#......the One Ship to rule them all........ heh

[12am-motivation]

barbasol

@lilkittenofdoom

#it sounds like a ship name— #for context: barbasol is a brand of shaving cream #i was gonna draw a tiny barb with shaving cream all over #but i'm a lil unmotivated rn heh #sorry... #thank you for your request! #a barb #barbatos #バルバトス #barbatos obey me #obey me barbatos #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me #おべいみー #mo's doodles #my art

[endless-ineffabilities]

Maroon (part three)

modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

You were standin' hollow-eyed in the hallway Carnations you had thought were roses, that's us

A series loosely based on the song Maroon of off Midnights by Taylor Swift ▪︎ read more Daemon & Aemond midnights imagines here: masterlist

series list: part one - part two - part three - part four -

themes/warnings: angst!, mutual pining, jealous!Aemond, language, description of accident/injury, Aemond in his stalker era

word count: 8.7k

a/n: proposed ages of the characters in this series - Viserys (64), Daemon (55), Alicent (53), Rhaenyra (44), Aemond (26), Helaena (25), Daeron (22), Aegon (30), Lucerys (22), Jacaerys (25), Joffrey (15), Alys (35) ---- as much as I'd like to pretend this took 5 minutes... heh. The Math simply wasn't Mathing for a long while. Anywho, just thought I'd write this in since I've aged up the characters.

Also - with all the time I've spent on this fic, I've decided to ultimately restructure part three. So part four will cover the night of the Dragonstone ball, where it's all about to go down.

Everything that occurs leading up to the Dragonstone ball - the outcome of the accident, Aemond struggling with his current state, and the reader left hoping for a love, that perhaps, never truly was.

Lucerys Velaryon has already garnered quite the reputation, at only 22 years old. 

A darling of the masses, everyone loved the young heir to Driftmark, a great company built by his grandfather, the notorious shipping tycoon, Corlys Velaryon.

But having the name Velaryon is a double-edged sword for Luke.

It only increases his privilege and prestige, already being a Targaryen on his mother’s side. Luke is set for life; he has everything he could ever need at his disposal. As a young boy, he has always enjoyed cars. Tinkering with them under the guidance of his father Laenor, as well as his uncle Daemon. Luke got himself into kart racing at the age of 9. Illegal street racing, much to his mother’s disappointment, at the age of 14. And just recently, he has been competing in Formula 2 division racing.

From the outside, he is just like any other boy. Apart from the fact that his family is literally worth billions, that is. 

But Luke has never been content. He has never been self-assured, borne out of the truth, one that everyone simply chooses not to mention, that Laenor Velaryon is not his true father. That he is a bastard, and therefore, not the rightful heir to Driftmark. He has always known this, despite his mother’s pleas otherwise. He knows this each time he hears the employees of Driftmark whisper amongst themselves after he passes by. Whenever he is invited to sit in the council meeting of the company, he feels his true status in how the shareholders disregard his opinions like he’s just some intern.

He grew up amidst the tension between himself and his brothers, and their young uncles, especially Aemond. When Aemond and Lucerys were growing up together, they simply did not learn to exist well around one another. Luke had bullied his young uncle long ago - an act of rebellion, of a boy growing up with resentment in his bones -  when Aemond had been weak and scrawny as a child. Aemond retaliated in kind; but he finally matured and found some inner calm in his mid-twenties. A year or two before you met him.

Luke's uneasiness has only worsened, now that he is nearly set to take his place on Driftmark. Since his family hails from Valyria, everyone expects them to uphold the tradition of only passing down inheritance to rightful heirs. Never bastard children or outliers.

But what the hell. Luke has never been one to follow the rules. His very existence does not abide by them, so why should he?

The night of the accident, Luke had to sit in yet another board meeting for the company. This time, Aemond was there too. Only he was treated as he should, being a Targaryen. Like someone capable, someone worthy. 

It should not have made any difference, really. Luke thought he was used to it all by now - the stares, the hushed whispers, the poorly masked scorn. They think Aegon or Aemond to be more competent. If the board had their way, it would not be Luke who would inherit Driftmark. Perhaps, his grandfather’s brother, Vaemond. Or hell, even his cousins Baela and Rhaena, though they never expressed any interest in the business.

Anyone but Luke.

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

As a child, Aemond Targaryen saw himself as some kind of a ghost. A spectre simply moving around his family, their company, their horde of sycophants. Not the first to be considered. Not the designated heir to anything. The second son of the owner and chief executive of Dragonstone, and his much younger, barely beloved second wife.

Once upon a time, his father Viserys had been well and truly happy. 

He was married to the love of his life, Aemma, and they had a lovely daughter who was loved by all due to her charm and fiery nature. 

When Aemma passed in childbirth, Viserys had been near inconsolable. But he could not remain so for very long. Soon enough, his board of trustees, his advisors, urged him to remarry. He did not have an heir yet after all, and as per tradition, he soon needed to have a son so that he might raise him to become the next CEO and owner of their business empire.

But Viserys decided to essentially bypass such tradition, for less than a year after his wife’s passing, he had publicly announced his only daughter as his successor. It did not matter what the board of trustees or the shareholders preferred. They may have considerable sway over the affairs of the company, but in the end, the word of Viserys prevails.

And so Aemond and his three siblings have been pushed to the periphery. Not that they ever stood a chance anyway. In the end, their father will always uphold his precious Rhaenyra over them. Their mother plays the part of a mere trophy wife, though she is a noble Hightower herself, having to feign contentment in spite of all the times she and her children are slighted. 

Aemond thought himself calmer now, and matured. Painstakingly made every effort to be far from that weak boy who had no place anywhere. He is still unsure if he likes the person that he is, and perhaps he never has. But he morphed - or masked - this self-loathing into an unfailing desire to do better, to be better. He’s always wanted more. And he has learned to be strong for his mother, his sister. Himself. 

And now, you. How unpredictable you had been, bursting into his life like the Dornish comet of ‘07. He knew early on that you liked him, sort of, with how your eyes would dart back and forth to his direction whenever he’s in the room. 

It made him uneasy, at first, when his looks developed in such a way that garnered him plenty of attention. The spectre of the city turned ‘Prince of the city’, a strapping young man who can have anyone he wishes. 

But, funnily enough, all those socialites, models, glorified urban princesses with millionaire parents, Aegon’s harem of traditionally near-perfect friends from Lys that he often offers - none of them ever stood a chance to you, his sister Helaena’s earnest, gentle, and quick-witted best friend. 

Aemond would be lying if he said he fell for you immediately. It would be far from his nature to do such a thing. But he had, slowly, found himself enveloped in your light, and only feeling warm, only feeling home - only feeling like he could truly love himself - when you look at him with those soul-piercing eyes of yours. Maybe he isn’t so bad after all, if you can see him in the way you do. And he trusts your judgement; when you profess to want him in turn,  then he must be worth more than he thinks.

But the night of the accident, his forsaken shadow seemed to envelop him like an old friend. One that he can never shake. His anger, his darkness. He had long buried the Aemond Targaryen who frequently got into fistfights. The Aemond who deliberately ordered the expulsion of certain people he simply did not like from the employ of their company. The Aemond who chose to openly mock the truth of his raven-haired cousins’ parentage.

That night, that Aemond resurfaced, and with dire consequences. 

The night of the accident, four months before the Dragonstone ball

The storm had begun just before the board meeting ended. Heavy rain spattered against the Driftmark tower, with the night sky illuminated by streaks of lightning.

Aemond and Lucerys were coming to a head at the council table, and the other members were having to intervene at multiple points, just to mitigate the rising tension. The storm brewing inside the young men’s hearts could easily rival the one threatening to flood the streets.

Lucerys repeatedly interrupted Aemond’s suggestions, having grown tired of his own being cast aside by everyone else. 

“Wait for your turn to speak, my Strong nephew.” Aemond smoothly countered when he did not get to finish addressing Vaemond Velaryon.

“I didn’t think what you were saying was particularly important, uncle.” Luke retaliated in kind.

“Hmm. Some things never change, it seems. You still don’t know your place.”

“My place will soon be the highest seat of Driftmark. And you will still be grandfather’s second son, a mere placeholder at Dragonstone.”

“Please, sirs,” the meeting director complained. “We must get on with more urgent matters.”

Aemond and Luke barely contribute for the remaining minutes, opting to glare and sneer at each other from across the table.

But their council tiffs would not end up being the most unpleasant occurrence for that night. As if the storm also cast its darkness over their reasoning, they soon found themselves racing towards Gods Eye.

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

It was meant to be a game. A show of bravado. Two young men, though in their depths still wounded boys, found themselves spewing offenses in an attempt to lower the other.

“You might inherit Driftmark, but everyone knows the truth, plain as day. You will always be a bastard.”

“Sure, but I am still more than you. What have you ever truly accomplished, uncle? Poor y/n, if she’s fallen for your tricks. Does she know who you truly are? She’s too bloody good for you.”

When Luke raised the challenge of racing to the edge of the cliff of Gods Eye, Aemond grasped at the opportunity to humiliate his nephew. To prove all of his claims to be wrong.

It might have been either one of them, or both, who deigned to edge their car close to the other’s, trying to veer it off course. Just a little nudge to make it spin out of the road.

But the turbulent weather was strong, causing mud and water to pool along the gravel. When the cars collided, Aemond’s took the brunt of the hit. Before he could even register the impact, his car was already spinning right towards the treeline. 

Luke had veered off road, his car rotating upside down. His right leg suffered from multiple fractures, including a busted knee cap.

But Aemond… 

His screams resounded despite the ceaseless pattering of rain, louder than even the roaring thunder overhead. A shard of glass had been wedged deep on one side of his face, splitting the flesh open. 

So much blood had pooled into his one remaining eye, that he feared he went entirely blind. The memory of your face flashed across his mind, and he despaired at the thought of never being able to see you again.

Later in the operating room, when the full extent of his injuries was delineated to him, Aemond thought that perhaps, it is you who would never want to see him again.

Why would you, with what has now become of his appearance?

Two months before the Dragonstone ball

You’re finding it hard not to keep tabs on Aemond, still asking Helaena every now and then if he’s really alright. To which she always responds with some version of “He’s okay. He just needs some time.”

Time. That’s fine. You suppose that the accident must have shaken him up, enough to cause him to go into hiding and to avoid everyone.

Unfortunately… painfully, including you. 

You find your mind drifting back to him every day - during your lectures, at work, at home, whenever you’re spending time with Helaena and you’re trying so hard to simply not just pester her about her brother. 

You think back to those secret moments you shared in crowded rooms, up in their penthouse, whenever Aegon would throw a party. Back then, you did not know one another yet, not really. But he would sit on the couch adjacent to yours, shoot you a smile, and silently keep you company while you wait for Helaena to return. He did so because he could sense that you were anxious, and that loud gatherings aren’t really your thing, as he revealed to you when you were… dating. As short of a time as that might have been. 

Gradually, you got to know him, in all those rare moments. His knowing, mischievous smiles. The subtitles nuances in his expression. His calculated manner of speaking.

You knew him, you had him, you lost him. Well, you do still know him - he is your friend, is he not? But it just as well could have been the end, the night of the accident. He has become a kind of spectre to you, leaving you yearning for what could have been. 

Weekends offer some respite from the whole ordeal of having to miss him. Your job at the bookstore allows you to just sit in silence, entertain customers once in a while, and bury your nose in your book-of-the-week.

Once in a while, a friend even drops by. This time, Jace burst through the entryway, bell chiming in his wake, beaming with a brown takeaway bag in one hand.

“Hey, stranger,” you put down your novel, and leave your post on the counter to greet your dear friend with a tight hug. Jace takes note of the fact that your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, and his spirits sink. But he immediately gets to work on making you feel better.

“I’d say you’re going to love me for this, but you probably do already,” he says, presenting you with the paper bag.

“Don’t be so sure,” you jokingly say, narrowing your eyes at him, before peering inside, hit with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries.

You shrug, starting to dig in with no hesitation. “Actually, good of you to be sure.”

He laughs as you drop the bag on the counter, and rip it open to reveal all the goods. He takes his own coffee and leans closer to have a bite of the profiterole you eagerly wave in front of his face.

“Thanks,” you manage to puff out, with a mouthful of pastry. 

“Anytime, sweet.” Jace swallows, giving you a once over. “How are you holding up?”

It’s hard to act all nonchalant when he gives me those puppy-dog eyes. Jace’s innate sincerity almost makes you want to just cave in and vent all about Aemond.  “Nice of you to be concerned, but it’s not like I was the one who got into an accident.”

“I know, sassy, but I also know that you and Aemond were… you have seen him recently, no?” he asks, sounding certain of the answer to his question, which downright confuses you.

“No,” you shake your head. “Along with the rest of the city, I haven’t seen nor heard anything from him.”

“Really?” he remarks, incredulous.

“Come on, Jace,” you take a comforting sip of coffee, still warm. “You know this. He doesn’t want to see me.”

“Huh,” his head tilts back slightly as he mulls over your response. “It’s just…”

“What?”

“I could’ve sworn that was his car parked across the street. Right outside.” he says, jutting his thumb over his shoulder. You freeze, but your eyes are drawn straight toward the shop windows.

“That’s not - ,” That’s not possible, you want to say. But your feet already drag you to the edge of the shop, with Jace in tow. “Which one is his?” you ask, knowing Aemond’s got quite a few cars, privileged boy that he is. Your voice comes out in a hushed tone, as if you don’t want Aemond himself to hear. Ridiculous, you chide yourself, it probably isn’t even him.

“That silver Jaguar idling on the curb,” Jace answers, and you see it. Slantwise on the opposite side of the road, stopped right before the bus stop across the bookshop.

“Are you sure?”What the hell could he be here for? You didn’t want to admit it, but you feel the hope right in your bones. You want him here, of course. You want him to come see you.

“Yes,” Jace easily replies. “There’s only one vehicle in the city with that personalized plate."

Before you can stop yourself, you take a tentative step outside, hand still on the shop door.. I’m sure he can see me, if he’s really there.

The windows of the Jaguar have the darkest tint, making it nearly impossible to see inside. 

“That’s him,” Jace says from behind you. “He doesn’t let anyone else drive his cars. I even thought he was already inside the shop when I arrived.”

“Well shit,” you breathe, your heart racing in your chest. “What do I do?”

“What is he doing?”

“Fuck it.” You only manage to take a step forward on the sidewalk before the car roars to life, engine purring smoothly. Aemond maneuvers the car from its spot and leaves, driving right past you, a cloud of leaves and dust billowing all around.

“What the fuck?” Jace scoffs, thoughtfully waving his arm around to keep the dust from your face. “What is he on?”

“Aemond,” his name escapes your lips in a soft whisper. A silent plea that will never reach him, but you say it all the same. That it doesn’t matter to you, whatever state he is in after the accident. That even though he chose Alys over you, you can understand, or at least try to. He is still the same boy who captured your heart not so long ago. 

But why did he just leave? What is he so scared of?

“Come on,” Jace says, holding the door open for you. “Your coffee’s getting cold.”

When you go past the entryway, you turn on your heel and hang up the ‘On a break. Come back soon’ sign on the door. Sighing heavily, you shrug at Jace, “What a day, huh. You sure know how to bring drama with you.”

Jace only smiles, well-used to your banter, “How is this my fault?”

“I dunno,” you raise your hands, and walk back to the counter. You’re not sure how you feel at the moment - anxious, worried, disappointed? It’s all up in a haze since Aemond suspiciously drove off, and so, you can’t control the flood of dry sarcasm spilling out of you. Like some kind of coping mechanism. “You must have called Aemond here, so you two can drive my poor heart into a frenzy. Like I don’t already have a lot on my plate.”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” Jace slowly nods, playing along. “Aemond hasn’t even spoken to me since everything went down. But I definitely sought him out today, and definitely forced him to watch you from out there in his car like some obsessed creep.”

“I knew it!”

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

Fifteen minutes into your impromptu break, the tone has lightened to some degree, and you sit at a corner table with Jace, sipping the remains of your coffee.

After a lot more banter, and catching up about Luke, Joff, and the rest of his family - those who can still tolerate your presence,that is - Jace finds you staring blankly at a bookshelf. “Hey,” he says, “I don’t think my uncle is hiding in between those books.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Anyway, enough about him, eh?” Jace offers, taking your hand from across the table. “I actually wanted to ask you something.”

You squeeze his hand in return, staring back into his doe brown eyes, “Yeah?”

“Seeing as Aemond isn’t taking you to the Dragonstone ball,” he pauses, gauging your reaction. He decides that it’s all good when you remain impassive, “How would you like to come with me instead? I did mean to ask you, you know, but dear uncle beat me to it.”

“Oh.” Your hand loosens around his a bit, as you take in his words. “Well, I mean I would love to but - ”

Jace adds quickly, as if he is already reading the thoughts whirring through your mind. “No pretenses about it, I assure you. I’m not expecting anything else. Just that you honour me by being my partner to the ball.”

“Mmm,” your shoulders relax, and you find yourself smiling at Jace’s heartfelt nature. One that immediately warmed you to him when you first met. “Partners, huh?”

His tongue makes a clicking sound in confirmation. “What do you say?” 

“Jace,” you start, weighing the options in your mind. “I would go with you, of course - ”

“That settles it then.”

“- but I just… I don’t know, if… Aemond does not want to see me, maybe I shouldn’t just show up at the ball?”

Jace rolls his eyes, “He doesn’t own the bloody ball, you know. He can’t control whether you come or not.” He leans in, voice lowering like he’s sharing a devious ploy, “Besides, if he doesn’t want to see you, then why would he be loitering across the street simply to watch you through the shop windows? Let’s be real now, eh?”

Fair point. You reply, “Far be it from me to know what he’s up to.”

“So come to the ball with me and ask him yourself. I’ll even back you up. With my own pitchfork and everything.” The way his eyes blaze in excitement sparks something in you. Being around Jace is always fun, like you’re free to do anything - you could even cause any kind of trouble and he would only be cheering you on. 

