#but just torches and food and that sort of thing

[nebulous-library]

how they fall in love - tokrev boys

aka the april 14th "i made it through valentine's day AND white day without any romantic attention" special. happy singles day to all who celebrate. hcs for a selections of my personal tokyo revengers blorbos, including: Mikey, Draken, Baji, Chifuyu, Kazutora, Hakkai, Taiju, Koko, and Inupi.

Mikey falls in love with uncertainty. He’s used to feeling so much all the time at once that he isn’t sure he could pinpoint love in the middle of all of it. But until he knew you, it didn’t matter. As you get closer to him, he becomes more acutely aware that he definitely has positive, pleasant feelings toward you. He may even get himself in trouble by picking fights with others who steal your attention from him. It probably takes Draken, Takemichi, or Emma to be like, “So, about this crush you have….” and he’d be like, “...the what.” Be patient with him, he’ll come around, and when he realizes both his own and your feelings, he’ll be the sweetest boyfriend. Please do not accept anything he cooks for you though. No chance in hell that he can cook.

Draken falls slowly. He starts by noticing how cute you are when you do mundane tasks, or the little things that make your eyes sparkle, and he finds himself wanting to know more. He’s very observant when it comes to details, and might surprise you here and there by bringing you your favorite drink or a treat of some sort, but his love language is definitely quality time. Whatever your hobbies are, he’ll definitely start feeling a stronger attachment to you if you do that thing in his vicinity while he’s working on fixing up a bike or something. It’ll take him some time to come to the conclusion that it’s love, but in the meantime he’ll settle for the warm swell in his chest that he feels when you’re around. 

Baji falls quietly, behind the scenes. If he doesn’t know you like him back, he’ll operate under the assumption that you don’t and just be content with just being by your side and will express his feelings via little gestures that show he cares and listens to you. This can range anywhere from noticing you’re warm and turning on the AC, or torching a vending machine that ate your change. Depends on his mood. Another way he’ll show his affection is by sharing things with you; food, beverages, etc., yes, but also hair ties. And he won’t even ask for them back. If you keep the hair tie he gave you and wear it on your wrist? He’s as good as gone. Please confess to him soon, this boy is down worse than he lets on.

Chifuyu falls in love like an idiot. He doesn’t fall for just anyone, but when he does, he’s immediately head over heels. In a borderline insufferable way, too. We’ve seen how clingy he was with Baji. He is gonna make himself your personal guard dog, whether you want it or not. He’s gonna go out of his way to bring you tokens of his adoration like a courting magpie. I’m so serious, this is the boy who will bring you a really fucking shiny rock he saw that made him think of you. If you try to talk to him normally, though, you’d better be prepared for him to get all flustered and formal about it. But once you get him out of his own head about it, he’s loyal and dedicated and affectionate. 

Kazutora falls in love like he isn’t sure what love really is. Sweet boy has been through so much, especially growing up in a family situation like his. He doesn’t know what love looks like, and he worries that if he were to be in love, he wouldn’t do it right. He’s one you’ll really have to take initiative with imo. But if you show him your love, he’ll slowly but surely follow suit. Show him that love can be gentle and playful and fun. Show him that it can be tender or sweet or passionate. Show him the love he’s never gotten, and he’ll learn to show you his love in return. 

Hakkai falls hard and fast, but you wouldn’t know it. He knows he likes you the moment he sees you, but if you so much as make eye contact with him, he freezes and is immediately beet red. It will take at least three people shoving him directly at you and coaching him through what to say to actually ask you out. 

Taiju falls in love stubbornly. When love isn’t what he thought it would feel like, when it ends up making him feel all mushy in his core, he rebukes it. He denies it. He tries anything in his power to keep this weakness from entering his body. He’s never known what it is to be soft and doesn’t understand why you make him feel this way. He might be cute and a little tsuntsun about it, but you’ve already cracked his shell and he can’t deny it forever.

Koko falls hesitantly. He’s nervous when it comes to vulnerability, but devoted nonetheless. Think toned down and bottled up version of Chifuyu. On the surface, he seems like he has mad game, but we all know he’s a weenie at his core, and he knows it too. He’ll seem calm and collected around you, he may even be a little flirty, but just know he’s dying inside. I suggest putting him out of his misery and confessing first, but c’mon, we all know it’d be so much cuter if he accidentally blurted it out and then was all surprised when you tell him you feel the same way. But he’s most definitely gonna keep it bottled up until he bursts.

Inupi falls in love quietly, similarly to Baji. He trusts quickly, and when he knows, he knows. He’s not going out of his way to make some big, dramatic confession, though. But he will absolutely be glued to your side. Just existing near you. He won’t be the chattiest person, but you’ll find that he’ll always have something meaningful to say. You’ll probably get more out of him if you can get him alone, honestly. Let him take you for a ride on his bike to someplace you can just enjoy each other’s company and he’ll bare his soul to you. 

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokrev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #mikey sano #manjiro sano #mikey sano x reader #manjiro sano x reader #draken x reader #ryuguji ken x reader #ryuuguji ken #baji keisuke x reader #matsuno chifuyu x reader #hanemiya kazutora #hanemiya kazutora x reader #matsuno chifuyu #baji keisuke #hakkai shiba #shiba hakkai x reader #taiju x reader #taiju shiba x reader #taiju shiba #kokonoi hajime #kokonoi x reader #kokonoi hajime x reader #koko x reader #inui seishu #inui seishu x reader #inupi x reader #inupi

[saikira999]

~ Headcanons for twst characters playing Minecraft.

[Azul]

Headcanon, what if Idia and Yuu somehow convinced Him to play Minecraft, Azul...:

1) "Why are there cubes everywhere??? I don’t understand anything...."

2) When he learns that monsters are appearing in the dark, he places two stacks of torches around himself in horror.

3) Crying from the physics of trees.

4) Will try to make a copy of Mostro in Minecraft.

5) He does not like to dig in mines and fight, but prefers to engage in agriculture, construction and trade.

6) He built his own village, with a complex hierarchy, its own economy and an underground mafia, where he keeps all the villagers under iron grip.

7) Every five minutes:

<Octo_businessman> fell from a high place.

<Octo_businessman> tried to swim in lava.

<Octo_businessman> was blown up by creeper.

<Octo_businessman> was drowned.

<Octo_businessman> starved to dead.

8) If one of the players hits or kills an squid in front of Him, He will take it as a personal insult.

9) The only one on the server who goes to bed on time and swears at everyone in the chat, because he cannot miss the night while others are awake.

10) Chief of food, armor and potions (Not for free, of course)...

11) Tries to negotiate with the pillagers.

12) Most likely, his house is either a clumsy box decorated with vines and blue flowers, or a huge penthouse with twenty rooms. There is no middle ground. Also, it seems to me that his house would be somewhere on the beach, or in the middle of the lake.

13) Drowned people are his worst enemies.

14) Makes secret chests with all sorts of treasures that he clearly does not intend to share.

15) Already dug up all the gold and ransacked all the treasuries, while the others fought with the ghasts and withers.

16) He comes into the game the least often, because “I actually have my fill of things to do.”

17) He is afraid of dolphins, because he personally knew real ones and knows that they are not the friendliest guys (No, seriously. Dolphins are assholes. Just Google it).

18) Terrible in PVP and always dies first.

19) He says that He doesn’t care about griefers and considers their tricks to be child’s play, but in reality, he is very offended and complains to Yuu in PM on discord.

20) Likes to play in small groups of 2-3 people and does not like to play alone or with too many players.

Hi! If you like My post, please reblog Me! :3

Also, if You want a doodle and headcannons for some other twst character, I will be happy to answer Your requests. They are open :D

My telegram channel

#art #мой арт #artists on tumblr #memes #twisted wonderland #twst #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #twst memes #twst yuu #twst idia #azul x reader #twisted wonderland azul #azul ashengrotto x yuu #azul ashengrotto x reader #minecraft #twst headcanons #headcanon #reblog me #funny

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

Pairing: Gale x reader (tav)

Prompt: Soulmate AU (sharing pain)

Description: For most of your life, it was normal things; cuts and bruises, sprained ankles and such. Your love must have been some sort of spell caster, from all the magic burns and forces you felt too. But then one day... it hurt so bad. The darkness, the pain, the hunger you felt... At least, it was a burden shared.

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: minor descriptions of pain/wounds, descriptions of Gale's arcane hunger,

Notes: I wanted to write for Gale so so bad but nothing was coming to me. Until I was like "fuck it back to the basics" also these fics are such a good way to use all my screenshots. I have so so many. kinda lowkey don't like this but I've had it sitting in my drafts for so long, and just needed to finish it lol

You had thought the greatest pain you could feel in this life was that which your soulmate bore; a great, arcane hungering force that festered in the chest. Though only they bore it truly, you felt it as if it was your own pain. And you, too, felt that hunger, felt relief when it was sated and knew the pain of going without. Knew what to do when you felt it fester and want only more.

But you didn’t know what to think when you felt a sharp pain in your left eye, felt it crawl and wrench it’s way into your brain. How could you? It was something you had no explanation for (what had your soulmate been up to, then, to feel such a way?) It was only when you were abducted by the nautiloid, faced with a mind flayer and it’s tadpole, that you notice how sickeningly familiar the sensation of a worm, crawling into your left eye to make home for its self in your brain was.

So, imagine then when you met not one, not two, but six other people with tadpoles as well. You couldn’t be sure if any of them were your soulmate… but you also couldn’t rule it out. That, and you kept hearing that even more people were infected than the people you now traveled with. Realistically, finding your soulmate should probably not be at the top of your list when you did have a mind flayers tadpole… but the idea that they could be so close to you did have you excited!

But what if they were part of this strange Absolute cult? What if they had already been turned into a mind flayer (would you feel that? Would they even have a soul for your to connect to at that point?) There was a lot to worry about… Chief among them being that familiar growing hunger within your chest. But having been recently dumped off a ship, you have very little to your name to feed it…

“This locket…” You held it aloft in your fingers, soft light from the torches around your tent catching it. You had gotten it from Arabella’s mother after saving the poor girl from Kahga. You could use it’s magic to feed your soulmate’s hunger… but would the other’s notice it missing? How would you explain it’s been consumed?

“You seem to have a lot of your mind.” Gale’s voice catches you from your thoughts, causing you to snatch the locket and pocket it.

“There’s much to think about.” You hum, looking up at him. “How can I help you tonight, Gale?” You change the subject, smiling at him.

“I’ve just come to remind you to eat dinner.” He holds a bowl of something that smells far too good to be camp provisions, leaning down to hand it to you.

“You made this?” Your eyes widen as you accept the food, stomach growling in anticipation.

“Oh this is nothing,” He waves his hand dismissively. “Were we back in my tower at Waterdeep, I would show you the true extent of my culinary talent.” You take an experimental bite, smiling at the savory taste that welcomes you.

“It’s very tasty! I’m nonetheless impressed you made this with supplies from our camp packs.” You praise him, seeing the smile that lights up his face. You have to admit, it’s rather charming even if he is a little haughty. “Thank you for coming to hand this to me, I may have forgotten otherwise.”

“You’re welcome! We can’t have our leader falling behind.” He smiles, but seems like he wants to say something more before deciding otherwise. “You have a goodnight, _____.” You decide not to question it on it. Though you like to think you’ve grown close to him this past week traveling together, not enough to push boundaries quite yet.

“You too Gale!” You give him a little wave, watching as he goes back to the campfire where he must have cooked dinner. You retreat to your tent, closing off from everyone else at camp. Another, uncomfortable pang of arcane hunger hits you and with a soft groan, you put down the food.

“Fine, fine.” You groan and hold your throbbing head, pulling out the locket with the other. You study it a moment, before closing your eyes and holding it to your chest, willing that great, unknowable force within to feed on the weave it held. When the next terrifying moment it is done, and that deep ancient, hunger is sated once again. You let out your bated breath. At least for now, it is sated…

Across camp, Gale can only take a shuddering gasp as he feel’s the orb within him sated. While this hadn’t been the first time his soulmate had helped him sate the orb, this time it almost seems serendipitous that they should do so when he finds himself with nary a magic artifact (nor a tresseym to go out and hunt for one).

Once, as Mysta’s chosen, Gale had wondered what use a soulmate would do him when he was chosen by a Goddess. To be favored by Mystra, mother of the weave… It was quite an addictive feeling, admittedly. But to fall from that grace, to lose the bulk of his powers and have to face the consequences of the orb within him… only for someone who cares for him to feed that hunger, to save him hurt when they may not even know him… It’s quite bracing, and enough to bring a smile to his face. Someone out there cares, despite the pain he has caused them, and despite, for a time, thinking he could live without them.

Still, it is a burden he would rather like to take care of himself. With that in mind, Gale readies himself to tell you (and the rest of the party, though they haven’t quite earned his trust like you have) about the orb at the earliest convenience. You seemed a little troubled tonight so when the day came, he would find the time.

However, it seemed like you had much planned for the day following. Though he was there to watch you agree to raid the goblin camp, Gale hadn’t expected the strides you would make in that endeavor today alone. Already your small party had cleared out the abandoned village before the camp and now you were checking out the surrounding area.

“Excuse me, _____, if you have a moment.” Gale pops up beside you a moment as you survey the area. “I have something rather important to share, if you can spare the time.”

“You’re among friends Gale, go right ahead.” You smile at him, and notice how his face softens at that.

“Yes well,” He takes a deep breath, eyes never leaving yours. It always caught you off guard, how easy it was for him to capture your gaze. “Ever since you freed me from that stone, I’ve seen you demonstrate remarkable guile and courage.” You watch his hands move up and around, something you’ve noticed he does often when he talks. “When you defused the situation between Aradin and Zevlor, or how you saved that young girl from Kahga…” He shakes his head a little, dark eyes meeting yours once more. “In short, I’ve come to trust you.” He smiles at you, that same boyish smile that you can’t help but smile back at.

“I’m glad you said so, I feel the same way.” You see his smile grow wider a moment, before he continues on.

“The reason I go on to say this is that I’ve grown confident enough to tell you something I haven’t told another living soul. Except for my cat.” He looks troubled for a moment, watching your face for any change of emotion. You try to keep your reaction even, merely raising your eyebrows for him to continue. “...You see, I have this… condition. Very different from the parasite we share, but just as deadly.” You watch his hands move before his chest in an almost frantic motion, before falling swiftly as he looks to you.

“...Okay.” You nod, looking at him carefully. “What… kind of condition?” You half frown, seeing how strange he was being about this. Not that he wasn’t already a little queer, but in this moment Gale seemed so… tense.

“The specifics are… rather personal… but suffice to say it is a malady I’ve learned to live with-- though not without some effort.” He gives a little grimace, but continues, learning in closer to you. “What it comes down to is this; every so often, I need to get my hands on a powerful magical item and absorb the weave within.” Your eyes wide (in what you hope is a normal way) and you nod.

“So this… illness causes you to consume magic.” You repeat plainly, nodding. “While that is strange, I don’t think it will be so hard to accommodate.” You nod at him assuredly.

“You… don’t have any questions?” Gale asked, seemingly dumbfounded.

“Well of course I do. But it seems like you shared as much as you were willing to on the matter already.” You offer him a small smile and watch the relief spread on his features.

“I thank you for your trust in me. It shall not be unfounded.” He looks rather serious for a moment, before continuing. “Thankfully, I am sated for now, but its merely a matter of time before my craving returns. So I turn to you; I need you to help me find magic items to consume. It is vital, dare I say, critical.”

“Of course. I’m happy to help in whatever way I can.” You smile big for him, hoping he can’t hear the pounding of your chest.

“You have my thanks. Again, your trust in me will be rewarded in anyways I have at my disposal. I’m sure we won’t have to look far, Faerun overflows with magic treasure! As do our packs, in fact,” Your breath hitches at that. He was of course, talking about the locket you got from Arabella’s mother… the very one consumed last night by you (and by extension, your soulmate). What if he asked for it now? How could you tell everyone its gone already? But just as you go on to panic over a response, Gale continues.

“But, I know the allure magic artifacts hold, and their power. All this to say, I understand the sacrifice I ask of you. But if I may be so bold, its for a very good cause indeed.” Gale pauses a moment, and makes sure to catch your gaze once again. “I hope I can count on you.” You nod at him, which seems to please him.

With that, you continue on your way, heading further into the mountains to reach the goblin camp. You couldn’t help but be distracted though. How many people in the realm needed to consume magic for a ‘condition’? And… of those people, how many of them have also been infected by a mind flayer tadpole? You couldn’t help but wonder that-- distracting you enough that as you walk out of the destroyed village and over a bridge, you walk right into the next goblin camp.

“Look Klaw, look’s like dinner’s come to go.” The goblin sneers at it looks up at you. Your eyes widen as you take in the goblins. At least three in front of you that you see, some strange pack animal, and surely more in sniper points. You might be able to talk your way out of this…

“Remember, goblins often come in the dozens, not just a few.” Gale warns.

“Why’d you come this way?” The goblin huffs again, looking up at you with disdain. Yes, you could easily talk your way through this. You can feel the tug of a parasite in this one. Authority. But another, desperate part of you wants to see. If you or Gale got hurt in this battle, would you be able to see the wound on the other… Could he really be your soulmate?

You don’t remember quite what you said to anger the goblin so much, before you knew it battle had started. Thankfully, you had Lae’zel with you to enter the front lines and take out those pesky pack animals, while Gale and Astarion provided support from the rear. Though it wasn’t an easy battle by any means, the more goblins dead, the better in your opinion.

You tried to see if you can feel pain in any place you didn’t remember getting hit, but all of you had gotten one or two bad hits. There was even a point you had to help poor Astarion back to his feet after he had taken out the war drum that would call in reinforcements.

