#mayhaps. whose to say!

[silverware-is-interesting]

just some kinitopet doodles

the kinito crew, with mild effort

and some things i did with the users, under the cut since there is. a lot

all of 'em but the first 4 came into existence because of the incorrect quote generator

these guys are way too fun to draw (to me)

#silverware's art #kinitopet #kinito the axolotl #sam the sea anemone #jade the jellyfish #YOU #kinitopet oc #tw scopophobia #<- just incase #this is just a bunch of shitposts with slight effort tbh- #i wrote that whole rant by hand man. that took so god damn long. #no i'm not using (any of) my oc tag(s) to do all of this #the pencil's name is pal btw. it's not on the ref but their a character #they're the one that got deleted (well. sonny did too.. but that's not as important-) ((only his head was there + the design was eh)) #drew all this in a little less that 24 hours #(22 hours. i believe) #do i have a problem?- #mayhaps. whose to say!

[lexsssu]

Beast (Dion Agriche)

TAGS: Dion/Dragoness!reader, pining, pervy thoughts, breeding, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

This place felt…sad.

The towering manse was objectively magnificent and yet an air of gloom seemed to envelop the very air that passed through the exquisite halls. Though perhaps it could be attributed to the unmistakable metallic scent that hung heavily within almost every corner of the estate. 

Whether it was the main courtyard, the gardens, or from deeper within, the darkness that settled over the entire structure was like a shroud of death that beckoned victims to fall into the sweet embrace of oblivion. It’s only through luck however, that they can either meet a swift end or a drawn out and miserable one. 

Judging from the melancholic or downright pained expressions upon the ghostly specters that roamed the area, it’s safe to say that this was a place of great suffering and tragedy. None of the actual living occupants could see them, most especially that man whose soul harbored an impressive amount of corruption for a human. No matter how many angry spirits clung to him in hopes of dragging his soul straight out of his body in order to enact their just revenge, each death done or ordered by his hand only seemed to further the taint. 

It’s almost as if he drew power from the lives he’d stolen.

He wasn’t the only one who attracted the attention of the restless souls. The man’s children who tried to follow in his footsteps also had a trail of bodies before them even before they could be called adults. Even one of his wives, a seemingly spritely woman with doll-like features, took lives as easily as getting rid of unpleasant pests.

In conclusion, this family is as cursed as the land they had stained with rivers of blood over the years.  

Much to your surprise however, not every Agriche shared a penchant for senseless murder. One of the eldest living daughters (Roxana) only had a single ghost following her and even then, the ghostly image of the teen boy didn’t seem to want to tear her limb from limb like all the others. Rather, he followed after her much like a puppy who only wanted to keep up with her pace. Sadly, the blonde never seemed to take notice of the boy who bore remarkably similar features with her even as he tried to reach his hand out to touch her. 

For she lives within the plane of the living, while he now resided in between life and death, unable to move on due to regrets or some other unfinished business you didn’t know of.  

The question is…are you content with staying as a mere observer?

The blonde youth perks up the moment he realizes you can see him, sheer relief brimming from every pore within his spectral body when you speak your first words to him. He is rich with the secrets Lante Agriche fights tooth and nail to prevent from ever seeing the light of day. 

A lonely boy becomes lonely no more and a displaced dragoness finds that becoming lost wasn’t too bad when you have good company around you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dion doesn’t dream.

Considering the amount of blood that stained his rough hands, it is better that he only descends into nothingness whenever he rests his eyes, for one could only imagine what horrors lay in wait to torment him for all the atrocities he’d committed. He’s not afraid of the ghosts of his victims, but rather finds it useless to think of flames that had already been snuffed out when they could no longer influence the living in any way.

But then something changes.

He feels a soft, warm touch that gently traces the length of his nose, cups the sharp angles of his face, and even delves into his dark locks. Though his eyes remain closed, his own subconscious supplies him with the image of hands much smaller than his own large ones that poked and prodded at him without fear. 

While he would have caught the appendages and mayhaps stuck a knife into anyone who decided to lay their hands upon him, Dion knows that this could only be a dream because who would even dare to caress him so gingerly in the middle of night within the Agriche’s own manor? If anything, he finds his dreamself to commit to memory the feeling of such a gentle touch being bestowed upon him, because rationally he knows that he has no need for softness. In the confines of his own subconscious however, he supposes that he can allow himself this at the very least.

When he wakes up at the crack of dawn, it is to open windows with its blinds fluttering as the morning breeze makes its way to his room, bringing with it not just the familiar scent of iron that seemed to permanently surround the place he’d grown up in. 

Though he cares not for flowers specifically, he does have knowledge on their practical uses such as poisons and the like. He also prefers knowing the native flora and fauna of the hunting grounds he’d be thrown into in order to get a better grasp of the terrain.

Blooming honeysuckles make his brows furrowed in confusion despite his stone-cold exterior, confused as to how and why such a scent overpowered the ever present iron tang in the air. 

Curiouser and curiouser.

Dion remains oblivious to the shared laughter between a woman with ivory in her hair and a boy whose eyes reflected the deep, bright expanse of the open sky as they watched him stick his head out of his windows to locate the origin of the oddity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“YOU...”

“...Me?”

Dion feels his body practically burning from the inside-out, his heart beating several miles per minute as he finally gets a good look of the poltergeist that haunts his nights. He remembers the tender touches you press against his skin, the warm caresses that leave him gasping for breath and his loins aching for sweet release by the time he’s released from your clutches once dawn has broken. 

He does not need your sweetness.

He has no use for your gentleness.

And yet he craves it.

He has never desired anything. 

He has never felt so strongly about anything other than the swish of his blade, the gurgling of his victims, and the blood splattered against the ground as another mark of his martial prowess.

And yet you drove him to become more of a feral beast than he ever was as he now wished for nothing else other than to possess your whole being just as you possessed him without even meaning to.

“...are MINE”

Your surprised squeak is music to his ears, the flush on your cheeks pleasing the beast that sought to have you pressed down on the ground and taken ruthlessly, flooding your fertile womb with his virile seed...

.

.

.

To be continued(?)

#lexsssu writes #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #dion agriche #dion agriche x reader #dion agriche x you #dion agriche x y/n #deon agrece #deon agrece x reader

[infinite-criseas]

Sirius and James were truly inseparable, they did absolutely everything together. Unfortunately, this included getting sick at the same time.

Remus and Lily walk into the kitchen to see a very delirious Sirius Black baking cookies. James sits on the couch, covered in blankets and surrounded by tissues. His nose is rudolf red and eyes watering, he sniffles a sigh of relief as he sees his girlfriend and Remus entering. “Thank Merlin you’re here! I am quite literally dying of the plague and Pads is in complete denial of being ill. He tried to make me this awful soup earlier and now he’s baking cookies.”

“I’m completely fibe, strog as a castle. Picture of health.” Sirius half slurred. His hair was a frizzy mess, and his complexion was paler than usual. “Jabes on the other hand is very sick, he needs cookies”

Remus and Lily, very concerned and confused as to how cookies would solve anything hurried to Sirius to force him to put down the bowl. Remus stroked Sirius’ back, and murmured “Love, you’re sick…” Sirius relaxed a little into Remus’ shoulder, suddenly he became hyper aware of the body aches and pounding migraine.

Lily ran a hand over James’ forehead. “Oh my, you’re burning up James”

“I’m telling you Lils, Death has come for me. The aches, the pain. I’m a goner. Write something memorable on my tombstone” James whined dramatically.

“Ok drama queen. Let’s get you some actual soup and medicine. Remus could you run to the infirmiry and fetch some fever medication?” Lily asked, ready to solve this sickness. Remus nodded, still holding a very frail Sirius in his arms. “I’ll start the soup, and you two go to bed and rest. I don’t want to see either of you up until the soups ready.” Lily scolded.

“Whatever you say my love. Always knew you could fight death itself,” lovesick James replied. James and Remus half carried and half dragged Sirius to their room.

“Nobt sick….” Sirius murmured. His body was failing to agree. His eyes refused to stay open. They laid him in his bed and tucked him in. Remus sat next to him, stroking his hair until he fell asleep.

….

Lily was finishing up the soup, a recipe she knew would cure any sickness. Remus walked in with a handful of medicinal herbs and potions and dumped them on the table.

“mmm smells spectacular” Remus remarked.

“It’s a family recipe! It’ll cure absolutely anything.” Lily stated proudly. “and I hope it works fast because if little mrs melodrama says death is coming one more time I might actually lose it” Remus laughed, recalling how James was always this dramatic when he was sick or injured. It’s almost as if he put on an extra big show to hide any actual pain he might’ve felt, and rather replace it with the loving feeling of being cared for. Remus’ thoughts wandered, if only Sirius let people care for him like that instead of always putting up a fight of independence first. “You’re lucky,” Lily commented, “ Sirius isn’t dramatic when he’s sick - he’s just in denial”

To this Remus smirked. “Denial is just the first phase. Sirius becomes very silent and clingy when he’s sick, it’s quite adorable actually. Although, it does make getting stuff to make him feel better nearly impossible” Remus gushed.

Lily’s eyes widened “a quiet Sirius?! This I have to see,” she joked. “Anyways, soups ready want to bring the boys down?”

Remus and Lily went up to see James in a Shakespearean pose, grasping at the air.

“The light, it comes for me. The end is here.” James gasped. “Mayhaps this soup whose elegant aroma which fills the air will answer my prayers. Hark! A goddess, she enters with such grace” He said looking at Lily. Lily giggles, of course James would still be hitting on her in this state. “I am famished! Looks like Pads is still sleeping though.”

On the other bed, Sirius was curled up in a ball not moving. Remus, very concerned, sat at the edge of his bed and rubbed a hand across Sirius. Sirius was shaking softly, perhaps in response to his touch. “Let’s let him sleep, clearly he needs rest.” Remus said and made a motion to get up. Sirius’s hand grasped Remus’s thigh to make him stay. “Actually, why don’t you two go ahead. I’ll stay with Sirius til he wakes”

After James and Lily closed the door, Remus snuggled Sirius into the nook of his arms. He tried to find his boyfriend’s face in the bundle of blankets, and found a Sirius with tears flowing from his eyes. “Siri- what’s wrong babe?” Remus crooned.

“I don’t like being sick.” Sirius responded through sniffles. “I don’t want to have to be taken care of, it’s not fair” Tears poured down his face. When he was younger, he resolved to never be a burden to people like he was at home. And moments like these when he was sick, unable to be useful - all the haunting memories of Grimmauld place came rushing back all at once. All the yelling, the screaming. Reiterating how worthless he was unless he followed exactly what Walburga wanted him to be. He wasn’t even allowed to be sick as a child - just work through it, it will dissipate.

“Love, I want to care for you. You take care of all of us, let me love you back. You quite literally take care of me every full moon, why can’t I take care of you this once - if you ask me that’s not fair” Remus assured. Sirius melted into Remus’ body. He looked up at his boyfriend’s eyes, tears still welling up in his own.

“Thanks Moony” Sirius let out a relieved sigh. He was no longer at his childhood home, this was home now. He finally closed his eyes, while snuggling deeper into Moony and for the first time today was able to properly rest.

#wolfstar #jily #marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #the marauders #james potter #remus x sirius #lily evans #sickfic

[sunnyhvnny]

Hi can I please request viserys x reader and little rhaenyra where she has a nightmare and runs to her parents room crying. Reader and viserys comfort rhaenyra and they all go to sleep.

Love your writing by the way xx

This turned more into platonic mom! Reader x rhaenrya. I don’t really write for Viserys but I’ll make an exception because this request is pretty good.

She woke to the feeling of light tugging on the sleeve of her nightgown. She thought of just falling asleep and chalking the feeling up to her imagination as she was still half asleep but a single “mother,” whined by her little girl made her blink her eyes open.

It took her a moment to adjust to the darkness in the room but when she finally managed to blink the sleepy haziness out of her eyes, she saw her young daughter looking up at her with her wide lilac eyes. Her little girl’s lips were trembling and she was sniffling.

Her heart shattered at the sight of her daughter. It wasn’t the first time that she had snuck past the guards and slipped into Viserys and her’s room at such a late hour but the frightened and broken look on her face never failed to break her mother’s heart.

“What is the matter, Nyra?” She whispered as she gestured for her child to climb up into the bed. It took her a minute to settle but once she was in between her father and mother, her daughter let out a contented sigh.

