Man, I'm still so bummed about queen of nothing. Like it's hard to believe that that tiny little 300 pages was it. It's hard for me to accept something as canon when it doesn't make any sense.
1. Why make Taryn a murderer for no reason? (And let her get away with it? And kill such a major player offscreen? And why have the audacity to say she could kill her baby if she wants when she already killed its father??)
2. Why trivialise her betrayal from the end of WK?
3. Why give Cardan so little screen time before (and after) the marriage is consummated, and when it is, why have it bear no effect on the story? And why was it described like Jude's first time, when all that does is just confuse what they got up to in that one fade to black WK scene?
4. Why keep your nephew as your heir when you're literally married and could have children of your own?
5. Why didn't Jude figure out Cardan's 'riddle' sooner when she's so good at spotting them? Why trivialise the mutual betrayal?
6. CARDAN JUST SAYING WHAT HE MEANS WITH NO BUILD UP
7. How did Jude's mother fake her death? Guess we'll never know
8. OK, so you've made Cardan a groveller in his letters, now why reverence them BUT NOT INCLUDE THEM IN THE STORY
9. What was Vivi's purpose??? Seriously
10. Why did scenes last 5 seconds?
11. Why was every interesting villain killed off already?
12. Why was Jude 'the Queen of nothing' for literally 5 seconds, the rest of the book is irrelevant to the title?
A sigh left their slightly parted lips at their cousin, who never once ceased her incessant rant. "I can't believe uncle put you in an arranged marriage with that lame wimp. I heard that he looks too weak to be able to stand by himself, what a disgrace to the Goetia family. Ha! Pathetic." She laughed mockingly, tapping her foot impatiently against the marble floor.
Her cousin gave no response to her, and their eyes never strayed away from the book in their grasp. As the other child seemed to be disinterested in the conversation with her, she huffed with irritation. "When will you ever stop reading a book every second? It's so boring to be cooped up in the palace and have no one to play with because you're just keeping your nose in one again."
"It's just a lovely hobby that I picked up, Stella." Her cousin simply smiled at her and placed a bookmark in between a page before closing the book. "Anyways, since it's sooo boring here with me. Why don't we do something else?" At their suggestion, her expression brightened.
"Let's go to the garden and have a tea party!" Her lips curled into a wide smile, whilst she held a hand upward.
A ghost of a smile appeared on their cousin's face, she seemed excited about the tea party, so, they should entertain it for a while. If she wanted to do so, they would agree with the idea. One secret held by the child was that they adored their cousin, no matter her temper. "Alright, it'd be good to get some fresh air."
Her dainty hand clasped over theirs and she quickly dragged them to the palace gardens. Rambling to her friend along the way. "We'll act like one of those nobles, with prim and proper manners. And then, we'll share gossip about the latest scandals!" Giggles left the pair of children, as they enjoyed their walk toward the garden.
However, the sight that greeted both of the children was not expected.
An owl demon clung to a tree branch, his grip around it was tight. As though if he were to loosen his grip, it would result in his demise. Perhaps, it was the truth. Beads of sweat trickled down his face as he desperately tried to scare away a beloved pet of theirs. "Er, umm- stay away! I'm not scared of you!" His words contrasted his pitiful state, as the child trembled violently at the growls emitted from the hound.
The two children watched the whole event with slight amusement, whilst concern dwelled in the older one's being.
"Hey, (Name)?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't help him."
"..."
"I want to see where this goes."
"But I don't want to be a witness to a murder."
He raised his other hand to wave around a stick, only for it to slip out of his grasp and into the hound's gaping maw. The owlish child could only stare in horror as the stick was swiftly decimated by the beast. Only snapping out of his daze when a voice called out to the creature.
"Clemento! Stop that foul behavior right now!" They ordered the hound, who quickly retreated from the tree and ran to its owner. Barking happily, he nuzzled into their palm. "You have to stop doing that to everyone you aren't familiar with." The demon muttered as they stroked the hound's fur.
Meanwhile, their beloved cousin was awed by the sight of Clemento. She had seen the hound often, but there was never a time when he was this close to her. As she had opted to admire Clemento's majestic appearance from afar. Her feathered fingers twitched while she resisted the urge to pet the hound, turning to her cousin with sparkles in her eyes, she asked. "Can I touch him?"
"Hm, sure." They carefully guided Clemento in her direction, and Stella slowly approached the hound. Soon afterward, the two bonded, rather quickly. "Just be sure not to choke him with your tight 'hugs'. I know you won't be able to help yourself."
"Ahem."
Their attention drifted to the owl boy, who was still stuck in the tree. A faint red glazed over his cheeks at the next words he would spout, "Um... Could you please help me get off this tree?"
His words brought forth confusion in the demon, "Can't you just jump?"
