of the Era, perhaps even at the very turning of the year, right as the clock struck midnight. If so, how old would that child be now?”

“Sixteen,” Tamsin answers easily. The child would have been born in the same year as she. “But then how—“

“And what sort of person do you imagine could manage a feat like breaking the darkness free from its shackles? Someone ordinary?”

Tamsin falters. “Well, no, I suppose not.”

“Almost certainly one of the Gifted, yes?” Vivius nods.

“Sure,” says Tamsin. “But what does that even mean? Setting the darkness free and all that?”

“Now that explanation I shall leave to your teachers at the Academy,” Vivius laughs. “Suffice to say, there is darkness in this world, in a very literal sense. It is a kind of magic not so very different from your own Gift. Very powerful. But dangerous. Unpredictable. It is said that once the darkness finds you, you can never truly be free of it, even if you manage to resist its whispers all the days of your life.”

Tamsin shivers involuntarily.

“No one knows exactly what it means, setting the darkness free of its shackles. How could we? Scholars may theorize, but they are going off of next to nothing, little more than stories almost as old as time itself. But a world plunged into darkness does not sound very appealing on its face, now, does it?”

“Well, no,” says Tamsin uncertainly.

“As I’ve said, interpretations abound the world over, most of them probably wildly inaccurate. But nearly everyone agrees on one thing: the prophecy cannot come to pass. It would destroy the world as we know it.”

Such heady concepts are, for the moment, wholly beyond Tamsin’s comprehension. She is more focused on one simple matter. “You still haven’t answered my question,” she points out.

Vivius laughs, abashed. “No, I suppose I haven’t. There may be many reasons that so few young ladies of your age have made their way to the Academy. Many have likely been hunted down and killed, as, I’m given to understand, is the practice in Godsplace. Many, I expect, are in hiding, hesitant to submit themselves to the Academy’s scrutiny.”

Tamsin considers this, her mind reeling. “Because, what? What would happen? To this…person the prophecy speaks of?”

“Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it?” says Vivius with a shrug. “How can they know? Public opinion on the matter is not generous, to say the least.”

“Should I be worried, then?” Tamsin wonders. The idea had not occurred to her.

“Well, I don’t know,” says Vivius. “You were born at the changing of the Era, but when?”

Tamsin shrugs. “Sometime in the summer. I’m not sure exactly.”

Vivius nods, as if that is the end of it. “Well, then, it’s unlikely you’ll run into any problems at all. The prophecy is open to interpretation, of course, but these things tend toward the dramatic. To that end, perhaps we’ll start seeing more new students sooner than later, now that the timing is off.”

They fall into silence after that, Tamsin consumed by her thoughts, and the others concerned with their food. When they have all cleaned their plates, the bartender comes to collect them, and he tells Althea that he has prepared another room for Tamsin.

‘Wonderful,” says Althea, offering the bartender a smile and a nod as she accepts her keys. “Thank you.” For the first time since they arrived, she looks at Tamsin. “I’ll be turning in now. Shall I show you to your room?”

“All right,” says Tamsin, trying very hard not to scramble to her feet. “Good night, Vivius,” she says. “Will I see you again soon?”

“It’s been a pleasure, Tamsin,” says Vivius with a wave. “I’ll be heading out before dawn, but come and find me when you make your way to the Academy, won’t you?”

Tamsin nods, and she feels distinctly relieved to have at least one friend to look forward to at the mysterious Academy. She turns around to find that Althea has just barely waited for her, and quickly scrambles to follow Althea through a small doorway and up a narrow staircase. Outside, the moon is uncommonly bright, and it casts strange shadows through the open window. The stairs shift and creak ominously beneath her feet, and the banister feels ready to work itself loose.

When they reach the second floor, Tamsin dares to speak up. “May I ask you something?”

“You may,” says Althea.

“You don’t seem to like Vivius much,” says Tamsin.

Althea glances over her shoulder. “Is that a question?”