Finally, she reached up to grab her mother’s strands of hair that were free from the confines of the braids she had worn earlier that day. She brushed the silver-blind hair that had fallen into Rhaenrya’s face. Her daughter had beautiful hair but without fail, every time she woke up she looked like she got into a fit with one of those giants she heard some of the northern ladies talking about.

“I had a nightmare,” Rhaenrya admitted reluctantly and quietly, trying not to wake her father. She glanced over her daughter’s head and looked upon her husband for a second.

He was the same as their wild girl, his hair was messy and his mouth open in his slumber. Occasionally, soft snores left his mouth but he was still very much asleep. She doubted that if Balerion The Black Dread came down from the sky himself and roared with all of his might, her husband would even wake. She felt her chest tighten warmly. He had been busy lately with the small council and fretting about her latest pregnancy. His younger brother was back in King’s Landing which only served to steer Viserys more. So she decided to let him sleep and not wake him now. She could handle their frazzled, frightened daughter.

“What was it about, my heart’s delight?” She questioned in a whisper. She had laid back down and wrapped an arm around her daughter’s middle and pulled her closer to her. Rhaenrya let her do it and even snuggled into her as best she could with her swollen belly between them.

“I don’t want to say,” the words were muffled by her nightgown but they were clear enough to her whose ears had been attuned to hear her voice since she was born.

She pinched Rhaenrya’s cheek playfully before saying, “you did not come all the way here at the hour of the bat to not tell me what upset my little ‘Nyra so much.”

It took her daughter a moment to say anything and for a second she thought that perhaps Rhaenrya might now answer her. Mayhaps she chose to ignore her mother’s words because she knew she hadn’t fallen back to sleep. Finally, in a voice that sounded much too broken for a child, she mumbled into her mother’s neck, “it was about you.”

Oh no, she thought to herself, not Rhaenrya too. She didn’t know the particulars of her daughter’s nightmare but her husband had been plagued with nightmares about her as well. Viserys wouldn’t tell her what he dreamt about but she knew it wasn’t good as he grew more anxious as the birth of their next child neared. She tried to assure him that she would be fine and that he needn’t worry. His dreams were just that, dreams. Not magic from his Valyrian blood but anxiety from a worried husband and father.

She tried not to let her emotions show on her face as she turned back to her daughter. She could only see the mess of her silver hair as she had burrowed under the blankets and hid away in her mother’s bosom.

“And what about me did you dream?”

She felt little fingers tracing shapes and letters onto her skin before a reply finally came, “I dreamt that you loved the baby so much that you forgot about me. Every time I tried to get yours or father’s attention, the two of you ignored me. It was like you couldn’t see me.”

Her heart broke at her daughter’s admission. She had no doubt that Rhaenrya would love her sibling but she understood the fear. When she was younger she had the same fear when her own mother was pregnant. Her husband had never shown any indication that he had felt that way as a child when his own mother was pregnant with Daemon and the brother that ended up taking her life.

It took her a second to figure out what to say. This had to be handled delicately, she knew. It didn’t matter that she was half asleep, her daughter had to be reassured otherwise this feeling could grow into a feeling unwanted or replaced as she grew. Finally, she asked as she twirled a soft strand of her daughter’s hair around one of her fingers, “do you truly believe me capable of forgetting you, Rhaenrya?”

“Mayhaps not now, but when the babe comes you’ll be so busy with it that you won’t have time for me,” she wouldn’t look into her mother’s eyes but the pout was clear as day.

“Rhaenrya, look at me,” she commanded softly. When her daughter still had no made to look at her she placed two fingers under her chin and tilted her face up so that her violet eyes met her own. “My child, you are my firstborn. I will love your sibling with my entire being just as I love you. You are right, I will be distracted in the first few months of the babes birth but I will always have time for my little ‘Nyra.”

Her daughter’s eyes turned glossy with tears as she searched her mother’s face for any sign of a lie. When she found none she buried her face back in her bosom and held her tightly around the waist. She let her and stroked her hair until she fell back to sleep.

#house of the dragon #hotd #rhaenrya targaryen #Rhaenrya x mom reader #Rhaenrya x platonic reader #Rhaenrya x platon oc #viserys targaryen x reader

[jienem]

Request story~

"I saw y/n had a special mark on the back of her hand. It was very similar to you father..." Silver said as he sat on the couch in front of Lilia, who pondered at his words before plastering a smile between his lips. He wore a carefree expression, his back lay comfortably on the backrest, and a hand rested on the side of his face. The glove covered what was underneath. If Silver didn't know him at all, he would guess Lilia was merely uninterested, yet he knew he wasn't. His eyes were the ones that gave him away.

"Is that so? Do tell what type of design she had, maybe we could help her find her soulmate in this world." The two men in the room knew Lilia was avoiding the topic, yet Silver still continued.

"It was beautiful...A bat was covered with intricate design..." Silver nodded off while mumbling his words before he fell asleep.

Lilia chuckled as sleep finally consumed Silver, who laid his head on the side of the couch. He floats behind him and places a blanket over his large form, patting his head gently while his lips turn downward. His eyes held a forlorn gaze while staring at the ceiling.