“How does everyone feel?” You call out. “I haven’t quite used all my healing spells yet, so if anyone needs a little pick me up…” You look around to your allies. Lae’zel seemed fine, having had a healing potion to take care of her wounds, and Astarion was looking decent after you had cast Lay Hands on him. You turn to Gale, to find him looking rather haggard, despite being relative safety (sans from a few archers, if you recall).

“If you don’t mind.” Gale calls you over, and you happily oblige, moving over to him while readying the spell.

“Where does it hurt?” You ask, raising your two hands as they glow with healing magic.

“Everywhere, really.” Gale laughs softly. “I feel like I got thrown around quite a bit that battle.” He shakes his head. “I’ll need to be more careful…” he shakes his head.

“You did fine, no need to worry.” You assure him, placing your hands just before his chest and letting the magic flow to him. He sighs in relief and smiles at you. “Don’t forget about yourself, though.” He adds.

“Oh I feel fine.” You assure him. A little better than the moments before, even. “I have potions if I really need them. I would rather save my magic for my allies, anyways.” Sure that everyone was feeling well, you continue to the goblin camp proper, trying your best to distract your self from your ever growing thoughts.

~*~

It isn’t many days after that (though its hard to tell, with all the battles, all the information, all the people you’ve met and helped) that you notice a familiar presence within. That aching, consuming hunger. Thankfully, in the days since you’ve gained plenty of magic items, any of which would more than be able to help Gale. Though this time, it had you nervous.

If you gave Gale an item, watched him consume it before your very eyes, and felt the pain melt away like a soft lullaby… what then? If he truly was your soulmate… what would that change between the two of you, if anything? Was Gale even interested in following his fate like that? It was all so worrisome… And, even if he wasn’t… Would you still have that familiar warm feeling in your chest when you caught his gaze?

Soulmate or not, you had… feelings for Gale. Ones that you couldn’t claim for the rest of the party. And despite everything, you still knew so very little about him. It seems as though your thoughts summoned him, as you look up to find Gale coming your way.

“Come to grab a snack?” You tease, seeing him approach you somewhat seriously.

“I…” He seems surprised a moment before recovering. “How could you tell? I thought I had done rather well in hiding my affliction…” He doesn’t seem embarrassed, more so surprised.

“Oh!” You couldn’t very well say it was because you had also begun to feel the ill effects of going too long without consuming magic. “You just seemed… a little strained today is all. Not that it effected you in battle in any way!” You assure him. “Just that it all took a little more out of you than it might usually…” Gale is quiet a moment, studying you. You can’t seem to meet his gaze, too busy studying the dirt between the two of you.

“I hadn’t known you to be so observant,” In the next moment, Gale is smiling softly. “You’ve read me correctly. My condition is… rather hungry, and I find that feeding it sooner rather than later leads to everyone being happier.” You nod at him, shuffling over to your travelers trunk where you seem to keep all the armor and weapons and goodies from your adventurers.

With your back to him, digging in the trunk, you speak. “If you don’t mind me asking… how does it feel?” You were looking for a specific ring you had picked up, one you were certain everyone would have no problem with parting with. “I mean… is it painful?” Fingers finding the cool metal of a ring of Color Spray, you carefully pull it from the trunk, ready to turn back to Gale for his answer.

“It’s…” He pauses a moment, taking time to consider his words carefully. “It starts off as uncomfortable, and if left unattended quickly become painful.” He frowns softly. “Though it has a number of unwelcome side effects, chief among them seem to be nausea, headache, chest pain…” You can’t help but grip your own chest as you felt a pain go through it. Yes, at this point, you were almost certain. There was just one thing left to do to prove that Gale was your soulmate…

“Um, I’m sorry if this is strange… but could I talk to you in private a moment?” You gesture to your tent right next to you and Gale seems surprised.

“Is this about…?” He stops himself as you shake your head no vigorously.

“It’s um… complicated. But fear not, I’m not going to deny you an item.” Gale seems concerned a moment at how you seemed to be uncomfortable but merely shakes his head.

“Very well.” He allows you to open the flap for him, and you follow him inside. It’s not as if he hasn’t seen the inside of your tent-- you often opened the flaps of it to let everyone know you were free to talk or do other things. But it felt much more intimate to be inside it, closed, with you. You seemed so different with your heavy armor and weapons to the side. In your camp clothing, you seemed so much smaller than the courageous paladin that led them all in battle.

And even now, as you looked upon him with rosy cheeks and worry, Gale couldn’t help but admire you. Who would have guess you would be so shy when it came down to it?

“What did you wish to ask me?” Gale chooses to speak first, seeing how you seem to be struggling just a tad with what to say.

“There… is no easy way to say this.” You admit, half frown fitted on your lips as you look to Gale. “If I am wrong this would be… one of, if not the, most embarrassing thing of my life.” You shake your head again, seeing the look Gale gives you. “But… I am almost certain of it, and would appreciate it if you would give me the chance to prove it to you as well.” You look to him with wide, pleading eyes.

“Prove what?” Gale watches you worry the ring in your hand, sees how you can barely meet his gaze and how you can’t seem to stop blushing despite nothing romantic or embarrassing happening between the two of you. “Please, tell me what has you acting so strange.” You heave a sigh, closing your eyes.

“Gale of Waterdeep… I think we’re soulmates.” It feels strange, falling from your tongue. Even stranger to see his reaction (how can stay so composed?) “Before you say anything I… can show you.” Before he can object, you bring the ring of Color Spray to your chest and let the arcane hunger within you (within him), feed. You feel the immediate relief, but not only that-- you see the look of awe on Gale’s face, see the tension leaving him.

“Well… that certainly is proof, isn’t it?” Even Gale is left astounded in the moment, looking at you with eyes anew. “I’ll admit I had my own suspsions… but you certainly took matters into your own hands, didn’t you?” He’s all smiles and familiar confidence, but you can’t find it in you to feel as steady.

“I… suppose so” You fiddle around a bit, finding his answer to be neither positive or negative. “How do you… feel about that…?” You ask softly. You had loved him for years and years, and finding out that Gale was the person you had loved and taken care of for so long made you so happy. But…

“How could I not be happy?” Gale moves a bit closer to you, taking your hand in both of his. “You’ve done so much for me… Now, and even before we met. To find out the person who took such good care of me is someone I’ve come to respect and trust so much… who wouldn’t be pleased?” He squeezes your hand.

“So you’re not… disappointed?” You add, rather quietly. Gale can’t help but soften.

“With you? Never.” He seems to think a moment, hesitating. “Still… to think that’s you’ve suffered though this like I have… it’s nearly unforgivable.” He shakes my head. “That my mistake led to you suffering as well.”

“Don’t say that!” You tug him closer with your hands, your strength giving Gale no choice but to comply. “Even if it hurts… I’m glad to be connected to you in this way. If I didn’t care, would I have supported you all this time?” At that, Gale smiles. “I… know it hasn’t been long since we’ve met. Shorter still since this revelation has come to light… but I do love you, even if you don’t feel the same.” You muster up the courage to admit this. “I’ve loved you for years and years… finding out you were the person I’ve been in love with just seemed to make sense.”

“… You really are more than I deserve.” Gale again squeezes your hand. “I’ll admit I… find myself fond of you as well. I was never one to put much faith into a soul mate…” You can’t help but deflate a little at that. Gale, noticing this, quickly continues. “But that’s changed since I was cursed-- since Mystra cast me out.” You blink at him, and he shakes his head. “Now that I know you feel the orb’s hunger as I do… you deserve to know the truth behind it.”

“Are you certain?” You frown softly as his hand leaves yours, but Gale merely gives you a serious look.

“I’ve cursed you as well as myself. This is something that effects us both.” Gale doesn’t beat around the bush. “It all starts with a king named Karsus…” Gale settles in to tell you of how he came to have the orb in his chest. Of the King, Karsus, who created his own weave in his ambition to rivil Mystra and once destroyed her. How Gale wanted to impress Mystra, and merely sought to return a piece of her weave back unto her-- that piece being the orb that was now inside his chest. Their union should have destroyed him but instead, the orb merely consumed his power. That, and his place at Mystra’s side; the goddess cast him aside for his folly and Gale found himself lost.

“I thought I had nothing left to live for. My powers lost, Mystra cast me aside… I was content to let the orb finish me off but…” He pauses, looking to you after staring off into the corners of your tent.

“...I remember. I had been sick and hurting for so long. I was desperate to get back on my feet, and came across an amulet that was supposed to boost my health. But as soon as I put it around my neck, it was gone. Consumed.” You smile softly at him.

“You gave me that first push forward. Luckily, even as a wizard locked in a tower, I had plenty of magic items to consume as well. But I also had Tara to go out and look for me. And… you.”

“You know, I was actually out to buy more items for you to consume before I got abducted by the nautiloid. I had wondered why you were going without for so long… Funny, to think, it was because you were also on the nautiloid.” You can’t help and smile wide. Gale returns your smile.

“Fate truly wanted us to meet, then.” Boldly, he chooses to cup your cheek before quickly pulling his hand away. You could feel your heartbeat pick up, see the flash of color on his cheeks.

“For better or for worse, we’re in this together Gale.” You instead reach out for him, taking his hands in yours. “I’ve only just found you and I’ve no intention of letting anything happen to us. No orb, no tadpole-- nothing.” You tell him confidently. “Come what may, let me help you.” His eyes widen as he looks at you.

“You truly are something else.” He smiles at you. “Very well then. I’ll accept your help.” You squeeze his hands.

You knew you were getting your hopes up, thinking Gale would admit to loving you just because the two of you were soulmates, because you admitted to loving him. But this… perhaps this was just as good. Knowing that he trusted you. That he had already liked you before knowing the two of you were bound by fate… At least now, by his side, you could keep him safe. It was a burden halved, a burden shared.

#gale x reader #gale x tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #soulmate Au

[asumofwords]

Lighthouse - Sailor!Aemond x LighthouseKeeper!Reader - Mini Series

Summary: You work as a lone Lighthouse keeper on a small island just off the coast. Everyday was the same routine, tending to your duties and the lamp with not much time to spare. But what will happen to your routine when a storm rages across the sea, and a handsome man washes ashore?

Warnings: This fic is 18+. Readers discretion is advised. Warnings will be added in their relevance. She/Her Pronouns. Slow burn, pining, kiss, fingering, smut, loss of virginity, creampie, longing, dirty talk.

Note: Hello my angels! First of all, thank you all so much for being so patient for this chapter, I know it came out later than it usually does and mummy has been starving you all, but life has been a bitch but here we are! I really hope that you enjoy this, and hope that all is well in your lives. Take care of yourselves <3 Enjoy!

Chapter 3: Prayers, Whiskey and Peaks

Aemond stayed true to his word. His desire to assist you with anything he could began the next morning when he woke, eager to please and already on his feet before you were.

He woke you from the couch as he passed to fill your kettle with water, using the pump in the kitchen, toned arms gripping the handle, before lighting the stove with the embers from the fire. 

Neither one of you mentioned your heated kiss, nor your silent confession, nor his pleading request. It was as if the night had never happened, the peak of your resistance breaking and the pull to him having been a mere passing thought. His attitude, however, immediately changed towards you, his teasing and smug responses became less, and he himself, became more patient, tender, and curious. 

But a small part of yourself missed the cheeky disposition that he once had, and you pondered for the days that passed if his sudden change was at all due to his discovery of your ‘condition’, so to speak. Yet this discovery did not stop his physical attentions, in fact, it seemed to exacerbate them. 

Unbeknownst to himself, or not, he seemed to gravitate towards you. Lingering touches of hands when passing him food, or lamp, or oil. The brushing of shoulders against your own, or even the way he would stand behind you, the heat of his body radiating into your back as you taught him all you knew about tending to the lighthouse, just as your father had. 

And not once, to your pleasant surprise, did you shy away from his sudden interests, or his new found fondness for learning all that you knew. For him to be involved in your teachings, your passions, and your excitement when he would ask questions that you thought he never would, brought warmth to your chest that you had not once felt before. 

You were excited to teach someone about your duties, excited to have someone listen intently, and for a moment you thought if this was how your father had felt when he had taught these thing to you. Or perhaps, when his father before him had passed down the metaphorical and physical torch to him.

Though, it was not without its obstacles. For each time he passed, body brushing behind yours, each time you felt the heated gaze of his eye roaming your body or face, each time his fingers would linger when passing food, or water, or supplies to tend the lamp, your heart would race as though trying to bolt from between your ribs, and your blood would burn hotly, heat rising in your cheeks, and a more familiar, though only to yourself, warmth would settle in your gut.

It did not help, that each time you spoke, or laughed, or managed to pull some sort of smile from his pouting lips, his eye would drop to yours, gazing at you with a longing that you had only just realised you had felt for far longer.

A longing to be held, and touched, and caressed, and what was more, loved. 

But he was to leave, eventually. And you would be alone once more. And that thought on its own pulled painfully at your chest, and on occasion, when in the privacy of the lighthouse, or tending to your garden, tears would prickle in the corners of your eyes.

On that day, a sudden and most flighty disposition possessed you, and upon Aemond letting his signature smirk pull at his lips, you had jumped from the lounge and began a tumble of thoughts that continued to fall from your mouth. He had not been unkind as you rambled, and had instead, been very patient. 

“The storm has passed now.” You had moved away, wringing your hands together, “And you are well enough to travel. I am sure your family would be eager to know of your survival and safety.” 

His lone eye had slightly widened at you, and you avoided his gaze, suddenly feeling a sinking pit in your gut, “I am sure that the swell and tide should be calm enough for me to take you back to shore.” You did not wait for his response, instead turning immediately on your heel to leave the cottage. 

Aemond called out your name, following after you in confusion as you marched towards the side of the lighthouse where your row boat was docked.

“Y/n, wait, please.” He called to you, but you would not face him, you would not allow yourself the embarrassment and shame of having developed any sort of feeling for the man, nor acknowledging that you did not want him to go. 

But he had to.

It was only logical.

And it would happen.

And you would be alone again.

“What are you doing?” He huffed from behind, his voice further away than yours.

Though he had recovered remarkably quickly, his lungs still seemed to take trouble with strenuous use, and occasionally still coughed and rasped when he tried to match your racing steps.

Without turning back to look at him, you called out into the open sea, hoping the winds that pulled would take your voice away with them.

“Getting the boat ready. I’ll collect all that I need and then we can pack you a bag full of my fathers belongings and take you to shore." The words bitter on your tongue, "We can send word from there, and William would let you take lodge in his home until you can sail back to your family.” You hoped that he didn't hear the way your voice cracked at the mention of him sailing home.

You could feel heat on the back of your head from where he was staring, but he made no move to respond, and if you had dared to look back, you would have witnessed his steps falter, and his face fall. 

But you hadn’t, so you didn’t.

Anxiety rocked through you, “It is no bother, truly.” You tried to reassure yourself more than him, “William would be gladdened to help, and I am sure I could ask a friend to let you take voyage on his ship to the nearest post.”

A friend.

Could you ask Dalton to help him? To take him somewhere closer to Aemond’s home?

You supposed you would have to try, and you also surmounted that it would likely come at a price, and one that would not be coins. 

This however, made your stomach pull, and not in the way that it used to, for now the thought of lying in bed with Dalton put an uncomfortable ache in your gut.

“If I am to be more burden to you, Miss," His voice was sharp, deep, and you could tell that he was upset in some capacity, "Then I shall take my leave.”

You didn't dare turn to face him, to see the way his lips pulled down into a sneer, instead focusing on how you finally came to the lighthouse, stepping down the few stone steps by the water to your makeshift dock. But instead of finding your small rowboat, all that could be seen was the sunken hull beneath the waves.

“Gods be damned!” You swore, looking down into the water at your sunken boat. You had been so distracted by Aemond being washed ashore, you had not even thought to take the boat up from the raging swell. 

The wooden row boat that was your fathers before you, had smashed itself to pieces as it was rocked by the waves into the cliffs face. 

“What is it?” Aemond rushed to you in concern, breath wheezing slightly as he looked down to where you were gazing. 

“The storm sunk my boat!” Your hands flew up into the air, “What have I done to deserve this, Gods? Have I not been faithful to you all?” Your hands gripped at your hair and tugged, pain pulling at your scalp, “I even prayed! Prayed to you. Nursed him to health, and this is how you repay me? You are mocking at me!” You spun away from Aemond, leaving him down on the steps to look at the sunken boat that had been your plan to leave the island, cursing the Gods as you moved.

You did not see as you mumbled and bitterly spat, trudging back to the cottage, focus solely on making your way back inside to drink from the whiskey you had been saving, that Aemond had smiled down at the ruins of your little boat. Not only had he smiled, he had whispered thanks to the Gods.

Aemond did not want to leave.

And the Gods had heard his prayers. 

You stomped back to your cottage, tears prickling in your eyes as your chest ached. That boat had been your fathers, and it would cost money you didn’t have to acquire a new one, or even attempt to fix the old. You were now, truly, stuck on the island, with no way to escape the man unless you sent word to William, who you doubted would come right away, and would only come when scheduled, as he himself had a job and duty to his family.

What was more, your forced proximity to the man, who your heart had begun to grow affections for, was now inescapable, and you felt, and then denied, that that was the true reason for your disconcert. You knew, deep down you knew, that this now was going to develop into something. That now that the both of you would be stuck for at least another week, and it would all come to a head.

The door to the cottage slammed open, the sun outside eventually moving to set as you rifled amongst your things for the whiskey you had hidden.

You needed a drink, you needed an escape, because a physical one you could not attain, so at least the sweet and familiar burn of whiskey and the numbness that followed could help in some capacity. 