Tamsin averts her gaze, embarrassed. “Well, am I wrong?” she wonders self-consciously. “Why don’t you like him?”

Perhaps Tamsin could have anticipated the way Althea weighs her question with a heavy sigh. She stops in front of a door in the middle of the hallway and produces a key. She ushers Tamsin inside and closes the door behind them before she even begins to answer.

“It’s not exactly that I don’t like Vivius,” says Althea at last. “But have you ever in your life heard of a man with the Gift? Even in stories?”

“Well, no,” Tamsin admits. “It is strange to think of, but…”

“Strange, yes. Almost unheard of,” says Althea. “The thing that troubles me is that no one seems to know how it happens. I mentioned to you earlier that the Gift is hereditary? Not so with men, at least as far as anyone can tell. Which is not very far at all, since there are maybe a handful total, in all of history.”

“Even still,” says Tamsin hesitantly, “you make it sound like it’s his fault.”

“As I’ve said, I’ve nothing against Vivius specifically,” says Althea curtly. “But I do not trust his magic, nor do I support allowing a man into the Academy, no matter his talents. He could just as easily go across the water, where he would be welcomed.”

Tamsin considers this. “Do…others feel as you do?” she wonders. “Other Keepers, I mean?”

To her surprise, Althea chuckles. “You think my views are unusual?”

Tamsin averts her gaze. “Well, I wouldn’t know.”

“But you disagree.”

“Well.” Tamsin doesn’t know enough to agree or disagree. She likes Vivius, but she trusts Althea. She fiddles with the strap of her traveling bag.

“Opinions on the matter are mixed at the Academy,” Althea elaborates at last, with surprising good humor. “Which, as it happens, is another reason for my objection. Vivius’s mere presence at the Academy is the subject of endless debate, all of it a colossal waste of time. There are far more important matters.”

“Like the prophecy?” Tamsin wonders, before she has fully decided to speak.

Althea sighs. Again, she looks a little amused. “It’s not as though I’m keeping things from you on purpose, Tamsin,” she says. “There’s a lot to take in. And frankly, the prophecy is not the sort of thing a new initiate should be most worried about.”

Still, Tamsin cannot help but ask, “You said earlier that…that you know it’s real. You know it exists.”

“Yes, well,” Althea averts her gaze. “I am among the lucky few.” The light from the full moon catches in her eyes, and Tamsin is reminded of the way they glowed when she used her Gift.

Tamsin considers this. “Is that why you came to Godsplace?” she wonders.

Althea quirks a brow at her. “After a fashion,” she says.

“Is that why the burnings happen?” Tamsin presses. “Because of the prophecy?”

“Not exactly,” says Althea. “Godsplace has a long history of archaic practices. But I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the reason you’ve noticed them happening more frequently.”

“Then…” Again Tamsin fidgets uncomfortably with the strap of her bag. “Then there are people in Godsplace who know about it?” Could Bryce have known? Would he keep something like that from her?

“Perhaps. But this is all pure speculation, you understand. I came to Godsplace because I heard about the burnings and I had a feeling I should go and try to intervene. As it turned out, my feeling was about you.”

“Me?” Tamsin echoes, stunned.

“Well, yes,” says Althea, as though it were obvious. “Following my intuition led me right to you in your hour of need, after all. And I’d have allowed you to stay and say a proper farewell if I felt we had the time.”

“But…” Tamsin stammers. “But I thought you said you came to Godsplace because of the prophecy.”

“I did,” says Althea. “I’ve been traveling trying to find anyone who fits the description.”

“But I don’t fit the description,” says Tamsin.

Althea hums. “No, not exactly. Nevertheless, you are a Gifted who would likely have been put to the flame without my intervention. An equally worthy cause, I should think.”

Tamsin shivers. “But then…why are you looking for the prophecy?” she wonders. “What will you do?”

Althea considers this. “It’s more about what I will not do, if I’m being honest. Many would see the prophesied child dead, as if something so banal would put an end to all the world’s problems. If I can find her, I would spare her from that fate, and see that she is properly trained.”

