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deakyjoe · 1 year

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Somebody’s Watching Me Part 12

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (“Sarge”, she/her, British, backstory)

Category: coworkers to friends to lovers with grumpy x sunshine dynamic/idiots in love

Summary: Can the two of you fix the damage that has been done? Or is it too late?

Warnings: angst, fluff, talks of injuries, British slang/terminology, strong language, mask is off

Word count: 1.4k (a baby in comparison to other parts)

A/N: Took a break from writing this series, mostly because I was burned out and had lots of uni work to be doing, but also because I needed time to think the ending through to give you all the best of what I’m capable of. It’s not as long as other parts but I feared that if I didn’t write it now then I would never write it. It’s pretty much where I always intended the story to go, just with a lot less conversation than originally planned. There will still be an epilogue after this but for now… enjoy!

When Ghost awoke, blinded by fluorescent hospital lights, and he saw Price standing at the foot of his bed with a deep-set frown... well, he knew things weren't good. It didn't help that you were nowhere to be seen. He didn't expect you to be fawning over him and nursing him back to health or anything. But no trace of you in the hospital room at all was not an encouraging sight.

"Am I dead?" Simon said gruffly, immediately coughing as his lungs clearly had something wrong with them.

Price scoffed. "You wish."

"Damn." He attempted to sit up straight, groaning when pain stabbed through his torso. "Ah, what the fuck?"

"I'd be careful if I were you. You were shot. Several times."

"Nothing new then." He sighed and looked at Price again, a grave look crossing his face. "Where is she?"

The captain hesitated for a moment before replying. "Home."

Shit, that definitely wasn't good.

"Why?" Simon didn't really want to know, too scared of the truth, but he needed to know.

"She was severely injured. Needed better medical attention than we could give her and then some time off once she recovers. She's home now but still in remission." Price checked his watch quickly, clearing his throat when he saw the time.

"Got somewhere to be?" Ghost asked, a sarcastic inflection in his voice.

The captain nodded. "Yes, actually. Already late from waiting for your lazy arse to wake up."

He only grunted in reply and waved his superior out of the room. "Go. I'll be fine.”

"You can go home to her once you've healed a bit more. For now, rest." And with that, Price walked out of the room leaving Simon in silence.

It was okay. He liked silence. Well, more he liked the lack of talking. People talked far too much about insignificant things. Strangely, he missed the sound of your voice chattering about insignificant things. He pushed that thought away and attempted to sleep for a while.

At home, in your flat, you were sick of friends coming over to visit you. Each one seemed to have some form of baked good or casserole and your refrigerator was full to the brim already. You hadn't even been home that long.

The sheer mass of people doting over you was becoming overwhelming in the most annoying way possible. You didn't need them constantly caring for you. Sure, the sentiment was nice enough but you were used to looking after yourself and healing independently. Usually you did it in the (un)comfort of a military hospital or medical tent. Unfortunately for you, you'd been sent home this time and had had no choice in informing your friends of your sudden return back. They just suddenly knew you were there and they were more than willing to help.

"I don't need you to give me a sponge bath." You'd told one with a roll of your eyes, still thinking about earlier in the day when you'd had to tell another that it was perfectly fine for you to drink apple juice and not stick to a strict diet of water.

Honestly, a part of you was enjoying being at home and having time to relax. Even though the cause of it was a little extreme, being able to sit on your sofa all day and watch reruns of old sitcoms as you made your way through every dish stacked in your fridge was nice. Almost... fun.

A part of you longed for something though. Simon. Obviously him. You craved to know how he was doing. When you'd first woken up, a nurse had simply told that he was alive and nothing else. Alive meant nothing. You didn't even know if his condition was stable.

You were worried, to say the least. And even Price wasn't willing to divulge any further information when you'd pressed him for it over the phone. He'd just mumbled something vague and moved on to asking you how you were doing.

It was frustrating. That was for sure.

The days passed and you grew restless, itching to get out of the house again. But you were sensible and followed the suggested instructions from the several doctors that had all agreed that you needed in order to heal properly. It was just a shame that it took so long to happen.

On day, what felt like, one billion of staying at home, there was a knock at the door. And after you'd taken a minute or two shuffling towards it, shouting out a stream of reassurances that you were on your way, you were utterly shocked to find your lieutenant on the doorstep.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times before a ridiculous sentiment left your mouth.

"Jesus, is this like those hallucinations you get just before dying?"

Simon said nothing, just the twitch of the corner of his mouth indicated that he had even heard you, and outstretched his fist to you.

In his hand, was an apple.

Specifically, one of the good apples from the farmers' market.

You looked up at him in confusion.

"Peace offering."

That explained it. So, you took it from him and opened the door wider to let him in. You weren't about to turn down a good apple or a peace offering.

Once you'd both settled yourselves into comfortable positions on the sofa, you wincing a few times and growing jealous that he seemed to have healed so quickly, you really took your time to look at him.

You tilted your head to the side and raked your eyes over him. "You're nervous."

"Am I?" His eyebrows raised a fraction.

"Yes." You nodded.

"How can you tell?"

"You scratch at the scars on your face when something is making you anxious."

"Hm." His eyes squinted at that observation, obviously not previously aware that he had that tell.

You moved on, not willing to dwell on that. "Why are you here?"

"Visiting an old friend."

You laughed sarcastically. "Oh, really?"

He shrugged, still as frustrating as ever. "You should've left me behind."

You'd be shocked if he hadn't been so self-sacrificial in previous times.

"Why would I do that?" You asked, lacing your voice with a mock innocent tone.

"Would've been the smart decision." He snapped.

So you shot right back. "Maybe I'm not smart."

"Yes, you are. You're just stubborn."

The words he'd once told you came tumbling out of your mouth. "A stubborn brat you mean?"

"That too."

You laughed again, shaking your head in disbelief. "You're right. I am stubborn. And I couldn't let you die. The idea of you... I can't stand it. So I let you live for selfish reasons. Alright?"

"You should have let me die."

"Shut up, Simon. That was never going to happen." You rolled your eyes at him and grit your teeth when a shooting pain stabbed through your side as you adjusted your position on the sofa.

Simon's hands raised for a second as if about to help you before he lowered them again.

Instead, he asked a question.

"Why not?"

You looked at him to see if he was being serious. He was.

"You know why."

"Maybe I don't."

You sighed. He was so difficult sometimes. Yet, you gave in.

"I..." You trailed off into thought.

But Simon wasn't going to let it go so easily. "You what?"

"I, y'know, I feel..." Your hands waved around as if hoping to grip a coherent answer from the air.

"Feel what?" The slight raise of an eyebrow hinted that he knew exactly what you wanted to say.

You sighed in defeat. "You know what I'm trying to get across here, Simon."

"I want to hear you say it."

"I feel for you. Have feelings. More than platonic. I... care... for you." You cringed at your own clumsiness, wondering when you'd lost your ability to fully communicate with words.

"I know."

You punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Cocky shit."

"I also care for you."

"I know." You scoffed teasingly.

He just repeated your words back to you. "Cocky shit."

The smiles that broke out across both of your faces were indescribable.

Yeah, the two of you were being slightly more awkward about this than usual but it was never going to be easy to just jump right back in to what you used to have. Smaller steps would have to be taken. And you were fine with that. As was he. You’d get there eventually, it was only a matter of time. After all, some things were just meant to happen.

A/N: Thank you all so much for sticking with me through my hiatus! I’m sorry this is a quick resolution but the epilogue is still on the way.

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aphrodisiac-siren · 1 year

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Dynasty of Flames

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen-Royce Reader

Summary: Being born into the most respected and equally feared houses in the realm made people look up to you as if you were a god and the devil himself, in equal measure. People say that when a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin; and when news of the birth of Daemon's firstborn- a girl, spread, people could only wait in anticipation to see which side of the coin faced up during her birth.

Warnings: Incest (duh) mentions of blood/gore, swearing.

AN: Not proofread so I will simply die of mortification after I've had a chance to read this whole thing in peace later this evening.

Masterlist

Part 19

GIF by unravelingthepain

“Māzigon va ñuha zaldrītsos" He chuckled adoringly at his daughter as he circled around her with sword in hand, watching her huff adorably with annoyance as she rose to her feet "sylugon qopsa"

"Come on my little dragon, try harder"

Y/N gripped the hilt of the sword tighter, knuckles turning white as her cheeks flushed red- a result of her temper flaring up. This was her fourth- no, fifth time losing to her kepa in a dual and the defeat was doing her no good in keeping her cool. Meanwhile, her father seemed to be quite amused by her short temper.

Daemon had taken the task of training his daughter with the sword himself, trusting no knight to be skilled enough to teach her nor anyone with enough patience to handle her temper tantrums. She was his daughter after all.

He found it absurd that women weren’t really given any sort of training when it came to weaponry and it was absolutely ridiculous. How was a lady to defend herself? Especially when a good amount of crimes were committed against women?

“This isn’t fair kepa” she pouted as she dusted the muck off her tush, hastily advancing toward him with the sharp weapon they called a sword “you aren’t going easy on me”

“I know” Daemon shrugged as he dodged a rather weak attack attempted by his daughter. He winced slightly when she lost her balance and fell down, grunting as her knees scraped against the rough ground littered with mud and tiny stones “you’ll thank me later”

“Thank you kepa for letting me fall”

“When you are caught in a fight, you will fall a million times and you will get up a million times” he let her stand up on her own, not picking her up himself like how he used to do when she was even younger “but I am training you with such intensity to ensure that it is solely you who should rise to your feet amidst the dead fools who crossed you”

Y/N brushed the hair out of her eyes, eyeing her father ferociously as she yet again lifted her sword.

“Do not rush into an attack” he instructed her, mimicking her actions of circling each other like animals about to pounce in an attack “take a moment to study your opponent. Which side are they leaning toward? Does their footing seem strong?”

Y/N took a deep breath, her eyes not leaving her father’s as she watched him like a hawk. She felt as though she probably even looked like some crazed animal with her clothes stained with mud and her hair all wild.

“Don’t second guess yourself” Daemon spoke softly, a tender smile adorning his lips “a dragon never doubts its ability”

Y/N wished she had visited her mother’s castle much earlier. The serenity of the place was far too therapeutic in comparison to where she lived and she was certain that with the oncoming war, this peaceful place too would fall into chaos.

Wanting to cling to this remaining bit of solitude, she continued to stay here whilst leaving the others in the dark of her whereabouts. They did not care for her or hold any remorse for what they’d done to her by taking away her crown, her reign, her mother. No, all they cared about was power, power, power.

Power for themselves, power to run the world as they see fit,

Power they stole from her.

And the only reason they’d been able to do so, was because she was a woman. How was being born with a cock an important factor for being in line to the throne? And furthermore, how important was it for someone to rule that one would forget their morals, cast aside their humanity and kill their own wife for the sake of being king?

The girl grunted with anger as she picked up her chalice and forcefully flung it across the wall and against the wall. The metallic cup fell to the ground with a loud clatter after it collided against the sturdy wall and she was sure the harsh impact left a dent in the cup.

And yet she was certain that the cup couldn’t have caused such a loud clattering sound for she heard an even louder sound of metal heavily crashing against the stone floor- the noise coming from the other side of her doors.

She stood up, hastily, as she bent down to lift her skirts and retrieve the dagger she kept strapped around her thigh at all times. And gods be good she was so glad she did, for when she finally let her skirts drop down once again, the door swung open to reveal a tall yet lean man standing in the doorway, covered from the waist down with blood. The guards that usually stayed by her door lay in a crumpled heap of tangled limbs and judging by the painful way their necks were twisted in and the pool of blood beginning to form, it was a safe bet to assume they hadn’t been merely knocked out but slaughtered.

“Tell me who sent you and I’ll let you keep your life” Y/N calmly asked, trying her very best to keep the fear and confusion from showing in her voice and body language “take another step and my offer dies and you will as well along with it”

“The one who is to die is going to be you, princess” the man sneered, marching into the room with his sword pointed at her “I’ll use your pretty mouth to fuck my cock before I slice your head off to be given to the one who paid for it”

The girl raised a brow, trying to steady her breathing as she racked her brains to formulate some sort of plan to escape this disaster. He was armed with a sword and she was at a disadvantage with only having a dagger to defend herself. She was well aware she could lead him to his death with the smaller weapon but for that she would need him to either be disarmed or really stupid enough to give her enough space to get closer and drive the dagger into his side.

His body, despite being lean, hung forward awkwardly as he stepped closer and closer, his back hunched over as if he had been carrying something rather heavy on his shoulders.

“Do not rush into an attack”

She let him get closer, until she could practically hear his boots against the floor and she hoped he couldn’t hear her heart threatening to pound its way right out of her ribcage.

His bad posture would work to her advantage; bad posture meant he was probably tired and hence, wouldn’t be fighting her to the fullest of his ability.

He mistook her still, rigid stance to be that of fear and surrender and swung his sword, aiming at her left side.

Foolish mistake.

The moment he raised his arm, Y/N dashed forward in a flash with her dagger held tightly in her grasp and she pushed it into his side, attempting to stab him fatalistically but to her dismay he was quick to push her away from him.

She’d managed to gift him with a deep gash in his side before he had shoved her with such force it sent her stumbling back into her table, her lower back colliding against the wooden edge that sent a sharp pain right up her spine and she winced loudly, muttering profanities under her breath that most people at court would gasp in response to.

The man, now even more wired up, lunged at her again; as if he hadn’t learned his lesson the first time.

This time she let him get even closer; close enough for the sharp blade of his sword to slice her left arm before he let out an agonising scream when Y/N took her chance and buried her dagger into his side that she’d previously only managed to injure.

“Fucking bitch” he growled and clasped his hands around her neck when he lost his grip on his sword that fell to the floor with a clatter as the metal came in contact with the stone.

The princess only grunted in response, twisting the dagger that elicited an even antagonising scream and she used all of her might to kick his shin, an action that had the man stumbling back a few steps before he fell to his knees.

“Who sent you?” Y/N struggled to keep her voice confident as her sleeve began to stain scarlet with the blood that oozed out of the deep wound in her hand.

"The lady Alys Rivers" he managed to respond through his gritted teeth, breaths coming out in pants.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart beating even faster with anger.

"Alys" she repeated "where is she now?"

"As far as I know, she was headed for Harrenhal" he winced as the pain intensified "you said you would spare me my life if I told you"

"I did" Y/N coldly replied as she crouched before him, a new wave of rage washing over her at the mention of Alys "but I also said the offer dies the moment you step in, as will you"

And with that, she aggressively pulled out the dagger from his side and stabbed it into his neck, repeatedly. She was like a woman possessed, fixated on burying the dagger into his neck over and over as his screams died out until his boy lay limp on the cold floor. Blood spewed out and stained the carpet near him, her dress and her face. And even though the man lay lifeless at her feet, she adamantly kept stabbing him, his organs spilling out of his now ripped-open abdomen, until the voice of her aunt snapped her out of her frenzy.

"Princess" she called out as she stood by the door with a bunch of guards at her disposal, visibly afraid after seeing her neice murder a man with such a crazed look "a raven arrived from the Dragonstone"

The girl stood up, eager to hear what her aunt had to say.

