#i just want them to stop fucking killing us. i want them to stop killing us. i don't want anyone to be killed anymore.

[justarandombrit]

Okay, so in case anyone couldn't make it to the livestream (and just because I wanted to), I wrote down some notes while watching it, so if anyone wants to read them, they're below the cut. (Also sorry ANI fans, my dad came in to borrow a pencil while the ANI segment was happening, so I missed a lot of it)

. There was a 4 minute long intro voice over before AVPM

. James watched AVPM

. 600,000 and Lauren plays the green screen piano

. 700,000 and Lauren does an architectural digest on the green screen house

. Jon really loves Ready To Go

. Darren keeps letting Joey know he sounds like shit on old recordings

. Pinball Pete’s burnt down 🙏🙏

. MAMD was the first student produced album to make the charts

. A Very Potter Sequel’s name came before A Very Potter Musical

. They accidentally wrote Harry Potter and the Cursed Child

. James gave Julia Albain leg splints

. During Starship the entire cast was breathing fibreglass

. Starship was called “knowingly amateurish”

. Darren was supposed to write 15 songs for Starship, but he got cast on GLEE

. Darren flew in to join a rehearsal as a surprise, ran in singing Beauty and everyone was so pissed

. Everyone still loves Kick It Up A Notch

. Nick: “Which was Holy Musical B@man-

Lauren: “Fuck yeah”

. They made up Sweet Tooth, and then found out he was an actual Batman villain

. Matt came up with “Calendar Man, your days are numbered” in his dream, and it was so good it forced him awake to instantly call Nick

. Everyone thought the flying machine joke was the best AVPM joke

. Goin' Back To Hogwarts Reprise made everyone cry

. AVPSY was five hours long

. Curt saw AVPSY

. Darren arrived 2 hours before the show and didn't get a chance to read through a lot of the script

. Darren came up with “I hope you find that swimming pool”

. Joey ate one banana on the day of AVPSY and during Sidekick went “I'm losing my vision”

. They had to pay the hotel union $11,000 to use THEIR OWN microphones, and Darren's STILL BROKE

. Jeff accidentally washed out his Aladdin hair dye

. A.J. Holmes had the same agent as Jafar's original VA, and they got him to do the intro and say “pee” and “poop” in Jafar's voice

. ANI was, as we know, expected to be a hit, and, as we know, it was not

. TTO was, as we know, expected to fail, and, as we know, did not

. TTO had a batshit cast party

. Pierce used to ask Matt insanely complicated questions before bed, e.g, “How did WWII happen?”

. Firebringer was a really old concept

. Literally no one questioned why the “I don't really wanna do the work today” clip had loads of people dressed as cavewomen + cavemen

. Firebringer was the first show Jon saw live

. They made up all the Hatchetfield shows at the same time

. Nick kept making sure Paul was having fun

. The song from the Pirate Show, “Born To Be Wretched goes so fucking hard. Like if a sea shanty was a musical theatre song essentially

. Mariah: “Rich gays, please give”

. Lauren choreographed Show Stoppin' Number

. People actually gave Lauren their phones when she asked in Inevitable, and they would take them backstage and take selfies before giving them back. One time it was locked and she shouted “WHAT'S THE PASSCODE?!?!?”

. Joey: “I'm in the middle of Wiggle”

. Everyone was ill during Black Friday

. Bryce saw Black Friday

. BRYCE GOT THE APPLE

. Nick told her “Interesting things happen here” when showing her to the seat

. Ahhh when Jeff played Tom…

. Angela was in Jaime’s improv class

. Angela is no longer on vocal rest

. Angela had to kill Sherman with a finger gun one night

. Will was 100% ready for NPMD

. Will was at a party they went to during A Very Starkid Reunion

. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR STARKID

. Rip Kim

. The Docks of Troutspear is sung by Matt’s favourite character (it also slaps)

. The Pit Stop in Hatchetfield livestream is going to be a tag team deathmatch

. I love Starkid so much

#starkid #team starkid #cinderella's castle #cinderellas castle #starkid productions

[chatsukimi]

ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ: (cigarettes after sex geto x reader series, angst)

I missed you & I cried, but I said that I was alright & I know it’s been awhile since I needed a distraction.

Geto Suguru drips blood onto your doorstep. It's been six years since the incident and when he sees your face, tired from having been woken up in the middle of the night, his instinct still betrays him.

'Baby, can I come in?' Closing the gap, he opens up his posture as though you'd run back into his arms.

You cower away at the mass murderer. Why is he here? The familiar stranger deflates into almost a sorrowful expression, his eyes scrutinising the living room with such concentration. Pressed against the back of the couch, your hands curl into fists.

'You're here to kill me, aren't you?' You stand up properly, letting his gaze crawl over your body. 'Do it. Make it quick.'

His voice cracks like a distant record, mumbling in the same foreign and pathetic register, '... was thinking about you...'

Oh, that makes all the difference, doesn't it? He decides he wants you again and you come rushing back to the monster.

Only, you would. It pains you that you've held those bloodied hands, that you used to tidy up his wet hair, admonishing him for not bringing an umbrella, that he's carved his touch into your very consciousness. That the lack of him haunts you still, echoed in the shock of your wide eyes. He fixes you with that stubborn stare; he knows you remember.

Once you gather your stampeding heart back into the cavity of a hollow chest, you have it in you to flinch at the barrage of cuts and scratches littering his body. They bend with his every breath.

Must hurt like a bitch, you think.

'I can leave,' he offers, an empty promise.

'No... it's OK.'

You think you see him soften. It's been years... then again, it's been years since you've seen him at all.

'Close the door. Let's get you fixed up.'

You lead him to the bathroom and sit him on a stool. He hangs his head. Studying the heavy bruises dotting his back, your fingers flutter over his skin, casting a fragile burst of reverse curse technique to mend the harm.

Rainwater dribbles quietly through the pipes.

Geto thinks of a time when he could've laughed in this instance with gritted teeth, tell you not to expend so much cursed energy on him when Shoko could, and you had to save your power for the mission tomorrow. But now all he can bank on is your weakness.

He hums as your hand accidentally brushes a wide gnash on his shoulder.

'Careful. Dunno if the curse is still there.'

You remain silent.

You have the right to be.

'Who did this to you?' You wince at the way it sounds.

Like you care.

His heart lights up at the foolish idea. It truly mirrors a dream. But this time, he can turn around and your face is right there. There.

It doesn't vanish, but it also doesn't fray into warmth.

He lets out a frustrated exhale. 'It doesn't matter.'

But it does.

'Who did you fight?' you question again.

'... a jujutsu sorcerer.'

Your leg hits a cabinet door. He forces himself to raise an eyebrow.

'And what... happened... to them?' You're drifting further from him every second.

He knows exactly what you mean, what you don't want to say aloud. Horror shifts over your face before he even speaks- it's too far gone.

'I killed him.'

See, he wants to think he has the right to feel hurt by what you do next.

Fuck. You stumble back against the sink. You close your eyes, your hand moving over your mouth to stop you from retching to the smell of blood. A sorcerer's blood. An innocent sorcerer.

Just weeks ago, he stayed up all night listening to you cry on the phone, figured that as long as he didn't speak, he wouldn't be infringing on the moral code he set for himself. The sounds of your quiet sobs still wrack his body.

He figured he was smarter at the start. During the first two-three years, at every mention of your name, he'd depart, loading onto his schedule a series of exorcisms and executions to crowd you out of his mind. He was smarter then.

Now, he simply stands there, still. He waits for you to calm yourself because he knows he has no right to do anything else.

He was yours before he was ever slave to the cause- and fuck, does that realisation destroy him. (that he ruined the first good thing in his life)

'How old...' you mutter, '... how old were they?'

One shot after another, yeah?

'Seventeen,' he murmurs, his voice still damn silky smooth.

'How could you...' you stutter out. 'How could you?'

He remains silent. You have to think for yourself, he knows. He couldn't guarantee anything if he merely disarms you with his touch.

Though it doesn't hurt to hope.

'Seventeen,' you repeat. 'I was only seventeen when you left.'

'... I...'

He finally steps forward, unable to abide by his inner rules anymore. He is losing you. A small rebellious voice in him screams, finally! This is what you deserve!

'Please.'

'Leave.'

You're trembling.

He wants to close the gap. To reassure you that everything will be OK. But if he moves further by an inch, you'll call the cops. You'll call the higher ups. You'll call Gojo. He knows you.

'No.'

'You killed a child.'

'... I know.'

He knows, don't you get it? Nothing will ever be the same.

'I'm scared.'

'I won't hurt you.'

'Won't you?'

He stops. You, the image of his sparkling adolescence, crumbling away. With every little exhale you take, he sees the line he's drawn six years ago transform into a cliffside, the rift extending into a canyon.

'Don't you know I want you?' He bows his head like a man in prayer before you.

Wet hair against your warm breath. Strong arms beside you, locking you on the bathroom counter. The bitter lips you still remember now purple in the cold.

'You're leading me on.'

'No...' Geto buries his head in the crook of your neck. '... no...'

'I don't want this,' you say. He keeps his hands on your waist. 'I don't want you.'

At that, he lets out a noise truly pathetic for the man you once knew. He looks up and his purple irises still retain their watercolour beauty from back then. He looks up and, in you, he sees a lifetime. He presses his lips against your jaw and the scene blurs.

His thumb reaches up to brush the tear away.

'I'm sorry,' Geto says. 'For you. I don't care about those... non-sorcerers, but let me take care of you one last time, yeah?'

His eyes ache with that pathetic hope. He knows the future as well as you do.

You murmur out your words in a blank haze. 'Friends. W'broke up already.'

But did you? He still remembers how he never made things concrete, in the letter he left for everyone. He never spelled out the words 'over' or 'broken up' or even 'goodbye', perhaps because he knew he'd find his way back to you... too far gone.

If one puts a stethoscope at his heart, he's sure they can hear it break.

He swallows, nodding. OK. Friends. He can do that.

Friends. He'll make it up to you, he vows to himself. That night, Geto Suguru helps you take off your slippers, getting into bed. He notices how you don't say anything as he pulls you closer, cradling you as he used to do.

Missyoumissyoumissyou.

He scrunches his eyes shut. He feels no matter how close you are to him, you're not close enough- he sees the chasm of curses between you, haunting his sleep. Each time he wakes, he takes a moment to relish in the soreness of his arms, with you in them, and presses a chaste kiss on your head.

Your touch is all he needs in the world full of nightmares.

In the morning, before he leaves, he takes a cold shower in your bathroom. He pumps some coconut scented shampoo into his palm, lathering it through his hair. Sunlight eases through the curtains in your room. He paces to your bedside and lets his hand reach for you, touch your cheek, warm. Alive.

All he needs.

Geto Suguru leaves your house in the sixth year of his defection. He swears he'll never return.

...

Because I want to do everything that you want me to To tell you the truth

I need to stay alive, so sad that I could die

It’s leading me on, every time we touch Leading me on, every time it hurts series

#geto angst #geto suguru #jjk geto #jjk x reader #jjk angst #geto x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #geto suguru x reader

[quokkawritesarchive]

BLUE SUNRISE — JISUNG.

pairing: jisung x reader(afab) genre: smut, NSFW warnings: sub!jisung, noona!reader, age gap, slight degrading, face sitting, handjob, praising, use of “good boy” a/n: reposting this because my haters reported the original post LOL. also fyi jisung had blue hair for MAMA 2018 awards (december 10th). and he turned 18 in september. so respectfully get a life and fuck off my page

blue hair, a guitar over the shoulder, an earring in the lip and the eyebrow, big scared eyes — that’s what the guy looked like on your doorstep. 

“this is jisung.” your younger brother said, pointing behind him.

it was a month ago, in the middle of july.

your brother had just returned from college for the summer holidays and decided to bring a friend with him. why he had to be introduced to the whole family, you still couldn’t understand. but your first thought was that he was going to come out and introduce jisung as his boyfriend.  

contrary to the slutty look, jisung behaved very shyly. he hadn’t addressed you directly all evening, stood awkwardly in places, but continued to throw quick glances at you, probably thinking that you didn't notice anything.

inadvertently, you looked at him too, when he turned away. everything about him made you want to watch. sharp jawline that you thought you’d get cut if you touch it, eyebrow piercing with a large earring, vibrant blue hair, dark eyeshadow, but at the same time a beaming smile — the contrast was killing you.

fortunately or not, this was not your last meeting. your brother ignored your initial complaints and gradually you've started seeing jisung almost every day — watching him eat your family's supply of chips, play video game with your brother, stay for dinner and then overnight because it's "too late to go home". you gradually got used to seeing him in your field of vision so often.

but that didn't help the feelings you were fighting. jisung was the same age as your brother, which meant he was four years younger than you. it didn't seem right to think of him that way, but looking at the piercing in his lip, all you wanted was to know what it’d be like to kiss him.

no matter how hard you tried, it was impossible to ignore his presence. especially when he was walking around your house in his swimming trunks and calling you “noona”. you couldn't stop those butterflies in your stomach, and the desire to pinch him under you, make him moan your name. in the past month you realized how much you needed a dick. his dick. 

but jisung either didn’t notice how flustered you were getting next to him, or was afraid to overstep the invisible boundaries. he never looked at you longer than he was “supposed to”, didn't come into your room without knocking, didn't even touch you, and barely spoke to you. 

it was a game with fire. with such an age difference, if you were caught, you would get beaten up not only by your parents, but also by your brother. that's why all you could do was watch him from the sidelines, memorize his habits and things he liked.

you didn't notice how you learned every little detail about him. his favorite food was chocolate cake, the anime he loved to rewatch was “howl's moving castle”. he could fall asleep in any place and position, but at the same time he liked to do something until the sunrise.

it was the middle of the night when you heard strange sounds coming from the garage. for a second you got scared, because your family used it only as a storage. that's why the last thing you expected to see in this musty part of the house was jisung, enthusiastically playing something on the guitar at three in the morning. 

"i'm sorry... did I wake you up?" he let go of the strings, raising his head in your direction. strands of blue hair fell over his forehead and he casually brushed them aside without taking his eyes off you. it was unusual to see his bare face. without a heavy eyeshadow he looked even more like his age.

"no..." and you didn't lie. you really weren’t sleeping, jerking off at the thought of him fucking you raw. you were going to wash your hands, and finally fall asleep, but the noise brought you here. you awkwardly stumbled in the doorway, until jisung invited you in.

that night he sang you what he's been working on. he even showed his notebook — million of neatly written words on paper dedicated to someone. the intimacy of that moment was so unusual and strange for your relationship, it made you feel special. you will always remember it.

after reading a few lyrics, you realized that he was writing about a girl he couldn't get for some reason. the girl he fell in love with at first sight and now couldn’t get out of his head. 

and it hurt you to think that somewhere out there, most likely in college, there was a girl he wanted so badly that he even dedicated a song to her. you tried to act casual while listening to him sing. it sounded magical, and you admitted once again how talented he was. even though deep inside you felt like you were ready to cry. why did you even check this stupid garage?

despite your inner pain, your curiosity and desire to get to know him better were stronger. that’s how your musical nights started.

at first you only listened to him, but then you asked him to teach you how to play. and soon the night concerts turned into night lessons. 

the dim light of the floor lamp, dusty boxes and an old sofa in the corner, and the two of you in the center of the room — on chairs that should have been thrown away ten years ago. but even under those conditions, you were happy. you finally found an approach to jisung, found that point of contact, what unites you. 

the interactions outside of night hours changed too. jisung started to act more calmly around you. the greatest indicator of the changes were his light touches. he’s never touched you before, even when he started teaching you. but now he would grab you by shoulders when passing by, could grab your hands to put them in the right position, and other light skin contact that was putting your body on fire.

jisung was peaceful and focused during lessons, unlike you. it was hard for you to keep cool, after seeing him in pajama pants and a tank top only. his arm muscles were so prominent, especially when he was playing. he also had a habit of licking his lips quite often and playing with his earring. at first you thought he was teasing you, but nevertheless, your eyes kept gluing there.

“bb-dm-c and repeat bb-dm-c.” jisung’s fingers plucked the strings with ease, while you struggled to simply get yours in the right position.

you sighed heavily and buried your hands in your palms. everything was going wrong tonight. it all began with your ruined orgasm, when, for some reason, jisung knocked on your door thirty minutes earlier than usual. so now you were sitting with a puddle of wetness in your panties, trying not to squirm too much. you tried to follow his words, but your wet pussy was making you lose all your focus. your body didn’t even need a light touch from him — his presence was enough to cause a reaction.

"it's okay, noona.” he patted you on the shoulder and gave a reassuring smile. "look at me and try to remember the movements of my fingers, okay?" 

the melody of the chorus continued, followed by his soft hums. the truth was — you didn't exactly hear what he said. you only stared at his pretty lips moving, and the way he clamped the earring between his teeth, starting to play. you were so so down bad for someone you’ve only known for a month. he was your brothers friend for fuck’s sake. and still you couldn’t help but stare at his bare face like a lovesick fool, study how his biceps strained when he changed chords, notice his adam’s apple bobbing when he sang.

“got it?” jisung stopped, a bit of shyness still remained in his voice.

“y-yes…” you gulped and instantly nodded to save your ass.

god, why was he making you shutter like this?

“okay.” he put his guitar aside. “then show me what you’ve learned.” 

“w-what?! no! we just started on the chorus!” you wished you could scream louder, but it was already past two in the morning.

“sorry-sorry!” jisung immediately surrendered, his cheeks getting all puffy out of embarrassment. his tongue ran over his lower lip and stopped at the piercing, sucking on the metal.

you felt your pussy starting to throb even harder, and clenched your legs, not taking your eyes off his lips.

“i know.” not even a second of thinking jisung loudly sighed and stood up, now looking at you from atop.  

your heart started racing as you saw him towering over you. what was he doing? you were ready to apologize for being such a bad student and for wasting his time. guilt quickly took over your body and you gave him a sympathetic look.

“hey, i think we can continue tomor-” you began, but got cut off by his hands on yours bringing you up.  

“come here.” he said boldly, while leading you with him on the couch. “sit on my lap.”

“w-what?” your eyes were still on his hands, breathing becoming an impossible task as he shifted your body to where he wanted you to be. 

he placed one hand on your waist, pressing you closer to his chest, as the other picked up the guitar and put it over your legs. then he grabbed your hands and placed them on the instrument, seemingly ignoring your flustered state. his breath was ticking your neck, and you could feel his chest rising and falling as he breathed. thankfully, he couldn’t see your red face from behind. a soft hum escaped his lips as he seemingly got satisfied with the position you were in. 

“alright. try to remember where i place your fingers, ‘kay?” he said softly and you slightly jerked. 

it was the first time you were that close to each other. the wetness between your legs became unbearable, your panties were absolutely drenched by now.

you thought you would be able to sit through it until he placed his chin on your shoulder for a better view and his chest got pressed impossibly close to your back. that was it for you. if you didn’t get out of his lap now, you would end up fucking him right here.

