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gglitch1dd · 1 month

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Blood of my House Pt 2

Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader

Context: Eijiro’s plan to claim back his family’s throne is put on hold when you appear, as the rightful heir. You get on his nerves but you both need to work together in order to get the usurper off your throne. Lets just hope you both don’t fall into the stereotype of your house.

Game of thrones inspired- The Kirishimas are basically the Targeryens. Credit given to George R Martin and the mastermind that he is.

Warning: this story deals with topics of cousin incest and referenced incest ( I don’t condone this IRL), violence, taboo lust, blood, fire, time period specific misogyny and dragons. So be prepared. No smut… yet.

[P A R T 1] [BLOOD OF MY HOUSE MASTERLIST]

Eijiro stirred Riot down to land in a pasture not too far away from the main castle. He had decided to go on a midnight fly to clear his head and no one could blame him. The large man pat his large flying beast on the head with some praises in High Valeryian that earned him a chortle back.

The last few days had been quite the… adjustment, to put it lightly. Since your appearance into his life, Eijiro had been feeling rather… to put it easily, frustrated. He wasn’t sure what it was but he wished you could just disappear and take this feeling that he had with you. You were everywhere now. You were in his meeting chambers, in the reception hall, in the kitchen, in the village, in the dragon caves, in the dining hall. You were everywhere and Eijiro felt close to driving his head into a stone wall at that fact.

He felt like he was losing control of his men one by one as you used your seduction powers to control them. Every man he came across seemed smitten by you. Although, he couldn’t exactly blame them. You had a smile that could lull any man into false ease, a voice that could sing a deaf man to sleep and a body that could make even a blind man dream about your looks. You were something straight out of the old tales of sirens that would pull men off of boats and into their cold waiting arms in the abyss.

Eijiro slid off Riot right as a low scuttle went through the air. The sound of a dragon that wasn’t his own made him freeze as he instantly turned his head to the darkness of the shadows. Walking out of the forest into the clearing with your dragon, at his back was you. The large scaley male beast let out a low huff at the sight of his new comrade. The two dragons seemed to have their own words amongst each other, but from what Eijiro could see about Riot, she was not impressed.

You wore leathers, showing you were wanting to go on a fly yourself. Your hands were joined together behind your back as you looked up at him. “Good evening, cousin. I see you are just as broody at night as you are in the day.”

Eijiro watched you for a moment before letting out a scoff. He lifted his leg off one side as he moved to Riot’s side and slid down easily. He landed on the ground with a thud before patting her scaley side. “Do not mistake planning for brooding.” You heard him say in High Valeryian, his accent thick but still a bit off tune to what it was supposed to be if he had grown up around other Kirishimas that would have shown him how.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you continued to walk forward towards him. “You speak our language?” You asked.

“I am a Kirishima, am I not?” He asked with a scoff as he walked forward as well, moving to meet you in the middle.

You hummed as you moved your head side to side. “Agree to disagree.” Eijiro scowled. It was something you had been teasing him for, for weeks. On how he was only considered half Kirishima considering his lady mother was a Toyomitsu and only his father was Kirishima.

Eijiro sighed as he looked away from you. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

You shrugged as you looked around the beautiful area, with its low grass and calm stream not too far away. Your eyes landed back on Eijiro’s intense ruby ones. You looked up at him daring to test his authority. “I wanted to take him on a fly.” You motioned back to your dragon who shook his head with a huff. “Caves are no place for a dragon. Sneaking around in the dark like rats isn’t how they were born to be.” You let out, a hint of passion about the subject evident in your voice.

Eijiro watched you for a moment before he moved to slip off his rider gloves. He looked down at his hands. “Speaking of which, I have received reports of your knight sneaking into your bedchambers.” He tried not to slip out any hint of anger in his voice.

But anger there was.

When he was first informed of Midoriya Izuku’s visits into your chambers in the cloak of darkness, he was appalled but also furious. You come under his care, into his castle, sitting as if you owned the place and then you were sneaking around with your leading commander. Despite whether you liked it or not, Eijiro was technically Head of your House and was responsible for you (despite wanting nothing to do with you). The last thing he needed to question of you, was your relationship with your dear commander.

You tilted your head with a smirk amused. You let out a small giggle as you looked at Eijiro. “Jealous, are we?” The thought of his anger at such a fact, that you truly did not care about, made you laugh.

“There’s nothing to be jealous about.” He threw at you sharply with a scowl on his face. “I don’t need little bastards running around Summersvale, if you aren’t aware of the consequences of your actions.” He reminded you with a glare.

You hummed, nodding your head, understanding how it might look to him. You took another step forward, the both of you now standing face to face. You looked up at him without a hint of backing down or submission. “Are you aware of how it is like, growing up in Chalrogo as a slave girl?” You asked hypothetically, switching to the common tongue. Your question took Eijiro off guard, but he didn’t give it away. “I was nothing but as dispensable as a stick. The world isn’t very kind to little girls with no importance to anyone other than a swornsword and a nursemaid. Little girls aren’t meant for a vicious world where there are men with grabby hands and leaking cocks that rise at a girl that hasn’t even reached womanhood.” You spoke emotionlessly as you stared up at Eijiro. “I struggle to sleep, Eijiro. Izuku keeps my company until I do. On particularly bad days, he sneaks drops of dozing syrups so I can be somewhat strong the next day. So please, forgive me and my commander for our sins.”

You walked past him, your dragon following after you with a low growl. Riot reciprocated one as well, swatting her tail at the younger male dragon, earning a growl from Maegor but your dragon continued to follow you.

Eijiro stayed frozen where he was. He looked down with a scowl, something close to regret and anger in himself filled him. He let out a huff, seeing this as some tactic you had to get his guard down. Not to say he didn’t believe you. He believed you.

However, hating you seemed much more easier.

“You have a letter, my prince.” Taishiro spoke out as he passed over the scroll to Eijiro.

Eijiro took the piece of paper, undoing it as his ruby eyes moved down to the paper itself. He scanned the paper as he began to read it. “About?” He asked.

“Apparently…” The large blond man let out a deep breath as he glanced over to you. You sat up, where you sat across from Eijiro. Whatever it was, it seemed to concern the both of you. “Prince B/N has been found.”

Eijiro’s head whipped up to look at his uncle, checking if he was serious and indeed he was. Eijiro sped through the letter, feeling shocked at such news coming to his ears now. Another Kirishima? It sounded too good to be true. He turned to look at you.

You sat there with furrowed eyebrows. You looked more insulted than happy to know that your only brother could be alive. Your commander, Midoriya Izuku glanced down to you but didn’t show a hint of emotion to what he was thinking. You leaned back in your seat, putting your hands together. “That’s impossible.” You answer quietly but adamantly. “My brother was nothing older than half the hour and still attached to my mother’s breast when the Todoroki’s stormed the castle. The ravens sent back to Enji stated that in my mother’s chambers were found the corpses of a babe, his mother and the midwives. How could he have survived?” You asked not believing a lick of it.

Taishiro let out a breath before motioning to the two of you. “The same way the two of you survived.”

You looked to Eijiro who looked right back at you. The man across from you let out a deep breath as he sat up in his chair. He glanced down at the parchment he held before handing it to Katsuki and motioning for it to be given to you. “According to House Monoma, they received the babe from the appointed wetnurse and have raised the boy ever since. Of course, it’s hard to believe based off the fact that Kirishimas don’t have wetnurses, but if the boy truly was sent away it would make sense.” Eijiro deducted as he looked over to you as you were handed the paper and started to read it. He looked up to his uncle. “Should the boy be the real thing?”

His uncle scratched the back of his neck before letting out a huff. “It would mean that he is the rightful heir to the throne.”

“At fifteen?” You asked.

“Indeed.” Taishiro stated. “He would be little older than a boy but old enough to take the throne of course with your council.” He motioned to the two of you. “By the sign of the sigil of house Monoma on the letter, it seems to be true. The best course of action would be to meet him face to face and discuss.”

Eijiro nodded, understanding his point. However, something was not sitting right with him. He wasn’t sure what it was, maybe it was just him not wanting to believe it, but it did seem strange that suddenly you appear and then this letter about your brother being alive appears as well. Then again, Eijiro knew he couldn’t be too judgemental. If he survived, what else could be possible. “I agree.” He supported Taishiro’s statement with a nod of his head. “The main goal of our cause is to put the Kirishima bloodline where it belongs, and the last thing we need is to fight within our house.”

You were silent for a moment but you closed your eyes and nodded your head. “Indeed. The blood of our house will not end with mere familial rivalry.” You seemed to hold any disagreement or mistrust you had in the matter as you straightened your posture. “Which means that we shall accept their invitation.”

“We shall head to House Monoma within the week.” Eijiro clarified.

Eijiro sat in the carriage with you as you inched closer and closer to the Monoma Estate. The two of you were forced to share a carriage considering you were both of the same blood and there was no reason to separate the rides and cause unnecessary baggage and separation. However, that also meant that the whole five day trip was one that was spent with high tensions and snarky remarks from the both of you. It was almost as if you were both but children and couldn’t even be civil for a few hours.

Eijiro had watched you the entire trip. You had him very confused and yet he seemed to understand more and more as he watched you. You never complained about anything (other than Eijiro’s presence). You didn’t complain about the long ride, nor having to bathe in nearby streams if need be, nor the scent of smoke, sweat and God knows what that was around whenever they had a stop. You broke stale bread with your soldiers and you sipped from mead with them like a brother.

He wondered what type of experiences you had in the past to be able to do that now. He had tried to find information from Midoriya but the green haired man always gave the same response.

“You should ask her yourself.”

Something that annoyed Eijiro to the bone, but he left it be. But now here you were, at the front gates of the Monoma estate, allowed in due to diplomatic reasons.

“An aspect of this still troubles me.” Eijiro looked over to you as you spoke, your eyes looking outside the carriage at the stone manor. You glared for a moment outside. “The Kirishimas and the Monomas were never on alliance terms, and certainly not close.” You recalled from years ago and all the history books you had read. Your eyebrows furrowed. “Why would they keep my brother and not give him over to Enji?”

Eijiro was silent before letting out a sigh. “Maybe they simply knew something we did not.” He tried reasoning, but even to him it sound like a waste of an excuse.

It didn’t matter however as you were let into the Monoma estate graciously. The two of you had separated in order to get ready for tonights banquet that was apparently being held in your honour. Eijiro wasn’t one for dressing up. He preferred doing anything but socialising and trying to please other dignitaries and nobles, however it was an important aspect of a ruler and thus he took it in stride.

“Announcing his grace, Prince Kirishima Eijiro, first of his name, Lord of Summersvaile.”

Eijiro walked into the great hall, his eyes moving around the well lit room. It was not as big as the one back home in Summersvaile but it would do. The candles were lit and made the room glow. Eijiro had been forcefully stuffed into a black suit that was much too tight for his liking and his black cloak the belonged to his father with red stitched onto the ends of his suit.

People peered at him with wide eyes and with whispers. Not many had seen a Kirishima in the flesh in close to two decades, of course he would look like a spectacle. However, Eijiro ignored them as he caught eye of Katsuki. He stepped forward, aiming to get closer to his best friend.

“Your grace.” Eijiro paused as he turned around to see a woman dressed in a light creamy yellow dress, her blond hair was pinned up with little ornaments. She was a beautiful woman, Eijiro could not deny that, especially as she walked over to him. She curtsied before him. “Lady Utsushimi Camie.” She introduced herself to him.

He smiled and nodded his head. “Prince Kirishima Eijiro.”

She took a step closer to him. “My, I’ve never seen a Kirishima before. I’ve only heard such great tales about your family…” She moved to put her hands on his arm making him still for a second. “Especially the men in your family. You are quite a large specimen.”

Eijiro felt heat bloom to his face. Growing up he had experienced touches from older ladies in the Bakugou court that found him appealing but considering he was a servant, he didn’t really have much of a place to say no. But this felt more of a boost to his pride than anything, but it didn’t stop the embarrassment etching to his face.

He chuckled as he put a hand over her own. “It is only natural for our family. Kirishimas are known for it.”

She looked up at him with wide brown eyes. “Oh I’ve heard. Is it true you have a dragon?” She asked him.

Eijiro opened his mouth to respond but suddenly felt another hold on his left arm. He looked to the left to find another woman holding onto his arm, with orange fiery hair and dressed in prismarine green. “Indeed it is true, I have a dragon. Her name is Riot.”

“Really? You must be such a strong man to be able to tame a dragon.” The redhead praised.

Eijiro couldn’t help but smirk. “Is it not already obvious?” He asked making the two of them giggle.

Sir Midoriya Izuku rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his seat, a chalice in his hand as he sipped from it. His green eyes moved away from Eijiro to Katsuki who was being served more wine by a servant. “It seems as though your prince is having a good time.” He pointed out, motioning to Eijiro who now was surrounded by four ladies, all of them trying to drag him to sit down with them as one offered him a chalice of wine. They all giggled at whatever he said. Izuku sighed as he leaned back in his seat.

Katsuki looked over at his best friend and smiled. He raised his cup to the prince and smirked over at Izuku in a smug way. “That is what I call a true king, Deku. See that! That is the charisma of a ruler.” He motioned to Eijiro.

Izuku raised his eyebrow unimpressed as he looked back at Eijiro. “All I see is the giggling of whores that just so happen to call themselves ladies.”

His statement made Katsuki choke on his wine with a laugh. Izuku noticed that Lord Monoma Neito had made his way to Eijiro with a smile. The two seemed to have begun conversation. Before Izuku could point it out to Katsuki, the doors opened once more.

“Announcing her grace, Princess Kirishima Y/N, first of her name, eldest daughter of King Ryosuke Kirishima, second of his name, rightful heir to the throne.” The announcer shouted in the air.

Eijiro took a sip of his wine, glancing up at the staircase where you entered. His eyes widened in surprise, his breath leaving his lungs as his eyes were glued to your figure.

You were dressed in a blood crimson red gown, the slits of your dress were high and on either side of the lacey item that left your hips for free viewing. Gold and black lined your dress making you look like untouched royalty. Your figure was flawless and so was your gaze that seemed to hold superiority over everyone else. You kept your head up high as you walked down the steps before walking down the middle of the room.

