#saw a similar idea on net

[sassierthanaddams]

#saw a similar idea on net #and found resemblance with yin tiger tally #wei wuxian #my art #yin tiger tally #yin iron #yiling laozu #yiling patriarch #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #markers #the grandmaster of diabolism #grandmaster of demonic cultivation

[kurogane2512]

Hellooo, can you do Chelsea x FEM chief(nsfw) From ptn?

GAH CHELSEA MY LOVE <33

I'm so sorry this is so late, the idea has been in my head for so long but I was procrastinating to write :(

18+ CONTENT MDNI

Game: Path to Nowhere

Characters: Chelsea x fem!Chief

Type: Smut and Fluff (kissing, fingering, a lot of foreplay, jealous Chelsea, Chelsea wearing her paid outfit, Chelsea is bottom for Chief change my mind)

A knock was heard on your office door, followed by Nightingale walking in carrying some papers with her.

"Chief, your mail for today."

Thanking her, you let her keep the stack on your desk then watched her walk out before you began going through the mail. There were the usual documents from FAC, 9th Agency and some other organisations followed by requests from Sinners. All of a sudden, you spotted a peculiar pink envelope, adorned with a familiar small gem on the leaflet as a seal. You carefully picked it up and examined it a bit before opening and taking out the similar looking letter, complete with pink paper and a pleasant fragrance infused in it.

You quickly recognized it was none other than Chelsea who sent it. The letter was a simple invitation to her mansion for a banquet she was holding at the end of this week. At first, you became slightly suspicious but kept those doubts aside. For some reason, you knew Chelsea had changed slightly.

"Now I remember, she had requested to be allowed to go home to look over some matters. I thought she had some work but this is what she's doing...?"

You sighed and pinched your temple as you rested back on your chair and pondered more, "I haven't talked with her properly for a while....I got so busy dealing with others that I barely visited her. I guess this is not a bad opportunity."

Accepting the invitation, you cleared your schedule and made preparations to go as stated. It was a Saturday evening when you reached her mansion, dressed up in a decent knee-length white dress which was the best clothes you could afford. Everything else was too expensive or too casual. You were greeted by a maid who guided you towards an empty room. You could sense by your shackles that Chelsea was in the mansion, probably in a nearby room.

"The Countess prepared these clothes for you. Please pick one as you like." the maid said with a bow, showing you walk-in wardrobe containing a plethora of all kinds of party dresses.

"Uh....do I have to?" you asked nervously, embarrassed by the gesture.

"The Countess would be pleased if you do. She selected everything herself."

You nodded with a sigh then walked around a bit and spotted a stylish suit piece, complete with a crimson shirt and black coat with black pants. While you weren't one to wear suits outside of work, you certainly preferred it over the extravagant and heavy dresses here. You put on the chosen suit with the maid's help, you were fixing yourself in the mirror when you saw Chelsea's figure walking in behind you.

"Did you know, Chief? Legend has it that if you keep chanting "Countess Chelsea, take me as your sugar baby" at a mirror in this mansion, no matter where I am, I'll immediately appear~"

She smirked as she stopped behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her head atop your shoulder.

"I wonder if that's what you were think right now~"

You eyed her in the mirror, "I won't deny I was thinking of you. However, I'm afraid not to that extent."

"Aww, you break my heart, Chief~"

You chuckled together as she let go and you turned around to face her, immediately taken aback looking at what she was wearing.

"You....You look beautiful, Chelsea." you complimented earnestly, genuinely at a loss of words for how attractive she looked in the ruby colored floor-length dress having a thigh-high slit covered by a black transparent net.

She smiled and leaned closer, caressing the lapel of your coat.

"You don't look bad yourself, Chief. Not to mention, we match~"

Her voice husked in your ear, causing you to shiver for a brief moment before she pulled away and turned around holding your hand and dragging you out to the main hall.

"Welcome to my estate, Chief! You are my rare and precious guest, just make yourself at home. It'll be so boring if you are too nervous~"

She declared, showing you the mansion. You quickly realized you were the only ones around except the servants, it was a banquet exclusive for you two.

"C-Chelsea, you—"

"Ssh~" she put her finger on your lips and suddenly came closer, wrapping her arms over your neck while yours settled on her waist, lightly holding her. Soon enough, soothing music began playing around you and both of you began to sway to the tune, tenderly gazing at each other.

"How have things been at the bureau, Chief?"

"O-Oh, quite well...."

"Hmm~ Still too much paperwork? You know, Chief, if you become my sugar baby then all of that will end~"

"Yes yes, I know~"

You chuckled then picked up the pace slightly as the music fastened, now holding each other in a proper dance position.

"And....how have the others been? That Quinn CEO who keeps inviting you to play chess, the psychologist who loves toying with you, and....who other was it that takes up all your time?~"

You squinted your eyes and felt a different vibe about her, she seemed strangely serious.

"....I look over everyone as required, it's my job."

She raised her eyebrow then turned around and pressed her body against yours, as if being trapped in your arms. She leaned back on your shoulder; your lips were ghosting each other's and you could hear her breathing.

"Everyone except....me."

"What? No. That's not—Mhm!~"

You suddenly gasped as she pushed back further, her hand looping around your head and pulling it closer for her to lean in and place her lips on your neck. It was a simple kiss at first but she quickly sunk her teeth and sucked in, leaving a red spot on your neck.

"You have time for everyone except me. That's how you ignored me this past week. Once my problem was resolved then I was a nobody to you, isn't that right?"

"No, you are wrong. You are still detained; your Mania isn't cured and we still have to look over your crimes. I—"

She didn't let you finish as she turned around and placed her lips on yours, kissing you gently. You were surprised but her bewitching scent and soft lips drew you in, wanting to taste them more. You moved your lips in rhythm with her, pulling her even closer. The music stopped long ago yet you didn't release the kiss, both of you engaged in a needy exchange.

At last, she pulled away, licking your lips like a kitten and gazing at you while she slid her hand down to hold your wrist.

"You are mine, Chief. My....property~"

You suddenly felt your wrists tighten and looked down to see handcuffs made of gems placed fastened on them. You looked at Chelsea in shock as she smirked and pulled on the chain of the handcuffs to drag you along. You decided to follow her pace for now, secretly looking forward to what was to come. You reached a room and she shoved you inside followed by pinning you on a wall, her hands trapping you in.

"Dear Chief, how does it feel to be the one shackled instead?~"

She hummed in your ear, her breath tickling the edge. She then glanced towards the right side where there was a window before she walked towards it and drew the curtains to a close, darkening the room slightly.

"It's going to be a long night, Chief. Wouldn't want anyone to catch a peep, would you?~ Unless....that turns you on~"

You didn't reply then she proceeded to take off her clothes, sliding her dress down as she was left in her underwear. You heart was pounding watching her tempting figure in front of you, her fair and smooth skin shining against the faint moonlight. She smirked as she felt your gaze on her before walking up to you again and caressing your chest.

"It's rude to keep a lady waiting, Chief.....Oh, my apologies. I forgot your hands are tied~"

She feigned innocence before grabbing your hands and pinning them above your head, a hiss leaving your mouth at the force. She smirked and leaned in to capture your lips while her hands fiddled with your pants, unbuttoning and pulling them down as you slide them away from your feet.

"Is this all because I neglected you, Chelsea?"

"So, you do agree you neglected me? How honest of you, Chief~"

You smirked then leaned near her ear, "You know, you didn't have to go to such lengths to get my attention...."

You paused and sneakily brought your hands forward slowly, "....You could have just told me you were jealous~"

"Haha~ I believe you are mis— Aaah~!"

She was interrupted with a moan as you quickly put your handcuffed arms around her, caging her with you before turning around and pinning her on the wall instead.

"How bold of you, Chief! Are you that eager to have me? Can I treat this as a love confession from you?~"

"Love confession? I thought you wanted me to be your sugar baby~"

"Oh my, would you prefer that?~ It's just titles, Chief. No need to be so mindful of them~"

You smirked then attached your lips to her neck, eliciting a pleasant sigh from her as you sucked. She leaned back and pushed your head further then you focused your shackles for a brief moment causing her to squeal, the heat enabled you to break away the handcuffs for you to slide your hands down to her leg and hold it up to your thigh.

"A-Ah! Chief! I didn't think you were so dominating in bed....Did someone give you practice? Was it the Quinn CEO? Or the psychologist? Or perhaps your own Adjutant?~"

"Let's just say I'm naturally gifted~"

You chuckled together as you rubbed your fingers over her folds, holding her up on the wall as her legs wrapped around you. She softly moaned in your ear and began rutting her hips forward, needy for you to go in.

"Hm, just like a cat...needy for attention when she desires..." you thought looking at her state then finally plunged your fingers inside her cunt.

She gasped and arched back further, holding on to you tighter. You rubbed and scissored your fingers in her wet, spongy walls, making her squirm and moan in your hold. She gripped her fingers in your hair and pulled you in for a sloppy kiss, tongues interlocking in desperation. You then moved down to lick her breasts, sucking on the hardened pink buds and lightly nibbling them.

"Haaahn~ C-Chief! Oh, Chief!~ More....Give me more! Show me....t-the beast inside you!~"

"You don't want to see that, Chelsea~"

"Oh, try me!~"

You chuckled then plunged your fingers deeper, taking her by surprise. She squealed more and leaned forward on your shoulder, thighs enclosing and trapping your arm in between. You held her waist and pushed her into the wall instead, licking strips down her neck as you thrusted your fingers deep inside her. Her walls tightened, gripping your fingers tightly, she was close.

You leaned close to her ear to whisper, "Hold me tight, this might....hurt a bit."

She was confused but did as told and wrapped her arms around your neck, you buried your face in the crook of her neck and she sneakily licked your ear, making you shiver. You then focused your shackles again very briefly as you thrusted into her deepest spot, her mind went blank as a wave of pleasure washed over her and she jumped forward from the force of the shackles.

A loud angelic moan echoed in the room as she came, messy juices dripping down her thighs and coating your hand. You brought your hand up and licked her slick clean, the sight making her flustered. She slumped in your arms in near defeat, making you chuckle.

"I told you~"

"Hehe~ Oh, Chief....if you think that was enough for me then you are gravely mistaken. Come on, the party is still going on~"

#path to nowhere #path to nowhere smut #path to nowhere x reader #countess chelsea #ptn smut #ptn x reader #ptn chelsea #ptn chelsea x reader #countess chelsea x reader

[slasher-male-wife]

Slashers with an s/o who steals their clothes

I got this idea from someone writing this about cod characters if I find their account I'll tag them for credit but I thought this was a very cute idea. I tried to stick to bigger slashers so it makes more sense that a wider net of reader can fit in their clothes.

Includes: The Sinclair brothers (separate), Jesse Cromeans, and Jason Voorhees

Warnings: Vague mentions of different body sizes for reader, mostly fluff, possessive language used, reader is heavily implied to be shorter than most characters in this

Lester Sinclair

He'd be very happy to share clothes with you. If you're a similar or smaller size than him he adores seeing you in his clothes. Doesn't matter what of his you're wearing he loves it.

If you're a bigger size than him he'll honestly steal your clothes with permission, "Hey sweetpea is it ok if I wear one of your shirts?" You'll often say yes.

If you get comments from either of his brothers he'll defend you. Why should they care if you're wearing one if his shirts? What does it matter?

Your wardrobe will really consist of his clothes if you're a similar size to him once you're officially a new member of Ambrose. He could give you clothes of victims but he honestly doesn't want you wearing their clothes. You wearing his clothes makes him feel more connected to you.

Bo Sinclair

He's very smug about it when he sees you wearing some of his clothes. Oh you thought you could just wear one of his shirts without getting him to be an absolute ass about it? You're wrong.

"Well I don't remember telling you that you could wear my clothes darlin'." But don't try to take it off when he says that, "I'm not saying you can't wear it. Just ask me first."

If he's feeling really possessive that day he'll have you walk around the house or the town in all of his clothes if you can fit into them. He likes how something as simple as the shirt you're wearing can tell him and you just who you "belong" to.

Like with Lester, when you first really become a resident of Ambrose he'll offer up some of his old clothes for you to wear. You're probably going to opt for clothes from victims but when the time rolls around that you wear one of his shirts he's not letting you hear the end of it.

Vincent Sinclair

Please wear one of his sweaters he's begging you. Well not really begging out right but when he sees you wearing some clothes of his he stops in his tracks and picks up his sketch book immediately.