“jisung- stop…” you sighed loudly, trying to get up. 

but your attempt was interrupted by his hands going on your waist again and holding you tightly in place.

“what’s wrong? i’m trying to help you.” 

did he really not understand what he was doing or was he just pretending?

“can’t you see how flustered you make me?!” you nearly yelled in annoyance, finally turning at him. 

“oh-“ jisung froze, blinking at you stupidly. “why?”

you were about to laugh in his face. 

“because you are so fucking hot?” the annoyance in your voice mixed with embarrassment. “are you really that dumb that you can’t see how i’m always horny and wet around you?!”

“oh- i-i’m sorry…” he said carefully, looking shyly to the side. “i actually didn’t realize that- i’m sorry…”

his face turned completely red, but his hands hadn’t left your waist. 

you weren’t even angry at him anymore, just insanely needy and turned on. the blush on his cheeks was so cute, and the way he avoided eye contact made you want him even more. you took him by chin and forcefully turned his head to face you. jisung gasped, still the most red you has even seen him be. 

“not so bold now, huh?” you teased and leaned close to him, so he could feel your breath on his lips. 

“i… uh- i-” it was unfair how he looked even cuter like that, all nervous under you. 

you would lie if you said you didn’t fucking adore this side of him. it also made you want to tease him more, so you did. 

“do you want me to kiss you?”

he stared at you dumbly for a second as if his brain stopped working.

“do i… noona… oh god-” his mouth hanged open as he gulped, and you smiled at his expression. fuck, how was he even real?

the room grew silent, nothing else other that the tense breathing from the two of you. jisung kept switching between your eyes and lips, while you were waiting, searching for a sign of discomfort, for him to say that he wasn’t thinking what you were thinking of right now. 

but he didn’t. he was just as desperate for you, licking his lips in anticipation. you could see how nervous he got by he way he kept twitching his piercing again. god, you wanted to feel it so bad. 

for the first time in your life, you weren’t afraid to make the first move. millimeters between your faces disappeared as you finally placed your lips on his, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him impossibly closer to you. his blue hair were soft and he moaned quietly, when you tucked your fingers in them. 

the sharp taste of metal mixed with his saliva and his scent, attacking your already throbbing pussy. it was unusual to feel something else other than tongue and lips, maybe even a little disgusting, but at the same time incredibly hot. as soon as you felt jisung’s body relax under you and he started stroking your hips, you ran your tongue over his lower lip and played with the piercing, just like he always did.

jisung’s eyes opened widely and he broke the kiss, groaning like an impatient puppy. 

“noona, what are you…” 

his shuttering only made you want act bolder with him.

“wanna continue or-”

“yes-yes! please, noona! please!” jisung mumbled, his doe eyes looking at you from below.

“you are so sweet, jisungie…” you chucked, leaning in again to leave a quick kiss on his neck. 

jisung joilted under you and you finally felt his eagerness poking your thigh. that only made your realize how badly you wanted to touch him more and you instantly reached down to grab on his dick through the fabric.

and then something happened — jisung whimpered… whimpered! and his expression settled into a mix of pain and desperation. it was an entirely new look on him — the one that you could only imagine in your fantasies before — a vulnerable, desperate side. clearly, he’s never looked like a dominant guy, but still you never would’ve thought you’d hear him whimpering under you. the wave of arousal that rushed down to your pussy almost made you pass out. 

“shit, shit!” he groaned, watching you with blown out pupils as you kept palming him through his pants. “ah, fuck! noona, that feels so good-“

“yeah?” you smiled cheekily, satisfied with a state you’ve gotten him into. “want me to touch you more?”

“mhm-“ he whimpered again. 

“shh, be quiet or you’ll get us in trouble.” you couldn’t forget about the fact that your entire family was still in the house sleeping. “if you keep whimpering like a horny bitch, someone will surely wake up.”

jisung’s eyes widened at your words and he bit his lip to suppress the sound that crawled up his throat.

despite your rebuke, you didn’t hesitate to pull down his pants and boxers, revealing his painfully hard cock. jisung hissed at the cool air, but still blushed, averting his gaze. the corner of your lips curved into a smirk and you pressed on the tip, watching the precum glistening. jisung let his mouth fall open in a silent scream of pleasure, his eyebrows furrowed together as he kept adjusting to new sensations. 

to his credit, he tried to listen, but only lasted for a few seconds. he thought he would actually be able to keep quiet, up until you wrapped your hand around his dick and started pumping him slowly. 

it was so enticing; this pace was too slow compared to how much jisung was turned on. but he kept sitting like a good boy, letting you control his body entirely. 

he was looking at you from under half-closed eyelids, sweaty bangs tousled over his face, and chest occasionally heaved as he let out the most pitiful sobs you've ever heard. you felt as another wave of arousal hit you and shifted slightly in place, trying to remove the tension between your legs.

you watched how the veins on his dick glisten with wetness, how the skin gathered at the head. the way you started to flick your wrist, with your palm sweeping over the leaking tip, made him cry out even more, moaning your name. 

“shh, remember what i said?”

“s-sorry- you hand feels so good… c-can’t-“ 

his whimpers were too good to your ear, and you couldn’t care less about being caught anymore. 

why did he have to sound so seductive saying that?

jisung was moaning and squirming, leaking so much precum that you could feel your entire wrist getting covered in his desire. 

“i’ve wanted this for so long.” he suddenly confessed, voice low and breathy. “why did you have to be such a tease, noona?”

his words made you pause for a second, staring down at him with a semi-surprised look towards his confession, until the realization hit you. he really was playing dumb this whole time! this little shit!

you gripped the base of his cock just a little too tightly, and pulled away to snap at him. “i’m not the one who teased.”

“‘m sorry- i just didn’t have the courage to make the first move, you know? i-i’m sorry! don’t be mad at me!” he kept blurting out, his mouth betraying him faster than his mind could keep up. “you look so hot and confident all the time, noona. of course, every guy is afraid to approach you!” 

“afraid?” you slowly asked, your hand hadn’t left the base of his cock, only wrapping harder around it. “are you afraid of me?”

jisung whimpered, bucking his hips up embarrassingly. 

“n-no, no! i’m just saying that you always look so pretty, and gorgeous, and hot, and i fell in love with you the day i saw you for the first time.” he started babbling, making you smile fondly. “i only hesitated, because you are that much older than me, noona. i didn’t think you would be interested. i even wrote songs about you…” 

as you were about to say you forgive him, he mumbled the last sentence in a quiet voice and looked at you with those doe eyes. 

oh, you were so stupid! you were about to smack your own forehead. how could you not put two plus two together this whole time? “the girl he couldn’t get and fell in love with at first sight?” of course!

“now shut up or i’ll stop.” you replied shyly, trying to act cool, while a pink shade of blush covered your cheeks.

“no-no, don’t stop. please. i’ll shut up. just don’t leave me here like this.” he said, clearly not shutting up and grabbed your hand in his, thrusting his hips slightly to meet the movements, silently demanding you to continue.

obviously, you wouldn’t leave jisung like this, especially after his confession. he was so stupidly cute, pure and adorable. you also couldn’t wait to see how he looks when he cums. almost as much as he needed to see you naked. you were still fully clothed sitting on top of him.

besides, it would be great fodder for your nights of shameful masturbation at the thought of this boy. 

“‘m close… aaghh! s-so close, noona!” the noises jisung let out were beautiful and breathtaking. in that moment you wished you could record some of it for yourself. 

despite that, you immediately pulled away, forcing him to open his eyes and pleadingly ask you: “noona?” 

“eat me out first like a good boy, ‘kay?” you whispered, sending a shiver down his spine with your words.

as you finally got off from his lap and started undressing you heard his husky voice saying: “fuck- that’s hot.”

you giggled, looking back at him. he was staring at you like a painting in the museum, watching carefully as your clothes flew on the floor, scared to miss any second of it. his breathing got heavier as he watched you reveal more and more skin, his mind flooding with thoughts that he shouldn’t be thinking. but it was too late. you looked so good to him, he could feel his dick twitching, aching for the attention it so badly craved. 

“enjoying the view?” you teased as you got rid of last bits of clothing. 

jisung blushed, but kept looking. his desire finally overcame his shyness. 

a shiver went through your body at the hungry look in jisung’s half-lidded eyes, now focused on the curves of your body. 

you pushed him on the chest, signalizing to lay on the back and he obeyed, watching you move up toward his face.

“fuck...” he breathed out in shock, pupils blown wide, lips parted before the corners pulled into a hungry grin. he couldn’t believe his luck.

you looked down at the hearts in his eyes as your thighs come to rest alongside his puffy cheeks. your pulse suddenly quickened at the realization — you were about to let your brother’s friend tongue fuck your dripping pussy.

“you are so hot, noona.” jisung speaked up once last time on the edge of a moan. his voice was rough, thick with arousal.

he wanted to be used by you so bad that he wasn’t sure he could handle holding back anymore. particularly, when your glistening pussy was just above his face.

abruptly, jisung’s palms cupped over your thighs and brought you down to his face. his movements started uncertain at first, almost unnoticeable, but after a few laps of the tongue, he adjusted the pace, making your mind already racing. you even nearly leaped off his face. 

“hold still, noona.”

the way he still kept calling you that while being completely crushed under your body made your breath hitch.

his hands gripped your thighs harder, locking you tight onto his face. you were not going anywhere.

all you could focus on was his tongue flicking up across your slick folds. he was eating your pussy like he was starving, paying no mind to your flinching.

he circled his tongue up around your clit. your moans came out hot and breathy, and you grasped at his blue hair, feeling overwhelmed.

“jesus, jisung… what the fuck-“

you could see the smile in his eyes and he only pressed into your clit harder after the praise. he was so damn proud of himself and the reaction he was getting from you.

“you taste incredible.” he mumbled before thrusting his tongue right into your cunt.

“oh- god! holy- fuck, slow down!” your plea was quiet and not convincing at all, especially when you started grinding on his face yourself. 

your eyes rolled back in satisfaction and moans were probably so loud, your whole family must’ve been behind the door already. but you couldn’t care less, when jisung was eating you out like this. he was just devouring you. your head fell back and you spread your knees to sink down further on his face. your worries about accidentally suffocating the poor guy have been dispelled as he adjusted his grip and wouldn’t let you back up.

his nose kept touching repeatedly on your swollen clit and you cried out at the pressure. you were starting to lose control, your body threatening to submit to an intense orgasm at any moment… and that’s when you stopped. 

“jisung-jisung, wait.” you put all effort to get out of his intense grip. 

“what?” the disappointed look on his face made you wanna coo at him. “did i do something wrong? you don’t like it?”

“no-no! of course not!” patting his cheek, you crawled to the bottom of the couch, right where his still hard cock was. “i wanna ride you.”

you could hear how jisung’s breath hitched once again and you put all your effort not to chuckle at him. 

you looked at his dick, trying to ignore the way your own breath hitched too. all you wanted right now was to sit on him, feel him fucking you raw. the fantasy you’ve been replaying over and over in your mind. 

“wait- before we start…” jisung interrupted you midway.

he propped himself up on the elbows and you watched him with a genuine confused look. but he didn’t stop, ending up with his face next to your breasts. 

“didn’t have time to feel them…” he justified himself and you chuckled in embarrassment. 

but that emotion left you quickly as he started kissing down your neck, pausing to nip at your collarbone. his hands followed the curve of your breasts and you panted loudly to catch your breath. 

the way he looked up at you while sucking on your hard nipple and pinching the other between his fingers, added to the heartbeat thumping between your legs. you breathed out his name shakily and bit into your lip. it was harder and harder to keep quiet.

jisung raised an eyebrow at you and flashed the naughtiest little grin, while keeping on playing with your breasts. you could feel the metal circle touching your sensitive flesh and it made you even more impatient.

“stop looking at me like that and let me ride you…” you scoffed, lightly pushing him in his chest. he sighed disappointingly, but complied. how could he possible be oppose that?

you wrapped your hand around his swelling dick and pumped it a little, giggling at his puppy-like whimpers.

“wanna fuck me?” you teased him, enjoying the desperation painted on his face. 

you were absolutely loving this.

“oh shit- yes-yes, noona.” he nodded as he bucked his dick into your grip. 

you leaned up and whispered in his ear. “wanna stretch me open? make me scream? watch how my tits bounce while i ride you? is that what you wanna do, jisungie?”

his face flushed completely at your words and he brought his hands to cover his pink cheeks, groaning in frustration. “stop…”

“aww.” you cooed. “is jisungie embarrassed? this is what you get for playing with me for so long.”

“but i apologized…” he pouted. 

“correct. this is exactly why i’m still gonna fuck you.” you said, smirking at the way his rosy cheeks darkened. 

dick pulsated hard in your hand as you slid it between your wet folds. jisung must have been so sensitive, moaning loud at this simple action, hands gripping on your thighs again. you let yourself sink down slowly, to feel and remember every second, every vein of his dick. a muffled moan came out of you as you sinked down further, arching your back. your heart pounded. 

slowly, your walls began to stretch around his thick head. the senses were overwhelmingly delicious.

“noona…” 

you were distracted by jisung’s whimpering underneath you. you opened your eyes and looked at his face, which showed a mixture of satisfaction, lust and embarrassment. 

“noona…”

“what, jisungie?”

“i-i don’t think i’ll last long, if you are this slow…” he swallowed, licking his lips. “i-i don’t wanna rush you, of course. b-but i’m so fucking close.”

“i’m not even halfway in, and you are ready to cum?” you forcefully raised your voice a little just to see his flush deepen.

“‘m sorry…” he whispered. 

“fine.” you sank down on his cock in one motion. 

it filled you to the brim, and you both gasped at the feeling. the look on his face was well worth it. his head fell back, bitten lips parted, cheeks flushed, brows furrowed. a ray of sunrise on his face. it was the first time you really noticed how beautiful he really was.

you started grinding your hips and groaning at the feeling of his cock stirring up your insides. his hands switched to your waist, helping you stay in place, and your grip switched from his chest to the arm of the couch as you kept working yourself up and down in his lap. he was so deep inside you.

“good boy, jisungie…”

another needy moan fell out of him and his face looked almost pained by your words.

he didn’t want this to stop. he didn’t want to cum so fast, trying his best to make you slow down, but all he could do was whimper and moan like crazy, which only fueled your desire to act rougher.

it was all just hot. you couldn’t even feel the cold air of the garage anymore, sweat forming on your skin. your head rolled back as you came, feeling the familiar pleasure spreading through your body. jisung came right after you, his cock throbbed painfully as he saw the fucked out look on your face. he came right inside you and you moaned in satisfaction, feeling the thick liquid spreading over the walls. 

heavy breathing and hot moans filled the room. jisung grinned when you mouthed a silent “fuck“ at him.

with his dick still inside you, you leaned in, letting your lips connect. you played with his tongue, enjoying the filthy squelching sound. that only made his pretty face to flare up even more.

“you look so cute like this, pretty boy. you can keep going on for me just a little more, can't you?" you said with a sweet voice, looking on his pretty doe eyes, making him feel like he really was the most special. 

he couldn’t help but mewl out a little “yes”, while another shade of blush spread across his puffy cheeks.

you still have some time before everyone wakes up.

-> reblog to support me, if you enjoyed reading this and please let me know your thoughts in the comments! ♡

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[arc-misadventures]

That Backfired, Sorta?

Salem standing over a bruised, and beaten, Jaune Arc bound to a chair. Preparing to interrogate him for information on the, Relic of Destruction.

Salem: I do find torture quite ineffective as a means of extracting information. So I choose to use more refined methods of information.

Jaune: Like… Grimm mind bugs that dig into my brain to get information?!

Salem: No.

Jaune: Oh that gods…

Salem: The shock from the bug going in kills them before anything can be extracted.

Jaune: Eh?!

Salem: Besides I have a far more effective means of getting information.

Jaune: Like what?

Salem: I can read minds.

Jaune: You can?!

Salem: I can.

Jaune: If you can do that, why did you beat, Oscar to a pulp instead of doing that?

Salem: Ozma.

Jaune: …

Jaune: Fuck that’s a good reason… B-But, you shouldn’t read my mind!

Salem: And, why shouldn’t I do that?

Jaune: You just shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t do that!

Salem: Oh~? Afraid I’ll find what I’m looking for if I do?

Jaune: I prefer if you did honestly…

Salem: Alright then. Let’ssee where your little friends have hidden my Relics!

Salem stared at, Jaune in the eyes, as a pearlescent screen covered her eyes as she stared into the depths of, Jaune’s.

Salem: “Now then, lets see what you’re trying to hide~!”

Jaune: P-Please … Stop!

Jaune could hear her voice in his head, he yelled in fear as she opened a door leading to that secret he was trying to keep away from her.

She smiled as she forced her way through the door, and as she entered the room in his mind her smile swiftly fell.

Salem: “W-What is this?”

Salem: “ … “

Salem: “Wait… i-i-is he kissing me?!”

Salem: “Why is he taking his shirt off?!”

Salem: “Ohh~! D-Did he just grab my b…?”

Salem: “Why is he taking his pants… Oh…? Oh my~!”

Jaune: What’s going on?!

Salem: “Really? Do you think you can so easily bed a, Queen with just that”

Jaune: B-Bed?

Salem: “Mmm~! So forceful~!”

Jaune: Get out of my head!

Salem: “What is this position?”

Jaune: The fuck are you talking about?!!

Salem: “You are so, so much bigger than, Ozma~!”

Jaune: Uhh…? Context?

Salem: “Inside? But, what if…? No… that’s precisely what you want, isn’t it?”

Jaune: What is it that I want?

Salem: “Oh you naughty boy~! Oh, what’s this? Aww… it’s over already?”

Jaune: What’s over already? Ahh?! What the hell are you looking at?!

Salem: “Oh? What’s this…?”

Jaune: What now?!

Salem: “My hand…? Is that… is that a ring? And, wait… my belly…”

Jaune: A ring, belly? Whaaaa?

Salem; “A boy…?”

Jaune: Eh?

Salem: “I never had a boy before…”

Jaune:Okayyyyy…?

Salem: “Oh, what’s this? Your mother’s record?”

Jaune: What record…?

Salem: “I could beat that, easily~!”

Jaune: What?!

Salem: “Wait? W-Where’s my baby boy?! Where’s my child?! And, whose hand is this?! Wait… This is… this is your hand…”

Jaune: My hand?

Salem: “Why is it all so wrinkly? Wait, no! Nonononono! Don’t tell me! Not again?!”

Jaune: What are you talking about?

Salem: “Y-You’re not leaving me…? B-But… you’re dying…”

Jaune: I’m dying?!

Salem: “In my heart…? you’ll always be with me… even if it’s just as a beautiful memory in my heart…?”

Salem: “I won’t be alone? How is that… My children…? My grandchildren…”

Salem: “I won’t be alone… I will still be loved… I will have a family…?”

Jaune: Okay stop this! G-G-Get out of my head!

Salem red eyes came back into view. She stared at, Jaune as she stood up, unsealing the bands that bound him to the chair.