"She would be unhappy if she stayed with me."

~~~

Lilia was no fool. He had seen her soulmark by accident when they were paired to get some ingredients in the botanical garden. He remembered it as if it were yesterday.

The brightness shone from the transparent glass from the ceiling as they made their way, their feet scrunching from the ground while Lilia stayed in front of y/n, who, unbeknownst to him, had her gaze on him the moment they had paired.

They were quiet, to say the least. Lilia was in deep thought while y/n called out for him before placing her hand on his shoulder, catching his attention.

"Lilia?"

Said person turned his head, and the first thing he saw was the black ink on the back of her hand. His eyes widened slightly before his face returned to a neutral expression. It can't be right?

"What's wrong, y/n?" She paused for a moment and shook her head.

"Nothing, are you alright?"

"Hm? What made you think of that?" y/n merely smiled and continued on their way.

"Just a question."

.

.

.

After some early duties, Lilia floats towards the classroom with bats in tow. He greeted the other students by scaring them, watching in amusement as they let out a sheer scream and left bewildered.

He chuckled and sat down in an empty chair with no neighbor. The bell chimed before students sat in their respective places while Lilia's partner seemed to disappear, late mayhaps. He zoned out for a while as their teacher called out their names before a student barged in, panicked and disheveled.

"y/n-"

"Here!"

Her eyes glanced around the room before they fell onto the empty seat beside Lilia. She mumbled her apologies to their teacher as she made her way towards the table. The textbooks lay on top with a soft thud as she sat down and greeted Lilia with a smile, who smiled in return. For a few moments, Lilia's attention was distracted by the warmth emitting from y/n. The classroom wasn't cold per se; the fairies did their job well, yet he felt the room was cold aside from the figure beside him. He didn't know. 

His eyes flickered towards y/n, whose attention was solely on the board in front of them. He admires the way her eyes focused on the lesson, her nose scrunched a little, and her eyes furrowed. Turning his attention back to the board, he let a small smile grace his lips.

This distance was enough.

.

.

.

They fall into a routine without him realizing it. He would always sit in the middle row (I don't know where his seat was, but anyway-) and she always sat by his side. The pair still didn't talk much with each other, and Lilia was rather optimistic about their situation. This continued for the next few days; she would smile at him after they sat down, and he was the first to leave at the end of the lessons, excusing himself for the sake of duties that were equal to non at the moment. The trio noticed how odd his actions were and started asking him questions, which he denied.

"Lilia, are you sure you are okay? Have your duties occupied your time?" Malleus was the first to ask. Silver appeared beside him, and one glance at Lilia was all it took to know what dilemma Lilia was facing.

"Father, is this about your bond? If so, why are you avoiding her?" Lilia was grateful that he didn't mention her name, as he felt his resolve was weakening.

"Romance is not for me, Silver... I am afraid she needed someone who was lively and much closer in age rather than someone who could be her grandpa at best." Lilia plastered a smile, watching the other frown, and Malleus turned to both of them, confused for a moment before recognition was written on his face. His lips opened before closing as he withdrew his words. He sighs and turns to Silver, who bowed and left the two in the lounge. The air shifted as they sat down on the couch, just like Lilia and Silver did before, but with Malleus.

"I never thought you would resort to this action." Malleus said after a beat of silence passed by them.

"It's for the best."

"And what part is the best?" 

"For her to realize someone was much more worth than a soldier myself."- Lilia pursed his lips-" And for that, I made a decision."

Malleus was quiet. He too knew the risk of loving a human and would one day watch them before they took their last breath. He fully understood his position, yet he wondered.

"Lilia." He breathes, looking at him in the eyes, and for once, Lilia saw the young prince was starting to mature. "You taught us to appreciate our surroundings more, even the people around us. Enjoying their presence before they soon went somewhere were a very long time for us to reach."

This time, Lilia was the one who was quiet as he listened.

"What's wrong with loving a human despite the difference between the two of you? " For once, Lilia's words that helped others and sometimes himself failed him at the most important moment of his life. He knew what Malleus said was true; after all, the answer was already on the table and hadn't been noticed despite the signs being already there.

The times when y/n thought she was good at hiding her excitement were when he was near. The way her eyes crinkled in amusement and the way she beamed—even a small gesture made by him could bring her happiness—she stayed by his side without fail.

"Have you found your answer?"

Lilia's smile widened before he nodded at the tall man, his mood had already lifted.

"Fufufu of course."

"Then we shall wait for your breakthrough, Lilia."

.

.

.

The next day, Lilia found her sitting below a tree. He admired how the sun added to her complexion as she lay on the ground, basking in the free time she had with a sandwich on hand. He floated towards her, careful not to make a sound as he floated upward. His vision turned upside down as he fell just inches away from her face as he surprised her.

"Boo!"

"Eek! Lilia?!" The sandwich on her hand almost fell to the ground before she composed herself and chuckled.

"Goodevening Lilia-san." y/n surprises him as she offers the extra sandwich she had, but he refuses. After all, y/n needed it more than he did, yet she didn't take no for an answer, and he had to bite to appease her command. His attention drifted away from the deluxe sandwich, and he almost forgot the reason why he came.

"y/n dear, do you mind if I stay with you?"

"Sure." She replied easily, and he sat down in front of her. The pair ate in silence as their attention drifted into their thoughts. Lilia, who became bolder, sat down beside her, making her surprised by his actions. She wanted to ask, yet she didn't, enjoying his presence more than she ever admitted which he too didn't realize as he watched how her lips curled up in a smile easily. He was pleased by the turn of events and glanced at the sky, wishing for something he wouldn't say.

Lilia didn't want to rely solely on the mark that binds between them, he wanted her to fall for him without the mark telling them which choices they would make.

.

.

.

There were notable changes between the two pairs as they made their way towards the library. Even the three sons (Sebek is also his son okay?) noticed how the bat seemed to be at ease and happier. Lilia no longer played hide-and-seek. He was also always at her company, which she didn't mind. This continued for days, and unbeknownst to them both, they were slowly developing some affection for each other, yet y/n couldn't shake the feeling of guilt as they met during their usual routine. Lilia noticed her growing distance and wasn't afraid to ask her, despite the growing uncertainty that crossed his head. Does she finally know?

"y/n is something bothering you?"

"A-ah no..." Her eyes were still distant as she looked at the book spine. Lilia stood there, silently observing before he asked the question that had been nagging him before.

"Was it something connected to your mark?"

She freezes under his stare and drops her quest to find the book they need.

"I'm not sure." y/n didn't lie. She didn't know how to bring up something without alarming him about something she had known for a very long time. She sat down on a chair nearby and let out a small sigh.

Her confused expression was enough for him. His face softened, he floats at her side, and he sits down, watching how she seems nervous.

"You knew?" Lilia was calm, whilst y/n face reddened by shame.

"I thought if I did that, somehow a part of you would accept my presence. It

was fine even if it wouldn't do me any favors."

Lilia watched intently while she was trying to explain her reason. He breathed and smiled, catching her off guard as he took off his gloves and clasped her hand in his, holding their soulmark together. He relishes the warmth of her hands in his, admiring their mark together while they stay silent in each other's presence.

"I admit, I was a fool. I'm sorry for disregarding your opinion because I thought it was the best." He was, for the days he spent avoiding her. Ah, he felt like a buffoon.

"I know." she replies, laying her head on his shoulder, her hair tickling his neck as the faintly sweet-scented rose surrounded them as he inhaled. Her presence not only calmed him but also acknowledged that the one for him was here, right by his side.

"Are you sure you wanted to stay with me? I am nothing but an old man."

"I'm sure."

Thank you, y/n

Whaaa thank you for the wait, i'm sorry for taking too long to post. As for Lilia, i'm sorry for making him a bit ooc.😖

@worldussysblog @luciel1 @fluffle-bean @growingupnrealizing @daruderuyoo @lucid-stories @ykiqlvr @savanaclaw1996 @yo4sblog @rosedasy @springdrop-701 @qmabailor @monoeve

#twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst lilia x reader #twst lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #twisted wonderland lilia #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x mc #twst malleus draconia #twst silver #twst malleus

[slimeysodaa]

a couple months ago, i realized i never watched ridonculous race so i binged watched it and i love it, so i decided to make a whole au for my two favs from roti to be in it bc severe autism doesnt rest /lh

some changes are that they have replaced the daters and i changed up their designs! i gave lightning a more laid back sporty look to show he’s not working as hard to be on top all of the time anymore and i gave brick a “fashionable yet practical” look bc he’s working on going to fashion school and he deserves it.

most of their dynamic is basically a bromance (or more, whose to say) but with conflict at the beginning as Lightning is still learning to work with others and Brick is having trouble getting him to understand that they are a team and have to do certain challenges a certain way. and it develops from there (they do get eliminated ep 23 like the daters but hey, they had fun)

was this an elaborate way to ship these two? maybe, mayhaps it was. 

#tdi rearranges the particles in my brain so much guys #i love these two so much i will cry guys #total drama #total drama ridonculous race #tdrr #total drama lightning #total drama brick #total drama revenge of the island #tdroti #total drama fanart #total drama au #total drama brightning #tdrr au #brick x lightning #my art #slimeysodaa tdi

[oblivionax]

I played Hogwarts Legacy twice now and I realized something about the characters (especially Sebastian) that I need to talk about.

The first playthrough I was charmed by Sebastian. But during the second one I've noticed something was off about him and the way he spoke. Then it struck me — he's a manipulator.

His obsession with finding a cure for his twin sister may come off as adorable and selfless, but after giving it some thought (quite a lot of thought, actually) I came to a conclusion that even this desire of his is selfish.

How? Well, it appears that he views Anne as more than a sibling — as his twin to him she's an extension of himself. A part of him. He feels incomplete without her by his side hence why he wants her so bad back in Hogwarts. Remember how she said she was okay with staying in Feldcroft (save for goblin raids and Sebastian's feud with their uncle)? She might not miss Hogwarts as strongly as Sebastian claims to the player, trying to get their help and appeal to their feelings through pity.

But does Sebastian take into account what she wants? It doesn't seem so. She said so herself, she feels there's no cure to her condition nor does she want for the Dark Arts to be involved. Yet, he gives her no choice, because he's certain he knows what's best for her. After all, she's his twin. The way he had pointed out this fact on more than one occasion demonstrates how important it is to him. Plus, he seems to be of a quite high opinion of himself, he could as well love Anne mostly because she's his female self. Mayhaps he doesn't really want her cured purely out of love for her — first of all, he wants her with him.

Sounds quite possessive and unhealthy. Wait until I remind you it's 1890s and (even if the developers apparently did not aim for historical accuracy) if this world is anything as it was in the actual Britain at the time, then it makes sense why Anne doesn't speak up for herself and is rather passive. You may have noticed how both Solomon and Sebastian seem to take decisions concerning her without even asking her opinion. Well, back in Victorian England it was normal, because a woman's fate was decided by her eldest male relative (father, brother, or, in this case, uncle) or a husband. It also may mean that Solomon did not take his nephew and niece in out of goodness of his heart but because he had to by law.

Now, yes, the story seems to try and show Sebastian killing Solomon as something he did not think through, but if their society functions like irl Victorian England's did, then... Sebastian basically eliminated a rival and now gets to decide Anne's fate however he pleases. Yikes! Intentionally or not, that'd be a chilling detail. I don't imply it's canon, but it does make some sense in its own way.

Sebastian shows deep remorse about killing his uncle, but does he really feel it? If the player chooses to learn the Unforgivable curses, Sebastian states that "your intention must be clear" and "you must mean it". Then he literally says about the murder of his uncle that he didn't "mean it". An interesting word choice. Does not look like an accident to me.

As a manipulator, he flatters, he lies. He lies a lot. Not necessarily maliciously, because he might just also be lying to himself to twist the truth and feel better about it. During my second playthrough I've found myself no longer believing what he says. He's a cunning and ambitious individual who's ready to do anything in order to get what he wants. And that's exactly what he does. Even with his best friend Ominis Gaunt whom he occasionally uses. He said he always has his way with disciplinary matters. Might as well be his charm and/or Ominis, whose father happens to be friends with the headmaster.

Now, about Sebastian's charming exterior. He can charm his way into anyone's heart but his uncle's. He can convince them to do whatever he wishes. He has a calculating strategic mind, choosing his words carefully and making sacrifices to meet his ends, like when he doesn't reveal to the librarian he wasn't alone in the restricted section and when he shows the Undercroft to the player. He likes friends who are in his debt. Of course he does, because he can use their trust later. Perhaps to him people surrounding him are but chess figures on a board.

But oh, how his façade crumbles in those rare moments when he struggles to achieve his goal! Pretty much like Lord Voldemort. Just think about it, he kills on instinct because his uncle destroys his last hope to get back his sister beside him. And he objects against him "taking away" Anne, saying that he "can't" separate him from his twin. The word choice makes it clear how possessive and determined he is about it. When speaking of Anne he stated "she's unwell", but "she's going back to Hogwarts soon". As if Anne's fate really depends entirely on him.