If only… if only you liked him the way you do a certain someone, then you might actually have a greater sense of calm. Your self-doubt might be assuaged, your days brighter. 

But no. It is Aemond who fills your wandering thoughts. Aemond who haunts your sleepless nights. It was him who nearly made your heart stop that night on their rooftop, who laughed with you and held you close when you were a fumbling, wine-stained mess. 

Perhaps unfortunately so… it is Aemond whom you love.

That realization makes you straighten in your seat, scaring some sense back into you. Fuck, what am I even thinking? It’s Jace right in front of me. Jace who is asking me to the ball. 

“You got yourself a deal, mister,” you playfully hold your hand out for him to shake.

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

Later that night, the Targaryen penthouse in the Crownlands Tower is relatively quiet. Most of the family is away, save for Helaena, their housekeeper Talia…

… and Aemond, who sits in front of his desk, staring at the object atop it which is aglow under lamplight. His eye drifts to the metal surface of the lampshade itself, and he sees it. A scar stretched from his forehead to his cheekbone, with its edges tinged with maroon. 

Revolting. It’ll take some time to heal, they all say. Well it’s been two long fucking months, and it doesn’t feel any better. Nothing feels right.

It isn’t fair, his mother wailed upon seeing him. None of this is. It was the rogue Lucerys’ fault, she insisted, for egging Aemond to go on a damned speed chase in the middle of fucking storm.

His father Viserys merely appraised him for a long moment, before mumbling something that sounded like, “I am sorry this happened, but you’ll be alright”. Then to his mother, “Lucerys is injured as well. This is what they’ve always done, as you know. Luke and Aemond don’t really get along but they’re grown now.”

He added with a warning gaze to Aemond, “They have to learn to be civil to one another. We are all family, after all.”

“Family,” Alicent spat the word like a curse. “Family should not be the cause of grievous harm.”

Aemond remembers the shrug that Viserys did. It is a gesture he has seen endlessly, it might even be the first thing he remembers of his father. All of his pains, and his achievements will always be met with a nonchalant gesture. Some father he is.

There’s only one thing that would make Aemond feel better in this moment, and even that, he cannot allow himself to have. He shall not present himself, this self, to you. He looks at his reflection and he hates what he sees. Perhaps he always has. But he also learned to love himself around you. How easy it can be, like second nature. 

Maybe he was drawn to the fact that you are not from his world, with all its intrigue and playacting. How you choose not to perceive status as a tool, and how you can be kind to anyone. You, the girl who always keeps a book in her bag, even at parties, even if she most likely won’t have time to read it. Just in case, you had said, you never know. You, though very well-mannered, called one of Helaena’s so-called friends a “spoiled cunt”, when you heard her making nasty jokes at Helaena’s expense behind her back.

“Sorry you had to hear that,” you had said to Aemond in a grumbling tone, still quite irate, when you found out that he was just in the library adjacent to their living room. “They were just being so… so…”

“Fucking rude?” he finished your thought, his dimples showing in amusement when your eyes widened. “Don’t worry, doll. Maybe I would have done the same. Though that Beatrice would never say shit about Helaena in front of me, seeing as she tried to claw off my jacket once. Her fake nail got caught in the leather. Her attempt at seduction, I suppose.”

Your mouth fell open, then closed once more. You were at a loss. Your blood was just boiling at having to confront Beatrice, who has thankfully left the penthouse, and now Aemond is standing in front of you. Aemond, sharing some story, in good humour. About some girl trying to get with him, and failing. Later on, you will find yourself jumping in frustration in your living room, thinking how in the hell your mind must have short-circuited because you responded with, “It’s a good thing I keep my fingernails trimmed and plain then.”

It was Aemond's turn to stand there, lips parted in surprise at your sudden show of audacity. Where has this girl been hiding all this time? Or has she always been this way? Then your face morphs into one of shock, and you remain still, waiting for some other pin to drop. Something to distract Aemond so you can mumble some excuse and run away. Aemond observes the minute changes in your expression, like you’re struggling to get your bearings, and he finds it all endearing.

Suddenly, the door you had been leaning against is pried open, making you take a step closer to Aemond. An unruly, blonde mop of hair that can only belong to Aegon pokes itself inside, “What are you nerds doing in the damn library?”, then he turns on his heel letting the door slowly close on its hinges, “Never mind, I’m gonna get a drink!”

At the exact same time, you and Aemond burst out in a fit of laughter, the pure and melodic sound of it echoing throughout the room. The very first time that Aemond witnessed you laughing freely in front of him, and his thoughts would later drift back to this moment. To the way your eyes lit up, how your teeth clamped down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing harder, and how your dainty hand clasped his forearm, holding on to him for a while.

He did not know then, not yet at least, that he had started falling for you.

When your desire had become apparent, you did not attempt to cross a line. Correctly inferring that Aemond valued his solitude, you became content with admiring him from afar, treasuring every small interaction. 

Everyone keeps remarking at how different he is around you, and maybe you do not realize the truth of their claims, because you had never seen him… like this. So broken. His mask of composure torn to shreds.

No longer the caring, attentive, and self-assured Aemond you claimed to desire. 

“Aemond?” Helaena's voice drifts from his door, which is opened narrowly. She silently lets herself inside when he does not respond.

“Care for some dinner?” she asks, her gentle voice almost breaking through Aemond’s resolve. Perhaps it might have been able to, but not anymore.

“No, I’m not hungry.” Aemond answers, barely audible.

“Right.” Helaena doesn’t press further; she knows that nothing will shake her brother while he’s in such a state, so she tries to bring up something else. Something that might get his attention. “So, I, uh… y/n just called me.”

Helaena notices Aemond slightly tense up at the mention of your name. So that’s what it takes, she thinks.

“Aemond,” she steps closer, now standing beside his chair. “Why were you outside the bookstore where she works?”

Aemond shuts his eyes. Of course you had seen him. And he saw you, clear as day. Beautiful as ever. With bloody Jace right next to you, laughing while sharing some coffee he had brought. 

“She misses you, you know,” Helaena says, and the words drive straight through Aemond’s heart. “I really think you just should speak to her.”

“Hmm.”

“What are you even afraid of?”

A long pause, as Helaena waits for a reply. Fidgeting with the edge of her sweater, she begins to say something more, when Aemond finally says, in a muffled, reluctant tone, “She deserves better.”

“Of course she does!” Helaena perches on the edge of Aemond’s desk, and his eye drifts over her for just a second, before looking down at the object again. “So call her and - ”

“Better than me.” Aemond clarifies, croaking the final word as if in pain.

“Oh, Aemond.” Helaena’s lifts an arm in an attempt to offer comfort, but Aemond instinctively flinches.

“No.” He breathes. “I can’t.”

Helaena nods in understanding, though her heart aches at the sight of her brother like this. She looks to the side, and sees the journal-seeming object sitting on his brother’s desk. The thing he seems to be staring at. 

Helaena lets her fingers run over the smooth forest green cover, and she instantly recognizes it to be Valyrian leather. A rare commodity, so this must not be just any ordinary journal.

“May I?” she whispers, to which her brother shrugs in response.

She gently pries open the leather clasp, and she sees a dedication on the first page, in a swooping scrawl that can only be Aemond’s. Some special ink was used, staining the page with a deep shade of maroon. It reads in High Valyrian, their native language - Ñuha prūmia iksis aōhon.

“I meant to give that to her… before…”

My heart is yours.

“Aemond-” Helaena mutters, her mind stuck on the words, and she knows exactly who they are meant for.

Aemond abruptly rises from his seat, and puts on his black coat, “Just put that back where you found it.” Reaching for something else on his desk, he puts it on his face to conceal his deformity.

Before her brother reaches the door, Helaena manages to voice out, “Where are you going?”

“Away.”

Two weeks before the Dragonstone ball

The accident finally seems to have departed from the mainstream, turning into fodder for small talk as all sensational news pieces do. 

Unsurprisingly, despite the tragic event, excitement abounds. The city is buzzing in anticipation. Everyone is already poring over the main list of attendees which has been made public online. You only glanced at it once to confirm that you are on the list as Jace’s partner, but something else catches your attention. You immediately close the tab in your browser after you read - Aemond Targaryen - and across from his name, as his designated partner - Alys Rivers.

“For fuck’s sake,” you sigh, biting your lip. You opt to open Youtube, but immediately your homepage reminds you of your recent activities. Not stalking, no. Just some curious research. Aemond has never been one to give interviews. That’s more in Aegon’s wheelhouse. Daeron especially, since he also works as a model, gracing the front cover of Vogue thrice already at only 22. 

When Aegon graces the headlines, it’s most likely due to some disorderly conduct at a high-class party or a local dive bar. True to his brand, there is no in-between when it comes to Aegon. It’s either go big or go home. Which usually means he ends up drunk on the sidewalk, having to call Aemond to pick him up and give him a ride without letting their parents know.

But they always find out, of course. It’s hard to be discreet when you’re one of the most recognizable faces in the country.

As for Aemond, you’ve always found it hard to find even a single crumb of him from the internet. Save for a couple of sightings, including those of him and Alys Rivers, and clippings from the few times when he would speak in press conferences on behalf of Dragonstone. But even those were kept mostly private, and not freely available on Youtube. 

As it happens, there have been some rumours of Aemond allegedly coming into blows with the Duke of Lannister and his entourage, after humiliating the man’s sister. Onlookers claimed that they saw the poor girl coming onto Aemond at some party in Pentos, flirting with him. Apparently, he was far from welcoming of her affections. There were some pictures of the fight, or at least, that’s what people say. You were not in the loop when the news spread, sitting through a lecture. Any trace of such pictures quickly vanished from the internet. The Targaryens are always on the lookout to protect their precious image, but they’ve never done anything so methodical when it comes to such occurrences, such as Aegon’s countless mishaps. 

Aemond does have an Instagram profile. You asked him about it once, ages ago, even before your brief - what would you call it… Tryst? Dating period? Well, whatever it was, it’s all done for now.

“Was it your idea to have a profile anyway?” you asked him, after he had playfully teased you about stalking him. That was the only verified account of Aemond’s that you found, complete with the blue tick. His profile was empty, and the following list was at a whopping zero. Though of course, he had about 3.7 million followers, just waiting for the moment that he would choose to do anything on the site.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Aemond looked down and smiled, and you did not know it, but he found himself feeling warm due to the interest you were giving him. He’s confident about nearly everything, but when on the receiving end of attention from the woman he secretly longed for, he felt almost shy. “It was mostly due to the fact that I wanted to have one sole verified account online. I’ve heard talks of impersonators sending people messages and all that. Fucking annoying.”

“Ah, yeah.” You did not tell him, of course, but you knew of those fake accounts, having clicked on several slightly convincing ones to see if they were actually his. But none of them matched. You found yourself muttering, “He would never post that.”

“Didn’t hurt that I got to look through your pictures, too, love.” He smirked then, regaining his confidence. 

You nearly melted into a puddle on the fancy designer-carpeted floors of their apartment, right then and there.

That doesn’t matter now. You sigh, slamming your laptop shut. Instead you choose to dramatically jump onto your bed and growl your frustrations out onto a pillow. 

You roll over, amused at the whole thing. The digital alarm clock Helaena gave you reads 6:32 pm, it’s a Friday night, and you’re left with nothing to do. You’ve already finished the majority of your exams, and for the next month or two, you’re free to go on holiday and do whatever you wish.

But what? You finally decide to give Helaena a call, and reach for your phone on the nightstand. But right then, it lights up. ‘Hel’s Bells’ is calling you. An inside joke the two of you came up with about a week after you met.

“Speak of the devil,” you smile, and press accept. “Hel! I hope you’re just about as bored as I am.”

She laughs on the other end, “I don’t even have time to be bored. Mother has us doing all these preparations for the ball.”

“Do you need any help? I’m no expert at pomp and pageantry but I’ll do my best.” She had just stayed at your apartment a few nights ago for a sleepover, and you noticed that she was careful when mentioning anything about the ball. Trying not to stray into Aemond and Alys territory for your sake, you assumed.

“Sure, come over whenever you want. I don’t really have any idea what it’s all for, but hey, at least we get to put on fancy dresses and look pretty.”

“Oh, you always look pretty,” you say sincerely. 

“Thank you, doll,” she says, before sighing dramatically. “Anyway, I actually called to tell you something. You’re going to come over to our place on Sunday night. We’re throwing a little party.”

“A party, huh.” Will Aemond be there, you wanted to ask, but held back. 

You haven’t seen him for the last three months, after the fateful night of the accident. There was that incident when he parked outside the bookstore, but it was barely anything. 

Word on the street is that the ‘Prince of the city’ had gone into hiding, as comical as that sounds to you. For what exactly? There has been speculation - perhaps he was left horribly disfigured from the accident, which is also why there isn’t any trace of the alleged pictures taken of him in Pentos. But Helaena immediately dissuaded that notion. My brother is not disfigured, she insisted when you brought it up, he’s simply recovering.

If Aemond wants to keep things to himself, then he has the right to do so. He would tell you if he wanted. Call you, send you a message. Anything. 

“A party,” Helaena repeats. “It’ll be for our inner circle. Which includes you, of course. A little prequel to the ball, so everyone can catch up with each other.”

“Aegon’s idea?” you guessed with a wry smile. 

“There might be a direct correlation there, yeah,” Helaena laughs. “Anyway, come over! Since you’re coming with Jace to the ball, then we have to plan everything for you, too! What colour dress do you want to wear? Well, there is a theme but we’ll work with that. Mum assigned a stylist and hairdresser for me, which means they’re for you too and - ”

“Hel, I don’t really need - ”

Then she says something that puts a stop to your protest. “Oh, Aemond won’t know what’ll hit him.”

“Huh.” The thought of seeing Aemond again gives you a surge of excitement. And nervousness. Your yearning for him reawakens, but it never truly left.

Having made her point, Helaena knows she’s got you hook, line and sinker. “I’ll expect you in the next hour.”

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

Sunday came rolling over soon enough, and the party at the Targaryen penthouse is well under way.

The ballroom on the 2nd floor is packed, filled with people whom you either don’t know or barely recognize. Of course, it wouldn’t be complete without some snooty heirs and heiresses who would openly regard you with what could be confusion or derision. Until a Targaryen or Velaryon would approach you and eagerly whisk you away in conversation.

“Who is she?” you hear someone say when Jace takes your hand and directs you to sit on the couch with him and Daeron. “Why is Jace so close to her? And what on earth is she wearing?”

Unfazed by it all, and already used to such comments, you smile sweetly in that girl’s direction and greet her with a friendly, “Hi, how are you doing?”, without giving her a chance to respond.

Jace watches the exchange proudly. As you sit down, he says, “Aegon invited her, I think. I don’t really know, I don’t like her much.”

“How come?” you jest. “You two have so much in common. Heirs to the kingdom and all that.” Your sarcasm again comes out of you in waves, trying to temper your nerves. You look around the room, though it is not the first time you’ve scanned through everything. 

“I’d much prefer your company,” Jace easily says, then notices your divided attention. “He isn’t here.”

In a transparent attempt at surprise, you ask,“Who?”

Daeron overhears the exchange, after his friend stands up to get a drink. “Aemond’s not here, y/n. At least I haven’t seen him. Last I heard he was holed up in our holiday estate in Pentos.”

“Oh.” Your face visibly falls. You didn’t know what to expect, really. Of course Aemond would  not just show up at this party after avoiding everyone for too long.

“He will be at the Dragonstone ball though,” Daeron pats your knee in sympathy. “He might be going through some shit, but mum would lynch him if he misses that event.”

Jace and Daeron continue to look at you, seeing if they need to offer more comfort, and you can’t stand it. “Alright, you two. Thanks for… I don’t know… but this is a party! We should just go and have fun. No need to be concerned about me and…” You choke up at his name, negating your false show of indifference. 

“Okay,” Jace says, saving you from saying anything further. “How about I get you a drink, hmm?”

“Yeah,” you say, but something crosses your mind. You stand at the same time as Jace, grabbing his arm, “Actually, I’ll go get some air first.”

“Are you alright?” This time, Jace’s sincere gaze is not enough to distract you from that familiar gnawing ache.

“I am,” you smile placatingly. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

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

Aemond Targaryen, contrary to what everyone in the party believes, is no longer wasting his days in Pentos. 

He had slipped back into the city earlier that night, and in the safety of their 7-floor penthouse. Right in time for the revelry. He has no intention of making an appearance, but when Helaena let it slip that you would be attending, he could not help himself.

The fact that you would be under the same roof was enough to get Aemond to scurry back home. While he might not be ready to show himself just yet, there are methods which allow him to see you. Watch you.

Helaena would probably smack him upside the head, if she found out. That not only had Aemond come back without telling her, but also that he is watching her friend through the CCTV cameras littered throughout the penthouse. 

Perhaps it is unsavoury, and you might cross your arms and huff at him if you found out. Oh, what I would give to see that in person. But he’ll take what he can get. Do what he must. To still have you, still see you. 

His left knuckle is taut, still bandaged and bruised from his recent activities. Luckily, the stitches on his face had not come loose and the medical treatment his mother is putting him through has done considerable wonders. What would you think, I wonder, if you saw me like this, my love.

His laptop is propped up on his desk, right next to the green journal he means to give you. On the screen, he watches as you trail Helaena for a while. As you sit alone, watching everything unfold. As Jace comes for you, and you sit together on a couch. Too close. Too comfortable for Aemond’s liking. Is something going on between you and my fucking Strong nephew? 

When news reached him that you would be coming to the ball with Jace, Aemond had broken something. He can barely remember what it was, just the sound of it shattering against the wall. A wine bottle? A vase? A mirror? Whatever it was sent his company fleeing from their table, and Criston had rushed forward to make sure that he wasn’t harmed.

Aemond glares at the screen you walk after Jace and whisper something close to his ear. 