"Prince Lucerys has asked for house Royce's support" she spoke with a shaky voice, eyes darting from her niece to the dead mercenary "he wishes to lay his claim to the throne"

Y/N let out a chuckle that seemed to have frightened her aunt and she couldn’t blame her since she was obviously not laughing out of amusement but pure rage.

"Has Jace suddenly grown weary of the war that has barely begun?" she cockily asked "already forfeit his claim and let his brother take on the burden?"

"No, princess" the older woman proceeded with caution and nervousness "prince Jacaerys is dead. As is Aegon, Daemon and Aemond, my lady. A battle broke out in the skies above God's eye and neither of the men nor their dragons survived and from what is mentioned in the letter, they believe you to be dead as well, given your disappearance"

Y/N felt as though the life had been sucked right out of her. Her father was dead?

She was upset at him, enraged even but there were things that needed to be discussed, amends to be made. The last conversation she had with him was an argument and it pained her that things were left unsolved.

Her Aemond? The man she loved with all of her being and with every fibre in her body was no more?

Aegon and Jace, the two people she had come to hate and yet also loved were taken away from her?

All for what? For a throne that deep down, neither one wanted badly enough to cast aside their friendship.

Had she caused the fight? They all seemed to believe she was dead. Gods, please no- it couldn't be because of her; she couldn’t bear the thought of having their blood on her hands.

She did not want the crown after it had cost her her family.

Hot tears pricked her eyes and she hurried out of the room, pushing past the guards to make her way out to the lawns where her sweet dragon Achlys rested.

She mounted him quickly, not bothering to say her farewells to her aunt. She was far too upset and angered to manage a conversation as simple as that.

"Soves Achlys" she instructed, voice cracking.

She made her journey to Harrenhal, in hopes of finding Alys there as the man had told her earlier. He could’ve been bluffing, or perhaps not but for her own satisfaction she wanted to check for herself.

By the time she reached the cursed castle, the sun had begun to set and the skies were painted in shades of red.

How befitting, she thought, I shall paint the earth scarlet as well with her blood.

Much to her connivence, she found Alys standing outside amidst the greenery that surrounded the castle and she ordered for her dragon to make his descent.

The princess took great pleasure in gazing at Alys' reaction for it was obvious by how pale and shocked she became that she was not expecting the princess to be alive still.

"Surprised my lady?" Y/N sarcastically chuckled as she climbed down Achlys "I'm sure you were only expecting my head and not all of me"

"Why won’t you just fucking die?" Alys grunted and Y/N had to commend her for her boldness "you ruined everything. First my chance at being a princess and now a queen"

"Aegon is already wed you dumb cunt" Y/N spat, advancing toward her "were you stupid enough to try and lure him with your love potion as well-"

"No, not him you bitch" Alys spat "Aegon was to die, but the fool just had to drag others into it"

Y/N seemed confused by her vague explanation so Alys continued.

"They were informed of your death and each council was told it was done by the other" she went on "The plan was to only have Aegon and Daemon fly into battle resulting in the king's death. Once Aemond would ascend the throne I would-"

"You orchestrated this?" Y/N asked, eyes getting darker as she glared murderously at Alys "you took away my family and you have the nerve to complain about why I am not dead yet?"

"I would kill you a hundred times over if it meant I would be queen" Alys sneered, her frustration clear in her voice.

"We have rather skilled craftsmen at our disposal but I'm afraid even they won’t be able to fashion you a crown for that big fucking head of yours" Y/N chuckled mockingly before she reached out and grasped the older girl harshly by her hair, tugging at them with such brutality that it caused Alys to shriek with pain.

"Let go you cunt" she tried to slap the princess' hand away but Y/N wasn’t letting go. She could’ve been stabbed and she still wouldn’t flinch for the pain she felt in her heart was far greater than any physical pain someone might attempt to inflict on her.

"Achlys" she called out and immediately her dragon raised his head, jaw slacking to reveal his sharp teeth and she could see the glow of the fire at the back of his throat as he awaited for her to say dracarys but the command never came. She would not give her that quick death. No, she needed her to suffer and beg for her life to be ended "nābēmagon"

Attack.

Y/N harshly shoved Alys forward just as Achlys lurched forward, sinking his razor-sharp teeth into her but not quite closing his mouth.

Y/N watching without so much as flinching as her dragon mauled Alys painfully as she screamed and thrashed, the pain getting worse and worse with each moment but Achlys wasn’t done torturing her just yet.

The princess turned around, walking away from Alys and her screams as she made her way toward the lake above which the battle had taken place.

The battle in which her father and her betrothed had died.

She remembered how she and Aemond had sat by these very waters on the day she had run away with him on her own wedding. She had never imagined being here again, alone, weeping by the lake upon the death of the man she loved.

She slipped out of her shoes, walking into the coolness of the waters that served as a reminder of how cold the world around her had become all of a sudden. The sun was about to set completely beyond the horizon and the skies matched the darkness that had overtaken her heart as well.

She watched the waters ripple with the breeze, and being here again only seemed to bring her more pain.

With the aid of whatever remaining light the setting sun provided, her eyes caught a glint of something shimmering in the waters right next to her feet and she immediately bent down to pick it up.

Her eyes brimmed with tears again and this time, she granted herself the liberty to mourn her loss and she sunk to her knees as she sobbed bitterly- clutching the sapphire gem, that once belonged to Aemond, close to her chest where her heart ached for him.

Amidst her sobs, she heard the sound of a dragon screeching but she knew the sound did not come from Achlys. She turned, wiping away her tear-stained cheeks to see Luke arrive with Arrax.

"Y/N?" he called out, as if he wasn’t sure if that was her. He hopped off the saddle, taking cautious steps toward her "is that you?"

"Hello Luke" she managed a weak smile, another tear rolling down her blood-stained face.

Luke did not care that she was covered in blood and sweat and ran toward her, wrapping his arms around the older girl and hugging her frame tightly.

"We thought you were dead!" his voice faltered and soon enough, he was crying as well "I thought I lost you, I lost everyone I.. I.."

"Shh" she cooed, stroking his soft brown curls lovingly. She no longer recalled any sort of animosity she might’ve held for him. She was all she had now. Him, Baela and Rhaena.

"I've been visiting this place ever since Jace's death" the younger boy told her and the princess responded only with a hum.

"There are talks of who is to take the throne" he pulled away to look at her, sniffling "I don’t want it Y/N, I do not want the crown"

"We do not have to talk about that now" the older girl tried her best to sound comforting even though she could feel her own heart shattering.

"We do" Luke urged "the greens do not want me on that throne and they plan to crown Daeron. If you go to the capital, make it known you are alive, you can sway the council to favour you"

"They will not kneel before me" Y/N let out a defeated sigh that Luke found rather uncharacteristic "I fought adamantly for that throne and for what? For people I held dearly in my heart to die?"

"Which is why you must go and stake your claim" Luke held her hand "it must be you. Do not let their deaths go in vain. The greens will use Daeron as a puppet. It will not be a Targaryen but instead the Hightowers ruling the seven kingdoms through him".

The older girl heaved a sigh. He was right of course, they were in a rush to seat Daeron on the throne only because they would have their influence on him and until he could come of age, Otto would rule as his regent. If Otto came into power, she was well aware he would order the slaughter of her half-sisters and Luke on accounts of treason.

"Alright" she hummed, still clutching the sapphire stone, the only thing she had of her Aemond.

Alicent nodded in agreement with her father.

Otto Hightower had assembled the council members in the throne room to discuss the succession. He put forth the proposition to have Daeron crowned since he was the last Targaryen son of Viserys.

"He is not yet of age" one of the members spoke up.

"Neither is prince Lucerys" Otto reminded, incase the man was to vouch for him instead "nor is he a true-born son of the late princess Rhaenyra. Until Daeron comes of age, I shall serve the realm as king regent"

Before any of the other noblemen of the council could agree or disagree with his verdict, the large glass windows behind the iron throne came shattering down, a few stones from the walls went flying about as well and everyone turned their backs away to shield their front from the flying remnants of glass and stone.

As the dust and smoke began to clear, little by little, the silhouette of a dragon came into view and perched on its back seemed to be a woman who slid off the saddle and walked out of the rubble and smoke and into their view.

"Mother have mercy" Alicent gasped, as if she was looking at a ghost.

"There was talk of who is sit the throne, so I heard" she spoke, hands clasped behind her back which reminded Alicent of Aemond "allow me to free you from your troubles of deciding who is to rule. I will sit the throne, just as I was supposed to anyway-"

"With all due respect princess" Otto interrupted and Y/N was well aware he was going to tell her something that would be far from respectable "it is Viserys' sons who are in line to sit the throne, and not-"

"why does the council find it difficult to support a woman?" Y/N snapped immediately "you all pray to the mother, do you not? Will you only choose to bow before a woman when it involves your personal gain?"

Otto knew the princess was short-tempered and armed with her Dragon. The last thing he wanted was to enrage Daemon's blood and suffer her wrath.

“Perhaps if you were to wed Daeron” he put forth a proposal "you would rule as queen consort"

“Wed him? I do not need to wed anyone to ensure I have your support” she scoffed, as if the idea of marriage repulsed her "the throne is mine by right, regardless if I marry the younger prince or not. Aegon usurped the throne, this I will not have you deny. Rhaenyra was publicly announced as heir by Viserys while Aegon was never claimed as his successor before the masses. And as Rhaenyra's heir I see it only fit that I should be the one crowned"

The others glanced at each other nervously. She did make a fair point of Aegon never being publicly announced as heir.

Alicent knew Y/N would be perceived as a threat by her father and she feared that he might have her executed to secure Daeron's rule. She loved the princess too much to allow that to happen.

"The council will back your claim if you wed someone of the house" she tried to persuade Y/N into agreeing to marry Daeron, for her own safety "you will be queen, just like you want. Marry Daeron and-"

The large doors opened, the old hinges creaking as the wooden doors scraped against the floor and a familiar voice boomed across the spacious throne room.

"She will do no such thing"

Y/N's eyes widened and she momentarily forgot how to breathe. Even Alicent clutched the star-shaped pendant of the seven that hung around her neck, muttering a prayer under her breath.

"Gods be good" Y/N whispered softly as she froze in place, watching the person standing at the entrance now making their way closer toward them.

Taglist: @ladybug0095 @sahvlren @bunny24sstufff @dellalyra @ellabellabus07 @champomiel @fan-goddess @lilostif16

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #hotd #house of the dragon #tom bennett #world on fire #aemond #aemond smut #aemond x you #aemond headcanons #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x y/n #daemon targaryen #daemon smut #aegon targaryen #aegon smut

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belaephemeral · 1 year

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Alcohol-Free

Pairing: Diluc x Reader, Venti x Reader (gender-neutral)

Word count: 2927

Summary: The Darknight Hero tends to your wounds after a sudden encounter in the forests of Mondstadt. However, this task seems to be a challenge, especially when one meddlesome bard keeps intervening and proving to be a constant nuisance, both sober and drunk.

In which, Diluc grapples with his infatuation with you whilst competing with Venti for your heart.

part one (current), part two (coming soon)

It was just a scratch.

That’s what you keep telling him. But that stoic redhead, that formidable and powerful protector with an aloof aura, that refined nobleman with a furtive allure, which inevitably reels in admirers no matter where he goes, seems to have quite the stubborn streak. Annoyingly so.

When you catch him in moments like these, you ponder if you’re talking to the very owner of the the Dawn Winery, if you’re gazing at the same intimidating Dark Knight Hero doused in twilight, wielding a claymore that reflects the galaxies along his blade, or if this is this is the Fabled highly-esteemed knight of Ordo Favionus that heralded great praise amongst the citizens of Mondstadt. However, the one who stands before you is everything but that. In this moment, his accomplishments, experience in battle, and his scars don’t matter.

They don’t matter - not when you stumble into the Angel Share, skin bruised, gasping for air, desperate for it to enter your lungs, and a rich stream of crimson running down your forehead. Diluc almost loses his composure. Almost. With fast strides, he envelops your hunched form into his careful embrace, guiding you slowly to the oak counter.

Teetering between two planes of consciousness, you giddily chuckle into Diluc, grateful, oh so grateful he had a late shift at the Angel’s Share despite his colleagues’ futile attempts to get him to return to his estate. Diluc’s one to take pride in his appearance and his tavern. He certainly doesn’t like the trail of blood left on the mahogany floors and he would normally be displeased with the vermillion specks that litter his pristine jet black coat. Despite all of that, the only thing on his mind is to make sure your injuries are not life-threatening. Propping you on the counter, he has to firmly grip your shoulders to keep you from swaying. Removing his coat, he allows your head to fall against his shoulder.

The scent of rosemary, cinnamon and grapes that exudes from his figure puts your mind at ease. The full throbbing in your head slowly vanishes as his very presence brings you peace. Diluc can feel your tensed muscles relaxing in his hold, taking advantage of your averted gaze to allow the corners of his mouth to crease upwards. Swiftly, he cards his fingers through your hair, attempting to find the source of the blood that steadily flows along the side of your face. Ah, he realises. It’s a mild head injury. Ghosting his fingers down your arm, exposed as the shirt you adorn is tattered with gnarly gashes and stained with scarlet, his touch is like a flickering fire against your skin. You lean into his being, throwing yourself into his whims like coal in a furnace. You wish he could melt you as he exposes this new side of him, like a moth drawn to a flame.

“I have to treat your wounds. What on earth happened? Was anyone with you when you were attacked?”. His voice booms in the silent tavern. Your headache seems to dissipate with each vowel and consonant that tumbles out of the redhead’s mouth. His mind racing with worry and thoughts about your safety makes you just as giddy as the adrenaline rush you felt earlier fighting the horde of hilichurls at the camp near Stormbearer Mountains.

You smile at his concern. “It’s just a scratch.” It really feels like it is. The pain seems to be nothing in comparison to how Diluc’s clutch sets your figure ablaze, how his breath along the length of your spine sears your nape, or how his intoxicating perfume infiltrates your senses. You feel at peace. The serene, sweet and serendipitous moment you’ve been longing to share with the man, ferocious on the battlefield but warm and pleasant like a fire licking the tops of a stone hearth. In his bar, you snidely think to yourself, it’s only natural that you’re drunk on him.

Eventually, the door swings open with a resonant bang that echoes throughout the tavern. It sharply cuts through the intimate, dreamlike and almost illusory sphere you feel like you’ve hallucinated if not for Diluc’s fiery gaze grounding you, pulling you out of the clouds and reminding you he’s here in the present moment. He’s here with you. The redhead’s garnet orbs snap towards the individual emerging from the night. Flickering oil lamps illuminate his form briefly before he trundles into the Angel’s Share.

Diluc can’t help but scoff. ‘It’s that bard again’, he confirms distastefully. His drunken misadventures flash before him and he’s thoroughly displeased with the tracks of mud he oh so graciously leaves as he swiftly treads towards you. “My Dandelion, I’ve finally found you! Those Mitachurls were no match for me, with an arrow or two, they were done through!”

