#asb

Why does he fall like that... body of his is ABSURD!!

Sometimes, it ends up working out for the best 😅

Both their abilities will be under the cut

Ok I lied, I was gonna do something for an oc, but I have been obsessed with Arcadie: Second Born since I played it so I had to do very short piece inspired by it. Sorry if it isn't as good as you guys are used to! It has been awhile since I've written anything.

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

The last of your name, the last of your blood. The sole survivor of a massacre enacted solely to destroy your family, to murder each and everyone of you. The King and Queen were dead. Throats slashed from behind as they feasted and cheered atop their great seats. Next came your older brother and sister. They were fierce warriors but caught completely unaware, in the once assumed safety of their great familial hall. Cut down by those they once called friends. Your uncle, barely leaving his seat, was the fourth to fall. Numerous other family members, those you loved, those you cared for and even those you barely even knew, were slain after. Their blood mixing in with that of their fallen kin. Screams and cheers coming together in a wicked display of evil. Those not of your name ran for their lives, leaving behind their loyalty for the fallen royal family behind in the muck of betrayal.

It was an extermination. Leaving you, youngest of the King and Queen's children, and the last of your entire family, to live. It was due to no cunning or skill of yours that you were still alive. No mercy from above or a chance of fate. The traitor willed you to live and as such you were spared. But, as the traitor sat on the very seat your father was murdered on, used your mother's still warm body as a foot rest, and cleaned the sword he used to cut your brother down, you wished, and not for the last time, that you had fallen with your kin.

He sat before you, lazily wiping your brother's blood from his great sword. You recognised it as the sword your mother gifted him for a successful campaign in the east. The great hall was silent now. There had been gargles and moans of the dying but it was finally silent. Death had come for your once great house. Those complacent in the massacre stood tall and motionless, like statues that littered the walls. And like statues they held no guilt for what had occurred.

You stood, shaken and teary eyed. You tried to hold back emotion, lest the traitor in front of you saw you as weak. You had been dragged from your hiding place while your family was still being butchered, you thought the same would happen to you. Instead you were dragged through rivers of blood and over dying bodies. Your second cousin had gripped onto you ankle with such a force you could still feel his nails digging into your skin now. You could feel his blood drying on your face too, the memory of those who had been dragging you kicking and slashing him as he laid on the floor, until his grip finally loosened.

The traitor in front of you let out a sigh, lulling you back into the present. He seemed bored or at the very least disappointed.

"I thought it would have been harder" he spoke, pushing your mother's body back and forth with his foot, until he bored of it and pushed your mother down the stairs, to your very feet. You stared at her, her eyes dull, yet screaming at you with fear and sadness at the very same time.

" I thought it would take more to bring down the once great royal family". You couldn't tell if he actually wanted an answer, or was just pushing salt into the emotional wounds that littered you.

He stood and began to slowly walk down the steps to meet you. Upon coming across your mother's body he kicked her to the side. There was a time you found him attractive, there was once a time one might say you had 'feelings' for him. But it was nothing but a child's fancy. The man in front of you was no longer your childhood companion, no longer was he the trusted general of your father's armies, no longer the Kingdom's most valued hero. He was a murderer, a villain, a traitor. A suddenly occurred to you, that the tribes and chiefdoms that your father ordered him to raise to the ground, had known him long before you as only as that, an evil, wicked man.

"Do you know why I spared you?" he asks, the face of your childhood friend, corrupted with the blood of your kin.

You opened your mouth to answer. To tell him no, to tell him to go fuck himself, to make a morbid joke of him wanting to torture you in front of the kingdom. You weren't quite sure what you were going to say. But he cut you off, clearly not in the mood to discuss his internal plans.

"Because you are the key to peace and the price of war" he states, eyes drilling into yours. You stared back in confusion, he was never one for riddles.

" I have fought in countless battle, killed hundreds, caused pain to thousands, and what was it for? hmm? Nothing, not a single fucking thing" he spits, you try to step back, but he only inches closer.

"I was lied to, we were all lied to" he shouts, pointing to his men who stiffen as he does so. "we were told war is the maker of peace, we were told that for every life we take, every family we slaughter, our kingdom, our homeland would flourish. It was nothing but a filthy fucking lie."

He turns back to where he left his sword, leaning on your father's seat. He grabs it, and turns back to you.

"I was given this as a gift for my battles in the east, but it was not what was promised to me" he snarls, his arm lifting until the sword was pointed at you, he steps forward, the tip coming to rest under your chin.

"Your mother promised me you" he whispers, the anger from before shifting to desperation. His arm lowered and so did the sword.

"It was the one thing I asked for when I left for the front lines, that if I survived I would have your hand in marriage, as we had planned as children, as it should have always been. But your mother lied, told me that of course she would be honoured to have me as your husband if I came back a hero, but a soldier and a hero are not always the same. I did what I was told, killed all those who opposed us, and for what? A scrap of metal to be thrown at my feet because I was not noble enough? That unlike your family's spoiled brats, I actually fought along side my men? I didn't stand on some ridge over looking chaos and watch as if it was some sport?"

