#blue actually writing

[blueberrysnake]

Summary: After secret life ends, Scar is not okay. Grian goes to check and secrets are finally revealed. Oh, and Mumbo is there too.

Chapter 1/1

Word count: 1,691

#blue actually writing #wow #secret life #hermitcraft mumbo #hermitcraft #grian #hermitcraft grian #gtws #hermitcraft gtws #mumbo #3rd life #fic #actual fic

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

#legend of zelda #loz #twilight princess #loz tp #i'm still reeling that someone sent me an ask about this one.. that they took the time to find my tumblr and tell me they liked it #it really meant a lot; thank you to anyone that stops to leave comments like that. they make me happy #but yeah! here's the usual symbolism ramble: #i thought it'd be cool to have the 'spirits' flowing one way and the cats walking through them the other way #to kinda show the difference in life inhabiting the village in the past and present #link's face is covered because impaz was just waiting for 'the hero' so his clothes are what matters; not his face #and it (hopefully) gives a surreal and intangible sense to 'the hero' she could only hope would actually show up #you can feel free to interpret the glowy blue sheikah as ghosts or just as memories of the past! i couldn't decide either way #the one on the bottom left is oot impa since she's implied to be the village founder. so i guess she would be a ghost actually? #fan art #my art #project stuff #and ahhh the book-- everyone's stuff is so beautiful!! #especially the writing. some of the fics made me really tear up and some were so fun and clever. i really love them #a lot of them captured the sheer burden of the role of the sheikah; all of the time and grief and doubt #i know i always say this stuff about every project but. the people i get to work with in these are truly so skilled every time

[bluerosefox]

Beloved Beyond Time

A DeadSerious Prompt where a young Damian follows his mother's advice about finding his future 'Beloved' and is smitten with a TimeTraveling Ghost King (Prince) Danny when his grandfather summoned the eldritch being.

Damian, despite being young, will want no other to be by his side once he takes over the League. Especially since the King was able to strike fear in his grandfather for even just for a moment.

Danny, whose just started taking up his soon to be Kingly title and duties, at first freaked out when a kid who just got out of toddlerhood is offering marriage. Who wouldn't. And well while he didn't fully encourage it, he found it a little adorable and tried to nudge the kid away from said... err crush feelings?

He was a little sad to have to say goodbye to the kid when his month long stay with the al Ghul's (mostly to see if they're worthy to keep the Pits) he was pretty for sure he'd never run into the kid again and if he did who knows how old they'd actually be because again.. time travel.

So Danny now at the age of 16 really wasn't expecting to be basically be cornered on his first day at his new school at Gotham Academy by a 17 year old Damian Wayne who is leaning over him and says "Hello Beloved. Time has been kind to you it seems."

Danny's poor half-alive heart is currently dying from being cornered by an older Damian.

Let this crazy train wreck begin.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #blue rambles #crossover #writing ideas #random idea #danny phantom dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dead serious #Damian sneaked into a League meeting when they summoned the Ghost King #but they actually got the Ghost Prince who was learning how to handle realm duties at the time #but Danny doesn't tell them that. Also they summoned him when he was practicing his eldritch form. So yeah he scared them. #Danny actually scared Ra's into submission by threatening his precious Lazarus Pits since he was going to be forced to stay for a month #Danny actually and sadly can't do much to the Pits.Its been there for so long the world would start to become unstable if he took them away #He can heal people who have been effected by it though #Anyways this is another thing Ra's doesn't actually need to know if Danny has anything to say about it #Damian is a smitten kitten by the being who managed to strike fear in his grandfather #and decides only the Ghost King was worthy of becoming his Beloved #During the month he tries to get Danny to agree to their impending marriage #Danny freaks at first but finds it a little adorable and never really takes it seriously #he does try to reason with Damian about how it wont work but the boy is stubborn #Damian does worm a spot in Danny's heart though by being stubbornly adorable #When the month is up. Damian swears to a fading Danny he will marry him in the future #Danny returns to his own time and thinks thats the end of that. #A few weeks later he finds out that someone as a joke signed him up for an exchange student program and that he was picked to go to Gotham #Damian has NEVER forgotten the one he calls Beloved #and has drawn him. Many times. In Eldritch form. Ghost King form. Little Man form. Phantom form. EVEN his human form only Damian knew of. #So when Damian spots Danny. He knows who he is. #Damian is gonna try to channel his mother's abilities in seduction to woo his Beloved

[blueskiesandstarrynights]

They don't talk about it.

But there's no way Nate should know those things. No way the client could have told him, no way he could've figured it out on his own. Not when these things were nothing more than fleeting thoughts from the mark. But Sophie notices him quietly go for the scotch behind the counter and rub at his head in pain with extra vehemence some days despite the latest con having no personal connection to him.

They don't talk about it.

But someone should've recognized Sophie on that con. There's no way she could have that many characters per con. No way none of those diplomats didn't recognize her from any of her previous cons. Not when she didn't change any more than her clothes and accent. But Nate notices her features seem to flicker at the peace and safety of home when she thinks he isn't watching.

They don't talk about it.

But no one could've survived that. And certainly not looking the way he does. There's no way he didn't come out of that fight broken and bloodied to all hell. Not when instead he walks out with a purposeful stride and only a clenched jaw, rolling his shoulders. But when he's cooking and accidentally burns himself, Parker notices the unmarked skin left behind.

They don't talk about it.

But not all vents are human sized. They all saw the size of the vent cover as she exists with a grin. There's no way she could've fit in there. Not when the human body can't bend that way, a way that even the greatest contortionist can't bend. But some days Hardison notices as she seems to stretch and bend before his eyes when she's feeling relaxed and safe enough.

They don't talk about it.

But that's not how computers work. There's no way Hardison could access that kind of thing. Not when he describes how he did it like that. Not when he does it so quickly like that. Not when he says he's taken berries and the next thing they know he's recreated a colonial era journal to perfection. But Eliot swore he shoved a glass of water at him, not more goddamn orange soda.

They don't talk about it, the thing lingering over their heads as they conduct each con, the unacknowledged thing between the five of them that's a little deeper than just a desire to take down the rich and powerful.

They aren't perfect, they all know that- sometimes they're too good with their covers, sometimes they have to shift gears as the con unfolds before them, but somehow things always seem to work out.

But no one asks about it, so-

They don't talk about it.

#leverage #leverage fic #kinda #nate ford #sophie devereaux #parker leverage #alec hardison #eliot spencer #blue rambles #my fics #i actually ended up writing more than i expected when all i had in my head was just vibes

[ghostbsuter]

Water drips down in the corner, the steady dop drop drop— does wonders for the bat.

Batman has been taken, tied up, and undressed of his utility belt. It takes him a second to figure out who took him, by the large but empty and run down warehouse, the sound of the shore not far away.

The docks. He shuffles, bound and comm off.

Then, the steel enforced door slams open and Joker enters.

"Batsy!" He calls, overjoyed. The man walks to the bound vigilante and crouches to his height.

"It's been so long, hasn't it been?"

The vigilante grunts. "Joker."

"Today will be different." He goes on, "today, we have," the crime Prince drums his fingers on Batman's thigh. "A guest!"

He freezes at that, Joker has a civilian.

(Oracle sends out the message, her voice firm, and the coords are shared to the rest of the clan in seconds as she looks at her monitor. Batman's red dot at the harbour bright.)

"I'm a guest now?" The voice of a child asks, it brings slight confusion that the boy wasn't tied nor harmed in any way.

It's relief that he seems okay, but the danger of standing next to the Joker has Batman wiggling in his restrains.

"Is that a promotion or demotion for son?"

A brief look of annoyance enters Joker before being smoothed out, the boy is dealing with a delicate time bomb. Uncomfortably close to the madman.

(He hurries in the process of breaking free.)

"My son! My blood!" Sings the clown, throwing his hands around the boy's shoulders and prancing around.

Which brings another question.

Son?

Cool lighting hits the boy's head and the tuffs of pink, blue and green become more obvious, hidden beneath black hair previously.

Joker and Harley have a child. A son.

He will visit harley later. The boy comes first.

"Dante! Danyal! Daniel?" Joker croons, shaking the boy. "What was it again?" He stops, turning his son toward him with a grin.

(Robin drops down behind him, hiding, katana ready to be swung.)

"Danny, actually," the child— Danny– shrugs off the hands and steps back. Unflinching from the judging stare, simply waving off the hands creeping to his throat.

"Danny," the name is tested, and the Prince of Crime hums to himself. "We can always replace it as Joker Jr! It fits you better than Danny."

(Red Robin and Spoiler get on position above them, ready to pounce from the construction pillars.)