Eijiro felt you a sin. You were gorgeous, any man’s best dream and it was obvious by the way you held every man’s attention in the room. You were alluring and almost looked as though you would disappear with just a touch.

Your shoes were deafening in Eijiro’s ears as you approached him but your eyes were not on him. You extended your arm to Lord Monoma Neito. The tall man unashamedly looked over your body as if you were a common whore. His periwinkle eyes went up to your own as he bowed before you, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. “Your highness.” He greeted.

“Lord Monoma, it is a honour. Thank you for hosting me and my cousin.” Your voice was like that of the sweetest of wines.

He smirked as he put a hand to his chest. “It is a privilege for me to do so. And might I just say, you live up to your rumours. A beautiful dragoness.”

You let out a laugh. “You flatter me.”

“It is only the truth, princess.”

Eijiro watched as you conversed with Neito. Why were you entertaining this fool? He could barely keep his eyes off your bosom let alone to your face and yet here you were giggling and laughing at his words. Eijiro took a deep breath, moving out of the hold of the ladies he was standing with, ignoring their confused whispers as he walked over to you. He took to your side, taking your arm and linking it with his own. “We are both so very famished. I am sure my cousin will agree with me in the wish of dinner starting soon.”

Neito chuckled. “Of course, follow me.” He motioned to the head table, making sure that the both of you knew where to go.

You walked beside Eijiro, glancing up at him. You let out an amused chuckle at his demeanour and behaviour. He glanced down at you but his ruby eyes hardened. “And what has you in a fit of laughter?”

“You are acting as if I have never been in society before, cousin.” You pointed out truthfully as he led you to the table where you would both be having dinner.

Eijiro looked away from you, facing straight ahead. A gentle frown settled on his face. “You dress like you’re still in Chalrogo.” He said truthfully, looking away from you. “It is not how one dresses here.”

“The other lords don’t seem to mind.” You pointed out truthfully as you glanced at what must be a table of high-ranking lords in the province. You gave them a smirk and a nod of your head before focusing forward. Eijiro scoffed at your behaviour. You truly were his greatest test from the heavens because you always seemed to get him feeling so vexed. “Besides you shouldn’t care, you seemed to busy conversing with every woman in this hall.”

“They approached me, I was just answering questions.”

You nodded your head as you moved towards your seat. Eijiro pulled out your seat, allowing you to sit down. “Ah yes, letting a woman hold your muscles does help to trigger the brain into thinking of answers.” You sarcastically commented making Eijiro sigh as he rolled his eyes.

He looked over to you and lifted up his wine. “And I am sure having your tits falling out of your dress must make you feel so powerful.” He rolled his eyes.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you rolled your eyes. “Can’t even keep your eyes to yourself, cousin?”

“I can ask the same thing to you.”

The both of you spent what felt like the entire night, bickering like children, whenever you were left to your own devices. However, most of dinner, you seemed to busy laughing and entertaining lords and knights than to do anything else. Your laughter rang in Eijiro’s ears like a bell and had him taking a breath at every tone. Eijiro tried playing the diplomat as well, as he conversed with Neito whenever the shameless lord wasn’t trying to get a glance of your figure.

“I must ask, Lord Neito.” Eijiro started as he wiped his mouth with a cloth. “The reason you had summoned us?”

That caught your attention as you nodded your head. “Indeed. My brother? Where is he?” You asked. Despite how calm you sounded, your hand fisted your dress under the table. Eijiro knew you were nervous. He could see it even as you tried to make conversation, the way your eyes danced around the room as if looking for someone who would look just like you or him.

“Ah yes,” Neito nodded his head as he stood up. “About that…” He lifted up his chalice almost as if he was about to make a declaration.

Eijiro didn’t like the feeling of this. Your supposed brother had not been mentioned or heard of from all the asking he had done during the event and his lack of presence wasn’t a good sign either. He glanced at Katsuki and Izuku who both seemed rather on edge. Eijiro looked around the room before a glint of metal caught his eye.

Lord Neito smiled as he looked to the both of you, an arm behind him as he raised his glass. “For our dearest guests did not come for no reason.” He spoke loudly, getting the attention of everyone in the hall. “And so we must deliver what they have come for, for King Enji…” He motioned it to the both of you. “sends his regards.”

“Y/N!” Eijiro shouted. You were tackled to the ground as screaming ensued. The sound of swords being unsheathed and fighting had ensued. You opened your eyes from below the stone floor to find Eijiro was on top of you. Two arrows were stuck in the back of his shoulder. He looked back up with a low growl in frustration. “A trap. You were right.” He let out lowly as he moved to get off of you, but he picked you up effortlessly. He threw you over his shoulder making you shout.

“Eijiro!”

He ignored you as he drew his sword. He easily blocked an attack from one of the Monoma knights that had been standing on guard like all the others, throughout the hall. Eijiro pushed him back and cut through him from shoulder down to hip diagonally. The sound of a body falling was all you heard as Eijiro made great strides to protecting all with one arm.

He ran towards the blond commander of his arm with you on his shoulder. “Katsuki!” The blond turned to look at Eijiro. Midoriya lifted up a silver tray to deflect an arrow. With the location of where the arrow came from, he threw a dagger at the archer, getting him right in the neck. “Fall back.”

You lifted yourself to try and look at Katsuki and Izuku. “Sir Izuku! Get everyone out of the hall!” You shouted. Eijiro glanced at you wondering what on earth you were getting at.

However your trusted sword trusted listened to you unblinkingly. “Yes, princess!” He shouted as he lifted his fingers to his lips and let out a low whistle.

Eijiro shook his head and headed towards the closest balcony. He made sure to duck at an incoming attack, before cutting horizontally. He was grateful for the Valeryian sword he had in hand, the ability to cut through people so easily was one he never thought he would be grateful for until now. He kicked the door open. He pushed his sword back to stay at his side as he wrapped both arms around your legs to keep you safe.

“Eijiro?” You asked confused. “What are you doing?” You asked.

“Hold on.” Was all he gave you as he ran at full speed towards the railing of the balcony. You bit back any cries or screams as he jumped with on foot on the railing and pushed off into the night sky. Before you could even feel the weightlessness of being airborne, a loud screech filled the air as Riot flew underneath the both of you catching you on her back.

Eijiro put you off his shoulder as he sat on her saddle. He maneuvered you to sit in front of him. You slid to sit with his chest against your back as he grabbed onto the chains that were linked to her saddle. Eijiro let out a grunt as he pulled back on her chain, making her lift her nose up into the air and fly higher. “Riot!” He shouted up at her. “Circle around.” He gave her the instruction in the old tongue. A low grumble left the red crimson dragon but she turned to circle the estate.

You heard another loud roar as you saw your dragon. He seemed to be in a very bad mood, as he landed on top of one of the guard towers, roaring up a storm. A few archers tried firing at him but the small arrows couldn’t even pierce his scale. He let out an angered roar as he seemed to try and knock down the tower.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at your grumpy dragon, but his beautiful black scales was something you missed. “Maegor!” You shouted from atop of Riot. The dragon looked up at you from the rampage he was causing. He lifted his wings and started to flap, moving higher up to try and reach you.

You moved to slip out of Eijiro’s hold. Eijiro watched with wide ruby eyes as you slipped and slid off of Riot, only to land on your dragon, Maegor who cruised underneath Riot before flying higher up in the sky. You scanned with your eyes down below before you saw a familiar green haired man. He was waving up at you and that was all the signal you needed. You saw some of your men hold the doors inside of the estate close, them moving to block the exits.

You frowned. Eijiro watched you from atop Riot. His eyebrows furrowed wondering what you were planning on doing. He didn’t need to ask you to know how you were thinking. You were both nearly assassinated tonight. The Monomas lied about your brother being alive, and all this was a ploy. You tightened your hold on the reigns. “Burn.”

Eijiro watched as your dragon, Maegor took a deep breath, fire bubbling underneath his neck from the pit of his stomach as he leaned his neck back before hot smoldering flames hit the balcony you had come from and entered the hall. Eijiro’s eyes widened in surprise see you order your dragon to burn people alive.

However, he couldn’t deny that it was the most attractive thing you could do right about now. Eijiro smirked as he flicked the chains of the saddle for Riot and down and low near the outside courtyard of the estate. Riot took a deep breath and lit everything a flame.

And for the first time in nearly two decades, the world knew the fire and blood known for your house.

-Glitch1d

#mha x y/n #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro #dragon kirishima x reader #mha fantasy au #kirishima eijiro x reader #eijiro x reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you

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hezikas · 1 year

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You Are The Right One | Chapter 1

Dad!Aegon II Targaryen x Nanny!Reader (modern au)

Summary: Following a devastating event involving his ex-girlfriend, Aegon is now a full-time single father to his daughter. However, with a jam-packed schedule due to his ongoing tour, he's struggling to balance his parenting duties with his high-profile career as a musician. To ease the burden, Aegon heeds his sister Helaena's advice and hires a stay-in nanny. But what he doesn't realize is that this decision will have unexpected consequences that will turn his life on its head.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen/Reader

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of any characters from House of the Dragon, as they are the intellectual property of George R.R. Martin. Furthermore, I must acknowledge that this story is heavily influenced by the book 'The Nanny' written by Lana Ferguson.

Just a heads up I did not proofread this and english is not my first language.

Taglist: @julieeba @delilah1990 @fan-goddess @shit-posts420 @watercolorskyy

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As you sit staring at your inbox, you hardly expect to hear back from A. Targaryen so soon after sending your email. And yet, her eagerness to meet you catches you off guard. The surprise only grows when she suggests the meeting take place at Red Keep, one of the most extravagant restaurants in all of King's Landing.

"Red Keep, huh," you murmured, a hint of disbelief creeping into your voice. "Is this how rich people hold interviews?"

You are aware that dining at Red Keep would be an extravagant expense, potentially amounting to half of your savings from your two months of hard work at the local pediatric clinic, a job that you held dear in your heart and still harbor resentment towards being fired from.

You push the thought aside and head to your small closet to pick out the most formal clothing you can find which is the black dress that you had worn to your college graduation. You hope that it will suit the occasion and not make you look out of place in such a lavish setting. Furthermore, since you are under the suspicion that the family you will be working for as a nanny is even more affluent than you initially believed.

You recalled your experience of assisting children at the clinic, thinking that it had prepared you well for this new job.

"This should be a piece of cake," you told yourself as you made your way to the Red Keep restaurant.

However, deep down, you couldn't shake off the nervousness that came with starting a new job. You held on to the hope that this job would be as fulfilling as your previous one, and that the kid you would be taking care of would appreciate your efforts, just as the ones at the clinic did.

As you step inside the restaurant, you are greeted by a stunning hostess exuding an air of sophistication. She wears a perfectly tailored skirt and blouse that match the upscale decor of the place. Her sleek, polished appearance is completed by a pair of heels. The way she carries herself speaks volumes about the high standards of the establishment.

"Good evening, ma'am. Do you have a reservation?" she asked, pasting on a fake smile and emphasizing the word ‘reservation’ as if knowing you couldn't afford a single thing in the restaurant, not even their appetizers.

"Yes, under A. Targaryen," you replied confidently, determined to show her that you belonged in such a high-class establishment. The hostess's body suddenly changed after hearing the name you had mentioned.

"Ah, right this way, Mr. Targaryen will be with you shortly" she said, leading you to a private table at the back of the restaurant.

Mr. Targaryen? Did I hear her right? Maybe I misheard her. you thought to yourself.

As you marveled at the opulence of the restaurant's decor, a waiter approached you to inquire if you would like to begin with any appetizers. You decided to forego the appetizers and instead ordered a water, realizing that the unfriendly hostess was right about you not being able to afford the extravagant menu items. While waiting for your future boss, you occupied yourself by scrolling through your phone.

“Excuse me,” someone says.

The unexpected sound made you choke on your water, causing some to dribble down your chin. Embarrassed, you quickly wiped it away with a napkin. As you finished cleaning up, a face came into your view.

Motherf–

Your mind struggled to comprehend the sight before you. The man standing in front of you possessed a captivating appearance, with sharp, chiseled facial features and a prominent jawline. His eyes were a pale shade of purple, reminiscent of delicate lilacs in full bloom, and seemed to emit an otherworldly aura. His platinum blond hair was styled back, accentuating the angles of his face, and appeared to shimmer in the light, giving it an almost supernatural quality. He was a breathtakingly beautiful sight, resembling a creature from a dream.

In short, the man before you was none other than Aegon Targaryen, the world-renowned singer whose soulful voice had captivated millions.

"Excuse me, are you Y/N?" he asked, his voice like a melody that could soothe any troubled soul.

As your eyes remained transfixed on the ethereal man, his lips moved, and you suddenly snapped out of your reverie. Realizing that he had posed a question, you struggled to gather your composure before finally managing to respond, "Y-Yes, I am. Nice to meet you, Mr. Targaryen."

Aegon flashed you a charming smile that could easily disarm even the most composed individuals. "Please, call me Aegon. Mr. Targaryen makes me feel old," he remarked, his tone tinged with a touch of playfulness.

As he spoke, you couldn't help but question his age. He certainly appeared older than you, though not excessively so. There was an air of maturity about him, but he retained a youthful essence. Still, you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from him, entranced by his presence.

"Right," you stammered.

"I'm Y/N. Y/N L/N," you introduced yourself, trying to regain your composure in the midst of his charismatic presence. As you pushed away from the table, he extended his hand at the same moment you were about to do the same. The result? A clumsy collision of palms and fingers, turning the handshake into a tangled mess reminiscent of a chaotic game of Twister.

Both of you were taken aback by the unexpected jumble of hands. Your face flushed a deep shade of crimson, and Aegon let out a nervous chuckle, attempting to diffuse the awkwardness that hung in the air.

"I apologize for asking you to meet me here. With my busy schedule leading up to my tour, I've been trying my best to fit everything in. I thought it would be convenient to have our interview while I have a meeting later at 8:45 pm, so I hope we can wrap up quickly."