"Ah, well you see... I'm a bit scared of heights. And this tree is pretty tall."
"... Fine." They strode forward to the tree, stopping when they reached a place just below the owl demon. Their arms spread, and they gazed at him expectantly.
Silence reigned over them as the owl demon registered their actions in his mind, and moments after, "You're going to catch me?" He asked a useless question.
"Yes. Why else?" They deadpanned at the child, waving their outstretched arms slightly.
"I ...suppose you're right." He breathed in deeply, internally preparing himself for the jump.
A small gasp escaped their lips as a flurry of navy feathers landed in their arms. He clutched their arms lazily, a bit dazed from his previous adrenaline rush. With the proximity, they were able to observe his features. He had two pairs of mesmerizing, crimson eyes without pupils. Porcelain skin, and that bright smile of his.
They thought he was... "Pretty."
Making a blush rise upon his face, painting it a beautiful shade of red. He stumbled with his words to find a response, "I... Um, thank you?"
"Thinking back on our first encounter, it was hilarious! Seeing the Stolas, a great prince of hell, stuck in a tree due to running away from one of my old pets. And that he had to ask me to help him!" Their words reduced the owlet into a giggling mess, whilst they draped a blanket over her.
Once her giggles ceased, she felt a light kiss pressed on her forehead. A satisfied smile made its way to her expression as she nuzzled further into her blanket, feeling the temptations of sleep get her. But not before a voice bade her farewell, "Sweet dreams, my beloved owlet. I will see you again in the morning."
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion
Characters: Eskel (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion, Priscilla (The Witcher)
Additional Tags: Secret Admirer, soft, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, May be continued, Gift Giving
Summary:
Jaskier receives a flower from a "secret admirer" who doesn't show all night. At least he has his friend Eskel to comfort him.
I blame this ENTIRELY on a) @thatsmysecretduh b) @drunkportuguese and c) the low-grade fever I’m rocking. And, you know, that gifset. “Chris does want to be a daddy.” He knows what he did:
Bucky looks up from the laptop where he’s been running simulations on a software patch for the last hour, frustrated. He’s in Steve’s office, a space with good light where Steve likes to draw, but also with a wide, empty desk where Bucky can spread out when he works here.
He’s been working for Stark Industries for the last year and a half, and he thinks they’re close to finally making a breakthrough on a cybernetic prosthesis that Bucky’d designed in grad school. He hopes so. Stark put him in charge of the development team six months ago, and the last thing in the world Bucky wants is to let his mentor down.
It’s how he met Steve - Captain America - six months or so ago. They’ve been dating for four, and Bucky often brings his work upstairs to Steve’s floor in Stark Tower to finish up while Steve cooks them dinner.
It’s going well. Really well.
Steve is gorgeous, even more so now that he’s grown out his beard, and Bucky can’t help but sink his fingers into it when they kiss. But Steve is kind, too. He’s so much smarter than anyone gives him credit for, and he listens to Bucky like what Bucky says matters, which is, sad to say, a nice change from the usual guys he dates.
Bucky’d been hesitant to date the superhero at first, but he found that after he got over the shock of it (Captain America is picking me up! Captain America is paying for dinner! Captain America is kissing me!), that Steve Rogers was as beautiful inside as he was out.
And the sex is good. Really, good. Steve is gentle and considerate, and he always makes sure that Bucky is well satisfied. It’s just…Bucky can tell he’s holding something back. He doesn’t know if Steve has a problem with Bucky’s age, the fact that he’s a Stark Industries. employee, or something more. Whatever it is, it’s keeping them from getting closer.
That he’s being an absolute hypocrite doesn’t escape Bucky for one moment. He knows he’s holding back, too. It’s just…(and his face flames anytime he even thinks about it) there are some things he can’t imagine actually saying out loud to Steve. Things he only whispers to himself, when he’s alone behind closed doors, fantasies that are too dirty for anyone else’s eyes.
Later, he will absolutely blame that train of thought on what happens next.
“Hey, Buck?”
Bucky snaps out of his musing to see Steve standing in the doorway.
“Wanna get cleaned up? Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Bucky says, and then starts piling his papers together. He’s thinking he might take another look at the sequencing once they’re done with dinner, when his brain catches up to his mouth.
He freezes, then slowly looks up.
Steve is standing stock-still in the doorway, a look that Bucky can’t name on his face.
“What did you just say?” Steve asks, his voice a little breathy.
“Uhm…” Bucky chews his bottom lip. “I said ‘yes, buddy.’”
There’s a flash of something in Steve’s eyes. Frustration? Anger? Bucky’s not sure, but it’s making him nervous. He can already feel his heartbeat pounding.
Steve blinks at him and then nods and leaves, his body releasing none of the tension from earlier.