Loves it if his sweater is baggy at all on you. Also loves it if his sweater fits you just right. No matter how his clothes fit on you he's taking time out of his day to memorialize it. Whether that be by filming you in his clothes, drawing you, painting you, sculpting you, etc, he's going to do it.

If he can fit into your clothes he's stealing them too. He'll avoid getting paint and wax all over them and if you're wearing his clothes he'll make sure you wear ones that don't have wax and paint all over them.

Won't force you to wear his clothes when you're first staying with him because he doesn't want to scare you more than he has to.

Jesse Cromeans

This man really only wears a suit and everything else he owns is black. I'd assume he owns countless black suits that just look the same so if you're into black suits you're in luck. But if he ever saw you trying on one of his suits he'd laugh with you about how big it is. Because Jesse is like 6'7 and a mountain of a man.

Would stop to admire you if you're wearing one of his just regular shirts or whatever pants he sleeps in. Let's be honest, he has cameras everywhere in his house so if he's out on "business" and you're wearing his clothes, he expects you to be wearing one article of his clothes when he gets home.

When he knows he's going to be gone for awhile he'll douse some of his clothes in his signature scent and conveniently leave them laying around for you to find.

But when you are wearing his clothes he can't keep his hands off of you, unless you tell him to stop, then he will. But if you seem ok with it or if you go as far as to tell him you want him to hold you even more he's going to have you in his lap all night long.

Jason Voorhees

When it's cold outside he's already giving you his coat to wear. He worries so much about you all the time and he wants to make sure that you're comfortable Y/n.

He finds sharing clothes to be very intimate and very romantic. When he notices you wearing his clothes he gets all red faced and has to step out of the room for a moment.

If you're smaller than him he finds it very cute how baggy his clothes are on you. But if you're similar in size to him he just adores how good you look in his clothes.

A lot of your clothes come from victims at first and Jason wishes he could get you better clothes, but when you start sharing clothes he feels a little better about it. Also likes how it serves as a reminder that he's always there for you.

#lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x you #lester sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x you #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x y/n #jesse cromeans #jesse cromeans x reader #jason vorhees #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees #jason vorhees x reader #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

[heliads]

Hiya,baby. I saw that requests were open and I just had to jump on that chance. Can I request a Nikolai Lantsov imagine where reader is a princess from a neighboring kingdom. She and Nikolai are engaged but they both want to marry someone else. Unbeknownst to reader though, that someone else is Nikolai as Stumhond. They were both in similar situations and were tailored but fell in love on the ship. They are both forced to travel across the true sea to get to their wedding venue and at first they're wary of each other but they each start referencing inside jokes and stuff and giving the other mental whiplash as to how they know all of these things. Super fluffy all throughout with a cute reveal at then end. Sorry if this doesn't make sense, this is my first time requesting anything.

hiya,baby yourself, anon

masterlist

Nikolai Lantsov never planned on getting married. Objectively, he knew that it would come at some point, but his eventual wedding always seemed like one of those things of the future that would never truly come to pass. At some point, he would grow older than his brother. At some point, he would outlive his father’s reign. At some point, he would be married.

All of those, now, are true. They happened earlier than he expected, but yes; they are still real, still something that he must recognize at every dawn and every dusk. Far more discoveries have happened along the way, but they still hold strong. With them, too, must stand his marriage.

Marriage is not a thing of love to a Lantsov. That Nikolai knew even before he understood the responsibilities of royalty. His parents may have loved each other at some point, when they were starstruck young things with eyes brighter than their crowns, but nowadays the whole business is more of a hassle than a net win. Nikolai will be married for a political union, but not for him. Never for him.

The contract has already been drawn up. There’s a young woman of significance, a princess from a neighboring kingdom, who will be claiming his hand. Nikolai doesn’t know a whole lot about her, but no one does. She disappeared from the public eye to further her education years ago and just popped back up on the map a matter of months back. 

Regardless  of her recent activities, her country is wealthy and she is an eligible bachelorette. Nikolai needs a queen, Ravka needs a future; so the lines are drawn. He has yet to meet her in person, but that hardly matters. Y/N L/N will be his wife and there is nothing he can do about it.

He sets out in a week for the wedding. Seeing as her country is located across the True Sea, they’re going to meet up in the Southern Isles, a venue exactly halfway between their two homes. It’s a brilliant display of political maneuvering, and definitely not an excuse for Nikolai to delay the end of his bachelorhood as possible.

By all accounts, this marriage is more than serviceable. Nikolai has sent diplomats and ambassadors over to Y/N’s country countless times, and they’ve all come back bearing messages of her wonderful sense of humor and excellent character. She’s actually a good person, and Nikolai has come to realize that’s worth quite a bit. Factor in the fact that Nikolai can finally count on at least one other nation forced to ally itself with Ravka, and this whole ordeal is technically golden.

To him, though, it is still less than perfect. Actually, this is about as far as Nikolai can get from a flawless celebration, and that’s not just because it won’t be happening on Ravkan territory. No, despite the fact that Nikolai knew since he was a kid that he was never meant to end up dying by the side of someone he loved, he made a mistake anyway.

There’s a woman. Of course there is. Nikolai has no idea where she is. He met her when he was still king of the seas as Sturmhond. He had needed support in a naval battle, she had been the nearest captain, so he asked her for a favor. Proximity hadn’t been the only reason for his asking her specifically, just the one that he told her. Truth was, Nikolai had been hearing about a fearsome captain patrolling the waters for years, and the fact that she robbed only crooked merchant vessels in the interest of helping the needy caught his attention.

Nikolai knew from the very first day of encountering her that she would be on his mind forever. She went by Maradi, named for her favorite saint. According to the legends, a long time ago two lovers from rival fishing villages attempted to run away together. An angry father found out and had one sweetheart’s vessels dashed to pieces. The other dove into the sea, trying to find her man; Sankta Maradi cleared the storm, letting the lovers reach each other. Ever since, the lost and the lovers traveling the waves pay their homage to Sankta Maradi. Nikolai’s favorite privateer happens to count herself among the number of believers.

Maradi is lost to him now, if she was ever his at all. There was a blessed period of a few years in which Nikolai almost thought that he could get away with loving her. He kept that traitorous emotion tucked away behind his lurid teal coat like yet another revolver, but he thought about it, oh how he did. He harbored a secret belief that maybe Vasily would take the throne and Nikolai could stay out there on his ship forever, but of course that was not to be.

So he misses his love, so he feels like he’s betraying her through an engagement of political chessboards and strategically posed kings and queens. There is nothing Nikolai can do about it, but of course his heart will always beg to differ.

At least he has these meager days in which he could still possibly be hers. So he thought, at least, until Zoya arrives at his office door two days later and informs him that Princess Y/N’s ship just touched down on Ravkan shores. Turns out she needs to be there to fulfill some archaic Ravkan tradition regarding the nomination of its rulers. Nikolai knows Zoya kept this information from him so he would have as little time to fight it as possible, and she chose well. 

Nikolai wants to run. He can’t, but he wants to. That evening, he’s hosting a banquet in the interest of meeting his soon-to-be wife and forcing smiles just like always. Princess Y/N is as good as they say, quick as a whip and twice as clever, plus pretty to boot. However, even if she were a saint incarnate, she wouldn’t be Captain Maradi, and to Nikolai that’s as good as nothing at all.

Nikolai tries his best to be civil. His country needs that, at least. As much as he complains about the engagement, it would be far worse if Y/N’s country felt insulted and retracted their offer of Y/N’s hand. Nikolai keeps up a perfect demeanor of kindness, but it isn’t legitimate, not really.

Y/N must feel the same way, because even after a few minutes Nikolai is able to detect a hesitation to her smile, a thin veneer of apathy hidden behind the glossed lips and easy laugh. Every now and then, when she thinks someone isn’t paying attention, Y/N gets this look in her eyes like she’s a caged bird wanting nothing more than to fly for miles. She glances at the door just as often– well, just as often as Nikolai, which means that it happens quite a bit.

The night ends eventually, as does the week, flying by in a blur. Nikolai throws out his hands, trying and failing to stop the passage of time, but who can? Certainly not him. Soon enough, he’s standing on the dock of a ship, watching Ravka disappear into a tiny speck of green on the endless blue, and then it’s gone for good and he is stuck on a vessel headed towards a marriage he wants nothing more than to avoid.

Y/N is somewhere on the ship, but Nikolai doesn’t want to think about her right now. Instead, he leans his hands up against the railing of the ship, listening to the creak of the timbers and remembering better times. Sturmhond had only been a temporary dream, of course, a fantasy useful to keep useless younger sons occupied, but Saints, if he hadn’t loved it like nothing else.

It had been intense and crazy and dangerous, far more work than expected, but Nikolai had done it all himself. Not because he was a royal, but because of his own wit and grit. At the end of it, Stumhond was a captain in charge of a fleet, and that sort of power was intoxicating. Even now, standing on a king’s ship run by someone else, Nikolai feels that same sort of tantalizing rush.

After some time, it occurs to Nikolai that he is no longer alone. Someone else has thought the same thing as him and taken it upon themselves to scout out the endless horizon. Nikolai shoots his visitor a quick glance out of the corner of his eye and feels a ripple of shock course through him when he realizes it’s Y/N. He hadn’t known that the princess had an affinity for the sea, but she looks just as heartsick to be out here as him.

She catches him staring about half a second later and a grin slices its way onto her face. “What,” she says slowly, drawing out the syllables, “would you rather I go hide away in my quarters until the voyage is over? You’d have to threaten me at swordpoint.”

It’s more verve than he expected from a dulcet princess, but then again, Nikolai really doesn’t know her all that well, does he?

Nikolai smiles back. “I wouldn’t dare. Unless, of course, you attempt a mutiny. Then I might have to threaten you for real.”

It occurs to him about half a beat later that connecting his future wife and any sort of threat in the same sentence is probably not a good idea. Usually, Nikolai wouldn’t slip up like this. It’s just, well, being out here again is messing with his head. It reminds him of being on his own ship, wearing a different face and answering to a different name.

Sturmhond would have taken it further, he thinks. Sturmhond would have taken out a weapon just to prove his point. And, in return, Maradi would have challenged him to a duel or something even worse than that. No matter how deadly he was, Maradi matched him measure for measure every time. Standing here with the sound of the waves echoing through his ears, he can’t help but think of her.

Saints, he even remembers having a similar conversation several times again. During the early days when Nikolai had just asked for her help on the job, they usually said goodnight by promising to wake the other with a blade to their throat and their ships taken over by morning. Never ceased to make him laugh.

Nikolai blinks hard, trying to drag himself back to reality. He opens his mouth to come up with some way of softening his remark, but Y/N doesn’t look offended or put out. Far from it, actually. Her sharp grin just deepens, clearly pleased.

“If you threatened me in the slightest,” she whispers to him, words half disappearing on the salt breeze, “I would carve out your tongue while you slept and assume command of your vessels. That would be a proper mutiny.”

Nikolai feels as if the ground has just given out beneath his heels. The way Y/N says it, so casually but so intensely, it reminds him of Maradi like nothing else. In fact, he swears she said that exact same line to him before. He had teased her once about not wanting to get salt stains on her sleeves. In return, she had promised to cut out his tongue if he ever dared mention prettiness to her again. They had both laughed and gotten drinks. It had been a wonderful evening.

Nikolai needs to remember, though, that this isn’t real. This is not Maradi. His captain is somewhere out there in uncharted territory, still just as free as the day he met her. This princess, no matter how beautiful nor how dangerous, is a stranger to him and nothing more.

Nikolai straightens, forcing himself to pretend as if he isn’t doubting his own mind. “That would certainly be a sight to see,” he says smoothly, “unfortunately, I tend to keep my doors locked. I find it a far more pleasant method of security than trusting princesses willy-nilly.”

A furrow creases Y/N’s brow, and she seems lost in thought. Nikolai turns his attention back to the sea, but for some reason, he can’t sink himself into it just as easily as before. Now, instead of just hearing Maradi’s voice whispering in the back of his brain, he hears Y/N’s too, the two tones mixing in the mess of his consciousness.

The pattern doesn’t leave him after that first encounter, either. Throughout that day and well into the next few, Nikolai feels like he’s half in a dream. Y/N casually references jokes that Nikolai swore he’s only ever heard when he’s conniving with Maradi. As a test, he does the same thing, name-dropping inside secrets and jobs they did, just the two of them. Every time, Y/N has the same reaction as him, a slight tension appearing in her shoulders, her eyes growing wide.