Those were but my own speculations, do feel free to share what you think, whether you agree or not and why. Once again, I'm not saying it's canon and I'm probably digging too deep, but I had to get it out haha. So here we go.

Have a great day and thank you for reading me! Looking forward to reading your opinions!

#hogwarts legacy #hp #harry potter #hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #sebastian sallow #anne sallow #solomon sallow #ominis gaunt

[bucknastysbabe]

Criston being Alicent and Viserys daughters sworn sheild and because hes unhealthily obsessed and she has whole family issues shes into it and they make plans to run away to essos before the war breaks out

The Gray Area - Ser Criston x Reader

Yes! YESSSSSS! ORANGES also I’m taking some serious civil liberties apologizes very much, also mayhaps reusing a character oops but they’re obsessive and crazy and I felt like it fit the dynamic

Prequel: Just like you

Rating: Explicit

Tags: So many emotionsssss, rough sex, aggressive verbal arguments, guilt and shame that comes with being a Targ, Criston questions his life, pnv!sex, oral, THEY LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER IN ESSOS THE END OKAY SOMETIME YOU GOTTA CUT OFF THE TOXICITY, she finally comes to terms w emotions

Inside the eerie melted castle, Criston slammed his hand down on the table in your shared quarters where you’d draw up plans. The brunette hissed, “We need to march south! The blacks have probably befouled the waters and Aemond is flying around charring the place! With that hoary bitch of his!”

You picked your teeth, staring at him blankly, armor off for the evening. Your dragon was feasting on bodies outside in the pits. “Then why don’t we just march south anyways? I’m of age with Aemond, we don’t have a fucking king per-say anyways.”

Criston leveled you with those dark eyes, “Aemond and Daeron are still in line.” You spat at him, “One-eye whose burning half the realm and Daeron, while valiant, a child. What the fuck are we even fighting for? Our heads on spikes?”

He exhaled through his nose, jaw twitching and clicking. Criston’s hair had grown out, even had some grays in it now, crinkling around his handsome eyes. You rolled onto your side, exposing your pale and scarred body. The knight’s eyes lingered upon your perky teats, hands digging into the table.

You hummed, “If we go south tomorrow, without the aid of Vhagar and just me on Skysinger, what’s our chances? They have the rivermen, that Crazed Blackwood. Winter’s Wolves. We’d meet them at a ridge,” she glared, “You always told me to find the high ground. Which would only be me.”

Criston stripped off his plated armor in jerky motions, face wrought with something. You turned onto your back, staring at the black ceiling. “I find that this ‘dance’ they have so deemed is destroying the realm. Over whether a vengeful cunt or wet rat should hold the throne. What’s the godsdamn point?”

He barked, “Honor! This is your family! We fight for who we are sworn to! What has gotten into you?”

“Oh fuck you and your honor Ser! Your cape should be black by now, you can’t pick and choose what constitutes honorable behavior! Fighting to your demise, so honorable, fucking Targaryen cunt you’re not allowed to sully is allowed though! You don’t even know what you want! Putting a drunk on the throne and if not him then my lovely brother who has knocked up a Strong bastard, which started half of this bullshit in the first place!”

Criston’s body slammed atop of you, pinning your skinny wrists to the rickety bed. He glared you down, spittle hitting your face as he seethed, “Do you ever shut your fucking mouth? Hateful, selfish wench.”

You heaved underneath him, thoroughly pinned, half expecting to get a bloody nose. But Criston just stared, nostrils flaring. In the softest tone your raspy voice could muster you asked, “Do you remember after Helaena died?”

He paused, deep pools of brown flickering away.

“Deep in your cups,” you nosed along his stubbled jaw, “You told me one time you thought of running away. Go to Essos and make a living. Away from my family’s shite. But she said no, made you the fool for it.”

Criston relaxed some, slotting himself between your skinny thighs, face melting into your neck. “I don’t want to die tomorrow. Not like this,” you said, voice horridly cracking. “They’ll rain arrows down on my child, I won’t have Vhagar as backup.” Criston’s jaw gritted against your thin skin, hands loosening your wrists to glide down your flat waist.

“I- would die by your side. With honor, for once,” Cole murmured. Wetness gathered at the junction of your neck and shoulder. You rubbed a hand down his wide back, feeling numb. Gods you hated crying. Hated it with your whole being. This war was driving you slowly insane.

You reiterated like a idiotic mummer, “Criston. Please don’t make us march tomorrow. We could hold down Harrenhal and wait out a siege. Or we leave tonight. On my dragon, go to Essos, start a mercenary company. How many of them have a dragon hm? There’s no honor in this war. It’s kinslaying.”

Tears leaked down your cheeks, chest involuntarily heaving. The Dornish knight leaned up, eyes red as he studied you. You pushed back his thick hair, unable to conjure any more words. What you wanted was out in the open now. He murmured, “Stop your tears, I raised my Princess better than that.”

He wiped them away with a calloused thumb, eyes soft. You wrapped your legs around him, arching into his tight body, rubbing against his swelling member. You growled, “If you’re leading me to my death then might as well have a good last fuck.” Your lover flipped you over roughly, big hand pinning your nape down to the bed. He slapped your ass, grunting, “You Targaryen whores are all the same. Fucking selfish.”

He thumbed your wet cunt, pinching roughly at your swollen clit. You cried out, unable to move as he seized your long limbs again, one big hand holding them tight. Criston aligned with your sex, thrusting in with a wet slap. He groaned, you knew the face by heart now, lips lax, eyes rolling up. Gorgeous.

Meanwhile his girth split you open easily, nudging up against your cervix, stretching out your ridged insides. He never took his time to get you acclimated, fucking into you rough and quick, hips slapping together. You cried out, tits rubbing against the tough fabric of the bed. Your hair fell in your face, swinging everywhere.

Criston rumbled, “You run. I die a warriors death. If I saw you dead I wouldn’t go on, fucking crone’s teats.”

“Come with me, I cannot live without you, you die a warriors death with a pocketful of gold, a manse, orange fields, and living life on- fuck- oh Criston baby- on your own terms!”

His hips stuttered, a hand sliding to your sternum to pull you upright, biting and licking at your neck, cock still hammering away. Desperately you cried, “My sworn shield, my knight, lord hand, I love you.” The brunette’s hips stuttered at your admission, big hand taking you passionately into a kiss. Your lips slid against eachother, teeth clinking until his tongue claimed authority over your own.

You rocked back onto his cock, growling, “I love you I love you I love you, run away with me, fuck all of this, what have they done for us? It’s always been us Criston, the puppets! We make the rules!”

Criston bit down on your lip, drawing blood while his thick fingers plucked at a budded nipple. You oozed around him, lost in fantasy and that sickening feeling of love. Your knight moaned, “We leave tonight, land outside of Norvos or Lorath, stay away from the Triarch. We cannot return.” He half-whimpered after a ragged breath, “I love you, more than anything I’ve ever known. Enough to send me to the seven hells a happy man.”

His left hand slid from your tit to bruisingly gripping your throat, squeezing those vessels until you saw spots, bucking on his prick like a wild foal. You wheezed his name over and over, until he let go, you convulsing and sloppily wetting his cock with another desperate declaration of love.

He pulled out with a broken cry, splattering your ass and thighs with hot seed. Criston immediately pulled you into his strong arms again, dark eyes dead serious. He hissed, “We leave. We don’t come back. There’s no more honor except in gold.”

You nodded, eyes watering from everything happening so fast. “We leave tonight. Aemond’s their leader. No honor except in gold.”

Aemond Targaryen had just settled Vhagar outside of Harrenhal, coming to lay with his lady Alys. He’d been burning all day, the stench of it soaking his essence. Curling into her arms he missed his twin’s familiar dragon taking off into the night, a dirtied white cloak flying in the wind.

It wasn’t easy the first few months. The pair of you constantly wondering if you made the right decision. Mourning over your family. Westeros in ruins kept you both away. The grief was tucked away and put forward into starting your company. A Westerosi Knight and Targaryen dragonrider garnered much attention on the other continent.

You’d found it tedious and boring at first, Criston calming your moods with fucking you stupid or eating your cunt until you’d about ripped his hair out. Eventually you’d struck a deal with a Qohorik nobleman who needed his caravan’s to be protected. Simple work.

That turned into bigger and bigger projects, Westerosi exiles even coming to join your company. You’d eventually named it The Honorable Company, as a jab to your not so well-intentioned beginnings. Tyrosh, Volantis, even some Ghiscari had hired your swelling ranks. Skysinger had grown bigger and more vicious, hatching a clutch at her preferred nest still outside of Qohor, where your manse would be built.

No letters ever came from your family, just hearsay on a regency. It hurt too bad to dwell on it. But the dance should have never occurred and you and Criston alike made sure to honor them in a quiet sept downstairs. Your company had grown big enough that there were levels and ranks now.

Then you fell pregnant. You would name him Aemond, after that stiff lipped asshole you dearly loved, as did Criston. The grayish egg in his cradle hatched, Criston smiling in ecstasy. You felt one of those annoying tears fall down your face.

“Do you think I’ll be a good woman like Alicent? A mother regardless of how fucking insane we all were?”

Criston’s face drew grim and he wrapped his arms around your figure, murmuring into your jeweled ear, “I think so. Might need to loosen these shoulders a bit. You’ll be great.” You kissed those pretty lips and cried, full on cried. Finally broken down from the hatred, guilt, fury, and shame. Then like a phoenix you’d arise anew, softer and ready for the world. As a mother and wife. Also dragonrider with a penchant for murder. But hey, that’s what Targaryen’s did.

The little dragon curled around Aemond’s babbling frame, snoozing already. You smiled, Criston behind you.

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #criston x reader #ser criston cole x reader #criston cole #my shnookums incel knight

[cantheykillmacbeth]

could chihiro's alter ego ai kill macbeth? like... iirc hifumi DOES refer to the ai as a girl? idk if anyone specifically calls it a 'man'. idk i think its an interesting thing to mayhaps reaserch

Yes, Alter Ego from Danganronpa could kill Macbeth!

It's creator, Chihiro Fujisaki, is stated to be male despite presenting as a girl; it's unclear whether Chihiro is meant to be a trans girl or just a boy who prefers to present more femininely. From the language used in canon, it seems to more explicitly state the latter, while the former seems closer to speculation, at least from what I could find, so until someone presents evidence that Chihiro is canonically a trans girl, we will be going off of the assumption that Chihiro identifies as male, therefore qualifying the Alter Ego for the Birth Parent Clause.

Being an artificial intelligence programmed by Chihiro, Alter Ego also obviously applies for the Unconventional Birth Clause as well.

When it comes to the Gender Clause, things get a bit iffy. Alter Ego's gender seems to be unknown, and the only time it is seen as asserting its gender is by saying it is "not female." Alter Ego is referred to in canon with he/him pronouns, though most likely due to them using he/him pronouns for Chihiro, whose face Alter Ego uses as an avatar. So, it's a bit ambiguous whether or not we could call Alter Ego a "man," and therefore the Gender Clause will be ignored, for now.

Thank you for your submission!

#asks #unconventional birth clause #birth parent clause #debatable character #danganronpa #chihiro fujisaki #alter ego #alter ego danganronpa #alter ego dr

[tanith-rhea]

hii! I wanna say first and foremost that im loving all of ur larissa/reader fics sm. I really liked the screw ur roommate one ;-; and i wanna give a prompt for a fic if ur up for it! So its like this...

Young larrissa, morticia, gomez and f!reader are at a secret nevermore nightshades party. They play spin the bottle/truth or dare and it starts off harmless till reader's dared to kiss who they think is the prettiest amongst all of them. Everyone thinks its morticia but oop its larrissa. After that, chaos ensues and maybe things get spicier? Light vandalism/skinny dipping mayhaps? Would be cute if there's a flashforward and Principle Weems looks back on that youthful night.

Truth or Dare

Thank you so goddamn much for this ask anon! I had so much fun writing it and I'm really excited about it. I think it's an excellent idea and loved every second of coming up with this! Hope you like it as I did writing it!

Word count: 2.3k

They've been drinking for a while now. You think, observing Morticia and Gomez eyeing each other. The party was dying down by now, and if it were up to you, you would already be in bed with the rest of the group, but Larissa was going back with Morticia and asked you to keep her company lest she'd be left alone with that disturbingly horny pair.

Morrison and Mccoy were still there as well, but Larissa would be alone to deal with them if you left, so you stayed. There probably wasn't something you wouldn't do for her, and sitting with her in the dock overseeing the lake to Raven Island, you weren't tempted to head back.

"This is getting boring," a sultry voice asserted a few meters back, "We should play a game."

It was Morticia, approaching with Gomez in one hand and a recently emptied bottle of cheap wine in the other; drinking wine at seventeen, The Nightshades were pretentious like that. It spoke of how biased you were that you thought Larissa was the only one who actually pulled it off, looking elegant and thoroughly decadent while drinking straight from the bottle.

"What do you suggest?" Larissa humoured her, making space between you to the others to sit in a circle on the wooden pier.

You wanted to be alone with her, in all honesty, but Morticia had a glint in her eye that piqued your curiosity and made you nervous altogether.

"How about verum aut consecutio?" she eyed the others; the boys had come up and sat as well, Mccoy between you and Larissa, Gomez beside you and Morticia "In turns, we all spin the bottle in the middle of the circle, and the person whose its neck points to is asked to make a confession about themselves, or face consequences" her smile was devilish, you were equal parts excited and terrified.

Maybe it was the alcohol — you were a terrible lightweight — but you liked the idea very much. Antagonism towards Morticia forgotten in the name of fun, you nodded with the others and prepared to start.

Since Morticia was the one to give the idea in the first place, she spun the bottle first. Round and round it went until it stopped, pointing at Larissa. Fuck, this could go horribly bad; but Morticia only seemed amused.