Jace regards you for a long while. He better not…

But then you nod and smile, stepping away from him. Aemond finds himself breathing a sigh of relief, predictably, and he almost snorts at his own reaction. 

You walk out of the ballroom, and Aemond has to switch between cameras to follow your path. You pause down the hallway, and lean next to the wall.

What are you doing, ñuha jorrāelagon?

Seemingly decided on something, you swing the door to the staircase, forgoing the elevator. The cameras on each landing track you as you continue to climb upward, panting slightly when you finally reach the entrance to the rooftop.

You take slow, sure steps toward the golden railing. For a moment, you just stand there, seemingly watching the city below.

I have to see you. I have to try. In a split decision, Aemond slinkers out of his room, the party below still unaware of his presence. 

Then he heads up the flight of stairs as you had done, feeling more apprehensive with each step. What do I even say to you? Do you still want to see me? He finally reaches the final landing, and heart in his throat, he pries the door open as silently as possible.

You no longer stand at the railing. Instead, he spies you sitting on the plush seat the two of you shared on that one night. Facing away from the entrance, looking up at the stars. 

Aemond knows that isn’t as it was before. He cannot simply approach you and watch as your eyes immediately welcome the sight of him. It’s not the same, and it is all his fault. He wonders if your heart might still race because of him, or will it have become cold, after all this time?

He draws closer, with each footstep uncertain. But your pull is stronger, taking precedence over all of his worries. 

“I miss you,” is all he can bring himself to say, throwing caution to the wind. You freeze at the sound of his voice. 

Then a shiver runs up his spine as it dawns on him - in his haste to see you, he left his eyepatch in his room below.

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

I must be dreaming. The hairs along your arms stand in your shock, and you keep both hands flat on the seat to keep you steady. 

Is it… You start to turn back, but cease all movement when Aemond pleads, “Don’t. Please don’t turn around.”

“Aemond?” your voice is shaky, and you feel a tear threaten to escape. “They said… we all thought…”

“They do not know that I am back yet,” he answers. “Just you.”

“Oh.” Your head is still turned to the side, and you have to fight the urge to simply rise from your seat and face him. You exhale, trying to calm down. When that doesn’t work, you lean back against the seat, and force yourself to count the windows on the building down the road. 

6… 7… 8… 

But the sudden feeling of his hands on your shoulders makes you lose all train of thought.

“Did you miss me?” Aemond asks, standing right behind your seat now, his sweater grazing the back of your head.

Your mind is flooded with thoughts of all that happened between the two of you - the beginning, the brief affair, the end. Is it the end? 

Answer him. “Did I miss you?” you bite your lip, and your brows scrunch in frustration. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Your expletive makes Aemond take a step back. “I-I’m sorry…”

“I’ve been so worried about you, Aemond!” Your hands bunch up into fists beside you. You did not realize you had all this pent up anger, with the past few months being spent pining. Longing. Yearning. Like some silly little fool. When he didn’t even make any effort to reach out to you, and the most you got from him was that episode outside the bookstore.

“Oh yeah, and what the hell were you doing outside my place of work?” you stand then, and lean against the railing in front of you, careful not to turn and catch a glimpse of him. “You wanted to speak to me? Well, why didn’t you just do that?” You can feel your erratic heartbeat pounding in your chest, and for a moment you become afraid that it might just stop altogether. 

“I did want to speak to you. To see you.” Aemond sighs heavily. “I always want to see you, my darling. You’re all I’ve ever thought about since - ”

“Yeah, right. I bet you did.” You threw the offhand accusation over your shoulder.

“I did,” Aemond swears. “I miss you every day, I -”

His voice is softer than before, and kind of nervous. Your resolve is at risk of breaking, because… Why does Aemond sound… broken?

He finishes, “I just needed some time.”

There are so many more that you want to ask him - What really happened in that accident? Where have you been all this time? What is going on with you and Alys? Where do we truly stand?

But instead you mutter the one thing you are most certain of, “I miss you too.”

Aemond breathes a sigh of relief. He moves to stand behind you, and steps closer. 

Closer. You don’t dare move a muscle, because you just might turn around and forget about his request. He moves closer, until his chest is pressed against you from behind. Closer, until his hands squeeze both of yours on the railing.

You feel Aemond rest his face on your shoulder, inhaling deeply. At this point, he is practically enveloping you. Each breath he takes warms your neck. His thumbs run over your knuckles, and he says, “Are you still angry at me?”

“Should I be?” You lean your head back to rest on his right shoulder. From the corner of your eye, he looks as he always has. Almost ethereal, with his silver-blonde Targaryen hair and sharp, defined features. 

Aemond moves his head slightly toward the left, careful not to reveal the ruined side to you, when he feels your wandering gaze. 

“Please don’t be angry with me,” he pleads. You hum in affirmation, and in a lower voice, he purrs, “Close your eyes, darling.”

You try to ask why, but then you feel his lips lightly press against the nook between your neck and your shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut on their own goddamn volition.

His mouth parts even more, before coming down once again and nipping at your skin. His arms wrap themselves around your waist, and his hold tightens until your entire body is flush against him.

Still, you haven’t seen all of him. 

Your hand reaches up to touch him, and your fingertips graze the side of his face. When your thumb runs over a bit of what must be raised flesh, like some partially healed lesion, Aemond jumps away. At once, you feel the cool evening air hit you, the warmth of his embrace having gone.

“What is - ” you start to ask.

“It’s nothing.”

“Aemond…” you hesitate. What could possibly be so terrible, he won’t even allow me to look at him? “If anything happened to the way you look… it wouldn’t matter to me. You would still be the same boy that I lo - ” The words hitch in your throat, their sentiment heavier than anything you’ve ever said. 

Everything is at a standstill. Aemond does not say a single word, but you know that he understood what you were trying to say. He must.

And how can I even gauge his reaction when I can’t even look at him?

“Aemond?” 

Much to your surprise, his voice is already farther away when he responds with a hurried, “I’ll see you at the ball.” 

You swiftly turn around in your disbelief. Did he just fucking leave? 

The door to the penthouse shuts behind him, and you are left dumbfounded at his actions. The old Aemond would have never done that to you, but what do you know?

Perhaps my Aemond is truly gone.

The ball is coming up next!!! Reader may finally learn to let go of Aemond, or at least give him what he wants - a whole lot of space and time.

Also, reminder - Aemond's injury is still pretty fresh, considering the damage. So no, he hasn't stuck a sapphire in there yet. Imagine how little Aemond looked in episode 7, with angry stitches running down his face, but a bit more healed. His eye socket is still sewn shut, and it still causes him much pain, so go easy on our boy, y'all.

taglist still has some spots left! I've managed to continue it in the comments 🖤

and I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on this, and what you're hoping to read in the next part!!!

Series taglist: @caught-in-the-afterglow @aemondtargaryensrider @punggo66 @dollfaceyourfear @candypurplebutterfly @moonmaiden1996 @mxrgodsstuff @lolitaisreal @blue-serendipity @melsunshine @thejanecampaign @fxngsfxgxrty @padfooteyes @msmarvel-19 @tempo-rary-fix @lauraneedstochill @julczimozart @sarcasticfangirl @witchyvik @pyjama-shorts @bellaisasleep @zillahvathek @thincrusttheworks @krispold @yougotthatlove @raging-panda @fleetingly-artistic @throughgoeshamilton @polireader @katsav17 @minttea07 @kravitzwhore @meggiemay82 @hedonefox @daenysx @schniiipsel @namoreno @afro-hispwriter @aemondswifeisme @emcharra @malfoytargaryen @iiamthehybrid @fullmetalriotts @kellzlib @justsumtuffstuff @daydreamy-me @yentroucnagol @kezibear @queenofshinigamis @paprikaquinn

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #modern!aemond targaryen #modern!aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell

[entishramblings]

Fuck the Forbidden Pt. 1

[Boromir/F!MermaidReader]

PART 2 | PART 3 — coming soon!

Fuck the Forbidden: FTF LINK MASTERLIST

A.N: so, I went to see the little mermaid live action and I couldn’t resist making a one-shot inspired by it. however,,, there are some twists and turns to the tail (heh see what I did there) so it is a bit different ;)

Request: none

Pairing: Boromir X Fem!MermaidReader

Summary: The Reader is a Mermaid and witnessed a shipwreck. She becomes interested in human life—particularly one human: Boromir.

Disclaimer: Any mythology relating to the mermaids of middle earth is not canon. also I tried my best with arda water/river geography plz don’t come at me—it’s not one of my finer subjects :/

Word Count: 9.5k — listen, I have a problem

Warnings: depression, drowning, ptsd, alcoholism, angst, comfort, fluff, stalking (idk how to make that last one sound less creepy. you’re just gonna have to read it).

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

The gulf of the great sea was known to bring down ships in the Bay of Belfalas during an unlucky storm. The rocky path towards the shore had claimed the lives of many during such circumstances. Though the weather was usually fair, now was not one of those times. The ship, The Deseirre, rocked and tilted under the storm's ruling, making it nearly impossible for the crew to evade the onslaught of unwelcomed waves crashing aboard. The harsh waters hit hard upon the men manning the vessel, nearly drowning them in the angry salt water of the sea as they desperately tried to keep the boat from going down. The captain of the ship was manning the wheel, turning and spinning it with frantic urgency. The quartermaster was calling out orders, directing the crew's efforts to secure the hatches and hold the ship steady. The sailors were running lines and yanking on ropes, hoping to pull the sails in a direction that would keep them afloat. However, as the night sky wept and bellowed in rage, it further obscured the treacherous rocks lurking in the cove. Still, Boromir prayed that their vessel wouldn’t be one to join the graveyard below.

“ONE. OF. YOU. FUCKING MORONS—“ A wave crashed down upon the quartermaster, stealing his sentence for a moment. The water slid across the deck, revealing his form. His waterlogged body fumbled to rise. “—GO REEF THE SAILS! NOW!”

The Captain of the Minas Tirith Guard caught the desperate man’s gaze and nodded—telling him that he would be the one to do the task. Boromir then took to stumbling across the rocking ship, dodging flying parcels and rolling barrels, as he attempted to get to the ship’s mast.

A sudden cry interrupted his actions, causing Boromir to turn his attention. It was Elidon, the youngest member of their group at the age of fourteen. He had been hit by one of the barrels—and three more were coming his way.

Instantly, the Gondorian Captain moved to his aid. He jumped in-front of the boy and took the blow of the next barrel before yanking them both out of the way of the other two.

“Sir Boromir, th—thank you.” Elidon stammered out.

He patted the younger’s shoulder in recognition of his thanks. “Help Heimir and the rest of the crew! Go!”

“But—but where are you going?! That side of the ship is getting hit with the most water?!”

“The sails must be reefed! Go to Heimir!” he yelled as he ran off towards the rigging.

A diplomatic mission, his father had called it.

Boromir, now at the mast, grasped onto the ropes and heaved himself up onto the first prong of the rigging.

Just a quick check-in across the seas to confirm their trade routes and hold relations, he had said.

The Captain of the Guard twisted his fingers as the wet material slipped from them, nearly losing his grasp.

It would be an easy sail, Denethor had claimed.

Boromir struggled to keep his footing as a large wave crashed upon him, disorienting him.

Not too far of a venture, he had insisted.

Of course, without any objection, Boromir had agreed to go to be the face of such discussions. After all, Gondor needed a representative, and who could be more suitable than the steward’s son himself?! Boromir had been actively assisting his father in various administrative tasks to ensure the smooth operation of Minas Tirith—hell, he was captain of the guard! Therefore, a simple sail was nothing; but, much to his dismay, this was no simple sail. They had come across rough waves and rocky terrain through their journey. They had hoped that the way back wouldn’t be as difficult. But, boy, were they wrong. It was worse.

So here the Soldier of Gondor was, climbing the rigging to reach the sails and secure the reef points. Hopefully, with luck, it would reduce the risk of the ship capsizing.

He was nearly there, only a couple feet away, when he first heard it: the shouting.

Though it was not just the yelling of orders and commands.

No, no, this was different.

This was the shouting of terror. A cry to let the rest of them know it was too late. There was nothing to be done at this point. It was just a warning—for them to brace themselves. They had but seconds.

One. Two. Three.

The ship crashed hard upon a rock, the sound of the splintering snap of wood getting lost in that of lightning.

Boromir's desperate grip grew stronger, his fingers digging into the coarse fibers of the rope as his legs flailed helplessly in the air. He could feel the burn of the material tearing and ripping open his skin, an agonizing reminder of the dire situation he found himself in. Yet despite this, he clung to that lifeline, his very existence hanging by a thread. He didn’t want to die. No, not like this.

The crew members' panicked voices echoed through the air, their urgent cries piercing the tense atmosphere and striking reality back into Boromir’s bones. Swiftly, they scrambled towards the lifeboats, driven by the need for survival. The soldier knew the ship was done. The irrevocable truth was evident—the ship was destined to sink and there was no saving it.

With a swift twist of his head, Boromir shook off the wet strands of hair that clung to his face, obscuring his vision. He knew he had to get to the others—quickly. His eyes darted from one possible route to another, assessing each for its level of safety.

Boromir, with his heart pounding, shifted his position. He would have to swing for it.

With a calculated movement, he extended his arm, stretching it out towards a rope that hung close by. His fingers grazed its surface, but it remained just out of his immediate reach.

He tried again. His palm collided with the rope, yet still, it slipped from his grasp.

Determined, Boromir reconfigured his stance once more, hoping that this adjustment would be the key to finally bridging the gap between his outstretched hand and his only lifeline.

However, just as he was to make contact, a powerful wave slammed into his back. This sent him flying through the air. Helpless and disoriented, he tumbled uncontrollably down the rigging, hurtling towards the ship's deck. With mere seconds to react, he desperately attempted to reposition his form mid-fall, aiming to land on the meatiest part of his body. However, before he could even try to execute any maneuver, a gust of wind propelled a swinging beam directly towards him. Its side rammed right into his abdomen, forcefully taking him along its path. A pained groan escaped his lips as his head collided with yet another beam. The darkness then consumed him.

From their lifeboats, the crew gazed in disbelief at the sight of the Steward's Son, a figure who had always treated them with kindness and compassion, being tossed about in the air like a little gnat. The rage of the sea batted him away dismissively, as if he was nothing more than a little pest. With mouths agape in astonishment, the sailors watched Boromir’s lifeless form plummeting into the water—water that seemed to almost reach up towards him, as if the ocean itself yearned to soften the pain of his fall. The roar and rumble of the waves then consumed him and his limp form vanished beneath the inky depths. He was swallowed whole by the relentless force of the sea.

“Make for the shore!” The captain of the now non-existent ship hollered.

“But Captain!” Elidon cried out frantically. “What of Sir Boromir?! We cannot leave him!”

Grasping the torn and drenched fabric of his younger companion's tunic, the captain hollered his reply. “No man could have survived a blow to the back of the head like that. Forget Sir Boromir!” His gaze then shifted urgently towards Heimir, a comrade who shared in the grief of the recently departed. "Row for the shore! NOW! We cannot delay a moment longer!"

“But Captain!” Elidon shouted.

“Shut it boy! Or I will throw you over too!” he snapped back.

Reluctantly, Heimir and another sailor, Stinar, started to row. The little lifeboat began to surge with the way of the winds as the men upon it desperately attempted to bring it home steady—the friend that some had held so dearly, abandoned to the black sea.

The men, however, did not know one thing—the most important thing.

They didn’t know of the legends that had almost since faded from their line. The legends that only the eldest of sailors dared to even whisper of—even after a couple pints. The legends of the beautiful and sinful beasts of the sea. The ones that lured men to their deaths and used their skeletons for fashioning jewelry.

…..

Amidst the disassembling of The Deseirre—its fragments mercilessly thrown upon the tumultuous waves to be claimed by the gods of deep—a pair of vigilant eyes floated atop the water's surface.

Their curious gaze captured the ethereal moonlight, reflecting its shimmering glow as the sea raged on. Observing intently, they absorbed the tragic spectacle of the ship bending and breaking. They witnessed the anguished cries of its crew and the frenzied efforts of those fighting for survival. In solemn stillness, they silently beheld the suffering. Yet, a tender warmth seeped into those unwavering eyes when they witnessed one soul selflessly shielding another of many years younger. This man took the brunt of debris, despite the pain. And, well, those inquiring eyes decided to follow that man.

They watched as he scrambled across the ship, desperately climbing to reach or do….something. They didn't know exactly what his goal was, but from his frantic behavior, they could only guess it was intended to prevent the ship from going down. His efforts, however, appeared to be in vain, for the ship was splitting into ruins and the men were abandoning it—all but him. He tried. Oh, yes, he tried very hard, but it seemed the odds were not in his favor.

Down he fell—spiraling unconscious towards the abyss.

And those eyes, the ones that surveyed the shipwreck, were connected to a lifeform that could feel such pain—pain of the heart. They belonged to one called (Y/N).

(Y/N) knew she shouldn’t.

They were not allowed to—none of them were.

It was forbidden among their clan.

Though the begging of the young boy yanked upon the crevices of her chest.

It was forbidden.

All men couldn't be like those ones—the ones her father fought in ‘TheWar of the Riptides’ all those centuries ago.

It was forbidden.

This man—this man couldn't be like them. No. No, he wasn't like them. He was a good man.

It was forbidden.

He had saved the boy and taken the pain with no complaint. After all that had happened in the past couple centuries, she had to believe that there was some kindness—some decency—left in the human race. And in that act, she saw it. She knew she saw it. So, here, listening to the young boy plead for the rescue of the man, Boromir, she could not let it disappear.

It was forbidden.

She couldn't let that kindness rot at the bottom of the deep.

It was forbidden.

She could not let it cease to exist.

Fuck the forbidden.