"Yeah, I don't know about that." He chuckles nervous, catching Batman's eyes and—

His eyes alone scream of fear, scared– scared—!!

"We will get you an acid flower, a new suit as well, the hoodie looks horrible on you." The man notes, humming.

"I prefer hammers." Danny replies with tense shoulders.

Joker clicks his tongue, "You always went after your mother." he hisses, outright glaring at his son now. His hand tightened around the crowbar he'd gathered not long ago.

"I mean," he hesitates, eye trailing off the Joker and over his shoulder. "I did come out of her."

The sound of a loaded gun shatters the silence, and Joker is pulling Danny, switching their positions and pushing him right in front of the gun in Red Hood's hand.

"Always a coward, hiding behind others, aren't you." Danny stops himself from squealing. That's the Red Hood!

(Escrima sticks light up with electricity as Red Hood speaks.)

Joker is ticked off, party ruined and surrounded now that he looks around.

Oh well, he can get his son on his villain path another day.

Cackling, he evades the escrimas, dodging the wonder boy and evading the twin attacks from above.

He pulls out a trigger and presses the bright red Button.

"Have fun bats and birds!"

The warehouse is completely flooded with fear gas, scarecrow wouldn't be mad he sacrificed one of his warehouses, will he?

It's all blurry. In one moment, his view is shrouded, and he's coughing. In another, he gets picked up and brought outside, the Joker gone.

An oxygen mask is placed on him by a paramedic, being handed off to an ambulance that had been called.

Peeking around, he sees Red Hood (!) still lingering around. Danny catches his eye and with a wave, the man is walking towards him.

He simply crosses his arms and tilts his head, waiting.

"Could I get a picture?" Danny blurts out, flushing after and coughing, holding the oxygen mask in his lap.

Red Hood makes a show of his shoulder sagging before crouching down and leaning toward him.

Later, Danny will look at the picture with a boyish grin, crooked and charming.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

A continuation

#dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #fic prompt #writing prompt #dc x dp prompt #idk how the chemicals in joker and harley would affect a child tbf #so danny gets nice tuffs of blue pink and green #danny is the kid of Joker and Harley Quinn #look man #if harley was aware he was back in gotham she would have killed the joker before he knew of his son #batman is so confused #who allowsd the joekr to reproduce #edited: im actually been thinking ahrd decided the original was better #child danny would be greay to traumatize #also #dannys fav robin was the sec one #he has a complicated relationship with his dad #or rayher no relationship at all #hes gonna bash this mans head in with a hammer #harley will be so proud #sorry rebloggers for changing it!!!

[lauraneedstochill]

Can't help falling in love

summary: 5 times Aemond was in love with you + 1 time he finally confessed his feelings

warnings: friends to lovers (at the age of 9, 10, 15, 17, 19), a pinch of angst (Aemond healing after losing his eye), but overall so fluffy and sweet you may want to skip dessert

words: ~ 5500 (I got reeeally carried away with that love confession)

1.

Aemond is weeks away from his tenth birthday and he feels as miserable as ever. That feeling is an iron weight upon his heart, his mood irritated and face features grim more often than not. He is still without a dragon — and it’s the only thing he can think of, day and night, steadfast and stubborn in his obsession that most of his family finds to be blown out of proportion. It might have stang him less if only it wasn’t for the constant teasing and pitiful jokes that added to his distress and the never-ending heartache. He learns to keep a straight face and act as if he doesn’t really care, but deep down he does, way more than he’ll ever admit.

His training sessions are a way to channel his anger, and he lashes out at a straw man, again and again, clinging to the thought that, at least in these moments, he is not entirely powerless. He keeps his focus on the target, attentive to Ser Criston’s advice — “Soften your knees”, “Keep your feet light, your hands heavy”, and for a couple of hours he forgets about his misery.

It’s when the training comes to an end, the dreaded realization sinks in again, and Aemond is lost in his thoughts, mindlessly twirling the wooden sword in one hand, his gaze wandering around the yard.

And then his eyes fall on a bright green spot — and all of a sudden, he sees you. A girl of his age, the hem of your green dress a bit dusty, boots covered in dirt, a few strands of hair fallen loose, a coy smile on your face. You meet his gaze and wave at him excitedly.

Aemond looks dumbfounded. A girl in the training yard. Waving at him. He blinks once, twice — and in the next moment, you're standing merely a few steps away, glancing curiously at his sword.

"It looks so hefty! Is it heavy? What is it made of?" a string of questions, your voice sweet and joyful.

There’s a brief pause and maybe you mistake his stiffness for arrogance as you are quick to add:

“Oh, my manners!” gasping but showing no actual regret. “Forgive me,” you curtsy, your smile growing even wider. A timid smile appears on his face in return and he finally comes to his senses.

“It’s made out of red oak. It’s not very heavy, you get used to it,” Aemond raises the sword, letting you take a closer look. Within another blink of an eye he finds himself talking to you, your questions endless and maybe a bit naive but he genuinely enjoys it.

That’s until you both hear a loud cry:

“Lady Y/N!” your nanny comes running in, out of breath and scowling. “I told you not to wander around...,” she chokes on her words at the sight of the young prince. She curtsies, too, but it isn’t nearly as cute as when you do it.

She sprints decisively in your direction:

“It wasn’t very polite of you to interrupt the prince’s training, you little menace!”

And then Aemond, to his own surprise, moves to stand in her way.

”Y/N didn’t interrupt a thing,“ he disagrees, lips thinned into a tight line.

The nanny stops and looks at Aemond dubiously, switching her gaze from him to you.

Ser Criston is the one to resolve the conflict — he comes from behind, with a polite smile plastered on his face.

”Young lady can watch from the balcony. The guests are very much welcomed,“ he calls for the maid to escort you and your nanny up there. While you’re away, he looks at Aemond with a grin:

”Already wooing the ladies, my prince? Let’s hope you are as good with your sword as she thinks you are.“

He does make Aemond work for it but the prince fights back, winning one bout after the other. He keeps glancing at you and you wave at him every single time.

Aemond is too young to know what love is, too shy and guarded to even entertain the thought of it. But when you look at him, with your childish grin and your eyes bright with mirth, he doesn't feel lonely anymore.

2.

It's been two weeks since Aemond lost his eye and he hasn't left the bed once. The pain is still blinding, burning and constantly making his only eye water. But what hurts even more is the humiliating disability. The triumph of claiming Vhagar died down, and now the prince was faced with the harsh reality he needed to adjust to and the process wasn't an easy one. The fever has only recently gone down, leaving his body weak and freezing from the lack of movement, but he couldn't bare the thought of stepping out of the room.

His mother wouldn't leave his side and even Aegon often came to visit, clearly blaming himself for not being there for his little brother. Yet their presence barely brought Aemond any comfort and most of the time he would pretend to be asleep to avoid any conversations. He knew they only meant well and he was being cruel but he couldn't help it as his pride was shattered and he gave in to sadness.

That is until one night he wakes up to a weird sound. He's only half-awake when he hears a vigorous tapping that clearly comes from the outside. Except it's not from the other side of the door — but rather outside his window.

He's startled by this guess and suspiciously walks closer. It takes him a few seconds to focus his gaze and discern a human's silhouette — and then another few to realize that it's you standing on the window sill. He feels like his heart will jump out of his chest as he rushes to open the window.

You climb through and clumsily drop to the floor. But before he can get worried, you are on your feet again, eyeing him with concern.

“Oh, Aemond,” your gaze and voice are both so soft, it makes his lower lip quiver. You carefully approach him and put your hand on his shoulder, gently sliding it on his back in a soothing motion and then cuddling him. He welcomes your company with a sigh of relief. You smell of oranges and you give the best hugs.

"They told me no one was allowed into your chambers," your hushed whisper burns his ear. "The silliest thing I've ever heard!" you pull away from him, still lightly panting, cheeks flushed and hair messy. "I knew I had to find a way to come see you."

You examine his face, frowning at the scar that's still healing.

"Does it hurt?"

He only nods, afraid that if he opens his mouth, he won't be able to hold back a sob. You move closer, resuming the gentle motion of rubbing his back.

Ever since that day in the training yard, you kept in touch, regularly sending each other letters, chatting about everything and nothing, sharing your little secrets and observations. You recently mentioned that your parents allowed you to come see him again, but with the tragic change of events, Aemond completely forgot about the preplanned visit. 

"I will take his eye," you say out of the blue, caressing the unharmed side of his face, your voice laced with anger. Aemond thinks he might've heard it wrong.

"...Whose eye?"

"Luke’s! I shall take his eye, as payment for yours," you tell him with zero hesitation. For a girl of your age, you’re way too eager to plan such a thing, yet he somehow has no doubts that you can actually do it.