Maradi would never share his secrets. Sturmhond never shared any of hers, either. Yet how is it that Y/N, Princess Y/N, would happen to know the exploits of Nikolai’s alter ego like the back of his hand? It’s driving him mad. For what might be the millionth time since he left the seas behind, Nikolai wishes that Maradi were there with him. He misses talking through things with her. Nikolai always swore that he made his decisions after even an hour with her, and he knows, he just knows, that if he were to see Maradi again, all would be well.

He has one last night on the ship. They’ll probably dock sometime around late afternoon tomorrow, which gives Nikolai a short window of time if he wishes to make a move while they’re still on board. With the salt air blowing through his hair, the waves providing background symphonies with every step, Nikolai knows that if he’s going to do something, it has to be now. Once he gets on dry land, his ghosts will stop haunting him and Nikolai realizes that he’s been wrong all along. If he’s going to make this mistake, he might as well do it now while he can still believe in himself.

Nikolai heads out to the deck once moonlight falls upon the sails. Most everyone is in bed save for the skeleton crew necessary to keep the ship on track. Still, there’s one portion of the rail where no words can be overheard, and that is where Nikolai finds Y/N. It’s where he used to find Maradi, once upon a time. It is where they always met.

Y/N looks up when she sees him approach. “You know, I’ll be glad to see solid ground, but I’ve always liked being at sea. It feels like home.”

Nikolai gathers up his courage and convinces himself to take this risk. “What do you know about Sankta Maradi?”

Y/N freezes for a moment, and Nikolai watches as she physically forces herself to relax. “She protected lovers at sea. I always liked her best.”

Nikolai nods solemnly. “So did I. Do you think she’ll protect us tonight?”

He meets Y/N’s eyes slowly. She looks more wary than he’s ever seen her. “Only if you think she’s close by,” she replies quietly.

“I do,” Nikolai says, and pulls something out from behind his back. 

It’s a knife, blade shining in the light of the stars. It’s well preserved, due only to Nikolai’s careful polishing. The burn of sea salt on the air has a way of wreaking havoc on any weapon to bear its force. Well, technically Nikolai isn’t the one to watch over this particular blade. That was Sturmhond’s task, one that he treasured above any other because Maradi is the one who gave him this knife, and that meant he kept it like his own flesh and blood.

Y/N’s lips part, and Nikolai knows by the gasp that leaves her that yes, his suspicions were right all along. “You’re Sturmhond?” She breathes, seeming only half able to believe the syllables.

Nikolai inclines his head. “I had one of my crewmates tailor me. It wasn’t best for a prince to be seen terrorizing the seas, even a lesser, younger one. I captained the Volkvony, and that is where I met you, isn’t it?”

Y/N nods, eyes shining. She reaches into her pocket and retrieves a signet ring, which she slips onto her finger. Nikolai feels an ache in his chest lessen, something like having a blade removed from his heart. It’s her. This is all the proof he needs. Nikolai remembers seeing that ring on her hand a thousand times:  signaling her men to take a ship, reaching for his in the dark of night, wrapped around a pistol or sword. It is the very essence of her, and thus priceless beyond anything else.

“I was tailored too,” Y/N murmurs, “for the same reasons as you, I think. I didn’t want to be a political puppet, I wanted to feel like I was doing something real. And being Maradi was the best part of my life. She was braver than me, more daring, more capable. The day I had to step down, I thought I might die.”

Nikolai leans over to her on impulse, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You still found me, though. I’d say that’s pretty capable.”

Y/N chuckles. “It wasn’t on purpose. You were an eligible prince. I was informed that I was to be married to someone within the year. Besides, I had no idea you were Sturmhond until we set sail. If I figured it out any earlier, I wouldn’t have suffered through those banquets quite as unhappily.”

Nikolai pretends to be offended. “You didn’t like my banquets? But Y/N, dearest, I had my stuffiest advisors show up just to make them more fun.”

Y/N laughs. “I seem to remember you being just as miserable as me. You were excellent at hiding it, though.”

Nikolai ponders this. “If I was so excellent, why could you see through me?”

“Because you reminded me of someone I knew better than anyone,” Y/N admits, and Nikolai thinks he must have drowned in the very sea sparkling before him, because nothing else could explain the desperate pang in his heart and lungs.

She smiles at him again. “You’re him, though. Somehow, we found each other, and we’re to be married. Not the worst coincidence in the world.”

Nikolai grins, tries not to let himself implode. “Certainly not. In fact, I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d want to be my bride in all the world. I’ve missed you, my Maradi.”

Y/N accepts his embrace, allowing Nikolai’s arm to pull her close. “No one else but you, Nik. I promise.”

He has trusted her unthinkably for quite some time. He is not about to stop now.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggiesolovey

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov oneshot #grishaverse #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse oneshot #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagines #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone oneshot #grishaverse nikolai #grishaverse nikolai imagines #grishaverse nikolai x reader #grishaverse nikolai oneshot

[semisolidmind]

How did Wukong find MK and decide to adopt him?

non-spoiler answer: wukong found mk when he was small, had a rare moment of empathy, decided to adopt him and raise him as his own.

(season 4 spoilers: context taken from later episodes in the season. also bad end mk lore, ig)

spoiler answer: stone egg.

mk comes from a similar place as wukong; made from the same stone, although mk came out as a young child instead of a fully formed adult. despite having a small thought about "sparing" mk the pain of a life as a monkey demon by killing him then and there, wukong decides to adopt mk and raise him to be as strong as he can. think of it like an extra middle finger to heaven from the monkey king (that and the fact that the only person wukong ever would have felt comfortable having kids with has been dead for thousands of years and he isn't sure if she's gonna reincarnate, so mk may be his only chance at having a legacy).

i have a theory that the reason mk looks human in the show is because he saw humans when he wandered into the city, so he unconsciously changed his form to look more like them. like, the magic that created him knew he'd be safer if he looked human.

however, seeing as villain wukong decided to adopt him and raise him alongside the other monkeys of ffm from the beginning, mk's form in this au is similar to the monkey form we see in the show. he has better access to his powers that way, on top of swk actively discouraging him from looking human.

it's like the reverse of what we see in the show. mk has been raised (by wukong) to believe that humans are mostly terrible, so he should be happy being a monkey demon. when he does his gold magic glitch-out thing from the later episodes, he looks human during said glitch. it's a sort of reflection of his mental state; he's come to see himself as more human because of his exposure to mortal society and his changing ideals, but the distrustful, cautious side of him can't face that fact.

the mk of this au has some considerable differences from the normal mk. the biggest one being his skill level in combat. in this iteration, swk has been training him from day one, so that classic mk clumsiness is practically nonexistent. the kid's basically a living weapon (almost) on par with one of the greatest fighters in the world. there's an innate power and grace in his movement.

he's a lot more brutal in his fighting style as well. you get trained by a villain notorious for going all-out, you learn to not pull your punches no matter the opponent.

this is compounded by the fact that mk has his own staff. villain wukong isn't about to give up his signature weapon, and it doesn't seem like that much of a stretch to just...go steal another magic pillar from the eastern dragon palace.

"Like that old codger could stop us. C'mon, kid, let's go get you a real weapon."

another difference is mk's general attitude. sure, he's still a fairly happy kid, but he was raised to always keep his guard up. strike first, ask questions later. his first meeting with mei was an all out battle, because he didn't understand that this dragon decendent wasn't trying to hurt him. he's a bit more serious here too, and it's mei who's the upbeat one between the two of them. she's also the one that introduced him to pigsy, sandy, and tang. she's kinda his safety net as far as mortal interactions go, teaching him the ins and outs of mortal culture.

this version of mk can kick red son's ass stupidly easily. the whole dbk family, really. to the point that red son's terrified of him, though he tries to hide it behind a superior attitude. this could go for all the demons in the show, really. mk scares all of them to a certain degree.

he wouldn't reallyneed his friends help, in this au. he's got this idea in his head that he shouldn't be dragging his much less powerful friends into fights he can easily finish on his own. he's been raised with a "help yourself, because noone else will. in fact they'll be in your way" type mentality when it comes to battle.

his story in this au is more of a "allow people to get close to and care about you, not everyone is trying to kill you" arc, instead of a power-up, training arc. mk needs to learn to let people help him, and allow himself to be open.

to sum it up; mk is seen as a monster like his father, and is learning to be less of a monster. he wants to be a hero.

"I...I don't wanna be like him. I wanna be better, I want to use this power to help people, to protect them! I just...don't want to be what the world thinks I should be."

#bad end wukong #mk is a liiiittle different here #bad end mk

[candycandy00]

The Pirate and the Mermaid - A Shigaraki x Reader Fanfic Part 1

This is the AU idea that won the poll, and I’d planned to write it after finishing some other fics but I just couldn’t stop myself. It was getting too long so I had to break it up into two parts. Part two will be posted in a few days, so check back for it. Part two will also be more smutty than part one. Any feedback at all would be greatly appreciated!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Smut. 18+. Dubcon. General rough treatment of Reader. Shigaraki is a pirate captain, Reader is a mermaid who gets caught in his net.

When you were a young mermaid, just old enough to begin exploring the waters around your home without being accompanied by your parents, you saved a human boy from drowning. 

He was around your age, and he’d fallen from a cliff near the sea, his body breaking the surface of the water like a rock, knocking him unconscious. You swam for him, easily catching him before he sank too deeply, and pulled him to the craggy shore. You turned him on his side so the water would pour out of his mouth, then, not knowing what else to do for him, you waited, and watched. After a few minutes, you began to worry that he was dead. You crawled over and leaned close to his face, trying to determine whether or not he was breathing. 

At that moment, his eyes snapped open, and you’ll never forget the strange red color of them. You’d never seen eyes that color on anyone before, human or merfolk. They reminded you of a bright burning sunset. 

He stared at you for a moment, then suddenly began coughing, his body attempting to force the remaining water from his lungs. You took the opportunity to slip back into the sea, swimming past the rolling waves and disappearing into the depths. 

It would be four years later before you saw the boy again. This time he was on a large wooden ship with black sails. The humans called this a pirate ship. He was working with several other teenage boys, scrubbing the deck, tying ropes, carrying buckets. When he came to pour some water over the side, he was close enough for you to see his face. He had two scars that hadn’t been there before, and his soft white hair was longer, touching his shoulders. 

You watched him from beneath the surface of the water all day, sometimes coming up to get a better look when you were sure he couldn’t see you. 

Humans had always fascinated you, with their strong legs and their loud, breathy voices. Though humans didn’t seem to know merfolk existed, merfolk were very much aware of humans and had learned much about them over the centuries. Some merfolk had even studied the corpses of humans that had been found on the ocean floor.  

You were amazed that humans had no gills or fins, but even more amazed by the similarities. Human and merfolk looked almost identical down to the legs, where merfolk had fins from the knees down while humans had feet. Merfolk also had gills on either side of their torsos, right below the rib cage, and small translucent fins on their outer thighs. 

Merfolk had learned to comprehend the human languages used near their seas, but they had trouble speaking it. Even when out of the water, breathing dry air, it was difficult to form words. Like most merfolk, you could say a few words, but anything more made you feel like all your oxygen was suddenly depleted. 

So when you heard humans laughing or singing, you were transfixed. This had led to you floating a little too close to ships sometimes, something your parents warned you against. 

On the day you saw the red-eyed boy again, you followed his ship for hours, even after the sky grew dark, just to catch glimpses of him on the deck. Eventually you had to abandon the ship, fearing that you would drift too far from home. 

Over the next few years, you spotted him occasionally when his ship passed through your seas. Each time he was a bit taller, wearing clothes that were a bit sturdier, like a leather coat and tall boots, now carrying a sword at his side. He stopped doing random tasks on the ship, now spending time at the helm or deeper inside the ship where you couldn’t see him. At one point you heard someone else call him “Captain”. From what you understood, this meant he was in charge of the entire ship. 

One night he came onto the deck late at night, when no one else was around, and looked out over the water. The moon was full and bright in the sky. You were watching, just under the water, daring to get a bit closer, depending on the darkness to hide you. His eyes suddenly shifted down to you, and they widened slightly. He leaned over the side, trying to get a better look, but you quickly dove deep, your heart thundering, worried that he’d seen you clearly enough to be certain of what you were. 