Jaune rubbed his wrists as he watched, Salem take a nervous step away from him as a shy blush spread across her face.

Salem: Y-You said your name was, Jaune right?

Jaune: Yeah…?

Salem: So… do you want to try beating your mother record now, or would you prefer if we waited till after you’re body has healed?

Jaune: What are you talking…?!

Jaune stopped talking as he noticed something peculiar.

Jaune: “Why is she rubbing her thighs like that? The last time I saw a woman do that was when, Terra ask me to…?! Oh… Ohhhhhhh!”

Jaune: …

Jaune: N-Now is good…

Salem: Wonderful~!

#rwby #jaune arc #rwby salem #rwby ozpin #oscar pine #terra cortta arc #jaune x salem #salem x jaune #rwby grimmknight

[thebest-medicine]

Day 24: Pinned

Tickletober 2023 - My Hero Academia - Class 1A - lee!Bakugo, lee!Midoriya

[see my other tickletober 2023 fics]

[ao3 link]

A/N: first my hero academia fic??? neeed!!!! angry boy need tickled sometimes. god help whoever does it tho.

Summary: Bakugo is all three things: loud, angry, and ticklish. One of them is less obvious than the others, and he wants to keep it that way. 

Words: 1.4k 

…

Loud, angry, and ticklish — these were among the many words that could describe Bakugo Katsuki. Like his quirk, he was often explosive with his voice and his temper. Ticklish, though? That was a pretty well-hidden feature, and one that not many would be willing to try with him! Not that anyone had in a long time. 

Until today. 

The sound of tittering laughter and chatter, much too loud and too cheery to be school-related, drew an already grumpy Bakugo toward the common room of the dorms. It seemed to be the place to be, he realized, when he walked in and saw most of his classmates relaxing around the couch, laughing and talking.

“What the hell are you all laughing about in here?” Bakugo barged in, asking loudly.

“Bakugo! Come on, Sero was just telling us the funniest story about—” Ochaco waved him over.

Bakugo cut her off. “Why don’t you losers stop sitting around laughing and wasting all day and get some goddamn work done! Ugh, Icy Hot and I have been working twice as hard as the rest of you because of our extra classes, and now you’re all slacking off?! It’s gonna be way too easy for me to surpass you! Where’s the challenge in that!? Now get off your asses and stop slacking!!!” 

Everyone stared back at him, their giggling long gone.

“It’s Sunday afternoon Bakugo…” Momo sighed.

“Yeah, come on, even heroes need to rest.” Tsu added.

“It’s good for you to relax a little. We’re all still training super hard!” Mina assured her classmate.

“Shut up! You’re all just a bunch of slackers and losers!” Bakugo grumbled loudly.

“Would it kill you to relax? Maybe smile a little?” Kaminari asked.

Bakugo turned to look at him, glaring with fuming rage. 

“We’re not even doing anything to bother you, Bakubro, come on!” Kaminari bargained. “If you want to keep studying then go back to your room, you don’t have to sit here watching us relax if you don’t want to join us.” 

“I WANT YOU TO TAKE YOUR STUDIES SERIOUSLY SO THAT IT MEANS SOMETHING WHEN I KICK YOUR ASS!!!” Katsuki yelled back.

“Seriously, come on…” Kirishima sighed. “You know we’ve all been working hard, we deserve some chill time!” If he squinted, it almost looked like Bakugo was steaming with anger.

In the dorms, with his guard down, focused on arguing with his friends and surrounded by his classmates, Bakugo didn’t sense the approach of his childhood friend from behind until it was too late. 

With a wide grin on his face, Midoriya had managed to creep up behind the grumpy, yapping dog that was Bakugo. He remembered something about his friend from a long time ago, and though he hadn’t tried it in many, many years, he was sure it would help here.

It was a matter of moments between when Bakugo was yelling back at Kirishima and Kaminari and when he finally felt the presence of someone approaching from behind. He ignored it for a second too long. Midoriya’s voice was friendly as it chided. “Kacchan, why are you being so mean?” And suddenly there were accompanying fingers pinching along Bakugo’s sides. 

“—GET BACK TO WO-AHHIIHHH!” His rant cut off into a very un-hero-like squeal at the unexpected tickle. Bakugo’s face, which was already red with anger, ripened further as he slowly spun his head to look behind him at Midoriya. “What. The FUCK!!!” 

“What just happened!?” Kaminari asked, smirking.

“Was that you Bakubro?” Kirishima said in disbelief.

“Deku, what did you just do?” Ochaco laughed.

“Oh my gosh! Bakugo are you ticklish?” Mina grinned, wiggling in her seat.

“That’s so cute!” Tsu agreed.

“Wait what? I missed it!” Sero turned to face him better.

Bakugo growled. “Deku…” 

Midoriya’s eyes widened as he saw Kacchan shift his weight to launch an offensive his direction. “Wait! Kacchan, I’m sorry don’t kill meEE—” He quickly sped off with a squeal out of the common room and into the hall as Bakugo bolted after him as fast as he could without shooting out explosions.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU, DEKU!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know you would react so much!” Izuku laughed as he raced ahead of his rival and old friend. 

“SHUT UP AND PREPARE TO DIE!”

The rest of the class left them to it, not wanting to incur the wrath of a furious Bakugo as Midoriya just had. They were grateful to their classmate for allowing them to continue relaxing for a few more hours without having criticisms screamed at them. Bakugo had a point, but so did they. They would have to work hard but still relax hard, play hard. 

Down the hall, Shoji picked up the sound of a scuffle before everyone heard crash and tumble followed by the familiar sound of Midoriya’s laughter… though this time it sounded much more frantic than it usually did after a good story or funny joke. 

… 

Izuku didn’t know what he had been thinking when he’d tried to tickle Kacchan for a brief second in the common room of their dorm… He had been yelling at everyone and looked so angry, Izuku just wanted to distract him for a moment and maybe get him to relax or smile a little. He remembered having tickle fights with Kacchan when they were kids. It had been a long, long time. This time, he got the jump on him, just for a moment. It was in front of their classmates, so other people now knew Kacchan was ticklish. It made sense that he was so angry, he was angry a lot. But, it had been nice to catch a hint of his smile. Even if he had embarrassed him a little. 

Now that he’d done it, though, he realized too late the wrath he had provoked. 

Izuku sped down the hall as fast as he could, trying to race back to his dorm room in time to try to lock himself inside—though… Katsuki seemed mad enough that he might just activate his quirk and blow the door down. He didn’t make it far enough to find out, though. Bakugo crashed into him, shouting obscenities as he knocked them both to the ground. 

“Wait! Kacchan don’t! Not out here!” Midoriya yelped as Bakugo landed on him. He knew he was caught.

“Stupid Deku, see how you fucking like it!!” Bakugo growled, pushing Midoriya into the floor and kneeling over his thighs. He reached down, jabbing harsh, tickling fingers ruthlessly into Izuku’s sides. They squeezed up along his ribs and down to his hips. Izuku screeched out a laugh before flailing helplessly where he was already pinned. He tried to reach back behind him to grab or block a hand. 

“KACCHAHAHAN— I’M SORRYHEHEHE!” Izuku shrieked through his laughter. “IHIHIHI- I CAHAHAN’T BREHEHEATHE!” He cried, kicking into the floor. 

“Good! Die!!!” Bakugo answered, loud and angry, as he made a grab for Izuku’s wrist and hauled it up over his head. 

“NOHOHOHO— STAHAHAHAHOP!” Izuku cackled. 

Bakugo drilled fingers into his exposed armpit, and Midoriya felt tears welling in his eyes. Bakugo was ticklish, certainly, but Midoriya was… well neither of them had ever met anyone else so sensitive. How strange a trait for one determined to be the number one hero — to crumple and fall apart in the face of some simple tickling. Though, he wouldn’t call what Bakugo was putting him through ‘simple’. 

The way Bakugo saw it, the others may have seen that he was ticklish, but if he could make enough of an example out of Midoriya, no one else would dare try it again. He hoped. 

Midoriya’s other arm flailed and tapped out helplessly on the ground as Bakugo took advantage of every ticklish spot he could remember. The tickling hand even snuck down beneath him to claw against his stomach. “PL-PLHEEHEHEHEASE KACCHAN IHIHIHIHIHI CAN’T! CAHAHAN’T TAKE IT! AHAHA-STAHAHAHAHAHA—” 

Katsuki leaned in closer, still tickling viciously. “Never. Ever. Fucking. Do that again.” He paused for a second, his hand freezing against Izuku’s sides. “Understand me?” 

Izuku breathed in a few times, panting for air and giggling each breath out. After a few seconds, he spoke up. “Y-You mean like in front of people or just in general?” 

Bakugo’s face went red as he shouted, “IDIOT!” and started tickling anew. 

“WAHAHAIT NOHOHOHOHO!”

#tickletober 2023 #tickletober23 #ticklish!bakugo #ticklish!midoriya #my hero academia tickling #tickle fic #mine #fluff #class 1a #bakugo katsuki #kacchan #deko #izuku midoriya #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #tickling #loud angry ticklish #revenge #embarrassment #my fic #bakudeku #bkdk #dkbk #mina ashido #denki kaminari #kirishima eijirou

[vampyre-boyfriend]

Continuation of this post!

More of this au idea cuz I'm bored.

"really? You love me? Someone doesn't do this to the people they love. you could have at least told me you were alive. You didn't have to be in my life. I just..." Gary chokes on his words as a sob comes out "Do you know how fucking agonizing those months you where missing before they told me you where dead were? I stayed up every fucking night having panic attacks because I didn't know if you where kidnapped or dead. I had a fucking funeral for you and your family, Simon." Ghost feels guilty but more angry than anything. How could this world's ghost put Gary through this? He can see the logic behind it though. None of Ghost's enemies would go after Gary if Gary didn't even know ghost. "I'm sorry" Ghost couldn't even bring himself to look at Gary. "Thats all I hear out of you! That you are sorry. I want to know why. Why didn't you come find me?"

"I did! As soon as I got the chance to I did" Ghost says just under a yell, his heart screaming at him.

"oh yeah and it took you 10 fucking years to do so, huh?"

"it's not like that i just-" Ghost stops himself, Gary isn't going to believe him so what's the point?

" you just what?" Gary got silence in response to his question "I think you should leave, I don't think it's safe for Riley to be around someone like you."

Ghost spilled his Guts at being told to leave. Telling Gary everything about where he was from. That Gary was called Roach and that they were teammates. That they were betrayed...that he watched the love of his life get shot right in front of him and that before he could react he felt the sting of a bullet ripping into his face before waking up here.

"God, you always made the worst jokes you can't seriously think I'mma believe that." roach laughed, his smile quickly dropping looking at how serious Ghost looked "...oh my God. You seriously want me to believe you?".

"I know it sounds ridiculous but you have to believe me."

"you are right it does sound ridiculous! Get the fuck out. You abandoned me. You don't get to come back into my life and tell me you love me then make up some crazy ass story when you realize your plan didn't work."

Ghost left his number before Gary kicked him out. Hoping that Gary would use it. He drank his sorrows in a bar. Fuck this wasn't how it was supposed to be. At least Gary is alive....this Gary is that is. Was his Gary dead? Did shepherd get away with killing them? Did Gary die scared? Did the first shot kill him or did he die slowly? Thoughts like that just made him drink more. He didn't know how long he had been drinking for when he heard his phone buzz in his pocket. He picked it up, his heart racing. "Simon? I'm sorry for how I acted. I put Riley to bed so can you come back over? I'll entertain your story."

(Or something like that I'm not a writer)

Oh shit part 3????

#call of duty #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #ghost x roach #cod roach #call of duty roach #roach #roach/ghost #roach x ghost #ghost mw2 #ghostroach #ghost cod #ghost #ghost/roach #09' ghost #09' roach #cod mw3 #cod fanfic #fanfic #fanfic ideas

[moongothic]

If being weak is a "sin" in Crocodile's mind, then isn't a painful defeat and maybe even death rightful punishment for it? A punishment you deserve for your crime of "being weak"? That's an intriguing mindset from him because it makes me wonder how Crocodile might view his own past and the things he has gone through? I might not go as far as to say Crocodile "blames himself" for the things he's gone through, as he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who dwells on the past like that. But I do feel like Crocodile has accepted in his mind that things like losing his hand happened because he was weak, and it was his own fault. That he can not blame anyone else for what has happened to him. He fucked around and he found out.

It's just interesting because to some degree, One Piece thematically does agree with this sentiment, this is a world where the strong eat the weak. (One example at the top of my head; Luffy refusing Katakuri's apology when his sister intervened with their battle, saying he should've dodged the attack properly if he didn't want to get hit.) Chaka falling in this scene and being unable to stop Crocodile may lead to the deaths of so many more, including his loved ones, and if that comes to pass, it's is Chaka's own fault. For being too weak. But also Crocodile has twisted that idea; Crocodile is using his worldview here to justify himself and essentially saying he can do this (take over Alabasta and kill a million innocents doing so) and get away with it because he's powerful. When in reality "weakness is a sin" isn't about the survival of the fittest, but how this is a world where the strong are meant to protect the weak. (See: Luffy) (Also how Pell told Baby Vivi in that flashback about how he trains so he can protect the Royal Family; again, he he craves power not to oppress the weak but to protect them)

But, just to get back to Crocodile again, I feel like this worldview might also give us more insight as to how he acts in certain situations post-Alabasta. Like when we see Crocodile towards the end of Miss Goldenweek's cover story, both when he declines to escape from jail and in his Impel Down mugshot, Crocodile has a smile on his face. That really is the face of a man who has accepted his fate, is it not?

"Welp, this is what I get for losing to a child in flipflops"

Or when we see him come collect his debt from Buggy; Crocodile seemed quite relaxed and fully admitted he had assumed Buggy would've ran away before he even got there to collect his money. Of course, considdering his trust issues Crocodile would've been mentally prepared for Buggy skedaddling anyways, but the fact that he loaned the clown money to begin with while assuming he'd probably never get that money back-- like Crocodile knew that was going to happen and he just accepted it. And just rolled with it.

Of course, when things take an Unpleasant, Unexpected Turn, he will blow a fuse. Multiple, even.

Him angy

IDK man this is all just interesting to me

#Moon posting #OP Meta #Sir Crocodile #No I did not really have a proper thesis for this post #More just that like. IDK although I talk about Crocodile probably having a whole lot of Unresolved Trauma #I don't mean that in a ''he cries himself to sleep every night'' kinda way (doesn't seem like something he'd do anyways) #More in a ''shit changed the way he views the world forever in a negative way'' kinda way #Does that make sense? IDK #But yeah he does seem like he accepts what he has gone through and has moved on from it (taking 'important lessons' with him) #Sidenote I did check what he says in Japanese in this scene and the ''unforgivable'' was added by Viz here. Good localization #Also that does tie in nicely to how Crocodile always seems to have backup plans for his backup plans #How he seems to considder every potential thing that could go wrong and tries to account for them.

[cod-dump]

I’m not Simon Riley, I’m Ghost - Chapter 20

———

Blood in his mouth, on his claws and clothes. A bloody corpse before him, he didn’t stop until he knew the inexperienced mage was dead. And once he was, Ghost turned what truly mattered.

Soap was staring blankly before him, one fist gripped tightly and the rest of his body remained limp. If Ghost didn’t know any better he would’ve assumed Soap was injured, paralyzed beyond any possible movement. He knew better, he knew this was a spell. But the mage who apparently casted it was defenseless when Ghost charged him, not a single spell used to try to stop him.

Ghost’s kneeled next to Soap, he could hear his heartbeat. It was slow, his blood was at a practically halt in his veins. Breath nonexistent. But he was alive, frozen almost. His eyes did nothing as Ghost touched his face, there wasn’t any indication that Soap even knew he was there. Ghost’s gaze returned to his tightly gripped hand.

He gently pried it open, knowing that acting quickly with such a spell in effect would cause serious damage. Once Ghost managed to lift Soap‘s fingers away, he saw the source of the problem. A ring. Silver with engravings on it. A conductor, a magic conductor. For mortals incapable of harnessing magic themselves.

Ghost took the ring and pocketed it. He knew nothing of magic or the magic that humans harnessed. Breaking the ring could permanently leave Soap like this, frozen or barely alive. He needed to find someone who knew what to do, someone who knew magic. And that task itself almost gave Ghost a headache just thinking about it.

The smoke from the building above finally coated the room they were in. The soldiers above who Ghost surprised by bursting through the wall were either dead or ran off, abandoning their temporary base and leaving it to the flames. Though the spell prevented Soap from moving, from speaking and even being aware, it was protecting him from inhaling the flames. He was barely breathing as is.

Soap’s luck will forever amaze him.

”You’re a fucking idiot,” Ghost hissed as he picked up Soap, making sure not to act too quickly, “A lucky idiot, but still an idiot.”

Ghost secured Soap in one arm before he moved, quickly getting them out of the building as it burned away, collapsing into the ground. When they got outside, Ghost was surprised to find Engel waiting for them. Glowing, energy crackling around him.

He took note of the sergeant, energy fizzling out before he was once more human… in appearance.

”That’s why you took off the way you did… the director was startled by what he saw on the cameras.”

Ghost would normally be on edge, a human having footage of him would’ve sent him on a rampage to destroy it. But he had Soap in his care and Price at his back. He could care less about the footage.

”Had to go get my sergeant before he killed himself. I’m sure this is plenty of evidence to prove to the director he should back down.”

The bodies should be enough, their gear marked with the same emblem that their arms dealer identified himself with. The weapons that were in secured storage were ripe for the taking. Ghost had no doubt Engel could get what he needed before the flames engulfed it all.

”Yes… it is enough… Your sergeant is entranced.”

”Can you do something?”

”Yes. I take it that the spell was casted by an enhancer?”

”Conductor. A ring.”

”Hm… Take him back to the base. I’ll see what I can do before you return. I doubt you will be able to have a coherent conversation with the director at the moment.”

Ghost wanted to laugh, the thought of Director Bonnet unable to treat him as he did before, as a man. It was amusing. There was plenty of time for laughter, but at the moment Ghost needed to get Soap back to base safely.

So he started walking.

—

At the end of his walk, Ghost was greeted quickly and rather aggressively. As he had walked back on base, a force of armed soldiers would surround him.

DGSE agents had guns pointed, uneasy by Ghost’s earlier display. He would’ve growled, made a show for them daring to point their weapons at him. But he had Soap in his arms and while the spell he was under protected him from the smoke back at the warehouse he was held at, a bullet would still hurt him — Kill him.

”Put those guns down, now.”

Ghost shouldn’t have been surprised considering things, but Farah’s appearance still startled him. The DGSE took her orders into thought before they lowered their weapons, the woman glaring at them before she turned to Ghost.

”MacTavish- Is he alright? Alive?”

”He’s alive, paralyzed by a spell.”

”Fuck- More like frozen. Where’s the mage that casted the spell?”

”Dead,” and he didn’t regret how satisfying it was to say it.