Aemond shakes his head:

"You shouldn't," his voice quiet but firm. "The King was very adamant about that, no payment is needed."

"Well, maybe he is too old to think straight," you retort. "You are his son and you lost an eye! Justice must prevail," you tilt your head at him, clearly thinking that you’re in the right.

And he knows that you are but he also knows no justice will be served. It’s the last straw for Aemond — he looks away in shame as tears, hot and angry, start falling down his cheek. You waste no time hugging him again, letting him cry on your shoulder, and the two of you stay like that for what feels like an hour.

And then, in the comfortable silence of your embrace, he hears you asking, very seriously:

"Are you sure I can't take his eye?"

At that moment, he can't stop himself from letting out a laugh — a weak one and barely audible, but still, he laughs, for the first time in two weeks, and you are the sole reason for it. 

Your cheek is pressed to his, your fingers running through his hair, and Aemond realizes he can't lose you.

He begrudgingly persuades you that taking Luke's eye isn't worth the trouble.

3.

By the age of fifteen Aemond becomes quite accustomed to the eyepatch and it gives him a boost of confidence. Losing an eye only made him train harder and his persistence pays off when he’s the one to win, time after time, no matter who his opponent is. His hair grows longer, now silky smooth and with no sign of his boyish curled ends, his face features sharpen. He learns to walk with his head high and hands clasped behind his back, mastering the intimidating look that makes most people want to stay away from the one-eyed prince. 

His tricks could’ve never worked on you, though.

You come to visit him a few times a year, and he eagerly awaits your arrival. All the days in between, you keep talking through letters, them getting longer as you get closer. He keeps those letters locked in a hidden compartment of his table. And sometimes, for no specific reason — or maybe for the reason he can’t yet formulate — he is drawn to reach for them, which always ends with him rereading the letters for hours. Some of them he knows by heart and yet it never stops him from having the pleasure of seeing your handwritten stories and little jokes that were only meant for him.

Today is no exception and Aemond is so enthralled by reading, he almost misses the knock on the door. The sound brings him to reality but he is in no hurry to react. The knocking comes again, and the prince groans, annoyed at the maid's persistence. He carefully puts the letters back and goes to the door, armed with his cold gaze.

And then he opens it — and it's you standing in front of him. 

Aemond barely has time to register what's going on when you launch yourself at him, your arms immediately enveloping him in a tight hug, your laugh ringing in the air. He hugs you back and, while you can't see it, he's grinning from ear to ear.

“I swear you’re getting taller every time we meet!” you look up at him, beaming, and he lets you in. “I soon will need a ladder just to hug you properly".

"I’ll be sure to let my body know of your disapproval," he sneers and you stick out your tongue.

"While you are at it, shall you also work on your friendly face? I overheard the maids being frightened to go into your chambers," you try giving him a scolding look but end up giggling at his reddened cheeks.

"I am friendly enough!"

“Yes, nobody glowers quite like you,” you snicker and flop right on the floor, the move always making him smile. Aemond tried persuading you to sit on any other surface that’s actually meant for sitting but you insisted that his fluffy rug works just as well, so he eventually gave up, deciding to join you. He never complained since.

Before he knows it, he’s immersed in the conversation while you enthusiastically share the recent news and everything that’s happened to you on the road. Only about half an hour in, he notes a small bag you're clasping in your hands.

“You come bearing gifts?”

“Oh, I almost forgot I had it,” you laugh, abashed. “I decided I should bring you something to replace this crumpled-looking thing".

It takes Aemond a minute to realize that you're talking about his eyepatch. But he has no time to protest as you silence him with a gesture of your hand:

“I took it upon myself to count for how long you’ve been wearing this one already,” your tone gets serious. “I must say, that number is disturbing.”

There's a moment of silence and then he clears his throat, his voice unsure:

“Very kind of you to think of that, I shall replace it later on.”

He reaches his hand to take the bag but you quickly cover it with yours, fingers brushing over his, and he freezes.

“Are you still not convinced that I can take a look at it?” you try to make eye contact but he averts your gaze.

“Aemond, I was with you and I think I’ve seen enough back then — none of it scared me.”

“It is not a sight for the faint of heart,'” the prince mumbles, his bravado faltering.

“Well, I don’t remember fainting the first time. You should have more faith in me,” you try to reason, holding his hand.

Aemond ponders for another minute — or maybe ten, he isn't sure, and you patiently wait, not wanting to press him any further. Then he finally makes a decision and, after taking a long, sad sigh, he removes the eyepatch and looks at you, the sight of him is the very definition of insecurity.

You stay silent for about five seconds before concluding:

“Oh, it healed so nicely!” with no hint of uncertainty in your voice. Your smile reassures him a little as you peer at the sapphire, looking very pleased.

"The gem compliments your eye very well," you give him your verdict, taking the new eyepatch out.

"We might have a different understanding of what a compliment is."

"This is me trying to say that I really like the way it looks," you chide him lightly. "And I consider myself to be quite understanding, thank you very much. Will you stop pouting and let me put it on?"

At this point he surrenders, giving you permission, and you move closer, giggling with excitement. You gently fix his hair, making sure it’s all combed back, and then lean to put the eyepatch on. You have a habit of biting your lower lip when you're too concentrated on something, and Aemond can't help but gaze at that part of your face while your teeth graze over the pillowy surface. 

He’s never let anyone this close — and not just in the sense of physical proximity. The moment is very intimate, and the softness of your movements tugs at his heart. He is suddenly very aware of the very short distance separating you two, and he holds his breath. You are oblivious to his stare and soon lean back, satisfied with the result and glaring at him with something akin to fondness.

He wishes he could paint a picture of you right at this moment, so tender and caring and sitting by his side.

He also wishes he could kiss you — and that thought scares him to death. And yet, once it appears, it never goes away.

4.

Aemond is seventeen and his life has been pure torture since you stopped visiting him. He hasn't seen you in over half a year (seven months and eleven days, not that anyone's counting). It's not your fault as your father has unexpectedly fallen ill and you couldn't leave his side. The prince exhausted the maester with questions, asking for advice to write back to you, worried sick that your separation would be stretched for way longer than he could handle.

Luckily, the Gods took pity on him, and he was glad to learn that your father got better, and you will come to the King's Landing soon. Your visit coincided with Aegon's birthday, but Aemond didn't care about the feast, his mind only occupied with the thought of seeing you. He was both nervous and excited to the point of not even hiding it, which led to Aegon teasing him relentlessly. Helaena, on the other hand, wholeheartedly supported Aemond's sympathy for you.

“She will be delighted to see you, too, I am sure of it,” his sister tells him the day before the event.

“But the reason for it might be of a different nature,” Aemond remarks, and Helaena gives him a compassionate look.

“You will never know her true feelings unless you ask,” she encourages. “The two of you are so close, I consider Y/N part of the family.”

Aemond knows that he’s of age and his mother hinted that, despite him showing no interest in courting, some ladies still found him attractive. He dismisses the idea but then finds himself thinking of it from time to time. When the realization forms in his head, it’s nerve-wracking but oh so compelling — he thinks he would’ve really wanted to marry you. He just doesn’t know how to tell you about it.

The day of your arrival comes, and Aemond wakes up at dawn in anticipation, determined to confess his feelings. He tries to come up with a speech, but it feels wrong and sounds weird, and he decides it will be better to improvise. He all but runs to the courtyard to be the first one to greet you. However, when you step out of the carriage, smoothing your dress, and your eyes meet, Aemond stops dead in his tracks and the world around him stands still.

His confidence might’ve blossomed — but not nearly as much as your beauty did. Somehow in those recent months, you’ve matured into a woman that takes his breath away.

It’s not a drastic change, it's all in the details: the contours of your face are more defined, the cheekbones prominent, your hair knotted up high in a perfect style and even your pace is much slower and gracious. You walk towards one another, both suddenly cautious. But when you are a couple of meters apart, a well-known smile appears on your face and you hold your arms out to him and he finally hugs you again, after all this time. Aemond relaxes, inhaling the familiar scent of fruits that you undoubtedly munched on your way here.

“You look exactly as I remembered you,” you say as you slip from his embrace.

“And you are a sight to behold,” he breathes out, taking you in, and your cheeks heat up at the compliment. You’ve never been shy with him before, so this is also new. He wonders what might’ve caused this change.

As the two of you walk around the castle, it feels a bit awkward at first, and you keep glancing at him with emotion he can’t read. But Aemond is too happy to see you to give it much thought, and within an hour you ease into the conversation, too. By the time the evening comes, the tension disappears, and you are laughing at his sarcastic remarks again, and he savors every second of it.