That night was half a year ago, and now you find yourself watching his ship again as it passes through the waters surrounding your home. You’ve seen him at the helm a couple of times, but he’s been lingering on the deck much more than usual, pacing around and inspecting the work of those doing the tasks he used to perform. More than once he’s went to the side to look out over the gently rolling water, and your heart races each time. Is he looking for you? 

You remain out of sight. Even if you’d love to properly meet him and interact with him, you can’t risk exposing your family and friends to humans. If you’re spotted here, the humans might search these waters carefully and find your home. 

He’s at the side again, looking down, and you worry that you might be too close to the surface. You quickly swim to the side, darting under the ship to move to the other side. Just as you clear the dark shadow cast by the enormous boat, you feel rough tendrils wrap around you, like the seaweed merfolk use to tie things together, only much stronger. Isn’t this what humans call rope? Wait, isn’t this a net? 

You try to swim away from it, but it’s tangled around your legs and through your hair. You struggle and pull, but that only seems to make it worse. At some point you realize you’re being pulled up, toward the surface. Toward the ship. 

When you’re lifted out of the water, still tangled in the net, you find the red eyed captain standing there, staring at you. For a few moments, you both look at each other with wonder, and then the spell breaks. 

“Haul her over,” he commands, then steps back to give his men room to swing the net over and drop you on the deck. You gasp at the pain of colliding with the hard wood, then try to disentangle yourself. If you can just get free of the net, you can crawl over and slip off the side of the ship. 

The captain walks over, holding a large knife in one hand. You watch apprehensively as he begins cutting through the net. He’s freeing you! Could it be that he remembers being saved by you when you were both young? 

After cutting most of the rope away, he gathers a long piece of it in his hands, then wraps it around your wrists. He stands up, hoisting your arms above your head so roughly that you give a little cry of pain. A couple of his men come over and secure the rope around your wrists to a tall wooden pole, effectively pulling you upright, your fins dangling a few inches from the wood. 

You wriggle and jerk at the rope, trying to slip out. Your arms and shoulders are aching, and the rope is biting into the wet skin of your wrists. You look at the captain pleadingly. You almost beg him to help you, but you hold back. Speaking the human tongue is difficult and drains your oxygen. You decide to wait. 

The men on the deck are staring at you with wide eyes. One of them steps a bit closer and says, “They really do exist!”

Another man turns to the captain and asks, “How did you know we’d find her here? When you accepted this job I thought you were crazy, but here she is right in front of our eyes!”

The captain’s eyes have never left you. “I thought I saw her around these parts a few months ago.” 

One of the other men gives a cheer. “She’ll catch us a fortune! This is the highest paying job we’ve ever taken!”

The captain nods to the two men who had tied you to the pole. They touch the seaweed wraps around your chest and waist, and you try to shrink back away from them. 

“It’s not cloth,” one of them says. “I think it’s seaweed.”

The captain is looking you in the eyes when he says, “Remove it.”

You immediately begin struggling against the ropes again. Merfolk have a tendency to be modest about certain parts of their body, only revealing them to lovers. Are they really going to strip you of your coverings, right here in front of all these men? 

The two men take out knives and begin ruthlessly cutting through the seaweed wraps until they fall to the floor, leaving you completely exposed. You whimper and try to clamp your legs shut in an attempt to cover yourself. 

One of the men reaches a hand toward you, as if to touch you, but the captain suddenly says, in a commanding voice, “No one is to touch her! Am I understood?”

The man who had reached for you quickly withdraws his hand as several calls of, “Yes, Captain!” sound over the deck. 

The captain himself walks over and stands in front of you, those red eyes roaming over your body. You blush crimson under his gaze, closing your eyes and turning your face away in shame. 

The sun is burning hot in the sky, already drying you out, making you feel like you’re on fire. Merfolk could survive outside the water, but after a short time it became painful to do so. It was hard to breathe without the added oxygen from the water. Your skin and fins dried, cracked, and bled. Some brave merfolk had tested the limits generations ago. Yes, they could live, but only in misery. 

You suddenly feel two warm, dry hands on your hips, sliding down your damp skin, roughly rubbing over your fins. You open your eyes and find the captain looking at the tiny fins on your thighs as he repeatedly runs his hands over them. They twitch from his touch, and he seems amazed. His hands move further down, past your knees, where they find your main fins. He strokes the scales there, sending tremors through your body. Then, all at once, he lifts your legs up by your knees and pulls them apart to stare between them. 

You struggle to free your legs, but his grip is strong. You let out a strangled cry as he shifts one of your legs to be held beneath his arm so his free hand can probe your most intimate place. “She’s just like a human woman down here,” he says, his voice cold and emotionless. “I wondered how her people mate. I guess they do it just like us.”

He drops your legs, the sudden weight of them pulling on your arms painfully. Then his hands are on the underside of your arms, moving down beside your breasts, stopping at your gills. You draw in a sharp breath, causing them to flutter as they attempt to draw in water that isn’t there. His fingers slide into the folds, and you cry out again. Your gills are very sensitive, and his fingers moving into them is more painful than you imagined. 

Withdrawing his hands, the captain steps back to look you up and down. One of the men beside him is looking at you as if you’re a deity. “She’s beautiful,” the man says in a reverent voice. “We should set her free.”

Still looking at you, the captain says, “She’s a monster, and she’s worth more than her weight in gold.”

The hot air is merciless on your skin, the sun’s heat unrelenting. You decide to finally speak, or at least try. 

“Please,” you say in a weak, small voice, causing the men to look at you in shock. “I need… water.”

“She speaks our language?” one of the men asks, suddenly seeming afraid. 

The captain calls for someone to bring him a bucket of water, then carries it over and sloshes the water over your body. The cool liquid feels so good on your dry scales, it almost overrides the soreness of your arms. 

You shiver from the pleasure of it, then look at the captain. “Thank you,” you manage to force out. 

He looks up at the sky, squinting at the sun, then turns to his men. “We’ll take her below deck. Get a cabin ready.”

You feel a small bit of relief to know he’s not going to leave you strung up under the blazing sun. 

“Do you… remember me?” you ask in your weak voice. 

The captain looks at you with those red eyes, but says nothing. 

“You fell… from a cliff… when you were young…”

His eyes widen slightly, and you can see the recognition there, like the pieces all coming together in his mind. For a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him, but he suddenly turns his back to you and says, “I don’t remember.”

You droop in despair, realizing he’s not the kind hearted human you imagined him to be. 

Some time passes, and one of the men emerges from deeper into the ship and reports that they’ve readied a cabin for you. The captain approaches and cuts the rope holding you up, then catches you in his arms. Your own arms, sore and exhausted, drop over his head, effectively leaving your wrists tied together around his neck. It’s an intimate position that makes you redden. Your bodies are pressed together, you’re completely nude, and his hands are on you to keep you from falling. 

He carries you down the wooden steps leading beneath the deck, down a hall, and into a room. There’s another wooden post here and you make a whining sound as he pulls your arms up again and ties them above your head. Your arms are throbbing in pain. You look at the captain with tears in your eyes and say, “Please… it hurts.”

He turns away from you and motions two of his men in. They’re carrying tall buckets full of water. They sit them on the floor close to you, and the captain lifts your fins, one at a time, and places them in the buckets. The water reaches up to your knees, and feels so wonderful. Before you know it, he’s holding another bucket. This one he splashes over you, from your head down to your thighs. 

The captain hands the bucket to one of the men and says, “Pour water over her every hour. We have to keep her healthy until we sell her.”

Your eyes meet his. “Sell?”

He averts his gaze. “We have a buyer waiting to take you.”

“What will… they do to me?”

He heads toward the door as he replies, “I don’t know. It’s not my concern.” He hesitates, then adds, “Probably nothing good.”

Then, you’re left alone in the dimly lit room. 

You count the hours by the number of times someone comes to splash a bucket of water on you. Four times. Four times you feel some small measure of comfort. The men stare at you, but none dare touch you. 

Just before the fifth time, the captain walks into your room. He’s holding a plate piled with seaweed, kelp, and other sea vegetables. He steps closer to you and says, “I don’t know what your people eat, but I thought fish might be in poor taste.”

You nod at him, and he uses a metal fork to feed you. After you eat around half the items on the plate, he pulls a round orange object from his coat pocket, as well as a knife. He uses the knife to cut the outer layer of the object away. 

“Have you eaten one of these before?”

You shake your head. 

“It’s called a citrus fruit. They don’t grow on the lands around here.” He slices off a piece of the object’s flesh and holds it up to your mouth. You look at his thin fingers holding the “fruit”. They’re dripping with the object’s juice, and it looks delicious. You open your mouth, and he places the piece of fruit inside, his fingers grazing your tongue. 

An explosion of flavor bursts in your mouth. You’ve never tasted anything like this! It’s so juicy and refreshing. After swallowing it, you open your mouth again, waiting for the next piece. He stares at your open lips for a moment before cutting off another slice. 

He feeds you the rest of the fruit until only one slice remains. When he places it in your mouth, you instinctively close your lips around his fingers, licking the juice off. 

His eyes seem to flash with something as he pulls his hand away and looks at the thin string of your saliva connecting his fingertips to your lips. Then he puts those fingers in his own mouth and licks them clean. You’re unaccustomed to things of a sexual nature, but the act makes you feel heated somehow. 

He pulls off his coat and lets it fall to the wet, sticky floor, then walks around behind you. Not being able to see him makes you nervous, so you try to twist in your bonds. This causes a jolt of agony to race up your arms, and you cry out. 

“What hurts you?” you hear his voice behind you ask. “Your arms? Or the lack of water?”

It was both, but right now one was worse than the other. “My arms,” you say. 

His hands touch your upper arms, gently, and begin massaging them. It hurts at first, but then your muscles begin to relax slightly as his hands firmly but comfortably rub them. He moves down, working at your shoulders, then beneath your arms. You sigh in pleasure, just glad to feel something other than pain in your arms. 

He does this for a few minutes, his body so close that you can feel the fabric of his white shirt against your bare back. Then, his hands slip around to cup your breasts. You stiffen, your small gasp seeming loud in the silence of the room. He massages them as he did your arms, and though you’re embarrassed, you can’t say it feels unpleasant. Your breaths get more shallow, and you realize it’s probably been more than an hour since your last bucket of water. 

One of his hands slides down your stomach and moves between your thighs. You squirm, trying to escape his touch, but you’re helpless to stop him as his fingers press into your folds and rub circles around your clit. Your whole body trembles as he keeps up the motions, his other hand still groping your breast. 

“Please,” you manage to breathe out. 

His voice is calm, almost cold, as he asks, “Please what?”

You can’t answer, because you don’t know. Do you want him to stop? There’s a primal pleasure building inside you, making you quiver. Is it wrong to want to feel good, when you’ve only felt pain all day? 

For years, you’ve thought about this man. You’ve daydreamed about meeting him, interacting with him. And as you grew into an adult, those daydreams sometimes included being touched by him. But you never imagined, in your darkest nightmares, that he would have you strung up painfully in his ship, taking you to be sold to strangers who would most definitely do terrible things to you. 

Tears form in your eyes. Your heart is so confused! You feel his fingers stroking your clit, more roughly than before, as he pinches your nipple. You gasp again, loudly this time, then a moan escapes you as you shudder through rippling pleasure. 

The captain finally pulls away and steps around to stand in front of you. He holds up the hand he’d shoved between your legs, and clear sticky fluid is dripping from it. 

“Looks like you get aroused the same way humans do,” he says, examining his fingers. 

You blush furiously. Was this just some experiment? But then he licks his fingers again, his red eyes staring at yours. 

He walks over and picks up a bucket of water, then sloshes it over you. Without another word, he leaves the room. 

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki

[ilguna]

☼ fear and regret (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; after listening to Finnick's screams due to a nightmare, you put your rivalry aside to check on him.

warnings; swearing, death mention, prostitution mention.

wc; 2.4k

–

If Mags were to come to you tomorrow to tell you that the Capitol is purposely putting you and Finnick against each other for the spotlight, you’d believe her. It’s blatantly obvious with the way they treat you two.

They have two different yet similar narratives going on. For Finnick, after he won, they got it into their heads that he was going to be a casanova in the Capitol. And since he’d managed to outsmart his career allies by netting them in water and drowning them—that, by default, made him smart and deadly.