Farah scoffed loudly, full of disbelief. Some spells could be modified, unique to the one who casted it. Meaning it’s very difficult to safely break the spell. But the man who casted it used an conductor, he had no personal connection to the spell he used, the magic did not pass through him to create it.

”A conductor was used.”

Farah visibly calmed, “Shit… get him to the plane. We’re leaving.”

”Engel said he could lift it.”

”Right… him.”

Farah ushered Ghost and Soap to the plane, their things were already there and Lieutenant Jamison was pacing anxiously. She seemed relieved to see them and then she tensed. Ghost chalked it up to the blood splattered across him and Soap’s unnerving limp body in his arms.

”Shit-“

”He’ll live.”

Ghost tensed before he slowly lowered Soap into a seat. He looked over to see Nik, watching them carefully from the back of the plane, near the door to the cockpit. He was observing only Ghost and he obviously didn’t care enough to hide it. He stepped forward, his and Ghost’s gaze locked onto each other. This was the first time Ghost had seen Nik since the big reveal, since Hassan was taken down.

He didn’t like that he couldn’t get a read on Nik, never could. And right now while the man stared him down shamelessly. Farah stood next to Ghost and Nik turned his gaze on Soap. Ghost looked at Farah who had a hard glare directed at Nik before she turned back to him and Soap.

”The Captain never mentioned you when he said he was sending someone to get us.”

”Nik and I were working nearby. John asked Nik for a favor and he agreed, I decided to tag along.”

She turned her attention to Soap, “Do you have the conductor on you?”

Ghost fished out the ring from his pocket, Farah carefully taking it from him. She looked at the engravings and gently turned the ring in her hand. She cursed in Arabic before she turned back to Ghost.

”The gem is missing.”

”Gem?”

”Most conductors have a piece of raw material with a direct connection to the realm of magic. This one is missing it. Unless the mage had a separate item on his person.”

Ghost cursed, already standing to head back to the warehouse. He wasn’t familiar with magic or how humans harnessed it, he didn’t know that there was meant to be a gem with the ring. He didn’t know that the mage had something on him to pull the magic to the ring. Yet he still felt like he should’ve, for Soap’s sake.

Farah placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him still.

”You’ll waste too much time going back to find it. We’ll take Soap back to base and I’ll-“

Farah cuts herself off and Ghost feels a bristle of electricity in the air. He turns to see Engel standing on the edge of the ramp of the plane. Ghost noted the lack of agents, like they had all suddenly decided to go back inside. As if Ghost was no longer a threat.

”Lieutenant,” Farah stared Engel before he looked to her, “Commander Karim. A pleasure.”

Farah nods her head to him but said nothing. He looks to Nik before he walks up the ramp, stopping when he nears Ghost.

”You have the conductor?”

Farah looks to the ring in her possession before she holds it out to him, “Mind if I record this?”

”For your records, Commander?”

”ULF tries to keep it up to date with… well, everything we come across. Big universe, we like to be somewhat informed what’s in it.”

Engel looks her up and down before he nods, his silent permission. Ghost knew Farah already had recordings of him, already had written down much about him, all without permission. Her asking Engel just shows while neither seemed to know what he was, it was clear he was overwhelmingly benevolent in nature. Unlike Ghost.

Engel slid the ring onto his middle finger, Ghost watching in fascination as the ring adjusted to fit perfectly. He flexed his hand and the ring started crackling to life. Ghost felt his heartbeat speed up as Engel approached Soap. Farah had her phone out, recording as Engel took Soap’s forearm in hand with the ring in direct contact with his skin. A moment would pass before what looked like blue lines darted across Soap’s skin, gone in an instant. And as soon as they left, Soap‘s breath returned to a normal pattern of visible intake and exhale.

Ghost let out a breath of his own. Soap was free of the spell, yet he was unmoving. He sat there, unaware, eyes focusing on nothing. Engel swiped his hand over Soap’s face, closing the man’s eyes before he stepped away.

”Why isn’t he waking up?”

”That was a powerful spell on him, Lieutenant. It’ll take some time before the fog clears and he’s back up,” Farah said, putting her phone in her pocket after seemingly saving the video she had taken.

”It was a heavy spell,” Nik confirmed, “Looked like it wasn’t measured correctly when it was casted. But Soap will be fine.”

Ghost grunts, focusing on Soap.

Jamison finally cleared her throat, reminding them of her presence.

”We should leave before the director makes an appearance.”

”Let him. He touches my plane and I’ll make him regret it.”

Jamison eyes Nikolai before the man turns and walks back to the cockpit. Engel steps away from Soap, Ghost moving closer to the unconscious man as he did. Engel removes the ring and holds it out to Farah.

”I trust you’ll keep this out of the wrong hands.”

”You trust it in mine?”

”You look like you can handle it.”

Engel turns and makes his way out of the plane, Ghost watching him from the corner of his gaze.

”I’ll handle Bonnet. At least until you’re in the air.”

Then he was gone. Ghost has seen the vanishing act before from entities that weren’t as subtle. It was obvious that they were there beforehand, having made some noise to indicate that they had left. But Engel? Ghost didn’t like how he left so silently, as if he wasn’t there to begin with. If he didn’t feel the change in the air then Ghost would’ve questioned having seen the entity at all.

Farah leans over to secure Soap into the seat but Ghost looks at her, the woman stopping as he did. She moves back carefully, watching him with curious eyes.

”Grab a seat. Nik has rough take offs.”

A loud scoff comes from cockpit and Farah smirks before she turns and heads towards it. Jamison silently secures their bags before she sat down on the other side of the plane. Ghost straps Soap in before he sits next to him. He didn’t even think about it, but the strangeness of it all was creeping on him. He looked at Soap, watching him breathe and listening to his heart before he huffed.

This was all very strange and he could already hear Runt’s nagging and Price’s lecture over what happened. Ghost leans back in the seat, allowing his eyes to close and let himself rest as they head back to 141 base.

———

#eldritch fic #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #fic #fanfic

[lieslab]

The depths between: Chapter three

Trigger warning: Brief mention of blood.

Chapter two

A/N: I'm sorry this is short. I'll try to make it up in the next one. I recently started a new job and I'm trying to juggle getting used to that, writing tumblr drabbles, writing a full story, and figuring out life in general.

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

The moment Hyunjin’s body sank beneath the depths, he snarled. His curled fingers stretched forward and jerked down. The pliable webbing between them helped manipulate the water. 

Beneath the water, despite it being night time above, sirens could see perfectly. They were each equipped with their own black and white version of night vision. 

His brows furrowed once he made out the floating image of Felix staring at him disapprovingly. Hyunjin’s nostrils furrowed and he shot out a huff of displeasure. 

“How many times do I have to tell you to leave cruise ships alone?” 

“Fuck off!” 

“You promised!” Felix shot back. 

Hyunjin’s fingers curled and pressed into his palms. He hated that Felix was right, he had promised. It was the one thing he hated about being indebted to people. He felt like he owed them his life. In the case of Felix, he did. 

Dark and light sirens don’t interact with each other. Dark sirens are exactly how they sound; dark, broadening, cold, and cruel. Light sirens are the opposite. When they see each other, they avoid one another like the plague. 

That’s how it had always been since some of the dark sirens began to kill the light sirens. There wasn’t much of a reason why other than because they could. They were the most dominant force in the open waters. Beneath the surface, there were thousands of them just out of reach. 

Hyunjin knew he was in a dangerous area. He was warned about staying away from the fishing ports, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to be the one to destroy a boat filled with people. He couldn’t help that violence was laced in his nature. 

It was evening when he swam close to one of the boats. He didn’t consider that the boat might haul up their daily catch. The net shot up before he realized what was happening. 

Like a venus fly trapped, he was clasped inside and enclosed. Multiple different species of fish pushed against his body. He gritted his teeth and swiped towards them, attempting to free himself. 

Instead of freeing himself, he found more fish. Blood mixed with water and disoriented his vision. He jerked around against the scaled force. The fish were everywhere and there was no escape. 

They pressed against his bare chest. His arms were coated in irritation from thrashing scales. A dorsal fin brushed against his ear. A different tail fin scratched the inside of his nose. When one of them attempted to swim into his mouth, he screamed. 

Not far away, Felix was swimming around and observing. As a light siren, his golden tail speckled beneath the sun. He was a treasure beneath the waves, but he had been precautious in his journey to the fishing boats. 

Over the past two weeks, he spent his time studying the boats and learning what nets went up at what time and where they were. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to go near the fishing boats, but nobody had stopped him either. 

Now and then, he’d sneak over to a net, grab different parts, and he’d start to gnaw. It was funny to see the fisherman crews’ confusion and distress. Overfishing was a huge issue and he was happy he could put a stop to it. 

The high-pitched siren sound caught his attention right away. His yellowed hair floated up everywhere as he searched the water trying to find the sound. When he found the net slowly ascending a few boats away, he took off. 

He didn’t know the siren trapped in the sea of fish was a dark siren. Even if he would have known, he would have helped out anyway. Despite everything the dark sirens did, it wasn’t in his blood to hate. 

Once he arrived, he jerked at the bottom of the net. Clinging to it with one hand, it pulled his body up with it. He clawed through the fibers with his nails. He tried to make it large enough that a fish could get through. 

When the gap was large enough, one of the silvery-blue fish jerked itself out. Another quickly followed and then another and another. Felix grabbed more fibers and began to rip them apart. 

The fish spat out and jutted off in multiple different directions. The force of escapism forced them all to shoot out one after the next after the next. They nearly blinded Felix in the haze of it all as the net continued to rise. 

When a human hand shot out of the hole, Felix reacted quickly. His fingers gripped it tight and he yanked. Amidst the fish, Hyunjin’s body was jerked through the hole. 

At the sweet release of freedom, he gagged and wiped his mouth. Every siren tended to have different dishes they enjoyed. Hyunjin consumed his fair share of octopus, eels, and squid. Fish were the one thing that he absolutely couldn’t stand. 

“I’m going to kill all of you!” He screeched at the dispersing fish. Another gag soon followed. 

Felix blinked in shock at his behavior. The fish hadn’t done anything to him, at least, not on purpose. They were scared just like he was. 

By the time Hyunjin finished his miniature freak out and pouting session, an angry glare was shot towards the rising net. All that was left behind were the dead fish that had their lungs punctured by Hyunjin’s claws. 

“And one day, I’ll kill you too, you fishy bastards!” His fist shook up towards the fishing boat. 

It was interrupted by Felix’s laughter. Hyunjin had been so preoccupied, he hadn’t realized that there was a light siren behind him. Staring into the whites of Felix’s eyes was definitely new. He had never bothered interacting with the light sirens. His own kind said it was pointless. 

“What the hell are you laughing at?” He snapped. 

“You. You’re acting like they can hear you. This is your own fault and you got yourself into this predicament. Haven’t you been told to stay away from the fishing boats? That’s why you shouldn’t rush into this area.” 

“I’ll kill you too.” 

Felix didn’t mind Hyunjin’s negativity. To Hyunjin’s shock, Felix stuck an arm out towards him with a smile. “Hi, I’m Felix.” 

Hyunjin wanted to rip his claws across his throat right then and there, but he couldn’t. Felix had just saved his life. He, at least, deserved some sort of thank you for that. A brief internal debate led him to sticking out his own hand. 

“I’m Hyunjin.” 

Back in the present time, Hyunjin was fuming. Felix never let him have any sort of fun. The cruise ship was the first ship that he had seen in nearly two weeks. It was the first time he’d be able to actually kill a person and Felix ruined it. 

There was a thrill involved with it. The panic that engulfed a dying person was his pleasure. The way they withered while choking on salt water. He remembered the burn himself. Watching other people die the same way he had, it set off an internal blaze. 

“You know how much cruise ships mean to me. Why can’t you kill something else? I’ve already told you that we’ve been tracking a group of male dolphins that keep harassing female dolphins and yo-” 

“Murdering dolphins isn’t like murdering people! How many times do we have to go over this? Just leave me the fuck alone and fuck off!” Hyunjin dived further down and steered left. 

“Hyunjin, you know that I-” 

“Save it!” He shot back. 

Felix was left with nothing, but gentle ripples from where Hyunjin once was. No matter what he tried to do, Hyunjin would never lose his malice. In their world, the dark sirens always won. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Next part: Coming soon

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#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #skz fanfic #stray kids au #lee felix #lee felix x reader #lee felix x y/n #lee felix x you #stay #hwang hyunjin

[weebsinstash]

I'm sorry but I'm going insane for your idea of Lilith and Luci getting a sinner pregnant together can we please have more of your thoughts on this idea 🙏

Absolutely because I'm a dirty little heathen and Season 2 isn't just about to magically pop up out of the ground and I've had SOME THOUGHTS and also this post is way longer than it should be 💀

I was sitting and I was thinking of the concept of the Hotel having communal breakfasts or having at least one day of the week where there's food served and everyone (typically) eats together, not only as a bonding/unity sort of thing but also simular to how real hotels can have complimentary breakfast as part of your stay, and like, yeesh this is actually an entirely separate fic idea in of itself but you're talking with Alastor and you're saying something along the lines of "oh yeah, well, I was actually starting to think a lot about motherhood before I died, but, raising children is so complicated, not to mention society right now is so genuinely hostile and dangerous to children, and i wouldn't have been able to afford it anyways, and, well, you know, NOW i literally can't have them down here"

AND FROM THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE END OF THE TABLE

COMPLETELY UNPROMPTED

HERE'S LILITH, "Oh! It wouldn't be impossible at all! You and Lucifer could still have a baby :)"

RECORD SCRATCH SOUND EFFECT AS EVERYONE LOOKS TO THE QUEEN OF HELL. She seems completely unbothered while her husband is A TOMATO, he can barely even look in your direction, he's just tugging on her sleeve, "L-Lili, cmon, don't say things like that 😳🥴" and awkwardly laughing, maybe even asking to speak to his wife in private (I feel like its a regular occurrence for these two to dip out of a room and reappear and Lilith is reapplying her lipstick as she re-enters followed by a kiss covered Lucifer lmao)

Can you even imagine going to Charlie, "hey um, this is awkward, your mom keeps like. Jesus please don't kill me I'm not a homewrecker but your mom keeps making comments about me having a baby with your dad and she sounds completely serious about it and shes been bringing it up for like two weeks" and you could not be saying this in a more obvious "hey girl this is weird and I don't like it, can you chat with your parents for me to stop this" kind of way BUT, the actual way Charlie is responding ALSO THROWS YOU OFF. I can see it already, Charlie all but LIGHTS UP WITH EXCITEMENT and she, takes a breath, "oh!! I mean!! You don't have to do anything you don't want to obviously, bbBUT UH THAT BEING SAID oh gosh that sounds like it would make you really happy, aaaaand and I know you wanted a family of your own and, hey isn't this place about new beginnings and" GIRL WE AREN'T HAVING A BABY WITH YOUR DAD TF?

You know how I made that post "hey Lucifer kind of appears to have these vague Master Of All type powers down in Hell, what if he could manipulate your dreams and made you dream about being a kid because he's wanting to heal your inner child/adopt you". I also started thinking recently about Lucifer AND OR Lilith using these powers to make you dream about 1) being with them in general and more specifically 2) motherhood and i started mentally deep diving for that shit. Like. It could genuinely actually get so fucked up actually. Could you imagine you're just, VULNERABLE with the Queen of Hell and you're drunk and you're crying and you're just, SPILLING EVERYTHING, she's getting your entire life's story, and she's petting your hair as youre way too drunk to realize youre telling her way too much, amd she's just thinking "oh you poor thing, human society sounds absolutely dreadful now" and like. Think of it from a hypothetical fantasy psychology perspective. It's not like Lilith has never been part of modern society, she's been a member of Hell forever and has only been out of contact for 7 years, BUT she also exists from a time predating all of that AND she built Hell with Lucifer, so like, imagine she actually starts forming some um Strong Opinions on how, it sounds like all these complicated modern things are really dragging you down, both as a person and as a free spirit, and comes to a consensus that your life needs to be a little... simpler

I'm serious, I'm talking "Lilith makes you dream about being In The Actual Goddamn Garden Of Eden Itself with her and Lucifer and you're ALL naked". Just completely controlling your dream. You're naked as the day you were born and so are they and you can't control your dream at ALL. Lilith is wanting to like, watch you peacefully frolic around, I'm talking she wants to see you having your Hot Nymph Summer where you're napping in beds of flowers and you're having birds land on your finger and you're gasping at all the pretty flowers and wanting to explore and, experiencing the beauty of being alive without all these messy modern nuances and it's like NO MAAM I DONT WANT TO PICK BERRIES FROM THAT BUSH, YOU CAN SEE M Y BUSH AND I CAN SEE YOURS AND YOUR HUSBANDS---

Alastor is over here thinking he's hot shit, "oh I do so wish we could return to simpler times without all these modern trivial problems!!" MEANWHILE LILITH IS LIKE. ACTUALLY GOING THAT EXTRA MILE. Alastor is like "boo cellphones are bad and women dont dress modestly enough, people these days spend too mych time with technology and not with family" meanwhile in "the garden" a completely naked Lilith is braiding your hair and weaving flowers into it while an also completely naked Lucifer is feeding you berries by hand as they discuss the idea of having a nice fun swim in the lake passed the glade, like you guys really are frolicking and fucking around like a bunch of fairies and it's. It's peaceful and fun but also you miss your cellphone and having underwear 😩 like miss queen of hell can I PLEASE get some boob support--

Moving on, I was thinking of the Fake Garden in of itself, as its own idea, but like in this poly baby raising context, it would be essentially Phase 1 of the plan to normalize their presences to you and make you more comfortable around them and then skipping into Phase 10 of "oh hey by the way you're gonna have a dream about um sleeping with the King and Queen of Hell and it's Totally Not Real and you're Totally Definitely Not Actually Like For Real For Real Legitimately Pregnant Now ;)" like. First off before I get any farther in this post can we just like acknowledge the like HEINOUSNESS of you not knowing everything is "real dreams" and LiliLuci using this to their full advantage to ask and find out anything about you because basically to them, they think you're just being boggled down and negatively influences by modern human society and you're like an onion they have to peel some layers off of first to expose those juicy inner tender bits

Just. Ok. Like. High level fantasy horror concept ok, here we go I'm gonna cook here:

It eventually does move on to you having dreams about living in an actual home with Lucifer and Lilith, sleeping with them in you know, All Those Ways, basically in what you think is some weird imaginary throuple that while you do find yourself enjoying it like actually, you can't wake up from it, and these dreams can feel WAY too long sometimes. You're dreaming of some, "am I a man dreaming I am a butterfly or am I a butterfly dreaming i am a man" shit where you hit the pillow in Hell and Dream You is waking up, seeing your husband and wife get ready for work and you're basically a pampered stay at home spouse. I honestly can't decide what dynamic would be cuter: both of them having jobs, you and Lilith having jobs while Lucifer is the house husband, only Lilith having a job while you and Lucifer do dumb shit at home, or Lucifer being big daddy and bringing home all the money while you and Lilith lounge by the pool and she takes you to the spa and pampers you all day and is sending texts and photos of how cute you are to her husband while he's working

You're probably thinking "wait but weeb this is actually kind of cute, where is the horror" and for starters it just kind of, mentally wears your energy down over time to 'never shut your brain off' and have true rest, like Lilith and Lucifer intentionally 'trade' you being alert in reality to you being more conscious in the dream world, so, you're not as present when you're around ACTUAL people as you are when you're in their little, fucked up pocket dimension.