"It's not a problem. I initially thought it was customary to conduct such meetings over dinner, especially at a place like this, but I figured..." The realization dawns on you, and you can't help but feel a tinge of embarrassment as you cover your eyes, trying to hide your flushed face.

"Oh my God. This wasn't a dinner interview. You wanted to talk to me before your upcoming meeting."

"I should have... been clearer in my email."

"I can't believe it. I wore this silly dress, and..."

"It's actually a very nice dress," he interjects, a touch of amusement in his voice as he finds your little outburst endearing.

"I must seem completely ridiculous..."

"Really, you don't," he assures you.

"I can be so oblivious sometimes. I apologize."

He continues to look amused, finding your moment of self-doubt and realization rather cute.

"You're welcome to order something," he suggests. "If you feel like it. I don't mind."

"Thank you, but I think I have to excuse myself now. Perhaps it's best if I just leave, don't you think? This situation is already spiraling into a disaster."

"Wait, no," he interjects, reaching out his hand as you try to make your escape.

"Please don't do that." You halt in your tracks, uncertain if he still intends to proceed with the interview. Perhaps he's having second thoughts as well. You speculate.

"Are you still interested in interviewing me?"

"To be frank," he sighed, his voice laced with genuine surprise, "no other applicant even comes close to your credentials. CPR training, First Aid certification, and experience working at a prestigious pediatric clinic. The references I checked couldn't stop raving about you. It seemed they were truly saddened to see you go."

"Yes, it was disheartening when circumstances forced me to leave," you admitted, a tinge of nostalgia in your voice. "Funding issues plagued the clinic. I cherished every moment there."

"Well," he chuckled softly, "it appears their loss may be my gain. Your résumé astounded me when it landed in my inbox."

"But now that you've met me, I imagine you're starting to doubt its authenticity," you remarked, a trace of self-deprecation evident in your words.

Aegon's laughter escaped, a restrained mirth accompanied by a gentle downturn of his gaze, as if he didn't want to appear disrespectful. Given the awkwardness of this initial encounter, such caution was understandable.

"No," he reassured, his voice warm. "I have no doubts about its authenticity. Although I must admit, I am curious. With your remarkable background, why seek a nanny position?"

The air held a moment of anticipation as you contemplated his question, the unspoken desires and motivations that brought you to this point.

You released a heavy sigh, leaning in closer over the table, gathering the courage to share your truth. "Can I speak honestly with you?"

Aegon leaned forward, his eyes displaying genuine interest. "I would prefer nothing less," he replied, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

Taking a moment to compose your thoughts, you began, "I'm currently in my final year of a graduate program. As I mentioned in my email, I lost my job due to downsizing. Rent in this city has become exorbitant, and to be completely frank, I'm in need of financial stability. Moreover, the offer of free room and board is an opportunity I can't dismiss. It would alleviate a significant burden on top of everything else."

A furrow formed on his forehead, suggesting that a concern had surfaced, and you braced yourself for the rejection you feared was imminent. "Regarding that," he began, his tone serious, "I feel compelled to inform you that it's a live-in position, but I want to be entirely transparent. It's just me and my daughter. Rest assured, you would have your own room, practically an entire floor to yourself, complete privacy. However, I understand if this arrangement might make you uncomfortable."

In all your years of existence, it seemed rather extraordinary that your first encounter of living with a strikingly attractive man would unfold within the realm of a fully immersive fictional scenario. Though a part of you longed to inquire about the other parent in this situation, if only to quell your inner turmoil, your rational mind vehemently warned against such a misstep.

With practiced precision, you adorned your face with a professional smile, masking the whirlwind of thoughts swirling within. "I don't anticipate any issues on my end. However, in the spirit of complete transparency... I'm currently enrolled in a hybrid program at KL's."

Curiosity flickered in Aegon's eyes as he sought clarification. "What does that mean?"

A faint chuckle escaped your lips as you unraveled the intricacies of your schedule. "Essentially, it means that the majority of my coursework is conducted online, affording me the flexibility to manage it during the evenings after work. However, two weekends every month, I'm required to attend on-campus classes. And most of the jobs I've applied for have struggled to accommodate my schedule, rendering it somewhat of a deal breaker." A wistful smile accompanied your admission.

Aegon pondered your words, a hint of amusement dancing in his gaze. "Well, it appears that I might be the sole individual who recognizes the true value of your impressive credentials."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Note: I apologize for the delay in releasing Chapter 1. Unfortunately, I unexpectedly fell ill with a viral infection shortly after posting the sneak peek. Despite that, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please understand that some parts may not be as well-written as I had initially intended, as I wrote them while I was still unwell. That’s all. Thank you for reading.

#Aegon Targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic

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bullet-prooflove · 9 months

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Pictures of You - Roy Kent x Reader

Tagging: @elizabeththebat @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @@anyamcdonald @taytaylala12 @daydreamgoddess14 @amieinghigh @littleesilvia @blackleatherjacketz @xphantomphanphanaticx @its-a-show-stoppin-number @st4rgirliesstuff @secretsquirrelinc @meg-ro @xoxabs88xox @midnightmagpiemama

Roy’s in the locker room when Trent approaches him. He’s listening to a conversation between Issac and Colin with his arms crossed over his chest, when he catches the expression on the other man’s face. He knows that somethings wrong, he can feel it in the pit of his stomach. When Trent tilts his head towards the empty manager’s office, Roy follows without hesitation.

At first, he thinks it’s something to do with one of the lads, a story that’s about to break, a leak about Colin’s private life. A surge of protectiveness rushes through him, if that’s the case, he’s going to hunt down the piece of shit that told the press and strangle them with his bare hands.

It’s only when Trent shows him the image on his phone that Roy understands the magnitude of the situation. His mouth goes dry, he rubs his palm across his stubble as he surveys the headline.

Kent’s Kinky Caster.

The picture that accompanies it is one that he’s never seen before. Your hair is longer, it falls across your shoulders as you bite your lower lip. Your thumb is drawing down the strap of the midnight-blue corset that you’re wearing. It accentuates your curves, pushing up your breasts.

You look fucking fantastic but it’s not you, he knows that you prefer lace and silk. Materials that cling or drape, that don’t dig in or contort your shape. He prefers you comfortable when you’re with him, not trussed up in something that’s going to leave marks across your skin.

“They must have hacked your phone.” Trent summarises as he takes back the device and slips it into his pocket.

“Not mine.” Roy says gruffly as he drops into Beard’s vacant seat. “I’ve never seen that picture before, the shit she sends me…” Roy trails off before he meets Trent’s gaze. “It’s classy, nothing like that.”

Trent bows his head in understanding. The picture that’s been delivered to the papers is one of a woman who’s trying so hard to be something else, for someone else. You’ve come a long way since then. He should know, he’s been your friend and confident for a few of years by now. The two of you had worked together for The Independent once upon a time. You’d been an investigative reporter before moving onto the podcasting world, and a damn good one at that.

The two of you still caught up every couple of weeks for drinks. He was one of the first people to know about your blossoming relationship with Roy Kent. You had no idea who he was initially, and Trent had found that endearing.

He suspects that the photograph has come from your ex-Martin. Trent knows that he will claim that his phone had been hacked but realistically no one hacks the phone of a Booker Prize Winner. Nobody cares who they’re sleeping with.

Trent recalls he’d made a nuisance of himself in the aftermath of the breakup. Turning up at your house all hours of the day and night until you’d sought a restraining order. After that he would bad mouth you to anyone that would listen, which is why Roy had headbutted him last month at a Save the Polar Bears event. Trent had gifted him an expensive bottle of Scotch with a card that read “Because you did what I’ve wanted to do for a very long time.”

“I’ve put a few messages out to my contacts.” Trent informs Roy, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against Beard’s desk. “I should hear back from them soon.”

“I did this.” Roy tells the other man as he rubs his hands over his face in exasperation. “It’s because I headbutted him at the fucking Panda thing isn’t it?”

“Polar bears.” Trent corrects before sighing. “I think you give yourself too much credit. Martin’s had a bee in his bonnet because SHE left him.”

“Yea.” Roy snarls, his dark eyes practically glowing with rage. “Because she walked in on him fucking a Page Three model in her bed, if it was me, I would have painted the room with his innards.”

It’s a vivid image, Trent has to give him that.

“He doesn’t like that she’s happier than him, more successful. The fact she’s with someone who actually cares about her, who gives her what he couldn’t.” Trent says taking off his glasses and gesturing with them as he speaks. “Being the type of man that he is, it probably sent him off the deep end.”

“That doesn’t excuse this type of shit.” Roy snaps, sagging back into the chair in frustration. He’s helpless right now, utterly fucking helpless and he hates it. The story is already out there. Every fucking pervert on the internet is probably wanking off to that picture of you and you have no fucking idea because you’re on a flight home from Ireland. He knows this is going to devastate you and he can’t stand the thought of it.

He looks up at Trent, his expression one of anguish.

“This is going to kill her.”

Love Roy? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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#roy kent x you #roy kent x reader #roy kent #ted lasso

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astraltrickster · 2 years

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What I love about the Goncharov meme is how willing most of us are to break kayfabe, because - on the surface level, it's kind, it gives people the opportunity to opt out if this just isn't good for them, and tells people - the secret is that there is no secret, that's the joke, hop right in with a "yes, and"; all are welcome. It's likely to confuse future media historians regardless.

But as someone who really enjoyed House of Leaves I also love it on a meta level because, we are essentially creating a spiritual adaptation of that book, blurring the line between meme and ARG...all based on a pair of shoes. It begs the question, then, what level of this layered narrative are we on, exactly?

I'm not the first person to compare Goncharov to The Navidson Record and I know I won't be the last. It's a very easy, obvious comparison to make - this legendary piece of lost media that everyone has an opinion on, but no one can confirm it's even real? Yeah, at this point in tumblr's collective consciousness, Goncharov is very much like that - the only difference being, we're on the same page and can agree that it's not real and never was.

Except we will place ourselves into a narrative such that it is real. It's an unspoken rule that even if you break kayfabe in other posts, even if you tag your Goncharov posts as "unreality" for accessibility (as you should, especially your original posts), you don't add to a Goncharov meta post, or fanfic, or fanart, in such a way as to even insinuate that Goncharov may not be a real movie. In this layer, that makes you the fool, the uncultured swine. Everyone's seen Goncharov! What do you mean you haven't even heard of it!? What do you mean you doubt it exists!? What rock have you been living under!? If someone earnestly asks what it is, it is to be answered elsewhere - in DMs, in an ask, over Discord, maybe in the replies, but not as an addition to the post that exists "in that reality".

There are a few things we tend to agree upon about Goncharov:

It is a work of fiction. The events of the movie did not occur in the universe - the narrative layer - where we discuss it as a real film.

As stated on the shoe label that created the meme, it is a film directed by Martin Scorsese, written by someone named Matteo JWHJ 0715 (sometimes also written as Matteo JWHJ0715 or Matteo jwhj0715), and it is a mafia movie - namely, it carries the lofty claim of being "The Greatest Mafia Movie Ever Made."

It is about the relationship between Russian and Italian mafia families, set in Naples.

This movie poster is the basis of the canon; the characters listed on it exist and are portrayed by the actors listed.

There is an additional character, Sofia, whose reasons for being omitted from the poster are unknown.

Katya and Goncharov are married; this likely at least started as merely a marriage of convenience, but the full nature of their relationship is hotly debated in a way that highlights many common views of tumblr shipping culture¹.

Katya eventually betrays Goncharov, leading to his death at the end of the film.

There is significant homoerotic subtext between Andrey/Goncharov and Katya/Sofia, much of which plays into the film's themes; however, contrary to the impressions often given by tumblr's fandom culture, it is all subtextual, and while the relationships between Andrey, Goncharov, Katya, and Sofia can be read as significant drivers of the plot, they are far from being the central focus of the story.

Clocks are a major recurring visual symbol.

There is a pivotal "boat scene".

Most other details, however, are left to whoever is currently "analyzing" it. For instance, while many on Archive Of Our Own agree that the character of "Ice Pick Joe" definitely died in the end, with "no beta we die like Ice Pick Joe" being a popular tag for Goncharov fanfiction, at least one early tumblr post implies that the character's fate is undetermined.

The Goncharov meme is simultaneously a love letter to tumblr's fan culture, and a scathing critique thereof², but one of the most underappreciated fascinating things about it is that it forms a nested narrative.

On the innermost layer, we have the unreachable - the film itself. No one has seen it. No one ever will. We're all just trying to imagine it from the shadows on the cave wall. Maybe one day we'll create it, but it will still never truly be the original 1973 film we're all writing about. Making it even harder to recreate and make "real", the mythology includes alternate cuts and regional edits to reconcile the plot points written by different users that undeniably contradict each other.

On the next layer outward, we have the posts about the film. The deep meta. The fanart. The fanfiction. The content "from another universe" where Goncharov is a real classic film that everyone has seen. The layer where we don't break kayfabe. This is a layer we can see the reality of, and contribute to, but never truly live in - it is an imaginary construct. Or is it? The film we're writing about may not exist, but the story we're weaving together from these roleplay writing exercises is somewhat coherent, and the thousands upon thousands of words of meta and fanfiction we write about it are real; one could make a compelling argument that even if Goncharov the film does not exist, the Goncharov fandom is a real fandom. This layer is one foot in the real world, and one foot in a fictional one.

On the next layer, we have the posts about the meme. This can be definitively stated to be real, with no caveats. Posts that discuss how the meme reflects on fan culture, about the self-referential nature of the meme, about the little aspects of online fandom culture it plays with. This is the first layer that can fully be said to be rooted exclusively in the real world.

But even on a layer beyond that, we have posts such as this one, discussing the discussion of the fandom for the fake film - and on yet another layer beyond that (or is it the same one?), we have the future speculation. We have guesses as to what future historians will think of this phenomenon. We have discussions of the precarious and transient nature of information online, questions about what parts of this meme will be archived and which ones will disappear. Will there be historians desperately searching for this alleged lost classic in 50 years? Will it be assumed that the shoes that started the meme were actually a piece of promotional merchandise for a real classic film?