He was their favorite Capitol darling by far, even though he followed a pair of siblings that won back to back. They wanted Finnick, because he was able to win at fourteen, a feat that no one had achieved yet, despite trying hard. The careers had been working on it for the past couple of years to see if it was even possible. Each time, the tribute would end up dead, so they gave up.

Finnick was District Four’s prized possession. 

That is, until you won two years later, at the same age.

There was a lot of shock that came from everywhere at once. The Capitol couldn’t believe that Four managed to produce two young victors in the span of a couple years. The district threw an entire celebration to welcome you home, because it was believed that Finnick would be a one-time wonder. As for the other districts, it began to stir up the question of whether or not it was possible for them too.

The consensus they came to in the end was that you were going to be held to Finnick’s pedestal, whether he liked it or not. At first, you don’t think he minded, but as time went on…

When it came to your turn for the victory tour in the winter, the Capitol flat-out refused to present you in the same way that they did with Finnick. They took another, softer, approach. They wanted you to be seen as the sweet girl that went in without a chance, that came out a fierce fighter, because that’s how they saw you.

That was the only difference they would allow—the narrative.

Whether FInnick intended it to be as brash as it came out as, he made it very clear that he wasn’t going to let you ruin his image. He’s two years older than you, therefore you should be nothing to the Capitol, and he should be their number one priority. After all, he is the one that won first. You were just a follower.

At the time he told you this, he was frustrated and couldn’t stand the idea of his hard work being put to waste. You can understand this now, but when he was standing over you like that, telling you that he would have everything go his way, no matter your effort. You made a promise to yourself that you weren’t going to live in his shadow because he decided he was better than you.

What Finnick failed to realize was that you had fought to live in that arena just as hard as he did. He didn’t exactly intend to be the youngest victor ever at fourteen, and when you were saving your own life, you were dead set on beating him on it. All you wanted to do was live. That’s one thing you have in common that he’s failed to see time and time again.

You’re sure that he regrets it now, because you haven’t let it go since. 

It all got worse when Mags decided to retire once she felt like you were responsible enough to take over the female mentoring position. Which meant that Finnick would have to work with you, instead of her, every year you go into the Capitol together. He agreed to do this with a tight-lipped smile, because he loves Mags, and doesn’t want her to be exhausting herself.

The very first year was hell, and it wasn’t because of the responsibility it takes to keep two people alive. No, it was the media at every turn you took. You were so sure that Finnick was keeping them around on purpose, until he accused you of being an attention seeker—a name that he’s called you plenty of times before—because he thought you were the one that was giving them your location.

The Capitol went crazy for the idea of you two mentoring together, excited at the of you two producing genius tributes that’ll walk directly in your footsteps. That wasn’t all of it, though. President Snow took advantage of the publicity and had you do a number of interviews and photoshoots with Finnick to promote Capitol culture.

There really is nothing harder than trying to say something nice about a person you loathe.

Since then, you and Finnick have agreed to try and stay as professional as you can inside of the Capitol so it doesn’t get that bad ever again. Neither of you want to go through that headache. So, Finnick mentors the way he likes to mentor, and vice versa for you. If there’s conflicting ideas, then you two try to discuss it and not escalate it past glares. It doesn’t work every time.

Despite your plan to ruin Finnick as much as possible, you’d give up mentoring in a heartbeat if you were given the chance.

You almost had it last year. Annie Cresta was going to be your golden ticket out of the Capitol, but her mental state after she came out of the arena didn’t improve, which meant that you couldn’t ask her to mentor. President Snow wouldn’t let you, anyway.

Unfortunately, her presence brought a lot of suppressed memories back to life. It started out as you remembering little details about the arena that you fought hard to forget. Recently, it’s turned into nightmares that you can’t escape, no matter what tricks you try.

You’re fucking exhausted. You’d give anything to have a full night of sleep, because you’re so tired of going to bed at a decent time after a long day of mentoring, only for you to wake up in a cold sweat a few hours later. You hate feeling like there’s someone sitting on your chest, pinning your arms and legs down.

They’re always about situations you thought you escaped, but they still follow you now.

They must follow Finnick, too, if he’s still screaming every night.

You sit up in your bed, throwing the blankets off your body. Partially because you’re baking, but also because you’ve been going back and forth on going to rescue Finnick from whatever nightmare he’s been experiencing for the past hour.

The only reason why you’re doing this is because of how tortured he sounds. You wouldn’t otherwise, for the sole purpose of the amount of names he's called you, and refused to apologize for later on down the line. Along with the other list of shit, like him trying to sabotage you while mentoring or purposely going against what you agreed on.

You slide off the bed, letting out a yawn. When you check the clock, you find that it’s right around the normal time you wake up when you have a nightmare, anyway. You thought that he was going to get pulled out of it almost an hour ago. He got quiet, so you assumed he woke up, and not even twenty minutes later, he’s back to screaming.

You pull a throw blanket over your shoulders, wrapping the ends around your body to keep warm, because the hallway is always guaranteed to be colder than the rooms. You vaguely remember being told by the escort that there’s something broken in the ventilation, making the rooms hotter this year.

It’s what could be contributing to Finnick’s nightmares.

After you step into the hallway, you immediately head down to find Finnick’s room on the other side of the wall. The doors usually unlock after a certain time at night, but victors can override it if they prefer their doors to be unlocked. For you, you can’t stand the idea of someone coming into your room in the middle of the night.

However, you know for a fact that Finnick’s door automatically opens at movement, because you’ve done it by accident a couple of times. If you get too close, the sensors assume that you’re going inside of the room. The doors blow air as they open, which would wake you up if you heard it, but Finnick sleeps through it every time.

When you get closer, you can hear his choked whimpers through the door. The door opens, and you’re met with a similar, yet different bedroom to the one you sleep in. The layout’s sideways because that’s the only way they could accommodate two rooms on one train car.

Through the darkness, you can see that Finnick’s tangled in his blankets and sheets, still asleep as far as you can tell. His head is turned as far as his neck will allow, away from his body. You don’t move for a few seconds, staring at him, watching his chest rise and fall rapidly.

This is how you’ve looked every night for the past six months. It’s gotten worse since Annie’s victory tour started. This train is a never-ending hell, and you can’t wait until you finally stop at home.

In a way, seeing Finnick like this is comforting, because no matter how much either of you try to appear strong and unbothered—in the end you’re two victors that are struggling.

Your fingers dance along the wall until they hit the switch. The lights turn on slowly, and they stay dim due to the settings he must have set past a certain time. You step into the room to let the door shut behind you.

Finnick doesn’t wake.

“Finnick,” You sigh, not wanting to get close to his bed, “Finnick.”

His face twists, hands gripping the blankets. A whisper leaves his mouth, followed by what you think is a tear.

“Finnick.” You say firmly, hugging your body.

You watch as his eyes fly open, and he springs himself upright in his bed. He breathes heavily, staring right at you, but you can tell by the blank look on his face that he’s not fully registering that it’s you who’s standing in front of him.

“Are you alright?” You ask.

It’s a stupid question, of course he’s not alright. You just startled him awake, his lights are on, and you’re invading his privacy.

“What?” He asks, eyebrows drawing in, “I’m fine, what are you doing in here?”

“I came to make sure that you weren’t getting murdered.” You joke, moving to the corner of his room to take a seat on the couch. It’s fabric, and the softness feels nice against your skin. “It’s been hard this past year.”

Finnick squints at you, “Murdered?”

“I’ve been having nightmares too.” You pull your legs up, “About my Games. They started after Annie won.”

“Boohoo.” He wipes his face, where the tear had left a track down his check. Just by the look of it, it wasn’t the only tear. His cheeks are red, as if he’s been repeatedly rubbing them, likely in his sleep. “Did you come in here to tell me some sob story? You got nightmares before I did, so that makes you better than me?”

“No, Finnick.” You sigh again, pausing briefly to control the annoyance that surfaced when he mocked you. “For me, the nightmares are about the moments where I couldn’t save people. The sacrifices I had to make to be the one that won, you know? It was me or them. I gave up a lot of my allies to live, you remember that.”

Finnick doesn’t say anything.

“It’s regret.” You rub the cloth of the blanket between your fingers, “Along with other things. I’m sure you’re very familiar with the faces of the people you killed, right?”

“Yeah.” Finnick agrees, shoulders falling.

“If I could have chosen the time I got reaped, it certainly wouldn’t have been fourteen.” You shake your head, “I used to think that my age mattered, and if I was more mature, then it wouldn’t have as much of an effect on me. After Annie, it’s like my whole idea of perfection in my head was ruined.”

“My nightmares started a couple months ago, leading up to the victory tour.” He shakes his head, “And I think it’s because the year you won was the year I found out from Snow what he wanted me to do in the Capitol. I was afraid of returning.”

“Is it the same now? Are you scared to go back?”

“No, it’s because the nights on the train remind me of when I was reaped. I’m afraid of going back inside.” Finnick murmurs, “Which is stupid, because it’s not possible. So, I relive my experience in the arena every night, reminding me that I’m not safe.”

You half-smile, “If it’s any consolation, I think we’re pretty safe from being reaped again. We’re out of the reaping range.”

Finnick breathes out a laugh, “I guess that’s true.”

You nod, going to get to your feet, “If you ever need someone to talk to about nightmares, Finnick, I’ll listen.”

He sits up, “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, I’m going to try and get some sleep. I’ve been listening to you all night.” You tease.

“Wait, stay.” He tells you, and then adds, “Please. Please, stay.”

“Finnick, I want the comfort of a bed to sleep in, not an armchair.” You raise your eyebrows. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“No, you can take my bed.” He’s already moving to get out, “Please, I’ll sleep on the floor. I just—I can’t be in here alone.”

You pause only a few steps from the door, watching as he pulls his bedding onto the floor, as well as a single pillow. And then he proceeds to pull out a whole new comforter out of the closet for you to use. When he’s done, he turns to look at you, waiting.

“Please, (Y/n)?”

You tilt your head at him, “Sure.”

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair x yn #finnick imagine #finnick fanfic #finnick x reader #finnick oneshot #finnick x you #finnick x yn #finnick x y/n #thg #the hunger games #angst #requested

[houseofpendragons]

New Ideas for HOTD Alicent Fashion pt.2

So technically the last one I did for Alicent was apart of a Rhaenyra one, but for continuity sake this is my second outfit redesign for a younger Queen Alicent Hightower.

The dress in question we’re changing is one that will be changed in both scenes it’s worn. One will be a new dress entirely but the other will be just mentally recreating it to look more like the concept art.

The scenes are the dismissal of her father as Hand & The confrontation between she and Rhaenyra about the rumor that had her father dismissed:

I actually love this❤️❤️❤️ it’s just missing a little something, so when comparing these two pics:

If you notice these look exactly the same, except the black is darker, perhaps a velvet, the gold embroidery is more in the form of a design and brighter. The necklace is also more regal looking, bigger than the ones we saw her wear in her girlhood as a noble Lady. Those are the things they should’ve kept for the design of the dress in this scene, she’d look more like an actual Targaryen royal of the time. No offense but the dress that made the cut is kinda bland in tone.

The hair as well, she went for a jeweled hairnet to back to her girlhood hairstyles, precisely why I wish they would’ve kept the braided jeweled crown. It makes her seem more mature (despite her not being but jewelry can be a mask just as much as makeup sometimes) and more royal. She could even still keep it in this half held up hairdo just with the jeweled braided crown/twist added into it:

And the last thing about it the to want to say, the cape would’ve been awesome to see and it would’ve fit the scene. It was raining and she had a man carrying an umbrella for her, I think she’d have that cool ass cape too. Again makes her look more regal, more queen like, more mature.

The next time she wears it that I’d like to change, when she confronted Rhaenyra. A tense scene.

However at this point in time is when she is the most conflicted between her marriage to her husband and her “duty” to her house. I feel she’d reflect that in a representation of both houses. More so red, almost as if adding green was an afterthought, bc I rather think it would be a last minute decision for Alicent to add a green sash or piece of fabric to her usually Targaryen adoption in appearance. A way to feel close to her father by wearing the colors of the house she was born from (just like I headcanon she wore blue as a child to feel close to her mother; Helena Cuy, look it up where I go on a whole rant).

That in mind, imagine something similar to this:

The green being held in place at her neck, Targaryen dragon scales but in gold (perhaps a subtle nod toward Sunfyre/Aegon), it comes to wrap around her waist like a belt, tied at one side the remainder of the green fabric falls free on her left side of her hips down side by side the red dress. Also from the neckline, a half cape of green coming to cover her right side, thin gold chains reaching out from the neckline to hide beneath the half cape.