(Y/N) extended her palm outward, commanding the water to cradle the man's body, cushioning his descent and lessening the impact. The waves obediently rose, embracing his lifeless form for a fleeting moment before consuming him. Swiftly, she dipped beneath the surface, her tail propelling her gracefully through the depths. It took only mere seconds for her to locate the drifting figure, and without hesitation, she folded her arms around his limp frame. Drawing upon the innate strength bestowed upon her people, her fins pushed them both upwards. Their heads emerged from the water's surface and the moonlight bathed them in unison with the rain.

Ensuring the man’s head remained above the water's surface, the mermaid skillfully navigated her way towards the shoreline. She glided past the treacherous rocky terrain that had proven to be the ship’s demise. She evaded the broken debris that came from the hopeless fight. And she eluded the relentless onslaught of waves that came to snatch the prize she had stolen.

(Y/N) reached the shore at the break of dawn, just as the sun began its ascent to its position among the sky. The storm had halted during the first rays of light and now it kissed her skin and scales with praise. As she brushed upon the land, she gently laid Boromir’s head down upon the sand. Slow and soft she went about it. She was so careful with him. So diligent. She wanted him to survive. She needed him to survive.

With caution, (Y/N) leaned in and placed her ear against Boromir’s chest, her brow creasing and her lips tensing.

Please, please, please.

And there it was: the sound of blood thundering through veins, mimicking the tantrum of the storm in a mocking delight.

(Y/N) smiled softly. Oh yes, fuck the forbidden.

She lifted her head from the man’s form and bit her lip as a strange guilt flooded through her heart. Despite her relief, apprehension crept into her mind as she dreaded the potential consequences from the gods—and her father. She understood deep down that she should not have intervened. Just coming to the surface was bad enough. But this? Saving a man? Surely that was an extreme that shouldn’t have been trifled with. The mere glimpse of her tail, by even a single human, would forever rekindle the forgotten war between the races. It would seal the fate of the merfolk, burying them in their ocean.

It was forbidden.

(Y/N) turned to look behind her at the open ocean.

The little lifeboats were still a mile or two out. She had time—just a little time.

Despite the shame of her people that hung around her neck, she focused her care upon the unconscious man. Resting her elbow in the warm sand beside him, (Y/N) fixed her gaze upon his serene expression. Unable to resist, her index finger traced a delicate path along his cheekbone, his lips, and his chin. He didn’t seem like the humans from the tales. They all had been war-torn and death-driven. He was the opposite. He valued life—if it hadn't been for him that young boy would have found a new home in the watery graveyard. (Y/N) brushed his dark sandy hair from his face as she continued to caress his skin. Softly, she began to hum a healing harmony, seeking to provide solace to the motionless man. However, her efforts were brought to an abrupt halt when shouts sounded from the cliff above.

The land-dwellers had caught sight of the lifeboats, and it was only a matter of time before they set their eyes upon her. The fleeting sense of time she had once perceived vanished in an instant, replaced by an overwhelming sense of urgency. Yet, a spluttering cough at her side diverted her focus, triggering another surge of anxiety within her core.

It was forbidden.

“Who are you?” Boromir croaked, his squinting and blinking eyes conveying that he could not yet focus on her. His trembling hand then reached out to cup her cheek, taking its time to search for her skin in the air. As he did so, his palm accidently brushed upon her necklace of shell, seaglass, and bone. Still, he fumbled for tangible confirmation of her presence, and he did so until his hand found her face. “Who are you?” he whispered once more.

She placed her hand upon his beating heart. “Survive and live,” she commanded.

Then she was gone.

…..

Boromir sat up in his bed, the comforters pooling around his waist. His brother paced with restless energy before him, meandering across the floor in an agitated rhythm.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

“You never should have gone on that sail.” Faramir murmured. “Father never should have asked it of you—not with the waters getting more and more unpredictable by the day.”

Boromir sighed, tired of every version of this conversation that always seemed to come up no matter the circumstance. “Faramir, it is not his fault…”

The younger stopped his anxious steps and turned to look at Boromir. “Not his fault? You never should have been on that ship!”

“Yes, I should have. Keeping relations with neighboring territories is important. I had to be there.”

Faramir shook his head. “No, father should have gone himself if it was that important.”

“Faramir…” Boromir chided, emotionally exhausted and weary to the bone. “Please, let it rest. I cannot bear the arguing. Not now.”

The younger man let out a sigh, offering a nod of compliance. He settled himself on the edge of the bed, his kind blue eyes—that mirrored his brother’s—resting gently upon the fatigued figure. “I am sorry. I fear losing you to an ill fate, especially one so unnecessary.”

The Captain of the Guard offered a gentle smile. "Fear not, little brother. I managed to escape such a dire fate. The gods did not intend it for me, at least not now. I was saved."

Faramir arched an eyebrow, taken aback by his brother's particular wording. "Saved?"

Boromir inclined his head, his expression displaying a hint of reluctance. After a brief pause, he spoke once more. “Yes. Someone, well, someone rescued me.”

“What? Who? How do you know?”

A chuckle escaped Boromir, tinged with a touch of dark bitterness that resonated in his voice. "I was in a state of unconsciousness. I was drowning. There was no way I could have reached the shore, or even surfaced, on my own. Not in the state I was in."

“You don't think the tides brought you in?”

He shook his head. “Nay. The waters were too rough. They pushed me under and to the depths.”

Faramir huffed, trying to make sense of his brother's words. “Well,” he began, standing and patting his brother’s leg. “We must thank whichever crew member yanked you up and—”

“Faramir,” The Captain interrupted. “It was a woman.”

“—drug you to–to—a woman?” he questioned.

Boromir inhaled slowly. “Yes. It wasn't a crew member. It was a woman.”

“How do you know? Did you see her?”

“Just–just glimpses of colors and shapes.”

“Boromir–” he started.

With a bit of aggression, the Captain’s voice snapped. “I heard her!” He paused, regretting his tone and collecting his emotions before speaking firmly. “I heard her. She—she sang to me. She spoke to me.”

Faramir crossed his arms, his doubt evident. “She spoke to you? What did she say then?”

He looked up at his brother, focusing his gaze intently. “Survive and live. She said to survive and live.”

“You narrowly escaped death, Boromir. That was just your mind playing tricks on you as minds do to many who have a brush with such darkness. You, a soldier, know this.” He huffed. “Get some rest.”

With that, Faramir parted from Boromir’s bedchambers—leaving the stubborn man behind.

Boromir let out a weary sigh. Frustration, confusion, and restlessness weighing heavily on his heart. He had been confined to his bed for a day and a half, and the need to move, to be free, to live—it grew stronger within him.

Therefore, the Captain drew back the blankets and rose from the soft mattress that had carefully held his form while he healed. His feet felt strange upon the cold stone floor. It felt quiet and empty. It felt lonely and still. Boromir exhaled slowly. These feelings—they haunted him ever since the shipwreck. It was as if a fragment of his soul had been chipped away and consumed by the sea. It felt as if something dear to him was missing. He worried that whatever that piece was it lay at the bottom of the dark abyss.

He turned to look at the sunset beyond the glass of the window, shedding its soft gaze upon the waters that had threatened to claim his life. Driven to it, he moved near it, allowing that melody to echo in his mind once more.

That woman was out there….somewhere….and Boromir felt a pull to find her.

The Captain of the Guard shook his head at these thoughts.

Maybe Faramir was right?

Maybe there was no woman?

Maybe the tides had somehow rolled his body to land?

Maybe his mind was just plagued by the ghost of death that had reached for his soul?

Deciding that dwelling on such matters after two days of being bedridden was not going to help, he opted for a night out in his city. It would do him good—to see his people, his friends, his home. Therefore, Boromir was quick to dress and exit the castle of Minas Tirith, making haste towards his favorite tavern.

As soon as his footsteps passed the familiar threshold, his friends—sailors and soldiers—cheered his name and beckoned him further inside. With a radiant smile adorning his weary face, the Gondor Captain complied. His feet moved his form towards their table, glad for the welcome. The aroma of freshly baked bread and frothing ales mingled with the lively chatter of his companions, creating a relaxing ambiance of recognition. Food and drink were quickly passed to his empty hands, and he gratefully accepted. The nourishment, both physical and spiritual, infused him with renewed strength. The burdens of the past were momentarily lifted, replaced by a shared sense of joy and belonging.

However, as the ale flowed and lips ran loose, conversation soon turned towards the shipwreck—the biggest talk of the city.

“Man, I thought ya were a goner!” Heimir stated. “I watched as that beam ran right into ya and down ya went! By Eru, I swear the water came up to grab ya! There was no way ya could’ve survived that, I said. No way.”

Boromir shrugged, lifting his ale to his lips, unease regarding the direction of the conversation settling. “The gods must have been looking out for me,” he tried to dismiss.

The other dark-haired sailor, Stinar, shook his head. “And I’d be glad of it. Elidon was nearly in tears when the ship Cap’n said we had to leave ya behind!”

Boromir smiled softly. “He has a pure heart. Though I don't think there was a way that any of you could have saved me if you stayed. The Captain was right. I agree with his decision.”

Rollo, a soldier in Boromir’s guard, interjected. “See! This is why I stick to the sword! You'll never catch me on a ship. Hell, no.”

Laughter bubbled up at that comment, lightening the mood momentarily.

However, an older sailor, Iwar, leaned forward. “How’d ye do it then, lad?”

“Do what?” Boromir inquired.

“Ye know what I mean—” the old man grabbed him by the shoulder. “—survive, live, breathe for fucks sake!”

Boromir’s gaze cast down upon the table, just for a moment. There were those words again: survive, live. Feeling the ale run heavy in his blood and the despair that seemed to be chasing him surface, he looked up. Choosing to speak of his uncertainty, in hopes of comfort, he opened his lips. “Faramir says it must’ve been the tides.”

Heimir frowned at his friend’s doubtful tone, taking a swig. “Ya think it wasn't?”

Boromir shifted uncomfortably. “Unsure. I—I was unconscious. I don't remember anything until I was on the shore.”

“The sand told ya nothin then?” Stinar laughed out, clearly making jest.

Though, in the midst of Boromir's contemplative silence, a subtle shift in the atmosphere enveloped the group. Their collective intuition picked up on this unease, hinting at the darkness that followed their friend.

It was Iwar that spoke in a hushed whisper first. “Ye saw one of em,’ didn’t ya?”

All eyes drifted, unsure, to the old man.

“What do you mean?” Boromir questioned, his tone wavering.

A distant expression clouded the man's eyes, as if he had lost a part of his very soul to the depths of the ocean. “They wear the bones of our fallen kin. All strung up upon their necks like jewelry. We are spoils for them—spoils for them to take and do as they please.”

Stinar’s smile slowly dripped from his face. “Uh, what, uh, who?”

Iwar looked at Boromir, his green eyes bright and vibrant with the remembrance of fear. “The women of the sea,” he hissed.

At this, Heimir snorted and took a drink from his cup. “Women of the sea? Now look who’s had too many pints!”

Though, the tension only intensified, spreading outward like ripples on water, as Boromir averted his gaze.

“Boromir, tell em’ that he’s crazy! There be none of these sea women!” Heimir persisted, anxiety now stirring through his bones.

However, the silence lingered. It was strong and still—oppressive even. It magnified the odors of the stale ale, tavern piss, and sticky sweat that clung to the unwashed bodies that frequented such a joint.

“S-she sang to me,” Boromir whispered, for the second time that day.

Heimir and Stinar froze, their pints stiff and unmoving before their lips.

Iwar's weathered hand clamped tightly around the Captain of the Minas Tirith Guard's arm, his grip desperate and tinged with panic. “Did ye see it? The jewelry of bone? The slimy tail as hard as stone? They will sing to lure ye into their trap. Then they will devour ye in their nests of coral! Ye saw one of em,’ didn’t yer?”

Boromir's brows knitted together in disbelief. It seemed utterly preposterous, a mere fabrication spun from the ramblings of an old, intoxicated mind. There couldn't possibly be sea-dwelling women hunting them down. It was a nonsensical tale. With a dismissive gesture, he reached for his cup of ale, freeing his arm from the old man's grasp. "I have no idea what you're talking about. There was only a woman—a human woman."

Heimir grinned, laughing loudly and obnoxiously, as he slapped the Captain of the Guard's shoulder. “AYE! No sea tits to lure ya away from us! LET’S DRINK!”

…..

(Y/N) form twisted and turned as she moved with the current. She easily slipped above the corals and the reefs, through the sand dunes and the seagrass meadows, beyond the underwater canyons and the abyssal trenches. As she moved further, her iridescent scales—green, blue, purple, pink, orange—shimmered in the sunlight that had made it through the thick water, casting a mesmerizing display of colors. With each flick of her tail, she effortlessly propelled herself forward, closer to the realm of the merfolk.

As she came across one of the ship graveyards, she could not resist slipping through the ruins. Her keen eyes scanned her surroundings, curious and watchful, as she navigated the underwater cemetery. While she swam, her gaze drifted over all the little trinkets and forgotten treasures that the humans were forced to leave behind. Things she knew and things she did not. Books, maps, chests, and clothes—all scattered and heavy at the bottom of the sea. All forgotten. All forbidden.

As she came upon one of the men’s skeletons her brows pulled together and her hand reached for her necklace. The soft whispers of the sea echoed, as if it was trying to convince her to do what she desired. She knew she shouldn't. She knew she shouldn't make something for a human. It was a custom of the sea folk—not something to be shared with the land-dwellers. However, an insistent voice within the watery depths urged her on. (Y/N) cast a cautious glance in both directions, torn between her instincts and the weight of tradition. Succumbing to the persistent salty murmurings in her ear, she yielded to temptation. Seizing hold of one of the bones—the femur—she forcefully dislodged it from its resting place.

(Y/N) had initially intended to return directly to her father's castle, concealed beneath the shifting vallying dunes. However, something else tugged at her mind. If she were to proceed, she needed to acquire knowledge. With a sharp twist of her tail, she pushed herself back towards the ship that held the maps and artifacts. Her delicate hands sifted through each item, seeking the one she sought. Eventually, she stumbled upon a relatively intact parchment, its ink only slightly drifting. It contained a comprehensive depiction of the land, with all the locations meticulously scrawled. Every river and pond was carefully marked, and the paths upon the land were intricately detailed. It held the very information she needed.

With the map firmly grasped in one hand and the bone held carefully in the other, (Y/N) swam swiftly back home. It didn't take long for her to locate a secluded crevice where she could settle herself. There, she devoted hours upon hours to examine the parchment depicting the lands of the surface dwellers, tracing her finger along the various routes and pathways. When she exhausted such things, her attention turned to the femur that she had securely stowed in her bag. With quick movements, she continued to rummage through her satchel until her fingers found the familiar shape of a knife. (Y/N) then embarked on her task, delicately scraping the blade against the bone's surface, etching the carving she had planned.

It was only when her sister Anahita's voice reached her ears that (Y/N) finally lifted her gaze from her endeavors. “(Y/N)! There you are! Father has been oh so worried!”

Nerida echoed her sentiments. “Where have you been?!”

Amidst their inquiries, a mischievous gasp escaped from Una's lips, her tone playful, “By the shipwrecks, I see!”

‘The shipwrecks? What is your purpose there? You know the sharks like to linger,” Anahita persisted.

Slightly flustered by their sudden appearance and interrogation, (Y/N) swiftly concealed the bone, which was slowly taking the form of a whale, behind her tail. "What? No! Certainly not!" she responded, attempting to dismiss any notion of her activities near the shipwrecks.

Una swam towards her, giggling, before she snatched the femur from under her sister’s tale. “A bone from the human graves. Someone is in love!!!!!” she sang out.

“Shut up, Una! No, I am not!” (Y/N) retorted, her voice tinged with embarrassment and denial.

Plucking the half finished craving from Una, Nerdia joined in the teasing. “OoOo! A whale! Compassion. Care. Benevolence. Given to the protectors of the weak.”

Anahita grinned. “So who is it? Someone in the Sea’s Royal Guard?”

Una gasped. “Perhaps, Tamesis?! Oh, or Kai! Kai was always sweet on you!”

With an assertive glare, (Y/N) snatched the makeshift whale back into her possession. “It is not Tamesis or Kai!”

“Oh, so there is someone!”

An instant coral color flushed (Y/N)'s cheeks, her embarrassment evident. "Eat a pufferfish" she exclaimed, her angry words accompanied by the playful giggles of her sisters.

As the hours slipped away, (Y/N) put the finishing touches on her bone carving and made the necessary preparations for her secret expedition. She gathered the essential supplies: the map, her knife, a handful of oysters, and, of course, the delicately crafted whale.

As dusk settled and the sun's rays no longer reached the depths of the merfolk's domain, (Y/N) set out on her journey. Her sisters slumbered peacefully, unaware of her departure, while the guards remained oblivious to the existence of the hidden entrance she had been using for years. With determined swishes of her fins, she swam swiftly through the sea, her heart pulsating with anticipation. Eventually, she came upon the beach where she had left Boromir. Breaking the surface—a forbidden action that now lost the fear attached to it—she was not surprised to find the sand absent of his presence. He was likely up with the other people of the land, doing land-people things.

(Y/N) swiveled her head and contorted her graceful form until she located the mouth of the Anduin River. It would serve as her conduit to the grand city, her navigation, her concealment. It would lead her to the place where she would find him. She recalled how the men from the shipwreck had addressed him with the title of ‘sir.’ He had to be important. The important ones were always addressed as ‘sir’ and they always lived in the big cities.

The mermaid inhaled sharply, reconsidering her mission. This would be it. Once she did this, there was no taking it back. It was the moment of no return. She bit her lip. Consequences be damned. Fuck the forbidden.

So, (Y/N) gracefully glided through the currents. Her silky fins steered her through the Anduin, the gentle ebb and flow of the river guiding her way. As she swam, the distant echoes of voices reached her ears, growing louder with each passing moment. They were voices filled with excitement and joy, resonating with laughter, cheers, and animated conversations. Curiosity danced in her eyes as she neared the surface, her head emerging from the water like a whale coming up for air. With her gaze fixed on the scene before her, she observed intently, taking in the lively spectacle unfolding beyond the riverbank.