You may notice, then, that the innermost layers are discrete, but once you get into the layers that exist in our reality, they become markedly less so.

This model gives us a structure that can be visualized somewhat like this:

[Image ID: a diagram of 5 concentric circles. The centermost circle is colored in dark red with a thick black outline and labeled "Goncharov (1973 film) - fictional, unreachable, unviewable". The next circle outward is colored in pink, with a thinner black outline, and is labeled "Goncharov fan discussion". The next circle is colored in light gold, with a black outline that blurs into the next circle, labeled "Discussion of the Goncharov fan discussion". The next layer is colored in light green, with a dark outline blurred so thoroughly that its only purpose is to provide some visual contrast for clarity of labeling, labeled "Discussion of all previous layers; note the blurring of the line between this layer and the previous". Finally, the outermost layer is colored in light blue, with a solid black outline, labeled "Speculation about the future's view of the Goncharov meme, including roleplay as lost media enthusiasts and media studies professors 50-100 years in the future". End ID.]

In fact, there are several rules the Goncharov meme has come to follow:

As stated above, any given post is constrained to its narrative layer, to the extent that those layers are discrete. Posts about Goncharov as a real film are not to have additions that break kayfabe. Similarly, posts about Goncharov as a meme are not to have anyone insist the film is real. This may be subject to change as the meme evolves, but it is the rule as of the time of this writing.

You may not add to a post to contradict a claim about the factual nature of what happened on screen, even if it directly contradicts a previous post of yours³. You are, however, encouraged to dispute its implications and get creative to try and reconcile the contradictions. The only exception is in the form of responding to a meme with another extant meme format (e.g., "I get what you're going for OP but x very much did y")

Posts about Goncharov the film are to be treated exactly the same way you would post about a real piece of media. Analysis is to be taken seriously, using real analytical frameworks and devices. Memes are to use real formats. Fanart and fanfiction are to have just as much effort put into their crafting as you would give any real piece of media.

Complaining about bad readings that do not exist, but you imagine someone might make, is encouraged.

You cannot break these rules. Not "you may not", but "you cannot". It is not possible. You can try. You will fail. Your posts breaking these rules will never gain traction, or if they do, they will do so only after being added to in order to make it fit them. The narrative is hungry. You cannot engage it without being absorbed into it. Your only escape is to walk away and not look back⁴.

In other words, the Goncharov meme is not just a meditation on fan culture, but a demonstration and discussion of the intricacy of the relationship between fiction and reality.

House of Leaves is beloved for its complex nested narrative, and again, the comparison is a common one. However, there is a subtle and potentially unsettling difference - House of Leaves did not include its author or its readers nearly as thoroughly as the Goncharov meme does. House of Leaves was written from outside the narrative; the legend of Goncharov is being written from within.

Every single person who blogs about Goncharov makes themself into a character in this story.

The narrative layers in House of Leaves bleed into each other to give a sense of mystery as to what is real and what is not in the universe(s) of the novel. The narrative layers in the Goncharov mythos bleed into each other because we traverse them freely - from the fictional reviews and retellings and analysis, to the semi-fictional drawing of comparisons to real media and the use of this nonexistent movie as a low-stakes vehicle to lightheartedly air one's real complaints with fan culture, to the fully-grounded discussion of Goncharov's impact as a meme, to the philosophical discussion of its multi-layered nature, to the once-again-fictional speculation of how it will be viewed in the future - the same person can visit any of these layers.

But their impact will always be bound by each layer's internal rules, because building a legend - a narrative - will not allow for anything else.

Goncharov does not exist. Goncharov is a narrative labyrinth that contains us all. YOU CANNOT ESCAPE ITS NARRATIVE.

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

1. Tumblr shipping culture is as much of a microcosm of queer studies as it is of media analysis. It, like the Goncharov meme, operates on a minimum of two levels: the level of analyzing a story for potential queer readings, namely in the form of romantic relationships, and opportunities for transformative work; and the level of sociopolitical discussion of queer issues and stereotypes, and how they are reflected in media and the discussion thereof; the latter, particularly, in the form of intracommunity disputes and lateral aggression. For example, the dispute over the nature of Goncharov and Katya's marriage and its level of sincerity is implied in some posts to occasionally cross the line into bisexual erasure. While at the time of the Goncharov meme's emergence in 2022, the discourse within this subculture is much more civil than it once was, it is still very much an environment that stands as a constant reminder that there is no such thing as a truly apolitical space.

Of course, most everyone on this website knows that by now, right?

2. This meme comes at a time when a lot of us are terrified of going back to the way things used to be in tumblr fan discourse. We all joke about the Hamilton HIV fanfic catfish, or The JohnLock Conspiracy, or any number of other major scandals now that they're over; they are hilarious in hindsight, but it's all too easy to lose track of the fact that the human toll at the time was real. DashCon is a joke to most, but I've personally met more than one well-meaning volunteer who ended up with PTSD from dealing with attendees who thought even the volunteers were in on an intentional scam. We laugh at the absurdity of the incident known as Boneghazi, but it doesn't take away the fact that there are still people in Louisiana wondering if their relatives were the ones whose bones were stolen and offered up for sale online - though that one was only tangentially related to fandom, it's from the same broad sitewide culture. People have been stalked, harassed, doxxed, psychologically abused to the point of hospitalization and even suicide, there are even rumors of assaults over disagreements about which show is better, or which fictional characters have the best relationships. It's all petty, all funny in hindsight - but the human toll is real.

I got caught in an incident myself once*, before the porn ban. There was one guy, they and some real life friends of theirs got into my circle of friends in a roleplay community in the ■■■■■■■ fandom. They seemed nice enough. Normal enough. We had a few good chats. They played the same character I did, among a few others. Had a fun little concept we were throwing back and forth to start a thread with the doubled character. Accidental cloning due to a computer error, it was going to be.

Everything fell apart when a new ■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■ dropped. It gave us a nice scene of the most popular "ship" in the fandom - one that had been teased since day 1, and of course when it got attention the company wanted to milk it for all it was worth. This guy originally seemed cool with the ship, even though they didn't like it much; they preferred to pair one of the characters off with their self-insert OC. It was all a peaceful difference of opinion for a while, but after this ■■■■■■ dropped and people were excited about the scene, they went berserk. My then-boyfriend's ex started getting anonymous messages imitating him. My inbox started filling up with threats. Some of my more casual acquaintances started confronting me over threats they thought I sent. Meanwhile, this guy was melting down on main about how everyone had "betrayed" them. I found myself blocked by our mutual friends who this guy knew in real life - it turned out, because they were telling them that I was sending them hate and threats. "Someone" tried to convince my then-boyfriend to doxx someone adjacent to the circle for "abuse". I started getting hate messages that hit some of my deepest insecurities and almost ■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■■■■ - the only reason I ended up okay was because I figured it out, because I realized this guy was the one doing all of it, and they were mining for ammo from our mutual friends.

All of this because a bunch of people, mostly strangers, were happy about the ■■■■■■. Because of a fictional relationship. Their fixation on me was just because we played the same character but liked different ships, and I was a little more known in the fandom. This wasn't even on a website where people could see follower counts, it was right here on tumblr, so they had to be pretty obsessive to figure that out in the first place.

Eventually the friends they lied about me to caught on and left them, but not before they stole a bunch of said friends' stuff. Last I checked on them, it was 2 years since the incident, and they were still melting down on main about how anyone who liked that ship was evil. By that point they had convinced themself that the entire fandom for that ship was a campaign to harass and persecute them personally; that there was no other reason to like it.

The last thing I head about them was that they had stabbed a family member over this and some other personal drama and gotten banned from Twitter and a few conventions for making violent threats toward artists and cosplayers. I don't dare look back anymore.

*Editors' note: Some details have been altered or redacted to protect the ignorant.

3. Ironically, this is one of the few tells that Goncharov is not an extant piece of media. In fandoms for real media, it is fairly common for details to be misremembered and corrections to be made.

4. "Don't look back", of course, is easier said than done. We must recall the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Orpheus, despondent at the loss of his love, arranged to be allowed into the underworld to bring her back to life, but there was one condition; one tiny, seemingly simple condition - he must not look at her until they were both back in the light. If he did, she would be dragged back and lost forever; he would not get a second chance.

Like many myths, the details vary from telling to retelling. Some say that she was never made aware of the rule and cried out in terror as her husband refused to look at her, and almost instinctively he turned to comfort her. Some say that he fell victim to almost a form of muscle memory in mid-ascent when he turned to make sure she was okay. Some say that his desire to see her again sooner rather than later was just too strong and outweighed his resolve and common sense screaming for him to hold to the condition. Some say that he turned as soon as he was in the light, blissfully unaware until it was too late that she was still in the dark.

Whatever the reason, Orpheus looked back.

There is no version of the story where he succeeded in not looking back. The narrative will not let him not look back. The myth has no room for an Orpheus who is successful.

He cannot escape the myth.

He cannot escape the narrative.

Orpheus will always look back.

#goncharov #unreality #heavier unreality warning than your typical goncharov post #i freaked myself out with this #so if you like horror about the nature of narrative please read this and make it worth it!#house of leaves #memeology #internet culture #astral originals

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bitchinbarzal · 1 year

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Last Christmas | M.Barzal

this is my entry for @antoineroussel christmas fic exchange!

this is for you, @lhugh! happy holidays annie 🎄🤍

this fic does use they/them pronouns as they are annie’s pronouns! 🫶🏼

word count: 2,461 words

Last Christmas, you walked into December planning every festive activity possible; the Rockefeller Christmas tree, Nutcracker at New York City ballet, Radio City Rockettes even letting Mat show you up at skating.

That was until Mat dropped the break up bomb on you. You couldn’t really comprehend it all, too confused and hurt at once.

You were supposed to spend Christmas with Mat and the team at the Martin’s. You never answered Sydney’s texts after the breakup.

You spent Christmas alone.

You were thankful the islanders tanked their 21/22 season. It meant that they all left to go home as soon as possible.

That meant no islanders, no jerseys, no chants on the train home from work.

No Mat.

He went home to Coquitlam two days after the islanders lost to Tampa.

Mat spent his first summer in seven years bouncing around from place to place. He was out on the lake with Tyson for a few weeks and he visited Anthony and Emma when they bought their new home in Quebec.

He wasn’t home long with his family until he got a call, from Brock. His dad had died.

He asked if you and Mat could attend the funeral, his father really adored you both in the time he’d met you and he knew Mat well. Mathew agreed to attend, claiming you were busy but sent your well wishes.

He flew into Minnesota the day prior, dropping off flowers to Brock’s mom and she welcomed him into her home giving him a drink and thanking him for coming.

“He always liked watching you play, unless you played against Vancouver of course” she laughed, Mat gave her a smile “It’s a shame y/n couldn’t come”

“Yeah, it’s a shame” he mumbled.

Next he saw her was at the funeral, listening while she stood talking about her husband, the love she had for him, how much she missed him already.

All Mat could think about when he heard her words were you.

You were his best friend.

You were the person who knew him best.

You were supposed to be around forever.

When Mat got home after that trip he didn’t do much, he was no longer in the mood to go out partying, celebrating with friends.

Mat returned to Long Island in the end of August.

He frequented the coffee shop you guys often did and he even walked the route in the morning you did. He didn’t see you.

It wasn’t until week 3 of attending the same coffee shop that the barista, Logan said to him

“Mat, they don’t come in here anymore I’m sorry. Said they needed a fresh start after the breakup”

He silently nodded to the girl, hoping she hadn’t caught his face falling. He simply took his flat white from the counter and exited to building.

Contract talks started in mid-september.

The organization called in May to the office to discuss; throwing around money and perks.

He took the time to digest the information. He called him mom and dad to see what their opinions were on the whole thing, called his financial advisor and even called Anders but the number he kept hovering over belonged to you.

Everyone’s advice was along the lines of “you need to see yourself settling down in Long Island with a contract term like that” and he did, with you.

The deal was signed on October 4th.

@ny_islanders: “I love It here” says Mathew Barzal, after signing his 8 year extension to stay here in Long Island 💙🤍🧡

You read the tweet, saw the posts and the stories from your mutual friends. You wanted to text him — tell him congratulations, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

So instead, you simply put an orange heart emoji under the islanders post about his extension and scrolled on.

Mat saw it. His heart soared at the simplicity of it but yet the fact he knew you were still thinking of him, that you in some way still cared.

Late October, the leaves were starting to fall and hockey was beginning again. Mat wasn’t playing his best — missing goals, easy passes and a lot of falling over.

People started doubting him; calling him a fake, a money grabber and claiming they wished Lou hadn’t even drafted his extension papers.

Mat started to doubt himself too.

was he good enough?

should he have signed the papers?

was he worth the money?

was Long Island better off without him? were you?

There is was! The real problem.

Ever since that last December his mind had been stuck on you and really it shouldn’t have because it was his fault, he broke up with you.

If anyone asked Mat why you broke up he would say “We just wanted different things”

If Mat was honest with himself he would say “I was scared I wasn’t enough for them”

The first few months of hockey came and passed with not a single goal from Mat.

Lambert pulled him aside one morning at practice to tell him “You better get your head out of your ass son because one more game the way you’ve been going and you’ll be benched for the rest of this year”

The last game in November, against Philadelphia Mat was a healthy scratch.

His punishment was over by the next game but Lane told him in no specific terms he had to step up. Mat just groaned and mumbled a “Yeah, I’m fucking trying” before leaving the office.

It was harder now that it was December.

In summer he could just pretend things weren’t different.

You weren’t at his families house? You had to be with your mom.

He was alone at the casino event? You had work.

But Christmas, that was different. Christmas wasn’t something he could sweep under the rug and pretend you were busy.

You’d spent every Christmas together since Mat was eighteen years old. Your first Christmas in New York was an overwhelming experience and Mat thought it adorable at how excited you were about everything.

He bought you a necklace that year. It had his number on it, the gold chain necklace held the number thirteen on your chest and you never took it off.

It was a staple piece in your collection, whenever someone at one of your fancy work dinners or meetings would ask

“Hey why does your necklace have the thirteen on it?”