The red dress underneath would suit the summer climate/warmer climate of the time in the Red Keep, it’s just the right shade of Targaryen red, not to mention the red dress isn’t what really makes the dress but really what is meant to catch ur eye is that she’s wearing green for the first time in a long time. It meant to be hinting at her internal battles. Ofc her cleavage wouldn’t be exposed as depicted so it’s have a higher neckline, perhaps some simple gold and/or black embroidery to enhance it a bit.

Her hair would be something else to consider, thinking back to how we want it to be more mature and queen like. So perhaps a head peace or a jeweled net?

A mixture of these two would suffice:

The first picture is my favorite one and the main inspo for how I’d have done her hair, the pearls, the way her hair is twisted at the top with her bun being kept nice and beautiful in a net. The only thing I’d add from the second photo is the gold lace around the edges of the net, as well as the braid surrounding that as a whole. I’d also take the bands and add them loosely to the bottom part of her hair left down.

As for jewelry, they could’ve taken inspo from actual royal jewels. Something like this for Alicent:

Like I said the look starting originally as her traditional Targaryen Queen attire, with her Hightower symbolism added as an afterthought. Some small pearls could be added between diamond to go more with the pearls in her hair (although I think I might see some pearls in there but I might be dumb).

As for the earrings they could be something like this:

Again incorporating pearls into them or straight up replacing the diamonds entirely.

It’s just Queenly. It’s appeasing to the eyes. And it’s what I expect people to design royal fashion as to look like in period/historical dramas when you’ve proven yourself not concerned with accuracy or if it is a style fantasy gown.

#house of the dragon #hotd #alicent hightower #team black #team green sympathizer #asoiaf #fire and blood #hotd fashion #hotd costumes #hotd season 1 #hotd s1 #young alicent hightower #queen alicent hightower #lady alicent #princess rhaenyra targaryen #queen rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #otto hightower #anti viserys i targaryen

[blondedmuse]

IF IT WASN’T FOR THE NIGHTS

finnick odair x reader

synopsis. ꩜ your victory of the hunger games turned out to be a loss in more ways than one, but not entirely.

author's note. ∿ funny how this idea came to me at night. fluff and angsty af. mentions of death and trauma, ptsd.

word count. ⨾ 2.5k

Victory was supposed to mean glory and riches, but instead, it carried the weight of grief and regret—neither of which you wanted. To be a victor was to be nothing but a title, a toy for the capitol. You were theirs and there was absolutely nothing glorious about it.

Far from glorious was your house in victor's village, it was grand, yes, but it was cold and far from welcoming. Filled with fumes of sterilizer, it was the lump in your throat you couldn't swallow, a reminder of the title it seems you will always be diminished to. Your luggage lay in the foyer, not daring to move it as if you were going to leave at any moment. But you weren't because you lived there. In victor's village.

You spent the day outside, swimming in the cerulean sea that was now your backyard. It wasn't really fun, but more of a distraction from the hysteria that seemed to invade your thoughts the moment you left the arena. Even fishing you now found difficult, watching your harpoon gut a fish, you swore you saw the life of a tribute perish before your eyes.

But you weren't going to let it go to your head. The beach had always been your home, your sanctuary, and it would remain that way, no matter what side of town you were on. You would always love to swim, love to fish, even if now it seemed harder than usual. However, the day always comes to an end, the sun rising in the east and setting in the west—and you watched it descend, filled with dread of the night to come.

The night was worse than day. Before bed, you were haunted by what if's, what now's, and even the lives of fallen tributes. The daunt of the games still lingered, even in your sleep. It kept you from any sort of peace you thought you'd be able to get tonight—really, of which, was none. To no surprise, rest demonstrated itself to be pointless, but it led you someplace calmer, the place you would always come back to. The beach.

You sat on the sandy shore in nothing but a swimsuit and a sweater that was so heavily distressed you weren't sure you could even call it one. But nonetheless, it kept you comfortable while the breeze blew and you screamed at the sky cursing the president's name because there was no one else to pin for the blame.

It was cathartic at most and only really gave you an ounce of the satisfaction you wanted but it wasn't what you needed. You didn't know what you needed. You felt raw and vulnerable and almost as if you were slowly going insane and you didn't know what to do.

But a certain someone did, and to your convenience, that certain someone just so happened to be walking the beach at the late time of night. While you were no stranger to anyone in the district, you couldn't bring yourself to be around anyone, not in your current state. So, you kept your gaze straight as if Finnick wasn't even there, ignoring his figure in your peripheral vision.

"Hey, it's nice to see you alive, sweetheart," He said walking up to your frame. He furrowed his brows when you didn't respond, frowning when he caught sight of your red eyes in the moonlight.

It wasn't a coincidence he knew exactly what was going on, having been in a similar position before. So instead of saying anything more, he sat down next to you on the sand and tossed his fishing net aside.

It was at that moment when you finally decided to look at him. His lips turned upward into one of his critically acclaimed, charming smiles and you almost felt jealous. You wanted nothing more than to put on a mask, put on a different persona, to pretend. You did it for the cameras so why couldn't you do it with him?

Either way, you'd believe he'd catch you in the act. Despite the fact that you were no more than friends, just barely surpassing acquaintances, he had intuition like no other. So, you didn't smile back, you only looked at his net and then back out to sea.

"I prefer to fish at night," He told you, catching your eye flicker to his net. He was trying to distract you.

"Why?" You finally asked, your eyes unmoving.

"Well for one, there's fewer people on the water, so the fish are easier to catch." You don't say anything, only hum in acknowledgment. A moment of silence passes before it shattered with the sound of his voice.

"The weirdest thing happened at the market today."

You turned and looked at him for the second time. "What?" You weren't really interested in what he had to say, and he knew it. But he continued to talk and you allowed him to do so because you and him both knew that anything was better than being alone.

Seeing him now you understand why he was deemed the nation's golden boy. He was effortlessly alluring, his voice alone, silvery, carrying a certain charm and serene that was almost reassuring. You took note of how his eyebrows moved when he talked, and just how straight his teeth were. The prominence of his cheekbones and the way his eyes crinkled slightly when he smiled.

He finished his anecdote about his day at the market, which in fact was not weird at all, just a long complaint about how the price of fishing tools was raised. Still, by means of distracting you, you appreciated his effort.

"Do you need anything?" He asked, nearly startling you and you were pulled out of the daze his voice put you in.

You quirked your head in confusion. "What?"

"I'm asking you if you need anything. Based on the red in your eyes and the fact that you're not asleep right now, I know what you're going through. And if there's anything I wish I had when I came home from the games, it was company."

He was trying to help you.

"But you're not asleep right now either," You mumbled.

"By choice. I went fishing remember?" He reminds you and the jealousy had arisen again only to leave in seconds, replaced by feelings of guilt for forgetting what Finnick had told you mere moments ago. Oh was the only word you could choke out before turning your head to the sea.

"Look," He inched closer towards you, turning his body to face your figure and you looked at him once again. "I'll be next door if you need anything. Don't be a stranger, honey."

And with that, he got up, grabbed his net, and left.

The next day was more the same. You'd spent your day outside, this time however you went to the market to see what Finnick's complaints were all about and to your surprise he was right. The price of tools like rope, bait, and tackle was raised since you'd left for the games. Yet you still bought some bait, along with some much-needed groceries. But at the end of the day, you only slept a little before your efforts proved to be fruitless and you ended up on the beach once again. And Finnick just so happened to be fishing that night too.

Your eyes caught him walking your way and he was quick to send you one of his famous charismatic smiles, one you halfheartedly returned but he was more than pleased to receive it.

He sat down next to you on the sand like he did the previous night, only a little closer.

"You were right," you said softly, your gaze fixed on him.

"I mean I usually am...but what was it this time?" He asks, curious of your newfound testimony.

"The market prices."

“Ah,” he exclaimed. “See, I told you ten dollars for bait was absolutely outrageous!” He laughed and the sound infected you, your lips turning upwards into a small, short lived smile.

“I still bought it though,” You sighed.

His brows shot up. “Really? Well, now you have more than enough money for it now I suppose.”

“I guess,” Your head dropped slightly when you were subtly reminded of your so-called victory. “I never really wanted it in the first place.”

It was Finnick's turn to stay silent, analyzing your facial features as if he were looking for something in particular.

"I seem to be dealing less and less with money lately. Maybe that's why I was so surprised by the prices," He commented, lightening the subject.

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"Well, in the capitol I think I've found a more valuable currency."

"And what would that be?"

"Secrets." There's an enigmatic glint in his eye with a close-to devilish smile on his lips and it makes you think whether he's being serious or not. “Do you think you have any worth my time?”

“Not any I can think of,” You told him earnestly and his eyes scanned over you, seemingly analyzing you once more.

"I think you're right. But it seems like your hands tell a different story," He said tentatively and you looked down at your hands to see them shaking. You noticed it earlier but you had busied yourself with shopping so that you didn't have to think about it. When you got to the beach your buried your hands in the sand, idly toying with the ground to keep them busy. But now it had been apparent that it'd been of little help.

"I don't suppose you have any secrets that could help with this, do you?"

He nodded. "I do. I use it everyday actually." He grabbed the rope from beside him, alternative to the fishing net he was carrying with him yesterday.

"What I do," He explained, handing the rope to you, "Is tie sailing knots. You know a few?"

"I've been sailing and fishing my whole life...I think I know more than a few," You scoffed and Finnick swore his heart skipped a beat. He'd seemed cracking away at the hard exterior, slowly but surely, your lighthearted scoff and a stoic expression much better than the pained look he'd read on your face yesterday.

You tied a buntline hitch knot quickly and effortlessly, handing it to him once you were finished.

"Wow," he whispered. "I can't believe you're better at this than me." Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief, unconvinced.

"I'm serious. Of all the knots this was the hardest one for me to learn and I still don't think I can do it as well."

You rolled your eyes, a faint smile pulling your lips upward. "Whatever. I'm sure your ego will be fine."

The night continued, the two of you developing a friendly yet intimate rapport. Finnick made you feel seen. You didn't feel like the siren Caesar had deemed you in your victory interview, the girl everybody had their eyes on, the girl everybody wanted to be seen with. People were more intrigued only by the idea of you—Finnick was uninterested.

He enjoyed watching you tie sailing knots with ease, simultaneously getting to know the real you. The truth is you were just as alluring and captivating as you were on TV and he'd understand why you'd been named quite the enchantress. You slowly opened up as you tied and it'd gone on for so long that he felt like he'd known you his whole life by the time the sun came up.

By that time, the two of you parted ways. Your day felt no different than the rest, only you went to the market to buy some "outrageously" priced rope. You tried to get some sleep like you had the last two nights, and again it was to no avail. In fact, your nightmares had only gotten worse. You'd sleep for short intervals only to be woken up time and time again with tear-stained eyes and a sensitive throat.

You didn't want to lay in your bed, in your home that was beginning to feel close to an asylum as the clock ticked on and on and panged in your ears each time a second passed. So you'd done what you've been doing for the past two nights, hauling your body from your bed that was meant to be shared to your blue backyard.

While tears freefell from your glossy eyes, you wiped them away with your sweater sleeve once you saw Finnick's figure sitting on a towel in the sand with another laid beside him. You prayed that you wouldn't have to face him, not like this, but it seemed fate has gone against you. Regardless, you still met him where the sand met the sea because you didn't have it in you to spend the night without him.

He sensed your presence from behind, turning to face you and it felt like he could see right through you. It was endearing and utterly mortifying.

"I brought you a towel so you wouldn't have to sit on the sand," He murmured tenderly as if your heart was in his hands and his worst fear was to drop it.

You sat down languidly, every inch of you the weariest you've ever felt. The moment you looked him in the eye the damn broke and so did your walls. You didn't know how he did it, but again, he has his secrets.

You felt like you'd been reduced to atoms in front of him and it was like a slap in the face. Surely to him, this was worse than a bruised ego. It was almost gut-wrenching to see you so broken down and the only thing he'd wanted to do was be there for you.

He put his arm around your shoulder as you cried and you hid in the nape of his neck, a place you found to be more comforting than what meets the eye.

His touch alleviated your tears and slowed your breathing, and you realized his cocky statement was true. He was right. You needed company whether you liked it or not. And you wanted his.