The first thing she noticed, after the sounds of life that had traveled through the water, were the smells. Thousands of different scents drifted through the air—ones that she could not identify other than the instinctual fragrances of smoke and flavor: food, she guessed. Spices and sweets filtered through her nostrils, captivating her attention. She wondered what they tasted like. The next thing that piqued her interest was the colors and action. It appeared that she had surfaced next to a social market, a sort of eatery, or a…something. Men sat upon benches drinking, eating, and speaking. There seemed to be more so inside the building, but some flowed out, stumbling and dizzy. The sloshing of the liquid in their cups appeared to be the culprit as they moved with sloppy ease. Inebriated. They were inebriated. The merfolk could get like that if they ate too much Sarpa Salpa—the dreamfish of the sea bream, they called it. Though how the men fumbled was a bit different to how the merfolk did. The humans had legs…not tails, after all.

(Y/N) with wide eyes and parted lips could not stop seeing it all—a simple little tavern, yet it was bursting with passion and life. By Ulmo! It was beautifully, terrifyingly, strangely exciting.

Though that excitement turned into a nervous thrill. A fluttering sensation rose from the depths of her stomach, coursed through her heart, and finally settled like a bubble in her throat. It was a strange wave of emotions, a mismatched concoction of hope and uncertainty, as a figure emerged from the establishment before her. In that moment, disbelief clouded her thoughts. No, it couldn't be. The eagerness she felt at the possibility of finding him oh so easily was restrained by a nagging doubt, a flicker of skepticism whispered in the corners of her mind. Could it truly be him? Could this chance meeting be the end of her quest? Though, that waving dark sandy hair that ran across his forehead and the stubble beard that matched did not lie. She had carried that man through the rapids and held his face in her palms. It indeed was him—Boromir.

(Y/N) was quick to duck behind a large rock, peering beside it with those cautious and curious eyes of her. She watched as he moved to look out up the river, seemingly contemplating his thoughts. His face was stern and still, almost emotionless. But his eyes—they betrayed him. They pooled with uncertainty and confusion, a lingering level of sadness hiding underneath a lack of understanding. He seemed….lonely.

(Y/N)’s fingers gripped at the rock as she leaned forward with fascination; however, she wasn't paying much mind to her hold, for it slipped and her hand fell into the water with a splash.

Guided by instinct, Boromir’s head snapped in her direction.

She was quick to duck behind the rock, her sleek skin and iridescent scales melding against the cool surface of the stone, ensuring her presence remained hidden.

“Is someone out there?” his voice called.

(Y/N) held her breath, but he made no move to search further. Instead, she heard his footsteps retreating.

She scoped out his motions quietly, following his form with her chasing eyes. She had just found him. She didn't want to lose sight of him—not when she didn't know where to find him again! Having only a second to make a decision, (Y/N) dunked under the water. Her eyesight angled upwards as she swam deep in the river alongside him. He paused, every one and a while, glancing at the stream, and everytime he did, the mermaid would push herself deeper and deeper into the depths.

It was a short endeavor. A fifteen minute swim—though it would have been faster if she wasn't going at such a slow pace to match Boromir’s strides—before he went where she could not follow: The Minas Tirith Castle. He parted from the way of the river and began the ascending path towards the brilliant white castle. (Y/N) had been correct in her assumption: he was indeed someone of importance. As he disappeared from sight, she surfaced above the waterline, her gaze fixed on the spot where he had vanished. She would see him again. She had to. (Y/N) turned her attention to her surroundings, taking in the scenery for her return. The water stretched ahead, extending towards the north, but another path curved around the castle. Driven by curiosity, she followed that bend, gracefully swimming amidst the swaying seagrass, startling small fish with her playful movements in the late hour. Before long, she reached an opening where the river flowed into a steady pond.

The mermaid's grin widened as she glided through the water, relishing the caress of the cool night air against her skin. Tilting her head back, she gazed up at the towering castle that loomed above her. Its grandeur and intricacy surpassed anything she had ever seen in her underwater kingdom. It boasted multiple tiers, labyrinthine pathways, countless rooms, and majestic balconies. It was a sight to behold, captivating her with its magnificence. However, her gaze abruptly froze, and an audible gasp escaped her lips.

Standing there, on one of the balconies, was Boromir.

By Ulmo—her luck was getting ridiculous now.

His bare torso shimmered with a gentle sheen under the soft moonlight, accentuating the sculpted contours of his obviously strong body. Leaning casually against the sturdy balcony railing, his arms extended, showcasing his muscled biceps. Though, a hint of vulnerability bleed through his physical appearance, manifesting as a pensive expression etched with longing and uncertainty.

If only he cast his gaze downward, he would have seen a face that reflected that same yearning.

…..

(Y/N)’s tail swished as she ducked into the dining area of her father’s palace. As expected, she found she was not the sole presence in the room. Instead, she was greeted by the disapproving gazes of her six sisters. Their eyes bore a mixture of reproach and inquiry, silently questioning her tardiness. Though Una didn't hold that silence long.

“Where have you been?”

(Y/N) blew bubbles from her nose, trying to mask the lie with a coy reply. “Just a morning swim.”

“Ah” Nerida commented. “A morning swim.”

“Yes,” (Y/N) persisted, maintaining her charade. "The coral was absolutely enchanting in the morning light. You should experience it sometime—if only you possessed the skill to rise early.”

“Oy!” she snapped back, clearly irritated by her sister's teasing.

However, just as the sisters' playful banter was to escalate, their father gracefully entered the room. His presence commanded immediate attention. Warm greetings were exchanged, and the atmosphere shifted to one of familial harmony. It was during one of these conversations that the shipwreck, that had occurred only days prior, was brought up. Here, (Y/N)’s gaze snapped up.

"Why do you think they keep getting on ships if they keep getting caught in storms?" Rana questioned, her voice filled with genuine curiosity. "You would think they would learn from their mistakes, wouldn't they?"

Anahita nodded in agreement, her expression contemplative. "They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results."

Mareena chimed in, her tone tinged with a hint of bitterness. "They are quite disgusting, aren't they? Killing us for sport, and yet they willingly put themselves in harm's way for the same reasons."

However, (Y/N) decided to offer a different perspective, breaking the momentary silence that followed. "Well, actually," she began, her voice confident yet cautious. "They use ships to trade supplies with other land-dwellers."

All eyes shifted to (Y/N) with suspicion.

“Isn't that right, father?’ she quickly tacked on.

The tension in the room immediately dissipated as their father nodded in agreement. "Yes, that is true. They have established numerous trade routes, and ships are their means of transportation. It's a very different way of life compared to ours, and unfortunately, it has also led to numerous conflicts and wars between them. The desire for variety and resources has come at a great cost. They traded it for death.”

“How–how do you know all this father?” (Y/N) questioned timidly. “You say it as if you have spent time with them.”

The older merman let out a weary sigh, placing his shell filled with food down on the table. "I have," he admitted, his gaze filled with distant memories.

Instantly, the room fell into a stunned silence as all eyes fixated on their father, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief.

“I have walked among them before and it was my greatest mistake.”

“You-you what?” Seria gapped.

“Among them?” Una blurted.

“But why would you want to do such a thing?!” Anahita inquired.

Their father's gaze turned solemn as he recounted his past. "Long before any of you were born, during the War of the Riptide, my father sent me to infiltrate the land-dwellers' realm. I lived among them, observing their ways, gathering their secrets. But it was a treacherous undertaking that nearly cost me my life.” He paused, tacking on an additional mumbling sentence: “Those eel fuckers."

A heavy silence enveloped the room, the weight of their father's revelation sinking in. Only the sound of their hearts pounding in their chests broke the stillness, each of them grappling with the newfound knowledge of their father's past—even more dangerous than they were led to believe.

“H–how did you walk among them, father? How did you get legs?” (Y/N) probed, though she knew she shouldn't have.

Their father's gaze turned dark and filled with years of pent-up anger and regret as he locked eyes with her. For a moment, she feared he wouldn't reveal the answer. However, he finally spoke, his voice carrying a hint of bitterness. "Some of us possess a rare gift. When our bodies are completely dry, void of any water upon our skin or tails, we have the ability to transform into a legged form."

Instantly, gasps and chatter sounded.

“My daughters–” he addressed, though they did not listen. “QUIET!!!”

Startled, the mermaid sisters fell silent, their wide-eyed gazes fixed on their father.

“It is a very rare gift—one that is almost never seen—and only passed by blood if the gods wish to curse you with it. It is the most dangerous gift to have. One drop of water on your skin when you have legs has your tail growing back in seconds. And then you are killed by those humans that bore witness.”

Shock dripped from the daughters of the king of the sea.

"But fear not," their father reassured them, his voice softening. "None of you possess this gift. I tested each of you when you were born."

Expressions of worry, relief, and confusion danced across their faces, but (Y/N) couldn't help but notice a peculiar look in their father's eyes—a gaze that lingered strangely upon her.

……

The following day brimmed with a mix of excitement and trepidation as (Y/N) patiently awaited Boromir's arrival at the entrance of Minas Tirith. Rising before the sun, she positioned herself by the riverside, her heart fluttering with anticipation.

To her surprise, Boromir emerged on a horse, his form clad steel. Silver plates of armor adorned his muscular frame, providing a formidable shield for his vital organs. His attire was decorated further with weapons forged from the finest metals, poised and ready to be unsheathed at the slightest hint of danger. She knew he was important.

Though, this newfound knowledge began to stir dread into her soul. Boromir was a soldier—not a sailor. He trained in the art of warfare and killing. If he had been born centuries earlier, he might have been among those who waged war against her kind. He could have one of the hunters who pursued her father. One of those…eel fuckers…as he had put it. Yet, (Y/N) reassured herself that Boromir was different. He valued life. He couldn't be like his ancestors.

(Y/N) followed him, along the river (as much as she could) as the hours stretched on. She watched as he navigated the city as if he knew every turn and every crevice. She observed as he conversed with the people, each one eager to speak to him. She perceived as he stood guard at the entrance of the city, until the sun had set and his shift was taken over by another. And she peered up at him as he ended his nights upon his balcony—only once hearing him speak to another, a brother she guessed, of a lingering feeling of being watched.

For three days, she partook in his routine.

For three days, she made it her own.

And, for three days, she learned all she could about him.

Yes, he was a soldier, but not just any soldier. He was the Captain of the Minas Tirith Guard. He was the son of the Steward, who was ruling in place of a king, for in these times of uncertainty, Boromir stepped forward to help his father protect and care for the city he held so dear. He bore the weight of leadership and responsibility, serving as a pillar of strength and guidance for his people. He was a good man—doing just as much work as the men he commanded.

It wasn't until the end of the third day, however, that Boromir deviated from his routine. Much to (Y/N)’s surprise, instead of going up the path towards the castle, he deviated to follow the river that went along the bend of the white palace wall.

(Y/N) swam deep below the surface beside him, slipping into the center of the pool as he went to the edge.

The Captain of the Guard sat down upon the sandy bank and began to untie his boots. The night was warmer than it had been, for winter had ended and spring was just beginning to break. So, she wasn't surprised, when he rolled up the bottoms of his trousers and stuck his feet in.

(Y/N)’s heart was pounding and her blood ran quickly, for she had never been so close to him since she held his unconscious, drowning form.

It was forbidden.

She watched for a while, as his face and body seemed to droop. The weight of his responsibilities and the burdens of his past seemed to bear down on him. The façade of strength and cheer that he wore for the world gradually faded away, revealing the vulnerability and weariness that lay beneath. Though it wasn't until a tear ran down his cheek that she truly began to worry. Was it the lingering aftermath of the shipwreck that haunted him? Did it have more of a permanent effect on him? It seemed as though the shadow of that dreadful event lingered deep within. She had urged him to embrace life—to survive. But this sadness…was it preventing him so?

Cautiously, she dug in her bag and pulled out the bone carving of the whale. Now was her chance. Maybe she could offer some comfort? Though, she knew she couldn't swim up and hand it to him, for he couldn't know that she was there—not yet, not now. She wouldn't risk her people being known to the land-folk. She wouldn’t endanger them. Her father would surely be furious at her if she did. Besides, if she were to rise now, she would give Boromir such a fright.

Therefore, taking a rock from the bottom of the pond, she positioned herself as close as she dared to Boromir. She ensured that she remained hidden beneath the water's surface, maintaining the delicate balance between proximity and secrecy. She then put her plan into action. She tossed the stone through the water, sending it up with a subtle splash, diverting Boromir's attention to the ripples created in its wake. As quick as a shark—if not quicker—(Y/N) flicked her tail hard. She rose close to the surface and lobbed the whale beside the man before plummeting down into the depths.

When Boromir’s head turned back, he noticed the little craving.

(Y/N) peered up as she watched his confused expression.

His brows pulled together and his lips parted. Cautiously, he picked it up. It fit in his palm quite nicely. Not too big, not too small. His fingers twisted around its delicate form with ease. He examined it, running the tip of his index finger along the length of the piece and his thumb brushing over the flippers. “Where did you come from?” he whispered with a smile.

Boromir stayed at the pond for nearly an hour, (Y/N) staying with him. His fingers aimlessly fiddling with the whale as he gazed up at the stars, taking time to breath—to live. And when he turned to leave, he took the whale with him.

…..

As the next two weeks passed on, (Y/N) adopted Boromir’s routine as a part of her own. Though not every day she could do as such, for her father and sisters began to notice her absence. So, in order to avoid their suspicion, there were stretches of time where she did not get to swim up to the Anduin River. Instead, she spent her hours wandering around her father’s palace, helping with mer-duties and daydreaming of the Captain of Gondor.

However, the days where she gilded upon the waters in Minas Tirith were the most exciting. Now that the weather was warm, the city truly came to life. Markets opened daily where food, drink, cloth, and trinkets were sold. If (Y/N) was lucky, one of such tents would open right beside the river. When no one was looking, she would reach a hand from the water and grab a thing or two. She had gotten to try some very interesting foods; however, she figured they would taste much better if she didn't plunge them into the salty river the second she got her hands on them. Alas, that was the cost of avoiding detection—a price she was willing to pay. (Y/N) also was able to snatch various little objects, but most of the time she didn't know what they were. She found herself wishing that she had received the gift that her father had—the gift of transformation to a legged form. She wanted to be where the land-folk were—where Boromir was.

The captain had begun to stay out later, going to the tavern with his friends here and there. On those nights, he would disappear inside, for hours, and (Y/N) would wait in the river for him to return—in whatever state he would be in. Some nights he would have smiles plastered across his face as he giddily stumbled home. Other nights it would be a solemn expression, a tear escaping here and there, as he swayed like the gentle tide. But the worst nights? Those were the ones that ended in screams from the balcony above the little pool. Nightmares now plagued Boromir’s mind, waking him up and coating him in fear—and sweat. The only relief would be the cold night’s air and the barely audible sound of (Y/N) voice. (Y/N) always knew when those nights had arrived, for they were the ones when his brother, Faramir, had to come to the tavern and get him. It was those nights when Boromir’s body folded and slumped against his brother’s, for Faramir would drape the captain’s arm over his shoulder and drag him back to the Minas Tirith castle. It was those nights when the man, that appeared so strong, would speak in sentences just as broken as he was. It was those nights when he spoke of the shipwreck, of the darkness, of the piece of his soul that went missing in the Black Sea. And just once—he whispered to his brother of her. The woman who saved him from the depths. Those nights—those hurt the most. Yet, despite all this, he carried the whale carving with him everywhere he went—on a string upon his neck.

But, now that the weather was warmer, Boromir came to the pond almost every night that he wasn’t at the tavern…and the nights at the tavern lessened. Here, he would contemplate the sadness and separation he seemed to now have, but it appeared that he had a sort of comfort by the little lake. This comfort may or may not have been another gift from (Y/N). When the captain would stick his feet into the water, the mermaid would hum to heal his heart. The vibrations, subtle they were, would filter through the lake and soak into his skin. As he was not immersed, he could not hear the beautiful sounds, but he would at least feel some of the rejuvenating property it held. It was something he had felt before upon the shore and something he continued to feel when the nightmares drove him to the balcony.

Today had proven to be an unusually scorching and grueling day for Boromir. The relentless sun beat down upon him, intensifying the already restless atmosphere among the people. Amidst the sweltering heat, he found himself engaged in a relentless pursuit of a thief who had attempted to snatch a coin pouch from the frail hands of an elderly woman. Luckily for the Captain, a little puddle of water mysteriously slithered out in-front of the thief, causing him to slip and allowing Boromir to arrest him.

Given that that activity, and more, took its toll upon the man of duty, Boromir found himself in the shelter of the tavern with the comfort of his friends. However, that appeared to not be enough, for that night Boromir left the tavern and wandered to the pond—(Y/N) slithering in the depths of the Anduin by his side.

Under the water on the lake, (Y/N) floated in the soft currant, her eyes closed and her humming drifting through the ripples. She was content and was hoping to bring some of that serenity to the man that was to put his feet in the pool. This, of course, explained why she was so startled when his entire body dove into the water. With eyes as wide as the full moon, (Y/N) twisted her form to stare in fear and alarm at the man that stripped to nothing but his undergarments and sunk only six feet across from her. But true terror did not hit her until Boromir’s eyes opened.

When those bright blue eyes met hers with just as much horror, if not more, he instantly scrambled backwards—her doing the same.

Maybe if they both had stopped to see just how scared the other was, they would have realized that they were not in danger; but instinct had taken over as they desperately tried to get away from each other.

Luckily enough, it appeared that they had not been alone. A large hand shot down from the surface and gripped upon Boromir’s arm. In seconds, he was pulled up and out of the water—gasping and fumbling upon the bank.

“What the hell, Boromir?!” the voice of Faramir sounded.

The Captain scrambled upon the sand and muddied land, backing away from the water frantically. “T-there w-was–down there, the water, Eru, d-down there—s-something. Mermaid.”