Bucky shuffles papers for another moment and then sets them down and closes his eyes.
“Fuuuuuuuuck,” he whispers, before standing up and walking to the bathroom to wash his hands and splash some water on his face.
And stall.
Bucky really, really wants to stall.
When he sits down to dinner, though, everything seems normal. Steve asks him about his day and Bucky replies, telling him about an idea that he had that he thinks will fix the problem he’s having with the neural transmitters not firing through to the prosthetic. Steve listens, attentive as always, topping off Bucky’s wineglass or adding more of the thinly sliced tri-tip to Bucky’s plate.
After dessert (cheesecake with fresh berries - Bucky’s favorite), Bucky pushes away from the table and settles on Steve’s lap, straddling him. He decides to put that one moment of weirdness away and instead show Steve just how much Bucky appreciates him.
When he settles, he leans down and brushes a soft kiss against Steve’s mouth.
“Do you have time?” Steve asks, “Or do you need to get back to it?”
“I have time,” Bucky says, and bends down for another kiss. It’s another thing that Bucky loves and hates. Steve’s never pushy about sex, always seeming happy to take a back seat if Bucky needs time for his latest project.
“Mmm,” he says, sighing into their next kiss.
Steve runs his hands along Bucky’s shoulders, down his arms, until he’s circling Bucky’s wrists and moving them behind Bucky’s back.
It lights a spark of want in Bucky, visceral and bright, and he gasps, just before Steve gathers both wrists into one hand and holds them, while fisting Bucky’s hair in his other hand.
He runs his lips down Bucky’s neck, kissing and licking, moving Bucky’s head just where he wants it. It’s so good - just exactly what Bucky wants - and he moans before grinding his hips down against Steve’s.
“Yes,” Bucky gasps, so caught up how good it feels that he doesn’t even clock Steve’s newly aggressive behavior.
“Like that, baby?” Steve asks, his voice low enough that it does things to Bucky, making him feel limp and pliant.
“More,” Bucky says. “Steve, please.”
“Say it again.” Steve’s voice is a low murmur against Bucky’s throat.
“Please,” Bucky says, not wanting this to stop. He feels held down and held open, and all he wants is for Steve to keep doing it, keep giving him more of this…this…feeling.
“Bucky,” Steve says, and he takes his mouth from Bucky’s skin. He tilts Bucky’s head until Bucky looks at him, feeling breathless and glassy-eyed. “Do you know how good my hearing is? I hear -” and he tightens his hold on Bucky’s hair, just enough for it to sting “-everything. If that’s what you want, then you better say it again, baby.”
Bucky draws a quick gasp of breath. Oh! Oh, god.
He looks at Steve, the way his pupils are blown, the flush on his cheeks, his mouth open and wet from the way he’s been kissing Bucky’s neck. Is this…does Steve want…?
“I said…please, daddy.” The words are breathy and soft, and Bucky sucks his bottom lip back into his mouth, terrified and exhilarated, all at once.
“Oh,” Steve says, releasing Bucky’s hair and wrists and cupping Bucky’s face in his hands. “Good boy,” he says, before pulling Bucky down for a kiss that is absolute domination. Bucky feels his entire body relax into it.
Steve stands, his hands under Bucky’s thighs, holding him up and carrying him toward the bedroom. Bucky holds tight, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck and legs around his waist. He fucking loves it when Steve goes all “supersoldier” on him.
“Come on, baby,” Steve says into Bucky’s ear. “Let’s go to the bedroom and see how good you can be.”
@constellaris - The Kitsune is still growing accustomed to how different things are nowadays. After having been dead for such a long time ... It's quite jarring, to say the least, but he had to admit he felt more at ease whenever he was able to hide away at Hinamori's side. And thus Niwa settled himself at the Inugami's side, resting his head upon her lap as tail slowly wagged away behind him. He was simply content relaxing with her, since he was certain she had work to do.
While she did not know the reason why nor did she felt it appropriate to ask, Hinamori was much accustomed with the feeling of being lost, of struggling to adapt. She had to go throught these after all & adapting, generally was part of living.
That said, as soon as a certain amount of weight was felt onto her lap rather than a shoulder of hers, teal hues averted away from further reading a letter to respond to. It wasn’t too breezy for now, so being on an open field, soothed by the floral aroma, felt like a good change of scenery than the hustle & bustle within Inazuma City.
‘‘Well, if thats the case, a five minutes is in order’‘. She sets aside her held things. After making certain these items wouldn’t be able to scatter, the Inugami Adeptus focused on Niwa. A small break wouldn’t pose harm, she figured before making the decision to run gloved fingers onto darker brown hair.