"They lied to me, about everything. Why we were fighting, why we were killing, why my soldiers had to die in a foreign land to a foreign hand. Peace we were told. It wasn't peace, it was greed. Now it is time for us to be greedy. It's time for us to make war to make peace. This land will be rid of those who sent us to war for scraps of metal and gold. And a new dawn, a new kingdom for the common people will be born. It's finally time for me to get what was promised to me, for all the shit I've been through, for all the blood I split, I finally will have you. And I will be the king this kingdom deserves"

You let go of a breath you didn't know you had.

"The kingdom will never accept you as king" you whisper, trying to swallow but only finding a parched mouth. "They will see you as nothing but a bloodthirsty tyrant"

He stares at you for a moment, until a deep chuckle fight past his lips. He laughs for a few moments, his silent statues of men begin cracking their façade and laugh along with him.

"Of course they will accept me. I'm the kingdom's valiant hero, who not only protected them from the eastern tribes, but rescued them from the tyranny of your parent's rule. You live a sheltered life your majesty, you know not of what is beyond the castle walls"

Your heart races. Surely your parent's were loved by all? They seemed to think so, hosting large parties and feasts in honour of the peasant and common folk. Yet you now only find it odd that your never truly saw common folk at these gathering, unless of course you count the servants.

The usurper king continues speaking.

"But suppose you are right, that there are some who would refuse to see me reign, well as you as my spouse, how could anyone refuse, after all you are the sole living survivor of your family, you are therefore the ruler of this kingdom, and with me as your king, none shall dare threaten us." he chuckles, a dark and violent sound.

"Any child of yours is the heir to the throne, and I intend to sire that child" his eyes gleam dangerously in the candle light of the hall.

Duke has taken up the profession of being a showhunter/schooling horse for le students at silverglade manor (i lend him to the baroness on weekends so her extended family's kids and whatnot can learn to ride, he's very good with them)

Contessa has become a gaited flatshow star! both of her racking gait speeds are flashy and eye-catching, and the judges love her (the other horses do not)!

AHHHHHH so I commissioned @dreiidrie to draw my boy Lawliet and it turned out amazing!!!!! I love the two different styles of finishing it, which was a bonus, and I’m just so happy!!!!!

Haircut in Full School Uniform

I’m sitting here in the barber’s waiting area right now, heart hammering, trying to focus on my breathing. My navy blazer is hung up on the peg, leaving me in just my crisp white school shirt, stripey tie, and grey shorts. My long knee socks are pulled up tight and my smart black shoes gleam under the lights. I feel so exposed. Every time someone walks past, I swear they’re staring. Deep breath in… deep breath out. This is both the most thrilling and most terrifying thing I’ve done in ages.

---

This morning I woke up and decided: today’s the day. A big step in public confidence. I was going to get a traditional smart haircut while in full uniform.

I started getting ready with that familiar flutter of excitement in my stomach. First the polycotton white shirt. Then the stripy school tie, knotted carefully. Next came the grey shorts – pulling them up always makes me feel instantly younger and more vulnerable. Long knee socks, pulled up to just below my knees, and finally my shiny black shoes. Last of all, the navy blazer with its shiny brass buttons. I stood in front of the mirror and just stared. I looked so properly, unmistakably like a schoolboy. Neat, prim, and embarrassingly childish. My cheeks burned, but god, it felt amazing. That rush of putting on the uniform is addictive.

I grabbed my bag, stepped out the door, and took the lift down. Before leaving the building I snapped a quick mirror selfie - long, scruffy hair still wild, contrasting sharply with my smart uniform. Then I started the walk to the barber’s.

Every step felt electric. Halfway there I heard some workmen laughing behind me and my stomach dropped. Were they laughing at me? A minute later an American couple waiting for a taxi muttered something about “school uniform” as I passed. My face went bright red and I kept my eyes fixed forward, pulse racing. I had warm bolder uniforms in public before, but this wasn’t a quick supermarket dash or a hidden park photoshoot. This was a real appointment I couldn't easily get out of.

I arrived a little early so I sat on a bench in the nearby park, knees together, blazer buttoned, trying to look casual while dressed like this. When the time came, there was no turning back.

I walked in, greeted the barber with a shy “hello,” and sat on the bench. Then came the moment I dreaded: I had to take my blazer off. Suddenly I was just a boy in shirt, tie and shorts. When it was my turn, I climbed into the chair. The barber draped the gown over me, but it was a bit awkward because of the tie and collar. I felt a wave of relief as the gown covered most of my uniform… at least for a while.

I asked for a side parting. The cut itself was mercifully quiet - no comments about my outfit. I watched in the mirror as my messy mop transformed into a crisp, neat side parting, short back and sides. It looked so perfectly schoolboy.

Then I had to lean forward into the sink for the wash. That’s when the back of my grey shorts rode up slightly, elastic waistband on show, my hands resting on my bare knees. Another rush of humiliation hit me hard.

Finally it was over. The gown came off and there I was – a proper, pristine schoolboy with freshly combed hair. I paid, embarrassed, and as I put my blazer back on, one of the other barbers smiled and said I looked like the old-fashioned gentlemen in the pictures on the wall! I mumbled a thank you and stepped outside.

Walking home I felt a strange mix: deep, burning embarrassment… but also real pride. I did it. I sat there for half an hour in full uniform and survived. It was scary, humiliating, and incredibly exciting all at once. I know this will make wearing my schoolboy clothes in public so much easier next time.

Would you believe I actually enjoyed it? The thrill of being seen like this is addictive… even when it makes me want to hide forever.

What do you think – should I push myself even further next time?