Then you've got. The baby. You're pregnant ONLY in the dream. You have THE ACTUAL PAINFUL EXPERIENCE of giving birth, BUT THEN you're waking up and you can't hold your child, show them to your friends, have the, SANITY AND COMFORT OF KNOWING YOU ACTUALLY HAVE ONE. You're waking up DEVASTATED. Where's your baby? 🥺 oh right.... They're not... actually real... like it fucks you up psychologically

I just picture, if I were to put it in an order of events. You go from 1. Lilith and Lucifer are just your casual acquaintances, Charlie's parents that you know through her 2. They start getting closer to you as you stay longer at the Hotel 3. Ok we get along and have fun moments and even sing songs and we have fun times with your daughter ^^ 4. Ok you're getting maybe a little comfortable, am I tripping or are you a little too comfortable 5. You're Bush Out in Fake Eden 6. You accidentally slip up and get more cozy with them in reality because Ok Maybe The Stupid Garden Bullshit IS Fun And Maybe A Little Soul Healing 🙄 7. You're getting banged in the Garden 8. Being in reality is awkward now, suddenly you're avoiding them less, so you're dreaming about them more, having them push themselves closer to you in response to you trying to pull away, like even if you're spending entire days outside of the Hotel you can't escape needing to sleep eventually 9. Suddenly you're like, not in Eden, you're in a hospital getting an ultrasound w Lili Luci holding your hands as a doctor tells the three of you you're pregnant and oh no you're actually really happy and excited about it 🥺 10. crushing crushing reality. You're single and not pregnant and you're beating yourself up for these fucked up dreams you're blaming yourself for having, as if they're some self conscious desire and you're kinkshaming yourself for having them 11. Dream You is having your baby, everyone is so happy like it's actually so perfect, even when you're stressed as a first time parent you have so much love and support to keep you strong 12. You wake up and it's nothing but DEPRESSION DEPRESSION DEPRESSION where is my baby and my wife and my husband who love me and I love them DEPRESSION DEPRESSION DEPRESSION 13. Lilith and Lucifer HAVE TO to spill that Hey Our Baby Is Real because you're like going near insane with "grief" like youre like actually wanting to try and end your life or constantly self harming because Where Is MY CHILD 14. You're so fucked up at this point you don't care to ask questions when they hand your Very Much Real Baby to you looking exactly how you remember them from your dreams. You're just happy your baby is real and now you can be with them all of the time and you don't even care that um This Was Such A Fucking Ethically Dubious Conception.

Do you think the other Hotel residents would have a sliding scale of being ok with this. Like you just SHOW UP WITH THIS LITTLE BLONDE BABY IN YOUR ARMS and Lilith and Lucifer are all but glued to you and they're all fucking confused because WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN??? you barely even spend time with these two, or so they thought??? When were you PREGNANT??? HOW??? I feel like realistically if they aren't all, you know, as Equally Crazy For You, that they would find this extremely manipulative and fucked up MEANWHILE CHARLIE DOESNT CARE and may have been in on it.

Also "something something what if Reader being able to get pregnant also turned out to be like God Himself being like 'hey lucifer lilith here's the deal I'm throwing you a bone right now, ok, this is for you, to keep things chill between us mk' and there are added layers of Oh Shit You Were Created To Be With Them" as if your ass wouldn't have an impossible enough time escaping as is 😭💀

But like... the concept of Reader falling so deep into "grief" that it gets so bad that you're basically not eating or sleeping, Lucirer and Lilith were always gonna tell you but they're forced to do it abruptly because you just breakdown and can't stop crying. Or it's even Charlie disobeying her parents and running up to you with your baby who stops crying the moment they're in your arms

I also just... as a final note..... just as a cute palette cleanser there's one specific idea I keep thinking of... you have your new baby and you're showing it to all your Hotel buddies and you give it to Alastor to hold because your baby was giggling and gurgling at him and you're just, death grip on his shoulder, "alastor please hold my child :) they're excited go meet you, say hi" and while you're like, vaguely threatening him to interact with this baby which he has Extremely Valid Reasons To Find Abhorrent, his deer ears move or twitch, and your baby is just looking up at him with their big eyes, watching those ears twitch, and, poof! Your baby has their first Lucifer/Lilith related shape-shifting incident and suddenly your baby has twitching little red ears and they're looking up at Alastor with these big cute eyes and here you are, "alastor :) aren't you going to praise my baby :) they just had their very first shift and it's for you :) tell them what a good job they did :) you're not trying to make my baby uncomfortable are you :)" and. Ok Maybe this does win Alastor over a bit being the narcissist that he is BUT THE TRUE REWARD is Lucifer scrambling into the room after you call out in excitement, dropping to his knees and all but wailing, "NO, WHY IS MY BABY HAVING THEIR FIRST SHIFT FOR Y O U AND I MISSED IT" and you just have Alastor being an ABSOLUTE SHIT, suddenly oh so cozy with your baby, "well talent recognizes talent! This little one clearly has potential! Why, look at how clearly they ALREADY ADORE THEIR DEAR UNCLE ALASTOR >:)" and from then on you can't leave these two men alone with your baby or they'll be having nonstop contests to "win them over" and prove who the best role model/caretaker is

Ok. Lastly. Lastly lastly lastly. THIS BABY SPECIFICALLY IS RUINING MY LIFE. Look at those STUPID CHUBBY cheeks and those big eyes and how attentive and focused she is like oh my godddddddd if LiliLuci handed one of those to me "this is yours" i would just die like 🥺🥺🥺 man, I'll have to tell you guys later about my idea for "Reader wants to see if Rosie will let them adopt a Hellborn baby and Alastor helps vouch for you and lowkey becomes your husband/the child's second parent" or "Reader finds an abandoned imp baby and all the shenanigans/protective possessive feelings from your yandere/s that follow once you begin your motherhood journey "

#yandere hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #yandere x reader #yandere hellaverse #hh #sinprompts #hhhhrrrrrrrrr I KEEP HAVING ALASTOR THOUGHTS THOUGH

[sleepingontheclouds]

i did a rant for Jason, now I’m doing a rant for my favorite superhero and occasionally morally grey person <3

I’m going to put a trigger warning here and now for the majority of this post. Discussing Dick Grayson for me means talking about very sensitive moments for his character, I will be mentioning and talking about some non-consensual events that happened to him in certain comic canons and one underage event. Please if this can/will trigger you, click off or skim over the parts where I mention it. I will highlight the parts where I actively speak about situations like that in red. Thank you.

Titans

I’ve watched to season 3 of Titans so far and I just gotta say, Dick’s character got a downgrade and an upgrade. Let me elaborate.

Firstly, I love what the writers did and how they characterized the boy wonder in season one. He was an authority figure, a protector. Literally the first time we are introduced to Robin and the first time we see Dick in the Robin suit, he’s brutalizing child abusers.

Throughout the entire first season there are multiple instances of Dick being very protective towards children and very aggressive with people he believes to hurt children.

In a later episode of season one, Dick tracks down a man with Kori after Rachel runs away with Gar. Once he realizes that the man has seen Rachel, let alone in the woods, he immediately goes into attack mode. At that point he believed that Rachel was alone, he didnt know about Gar and he didn’t know that she was with anyone. He punches the man and starts asking if he did anything to her, he goes protective and is very close to breaking that guys nose before his daughter runs out of her room and sees what’s going on, making Dick stop.

Personally, I loved that aspect of his character. It’s not only foreshadowing at the fact that he’s going to become an older brother, I personally think it also hints at a very traumatic event that happened to him in the comics.

It made me so sad to see him lose that aspect of himself after season one. I suppose the overprotective violence faded along side his other more regular violence.

I loved his violent characterization throughout the first two seasons, it really helps understand his character and him as a person.

In the first season, whenever he’s wearing the Robin suit he’s physically incapable of stopping himself from getting too violent, no matter how much he may want to without the costume on.

He stabs people, breaks peoples noses, nearly makes people bleed out, stomps peoples faces in, everything under the sun except kill them. That’s the whole reason he left Gotham, that’s the whole reason he held a grudge against Bruce in season one.

The journey we go through with Dick in season two is an amazing depiction of his character.

The literal order of events just screams mental breakdown to me and the episodes following made me think he had a psychological break, then we find out that he’s just like that.

The events go like this. First Dick starts seeing hallucinations of his father figure which he hates and that’s apparently just a normal thing that happens in Dick’s day to day life? Then he goes Robin mode, hurting a man he used to work with because he’s annoyed with the hallucination of his father. Then he goes to a dance club and nearly kills a man that works with Slade because he has a secret he needs to hide?? Then his traumatized nineteen year old brother tries to kill himself and what does Dick do? He trauma dumps all over Jason hoping that it’ll make him feel better and not want to die. (It doesn’t) then everyone he loves leaves him. He then decides to go visit the mother of the kid he thinks he got killed and finds himself talking to Slade. My guy then books a flight across the world because the fucking assassin with one eye who killed his own son said that he needed to repent by being in isolation?? You know what this dude does instead of going to Japan like he’s supposed to? He assaults two police officers to get himself seven years in jail. You know who he doesn’t tell? Gar. The teenager he left in charge of watching Superman’s clone with no other orders than, ‘call Bruce if he wakes up’ when he knows Bruce will not answer.

Then the dude breaks these gang members out of jail so they don’t get deported, that gets him thrown in solitary. You know what he does in solitary? Hallucinates his dad, fights him in his imagination, and then breaks out of jail.

When Dick eventually grows into his own person after all that insanity, when he becomes Nightwing— he forgives Bruce. It’s another aspect about his characterization that I love. Dick is forgiving, in a good and bad way, until he isn’t.

Dick doesn’t care what people do to him, it’s one of his biggest flaws. He lets himself get hurt over and over again and he just takes it. He lets his peers absolutely bash him and openly hate him, but he’s always still there for them. He always still supports them.

He knows Bruce turned him into a weapon, but he still went back. He went back and tried to ignore everything and forget about all the awful things Bruce did to him. He never directly talks to Bruce about it, sure he’s passive aggressive during [redacted’s] funeral dinner in season 2 but he never actually talks about anything.

The only time he snaps at Bruce is after Jason dies.

After his brother, who he didn’t treat like a brother, dies, he’s trying to cope. Everyone is. He knows Bruce copes in a different way and he respects it, what he doesn’t respect is the fact that Bruce is trying to rope in another child to be Robin. He’s trying to replace Jason right after he dies. That’s when Dick loses his temper.

Even after everything, it takes someone else being hurt for Dick to speak his mind. He never really stands up for himself, he stands up for other people and bottles in his emotions.

Comics

In the comics, Dick is much similar. He bottles up his emotions until he physically can’t.

He’s always trying to be happy, even Nightwing isn’t serious. For Bruce, Batman is a way to let out his true self. Batman is the real Bruce, Bruce Wayne is the mask he hides behind.

It’s exactly the opposite for Dick. Dick Grayson is the caring older brother who has no trauma and exists to help, Nightwing is the funny vigilante, he’s the protector of Blüdhaven who cracks jokes and never breaks a smile while fighting. Either way, Dick just trades in one mask for another.

The only times it’s genuinely him, is when he’s at his most vulnerable. When he isn’t around his family, his brothers, Bruce. That’s when the real him can come out, his real genuine emotions.

In a certain comic run that I’m unsure if it’s still canon or not, Dick gets assaulted. It’s before he has his facade, it’s right when it’s starting to develop. He’s sixteen.

Dick gets in a horrible fight with Bruce, it results in him either running away or getting kicked out, either way he isn’t with Bruce. The sixteen year old is left to fend for himself, then a 21 year old woman who’s targeting Wayne enterprises comes along.

She manipulates Dick and takes advantage of him (along with her husband I think) all to get to Bruce.

He never talks about it.

!! I WILL BE REPLYING TO THIS IN A REBLOG CAUSE THIS IS GETTING VERY LONG AND TYPING IS GETTING SLOW !!

#dick grayson #nightwing #trauma #dc titans #dc comics #dc universe #dcu #batman #batfam #jason todd #He’s so traumatized #:( #I love him #i love him so much #My poor boy #<333 #SORRY THIS IS SO LONG

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Glynda: “You’re back. And the beast?”

Jaune: “Monster is slain. Bangarang.” *snaps his fingers so that he ends up pointing distantly at the ground*

Glynda: “You look tired. You should get some rest.”

Jaune: “Can’t. I have to help team CMAD with their serial killer mission."

Glynda: “Why?”

Jaune: “Why do I have to help them or what help do I have to give?”

Glynda: “Well, both at once I suppose.”

Jaune: “The killer came up into my network about a week ago. It’s sort of my responsibility to keep an eye out for people like this.”

Glynda: “Your network?”

Jaune: “My criminal contacts in the city. I have the name and semblance of the killer.”

Glynda: “That’s most useful.”

Jaune: “That’s what I strive for. I wake up everyday and say ‘oh, if only I could be most useful today.’”

Glynda: *narrows her eyes then offers a dismissive half shrug*"Ozpin often wished to be able to tap into those elements for this very reason but couldn’t figure out how to get started. I mean, it’s nice to say you want to build trust and contacts like that and quite another to go out and succeed at it.”

Jaune: “They want you to kill people for them sometimes. And sometimes you have to kill some people just to put the fear in ‘em. Or torture people. Whatever.”

Glynda: “Should you be telling me this?”

Jaune: “I mean, what are you gonna do about it? What is anybody gonna do about it? Besides, I thought it was ‘most useful.’”

Glynda: “Maybe not what you have to give up to make it happen. That’s perhaps why Ozpin never succeeded.”

Jaune: “You have to have a hard stomach. And at any rate I need to be able to see my sisters coming or, god forbid I even say this, my Mother? Could you imagine her rolling up on us?”

Glynda: “I don’t really want to. Would she?” 

Jaune: “She mostly acts through intermediaries when she can. I can… feel her? Her location? All the time. So I’d know if she was moving around at all. Instead she just hangs out on one of the kingdomless continents. Ayan. So she stays far away from any kingdom and acts from the shadows.”

Glynda: “I don’t know how concerning that is. How concerned should I be?”

Jaune: “Somewhere between one and ten. Depending on how much thought you want to give it. Just don’t think about it very much. That’s what I do. And I’m… mostly fine?”

Glynda: *shakes her head at him. Gentle but firm denial* 

Jaune: “Well, I’m as ‘okay’ as could be expected?”

Glynda: “I don’t think so."

Jaune: “Exactly how ‘okay’ am I supposed to be?” 

Glynda: “Well ideally with a one being the worst and a ten being the best you’d be at a ten, Jaune."

Jaune: “I’m like a five. A hard five. That passes muster.”

Glynda: “A hard five which way?” 

Jaune: “Yeah, fair cop. Good point.”

Glynda: “I wasn’t even making a point."

Jaune: “Well you made it anyway."

Glynda: "Go to bed, Jaune. Your serial killer can wait. What? Are you excited to add to your little collection?”

Jaune: “Am I more or less messed up if I say ‘yes?’” 

Glynda: “You’re just a mixed up kid.”

Jaune: “I mean… yeah. I knew that. But am I more or less fucked if I say I want to add her sniper rifle to my collection?”

Glynda: “You know her weapon?”

Jaune: “Answer the question.”

Glynda: “I… I would say that you’re more mixed up than less. Not everyone has a collection of weapons from serial killers they’ve stopped. Not everyone thinks about adding to it. You are more mixed up than not. You’ve got to really be at least a four out of ten. Admit that to me.”

Jaune: “It’s really probably at most a three.”

Glynda: “Go to bed.”

Jaune: “I’ll go to bed. After I send team CMAD my dossier so they're not going in blind. I think she’s too dangerous for them or hee police to take on. If they find her, sure, good enough. But I really don’t think they should fight her.”

Glynda: “You can’t coddle them.”

Jaune: “I’m tryin’ not to but there’s a serial killer on the loose and they have some real power.”

Glynda: “What about you?”  

Jaune: “What about me?”

Glynda: "You’re a serial killer serial killer.” 

Jaune: “What? I’m not a… serial killer.”

Glynda: “Don’t emphasize ‘serial.’ It doesn’t do anyone any favors.”

Jaune: “Mass murderer? Sure. Spree killer? Probably. But I don’t do it for psychological gratification.”

Glynda: “Don’t emphasis ‘psychological!’ You need to find a sweet girl to look after you. Help put you back together. If you even like girls that is. I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

Jaune: “I like girls. I’ve got team RWBY.”

Glynda: “They’re not here. What’s wrong with Miss Gainsborough?”

Jaune: “You mean besides the fact she’s my student? Off limits, remember? Besides, she’s seen a little into how fucked I am and probably shouldn’t want any of that mess.”

Glynda: “What if she does anyway?” 

Jaune: “I think I would know by now? I'd like to believe I would. But I don't really understand girls. Just throw me at a monster or serial killer or something and let me worry about that. Girls are complicated and hard and complicated."

Glynda: "Not really."

Jaune: "Girls like games and hints and teasing around."

Glynda: "Do you think I'd play games?"

Jaune: "I think you're probably an exception and not the rule. You and Weiss both."

Glynda: "Miss Schnee?"

Jaune: "Yeah. I mean, I think so. She doesn't like games or hints or playing around with her feelings either. I think that's why she barely tolerated me when we went to school here."

Glynda: "You were attracted to her? In your time as a student?"

Jaune: "Still am. That hasn't really changed. She was my first real crush. I had fake memories of crushes before that but I really woke up for the first time at Beacon after I was set loose. And then I met Weiss. Beautiful. Smart. Way out of my league. We're not even playing the same ball game." I ran a hand through my hair and felt the grime there. 

Glynda: "Good for you." 

Jaune: "Why?"

Glynda: "I think that's healthy. I'd be a shade more concerned if you really weren't attracted to anybody and you had nothing to strive for. Not that there's anything wrong with being asexual. But it's important to have personal goals for yourself and not just professional ones."

Jaune: "I'd love to impress her. Still. I'm just not really sure how. You know? In her time as the heiress or whatever she probably had all sorts of guys appeal to her so she's pretty much seen it all. I have no moves to make that she hasn't seen somebody else do better than I can. And I doubt my little collection of mass murderer trophies would make her stop and think in a good way."

Glynda: "Have you tried not appealing to her at all. Maybe you should just be honest with yourself and her and let your personality impress her."

Jaune: "I'm a schizoaffective loser."

Glynda: "You're not a loser just because you're schizoaffective."

Jaune: "I know that. I’m not stupid. I have totally separate reasons for why I'm a loser. I'm not funny and my personality isn't particularly pleasant to be around."