Venti’s nonchalance is appalling, Diluc is once again reminded. With quick movements, he snatches the bandages and saline he stores for his midnight escapades and arranges them on the counter. “What are you doing here?”, he hisses, paying no mind to how he doesn’t mask the irritation evident in his vexed cadence.

“Isn’t it obvious? We were out having an adventure! And where adventurers like my sweet Dandelion go, storytellers must follow!”

“Then could you explain what exactly I’m looking at.” It’s not a question - not when it’s said with such authority that makes your knees weak. Venti quirks his lips in a sheepish grin, fully aware he’s in for a rigorous scolding by the very Master of the Dawn Winery. He didn’t see the full extent of your wounds but he’s assured by Diluc’s capability in patching you up. He titters, lightly like his laughter is air itself, “it would be easier to tell you through song! Hehehe, it seems that I have a captive audience. Though it seems that it will cost you, Master Diluc, a pretty Mora… what do you say I exchange my tale with a glass of your finest Dandelion Wine?”

Diluc’s used to the Windborne Bard’s petty schemes. He doesn’t really know how you handle him, seeing as to how he’s constantly attached to you. Levelling a glare towards Venti, he conveys his frustration and reluctant acquiescence. A victorious smirk flashes across the bard’s face. He’s taken the bait, he thinks, it’s good that his beloved trump card is present.

Your very being places Diluc under a spell, and he can’t help but feel that he and the Darknight Hero are so alike in that aspect. Venti crafts the story of your endeavours through his melodic voice. The harmony builds swathes of fields and expansive lakes, the melody transforms into terrain and pulls clouds into the sky, and the lyricism paints two figures fighting alongside each other in unison, almost as one. The resounding notes he plucks from his lyre and the staccato narrate the unfortunate scenario you both found yourselves in. The lyrics unravel and amongst the gentle waves of the thrumming lyre, a scene surfaces.

Venti’s melody masterfully transforms the day’s events into a wave of images that crash softly into the sandy shores of the minds of any listener. From the tide, a sepia woven picnic basket filled with an assortment of untouched food surfaces, a ruby gingham blanket unfurls, and two individuals emerge.

The afternoon sky is dyed in hues of orange and yellow whilst delicate pinks are smeared across a canvas of clouds. As viridescent foliage slices through the rays of sunlight, Venti is beautifully bathed in the glow of the sunset. He’s absolutely ethereal. The beams of light cast fleeting shadows over his content face, making his turquoise pupils sparkle and his grin seem even more breathtaking than usual. You can’t help the way your heart swells as you gaze upon him. You can’t help how his smile is downright infectious. You can’t help how he makes you feel like you’re drifting, like you’re flying and gliding through the same clouds you both admire from the foot of the immense oak tree at Windrise.

It’s not strange to have these reactions towards your best friend, right? It’s not abnormal to think that the head resting against your thigh has always meant to be there. It’s not unusual to be perfectly at peace with someone your heart and soul is connected to. That’s because he’s your most beloved companion. That’s because he’s your most trusted confidante.

And that’s all there is, right?

Reaching down, you brush the navy locks that have been disturbed by a gust of wind. Slowly, you push them behind his ear, caressing the side of his face as you pull away. Briskly, his fingers nimbly and tenderly clasp around your wrist, bringing your hand back to his cheek. That cheeky bard, you think, as he nuzzles into your open palm and your heart leaps as his lips graze against your skin for just a second.

Diluc listens intently to every note that floats in the tavern as gently cleans your wound with a warm and damp cotton towel. The first verse of Venti’s song is filled with hums of tranquil conversation, the second overflowing with innocent laughter and light giggling, and the third mellows as fatigue overcomes the two figures and they succumb to the spell of drowsiness that washes over them.

When the bridge rolls around, it’s turbulent. His sonorous voice recounts of a crystalline sphere suddenly materialising, drastically shattering the quietude of the scene, and drowning it into murky depths. Diluc can vividly visualise it, the sharp shattering of falling ice, the crackle and roar of fire being throttled through the air, and the piercing whistle of an arrow. He closes his eyes and briskly swipes a swab of alcohol against your head. Busying his mind and hands with tending to your wounds, he tunes out the bard’s voice. He knows how the rest goes. Being in countless battles, he knows the ruthless nature of the creatures that emerge from the abyss. He’s aware of the danger they pose. He understands the pain they are capable of inflicting.

But, even if he’s well aware of all of that, it doesn’t stop his desire for retribution to flare up in the back of his mind. It doesn’t help how his hands want to reach out to his sturdy claymore, that’s already witnessed the wrath of his burning hatred, his insatiable lust for a just punishment and his scorching thirst for vengeance.

‘Later, I’ll deal with them’, he reassures himself, quelling the hot molten fury within him that threatens to boil over. ‘After all’, he wonders whilst looking into your eyes that twinkle in the dull glow of the tavern, ‘I have someone more important to take care of right now’. His heart clenches at the whimper that tumbles past your lips involuntarily.

Brows furrowing, his left hand falls to cup your cheek. He’s not used to this. He’s not used to comforting others nor is he used to being in such close proximity with your irresistible and your utterly beguiling presence. Around you, the air of professionalism he yields and his cool exterior slowly erode as you peer innocently, curious as to his next move, with a gaze he selfishly desires is only reserved for him. His glove is cold against your skin but the heat that emanates from his hands beneath the leather and the tenderness of his grasp is plenty a distraction from the debilitating throbbing coming from your wound. Absent-mindedly, his thumb strokes the tops of your cheeks as he tilts your head higher. You feel content in his hold. You can’t help but think about how his hands would feel like in yours. You can’t help but think about how perfectly his fingers would mould between yours, intertwining and flawlessly slotting into yours like you were made for this, like you were destined for each other, like you were two halves tethered by some invisible yet potent force. Patiently, you watch as he unravels the white gauze. With dexterous and nimble movements, it is wrapped around your injury, round and round, and once Diluc deems his handiwork satisfactory, he deftly fastens it.

He takes a step back even if he’s reluctant to place any distance between you. Although, he steels himself and gives you space to breathe (ironic, since you would gratefully indulge in his existence like it’s the very air that you inhale). He’s terrified he’ll grow ravenous for your company, that he’ll grow addicted to your touch or he’ll never be quenched by anything but by drinking in your very aura.

Clambering onto the countertop, Venti seats himself beside your form. Cupping your cheeks, he whispers amiably, careful not to aggravate your thudding headache: “Ahh, you’ve done an excellent job tending to my Dandelion, Master Diluc. Shall I reward you with a performance or - ah! I see you’ve forgotten one of the most important tasks, how careless of you!”. His turquoise eyes glint mischievously and a knowing smile carves itself onto the bard’s face before it’s coyly hidden by his sleeve.

Suppressing the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose at Venti’s antics, Diluc hisses: “What could I have possibly forgotten that someone like you would know?”. As he exasperatedly responds, he catches a whiff of the alcohol that dances on Venti’s tongue.

He exhales audibly. He should have locked up the other bottles of Dandelion Wine in the cellar. Inspecting the empty containers strewn about an isolated table in the tavern, he inquires “What exactly did I miss? And pray tell what can you actually discern when you are this drunk?”.

A light flush dusts the apples of Venti’s cheeks as he states, as though it’s blatantly obvious: “Silly of you to forget, Master Diluc! Of course, you need to kiss it better!”.

Flinching from the bard’s sly words, the redhead can’t help how it flusters him, the tips of his ears are set alight as the flames spread down his neck. Diluc’s rational train of thought abruptly stops as Venti’s jovial exclamation ignites a bomb under its tracks, incapacitating him momentarily. The rosy blush the bard sports must be infectious, he thinks, coolly quelling the blood rushing to his cheeks and slowing down the beating of his erratic heart.

“Hehe, do you need a demonstration, great Dark Night Hero?”. That cheeky brat.

Sending Diluc a playful grin but glancing behind his shoulder with a devilish glint flashing in his optics for a millisecond, Venti presses his lips to your temple. Something deep within his core flares up upon witnessing the intimate moment shared between the bluenette and you. Something buried in his being abhors seeing the way the contact puts you at ease. He loathes how Venti latches onto instantly the second he tears his eyes away from you. He despises how his hands creep up to your shoulders to soothe the kinks and knots embedded in your back. He detests how Venti is so familiar with your physical responses to his experienced touch.

His crimson eyes narrow at the way the bard and you lock gazes in the dimly-lit tavern - like you’re the only two who co-exist in this space. Venti ensnares you into the same reverie that Diluc had previously trapped you in.

His fists slowly clench at the way his index finger pushes a strand of hair back behind your ear. The Windborne bard’s very actions serve as a reminder that he could never achieve the same familiarity and intimacy that the bluenette shares with you, he could never stand by your side as a confidante, whose soul is fated to be tied to yours, and he could never bare his heart to you and force upon you his affections, his thoughts of you and the scars he hides under his clothes and underneath his very flesh and bone.

He doesn’t want to impose a love that you may never reciprocate. He doesn’t want to take you away from something you might have been waiting for in this life, your past life or any future lives you may live.

Despite the brief feeling of despondency that overcomes his being with these intrusive ideas, the redhead feels emboldened. From his sources, that is, Kaeya being rather too interested in the romantic endeavours of his colleague, the Cavalry Captain had informed him that you were yet to be formally courted, which is what can be implied from his originally rather crude comment that you were “on the market”.

Suddenly, something flickers within him and his crimson eyes are set aflame with newfound determination. He knows that you could feel the fire of his infatuation from the small distance you shared prior to the bard’s arrival, and that you were receptive to his tender touch and how the embers that emitted from his warmth mutually affected you both. Assuredly, he quells the inferno that is on the verge of overflowing and spilling onto his last vestiges of rationality, a process that has undeniably proved hard to control no thanks to the bluenette who contently, and rather smugly, burrows into you like the cat who got the cream.

Finally, it seems, Venti reluctantly pulls away from your gentle embrace and flashes that impish smirk once again. It only appeared momentarily but it was long enough for Diluc to catch the mischievous glint in those vexatious aqua orbs. It was enough for the nobleman to perceive that silent declaration - a beginning of an unspoken competition between the two males to compete and vie for your affections.

Of course, the Darknight Hero has never been one to turn down a challenge. Especially not one where the prize is securing the claim to your heart.

‘If that is how it will be, I accept your challenge. I hope you’re prepared Barbatos, for this means war’.

(to be continued)

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gladerscake · 2 years

Text

Only Yours

(Gally x Reader)

Requested by anon. Hey, remember my Territorial fic? I’ve decided to throw an Uno Reverse card at it. This time, our darling Y/N is the jealous one 😉 Enjoy!

As much as you loved bonfire nights at the Safe Haven, the new beautiful home you still couldn’t believe was yours, this one was imminently becoming quite… vexing.

Your eyes narrowed into irritated slits, the corner of your bottom lip caught in between your teeth as you observed the scene unfolding before you, the scene you weren’t sure how long you could withstand without crushing your mason jar in between your tensing palms.

You always found Gally incredibly attractive, stupidly so. He was your boyfriend, you could never imagine thinking otherwise. His piercing bluish-green eyes, tall and muscular build, plump lips and freckle-dotted face were all on the list of your biggest weaknesses. Each time his brows furrowed at you in playful banter, every loving grin and every flex of his toned muscles could make your knees wobble and pulse quicken. To you, he was an absolute work of art.

What you hadn’t been prepared for though, was the sudden emergence of other girls that seemed to have similar tastes in male appearances as you.

Newcomers.

Survivors that Vince regularly brought to the island with him from his ventures back into the old world. Most of them were fine, friendly, glad to be alive and eternally grateful for not being left behind to rot. However, among the latest arrival, were a couple of girls around your age. One of whom clearly had a problem with understanding boundaries.

A growling rumble sounded from deep within your throat as you watched her chatting up Gally by the fire. She had intercepted him on his way back to your group and apparently, much to your discontent, was reluctant to let him go.

You could practically hear her obnoxious giggling from where you were standing as she beamed up at him, her eyes raking up and down his burly figure with poorly concealed intrigue.

Having known Gally for almost three years and been together for two of them, you had gotten quite good at reading his body language. You could always easily tell whenever he wanted someone to leave him alone. His shoulders would tense up, his lips would press into a thin line, his arms would cross over his broad chest as he would keep looking to the side, hoping someone or something would come to his aid.

Check, check, check and check, again.

Whatever she was trying to do or make happen, Gally wanted no part of it. He wanted it to end. This was one of those rare instances where he almost regretted becoming a “nicer” person, in comparison to his Glade self. Maybe if he were still that guy, he could’ve just told her to go find someone else to bother and walked away without thinking twice about it or batting an eye. But that wasn’t him anymore, not entirely.

Your jaw clenched as you finally placed your mason jar on a nearby bench with an eerily slow movement, your drink sloshing inside.

If someone was going to come to Gally’s rescue, it was inevitably going to be you.

Meanwhile, Gally was trying his earnest to keep his cool. He wasn’t used to female attention, aside from yours, nor did he care for it. He may not have had too much experience with girls, but he wasn’t dumb or blind. It was obvious this girl was a little too interested in talking to him. And while someone like Minho, for instance, would have reveled in that kind of ego-stroking scenario, Gally was merely annoyed by it. It didn’t feel like a lighthearted conversation with a newcomer, it felt like a nuisance. A fly buzzing around his head that he couldn’t find a way to politely get rid of.

“So anyway, my friend told me she saw you working on a shack on the beach earlier! Are you some kind of builder around here?”

The girl’s high-pitched voice grazed Gally’s ears, momentarily forcing his focus away from searching the crowd for help as he looked back at her, plastering an attempt at a light smile, as best as he could.

“Yeah. You could say that.”

The girl broke into a wide grin, fingers tapping on her mug as she glanced over his tall form once again “That’s so cool! Are you in need of any help?”

Oh, he was. Just not the kind of help she was hinting at.

“Because if you are, I’d be so excited to try! Must be thrilling to make something turn from a pile of wood to-“

“Baby?”

Gally’s heart flipped at the familiar sound of your voice as it called out for him, his head snapping in the direction it was coming from.

Relief coated every nerve in his body, his clenching jaw visibly relaxing as you gingerly pushed through the swarm of people swaying by the fire. Your glimmering eyes that reflected the dancing flames caught his almost pleading gaze, inadvertently bringing a small grin to the corner of his mouth.

He didn’t even notice the way the girl’s face fell as you approached him, one of your slender arms slipping around his powerful torso.

“I’ve been looking for you.” You murmured with a coy smile, deliberately avoiding eye-contact with the source of Gally’s predicament for the moment.

Gally breathed out a chuckle, swinging his heavy arm around your shoulders.

“Sorry, I got held up, this is, uh…” He reluctantly returned his gaze to the girl, quickly realizing that he had already forgotten her name, even though he was positive she had mentioned it.

The girl’s lips twitched with a barely-contained frown “Maddy.”

“Maddy. Right. This is Y/N - my girlfriend.” Gally disclosed, the note of pride lacing his deep voice making you bite back a smirk as he gently pulled you closer into his side.