"Larissa..." she smiled, biting her lip "where are you ticklish?"

Oh, that was harmless, maybe this could be fun.

"You know where I'm ticklish" the comment made you uncomfortable and the fake annoyance on Rissa's face was like a slap, "I'm ticklish in my ribs" she arched a defiant brow, a side smile curling her lips.

You knew they were friends a while back, but you didn't know what happened for the easy jokes to turn into a passive-aggressive competition of wit. They were begrudging companions at best now, admiring each other but unable to voice it. You used to think it was sexual tension, but it made you hurt too much to even entertain the idea, so you decided to turn a blind eye.

The next person was Morrison, directly in front of you, and he asked Gomez what would his wishes for a genie be. Several rounds passed by, with some funny confessions and ridiculous consequences. Mccoy was dared to do a sexy crawl up to Gomez and Morticia to, impressively successfully, lick her own elbow.

It was Morrison again, everyone was in high spirits from having seen Gomez twerk for thirty seconds, and he spun the bottle. Until now, it had only fallen on you once and you asked for confession, telling everyone that you had a strawberry-shaped birthmark on the left side of your lower back. This time, you decided to choose consequence.

"Kiss the most attractive person in this circle" wait, what? No one had done something actually physical before. Did you have to? You probably didn't, but the temptation of having an excuse...

The thing was, you had the most embarrassing fancy on Larissa. She didn't correspond to your feelings, quite obviously not interested in anxious lesbians with no control over their lives. She was the most beautiful creature you ever laid eyes on, but not only that, she was kind and caring, compassionate but with a fiery side that could make you roll on the floor laughing or pant to catch your breath at how hot she could be.

You looked at everyone, you knew what they were expecting. The obvious choice was Morticia. It was a consensus that she was the most charming and sexy girl in the school and you were the gayest disaster to ever step on Nevermore's grounds, but you didn't agree with that. Gomez seemed tense and Mccoy seemed bored. Morrison seemed smug for getting himself the pretty sight of two girls kissing. You were just paralyzed with fear. What would she think? Would things be as they always were after it?

"C'mon, quit making us wait" Mccoy grumbled.

With a deep breath, you stood up to cross in front of him, hearing a sharp intake of breath from behind you and looking at a shocked Larissa on your front. You lowered yourself to one knee, foot planted beside her thigh. She was seated on her legs like a courteous little princess, her hands clasped together on her lap, shoulders tensely straight.

"May I have a kiss?" you whispered, looking for any signs she might want this as much as you did, fearing to find the opposite.

"Are you serious?" she seemed so unsure it hurt. You could only look solemnly at her.

She gave a curt nod, still quite incredulous. You couldn't read her, something you weren't used to. You leaned into her, closing the distance.

It was a bit awkward at first, her lips were partially parted and yours weren't, but soon you saved it by cupping her cheek and guiding her through a slow exploration of each other's mouths. She tasted wine-sweet with a hint of the peppermint tea you had before going out. Her lips were soft and lovely caressing yours with gradually increasing enthusiasm. You weren't in a hurry, you could do this forever easily, and if she wanted time to evolve it into something deeper you were happy to oblige. Her tongue teased out; you were already kissing open-mouthed, but the feeling of her tongue slipping between your lips and sucking yours to her made a satisfied groan escape your throat. Just as you were going to cup her neck with your other hand, fingers already ruining her hairdo, a coughing sound interrupted your thoughts.

You parted, face hot in embarrassment you had only seconds ago felt none of, to see the agitated expression on Morrison's face, Mccoy awkwardly trying to look the other way after staring dumbfounded and Morticia grinning slyly. Gomez didn't seem particularly fazed, and you wanted to hug him for it.

"Okaaay," Morrison cut in the silence "that was something..." he cut himself for a moment before blurting "your turn Larissa" and thrusting her the bottle like a hot potato.

The game deescalated after that. Everyone seemed to silently agree that you didn't need much more excitement that night. But after a while, Morticia grew bored, as she usually did, and suggested everyone should take off their clothes and have a midnight swim.

By then, the other boys were passed out on the grass by the boats. You and Larissa hadn't talked since the kiss and she seemed to avoid your gaze every time you looked at her. Which meant she was looking. You tried to fool yourself with hope but secretly hated that you were only paving the road to heartbreak. She didn't feel the same.

Morticia began taking off her dress and jumped graciously into the water, calling Gomez to join her. He did it without a preamble.

You eyed Larissa silently asking if she was alright with it. She finally looked at you and gave a short, tight smile, before taking off her shirt and skirt and lowering herself into the midnight-coloured water. You followed suit, leaving your clothes with hers.

Morticia started a fight of spilling water and soon the tension had gone again. You felt grateful to her for the first time that night. Larissa was laughing and Gomez was an absolute surprise, attacking everyone when they least expected.

It was very late, the moon halfway down the sky. You were all tired from swimming and cold for stopping the War of Water, and you were going to suggest leaving and going back to school when Morticia said:

"I think Gomez and I are going to head back, I'm feeling chilly and would like for someone to warm me" she blinked at him and started swimming away with him in her tow.

You were suddenly left with Larissa, and couldn't help but think Morticia was doing something. Scheming. Was there a reason for all of this? Did her smile mean something back at the game?

Larissa looked at you for a second, not joyful anymore but tense.

"I think we should go too. It is rather cold."

"Larissa-" you didn't know what you were going to say, where you were going with this, but you had to try, right? Things were already a mess, you could tell.

She stopped, her eyes looking at the surface of the water between you.

"I think we should talk about this" you drifted closer into her personal space.

"What's there to talk about?" she looked to the side, seeming very interested in the trees on the other side of the lake.

"About what happened... about us" you tried, carefully placing the pad of your fingers in her jaw to bring her eyes to yours, she let you.

"I don't know what you mean, it was just a game" she didn't look at your face, instead focused on the freckles on your shoulders, covered only by the straps of your baby pink bra.

"Then why won't you look me in the eyes?" you were starting to get annoyed, she looked at you so fast that it seemed as if she was scared; scared of giving something away, betraying how she felt "I know something is different. You didn't talk to me for this passed hour and you look like a dear in headlights every time I look at you."

She wasn't saying anything. Was she spearing your feelings? Was she avoiding you because she didn't want to give you the wrong impression? Was she... Jesus, was she uncomfortable with your proximity?

You floated back a bit, giving her room. You knew this would happen, you knew giving yourself hope was idiotic.

"If you think I'll act differently... I won't" you reassured her in a small voice "I'll be normal, I'll keep it under control just as I've ever done. I won't expect anything to change or for you to want me back. I can do it, Larissa, I'm used to it. Just don't... do what you're doing now, looking at me horrified like that. Are you okay?" her face was slowly contorting into something horrible, shocked and... disgusted? You felt yourself starting to cry. What have you done?

"Oh my god, is this too much? Should I have kept quiet? Fuck! I'm so sorry, Larissa, I am. Please don't be repulsed, please forget it!" now you were sobbing. She didn't feel the same, and she was repelled.

You didn't see anything, tears clouding your almost-shut eyes when you felt the water and her arms around you.

"Shh, love. Calm down" her voice was soft in your hair "I'm not repulsed by you, how could I?" she pitied you, of course.

Still, you weren't strong enough not to give in and bury your face in her. Her chest was hot against your cold face.

"I'm not repulsed by you, I'm surprised with you" she continued whispering "I am disgusted, but only with myself" she parted from you a bit, taking your face in her hand "I'm disgusted that I was such an idiot not to have realized."

Her kind smile is a searing knife to your buttery heart. You didn't have her love, you had her pity, which was almost as painful as a disgusted rejection. She felt sympathy for you.

"Fuck" you let it escape in a broken gasp "I can't look at you Larissa, don't give me that" you were starting to swim away, feeling humiliated when her hand caught your forearm.

"What? Don't give you what? I'm not understanding your signals y/n, in one minute you're confessing to me and the next you are rejecting my feelings?"

What the hell was she talking about?

"What fucking feelings, Larissa?! I don't want your fucking pity, I love you! I can deal with you rejecting me but I can't just stand by as you think oh poor y/n, so desperately in love with me, wish I could feel the same!" you screamed at her, but she wasn't listening, she was smiling; quite beautifully so. She had a smile that could light an entire city plastered on her face.

You were confused and angry and didn't see it coming but in a second you were looking at her and the second she was kissing you. Ferociously. She was smiling against your lips and her hands held your face firmly. You melted into her, giving up the second her lips collided with yours. Of course you would let her do whatever she wanted, even if you didn't understand a flying shit of what was happening.

When she parted from you, smile still in place, you struggled to catch your breath.

"You absolute idiot. We are absolutely the biggest fools in this school" she laughed "I love you too, you silly girl" and she leaned in again, kissing you with the biggest smile on.

You stayed a bit longer at the lake; suddenly you didn't feel so cold anymore.

Sorry for the late post. Saturday is d&d day, so I wasn't at home for most of the afternoon. Kisses!

Part two can be found here.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #student!larissa #student!reader #student larissa weems #skinny dipping #outcast!reader #outdoor shenanigans #truth or dare #morticia frump #gomez addams #female reader #fluff #hurt/comfort #answered request

[desired-deity]

Okay, last ask of my kengi brainrot (or is it?)

Perhaps, mayhaps, maybe Mr Sunkenji x Streamer!reader

I was thinking the reader is a new Streamer whose known kenji for a while and so when they schedule their first stream ever ! Kenjis there hype man and joins their stream with his viewers just to help get them comfortable with streaming and it's just chaotic fluffy stuff on stream or something like that (this is the best way I could put my thoughts into words okay!)

The relationship reader has with Kenji could either be Platonic or Romantic I'm not picky

ANYWAYS, I'm super excited to see more of your work, especially if it got something to do with Kenji this mans don't get enough love on tumblr!

Can't wait to see your next fic !!!

Love from your dearest Kenji brainrot anon❤️❤️❤️

Yo! So sorry it took me so long to see this lol, I’ve been out because I’ve been traveling a lot lately, so sorry! But yes! I’ll gladly take this opportunity to write!!! Thank you for the request~

KENJI X STREAMER! Y/N

(I don’t think I saw anything specifically about gender so, I’m gonna do it as a GN reader!)

‘I’m so excited!’ Y/n thought, squealing at the thought of getting to do their first ever stream with their boyfriend, Kenji! Y/n just started being an independent vtuber and why not start off their first ever stream with their boyfriend? I mean- who wouldn’t t take the offer!

Sunkenji: Ready when you are, take your time if you need it ❤️

Y/n read the DM Kenji just sent them, smiling while responding,

Y/n: I’m ready!!! So excited to start the stream!!!

And so let the chaos commence

You and Kenji just had to play Project: Playtime. Great, lovely isn’t that…?

“Y/N! Y/N! FUCK FUCK FUCK! MOVEEEE”

“STOP RUSHING ME YOU MONKEY”

“FUCK-”

“Seriously. I told you to distract her!”

“WELL I’M SORRY THAT SHE WAS CHASING ME WITH HER LONG ASS LEGS AROUND THE MAP!”

And this went on for the rest of the night, screaming, yelling, and reading chat all night!

“Well, thank you all for coming to the stream today, thank you so much Kenji for joining me on my first ever twitch stream too! Bye guys!”

~A few weeks later~

Chat:

Tell Kenji we say hi!

Nice to see that you and Kenji are getting along!

Love that you guys are streaming together so often!

Totally ship you and Kenji, Y/n!

…

And that’s when you wanted to tell chat that you and Kenji had been together before you even started streaming until he also got the same chat in his stream,

“Oh yeah, we met before they even started streaming and got together, I’m lucky to have ‘em”

You started to blush and had your jaw drop, d-did he really just say that? Well- I mean- at least you didn’t have to spill it to chat!

“Love you too, Kenji ❤️”

#sunkenji #kenji x reader #gender nuetral reader #x y/n #kenji x y/n #❤️

[imminent-danger-came]

I love reading your tags- especially when theres just even MORE info dumping there.

The least favorite character ask made me giggle a bit, "This character that appeared for a single episode is actually pretty cool. And this character is really awesome in this particular context. But ALSO I really like this character with very little actual screentime."

You‘re absolutely right though! Characters whose only purpose is to fill a particular role are chosen really well too! Like the Host Girl; sure, she doesn’t really have a personality or anything, but she doesn’t NEED to have one. As you said, she‘s collateral damage. She gives us more insight to Wukong, she shows us just how ruthless he can be. He‘s willing to kill the epitome of innocence: A child. A defenseless little girl with a cutesy voice, who was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

(It‘s also worth a mention that, contrary to Wukong, she revealed a softer side of Macaque. Not to the extent the fandom built it up, but in an arguably more meaningful way. He‘s worried/feels bad for a total stranger. Even if it was only a concerned look, she once again gave us a deeper insight to a member of the main cast.)

And the characters with less focus either have really genuine interactions (Yellow Tusk with Azure) that just endear you to them, or they drop a banger line (like the Jade Emperor) before their purpose is fulfilled.

Nothing wrong with being a plot device if it‘s done well!

This wasn‘t really much of an ask rather than me rambling. Sorry.

I welcome rambles in my ask box! Half of you that show up in my ask box could just write your own analysis posts.