You would smile so bright, in such adoration and reply “My boyfriend, mat. He plays hockey for the New York Islanders and he’s number thirteen! but always number one to me” and everyone would laugh and call you cute.

You’d left that necklace behind the night you’d packed your stuff up to leave. Mat found it when he returned home from Boston on an away game to find you’d obviously been in and cleared out your belongings too while he was gone.

He took the necklace and posted it to your mom’s house, the only address connected to you he knew. He never knew if you’d gotten it back, not that it mattered much anyway because why would you want to wear it after you’d broken up?

Mat’s no goal streak continued up to the last game before Christmas, December 23rd and he was goal-less.

He was so frustrated at everything he couldn’t think straight about getting this goal. He was spending Christmas alone for the second year in a row — alone, without you.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you no matter how hard he tried. How you’d been here tonight wearing a silly Christmas jumper and cheering about the last game before Christmas.

They tanked the first period, Tkachuk got away with the puck leaving them up one by the end of the first. There were so many penalties, stupid penalties. It was a mess.

Second period, they equalised in the first few minutes with a goal from Beau before Brock got them up another which was matched not long after by Florida.

When the third period hit it was like something went off in Mat, that he had a surge of energy.

He got a goal, his first season goal! Then another and another with only a few seconds left on the clock.

Hat-trick. He got a hatty.

He’d done it. He finally scored a goal this season, they won the game and he got a hat-trick!

So why didn’t he feel like it was enough?

When he got back to the locker room, Mat pulled his phone out of his bag and looked at his notifications; texts from friends and family congratulating him on the goals, random emails but it was as though he was searching for something.

He clicked through the phone until he landed on what he wanted and pressed it before holding the phone up to his ear.

It rang twice before it connected

“Hello?”

“Um, hey! This is weird and I’m not sure why I’m doing this but I felt like I had to because, well because I scored my first goal of the season tonight. I scored my first season goal and I got a hatty too which I mean is a lot but I don’t feel like it’s enough”

Mat sighed, completely blocking out his team-mates listening to this conversation and looking on with sympathy

“It’s not enough because I know you’re not here-“

“-Mat-“

“No, please let me finish it’s taken me long enough to get the courage to call you. I was stupid for what I did last Christmas and I will wholeheartedly tell you that this year has been the worst year of my life and maybe you call that karma, I call it a wake up call that you… you’re the love of my life and that I want to be with you, I was scared and stupid but I’m better I will be better for you! I’m ready to be the man you need”

After his spiel, Mat took a deep breath awaiting your answer but instead was met with a dead line.

You hung up on him.

Mat looked dejectedly at him phone in hand before he got up to get dressed as he was very spitefully aware of the media and press awaiting him outside the door.

He breezed through media by giving them one word answers and a bored look, they usually let him away early when he did that.

Collecting his bag from the now empty locker room and sulking down the hallway towards the car park.

He wasn’t even looking up, instead opted for the wonderful view of his scuffed shoes. Paying so little attention he didn’t even see you standing at the end of the hallway.

“Nice shot!” His head whipped up, locking eyes with you almost immediately.

You watched his face go through a multitude of emotions before it softened and he muttered “What-“

“I was here Mat” is what you said, gesturing to the stairs you’d descended from your seat “I was sat up there and I watched it, I was cheering you on”

Mat was speechless, fumbling over his words and his eyes flickered across your body, trying to drink you in while you were stood in front of him before his eyes landed on your neck.

Lay on your black shirt was a necklace, the necklace.

The number thirteen lay to elegantly on your chest “You got it”

You looked down and smiled “Oh yeah, my mom sent it to my apartment” playing with it between your thumb and pointer finger.

A soft silence settled between you both, it wasn’t weird or awkward — it could never be awkward between you and Mat.

Until Mat broke the silence by asking

“Why are you here?”

You smiled gently “The islanders last game before Christmas has always been my tradition since I moved to New York you know that and so I never changed it this year, despite the circumstances” the last bit was a little snappy and he knew that.

“I meant what i said on that call by the way” you nodded curtly as a reply before holding out your hand for him to take

“How about you drive us around that neighbourhood with the good Christmas lights and we can talk, in the car eh?”

The Christmas lights, another tradition between you both.

Mat reached out, clasping his hand in yours and nodding “Yeah, let’s do that”

The lights on peoples home’s had somehow gotten better this year and you admired them all in a childlike fashion from the passenger seat of Mathew’s Range Rover.

“This is one of my favourite traditions we started” you say, still looking out the window. Your hand rested now on the console in the middle of the car.

Mat slipped his hand into yours, taking a leap of faith which paid off when you clasped it in yours and squeezed it.

“Yeah, i love it” he muttered, pulling the car into the side of the road now you’d reached the end of the street.

You turned to him now, waiting for him to say something.

“Listen, this is all really weird and I wish I was better with words because I would like to be able to tell you the million and one ways in which I absolutely adore you and regret what I did last Christmas every single day. However, what I can do is promise you, I promise you that I will work everyday to prove to you how much I love you and how sorry I am — I ruined Christmas and I think that’s what hurts the most is that I tainted something you love so much-“

You cut him off then, your hands resting on his cheeks; forcing him to look at you and you said “Christmas is not ruined, Christmas has brought me back to the boy I love with my whole heart and being. Don’t you ever think that you ruined Christmas because sure it wasn’t fun last year but we will have a million more Christmas’ to make up for it”

He nodded, head moving slightly so he could press a kiss onto your palm “I’ll make every Christmas the most special just for you”

“As long as I’ve got you, baby any Christmas is special”

On Christmas, when Mat arrived late to the Lee’s for Christmas with the team he walked in smiling

“Sorry, sorry I’m late I had to pick something up!”

“Dude it’s Christmas Day where could you possibly have gone to pick-“ Anthony cut himself off when he saw you enter the house, gifts stacked up in your arms that you placed on the table next to the door before grabbing Mat’s outreached hand.

“Oh my god, it’s a Christmas miracle!”

#mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagine

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esther-dot · 6 months

Note

I'm sorry, that's gonna be a really weird ask from one jonsa stan to another but I'm genuinely curious - is there any anti jonsa argument/claim that actually made sense to you? I'm really asking for the sake of, well, civilised discussion - because if there are arguments there ought to be reasonable counterarguments. And all that I see is the same tired old crap - "she's not his favourite sister" and "but they are relatives!" and all the other stuff. Given, of course I'm not hanging around jonry@ and jon@erys side of this fandom (dark things happen to any sansa and jonsa stans there) and have no idea if they have any reasonable metas. Or maybe if there was a moment that made you actually question possibility of jonsa happening in books? (once again - because I'm anxious like that - I'm not asking this to disprove something or make people question jonsa but because I wonder if you personally had this sort of experience).

Thank you and hope you're having a nice day!

No worries! I enjoy looking at things from different angles, so I don’t mind at all. Unfortunately, I haven’t read anti jonsa stuff that isn’t exactly what you described, so I can’t actually have the convo you want about this. I tried to go to some jonerys blogs but their anti tags weren’t what we’re looking for. There’s a blogger people view as neutral who other Sansa fans/Jonsas put on my dash, and a BNF who people I follow also reblog from, so I went over to their blogs to look around and they’re less rabid, but I can’t say they offered though-provoking pushback. I’ll share some snippets though, in case you’re interested.

There was the old "but their siblings" argument:

I, ah, I do not think Jon marries Sansa in any scenario. Regardless of biological relationship, they think of themselves as siblings. The people around them are also quite likely to consider them siblings or as good as, having been raised as such (see also Theon being accused of kinslaying over his apparent murder of Bran and Rickon). Nor do I think either would be in a rush to go back to the traditional “but the Targaryens practiced incest,” again considering that their society is strongly anti-incest. Jon and Sansa were raised together, in the same house, as brother and sister, and that makes a material difference.

But you know, raised as siblings and please nobody try the “but they weren’t close” with me, that’s so not true.

It’s interesting to see someone say they were close, that’s not something I’ve seen before. I suppose my biggest issue with this line of thought is that it feels true for a generic fantasy maybe, but hardly convincing when talking about ASOIAF? Martin wants to talk about incest. So far, we have all the bad, abusive variations covered. I think he’s gonna work some shades of grey into it the same way he tries to do with everything he discusses, and to pretend like he would never feels disingenuous to me. Even if he ultimately abandoned the initial draft, from the author’s mind came the idea of a Jon / Stark girl romance. He has entertained it. Secondly, Jon is a Targ and it’s reasonable to expect that to manifest somehow, or at least, for Jon to experience the fear that there’s something latent there. And third, if we’re gonna get a romance, I think Martin would write it with the complexity and inner struggle that he writes everything and fauxcest offers him that opportunity, not to mention all the parallels it would allow as well.

Let's see...I also saw that they object to the Beauty and the Beast reading of Jonsa:

And I've been searching but apparently I never posted the rest of my "Bear and the Maiden Fair" thoughts, but that's the in-world Beauty and the Beast story. Through that and looking at bears elsewhere in the story, you can track this idea of the beast not being a monster, but being perceived as one by society, an outcast, which is why the Hound, Tyrion, and Jon all fit the role/are related (in a way), and why Jon will be the final suitor or real bear/beast.

The next one, I’m just gonna post the whole thing:

I’m not sure if the best part is the implication that Jon/Dany (which they believe is inevitable) have what’s required to allow for “quick deep emotional connections” or if it’s reading the Hound insult and threaten and then finally put a knife to Sansa’s throat and deciding “romance! chivalry!” The Hound may be disillusioned, but the fandom has got to stop pretending like some of his espoused beliefs aren’t self-serving, a defense because he is a monster. We have Brienne and Jon showing us different versions of knights, true knights, so acting like the Hound is in the right is just bizarre.

Anyway, no, I’ve not read an anti argument that made me doubt it. I do doubt what Martin is aiming for at times, so I’ve vacillated between potential paths/endgames for them over the years, but the anti arguments generally are coming from a reading of characters and dynamics that’s disturbing to me which means I’m usually alienated, not compelled.

#dot chat #jonsa #anti asoiaf fandom

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obsessed-with-timeloops · 3 months

Text

The Magnus Archives spoilers but I keep thinking about Jon and Martin landing in the ISAT universe when the fears arrive but like. Right after post loops. So it ends up like:

1) They save these two weirdly accented guys (where one of them clearly has been stabbed holy shit) only to possibly be immediately told that they just got a bunch of evil gods in their world (oops)

2) Jon's eyes absolutely have color when Knowing things or using Eye powers in general.

3) The loops 100% count as a statement and Jon is purposely trying not to be alone with Siffrin so he doesn't munch on their trauma

4) Triple ace solidarity ruined by the knowledge their world is doomed to be plagued by fear gods U.U

5) Martin: "Jon did the fears turn this world black and white" Bonnie:"what's black and white?" Martin: "what" Bonnie: "what" Isabeau: "No but seriously what's black and white." Odile: "I think they're implying that colors exist in their world." Jon: "I see. Colors are apparently unnatural to this world." Martin: "Like that one Lovecraft story?" Jon: "what". Martin: "You know colors beyond our comprehension and what not?" Jon: "I- I suppose??" Bonnie: "Hey! Could this Lovecraft guy be from our world?" Mirabelle: "Wait no. These two just arrived here??? Unless time messed up too???" Jon: "Trust me you do not want to claim him."

6.a) Jon looks at least 10 years if not older than he actually is. He also probably can get along better with Odile anyway. Plus with different universes as backgrounds, the lack of general knowledge around his age wouldn't be obvious. Cue the moment where Jon is asked how old he is and the absolute AWKWARD silence when it's clear that both Jon and Martin are basically Siffrin's age, give or take a few years.

6.b) Bonnie: "Is 30 years old different in your universe? Are you about to die?" Jon: "From embarrassment, perhaps."

7) General discussion/argument/existential dread regarding the Fears and how they interact with this world. Honestly the gang may never forgive Martin and Jon for doing this to them. Even if they do everything they can to help them. They get more sympathy once they find out about the Eyepocalypse and the absolute hell Jon in particular went through. Doesn't mean they have to like it.

8) Siffrin finding out about Jon's knowing powers and asking him if he can Know the name of the island in the North. Jon tries. Then he starts screaming. His eyes are red. Siffrin doesn't ask again.

9.a) The horror and dread knowing that not only is their mission not done. It can't be ever again. And this time, especially if Jon and Martin's story is true... well, the King wasn't easy, but at least he was a person. You can't exactly fight a distorted universe. Their happily ever destroyed forever.

9.b) I could see a physical confrontation happening... if Jon didn't look so absolutely devastated. If he didn't say "do what you will with me, but please leave Martin alone" and Martin yelling at him for being a self-sacrifical idiot. It just sucks so much all around. But it would have been easier if Jon and Martin were bad people. But they're not. Just... broken people doing their best in a broken world. And to do their best to save their own world, the family has to work with them.

9.c) Jon and Siffrin are also idiots with martyr complexes that refuse to talk about their feelings solidarity. Shame that Jon can't help but want to eat Siffrin's trauma cause they probably have a lot to talk about.

10) Funnier note, the slow realization that Jon and Martin in an rpg world. Martin figures it out first and Jon is just. Flabbergasted. Especially when they find out the magic system is rock paper scissors.

11) "rock paper scissors transcends the multi-verse. Neat!" (Later Martin asks Jon if gun is secretly a fourth hand symbol. He does not know and will not Know. He refuses).

12) I think at one point they're gonna have to deal with the fact that statements don't exist in this world. Either Jon gets too close to taking Siffrin's statement or he's going to tell Martin the facts: there is very little way Jon can survive without being a predator. He is an avatar that needs something to fuel his existence. He doesn't want to hurt anyone else ever again. Unless Siffrin wants to write their statement down or someone else does... even then there's no guarantee it's going to be enough.

13) Perhaps wish-craft can save Jon. Maybe. Maybe not. But. The party tells them about wish-craft anyway. It's the one hope they have to fight against this new horror. Maybe it can help Jon too to get out. (Everyone deserves that chance).

I have no fic with this, my fixations are simply crossing over briefly. Hope you enjoyed the ramblings.