The feast in honor of Aegon is lush and crowded, but you stay by Aemond’s side, enjoying each other’s company, and he only has eye for you. When the music gets too loud, you sneak out and soon find yourselves in his chambers, just like in the good old days. Aemond is in the middle of telling you about Aegon’s recent foray to the Flea Bottom, when you say:

“It’s just the two of us,” your fingers sink into the fluffy rug. “You don’t have to wear it with me. You know it, right?”

He wears the eyepatch with everyone, only taking it off before going to sleep. Moreover, he actually cherishes it because it’s a gift from you. Aemond hesitates:

“I thought you quite liked it.”

“I only gave it to you because yours started to look like it was pulled off a dead man’s body!” you laugh.

Before he can think of an answer, you lean closer — your shoulder brushing his, your hand touching his face, the same gentle warmth he remembers so well, — and remove the eyepatch yourself. The sight doesn’t bother you in the slightest as you confess:

“I accept you the way you are, Aemond,” and then, a moment away from him opening his mouth and saying the thing that’s been on the tip of his tongue for the duration of the day, you add: “That’s what friends are for — and you are my best friend.”

And just like that, with this word alone, his plan goes out the window.

A friend. Aemond can’t even be upset at the reveal, because, honestly, being your friend feels like a blessing in itself and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. How could he be so selfish and foolish to even think about risking it all, risk losing you?

So he keeps his feelings to himself, locking them away deep in his heart, and doesn't argue with you.

Maybe he should have.

5.

By the age of nineteen Aemond reaches the conclusion that he wants to take the risk. Otherwise, he thinks he might actually die as his heart can not hold all his feelings anymore. In two years' time, there isn’t a single thing about you that he hasn’t come to love, and keeping it a secret becomes harder with each day.

Aemond is ridden with doubts to the point where he can't hide it any longer and he decides to seek advice — and the prince can't think of a better person to talk to than his mother. Unbeknownst to him, Alicent was the first one to notice. Years ago, when you were kids, she quickly sensed the effect you had on her son, and it brought her joy as she watched the two of you get closer with time.

So when Aemond bursts into her room, anxiety radiating off of him as he starts jabbering away, his pacing erratic and voice trembling, it takes her about a minute to realize what's going on.

“My dear, I think you must talk to Y/N,” she approaches him, an understanding look on her face.

Aemond cuts his speech short, eyeing her with wonder:

“You don't seem surprised.”

“Your affection for her is as bright as a fire blazing,” Alicent chuckles. “I believe Y/N is the only one who doesn’t see it.”

“Should I tell her...?” he doesn’t dare say it out loud, not yet.

Alicent briefly takes his hands in hers, squeezing them.

“You should tell her the truth.”

Her encouragement gives him a dash of hope, lifting a weight off his chest. Aemond knows in an instant that the letter won’t cut it, and you must have the conversation face-to-face. Fortunately, your next visit is in a month, so his suffering won’t last for much longer.

Aemond almost reaches the door but then sharply turns to his mother again, his cheeks flushed:

“Will you give me your approval?” and this time, he looks straight at her as he wants to see her genuine reaction.

Alicent smiles, quick to reassure him:

“Yes, Aemond. Your betrothal would only make me happy.”

The prince feels elated, almost euphoric, as he finally goes to meet you and runs the remaining distance from his chambers to the yard. But when he sees you, the smile disappears from his face because he notices that something is wrong.

You look visibly upset, your eyes watering and fingers fumbling with the dress, even though you try to force a smile in return. The hug you give him is weak and you keep looking at your feet.

“What is the matter?” he’s never seen you this sad, but you brush him off.

“It’s just a headache, no need to worry.”

Yet that’s exactly what he does, offering to call for the maester, or to prepare you a warm bath, or bring you some tea...

“A cup of water would be nice, thank you,” he leaves you in the hallway to go and get it himself, the task only takes a couple of minutes. When he returns, you stand with your back to him, your shoulders are shaking — and he hears quiet, muffled sobs. If it wasn’t for the nearby table, he would’ve thrown the cup away, his focus on you alone. As he rushes to envelop you in a hug, you don’t fight it, instead nestling your face against his chest, not hiding your tears anymore.

Aemond gives you some time before asking again:

“This doesn’t look like just a headache. What is the cause of your anguish?” now he’s the one running his fingers up and down your back.

You let out a sound that’s a mix between a groan and a whine.

“My father says I am to be betrothed soon. He says I am of age already and... and he wants me to meet some of my cousins,” you sniffle. “I told him I have no wish to get married but he refuses to listen,” you bite your lip, not wanting to cry again.

Surely, that’s not how Aemond wanted to ask you. But he decides to take his chance.

“Mayhaps there is another way out that could make you feel better.”

“Please don’t tell me Vhagar will burn them down,” you jest but the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. Aemond thinks your idea isn’t that bad — but he has to try his first.

“If he insists you should marry but doesn’t have a particular candidate, maybe you can pick one yourself?”

“I’ve met all my cousins — and half of them are imbeciles, the others are too old to survive a wedding,” you scoff.

“Then pick someone you are not related to,” Aemond suggests.

“Do you have a particular candidate in mind?” when you ask with a tinge of annoyance, you don’t think he will answer. And then you look at him — and see him grinning before he says:

“Me”.

You glare at Aemond with eyes wide and mouth agape, the expression frozen on your face for a good minute. 

“Are you laughing at me?” you manage to say.

“I wouldn’t dare,” his nerves are as tight as a wound-up string.

In the blink of a moment, your face lights up. You're looking at him indecisively, searching for words, agitated. But Aemond mistakes your confusion for rejection.

“At the very least you will marry someone you know,” he tries to reason — but it backfires, wiping the joyfulness off your face. Taken aback, you inquire:

“You pity me?”

He doesn’t grasp the poor choice of his words yet.

 “You pity me and that’s why you want to marry me?” you give him a look of disbelief, your eyes glossy, and he can't get his head around what just happened.

“Oh, it was so silly of me to think that...,” you choke back a sob, putting your hand over your mouth.

Never in his life he thought he would be the reason for you looking so heartbroken. Aemond covers your hand with his palm — and you let him, as he tries to gather his courage.

“Y/N, I only meant to say that I —”

And then you recoil, snapping your hand back.

“Aemond, don’t,” you take a step back from him, then another one. “You have said enough. Please, let me be,” you turn away and leave the hall in a hurry before he can utter another word.

... 1.

He finds you at your usual spot, under the blossoming cherry tree. You’ve always said you liked the color of it, little white flowers reminding you of early spring, your favorite time of the year. You don’t know that Aemond insisted on planting that tree specifically for you. Just so he can sit nearby and, as you were basking in the sunlight with your eyes closed, he would get a chance to look at you with all his unconditional love and have those moments engraved in his memory.

Come to think of it, he had so many memories of you — and every single one of them was bliss, and he can recall them so easily like it was yesterday.

And so he does.

“When we first met, you wore a green dress,” his voice startles you, but you don’t turn to face him, sniffling with your arms folded. “It was the color of forest trees. Black lace around the hem of it, the matching hair ribbon that you kept losing,“ he keeps his distance, his hands shaking.

"Yes, I remember it pretty well," you sigh, avoiding his gaze, baffled by his sudden outburst.

"The second time was when you climbed through my window, almost gave me a heart attack," there’s a hint of a smile in his voice that you catch even without looking. "Blue dress, you tore a huge piece of it and couldn’t care less. You were the first person to make me laugh in two weeks even though it seemed impossible. But not with you."

He sees your eyebrows furrowing, hands sliding down to rest on your knees.

"Helaena’s name day came next, your dress was bright pink. Luke tried to make fun of it and you threw a cup full of water in his face. To this day, it’s one of my fondest memories."

You dare to look up at him, perplexed, your eyes wet from crying. 

"Three months after was the light-blue dress, then the peach one and the brown one. Then the white one which didn’t survive the horse riding lesson, and Helaena gave you one of hers. Light green, too long for your liking, even though you pretended otherwise to please her," the corners of your lips tremble, your face softening.

"Then for a year you only wore violet, much to your nanny’s dismay as she thought it made you look ill. And I thought you were the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, no matter what dress you were in," he can’t take his eye off you.

Your face expression melts into a stunned one.

"I didn’t realize it back then. Or maybe I didn’t know how to call it. I just knew that your visits only brought me happiness," he takes a step toward you, uncertain, but you don’t move from your spot.

"When you were fourteen, you picked the autumn colors — orange, dark yellow, deep red. Your started braiding your hair, tried to braid mine," you can’t hold back a smile. He was fussy when you first voiced the idea but he ended up loving the process so much, he would allow it just to feel your fingers flowing through his hair.

"I think you actually enjoyed it", you mumble, and Aemond smiles, too.

"I did. I enjoyed every minute that I got to spend with you."