The throne room’s cold and unwelcoming atmosphere greeted Allicent as she entered, the sight that greeted her was the one that always did; A jagged glass throne and there sat the king of Illyria, Friedhelm Vaeltigar. The one many would view emotionless as he sat there, especially because of the fact that he had just lost his beloved sons within a fortnight.
However anyone in the room could see his red rimmed eyes and somewhat disheveled appearance as the instigator of opposition for that thought, and him fighting with his daughter to not tread the same path as her siblings did also cast that notion down.
“Allicent, for the last time you are not to approach a dragon and slay it. If your brothers failed—miserably might I add, I highly doubt the odds.” Her father looked at her his amber eyes burning; regret held her back but she broke free, sending her father the most determined look she could muster, she said, “Yes, I can—No, Forgive me. I said that wrong.” and with a tone of finality, “Yes I will.”
“My brothers may have been valiant, fierce and strong but I am intelligent—”
“Intelligent? The term I’d use is petulant.” He stated standing his ground despite sitting on his throne, His daughter set her jaw and stood straighter—something he did himself when he was being difficult. Oh! How he cursed the gods that his daughter inherited his stubbornness.
“We are dragonslayers Father!, We have bathed in the blood of dragons for millennia after Raziel Vealtigar came to this land and proved himself worthy as king! Allow me this conquest…please.” Friedhelm looked at his only daughter deplorably.
Their nearly identical eyes locked together. He just couldn’t let her go. Was his daughter’s life honestly too much to ask?
“Allicent…” He trailed off, the words tying a knot in his tongue. “As your father I cannot bear to lose you.” He thought he would have broken down crying then and there but he kept his composure; a skill he attained from being a king.
Allicent’s lips were prepared to parry but he beat her to it.
“But as king…It is my duty to allow my heir to succeed me.” Words cannot express the tumultuous emotions that ran in his chest when his daughter smiled the merriest smile he’s seen on her that day then she headed off to the beast that took his children away.
“It’s so hard to find good work as a sellsword in the royal capital!” Corvan Blackmyre whined as he squirmed on the tree stump he sat on.
He reached underneath his beloved wolf, Lynarra’s jaw, she nuzzled herself deeper into his touch, letting out a chuckle, he stroked her gray fur and sighed contentedly. He looked towards the mouth of the cave beside him.
Stories from the townsfolk said that a dragon used it as its home; the fierce, but relatively peaceful Vysenia.
So far, he couldn’t prove its validity. He’s been camping nearby for a week now and the most he’s heard was his own echo—A growl from Lynarra snapped him out of his reverie.
He heard the heavy flapping of wings, one that was far too large to be an eagle. He stood up; Lynarra was growling beside him. Then the beast descended, carrying on his back a girl wearing amaranthine armor—with the most memorable shade of hair, kissed by fire. She stroked the gryphon’s golden fur and walked towards the mouth of the cave.
A golden gryphon? By the gods!
“Now what’s a highborn lady doing here?” He muttered, flummoxed.
The girl entered the mouth of the cave; Corvan shivered at the thought of it eating her alive.
He couldn’t help himself, he walked towards the cave with Lynarra trailing behind him, what he hoped to accomplish, he wasn’t sure. Her hair was what he used to track her down. It was as if it lit up the cavernous space as it flew behind her
"W-wait!" He blurted out, unable to restrain himself.
With a simper reflected on Allicent's lips as she turned to him, he couldn’t help but bear a bad feeling about this.
Praise. Admiration. Respect. Stanford Pines wouldn’t settle for anything less. Everything he did, all the work he poured his blood, tears, and other bodily fluids into had to stand for something. Ford was always told he was the the better twin - the smart Stan, the Stan that would make it places, the Stan that would do his family name good - so when the time comes the scientist expected nothing less than praise, admiration, and respect.
The time never came.
Over and over, he was be cheated out his birthright, the fame, the glory. No matter what the scientist did, Ford had nothing to show for it. Journals would not let him publish his theories, physicists would not even lend an ear for Ford’s findings, he was scoffed at, rebuffed, became the laughing stock amid his own people. The only time his name was said in the community was when they were making a mockery of Stanford Pines, the loon that believed in “weirdness factors” and flying eyeballs and lizard people in Congress.
Oh, how they will be proven wrong.
Because Ford will show them; the errors in their silly equations, the rigidity in their theorems, their simple minded thoughts all brought down by his astounding intellect. Stanford Pines will be hailed as the man to pull humanity out of its dismal state and into a better world. His work will be inspiration to all, the name Pines will be in every household. No longer will the community sneer and spit at your feet.
You always have been the smart one.
You can prove just how futile their efforts are when you already have it all figured out. I know you can Fordsy. Just remember what I told you. Praise. Admiration. Respect. You won’t settle for anything less...
A small drabble I typed up super quick. Likes and reblogs appreciated!