"You know, I'm starting to think you don't get much sleep, honey," He mumbled, turning his head slightly so that he could see the slightest bit of you while your head rested in the crook of his neck.

"No...I don't," You rasped.

"What'dya say we get some right now?" Before you could say anything he began to talk once more. "It'll be alright. Brought the towels for a reason y'know."

You wanted to protest, to tell him that you didn't think you'd be fine, that the whole reason you were here was in fact that you were far from alright, but before you knew it he was laying down and pulling you with him.

"Get some rest, sweetheart. I’m right here,” He murmured, holding you close and you've never wanted to be closer. You needed his company. And maybe if it wasn't for the nights, this would be one more loss you weren't sure you could take.

#finnick odair #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #thg #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n

[aroaceleovaldez]

cool weapon ideas for Riordanverse characters (OCs or otherwise) since MCGA/TOA only barely started giving us more weapons than “sword, knife/dagger, spear, bow” (garrote, sickles, manuballista/crossbow, blowdart, nets, misuse of instruments, etc)

Remember that one BoO cover where Leo randomly had a chainsaw. Yeah. If you need a mortal item for it to be disguised as like Riptide’s pen form, you could totally make it like a belt chain or something that turns into a chainsaw. That’d be fun.

Similarly. Leo should get to use his toolbelt as a blunt force weapon. Like the office fight scene from EEAAO. Do you see my vision.

Also remember the old headcanons about Will making a lasso/whip out of light with photokinesis powers? That was cool.

Baseball bat / Baseball bat with nails are always good. I have an old OC with that and also i saw a post the other day about Piper with one.

Meteor hammer / rope dart. They’re just cool (again: See office fight scene from EEAAO). My friend and I have an OC that has a meteor hammer yo-yo.

More demigods with their godly parents’ iconic weapons! Meg got sickles, let’s keep it up. Poseidon kids with tridents. Hades kids with bidents. Apparently one of Bellona’s weapons is a whip. Where’s the Indiana Jones Bellona kids.

Obligatory “give somebody a scythe” (works for any chthonic or plant-themed demigod)

 PICKAXES. This sounds silly but ancient Romans actually wielded pickaxes and similar in war and did use them as weapons. So like. where’s my Romans who are about to put a pickaxe through someone’s teeth. come on. Similarly - Slings/slingshots! Hooks! Shovels/spades! These were also all legitimately used in ancient Roman combat.

Axes. We see like, two characters use axes in MCGA. There should be more. In a somewhat similar vein, hammers! Big war hammers! LT Musical!Silena had a big hammer and it was great.

Put some more variation in our swords/knives/daggers! Throwing knives! Maybe also throwing stars. Javelins! Lances! Tbh just throw stuff. Also unique types of blades, cause we’re technically not bound by Greco-Roman or even like, Indo-european. weapons. Even if we were, there’s lots of options. Like falx. Which i have just learned about but they look cool.

Brass knuckles. Claws. Maybe even some type of fang weapons. Don’t tell me you have an entire camp of teens trained by WOLVES and not a SINGLE ONE OF THEM went “wait hold on. i have an idea.”

Will Solace should get to use medical equipment in combat. As a treat. Imagine him wielding like, a bone saw or something. Really just saws in general seem like an intimidating weapon, even if not very practical.

Silly weapons. Give me a demigod with a pizza cutter. Frying pan. Misc sports equipment (Bring back Luke’s golf club!). Maybe even a discus? Give me Aphrodite kids making DIY flamerthrowers out of perfume and aerosol sprays. Anything.

#pjo #riordanverse #oc #ocs #list

[harmaakarhu]

I’m absolutely losing my mind over the idea of having Jaheira in the party of a Dark Urge Tav who is desperately trying to be good and trying to hold onto their humanity while two unknown entities chip away at it. (a lot of assumptions ahead, sorry) She’s already been here! She’s already done this! And she’s older and wiser and has seen even more now. And she knows even more keenly the stakes of the crises that are taking hold in Faerun, because (I can only assume) she’s been seeing crises unfold for another hundred years, and tried her best to keep the balance throughout it. She’s already seen this happen with Charname. And she’s already seen this happen with Imoen. And they conquered it! So she knows the strength that someone can have, and that it is possible to overcome a dark power (potentially again, a dark god, even) nudging someone towards evil. But she’s also seen so many of the bhaalspawn fall, and she saw the damage they wrought throughout her adventures. (Even the one she loves.) And she has always placed people on a moral map, and judged the sway that they will have on the world--everything she fights for and believes in demands those categorizations. I believe at least that the wounds of grief over Khalid have healed enough that this time around, she won’t need to worry about her own motivations. She won’t have doubts over the things and the people she needs, or the vengeance she’s clinging to. But what wounds may have happened in the interim? And where will she net out on this complete stranger going through troubles so similar to the troubles that had plagued such an intense period in her life? Will she be able to trust them? Can they look to her for support or will they drive her away? I’m just so hype, I want to see how this goes. (psa: I realize that we don’t know yet how they tie the originals tie into BG3, at all, and how they handled ‘canon’. And we really don’t know what Jaheira would have lived through in the hundred years between them, or really what BG3 is even about, haha. But I for sure know that I’m going to be reading Jaheira’s character through the lens I saw her with in her romance - a good-aligned charname and at least BG1 with the canon party, and that’s all this post reflects. If people have other reads of her character I totally understand and I’d love to learn about how other people feel!)

#jaheira #baldur's gate #bg2 #bg2 spoilers #can that be a thing it's been 20 years #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #i am sorry to my 1 human follower who is my wife #you're married to a baldur's gate blog now #dark urge tav

[esther-dot]

Arya fit into a glove the description of the perfect monarch that Varys used to describe Young Griff:

“He reads and writes, he speaks several tongues, he has studied history and law and poetry.”

There was a reason Arya loved listening to her father talk with his subjects and takes note of lessons he gave to Robb as his heir. Arya is noted to be better at math than her sister. In Braavos, she starts learning many different languages under the tutelage of the Faceless Men, including Braavosi, Pentoshi, Lysene, High Valyrian, and the trade talk of sailors. Currently, her Braavosi is at a passable level, though she could still use some practice.

“He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid.”

This has been Arya ENTIRE storyline. Arya’s resourcefulness and quick thinking enable her to survive alone in the slums of King’s Landing for a time, she slept in the streets and survived by catching pigeons, and escaped the city by joining the Night’s Watch prisoners. She traveled Westeros by foot, as a ragged child whose most valuable possession is a sword and is forced to steal to survive, having to hunt her own meals, cook her own meals, was captured and forced into slavery at Harrenhal, she looked for shelter among the common people in the scene where her and the Hound receive help from the old farmer and his daughter. She saw with her own eyes the destruction and misery the War of the Five Kings brought to the people of Westeros and she understand how devastading war can be for the weak and poor. Arya forms close bonds with the smallfolk and make friends from all types of backgrounds, regardless of social status, which is noteworthy to point out in such a classist feudalist society as Westeros is.

So, by matching Varys’s description perfectly with Arya’s storyline, GRRM was clearly giving us a hint about Arya’s final destiny. After all, Arya is technically the lady of Winterfell already because the Boltons are using her name to hold the North and there are Northern lords rising up to fight for her.

I'm assuming this is in response to this ask.

I admire everyone who is willing to put themselves out there and write meta. I don't write my own, so I don't want to minimize the effort it takes. However, since the claim is that this is evidence of the author’s intention, I have to disagree. Years ago, when it came out that he wants to write follow-up adventures for Arya elsewhere, not in the North, he ended the Arya as QitN endgame question for me. The QitN isn't gonna be running around Braavos solving murder mysteries. (I believe this is something he mentioned himself once, I think I first heard it in a clip of a Q&A, but I can't find that rn).

Generally I'm happy to entertain a variety of spec, and I'll talk a little about the passage you point to as evidence of QitN Arya below, but I have to say, this isn't a topic I'm gonna be moved on. I believe what you've found is what most of us find as we read/reread the series. Similarities between characters because they're often used to approach similar ideas from different angles, but that doesn't mean the purpose of a passage is foreshadowing for that other character.

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

I've said before, this does not truly speak to any of the Stark kids. Aspects of it apply perhaps, but none of them fulfill this ideal in which we're being told that Aegon was an excellent student who mastered all the classical/religious education as well as having an understanding of an unprivileged life.

Arya does learn languages, I'm not dismissing that, or the fact that she loved sitting with her father and listening to the stories people shared with him, but we are specifically told that she ran away from her Septa to get out of lessons. Not just sewing, history lessons too. We are told that in contrast to herself, Sansa knows sigils and poetry. And even though she also hides her true hair color and goes into hiding, I'm not gonna say this passage is about Sansa because a) there's nothing the author does to insert her into this convo, b) half of it doesn't apply.

So, you can understand why I squint at your conclusion and ultimately can't accept it as the author's intent. I could put my thumb over the page and argue it's about Arya, Bran, or Dany, who have all suffered hardships, but if I look at the entire quote, it doesn't perfectly apply to any of them. Arya and Dany lack the successful, extensive formal education, Bran lacks the experience with the smallfolk. I think this passage about Aegon is about...Aegon.

I appreciate Arya's intelligence, I enjoy her, it's admirable how much she connects with the smallfolk in a way that sets her apart from most of the highborn, and she does have that beautiful theme of justice/mercy running through her story, but all the same, it's a notable aspect of her characterization from the beginning of the story that she was not into formal education which is half the point of the Aegon passage, so you're not going to convince me that Martin was thinking of her --or any Stark-- when writing that.

As for your closer:

Arya is technically the lady of Winterfell already because the Boltons are using her name to hold the North and there are Northern lords rising up to fight for her.

It isn't a fair reading to conclude that the North is particularly loyal to Arya. The Northern lords want to save Ned's little girl because he was a good lord so they remain loyal to his family / want to save his child as a result. It says something good about him and about the Northmen.

The fact that the Boltons have a girl and are claiming her as a Stark to hold the North only sets the stage for them being overthrown once Theon and Jeyne's story is out and then a Stark succession crisis between any/all of the Starks upon the revelation that they're alive. I've talked in the past about the fact that while the Starks may not be power hungry, there are going to be factions promoting different heirs since each has a major detracting factor, but each also has a claim to consider. The Northern Lords simply aren't gonna hold out for a LoW Arya because Ramsay lied about marrying her when there are older heirs/male heirs around as candidates. That is, if Bran and Rickon return, or if Robb's Will pops up. Any/all of which seems more imminent than Arya's return to the North.

I've mentioned before Martin's inspo for Arya, and even though fans might enjoy seeing her take a traditional female role and shake it up and reorder it to her liking, I do not think that is the ending he set out to give her. Instead, it sounds like he wants her to be free to not marry and free to have adventures which is a lovely ending for her and one that would be fun to read--if he'd finish his main series and write some of those followups!

#dot chat

[thepaintedlady00]

Hello 😁 can you make a morpheus x siren reader please? With or without smut

I started watch Siren series and can't stop to imagine it 👀🇧🇷

I've honestly been waiting for a chance to write a Siren reader x Dream pairing!!! 😍😍😍

The ocean was home to all manner of creatures. It was brightly colored and ever changing. The sirens had long survived within its waters, undetected and unbothered until humans grew more persistent in their hardened ships and their giant nets. Your people were forced to find deeper, darker caves and watch as these pink little men filled the water with thick black muck and killed the creatures you swam beside. As princess of your people you wanted to do more. You had to.

It was this thought that led you to where you were, thrashing wildly in the net you'd been tricked into. You bit the rope, clawed at it in desperate attempts to free yourself, but it was no use. With each upward tug the net grew tighter around you, crushing against you as weight settled into your bones bringing a deep ache with it.

Air stung, badly as you choked on it. From the openings in the net you saw them, the hideous land creatures leaning over the side of their ship shouting and cheering. In their eyes they caught a mighty fish... A prize. In your eyes death was waiting.

Your body shook as it began to burn. You'd heard tales of your kind being capable of transforming... Of shedding your scales and webbed fingers and taking on an appearance similar to the humans. Such tales were warnings. And yet no warning could have prepared you for the pain you felt now. The net shifted, now hovering over the deck of their ship. They gawked at you, stared with curious eyes and smiles despite your obvious pain.

Death stood among them, her eyes sad as she regarded you with a comforting hand. You reached out toward her, desperate to take it and be free again. Free to swim the realms and find The Great Reef beyond. A pale hand settled over hers as a figure similarly dressed looked at her with cold eyes. "No."