You sat yourself down at the table, all but slamming the bottle and glass to go with it on its surface, eyes boring into the flames of the fireplace as you sat numbly, trying to suppress every ounce of emotion that you felt. You ripped the cork out of the bottle and filled yourself a generous pour, bringing the drink to your lips as you continued to stare blankly at the fire, one lone tear falling down your cheek. 

The first bit of the whiskey burnt, and you hissed slightly as you swallowed it. But then came the warmth and the sweetness of the alcohol that William had promised when he gave it to you. You sat for what felt like hours, and most likely was, nursing that one glass, and then another, as you stared into the fire. 

Aemond had not returned back to the cottage yet, and you thought that perhaps he was horrified at the thought of being stuck with you for longer, too embarrassed to come back to you and show you his disdain, and due to his upbringing, likely being a gentleman, allowing you to have your ‘womanly hysterics’ alone.

When the cottage door finally did open, you hadn’t turned to face him, and only brought the whiskey up to your lips to prevent yourself from asking him where he had been. 

It was no matter to you. He would leave soon and you would be alone.

That was what you told yourself weakly.

“The lamp is lit,” Came his smooth timbre from behind you, “You needn't worry about lighting it tonight.”

You blinked.

He lit the lamp for you?

“Thank you.” You breathed quietly, not tearing your eyes from the fire as it devoured the logs you put inside.

His footsteps thumped towards you before stopping and turning back to the kitchen, where the scrape of glass was heard, and Aemond came back, seating himself on the opposite side of the table to you, placing his own glass in front of him. 

He didn’t ask as he swiped up your bottle of whiskey, pouring himself a finger of the amber drink. 

The silver haired man sat in your periphery, bringing up the glass to his lips before he sipped silently on it. He did not hiss as you did, but instead hummed appreciatively.

“This is a fine whiskey.” He commented, swirling the drink in his glass.

You nodded, finally tearing your eyes from the fire to look down at your own glass, bringing it up to your lips, enjoying the heat that it paved as you swallowed, “A gift from William. Locally made by a man named Balon. Quiet man. Knows his whiskey.”

Another hum.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the sound of calmer waves outside and the crackling of fire, and the occasional thump of either of your glasses touching the table after having made their journey to your lips. And then in that comfortable quiet, Aemond having reached to refill his glass, and you having done the same, he finally broke it.

“I never thought I would be stranded so far from home.” Aemond began, long fingers tapping gently on the table to get your attention. It was only then did you look at him, meeting his lilac gaze, “In all my years of life, not once have I seen a storm as violent as she.”

You swallowed thickly, “Nor I. It felt as though my little island would have been swallowed whole.” 

Silver hair fell forward over his shoulder as he ducked his head, “That is what happened to Vhagar.” He solemnly smiled, “Oldest ship in my family, passed down generations. The largest on the known seas.” He paused, tapping his finger against the glass, “Or was. My ancestors have sailed her for hundreds of years. Could fit a crew of over a hundred men. She has seen war and battle, and won them all. But Vhagar was no match for the Lady Mistress Sea.” He took a large gulp of his whiskey, “A wave four times the height of your lighthouse came crashing down upon us.” Another sip, long finger tapping anxiously against the glass again, “I do not remember a thing but waking to your voice, to seeing your face above mine.” Your heart clenched with pain for him, for the anguish he must have endured, to losing his ship, his crew. 

Everything. 

“I am so sorry. I cannot imagine what it must be like.”

Aemond shook his head, “No need for your apologies. You have been a generous host, and the saviour of my life.”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks, and you nibbled lightly at your lip, fingers pressing into your glass of whiskey, “Did you know where you were?”

A nod, “Aye. We had set sail for the North, past the Iron Islands. I wished to see more of the world we live in, but the world did not wish the same for me.”

You frowned, “Where is your home?”

“A long way aways.” Aemond finished his glass of whiskey reaching to refill it, the sound of it being filled loud between you, “My mother is not fond of sailing, in fact, she begged me not to go. Perhaps I should have listened.”

“All mothers worry for their children.” You offered a shy smile.

“Hm.”

You fiddled with the glass in your hands, feeling the warmth of his gaze on your face as you looked away, “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“Aye.”

No elaboration.

“Do you miss them?”

Silence. 

You met his gaze again, watching as his eye searched yours for answers. You couldn’t help but notice the way he sat again, rod straight, arm and hand politely on the table, and with this observation, you could not help but voice it out loud. 

“You’re a Lord.”

Aemond blinked, seemingly caught off guard by your words, before finally he nodded.

You suddenly felt more self conscious than before. Here was a Lord in your less than modest home, drinking from aged cups and sitting on older chairs. He must look at you with distaste at times, and with this observation came the ache in your chest that he would never be interested in someone like you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you plastered a small and fake smile onto your lips, “And what family does the Lord of Vhagar descend from?”

You watched as Aemond pushed his tongue into his cheek, suppressing the smirk that threatened to break on his face at your comment. It made your stomach erupt with butterflies.

“Targaryen.”

You blanched. 

Targaryen.

That was the people William had told you about. 

They were Kings. They were-

“You’re royalty.” You blurted, heat rising in your cheeks again at your embarrassment.

The silver haired Lord’s jaw clenched as he looked at you, before nodding again, softer this time, as though he was uninterested in the title in that moment.

You immediately bowed your head,  wringing your fingers together nervously on the table, “My apologies, your grace, if I have been anything but untoward. My home is humble and small, and I am afraid I have not much to give or show for it. If you-“

“-Y/n.”

Your ramble was interrupted, and warmth engulfed one of your hands. You blinked down at the large pale fingers that were clutching your own.

“Please do not treat me differently now." He begged softly, "You have been nothing but wonderful to me, and far more gracious than any Lord or Lady I have met.”

You swallowed thickly before nodding, shifting in your seat, but Aemond refused to let go of your hand, instead keeping it held in his atop the table, a lone thumb brushing over your knuckles softly as you struggled to calm your racing heart.

"Do you miss them?"

Your question must have come as a surprise, for his thumb stilled against your hand.

"At times." His answer was barely a whisper, "I miss my sister. My mother. That is all."

"I am sure they miss you very much. I am almost certain they are worried for you." Your words tumbled out quickly, unable to stop, "They will be gladdened to have you home, hale and healthy soon. I know that your siblings and mother will weep with joy." You smiled, but it felt strained, his face entirely blank as he watched you, "Your father must be sending men to look for you."

"My father dead."

Your lips parted.

Fuck.

"I am so sorry. I did-"

"-Do not be. I hated the man."

If your mouth fall any wider, you'd swallow the table whole.

"Oh." You swallowed dryly, "Well then, I am sure your family-"

"-They do not care for me and what I do," He spat, anger simmering beneath the surface, "I can assure you of this. My own nephew took my eye." His hand lifted lazily to point at the long scar upon his face, clouded eye nestled within.

Your heart sunk.

His own nephew had done that? Had they fought? Was it an accident? A myriad of questions popped into your mind about this man and his family.

No wonder he was in no rush to get home.

You flipped your hand to grip his tighter, his gaze falling to your joined fingers momentarily before he looked out the window to the lighthouse. You followed his gaze, watching as the lamp illuminated out to sea, the darkness of night having fallen across the horizon.

And then he continued, "They only care that I fulfil my duties to society, and marry whom they think is most advantageous."

Oh.

He was to be married.

Your heart felt like it stopped beating, but his fingers rubbed against your hand softly, almost out of habit if it could be one, and so you decided to swallow the sadness that suddenly filled you, and move the converasation away from his family.

In an attempt to dissolve the sudden tension, you pulled your hand from his, noting the way his lips twitched at your absence, but you moved swiftly, filling his glass generously once more and yours again.

“I am gladdened for your company these past days,” You began quietly, “And more gladdened that you will not be dying any day soon.” You watched Aemond lift his drink to his lips, and felt a sudden wave of confidence come over you, and so you continued, “Otherwise if you died, it would be a waste of good whiskey.” 

Away the glass was pulled from his lips, and behind it, a full smile, teeth and all. Your heart fluttered in your chest at the sight. His full lips pulling into a sharp yet lovely grin, crooked white teeth nestled within on display, and the slightest of rosiness to his cheeks. You felt triumphant, and even more so when a soft chuckle came from his chest.

Gods, I am sorry for cursing you before. Thank you for this gift.

The night continued on, your eyes casting occasionally out the window to look at the lamp, to make sure that the lighthouse was still lit. You both dined on some bread, scones with jam, and some dried meat together, not wanting to tear yourself away from the comfortable conversation that flowed between you.

You were not drunk, however the warmth and buzz of alcohol certainly strummed in your veins, and not only that, you felt more emboldened to relax around him, noticing that the cheeky disposition that he once had, slowly making a reappearance. 

It wasn’t until you looked out to the lighthouse for a fifth time, did Aemond finally say something.

“Do you not trust my skills?"

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him. No, because that would mean not trusting your own knowledge and skills, and from the way he had actively listened to you, repeating your instructions and knowledge, and even going so far as to asking things further, it only solidified your belief that his skills were more than satisfactory. 

It was more so, that you did not trust yourself to look up from your glass of whiskey to meet his burning gaze. 

What you did not trust yourself to do was another thing entirely. 

“No.” You blushed shaking your head, “Not at all. I am the one who taught you how to do so. Unless you question my teachings?”

His response came far quicker than your answer, “Not at all. I would say you are by far the most knowledgable teacher I have had.”

A crooked smile wound its way on your lips. You looked up to meet his gaze, “I am sure there are many things that you could teach me that I do not know.”

You don’t know why you said it, you did not even truly mean to be so crass, but at your words, his gaze darkened, and Aemond looked at you through his silver lashes, “I am sure there are. What do you wish to know?” 

Heat rose up your neck and into your cheeks, core immediately clenching at his changed demeanour. Your mouth felt dry, and try as you may, you found you could not tear your eyes away from his lilac one.

“I-“ You wet your lips, “I’m not sure.”

The glass of whiskey pinged as Aemond clinked his signet ring against it, pursing his lips as he watched you.

“I don’t believe that.” Aemond’s hand dragged slowly across the table, one long finger reaching out to caress your hand, digit grazing over yours that held the glass.

Your breath stilled in your throat, and the air around you became charged, and still you could not tear your eyes away from him, “I suppose,” You swallowed thickly, “You could teach me about sailing." You diverted, "I have only ventured on my row boat, so I know little about what it takes to man a ship, let alone Captain it.”

The finger moved again, up then down, up then down, crackling energy moving beneath the skin leaving goosebumps trailing up your arm. Your breath became shallow, and that familiar warmth between your thighs amplified. 

“Hm.” Came his deep hum, “Sailing. Is that all you wish to know?”

In a moment of weakness, you looked away, cheeks burning hot and heart almost jumping from your chest. Your breasts heaved against your stay, and the finger that caressed yours slipped away. You looked out again, feeling completely overwhelmed, mind racing like the winds of a storm, crashing thoughts and crackling emotions swirling rapidly inside of you. 

You cast a cowardly glance to the lighthouse, your only escape, your only safety. The one thing you knew best, the one thing that was solid in your world, unmoving, unbreakable. Your one constant.

The scrape of a chair, and then, warmth. 

A hand beneath your chin, Aemond lifted your gaze up to his as he stood above you, his eye darkened with desire. You shivered, not from the cold, but from him.

Everything about him set you ablaze.

“Y/n,” He whispered your name like a prayer, drawing your attention to him and only him, “Tell me what you want.”

There was no going back. No stopping what was about to happen, and your heart didn’t want to stop it, your heart wished to continue, and in that moment, you took what courage you had left, and breathed your answer.

“You.”

His head bent down to you slowly, and you exhaled a shaky breath, watching as he came closer and closer, thumb and forefinger pinching your chin lightly, not at all cruelly, but rather to keep you there for him, and when his lips finally met yours, you melted.

Uncertain as you were, Aemond guided you again through the motions, his lips moved against yours slowly, your neck craned back to kiss him, lips pressed against his. He tasted like whiskey, and the sea, and smelt of the musk that followed him, sandalwood. 

A hand snaked around your waist, and gently pulled you to stand. Even whilst standing, you still craned your neck toward him, Aemond towering above you as you tried to stand on the tips of your toes to assist in reaching him.

Little by little you melted into his embrace, one hand coming to cup your cheek, the other pulling you in tighter by your waist, the warmth of his body seeping into yours hotly, and the smell of him engulfing you entirely. Your lips parted against his, and he hummed deeply, the vibration in his chest rumbling against yours. Your hands fisted into the front of his tunic, pulling him closer, desire burning you up. 

You had never felt such fire before, such heat. The pull to him, his embrace, his every being set you ablaze, a flame that you were sure, would last for a thousand years.

It felt as if you were burning together.

The hand at your waist tightened, and a moan fell from your lips into his. Tentatively, your hands loosened at the front of his tunic, sliding up to his shoulders, feeling the silky strands of hair between your fingers as you buried them into the back of his head. Aemond grunted in approval, and pulled you impossibly closer to him.

You could feel, much to your delight and nervousness, the hardness of his desire pressing against your stomach.

His lips pulled from yours, and you blindly chased after them, hearing a small chuckle emit from his throat, but his lips pressed to the corner of yours, then to your cheek, then below your ear, and finally, a whisper.

“I wish to take my time with you.” Aemond said huskily, a soft inhale pulling air into your chest as your core grew wet with want. Your fingers tightened in his silver tresses, pulling a low moan from him. 

Two large hands slowly skimmed down your sides, causing you to squirm in their grip as he mouthed at your pulse in your neck. Small whimpers and heavy breaths was all to be heard until his hands came beneath your ass, and then the kissing stopped, his grip tightened, and you found yourself pulled up into his embrace. 

You squeaked, legs wrapping around his waist, your hands pulling tighter in his hair as he grunted, his lips crashing against yours once more, hungrier. Starved. You could feel his hardness against your core, and timidly, you rolled your hips against his. 

Aemond sighed into your mouth, his fingers tightening against your flesh, his legs carrying the two of you to your bedroom blindly. Your back bumped into the doorway, earning Aemond a breathy giggle, which in turn earnt you a low apology breathed through parted lips.

With all his carefulness, Aemond gently placed you back on the ground by the bed, breaking apart from your embrace momentarily. You looked up at him through your lashes, watching as he pushed away the hair by your face reverently. It was so tender, so praising in its touch, you felt as though the world fell away and just left you both. And with those careful hands once more, hands that were roughened and calloused from years at sea, he skimmed them down your front, halting at the line of buttons that started at your collarbones and ended at your waist.

Aemond did not move to undo them, and instead kept his hands were they were, resting atop them as he waited for your answer. Waiting for your consent to move forward, your permission to allow him to see you bared as no-one else has.

Permission to touch you in ways that no-one ever had, not even yourself. 

Your heart raced in your chest, a nervous excitement making its way through your veins as you stared at up at him, your answer, you already knew, but right now, with the way he was waiting, with the way he was moving with caution and care, you could scarcely voice it. And so, without finding the voice that had been lost, you rose your own hands, placing them over his.

Aemond did not pull away, his chest rising and falling agonisingly slow, as though he was restraining himself, nor did he step away when your fingers skimmed beneath his and began slowly to pull your buttons through their holes, to show him that you very much wanted this as much as he did. And although your hands shook whilst you did it, his hands skating up to your shoulders and neck, then down to your waist and up again whilst you did it, you felt a blooming confidence to undress yourself for him. 

When finally the last button was undone, your dress sagged against your shoulders, Aemond’s warm fingers brushed the material over and down your arms, goosebumps rising on your skin. His hands continued, down, down, down your arms until the top half of your dress fell away, and the skirt of it held true, the belt and tie at the back not yet being undone. But it was not your fingers who pulled it away and to the floor, but his, reaching his hands behind you to assist until all that you were left standing in was your stays, slip and stockings.

His eye drank you in, gaze falling lower and lower, your chest pressing against the stays as you heaved in breaths of anticipation, heat erupting over your skin with every second that passed. His pupil had blown wide, swallowing the lilac to leave the eye almost completely black with desire, and only then did he step away from you, and begin to do the same. 

Away came his shirt, and then his shoes and breeches, until Aemond stood completely bare before you, all the while, your hands pulled at the strings of your stays, slacking its grip on your body, until it too joined the pile of clothes below.

Then came your slip, shoulder by shoulder strap, the silence around you deafening with each agonising moment that passed as you both watched each other, a slow reveal of what was to come, a slow reveal of each others bodies, and not once had you dared to look past Aemond’s shoulders at his nakedness in fear of what you would find.

For you knew without even truly knowing it, that there would be some sort of... sizeable member on his person.

Aemond stepped forth in a flurry of pearlescent skin and hair and captured your lips in his, his hands helping to pull down the slip that separated you both, no patience or care to wait any longer, the tension finally pulling his resistance taught until it broke. His thumbs dipped beneath the silky material and dragged it down your body, lips moving away from yours to mouth at your neck again, but Aemond did not stop at your shoulders.

The sailors trail of kisses moved from neck, to clavicle, heated lips seeking the skin hungrily, then he continued from clavicle to sternum, a sharp inhale breaking the silence around you, his eye momentarily peeking up at you as you looked down at him, hands on his shoulders. Turning his head, he kissed at the sides of your breasts, breathless sighs pulled from deep within you, and still he trailed lower, kneeling down in front of you as he pulled the slip with him. 

His face was aligned with your core, the slip held at your hips by his hands as he looked up at you, one last silent request to which you gave him a small nod of your head, inhaling deeply for courage.

When at last he let go, letting the silk fall to the floor below, his eye dropped away from your face and down your body, settling at your centre in front of him. You could feel a hot breath of air against your mound, as he let out the breath he was holding in. 

“Gevie.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to each of your hip bones, his hands skating down to the tops of your stockings on your thighs. Your hips jerked forwards, a small hum on your tongue as you looked down at him. 