You stand up then, feeling your pulse quickening.

"The day you brought me the eyepatch, you wore emerald green. I was terrified to show you the scar," he pauses, catching his breath. "You assuaged my fears with your kindness. But then I was terrified to learn that I wanted to kiss you". 

You think you are dreaming. Is it possible that you fell asleep under the tree? You don’t want to get your hopes too high, but when he looks at you like this, your own fears start melting away.

“Then was the black dress, the grey one, another white one. The golden one you wore to meet Vhagar,” when he saw you that day, he almost forgot how to breathe. You showed no sigh of apprehension as you fearlessly approached the dragon. He was absolutely besotted.

“And then came the agony of not seeing you for over seven months,” he closes his eye for a second, overwhelmed. He almost misses it when you speak:

“Seven months and twenty-five days. Not that I was counting,” his eye snaps open, instantly on you again.

You gravitate toward each other without even noticing. Aemond’s heart skips a beat when you’re at arm's length, your eyes shining and lips slightly parted. Even in the state you're in, you look so beautiful, it's mesmerizing, and the words are stuck in his throat. You are the one to break the silence:

"Aemond, please don't give me false hope," your heartbeat is too loud, you don't hear your own voice. He does.

"I do not wish to marry you out of pity," Aemond takes the last step. "I want you to be my wife because I'm in love with you," he wipes away the remaining tears off your face, his fingers linger, making you shiver. "I've been in love with you for quite some time. For a few years, actually," his voice gets low. "For what feels like an eternity," Aemond murmurs.

"Why haven't you told me?" you pout, nervously toying with the collar of his shirt.

"I was afraid you didn't feel the same. I still am but maybe... Maybe I am wrong?" his gaze is fixed on you, one of his hands following the contour of your waist, your body warming at the touch.

"Tell me that I am wrong," he whispers, begging.

You look at his lips, the soft curve of them that you’ve dreamt of for so long.

Aemond always thought yours were the most kissable he’s ever seen.

You don’t know who closes the distance first — but his mouth is suddenly on yours and the sensation leaves you disarmed. Kissing him is like being swept with a wave of tenderness, and you’re floating in it, his lips so fervid and supple — truly perfect — your head is spinning. The kiss is not awkward nor modest as you hastily cling to each other, his hands gripping your waist, your chest pressed into his.

Aemond feels like he’s drowning, and he wants more of you — all of you, and then your fingers tug at his locks, eliciting a groan from him, and it is simply a miracle that his heart doesn’t explode. You move in impeccable sync, in the passionate harmony that erupts from years worth of mutual pining. His lungs burn but he resists the urge to break the kiss and stretches it out the best he can until you are breathless, too.

"Never knew that you were so fascinated by my wardrobe choices," you tease, and his hum turns into a chuckle.

“You know what my favorite memory is?” you ask, your forehead resting against his.

“When we were thirteen, and you were teaching me how to hold a sword. I tackled you to the ground and scraped my knee,” you both smile at your then enthusiasm. “And you set everything aside to spend the rest of the day with me even though it was hardly a wound. And I remember thinking,” you hook your finger under his chin, “that there’s nowhere else I would rather be than with you, with this favorite boy of mine.”

The air around you tense, and you are enchanted by each other.

“Did that help to prove you wrong?”

“I may need some convincing,” his breath fanning over your lips.

“You can take your time,” you laugh — and then the sound of it is muffled by his athirst mouth.

His favorite memory will be this.

And every other moment with you that's to come.

author's note: I'm sorry if this came out messy and rushed. I tried my best to write a shorter fic (this is short for me lmao) and idk how I feel about it. I much rather prefer them longer because I'm a sucker for stories about two people getting to know each other and falling in love BUT I get it that others don't want to read long ass fics (which kinda breaks my heart but I'm being so very brave about it) anyways, I hope this was bearable, thank you for reading!

💙 the longer version of this fic might have looked like this (yes, this is a shameless plug! because I adore this one to pieces!! bite me) 💞 my masterlist 🎵 the title is a quote from Elvis Presley's song (duh). there are quite a few covers of it but one of my favorites is by Twenty One Pilots. there's also a female version — by Ingrid Michaelson — and I think both of them fit the story really well. P.S. I'm also on AO3 (lol, who isn't), in case you prefer to read fics there.

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

#aemond targaryen #got the idea out of the blue (oh the things I do instead of sleeping...) #wrote it in two days #pretty sure it's once in a year kind of miracle #my expectations are low though and I will probably never write anything like this again lmao #anyways I think I should get back to actually adding the tags and shut tf up #here’s a SPECIAL tag that I call 'the woman Aemond is in love with stands up for him' #I already used this trope twice and WILL use it again watch me #my stuff #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond one eye #aemond one eye x y/n #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfics #aemond targaryen fics #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd fanfiction

[weaponizedducks]

If bbc merlin wasn't gay then tell me why my middle aged, agressively heterosexual father that thought neil and todd were straight just turned to me and told me magic was an allegory for queerness. fucking riddle me that

#like actually HOW did the writers not realise what they were writing #i don't think i've ever been this shellshocked #he just said it outta nowhere and i fully froze in horror #he was like do you realise what magic is a metaphor for #meanwhile i'm having a heart attack #i fully said no and denied it was even gay #fighting for my fucking life #merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #blue rewatches merlin

[futuristicdoormats789]

Water guns at the ready

#rvb #rvb19 #red vs blue #rvb epsilon #rvb sigma #when you writing self insert rvb fanfic and the devil on your shoulder keeps trying to make you include your dead girlfriend #ok look idk if sigma is actually trying to do that #i dont even know if its actually sigma in the prologue but hey #i just thought the idea of epsilon spraying sigma with a watergun was funny #now if somebody could please draw sigma sulking like a wet cat that would be an excellent addition #my art #fd art

[loveume]

# lipgloss love 💖

"is it too short?" you ask nervously, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your skirt as you tug it down a bit.

itoshi rin must be unwell, there's no other explanation. he must be, because his girlfriend is standing in front of him with a skirt on, you barely wear skirts, and all he can think about is why you aren't wearing any lip gloss.

"whe–

you cut him off before he can get the words out. "you're right, i don't know what i was thinking with the skirt. pants! i'll just wear pants." you murmur before going to rummage through your closet.

you're out of the skirt and pulling a pair of pants up your thighs before he can even blink.

it didn't make sense. you have the rest of your make up on, even something pretty colored on your lips that makes them matte and not glossy like your lipgloss would. are you going to put the lipgloss on top of that? sometimes, especially in a hurry, you're smearing the tube (or applicator, it depends on which gloss you use) against your lips as you tumble out the door.

rin loves when you wear lipgloss. he pretends to be apathetic when you're covering his face in sticky kisses, but truly he loves you and your sticky kisses. he likes that he can feel them against his skin for the rest of the day, and lick them off his own lips in a fun little game of guess the flavor. you always wear lipgloss.

so why don't you have any on right now?

he watches you spin around in the pants a few times before you're pushing them off. "ughh! stupid pants make my butt look huge," you grumble, "rin! can you help me here? what am i supposed to wear?!"

"where's your lipgloss? why aren't you wearing any?"

the questions are enough to stop you in your tracks.

"my lipgloss?" you repeat incredulously, "i'm having a breakdown over what to wear for dinner at your parents and you're worried about my lipgloss?"

"you always wear lipgloss." he states, as if that should clear away any confusion.

"rin, sweetheart, we're having dinner with your parents. forgive me for wanting to look put together and wearing lipstick." you reply, tossing the pants in your hands back into your closet.

he turns away without a response, so you think the conversation has ended there going back to your task of finding an appropriate dinner outfit. you, however, are mistaken when your boyfriend returns and takes your wrist to lead you to sit at the edge of your bed.

he has your make up wipes in one hand and a tube of lipgloss in the one that just held your wrist. you stare up at him in mild surprise.

"you always look put together," he says, pulling a wipe out of the package, "and my parents don't care what you wear to dinner." he continues, tilting your chin up gently and smearing your lipstick away.

all you can do is stare at him, not daring to say anything. one, because you don't have anything to say, and two, your lips were occupied.

he sets the package of wipes down, the used one laid across the top, before he brings the tube of gloss to your mouth. he over-does the bottom lip and under-does the top one, but you can't complain.

"there. much better." he says, twisting the cap back on the tube.

you throw your arms around him before he can get too far away and press your lips against his in a kiss that makes you dizzy. you think you must look ridiculous, kissing your boyfriend in your panties and a fancy top with a mouth covered in lipgloss.

"you used way too much." is all you say when the two of you part, knowing his mouth is just as sticky as yours now.

rin's nose scrunches slightly, like it does when he's "annoyed" with you. "whatever."