“Nice to meet you!” You smiled as genuinely as it was possible, which wasn’t an easy task. You didn’t miss the way Maddy’s fingers tightened around her mug, the effort to keep up a friendly facade evident on her features.

“Nice to meet you, too! Sorry, I was just wondering if Gally was… looking to extend the team!”

You hummed, knowing full well that even if he was, a newcomer who evidently was only looking to get closer to him, wouldn’t make it in a million years. Gally seemed to read your mind as his calloused hand trailed down to your waist with a warm squeeze, the small gesture sending a flourish of affection through your senses.

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll let you know if a spot opens up.” You quipped, looking up at your boyfriend as he forced back a snicker at the thought “Sorry to cut this short, but our friends are waiting right over there. You coming?”

Gally was about to open his mouth to respond when, suddenly, his skin heated up under your soft fingertips as they trailed down his cheek in a feathery caress. Before he had a chance to say anything, your arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him down as your lips captured his in a deep, yearning kiss.

Every thought flushed out of his mind as he melted into your soft lips, a quiet hum of satisfaction drowning against your mouth as he returned the kiss with matching vigor, the hand that resided on your waist delivering another firm squeeze.

Figuring the necessary point has been made and not wanting to get carried away right there in front of everyone, you pulled away from Gally’s heavenly lips with a smooth grin.

The red that dusted his cheeks was as prominent as ever as you released a hushed giggle before looking over to the girl that still stood close by, slightly paler in the face than a minute ago.

“We’ll see you around, okay? Enjoy the night!” You chirped, barely registering her response as Gally promptly pulled you away, already heading back to where the rest of your friends were, his arm once again finding its way around your shoulders.

You felt a tingle rush through your body as he leaned down to your ear, his whisper tickling your skin.

“Mind if I ask what that was?”

Your brows propped upwards as you looked up at him, wide-eyes feigning innocence “What do you mean?”

Gally smirked, his piercing, irresistible eyes locking to yours “No, don’t do that. You know what I mean. Not that I’m complaining, but it’s not usually like you to put on a display like that.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, the flickering mischief in Gally’s eyes messing with your attempts to keep up the innocent act. His devilishly handsome smirk was not helping matters either.

“Well, you clearly needed rescuing. I happen to think I did a great job of that. Effective, no?” You grinned up at Gally as he laughed, lowly, pressing his lips to your temple and kissing your hair.

“Very. In more ways than one.”

You rolled your eyes at the cheeky implication, playfully smacking his broad chest as he merely feigned an “ouch”.

“Easy now. Think we can make it through one whole bonfire?”

Gally shrugged, the idea of calling it an early night already bouncing off of the corners of his mind as he responded with a provocative pinch to your hip.

It wasn’t difficult to guess what he meant.

No promises.

Tags: @ultraintrovertedgryffindor @maraudersimp @abundantxadorations @izzymultifan @magnoliabloomfield @willseyebrows @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @anniemylennox @gallysonegoodlung @joemomma2121 @lattsgocaps @sherbertscarrothead-2 @lullabaesstuff @thesuitkovian @blanknamed @mastersurf @lealup @pumpkinpatchrat @american-idiot-jpg @slipshod-sawyer @multifandomloversworld @b-bradshaw

#the maze runner #tmr gally #the death cure #gally x reader #gally imagine #gally x fem!reader #safe haven #gally x y/n #gladers #tmr #tmr x reader #gally x you #gally tmr #tmr gally imagine #gally fanfic #gally oneshot #gally fluff #will poulter

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 years

Text

A Hopeful Halloween ~ Yandere Nagito Komaeda

“Hey Nagito, do you have your costume picked for this year?”

You found your white-haired classmate doing…something near the fountain. You made it an effort to try and interact with the more lonesome classmates. Specifically focusing on Nagito who still seemed to allude even the most friendly Ultimates.

“Oh! (Y/n) (L/n)! What occasion have you come to grace me?!”

You ignored the disturbing murkiness in his eyes as you repeated your question. He seemed confused for a moment before perking in recognition returning to his typical smile.

“Oh yes I’ve relented to be a lowly vampire…” You nodded about to respond conversationally but he wasn’t finished. “Which will do nothing but pale in comparison to the glorious, hopeful costumes the ultimates will wear!” And there it was.

“Oh…that’s great…well I’ve gotta..go.”

You dismissed yourself hurriedly speed walking away before he could go into one of his rants about hope. Which you had endured many times before in your attempt to be his friend. While you were leaving the courtyard with chills of discomfort Nagito was reeling in ecstasy. You had spoken to him of your own volition!! All out of the mere kindness of your heart! He has to refrain from his…coping mechanism in order to retain a sense of normalcy. He continued to proceed with jarring the dirt he witnessed you touch with your hand when you were lounging nearby earlier in the day. Hurriedly scooping the dirt, he let the blood that had rushed to his face linger as he was still relishing just being in your presence.

‘Nobody brings hope like (Y/n)!’

_________________________________________________

“I don’t know why you try that with him, he's such a creep!”

You pouted as you let Junko hold your head moving it to the side as she continued to do your makeup. Deciding to be a character from a cartoon you used to watch you let Junko do your makeup as she had been bugging you about it for the longest time. You enjoyed hanging out with your underclassmen if anything as a mentor but students like Junko acted like your equal.

“B-but everyone deserves a friend and I hate to think that someone is being left out when I’m having fun…”

You stood up as Junko began to put away her various tools. Adjusting your costume you mulled at your reflection leaving you open for an attack.

SLAP

“Ah!”

“(Y/n) you care too much and it’ll be ultra lame if you let that freak just drag you off because you’re too sweet to say ‘no’.”

Grabbing you by your costume she pulled you into herself with a devious smirk on her face.

“Besides if you let yourself get sweeped up by him– I. Won’t. Forgive. You…!”

Tapping your nose with her manicured figure you found yourself making a promise to yourself. While you were almost certain she might have advised you in such a way so that you spent less time around someone she considered to be beneath her. She made a point about possibly being too kind…perhaps it was time you put some distance between you and Nagito.

______________________________________________________________

“And you two will be in charge of handing the candy out to all the reserve students and visiting family.”

Placed with none other than Nagito Komaeda you were expected to be in charge of trick or treaters. So much for distance…you weren’t unhappy with the job you were doing just who it was with. Planning for your department didn’t exactly have you needing to meet with your erratic classmate…but upon your class’ worried questioning you figured it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have someone to help practice.

“Aren’t you having a Happy Halloween?” You were glad you were optimistic! It seemed that Nagito did have a filter when it came to children; suspending his hope-worship for one day of the year to make some children happy!

“--After all you’ve been the spoils of the fountain of hope that is (Y/n) (L/n)! Have a Happy Halloween~!”

You smacked your hand to your face as the class groaned expectedly. There was only a day left before the day and everyone was discouraged by his typical temperament. The classes were already expecting him to ‘ruin’ all the work they put into their Halloween presentation experience. You had to do something.

“Hey Nagito, can you do something for me?”

You approached him after class without the prying ears and eyes of the judgemental classes. At this point they would probably be betting how many visitors would run off with Nagito would scare off more than the haunted attraction they had prepared.

“Whatever you wish for my brightest hope!”

“Then…can you only say ‘Happy Halloween’ for the trick or treaters?”

He tilted his head in curiosity; for a moment looking cute enough for you to falter. You shook your head doubling down.

“Can you…maybe just…act like your character…uh a vampire on Halloween! Yeah, I think you’d spread the most hope if you stayed in character for the rest of the night!”

You internally patted yourself on the back as you twisted your words; waiting anxiously for his reaction. Looking at you blankly for quite awhile you were worried he had seen your true intention about to avidly deny you and even buckle down on his testaments of hope.

“You…you…want me to spread hope in costume…?”

You nodded your head, nervously clenching your fists as he still seemed hesitant; only for a complete turn around of his expression. Erupting in a concerning shade of red Nagito squeezed himself pulling aggressively at his hoodie as he buckled over beginning to drool.

“You…asked me! Of all…to spread hope! Wordlessy! Ah~! (Y/n)~!”

He continued to repeat your name eventually falling on his face to continue wriggling on the ground at your feet. Disturbed but feeling like you were successful you dismissed yourself once again joining the comfort of the crowd leaving Hope’s Peak Academy.

_____________________________________________

The night of the Halloween Bash of Hope’s Peak was here and so far Nagito was holding up to your words. Acting in character he flashed his fake fangs and waved his cape mysteriously while dispersing candy. Your classmates and underclassmen were wonderfully surprised and actually happy that their efforts weren’t squandered by the hope-obsessed ultimate.

“What did you promise to give him, (Y/n)!”

“Y-yeah (Y-y/n) d-did you p-promise t-to have a sexy r-rendevue under the s-stars!”

“Shut up, you perveted cow!”

Much to Hiyoko and Tsumiki’s displeasure you denied their claims as well as many of your other classmates who suspected you to tame the oddball. You were just happy that you were successfully getting through the night so much so that you wanted to thank him. With decorations taken down and people heading home once again you were able to find the vampire-looking Nagito standing sullenly under the moon. Under the light, the rest of his body shrouded in the darkness of the building he was perfectly selling the vampire look.

“Hey, Nagito! Thanks for all your hard work today! I really appreciate you…staying in character!”

You cheered at him, reminding yourself of your deception. He didn’t immediately look at you still moon gazing, unexpectedly giving you the side eye. The look had you halt in your steps allowing him to glide towards you, swiftly closing the distance between one another.

“To meet with a vampire, secluded and completely unarmed, (Y/n)? That wasn’t very wise.”

He pressed his nose past yours, fully invading your vision with his entire face. Not to mention the intimate heat that emanated from his breath totally contradicting his vampire persona. Trying to laugh it off you lightly pushed at the arms that caged you against the school wall.

“Ha-ha, Nagito you could’ve fooled me…now could you let me go?”

Curling his arms further around you with full intention to press his body into yours–leaving you flustered. He smiled looking particularly devious as he purposely grinded his pelvis against your own. Dragging his face against your own he made his way to nuzzle into your neck being sure to take a deep breath before speaking into your neck.

“But I’m supposed to stay in character, right (Y/n)? For hope…right?”

He spoke mockingly, letting his words cut into your pride as he let his lips trace against your neck.

“Well yeah b-but it's over s-so you don’t have to-Ah~!”

Stopping your plea at the searing pain of Nagito Komaeda who firmly held you against his body as he bit into your neck. All you could do was pull at his cape and costume as he continued to lick and bite at various spots on your necak and now exposed shoulder.

Finally finished with his attack on your neck you melted into his arms. He continued to hold you against him as you tiredly huffed before once again trying to wrench yourself away. Failing once more, you resigned to staying put. You looked up at the shadowed blushing face of Nagito Komaeda with a look asking ‘why?’ With his only response to letting his blush intensify as he held you as close as humanly possible.

“Happy Halloween (Y/n)! Let’s wordlessly spread our hope against one another, okay?”

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garbinge · 6 months

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Country Shit

Gilly Lopez x F!Reader (Soldier Reader) Summary: Pre-canon fic where you think the worst as a black town car approaches your home but are pleasantly surprised by whose home.

A/N: Posting this fic I've had in my docs finished for a while now. I hope to start getting back in the swing of things soon. I know a lot of people have been commenting/messaging/reaching out about my Bear series and I promise I'll update that soon, but for now enjoy my first Gilly fic from Mayans :)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Cursing, mentions of war, bootcamp, training, army, army rangers, PTSD, trauma, death, grief, dishonorable discharge. Lightly angsty? Or maybe I'm numb to angst and its like medium-angst level lol. Light fluff.

Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie

The clouds were rolling in, you heard the thunder in the distance as you sat on the back of your wrap around porch staring out at the ranch in your backyard. You pulled your cardigan tight around you out of instinct as the breeze from the storm on its way in, blew past you. The dark clouds casted a shadow on the large land of property that made up your backyard, the free-range chickens you owned had retreated into their coup, the two horses you took care of were nestled safely in the barn you had just 500 feet away from the house, and your dog was alert on your left hand side as he stared up at the rumbling sky.

“Come on, boy, let’s get inside before it starts coming down.” You stood up and opened the back door and nodded for your dog to go inside.

Your timing was impeccable, just as you closed the screen door, the rain started. The living room walls were filled with windows, you could see the droplets throughout every window on every window that surrounded the room. The sound of the water pelting against the roof and the deck filled the house, it was loud and mixed with the rumbling of the thunder. It needed to be drowned out, so you moved over to the record player you had set up by the front of the living room.

The memory of the last time you used the record player was coming up short, but seeing the Sam Hunt record in the player made you smile. Placing the needle on the record, it scratched for a minute before the music started playing. It brought you back to a time in your life, there wasn’t much other way to describe it besides a time. It wasn’t something you’d describe as the best time in your life, not in the slightest, but there were some moments that weren’t completely horrible.

“Come on! Grab your drink!”

Those were the famous last words your bunkmate said before she dragged you onto the dance floor. You remember the beat of the banjo playing so loudly as you moved to the beat. It was the last night of Ranger School, you had graduated earlier in the day, your friends and family had come and gone already to wish you well before they shipped you off to your assignments.

You weren’t alone on the dance floor, you were in Georgia, so when Sam Hunt was playing, the crowd tended to thicken up a bit. The noise got louder from people singing along, and although it wasn’t your go-to selection, it was fun in comparison to everything training had put you through. You remember feeling beer dripping down your jeans as you jumped up and down with the mix of Ranger graduates and town locals, but you didn’t mind one second of it. You just loved having the excuse to wear something other than your green service uniform.

As the song reached its last minute, you had started to sing along to the lyrics, your laugh was contagious by those around you as you enjoyed the celebration. You were drunk, there was no two ways about it, and you weren’t alone in that, everyone around you was too. Some people attempted to line dance, because choreographed moves were the perfect thing for a bunch of drunks, but everyone seemed to make it work. Except him. And you heard his voice in your ear as you were trying to keep up with those around you in the last moments of the song.

“Can you show me how to do this shit so I don’t make a total fucking ass of myself?”

You smiled at the comment, and turned to him. Lopez. You had worked with him over your summer of training, but to say you knew him well would have been an exaggeration.

“And you think I know what I’m doing?” You chuckled as you looked back at him. “I’m just following everyone else. It’s like a kick kick step step turn thing.”

“Right.” Gilly was trying to catch up as he moved next to you. It was hilarious to watch but it was also nice, having someone else with you that didn’t exactly know what was happening. “Man, I wish they’d turn this country shit off.” He whispered to himself as he tried to follow along with his feet.

As the song came to a close, you spoke up to him. “Didn’t peg you as the line dancing type.”

“I’m running a bet with the guys.” He pointed back to his group of friends. “Longest one to stay out on the dance floor, actually trying, gets their tab taken care of.”

“You do realize we’re in a bar full of locals who love buying drinks for anyone in the service?” You frowned at him.

“Yea but there’s just something really fulfilling about Timmer paying my tab off for me, you know?” He was laughing back with you.