“Why?” Tamsin asks. “Would it be better? Would that avert the prophecy?”

“I cannot know for certain,” says Althea. “In many ways I am as much in the dark as anyone else. But is it not better to try to avert such a prophecy with the power of reason? With information and preparation? Rather than expecting brute force to unmake the delicate weave of fate?”

Tamsin doesn’t know what to say to that.

“I would not see what is sure to be a talented young lady put to the flame before she can even realize her potential,” says Althea with a small smile. “And I mean that as much for you as I do for the prophesied child, whoever she may be. What happens after that is another matter, best left for when the time comes.”

Tamsin nods slowly. Perhaps Althea is right, after all, and she has asked for more knowledge than she is ready to handle. It is a lot to take in.

Althea pats her shoulder. “Get some rest, Tamsin.“

It is perhaps a mercy that Tamsin is so unfathomably tired. Her head is spinning, and on any other night, the brightness of the moon might have kept her awake thinking until her time for sleep had passed. But almost as soon as she lays down, she feels herself drifting off. In her dreams, she is being led into the Town Square all tied up with heavy rope, but she is not afraid. She knows the flame cannot touch her anymore.

#exciting tag for writing things #personal #now that i've kind of got the school trash fire under control im hoping i can devote some time to this again soon #i got a LOT done via nano even tho my life fell apart toward the end LOL #so school things notwithstanding hoping I can do the mini-nano thing that's soon to move my draft along a lil more #i'd like to be able to share it somewhere in an organized format while im working on it but *waves vaguely at everything*#so we are left with these extremely easy to navigate tumblr dot website posts

8 notes · View notes

lordoftherazzles · 4 months

Note

Ok I need to know more about the Skyrim AU👀

YES, I LOVE GETTING TO YELL ABOUT THIS ONE.

Honestly, Skyrim is probably my favorite game, I've been playing it since day one, and can't put it down - so naturally, I needed an au with a similar concept. But ALSO, I've merged in some inspiration from FFXIV as well. What can I say? I like great content.

ANYWAY.

We have the Line of Durin as being capable of possessing "dragon blood", which was first bestowed upon Durin the Deathless, after he made a pact with a dragon many many many years ago.

The legends of that tale, and the ability of those who are capable of possessing the dragon blood, are to be passed down from generation to generation, and those tales stopped at Thror. He didn't pass on the knowledge, as there was no need for it - also, many just thought it was a legend. But when Smaug came, it turned out to be anything but legend - and Thorin, who showed the signs, had no idea what to do with it, and Erebor was taken.

Flash forward to Ered Luin, Thror dead, Thrain into the unknown, and darker minds looking to Erebor, Gandalf is set on having Thorin defeat the dragon before Smaug does any further damage to middle earth, or allies with "Bad Folks".

Instead of your typical AUJ style beginning, it's Thorin who gets greeted by a wizard, and ends up with an unexpected guest in his house - a knowledgable and adventurous hobbit who just so happens to study old dwarvish lore, including that of the "dragonborn" (i'll come up with a name for this) and their abilities.

Gandalf believes Bilbo can teach and train Thorin to hone his abilities in order to kill Smaug, and it goes as well as you can imagine. Bilbo isn't just a scholar, in this AU I think hobbits should be capable of different magic elements, similarly to The Elder Scrolls. Being a Took definitely enhances that, and being a Baggins also diminishes it - so he struggles, and grows into it as well. So they both get to learn about themselves along a journey!!!

We'll learn about the pact Durin the Deathless made with a dragon, why, and what it means going forward 👀

Ask me about my AUs!

#raz answers #cilil #the skyrim themed au #bagginshield #ty for asking!!!#i will get to this one one day i swear #razpb #raz wips

10 notes · View notes

undertalethingems · 9 months

Note

Not sure if someone has already asked this, but... Do the Gaster Blaster Dragons/Special Attacks make biscuits?

*(Cat owners IYKYK)

I don't actually think they would!