"hurry up and get dressed, my parents are expecting us."

you open your mouth but before you can get the words out he beats you to it.

"wear the skirt."

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin #rin x reader #itoshi rin x reader #i actually loved writing this #surprising considering i don't really care for this man #i may have just changed my own mind tho #love.notes 💌

[saetoshi]

sae, surprisingly, is very fond of sleeping in.

it’s the reason he always clings to you when you sit up to get out of bed.

it is also the reason you’re late for your morning class.

“sae.” you frown, “let go.”

he groans, tightening his grip around your waist.

“sae.” you sigh, “i need to get ready.”

he blearily opens his eyes to glare up at you. “jus’ stay.”

“i can’t,” you try to wriggle out of his arms, “and you can’t, either.”

he makes a face.

“you’re gonna be late for practice.”

“‘s our day off.” he shifts closer to you.

“sae,” you whine, “i have class.”

“no.”

“what do you mean no?” you bury your face in your hands.

“i mean,” he lifts his head up to squint at you, “just don’t go.”

you stare at him. he stares (he’s still squinting) back.

you huff, “you’re a horrible influence.”

“you knew that before we started dating,” he yawns, “you don’t get to complain.”

“you do this every time you don’t have practice.”

“i don’t force you to stay,” he trails off.

there’s a beat of silence. sae’s breathing evens out as his eyes close, soft snores leaving his lips.

you look at him. he doesn’t move. you slowly remove his arms from your waist, careful to not wake him up.

you’ve got one leg out of bed before you’re yanked back.

“sae!” you groan.

“where’re you going?” he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against him.

you try to pry him off, “i thought you were sleeping!”

“you were gonna leave me while i slept?” he clicks his tongue.

“and people say i’m the mean one.” you can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“you’re meaner than me!” you laugh.

he doesn’t say anything. (not that he could defend himself even if he wanted to.) you would’ve thought he fell asleep again if he hadn’t tightened his grip around you when you tried scooting off the bed.

you fondly shake your head when you hear his muffled laughter and feel his arms shaking.

“stop trying to leave.” he sits up, resting his head on your shoulder.

“you’re already late anyway,” you can feel his smile against your skin, “might as well just stay here with me.”

you roll your eyes. he had a point. you are late, and even if you hurried to get changed you’d still arrive at class around the time it’s ended. (you’re not telling him, though. his head is big enough as is.)

“i guess i could stay,” you sigh, “i’ll just ask someone for the lecture notes.”

as soon as those words leave your lips sae flops back on the bed, pulling you along with him.

“you’re the stubbornest person i’ve ever met,” he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck.

“shut up, you’re worse,” you yawn.

there’s a beat of silence.

“just go sleep already,” he huffs, “i’ve been awake long enough trying to get you to stay.”

“don’t expect this to happen again,” your eyes droop.

“you always say that,” he hums, his eyes drifting closed and a yawn leaving his lips, “yet you stay.”

#i should start writing for more people my content cannot just revolve around reo and sae im so ill #ooc sae always and forever actually #i feel i should mention tht i never once proofread my fics oopsies #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x you #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #blue lock x you #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #bllk scenarios #blue lock scenarios #bllk sae #bllk itoshi sae #blue lock sae #sae x reader #sae x you

[hrh-prince-butt]

alex and henry plan to dress up as barbie and ken for an upcoming costume party, but they can't seem to agree on who should be barbie and who should be ken...

(hello this is possibly the dumbest thing i've ever written, and i have no regrets, it was so much fun to write)

-

“You can’t deny the Kenergy, babe.” 

“You’re right,” Henry shoots back. “I can’t. And if anyone has it, it’s you.” 

Alex crosses his arms and glares stubbornly at Henry. Henry glares right back, just as goddamn stubborn. Looks like they’re in a stalemate. 

There was no argument that they absolutely had to dress up as Barbie and Ken for their couples costume this year. It had practically been telepathically agreed upon before they even left the cinema. Apparently, the hard part is agreeing on who should dress up as who.

Alex had thought it was obvious that he should be Barbie. But when he brought up speculations about his costume - should he copy an outfit from the movie or figure out something of his own? - Henry had frowned and said he thought he was supposed to be Barbie. 

“Just face it, sweetheart,” Alex says, patting Henry on the shoulder. “You are clearly the Ken to my Barbie.” 

Henry huffs. “How am I the Ken to your Barbie?”

“Well.” Alex leans back on the couch and gestures to himself. “I’m the successful career person, and you are my hot blond accessory. Obviously.” 

“Unbelievable,” Henry says. He sounds genuinely offended. “David, are you hearing this?” David the Beagle lifts his head lazily at the sound of his name, but finding no imminent threat and no promise of treats, he goes back to napping on the couch. 

“All this time,” Henry goes on, and Alex can tell he’s really amping up the theatrics now, probably working up to a dramatic monologue of some kind. “I thought you liked me because of my intelligence, my wit. I thought I was more than just a pretty face, but no. Apparently I’m just some attractive himbo boytoy to you. Utterly unbelievable.” 

He punctuates this absolute scene with a very undramatic bite of chocolate chip cookie. This batch is his third attempt, and Alex has to admit they aren’t terrible. They are overbaked and therefore rock hard - Henry’s annoyed chewing can probably be heard halfway down the street - but they’re already miles better than the last batch. Alex thinks it best not to speak of the last batch.  

“I can’t believe you just called yourself a ‘himbo boytoy’.” Alex is wheezing with laughter, and Henry’s stubborn chewing, his failing attempt to look dramatically offended while crunching on a cookie the texture of a brick, only makes it harder to stop laughing. “Those are your words, not mine.” 

He deigns not to mention that while he has been busy with important law shit all week, Henry has been busy baking cookies. And being really bad at it. That’s definitely Kenergy. 

Henry sighs and washes down the remains of the tragic cookie with tea. “You’re not seeing my vision, love. You would really make an excellent Ken. And I would make an excellent Barbie.” 

“Damn,” Alex says. “We must already be in Barbie’s Dreamhouse because… uh. Keep dreaming.” 

“That… was a truly terrible comeback.” 

Alex sighs. “Yeah. They can’t all be winners.” 

Henry nods gravely. “I’d say this proves my point. You’re Ken, and I’m Barbie.”

It most definitely does not prove anything. “If you’re Barbie,” Alex says, “then you’re definitely Depression Barbie watching the Pride & Prejudice movie like a million times.” 

Henry apparently doesn’t have a response to that except indignant spluttering. Alex laughs so hard he wakes up David. He almost falls off the couch laughing when Henry responds with: “How dare you, I am clearly Irrepressible Thoughts of Death Barbie!” 

Then they’re both laughing, while David watches them in utter confusion. 

“Alright,” Alex says once he has calmed down. “Fair enough. But we can’t both be Barbie!”

“Why not, though?” Henry counters. 

“It’s a couples costume!”

“Well,” Henry says. “Two Barbies can love each other! It’s the 21st century!” 

Alex tries to sigh but it comes out as more laughter. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Gay rights for Barbie or whatever. But two Barbies won’t be as recognizable as a couples costume. People will just think we’re two people who independently decided to dress up as Barbie!” 

“Alright.” Henry picks up his phone. “I’m settling this once and for all.” 

“What? Who are you calling?”

That question is quickly answered. The dial tone only rings twice before the call goes through, and Pez’s voice fills the living room. “Well, if it isn’t my second favourite disgraced royal. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Henry wastes no time on niceties. “Pez. Out of Alex and me, who is Barbie and who’s Ken?”

Pez doesn’t even take a moment to consider it. He just says, “Darling, you’re definitely Ken.” 

Ha! Told you, Alex mouths, his face lighting up in a vindictive grin. 

“That is the wrong answer,” Henry tells Pez, whose laughter comes out a little tinny through the phone speakers. 

“Oh come on, you know I’m right,” Pez says. “Or perhaps I just really want to see your boyfriend's magnificent arse in that Barbie-pink pantsuit. You know, the one Margot Robbie wears in the film?” 

More indignant spluttering from Henry. “Pez, you’re on speaker.”

“Oh good, I hoped I was,” Pez replies. “Hello, Alex! I look forward to seeing your Barbie costume. Do come to me if you need help putting it together. Toodles!"

And then he hangs up. Henry glares at the screen like he can magically will Pez to come back and take his side this time. 

“Well, you heard him,” Alex says, not even trying to hide his laughter. 

Henry huffs and shoves the phone back in his pocket. “Well, who made him the expert, anyway?”

“Pretty sure you did, when you called to get his opinion. To, you know-” Alex clears his throat and puts on his best Henry impression- “settle this, once and for all.” 