Aemond ducked his head and mouthed at the crux of your thighs, a kiss placed on either side of your core, an exhale breathed into the hair atop your mound, a wanting inhale, which all the more set your nerves alight.

With the patience of a saint, Aemond rolled down your stockings on each leg, and tugged away each shoe, until the both of you were completely bare, and you had to force yourself to breathe deeply. Everything told you to hide your nakedness, to run, to apologise, but the way he looked at you, the way he kissed at your inner thighs, inching his way higher to your centre, you found you couldn’t, feet rooted to the floor completely. 

In the low candle light, Aemond looked a though he was praying, eye half lidded shut, on his knees, hands brushing gently along your thighs as he mouthed near your core, slowly inching his way closer and closer, eye focused on your face, until it finally happened. 

A low whine escaped your lips as Aemond pressed a kiss to your centre, bottom lip dragging along your pearl softly. Pleasure struck through you when he did it again, his eye sliding shut, his large hands wrapped around your thighs as though to keep you from running away. 

Each kiss was slow, wet lips pressed to your centre with practised ease, the man taking his time with you as you stood on shaky legs. His lips parted against you, and the wet of his tongue parted your folds, causing you to jerk your hips into him.

“Ah!” You squeaked, fingers gripping his shoulders tightly, unsure of what to do with them, warmth spreading up through you as Aemond pulled away momentarily to look up, tongue wetting his lips.

“Sīr dōna.” He purred, before dipping his head once more, tongue swiping up through your wet folds to pay attention to your throbbing bud. Each kiss was followed by a flick of his tongue, and you found yourself heaving breaths, and pleasure wound a familiar coil inside of you. 

Aemond’s hands slid from the backs of your thighs to the front, up to your core where he used his thumbs to part your folds, opening you up for him. You looked away shyly, a breathy moan passing through bitten lips as he focused entirely on your pearl.

He pressed himself against you tightly, nose bumping your bud as he licked lower towards your entrance, tongue scooping up your slick eagerly as he hummed, his speed and pressure gaining with desire. 

You were so close already, the coil tightening rapidly with every swipe of his tongue and press of his lips. You knew he could sense it, with the way your thighs shook and your stomach clenched, breathy sighs and moans falling from you as you writhed in his grip.

One hand slid down, the long digits tickling at your thighs as it moved underneath you to your entrance, it was then when Aemond broke away to look up at you again, gaging your reaction, and when you made no move to stop him, he rubbed a digit back and forth through your folds, gathering the wetness there before slowly pressing inside of you.

He kept his eye on you the entire time, the breath in your chest stilled as you held it, his fingers far longer and thicker than your own, already a minor stretch filling you inside.

You thought of what was to come, of what would eventuate from this all, how his length would be much larger than just one finger, and the thought alone caused you to clamp down against him. 

Aemond stilled and pressed a kiss to the tuft of hair at the top of your mound, “Relax for me.” He whispered, and with a deep breath you did, allowing yourself to feel the pleasure rather than the discomfort. 

“Good.” He praised, leaning forward once more to kiss and lick at your centre, the one finger inside slowly pumping in and out of you, not foreign to what you have done to yourself before, but foreign in the way that it was not your hands doing it. 

His first finger was met by a second, and although there was a slight burn as he pressed inside of you, it still filled you with a desire you had never felt before, a barely restrained whine filling the room as he paused, keeping them pushed deep within you to allow you to adjust as he sucked at your pearl, tongue flicking over it, molten heat spreading through your limbs. 

Your legs buckled forward, hips canting towards him, the tips of his fingers grazing the spongey patch within you causing you to cry out. Aemond’s brows furrowed, and tentatively, his fingers stroked at the patch again, a moan melting off of your tongue. He focused his intent, crooking his fingers against the patch inside, his tongue not once slowing down against your bud.

The coil tightened, tighter and tighter, and your hands flew from his shoulders to his hair, fingers tangling themselves in his pearly tresses and pulling, earning you a rumbling hiss, spurring his movements further. Your core tightened around him, your peak barreling towards you, and Aemond sensed it, mumbling against your wet folds as he fucked his fingers in and out of you wetly.

“Let go for me.” He moaned, sucking at your pearl with intent.

Heat burst through you, and you jerked with a cry, your peak ripping through you with such a force, if it wasn’t for your hands in his hair, and Aemond’s hand on your thigh, your knees would have collapsed beneath you. 

Aemond rode you through your pleasure, fingers and tongue not slowing once as he prolonged your peak. You breathed heavily, hands loosening in his hair as you tried to catch your breath, heat strumming in your veins as he pulled his fingers from you, placing calming kisses against the top of your mound and hip bones. His hands smoothed your hips as he finally stood, standing over you, his lips and chin wet with your essence. 

Pulling you close, he kissed you, and you could taste the tang of yourself on his lips, parting your own to lick at his mouth as he did to you. The heat built inside of you again, the fire in your gut beginning to burn once more, and slowly but surely, he led you backwards, pushing you to lay down as he moved to crawl atop of you. It was then that your eyes took in his whole body.

All of him. 

And there was a lot of him. 

Aemond’s length stood heavy against his hip bone, swollen and hard, his tip a ruddy pink as clear liquid leaked from the top. Pale veins creeped around his base, with soft silver hair dusted across his pubis. It was thick, and long, and far bigger than the fingers he had placed inside of you. 

Sensing your gaze and dry swallow, Aemond lifted your eyes back to his with a touch of his hand beneath your chin, a reassuring gaze meeting yours, “We will go slow.”

You swallowed again, nodding, not knowing how going slow would help fit him inside of you. But it was clear that this was not Aemond’s first time, and what was clearer was that he was decidedly sure of himself and his abilities, and that, at the very least, settled the lingering trepidation that you had. 

He crawled above you, body slowly lowering onto yours as he kissed you again, a hand skimming down your side as he shifted slightly, bringing his fingers down to your core once more. You hissed, feeling his digits dip through your folds, a burst of sensitivity shooting through you. And as if taking this into account, Aemond pressed one finger into you slowly, and then another, distracting you with a heated kiss.

Warmth began to bloom inside of you again, slowly building with each crook of his fingers, the sting of the stretch of a third finger dissipating with the heat of pleasure that began to grow and grow.

Each crook of his fingers brought that familiar pleasure back into your core, slowly building and building as you writhed beneath him. Your eyes fluttered shut, back arching as your chest pressed into his, the warmth of his gaze grazing along your face. You could feel your slick gathered between your thighs and fought the blush that rose in your cheeks, head turning to the side.

“Don’t hide.” He cooed, “You’re perfect.” His thumb swirled against your pearl.

The coil within pulled tighter with each swipe of his thumb, and you felt the warmth of his lips against yours as he brought you to your peak once again. You moaned into his mouth as he fingered you through it, lips trailing to your cheek and down your neck, whispering words or encouragement.

“Sīr gevie.” 

Dragging his fingers from your core you opened your eyes, looking up at Aemond who looked back down at you. His hand moved in your periphery, and you followed the movement. The sailor dragged his slick fingers along his length wetting it, your gaze locked on his hand as you watched him languidly stroked himself above you. Your core clenched around nothing.

“Are you ready?” He whispered, lone eye searching yours for confirmation. 

You licked your lips and swallowed, heart racing in your chest as you tried to calm yourself, muscles tightly wound in nervous anxiety for what was to come, but you wanted more, you needed more.

You needed him. 

It wasn’t until you nodded that a small smile pulled at his lips, making your heart flutter. Aemond adjusted himself above you, leaning some of his weight on an arm above your head as he lined himself up with your dripping entrance. The candle light in the room drenched the room in a warm glow, illuminating his violet eye and silver features. 

Gods he was beautiful. 

You could scarcely believe that this was real, that this was happening, that he was here, in your bed. That he had survived and lived with you for days, regaining his strength and now he wanted to do this with you, he wanted to take your maidenhood, and to you, it seemed that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

The tip of his length brushed through your folds, and your breath held in your chest. Aemond paused, keeping his eye on you, waiting until you nodded again for him, and then slowly but surely, pushed inside.

Every muscle tensed as he pushed inside, a sharp sting shooting through you. You winced and Aemond stilled, watching your face intently, his long silver hair falling over his face and down over you like streams of moonlight. 

Despite him being just barely halfway inside of you, you felt full and stretched apart on his length. You writhed underneath trying to alleviate the dull ache, core clamping down on him which made Aemond hiss above you, his cock throbbing inside of you.

His eye fluttered shut and the hand that had been guiding his length gripped your hip tightly, breathing heavily atop you. After a breath, his violet eye opened once more to gaze at you, head dipping to press a tender kiss against your lips before sliding inside to the hilt. 

You both breathlessly moaned into each other, feeling him press against every single part of you. Every ridge, every vein, you could feel as it brushed up inside of you, his tip nudging against your cervix snugly. You tightened around him, and if it was even possible, he jerked further inside with a tilt of his hips. You sighed into his mouth, the painful throbbing slowly ebbing away to make way for a new sensation.

Aemond broke the kiss once again, dipping his head again to look at you, “Good?”

You didn’t know how to respond, so instead, you arched back up to capture his lips, nibbling at his bottom lip lightly. This was all that he needed before he pulled out of you slowly, testing your reaction before he pushed back inside. 

Your hands, unsure of where to hold him, gripped his shoulders again, and the hand on your hip tightened further, no doubt leaving bruises in their wake.

Each thrust was gentle, slow, and he took his time, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips, trailing down to your neck where he nipped and sucked at your pulse point. 

“Gods.” You mewled, arching into him, grip slipping from his shoulders up into the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

Aemond groaned as you tugged him closer, his hips thrusting against yours, each pump of his hips pulling mewl and moan from you, soft grunts and sighs falling from his plump lips, his face nestled into the crook of your neck as you gripped him tighter against you.

You had never thought it could feel like this, so full, so deep, so entirely overwhelming, and with each moment that passed, Aemond brought you closer and closer to your third peak. His thrusts began to speed up, your breasts jolting with each pump of his hips, the wood of the bed softly creaking beneath you. 

Aemond lifted his head from your neck, looking down at you, his soft lips parted as he grunted, “Sīr sȳz. Gūrogon nyke sīr sȳz.”

You didn’t know what he had said, but the way he had said it made you whine, head thrown back as your core contracted around him, causing a sharp moan to fall from his parted mouth. The bed beneath you was damp from your slick, and with each thrust, the obscene wet sound of your folds filled the room loudly. 

The hand on your hip skimmed up your body to your breast, squeezing the mound softly before pinching at your nipple lightly.

“Ah!” You arched your chest into him, the new sensation creeping through your chest. 

“Iksā vok. Kesā sagon ñuhon. Sīr vok syt nyke. Eminna ao grevenka lēda ñuha rūs. Qogralbar.” Aemond’s hips made a particularly hard thrust, the tip of his cock pushing against the end of your walls.

“I don’t-” You moaned, hand pulling at his hair for purchase, “I d-don’t know what you’re saying.”

His lips pulled into a smirk, and his head dipped to kiss you deeply, tongue pushing into your mouth to lick at yours. You moaned into his mouth, feeling the coil begin to tighten in finality.

“You will.” He breathed, pulling away, resting his forehead against yours, “You’ll know soon.”

The hand at your breast travelled to your mouth, and your parted your lips instinctually, letting him rub two fingers over your tongue, coating them in saliva before they trailed back down your body to your swollen pearl.

As soon as he pressed them against you, you jerked, walls clamping down onto him.

“Good girl,” He praised, “Let go for me, want to feel you squeeze my cock.”

The obscenity of his words sent you over, the waves of pleasure crashing over you again and again, as you did exactly what he told you to do. Your eyes screwed shut, head thrown back, whining moan ripped from your chest loudly. Aemond cried out above you, and you felt his member throb within you, warmth filling you up as he slowly stilled. 

His forehead pressed against yours, the both of you breathing heavily, chests against each other as you came down from your highs. You didn’t even have the wherewithal to think about the fact that he had filled you, the only thought in your mind was the tingling sensation that spread throughout your limbs and the utter bliss of him inside of you. 

When the both of you came down, Aemond peppered gentle kisses across your face. First at your cheeks, your lips, your nose, until finally your forehead, where his lips lingered as he slowly pulled out of you. 

The empty feeling you felt as he pulled away was foreign after being so full, and you whined at the loss of closeness. Warmth began to seep from within you onto the bed beneath, but you couldn’t force yourself to care, your eyelids drooping as fatigue pulled you under. 

Aemond shifted in the bed to pull you to his side, your head resting against his bare chest, the thump-thump-thump of his heart loud beneath your ear.

With gentle hands, he trailed his fingers up and down your side as you tucked yourself closer to him, enjoying the feeling of protection and warmth that he gave you.

The room was still, and the candle light got lower and lower, as did your eyelids. When finally they drifted shut, Aemond shifted beside you, looking down to watch as you began to fall asleep in his arms.

You didn’t see the small smile that pulled at his lips as he watched you, or the way his eye creased with content, the only thing you felt was his lips at your hairline before you feel into a deep sleep.

I didn't put translations because the reader doesn't speak High Valyrian, so she wouldn't know what he was saying, but here they are if you're curious.

Translations:

Gevie - Beautiful

Sīr gevie - So beautiful

Sīr dōna - So sweet

Iksā vok. Kesā sagon ñuhon. Sīr vok syt nyke. Eminna ao grevenka lēda ñuha rūs. Qogralbar - You are perfect. You will be mine. So perfect for me. I will have you round full my babe. Fuck.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the general tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@blackswxnn @marihoneywk @targaryenrealnessdarling @namelesslosers @aemondsfavouritebastard @dahlias-and-marigolds @aemondsbabygirl @toodlesxcuddles @jemmaagentofshield @malfoytargaryen @bellaisasleep @aaprilshowers @assortedseaglass @elizarbell @xpersephonex @lijeno @likeanecho344 @coffeeobsessedtrencher @diannnnsss @lexwolfhale @notasockpuppetaccount @at-a-rax-ia @spinachtz@marysucks-blog @generalkenobitrash @zenka69 @shygardengalaxy-blog @kittendoll05 @300nightmare003

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fic #aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x y/n #hotd fanfic #lighthouse!Aemond #asumofwords lighthouse #sailor!aemond #LighthouseKeeper!reader #sailor!Aemond x reader #Sailor!Aemond #LighthouseKeeper!Reader #Asumofwords Lighthouse #shipwreck!aemond

[duckwithablog]

Hello there!! Can i headcanons for Red son, Nezha, Sun Wukong and Macaque with their fem s/o who is acting like a house wife + she's good taking care or babysit children

Hello!! Hope you like this one!!

Red Son, Nezha, Wukong and Macaque x fem! housewife! reader

Red Son

I don't think he realizes what you're doing, at first. Like, he'd try to insist that you leave all the cleaning and cooking to the bull clones

They keep saying "You are the lover of the Prince of the Demon Bull King family, which makes you the Princess! Please, dear, leave the cleaning and such to the bots."

If you keep insisting though, he'll give in and let you what you want. He actually tries to help you out with some chores! You guys both wash the dishes and cook meals together :]

Firmly believes that she shouldn't just let you do all the hard work by yourself. You're his beloved! If you want to become their housewife, then he will become your househusband. That's how a relationship is supposed to work, right? Both parties have to do their own share of work!

So now you got a Malewife Red Son. Congrats!!

Sometimes he sees you babysit some kids and even babying some of the bull clones they made, and she has to calm himself down before their hair torches the ceiling

Red Son is sort of a romantic, and daydreams sometimes on what having a family with you is like... So seeing you be so gentle with children fuels those fantasies a whole lot

Be prepared for a marriage proposal in the near future!!

Nezha

Nezha is literally the God of Children. So if he ever sees you being so gentle with kids, he'll be so touched before joining you

Nezha never really thought about marriage or having kids of his own, so whenever he sees you act all motherly with children or acting like a housewife his face gets red

Accidentally referred to you as his wife once and got so embarrassed afterwards. Please don't bring it up he'll literally collapse /j

Has actually thought of doing those traditional chinese marriages with you if you guys ever do get married. He brings up the topic of marriage once to gouge out your reaction so he can see how you feel about it

Nezha starts to warm up to the concept of you being a housewife after a while, but that doesn't mean he'll leave all the work to you!

There's not much to do living with him anyway. He already cleans his own things and makes his own meals, so at best you only make food whenever he's tired and clean stuff he forgot to clean

Wukong

Oh, he loves it. He loves the fact that you act like his housewife so much, that bastard

He can't cook for shit, so you often make meals for him. He tries to help you out, but I think it's best if he just stays as a cooking assistant for now-

I don't think he eats anything other than peaches in his mountain, so make sure to give him a variety of food in his meals! He would be so grateful. He'd literally eat anything you make and say that it tastes better than the peaches of immortality

Wukong is also very messy. Please tell him to pick up after himself or else you're gonna be cleaning so much stuff

Believe it or not, your housewife actions actually influence him a bit! He gets you a bunch of ingredients from over the world, even mythical ones! Fully encourages your cooking and cleaning habits by gifting you things like that

The baby monkeys love you so much. So much that he told you he thinks they love you more than they love him

He doesn't mind, he agrees with them to be honest lmao

I don't think he cares much for starting a family/getting married, since you guys practically act married already! But if you want things to get official, then he'll gladly oblige

Macaque

Isn't used to people taking care of him. Whenever he wakes up to you cooking a meal just for him and cleaning up the dojo, he gets so touched that he doesn't know what to say

Mac really likes it when you act like a housewife. He loves the domestic vibes he gets when he sees you cook or clean early in the morning. Living a peaceful and loving life with you is like, his biggest dream

He wants to pay you back for all your hard work, somehow. Says a whole lot of 'thank you's and 'Aw, for me?'s, but internally he's racking his brain for any possible way to give you the same amount of love you give him

You tell him it isn't necessary, but he just really wants to show you how much he loves you! So he gives you little gifts, like an apron or some suggesting some food recipes you guys could make together

Isn't that big of a family guy, I think. He knows you babysit kids, but he stays out of the way most of the time because he thinks he might scare them. That all changes once the Hostess comes over and you guys immediately bond

It's only after hanging out with you and the hostess is that he realizes how much he'd love having a life of quiet with you. Just you and him, maybe some kids, living peacefully in a house somewhere. He brings it up to you someday, to see what you think about it, before agreeing on something

He's engaged now :]] Mac is doing mental fist pumps whenever he sees you with the ring on your finger

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

Hope this was good!! I actually like the way I characterized Red Son here. Nezha's was pretty short, but that's mostly because I don't know his character all that well. This was super fun to write!