And you're also totally right! There isn't anything wrong with characters that are there just to function as plot devices. Sometimes a child is there just to be a child, and that's all they need to be. I think I feel this way about Megapolis (a name for the city that hasn't even been mentioned in show). Like it's a city filled with innocent people, it's MK & the Gang's home, and that's all it kinda needs to be tbh. LMK has to be extremely tight with what it chooses to focus on because of time constraints, and it does that well. When it comes down to it, focusing on the characters/plot is more important than focusing on the setting (which I think debatably wouldn't contribute much anyways—like we don't need more of a reason to care about the city, you know?).

I have this same opinion when it comes to the Demon Bull Family, which may be an unpopular take, but the truth is that a lot of their development happened off-screen. After ROTSQ and until we see them again in 3x06, it's clear that there have been positive changes between Red Son and his parents. I think I've seen some folk want Red Son to cut off his parents entirely, but that kinda goes against the core of his character. Part of Red Son's appeal for me is his complete devotion to his family despite their flaws (saving them in ROTSQ and EYD, attempting to save them in 4x09). Red Son and Princess Iron Fan only ever wanted world domination because that's what DBK wanted, and after that failed—they gave up. They hit the bricks. Red Son then started a food business with his dad (jealous of MK and Pigsy's noodle shop mayhaps?), and I think it's telling that DBK would even agree to do that to begin with. DBK and PIF's disregard of Red Son may not be acknowledged in the way people want, and I get that, but it's not that it didn't happen. I'd say there's another jump in their development between the end of 3x14 and the beginning of 4x09, where the fact that DBK calls out for Red Son as he gets taken away shows a closeness between them that we hadn't seen before. It's also clear that DBK has grown past the person who only wanted to create the world in his own image, chastising Azure Lion:

Demon Bull King: "How many times must you be struck down chasing this same foolish dream?"

(4x09 Roast of the Monkie Kids)

-

(Plus "This pursuit of yours has warped your mind brother—it is the only reason I could imagine that you would have the nerve to assault my home and harm my family!" echoing PIF in 1x10 "Come to your senses, this power has poisoned your mind!"; Azure unreasonably considers DBK a traitor like DBK had unreasonably considered Red Son a traitor, etc.)

DBK, unlike plenty of other antagonists in LMK (Spider Queen, LBD, and Azure specifically), learned to stop and accept the world as it was. He failed as a conqueror, but he still had his family, and he could try and not fail as a father for his "half-baked son"—or that's how I interpret DBK anyhow.

((I also want to bring up the fact that DBK didn't dare use the Samadhi Fire ring he had to power himself up with Red Son's furnace in AHIB. Like, even the Mr. Bull King has some restraint—there are prices too great to pay for the world, hence why he gave up on world domination after 1x10, when he almost killed his wife and son.))

To me it makes the Demon Bull Family feel like characters that exist outside of MK & the Gang, and can grow/change even when they're not on screen with our main characters, and I think that's cool. We also legitimately didn't have time for anything else.

#So tldr on the way the DB family has been handled thus far: I get if people don't like it that's completely fair #but idk if it's objectively bad. #I know there's a Villad's interview out there where he says he thinks during s2 Red Son took a lot of time to himself #That he realized some thangs about how his parents had treated him you know #And I get if people are disappointed by that. Unfortunately they're minor characters at this point & we got a lot of other stuff to focus o #Me personally I like what we have #They are insane for paralleling the Demon Bull family's one scene in s4 with 1x10 #Like. Holy shit their writing is TIGHT #lmk #lego monkie kid #asks #lmk Red Son #lmk DBK #lmk PIF #lmk analysis #you know what I think I just realized I legitimately like DBK. Like a decent amount. #The way he looks away in shame from PIF in 3x06 before she explains the Samadhi fire's origins. Omg. Is that guilt??? #''So you can see it would be impossible for fools such as yourselves to control that power— #if even the spawn of the Demon Bull King himself could not.'' #OMG!!!!!!! #anyways

[blackknight-100]

hi, can i request something? i was thinking that we don't get to see rama hearing about sita (who's miraculous birth and deeds must have been stories that spread to ayodhya as well as other kingdoms) before they meet as we do see sita hearing about rama and admiring him in adaptations. so, it would be great if you could write an au on 5 times rama heard about sita and 1 time he told someone about her (maybe luv-kush or hanuman/the vanaras). thank you!

Hello there! Thanks for the ask, this was very interesting to write, and I discovered I have so many opinions and headcanons about a bunch of characters and their relationships I could make a whole entire post out of it. Also, this is a 4k+ monster, so beware :D

1.

“They found her where?”

Rama looks up from his dessert blearily to where Bharata is frowning at their King Father. It is a sweet spring morning, and their family is gathered around the table breaking their fast. Beside his drooping self, Lakshmana bounces restlessly.

“I want the curd,” he whines.

Mother Kaikeyi answers her son as she passes the dish over. “She was buried in the earth, and King Janaka found her under the plough.”

“How was she not mowed down? Do people stare at the ground as they plough? Why did the oxen not trample her? How did she survive in the heat? Who put her- ”

“Bharata,” Mother Kaikeyi frowns at him. “One question at a time. Someone must have left her there – a god, perhaps, or some poor peasant who did not have money to feed a child. How she survived the heat and the yoke and the oxen I do not know. A miracle, clearly, and proof that the child is blessed.”

“I hope Janaka raises her as his own,” Mother Sumitra says, waving her hand vaguely in the air, “since he found her and everything.”

“Found who?” Rama asks at last, finally interested in the conversation.

“A baby,” Shatrughan grouses. He is five summers old and has formed many opinions on babies ever since Shanta didi brought Rahul over; not one of them is complimentary. “I do not understand what the fuss is all about. Surely, it is as ugly and dirty as all others.”

Mother Koushalya laughs. “You know, a mere couple of years ago, you were a baby yourself.”

“Ew.”

“Now, now,” Father chides him. “Mithila is suffering from terrible droughts. Mayhaps the child will bring them good luck.”

“That is an awful lot of hope to pin on a babe,” Mother Sumitra remarks, cynical as ever.

There is a blessed silence as everyone contemplates this. Mithila falling out of Indra’s favour is old news; over the past years many messengers have come and gone from Ayodhya’s royal court, and many carts have rolled between the two kingdoms, bearing grains that would never be enough. Mithila had enough fertile lands to feed herself, but her people were more inclined to knowledge and learning, and rarely took up tools to divert rivers or dig canals. The seasonal monsoons watered most of their lands; without it the crops had withered and burnt in their fields, and the hard earth cracked open to gaping maws unsuitable for any agricultural endeavor. That a mere girl, however divine-born she might have been, could cure such a calamity…

“In any case,” Mother Koushalya says primly, giving their father A Look, “let us hope King Janaka will take her for the blessing she is. Daughters are not to be forsaken.”

Father sighs. “Dear, please…” he murmurs, then quails under his wife’s glare. Daughters are a sore subject between Ayodhya’s King and her eldest Queen.

“Do we know what her name is?” Rama asks, and Mother Kaikeyi smirks at his unsubtle attempt to steer the conversation away.

Dasharatha latches onto the distraction with both hands. “Whose name? The girl’s?”

Rama nods.

“They named her after the furrow she was found in.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm,” Dasharatha smiles. “She is called Sita.”

2.

It is late when Guru Vishwamitra decides to halt for the night and invites the brothers to sit by their little fire.

“You did well today,” he says, and Rama thinks the sage almost looks pleased.

“It was all your blessings, Guruji,” he demurs, “and that of our parents’.”

Beside him Lakshmana supresses a snort, noting how he left Guru Vashistha out of the mix. While their companion ruminates on this with a beatific smile, his brother whispers in his ears, “You are going to be a great politician one day.”

Rama elbows him. Lakshmana elbows back, and then it is a boyish game that is barely discreet. Rama can feel the beginnings of a smile twitching on his face.

They are interrupted by Guru Vishwamitra, who folds his hands sternly over his lap, turns to them, and asks, without the barest hint of hesitation, “Say, Rama, have you ever thought of marriage?”

Rama sputters. Beside him, Lakshmana tenses, prepared to fend off any and all questions until Rama decides what to answer, like he always did back in Ayodhya, because Rama has the best brother in the whole wide world. But Guru Vishwamitra rolls over any protests.

“We shall stop at Mithila next, and the noble King Janaka has under his care four comely young maidens – two his own, and two his brother’s.”

The crickets chirp in the shadow of the forest. Rama stares, unblinking and silent.

“Forgive my impudence, revered one,” Lakshmana says at last, when it becomes evident that Rama will not answer, “but my brother believes it is improper to speak of such matters without consulting our elders.” His brother chances a glance at him. “And he also thinks the man and the woman should get to know each other beforehand.”

The last part is entirely Lakshmana’s own addition, since he despises the idea of marriage and has long hoped to turn away any potential suitors by acting churlishly. That is unlikely to happen, given that few fathers care for their daughters’ opinions, and Lakshmana is charming even in his devilry. Rama refrains from mentioning any of this, especially because Lakshmana has clearly caught the ‘four maidens’ comment.

Guru Vishwamitra nods, meanwhile, as if he has expected something such all along.

“That is all very well, my boy, but let me tell you this. Janaka’s eldest child is the mightiest woman to ever walk upon Aryavart, and the most virtuous. When she was yet a child, she lifted with one dainty hand the Destroyer’s bow. Then her father declared that such a maiden’s hand may only be claimed by one who could perform a similar feat.”

“How… awe-inspiring,” Rama manages at last, already daunted by the thought of this princess.

Guru Vishwamitra smiles. It is the kind of smile that Shatrughan has when someone is about to find dead fish among their clothes.

“Do not worry about your father,” the sage says nonchalantly. “We shall reach Mithila by tomorrow. Look sharp, Rama, it is the princess’s Swayamvar. You will lift the Pinaka, and then knowledge and valour shall be wedded, and what a joyous day it shall be! Do you not agree?”

“Ah, Guruji,” Rama gropes about for anything that will dissuade him. “The Pinaka is a legendary bow, and I am but a young boy.”

“I have faith in your ability, Bhaiyya,” says the traitor heretofore known as Lakshmana, Rama’s brother, “and as he told you, our Guru thinks similarly.”

“I do not even know her name,” Rama says, desperately elbowing Lakshmana when the latter starts to snicker.

Their Guru shrugs. “That is easily solved. She is called Sita.”

3.

Rama is broken. There is no other way to put it – this empty haze that mars his sight, this endless sorrow that mires him down, this bleak, bleak search that shall never end – Rama is irrevocably ruined.

He feels nothing save grief and rage, and knows nothing save that they must go on and on and on, till they have eclipsed the earth thrice over, till they have searched every nook and cave and treeshade, pausing neither for food nor rest nor death.

He screams, sometimes at the forest and sometimes into the earth, and sometimes at foolish, foolish Lakshmana, who is so exhausted and so dear, and Rama thinks he knows what the Pinaka’s master will do at the breaking of the world, for he feels that catastrophe within the traitorous organ beating in his chest, calling through the bars of his bones like a forgotten prisoner, ‘Sita! Sita! Sita!’

“Bhaiyya, please,” Lakshmana begs, gripping his shoulders tighter than ever before.

Once Rama was stronger, but now he even struggles to loosen his hold. “Let me go,” he wails, writhing and unseeing. “I will not, I cannot- ”

“You need to, Bhaiyya,” Lakshmana insists, tightening his hands, pressing fingers to the hollow between Rama’s clavicle and collarbone.

Rama shakes like Mount Meru trembling under Sachi’s wrath. “I need to?” he demands. “I need to? Like you needed to leave Sita, needed to search for me, despite your faith in me, despite knowing that- ”

Lakshmana’s hands unclench, and Rama finds himself sinking. His gaze clears, little by little, and he hears his brother make a strange, muffled sound, and he is sinking to his knees, familiar hands guiding him, but no longer restraining. There is an Asoka’s trunk to his right, and he is made to lean against it, all gentle-soft and slow. When he looks up, Lakshmana’s face is turned away, tears leaking out of the corner of his eye, mingling with the blood on his chin from where he has bitten his lip to hold back a sob.

“Lakshmana,” he murmurs, reaching out to him, and oh, there are flecks of dried blood on his knuckles, and oh, Lakshmana’s temple is a sickly purple when he looks back, like the costliest dhoti muddied by rain, and when, oh, when did he strike the most beloved of brothers, and why?

Lakshmana is kneeling beside him, always one reverent inch behind the bend of his arm, running a thumb over the crimson remnants of violence.

“It was not your fault,” he soothes, lilting like a childhood song. “You did not see me coming.”

When? he wants to ask, how? But the haze returns like insidious tendrils of fog. He should be comforting Lakshmana, he thinks, for it was always his job to quieten his brother’s temper. Lakshmana needs comforting, he knows, but Lakshmana is not angry. Why, then…

Someone shakes his shoulder. “Bhaiyya?”

“Uh,” he offers intelligently.

“I am going to get some water, okay? Please, please do not leave. You need to rest awhile; we are no use to Bhabhi if we are dead.”

He waits for Rama to nod his assent, and leaves with tear-tracks on his cheeks. That was why Rama should have comforted his brother – Lakshmana was crying. And now he is gone, and Rama is seated under a tree waiting for him to bring water, like that blind old couple had so many years ago waited in vain for Shravana Kumara. They cursed his father for slaying the boy, and that curse drags ever on, even today. What would Rama do if some stray arrow found his brother’s heart? Would he curse the shooter, even if it was a chance of fate? No, he thinks, he would hunt them down, and then burn cursed Dandaka, all the way from the Vindhyas to the unresting sea, with every man and beast and rakhshasha in it.

Perhaps because he has such a keen ear, or perhaps because he is thinking about it, he hears a terrible, piercing groan, and shoots up. The sound comes again, and Rama runs. It does not occur to him that he runs the other way, or that he should take his bow. All he does is plough through the tall trees, tripping on roots and choking on outstretched branches, fighting against Aranyani’s will.

When he finally stumbles upon the body, all he can think of is that it isn’t Lakshmana. Then the groan comes again, and he rushes over to the feathered being, kneels by its side. Once, it must have been a great bird, but now there are only stumps where the wings would have been, and it has a gaping hole in its stomach.