Glynda: "You have charm. You can be funny. Not exactly cracking jokes or something similar but you have a certain dry humor. Use that to impress her. Plus you've become surprisingly competent."

Jaune: "Well, thanks. I'll just use all those assets when I see her again and blow her away. Anyways. I'm safe. I'm back. My mission was a success and I thought you'd like to know that." I pulled my scroll from my side pocket and started tapping away and putting together what information I had on Cerise Genfield for CMAD. "Let's see if we can't wrangle ourselves up a serial killer. Yee-haw. I always did love outlaw justice. It's super fake. And it's basically all the murder with none of the guilt ."

Glynda: "Do you really think that?"

Jaune: "A little."

Glynda: "Go to sleep. Let the police and team CMAD track her down."

Jaune: "I hear you. I'm off to bed." 

#glynda goodwitch #rwby #rwby incorrect quotes #jaune arc #weiss schnee #whiteknight #white knight #motion sickness

[themaeve]

AHHHHHH! NEW CASE STUDY OF VANITAS CHAPTER! ITS BACK!

Oh yeah that's right we were in the midst of this Dham arc.

Well time for some all too relatable pain as Dante and Johann have to deal with being questioned and assaulted by THE LITERAL CHURCH

The chapter was really good. Like, it fucking hurt to read, but it was so good. Having dealt with mostly just Roland the human Golden Retriever and Olivier his dog-handler, and of course everyone's favorite traumatized murder baby Astolfo, it was different to see these Chaseurs as the cold and calculating killers they are. It wasn't over the top, it was simple "We are gonna hurt you and maybe kill you cause we can, whether you tell us what we want to know is irrelevant. No one here will stop us, and as long as no one knows, we won't get in any trouble for it."

Like, "Oh yeah, these guys ARE terrifying assholes, I forgot."

But the dialogue about the Dhams really hits this chapter.

"They're a real eyesore"

"They dress like they're advertising themselves as Dhams"

"Dhams should make like Dhams and live in the shadows, holding their breath"

And then Dante's internal thoughts, the fleeting hope that someone will come to help,

"Who exactly is someone"

"Who'd show up for us?"

"This world treats us like it can't even see us."

And he goes for the gun in his jacket... God it fucking hits. I say it every time, but so much dialogue in this manga can just have the names of things and people swapped out and you could believe it applies to so many marginalized groups. It feels more authentic than a lot of manga and stories I read. Don't know why. That's just probably my queer ass reading too much into these chapters as my own experiences, but fuck. I won't lie that I felt the connection with Dante keeping his gun in the same inner jacket pocket I keep my knife in my jacket. The same jacket with pins that people say I'm "advertising as queer" with. Johann fucking pleading for Dante not to draw his gun cause he knows his partner is gonna die if he tries. That these church goons are looking for an excuse to pin them as the aggressors so they can execute them.

And right as shit is about to happen, Domi shows up. DOMI!!!!!!!

Perfect way for Domi to start making up for her casual prejudice against Dante and Johann earlier. Domi sticks her neck out for them, against 2 FUCKING CHASSEUR PALADINS OF THE CHURCH! Like, yeah Domi is fucking awesome and powerful and an influential vampire noble, but 2 Paladins? They could kill her if things go wrong. But my girl is still here sticking her neck out for Dante and Johann. Congrats Domi, you have a chance to use your Vampire noble privilege to finally be the Dham ally you thought you were.

I love it. I love this manga so much.

#the case study of vanitas #vanitas no carte #Memoire 63

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Fourteen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

no tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen

AO3 Link

Author's Notes: Back from hiatus on April 26th! (Chapter 16 is just about polished and I finally made progress for chapter 17). I'm sending huge, huge thank you to my beloved beta and co-pilot, @vampire-exgirlfriend for all her love and support and kindness. There's been a lot of times that I've thought about stopping, about not continuing this story, about maybe just keeping it to myself. It's been her love and very aggressive 'that is DUMB' affection that has brought us close to the end of Arc I.

And a huge thank you to the people who have liked this story. I genuinely would love LOVE LOVE to hear your thoughts. In inbox is open, reblog and tag me, however you want to let me know that you're here <3

we are now entering the 'oh my god these too are so fucking into each other they want to fuck so bad it makes them look stupid' era

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Love the World Like I Should

Grandfather Rodrik shows up with love and gifts, and there's some smooching on the dance floor at Aegon's nameday feast. Also some political anxiety.

King’s Landing was filled to bursting in the days approaching Aegon’s nameday celebrations. Never had Abby seen so many people crush themselves into the Red Keep. ‘More will be at Harrenhal for the wedding’, Helaena had said, their small group seeking solace away from the gaggle of the court for a while. Baela had come with them, overwhelmed with the crush of noise herself, even if she did not admit it. The Princesses Targaryen, Abby, Wylla, little Floris, and Baela’s two ladies had all sought the quietest part of the gardens to hide from the increasingly aggressive attentions.

Now, though, Abby could not hide from the crush of people.

The Reyne retinue arrived in the early afternoon, and while an ancient and powerful house as theirs deserved their pomp, the familial presentation was for Rodrik Reyne, uncle to the Queen Alicent Hightower, and grandfather to the future Princess Abrogail Strong.

Grandfather to the potential future queen, as the whispers and rumors flew around the Red Keep with the coming celebrations. Rumors that Abby wasn’t sure would come to pass, but could not deny that the king’s wishes still might change. That was a future she wasn’t sure what to think about.

His hair was more gray than auburn, thick and wavy as if he were a man of twenty instead of near seventy. Lord Rodrik was tall and broad, an imposing figure on his gray and white courser, its fine white mane braided into little knots along the elegant arch of its neck. To see him and the king that was only feet away from her had a curl of unease snaking through her belly. To look at the king was to see a man wasting away, a man at death’s door. To see Rodrik Reyne dismount with fluid ease was to see a man who, while past the prime of life, clearly had so much left in him.

“Your Grace.” Lord Rodrik mounted the steps, arm clapped to his shoulder in the Westerland sign of fealty as he bowed. “It is good to see you in fine spirits, my king.”

“No finer time than to celebrate such a joyous occasion, Lord Rodrik,” the king said with a smile. Rodrik clasped Uncle Otto’s arm in a firm grip, pleasantries exchanged and his smile broadened as he bowed lower before Queen Alicent.

“You are the light of the seven, aren’t you, my dearest,” he complimented her, genuine to the core. The queen’s cheeks pinkened at the praise and she readily embraced her uncle, fingers grasping his arms.

“We are so glad you are here to celebrate, uncle,” she said. “I am pleased to see you in such fine health and I’m so sorry Aunt Dalla could not come.”

“It is a long journey and she is not as quick as she used to be. She was quite happy to stay back with Daerion and enjoy the children. I am their favorite, after all. It’s only fair that I give everyone else the opportunity to receive some attention.” Alicent blinked as she registered the joke, a chuckle spilling from her as her uncle pressed a kiss to her hand.

Aegon stood between his mother and Abby, and she felt more than saw him straighten up as Lord Rodrik turned his cool blue eyes on him. Age had not shrunk the man, and Lord Rodrik stood as tall as Uncle Otto, and though there was a far less threatening air to him, it made him no less intimidating. Aegon’s chin tilted up to meet the man’s eye and he inclined his head.

“It is good to see you, Lord Rodrik,” Aegon greeted, his voice polite and steady, when not two hours before, he’d been with her in the alcove behind the tapestry of Jonquil Drake frantic with nerves at meeting her grandfather. It seemed like the kisses she’d given him, as well as the growing bruise that was barely visible above the collar of his deep green damask doublet had not eased his worries. “I hope your travels were easy and without issue.”

The last time they’d seen any of the Reynes had been near a decade ago, at her mother’s funeral. They had spent time with her and her father at Harrenhal before coming down to King’s Landing to spend time with the queen and her children, and that event was entirely different than now.

“Good tidings on your nameday, nephew,” he returned with all the formality as if he were addressing him by princely title. “Our travels were well, and it’ll be good to be off the road for some time.” An expression of mischief danced in the pale gray-blue eyes of Rodrik as he assessed the prince before him, eyes catching on the bruise on Aegon’s neck and then glancing at Abby and the arm she had laced through his own. He raised a brow. “It would appear that your betrothal has made a man of you yet, my prince. I might even say you’ve grown an inch or two since I last saw you.”

Heat flushed through Abby’s face and Aegon’s own, his sputter brief and confused as the Lord gave him an amused look, as if he might ruffle his hair had Aegon been a decade younger. Instead, he gave another incline of his head before coming before Abby.

“You are most certainly taller than I last saw you,” he said, cupping her face in his gloved hands, the scent of horse and spice clinging to him as he kissed her forehead. Her hand slipped from Aegon’s arm to clutch at her grandfather’s crimson sleeves beneath his brown leather jerkin, warmth spreading through her chest at the gentle affection.

“Not much taller than this, I’m afraid,” she said, a light, awkward laugh. Her grandfather reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, where the rest of her hair hung in a long, simple braid down to the small of her back. He cupped her cheek, and she caught a shine in his eyes, a slow exhale as the familiar look of grief she knew well crossed his features, aging him in the moment. “I’m very glad to see you, grandfather.”

Rodrik Reyne nodded, pushing past the emotion before moving on to greet the rest of his nephews and niece, and she felt Aegon’s hand slide around her waist, fingers bunching slightly against the crimson and silver damask against her hip. She hid her hands in the belled sleeves, knotting them together and taking comfort from Aegon’s touch. Her chest ached painfully but she gave him a smile when he murmured her name.

“I am well,” she assured him, leaning into him momentarily before their party went inside, her grandfather speaking of the gifts he had brought for all of them.

Over the past days, it had been a bustle and flurry of becoming reacquainted with her grandfather, of suffering through her sister’s company. The apartments that she technically shared with her brother had served as the hub for the activity of their family. Houses Strong, Reyne, and Lannister moved in and out of the modestly decorated space. It had been overwhelming, but with the arrival of her grandfather, Cory’s acerbic tongue and judgmental looks had been averted, and Abby wondered if there was jealousy hidden beneath all that venom. She had fallen into her own acquaintance with the Queen, whom she had known when she’d served as one of Rhaenyra’s ladies when they were young.

Abby also had to organize the gifts brought from the Westerlands that would be sent back with Uncle Simon. Bolts of fine cloth of gold and silver from the expansive Reyne mines, a peregrine falcon, lovely cream and gray with black specks and bright black eyes she’d named Caelus. There’d been books too. A small chest carved with mountains and flowers contained five books, mostly from Myr, and some from Braavos, including what looked to be an interesting treatise from a Volantine woman who advocated for the importance of women’s contributions, and another on teaching woman to cultivate what she had determined as useful qualities, to achieve worthy acts in their lives.

‘A woman’s success,’ it read, ‘depends on the ability to manage and mediate by speaking and writing eloquently and effectively, for men so easily dismiss the thoughts of women, especially when their power is threatened by them.’

Perhaps she should look to promoting more copies of the sumptuously illustrated work. Perhaps she might even try her hand at replicating some of the images therein. There’s been a box of paints and new charcoal among the gifts, as well as a newly bound book for her to sketch in. Abby smiled at the idea, and had tucked it away for later.

“Mind the dress,” Wylla’s voice came from behind, already dressed for the feast and bossing about the red-clad maids of the holdfast who had been helping Abby as she worked to put together her household. Theraxis lay reclined along the end of the bed, his great yellow eyes watching the flurry of maids with such focus as if he too were supporting Wylla’s orders.

“Only a single lady?” Grandfather had balked, perceiving insult before she’d hurriedly cut in, explaining Wylla was more than enough, she did not want to be demanding, and hadn’t needed anyone else.

Wylla had snorted, eyes flashing in the familiar argument. “She’s meant to be looking for more ladies over the course of the festivities,” with all the same annoyance aimed at her as she had aimed at Aegon in the courtyard so long ago. “She needs six at least, but will she listen to me? Nay, she’s a wee stubborn thing and Lord Larys doesn’t seem to push it either.”

The gifts had not stopped there, and she was currently staring, wide eyed, at the most recent one.

The ornate wooden box before her was made of varnished rosewood, with inlays of silver decoration along the edges, and an equally delicate lock that her grandfather had carefully opened with a tiny silver key. The tiara that lay inside was fit for a queen. Ten citrine sunbursts wove together like flowers, the colors of them running from red to gold to orange and in the center of each, diamonds glittered. It sat in the center of the box, resting on a cloth of silver pillow and her mouth went dry.

“Th-this is too much. Grandfather…” Abby’s voice faltered and she lifted her gaze to meet his. Never had she felt so spoiled, so doted on. She felt guilt for it, the way it warred in confusing uncertainty. So long she had never asked for more, and it wasn’t as if Larys was a doting brother who snuck her sweets and trinkets the way Harwin had.

Her grandfather’s gaze was a mixture of annoyance, affection, and more that she did not understand. “It is most certainly not too much, dear child,” he said with a casual wave of his hand. Wylla slightly raised her eyebrows when he wasn’t looking and gently lifted the tiara from the box. “You are the blood of Castamere. You are my blood, my granddaughter,” he had said, cupping her cheek in a warm, rough hand and pressing a loving kiss to her brow. “The realm would do well to remember that you are a Reyne just as the queen is. It is not simply Hightower blood no matter how much my good brother likes to pretend.”

At least her grandfather was honest and she could not blame him for that. This was how the game was played. This was how power was brokered, even Abby understood the simple truth of it. Unlike most, Rodrik Reyne did not hide his motives, and the care that he expressed towards her since his arrival a few days ago had proven genuine. He did not ask her for favors, had inquired about her wellbeing and made sure she had what she was owed to her station.

Wylla’s nimble fingers had ensured the tiara was settled in her hair, twists of braids securing the citrine that matched her hair. The Riverlands style was one that she was glad not to give up and she would not have anyone thinking she was anything but the daughter of the rivers, and now a child of Castamere.

Her grandfather had escorted her down to the queen’s party. The king and her brother and uncle were already in the throne room and she could hear and feel the buzzing of growing anticipation as they approached the antechamber. Her hand rested in the crook of her grandfather’s elbow and her fingers spasmed with nerves. His hand found hers and she looked up at him, mouth parted as if to speak. He smiled at her instead.

“You look so much like your mother,” he said softly, his blue eyes misty and his smile warm. It took Abby aback. She had not seen the Lord Hand smile so openly and honestly. Larys barely smiled and when he did it made her wish to avoid it more often than not. The last man who smiled at her in such openness was her father. “She is here with us and she would be so proud of you.”

“Would she approve of this?” Abby asked softly. It was a silly question, the kind of question a motherless child who could barely remember her own mother asked. She could see the queen through the doorway at the end of the hall, hear Helaena’s laughter echoing along with Daeron’s.

Her grandfather paused and seemed to steel himself. The emotion was plain on his face. The grief was palpable and he did not meet her eyes as he composed himself. “Your mother was in the very fortunate position where I could let her choose who she wanted to marry. She could wait, and find a match that she got along well with. Lord Jason was a possibility, but even if your mother wanted to marry him, I couldn’t let her resign her future to a foppish imbecile like him, Lannister seat or not. She fell in love with your father and he did not demand heirs of her or money or prestige. He simply wanted someone to spend his days with and they found that in one another. That is what your mother wanted for you. A world where you were safe and loved.”

He cupped her cheek and Abby lifted her hand to hold his, feeling her own tears threaten. “The future has one certainty and there will be hard choices to make. Know that your family stands behind you, and that you may be a Riverlands girl, but there is a lion inside of you. They say in the north wolf packs survive together. You are part of a pride and are just as fierce. Dragons could not take the Westerlands and fire cannot burn the rivers.”

“He won’t burn me,” Abby said softly. “I trust him. I… care for him. I want him, not for a title, not for whatever the future may bring. I simply want him and he wants me and we just want to be happy. I think we can make each other happy, Grandfather.”

“Good,” he said and dropped his hand. “Then should the Stranger take me this night, it will be knowing you will be happy.” He gave her a watery laugh, amusement on his face. “And should he mistreat you, then I will haunt him to madness.”

When they entered the antechamber, Lord Rodrik pressed a kiss to her hand and went to join the rest of the gathering in the throne room. Helaena was in conversation with Daeron, and Aegon…

Aegon turned to look at her upon her entrance and his face went slack. She blushed, smoothing her hands over her gown, watching as the candlelight shimmered over the green and blue layers of the skirt, the fabric diaphanous, like currents of water around her legs. Her fingers found the golden dragons embroidered over her waist, intermingling with the glittering red weirwood leaves, worrying at the material. Her slippers were as gold as the dragons on her bodice, peaking out beneath her hem as she closed the distance between them. Aegon reached for her and she slid her hand into his and watched the smile spread slowly across his face.

‘I think we can make each other happy.’

Abby was not meant to be on Aegon’s arm as they entered the feast. He should have been escorting his mother as protocol dictated since King Viserys had entered the feast already. It was a heady feeling to know Aegon would not let her go, even as he was forced to drop her hand so she could tuck hers into the crook of his arm. A thrill that continued down her spine and coiled in her belly with the rest of the bursting butterflies dancing inside that gave her the strength to tilt her chin up as all her lessons instructed her to do. The perfect posture, the perfect gait all came rushing to her in a way that she finally understood why it mattered.

The pride that she felt wasn’t about being Queen Alicent’s pet project, or even that she had somehow snagged a prince for a betrothed. She was Lady Abrogail, heir to Harrenhal, the legacy of her mother’s fierceness and her father’s wisdom. As they walked behind the queen and Lord Otto, Abby squeezed her hand along Aegon’s bicep. She was the daughter of the Riverlands, and Aegon was lucky to have her, for there were many others that she could be with.

He looked at her with clear and bright eyes, the lilac full of mirth in a way she hadn’t seen from him in so long, and there were broad smile lines around his mouth, the flash of white teeth as he grinned at her. His hair was freshly washed, the silver curls gleaming gold in the sea of candleglow. His doublet was new as well - a fine, black silk brocade with a pattern woven in that evoked a shimmer of dragon scales. Golden clasps in the shape of dragon heads gleamed down the center. The seams were piped with red silk, and red silk trim embroidered with golden dragons wrapped around from the center and over his back. The same embroidered trim encircled his sleeves, which were slashed open along the back of his arms from bicep to the buttoned cuffs, the Targaryen red brocade of his shirt beneath poking through.

For the first time, he wore a crown upon his brow. It was a hammered circlet of gold that rested gently around his head, interspersed with seven circles stamped with dragons. Before the realm, he truly looked like the prince that he was.

A son who was celebrated by his parents.

She was lucky to have him. Let them see it. Let Queen Alicent see how brightly they made one another smile when they got to choose one another. Let them see she was not beholden to The High Tower, or to the Targaryens, or to anyone. Let them see that for all they may want to whisper about machinations and intrigue, she wanted him, and he wanted her.