Now that, you understood. Timmer was a real asshole, said things that got under everyone’s skin so if that was what was on the line, you’d help Lopez out. The song changed, it slowed down. A crowd of people left the dance floor, while a new crowd also filled it. Gilly looked around and saw just one person he was in on the bet with left on the floor with someone in their arms.

“Need a partner?” You spoke up, hand extended out to him. Out of nerves, he laughed and took your hand in his, your other arm moved to hang around his shoulder loosely as you both began swaying to the music.

“Thanks for helping me out.” Gilly said to break the silent tension.

“Look, anything to make Timmer get the shit end of a stick, but I’m thinking I should negotiate something out of this deal for myself.” You made a face as if you were thinking.

“I mean, fair is fair.” Gilly said as he took the lead and moved you around the dance floor. “What’d you have in mind.”

It was a tactic, but it worked, it had you shocked for a minute that he had taken the lead.

“I want my tab covered, too.” There were likely a million other things you could have negotiated from this, his dessert during meal time, laundry, literally anything but you were so caught off-guard you just said something quickly.

“Deal.” He agreed quickly.

Both of you stopped talking and continued to move slowly, swaying back and forth, the silence between you both allowed you to hear the lyrics of the song.

“You and me, wild and free. Way out in the woods, nobody for miles.”

Those lyrics brought you back to the present moment, in your shared home with Gilly that way out in the woods, nobody for miles. Now, some probably would have said that was the night that started it all between you, but after those dances, and a few drinks, both of you went back to your respective bunks and didn’t speak to each other until a week later when you were both deployed to the 2nd battalion in the 75th Ranger Regiment, and well, that bonded you two differently. Those two months on the home base in Washington is where the both of you fell in love, whatever that meant for two active duty Rangers. After those 2 months, they shipped you out to your tour assignment, where things got dark.

You stood there, getting lost in your thoughts as your brain wrapped itself around a new set of memories, ones that were heavy and hard to even think of. The memories of being on combat duty, seeing things that were burned in your mind as a souvenir of your two tours, and the one that constantly replayed in your head. The memory of being dishonorably discharged because you refused to follow orders. Before you could think further on it, you jumped at the sound of your dog barking. Your eyes moved to the driveway, the sound of the gravel crunching was mumbled under the music and the rain but it was still prevalent. The rain distorted the view out of the window, but you could see the black town car rolling down your driveway, which was otherwise empty. You lived easily 30 minutes from town or any person, neighbor, or establishment, and that was purposeful. When you got discharged, Gilly got sent backshortly after on leave with you for a week. The two of you were already married but had no place to call home and with you being done with the military, it was time to set down roots. Roots that wouldn’t push you into a PTSD fit constantly, you liked being off the beaten path, you liked being unbothered, on your own. On your own. Those three words instantly meant something completely different now as you stared at the black car in the driveway. Everyone knew the black town car pulling up, unexpected, to the home was the news. The news no one wanted to get, but being deployed yourself prepared you for it in a way that explained the solitude in your heart and lack of panic. You moved away from the window before anyone exited the car, you took the few minutes you knew you had before someone rang the bell to kneel down and be eye to eye with your pup.

“I wish you were going to understand what was about to happen, buddy.” Your hand scratched behind his ears. You saw his nose wiggle as he sniffed the air, and he let out a little whine while looking at you.

You let out a sigh, and closed your eyes. That’s when the doorbell rang. As your dog ran to the door, you knelt there for 30 more seconds, preparing yourself mentally to hear the news.

The words rattled in your brain before anyone even said them to you, it was your brain's way of preparing you before you got up to answer the door. The commandant of the Army Rangers 75th Regiment and Second Battalion has entrusted me to express his deepest regrets that your husband, Gilberto Lopez, was killed in action. It was then that you realized you’d find out when and how, and that’s when you held your breath. It’d affect you differently, because you knew the logistics of things, how to read between the lines of what was told to you. Before another thought filled your head, you were standing up and making your way to the door and opening it wide.

Immediately your dog was out the door whining and jumping on the person in front of you. You thought you felt your breath hitch, I mean you were seeing a dead man, or what you convinced yourself in the last 5 minutes was a dead man, standing in front of you but you were frozen, until he spoke.

“Hey buddy boy, I missed you, yea, hello.” He spoke to the dog, his backpack still on but the other bag was discarded to his right as he let your dog greet him joyfully. “You been takin’ care of our girl, right?” He said as he stood back up and you felt the breath you were holding release and suddenly you were launching into his arms.

He let out a woah mixed in between a chuckle as he steadied himself and wrapped his arms around you to embrace you back. You both hugged for what felt like eternity, eventually he moved both of you into the house to avoid getting anymore wet from the rain. You still had your hands wrapped around his neck, your heads were next to each other when he whispered something to you.

“What happened? I’m gone for a few months and you got that country shit playing?”

When the laugh left your mouth it’s when you realized you were crying.

“Hey, you’re not allowed to say that when it’s our song.” You pulled away so you could look at him now.

“See, country music’s got you crying.” His thumb moved to wipe your tears away, the smile on his face was big, he was happy to be home, happy to not be thinking about everything– anything.

“I thought you were dead.” You said as his hands cupped your face.

“I’m surprised I’m not.” His face hardened almost immediately as he shifted to talk to you seriously.

“You back for good?” Staring into his eyes, you looked for an answer, but were only coming up with pain and exhaustion.

“I’m back for good.” He nodded and moved to place his backpack down.

“It’s hard being home.” You said, hating to break the moment but you knew it was inevitable to talk about.

“It’s hard being deployed.” Gilly answered.

You looked into his eyes again, it was obvious to you that they were eyes that had seen a lot. You knew that since your eyes looked the same when you were sent home. The difference between him and you was he was there longer, whatever happened when you weren’t there was going to haunt him.

“Back for good.” You repeated his statement, trying to wrap your brain around what that meant, what you both were in store for but you were quickly interrupted by a kiss.

As your eyes closed, you melted into the touch. His lips on yours brought you back in time, to your first kiss, your wedding day, then the day you were sent home, saying goodbye to him. But now he was home, and he was kissing you hello.

“You and me, wild and free.” He said the lyrics from the song that brought you two here as he rested his forehead on yours.

“I thought you hated country music.”

“I fuckin’ do. But I also fuckin’ love you.”

#mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans mc fanfic #gilly lopez #gilberto lopez #gilly mayans #gilly lopez x f!reader #gilly x reader

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strollthroughstars29 · 2 years

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Episode 5 of House of The Dragon marks the end of one phase and the beginning of another, not just a new chapter but a whole book.

Needless to say, the episode in itself was phenomenal and as always I've got quite a few things to say, or rather, point out.

A targaryen can never be nameless, ser Criston had already marked a path that Rhaenyra wouldn't walk upon. I see the origin of his fury. His proposal wasn't out of love, it originated out of regret and desperation to save his dignity.

We once again see the display of absolute dominance by the Targaryen's when Viserys stated that Rhaenyra's children may be born Valarion but they shall rule as Targaryens.

And again, when Viserys refuses to accept a chair in Corlys' throne room as no king, (especially not one residing on the iron throne) shall ever sit beneath another.

We finally see Otto sow the seed of Rhaenyra's betrayal in Alicent's mind which is further watered by ser Criston, (just because he wasn't patient enough to let Alicent complete her sentence).

I loved the subtle comparison of Alicent to the flowers which thrive where they aren't supposed to. She was expected to wither without her father by her side, but instead further solidifies herself as a formidable force by wearing her house's colors of war to Rhaenyra's betrothal celebration.

An enchanting parallel was drawn between the carriage ride in episode 3 and one in episode 5, both times Rhaenyra is treated as a commodity to benefit the realm. Earlier, she was expected to be a paragon of virtue and behave like an ideal sister (during Aegon's 2nd name day) and this time, she is expected to marry for the sake of an alliance between house Valarion and Targaryen.

We also see that Rhaenyra has completely forsaken the necklace gifted to her by Daemon as she attempts to erase him from both her subconscious and physical self.

I, for one, loved the phrase dining as we see fit because not only did Rhaenyra dine very well last episode, she wishes to continue to do so after, which again highlights how she loves to be in control.

Coming to the feast.

The entry of House Valarion gave me literal chills!! (I would be lying to say that I didn't start clapping tbh)

Daemon's entry was extremely symbolic of his mistakes. Last time, he entered with Rhaenyra walking by his side but now, he walks alone, TOWARDS Rhaenyra.

I have to applaud Daemon for coming back to king's landing (while in exile), to attend a feast (he certainly wasn't invited to), and to try and tempt the bride (his literal neice) to chose him instead. He not only dances with said bride but also proceeds to (almost???) Kiss her in front of her father (his brother) AND GET AWAY WITH IT.

(Rhaenyra tempting him like this didn't help either, but I loved each second of it)

(Viserys' face here is so funny)

And finally...

Alicent's entry was breathtakingly powerful, I couldn't take my eyes off her. I even felt an urge to bow, I believe she brought a perfect end to the chapter of her trying to reconcile with Rhaenyra and finally having enough.

(My fav scene, undoubtedly!l)

I have not read the books and all my interpretations are solely based on the series.

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likealittleheartbeat · 1 year

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Zuko’s character is crafted from the very first episode with an intense interest in striving toward moral goodness, it’s only that his concept of moral goodness is distinctly nationalistic then. Honor is the keyword for him, and his stated reason for doggedly searching for the avatar. Satisfying his father has to do with this moral obligation (to follow the patriarch’s orders and to preserve the safety of the nation which those orders entail and therefore to be Good). Zuko wants to be a good boy, and much of his initial angst derived from his father’s judgment that he’s not a good boy, when he spoke out of turn and then, worse!, refused to defend himself. His turn toward team avatar has less to do with a moral turn or even learning how to care and more to do with an expansion of who he includes within his circle of care (so that the well-being of those outside of the Fire Nation matter and he, himself, begins to matter), which coincides with his shift toward a new leader to trust with a less dogmatic relationship. Yet, his core of stringent morality remains.

Azula, on the other hand, is driven by success. Her ease with firebending gave her a taste for affection derived from performance rather than reverence. Her moral muscle is ignored and weak because of this. With her prowess and bemused charm, she got to be the Good Kid with no dark nights of the soul, no internal conflict about her place among others because she was at the top. Fans are right to be sympathetic to her experience of abuse. She’s a rich depiction of the abusive development of narcissism and the tragedy that’s required to disrupt that egomania.

I think a lot of comparison between these two responses to the abusive family dynamic places the blame on their mother Ursa. The worst takes emphasize Ursa’s passing remarks about Azula’s misbehavior as sites of abuse themselves, which ignores the high pressure environment created by Ozai and the Fire Nation Royal Family to neglect and punish vulnerability in pursuit of hierarchical power. That Azula latched onto one of these comments might be better read as Azula’s own sensitivity to criticism within such an extreme social environment. A more interesting perspective is that the development they got to experience with Ursa, the implementer of moral explanations as seen in Zuko Alone, might’ve shaped their responses. Zuko had more time with Ursa and got to experience her teachings of familial piety at a more mature age than Azula before their mother’s departure.

But I think the most all-encompassing perspective is something I mentioned earlier. Azula had the gift to perform what her abusive family valued without strain. Zuko had many things to offer but not prodigiousness, charm, or strategy—the skills his family valued. Their natural abilities (beyond their control) influenced the treatment they received from their parents (within Ozai and to a lesser but still a meaningful extent Ursa’s control). So Zuko dedicates himself to his family and to achieving his family’s expectations that are out of reach for him because he is offered no other options. He believes he is Bad for failing his family’s expectations and strives to be Good. Azula doesn’t have to work hard to embody her family’s abusive desires and knows that maintaining her prowess, beauty, and cunning is all that’s required to retain her place as the apple of their eye. She believes she is Good without concern for the possibility of being Bad.

I think those Good and Bad relationships are important for those dealing with abusive family dynamics. Therapists use archetypes to describe dysfunctional family roles (golden child and scape goat are the most familiar, but you’ll also see the mascot, the lost child, the flying monkeys, and the peacekeepers alongside the abuser and the enabler). They’re oversimplifying and force one’s attempts at self-identification towards sitcom tropes. Failing to fully identify with these rigid roles fed into me doubting the reality of my abuse. But Zuko’s relationship to morality felt familiar and I could see a similar development in my own life—the flexibility and tacit obedience my parents valued in children weren’t things I could easily offer (I’m a little too spectrummy for either of those to be easy options). Their corporal punishments did not change this, but they left me with the desire to act and be more flexible and obedient—the desire to be Good—and the shame of failing every time—the knowledge that I was Bad. It’s something I still struggle with. This categorical view of a self as inherently good or bad is a key marker for the experience of someone whose developed in an abusive, neglectful, or recurrently traumatic environment, and it’s what’s so well done throughout ATLA. Zuko and Azula provide such clear examples of what that moral coding can look like, and, as siblings, provide a really clear depiction of how and why it can be experienced and create outcomes that are so different even within one family.

#child abuse tw #tw abuse #abuse tw #zuko #azula #atla meta #y’all when I say I was going through some feelings tonight!!!

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mrultra100 · 9 months

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SOMEBODY ONCE TOLD ME-

I know it’s been a very long while since our last episode, but after dealing with other projects, along with real life getting in the way from time to time, we’re finally continuing our next part of the second road trip across the Maasrichtian. While it only has 5 segments like the last episode, and does borrow some of last season’s “Freshwater” thunder quite a bit, I still had a good time with Swamps. And the segments presented here do bring a few things to the table for PHP in general. You’ll see what I mean when we get into them.

Snacks on the wing

The episode starts with the wetlands of Asia, where baby azhdarchid pterosaurs are attempting to fly for the first time. Keeping up with this show’s record of baby animals meeting their end, the pterosaurs have to deal with the threat of getting eaten by a horde of Shamosuchus. Unlike the Simosuchus from earlier in the season, these relatives to today’s crocodiles and alligators comfort more to the shape that we’re used to seeing these reptiles in. While I don’t have much to say about this segment, I find it cool how it draws comparisons with how Freshwater crocodiles hunt flying foxes in Australia. Even when millions of years apart, some hunting strategies are just that good.

Gone fishin’

The episode then cuts to the forests of South America, where the focus is on a truly unique animal; Austroraptor. For those not aware, this was a species of raptor dinosaur that was not only huge for its family (Think 20 feet long), it also lived a life of hunting fish. These of these guys like what would happen if a grizzly bear and a heron had a baby together. The plot of this segment shows a young male trying to score some lunch of his own. Many of the larger adults can only only catch garfish like it’s not their problem (which is something that our male is new to), but they can be aggressive, often attacking each other if one of them disrupts the other’s hunt. Until he learns how to catch prey successfully, the best option that the main male has to take is to snatch someone else’s prey, and try not to lose at least a few feathers in the process.

“Hippity hoppity, get off my property”

We then cut back to Madagascar to see the return of another Season 1 veteran. Y’all must’ve loved Beelzebufo so much, you all wanted to see more of the bay dinosaur-eating frog (And I really wouldn’t blame any of y’all). And fortunately, Apple heard everyone’s pleas for the devil toad to return, so here we are! The segment has a male Beelzebufo trying to find a good place to attract a mate. Unfortunately for the frog, a herd of Rapetosaurus just happened to come back and waddle in the mud, making things even harder for the Beelzebufo. That must be frustrating.