“My dear,” Rama says, already knowing it beyond saving, “rest. All will be well.”

To his surprise, the bird opens its eyes. “Who are you?” it asks, in a distinctly masculine voice.

“Rama, son of Dasharatha,” Rama says, and looks up to some scuffling. “That is my brother, Lakshmana,” he adds, as said brother tumbles into the clearing with wide eyes, twin bows and ruffled hair.

“Dasharatha?” Clarity rushes to the bird’s eyes. “Once, I, Jatayu, named him friend. Wait, you are Rama and Lakshmana? That woman called for you.”

“So we are,” Lakshmana agrees, kneeling as well. “What woman sought us, noble Jatayu?”

“The fairest of them,” Jatayu says, “with the darkest curls and most beautiful mien I ever knew. She wept from the perch of the Pushpaka Vimana and called high and low for aid, even as Ravana took her ever southward to his golden state. I sought to free her, friends, and so I fell wingless from the sky.”

Rama dares not hope, dares not breathe. “Southward?” he asks, settling on the least painful, and most important detail.

“Southwards to Lanka,” Jatayu explains, words slurring again, “to that seagirt island he names his own. I shall not be here long, but I beg you, make haste my friends.”

There is a noose uncoiling from Rama’s chest. He needs to thank Jatayu for his aid, for trying to save his wife, for being their father’s friend; he needs to make sure he passes away in peace. And he will do it all, only after one last question.

“Do you know who she was?”

“Mhmm,” Jatayu hums. “She called herself Sita.”

4.

Hanuman leads them up Mount Rishyamukh with nimble leaps and fleet feet. Rama and Lakshmana toil behind, each hard-faced so as not to give away how strenuous they find all this jumping.

“I feel like a stray goat,” his brother mutters, teeth clenched to hold back huffs. “He is showing off for you, and naturally, I am the one caught in the middle.”

“If you think I am enjoying this…” Rama begins, then sighs to mask his panting.

“Then why do you not ask our guide to slow down? He seems to like you well enough.”

Rama snootily turns his nose up in the air. “We are the scions of Ikshvaku, heirs of the Raghu clan. We must endure.”

“You mean you must endure.” Lakshmana’s voice is sardonic as he continues, “If my honour comes from attempted suicide by heat exhaustion, I care little for it.”

“If I have to climb up this thrice-damned mountain without protest, then so will you.”

Silence. Rama turns, alarmed, half afraid his jesting has been taken seriously. They have not spoken about everything that came to pass in the weeks before meeting Jatayu, and although Lakshmana’s bruise has long healed, Rama’s heart has not. But no, his brother is smirking and shaking his head, and when Lakshmana speaks, his voice quivers with mirth. “You are mean.”

Rama exhales, yet relief does not come.

“Lak- ” he begins, but is immediately interrupted by a joyous shout from above.

“Prabhu!” Hanuman beams down at them, “We are here.” Then he turns and addresses someone else, “Oh, please do tell Maharaj Sugriva, he shall be most elated.”

Lakshmana eyes the remaining steps and then surveys the distance they have come.

“This should not have been so difficult,” he mumbles, and Rama is inclined to agree. Once the two of them could have scaled the peak without breaking a sweat and run three miles afterwards. All that crying and bumbling about the forest must have made them soft.

Sugriva – dressed in old finery and worn purples – comes to meet them in a great, cavernous hall, reeking of cheap wine and misery. The crown on his head is scratched and askew.

“Show them what we found,” he tells one of the attendants, after Hanuman has recounted their tale of woe, and nods to them. “Please, have a seat, my lords.”

Rama sits and tries not to quiver with anticipation. This is it. He can feel it in the air – this is the key to rescuing Sita. Lakshmana stands by his side, half a step behind, and places a hand on his shoulder.

“We found them on the ground,” Sugriva says, tail flicking nervously. “By the time I was called, it was all over, but my Vanaras say a great golden chariot had flown across the skies, and from it came the weeping of a maiden most fair.”

He pauses, as a worn pouch is brought in, and a bearer places tall earthen glasses of drinks before them. Rama ignores the latter and reaches for the pouch.

“This has the ornaments you found?”

“Yes.”

Rama pulls apart the string holding it together and turns it over on his palm. A familiar necklace falls out, thick and glittering gold, followed by a lonely earring, a chain, and an anklet strung with little bells.

Rama stares.

“Prabhu?” Hanuman probes. “Are these the ones you seek?”

“Yes,” he breathes, fingers trembling, stroking the trinkets as if they could somehow pass on his affection to their beloved wearer. “These are hers.”

He looks up to an assortment of pitying glances. They can tell the woman is someone important, though neither Rama nor his brother had revealed in as many words that Sita was his wife. Did they think of him an idiot, a desperate father, or a maddened brother, or a lovelorn husband clutching to circumstantial proof of a dear one’s presence?

As he has done these past weeks, and all their lives, Lakshmana comes to the rescue. “I recognise the anklet.”

Sugriva hesitates. “My Lord Lakshmana?”

“The anklet,” he repeats. “I saw it every morn when I knelt for her blessings. I would not confuse them for any other.”

“And the others?”

“Uh,” Lakshmana blinks. “I would not dare be so importune with a lady as to stare at her person” – here Rama catches Sugriva stiffen minutely, as a guilty man does when caught, but Lakshmana has spoken without malice, and it passes as quickly as comes – “but her sister has an earring of similar fashion.”

“You will not look at her but you will look at her sister,” Sugriva notes, and it is interesting how he has latched onto that.

Lakshmana turns pink. “I married her sister?” he says, phrasing it like a question, as if all those days with Urmila were a fever dream. Rama can relate.

There is an awkward pause, and his brother plows on with all the daintiness of the bulls that once ploughed the land Sita rose from. “What was she like?”

“I told you – I have not seen her. My people told me this: that she was the fairest maiden they ever beheld, shining like the sun at high noon, that her voice was like starlight, and that she called for the scions of Raghu to aid her. Twice she called for one Raghurai, and once for a Saumitra.”

Rama cannot help the smile on his face. Of course, Sugriva will surely ask for some terrible recompense, but he is an outcast King, and exiled besides. He will not shirk from helping.

Beside him, he feels his brother relax. “She is no mere maid,” Lakshmana drawls. “She is the daughter of King Janaka, of distant Mithila, and the wife of Rama, prince of Ayodhya. She is Sita.”

5.

Rama eyes the prodigious young twins seated on the floor of his court. They are young, barely a year older than Bharata’s oldest, and the sight of them makes something in Rama’s chest tremble. It has been a long time since he has been blessed with the sight of his wife, save in the terrible gilded statue that occupies her place beside him. Today, though, he sees her everywhere – in the curls of the twins' hair, in the way the older one smiles, and the younger wrinkles his nose. He sees her even in the way they hold their veena, which makes little sense, given that most people hold their instruments the same way.

They had introduced themselves as students of Rishi Valmiki, without any patronymic. That means nothing. They could simply be referring to the one who sent them here. But their mother must have been pregnant the same time as Sita, if age is any indication, and Sita had been having twins, and they did look awfully like her...

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” says Kusha, the older twin, his hair sticking up like the grass he was named for.

His voice is a blessing, for it derails Rama's terrible thoughts, and a curse, for it sounds so like Sita's that he may as well be in Mithila's gardens more than two decades ago, facing a demure princess who would later be his wife.

This is folly, he thinks, nodding at the young ones, permitting them audience.

Kusha continues, “Our Guru, the mighty sage Valmiki, was immensely inspired by your tale. Thus, he composed an epic, so all the world may remember the valour of Shri Rama.”

“It is still being written as we speak,” Luv says, picking up where his brother left, “but we have learnt in song all that was penned down before we departed. If His Majesty pleases, we would be honoured to present it to you.”

Rama stares, then hesitates. Seeking self-praise is the path to downfall, and the story is painful besides. All save Lakshmana look eager – even Urmila, though she must have been told everything, either by her husband or by Sita. He should praise their dedication and send them away with blessings and a few gifts. There is no point in unearthing such sorrow again, not when the story has no triumph, and Sita is not by his side.

Luv and Kusha look up at him, familiar doe eyes wide and beseeching. They are clutching each other’s hands, tense with anticipation. Rama opens his mouth to disappoint them, and instead says, “Very well, we shall hear you.”

He could have cursed himself them, but the answering smiles he receives wash away all self-recrimination.

The courtiers clasp their hands and lean forward, and the boys bob their heads in a semblance of a bow.

“Hear us,” Luv proclaims, “for we sing of Rama, son of Dasharatha, of blessed Ayodhya.”

It is a familiar tale, of the joys of his childhood and the days at the Gurukul, the love of his father and three gentle mothers. But Rama knows, the grief is about to come.

He allows a tremulous smile when they sing of Sita’s Swayamvara, for it was a joyous occasion. He holds his breath when Ravana of the tale carries Sita away, but pain lances through him only once. He trembles when they exalt Sita’s resolve in the face of misery, trapped in her golden prison, and shivers when they recount Lakshmana’s deadly injury.

But just as he thinks that perhaps, having lived through it once, he has numbed himself enough to be able to get through this without the waterworks, the song rolls to their victory, and to Sita’s freedom.

“And then Rama of the golden bow,” Kusha intones, “says ‘I have not yet sunk so low, to take back unquestioned a spouse that has lived a year in another’s house.’”

Half the court inhales, and Rama feels a telltale burn behind his eyes. What has he done? He wants to throw out the boys, forgetting his fondness for them, wants to scream and curse and run away. But he is an Emperor, and this is his court, and such behaviour is unbecoming. The lay turns stern and punishing, quickening to a chant.

Sita in the epic stands as straight and bold as she had all those years ago, before an army of thousands. Her hair is a riot of curls blacker than the length of Nisha’s dread night; her face is as gaunt as Dhumavati’s terrible mien. When she speaks her voice is Indra’s thunder across the sky, devoid of any love or affection. “If you shall question me, husband,” she says, “then may Agni judge me. Lakshmana, son, make me a pyre.”

Lakshmana of the tale weeps, as he does in real life, both then and now. And Ravana’s captive, all molten iron clothed in a delicate body, walks out of the pyre unblemished and unburnt, lit red and orange and yellow – a living flame. For she is Janaka’s daughter and Rama’s wife, but she is also the mightiest woman that Aryavart would ever know, and the most virtuous.

The song ends with exaltations of their victory, and the joy of reunion, but Rama, seated beside a lamentable golden mockery of a woman he once named his own, hears none of it. His tears come hot and unbidden, like summer tempests across the plain, and he weeps and weeps and weeps.

+1.

Luv kneels on the green grass, wide eyes following an eagle's flight across the sky. Rama strokes his head, soft and gentle and in love. It is a tranquil morning, and Rama wonders if he should postpone court to prolong this moment. Beside him, Kusha hums softly, sprawled over the grass.

“You look melancholic,” Rama observes.

Kusha shrugs. Rama has yet to learn all his son’s expressions, but this one he knows intimately. His son misses Sita. Now that she is not here, it is his duty to comfort him. The thought warms Rama's heart nigh as much as it chills.

“Your mother,” he begins, then hesitates, unsure.

Kusha sits up. “What of her?” he demands, cornered and defensive.

Rama holds up his hands, feels Luv’s glower boring into the side of his face. Sita is a sensitive topic, lying between them with the treachery of a coiled snake, defying the peaceful manner of its namesake.

“Would you like to hear about her?” he offers at last.

Kusha frowns. Luv crawls over to look at his face. “Hear what?”

“Whatever you wish to know.” Rama will likely come to regret this, for they undoubtedly will ask something difficult to answer, but as the furrows part from Kusha’s brows, Rama thinks they can push through. He opens his arms, gathering them close, and kisses the top of their heads. Like this, it is not hard to understand why Dasharatha thirsted so desperately for sons, even if he was fated to die grieving for them.

Kusha interrupts his musing with a question. “Do you love her?”

“Of course!” Rama is scandalised enough that Kusha has the decency to look a little guilty.

That, however, does not stop him from his next question. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you love her?”

Rama cannot believe they are having this conversation, even though he can see why they might be curious.

“How could I not?” he says at last, when it becomes evident that silence will not make Kusha forget his question. “Sita was the loveliest woman – kind, generous, and brave.”

Kusha does not appear the least bit happy and Rama startles when Luv pokes his arm.

“Nuh-uh,” his son says, “those are easy things to say. You have to pick one.”

Rama opens his mouth to answer, then pauses. This is some sort of a test. Luv and Kusha have been wary of him ever since they arrived at the palace, hiding away from him and mingling mostly with their cousins. He is suddenly aware that this answer could have tremendous repercussions. But what can he say to such a question? How can he define peerless Sita with one virtue?

The children look up at him expectantly, so Rama clears his throat and tries to think. Sita was charming, and her beauty helped, but that was not the foremost of merits.

“Sita was… good at being good,” Rama says slowly, barely able to keep himself from quailing at the twin raised eyebrows. “It is hard to explain, you understand? But her virtues were restrained. She was terribly forgiving, but not so forgiving that she would take upon her a sentence twice over when she knew herself to be innocent. She could be generous, but never to a fault. She was selfless, but not so selfless that she would deny herself easy pleasures.”

And was that not true? Sita was pure, and in his heart of hearts Rama knows that even if Ravana had touched or defiled her, even if Agni burnt her, it would only be her body that fell, only her vessel of flesh who would be blamed; she soul was far too pure and mighty to be affected.

And this is Raghuvamsa’s folly – they will cling to promises and tradition even in death, will give up sons to satisfy wives, forgive villainous servants and shy from righteous rage, forsake wives for the words of ignorant men. Had Rama not loved Sita for the same reason he loved Lakshmana? That even follies were to be embraced, even elders could be spoken against, even golden deer could be chased for the sheer joy of it.