“Boromir, are you drunk?!” he snapped. “By the Valar—you are! Again?!”

“F-Faramir, there was-was a woman down there,” the captain murmured, struggling to stand.

His brother sighed in dismay as he grasped onto Boromir’s arm once more and helped him steady. “You have been having too many conversations with Iwar…and too many drinks.” He pulled upon the captain again. “Let’s get you in bed before you decide to go for another drunken swim.”

With that, Faramir helped dress his brother—just enough to get past the guards without embarrassing the intoxicated captain—and guided him home, trying to ignore the blubbering of the anxious mess he led.

(Y/N) stayed still at the bottom of the pond, shock baring her fins from any movement.

Well, damn. Fuck the Forbidden. It really bit her in the tail.

Everything Tag: @scxundress @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @swimming-in-stardust @elvish-sky @red-riding @brun-lieve @hey-its-nonny  @mirclealignr @elizabeth-anya-knight  @sydney-1209 @laneynoir @straysugzhpe @runningfeather @finallyforgotten @kaiawrites @commanderawkward @xxbluestrifexx @slytherinambitious @redbirdbluebird @desert-fern  @galadaelin @skairipakomtrikru @genderfluid-anime-goth @skairipakomtrikru @Tpwkcalli @hemera1227 @sotwk

Everything But Spice Tag: @goldfearless @insert-random-blog-name-here @cauliflowertree @heranintomyknife23times @mxmia @unethicallypleistocene

Boromir Tag: @scyllas-revenge @lord-westley

add yourself to my taglist

#vayawrites #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #boromir #boromir x reader #boromir/reader #boromir x Fem!reader #boromir x mermaid reader #boromir/MermaidReader #mermaid #LOTR fic #lotr fanfic #LOTR fanfiction #boromir fic #boromir fanfic #boromir fanfiction

[amamotaweek]

amamota week 2023!

hello danganronpa community!! it’s about that time again! amamota week (a week celebrating the ship between kaito momota and rantaro amami) will be running from november 1st through november 7th 2023!

here is our graphic made as always by the amazing @nebulaleaf and the prompts will be transcribed below!

day one / november 1st: royalty au / loyalty / determination

day two / november 2nd: dawn / acknowledgement / friendship

day three / november 3rd: travel / long-distance / yearning

day four / november 4th: meet cute / blind date / curiosity

day five / november 5th: greeting / farewell / embrace

day six / november 6th: bouquet / promise / dream

day seven / november 7th: first kiss / free space

if you’re participating, please do me a favour and @ mention this blog so i can see and boost your entries. also be sure to tag all entries with [ # amamota week 2023 ] and [ # amamota week ] as i will be checking those tags in case tumblr glitches and doesn’t notify me.

rules and guidelines will be under the cut! if you have any questions feel free to message or send an ask to this blog, or contact me on my main @toxicpineapple if you need any help. cheers and happy amamoting!

1. this will be an entirely sfw event! i won’t police what’s going on on the blog you choose to participate with (so using a blog that contains nsfw is fine) but please do not use my prompts to create nsfw content.

2. all plagiarism will be strictly forbidden for the purposes of this event. heavily referencing art or fanfic and the unauthorised use of anybody’s fanart for a video edit, moodboard, etc will not be prompted for this event. please do not use anyone’s art without both PERMISSION and CREDIT. there is never an acceptable circumstance to do this.

3. please respect all other entries! if i find out about anyone trolling or leaving hate comments they will be banned from participating in the event.

4. “problematic” content such as incest, age gap, shota/lolli is absolutely banned and not supported for this event. ya nasties.

5. poly ship content (featuring kaito and rantaro in a relationship with other characters) will be allowed and encouraged! however do make sure that kaito and rantaro are dating EACH OTHER, not just existing as metamours or something.

6. cis genderbends will not be allowed for this event. however, all trans headcanons including trans genderbends will be allowed and boosted.

7. late entries will be accepted indefinitely! please feel free to use the prompts whenever you can however you can and i will boost your work so long as you tag me. :)

8. you are free to take loose inspiration from the prompts or even not use the prompts at all if it suits you. if you drop a piece and label it for amamota week (and it follows my guidelines) i will boost it. heh.

9. aus and crossovers will be accepted!

10. this ship event is focusing on the ROMANTIC relationship between kaito and rantaro, and as such content featuring them in a friendship will not be promoted. however queerplatonic amamota content will be boosted.

that’s all i’ve got! keep an eye on this blog because i’ll be reblogging the promo and posting countdowns as the dates draw closer. thanks for your attention as always and i’m looking forward to november!

#amamota #kaito momota #rantaro amami #amami rantaro #momota kaito #amami rantarou #rantarou amami #amamota week 2023 #amamota week #amami rantaro x momota kaito #momota kaito x amami rantaro #kaito momota x rantaro amami #rantaro amami x kaito momota #kaito x rantaro #rantaro x kaito #amami x momota #momota x amami

[maochira]

first off all, congrats on 400!(or almost?) 💞💗

for ur new writing event; sae and rin have a better relationship again and one of them is a single dad and the other helps raise the kid as a cool uncle! ☺️🙏💐

Omg this is so cute 😭😭 The event is specifically for ships as parents, but I'll happily write this outside of the event!! In general, I'm open to writing parent!characters unrelated to the event heh. Oh and thank you!! I actually hit 400 followers today which is CRAZY thank you for being here!!

Requests open! - current event - masterlist

Tags: gn!Sae's child!reader, single father!Sae

(A/N: I rarely get personal here, but I have lots of comfort in single dad stuff because I've been living with my single dad since I was 13 (I lived with my mom and ex-stepfather before that) and my aunt has always played a big role in my life!! So I took a little bit of inspiration from my own life for this :])

-when you were born, the rivalry between Sae and Rin was still going on, but when Sae and your mother separated when you were a toddler, Sae was in need of help to raise you. Even though Rin always thought he dislikes children, he definitely has a soft spot for you, so he agreed to help out his brother

-and that's what fixed the messy relationship between Sae and Rin. It took a few months, but because Rin spent so much time at Sae's place to help with taking care of you, they slowly grew together again

-your mother is basically out of your life, but it doesn't affect you that much because you're too young to remember life with both of your parents together. But it does make you very attached to Sae

-despite Rin helping with whatever is needed, Sae still does most of the work regarding you, but whenever he gets overwhelmed or too tired, he calls Rin for help

-Rin usually picks you up from kindergarten/school, and he drives you to wherever you need to go (meeting friends, appointments Sae doesn't need to attend/doesn't have time for, etc.)

-when Sae has to travel for matches, Rin will either stay at your place or you stay at his for that timespan

-you miss Sae a lot when he's gone, and because you're so attached to him it can get hard to deal with him not being at home for a longer period of time, so Rin always comforts you if you get sad

-Sae makes up for the time he loses with you by taking you out to a lot of father-child activities. He always looks out for something to do, like going to the cinema, going to the zoo, or whatever you ask him for

-of course, there are also times when Rin has to travel for matches. If that happens to be at the same time when Sae has to travel as well, you will usually go along with Sae

-Sae isn't exactly a strict parent, but he's very protective of you so he tends to set a few more rules than needed in fear something happens to you

-Rin lets you break some of those rules if Sae is not around. It's a little secret between the two of you. It's never big things, tho. Rather small rules like having candy for breakfast or staying up way past bedtime

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock headcanons #bllk headcanons #blue lock x you #bllk x you #sae itoshi #itoshi sae #sae x reader #sae x you #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you #itoshi brothers #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #blue lock sae #blue lock rin #rin x you #rin x reader #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x reader

[total-drama-takes-the-squeakquel]

HEADCANONS

--

owen probably askes beth often to make friendship bracelets; but not for him and her, for him and noah. he gets them and then gives them to noah and noah has so many up to the point he can have two arms full of just bracelets..

beth, lindsay and ezekiel are best friends and the green ezekiel creature is LITERALLY their dog chat i don't make rules i follow them sorry not sorrryyy..

heather actively makes sock puppets and make a sock puppet of her cat (which her cat torn it up one day but she made another one). this is mainly based off the loser gwen show with the puppets. she loves making arts and crafts stuff and made a puppet of cody, her, and sierra!! (she didn't make an alejandro one cause FUDGE him :P)

--

SHIP HEADCANONS

--

all these ships DONT happen at the same time, but here are some headcanons i have for them heh.. some random.. /ref

ALENOAH

alejandro once showered noah with sugary treats before and noah ate none of it (gave it all to cody and owen) because noah HATES sugary stuff.

they both read books so one time they swapped books and alejandros book was in spanish.. noah could NOT read it/understand and alejandro was fully aware. still made noah suffer with curiosity.

noah and alejandros animals would be a bull and a eel!!

sometimes when they're casually cuddling alejandro brings up something absolutely cringey noah did and noah cringes so hard.

(GO TO TINCANNEDCROW ON HERE/TIKTOK AND FOLLOW THEM FOR MORE SILLY ALENOAH HCS, NOT MY ACCOUNT /SRS, I JUST LOVE THEIR HCS!!)

--

ending it here FOR NOW i will come back with more headcanons i'm too sleepy to keep writing

- 🪤 (previously blood anon)

-

#total drama #long post #bait anon #owen td #beth td #ezekiel td #lindsay td #alenoah #noah td #alejandro td #heather td

[vole-mon-amour]

3x12, Jamie edition, part 3.

You fucking idiots, both of you. "He's fine." I'M GONNA BEAT YOUR ASS, ROY KENT.

Coffee scene <3 Just make out already! Jfc!

Keeley is so sweet & deserves someone new who will take out all the drama of her life and bring only joy and no jealousy. Drop both Roy and Jamie, find yourself some Boss Ass Bitch for your happily ever after.

But hey, at least they're gonna talk! Hopefully. It was due, like, a couple of weeks ago. (Me who actually ships them) DROP THEIR ASSES, KEELEY.

Both? Neither?

LMAOO. She's the exact savage that we need. "Oh, for real? Me? I actually get to choose???" It's like I said, they sat down bickering without considering what KEELEY actually wants. Drag their asses.

TRY-ANGLES. Jamie is so cute, ugh.

The entire episode I'm thinking about Phil's "People might think they're having a wild affair" so I'm more than happy about this outcome. I'm actually ready to accept OT3 or all single, it's all good. Go spend the night together again, just like Amsterdam, but get lost in each other's arms for real this time.

When everybody started barking after Roy asking if he can be a Diamond dog, the door closed, and Jamie got really curious. hehe.

"A care package from Zava"

Heh. Who is that guy constantly next to Jamie? What's his name? They're obviously friends.

Both laughing and crying. Stop it. ;_;

Colin crying, but we know it was emotional for the actors too. The dude in the back is full on wailing.

"Richmond appear to be crying. Interesting strategy." That strategy is called "I love you all very much" ;_____;

Hands off, asshole. Honestly, the rules of football... Barely touching, apparently, doesn't count.

I love watching Jamie play. I love knowing that Phil really loves football and enjoys filming this.

It's the second (or the third?) time this happens this season. When is Ted going to adopt Jamie? ;_; I mean, he already has a stepdad, but he can have two wonderful ones as a treat.

JAMIE STILL HAS THE BOOK AND IT LOOKS LIKE HE READ IT MANY TIMES. Or at least carried around with him everywhere. Weeping.

"And Tartt finally puts it away" I literally started sheering with tears streaming down my cheeks. I feel like only this show can do it.

Henry is me. Henry is all of us Jamie lovers. God, he could've moved to England and have a constant access to Jamie. Jamie would've loved spending time with him.

Not Jamie's leg AGAIN, but that expression <3 Jamie is THE best. And that smile. That tongue. Having thoughts. :')

Jamie giving up the ball, giving it to Dani to score? TEAM PLAYER. My heart is so full of love for Jamie.

Stay mad about it. x)

#natiswatching #ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy x jamie x keeley #roy x jamie

[flippyspoon]

Keeping Stride

NOTE: SNW Spirk ficlet featuring my favorite subject: why Jim is horny for Spock to be his XO someday.

Spock was not looking for conversation with anyone or for anything at all really, other than to complete his routine cardio in the deck five gym. 

Spock was on the treadmill, and running at a comfortable sprint in perfect form, his mind mostly occupied by the question of an usual atmospheric density on an otherwise M-class planet, when Lieutenant Jim Kirk showed up and hopped on the treadmill next to Spock.

Spock nodded in greeting to Kirk and could not decide if it would be productive for Kirk to start talking to him or not. But it was irrational to decide whether he wished for it. Because it was Jim Kirk. As far as Spock could see so far, Jim Kirk was very likely to start talking to you if the social occasion allowed for it at all.

Jim cranked up his treadmill and started running at a sprint nearly equal to Spock’s, though Spock was not running near his top speed. But he noticed it.

Still, he also noticed that Jim indeed did start talking, and did not seem to have very much trouble running and holding a conversation at the same time.

“Say, Spock. Can I ask you something? And please tell me if I should shut up.”  Jim glanced over at him, eyes bright.

“You may,” Spock said in between breaths. “And I will.”

That made Kirk chuckle. “Do Vulcans fantasize?”

Spock raised a wary eyebrow and Jim laughed again, ducking his head. “Sorry! No, I don’t mean… Nothing untoward. I mean, about the future? Things you want in life? Dreams? That kind of thing?”

Spock looked straight again and considered the question as he kept this stride. “I would not frame it as fantasy. We have goals which we work toward. We rarely visualize our goals as daydreams. Instead, we focus on actively pursuing them.”

“Heh.” Kirk nodded, arms swinging. “That’s kind of what I figured. I suppose, I wondered if it was any different for you. Being half human?”

“I cannot say my human side has not been apparent,” Spock said, squinting at the twinge in his side and just as quickly compartmentalizing it so the pain was simply gone. “Especially as of late. I have been exploring my emotions more often to…mixed results. But, I admit, I still do not see any productive use in fantasy.”

“Oh, see…” Jim laughed again. Spock had noticed that Jim laughed a lot. Spock did not dislike this trait. “Fantasy can be a very active part of achievement for me! Visualizing my wants is motivating. Now, some humans do all the fantasy part without the work. That’s no good at all.”

“What is it you visualize?” Spock asked, before he could think twice about asking.

Kirk grinned, and tapped the treadmill controls, cranking up his speed another notch. “Captaining this ship, mostly.”

One of the emotions Spock had been toying with recently came skipping out to play and Spock smiled at Kirk whose grin widened at Spock’s reaction. “As you are now the youngest XO in the fleet,” Spock said, picking up his pace a bit to stay well ahead of Kirk, “I would not put it past you.”

“You had command of the ole girl for a minute there,” Kirk said, nodding at him. 

“Briefly.”

“And you stole the ship?”

Spock couldn’t quite read the tone while looking ahead as he sprinted a little harder. But when he looked over at Kirk, the grin had turned a little sly.

“It was necessary,” Spock said simply.

“Stole the Enterprise to aid a former crewmate who was not even Starfleet at the time, against orders to fly to a Klingon mining colony,” Kirk went on, “threatening a treaty-”

“Lieutenant, are you asking because you disagree with my choices while in command?” Spock asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Not necessarily,” Kirk said. “But, it is a surprising choice for a Vulcan, isn’t it? We tend to think of you as rule followers, I think.”

“To follow the rule of law,” Spock said, turning up his speed one more notch, and exerting further effort even as he continued the conversation (though it was more difficult, and he found himself breathing much harder), “is not always the logical choice.”

“Would other Vulcans say the same?”

Unlikely, Spock thought.

“I imagine, it depends on the Vulcan.”

“Interesting.” Kirk laughed yet again and something about his expression made Spock run faster, close to his capacity. Then, to his astonishment, he saw Kirk meeting his stride, drops of sweat sliding from his temple to his throat.

The conversation ended, at least temporarily, as they were running much too hard and fast to speak. This continued for several minutes. There was only the sound of their breath and the pounding of their feet on the tread. Spock glanced over and saw Kirk staring straight ahead, his brow furrowed, his mouth turned down in a grimace. But he managed to keep pace with Spock.

The safety check lights on Kirk’s treadmill turned red and beeped.

“You are going to collapse,” Spock informed him.

Kirk clenched his teeth. “No, I won’t. Hey, Spock- ugghh-”

Spock expelled a half infuriated puff of breath, and reached over to slam the emergency stop button on Kirk’s tread. Kirk stumbled for a moment before sliding off, cackling with glee, bending over to hold his knees as Spock came to a stop and hopped off to join him.

“Are you alright, Lieutenant?” Spock said. He crossed to the synthesizer against the wall to retrieve a cup of water which he brought to Kirk.

“Yeah.” Kirk straightened up, stretching, and gratefully took the water. “I was just having fun. Wanted to see how long I could keep up with you.”

“Longer than I would have expected,” Spock allowed. “But I did not relish the thought of carrying you to sickbay.”

Kirk nodded and walked to the wall by the synthesizer, sliding down to sit on the floor. Because Spock was enjoying his company, he sat down next to him as they caught their breath.

“You know,” Kirk said, “when I do fantasize about being captain of the Enterprise, I often imagine who would be my first officer. You’d make a great one, I think.”

“You desire a first officer who has admitted he may steal your ship?” Spock said. Though he had to admit to himself, he said it to watch Kirk laugh again.

Kirk met his expectation and threw his head back, slapping his knee. “Actually? Maybe. Any worthwhile captain should have an XO who challenges them, right? And I love a challenge.”

“Clearly.”

“I’m sure you’d never steal my Enterprise though?” Kirk smiled wide, eyes twinkling.

Spock stared for a moment before he thought to respond.

“I will make no such promise, Lieutenant,” Spock said.

Then Kirk slapped his knee when he laughed and Spock thought: He is quite fascinating.

“Hey Spock, what’re you doing right now? Want to play some chess?” Kirk got to his feet, stretching, his shirt riding up and exposing a tight stomach.

Spirk blinked, momentarily distracted, and said, “I would like that, Lieutenant.”