Presumably at a loss for words, Henry picks up another cookie and, with considerable effort, bites into it. There’s nothing more to say, anyway. They both know Alex has won. 

“Besides,” Alex says, holding up his phone to show Henry the transaction on the screen. “I already ordered the “I am Kenough” hoodie in your size, sweetheart.”

#yes this is very silly and i was having a lot of fun when writing it aksdhj #i think they Would be overly dramatic about barbie for no reason actually #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor

[lunaviee]

CAFFEINE — ft. rin itoshi

⨳ cw; reader shakes, mentions of not eating, dialogue heavy

⨳ not proofread

⨳ heavily based off of me bc i shake so bad when i have caffeine LMAOO

“you’re shaking.” rin states, giving you a side glare while you’re writing an essay.

“oh. i am.” you stare at your hands for a few seconds, watching as they twitch when you stop typing. your eyes flick back to the screen and continue clicking away.

rin’s frown deepens a bit and he cant help but stare at you as you ignore the trembles. he sighs heavily in annoyance and grabs the coffee cup sitting in front of you.

“you got this caffeinated…” he mumbles, “you’re not supposed to be having caffeine. it’s what makes you shake.” he places the cup down continues to look at you, watching your every move.

rin’s always been observant. he notices the small twinkle in your eyes when you realize your favorite pastry is in stock. he notices the forced smile you give people when you’re far past your social limit for the day. the way you pout a bit when you’re focused.

and the way the you tremble after you realize you forgot to tell the barista you’d like your coffee decaf because it makes you incredibly shaky.

“well….i need the caffeine this time.” you mutter, trying to excuse your forgetfulness.

“need it? for what?” he inquires, raising an eyebrow at you.

“so i don’t fall asleep while writing my essay”

“uh huh….right” he doesn’t believe you. and you know he doesn’t. and he knows that you know that. “did you eat before you got your coffee?”

you pause your typing, watching as your tremors get worse. “um….yes” you glance at him, though he cuts you off. “one macaron we bought at that new bakery doesn’t count.” he’s put his phone down and is now completely focused on you.

“it’s better than nothing” you sigh, throwing your head back against the couch cushion. “well it might as well have been nothing, you’re shaking worse than normal” you couldn’t even argue with that because you were in fact shaking a lot more. you sat in silence and your computer screen started going dim. “just take a break and eat something.” he deadpans, reaching for your laptop.

rin was always very supportive of how you treated your body as long as you were happy and healthy. he’s always been like that, making sure you make the right decisions fit for your body. but drinking caffeine with no food was growing to be a bad habit of yours. and he had to stop it.

“but i-”

“don’t argue, your essay can wait and we both know you hate the shaking.” he holds his hand out, waiting for you to place the laptop in his hand. you stay still, hands slowly gripping onto the keyboard tighter.

rin sighs, knowing there’s one thing that would get you off of the couch. he’s looking at you with his signature blank expression, “if you stop, we can go to the cat cafe you saw last week…” his heart swells a bit at the sight of your eyes regaining their signature twinkle.

“really?” you grin, immediately shutting off your laptop and placing it on the floor. rin nods, trying not to smile at your reaction. “okay, let’s go!” and just like that, you’re off of the couch and shuffling to your shared bedroom to change.

rin stays on the couch for a few moments, now mentally preparing for the amount of “we should get a cat” comments he’s about to receive from you. but it’s worth it, he thinks, as long as you’re happy and healthy.

soon, you’re both ready to leave and you’re still shaking. though this time, it’s mostly from excitement <3

ִ ࣪𖤐 omg…hey guys…..okay this was sitting in my drafts for WEEKS and i needed to post it🤞anyways i was never here i’m back on break kay bye love youuu

#very self indulgent #i need him actually #sorry for writing this instead of the smau lol #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin fluff #bllk rin fluff

[senqv]

LOVEGAME !

blue lock ! fanfic featuring : michael kaiser x gn! reader

warning(s) : lots of mentions of feminine stuff like dresses & makeup but still can be read as gender neutral ( hopefully ??? ) , kisses <3 , a bittt suggestive , loserboy kaiser , established relationship , no proofread so prolly some spelling / grammar mistakes , lmk if there are more !

kaiser as the rich football star who loves spoiling his lover. he brings in around 2 million usd annually, so just say the word and he will deliver it. anything from givenchy to giambattista valli; or even the custom-made garments from paris couture week starting from the tens of thousands to several millions.

he’s also quite accustomed to playing around with makeup, loves it when you offer to do his eyeliner for him <3 but really, what he enjoys the most is dressing you up all pretty just for him !!

“gorgeous,” kaiser whispers, lithe fingers going down the side of the navy satin gown from saint laurent, teasingly flitting just below the hemline. his fingers press down onto your thigh at the way your makeup preoccupies you instead of paying attention to him, tilting his head to the side as he meets your gaze in the vanity mirror. “just a sec,” you continue to apply your mascara without a care in the world, oblivious to the impatient taps of your boyfriend’s fingers. he leans forward with a sigh, hands caged at either side of your frame.

kaiser frowns in displeasure at your refusal to spare him even a glance, and you can tell he’s getting restless at the way his fingers drum aggressively against the table. “kaiser,” it’s almost funny how fast he looks up at the call of your voice. “sit behind on the bed or something, please ? you’re distracting me.” you say, leaning even more forward to properly apply the opalescent highlights on your eyelid, disregarding the way your boyfriend’s jaw nearly drops at the sheer audacity ?? how dare anyone, much less his own lover, disregard his presence ????

kaiser’s frown deepens as he opens his mouth to protest, but decides against it as he begrudgingly sits on the side of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. he crosses his arms, biceps flexing visibly below his rolled sleeves that were just a tad too tight. from the corner of his eye, he can see you uncapping a tube, recognising it as the rouge hérmes lipstick he gifted to you not too long ago. the wine red sheen makes your lips especially ravishing, and he has to tear his gaze away before he gives in to his desires to kiss you until you can’t think. not after that stunt you pulled !!

kaiser purposely avoids your gaze as you walk towards him, glancing to the side and keeping his arms crossed as you climb into his lap. “kaiser,” your voice is a teasing lilt, and kaiser turns his head away from you, powered by pure spite and pettiness. “michael,” voice dropping to a saccharine sweetness, and usually this would do the trick. but kaiser seems hellbent on teaching you a lesson today. and so he continues to glance away from you, bottom lip jutting out adorably.

your lips curve down into a pout, pulling out all the stops. your pointer tips his chin towards you, sultry voice akin to dripping honey as you call out a “darling ?” you can see the way his adam’s apple bobs as heat rises from his neck, flushed face and all. finally, he turns towards you, still futilely trying to evade your gaze.

“ja? mmh-!” he is cut off by the press of your lips against his, jolting from the sudden kiss. you don’t think you’ve ever heard kaiser whimper as he shakily snakes his hands around your waist and behind your head, melting further into you. his tongue licks at your lips as you part breathlessly, desperate for more. his lips are stained a delicious red, and you’re sure that your mouth, too, is awfully smudged by that gorgeous carmine. his chest rises up and down unsteadily, pupils dilated and blown wide.

“you-“ you pay no mind at his protests, swiping on another layer of lipstick as you end whatever he was about to say with another kiss on the corner of his lips. then on his cheek; down his neck, the tip of his nose; he shivers at every touch of your lips, and if someone were to walk in, they’d think you were bullying the mighty emperor with the way he was shaking, a wild flush on his face.

you giggle as you admire your finished masterpiece, red kiss marks littered all over his face and down the dip of his half-buttoned shirt. he looks dazed, sharp blue eyes unusually cloudy. you take a glance down at his patek philippe 1915 watch. “hey, we’re gonna be late.” suddenly, you’re hauled back onto his lap, his grip on your waist tighter than ever. his gaze is electrifying, staring with a certain vivacity you’ve only seen him have on field. “again,” he whispers, eyes lidded as he brushes his lips against yours. “wait- kaiser!”

he is practically feral, leaning down and bending you back that you would fall if it wasn’t for his unwavering grip at your waist. a kiss at the side of your lips, against your mouth again, and repeat. “mmh- enough, ‘s too much-” you whine tiredly, hitting his back in vain. “too much? ” a mocking smile forms on his face. “im just getting started.”

#idk if this is ooc but kaiser is slightly pathetic in my head #i love haute couture owemji #how did i vomit this out in the dead of night #i actually suck at writing kisses #bllk #blue lock #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #bllk x reader #kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #— sen’s works <3

[bluerosefox]

Bellatrix Star

A TaliaxDanny idea that came to me.

Damian, Bruce, and the rest of the bats discover the Talia al Ghul they had been fighting against, the one that cloned her own son, had the clone kill him, plant a control device in him when he broke his spine, etc etc was actually not the real Talia al Ghul.