I'm pretty sure kneading (making biscuits) is related to nursing behavior--basically the cat feels as safe and comfy as when it was a kitten nursing on its mom, so it repeats a behavior it associates with that feeling--kneading the mom's belly to get more milk. So it ends up kneading whatever it's sitting on. Basically if your cat is making biscuits it's feeling very cozy :>

Now, as animal-like as the blasters are, they're not animals, and don't have a lot of the behaviors a real animal needs to survive--they don't need to eat or reproduce (and can't), so they don't have any instincts related to those activities. So, no instincts for kneading because they never had mothers to nurse from; I'm not even sure they count as mammals XD

But! That doesn't mean the blasters don't have ways to express similar feelings. You already saw sans' blaster 'purrs' when it's feeling content, and i think in line with its more birdlike nature, papyrus' blaster makes happy little clucks and beeps when it's relaxed. If they find a texture they like, they'll pat at and nuzzle it, or roll around on it if it's big enough, like a clearing of deep soft grass or a big fluffy blanket. They might like... grab at it and squeeze it in their claws a few times, which could look similar to kneading, but it's not instinctive the way a cat's biscuit-making is.

Honestly it's probably for the best they don't. Cats are small. The blasters are not. If they decided to knead one of their friends, it'd be a full-body massage performed by someone with no experience and claws upwards of 5 inches long............ :'D

#Undertalethingem chats #Unexpected guests lore #Unexpected guests spec

114 notes · View notes

reverieaudios · 5 months

Text

*Rings dinner bell* Come get y'alls lore!

Roman and Cyril are back at it, now with a few unexpected guests.

Making New "Friends" [Time-Travel Experiment Log #2] [ASMR RP] [No Listener] [M4A+M4A?]

#reverie audios #cyril #roman

10 notes · View notes

streets-in-paradise · 9 months

Text

The Curse of Poseidon - Paris x Helen Merman AU

Troy (2004) Oneshot

Requested by @blackheart-beauty

Word Count 2 K

Warnings: Implied smut. Merman AU. Movie canon divergences, Paris travelled to Sparta without Hector ( like it happened in the og story). Agamemnon and Menelaus seek to exploit the protectiveness Priam shows towards Paris for their own benefict. Greek mythology adapted narratively as source to build the merpeople lore. Inversion of the mythical Paris vs Menelaus dynamic where the king becomes the transgresor of xenia by purposely damaging his guest.

Summary: King Menelaus wants to make peace with Troy, but his brother has other plans and under the pretext of a diplomatic visit Prince Paris gets kidnapped as a very misguided attempt to get Troy under control. However, the plan of the Atreides finds a very unexpected flaw in the most guarded family secret of the line of Laomedon and its up to Queen Helen to discover it.

Note: Sorry this is coming hiper late, it took me a while untill going back to it. Thank you for your super patience and hope this has turned out as you wanted it :)

After decades of failed incursions and pointless hostility, the Atreides’ opinion on what to do with Troy was divided. The eldest wanted to insist on a military conquest of the enemy territory to the last greek breath, while the youngest was growing sick of the situation and desired to make peace. King Nestor of Pylos, the arbitrator between both, managed to conciliate their viewpoints proposing them to ideate a strategy that could possibly mix threatening force and diplomacy.

Unfortunately, the brothers came up with the most terrible combination. Simulating the proximity of surrender, the spartan king convocated a representative of the asian royal house to discuss the terms perfectly aware that Prince Paris would be the chosen one. Greeks weren’t the only rivals of Priam and it was well known that his heir was dedicating his life to keep their borders safe, leaving the younger brother as the only possible candidate and perfect target. The rumors that lingered on greek shores proclaimed him the useless member of the royal family, a naive hedonist living for fun under the protection of his father’s power. Still, it was easy to infer that such incommensurable spoiling had to come from the deep appreciation Priam had for him. Perhaps not the favorite of the kingdom, but tenderly beloved by his father, Paris was pivotal to break the will of the trojan leaders starting with an emotional manipulation of the king.