#spirk #k/s #kirk/spock

[zhongrin]

ー and that's a wrap!!!

note: this is a thank-you post and i’ll be posting an ‘explanation’ post after this, just give me some time to compile all the information <3

so. obviously i just have to do this because man. that was a whole ride hahahah thank you so so so so so SO MUCH to people who participated actively in the ebg???? i am????? not worthy??????? lsjdkfjskldf

special mentions to: (ps. please check them out; these are all wonderful, talented writers. be sure to read their rules first, though!!!)

@kurikurikurisu / @risustravelogue thank you for putting up with my insanity throughout this event…. and for being the first to bring in their hubby to sneak around the teahouse! lol smart move!! i’m guessing you’ll bring your other hubby next time for the fun of it and i am. looking forward to it already hahahah also that morse code → vigenere cipher will haunt my nightmares now thanks- /silly

@crystalflygeo you precious precious gem. i am still wheezing at that meme you sent me. here’s to hoping the next time crys visits the teahouse it doesn’t smell like sea salt and frost anymore heh ;)) also fontaine tea time double date when? <3

@floraldresvi thank you for being the source of romance this ebg lol tartarin is a sinking ship so everyone better hop in to covivi!! all jokes aside, i love writing your interactions with coviello so much (and based on the comments everyone else seems to enjoy it too hahahah) i 🚢!!!!!

@silentmoths MOTH!!! YOUR WINGS 😭 will drinking tea make it grow back??? i offer the finest silk for you to munch on after this hsdlfjskdf anyway, be it the last ebg or this one, i love seeing the little moth flying about in the teahouse hehe <3

@ainescribe / @lychniis i hate (read: love) you. why did you have to bring back the nightmarish cipher into this smh /j anyway…. another event to be recorded in the record keeper’s books, eh? i hope you enjoyed this ebg too <3

@queen-belial you madlad /pos. the way you write ousldjflshdjflksd i feel a little bad i can only respond with small snippets because man. those are. yummy yummy meals you were dishing out there!!! capitano is coming for childe’s ass atp that ginger better watch out lmaoooo

@abyssmal-skies tysm for granting me the opportunities to up the creepy factor lol i’m glad you managed to piece together what happened!! looking forward if you ever decide on joining an ebg next time :3

@the-travelling-witch HOLLYYYYYY. thank you for letting me 'borrow' your husband and allowing me to make him a little... uhh... #deranged lol. honestly you’re one of the reasons why i went “ok so…. only my blog needs to simp for childe. i don’t…. time to make someone else ‘run’ the blog…. >:)” because for lord’s sake i am very much not attracted to him and i just. can’t. do. it. #chilly4ever #chillyno1

@leftdestiny-posts / @intothegenshinworld that letter almost took me out ngl i am. i am still crying and sobbing over it hsldfjskldjflksdf PLEASE. also shiro protection squad &lt;;3 *silently wipes bloodied hand on a tea towel*

@kopidense / @ask-court-genshin heyyyy fellow murder accomplice (for legal reasons, disclaimer: this does not involve any real human bodies whatsoever) 🙌🏻 thanks for dropping by!! also pls tell your two friends i said hi winkwink #truezhonglimainsstickstogether /silly

@navxry actually yk what no. no thanks for you, you gremlin /silly but thanks for the trauma i guess- /j

@i23kazu YING!!! thank you so so so so much for hosting this ebg! it has been super fun and i (and i’m sure everyone else thinks the same) really appreciate your effort in putting things together!!

and of course all of the other people who sent in asks, be in anon or non-anon, be it a silly ask or a sabotage attempt or a rp attempt — please know that i really really really appreciate each and every single one of you!!!

your participation means a lot and it’s the literal driving force behind my passion in constantly drawing and writing stuff whenever i have time these past 7 days. i haven’t written or drawn any content whatsoever in weeks. do you see the power you hold over us writers by sending in fics & silly stuff now?? i hope you do.

also, even if you didn’t participate at all, i appreciate you for still sticking with me despite having to deal with my silliness for past week 😌

sending you all my kithes /p and hugs and a cup of your preferred tea! <3

#rin plays ebg #a psa from rin

[pink-strawberry-kissess]

heheheh!!!

Ship Headcanons - Ada/Leon

Thank you for the tag, @visualheresy !!! >:3

Gives forehead/nose kisses: So I have a very specific answer for all of these. Forehead is def Leon giving them. He's much more affectionate than Ada but in private settings they're more half and half. In terms of forehead kisses specifically, I hc that he kisses her temple more, sometimes along her hair line and her cheek. Ada's the one that gives noses kisses, and other things for his nose too heh heh she also likes how adorable he looks when she boops his nose

Gets jealous the most: Leon, but it's not serious. Rarely does he actually take the time to get mad at her about something about her past or even in a present day setting. Ada doesn't get jealous as much as she gets insecure that she can't provide Leon what he wants or needs.

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive: Leon's the drunk ass. Ada's picking him up. Ada is NOT getting drunk in a public space. here's ada dragging leon from a bar lol

Takes care of on sick days: Leon would take care of Ada much more despite her protests. BUT he would also know if she really wants to be left alone. Feel like Ada is the type to let it fester because she's not willing to seek help. me crying over when i wrote leon taking care of ada. Ada would do the minimum in terms of, checking in for a fever, MAYBE staying with him if he gets worse. But would most likely give him meds, water and leave him to sleep. If he's already sleeping she might watch over him quietly. But she's not gonna wait around all day.

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day: This depends. If perhaps Leon's in a bad mood, Ada would wanna drag him out into the water. Leon would probably entice Ada in other ways to join him in the water. here i have them at da the beach hehe

Gives unprompted massages: Ada. She's a bit more touchy feely in that way - than him. He MIGHT but he wouldn't be necessarily as good as her. I hc that Ada gives AMAZING massages, she can turn leon into a limp noodle (yes that way too)

Drives/rides shotgun: ADA'S DRIVING

Brings the other lunch at work: Ada might cause she would wanna tease him about it. in an au setting tho, Leon would be the one heading to her work and giving her lunches hehe

Has the better parental relationship: ... what does this mean. like their parents? they dead. i really can't say tbh cause we don't know either of their relationships with their parents. unless this means like, them being parents? half and half, it depends on what aspects of parenting since there's so many ways to parent

Tries to start role-playing in bed: Ada 100% Leon might but he's bad at it. he's cringe but she loves that

Embarrassingly drunk dancer: Leon is also a terrible dancer sober and has two left feet but doesn't mind that Ada is a splendid dancer. She'd help him along and finds it endearing that he's so focused on getting the moves/steps right she'd just want him to move along with her and to stop panicking. she wants him to just feel the moment rather than the act of trying to dance well

Still cries watching Titanic: Leon. He's a movie dude. Would've had Titanic in the two part VHS tapes. also when is like canonically the first time leon saw boobs LMAO

Firmly believes in couples costumes: ADA SDFBSKFk leon's not one to dress up anyways and would just go along with whatever ada had planned

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas: Ada

Makes the other eat breakfast: LEON. he's a breakfast dude. Ada a habitual breakfast skipper and maybe coffee or tea drinker before she just starts her day. she might have a small brunch later but she only really starts eating breakfast more when Leon asks for it or he just makes it because he WANTS BREAKFAST. fic where i wrote leon crying over breakfast (i think it's chapter 6?)

Remembers anniversaries: Leon ;_; but Ada does also but she's more silent about it. She'd still wanna celebrate but only if he wants to. If there's some sort of anniversary or even his birthday she'll still drop off something for him if she can. wrote about his birthday here

Brings up having kids: LEON but only in a sad way. Maybe if he's being sad about missing out on it but also in a way where he's worried he wouldn't be able to provide a good life for them anyways so it's better off this way. ada i feel would NEVER bring up having kids unless she was actually PRENGNENT.

Tagging whoever wants to do this!!!! :3

#ada wong #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #aeon #leon x ada #leon kennedy x ada wong #leon s kennedy x ada wong #ada x leon #ada wong x leon kennedy #headcanons #aeon headcanons #aeon hcs

[fourteenthz]

wip roundup

Tagged by @birues (tysm rue!!! reading your snippets and giggling rn) and tagging with no obligation @coldshrugs @abyssalmermaiden @aethergazing @myreia

rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it!

Ngl to you guys. I'm showing my whole ass rn. This post has to be the most embarrassing post I've ever done with the amount of wips I have. I only took the ones from the ff files, don't ask abt the other... here we go:

1. The one where they speak • balfran 2. Catching strays!au • wolcred 3. Coffee shop!au • wolcred 4. Band!au • wolgraha 5. Settling down matters • wolcred 6. Silent watch • haurchefant's + wol 7. Through her eyes • wolcred + ryne pov. 8. Ceasured again, not with your help • azemet 9. Eyes everywhere • emet + ardbert + wol 10. The in from the cold one • scions (side wolcred) 11. Here • estinien + wol 12. Hahahah emet. I write emet now. • azemet 13. Strangely familiar • elpis gang (implied hyhazemet) 14. Twenty five years • Hien 15. Than 3.3 • wolcred 16. Since when • azemet 17. Birthday fic owo • azemet 18. The Pendants are as quiet as... • ryne + wol 19. Greetings and farewell • azemet 20. The 1 (...first xiv fic lets goo) • haurchefant + alphinaud + wol 21. Hyphrosene • Menphina + wolcred 22. New dawn, new day, new life • g'raha + wol 23. Unfounded • wolcred 24. Art • solus/emet + varis (implied hythazemet) 25. She was all over the place • azemet 26. Themis mets the world • themis (side some ancients/ships) 27. Dogo • ardbert + seto + wol 28. What if (role swap!au) • hythazemet 29. Amaurot (I love urbanism so much GOD) • azem 30. 5 most meaningful favors • g'raha/exarch + wol 31. Changes (thesa new hair HEH) • wolcred 32. Haurchefant had never... • haurchefant + wol 33. G'raha tia was always • twins + wol 34. Himst • azemet

#my files show up the first words and last (if the title is too big) so most of those with parenthesis i had forgotten they were there... LOL #i'm aware of like..... the mess that this is too. I either write wol / azem gen or wolcred of hythazemet. that's it. #also 50% of these I probably just need to wrap up im just BAD at finishing it. and yes i now have a balfran fic no one talk to me #and yes the catching strays au is also being born like one day it will be more palpable for now its just THEM being SILLY #and doing crimes for fun :) also I did not add here like the fics that are 1k or less words lol.... don't ask me about them either :) #some are real titles some are the fist sentence some are just whatever I was feeling at the time and forgot to change so ENJOY #just in my defense I do have finished ones.. they are usually gen because it comes easier for me :) but my stabilished relationship ones #are there as well. i just am the worst perfectionist ever. we WILL get there someday in the 10 wips mark believe me #kelly says #tag game #if any of you that I tagged dont write SORRY ignore this <3

[firebatvillain]

20 questions for fic writers!

As seen on @givereadersahug (x)!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I currently have 59 works on AO3, though some of those are unrevealed or anonymous, so the visible work count is a bit lower.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

105k! Wow. Over half of that has been in the last two years, when I've been doing a lot more writing and taking part in exchanges.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Naruto (7) Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling (7) Original Work (7) Warhammer 40.000 (3) Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms (2) Stellaris (Video Game) (2) From there we get into a lot of one-offs that I wrote for exchanges. House MD, Gundam Wing, Good Omens, The Order of the Stick, and many others. Most of the Original Work fics are for particular exchange prompts, some of which are quite fun.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Greatest Weasley [Harry Potter, Ron-Centric, incomplete] - this WIP is my white whale! Ron gets sorted into Slytherin. Only a couple chapters, I should return to it sometime...

Harry Potter and the Independent Path [Harry Potter, parody, one-shot] - This very short parody fic is fun and I'm glad people like it. I actually look back fondly on this genre even if I poke fun at it.

Five Times Sakura Heard the Voice, and One Time It Faded [Naruto, Sakura-centric, one-shot, 2.9k] - This was an fest fic for Fest No Jutsu 2022! I really enjoyed writing this one.

If You Won’t Wait for Me, I’ll Find My Own Path [Naruto, Sakura-centric, drabble] - Wrote this one based on the fandom opinions of my friend @xenosimp. Surprised at its popularity.

Liana and the Labyrinth’s Core [Original Work, Explicit, Het, 2.3k] - I wrote this very explicit fic for an exchange, and had a lot of fun with it! Minotaur/Sacrifice, make sure to read the tags/warnings.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

For exchange fics, almost always. Otherwise, I do sometimes. It's fun to chat with other fandom people and let them know I appreciate their comments, or answer their questions.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't usually write angsty endings, but The Rules of Reintegration [OW drabble, prompt: military android masquerading as a human] is angsty.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I'd say Four Times Toph Beifong Triumphed [ATLA, Toph-centric, 2.5k words] would be it. It's generally fun! 

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not often, though I got one very baffling comment on a fic where someone questioned the realism of it. I'm not in the big fandoms where there's lots of drama though.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, often for exchanges. It typically tends to be straightforward steamy sex. I've got some more kinky stuff posted to anon that I won't share here, heh.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I've written one, but it's not usually my style for writing, since it's a challenge for me. I love reading them though!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, and I hope it never happens. I don't think anything I've written is popular enough for that 😅

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

My fandom friend and I co-wrote Mist and Shadow, a WH40k AU fic about Eldar escaping the fall of the Eldar empire. After about 12k words, we set it down, but we may return someday.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

This is a tough one! All-time, I'm not sure. But at the moment, I'm basically chewing on Durge/Enver Gortash (BG3) and having a great time with it.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oof, this is a tough one! There's a very old Naruto fic that I don't think I'll ever get back to... Lost Root. I can't really recommend it in its current state, but it was one of my first plot bunnies.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm pretty decent at paragraph-to-paragraph rhythm, and I am unafraid to try new things.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Sometimes I repeat certain phrases without realizing it, and pacing scenes can be difficult for me. I also have a tendency to write excessively long sentences. Trying to improve on that last one!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Seems like a hard sell for both writer and reader.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

StarCraft pro gamer RPF. No, you won't find the fic on my AO3 profile.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I'm still in love with Roonil Wazlib and the Goblet of Fire, a 2.8k word Harry Potter crackfic I wrote for Bad Bang V. Is it bad? Yes, oh yes. And it's fun, and so are the comments.

Tagging (no pressure): @xenosimp @vanyalanthirielofmana @chacusha @vampiremonday @uozlulu @miss-ingno @verecunda

#tag game #writing #fanfic #fandom #fbv writes

[wellthebardsdead]

Skalei-Jei: *shackles finally broken and joining her egg brethren in the revolt against their dunmeri slavers. Stabbing her spear through the throats of the ones who once held the whip to her back and ripping their faces off so they may never walk as themselves in another life* FOR MY MOTHER- *stabs through the chest of an ordinator before turning to join the others up ahead- as she hears the death rattle of a young woman, and the new cries of a baby* … *slowly creeps around the building and freezes seeing a young dunmer woman laying dead. Her body dressed in rags, and her legs covered in the same whip marks she bared too… and in her arms, a new born baby boy* Divines no… *hurries over and freezes recognising the woman’s face, a prisoner in her same camp, a woman who followed the nerevarine in his efforts to free the argonian people only to be captured and tortured along with the scaled folk* oh my friend-… *looks to the baby and tearfully takes him from her arms. A pink birthmark on his forehead resembling an eye, contrasted greatly against his dark grey skin* …

The baby: *cries and clings to her finger with his tiny hands, small but so loud as he screams with life*

Skalei-Jei: *pulls out her knife and cuts the umbilical cord before stroking the woman’s face one more time* I will raise him in your memory… you will not be forgotten… *shakily stands up and walks away holding the baby* We make life our own now… Little Riiju-Lei…

*A few months later*

Skalei-Jei: *shuffles off the ship dressed in thick robes to stand against the chill of the windhelm docks, herself and a number of other argonians arriving to find a new life free of slavery, and in a sling on her chest, little Riiju-Lei* shhh little one, we’re almost to our new home.

Dock master: Name?

Skalei-Jei: Skalei-Jei.

Dock master: *looks her up and down then at the baby* hm. What’s their name?

Skalei-Jei: Riiju-Lei.

Dock master: hm. Well. No argonians or elves are permitted in the city. You can house yourselves in the assemblage or find somewhere else.

Skalei-Jei: but- he needs milk and clothing-

Dock master: I don’t make the rules Maam…

Riiju-Lei: *sniffles and starts crying again, hungry and cold, head seemingly always hurting, always in pain*

Skalei-Jei: *starts comforting him again, bouncing him in his sling* please…

Dock master: *sighs and writes a slip of paper handing it to her* one time use only, don’t let the guards look at it too long if they stop you, only the housecarl can hand them out. Get him what he needs and get out.

Skalei-Jei: *takes it and bows her head* th-thank you sir… *shuffles off down the dock*

*That evening*

Skalei-Jei: *crying as she carrys Riiju to the stables, her face covered in blood and one of her hands definitely broken after another argonian attempted to smother the baby in his sleep, all because he was a dunmer* shhh- Shh it’s okay- w-we find somewhere else to live. *shuffles by the stable house towards the cart*

???: Everything okay there Maam- oh dear what happened?

Skalei-Jei: *jumps and looks over to see a very tall nord man locking up the horses* I- I’m f-fine I-

???: *cautiously approaches not wanting to scare her* well clearly you’re not. I’m illiterate not blind, heh. *holds out a handkerchief to her*

Skalei-Jei: *shakily takes it and wipes her face clean* th-thank you- I- I only have a little c-coin- I-I need a cart to take me somewhere he’ll be welcome…

???: *looks at the still crying baby* Well no carts running tonight I’m afraid. Blizzard rolling in… and you and your little one might find it hard finding anywhere to fit in here… but I can’t allow a mother and child to freeze to death so- *walks over to the stable house door* Come inside. I’ll heat up some milk for the lad…

Skalei-Jei: y-you will?… *nervously steps forward, understandably afraid but… trusts him anyway and steps inside* what is? Your name kindness?…

Hroldar Brokenbrow: Hroldar Brokenbrow, you can call me Hroldi if you’d like. And you madam?…

Skalei-Jei: *would be blushing if her scales would allow* Skalei-Jei mr Hroldi.