The Beelzebufo then has to find a new place to set up his courtship display, away from the titanosaurs. After a bit of hopping around, and even doing this…

Keep on rollin’

Our champ eventually finds a good enough spot to try again, with the Rapetosaurus herd moving on. They even leave footprints in the mud that get filled with water. The only complaint that I have for this scene is the lack of the Beelzebufo raising his eventual tadpoles. The concept art for the devil toad that was made by Gaëlle Seguillon refers to it as “Beelzebufo adult”, so it could be possible that devil tadpoles were considered to be in the show. Either that, or we could see another Beelzebufo-themed segment in a possible Season 3, taking alot of inspiration from how African bullfrog males raise their young. I may or may not be planning to add that to my hypothetical Season 3 idea, so keep your eyes peeled.

Head Games

Despite the episode literally being called “Swamps”, we cut to a dusty plain in North America, where the area in question used to be a swamp that eventually dried up. It’s here where we see the second pachycephalosaur of the series in the form of Pachycephalosaurus itself. It’s no secret that the domed heads of these creatures were used for some sort of territorial display, so we see an older male fighting a younger and rowdy male, who has been causing trouble for the herd. After a long and hard duel, the old male is knocked down, and his younger rival bellows out in victory. This turns out to be a bad idea, as it gives the old male time to get back up and strike down his rival. With the battle lost, the young male is then exiled from the herd, where he has to fend for himself. I’m not gonna lie, he’s gonna need everything in his kit to survive. Y’know why?

In the night, no one can hear you roar

The last segment of the episode shows us how basically terrifying T. Rex can be when hunting. After the last season shows how these giant predators can be doting parents or a loving couple, this segment serves as a reminder that this is still Tyrannosaurus Rex that we’re talking about. When night falls on the floodplains of Hell Creek, a couple of T. Rex brothers stalk around the forest, spying on a group of Edmontosaurus. The two split up, with one of them stepping on a fallen branch, intentionally causing the herd to get nervous. Thanks to their padded feet muffling any heavy footsteps that could be heard, along with their extremely good night vision, the predators spring into action. While one of them lunges for an Edmontosaurus, the latter is sent towards the other T. Rex. With both of them clamping their bone-crushing jaws into their hapless prey, the hunt is soon over, and the two get to enjoy their hard-earned meal. A funny thing to mention is how neither of the T. Rex crashed into the opening, roaring as they charged towards their prey. Large predators cannot afford to waste precious energy by running out and screaming like a mad man, so they need to be careful, often turning to ambush tactics to catch prey. If anything, this instance of averting usual pop-culture depictions of dinosaurs serves to make these beasts scarier than they already were. Unlike the mindless, perpetually roaring and shrinking movie monster that shakes the ground itself with every step, you’d never see or hear the real thing coming, until it’s too late…

youtube

This takes the phrase “Bonehead” to a new level

The Uncovered segment of the episode takes a closer look at how pachycephalosaurs like Pachycephalosaurus used their domed heads in fighting. I don’t have alot to say about this part, but I can say that headaches must be a major pain when it comes to these guys.

And with that, we only have 2 episodes left. I apologize for pumping this review out late into the month. Being busy with other projects, along with dealing with real life stuff and being a lazy ass from time to time can do that to you. Nonetheless, the next review on our list covers one of my favorite episodes in the entire series so far, so that’ll be fun when we get to it. Get ready to “dive” in again next time, because we’re gonna be soaking up the thirst of the land.

…I hope you laughed at that joke.

#ultra ramblings #prehistoric planet #ultra's php2 reviews

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lee-lucius · 7 months

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Tickletober Day 11: Squeal

Summary: Mash asks for help working out, but Dot can't seem to take it seriously.

Word Count: 994

"Why do you need my help anyway? Can't you lift way more than this?" Dot asked, settling onto Mash's back as he began doing pushups.

After all of the inhuman feats he'd seen from Mash, Dot's one hundred and sixty pounds, if he was being generous, didn't seem like much in comparison.

"This is still good for endurance training," Mash answered, not breaking a sweat despite the steady speed of his exercise.

"I guess," he shrugged, propping his arms above his head and laying down on Mash. If his strength was anything to go by, they'd probably be here for a while before Mash got tired. Not that he was complaining; he enjoyed any time he got to spend with his friend.

Okay, maybe he was complaining just a little bit. But they'd been out here forever! And Mash wasn't even showing any signs of fatigue yet, how much longer was this supposed to go on?

There wasn't even anything to do, except for bang his head against Mash's rock hard back and hope he'd hit it hard enough to pass out, because at least then he'd finally be done with it.

"This is totally boring."

Mash stilled his movements, "Do you want to go?"

"Depends. You done working out yet?"

"No."

Damn it! Curse him for being such a good friend.

Dot sighed, "Then no."

"Okay," Mash said, resuming his workout. "After this, we can go eat cream puffs together."

Dot had a feeling Mash would be eating cream puffs with or without him, but at least he'd get something after this torture

In an attempt to alleviate his boredom, he began tapping his hands against Mash's back, drumming along to the beat of his workout. That quickly got tiring though, and he shifted on his side with another sigh, propping his head up with the palm of his hand, his other hand beginning to trace random shapes on Mash's back.

There was an odd sound, a weirdly high-pitched choking noise, oddly like a squeal, that made Dot spring up, patting Mash's back. "You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry. That just tickled.

"Did it?" He asked, a smirk growing across his face. Now this was a surefire way to entertain himself.

Mash only nodded, oblivious, and returned to his workout. The unsuspecting fool.

Dot waited as long as he could, whistling to himself and trying to contain his mischievous glee so Mash wouldn't see it coming.

Then, he began. Perched cross-legged on Mash's lower back, he decided to start easy. Slowly, he took a single finger, dragging it down Mash's spine, making him sputter once more, but he continued with his exercise.

Dot bit back a laugh, continuing his gentle motion as repeatedly drew his nail up and down Mash's spine. He didn't even know someone could be ticklish beneath all these muscles, but it proved surprisingly effective.

"Dohohot," Mash giggled, "you're tihickling me again."

"Really?" His smirk grew, "This'll be good for you. It can help either endurance, right?"

"I dohon't see how thihihis helps."

"Come on, don't be like that," Dot did laugh that time, scribbling his hands across the back of Mash's neck.

Dot laughed again at Mash's squeak before he burst into rapid giggles, surprisingly high-pitched for him. Despite the ticklish sensations, Mash took his training seriously and remained undeterred. Boring.

"I'll stop when you stop training," he announced, hoping to speed up the end of this.

"Now… where else are you ticklish?" Dot asked, lightly raking his hands along his back, searching for anywhere that elicited a reaction.

Scratching at his shoulder blades made his giggles louder and his arms ever-so-lightly trembled, becoming a minuscule slower in their repetitions.

It wasn't enough to make Mash give up, but when Dot poked his back in a certain spot, in between his shoulder blades and at the back of his ribs, it produced the same surprising noise from earlier as an uncharacteristic squeal came from him. His arms, trembling, gave out as Dot poked the same spot again, sending them both crashing to the ground.

If it were anyone else, Dot would be worried he'd crushed someone after falling on them like that, but Mash wasn't exactly normal, so he didn't let it phase him.

Instead, he monopolized on this momentary weakness, using one hand to wiggle against that spot while the other dug into Mash's side. "Done yet?"

Mash resisted the urge to turn onto his back, both from fear of hurting Dot and of exposing more of his tickle spots.

Dot stopped, rolling off of Mash and into the grass next to him, pumping his fist in the air as he cheered, "Yes!"

His laughter grew louder as he begrudgingly nodded, giving into Dot demands with a loud "Yehehes."

He'd have to come back to finish his workout later, but a cream puff break never hurt, and he didn't think he could accomplish much more when he was getting tickled like this. He'd always been too sensitive to that kinda stuff.

After Dot finished gloating and Mash caught his breath, they helped each other off and headed back towards the kitchen at Mash's request.

"I didn't know you were ticklish."

"I didn't know you'd hate training that much."

"Hey, who said anything about hating it?" He shook his head, knocking his shoulder into Mash's impossibly muscular one. "Just gets boring and seems stupid when a rock could do the same job."

He paused, mid-step, realizing Mash had never answered his earlier question. "Why did you want my help?"

Mash was a stoic guy, but there was something about his expression that suddenly seemed a bit shy. "I like spending time with you.

Dot blinked, a faint flush rising go his cheeks as he looked away from Mash. "Yeah? Well, I could always help you again."

Somehow, despite the missing laugh and smile from when Dot was tickling him, Mash seemed to look like the happiest he had in years.

"Let's get cream puffs first."

#my writing #tickle fic #tickling #tickletober #tickletober 2023 #augtickletober2023 #mashle #mash #mash burnedead #lee!mash #ticklish!mash #ler!dot #dot barrett

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mcfat10 · 2 years

Text

Yandere Toriel Headcannons/Story

"My child, you are safe now."

I see Toriel fitting numerous yandere traits, obsessives, overly protective, and maybe possessive.

But I think Toriel better fits being a protective yandere than the other traits.

When you fell into Mt Ebott, the first thing that hit her head was how defenseless you were.

She concluded that the reason you fell had something to do with that—You were only human, after all—who knows what somebody could do to you, especially Asgore.

So the first thing she did was obvious—bring you to her home.

She picked up your unconscious body off the ground, bringing it to her home, eyeing anybody who saw your body, giving them a stern look.

Obviously, it scared off most monsters, anybody who could harm you.

And once you woke up in an unfamiliar home, she was happy to know to inform you are safe now, the reason why you fell doesn't matter now, what matters is you are safe with her.

At first, you were confused, but after a warm welcome and some pie, cinnamon, and butterscotch, you got used to it.

Toriel would blow off any attempt you would induce towards asking about escaping. she wouldn't leave out of frustration and attempt to destroy the door. Instead, she would slowly get more irritated towards your attempts.

"Your safe now, my child; stop asking me such silly questions."

Eventually, you stopped and accepted your fate; you weren't that determined to get out of the mountain anyway. Considering your home life with abusive parents, this is better than in comparison.

Toriel loved when that happened, happily began loving you more, and slowly got more attached. At the same time, however, she began thinking about how feeble and fragile you were.

Sure, you were human, but humans can be weak, sick, fragile, and easily break under pressure; you were only twenty, so young compared to her.

She was fine if you stayed home; the big outside scary world that only she could handle bothered her.

And it continued to bother her, even if you were in a completely safe place, with safety equipment, bicycle, bike, rollerskates, or likewise.

And she freaked out once you got hurt, taking you from the outside world in the safety and comfort of her home.

"My child, I should have never trusted you."

It was then that, over time, she slowly began limiting your venture, don't stay outside past nine and don't hug others without her permission. Don't go away far from home, and the list continues.

You could tolerate such actions that Toriel induced onto you.

After all, better than what your parents did; your father verbally abused you while your mother physically beat you, belt or fist otherwise.

However, Toriel slowly became overbearing, starting to weigh upon you like an anvil increasing in size on your back.

"My child, you were not earlier than I expected you to be here, are you hurt, damaged? Did someone take advantage?"

Even when you confronted Toriel, she would always make up some excuse to justify this behavior.

"Humans can be weak too, y'know; a good mother cares for their children."

The overbearing continued until one day, she outright banned you from going outside without wearing a full skateboard protective gear ever again.

You had enough of this; she had demanded too much from you, and this was getting ridiculous.

So you confronted her early during the day, letting her know that you had enough of this nonsense and wanted it to stop.

However, she shrugged it off, and when you repeatedly confronted her, she began to become more annoyed and irritated at you.

She lost it for the first time when you gave her a choice, either let the protection off or find a way out of this mountain.

And when she lost it.

She hit you.

At this moment, you realized something; she was verbally abusive when crossed, just like your father, and now becoming physically abusive, just like your mother.

"My child, where are you going!?"

You dashed far from her as possible, exiting the house, dashing around the ruins, seeing everything as a blur, and tried to make some feeble attempt to escape.

And Toriel chased after you in a hurry with tears down her face.

You caused some pillars to fall, some scraps around your body, entering into some water to escape.

Still, nothing seemed to bash Toriel off, even when she was herself hurt.

Even when monsters came to your service blocking her path, you realized nothing was stopping her, as the dust began to form as you looked back.

Eventually, the monsters that wanted to help disappeared, and your vision was dusty and dirty from the monsters she killed.

That's when you heard her voice, "My child, you should have never left me."

You never did, as she kept you in her house locked up.

Forever.

After all, it's for your protection.

#undertale #toriel #yandere #x reader #headcannon #yandere headcanons #undertale toriel #undertale x reader #story #narrative

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abtheb · 2 years

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What are some pieces you're particularly proud of?

This is a really great question and I wanted to give it a thoughtful answer so it took a few days.

I'm most proud of the art I made when I first started learning Blender a little over two years ago so I could do gamejams with friends.

Very early on, I remember thinking that I wanted to save and keep all my progress so I could look back on it one day -- so I saved more or less everything I've ever made, in chronological/numbered order, so it's easy to look back fondly and get a snapshot in time of what I was making and how goofy it was.

This is the first thing I made after fumbling with Blender's sculpting tools, and realizing I could make muscly-men-shaped things and also bird-shaped things.

I would try to keep sculpting things for a while and get super frustrated at my computer not being good enough to handle the files. Eventually this would nearly cause me to quit learning altogether, convinced that my computer was too underpowered -- not that I was working in absurdly high-poly without realizing it.

This attempted gimpsuit Bowser I tried making for a friend, for example:

75 million triangles!!!

400mb!!!!

Not really knowing any better, it took me a long time and a lot of trial and error doing gamejams and working with my smarter, more wizardly gamedev friends to start getting an understanding of poly counts and optimization. Eventually, with a lot of practice and models, I would get better at working in low-poly - a style I really like. By comparison, my last model was 33,116 triangles (7mb)

I can tell from looking at my pile of projects that something clicked after our third gamejam. I started having a better understanding of how Blender worked as software, and how 3D modeling worked conceptually. At some point, I started seeing misc art ideas on tumblr etc. and thinking "i think I know how to do that!", and some of the time I actually could (or at least, a bootleg quality version of it)

But the biggest turning point for me, and the closest I can get to answering the question about projects I am most proud of, were these two models.

I had started playing Dragon Quest 11 some time before I started learning art, got bored/burned out on it, and unknowingly quit right before the big mid-point events of the game. It wasnt until a year or so later that I picked it up again, and immediately saw it with the noobie "cube eyes" I'd been developing over the last few months.

I realized that the art style was beautiful yet simplistic enough that I could try and copy it, and was indeed able to make pretty decent versions myself (though unusably unoptimized it has to be said). It was also my first deep dive into Blender shaders, something which would take me another year or so to even scratch the surface of.

That moment not only empowered me a ton as an artist, but it also opened a whole new way for me to play and appreciate games that I had never experienced in my like 25+y of viddy gaming up to that point.