#lmk x reader #lmk red son x reader #lmk x y/n #red son x reader #nezha x reader #sun wukong x reader #macaque x reader #lmk nezha x reader #lmk wukong x reader #lmk macaque x reader #lego monkie kid red son x reader #lego monkie kid sun wukong x reader #lego monkie kid nezha x reader #lego monkie kid macaque x reader #lego monkie kid x reader #fem reader #duckiswriting

[nat-1-whump]

We need to give winged whumpees more love. Consider:

As hurt, we've got...

Sick Whumpee struggles to sleep because their wings make lying down tricky. This makes them extra miserable when they're already sick, tired, and desperately need to sleep but just can't get comfortable.

When Whumpee gets badly injured on the field, it takes the whole team to pin them down so they don't thrash around and make it worse while Caretaker tries to treat them. They've got people holding their legs, arms, and wings, and as much as Whumpee screams and writhes in pain, they don't let go. While they try to pull their wing from their teammate's grip, Whumpee accidentally dislocates it.

Whumper restrains Whumpee and rips their feathers out, one by one... Or all at once, if they are so inclined.

Whumpee gets caught in some kind of trap that covers their wings in gunk, effectively pinning them to the ground as they desperately try to escape from Whumper.

Sick with a horrible fever, Whumpee feels freezing cold no matter how much they're actually burning up. They keep trying to wrap their wings around themself for warmth, but Caretaker keeps stopping them by spreads their wings out. Whumpee groans as they try to pull their wings back. Caretaker whispers an apology, but they still can't let Whumpee risk making their fever worse.

Whumpee gets knocked out in midair, plummeting to the ground completely helpless. Or slamming into every tree branch, rooftop, or clothes line on the way down.

And as comfort, there's...

Caretaker gives Whumpee a warm bath and massages the dried blood out of their feathers. By the time they're done, Whumpee is fast asleep.

Caretaker repositions the pillows and blankets on Whumpee's bed into a sort of nest, trying to help Whumpee get as comfortable as they can. Afterwards, they bundle Whumpee in a blanket, wrapping Whumpee in their own wings first to make the blanket fit around them better and provide some extra warmth.

After Whumpee gets badly injured, Caretaker bandages up their wings, trying to soothe them whenever they cry out from the pain. Unable to fly, Whumpee gets increasingly impatient with themself over the following days. Caretaker notices their frustration and gently encourages them to take it easy and let their wings rest.

Whumpee uses their wings as a blanket for both themself and Caretaker as they snuggle together on the couch.

When Whumpee can barely walk due to their injuries, the weight of their wings only adds to the struggle. Though they encourage Whumpee to stay in bed and rest as much as possible, Caretaker is happy to wrap their arm around Whumpee's waist and help them around the house. Whumpee rests a wing on Caretaker's shoulders as they make their way to the kitchen for some warm food.

Caretaker asks Whumpee to hold still so they can draw their wings in their sketchbook. They say it's so Whumpee can see what their wings look like without trying to bend backwards in a mirror, but there's a silent understanding between the two that it's because they're both craving some time together. Whumpee starts to feel stiff from holding their wings out, but they can't help but smile a bit at the way Caretaker leans closer to watch the light move across their feathers. Though Whumpee had never seen their wings as anything particularly beautiful, they set off a sort of sparkle in Caretaker's eyes.

And maybe some wing-related dialogue, such as...

Whumper grinned, picking up a pair of wire cutters. The tool glinted in the flickering torch light. "Well, you've gone and flown a little too close to the sun, didn't you, Whumpee? Not to worry, though. You'll never fly again, when I'm through with you."

"Oh, why won't you sing for me, my beautiful songbird?" Whumper drawled as they ran a finger along Whumpee's throat. Whumpee only glared back. If it weren't for the muzzle, they would have spat on Whumper's shoes. They squirmed in their restraints, leather straps binding their wings close to their back.

"Oh, you poor thing... What happened to your wings? C'mere, let me look at them..." Caretaker pulled Whumpee into an embrace, grabbing their wings with gentle hands. Their breath hitched as they noticed that, under the tattered feathers, Whumpee's injuries were even worse than they thought.

Caretaker slapped sick Whumpee's cheek, trying to wake them up. "Hey, Whumpee, um. Listen, y-you're fever's getting worse and I just need to know... Whatever you are, do you go to a doctor or a vet?" They weren't exactly prepared for this winged stranger to show up on their doorstep half-dead. While they might have normally found their dilemma a bit comedic, right now it was hard to laugh. Whumpee desperately needed medical help, but they had no idea where to take them.

"Ngh-stop! Let go of my wings, or so help me I'll---" Whumpee's protests turned into a scream as Caretaker poured antiseptic onto a cloth and pressed it against their gaping wound. Whumpee passed out from the pain, falling limp with tears still streaming down their face. As their vision faded, they heard Caretaker's whispered apologies.

"Six months for the feathers to grow back?!" Whumpee's lower lip started to quiver. "B-but... I can't fly..." They took a wing in their hands, running their fingers along the bare, bloody skin where their feathers had been ripped out. Caretaker reached out to put a hand on Whumpee's shoulder, but Whumpee flinched back. A tear rolled down their cheek, stinging them as it landed right on an open cut on their wing. "Nonononono, th-there's gotta be something you can do! Anything! Please... I want my feathers back."

Just... Wings. Yeah.

#There's also amputation whump but I'm not sure I can write that so uh. Use your imagination. #I'm imagining feathery bird wings but I think most of these could work with other wings too. #another post that's been sitting in my drafts for months lol #wings #winged whumpee #aspen's hurt/comfort #writing prompts #writeblr #fantasy writing #fantasy writing prompts #fantasy hurt/comfort #whumpblr #hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort prompts #fantasy whump #magical whump #whump prompt #whump community #whump #whump writing #aspen's writing ideas #tw whump #tw restraints #tw dehumanization #tw torture #tw blood #long post

[theship-thewalrus]

An older Alicent Hightower and Targaryen reader. Like she's on the greens side. It's cute like she gets Alicent to meet her dragon or something cute. There like together in secret though.

Hi Anon! This is my first time writing for Alicent so I hope it is up to par. I hope this is what you have been looking for :)

alicent hightower x targaryen! female! reader

pretty much the ask

word count: 706 words reading time: about 4 minutes warnings: nothing :)

"Hush, my love. Less you wish for someone to catch us." Your warning words come out in a firm whisper, knowing you both needed to be next to silent if you wished to get away with this. It seemed people are starting to become suspicious of your meetings. They saw the looks you sent to each other from across the room. How Alicent sort you out in events, despite having a Husband. how close you were to her children, as though you were a second mother.

It was by her request your relationship was kept a secret. If you had it your way, the pair of you would be found kissing in the halls. For everyone in the Red Keep to know she was yours and you were hers. But you respected her wishes, you knew it was to keep her family image. To not endanger herself or you, yet it did not stop your desires.

"I know, I am just nervous. I have never been down here before." Alicent clung to your side, hand interlocked with your own as you lead the way. The torch in your free had only provided a little bit of light to show the way. A small smile appeared on your face at her nervousness. "Do not worry, my love. I won't allow Cannibal to eat you. Besides, you're not his usual preferred food." Your jest with her, but it seemed to only worry her more. Her eyes widened as he looked up at you.

"Do not joke about that," she smacks your arm lightly, yet clung to you more. You enjoyed having her so close, even if it was because she was scared. It was not often you could have her in your arms, you truly wished you could share a bed with her. Instead of simply having a few moments in the halls or empty rooms.

It was not long until you arrived where he was kept, since it was the night you expected him to asleep. Yet the beast's large, green eyes narrow in on you and Alicent, something that made her squeak out. Its large head lifted from the ground, moving closer to the pair of you. It let out a huff of hot smoke at the pair of you, Alicent practically hiding behind you. Cannibal's reputation was well known. Even Alicent, someone who had no interest in Dragons, knew of it. Something that only added to her worry and fear.

"Hello, my handsome boy," Your voice was soft as you spoke to the creature. As though it was not a large murderous beast, but instead some small cat. Dropping the torch you knew you did not need it anymore, holding out your hand you awaited for Cannibal to draw near. You knew you needed to respect the dragon's space, less you wished to anger him. That was certainly the last thing you wished to do, especially when it could put Alicent in danger.

But the beast seemed to be in a good mood as its snot pressed against your hand. His eyes closed for a moment as you rubbed his nose softly. Alicent was stunned by the connection you had with the murderous beast. It could eat you both in a single breath, before ripping apart the Dragon Pit and eating the others in here.

"Come here." Pulling Alicent from behind you, despite her protests, you brought her to your side. The woman was trembling in fear, yet she trusted you with her life. Knowing you would never do anything that would intentionally put her in harm's way. Using your free hand you take Alicent's hand in your own. "Would you like to pet him?" You dip your head down to whisper in her ear, a grin on your face. The woman was silent but nodded softly.

Moving her hand you slipped it under the one that rested on Cannibal, the dragon noticed the different touch. His eyes opened to inspect the new feelings. For a moment you both feared he would have a bad reaction, but he simply eyed you both before closing them once more. "I knew he liked you and how could he not? You are the best, my love."

#alicent hightower x reader #alicent x reader #alicent hightower imagines #alicent imagines #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #hotd imagines #house of the dragon imagines

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

On a Technicality Part 2

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: implied/referenced abuse, starvation, touch-starvation

Pairings: intrulogical

Word Count: 3244

"A sacrifice for you," the zealot says quickly, trying to appeal to the demon's focus, "a token of our appreciation and worship."

The demon's head tilts. Remus looks up at them, pain and blood loss working in tandem to make it a struggle to even keep his eyes open, his vision growing fuzzier again. The demon's fingers twitch.

"O Great and Powerful—"

"Are these people bothering you, my dear?

***

Remus is having a wonderful dream.

The barn is warm, for once, like he's been able to sneak up to the rafters after the sun's been out all day, and he gets to lie on the bare boards and soak it in like some big, plump housecat. There's a light gust of air blowing, which means that the smell doesn't stick to his skin and linger. Instead, it just smells very faintly of grass and woodsmoke. Honestly, quite pleasant, all things considered. And his clothes feel like actual clothes for once! Not like the hay wraps and potato sacks he has to fashion his normal stuff out of, these feel like actual clothes clothes, like fabric that won't tear on the first sharp piece of metal he scrapes by.

He shifts a little, trying to nuzzle his face into the sunlit patch, and the sunlight rumbles back. That's a bit weird, sunlight normally doesn't make noise, but who is Remus to judge? He makes all sorts of noises that he isn't 'supposed' to make, and that doesn't stop him, so that's cool. The sunlight seems to approve of his thought process and another wave of warmth passes through his hair. So maybe the sun has hands too. That's also cool.

Would the moon have hands too?

The dream shifts; the sun sets but not unhappily, the sky turning pink, then orange, then red, then down to a soft and rich blue. The moon comes out—Remus likes the moon. Sometimes. Most of the time it's nice, because then he can see what he's doing when he goes to look for food and shelter. But sometimes when—

Clattering. Yelling. The burn of torches. Fear grips his chest with iron hands and—

Shh, the moon whispers, cool touch gliding gently down his spine—so the moon has hands too? Awesome—and the mob fades into mist. None of that, now, little one.

The moon is nice. Most of the time. Remus likes the moon.

I'm sure it likes you too.

Yeah—wait, what? Why is the moon talking about itself in third person?

The moon rumbles again, like the sun did, and ruffles his hair. I'm not the moon, little one, as flattering as the comparison may be.

Remus furrows his brow, curling up a little more, trying to shift into the warmth again. The warmth is more solid this time and he can't quite move into it—oh, but it shifts a little and it wraps around him, that's nice. He's still confused but at least he's warmer now. There's another rumble, another quiet thing that Remus can still feel in his cheek where it's pressed against the boards, though now that he thinks of it, these boards don't feel very much like boards. They're…softer, somehow. There aren't any gaps for the freezing wind to come through when the night is at its peak.

"I'm not boards either." The hands—or one of them at least, a hand settles at the base of his skull, smoothing a thumb over the place where his neck meets his ear. "Shh, you're alright. Just wake up slowly, you're still likely to be exhausted. You haven't slept for that long."

He mumbles. An ache suddenly reaches his chest, sinking through his ribs, his spine, right down to the ends of his fingers and down his legs. Like he's had to swim across the river to get away from the dogs, and then swim back in the same night because it's dangerous to spend so much time in the forest after dark. But he hadn't gone swimming yesterday, at least he doesn't think so, so what's—

Oh.

Oh, right.

The zealots. The summoning circle. The demon.

So that probably means that the hands and rumbling that he felt weren't the sun and the moon—why the fuck would he think that?—but were actually…

"Shh, shh," he hears, murmured tenderly into his ears as the hand at the back of his head cards through his hair, "you're alright, little one. Don't move so much, your body's still bound to be exhausted from all that happened."

But he's awake now. And being awake means that he can't ignore the fact that he's trying to snuggle up to a fucking demon.

Remus takes a deep breath and slowly, slowly tries to pull away from the demon's hold. The hand on the back of his neck flexes and for a moment, his heart nearly stops out of desperation, but then it gentles and he sits up, wincing at the tug in his muscles. He blinks a few times to shake the sleep from his eyes, only to frown when he sees a stone floor instead of a wooden one. Did—they didn't leave the abandoned building? It's still nighttime? How long has he been asleep?

"Remus?"

He turns on instinct and electric blue eyes meet his. He swallows despite himself.

"There you are," the demon murmurs—Logan, Logan, that's right, his name was Logan— "are you doing well, dear?"

"I, uh—I'm—"

Logan's brow furrows in concern. "Is there something wrong with your throat? Are you in pain?"

Soft fingers brush against the front of his neck and he flinches on instinct, only for the arm still around his back to tighten just enough to keep him from falling. They do it again, still as light as anything, and Logan hums.

"I can't feel anything," he says softly, "did you strain it yesterday? I heard you scream as I was summoned, or perhaps from the crying?"

If it were asked in anything other than this painfully soft voice, Remus might have been offended or chastened by it. Instead, all he feels is a strange feeling in his gut that he tries to swallow away. "No. 'M fine."

"That's a relief. You still seem to be sore, though…the combination of the magic and the injuries are still taking time to work themselves out, I believe." His hand rubs at Remus's shoulder, right over where the knife had plunged into him. "Does this hurt at all?"

The tingling-burning sensation of being touched is back, but other than that, no. He shakes his head. Logan smiles and adjusts his grip—he's still in his lap. He's still in the demon's fucking lap, what the fuck, what the fuck—

"Hey, hey, it's alright, little one, I'm just shifting so you can lean against the wall if you'd like." The hand cupping the back of his head tilts him back until it gently bumps against something solid. Logan shifts his grip to his hips, and now he's balancing in the demon's lap, leaned back against the wall with his hands idly stroking his hips and sides. Sure. This is his fucking life right now. "Is that comfortable?"

"Mhm."

The shift from being pressed up against a warm demon to the cold air makes him shiver, though, and he wraps his arms around himself. Logan notices with a chuckle.

"And yet you've immediately covered a vulnerable part of yourself."

"It's cold," he mumbles, trying not to sound like a petulant child and failing. Logan chuckles again, hands sliding under Remus's arms to press against his tummy. "Wha—oh."

"Is that better?"

"You're so warm."

"I'm afraid I can ascribe only part of that to being a demon," he says, "the rest of it…"

"Touch-starved," Remus mumbles, "right."

"Don't look so despondent, it's hardly through fault of your own." When Remus is quiet for a moment too long, he tilts his head. "Is it?"

"I mean…sort of?"

"Have you sworn off touching other mortals?"

"What? No."

"Have you implemented some sort of system whereby anyone who lays hand on you shall suffer poor harvests for the next three years?" Remus stares at him. "Or do you carry some curse that would pass gruesome boils onto whomever made direct contact with your skin?"

"Those seem like they're really specific examples."

Logan shrugs. "Well?"

"No, I haven't done any of those things. Or—had them done to me."

"Then how could you be responsible for your own touch starvation?" The hands on his stomach are really, really fucking warm. "Don't apologize for needing something that you have been deprived of."

"Demons aren't supposed to be this tender," Remus blurts out.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. The one thing he's fucking not supposed to do is piss off the only person that's been kind to him for as long as he can fucking remember. But oh, no, Remus is not allowed to have nice things, he has to open his big fucking mouth and ruin them. Maybe he really is cursed, that he can't think before he speaks for two fucking seconds, but it's not his fault, it's not, he just thinks of them and then he says them because everyone always talks about how important it is to ask that things make sense and to say what he's feeling but not him, oh, no, not him, not Remus—

"Oh, little one," he hears faintly, and then the hands on his stomach are pressing gently to help him slow his breathing, "shh, calm down, now, it's alright. I'm not offended."

"You're—you're not?"

Logan chuckles, shaking his head. "I suppose I'm not acting as the rumors about my kind would have you believe, it's no pain to have you ask about it. You don't have to fret so much. You're far too sweet."