Hroldar Brokenbrow: Just Hroldi is fine Maam… and this little one?…

Skalei-Jei: Riiju-Jei… his mother passed before she could name him so I named him myself…

Hroldar Brokenbrow: *smiles and gently takes him from the sling* strong set of lungs on him. He could use the voice if he were a nord. Heh… Riiju… even sounds like a dragons name… He’s lucky to have you Skalei-Jei… come. Sit by the fire I’ll warm him in some furs and get him milk. And something for your hand too…

Skalei-Jei: *sniffles and nods, swishing her stubby tail* thank you kind friend…

*A few hundred years later*

Riiju-Lei: *Grew up raised by Skalei-Jei & Hroldi as his parents, lived in windhelm his whole life and soon found work within the city once they began allowing elves to live in its walls, and in its walls he laid his parents to rest, and in its walls he suffered racism from several generations of man but still treated them always with a smile. Now trudging his way to dark water crossing with nothing but his bag of ingredients and medicine to treat the miners*

???: I-I’m sorry my friend I h-have to do this! I need the coin!

Riiju-Lei: *turns around to see a wild eyed and- blue? Khajiit pointing his bow right at him* I-w-woah there my friend I have n-no money please calm down-

???: LIAR! *loosens an arrow right into the Dunmer’s shoulder knocking him to the ground*

Riiju-Lei: Ugh-… *stares up at the sky as everything goes blurry before passing out and waking up a few hours later to see the crazy cat gone, and the sunset behind the trees* uhh?… *stands up and winces in pain seeing the arrow that shot him now missing, but the wound very much still there… and his stuff all gone* great… *sighs and stands up heading to dark water crossing hoping they’ll at least have a healing potion there or somewhere safe he can rest and heal himself before going home* hm?… *looks up ahead to see stormcloak soldiers heading in his direction* oh good- maybe they can h-

???: NOW!!!

Riiju-Lei: *staggers back watching as at least 100 imperial soldiers leap out springing on the stormcloaks* O-oh sh-shit no!!! *turns and starts trying to run away, ignoring the pain in his shoulder*

Imperial soldier: Oh no you dont!! *raises his mace up*

Riiju-Lei: No please! I’m not a stormcl- *blacks out seeing the mace come down on him* …

…

“It’s time, to wake up now, dreamer”

…

Riiju-Lei: *blinks awake, red eyes struggling to adjust to the movement around him as he sits upright* h-huh?… where?… who was?… that?…

Ralof: hey. You. You’re finally awake.

#Riiju-Lei Dragonborn #yes another dagoth reincarnation #deal with it #Dunmer dragonborn #ocs #long post

[hanafubukki]

okay Hana i am here to tell you abt my twst self ships :3

preface is that you’ll have to forgive me for any mistakes as far as lore and timelines because i am still fairly new to the game (been playing since June!) and i and still working things out ofc but that’s all the fun about self shipping right? is changing things up and tweaking things hehe

also for a bit of background i don’t go by the Yuu/prefect story in my au hdhfhf ~ but instead my self insert a princess who has sunshine magic from a small kingdom that neighbors Briar Valley and i have know Malleus and the other Diasomnia crew for awhile <3

also ofc for me NRC is a legit college LMFAO and i share this au with a few friends where we all go to the school together which is a ton of fun for talking abt our self ships and adventures and lore !

⭐️ Leona, Malleus, and Silver are my main f/o’s

in my ss with Silver, he actually starts out as my bodyguard while im attending NRC per Mal’s request and we get closer and fall in love that way 🥹 he was actually the reason i started playing Twst !! he is very much so special to me

with Mal it’s essentially “childhood” friends to lovers aka ive known him since i was younger and we rekindle our friendship upon me coming to NRC and he’s happy to see me again and from there we rekindle our friendship and fall in love (he has loved me for a long time and was patiently waiting for me sobs)

with Leona he was at one time betrothed to a friend of mine who is also a princess and they didn’t want that (but they’re obviously just friends now) and he and i meet and it’s very sunshine x grumpy! he denies his romantic feelings, we bicker, and there’s a kiss in the rain and etc heh

⭐️ Idia and Trey are my “not my usual type but i fell for them anyway” f/o’s idk i just….LSJFBCHFH i want them lmfao (the Obey Me Leviathan to Idia pipeline….so true)

⭐️ and then my BABIES aka my platonic f/o’s who are my besties or sibling types are Deuce, Jack, Kalim, and Cater hehe <33

there’s like….a billion more things i could write tbh i am constantly talking abt them and adding/taking away things and thinking about scenarios with them! UGHH Hana i love them haha sorry for rambling on so much ;w;

Hello Gray 🌻🌷🌺

Yesss, definitely! The fun part of self shipping is that there’s no rules, only that you have fun ☺️💞

Welcome! I hope you are enjoying the fandom Gray 🌷🌻 I’m happy you have friends that you can share your thoughts with, it’s so much fun when you can talk to others about it. ☺️💞💚

A Yume with sunshine powers??? Yessss I adore it greatly. (Yume = self-ship character) I have a weakness for those types of characters.

That’s so sweet!! Princess and knight romance my beloved!! And you know that Silver would treat your yume sweetly and would court her properly and it would be so sweet. I’m calling them the wholesome couple 💞💞

Childhood friends to lovers!!!! Yes yes yes yes!!!! I love this trope, it’s one of my favorites. Especially since malleus has always wanted someone to love him and get to know him and ahhhh you two are so sweet 🥹

Oh Gray you’re using all my fave tropes in your yume, kiss in the rain??? Hell yes!!! I can see the “no one can touch them” 🫶🫶

THE LEVI TO IDIA PIPELINE IS SO TRUE!!! I’m shaking your hand, yessss I know how you feel. I also like idia too and part of it is because of my softness to Levi.

Trey is wonderful, who doesn’t want someone who can bake?? Domestic husband for the princess ☺️💞💞

Oooo wonderful platonic babies 🙌 they all are so so good. I can see how deuce and jack would get along with you (school mates??), but what about cater?? Did your yume know kalim?? From travels or something?

Please! Don’t be sorry. I would love to hear about them. They all sound wonderful and interesting.🌻🌷 please ramble away ☺️🌺

#answered #🌺gray🌺

[deliciouskeys]

001 for Butchlander and 002 for Homie, because I love to be obvious!

Tackling them out of order.

002 | Homelander

* How I feel about this character: 

I want to mush him and squeeze him and torture him and pet him and never let him out.

Oh and he’s a very interesting character and a joy to write. Somewhat as a result of the writer’s room, and somewhat as a result of Antony Starr’s acting.

* All the people I ship romantically with this character: 

I’m a whore, I will read him having sex with just about anyone, and I could make a case for him getting romantic with many characters on the show. Top romantic (heh loaded word) ships are Butchlander, Homewell, Maevlander, Starlander.

* My non-romantic OTP for this character: 

I honestly don’t know what this question means because all my ships are horny ones. But I wish we got more Black Noir being a father figure to him (I wish Noir had more to do in general before they decided to give him some background just before killing him off).

* My unpopular opinion about this character: 

Hmmmm. I’m a little afraid that if Kripke writes him a “redemption arc” in the show they’ll botch it with some incoherent drivel à la s3e8 so I’d almost rather they just didn’t.

* One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

I have more than one.

I’d rather see him depowered and live than die at the end, somehow.

I would have liked to see more of him trying to parent Ryan with Becca around.

I kind of wish he hadn’t killed Stillwell but mostly because I thought she was a cool character.

I wish he hadn’t taken over Vought because that decreases the chance we’ll ever see him operate outside of it.

* my OTP:

Billy Butcher reprogramming HL with tough, but genuine, love. And sex, definitely lots of sex. [refer to section below for much more word vomit about them]

* my cross over ship:

Heh, I think Makima from Chainsaw Man has a nice parallel to the Homewell dynamic. I’d read Batman x HL, I feel like Batman could deal with his bullshit effectively.

* a headcanon fact:

Homelander prefers his sexual partner be strong and wield soft power over him.

============================

001 | Butchlander

* when I started shipping it if I did:

Because I was watching the show very rapidly, I didn’t start shipping it outright until S1E8, but if I had a week between each episode it probably would have materialized no later than E6.

* my thoughts:

Scorchingly, achingly hot. The show canon is stingy with their onscreen time together, but each scene they meet in is glorious. One of the reasons I’m willing to overlook the inconsistent writing in s3 is that they are ramping up the butchlander element in the show. I love that they have ended up sharing a child while both being utterly unequipped to parent. I don’t remember any other enemyslash pairing setting that up and it’s so damn fun.

* What makes me happy about them:

I like to imagine scenarios where their respective traumas and defects (I don’t think they’re “the same”, kripke) fit together in such a complementary way that they end up accidentally helping each other become a little more emotionally functional.

* What makes me sad about them:

One of them lost his wife because of the other and that is a hard wound to heal.

* things done in fanfic that annoys me:

I don’t like when Billy cries too much. I don’t like when writers go all out with Butcher’s cockney but it sounds like Dick van Dyke (easy to criticize, hard to adhere to this rule). I’m more tolerant of different HL characterizations because I think canon has shown us more variety from him in different scenarios, but I tend to enjoy it less when he’s written as a sadist monster with nary an indication of any other emotions.

* things I look for in fanfic:

Generally prefer Bottom the Homelander [not because he has a better ass, but] because the fic is more likely to characterize both of them in ways I find more IC. Generally like when they at least start out antagonistic and hating each other if it’s a multichapter. Love when there’s an element of coparenting Ryan involved. Love when it’s an E rated fuckfest because [I’m here for the porn canon won’t give us, and] they are both presented as characters with energetic libidos.

* Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: 

Honestly? I feel like they’re both likely to end up alone, because I feel bad for whoever ends up with them if they’re not a strong person. Billy with Maeve, as alluded to in the Maevlander post seems fine endgame to me. Butchie is a big fat nope for me, not only because of Annie but because it gives me incest vibes since he sees him as a younger brother. Billy with some strong woman like Rainer probably works. Homelander… needs someone who can spank him if he gets out line. If Victoria Neuman can become that person remains TBD.

* My happily ever after for them:

Haha, I’ll take almost any iteration where they end up together and parent Ryan. I’m intrigued by Billy getting upgraded with Compound V and how they’d keep from becoming a terrible powercouple of supe cunts. I’m intrigued by HL getting depowered and Billy having to rehab him into being a functional human being out of that mental wreckage. I’m intrigued by them staying as human x supe, with both of them having a weird love hate relationship with being involved with a “race” they generally looked down on.

* who is the big spoon/little spoon:

Billy is the big spoon. I will only entertain the thought of HL being the big spoon if it’s written in Russian for reasons I can’t quite fathom and must have something to do with early childhood traumas 😂

* what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

They are pretty different people in terms of pastimes in canon. I named enjoying the outdoors in another meme. I’d like to think they’d also both enjoy having (or aspiring toward having) a normal family life, raising a child as if they’re normal, well-adjusted adult men, doing normal domestic things. Emphasis on the as if.

#thanks for the ask! #meme #butchlander #homelander #the boys #the boys tv #mystuff

[shadowdianne]

Twenty questions for fic writers

(I guess I still am that xd let's see)

thank you for the tag love @waknatious

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Uhhh, this one will always be tricky lol; not every fic I ever wrote is on a03 as I did a lot of posting here that I considered too short to be posted back in a03 -i bothered y'all enough whenever I posted the fic batches there with those fics that were longer than... I think my inner rule was 1k?- so even if in reality I think the total sum between my two pseuds is close to 500 and something some of the old fics got deleted when i cleaned up shop and then there are more that are somewhat lost in here. So, let's just say that I have a ton of those visible on a03 and there's a bunch more that are, as my name suggests, in the shadows :P

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

Again, tricky question xd But working with the numbers I currently can see and are visible for those that would want to check... 1,259,402 That doesn't sound right. heh *shrugs*

Edit: Ah, I think the reason why the number sounds weird is because the last time I did this question I still had like 15 or so I've ever since deleted. Plus some others so, again, the number is decieving.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

*Slight correction; wrote for* majority would be SQ as we know. Sprinkled with a little bit of SC, Shannara Chronicles, Rizzles... but the main ship and therefore fandom was SQ

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I've decided to not look into those stats xD Sorry. Last time i got this ask I did it and it only reinforced the little burn out gnome of how I wasn't good enough; my works were read and I was requested prompts long enough to know I was somewhat liked on some obscure basis but I never had that much luck on the kudos department. I believe that the fics at the time I last checked were SC, maaaybe Sabrina (?) -the one vaguely smutty pertaining Madame Zelda was uploaded there I believe(????) so it might have been that one, and some other one that wasn't about the main ship I wrote for. (the 100 one maybe?)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Back when I wrote and posted I did, yes. If at some point I missed a comment it might have been because I was swamped at the time with uni and work and I might have been far too focused on getting out the next prompt batch I was working on at the time but 99% of the time I responded to every single comment. I appreciate the feedback aspect of fandom, be that a reblog, share, comment or kudo or whatever other form and for those that commented, i hope you know that as much as I loved to tease you and generally torment you with my purple prose, i appreciated every second spent on leaving a comment.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

*snorts* I have a bunch. I don't remember all of them like I used to but I think that I liked the ones I did back when we were loving the concept of a Dark Swan and I kept on having both Emma and Regina battle each other in the middle of Storybrook. There are a couple in which I know I killed either Emma or Regina in a very fantastical way :P Oh, and then there's the one I did with... was it Emma? Dying at the hospital. One that was an answer to Del's prompt that I decided to focus on the whole concept of the hospital bed. I think that one, for a variety of reasons, is the angstiest in terms of how it was thought off and written.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Uh. I honestly don't think I have a factual answer there; my fics were always written as sort of small windows into the worlds presented on them. As I never quite did long format fics there was never a real "true" ending there. Dunno, does anyone remember what would they consider a happy ending from me? xd

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I did. Back when I wrote I always had a couple of trolls floating around on my tumblr inbox. I also had a couple more on the comment section but the main place was always tumblr. I sometimes shared the asks but I tended to erase the majority of them as soon as I saw them. The reason behind those asks is unfathomable to me but.... anyway xd I think i've written enough posts about how i felt about those lol.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

*snorts, again* I tend to focus on teasing. Or, I did. I think I will always prefer the concept of leaving as much as possible of the actual sexual act to the mind of the reader and just put the... frame of it if you will. I'e written pwp tho, small snippets here and there -and words of desire, that series in where i solely wrote a smutty scene based on the words I got sent- I enjoy the process of writing something that is about feelings and how can those be explored and heightened based on the scenario and situation but I always prefered, again, to be a tease about it xd

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

The only fic I've written that I think would constitute as a crossover would be the Lara Croft and Wonder Woman one. It was mostly a joke but I had fun with it. However, whereas I don't mind reading crossovers I always tended to stay away from them (Not AUs based on some other IPs tho, that's different xd). The main logic behind it was that I'm, first and foremost, worldbuild based so if I wanted to create a logical explanation for x, y, or z that alone would eat up a lot of the story itself. And I prided myself on being able to write stories under 2k or less soooooo....

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yup! But some minor ones in some of those sites that the whole thing was scrapped, comments and all and you got notified through fb groups xd Considering I've been MIA for so long I doubt anything has gotte since.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I got asked a couple of times and gave my consent to one once but I think it never went anywhere,

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I've collaborated with other fic writers ^^ (@stregaomega for example was and will always be the very fucking best) and it was awesome! But I tended to move more in the -I write one chapter and you do the next one and then I answer to that other one...- kind of scenario.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

SQ for writing I guess!

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I wrote the end of almost all of the fics that I left unfinished by the time I went byebye on the whole thing but then my fantastic burn out considered the -even today I think is quite valid- angle on how "it's been long enough since I started them so no one will want to read those." I scrapped almost all of them. I think I'll always get slightly sad about not finishing a bunch of the AU's tho. The Ministry of Hidden Stories series for example! I always loved a good Steampunk. And that other one in which Regina was basically Queen Mab. The name is eluding me. Drat. Well, that one. I had like 80 or something pages on the continuation of that one. But, *points at the beginning of this* welp.

16. What are your writing strengths?

(Also, thanks W for the acknowledgment there lol; I always wanted for the description to feel 'real' <3) As I always said; I don't think I had any. But it's true that I always enjoyed much more the in-between as W has said in her own answer there xd The descriptive moments, the movement of the character, the way they are behaving and the words they are not saying. I always found that dialogue was... harder to keep OC or to the point enough to be engaging but focusing on what one is saying and what another one is understanding based on the way they perceive the world was way much more interesting. Which resulted in loooong descriptive paragraphs lol.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

*sighs* Dialogues.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Uhm xd As someone that speaks more than two languages and has written stories in their mother tongue as well as a bunch on others.... I think I'm not entirely against doing it but I don't think it's that easy to convey a true relationship with being able to speak in more than one language. It's often used as a way of informing the reader -or in pwp bc, yknow, hot- but the linguistic side of my brain will always be at odds with that in some way xd I'm basically all for it but I think that there are ways in where it can be a little bit clunky; depending on how it's presented.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I always doubt between Bellice (Bella and Alice from Twilight) and some lost Glee fic. And there were some from Sailor Moon and Card Captor Sakura... I think that the very first one you can find under my pseud is a Bellice one tho so let's stick with that.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Not the best but I'll always pick Metallic Ink for that question. I really had fun with the worldbuilding there and will always hate that I run out of time to basically write more for it as it was a SuperNova fic.

--

It's far too late right now to do a proper tag so I'll leave this here and return tomorrow and tag anyone I find :P