Honorable mention:

I went through a BOTW phase earlier in the summer when I replayed it looking for art to make. My eye crimes are buried deep in my #my art tag, but tldr I made a rito first, then zora, a goron... building up to the big man himself - whom I was afraid to try making because I was afraid I wouldn't do him justice.

Kass was easily the most complicated model I had ever made until that point - involving handpainting his colors and patterns, a complex rig for animating both the body and the accordion, and just a lot of decor and misc outfit accessories. I cut some corners from the original design, but I was still really happy with both the result, and myself for being able to have achieved it.

Thank you for the ask!!

#my art #art progress

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alienisticxo · 2 years

Text

Before the Fever - Chapter Four

{Master Chief x Reader series - TV based}

{A╱N} OKAY. bear with me guys. fight scenes are not my strong suit (which i suppose doesn't bode well for a Halo fic lol, this is╱will be more romance oriented anyways buuuuuut-) so instead of wracking my brain over the semantics of how a battle breaking out would go and delaying it any longer, i more-so just implied it! i'll probably do that if it arises again because i'm finally getting to the romance >:)

also for the life of me i could not remember if it was just mentioned as "Halo" or "The Halo," i've heard and read both and don't know which is proper, so feel free to let me know so i can fix it if its wrong lol.

Enjoy ♡

Chapter Five - The Blessed One

She’d called out for me. After all the talking she’d done, the lack of trust she displayed, the hatred she’d expressed… she still called out for me. She still held an ounce of hope that I would be able to save her from The Covenant’s grasp. Whether it was desperation to survive or not, it was enough. It was amazing, the things I could understand without being suppressed emotionally.

The HUD beeped in my ears, alerting me to my system's decline. My limbs, usually only ever nimble extensions of myself despite the heaviness of the Mjolnir, felt in-the-way, like lead under water.

Gravity Hammers. Who decided those should exist?

“Chief,” Cortana spattered in my brain, more concerned for me than I was for myself. Her voice was crystal clear in my auditory cortex. “Chief, you need to recover. Stay down, give me a moment to repair the damage without throwing you completely into stasis.”

———

I couldn’t understand the words being spewed at me, only fragments here and there of what I’d already learned. Sangheili wasn’t commonly spoken among humans, but those who swore they’d encountered them and lived to tell the tale -or at least kept their wits about them- spread what they knew on every corner they could.

Trying to sit up, my mind had escaped me again with no immediate recollection of where I was. But instead of coming-to slowly, this time I was met with a hard, cold object, knocking me back down with a heave. The hiss of sadistic laughter drifting around me that followed made my blood curdle.

My entire body radiated pain, the bruise on my shoulder a distant memory in comparison. The struggle of having to fight against the Elite that held me in his grasp made itself known via the tender beginnings of bruises that seemed to wrap around my flesh just as it’s hands did. My fingers spread against the hard floor beneath me, bracing myself as I tried to regain my bearings.

I gasped for a breath, my lungs on fire as I tasted the saltiness of blood on my lip. It throbbed from the inside out and I couldn’t quite remember just how I’d acquired that specific injury. My head was spinning. It was bad enough I’d lost consciousness earlier, but twice in an hour was a new record. My arms were weak, shaking when I tried to push myself up again at the sound of footfall coming from somewhere around me.

“Chief…” I tried to call out, my voice hoarse from yelling, still too dazed and frail to remember I was anywhere else.

I hoped he could hear me, his footsteps seemed to grow so much closer in proximity. I was saved, it was a miracle.

My cry sounded a million miles away in my own ears. Still, I tried again, an attempt to bring myself back around. “Master Chief…?”

My hand, a blueish-purplish hue now surfacing on the back of it, grabbed at my chest as I tried to catch my breath. The air felt thicker, stale. Something was off..

“You call for The Demon.. But where is he now?” A woman’s voice filled the space in perfect English, completely jarring me as I froze. “Nowhere to be found,” she continued.

She sounded young, almost sweet. There was something to her that felt different before I could even see her. Screwing my eyes shut in hopes of clearing them enough to see, or maybe waking up from whatever fever dream I might have inflicted on myself, I forced them to flutter back open slowly.

Focus, I warned myself, knowing that any information I could gather would be helpful at some point.. If I survived. I tried to peel my eyes open, hang on her every word as she spoke it.

“The Keystone has been returned to its rightful place, and you…” she began, sinking to my level, her fingers gripping my chin tightly. “Led me right to it.”

The woman finally came into focus as I looked up at her, her platinum hair short around her features. She had a peculiar look about her, but she was very much human. What was she doing on a Covenant ship? I tried to gain my bearings, brow furrowing in confusion.

I didn’t know much, if anything, about The Covenant. Up until my encounter, I hadn’t even been sure they truly existed. But there was no denying something was terribly off about the ordeal— about a human living amongst them.

Had she been kidnapped, too? My lips parted to speak…

But then I realized what she said, my features really twisting then. The.. Demon?

“The Keystone,” I spoke aloud, a piece to all of the information I was suddenly falling into connecting. That must've been what they called The Artifact...

”Where is the Keystone?” I asked.

If I could get to The Keystone, maybe The Master Chief and Cortana could find me. Surely they’d be looking for it..

“How long?” She asked me as though I hadn’t spoken at all, her face directly in front of mine as she held me still.

“I… I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I responded weakly, my chin sore.

Her grip on me tightened even further, her index finger lifting beside my face. Before I could even blink, she revealed one long, energy-clad fingernail. I didn’t need to think about it too much to know that it was a threat.

“How long have you known you can reach The Sacred Ring? Your kind may call it.. The Halo.”

She almost seemed to spit the words ‘The Halo’ as if they were venom on her tongue.

“The Halo?”

This was all news to me, but it did begin to make a little more sense. That explained the large ring in the sky that I’d seen when I’d collapsed the first time. More thrilled to know that I wasn’t crazy, and that what I saw was real, I looked to her with interest.

Her weaponized nail disappeared and I was shoved back to the floor, staying down for a moment in shock this time. I had so many questions, but it was easy to tell she was not the one to ask.

“Hirajo. Blessed One,” she spoke up then. “They call me ‘Blessed One,’ because I can bring the Keystones to life. I can lead us to The Sacred Ring for the final cleansing. The Great Journey.”

She took a good, long look at me, the space quiet, intense. Her eyes seemed to reach my soul, and then even deeper. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to figure me out, or trying not to murder me.

I wasn’t sure which was more unsettling.

“The Halo,” I repeated just above a whisper, my voice practically leaving me as I continued to piece what I could together.

The Spartan had mentioned I'd 'done something' to the Keystone. Was that what this woman meant?

“When you touched it, I felt its presence. I finally knew where it was… We are one in the same, you and I,” The Blessed One paused again. “If only you were as important to them.”

Them? It was no wonder the survivors who did touch the Covenant’s world came back as unraveled as they did.

She stood up in a swift movement, the jet black, floor-length cloak she wore sweeping around her feet. Turning back to the Elite soldiers, the same ones who’d brought me to the ship, she spoke in perfect Sangheili. Her voice was suddenly rougher and more emphatic— almost angry. The aliens bowed to her, muttering what I assumed to be their allegiances before stepping back towards me.

My heart pounded in my chest with nerves, unsure of what was to become of me. The woman took one last look at me before walking back further into the craft.

“Ghashank'o!” she feigned a cry before laughing to herself, the sound low and mocking as she disappeared from sight.

I was left alone with two Sangheili soldiers and no exit strategy. In just a few seconds, I lost all hope. There was no way The Master Chief was going to find me, no way I was going to make it out of this alive.

The Keystone was within her grasp now, and I didn’t have the capacity to retrieve it. I wasn’t sure if she needed me or if she didn’t, but I hoped for the former. At least that way, it might buy me more time for survival.

Looking up at my captors, I attempted to sit up again, holding my hands up in surrender. All I wanted was time now— time and a hopeless miracle. I silently wished that maybe somehow, the Spartan would miraculously appear. That was always how it seemed to happen in the stories I’d heard.

As they drew nearer, something sweet filled my nostrils, the scent pleasant to my senses. I immediately felt calm, but after a few seconds longer, that turned into a wretched exhaustion. A few more seconds, and all I could feel was my body slumping back against the floor, my limbs going numb from my toes and slowly traveling upwards. Damn it, I thought, my consciousness going blank and my vision clouding into a starry blackness.

———

“They took The Artifact,” I rasped, stumbling to my feet as quickly as possible, uncaring of the blow I took.

“They also took {Y/N},” Cortana reminded, as though I could forget. “Please don’t move too much, I’m still working on you,” she almost scolded.

{Y/N}‘s voice calling out to me for help played over and over in my mind. I tried to push it aside, not think about it too much. Having Cortana know every little thing that ran through my thoughts was going to become a detriment.

“I need to get it back. Halsey needs it,” I focused on the true task at hand: getting back to the mission.

My head spun when I was finally grounded, both feet planted firmly. A heavy sigh left my chest without noticing it. The new A.I. Halsey implanted within my brain was not something I needed— nor did I want it. She revealed herself at all the wrong moments, and she only seemed to be more in the way than of any kind of assistance. I wanted her out. Gone.

But I realized I needed her now— more than just because I was in need of direction around The Rubble; more than chasing a petty thief through an alleyway.

“Cortana,” I finally capitulated to Halsey’s little experiment, eyes closing briefly as I geared myself up for my next statement. Disbelief in myself was a good way to put it.

“Yes?” She responded.

“I’m going to need your help,” I admitted after a few seconds had passed.

“I’ve got you covered, Chief,” she assured me, happy to help despite my having been less than kind to her up to this point.

———

The ring in the sky was beautiful, the sun’s rays refracting like diamonds across the grass, vast and full of tiny white flowers. Everything was hazy as I tried to peer across the land, awash with tranquility as I had been previously.

I looked around this time, having more time to examine the place than before; all the time in the world, it seemed. But when I finally turned around, I saw him— The Spartan. He was staring at me from just feet away, and my heart leapt with joy.

I suddenly didn’t care about his position in the galaxy. I didn’t mind where he stood with the military; it didn’t matter that he was humanity’s ‘greatest weapon.’ It didn’t matter that he was still very much a stranger to me and I to him.

“Master Chief,” I cried out with relief, but my voice sounded like a distant echo. I began to close the space between us, stepping closer toward him. “You saved me! We’re on The Halo!“

Though there was a name to the place now, I was still unsure of what that meant. It was even worse that I just spoke the words with little to no understanding. It didn’t feel like something I would just blurt out..

But I watched him anyway, his hefty armor seeming cleaner than it had been when he found me in the asteroid I’d escaped to, almost in pristine condition in comparison. I hoped he’d say something, speak more to me this time. Maybe even explain to me what ‘The Halo’ was, or how we’d reached it.

He didn’t say a word, and I remembered what Cortana had told me before— he wasn’t a man of many. Keeping that in mind, it didn’t upset me, I was far from bothered. If I was honest, I felt patience with the idea, understanding of the man he was. The silence between us was almost comforting.

The Spartan reached up to lift his helmet from his head then, a faint pressurizing noise just audible enough for me to pick up on it. I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped my chest at the sight of him revealing his face to me once more.

I found myself drinking him in, noticing his faintly tanned skin in the sunlight, the stubble that lined his cheeks more noticeable. It was such a drastic change from the atmosphere I’d seen him in earlier, from what I was seeing to how I was feeling. But it seemed as though the plight I’d been through was finally over, and for that I couldn’t have been more grateful.

It was a true, unwavering sensation that crept up again, that nothing else mattered. It didn’t matter where we were, that his allegiance remained with the UNSC, or that I hated all they stood for. As long as we were alive, safe.

I felt safe.

Why did I feel safe?

Why did I care that both of us found ourselves that way?

“{Y/N},” he spoke aloud then, his voice sounding farther from me than I expected from the short distance he stood. “We have to get out of here.”

My expression twisted with confusion as his hands reached out for me, grabbing my shoulders with a firmness. I could feel the warmth of his palms over the fabric or my top, the grip he held me with. I tried to speak, but my voice seemed to escape me. Why should we leave, I wanted to ask. We’re safe here, I wanted to say. Everything suddenly felt slow as molasses.

“Wake up,” he said again.

That time felt surreal. With a jolt I was ripped from what I realized all too quickly was painstakingly, only a dream.

Trying to allow my mind to catch up with my vision, I stayed still, my breathing erratic. My eyes darted over my surroundings as I found myself pressed against The Master Chief’s chest in a bridal style carry. With a quick, deep inhale, I stirred in slight panic. I didn’t want to believe that I wasn’t actually safe; that this nightmare I was living truly was my current reality.

“What happened? Where are we?” I finally asked, my words slurring as I felt him hold me tighter to keep me from falling out of his arms.

I tried to stay still despite my initial reaction. It wasn’t hard with the way I was beginning to feel as my body caught up with me. Dead weight seemed to be the only thing I could offer.

“Eridanus II,” he rasped, his heavy footsteps thundering from underneath us. “The Covenant came looking for The Artifact’s counterpart. It’s been a battle, but not one Silver Team couldn’t handle.”

Counterpart? What had I missed?

“Chief, orders?” I heard another woman’s voice carry from behind us, more heavy footfall sounding in my ears as my focus shifted.

“Back into the ship. We’re heading for Reach.”

“Copy,” she spoke again, her voice sounding the same as his through the helmets they wore.

She walked ahead of him with two others as she held up a hand to motion them forward with her. “Let’s go.”

I was too exhausted to begin to figure out how they’d gotten there or who they were— from the very brief look and sound of it, they were other Spartans, clad in the same heavy armor. The one who walked ahead first had what looked like a sniper rifle slung over her back. Intimidating was an understatement.

After a few more seconds, I quickly, and a little painfully, noticed he was carrying me out of the ship I’d been captive on. My eyes immediately squeezed shut for a few seconds, adjusting to the sudden change of extreme brightness from the darkness I’d been sitting in. I’d lost track of time, and I knew then I’d been knocked out somehow. Had it been hours? Months? I wasn’t sure.

Grogginess had a hold on me now, as though I’d been drugged for decades and finally awakened from a deep, and up until what seemed like a few moments ago, dreamless slumber. But there was a hint of relief in my blood, and all I could begin to say was:

“…You came for me..”

I could’ve guessed I was not the sole reason The Master Chief was on Eridanus even if he hadn’t confirmed it, but I was feeling sentimentally thankful all the same. Perhaps it was whatever they’d used to keep me asleep that made me express my gratitude the way I did, or maybe the dream I had that softened me up to his presence just a bit. Still, he and his Spartans had been fighting around The Artifact, and I must've just been a bonus to find kept away in The Covenant ship that seemed so eerily empty as we exited it.

At the end of it all, he could’ve left me to die.

He didn’t.

“We’ve been looking for you,” he finally expressed.

So many questions again.. I didn't have the strength to ask them at the moment. Wincing as I noticed the carnage that littered the ground outside, I decided to offer up what I knew. Maybe somehow, it would help.

“They call you Ghashank'o,” I noted, half amused under my strange stupor.

“I’ve heard that one,” he responded under his breath, and I could almost see the eye roll.