Sweet? Sweet? Remus isn't sweet. Remus is a pest, pests aren't sweet. When he voices that thought too, Logan frowns, and his fingers flex ever so slightly.

Remus squeaks.

Confusion ripples across Logan's expression before a slow smile spreads across his face. He does it again, just a little, and it sends a jolt through Remus's tummy. He chuckles.

"Ticklish?"

Remus doesn't say a fucking word. Logan spreads his fingers and does it again and Remus squirms—

"I think that's a 'yes,' little one."

"Don't!" Remus squeaks when his hands start to move again, trying to move away from this weird feeling that is too warm and too weird and it's making his stomach do all sorts of weird flips and Logan chuckles again. "Don't do that, it feels—it feels weird."

Logan's smile fades. "Have you never been tickled before?"

Remus shakes his head and Logan hums, hands moving to his sides just to hold him.

"Another time, perhaps."

"Wait, what do you mean, 'another time?'"

"I meant what I said, you know," Logan remarks, the smile returning, "you're very interesting, little one. Do you really expect me to just leave you be? When my curiosity has been piqued?"

He shifts again under the demon's watchful eye. He's not…he's not interesting. He's a pest. He's the thing the villagers chase off. He's the monster parents warn their kids about becoming. He's the thing the guards train their dogs to chase. There's nothing interesting about that.

When he says as much to Logan, though, the demon's expression darkens and his electric blue eyes almost crackle as he shifts. Some of his body turns back into that smoke Remus remembers from the ritual and despite himself, he grows smaller. That seems to tip whatever scales back in his favor, though, as Logan takes a deep breath and resolidifies.

"Perhaps I was right in my initial assessment, then," he says lowly, "that this place is plagued by those with small minds who would rather fret about themselves than endeavor to learn something for once in their pathetic lives."

The sheer derision dripping from each word isn't doing much to calm Remus down.

"And you, little one," he continues, voice deepening with something that could almost be wonder, except he's talking about Remus, and nothing about Remus is wonderful, "are fascinating. You speak so freely, and you don't have the shame that most mortals carry with their bodies, and there is so much you have yet to learn and you don't seem afraid of it…"

His smile grows and Remus swears he has a few too many teeth.

"How could I not be intrigued? How could I not be expected to want to keep you?"

"Keep me? What do you mean, keep me?"

"Precisely that. Or did you think the traditional deal for a mortal soul was simply a trifle?" When Remus can't muster the words to respond, he leans closer, bringing Remus up to meet him like he weighs nothing. "Demons are meant to be creatures of temptation as well, are we not? Can I not tempt you into letting me keep you, little one? Away from this place where they would hurt you, hunt you, could I not persuade you to let me bring you somewhere you would be treasured?"

"What—" it's hard to think with electric blue eyes on his— "what would you get out of it?"

"Aside from the pleasure of your company?" He tilts his head. "I've told you, Remus, there is so much that is interesting about you. Do you not wish to study that which you find interesting?"

A demon is telling me he wants to put me in a glass jar and study me, basically. This is fine. Is this fine? What the fuck is happening?

His hesitation must come off as disbelief—which is only partly true, the rest of him is trying to wrap his head around the fact that this is happening, still—because Logan hums and switches to holding him up with just one arm, which…is another thing he has to get over now, thanks.

"Do you not believe me still?" Before Remus can say anything, he's already opening his mouth to swipe his finger across—are those fangs? "Here, allow me…"

Remus's eyes widen as blood—it has to be blood, but then why is it black?—wells up from the cut on Logan's finger. He draws something on the floor next to them and the blood turns gold, shining in the shape of a sigil before becoming part of the stone itself. Logan smooths his thumb over the cut and it heals.

"What's that?"

"A basic protection sigil. None may enter this building without your consent now."

"…why?"

"A show of good faith. If I intended to harm you, don't you believe I would have done so by now?" The hand comes up to cradle his cheek. "I don't mean you any harm, little one. Truly."

Remus swallows. "So what do you want?"

"At some point, you'll make me believe you like hearing me say it," he teases gently, "I want to keep you. Let me learn about you, fascinating thing that you are. And in return, I will keep you safe from those who could never hope to understand you."

Well, he sure wasn't fucking kidding about demons being creatures of temptation, because that's really, really fucking tempting. But that's just it_ there's no way there isn't a catch. Is he going to be split apart like some butterfly, pinned up to be examined? Is he going to be put in a cage? What's the catch?

"You are agreeing to be taken away by a demon," Logan says wryly when he asks as much, "most would view that as the catch."

"But you're being nice. You're—you're offering to save me, not hurt me."

"Does it not speak to your current situation, then, that you would view being taken by a demon as being saved?"

That's a good fucking point. He chews on his lip absentmindedly. Logan lets him think for another moment before he sighs, bringing him close to cuddle him again.

"You could say no," he says, as gentle as ever, "and I would…well, I wouldn't be happy, but I would accept it. And I would help you remake this building into somewhere you could be safe. That sigil will hold whether you're here or not."

"You—you would what?"

"You could stay here, if you wanted. We could make it into a proper house, if you didn't want to come with me. I could visit, we could talk, but you wouldn't have to agree to be kept."

"Wouldn't this be another cage?"

Logan frowns, but it's not an angry frown. No, he looks more…melancholy. "I would never keep you if you didn't want to be kept. You're not a prisoner, Remus, you can go if you want to."

"I can?"

Another pause, and then Logan starts to pull away. As soon as his hands leave him, the cold rushes back and a mortifying noise leaves his throat. Logan hushes him but he doesn't come back, instead fully moving away and standing up. He offers a hand and Remus would be embarrassed at how fast he scrambles for it, only for Logan to catch him and steady him as he shoots to his feet.

"Easy," he murmurs, "don't rush…you're still weak from everything that happened."

Remus clings to him as he tries to get his feet under him, ignoring the ache in his shoulders and chest, and definitely ignoring the tingling warmth in his hands. Logan holds him for another moment, just to make sure he's steady, before he moves away again. Remus watches, rooted to the floor, as Logan retreats all the way to the other side of the room.

Empty stone stretches endlessly between them.

"You can go," Logan says, voice still as soft as if it were still being whispered into his ears, "I won't stop you. This isn't a test, Remus, if you truly wish to go, you can."

Remus turns to look at the door. On instinct, his body moves, walking silently across the stone to step through it cautiously. He hesitates for just a second, wondering if it was all some grand farce and pain would sear through him at any moment, but it doesn't. Instead, his foot settles in the dew-damp grass and a shaking breath leaves him.

The moon is out. The world is bathed in silvery light. He can see the silhouette of the other buildings a ways away, even the roof of the barn.

He could go. He could go back to the barn and curl up in the rafters. He could live another day, when he was so sure he was going to bleed out on some stone floor. It's cold, he realizes, with a bone-weary certainty that he's only now able to name. It's cold. It's so, so cold.

Logan is still standing there as he looks over his shoulder. Slowly, he opens his arms.

Remus all but throws himself at the demon as he races back inside, letting Logan catch him with barely a grunt, lips pressed against his ear as warm warm warm arms wrap around him once more.

"Keep me," he says in a rush, "keep me, please, please, keep me, I'll do whatever you want, please—"

"Hush, now, little one, you don't have to beg." Logan's hand runs up and down his back. "Shh, calm down, now, I'm right here, I have you."

Remus manages to draw a shuddering breath before Logan's holding the back of his skull and gently bidding him to look up. He does, meeting those electric blue eyes once more as Logan smiles.

"I will keep you, little one," he says, voice somehow sounding like it's coming from inside his head, "and in return, you will let me learn you. Does that sound fair?"

"Yes. Yes, that sounds fair, that sounds great, yes, yes."

Logan smiles with too many teeth and his eyes glow, and for the first time in so long he can't even fucking remember, Remus feels safe.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #logan sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus

[factorialsotherfandoms]

It is late when Missa returns home. Philza is half-awake, determined to stay up but exhausted from the day. He tries to call out that there is food still on the side for his husband, but the laughed reply implies it came out of garbled nonsense instead. He listens to Missa shuffling around the house, getting ready for bed, and has little to do to prepare himself for sleep.

Maybe five or ten minutes pass before Missa slips into bed. Philza reaches up and takes his hand, twining their fingers together.

Or he would, but something is wrong.

The bones of Missa's hand are jagged and uneven, sharp and he can feel coarse string around them.

All sleep fleeing, Philza shoots up. He does not bother faffing about with the lamp, instead grabbing a torch from beside him. Quickly it is lit and on the wall.

"Phil? What's wrong?"

Missa's head is tilted to the side in genuine confusion.

Philza looks down at their hands, still intertwined. It is worse than he had thought; two of the joints are missing entirely, while the other bones are crooked and splintered. Even the bones of Missa's palm are broken, snapped in half and seemingly hurriedly tied together. The carpals are mostly intact, at least, one with a massive crack running through it but structurally sound.

"Missa," Philza whines ever so slightly on the name. "What happened?"

"It's nothing! It's nothing!" Missa waves his free hand about. "Roier will fix it in the morning, yes? You sleep."

"You hand is broken, Missa, I'm not just leaving that," Philza runs his fingers over the breaks, assessing them. "Doesn't it hurt?"

"Feels funny, but I don't have, um, nervios. In my hand. It cannot hurt."

Philza thinks the tone is supposed to be reassuring, as is the news. It absolutely is anything but - who knows how bad the damage could possibly be, if Missa no longer had nerves to feel it?

"Sit there," Philza squeezes the hand, then Missa's shoulder. "Do you have the missing pieces? We can sort this out tonight. I'm not leaving you with a broken hand overnight."

"Are you sure it's not-? I just dropped a block, it doesn't hurt, it's okay!"

A little too tired to work out if Missa is starting to panic or not, Philza shuts him up with a forehead kiss. Seeing the blush turn his husband into a stuttering mess, he squeezes his shoulder again, "I'm not going to sleep if I know you're hurt. What do you need?"

"... Bone soup?"

Missa looks a little hopeful at the question. Philza, knowing some from Chayanne is still warm on the stove, smiles, "bone soup, bandages, tape, and you are taking a health potion after."

When Missa tries to object, Philza puts a finger on his lips and raises an eyebrow. Once he is sure the message is received he removes it, before darting off to find everything.

Nothing is difficult to find - Philza makes sure emergency supplies are always to hand - but it is still in the bunker. One of their many first aid kits is tucked under his usual chair - he grabs it, and also a roll of reinforced tape kept atop the pile of chests for when furniture inevitably breaks. Considering Missa's fingers like furniture is an awful thing, but Philza does not trust anyone in the family to ever keep still.

Quietly, making sure not to wake his children, he then slips into the kitchen. Sure enough, Missa had missed the food left out for him - Philza quickly plates it up, turns off the stove, and leaves cleaning the pans for the morning.

With a whispered "good night Chayanne, good night Tallulah", he heads back upstairs and to his shared bed. Missa is still exactly where he was left, looking only slightly nervous.

"Chayanne left it out for you."

Philza passes the soup to Missa's good hand, and puts the other supplies on the bed, before dragging himself over.

"He is a good child," Missa agrees.

Philza's smile is his agreement, though it falls into a frown as he remembers why he is awake. "You eat and explain, I'll sort this out. Do you just need them stabalised, or is there anything else I should do?"

Missa shakes his head, balancing the soup on his lap while he digs the missing bones from his pocket, "you don't need to! But, the magic will fix it in a few days."

"And with a potion?"

"It doesn't hurt?"

Philza tries not to scream at how just because there isn't pain doesn't mean this isn't serious. Like the adult he is he takes a deep breath, and nods, "I'll be gentle."

"I won't feel it if you aren't."

He will be anyway.

As Missa describes working on his theme park - the cause of the injury is simple enough, Missa having simply slipped and dropped one of the iron support beams over, landing on the hand he caught himself with - Philza gets to work. He tests the tape on his own skin - uncomfortable, but not painful either to leave there or remove - before applying it to Missa's bones.

First, he tapes over where bones are simply cracked, hopefully preventing things from getting worse. Then, he starts undoing the ties Missa had clearly made one handed, and without aligning things first.

As he cracks a piece of splintered bone back into place, Missa yelps. Philza immediately stops, checking on him.

"It's okay, it's okay," Missa waves the spoon this time. "Doesn't hurt, just the noise."

Philza doesn't quite believe him, but nods anyway, "definitely sounds worse without flesh to muffle it. Am I good to continue?"

Missa looks a little surprised to be asked, but nods. "It's good soup. I'll try be awake to thank Chayanne."

"If he manages to wake up," Philza tries to joke, but his focus on the bones is intense. A small chip is missing from one, seemingly having slipped out of the tie. It really is only a tiny chip, but he pours a little of the splash potion directly on that break before taping it up. He doesn't know if it will help, but he'd rather try than not.

Reattaching the two joints that had been entirely removed proves both easiest and hardest. He has to line everything up correctly - at one point he borrows Missa's other hand to compare - but once that is done the magic tethers them into place. The connections are still much weaker than the ones between the other bones in Missa's bands, but it is enough to hold them still and in place.

Philza tapes them both in place, just to be sure.

Then, he glances up. Missa is done with the soup and now watching him, the bowl set aside. Seeing that there is no longer a threat of burns, and finding no more injuries, Philza brings up Missa's hand, and kisses one of the breaks.

Immediately Missa pulls his hand away, eyes blinking rapidly, "Philza! What are you doing?"

"Kissing them better."

"Oh..." there's a pause before Missa offers back his hand, shyly this time. "This is so much, too much, you don't need to. This is enough."

"Do you want me to stop?" Philza asks, voice dropping quieter.

"... No."

Missa's reply is but a whisper hidden in a blush.

Carefully, Philza kisses each of the other injuries in turn, before taking the potion. He pours the rest of it over Missa's hand, catching the excess on a bandage he then wraps it with.

And then, wraps a dry bandage around, cushioning the fragile bones from any further knocks.

"There," he says. "All safe, now. I'll change the bandages in the morning and see how its doing."

Missa leans forward, resting his forehead on Philza's shoulder, "I don't deserve you."

Philza reaches up and holds him, "there's nobody I'd rather raise my children with."

Missa doesn't reply, but Philza can hear the doubt in the silence, and remembers the mutterings of 'clumsy, idiot, stupid' he sees on the translator from time to time. He holds his husband a little tighter and says, "why don't we get some sleep?"

There's a hesitation before Missa nods.

"... Do you want me to tell you a story instead?" It's half a joke, but Philza is perfectly willing. Without waiting for an answer he begins. "Back in the days of the Empire, there was a dragon who lived on the moon..."

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp missasinfonia #qsmp philza #hurt/comfort #fluff #qsmp au #part of my missa lich au but like that's not super important just that missa has skeleton hands #in this fic they are qpps #if its shipping or not I leave to your definition of words tbh #they can love each other without needing to define it #tags what are tags #missa just like oopsie broke some bones I should pop them back in in the morning #and forgets that broken bones are something people worry about #then maybe has a bit of an internal breakdown about the idea he's worth caring about

[head---ache]

hello im going to talk about my non fankid oc's because i feel like i talk too much about my children (sorry) and too little about my other characters and i know probably no one cares but fuck you/lh im going to force you to care/j

Tools the Chinchilla (she/they) is the oldest character in the group! (Ironically age wise they're the youngest, being 14). They're an anti hero, of sorts?? But I think a better way to describe her is just a silly chinchilla doing her own thing, not caring about anyone else. They really just care about what they have going on and are going to do whatever they need to get things done. She does not care about relationships at all, and only tries to get closer to someone if it benefits her. They're a investigator/scientist, mostly studying about chaos, so you can guess how that leads her to follow the main cast around, trying to act all friendly to get info out of them (but everyone knows she doesn't actually like them because she's really bad at acting). She also has a very big ego, and constantly compares herself to characters like Tails of Eggman, pushing them both down although she's not really an inventor, unless she needs something specific.

Prince the Peacock (he/him) is my boy!!! I love his concept. He has hypnotic powers thanks to his feathers, and he also cares a lot about his looks. He's very sophisticated, but also very high energy and friendly (he can be a little too much, in fact). He's also a bit naive, but that's mostly because he usually sees the best in people, and believes anyone can be good if he's just nice enough. He sees himself and Tools as best friends, even though she can't stand him, he just thinks they're shy. He's a little bit too scared of everything, but after being saved by the Resistance during the war he feels like he needs to do his part, so he's actually quite brave and very usually pushes himself out of his comfort zone.

Ferocity the Spider (she/her) seems to be somewhat of a fan favorite, and I think that might be thanks to her goth lolita fashion and the fact that she's a spider, definitely not something seen in the Sonic franchise. She's a full on villain, and is que agressive. She has all of the abilities spiders commonly have, but I can't get more specific than that. I'm way too scared of spiders and could only use drawings as reference for her design, so I didn't actually take the time to decide what kind of spider she is bskdbskfnskx She has every move calculated, and takes everything into account, she's very careful and methodic, but, like I said, when she needs to, she can get very agressive and scary. She's also very closed off and untrustful, so while she does have someone she works with (more on that later), she usually prefers to do things herself, just to make sure.

Joy the Horse (she/her) is a total sweetie. She's very shy and quiet, but has the biggest heart ever. She's a baker!!! And has her own bakery:) she sometimes brings some of her baked goods to Restoration HQ because some of her friends are there. She's softspoken and kind, but don't look down on her! She can kick you over the next city if she needs to>:) usually in defense, not in offense. She doesn't fight often, but if her or someone she cares about is involved she goes all out trying to help. Also Joy is the only one Tools tries to be friends with, but that's because they want free food. Joy knows this, and yet she still pretends she doesn't see when the chinchilla sneaks a cookie into their pocket.