#tma #tma spoilers #isat #isat spoilers #this is entirely self indulgent dont mind me #yes there is an implication that Jon and Martin lost their colors in the transition between worlds #in stars and time

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kwyw · 7 months

Note

Hey “Karlie Kloss is married” Anon:

You are aware that in 2023, the LGBTQIA community is still fighting for basic human rights, no?

You are aware that in 2023, people are banning FICTIONAL books because of the mere mention of LGBTQIA characters, right? What about the banning of drag shows? “Don’t Say Gay” in Florida?

Read the room, a book or maybe watch/read the news. The LGBTQIA community exists and will continue to exist regardless of the treatment they receive from those who claim to “not judge people for who they love because love is love” when it’s convenient for them and who misquote & misinterpret Martin Luther King, Jr.’s words on the one day out of the year they try to show they don’t discriminate against people in any way, shape or form.

However, it’s people with mindsets like yours who will always force the LGBTQIA+ community to continue the fight for equality, even in 2023!

Lavender marriages exist. People aren’t making this up or pulling it from the depths of their asses. If it were so easy to “just come out”, people would more frequently because that would mean people truly don’t care.

People lose jobs for being gay. They’re turned away from restaurants. Refused wedding cakes. Overlooked for promotions when they’re more than qualified or deserving. Denied the opportunity to buy a house or adopt a child. Called mentally ill or pedophiles. Physically attacked. Harassed. Murdered. All because of who they lay beside at night.

Just because Taylor is a billionaire doesn’t mean people wouldn’t treat her differently if she ever (allegedly) came out and the same for Karlie (allegedly). She would lose fans. Her albums may not sell as much. Venues may not want her to perform there to avoid protesters. People may stop buying a company’s products if she endorses them. Look at Bud Light/Dylan Mulvaney.

Because for some reason, some people in society think money loses it’s value if someone’s sexual orientation isn’t the same as theirs, but guess what:

Money is still green and it’s still paper, whether it comes from a gay person hands or not. That same green paper is what people want others to spend to support *them* and *their* business. You want it as a reward for your hard work at your job. You accept it as a gift. If you found $50 outside of a gay bar, you’re gonna pick it up because it’s $50 on the ground, right?

People will accept cash, card, credit, Apple Pay, etc., but won’t accept other people based on their race, sexuality, etc.

Crazy world we live in.

It’s not even easy for people to become billionaires, much less come out of the closet because in either scenario, they could lose everything.

Why do you think Scott Swift and that other guy were so against her speaking about politics? Ask yourself why you’re so triggered at the possibility that Taylor and Karlie could be or are (allegedly) gay?

Why do you think Josh (allegedly) takes Karlie on the majority of his business trips? His own family refused to acknowledge her for years. Josh himself referred to his friend Mikey (also married with two kids) as their roommate. Have you seen his past birthday tributes to Mikey compared to Karlie’s?

At the end of the day, people in some industries have to present themselves a certain way to be successful. It’s like code switching. You have to change or suppress things about yourself to appease other people.

Also, Karlie *has* actively dropped Easter eggs (hello, cardigan/folklore!). You probably just don’t like the messenger. For example:

Her using Labyrinth’s music in her IG stories just for Labyrinth to be a song on midnights?

Her own sister, Kimby, saying “la la la la” on twitter, just for Karlie to pop up at the LA show.

Taylor said in MA that she and her partner decided together they wanted their relationship to be private.

Wouldn’t you say that fits Taylor/Karlie? Because when you don’t see two people associating as much publicly as they used to, you automatically assume something happened or that they aren’t friends…right? Because that’s what everyone assumed until Karlie showed up at the rep tour and the eras tour.

#all of this #freaking exactly

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kierantierney3 · 10 months

Note

hii, can I request a social media au for Martin? I don’t have something particular in mind, but maybe best friends-to-lovers kinda thing? and their friends teasing them/ being annoyed? <33 love your work!!

Hi, Thank you for your request. Honestly surprised i’ve not wrote a best friends to lovers.

Masterlist

Face Claim: Leah Williamson (Feels right to use Leah Williamson as my other fics use her)

—————-

2015

yourusername

liked by ødegaard.98, and 139 others

yourusername Happy birthday to my best friend love ya

view all comment

ødegaard.98 Thank youuu can’t wait to see you tonight

yourfriend Right best friend 🤣🤣

ødegaard.98

liked by yourusername, yourfriend and 1290 others

ødegaard.98 Happy birthday 🥳 🎂 🎉

view all comments

yourusername Thank you 😊

yourfriend Happy birthday y/n

2017

ødegaard.98

liked by yourusername, and 71,073 others

ødegaard.98 Thanks for the warm welcome! ⚽️

view all comments

yourusername Killing it 💙🤍

user Going to be a big star

user Welcome 🤗

yourusername

liked by ødegaard.98 and 1194 others

yourusername Calm before the storm ⛈️

view all comments

ødegaard.98 What a player ❤️

yourfriend Yessir

user I saw you todayyyy

yourusername

2018

ødegaard.98

liked by yourusername, 39,082 others

ødegaard.98 @mijnvitesse 💛🖤

yourusername Congratulations 🥳 going to ball it out.

user Letsss go

user Don’t know why you aren’t giving the chance at Real Madrid.

yourusername

liked by ødegaard.98 and 47,819 others

yourusername Delighted to sign a new deal with Arsenal big season ahead.

view all comments

ødegaard.98 Congratulations 🥳 can’t wait to see you play.

user Hope you get more first team minutes this season.

user So happy for you.

ødegaard.98

2019

ødegaard.98

liked by yourusername, 102,984 others

ødegaard.98 A new challenge ahead. Can’t wait to get started.

view all comments

yourusername Yessss!! Can’t wait to see you play.

yourfriend I can confirm y/n was the first to like this. ❤️

⤷ yourfriend They act like boyfriend and girlfriend 🥹🥹🥹

user Welcome 🙏🏻

yourusername story

2021

ødegaard.98

liked by yourusername and 382,083 others

ødegaard.98 Can’t wait to get started happy to sign for this amazing club. ❤️🤍

view all comments

yourusername I’m so excited training is going to be so fun!!!! ahhh your going to hate me and end our friendship!!!

user Welcome to Arsenal

user What a player!! Going to light it up in the prem.

yourusername

liked by ødegaard.98, yourbestfriend and 481,037 others

yourusername Best friends to lovers ❤️

view all comments

yourbestfriend Finally took you guys long enough.

yourfriend If you actually admitted your feelings you would be together for over 5 years.

user I thought they were already dating?

ødegaard.98 ❤️

user It seemed everyone else but them knew how much they liked each other.

2023

yourusername and ødegaard.98

liked by yourfriend, bukayosaka87 and 839,031 others

yourusername I said yes (Can’t show my face because i look ugly, turns out i ugly cry and he loves me for it)

view all comments

yourbestfriend My babies i love you guys so much so happy 😍😍

yourfriend Can’t believe it. I always imagined you guys together but never thought it would happen.

yourfriend Tbf never thought Martin would make the first move.

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starkwlkr · 11 months

Note

[motogp anon] about the joan mir au,,,

basically reader is a single mother and is a news reporter and is covering a story during a motogp race week, whilst also bringing her kid (son/daughter, either is fine!) but kid gets lost because the kid likes wandering off on their own (and yn was busy reporting smthng), then the kid runs into joan. joan returns the kid, and BOOM! meets the reader and falls in love at first sight :*

little matchmaker | joan mir

motogp anon, this request is amazing 🫶🏼🫶🏼 thank youuuu and I’m such a sucker when it comes to driver/riders with kids 😭 also you can imagine whichever grand prix for this one and also the faceclaim 🫶🏼

TWO SOULS DON’T FIND EACH OTHER BY SIMPLE ACCIDENT

Y/n was getting ready to go get her interviews started with a couple of riders before the Grand Prix started. “Okay, we’re good.” A worker said as she was handed a microphone.

“Mama!” A young girls voice yelled as she ran to her mother and hugged her legs.

“Sofia, honey, mama has to work. Why don’t you go stand with Lucy over there?” Y/n pointed to her co-worker, Lucy, who behind the camera pointing it at Y/n.

“But I want to stay with you!” Sofia whined and hugged her mother tightly.

“I know you do, but mama has to ask questions right now. I’ll be done soon.” Y/n explained to the girl who groaned in response and walked towards Lucy.

“Okay, now I’m ready.” Y/n gave a thumbs up and cleared her throat.

“Three, two and we’re live.”

Sofia was bored. Standing next to Lucy was boring her so she walked off hoping to find something interesting to do. Y/n was busy asking Jorge Martin a couple questions so she was completely unaware that her little girl had wandered off.

Sofia looked around and saw many people walking in different directions. She had spotted an electric scooter parked on the side of a motorhome. She approached it and poked the seat, afraid that if she layed a hand on it the whole scooter would fall on its side.

“Boo!” A man’s voice startled her.

“That wasn’t nice!” She raised her voice and pointed a finger at the man.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. But poking someone’s scooter isn’t nice either.” He replied and crouched down to reach her level of eyesight.

“This is yours?” Sofia asked. “Can I ride it?”

“You’re little. Plus I don’t think your parents would like that I’m letting you drive something that’s way bigger than you.”

“But I’m growing! Last night I was this tall and then this morning I’m more taller! Mama said so.” Sofia explained.

“And where is your mama? I don’t see her.” He looked around for her mother but it looked like no one was around to claim the little girl.

“She’s asking questions, that’s her job. But I got bored so I came here.”

“Well that’s not a nice thing to do to your mama. She’s going to be worried about you. You said her job is to ask questions?”

Joan took the girl’s hand and together they walked around the paddock. Sofia talked to him as if she knew him her whole life. Joan was more than happy to answer any questions the little girl had like ‘how fast can you go on a motorcycle?’ or ‘do you know the muffin man?’

Finally they reached the main spot where most interviews are conducted. “Do you see your mama?” Joan asked the girl.

Sofia looked around then spotted her mother speaking on the phone while Lucy comforted her. “There!” Sofia pointed and dragged Joan towards her mother. “Mama!”

Y/n ended the phone call and let out a sigh of relief. “You scared me, Sofia. You don’t run off like that ever again, okay?” She took the little girl into her arms and kissed Sofia’s cheek.

“I’m sorry, I was bored.” Sofia apologized. “But guess what?”

“What?” Y/n asked.

“Joan said he knows the muffin man and that he can go super fast on his motorcycle!��

Y/n lightly chuckled. She turned her attention to Joan, who she was meeting for the first time even though they worked together.

“I found her looking at my scooter by my motorhome.” Joan explained. He always heard stories about love at first sight but he didn’t think they were true at all. How could someone fall in love with a person they just met? But now that he saw her, he decided that love at first sight was real.

“I’m going to get Sofia something to eat.” Lucy said and grabbed Sofia’s hand.

“Bye, Joan! Next time, can we ride your scooter on the track?” Sofia asked.

“If your mama says it’s okay.” Joan replied with a smile.

“I’ll think about it. Go with Lucy, baby.” Y/n said.

Sofia and Lucy walked away, leaving Joan and Y/n alone together. This was his chance to ask her out. But then his thoughts started to cloud his mind.

‘She’s probably still together with Sofia’s dad’

‘She’s married’

‘She’s going to think I’m unprofessional’

“Thank you for bringing back my daughter. She’s always running around.” Y/n finally thanked Joan.

“No problem. She’s really funny, made me laugh on the way over here many times.” Joan admitted. “I’m Joan, I don’t think I told you my name.”

“I know . . I mean I know who you are because you’re a rider and you’re a world champion, yeah sorry if I ramble a little too much. I’m Y/n.”

“Y/n . . . I love your name.” He thought he had said it in his head but realized he actually said it when Y/n started to chuckle.

“Thank you. And thank you again for bringing Sofia back to me. I’ll see you around, Joan.” Y/n smiled then started to walk away.

Stupid! Say something to her!

“Would you like to get dinner sometime? I don’t know if you’re interested and if you’re not then I completely understand. I probably sound stupid even asking because you’re probably in a relationship. You’re a really lovely person and I wish I had met you earlier in my life. I find it impossible not to like you.” He blurted out.

Y/n stood in front of Joan completely speechless. This was something straight out of a romance novel.

“Your silence is really killing me so can you please say something.” Joan said.

“I don’t have a babysitter.” She replied.

“That’s not a problem for me. We can all go out to eat together. Not to brag, but I think Sofia likes me.”

“Sofia isn’t the only one.”

#motogp #motogp fanfic #motogp anon #motogp imagine #joan mir #joan mir imagine #joan mir x reader #joan mir fanfic

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dreamersbcll · 8 months

Note

I know it's early for Christmas, BUT i was thinking that it could be nice to have a story where the core 4 celebrates Christmas a lot earlier because since sam left, tara refused to have anything to do with that holiday and so this is sort of a reapay for all the the christmases she missed

“Sixteenth”

(a little break from whump. happy sunday!)

—————————————————————————-

“Okay, now smile!”

Sam grinned widely at the camera, squinting a bit as the flash obscured her version. Her baby sister, well, her twenty-one-year-old sister, sat on her lap, beaming at the lens, her eyes twitching a bit.

They had been taking pictures for at least twenty minutes now, Chad dancing around in his stupid fuzzy sweater in the background, Mindy taking the photos. It was their “new tradition,” as Mindy claimed.

She wasn’t stupid. Sam knows that this was an attempt by the twins to give the sisters what they yearned for most: time. So the minute after they got home from their Halloween movie marathon at the Carpenter’s, the twins got to work. Mindy was the mastermind, Chad the muscle. Together, they proposed a plan, Operation Carpenter Christmas!

First was the matching Christmas sweaters, then the stocking-making session, and now the cheesy, 90s-inspired Christmas photo shoot. Tara refused to take solo photos, only allowing herself to be in pictures where she could cling to Sam. Various images of Sam holding Tara like a baby, a Step Brothers homage, and now, Sam holding Tara on her lap on the stool.