“And the human girl..” I murmured absently, my mind slipping again. “She spoke Sangheili, she called herself, and me, a… Blessed One.”

He stopped for just a beat before carrying on. “Girl? Blessed One?”

His voice was still faintly muffled behind the confines of the helmet, coming through what I assumed was some kind of speaker. But the roughness, a hint of his own exhaustion, was apparent. My eyes fell shut again no matter how hard I tried to pry them open to get a better look at the titanium encased man who held me.

From what I could see in the light, he wasn’t far off from the vision in my dream at all. In fact, it was as though he were truly right in front of me. I’d seemed to commit the armor to memory all too well, shiny and new— unlike the damage it had clearly taken now.

If he took his helmet off again… A chill ran up my spine, goosebumps rising on my flesh. I hoped he didn’t notice.

“Because I can get us to The Halo….” I whispered faintly as I drifted back into blackness.

#master chief x reader #halo fanfiction #halo the series #Pablo Schreiber x reader #Pablo Schreiber #Pablo Schreiber fanfic #halo tv #halo fanfic #master chief #Cortana #halo paramount+#halo paramount #halo series #fanfic #fanfiction #john 117 #halo fandom #master chief fanfiction #master chief fanfic

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carewyncromwell · 10 months

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The Spells That Got Each Cromwell into the Book of Admittance

Inspired by Hogwarts Mystery's recent A Letter from Hogwarts sidequest (shout-out to @dat-silvers-girl for the playthrough!), here's an analysis of each Cromwell in recent history who attended Hogwarts and what spell earned them their place there. To see how these characters fit into my OG girl Carewyn's family, you can consult the Cromwell Clan family tree here! And if you decide to write a post about your kids' first real use of underage magic, please consider tagging me! I'd love to read what you all come up with! ☺️

(Note: Pearl, Claire, and Blaise's children -- Arsen and Kain Dupont; Dahlia, Iris, Heather and Elmer Yaxley; and Tristan Cromwell -- were homeschooled at the Cromwell estate, so even if their names appeared in the Book of Admittance, I decided not to include them, since they didn't end up actually attending Hogwarts.)

Charles: "Colloportus."

Although the Quill of Acceptance tried to write Charles's name multiple times when he was an infant due to his ridiculously powerful Legilimency potential that allowed him to read the emotions of the people around him even before he could talk, the Book of Admittance would snap shut on it each time and wouldn't actually take Charles's name until he was two years old. Charles was a very quiet child, by and large, but one day he sensed his father Angus was about to leave for work and the toddler had a VERY big tantrum, which culminated in him locking every door in the entire Cromwell estate with magic. Angus Cromwell was so awed by how strong his youngest son's first spell was that he actually ended up staying an hour longer, just writing letters to his other family members about the incident, which calmed little Charles down enough that when Angus did actually leave for work, he didn't mind so much.

Marilyn: "Scourgify."

In Marilyn's case, her first spell was cast in an attempt to get out of trouble. It was Easter time and both sets of grandparents were set to visit, and unfortunately Marilyn and her two siblings had all ended up getting completely filthy playing in the muddy back garden. Realizing that their parents were bound to be very, very upset when they saw them, six-year-old Marilyn ended up trying to magically clean herself up before their parents came in, and for the most part, it worked. What gave Marilyn away, though, was her messy hair, which the spell hadn't been able to fix.

Pearl: "Duro."

Pearl was actually something of a jock when she was young. This tendency was passive-aggressively smoothed out of her as she got older by her mother Marilyn, who deemed it unladylike behavior, but that doesn't mean Pearl didn't still play a bit roughly as a little one. One day, when she was five, Pearl occupied herself in the prison-like Cromwell estate by jumping down multiple stairs on the grand staircase, just to see how many she could skip. After trying to skip four stairs, though, Pearl slipped -- and, in an attempt to protect herself, actually turned her own limbs to stone mid-fall. The collision with the floor actually chipped her leg, which left behind a scar that never healed, even after her parents brought her to St. Mungo's to have her limbs put back to normal.

Claire: "Herbivicus."

In comparison to her older sister Pearl, Claire's first use of magic is as innocent as can be. A very late bloomer magically speaking, Claire didn't earn her spot in the Book of Acceptance until she was nine, when she made a bunch of white hellebore flowers grow out of her head right before a Christmas party being held at the Cromwell estate. When asked what happened, Claire -- delighted by all of the attention -- could only babble that she'd really wanted to look pretty. Marilyn had told her children earlier that the Minister for Magic was going to be at the party and they all had to look their very best, and Charles surmised that Claire had subconsciously thought of hellebores because Marilyn grew them in her garden and always gushed about how pretty they were, at that time of year. Marilyn ended up "pruning" her second-eldest daughter's scalp of the flowers, but proudly secured them back in her braided brown hair for the party.

Lane: "Silencio."

Poor Lane was also a late bloomer, magically speaking. She ironically enough earned her spot at Hogwarts not long after Claire did, though her spell ended up being in response to Pearl scolding her. Lane was so upset and overwhelmed by her eleven-year-old sister berating her for not saying a word to anyone at that aforementioned Christmas party that six-year-old Lane subconsciously cast a Silencing Charm so powerful that Pearl had to be taken to St. Mungo's, just to counteract it. Marilyn reprimanded Lane herself for casting such a strong spell on her oldest sister when she was only trying to help her live up to the Cromwell name, but Charles was actually incredibly pleased by it. He even took Lane alone to Diagon Alley afterwards so he could buy her a new book for his library, as a reward for her strong display of magic. (That book ended up being A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot, which had only been published a few years earlier.)

Blaise: "Immobulus."

Blaise's magic appeared very early. Like Charles, it actually came about because of a tantrum, in response to one of his parents leaving him. In Blaise's case, though, Marilyn was putting two-year-old Blaise down for a nap when he didn't want one and -- more importantly -- did NOT want his mother to leave him alone in his room to sleep while everyone else was downstairs. So after Marilyn put him down and tried to leave, Blaise accidentally paralyzed his mother with a Freezing Charm. This only made things worse, though, since Marilyn couldn't pick Blaise up when he burst into tears, screaming in distress about not being able to reach out over the crib railing to his frozen-still mother standing about a foot away. Charles came upstairs at that point in response to the noise and used the proper countercurse on Marilyn, at which point Marilyn immediately ran over to her distraught son, scooped him up, and coddled him for almost an hour until he stopped sobbing.

Jacob: "Accio."

Jacob's place at Hogwarts was sealed even earlier than Charles's. Funnily enough, I once roleplayed Lane telling this story, so I'll let her tell it!

"Once his father [Evan Bach] and I had taken him with us to a department store. Jay couldn’t have been more than a year old at the time…but this giant plush lion had caught his eye in the toy aisle, and suddenly bam! He’d brought the entire shelf of toys down with a Summoning Charm to try to get at the lion. It confused Evan so much at the time…and of course, I had to act surprised and suggest the shelf had just been unstable…but I couldn’t help it – I was so excited. My baby boy, Summoning objects at a year old! I had so much trouble trying to keep my face straight!"

Carewyn: "Wingardium Leviosa."

Like Charles, the Quill of Acceptance actually tried to write Carewyn's name multiple times when she was still a very tiny baby whenever she'd use her budding Legilimency to sense her brother Jacob's thoughts, but the Book of Admittance refused to take her until she was two years old. This particular day Carewyn had been baking with Lane and she really wanted to eat one of the chocolate chip cookies cooling on the plate on the counter. Not wanting to bother her mother, who had gone to the bathroom, Carewyn ended up subconsciously levitating herself right off the ground and up onto the countertop, where Lane found her little daughter sitting and happily chewing away at a cookie. When Lane asked Carewyn how she got up there, Carewyn could only shrug and say "Up" while dreamily holding her arms on either side of her like a plane's wings. Fortunately Lane did catch sight of Carewyn doing the same trick again later that week when the little girl levitated herself up several stairs, when she was having trouble climbing them to get to Jacob's room.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #analysis #charles cromwell #marilyn cromwell #pearl cromwell #claire cromwell #lane cromwell #blaise cromwell #jacob cromwell #carewyn cromwell

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niamhsnaturelab · 1 year

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Week 9~ Performance Lab and Nature Lab

(tuesday)

I started tuesday with a bit of a fail as i had gotten up earlier to try and email myself the soundtrack so that I could attach it to the HeavyM file and start to play around with timings and sequences. The file however, was too big and my browser would crash at every attempt to attach the file to the email. After a few attempts it had gotten past the time of me needing to leave to be at university on time so I decided to try again tonight when I was back home. The majority of morning was spent finalising the code for the Nanopixels. This was a success in the end, after needing more help from Sarah to have a line of code that would allow the lights to twinkle. We went through many obstacles in this as the lights started to do some unexplainable thing such as adding red and white into the twinkle, when it had not been featured anywhere in the code. I was also able to separate a red section that I only wanted at the beginning to act as a sort of introduction to the character, after the curtains had been pulled to reveal the mannequin. These faded from off to ease into the lighting and then transitioned into the loop that was the starling colours, a mix of the colours fading into one another as well as twinkling. I was very happy with how this turned out and was exactly what I was looking for.

Once the coding had been completed, I used masking tape to put the Nanopixels under the wing's fabric. I made sure to test them to see if they worked in the context as I wanted and I realised I had more lights available so outlined both the top and bottom of the wings to emphasise the shape of the wings. If I was to do this again, I would try and have the twinkle effect use the blue, green and purple at the same time instead of a set blue twinkle, green twinkle and purple twinkle playing one after the other. I would also code the red to stay for a bit longer at the start as in comparison to the looping part of the code, it isn't shown for very long at all and the audience might think it was an error. Here is a snippet of the results:

After i had finished the coding and added it to my mannequin, I continued on with the projection mapping. I imported Hemza's last effects that he had made into the project and kept going until all four costumes had been digitally made. I also started adding transitions to the sequences to make the change between each character look less harsh. There has been a lot of development throughout out project in terms of the projection mapping itself. Originally we had planned on only having one section of the mannequin lit up at one time to portray one character and colour the whole mannequin to show mood. Now, we were using the whole mannequin to show each character so that it seemed more finished and more obvious that there was a distinction between each character. Here are the final designs of each projection mapping sequence:

In terms of background and set, I used a fire effect to reiterate the fact that the fairy was in a separate part of the cathedral to the other group members without having to create an entire new backdrop.

Zoe also tested the tubes that Sarah had given us to see if we could get the desired effect of water trickling out of the tube by distributing small holes throughout. This was a success and we will use this method In our final outcome.

I gave Lee the list of colours we would need for the plain overhead lighting for our final performance. The order would be brown (to match the cathedral setting) , red (to match the wound and panic from the group) , purple and blue (for the sluagh) and a black/off (for the final death scene to match the projection and for drama).

(wednesday)

I focused on finishing the projection mapping on the wednesday and added the final details to each scene. I added Hemza's black feather effect (opting for the dark one over the lighter one as it was more dramatic and blended in with the background more), a green lighting effect to show the worry that was planned from the first projection mapping story board as well as transitions for both of these to black.

Due to the motor pump being significantly more expensive than the IV bag, this is what we opted for and I had it delivered for the Wednesday using amazon prime. In terms of sustainability, while people think that the actual manufacture of products is the most polluting and least sustainable part of the process, transport plays a major part in CO2 emissions which we definitely could've improved on. However finding a local shop that had something extremely similar at such short notice would be very difficult so if we had more time, this could've been something we could explore first instead of jumping straight to having it delivered. We also decided against buying the "t junction" adaptors as we found we could cut holes into where the IV bag attaches to the tube and insert other tubes, sealing them with hot glue. While it may not have been the neatest method, it worked as intended.

(thursday)

Thursday saw our closest thing to a full run through of the performance lab. I ran the soundtrack side by side to the projection mapping and went through the first draft of the script that Zoe had put together. We soon realised that the narration wasn't nearly as long as the other elements and wouldn't take 10 minutes to read. We started padding different sections out and deciding where to put "dramatic" pauses to pace out the reading. With these alterations, I also put in stage directions such as lighting, when to press play on the soundtrack/mapping, and when to open the curtain. This was mainly for Liz and Hemza's benefit as they weren't there on the Thursday for a run through and would need to know what they were doing on the day. Here is the final script that we used on the day:

While I was working on finalising everything for the performance, Zoe was joining all of the leaves back up to be fixed to the mycelium frame. This was a very tedious task as some of the leaves were hard to interpret what they were meant to be. Apart from this difficulty, I thought it came together just as we had planned for it to (in terms of being a mixed style collage). Once Zoe had finished putting it together, we decided to go over the main image lines in posca pen as the piece was so busy, the overall image was getting lost. Once we had done that, we hung the finished piece up on a plain background and Zoe poured water into the IV bag. Here is the final outcome for our Nature Lab:

^before water

^after water

Personally, I thought our outcome displayed most of the things we wanted it to. The way it was built mimicked mycelium and the collage came together as intended. the only way this outcome failed was in the "reveal" sense. While there was some destructive implications from the water, it wasn't as severe as we had hoped for. Perhaps if we had left the installation going for longer, perhaps even for days, we would've seen the results that we were looking for. Due to time and selecting the IV bag over the water pump, we were unable to create a circuit that I had in mind early on in this project to recycle the water being used and have it go through the piece over and over again instead of having to refill the IV bag and letting it drip onto the plastic we were using on the floor to collect the water. If we were to do this on a larger scale with more time this is definitely one of the changes I would make to the piece.

(friday)

Friday morning, Me and Zoe were up early. I was up at 6am to start on the written aspect of the presentation. We then met at the school of art at 8:30am hoping Liz and Hemza would be in shortly (we had let them know the night before that we would be getting in for this time to hopefully have a debrief and a run through of the presentation/ performance.) We worked on putting all the relevant information/ images in and getting the scripts printed off. This was all completed by 9:30am.

In my opinion, I felt our performance could have gone better. The projection mapping wasn't as effective as the mannequin had been moved so many times throughout the weeks, the mapping didn't quite line up. Sarah assured us that this wasn't too much of an issue as they had seen what it was meant to be. Liz and Hemza did a good job with the technology aspect of the performance. While I did make a significant mistake with reading the script, I hope it wasn't too noticeable. Considering we had not done a full run though, I feel as though we created as much of an immersive environment as possible for our audience.

While I was happy with what we were able to achieve considering the difficulties we had faced throughout the semester, I found that the atmosphere in the studio was not as supportive as I had hoped. there was a lot of negative energy and unnecessary comments made by other students that really caused me to stress over our project even after the day had finished, to the point where I was rather upset with how things had panned out. I put a lot of pressure on myself to do as well as I did last semester, if not better and put in a lot of hard work into these two modules. This definitely got to me and I need to remember that working collaboratively means that some things will be out of my own hands and won't turn out how I had hoped.

As our presentation was also done last minute we felt as though we had left some points out that were important but couldn't pinpoint at the time what those points were. It may just have been due to running out of time while presenting (we had a lot to say haha).

Overall I was somewhat happy with our outcomes and hope our difficulties will be taken into consideration.

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