The prince fell like a fish in the net, a false pirate attack by disguised mycenaean soldiers ordered by Agamemnon took him away from the defense of his companions and when the few survivors arrived in Sparta with him they were all taken prisoners. While Paris remained in full custody of the king, some of the others were sent back to communicate the news to Priam. His son was a hostage in the spartan palace and the demanded price for his freedom was his scepter and the sword of the brother. Paris would be restored once trojans would submit to the mycenaeans and accept Agamemnon’s command of fighting for him whenever called.

It was the perfect plan in the mindset of two brothers capable of doing anything for each other. Testing the love of the family promised to be more effective than keeping measuring the strength of their army and stumbling upon the unassailable walls of Troy. However, when the news began to spread all over the country other greek voices manifested concern. Tireless guardian of greek domestic diplomacy, Odysseus called the insane scheme a misguided attempt led by prideful desperation. Although trojans tended to prefer peaceful routes for conflict solving, their army wasn’t remarkable in vain. Thinking of an easy way to achieve their ambitions, the Atreides risked the possibility of bringing the powerful trojan fleet to their domains and into the heart of Greece. Winning over the prisoner prince hoping he would contribute to the containment of the situation was the only shot to prevent the inevitable backlash.

Fortunately, the king was heard and some of his recommendations were followed. Paris was receiving treatment of guest within the limits established by his captivity. He was also allowed to enjoy the company of Queen Helen, a kind figure meant to evoke positive feelings in him and possibly facilitate his cooperation. That was perhaps the instruction Menelaus showed himself more reluctant of, but the ithacan instructed her directly to secretly disobey her husband if it was necessary. To the king he only revealed surface lies, leaving her in true command of her part. He told her to seek a true connection with him deep beyond the basic kindness barrier, to be his only friend during the times of hardship creating in him a sense of loyalty to her that could protect all greeks if war would reach their shores.

No one could have possibly prepared her for what she would discover in him. More than a friend, or a mere confidant; her moments to be with Paris became the highlight of her days. She could tell it was the same for him, his face transformed around her and the sorrows would disappear to manifest a pure enlightenment. They were falling in love, finding mutual shelter in an imprisonment that felt shared. Ever since she married the spartan king no one had possibly understood her as well as him, the prince was a partner to share her life with during her formally acceptable captivity.

The first time he stole a sweet untimely kiss from her was more worth living than full years alongside her husband, it went far over from just making things bearable. He felt it too and seeing his growing feelings required inspired him to indulge her with a dangerous confession even more reckless than his love.

“ Helen, I love you, but there is something you have to know about me before deciding if you can truly bless me with your affection.” He sentenced, self restraining his passion. “ A dark secret seals my fate and it shouldn’t have surprised me that disgrace has followed me crossing the sea. Only Aphrodite has been merciful when she put you in the way of my suffering.”

The queen smiled and caressed his face.

“ My fate is sealed and forever tangled with yours, my love. Whatever this means, I will gladly share it with you and keep it well hidden.”

He gave her a half smile, keeping himself hopeful before announcing a cryptic message within a subtle instruction.

“ I have been cursed from birth, ... only the touch of the sea reveals it. “

He didn’t have to explain further for Helen to put hands at work, since she quickly came up with an idea to satisfy her lover’s request of testing the supposed curse. She told her husband that Paris commented with sadness about his impossibility to bathe in the sea, traditional custom of the trojans, and the response of Menelaus was making servants carry marine water from the nearest shore available into the palace as an ironic mock for him. Under his expressed command they filled a pool with the salt water in a painfully laborious task designed essentially as a power imbalance based prank to emphasize the duality of Paris’ condition as a restrained guest.

When the slaves finished the work, Helen was left to play a parody of a traditional hostess meant to watch over the bath. It was exactly what she wanted and she obtained it easily because she knew her husband better than what he could ever imagine she did.