It was silly. It was only November sixteenth, for crying out loud. Sam was hardly in the mood for Thanksgiving turkey, much less evergreen trees. But here she was, holding Tara to her lap, smiling at the shaky camerawork of Mindy Meeks-Martin.

Squeezing Tara's shoulder again, Sam leaned in, resting her chin against Tara’s back. “You okay, my sweet girl?” she whispered, her breath tickling the back of her little sister’s neck.

Tara squeaked in response but leaned into Sam’s touch. “I’m okay. Focus, Sam. We haven’t even finished the stool photos.”

Rolling her eyes, Sam pulled back and straightened up.

“Okay, no more chattering ladies. It’s time for gift-giving pictures!” Mindy crowed, Chad clapping enthusiastically in agreement.

Sighing, Sam plastered on a smile. It was only the sixteenth of November. This was ridiculous.

Yet she still smiled with suppressed joy at Tara’s reaction to the photos.

And so what if she bought a tiny picture for her wallet?

It wasn’t Christmas yet.

——

Staring at the scene before her, Sam shook her head. “Nope. I can’t ice skate. This is ridiculous.”

They were at an ice rink, the only one open to the public for free in the city. It was a dinky rink, the lights half on, the music perpetually being eighties pop hits. But Sam couldn’t deny the excitement that fizzled from her sister or how she felt a little bit excited at the prospect of making new memories with Tara.

But ice skating? Come on. She thought she dodged a bullet when she vetoed an ugly sweater-wearing contest, but she underestimated Mindy’s sly smile.

So here she was, staring at a couple of amateur skaters stumbling out on the ice. It was her turn next to make a fool of herself.

Tara rolled her eyes back, tugging at Sam’s hand. “Nuh-uh. We’re gonna go ice skating. Besides, we can’t be worse than Chad, right?” she chirped, giving Sam lethal puppy eyes.

Blowing a piece of hair out of her eyes, Sam groaned. “Fine. Let's go,”

Now if she were to say they were incredible, natural-born skaters, she would be a damn liar. But surprisingly, if they held onto each other just tight enough, they could stay upright. When Tara stumbled to the left, Sam veered right, and so forth. They barely went faster than a snail, yet they did better than the twins.

Chad kept slipping, falling backward onto his ass like a cartoon character. Mindy laughed every time until she fell right on top of him. Sam doesn’t think they even made two laps around the rink before they left.

Sam had to grudgingly admit that this activity was rewarding. Seeing Tara concentrate hard, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, Sam knew what love was. She may not have been good at it or good at staying around to find out what love was, but here, she knew that she craved it like no other drug she had ever ingested.

Discreetly, on one of the rare occasions where Mindy stayed upright for more than two seconds, she took many photos of the sisters skating together.

Her favorite one was Sam falling, taking Tara down with her, the two toppling on one another. She especially adored how Sam checked Tara over for any bruises and kissed her face all over.

Mindy knew her plan was working. She was slowly wiping away all the tears. Tara didn’t have a big sister at Christmas, no matter how much she wrote to Santa or prayed to God. It wouldn’t fix everything, but it damn well would make up for lost time.

November was just as magical as the Christmas season itself.

——

After three cups of hot chocolate and about seventeen cookies, Tara was out cold on Sam’s lap, snoring softly. They had just finished the Polar Express, and the ending knocked Chad and Tara out cold.

Mindy was searching through the Christmas movies on the floor, looking for her favorite, It’s a Wonderful Life. Coincidentally, it was Tara’s favorite as well—pretentious little shits.

Looking down, Sam gazed fondly upon her sleeping sister. Tara was snoring quietly, her eyelids fluttering slightly. Her head was firmly in Sam’s lap, her hands wrapped around her big sister’s thighs, anchoring herself to Sam. Though they were both in matching, sweltering flannel pajamas, Tara still held on. It was wondrous how such a precious thing could love Sam despite her flaws.

“I love you, baby. Merry Christmas,” Sam whispered, tucking one of Tara’s wild locks of hair behind her ear.

Sam was startled at the sudden squeal that came from Mindy. The girl was smiling wide with a shit-eating grin. There, Sam realized her mistake.

“Hey. Quiet. She’s sleeping,” Sam shushed, frowning at the noise.

Mindy just shook her head, laughing to herself. “You said Christmas! I knew this would work!” she crowed, pumping a fist of victory in the air.

Shaking her head, Sam flipped off the gleeful girl with her free hand. “Fuck you. It’s still November sixteenth, weirdo,” she hissed.

The girl shrugged. “All the more reason to celebrate. Man, we’re gonna be so ready for the actual holiday!”

Sam snorted, waving the girl off.

Wait.

“There’s more?”

Mindy’s laughter could be heard from thousands of miles away, probably even the North Pole.

Whatever.

#scream #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #AU: protect my heart #the core four!#christmas on a budget.. ish #mindy meeks martin #chad meeks martin

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asongofstarkandtargaryen · 11 months

Text

JON SNOW DAY 7: FOILS AND ADVERSARIES ⚔️🦹‍♂️ JON SNOW - YOUNG GRIFF

On ADWD, we find out during Tyrion’s pov chapters that the long dead prince Aegon Targaryen (son of Rhaegar) has supposedly survived the sack of Kings Landing - which caused his mother and sister’s lives- and is secretly living in Essos all these years. It could make an interesting Anastasia-vibes story if Aegon was who he says he was, however introduced so late in the story, the boy is probably a fraud - even if he has no clue about it. This meta is treating the theory of Aegon not being the actual child of Rhaegar and Elia as canon and similarly considers Jon being Rhaegar and Lyanna’s actual secret child.

So we have one prince who isn’t who he claims and believes to be and another one who doesn’t even know he’s a Targaryen. It’s quite the symmetry with both boys around the same age ignoring the truth so far.

Let’s start comparing them from their appearance. I find it ironic - and also fitting- that Martin made the “fake” Targaryen having the family’s traditional looks with silver hair and purple eyes. Meanwhile, the boy who is actually a Targaryen is favoring his mother’s Stark look:

"Your father's lands are beautiful," he said. His silvery hair was blowing in the wind, and his eyes were a deep purple, darker than this boy's.

ADWD - THE GRIFFIN REBORN

The boy absorbed that all in silence. He had the Stark face if not the name: long, solemn, guarded, a face that gave nothing away.

AGOT, TYRION II

Aegon has lived a sheltered life with the adults surrounding him, pampering him. That has lead him to remain immature as a teenage boy (which isn't a bad thing itself, just doesn't make him the ideal leader)

"There is a gift for the boy in one of the chests. Some candled ginger. He was always fond of it"

ADWD, TYRION III

The lad did not seemed pleased. The perfect prince but still half a boy for all that, with little and less experience of the world and all its woes.

ADWD, TYRION VI

Meanwhile, Jon grew up aware of his bastard status. Compared to his siblings, he was less privileged and less pampered. All the experiences of his life, both as a neglected kid and as a teen black brother made him observant of others and also mature for his age:

"I will turn fifteen on my next name day, and Maester Luwin says that bastards grow up faster than other children".

AGOT, JON I

They know nothing, Ygritte. And worse, they will not learn.

ADWD, JON XIII

Aegon grew up thinking that he was the rightful heir of the Seven Kingdom. Naturally, this has led him to feel entitled of things he hasn’t earned himself. For example; he believes that his aunt, Daenerys, will be willing to marry him and offer him her large army only because he’s her nephew:

It does make for a splendid story, and the singers will make much of your escape once you take the Iron Throne … assuming that our fair Daenerys takes you for her consort.“

"She will. She must.”

“Must?” Tyrion made a tsking sound. “That is not a word queens like to hear. You are her perfect prince, agreed, bright and bold and comely as any maid could wish. Daenerys Targaryen is no maid, however. She is the widow of a Dothraki khal, a mother of dragons and sacker of cities, Aegon the Conqueror with teats. She may not prove as willing as you wish.”

“She’ll be willing.” Prince Aegon sounded shocked. It was plain that he had never before considered the possibility that his bride-to-be might refuse him. “You don’t know her.”

ADWD, TYRION VI

On the above passage, Aegon was so certain that Daenerys would be willing to become his bride that even the possibility of her refusing him shocked him.

Compare that to Jon, who his whole life was entitled to nothing. He was aware that unlike his siblings he wouldn’t be handled things because of the family name - something he didn’t have- and that instead he would have to work his way to earn his place in the world:

“I want to serve in the Night's Watch, Uncle."

He had thought on it long and hard, lying abed at night while his brothers slept around him. Robb would someday inherit Winterfell, would command great armies as the Warden of the North. Bran and Rickon would be Robb's bannermen and rule holdfasts in his name. His sisters Arya and Sansa would marry the heirs of other great houses and go south as mistress of castles of their own. But what place could a bastard hope to earn?

AGOT, JON I

When Jon went to the Wall, nothing was handled freely to him. Jeor Mormont only paid attention to him after he became the unofficial swords teacher for his fellow new recruits and after he persuaded Maester Aemon to include Sam among those who would be promoted to Black Brothers. It was his own skills and accomplishments that made him Commander’s steward and it was his brave fight against the wight that earned him Mormont’s sword.

He doesn’t expect people to freely give him things, he understands that every gift comes with a price. Just like when Stannis told him that he would make him Lord of Winterfell, but only if he converted to the Red God.

On ADWD, Varys gives a speech on why Aegon is the ideal leader:

“No.” The eunuch’s voice seemed deeper. “He is here. Aegon has been shaped for rule since before he could walk. He has been trained in arms, as befits a knight to be, but that was not the end of his education. He reads and writes, he speaks several tongues, he has studied history and law and poetry. A septa has instructed him in the mysteries of the Faith since he was old enough to understand them. He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. Tommen has been taught that kingship is his right. Aegon knows that kingship is his duty, that a king must put his people first, and live and rule for them.”

This impressive list of traits that Aegon has aquired in order to rule one day, is missing the most important one: actual personal experience. Aegon might have been working and interacting with the common folk but he was always sheltered and was surrounded by adults loyal to him and his case. It’s not the same to do some kind of work because you want to learn the experience with doing something for living. He doesn’t really know what is like to be hungry- even if Varys tells us otherwise- because his caretakers would never let him actually be starving. When Aegon was afraid, he was always surrounded by people loyal to him who could offer him reassurance or simply their sympathy. Finally, he doesn’t have any experience in ruling. Many people speculate that Varys and Illyrio are shaping him to become their puppet king but even if that isn’t the case fact remains that Aegon never ruled anywhere.

Unlike him, his supposed half brother had a little guidance when he became Lord Commander. Maester Aemon, his best advisor, left the Wall not long after Jon was elected as the new Lord Commander. Jon had to navigate ruleship on his own without the help of a wiser adult. Unlike Aegon, Jon had the experience of truly serving before he was in a position of power - as he was a steward and later on he lived among free folk. He was also experienced in being truly afraid and terrified even when people who can comfort you are miles away and you are all alone.

We don’t know whether Aegon will put his people first because he has yet to rule. But we do know that Jon constantly prioritizes humanity’s well being. That’s why he made dealing with the Others his number one priority and that’s also the reason why he let the free folk on the south side of the Wall.

While Aegon is another candidate fighting for the Iron Throne because he feels entitled to it, Jon is fighting against the Others to save humanity.

Bonus! their views on women.

Aegon’s:

"That's so," the boy said, "and who is there left in Westeros to oppose us? A woman."

ADWD, THE LOST LORD

Jon’s

The women are the strong ones.

ADWD, JON III

#jonsnowfortnightevent2023 #asoiafcanonjonsnow #canonjonsnow #jon snow #house targaryen #young griff #valyrianscrolls #a post of ice and fire #asoiaf meta #jon snow meta #mymeta

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 1 year

Text

Pinned Fanfiction Post! Updated 6/11/24.

Psst… there's a way to support my writing now (and thank you Kraiva, Som, Charlie, Flamia, Bree, and more who encouraged me to do it).

Fandoms:

The Magnus Archives

Malevolent (Podcast)

Deviser (Podcast)

I'm bad at updating this, my apologies! It's all on AO3, folks.

Latest:

Malevolent

HERETIC - an Oscar one-shot. AO3 | Tumblr

Loads of Surrogate updates, as per usual. :) The last few:

Little Voices

A Little Night Music

Reconsencrated

Profane

Sacred

FINISHED FICS:

(This is long, so under the cut they go.)

THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES

AND EAT IT, TOO

The voice gets under his skin. Is it pleasing or terrifying? Inside his head or out? Is it even real, or is his still-human brain just cobbling monster-sounds into something he can comprehend? It’s impossible to get out of his head, whether literal or not. Doesn’t matter, though, because the answer Michael gives is a terrible one, and ends the same way: Gertrude could protect herself, Jon can’t, and he’s going to die for her sins.

Playlist available here.

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QUIT

It’s a stupid-drafty manor—huge, never properly lit, all its frippery fraying at the edges. It has literal skeletons in the walls. It has a foyer right out of Crimson Peak, an empty cement hole with crumbling cherubs in the back yard that might have once been someone’s idea of a pond, and a library with more cursed books than Gerry could shake a match at. The part of Gerry that once used Sharpies to blacken his eyebrows loves this place with a truly unholy passion. If only it didn’t belong to the reason the world was going to end.

Playlist available here.

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TULIPS IN SPRING

Martin crawled back into bed like he’d crawled through the burned-flesh hole in his heart, and knew he still loved Jon. Martin knew Jon loved him, too. Jon had thrown away godhood for him, like it hadn’t mattered. Maybe it hadn’t.Jon loved him, and that meant they could fix this.All Jon had to do was wake up.

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CRUCIBLE

Martin's been having dreams.He doesn't understand them. Surely, if Jon had ever looked like that, with unreal wings and a crown of spinning eyes, he would have remembered. But his memory isn't working as well as it should right now, and Jon never blinks. Martin is afraid.

Inspired by The Watcher’s Crown by @raynecreates

Note: this is angst. Somewhere Else goes very, very wrong.

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INSTANT NOODLES (crack fic)

At least his new hobby kept him occupied in the evenings, when too much time to think turned to wretchedness. It just so happened that much of his life was public. On the internet. As part of some gods-damned podcast. There were no words for how fascinated he was. This was his story—and yet it wasn’t. It was focused on Jon, for some bloody reason, which made no damn sense, since Jon showed up at the very end. Well. There was no accounting for taste.