“She had no excesses,” Rama tells their children. “She would forgive me for testing her once, but not twice. And I do not think I could have loved her as much if she accepted it.”

Luv and Kusha are looking at him. Rama tries to blink away his tears, but they come and come and come.

“Sita…” His breath catches, but he plows on. “They tell us that it is important to be selfless, to never ask for more than you have – not unless you can earn it yourself. But Sita knew I loved giving her things – clothes, jewels, flowers, anything. And even in the forest she would ask for a flower or a fruit or a sapling, because she knew it brought me joy. She cared.” The tears are falling now, but Rama cannot stop. “She cared, and then I threw it away. I knew her, and I failed her.”

Rama puts his face in his hands and sobs. All this, and he is not even sure he has managed an answer. He starts at the feel of small hands, and of cheeks pressed against each shoulder.

“What is past is gone,” Kusha murmurs, close by his ear. “But we are here. Father, we will always be here.”

The gong for the court sounds, yet no one moves. Perhaps Rama has not failed at everything.

#i have so many feelings about this #I'm pretty sure I've rendered a few of them OOC bc that's how I see them in my head #but no way everything was as glowy as everyone makes it seem #will add on later about the other gods and goddesses referenced #rama #ram #lakshmana #lakshman #laxman #bharat #shatrughan #sita #hanuman #sugriva #ramayan #ramayana #hindu mythology #luv #kusha #ask #answered #boo writes #5 + 1 fic

[huntingrays]

man, i have an idea for a jason revival fic/valgrace fic that i rlly wanna do, but I already have like… 3 valgrace wips, one of them being a different revival fic. also i dont have much of a plan for the whole fic, just some small ideas.

basically, the premise is that due to the prophecies n shit being messed up in toa, peoples’s fates are messed up as well.

so, after toa, the fates are trying to fix the fates of those whose fates were messed up by the whole ordeal. one of them was jason. so, they bring him back (but don’t bother to tell him… or anyone else, really).

the only problem? the classic issue of bringing someone back. jason comes back wrong. instead of being normal human jason, he can shift into a wolf, and a big one at that (my personal headcanon is that he’s like torso/shoulder height on an average, fully grown adult. ye, a big boi). also, he comes back in wolf form, and can’t shift back. he’s vaguely aware of who he is, but not much beyond that. he’s also vaguely aware of the smells of people he knows and trusts (but not what they look like or specifically why they’re important to him… or that he should somehow inform them that he is jason grace, back from the dead and now a wolf).

so basically, leo is sent on some quest (mayhaps a solo quest? or he’s separated from his friends for a time) and during it, he ends up having to fight vicious beasts under the control of some monsters. they decide to start out with their most vicious, which is wolf jason. leo doesn’t want to fight an innocent creature so he thinks fast and he’s able to escape with both himself and the wolf. once they’re safe, he takes off the device controlling wolf jason, and the two end up becoming friends. jason doesn’t realize leo is his best friend, but he gets from his smell that leo is important to him and that he’d do anything to keep him safe, which is just what he decides to do. leo doesn’t know this wolf is jason (literally why would he?), but he does think the wolf reminds him a lot of jason (with blue eyes and a scar on his muzzle that reminds him of the scar on jason’s lip) so he decides to call him “jay” and keeps him around as a much needed companion.

that’s pretty much the bulk of what i wanted to write. didn’t have much else planned besides that… expect for a vague idea for how the reveal/shift back happens. basically, the idea i had was somehow, maybe towards the end of the quest, there’s a fight by a cliff. also, maybe others are there, for more people to bant with and added tension. in the fight, leo nearly gets knocked off and is hanging on by just a hand. wolf jason goes to save him, but he doesn’t have arms or hands or thumbs to grabs him with, so he just like, bites his arm and starts to drag him up that way. however, as he’s pulling him up, the ground crumbles under them and they both fall. and jason, he cares about and loves leo. he would do anything to keep him safe. so, just in time, he manages to shift back out of sheer desperation to save leo, and safely floats them to the ground. I’d imagine leo would be very shocked (his dead best friend is now alive and as the wolf he’d been traveling with but now he’s very alive). idk what happens after that… probably meeting with some very shocked friends, bc if they were there with people, those guys just saw leo and a wolf fall to their death but suddenly float back as leo with a somehow alive jason and no wolf.

idk the only other ideas i had were just shenanigans at camp with wolf shifter jason. i imagine he’s not that scary as a wolf, just like… a big, dumb dog. a big, dumb dog that only bites if you hurt leo. leo does really mind jason being all protective, he loves any form of positive attention. he just thrives off of it. jason would definitely weaponize his sad puppy dog eyes to get leo to take a break. maybe we can apply some werewolf rules and say he like has to be in wolf form during the full moon? and leo definitely messes with him, like pretending to throw a ball but actually not, which jason gives him the silent treatment for a day after. also, jason being clean in human form doesn’t transfer over to wolf form, so leo has to give him bathes. and wolf jason hates the bathes and is very vocal about it. leo also hates the bathes because jason is very stubborn and makes it much harder than it needs to be. he ends up getting more clean than jason by the end. idk, the idea of serious jason being a silly, dramatic, goofy wolf strikes joy. i also imagine that, when he sees leo lying down, if he’s in wolf form that he just goes over to him and lays his whole body down on leo’s, much to leo’s dismay. but leo allows it bc he spoils wolf jason. also no clue how valgrace get together… just that it happens at some point. also, idk i imagine that he loves human jason and wolf jason in different ways. human jason is his bf but wolf jason is just his silly lil guy.

#pjo #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo spoilers #toa spoilers #jason grace #leo valdez #valgrace #wolf jason strikes joy #idk how to tag rambling about a wip that may never happen #maybe one day i’ll write a fic with silly wolf jason shenanigans #also i fucking love jason being protective over leo sue me #jason will be protective over him in every fic i write #i deserve to be as self indulgent as i want #and my brain wants leo to be protected by his bf #and also protected by his best friend pipes #he deserves to be taken care of #they protect him and in return he takes care of them by feeding them and tending to any wounds they may get

[moonflower91]

"Shut up, Aegon."

A/N: this occurs before Aemond claimed Vhgar, and he and his siblings are at the wake of Laena, just being siblings.

Aemond Targaryen/sister!OC

“We’ve nothing in common.” Aegon grumbled as the three siblings stared that their eldest sister. Helaena was lost in her own head, (as mother said), once more, mumbling softly to herself as she guided her new found spider over her hands. Saerah had always counted her sister brave for her love of insects, because she herself was quite terrified of spiders. When she and Helaena spent time together, it was usually without their tiny, crawly, creepy presence because the last time Helaenra tried to show her a beetle, she'd ran from the room and hadn't been back until mother promised her the beetle was put away.

Of course, that didn’t stop Helaena from speaking about them, but Saerah didn’t really mind. If only Aegon could feel the same.

"Of course, Helaena is sweet and intelligent, and you're mean and drunk all the time." Saerah spit. Helaena was ten times as smart as any one of them, but because of Helaena's strange riddles, no one believed it. Saerah couldn't form a riddle to save her life, and her sister did it every say without trying. Helaena was the cleverest person she knew.

"Oh shut up, Saerah, you're just angry that mother didn't petition for you to wed me."

"Why would she marry you?" Aemond growled, a scowl on his face and casting a look towards his elder brother.

"And why would mother have me wed an idiot?" Aegon countered, glaring back at the younger boy as he gestured to his betrothed, still unbothered and tending to her new little friend with tenderness.

“She’s our sister.” Aemond reminded him, hoping at least, to impress upon their fool of a brother the need for family love, if not the love of man an wife.

“You marry her then.” Aegon scoffed, sneering at the younger boy.

Cut out of her silent observation of her dear sister, Saerah's head snapped towards the two, eyes blazing and her response as quick as lightening.

“If Aemond is going to wed anyone, it will be me. That's why mother suggested poor Helaena over me.”  Aegon’s face would have been highly amusing, had he not said something Saerah considered wretched. Aemond was hers, and she was his and that was just how it was and always would be. To wed him to another would be like ripping a body in two and calling it whole. Monstrous. Unthinkable.

“Oh ho ho, brother!” he looked to Aemond, whose cheeks had started turning pink. Beneath his cloak, so his idiot brother would not see, his fingers brushed against Saerah's. It would be too obvious if they held hands, interlocking their fingers, and that would only give Aegon more vigor in his taunts. Instead, Saerah reached out with her own fingers, and brushed his own--a greeting, an assurance, an promise. “Me thinks he likes the idea very much, baby sister.”

“Shut up, Aegon.” The twins murmured back.

“If the two of you do, in fact wed, mayhaps mother will stop this crusade to make me take Helaena.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #fanficiton #house of the dragon #asoiaf #game of thrones #aegon ii targaryen

[edgyandoverzealous]

Bacause Cringe culture is dead and I am back in my FNAF SB phase. Explaining your Kins as the therapist friend but I'm feeling salty so it's all just calling you out. Except I felt bad after a little bit so they each have a funny/lighthearted one calling me out.

Glamrock Freddy

How's those daddy issues doing?

Was he emotionally absent, physically absent, or was he just distant and unaffectionate?

I'm willing to bet he called you superstar once and you immediately started kinning.

Additionally how're those abandonment issues treating ya?

On a scale from 1/10 how displeased were you when Freddy got dragged away by moon 'cause he powered down before he got to the charging station?

You know he originally was gonna turn on you right? That would worsen your abandonment issues, you should thank Scott for that one.

You are the parent friend btw, Ily please bring bandaids and painkillers I'm accident prone and ignore pain until it's unbearable. We may be going to the ER</3

Glamrock Chica

Are you a Lesbian? Or are you the oldest child who uses gentle techniques of sibling-parenting?

How do you feel knowing you probably aren't listened to?

How's your mommy issues doing?

Do you mayhaps think that people won't want you unless you give them something?

Do you feel like no one takes care of you but you always have to take care of everyone else?

How's your relationship with food going? Yeah, me too. Note that chica physically can't eat by the end as well.

Do you even speak/Do you ever shut up?

Scared of overcoddling but also terrified of taking a step back and away because you feel like if you stop they'll all leave you much?

Choir/Band/Theatre kid or grandparent friend with hard candies in their purse that I would eat wrapper and all because intrusive thought said to and shiny.

Roxxane Wolf

So are you a Lesbian, furry, or e-girl simp? Or are you the oldest child who uses more forceful/low-key mean techniques of sibling-parenting?

How's the crippling self doubt and God complex treating you?

How's crying in your room because you yelled at them and said something mean but don't know how to say sorry going?

What about that inferiority complex?

Pushing everyone away because they'll only leave you? Ding ding ding we have a winner.

Burnt out perfectionist?

You're the type of friend whose love language is bullying and play fighting. Be careful you don't make your friend cry, I am the friend that'd cry.

Monty Gator

Self-destructive behavior, pent up aggression and always looking for a reason to fight?

Anger issues much? Or do you just simp for Bonnie's replacement because you saw one too many human Monty edits?

You're probably short too, huh? Just like the fuse you have when given a chance. Or your big and burly which also is terrifying.

How's your constant existential crisis going?

Do you feel like there's a looming expectation that's too big for you to fill over your head?

Do you feel like you're never first choice?

That you're simply a replacement for everyone else?

How about respect? Do you ever give or receive it? No?

Are you always restless? Yeah? Thought so.

You're the protective friend who is willing to throw hands with anyone who disturbs their friends. Me too honestly, I've been held back on multiple occasions because I'm a short queer man and it's in my veins.

Glamrock Bonnie

So are you still sobbing over that one line, you know the one, or are you living on fan theories? Like how are you still kicking?

How's your mental health? Bad? Yeah I thought so.

Anxiety and depression kin you honey? <3

Disasciotiating royalty, you.

You long for something in your past that cannot be changed.

You fall for what you know you can't have and never will be obtained, don't you?

You felt robbed by the game and that's okay. I miss him too.

Sun/Moon

You scare me, legitimately you scare me. Y'alls fandom is legitimately impressive especially for insert types. You have one of every flavor and are insanely good at drawing the skrunglies less skrungly. Good for you.

Additionally how's healing your inner child going?

And those mommy and daddy issues?

I'm sorry you weren't held as a child?

Too busy parenting everyone else to have been cared for the same?

Forced to grow up too fast?

You were definitely a traumatized child. Adults let you down and now you seek comfort in a robot of two extremes as unstable as your adolescence.

You're the "childish" friend. Silly, sweet, and full of fun but you are by no means innocent. That was stolen from you a long time ago.

Also you either can't sleep or you oversleep or both.

Mapbot

You scare me, legitimately you scare me. The scariest bots in the game??? Really??? Those buddies??? Okay???? Honestly the healthiest option tbh.

You are either a troll or a disaster bisexual or an enby.

You cling to people because you don't want them to leave you, but that pushes them away more often than not.

How does it feel to be so underated and the "side character" in your own life?

You blend in wherever you go even when you want to be seen or when you want someone to help you.

By the way how's the constant desperation going? Aren't you tired of being sane? Don't you want to go absolutely feral?

#fnaf sb #glamrock freddy #glamrock bonnie #glamrock chica #montgomery gator #roxxane wolf #kin assigning #mapbot #sundrop #moondrop #this is meant to be lighthearted #im sorry in advance #my entire blog is going to be things like this and im sorry if it's inaccurate #im sorry that Bonnie's is short but the man literally died before game #like what was i supposed to do make them more sad??? #don't hurt me im on your side and in the fandom #sorry if this is incomprehensible #im exhausted