Torch the Angler Fish (they/them) is Ferocity's right hand!!! Mostly just the dumb henchman in cartoons. They're way too energetic and impulsive, which is why Ferocity usually has to hold them down. They normally do the dirty work; if they need to fight, Torch will do it while Ferocity watches from the shadows and only interferes if needed. Torch, of course, has a little light that can lure people closer to them, and they often hide in the shadows, to then attack by surprise. They enjoy scaring people, they're a bit of an asshole lol. I said Ferocity is agressive, and yet, Torch is the most agressive of the two, which makes them a bit more scary.

Index the Secretary Bird (she/her) is a cute girly who works for the Restoration as, you guessed it, a secretary. I imagine she was friends with Jewel, and when she saw how much work the beetle had, she decided to step in and help. She's also very methodic, and strict. She actually was a librarian before she joined the Restoration, so you can be sure she has outstanding organization skills. She's a bit unexpressive, and distant, but definitely not mean, and if you manage to get close to her you'll have a friend who will give you the best advice and will listen to you with all of her attention!! She also has some knowledge in first aids, so when needed she also helps in that area.

And yeah that's that the fankids get too much attention so these guys also needed a post dedicated to talking about them tehee

#sonic oc #tools the chinchilla #prince the peacock #ferocity the spider #joy the horse #torch the angler fish #index the secretary bird

[johaerys-writes]

As Fate Would Have It

Patrochilles | Omegaverse | E | Ch. 6

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

Achilles doesn’t come back in the night. He doesn’t come back at dawn. A new day breaks, the sun rising golden and bright above the waters, but the room is still empty, Achilles' bed cold. 

A warm breeze blows through the window, making the curtains whisper. Patroclus left it open during the night; Achilles has a habit of hopping out of it and climbing down the branches of the olive tree when he's off to meet his mother, and then returning the same way. Patroclus slept lightly; even in the depths of his slumber, part of his awareness was alert of his surroundings, hoping he might catch a sight or sound of Achilles in the dark.

Dawn comes and goes, the day steadily ripening, and there’s no one there other than him. 

He pushes himself up off his pallet. There’s a crick in his neck and his head feels leaden; he didn’t even drink that much wine last night, but he still feels dazed and hungover. He can still taste the sweetness of Achilles' lips on his tongue and smell him on his chiton, and his heart throbs with a dull ache that's almost like longing, like sorrow.

But of course, it cannot be. Patroclus does not harbour any such sentiments for Achilles.

He stands before the open window by Achilles’ bed for a long while, gazing down at the beach and the city beyond it, searching for a golden form amidst the waves and the sand. Finally, he gives up, making his way to the mess hall. 

Peleus is there, and so is Phoenix. They’re talking about some faraway kingdom or other, their army and their naval power and the coin they must have in their coffers. Mycenae, they say, has grown in power, and so has Arisbe—allies to keep close, enemies to watch. Peleus only offers Patroclus the most cursory of acknowledgements as he greets them both, then takes his customary seat beside Achilles’ chair. It stands empty and silent in the crowded hall— and Patroclus has never felt more alone. 

He has his breakfast mechanically, eating his bread and cheese and olives without relish. His friends haven’t shown up yet, probably nursing hangovers of their own. Patroclus picks up his cup with a sigh and takes a generous sip of wine, hoping it might ease the knot in the pit of his stomach. 

Two cups later, and the wine hasn't had the desired effect. His head is heavy, and so is his heart, and even though he finishes the plate of food before him, he still feels a strange sort of hunger, of dissatisfaction. He knows not what might ease that craving—certainly not any kind of food or drink, but he still can’t figure out what it is that he's missing. The only thing he knows with alarming clarity is that had Achilles been there, he wouldn’t have felt as lost and despondent as he does now. 

Which is a strange thought, all on its own. Patroclus doesn’t even know him all that well, let alone like him. He really doesn't like him. He just… 

Patroclus sighs. His mind returns to the events of the previous night unbidden, and Patroclus curses himself anew, much more fervently than he did before going to sleep. He had tried going down to the beach after Achilles fled to look for him, but it had been far too dark for him to make anything out. He had returned to the palace soon after, and considered grabbing a torch and going down again, but he knew it was futile. Heavens knew where Achilles might be. Perhaps he had run to the far end of the beach, where the rocks and shallow caves lie; he might have dove straight into the waters to find his goddess mother. Calling out for him wouldn’t do, and would probably raise too much alarm in the palace. 

Patroclus had finally gone back to his room, where he had paced and fretted and worried well into the night. He had tried to devise a plan for the following day, how he might search for Achilles, where he might find him— and then his resolve had abandoned him completely. 

For even if he did find him, what would he do? What would he tell him? Would he apologise for his transgression? Ask for his forgiveness while accepting any punishment Achilles might exact? Beg him not to kick him out like a stray, knowing that if he stays by his side it will only be a matter of time before he wants to kiss him again?

Patroclus shudders at the implications, and all the grim possibilities. Perhaps it is best that he let things be for now, and he stop thinking about Achilles altogether.

His cup drained, Patroclus waves away the servants that try to fill it up; he pushes his plate away and stands up. Without even paying his respects to the King beside him, he makes his way to the training yard, where the men are already starting to gather. A few newcomers have shown up; Neokles, the master at arms, tasks Patroclus with training them, since he’s the most senior in the group right now. Patroclus jumps at the chance; whatever opportunity he has to take his mind away from Achilles and the events of last night, he will do it. 

He works the boys mercilessly until midday, ordering them through drills after drills until they can barely hold a spear up. Then, he dismisses them, but he doesn’t quite leave the yard. It is empty now, void of people, everyone having gone to have a quick meal and some rest before resuming their duties after the worst of the heat has passed. Patroclus takes advantage of the solitude to train, lifting the weights reserved for the most advanced athletes and practising his swords and his spears. The repetitive motions help him focus, and the exertion clears his head even if it doesn't ease the vice of worry that's still gripping his stomach.  

That is how Eurydamas finds him: sweaty and breathless yet still somehow wired and taut like a drawn bow string. 

Read the rest on AO3!

#patrochilles #achilles #patroclus #the song of achilles #tsoa #hades game #homer's iliad #the iliad #omegaverse #johaerys writes

[mintyscuriocabinet]

My Little Pony Tales (1992) Infection AU! Part 1 (CW: BODY HORROR)

Hi all, thank you for your overwhelming support of my infection AU. I really hope you enjoy it. I decided to go for something a little different than the usual infection AUs and put my own little spin on it. This AU is based on G1.5! If you have any questions about it or you'd like to see more, please let me know! With that out of the way, here's my Infection AU art.

Bon Bon

Status: Uninfected

Sanity: 80%

Health: 95%

Bon Bon wants to find a cure for the Crystallovirus, despite Flapjack Fiesta telling her it's impossible. She's willing to develop a vaccine before the infection spreads by any means necessary.

Items: Medical supplies, diary, kitchen knife (self defence)

Starlight

Status: Infected (Stage 3)

Sanity: 2%

Health: 10%

Starlight was infected by an unknown pony before being admitted to Redheart Hospital. Once she reached stage 3, she was too powerful for the staff to control so she escaped into the woods with the other zombies.

Items: Ice cream shop name tag, hospital IV, the crystal (plenty to go around...)

Clover

Status: Uninfected (amputated infected limbs)

Sanity: 78%

Health: 80%

Clover was infected by Starlight after she bit her legs. As a result, she had to get them amputated to control the spread, which works as a temporary solution against the Crystallovirus. Her disability makes her an easy target for zombies, so she prefers to be in the company of other safe ponies rather than bring alone.

Items: Flask of tea, pocket knife, seed pods

Ms. Hackney

Status: Infected (Stage 2)

Sanity: 50%

Health: 50%

Ms. Hackney is being treated at Readheart Hospital. She's currently experiencing the worst stage of the virus, where pain increases and memory begins to fade. She is highly supportive of Bon Bon's goal and hopes she can cure her before she reaches stage 3. She has aggressive outbursts regularly.

Items: Balloon (from the girls), pills (for pain), mask

Flapjack Fiesta

Status: Immune

Sanity: 85%

Health: 99%

Flapjack Fiesta is the girls' substitute teacher, who took over from Ms. Hackney after she got infected. He was born in Unicornia to two unicorn parents, causing him to be immune to the virus as it only effects earth ponies. Bon Bon is using him as a case study. He's also now the girls' primary caregiver as they were separated from their parents.

Items: Maths compass (for self defence. He's surprisingly good at using it for this purpose), textbooks, "mobile" phone (BRICK)

Dr. Hooves

Status: Uninfected (Possible immunity?)

Sanity: 90%

Health: 100%

Dr. Hooves is one of Bon Bon's biggest supporters in developing a vaccine. Because of his name. She things he has a medical licence, but he doesn't realise this. He spends a lot of time caring for his sick companion, whom he is very protective of. He believes it is possible that timelords are immune to the virus, however, he still wants to protect himself just in case.

Items: Umbrella, Nitro-9, psychic paper

Scrub-a-Dub

Status: Infected (Stage 1)

Sanity: 60%

Health: 65%

Scrub-a-Dub is a crime scene cleaner for Coltville Decon who contracted the virus from the blood of an infected pony while she was at work. She is the doctor's companion and has been quarantined in the TARDIS since she was diagnosed. The epidemic has had a major impact on her mental and physical health.

Items: Kitty (emotional support), Swiss army knife, keepsake locket

Sweetheart

Status: Uninfected

Sanity: 99%

Health: 100%

Sweetheart seems to be the least effected by the stress of the epidemic and acts the way she always did. This, along with her lifelong dream of becoming a nurse, has helped her to take on a 'medic' role of sorts. Her bag is always filled with non-perishable foods - like her favourite chocolate - just in case of an emergency.

Items: Chocolate, torch, portable radio

Bright Eyes

Status: Uninfected

Sanity: 90%

Health: 90%

Bright Eyes is Bon Bon's lab partner and the brains of the operation. Unlike Bon Bon, she's much more level-headed and utilises her critical thinking skills to help her stay sane when under pressure. Though she isn't very skilled with weaponry, she makes up for it with her high intelligence. She is one of the most valued member of the team.

Items: Portable lab kit (give to her by Flapjack), rope, notebook and pen

Melody

Status: Uninfected

Sanity: 69%

Health: 83%

Melody has been traumatised after losing her twin sisters, Jing-a-Ling and Ting-a-Ling. Her house has been taken over by zombies so she no longer has access to her belongings, including her bass. For this reason, she's turned to poetry rather than music as a source of comfort. She isn't afraid to get her hooves dirty and is skilled with a blade.

Items: Surgical blade (stolen from her mother before they were separated), poetry book (from library), music player

#my little pony #mlp #mylittlepony #mlp g1 #mlp g1.5 #mlp tales #my little pony g1 #my little pony infection au #mlp infection au #mlp infection #mlp infected au #infection au #infected au #my little pony tales #cw body horror #Crystallovirus

[phantomrose96]

I’d love to hear about your fucked up subway, as best as you can express. Love love love hearing about weird dreams!

In exchange I’ll tell you about my recurring Bad Mall— I’m not on any meds my brain is just like this— usually I’m at the mall looking for someone. Usually it’s a friend, sometimes it’s All Might (??? Also haven’t seen BNHA in years why he there), and in one notable instance, it was a blue sock puppet who everyone loved.

I don’t know why I hate this mall so much. If I could I would never have another mall dream again. It is, technically, a very nice mall. The employees are nice. Usually I have a friend there. The shops are interesting and fairly priced. But something about the atmosphere is just… *grey*. Sapped. It’s a big loop of a building, sized such that there should be a courtyard in the middle— there is not.

The main entrance borders a clothing store that also sell luxury nail polish (like… made of velvet) and a decadent chocolate shop that gives out really nice free samples. Across the way there’s a couple jewellery stores I’ve never been in, and then you make a sharp left and you’re into the mall proper. To your right, the food court. I’ve only stopped there maybe ever twice, and the food is really good. The second time I accidentally put someone else’s fried chicken order into an incinerator so we got married about it.

On the other side, there is GameStop. This store is the bane of my being. It always has the *coolest* stuff but if I dare set foot inside the dream will start looping around it— genuinely, one time I tried to escape by running to the other side of the mall, and I ended up in a secret passageway that led me right back to GameStop. The worst part is that it’s all dream stuff. I don’t get to take any purchases home.

Past that, on the right there’s kind of a weird store that sells vintage stuff, old video games, and tshirts. On the left is a shop that sells gnomes. Directly ahead is a Walmart, and, in the middle of the like. Mall hallway. a free floating hot drink store that also sells wooden cutouts of deer, and kickass hot chocolate. Turn left.

I haven’t been in any of these shops. The only one I recall clearly is a big, outdoorsy-themed sportswear shop to the left. It has a full sized pool in it. I’ve never been inside, only pressed my face to the glass. It also seems to have some sort of scavenger hunt happening with bits of shredded paper. Usually I hurry through the rest of the hallway, not sure why. Turn left.

On the corner to your left, there’s the shop where one of my friends works. The only thing I remember about it is a wind-chime made of dvds. To your right is a large store that takes up the entire stretch of building— it’s one of those, like, VR experience places. Past that, on the left, there is a cinema. Turn left.

You’re back where you started, now. You can go outside. The parking lot is huge, and there’s a MASSIVE textiles store you can only access from out here. Don’t go to the stuffing area, bad vibes. There’s also a handful of gacha machines. One is easily lockpicked, and has cool Pokémon stuff inside. Another has little historical artifact recreations that are all slightly wrong. The Mona Lisa but her hair is blue. The Statue of Liberty, but the torch is a bundle of snakes.

There’s another bundle of disconnected shops. One of them sells pizza? And also it always wakes me up instantly so I don’t know what the pizza is like. The mall doesn’t always spit me out into the parking lot, either. That’s just part of the mall experience I guess one second you’re walking away with your shopping the next you’re running for your life in a dream video game c’est la vie

Hey anon I fucking LOVE your nightmare fucked-up dream mall. If this was the setting of a 16-year-old forum post creepypasta that only exists in reposts and screenshots I'd read the hell out of it.

To your right, the food court. I’ve only stopped there maybe ever twice, and the food is really good. The second time I accidentally put someone else’s fried chicken order into an incinerator so we got married about it.

^Highlighting this because it's doing a lot for me.

My fucked-up subway does not have nearly as much lore as your fucked up mall, and most of my feelings about the fucked-up subway are rooted in the heightened emotional ether of dreams where everything is slightly wrong, but I'll take a shot at capturing the vibes.

The first hallmark of fucked-up subway stations is that they are deep and they are vast--and by vast I mean there's often endless dead-space fanning out from the platform. The stairs descending to the platform are often unrailed and give you a wide view of the endless black-void expanse that stretches beyond the platforms.

The structure of the tracks and the trains is a lot more like a rollercoaster than a real subway. The tracks are bare and exposed and peter off into the dead-space distance. The cars are small and often roofless. They're often some combination of cold and wet and exposed. When there's no roof, there's usually the latent understanding that if you fall out you'll fall far.

The fucked-up subway trains run very infrequently. Usually when you get to the fucked-up station, the train in your desired direction is just about to depart, and if you miss this one, the next one will not be for a long time.

The fucked-up subway trains go to stations that do not exist. They're always modeled off the subway routes in my home city, which I've lived in for close to 5 years now and whose subway system I know like the back of my hand. This means you'll always know where you're trying to go, and be confident in how you're getting there, until you realize the subway is headed to the stations that do not exist.

The stations that do not exist often have transfers with other subway lines, which you can take in an attempt to get back on track. These transfers follow the same rules as the infrequent trains--the train and direction you need will always be just arriving when you are, and if you miss it you'll be stuck waiting a long time. Usually to transfer you have to descend to a deeper level, which brings you to more of these vast and dark and precarious platforms hanging over the abyss, with exposed traintracks running on either side. Sometimes you'll accidentally descend the wrong side--inbound instead of outbound, or vice versa, and need to hastily backpedal (or come up with some way to get across to the other side of the chasm).

One dream with the fucked up subway system had the deep, deep subway system. This station goes all the way down. No clue at all how deep but I'll call it 30 floors, at least, into this dead and lifeless, lightless trough at the bottom. The very bottom has no train, it's just the very bottom of everything. It's a bit like being at the bottom of the ocean, or the bottom of an almost pitch-black cellar--if that cellar's walls were hundreds and hundreds of feet above your head. There is a shop down here! It sells frozen meats that are kept very well preserved down here due to the cold and lifeless nature of the trench's pit.

It's not really a shop, per se. There's no staff or anything. It's more like you've discovered the abandoned contents of this cellar. Things are just stacked around, and very very hard to find with so little light. I don't remember how paying works.

Sometimes, you'll go to a station that exists, but it'll be wrong. You're at the correct station but nothing about it or its surroundings is correct. Nothing looks right. You recognize nothing. But it is the correct station. Sometimes this is nice. One time it let me out into this very pretty street with a nice red brick church whose yard and stone wall were surrounded by beautiful flowers. I met a friend here and she disappeared.

The fucked-up bus lines exist, and they go south. I've only ever ridden them at night and in the pitch black, and they run to places that aren't safe. This is a problem because they run infrequently, and you have to wait for them outside in the dark. I took the fucked-up bus line to a church way south of the city, where I was helping a nice couple set things up in the church. They were never there while I was. The church was always dark.

On the way back taking the fucked-up bus, there was a stop in the middle for the driver to rest. I talked with the other riders while we waited. The bus driver had a medical episode and drove the bus over the side of a nearby cliff. I don't remember what happened when we tried to get help.

#ask

[tropes-and-tales]

Possibilities

December 8:  Party/Locket - Everyone can see it but them (Frankie Morales x F!reader)

(From the winter prompts found here)

CW:  Idiots in love

Word Count:  1221

AN:  Requested by @nuvoleincielo​!