Paris contemplated the water with unusual nervousy, which she found quite adorable on his part. The fright in his face satisfied Menelaus enough to leave them alone, but he could have never possibly known that it wasn’t inspired by him. Fear of rejection, sorrow to the idea of losing the only comfort fate had left for him while also knowing that he owed his beloved complete honesty on the important matter. It was part of who he was, dreaded perhaps, but it had to be revealed.

She offered him help to remove his clothes, but he declined and quickly did it on his own as she sat at the edge of the pool. Immediately afterwards he smirked at her from afar and dove. Her eyes went wide and not only for observing the incredible beauty of the sweet trojan prisoner, but due to the exposing action of the water in him. Paris swam towards her, but only the upper side of his body remained as the man she knew. The rest of him was completely transformed, with bright blue scales instead of skin and a fishtail replacing his legs. Seeing that her shock didn’t look like disgust encouraged him and he positioned himself right in front of her, observing her expression with equal curiosity.

“ This is who I become when my skin feels the contact with the domain of Poseidon. The sea awakens it. I managed to reach your shores as a man only because I was struggling to keep myself dry from the water surrounding me.” He began to explain to her. “ It’s a bloodline curse, everyone in my family has suffered from it since the times of the foundation of Troy. “

“ It’s nothing to be ashamed of, it's said that Menelaus’ family was also cursed by the unspeakable crimes of his ancestors. “ She attempted to comfort him, still in awe. “ Tantalus killed his son and fed the gods with his flesh to test their omniscience. I doubt that whatever yours did could be worse than that.”

He chuckled and leaned his elbows against the marble at the edge of the pool, right next to her sitting spot.

“ He refused to pay for the construction of our walls. I guess you must have heard my city is a famous fortress, but nobody told you how the fortification was built.” He continued, adopting the demeanor of a tale narrator. “ Legend claims Zeus sentenced Apollo and Poseidon to serve the trojan crown as punishment for conspiring against him. They were slaves of the king for seven years and in that lapsus they built the walls, but when the time was over they reclaimed payment for that particular work. The king refused and the god of the sea took his revenge cursing his entire bloodline. An eye for an eye: since he served as slave of the trojan royals they would become his slaves. That’s why we all become merpeople when his water gets to touch us. Despite he commands all sources of water, we remain slaves only of the sea."

" It's beautifull … for a curse. " She purred with admiration. " Tantalus' curse turns his descendants into murderers of their children, what you have in comparison is a beautifull miracle. "

The illusion in his eyes was making her heart melt.

" Do you really think that?"

She began to play with the wet strands of his hair.

" I do. You are even more beautifull to me ríght now than what you were when you arrived to my palace. "

His lips parted in adoration while listening to her.

" … A handsome merman prince, the love of my life. "

Paris felt an insane amount of gratitude that he couldn't even put into clear words. No one had ever made him feel so happy about the curse conditionating his lifetime, so bright and loved that he felt his heart about to explode inside his chest.

The most beautifull woman in the world, flawless judge for his monstruousity, dictaminated him worthy of her love. His silence began to worry her, but it didn't last for long.

The prince began to roam her exposed leg with his lips, tracing a path of kisses while the tips of her toes were still touching the water. The imaginary road had only one possible clear destiny and she closed her eyes for a brief instant when she felt him reaching her thight.

It made him stop, and the sudden interrumption got her eyes back on him to discover an inquisitive stare.

" Don't you want to look at me?" He asked her with naive sounding sweetness. " You made me feel blessed and now i just want to make you feel good. "

She giggled in approbation and his inmediate response was burying his head searching for the sweet spot between her legs.

It made her feel like a virgin, exposed and vulnerable to the fact that no one had ever pleased her like that. All his lovefull devotion was being expressed in such intense act and she couldn't even gift him a full loud moan on fear of being discovered.

Her legs were shaking, feet touching the water causing a bit of splashing following his rhytm and with that he was perfectly satisfied.

#troy 2004 #paris of troy #helen of troy #paris x helen #orlando bloom #diane kruger

12 notes · View notes