"She isn't like humans. If she's ready to accept my gift then it's her time, Dream." Death's voice sounded so beautiful, so full of home that you reached out further.

"I will not sit idly by while these humans hunt such beautiful beings." The man turned to look at her. "She deserves more from us than this. They all do."

Death looked back at you and with a nod lowered her hand. You hissed as the man stepped closer toward you. Who was he to deny you Deaths offer? Who was he to demand you suffer? With a wave of his hand the net turned to sand and the humans stood frozen as you fell onto the hard wood of their ship. You let out a weak, strangled cry as the pain grew even more unbearable. It felt as though you were being torn apart.

Cold hands settled on your skin, hands you clawed at and bit but left no mark. The man hushed you, gentle and... Sad? "Your kind are welcome in my realm, Princess. You need only seek me out. You need only call upon me, Dream of the Endless."

He lifted you with ease, taking you to the idea of the ship and carefully letting you slide back into the water. You floated for a moment, regaining your bearings before you looked up at the distorted view of Death and this... Dream before you swam back into the darkness.

Days passed before you found your curiosity too overwhelming to ignore. You swam through the dark underwater caverns letting magic guide you until you found the sapphire waters of a realm you'd only heard of. The Dreaming, home to this Dream of the Endless and all his creations. You poked your head above the water, just enough to catch a glimpse of the black clad figure standing on the docks. He bowed his head to you. "You may stay as long as you wish. You may also bring as many of your people as will come. My realm is open to you."

"My people warn against your kin." You told him. "They say The Endless are friend to humans."

"My siblings and I are charged with higher purposes, but I like to believe we are capable of being allies to all that wish it."

"Why save me?"

His eyes glowed and shimmered like Flores can't caves. "Because you are worth saving."

#dream of the endless x siren reader #dream of the endless x siren!reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #dream the endless #morpheus imagine #sandman morpheus #the sandman series #dream of the endless imagine #the sandman fanfic #sandman netflix #morpheus x reader #morpheus the sandman #morpehus #morpheus dream #lord morpheus #morpheus #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus fluff #morpheus headcanons #morpheus imagines #morpheus lord of dreams #morpheus of the endless #king of dreams #sandman dream #dream of the endless x you #dream the endless x reader #dream x reader #morpheus sandman #dream sandman

[mythica0]

Hi hiiii!!!!! I feel like people already know I’m a sucker for lee Donnie lmaooo

That being said mayhaps you can do some lee!Donnie and ler!leo, where Donnie maybe is stuck in his own invention or whatever, and Leo just takes advantage of it lmao. I know I personally wrote a fic similar already but it was more with them as turtle tots. Wanted to do one when they’re older but I didn’t wanna reuse my own idea lmao…

So anyway yeah you don’t have to or anything but feel free!!! Love your writing! ❤️

Pouting

🎂:ROTTMNT

🧁:Donnie

🍫:Leo (ft. Tech)

Summary: A prototype Battle Shell Donnie was working on kinda… backfired. He immediately regrets asking for help from his Twin brother.

A/N: You got it, dude(gender neutral). PREPArE FOR TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF

TW: mild swearing. above mentioned tooth-rotting fluff.

Pouting

Donnie messed up. Big time.

He was just working on a prototype for a new battle shell. Something he did once in a while when he came up with new ideas to put in it.

But clearly he did something wrong, as it malfunctioned.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal. He would just try and figure out what happened and fix it.

The problem was, what malfunctioned was a trapping net. That he was now caught in.

He didn’t know how, but he ended up with his ankle trapped in one of the net holes, arms tied to either side, and hanging over the rest like a kid playing birds on a swing set.

Sigh. This was very unfortunate. He couldn’t get himself out, his arms were stuck, but nobody was home right now.

‘Except…. Groan. Leo.’

Oh well. It’s not like he had a choice in the matter. He sighed and resigned himself to getting help from his insufferable Twin.

“LEO!”

“YEAH!”

“CAN,” he sighed again, “CAN YOU COME HERE REAL QUICK.”

“OKAY, ONE SEC!” The younger twin replied.

Donnie heard footsteps and then saw Leo, standing in the door frame, looking all to amused for the soft shell’s liking.

“Whahat- what did you do?” Leon asked, clearly trying (and failing) not to laugh.

Donnie sighed again. “My new battle shell prototype isn’t working as intended.”

“Pfft- clehearly.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m hilarious. Can you help me out now? I didn’t call you just so you could make fun of me.”

Leo held up a hand and chuckled, “alright, I’ll help ya.”

He actually was going to help! He swears! …but…

He saw how upset Donnie looked. He was pouting, and just looked so annoyed. Leo couldn’t help but feel like it was his job to put a smile on that scowling face! Not to mention his little brother instinct to be an absolute little shit.

He brought his hand past Donnie’s side, giving it a little tickle as he did so.

Donnie want expecting the sensation and squealed.

Leo smirked and did it again.

Donnie didn’t squeal that time, as he was expecting it more, but he did snicker a bit.

“Nahardo, what exactly do you think you’re doihing?”

“Oh, nothing~ just putting a smile on my pouty twins face~” Leo said with a lilt as he started to more rapidly scribble against the older twins sides.

“Nohohoho! Nahahahardo doho nohohot!”

“Too late~~” the slider started with a sing song, “and hey! Look! It’s working! Look at that smile~”

He wasn’t wrong either. Donnie’s face had stretched itself into a wide grin against his permission as he giggled wildly.

“Tickle tickle tickle DonTon~”

“Ohoho shihihit! dohohont sahahay thahahat!”

“Why not~? Seems to be making you all giggly~ tickle tickle tickle tickle~” Leon brought his hand up to Don’s underarm, exposed from where the net had caught his hands.

“NAHAHO! WHYHY! Hahahahahaha!” The tech-wiz giggled loudly. The fact that he couldn’t move his arms seemed to make it feel a thousand times worse. But, he was having maybe just a bit of fun. Not that he would ever admit it in a thousand million years.

“I already told you why! I wanted to see you smile dear twin o’ mine! Spirits know you need to smile more often!”

“Y’know~ I wonder what would happen if I were to get your shell right now?” Leo asked in mock pondering.

Donnie gulped internally. He was really regretting calling for Leo’s help. He should of just waited for someone to get home! Obviously since he was working on a battle she’ll prototype, he was looking at his battle shell for reference. Which meant he wasn’t wearing it.

“Are you ready, DonTon~”

“Ahahahbsolohoutly nohot.”

“Oh, well~! I’m doing it anyway~” Leon started to scratch gently along Don’s soft shell in an extremely ticklish fashion.

Donnie felt like he was seeing the gates of the afterlife from how much that tickled. He would probably be freaking out more if it was anyone but family, but he trusted his brother not to go too far with his shell.

Just enough to absolutely wreck him into next week!

“LEHEHEHOOHOHO! IHIHIHITS SOHOHO BAHAHAHAHAD! EEHEHEHAHAHAH!”

“I know~ but look, no more pouting now~”

“SHIHIHI-HAHAHAH! STAHAHAHAP!”

Leo could tell he was serious and did as instructed. Donnie glared at him in shock and suspicion.

“Whyhy- why dihidnt you stohop sohooner?”

“You didn’t tell me too.” Leo smirked at the indignant look that got him.

The slider actually freed his twin now, and helped him up.

Leo was adamant that Donnie needed to smile more. Thankfully he would always be there to put one on his face when the soft shell was pouting.

———THE END————————————————

#parrotwrites #parrotanswers #sfw tickling community #rottmnt tickles #lee!donnie #ler!leo

[foxes-that-run]

Happily

In the 2019 Fine Line Rolling Stone interview While talking about Lights Up he said:

“‘Happily’ was the first time I saw my name in the credits. I liked that,” he says. “But I knew I’d only sing part of it. I knew if I wrote a really personal song, I wouldn’t sing it. It was like a safety net."

He also listed it as one of the 1D songs he loved to Rolling Stone after going solo:

He didn’t feel stifled in One D, he says, as much as interrupted. “We were touring all the time,” he recalls. “I wrote more as we went, especially on the last two albums.” There are songs from that period he loves, he says, like “Olivia” and “Stockholm Syndrome,” along with the earlier song “Happily.” “But I think it was tough to really delve in and find out who you are as a writer when you’re just kind of dipping your toe each time. We didn’t get the six months to see what kind of shit you can work with. To have time to live with a song, see what you love as a fan, chip at it, hone it and go for that  … it’s heaven.”

Happily was written by Harry with Carl Falk and Savan Kotecha, who wrote many One Direction songs including What Makes you Beautiful. Midnight Memories was written between June - September 2013.

It may be set around April 2013 and the Brit Awards, Harry watched Taylor walk 21 Feb, she was then with Joe 0.1 Tom Odell 22 Feb. By the VMAs in August they were on good terms. Tom wrote Country Star about Taylor at the time which included "young American country star / She's telling me all about her new guitar / She's a little bit clever, a little bit daft / A little bit happy with a broken heart" it also included "We're rolling 'round like tangerines" when Harry was pictured holding one at the awards.

Live Performances

Happily was song 7 for the first 8 shows on the OTRA tour. Harry looked upset in these performances, in the second last in Perth, you see Liam ask Harry "are you OK?" (at 1:01) on 20 February 2015. It was last played 24 February 2015 in Osaka, the day Taylor met Calvin Harris. It hasn't been on any of their solo sets. It was replaced by Stockholm Syndrome on 25 February.

Lyrics

[Harry] You don't understand, you don't understand What you do to me when you hold his hand We were meant to be but a twist of fate Made it so you had to walk away

What I love about this song is it has all the elements of their relationship in quite simple terms. In NYD, You are in Love and DBATC she sung about them being a book that was left unfinished, I think this open is a similar idea of ended too soon.

[Niall, Zayn] 'Cause we're on fire We are on fire

They were (are still) on fire:

[Harry] I don't care what people say when we're together You know I wanna be the one to hold you when you sleep I just want it to be you and I forever I know you wanna leave So c'mon baby be with me So happily

These articles are all within 6 months of them going public, imagine one of these written about you at 18 or 22. Add to that each having an image worth 10s+ of millions of dollars to lots of people.

Happily "I don't care what people say",

I know places "Something happens when everybody finds out / See the vultures circling, dark clouds / Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out"

DWOHT " People started talking, putting us through our paces / I knew there was no one in the world who could take it"

Adore You "I'd walk the fire for you",

Cowboy Like Me "Telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear / Like it could be love / I could be the way forward / Only if they pay for it", and

Little Freak "Somehow, you've become some paranoia, A wet dream just dangling"

honestly, this list of lyrics could get real long so I'll stop.

Makes total sense for them. This doesn't mean it would not be harder still for them to come out, it totally would, and I am there for it if either do. What I can see is, either way is this is not welcoming. This is also just print media. Some fandoms are loud.

[Liam] It's four a.m. and I know that you're with him I wonder if he knows that I touched your skin And if he feels my traces in your hair Sorry, love, but I don't really care

I think this is a reference to Joe 0.1. Tom Odell. The lyric and context is almost the same as Taylor later sung in Delicate "Do the girls back home touch you like I do? Long night with your hands up in my hair"

#haylor #midnight memories #Youtube #one direction #one direction haylor

[nancydrewwouldnever]

And yet he's back in the panel q&a with the vague ideas of the work he still wants to do again. And, honestly, I think once the SAG strike is over he'll jump at the first movie he gets offered, just a hunch. He strikes me as possibly being one of those people who desperately want to change their lives but, because they have no concrete ideas of what they want to change it to, they just continue on with what they already know.//

I don’t think he’s going away. I think that part of his “anxiety” might be financial. I think he is way less liquid cash wise than everyone thinks he is. And I think he helps support a lot of people, maybe not fully, but is still paying some. I think he starts to panic when he doesn’t have steady work, I think that’s why he did 3 movies last year, he agreed following a similar panic during the pandemic. He needs the money and to justify the bigger paycheck, he needs to keep up the name recognition.

Most celebs are cash poor. They have a lot of their money tied up in longer term investments and real estate, and, yes, they do have a lot of overhead costs with everyone on their "team" they have to pay. They all live off their Am Ex Black cards and leave it to their business managers to figure out how to pay that bill.

They are also very, very susceptible to being stolen from, as many of them have no real idea of what their net worth really is.

#ask