It’s painful to watch, and Santiago Garcia cannot figure out how to fix it.

In the field?  He can triage anything:  heat stroke, hypothermia, broken bone, gunshot wound.  He can save the people he loves, can keep them safe most of the time.

And yet, the two people he loves best in the world…he can’t seem to help them.

Frankie is his brother in combat, but you’re as close to a sister as Santi will ever get.  The daughter of his mother’s own best friend, you and Santi grew up together.  You had chicken pox together; you spent long hours playing video games together.  You never grew apart as you grew up, and Santi’s always held you close to his own heart.

It was like a dream, bringing you into the fold.  His oldest, dearest friend and the men he went to war with.  You fit in so well with them with your soft sarcasm, the way you smile when you tease the guys.

Santi knows you must fall for Frankie immediately.  He guesses so because you never say a word about it to him, and you’re usually so open with your crushes and infatuations.  Yet when he catches you once, early on, dipping your head in blushed embarrassment at something Frankie says, Santi can guess…

He doesn’t push it then.  He can’t:  Frankie is married then with a baby on the way.  And anyway, it’s just a crush.  Harmless.

Then Frankie’s addiction is revealed.  Frankie is left by his wife.  Frankie gets divorced.  

The guys help him get help.  You’re right there too, for the intervention and the support afterwards.  

Once Frankie gets stable, gets some sobriety under his belt, Santi thinks, now the two of them have a shot.  By then he’s noticed that Frankie has a way of looking at you from under the brim of his hat, his eyes following you like a forlorn dog.

Nothing ever happens.

Every get-together.  Every big blow-out party and every mundane night at the bar to watch the game.  Santi always thinks, this is it.

Nothing ever happens.

It hurts.  Santi loves you and Frankie more than anyone.  To see you each going home alone every night, tormented by your unrequited love for each other?  It’s painful.

And yet, when he broaches the subject with Frankie?  Gently suggests that you might like him, might want to be with him?

“Nah, man,” Frankie says once, running his hand through his hair before resettling his ballcap on his head.  “She’s just a sweetheart, you know?  Nice to everyone.  She’s not into me like that.”

And yet, when Santi tries to bring it up with you, mentions that Frankie might be burning a torch for you?

“Oh, I don’t think so, Santi,” you reply.  “I’m not the sort of woman he’d go for.”

You’re not wrong.  You’re the polar opposite of Frankie’s ex-wife.  You aren’t his typical type, but Santi thinks that’s a good thing…and moreover, he thinks Frankie knows it’s a good thing.

And anyway, Frankie’s type has always been the mean, hot sort of girl.  High-maintenance types that allowed him no time to relax or be himself.  

If there’s one thing Santi is certain of, it’s that Frankie is always relaxed around you.  Always himself.  

The only thing is getting the stubborn man to admit it.

-----

Now, this party, and Santi thinks that maybe Frankie isn’t stubborn so much as blind or stupid or both.

And if Frankie is blind and stupid, then you are too.

It’s just a holiday party, low-key with the guys and a few other friends.  Santi orders pizzas, gets a few kegs.  There’s no fuss, no agenda beyond drinks and food and time together.

It’s Will, at least, who notices this time.  He sidles up to Santi early on.

“This is sad,” he says, his voice low.  

“What is?”

Will gestures with his bottle of beer, points in the general direction where you and Frankie are chatting across the room.  It so fucking clear how the two of you feel for each other:  you’re facing each other, talking and laughing earnestly.  Frankie’s hat is pushed back so the brim isn’t hiding his eyes like it usually does.  Your eyes shine like two brand new pennies, never tearing your gaze from him.

“You could set a bomb off,” Will says.  “And those two wouldn’t even notice.  But you know damned well they’re both going home alone.”

“I dunno what to do for them,” Santi admits with a helpless shrug.

Will grunts and takes a sip of his beer.  They watch you and Frankie in silence for a moment, then Will offers, “he bought her something for Christmas, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup.”  Another sip of beer.  “Dude agonized over it for months.”

It’s news to Santi.  Frankie never said a word to him.

“What’d he get her?” he asks.

Will snorts, takes another sip.  “A necklace.  A locket.”

“Jewelry.  Huh.”  Santi peers at Frankie closer.  

“Yeah, apparently she mentioned how her mom had a locket she always wore, but her older sister got it when she married or whatever.  So Fish went through this whole thing, trying to get her one just as good.”

Santi smiles at the image, Frankie sweating over your family’s drama between you and your elder sister, the constant back and forth.  

“Maybe when he gives it to her, it’ll convince her how he feels,” he says.

“Nah, see, that’s the thing.”  Will turns to him.  “Fish lost his nerve.  He said he’s gonna return it.  Said he doesn’t want to freak her out with such a personal gift.”

“Goddamnit.”

“Exactly.  Hence…this is sad.”

----

It’s Benny, at least, who notices too.  But Benny has the vague idea of a plan…

“Remember Iraq?” he asks Santi and his brother later on.  “Hamrin Mountains?”

“The simple extract that was not so simple,” Santi replies.  “Sure, I remember.”

Benny nods in yours and Frankie’s direction—the two of you haven’t moved in all this time.  Still wrapped up in whatever conversation you’re sharing.  Wrapped up in each other.

“Why not pull a reverse Hamrin on them?” Benny asks.

“What do you mean?” asks Will.

“I mean, we’re some of the most highly trained soldiers in the world.  We’ve done a shit ton of dicey missions.  We got those soldiers out of Hamrin.  What if we put those two…somewhere.  Just the two of them?”

“Isolation instead of extraction?” Santi asks.

“Are you suggesting we lock them in a closet until they admit their feelings?” Will scoffs.  “Dumb. This isn’t middle school—”

“No kidding, dipshit,” Benny retorts.  “Not a closet.  Think about it.  Tom’s family has that cabin on the lake.  Our own parents need a house sitter over the holidays.  There’s possibilities…”  

Santi turns away from Benny and looks at you and Frankie.  Still laughing.  Still talking.  Still looking at each other like you each hung the moon, yet still not believing that the other person could possibly feel the same.

Possibilities, Benny said.  

They are some of the mostly highly trained at covert ops.  And so is Frankie, but it’s one against three—four, if they can get Tom in on it—and Frankie’s so wrapped up in his own head about you, he’d never even see it coming.

Possibilities.  Santiago Garcia can see them.

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales imagine #catfish morales #catfish morales x reader #catfish morales imagine #Triple Frontier #tropes-and-tales #winter prompts 2022

[zoeykallus]

I ABSOLUTLY LOVE YOUR POSTS BESTIE!

can you do how the bad batch (+ rex) would propose?

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!

Oh yes I can and I will :D Thanks for this very lovely ask!

The Bad Batch (+ Rex) x GN Reader "Proposal"

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How would the guys propose? Interesting question! Let's take a closer look…

Hope you don't mind I went with "the ring thing"

Fluff ahead! And Crosshair's part is 18 + sorry guys, not sorry

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Hunter:

Is probably about the most down to earth and responsible of the guys, aside from Echo. He needs some time. He may be head over heels in love with you, but a real commitment in the form of marriage is something he takes his time with, so it could be a few years of your relationship before you can count on it.

Hunter is an outdoorsman and not the flamboyant sort. However, once he decides to pop the big question, he wants you to really see how serious he is and how important you are to him. He takes his time, plans a little ahead. He knows you, knows your preferences and favorite things. The ring he chooses in advance has something about it that clearly shows how well he knows you, the stone will have your favorite color, a pattern that suits you very much, maybe even be in the shape of your favorite flower.

Fancy restaurant? Probably not. Hunter is more likely to prepare an outdoor picnic with the help of Echo and/or Tech, in a nice secluded spot, with your favorite snacks, romantic torch lighting in the evening, and most importantly, he'll bring a lot of time. He will only propose on a day when he really has plenty of time to spend with you all day and night.

You will notice his nervousness a little bit, but maybe you won't be able to assign it directly. He will give you the ring in a fancy little box, he doesn't want the frills of hiding the ring in the food, he is way too worried that you might accidentally swallow it or even choke on it.

He will give a little speech telling you how much you mean to him, that he knows he doesn't want to be a day without you, you are an important part of his life and can't and won't imagine life without you.

Hunter holds the box out to you with a smile, opens it and asks you very solemnly, "Will you be my wife (husband/life partner)?"

If you say yes, you will see the brightest smile on his face you have ever seen. You've just made him the happiest man in the universe and that's exactly what he tells you before he puts the ring on you and kisses you deeply.

Echo:

Just like Hunter, he needs time, no matter how much he loves you, this serious commitment step, he goes only after quite a while. But this is also due to a certain fear that plagues him. No matter how close you are, subliminally Echo is always afraid of not being enough and being rejected.

Since the Citadel, he is no longer who he once was and is quite painfully aware of it. Even though he is doing well with you and his brothers, he has never really let go of this feeling of not being complete.

Most of the preparation he has to do is mental, setting himself up for any possible response and reaction from you, just in case.

He will surprise you with a candlelight dinner, in a not luxurious but dreamy, gorgeous little place, a place where he feels comfortable with you.

Echo is showering you with sincere compliments, he is full of affection for you and today it is just bubbling out of him.

He wants to ask you after dinner, over one of your favorite cocktails (with or without alcohol, as you prefer), and you'll see his fingers drumming nervously on the table and him bobbing his artificial leg as he gathers himself and gathers his courage.

You'll put a hand over his, which is shaking nervously, and ask, "Echo, honey, are you all right?"

He blurts out, "Marry me!" almost in a panic.

"What?" you ask, startled of his outbreak, perplexed.

Echo clears his throat, he blushes, pulls out the ring box, opens it and says, "Actually, that was supposed to sound more romantic, sorry."

The appearance of the ring, reflects how well he knows you, namely better than anyone else.

Old fashioned, he drops to one knee in front of you, takes your hand in his and asks, "Will you marry me?"

Careful; if you say yes, he might melt away and disappear under the table. But seriously, he will be so joyfully nervous that he will forget for a moment how to get back on his feet.

Wrecker:

is a spur of the moment guy! He loves you, deeply and you love him, he knows that, it doesn't take him long to know that he wants to spend his life with you. He can't imagine ever being with anyone else and he doesn't want to.

It is very likely that he will pop the question on impulse even before he has a ring.

If you say yes, he will spin you around and tell everyone, and I mean ABSOLUTELY EVERYONE, that he is going to marry the most beautiful and wonderful person. He will almost burst with pride and immediately introduce you to everyone you meet as his future spouse.

You will choose the ring together, you can take as much time as you want, even though Wrecker is not usually the patient type, he wants you to find your perfect ring. This is something special and the ring should show that, he thinks, so don't get the idea to pick something totally simple, even if you like it, Wrecker wants to show you around proudly beaming with love.

When you finally have the ring, he carries you over the threshold at the jeweler's.

Laughing, you say, "That's too soon."

Wrecker calmly replies, "It's never too early to be carrying the love of your life on your hands!"

Tech:

wants to plan everything meticulously, down to the last detail. He has even already planned Gonky as a ring bearer. Fancy restaurants and all that stuff is too mundane for him, in his opinion that just doesn't express what he wants to say, namely how much he absolutely wants to have you in his life forever.

Tech goes through a lot of ideas, tinkering and crafting, often being busy for hours and not letting you come into his work corner. Something secret, a surprise, he keeps saying when you ask why. You have no idea what he is cooking up, but you have learned to be patient, Tech often has projects that take him over, he often needs that to sort out his very active mind that sometimes gives him sleepless nights.

The matter is something very personal and Tech takes it very seriously. Among other things, he will make the engagement ring himself, from the finest material and it will be beautiful, reflecting what he feels and showing that he knows exactly what makes your heart beat faster.

He will take you to a secluded place, a place that is beautiful, with a perceptible romantic symmetry, because Tech has a weakness for neat things. He will explain in his typically matter-of-fact way how much he values your relationship, that you complement him, are the part of himself that he has always lacked to be complete. That you have added a wonderful emotional layer to his life, which until your arrival was purely logical, that he no longer wants to miss.

He took his time and perfectly symmetrically grew your favorite flowers in a lettering:

Will you marry me?

In the background Gonky comes wobbling, on his square body the ring box with the homemade ring.

If you say yes, Tech will put the ring on you and promise to always be by your side and he will keep this promise.

18+ Sorry guys

Crosshair:

Is a very physical type, he prefers to show his affection in an intimate physical manner and in his strong protective instinct.

Well, he is not really a romantic, not in the usual sense, he is very attentive, but not a guy who appreciates or applies fancy frills to show his affection. In fact, it never occurred to him to get married someday.

Not even immediately when you were together. But after a while, he actually starts thinking about it, but doesn't talk about it, to anyone, including you.

The question will come very unexpectedly. After a fierce mission that almost cost him his life, you are in bed together, you are under him, he has full control, that's what he likes the most. His cock is deep inside you and he's been keeping you on edge for quite a while, bringing you close to climax and making you squirm, for so long that you're already whimpering under him and begging him to let you cum.

Of course you have a safeword.

He can hardly keep it up himself, but he loves to hear you beg when he knows that only he can release you.

"Please... Crosshair"

"Do you want to marry me?"

You blink and can't quite grasp what he just asked.

"What?"

"Do you want to marry me, say yes and I'll let you cum" he says with a smirk.

When you say yes, he keeps his promise, your climax more intense than ever, because there's so much more to it. You cling to him dig your fingernails into his back and hear him groan, he loves it when you do that. Shortly after, his throbbing cock releases inside you.

Barely catching his breath again, he pulls the ring box out from under the mattress. As I said, fancy is not his thing, the ring is very simple, but there is something engraved on it, a date, the date when he first confessed his love to you. Crosshair is attentive as mentioned before, he remembers such things.

He puts the ring on you and kisses you intimately, intensely, his hand clasped around your chin demanding.

"Another round?" he finally asks with a cheeky smirk.

Rex:

is a cavalier of the old school. Romantic candlelight, a fancy restaurant, he dances with you, slowly and tightly embraced, has flowers for you, holds the door open for you, pushes your chair to the table, takes your jacket off etc. etc....

Rex is always very attentive, but today everything is a touch more romantic and attentive, almost solemn. You already suspect a little what might come, but you are not sure. He spoils you the whole evening and adores you, you can hardly believe your luck.

He looks so handsome in his chic civi clothes, you can hardly tear your gaze away from him.

He often holds your hand between courses at dinner while you talk, his fingers gently glide over yours while he looks deep into your eyes and you can't help but get lost in them. Rex is so warm and heartfelt, so genuine that it can leave you speechless. He radiates so much strength and devotion, many a person throws him admiring glances, but he doesn't notice that at all, his interest is only in you, from the bottom of his heart.

Rex does not bond quickly, but when he does, it is in depth. A serious commitment is important for him, with him you always have an absolutely reliable partner at your side.

You are not really surprised when he gets down on one knee and holds out the ring box to you, but your heart beats so high that you almost take off. The ring is elegant but simple, a small stone in your favorite color adorns the center. Engraved are the words "In Eternal Love - Your Rex".

If you say yes, he puts the ring on you, beams at you, promises to always love you and that's exactly what he will do.

@chxpsi @andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99 @brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310 @moonstrider9904 @rexandechosandwich

#tbb hc #tbb headcanons #proposal #star wars #the bad batch #clonelove #clone force 99 #tbb #sw tbb #clone trooper tech #bad batch tech #tbb tech #tech #hunter x reader #hunter #hunter bad batch #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #hunter x you #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x you #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter #crosshair smut #crosshair x reader #bad batch crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair

[stardestiny24]

Tips for predatory birdkin

Here I am, writing another one of these posts because study? Never heard of it /j

These are technically meant for predatory birds/raptors, but hey, if you resonate with any of these feel free to use them!

Obviously first thing on our list is hunting- some of these tips are modified from other species!

Hide and seek- playing hide and seek simulates the environment of hunting and/or being hunted; this can be done with someone you know or alternatively you/someone can hide items to find, just make sure you don't lose them! One of my favourites is VR multiplayer hide and seek, even though I'm really bad at it lol

'Spotting' games (e.g. Where's Wally)- many raptors have great eyesight and uses it to hunt, so finding a challenging puzzle to solve by spotting the required item can mimic that. You can pair this with a reward like food.

For owls or nocturnal predators in particular, try the above spotting or hide and seek at night or with a torch!

You may wish to try the diet of your species! There's quite a few edible bug recipes out there, for example. You can substitute lizards for crocodile meat, rabbit meat is available in some areas etc, but make sure that you are purchasing ethically sourced and safe meat, and that it is legal in your area to consume said meat.

If you can eat gummy candies, getting gummies in the shape of your 'type's typical diet can help if you cannot/don't want to eat the real thing! Shapes such as snakes, worms, lizards, fish etc are commonly available, although mouse ones are a bit harder to find.

This next one applies to all birdkin: flying games! My personal favourite is called Feather (a PC game), however you can also try any VR flying video and/or game.

Drone POVs or bird POVs available on YouTube are a great source, too- there are eagle hunting POVs as well!

'Precision' games (e.g. Fruit Ninja)- the slicing motion, the splatter, the timing, all of it just screams hunting to me :D This also extends to any sort of precise game, such as Just Dance, or arcade games where you have to press on tiles at specific times!

'Precision' activities (e.g. dart throwing)- take it a step further and throw some darts! Make sure you are participating safely however. I'm an archer myself, and there's something about an arrow flying through the air before hitting a target that is really birdlike to me.

Anyways this post got way longer than I thought it would! I hope some of this helps!

#star's feathery screaming #birdkin #raptorkin #otherkin #therian #therianthropy #alterhuman #wingkin