Turned out Ra's had cloned her and killed the original when she discovered his little plans to take over Damain's body and she confronted him about it. Ra's had to make a clone when after tossing a dead Talia into the pits but never returned (he meant to kill her as a warning, as a "you may be my blood but will not hesitate to end you Talia.") It explains so much to Damian when remembers how out of nowhere his mother changed, her training him changed from harsh to deadly, the soft motherly love she would give him when behind closed doors suddenly stopped, the tales she would spin for him about his father no longer whispered to him for bed.

How this was find out?

Well it's hard to ignore the facts that when your foolish grandfather in his quest for immortality summons an eldritch being known as the Ghost King into the Mortal Realm and uses Damian as a sacrifice while his (not) mother watches emotionless.

When the being appeared, plunging the room from green glowing flames and the glow of the Lazarus Pits into darkness before a cosmos exploded to life, its glowing green eyes snapped open in the stars and stared at them all. Making every single one of them feel small, so very small.

It took a single glance around the room before stopping on the al Ghul's. It's eyes widen before a steel and firm look entered them. Just as quick as the cosmos sprang to life, it suddenly swirled away into a ball, putting them all back into the Lazarus room,and reformed in front of them to a more humanish height and body.

When the body, around the height and build of Batman, was done forming it took a step forward and suddenly as one blinked a man stood in front of them. Or rather floated. Snow white hair that flickered and wisped towards a crown made of fire and ice, glowing green eyes that held none of the madness but all of the power the Lazarus Pits could give. His clothing were tailored made that were tastefully a mixture of black and white with some silvers and greens, clothes fit for a King one would say. The cosmos that once engulfed the room had shifted into a cloak that hanged around his body, on one side more than the other (think like how CW wears his only the hood is down).

This, this was no doubt the Ghost King, he stood tall and regal and made everyone in the room feel the need to look down, to bow ones head for even just a moment. Even Ra's had trouble disobeying the urge to do so.

"Well..." the being said, his voice deep but not as gravely as Batman's was "What an interesting way to meet my In-Laws and Step-Son..."

He has said that as he looked towards the al Ghul's. Damian flinched back with a frown of confusion and disbelief while Ra's looked panicked for a second when the words registered into his mind, meanwhile Talia... looked emotionless and barely even twitched.

"What the fu-?" Someone began only to stop when the King lifted his hand and with a snap of his fingers a green portal appeared, it looked almost like the Lazarus Pits but it felt... cleaner? Less angry?

"My Bellatrix, my warrior star. I believe I've been summoned to your home dimension. And judging by the looks of it your father created a barely functioning Mirror of you and planned on using your son as a sacrifice to me." He spoke out towards the portal before holding his hand out.

A hand appeared from the portal, a slender hand and with green and black painted nails manicure to perfection before someone walked through it as they took hold of the Ghost King's offering hand.

Standing in front of them was another Talia, only this one looked a tad older than the one in the room. She wore clothing that matched the King to a T but even then, as always, Talia looked deadly in it. Beautiful but very deadly. From the heels she wore to the crown upon her head, a crown made of not ice and fire but of stars and black jewels. Her eyes were sharp as she stared at everyone in the room, frown on her painted lips, but her eyes lit with a small soft joy when she saw Damian only for them to turn poisonous when they landed on Ra's and the other Talia nearby.

"I should had know you would had created a Mirror of me instead of admitting to my son you killed me Father." Queen Talia spat out. "The least you could had done was not make my Mirror so cheaply, it doesn't even have a proper soul attached to it."

#danny phantom #danny fenton #blue rambles #crossover #writing ideas #random idea #danny phantom dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #i forgot Danny and Talia's ship name #Talia was killed when she confronted her father when she found out his plans to take over her son's body #she was tossed in the pits and was meant to return to life but a portal opened up as she was brought back #she landed in Danny's garden and in a Pit Rage attacked any ghost in sight #Danny was called in noticed the Rage and knocked her out before taking her to Frostbite #they find out she is very liminal #like near halfa levels like she just needs something to kill and bring her back at the same time levels. #Talia raged and wept when she woke up #she was told she was in the Infinite Realms and what the Lazarus Pits actually were and that they were going to try to find her a way home #but because the Infinite Realms were well Infinite it was like looking for a needle in haystack #it takes a while and some talks with Jazz but Talia eventuality begins to try to make the most of her life within the Infinite Realms #and the only world is was always connected to #she does eventually fall for Danny though. things happened and Talia can sense her love for Bruce fizzle out and begin to grow for Danny #who never once asked her to change her deadly and swift ways #Danny was the Ghost King now. he understands that sometimes a quick and hard hand needs to be used.he is a fair and just King not a doormat #Danny accidentally called Talia Bellatrix one day. after the female warrior star in the sky. she is deadly and beautiful to him #Talia liked it a lot and well showed him how much she liked it #eventually they date and get married. Talia is in charge of the spy network for the Kingdom encase of anyone gets any bright ideas #Talia loves her new life. the one without her father or Bruce trying to control or changer her. She wishes for Damian though still. #Danny's been on the look out for her world when she told him everything. He wants to meet and learn about his step-son #he hopes he'll like the 'I'm sorry I married your mother without your permission but I would love your blessing.' gifts he had commissioned

[sharkface-daydreams]

Tucker: Ugh. Of course you have blue armor and pronouns.

Church: What? Of course I have -- why wouldn't I have pronouns, everyone has those! Do you--wait. Wait, Tucker look at me, look at me. Do you think, that you don't have pronouns?

Tucker: ...Well it sounds like you're getting ready to make fun of me so no.

Church: *audible grin in his voice* No, no, dude, come on. Tell me the truth, do you think you don't have pronouns? Like seriously.

Tucker: ...I don't wanna keep talking about this.

Church: *laughing* YOU brought this up, man! You can't NOT have pronouns, dipshit, they're automatic! I'm not gonna use your name every fuckin' time, that sounds stupid. 'Tucker went to Tucker's room because Tucker was being an idiot about grammar and Tucker was mad I made fun of Tucker for it.' See how fucking stupid that sounds without pronouns?

Tucker: *already walking away* Fuck you, dude!

Church: 'You' is a pronoun too, asshole!

#this is the first rvb thing that has crossed my mind properly in months #hello #i heard 'of course you have blue hair and pronouns' and immediately thought 'of course you have blue armor and pronouns' and also #'everyone has pronouns dipshit it came free with your fucking existence' #so here we are #apologies to people who don't use pronouns at all for themselves bc that is actually a thing. i just think church would make fun of it #rvb #red vs blue #rvb Church #rvb Tucker #my writing stuff

[corrodedcoughin]

pretend with me for a second that the song ‘when I think about you I touch myself’ came out just after the defeat of Vecna. Steves car is in the shop and Eddie’s van is still detained as evidence (even though he was cleared months ago)

So they are without a car and in need of a ride. Which is how they find themselves being driven to hellfire (honorary member Steve is attending so he can stare at Eddie under the guise of babysitting and Eddie? Eddie would do anything to have him there because, no, they still aren’t together yet. Both of them convinced the other just wants a ‘friend’)

And who is driving them? Claudia Henderson. She actually insisted when she found out neither of them had a car, wanting to try and pay them back for everything they’ve done for Dustin. Of course said boy is sitting between the other two in the back of Claudia’s car. She also insisted that they all sit in the back ‘let me be your chauffeur for the night!’ And none of them were going to deny her, they’ve seen her wrath before.

Claudia’s got the radio as close to blasting as she’ll allow, Dustin is squeezed between two of his favourite people and Steve and Eddie? They are doing their usual game of cat and mouse, sneaking glances and hoping the other boy doesn’t see.

Which is when the fateful song comes on. Newly released. None of them aware of the lyrics. So as the singer croons

‘I don’t want anybody else

When I think about you I touch myself’

The car goes dead silent. I’m truth dustin and Claudia aren’t really paying attention, in a world if their own. But Eddie? Steve? It’s like a bucket of cold water has been poured over their heads. Eyes trained to anywhere but each other. Steve has a thousand yard stare directly out the window and Eddie is fumbling with his rings as he takes them on and off, dropping the majority of them when the chorus comes round again.

It’s a very long car ride.

#this is so bleh but the idea is funny to me in a way #I’m just crampy and honestly might repost this as a three sentence post instead of a drawn out shit post #please don’t judge my writing on this I’m just trying to distract myself #fun song funny imaginary scene if it were to be done properly #take this little ramble #idk my guys it’s Sunday lets be silly #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #was going to be wayne but he only listens to ccr country blues and rock #actually to ME Wayne is a Cher fan