Abby curtsied deeply before the king before they took their seats. Aegon was on his father’s left hand - the place of honor for the evening, and she was beside him. ‘How lucky we are’, came the thought again. She had not realized she had spoken the words aloud until Aegon’s grin widened into a beaming smile, his eyes crinkling with his own joy.

This was how the past weeks should have been. This is what the welcoming feast to Lord Tully and his party should have showcased: the two of them united, happy now, even as they set out to figure out what their marriage would be, what it would look like. There was enough time for that.

“You know, people like us don’t marry for love often,” Wylla had said, words that had stuck to her ribs.

The queen, her brother, and her uncle did not care for her and Aegon’s happiness, that much was startlingly clear to Abby. They had not come together in this betrothal by choice, but beneath the heart tree, they had made a promise. They had made their choice.

As her elder sister, Corynna, and her husband, Erwin Lannister sat beside her, Abby wished for the comfort of Wylla and Heleana at her side. The latter was at the other end of the table, and Abby’s gaze sought the friendly face of the young woman at the table below.

Wylla sat with Uncle Simon and Aunt Mya, looking striking in her black velvet gown. It was cut in the southern style, the neckline edged in white and silver cut across the line of her shoulders, her raven hair twisted into three rope braids woven with white ribbon and strung with pearls. She looked like a dream, Abby thought. A maiden of winter with all her pale skin and dark hair; striking in a way that many other women were not and Wylla wore it well. Harrion was beside her, his head inclined toward a lovely, red haired woman beside him. Wylla had said that his betrothed, Lady Alys Bracken, had only just arrived. She was so slight next to the northman’s bulk, her smile soft, eyes crinkling at the corners as she laughed at something he said.

Wylla caught her eye and sent her a warm, reassuring smile that Abby returned with a little wave, uncaring of decorum at the moment with how shaky her nerves were starting to get now that everyone was staring up at her. Her dear friend had not shied about her own discomfort in crowds, declaring her own relief that she was not the one who would be center of attention in her teasing, sharp yet fond way.

A harsh pinch against her left arm made Abby jump and she turned sharply to look at her sister, who was smiling serenely as if nothing was amiss. “Stop it, you’re behaving like a child,” she hissed behind a gritted smile. “I’ll not have you shame me.”

“If returning a kind gesture and a greeting to someone across the room is childish, then I cannot imagine you have many friends, Corynna, that do not cling to your skirts.” She smiled at her sister, whose saccharine falseness turned quickly to annoyance. “Do mind yourself, Cory. You are not my mother, nor my guardian.”

She caught the sidelong glance Aegon gave her and she felt his warm hand on hers, drawing it to his mouth to press a kiss against her knuckles. Abby felt the spray of heat along her throat, pressing her lips tightly together to keep from biting at her lip and being too obvious. He kept hold of her hand, thumb running lightly along her knuckles in familiar reassurance, and leaned in to speak softly against her ear.

“Lady Abrogail, if that’s the kind of behavior you plan on keeping up, as your husband, it shall be my duty to discipline you for such talk.”

Abby’s mouth went dry, her flush deepening and she glanced up at him, demure beneath her lashes. “Prince Aegon, you get ahead of yourself. I am the image of propriety.” He smirked and they both drew back. Abby reached for her goblet to calm the different sort of butterflies fluttering through her stomach now.

The echo of a staff cracking against the stone floor of the hall reverberated through the hall and all fell silent as the king rose, the queen beside him in what was meant to be a show of unity. But Abby knew that she was there to steady him so he did not have to rely on his cane. The black, red, and gold robe he wore nearly swallowed him whole, and she wondered how heavy it was for him.

Beside him, Alicent Hightower wore the colors of her house instead of a glow of green. She was as regal as Abby had ever seen, in a storm gray damask gown with white flame embroidery along her neck and shoulders. A cape of gray silk felt about her and the gray sleeves of her gown hugged her arms until they flared out at her forearms to bell around her wrists. Her auburn hair was twisted back on the sides of her head before coming to a single twisted braid down her back. Upon her head rested her crown of state. It was a gold circlet with seven points of golden flame rising from it and in the center flame was a blood red ruby that matched the gold and ruby earrings dangling beneath her hair.

“Be welcome,” the king said. His voice had rarely been a strong one, but he had found the strength behind it to let the words carry now. “It is good to see so many happy faces here, as we come together to celebrate my son, Prince Aegon’s nameday.” He turned his head to look down at Aegon with a nod and a gap toothed smile that, while fleeting, was genuine. The people clapped, thumps on tables shaking the cutlery, and Abby grinned at him. Aegon looked taken aback by the well tidings, the shouts of wishes for good health and good fortune. The hand that he had rested on her knee tightened and Aegon straightened in his seat, smiling back and giving a wave of thanks as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him.

The King continued, “The Queen and I also honor House Strong this night. Since my ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, landed upon these shores, the Strongs have been a leal and loyal house. Ser Osmund Strong himself was the longest serving Hand, and through the decades, this family has proved themselves time and again, their fealty to the throne and their dedication to the realm. It is why upon the passing of the beloved Princess Rhaena, that my grandfather, King Jaehaerys, bestowed the great Harrenhal to House Strong. It is this dedication that before he passed, our late Lord Lyonel Strong, the Seven keep him, agreed to a proposal. We welcome you all to celebrate with House Targaryen and House Strong as I announce the betrothal of our son, Prince Aegon, to the Lady Abrogail Strong, and their investiture as the future Lord and Lady of Harrenhal, under the wise and clement eye of Grover Tully, Lord Paramount of the Riverlands.”

The whispers of the betrothal had already snaked their way through the keep over the past weeks. First the servants gossip, then the unofficial talks among the lords who had, by now, sent ravens back home to their holdings in the Riverlands. It was news that had passed naturally among the realm, and while Abby did not see any surprised faces, the cheers that roared up took her by surprise. The slamming fists on the tables, the clapping, the shouts of well wishes and even some crass remarks was not at all what she had expected. She felt her cheeks burn and the flush of it snake across all the exposed skin of her gown. She yearned for the coverings of her linen gowns so none could see how red she had turned at the attention.

Yet, Abby did nothing to hide how large her smile was, so wide it nearly hurt. She met Aegon’s eyes, his own grin crinkling the corners of his eyes, and she never, ever wanted to see him frown again if this was how bright his smile could be. He then looked at the crowd and she followed suit, waving at the smiling faces, blowing a kiss of thanks to all. She did not startle when Aegon lifted his hand from her knee to tuck beneath the fall of her curls and rest along the back of her neck in a possessive gesture that made her belly roil with heat. She looked at him from the corner of her eye and saw that his bright smile had set into something darker, more firm.

The feast began, servants coming out of the shadows. Trenchers of roast pork in red wine and plum sauce were placed before them, steaming with scents of ginger and cinnamon. Shrimp cooked in fennel and white wine steamed from large platters, boiled eggs cut and stuffed with fragrant cheese and herbs nestled among salads of other fresh herbs and greens. Abby gasped, admiring the hollowed out Stormland lemons with glistening pieces of Dornish blood oranges and lemon sticky with sugar dotted the table in pops of bright, delectable color.

Aegon was eagerly filling his plate with the roast pork he so adored, and she reached for one of the sour orange treats, popping a sticky piece of fruit into her mouth and hoping it calmed the knot of nerves that were growing insistently.

“They certainly spared no expense,” Corynna’s voice was soft at her side. Abby glanced over at her sister who was commenting on the wine being poured to her husband. Her sister was as beautiful as she was sharp, resplendent in the colors of House Lannister, a ruby red gown that set off her golden skin, and an overdress of golden silk. Her brunette curls were tamed and pulled back into a low bun at the base of her neck, encased in a jeweled net of gold and rubies, a heavy lion pendant hanging from her throat. She decided not to engage with her sister’s low commentary, for it was exactly what she wanted, and instead busied herself on the treat in front of her.

“Here.” Abby glanced at Aegon, who held his fork up with a piece of pork. She opened her mouth to decline, and he popped the piece in with that dangerous smirk flashing across his mouth before going back to his food. It was good, the spark of ginger cutting through the sweetness of the plum. It had also served to get her mind off the fact that they were eating at the head table, and she let her gaze drift, ignoring her sister’s tut of disapproval.

Abby caught Baela looking at them curiously. She was beautiful that evening in the colors of her mother’s house. The aquamarine gown was cut in the Pentoshi style like the previous one she wore to their family dinner, with a deep v cut into the bodice and the layers of fabric pinned like a chiton at her shoulders. On her head she wore a silver tiara shaped into the heads of seahorses with matching gemstones for their eyes. Abby gave the princess a small smile. “You look lovely tonight, Princess. I am truly glad to have you here and I look forward to us getting to know one another.”

Baela’s violet eyes narrowed somewhat at being addressed, and Abby felt Aegon shift beside her as he honed in on the conversation. “May your futures be bright and happy, Lady Abrogail. Cousin.”

“Thank you, cousin,” Aegon replied with his tight smile. “Perhaps it will be your nuptials we’ll be celebrating next.” The words were friendly, at least somewhat so. Abby suppressed a sigh, but knew it was at least a small win. Baela did not seem to mind sitting next to Daeron, for the pair of them had fallen into a discussion about their dragons and how Tessarion had fared in Oldtown. “I heard Mother wondering if her and Jace will wed next.”

Jacaerys.

Abby chanced another look at the incredibly awkward end of the table. There was the queen, then Lord Otto, then Larys, and then… Aemond, Helaena, and Jace. The three of them were utterly silent, like mimes in a play, and it was hard to tell what made it worse: the fact that Aemond and Jace had ended up wearing near matching doublets that evening, or the sapphire sun that was Helaena between them.

Aemond and Jace and Baela should have been separated, but Jace could not sit next to her, for the rumors that would cause and so poor Helaena was stuck as the wall to separate them.

She looked every inch the beautiful princess from a song. Her silver hair hung loose and free down her back with four braids keeping her hair from her face. The twists wound themselves into the silver tiara she wore, the sapphires winking out like stars from the woven metal strands that took the place of her usual braid. Her gown was diaphanous silk, her shoulders bared. The sleeves were a light blue and the sheer fabric hugged her arms. The gown went from a lovely sky blue to a deeper shade of twilight along the hem, and the silver embroidery evoked silver flames dancing across the gown. She wore the colors of Dreamfyre, dragonrider that she was, the princess of House Targaryen that did not need to evoke her house colors to state her place in the world.

The look on her face was blank and somewhat wide-eyed, focused on the shrimp in front of her. Abby’s heart ached, wanting to go to her and get her out of the situation she was in, but there was nothing for it. Helaena already grew anxious with crowds and she didn’t need the extra stress of being caught between two petulant looking boys.

Jace tilted his head towards her, saying something that drew a small smile from Helaena, and the knot of worry eased slightly.

The course was cleared away, the minstrels along the side gallery merrily playing songs from each of the realms present there today. Currently it was a Westerlands tune, fewer drums than the melodies of the Crownlands, and Abby caught Lord Tyland’s head bobbing to the music from his place at his twin brother’s side.

The next course was brought out and it was the largest pie Abby had ever seen, along with pottage of wild hare and cabbage, roasted lamb smelling of caraway and fennel and thyme. There was roasted chicken in orange glaze. Her gaze returned to the pie. It was as big as a wagon wheel, the pastry crust browned and caramelized and surrounded by many smaller pies like a crown. The crusts were slivered all around and gilt in gold along the top, and she could smell the saffron and cloves. They were stuffed to the bursting with more eggs and mixed meats and smelled delicious, but Abby’s stomach was knotted with nerves combined with the heady twist of arousal that pulsed every time Aegon’s knee bumped hers, or the way he’d tap his fingers upon her wrist to make sure she was alright.

Aegon inclined his head towards her, waving the servant away and pushing his plate between them. “You’re not eating. We’ll share.” He even pressed his goblet into her hand, taking hers and sipping from it in such an intimate gesture that Abby’s nerves were utterly forgotten about in that moment. She took a sip from his goblet, unsure of what to say. Aegon raised an eyebrow at her. “Eat,” he ordered and she knocked her slippered foot against his boot.

“You’re eating enough for the both of us, Prince. I couldn’t possibly keep up with you.” His appetite was a voracious one, and the plate he’d pushed between them had already started inching back towards him. She stabbed a piece of meat and gave him a look as she ate. He looked only somewhat abashed and popped a piece of crust in his mouth, licking juice from his fingers. She was reminded of the lakeside picnic, and the way his lips felt against her fingers while she fed him, the blushing heat as he fed her cakes in return and the kisses shared.

It must have shown on her face because a wicked gleam flashed across his eyes, gaze drifting to the low neckline of her gown and the gentle swell of her breasts. A voracious appetite indeed. He laughed when she busied herself with her goblet.

“Everyone is staring,” she whispered, unsure if she was chastising him or reminding him. Aegon’s gaze raked along the bare expanse of her shoulders, his hand twitching along his stolen goblet as if he was keeping himself from reaching for her again.

“Of course they are, hunītsos. Let them. Let them see how happy you look.” His gaze grew uncertain for a moment and she understood what words he held back.

“How happy you make me,” she offered softly. It was finally Aegon’s turn to blush, the expression uncharacteristically shy, and Abby could not help but lean over to brush a soft kiss against his cheek. Satisfaction was bright in her chest when his blush deepened before his own satisfaction crossed his features.

Let them witness. Let Edmund Vance and whatever moody River Lord conspired against them see that Aegon was hers, claimed by the rivers.

“Prince Aegon,” Erwin called halfway through the following course - mutton and stag and boar drenched in plum and wine sauces, brown sauces, and surrounded with dates and figs. The youngest Lannister brother was a gleaming gold lion, square faced with bright green eyes. He was not lanky as Lord Tyland nor as haughty as Lord Jason. He was a third son, bred for battle, and while he did not appear to cross swords with her sister, Abby wondered if that was a battle he had no desire to engage in. “I hear you’ll be participating in the melee on the morrow. Do you wield a morning star like Ser Criston, then? Or perhaps a battle ax?”

Corynna tutted, leaning back with exaggeration so her husband might speak. “It was only a matter of time before we talked swords.”

“The Prince is admirable with his sword skills, Erwin,” Abby piped up proudly before Aegon could speak, her turn to boast of him as he had done for her.

Aegon’s hand rested along the back of her chair as he leaned over with a grin on his face. “Some could say. It’ll either come down to skill or my lady’s favor, should she grant me. Mayhaps I’ll have the good fortune of meeting you in the ring?”

“Everyone knows the joust is where one proves themselves,” Baela cut in.

“Prince Daemon was quite impressive with his blade in the last tourney I saw him in, just as he was with a lance,” Erwin said with ease and a smile. “All the bouts require their own skills and strength.”

The conversation of the small tourney for tomorrow kept on, with Daeron joining in. Abby ignored her sister’s displeased muttering and her husband did as well. Perhaps that’s how the peace was kept in their household.

As the dessert course came out, those in attendance began to move about the room. No doubt they were eager to speak of the confirmation of what had been announced, judging by all the gazes that flitted in their direction. There were her favorite strawberry and cream cakes just out of reach, but she found that she had no appetite for the rich confection with the nervous energy building. Instead, she snagged a piece of marchpane dragon off Aegon’s piled plate of treats. He playfully snapped at her as if he was going to bite at her hand before handing her a marchpane crown without comment.

She leaned towards Aegon, brushing his ear and delighting in how he shivered at the contact. Her fingers tapped against his arm. “I’m going to speak to Wylla.”

He reached up to snatch at her wrist. “Stay,” he murmured, eyes searching her face. Don’t leave me alone next to him, she knew he was asking. Abby shook her head.

“We have to mingle, Aeg, We can’t sit up here all night.” He rolled his eyes and Abby tutted. “Go rescue Helaena.”

Aegon glanced down at the miserable end of the table and they spied Gwayne having come up, a hand braced on Aemond’s shoulder as he spoke to Larys and his father. “I’m surprised Aemond hasn’t stabbed him yet,” Aegon muttered and gave a nod. “Is this to be our duty now, my lady?”

Abby scrunched her face up in amusement and took his offered hand to rise from her chair. “Aye, it shall be, my lord. Save me a dance.” He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and they parted, Aegon going to join his uncle and siblings at the end of the table. She tilted her head, admiring him as he walked from her before heading towards Baela.

When Abby looked at Baela, she was reminded by the statue of Visenya that Aemond favored so in the gardens, or the tapestries that hung in the upper levels of the gallery: women who rode the skies with braids twisted into their long hair, the fierce and determined looks on their faces showing their command of the world. Targaryens were the closest one came to gods in Westeros. This fact Abby had grown with all her life. Everyone in Westeros did. She saw how the smallfolk clamored for the affections and attentions of the dragonriders during parades, the furrowed brows of the septons who disliked the competition to the Seven.

“Princess,” Abby gave the other a bright, welcoming smile. “Come with me, I have someone to properly introduce you to.” There was deference in her tone that Baela was owed, but Abby also clung to the reminder that she was to be a princess too. They would be equals in a few months, and the Queen wanted her to grow accustomed to this fact.

Baela, her lovely, violet eyes narrowed in her direction, seemed to have other ideas. Abby had asked Helaena the other evening what it was that Baela had said in Valyrian, and the princess had only said that she should not worry, for she did not believe Baela would speak so carelessly in the future. The other woman held her gaze, assessing in the way Abby was sure her dragon, Moondancer, would assess and Abby swallowed past the lump of nerves beneath the gaze. She realized after a moment that it was one of uncertainty. It had initially felt hostile - which considering whatever Valyrian she’d spoken upon arrival had been clearly hostile, it made sense - but it had also become clear that the princess was uncomfortable and therefore more judgemental, Abby thought, than she might normally be. At least, Abby hoped that was the case.

“You have people to introduce me to, Lady Abrogail?” The disdain was not obvious, and Abby wondered if this was what it meant to be unaccepted by the Valyrians. The family had kept to themselves since the landing. She had studied the Targaryen family tree in her studies and knew how rarely they married out of the houses. ‘The blood of the dragon must remain pure’, was stated when they’d learned about the Doctrine of Exceptionalism that allowed the practice of incest, and outlawed the multiple wives that The Conqueror and King Maegor had taken.

Would Aegon have wanted multiple wives? Would he have wanted someone more Valyrian to make him feel closer to his heritage? The curious thought flitted through her mind, and Abby felt a stab of jealousy at the idea of such a scenario, along with an uncertainty she couldn’t quite identify, but similar to the feeling of otherness that she found herself experiencing among the company of the other Riverlanders.

“I do. I hope, very much so, that your time here in the capital will be as comfortable as possible. I understand that it must be quite the change from Dragonstone, and the company of the rest of your siblings.” Baela said nothing at first, lips pressed in a thin line before looking down the table. Abby followed her gaze.

Jace and Helaena had a series of tarts and other confections in front of them, and Helaena was laughing brightly at the marchpane tentacles rising from a plum tart. Jace plucked one of them, slathered in cream to take a bite, offering the piece to Helaena who shook her head in amusement and reached for one of the candied lemons.