Note: This is nonsense. Full apologies to Jonny and Alex, who are 100% the creators of my favorite podcast, The Magnus Archives. This is a work of fiction, etc. and so forth. Take it as the joke it's meant to be. Written because I wanted Jonah to suffer.

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SHORT STORIES FOR TMA APPRECIATION WEEK, 2023

Just what it says on the tin. Silliness, angst, and crossovers incoming.

AO3

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THIS DARK THING THAT SLEEPS IN ME - Rusty Quill Big Bang 2023

This is a DARK AU; it is not a kid-fic, though Jon is young. Bittersweet ending ahead. Spoilers for the whole show, though this is very much an alternate universe. In a world where the End won and Jonah Magnus is its Heart, the cycle of death and rebirth is a given: no one lives past thirty, the Other Fears scramble for scraps, and any infant without an Alignment—called Uncertain—has until the age of ten to be claimed, or they are sacrificed. Jon, an Uncertain child, knows things he shouldn’t, has memories he shouldn’t, and also has a purpose: apparently, he’s been called to do what no Aligned person can do and stop Jonah. Sometimes, there is no happy ending, only the right one. Jonah broke the promises he made to take over the world, and Jon is here to make it right. “I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me; all day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity. Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart?” ― Sylvia Plath

AO3

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MAGNUS ARCHIVES x MALEVOLENT CROSSOVER

I PREFER MY HEART TO BE BROKEN

Jon feels seen in a way he has not since the Panopticon, examined from cell to soul, from ankles to ego. Does that feel good or horrible? He doesn’t know. He tries to see into this thing, just a little, but just that glimpse is enough. Fear shortens Jon’s breath, shivers up and down his form, because this thing is a god.

Playlist available here

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MALEVOLENT (PODCAST)

Heretic - an Oscar one-shot:

What road remains for a man whose purpose abandoned him?

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Blood and Sand:

When John Luke was nine, Parker stopped writing back. It took a while before John Luke was sure, before he allowed the worry to slither into his bones, and take flavor and color away, and leave only trembling cold behind. Parker had never been quiet this long. Something had happened. John Luke Yang wants his brother back. When he learns about a wish—offered by a god, in exchange for winning some kind of game—he's willing to leave everything behind in pursuit of it. But the Dreamlands are not safe, and the King in Yellow has gone mad. The Games are not designed to be survived. Luke has fallen into deep and dangerous waters. Fortunately, he won't be swimming alone.

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They Both Just Gotta Be Dicks (Intermezzo spoilers):

Not much surprises Kayne anymore. A melting Arthur manages.

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All that Glitters (crack-fic one-shot):

John and Arthur, Lester and Doe, going mano a mano against their greatest foe: 1970s Arkham bureaucracy.

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Fragile (Intermezzo spoilers):

Arthur got low in Larson’s house. He hit bedrock; he admitted, brokenly, that they won. John didn’t let him drown. Which is ironic, because John was already drowning.

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Double the Popcorn (Intermezzo spoilers):

You think there’s anyone I haven’t seen? Fucked around with? Followed? You think there isn’t a version of you I haven’t tweaked to be the very d-d-darkest you could be, with flesh in your fingernails and blood in your cheeks like a really fucked-up squirrel? I. Have tried. Them all. And pal… they don’t fucking work.

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God of Cowboys and Fools:

Well. No time like the present. “I am the King in Yellow, and you are now my slave,” I tell him, because that is the truth and we might as well get it done. He is a god, awakened in the crater of his birth. Somewhere out there is the Wizard he needs to ensure his misplaced immortality. Now, if only the Wizard would just do as he was told instead of fighting back, they could get on with the business of living forever.

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SACRAMENT - an Oscar one-shot

Arthur and John are long gone from Oscar's life, and whatever they did has left more than one wound in the world. Oscar's is obvious. Scratch's is not. Oscar certainly hadn't planned on encountering the malevolent spirit ever again, but now that he has, he faces a choice.

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BOYO

Warning: this is a dark fic. I liked me boyo’s anger, and he was just scuttered enough to make this work. To join me hitting the prop, and hitting too much. To not know when it was time to stop, and to follow my lead as we went far beyond. Wasn’t quite perfect. Didn’t have the rhythm yet. But I knew he’d get it; musical lad, or I’m a whaler, and I’d get him singing my tune. The fool died, and my boyo stood there, panting, blood everywhere, and hit the body again just because. Fuckin’ beautiful, that was to see.

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THE INCIDENT - a one-shot for the @malevolent-fanzine

Arthur and John are in Arkham, getting their burgeoning P.I. business off the ground. And then Kayne asks for a favor, and everything goes to hell.

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TRY, TRY AGAIN - a one-shot for the @malevolent-fanzine

The King in Yellow worked for a month to get Arthur to spill the information he wanted. Eventually, he got what he wanted through a made-up Bostonian, Adam Fry. What happened in the month before Arthur woke?

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CONFESSION

There’s a trick to confession, if you want to keep another from hearing what you said. But not hearing it don’t make it not true, don’t make it go away.

I fear Arthur’s truth, so big and bright. I fear ours together may strike like flint and leap into devouring flame.

An Oscar one-shot

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PEDANTIC

Arthur Lester is the best IT architect in the world, and the reason Carcosa, Inc. has its fingers in every pie. Government, medical, everyone in the world uses its systems. Arthur is also going blind, with a rare genetic condition that can’t be fixed. The looming depression is bad. He can’t imagine a life where he can’t create anymore. Arthur nearly gives up… until a deeply annoying cybersecurity programmer prods him into trying something new. Great, right? Now, if only this John Doe weren’t clearly hiding something so wild that not even PI Parker Yang can dig it out….

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PET

Arthur loses John. Hastur loses Arthur. Yellow does not deserve what happens here.

AO3

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PUSH

They survived. John got his promised body. They're free. But Arthur is still blind, and now, he no longer has someone in his head, helping him around. He's not all right. It's all coming out of him in anger. Today, John needed a break... and, left alone, Arthur tries a four-legged substitute. It goes about as well as can be expected.

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NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY

Angst warning Things happen when we age. Unavoidable things. Until death do we part.

AO3

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CLOUD CITY - MALEVOLENT BIG BANG 2023

The sun never rises in Cloud City. Owned by distant gods, the world creaks along in techno-magical paralysis, making Contracts with spirits, and limping along in isolated enclaves while monsters run wild in the Wastes. Five years ago, Arthur Lester, a private investigator, made a Contract with a Summon called Hastur. The deal? His soul in exchange for the identity of his daughter's murderer. Until the time Arthur's soul is ripe for harvesting, Hastur will give him power, and eventually must find Faroe's killer. If he doesn't, they both die, so failure is not an option. Hastur, however, is not a normal Summon... and it turns out he's come here and chosen Arthur in order to stop a threat that will destroy the entire universe if it succeeds. Unfortunately, humans aren't meant to channel power like Hastur's, and Arthur's body is beginning to break down. It's a race against time to solve Faroe's murder and stop the incoming threat before he simply drops dead.

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YELLOW CITY - A CONTINUATION OF CLOUD CITY

Arthur Lester has been taken by the King into the Dreamlands. Arthur Lester has gone quite mad. As promised, Arthur will suffer… but his presence will have a bigger effect on the future of Earth than anyone planned.

AO3

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PUSH

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THE BIRTHDAY SONG

Very much post-canon. Very much fluff. John has a body. Arthur has his sight. They've figured it out, working in Arkham, making their way through life, and John, at last, has chosen his birthday. It's all fluff from here, folks.

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WORTH THE PRICE OF A BOTTLE OF POP

So, anybody want a crack-fic with Kayne, Arthur, and too much sugar even for an Outer God?

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FIVE TIMES JOHN WANTED TO SEE A MOVIE, AND ONE TIME KAYNE MADE IT SUCK

In which Arthur struggles with right and wrong, bemoans the Hays Code, tries (and fails) to define love, and gets a second chance.

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SURROGATE

The beginning of the series, Surrogate: The Director's cut.

The King in Yellow has a plan. The first part works, and Arthur Lester is broken. The second half blows up in his face. John has gone mad, and Hastur’s adopted daughter is upset, but that’s not all. It turns out a certain Outer God wasn’t done watching that show, and when he arrives with director’s notes, not even the King in Yellow can refuse him.

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DEVISER (PODCAST)

DEVIL

Dad knew he'd failed with humans. Dad did not know he'd succeeded somewhere else.

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RED

Son likes painting. Son likes red.It makes him feel some odd things. Things he doesn’t really have a word for. He really likes the way it looks splattered on his hands.

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queenlua · 2 months

Text

amusing bits from Martin Luther: Renegade and Prophet so far:

* "What sparked [Luther's] anger, so he later reminisced, was the preaching of a Dominican friar, Johannes Tetzel, in the nearby town of Jüterborg, who went so far as to claim that his indulgences were so efficacious that even if a person had raped the Virgin Mary they would be assured complete remission from Purgatory." used car salesman-ass strategy lol

* "...the wealth of material that has survived on Luther is so great that we probably know more about his inner life than about that of any other sixteenth-century individual... His collected works, the famous Weimar Edition, extend to 120 volumes, including 11 volumes of letters and 6 volumes of his dinner-table conversations"

holy FUCK. truly a poaster before his time. like would the median tumblr blog fill 120 volumes jeez

* "In the early years of the Reformation, for example, [Luther] talked constantly of invidia, or envy, attributing it to his opponents—though it is hardly likely that they would have envied a penniless, powerless monk, while he, on the other hand, had every reason to be preoccupied with those he envied." lmao. mean girl who goes "they're just jealous" every time ppl hate on him

* "Extraordinarily, in an age when letters were routinely passed from person to person, were forged or intercepted, and when every chancellery filed drafts, Luther kept no copies. This gave his correspondents huge power, because they alone had records of what he had written, but Luther was relaxed about this, joking that he could always deny his own 'hand,' a remark that reveals his remarkable confidence."

i will have to look into this later but this is lowkey fascinating??? it hadn't occurred to me the 16th century world would've, like. written out copies of every damn thing. to support audit trails and such. just because the overhead of producing all those damn copies seems really high. suggests fun possibilities for intrigue and mailfraud shenanigans lol

* "It was popularly believed that when of the counts [in the town where Luther grew up] commissioned an altarpiece for the chapel depicting the Crucifixion, he had the thief on Christ's right painted as his most hated co-ruler

LMAOOOooo. also reminds me of the funny story that the tobacco magnate who funded the creation of Duke University Chapel asked that the stained glass depict the 12 desciples smoking cigarettes, and the dude had to be talked out of it... though i can't find any reference to the story on the internet, sadly. did the duke chapel tour guide MAKE UP LIES to me

* Luther grew up in a family that owned a mine & it's sort of hilarious how bad all these 1500s miners were at economics. they're like. running whole mining operations but with only the haziest idea of, like. where capital comes from. how to not resource trap your way into fuckedness. etc. i dunk on economists a lot but y'know there are some concepts here that actually were p worth formalizing

* our dude Luther was a fucking DRAMA QUEEN let me tell you:

"[Luther] joined the Augustinian order in Erfurt on July 17, 1505 [...] Luther sent his academic gown and ring home to Mansfeld, telling his parents he had drawn a line under this part of his life. He sold some of the fine legal textbooks his father had bought him and donated others to the monastery. Then he invited all his student comrades to a lavish meal, with music and entertainment. At the height of the party, he told his shocked companions of his decision to become a monk, announcing melodramatically, 'Today you see me and never again!' He then left for the monastery, accompanied by his sobbing companions." bet those dudes never forgot that party

* though Martin Luther's dad sure could match him for drama queen-ness (and apparently never stopped resenting Luther becoming a monk instead of a lawyer):

"At the ensuing feast to celebrate [Luther's first mass a priest], for which Luther's father, always the man for the grand gesture, had given the sum of twenty guilders, the breach was still evident. Luther asked whether his father now accepted his decision, and in front of everyone at the table, Hans Luder replied, 'Remember the fourth commandment, to obey father and mother.' 'What if it was an evil spirit' behind [the storm that convinced Martin to become a monk]? he asked. It was a very serious charge, made at a point where Luther had just acted as Christ's representative on earth for the first time."

* Luther was in one of the more hardcore monkish orders, and said order had a pretty rigorous schedule of prayers that involved waking up in the middle of the night... but apparently you could just pay other monks to pray for you if you just Didn't Feel Like Doing It one day? lmao. and in particular Luther did the strategy of "i'll just get them done ALL IN ONE DAY" instead of, like, doing them throughout the week (going without food or sleep, working that day & night to get them done)

* our dude could definitely be a poor lil meow meow / woobie if fandom got their hands on him. this boy is constantly having literal panic attacks about WHAT IF I MISINTERPRETED THIS PART OF SCRIPTURE AND NOW WE'RE ALL GOING TO HELL, when he's in Rome one of the things that bothers him the most (besides the famous indulgence thing) is the fact that they SPEEDRAN masses over there and he's like "oh no though, i spend SO MUCH time on the masses i run, i'm so afraid of doing it without true feeling... who are these speedrunning fucks with no respect goddamn," his confessor gets tired of him because he'll spend UP TO SIX HOURS AT CONFESSION agonizing over shit that doesn't matter... (this is part of the reason he went into academia, actually, his confessor was like "boy you have got way too much anxiety for the purely monastic life, go get a degree or something i stg")

* i do kinda love it when theologians get sexy with it:

"[Staupitz] wrote of different 'stages' of union of the soul, the first being that of 'young maids in faith,' the second that of the 'concubine,' the third, the 'queens': 'They are naked and copulate with the naked one. They taste that outside Christ there is nothing sweet and they enjoy [his] continuous sweetness. For the naked Christ cannot deny himself to those naked,' while in the fourth stage, which Mary alone experienced, Jesus 'sleeps naked with her naked and he shows other signs of such love.'"

#lua reads martin luther renegade and prophet

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