Aegon had pulled his brother away with a firm grip on his shoulder and the pair of them had headed towards the floor, goblets in hand with heads bowed towards each other. They were accompanied by some of the other young men at court; the Fossoway boys, Ser Leo Costayne, brother to Lord Owen, and their cousin, Lyonel Hightower, heir to the Oldtown seat.

Ser Leo was the eldest at over twenty, his almond eyes from his mother’s Lyseni heritage striking with the silver hair of Valyria that spread across the empire. He had already earned the title of The Sea Lion, the West taking pride in their own fierce seafarer as House Velaryon did with The Sea Snake, Lord Corlys. Little Floris had found him handsome, blushing when her avid gaze had been pointed out by Helaena. Abby had found herself readily agreeing.

At four and ten, Lyonel was as tall as Aemond with the promise to be taller, with the same cut cheekbones Abby could see was a Hightower feature, while Alicent, Aegon, and Helaena shared the soft roundness of their Reyne mother. His skin was swarthy from his Dondarrion mother, a contrast with his lighter brown hair. Her eyes drifted to the group of ladies, colors of the Reach and Westerlands in their clothes, and how they clearly were eyeing Prince Aemond, who was doing his best to pretend to be above it.

Far better for their attention than that of Cassandra Baratheon, who was stoically sitting by her heavy set father, face flushed with wine and quietly hissing at his eldest daughter. An unbidden pang of sympathy pulsed through Abby’s heart at how unhappy the other woman looked, momentarily overriding her displeasure.

Abby turned her gaze back to Baela, whose own eyes were sweeping the mass of people before them. She wondered if the rumor was true of a possible betrothal between Jacaerys and Baela, the future king and queen of the realm. Dragonriders both, in the Targaryen ways of old like Aegon and his wives, like King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne. She wondered if it had happened already and was simply unannounced, Rhaenyra waiting for the most opportune moment. Or perhaps the pair were simply siblings, mayhaps promises made out of stubborn pride. Would that explain Baela’s disdain for them? Did she see them as interlopers in a place that she considered her birthright by conquest and the Valyrian blood flowing through her?

Baela finally rose, fluid and graceful and confident in all the ways that Abby still found it difficult to be. The other woman stood a few inches taller - not a difficult feat by any means, but Abby was envious of the graceful turn of her neck. She was reminded of the descriptions of Visenya: comfortable in silks as she was in armor. What a sight the other would make upon dragonback with a war cry tearing from her. How confident Baela Targaryen was;in her sense of self, her place in the world, in all that made her Valyrian.

It struck Abby then how she did not feel like a child of the Riverlands no matter what she claimed. It felt as if she were spinning falsehoods into a cloak to shroud herself in, to distract from her own sense of confusion. As they approached the closer table where her Uncle Simon sat with the Brackens, listening to the conversation blend before her in the lilt and familiar cadence of the Riverlands, Abby found herself feeling like an outsider. It had not quite been like this at the welcoming feast those weeks ago, where they spoke the language of the capital. Her mother tongue had been one lost to her over the years since her father died, relegated to the dinner table and bedtime stories, of ephemeral memories of lullabies long sung. To hear Wylla’s own northern brogue share in the words of Old Tongue falling in a similar harmony, panic settled in Abby’s chest to find that she couldn’t quite keep up with the words exchanged.

The panic was frozen when Wylla turned her head, and all at the table gave move to rise and give their courtesies to Princess Baela. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby saw Baela shift a little, felt the whisper of silks brush against her. “This is Lady Wylla Karstark, from Karhold,” Abby introduced, her voice coming out higher than she intended as she forced past the lump in her throat. Wylla rose, nodding to her brother who was also getting up to speak with some of the other lords.

“Princess Baela, I hope you’re enjoying the festivities.”

Baela inclined her head but said nothing.

“She is my dearest friend and also far from home. Also quite the archer.” Abby reached for things that Baela might find intriguing and welcoming, hoping her instincts weren’t wrong.

Wylla shook her head slightly. “You are too kind, Lady,” she lightly teased with the use of the title.

Baela’s head cocked, the tinkling of the silver charms in her hair soft among the din of the room. “My, all that snow and ice. It’s a wonder you do not melt beneath the dragon’s heat,” Baela said and the challenge was clear in her voice.

Wylla smiled in her sharp way, ever the winter fox. “As a daughter of fire and sea, I would assume you to be well acquainted with contradictions. One must burn hot to survive the cold.”

Baela actually smiled at that and Abby took the chance. “Wylla is a far better archer than I, Princess. I hear you yourself are well acquainted with the bow.” Wylla’s storm gray eyes flitted to her and Abby did everything she could not to shift awkwardly beneath her friend’s gaze. Not in this dress, and not with the sunburst tiara that graced her head. Instead, she grinned back at her. The princess merely glanced back at her before shifting closer to Wylla.

“Do you hunt, Lady Wylla? I hear there’s to be a hunt later this week and I do so miss hawking…”

Abby released a soft breath, pressing a grateful squeeze to Wylla’s shoulder before moving on to her aunt and uncle. Her cousin, Gareth, had stayed behind at Harrenhal, and she had fuzzy memories of her Aunt Mya. The older woman was plump and warm, brushing a soft kiss with a greeting. The din of the throne room grew louder as the meal came to an end, servants dashing between the party goers, removing plates and replacing carafes of wine and small foods for guests to continue to indulge in. The music shifted to a more lively fair and the dance floor quickly filled with eager revelers.

Lythene Ryger of Willow Wood had drawn her into the shy gaggle of maidens who were standing expectantly along the edge of the dance floor, trading glances across the room at the lords and Abby had noticed the looks they’d thrown in Aemond’s direction. Lady Lythene was five and ten, soft featured with honey brown eyes, her strawberry blonde hair woven with strands of river pearls in the common half knot coil that was common in the Riverlands.

“If Lord Yorick were here, none of these men would have a chance to win tomorrow,” Melony Piper said, all dark hair and more freckles than one could count. “My sister says he was the most fearsome knight not so long ago.”

“Psh,” Lythene rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows Ser Gwayne is a force to be reckoned with. Besides, Lord Yorick never leaves Runestone and if he did, Lord Borros would throw a fit.” She looked smug with the knowledge imparted and whatever look on Abby’s face seemed to spur her on. She leaned in. “Lord Yorick is married to Lord Borros’ younger sister with a son of their own. Should Lady Elenda not have a son, it’s said his sister may push one of her son’s claims to Storm’s End.”

As one, their eyes swiveled in the direction of Cassandra Baratheon, perfectly coiffed, and everything the daughter of a Lord Paramount would be. Raven hair wild as storm clouds around her bare shoulders, her golden dress sparkling in the dancing torchlight with an opal the size of Abby’s fist nestled in the hollow of her throat. Abby’s hands twitched, smoothing over the cloud of blue and green silk organza, the golden dragons and weirwood leaves embroidered over her bodice.

A warm hand touched her wrist and Abby met the gentle, honey eyes of Lythene, who smiled up at her. “Tá cuma álainn ort, a bhean,” she said softly while the others tittered. It took Abby a moment to register the words, “you look beautiful, my lady”, and Abby smiled shyly.

“Go raibh maith agat,” she thanked her and Lythene bit her lip as if holding back a chuckle.

“Agat,” she pronounced softly, the inflection different. “A little closer to got, and less like goat.”

Her cheeks burned and she repeated it softly and Lythene took her hand, squeezing it. “I can’t imagine you get to practice with many people here in the South,” she laughed, a tinkling like bells that drew the attention of other men.

“I haven’t. I’m looking forward to getting to speak it more, but I can’t get that sort of practice teaching Aeg- Prince Aegon.”

“You mean he’s actually going to try learning our tongue?” came the aggressive disbelief of Lady Melony. “Targaryens aren’t ones to debase themselves so.”

Lythene opened her mouth but Abby cut in, a frown slashed across her face. “Aegon is a Targaryen and a Hightower, a family that traces their lineage and impact to before the First Men, some say.” She tilted her head, exhaling softly and shook her head. “The Targaryens may be above us due to the gifts of the dragon, but you can be assured that Prince Aegon will take his duties seriously.”

She was reminded of the words Edmund had sneered at her, of how none would trust a dragon coming into the Riverlands and it was foolish to think so. Lythene said nothing, watching her curiously while Melony Piper’s bright green eyes narrowed somewhat, thin mouth pursed. Abby’s grandmother had been a Piper, which made the two of them kin.

Seven and the Old Gods help her if Aegon did not live up to her promise, but Abby trusted that he would. That he would, at the very least, try.

Melony opened her mouth to speak again but murmurs danced through the crowd, attention towards the dance floor. Abby looked over her shoulder in surprise.

Jace led Helaena by the hand to the crowd of dancers as the next song started, fingers touching as they circled around one another. She was a glittering, blue dragon amidst the crowd, hair like mercury as it flowed around her. Helaena loved to dance and the joy was obvious on her soft features, Jace’s own smile a shy one, his broad frame more obvious as he circled around her. Not as tall as Aemond, but Jace would grow taller yet.

“Well,” Melony’s attention had changed. “That’s an interesting development.”

Abby’s eyes instinctively cut to the queen where she sat at the King’s right, a slight furrow to her brow, and the Lord Hand beside her, his attention also on the pair dancing. A fond smile cut across Otto Hightower’s face as Helaena laughed when Jace spun her, and Abby wasn’t at all sure what to make of it.

Helaena looked happy, though, and that was all that mattered.

Abby startled at the feeling of a warm hand stroking against her elbow and Aegon’s laughter was soft as he stroked his fingers down her arm in a way that had goosebumps flaring across her skin. His fingers twined with hers and the ladies around her bobbed curtsies, murmuring My Prince and Your Grace.

“You all look like you’re having so much fun here, but I must steal my betrothed away,” Aegon said, his voice light and amused, in his element as the center of attention and even more dangerous without drink to cloud his senses. Abby felt the heated flush creep along her throat when Aegon tugged her into him. “I promised you a dance, didn’t I, Lady Abrogail?”

Lythene looked amused, Melony uncertain and Abby turned under Aegon’s arm so that she was facing him. “You did, my Prince. Thank you for the conversation, Lady Lythene, Lady Melony,” she thanked as Aegon began tugging her away. “It was good to meet you.”

Everything else drifted away when Aegon pulled her into his arms. The contrast to the last time they’d danced together was palpable. There was no anger between them, no confusion, no fear. He twirled her as he drew her into the space as if he were showing her off, her skirt flaring around her, rippling greens and blues like the rivers of her home, the candlelight glimmering along the golden threaded dragons on her gown, and the citrine bursts along her tiara. When Aegon pulled her into him, she could feel the heat of his body barely pressed against her, the flush of it coursing through her with every hammering beat of her heart.

“I wish we were somewhere more quiet,” Abby murmured to him as they turned around one another, clapping their hands before reaching for each other again. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Aemond tugging Wylla on the floor, her friend caught between surprise and a pleased flush along her cheeks. Abby would have to tease her later, in return for how merciless Wylla had teased her.

“Do you?” Aegon asked, grinning at her, eyes full of heat. “We could, you know. It is my nameday.”

“We’ll be caught, and I’d rather your mother not find us,” she chuckled, spinning away from him to turn around Lord Tyland, who smiled down at her indulgently while Aegon politely moved around Lady Johanna Westerling, Tyland’s goodsister and dance partner. Her gaze kept pulling back to Aegon whenever they were separated in the dances, and when they came back together, there was an ache in her chest that she could not identify. Relief? Want? Longing?

Everything?

“Remind me to get you a map of the tunnels,” he murmured, leaning down to brush a kiss against her temple and she couldn’t help the bubbling of giggles that escaped her. Aegon looked incredibly pleased with himself, and as the next song started, he pulled her closer to him, hands possessive on her hips as he lifted her in the air and spun her around.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked. Then it clicked. “What, so I can sneak to your room?”

Aegon winked at her. “Clever girl.”

“I try.”

As Abby turned, her eyes caught on the furious, dark gaze of Edmund Vance across the hall, accompanied by Lord Piper and some of the other River Lords. Abby blanched, the joy she had felt abating like water on a fire at the ugly look in his eyes. So distracted, she was, that she stumbled her steps of the complicated dance, nearly falling had Aegon not pulled her to him in time. She saw his gaze follow hers, his own smile morphing into a hard look.

“I’ve taken care of it.” Abby didn’t understand, trying to find the steps again without ruining the entire dance, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Aegon’s hand brushed soothing along her arm, his other hand warm on her waist and giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Focus on me, eyes on me, hunītsos.” His voice was gentle and firm all at once, quiet and earnest and Abby focused on the sound of it, her gaze finding his, softened now. “Aemond saved me from making a scene, but I’ve handled it.” He tilted his head. “I don’t need to take his hands.”

Abby struggled to find words, a strange and unfamiliar thrill coursing through her that she could not examine too closely in the moment. “And what have you decided to take instead?”

As the dance came to a close, Aegon reached up to cup the softness of her cheek, tilting her head back with his thumb on her lower lip. He leaned in, mouth brushing against hers, and the vow he made was full of promise.

“His pride,” he murmured, and kissed her in front of the realm to seal it.

What was your favorite moment of the chapter? What's something you're looking forward to? Any fun theories!? I'd love to hear your thoughts on what you're enjoying about Maiden and any curiosities you might have! And if you're not sure what to say, just a kind reblog with a heart or something would be lovely <3

[Chapter Fifteen]

#fic: the maiden and the drowning boy #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen fic #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen #aegon x oc #aegon ii targaryen x oc #hotd #hotd fic #hotd fanfic #house strong #aegon x abby #my fics

[killianlynch]

Alrighty, since I'm guessing this question is one that Julius won't answer (understandably) I'm gonna ask you.

From what I've seen and heard, you and basically the rest of hellcrew seem to really HATE Lucien the Psychiatrist. His infatuation with your husband is really weird, and I'm wondering if he was there when Julius was in conversion "therapy". Could you shine some light on what Lucien did?

I've taken some time to respond since Im not fuckin sure how to put this and it's personal to Jules. And talking about that piece of shit really fucking gets my blood boiling.

Lucien wasnt his psychiatrist at goddamn conversion "therapy," but at that godforsaken shitty asylum Jules was sent to by his shit father. ‘The Oaks Psychiatric Facility for the Insane and Mentally Deficient’ was the name of the hellhole.

I don't know the details of everything that happened while Jules was there but it sure as fuckin shit wasn't good. Lucien has always been infatuated with Jules. Dammed bastard did a helluva lotta fuckin horrific things to him.

..and yeah, no fuckin’ shit i also do atrocious fuckin shit on a regular basis. I'm goddamn irredeemable and fuckin bask in being the villain. I'll cross every goddamn red line at full fuckin speed. Except for one.

I don't ever goddamn touch kids and I don't have the fucking words to express how much I fucking despise those who do. That shit leaves a very painful life fuckin long wound in the best outcome. It fucks you up goddamn permanently. It makes you see the world as filled with monsters, monsters who want to hurt you. Why the fuck do you think I am the way I goddamn am? I got sick of the abuse and became a goddamn nightmarefuel tier monster myself. Jules is similar, but that's his fuckin business.

Ain't no way I'd ever touch a kid tho. Makes me wanna be fuckin sick just thinking about. Got a lot of reeeeaall fuckin bad memories.... I'm in no damn way father material, but you sure as shit can bet your ass I protect kids. Helll, I took a bullet twice as a human jumping in front of a kid to keep them from being shot.

When it comes to those who harm children, I am fuckin merciless. I was the one who killed Luciem when I was 19. And it was fucking brutal. The fuck up I made, even though there's no damn I woulda known this shit at the time, was using Jules' knife, not to mention Jules being ultimately the reason he was killed, i just did the act. So now we're fuckin stuck with him.

Gonna stop there cuz shit has got me way to fucking pissed--- AND I'M FUCKIN COMIN FOR YOUR RANK ASS AGAIN @lucienthepsychiatrist YOU BITCH!

[OOC: is a fictional RP blog. All events mentioned are fictional and from The Hellcrew Project franchise. The blog that is tagged in the answer is also an RP blog. In no way do any of the actions, beliefs, etc of the characters in The Hellcrew reflect the creators.]

#//rp blog #killian lynch #julius the dressmaker #//rp interaction #julius doherty #lucien the psychiatrist #lucien delaney

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

I need everyone to know that speedsters are allergic to nanobots.

No, seriously. They're allergic to nanobots.

Speedsters have absolutely insane metabolisms, which means that they have an absolutely insane immune system. They don't get sick. Ever. Their immune system works at warp speed and takes out germs the second they enter their body. Call germs 'the Rogues' because they're getting tackled by super speedy blurs before they can even think about causing issues.

Okay, so they have a great immune system and don't get sick ever. What does this have to do with nanobots?

Great question! When nanobots are injected into a speedster's body their immune system sees them as a threat. Only problem? It doesn't matter how fast or efficient their immune system is, their body can't destroy a bunch of tiny metal robots.

Because their bodies can't fight off the nanobots they start to display typical cold/flu symptoms instead. Vomiting, fever, runny nose, coughing, being tired, ect. The nanobots aren't causing this reaction. Their own immune system causes this reaction. The fever is the bodies attempt to kill off the 'germs'. The vomiting, runny nose and coughing is the body's attempt to expel the 'germs'. They feel tired because their body is putting everything into fighting off the 'infection'.

In a normal person the nanobots wouldn't even be an issue because they'd be able to avoid detection. They can't avoid detection in a speedster body because their immune systems are dialled up to 500 out of 10.

As a result you get instances like this:

(Inertia had injected Bart with nanobots and Bart had a reaction)

Just an FYI for people because this is extremely fun and versatile information. Especially because none of the speedsters are really aware of this and it doesn't kick in right away. I could totally see a situation where a mission requires nanobot injections and mid mission the speedster goes down out of nowhere. It's also great if you want to do a stereotypical sick fic or something and want to get around that pesky speedster immunity.

Anyway, it's fun information so I thought I'd share

#anyone watch that episode of TT where all the titans are injected with nanobots that'll kill them if robin doesn't work with slade? #and everyone is all 'WHY HAS ROBIN BETRAYED US?!?' #anyway im just saying that if Wally was there he would be on the ground delirious and vomiting #which #i don't know if it makes the situation better because the team would be looking into why hes sick #or if it makes it worse because wallys out of commission #but its 10/10 either way #i just want a yj mission where tims like 'hey we are going to space so here are gps nanobots' #and then like three hours later Bart is burning up delirious and vomiting #and tim (who knows that speedsters ONLY show symptoms of sickness if they have the plague or have been poisoned or something) FREAKS OUT #throws him into quarantine. stops the mission. gets an emergency surgery room ready. has doctors on the line. #Kon goes into quarantine with him cause hes 'AN ALIEN AND CAN'T GET SICK FUCK YOU TIM' #meanwhile hes like #completely fine #he just has flu symptoms #dc #dc comics #the flash #impulse #kid flash #wally west #bart allen #barry allen #speedsters