#I ALWAYS FIND YOU IN EVERY CHARACTER I FALL FOR

[blimpintime]

cursed : azriel x reader

in which azriel has a crush on a witch, and thinks she cursed him.

warnings: none (unedited)

word count: 1.4k

“She’s quite the character huh?” Cassian says to Azriel, staring at you. He grunts in response wondering why you are currently in a handstand competition with a couple of kids in the middle of town. Kind of in awe how your little black dress didn't fall down to your face with you being upside down, but that's a perk of being a witch, he thinks. 

As if you heard them talking about you, your gaze finds theirs. You grin and then lose balance and gracefully fall out of the handstand. It being the last day of summer did make it a cool one but still having been outside with a summer camp of kids you were quite dewy with sweat. Your face was flushed and damp as you made your way towards the two men. 

“Hi Cassian!” You say with a grin, you turn and look at Azriel, your smile falling into a smaller one. “Spymaster.” You nod. Cassian lets a chuckle slip through at Az’s blank face. You were always like this with him. He never fully understood why. You kept him at a distance always but managed to be involved in every one else’s business. He often thought it was because you could not stand him. And then he thought you were terrified of him, because let’s face it, that was more believable.

You were making small talk with Cassian when Azriel started to get lost in his mind thinking of you and how it seemed you teased him on occasion. With your little quips here and there. Constantly smelling like those fresh baked chocolate-chip muffins that were his guilty pleasure to eat when he got back from long missions

He noticed eventually that Cassian had walked away from you two when a group of kids started playing tag with him. He turned to look at you where you decided to sit on the grass, he made a quick decision to sit next to you. Both of you were silent, but for once it was comfortable.

The path leading up to your small little house on the bank of the Sidra was always well lit at night. Glowing with purple and orange lanterns their reflection makes it seem brighter than it was that night. Your house was on the smaller side (still fairly large all considering.) But you loved to host seasonal parties due to them being in connection with your magic and since summer was ending and fall was starting, it was the perfect time to throw one of your celebrations. 

Currently the Inner Circle is in your living room drinking and eating food you have made for them. Your familiar, Silly the tabby cat, has made their home on Azriel’s lap. He doesn’t seem to mind though. Gently petting the cat's soft fur. You stare at them from the kitchen with a soft smile on your face. 

“You could just tell him you know.” Nesta says from behind you, scaring the absolute shit out of you. You place a hand over your chest and let out a deep breath. “Nesta, I’m going to put a bell on you.” She laughs lightly as you scrunch up your nose. 

“I am not joking though.” She says softly, and you look back at him now playing with Silly on the couch. “He can’t even stand to be in the same room as me for more than ten minutes. There is no way I could tell him how I feel.” She hums in response. 

“I think you’d be surprised.” And then she walks back out to sit with Cassian. You did deeply care about Azriel, borderline loved him. You felt connected to him in a way you couldn’t describe, just that your soul was at peace with him. Your magic proved that theory too. It sometimes appears to you in colorful hazes around people. 

Every color had a different meaning, the majority of the Inner Circle had a warm orange around them. Your magic had to be newer or just not have a written history because there is barely any research on what these colors mean.  However, you chalked it up to orange meaning some of the most important people in your life. Azriel though, he had a beautiful blue humming around him almost constantly for you, and you had no idea what that meant.

You must have been lost in thought for a while because the next person to scare you was Rhys with Nyx on his hip. He was building another plate for Feyre and Nyx to pick off of. 

“You okay?” He asked you softly. Nyx’s grubby hands reaching for the fresh food on the plate, you and Rhys both grin at that. You nod your head in response to his earlier question. 

“Maybe ask him to hang out with you?” He says, like it's that easy. You shake your head, “I don’t know about that.” 

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to try.” You watch him leave the kitchen and decide it's time to do the same. 

You follow Rhys back into your living space, where it's warm of laughter and love. You sit down on the only open seat, which happens to be on the couch next to Azriel. Silly runs over to your lap and demands petting. You look down at the orange cat with love and when you look back up you meet Azriel’s puzzled stare.

“What?” You ask him softly, nudging the cat off your lap gently. You turn to fully face him when he abruptly stands up. He grabs your arm and pulls you towards the outside. 

“We will be back.” He says gruffly towards everybody, dragging you along.

“Please for the love of Mother, take your time.” Cassian says with a cheeky grin, “We have bets placed.” to which earns him a vulgar gesture from both you and Azriel.

When you go outside he drags you closer to the river and further from the house. Probably to avoid prying ears and eyes, but with everyone’s magic you go ahead and place a sound proofing spell over the two of you.

“Is everything alright Azriel?” You ask him after a moment of silence. He turns back around to look at you with something close to… fear?  

“So, what is it?” You look at him deadpanned and tilt your head in confusion.

“What spell did you place on me? Why, when I go to sleep I think about how I hope you had a good day. When I wake up I wonder if you actually ate breakfast and not forgetting after you have your morning coffee. And tonight, I wonder where you go when this party is mainly in celebration for you and I am busy playing with your cat and not with you.” He gets out in one breath. I stare at him for a moment and when I open my mouth he interrupts me again,

“Why is it when you are near my hands shake less and my worries ease but when you are gone I crave your scent. What curse? What spell?” Azriel genuinely looks shaken for a moment, and for a second so do you. 

“I didn’t know you felt that way too, Azriel.” You say and approach him with a soft smile. When you guys finally make eye contact though something inside you both, snaps. Your eyes widen and so do his. Mate.

You let out a little giggle that eventually turns into a full laugh. “You thought I cursed you?” You say through giggles, “I thought you hated me Az.” 

“Ah, well that goes both ways.” He responded with a smile. You look at him in confusion. “I could never hate you.”

“You couldn’t stand to be near me.” He quips back.

“No. You couldn’t stand to be near me.” You say and jokingly sniff at him. He shakes his head and grins. “We are both stupid.” You nod your head in agreement. 

“A couple of stupid mates, huh.” You look up at him, now leaning shoulder to shoulder. 

“Yeah something like that.” And then he kisses you. 

Warm lips slotting over yours softly, you both start getting a little more heated with each other. Hands finding their way into your hair while yours go around his neck. His lips softly biting yours and then pulling away. You arch and reach up on your tiptoes in a feat of chasing his lips. He grins at you, puts his hands on your cheeks and kisses your nose. 

“Let’s go back inside.” He whispers and leans back, as if he’s afraid that this will all be a dream if one of you speaks too loudly.

“I am kicking everyone out the minute we get back inside.” You whisper back and kiss his collar bone. 

“That sounds great to me.” he says and with that you both walk back to your house holding hands. 

a/n: so this was completely self indulgent, I wanted a cozy azriel fic!

please tell me what you think!

I don't own any characters that sarah j. mass created.

[justatypicalwizard]

Katsuki doesn't believe in love at first sight

Katsuki never believed in love at first sight. How could someone meet eyes and feel as if a thunder ruptured down from the skies and struck them? To love someone means to accept every part of them and to be able to incorporate them into your everyday life. It means building a brand new everyday with that person.

In order to do so you need to know a lot about them. Who they are, what are their plans for the future, what is their character and so on. Then you need to see if you are compatible in many spheres. You need to invite them to your friends group to see if it’ll hit off, you should try living together, they need to get to know your parents.

There are simply so many things to check off the list in order to be able to say you love someone. Otherwise it’s just empty words. I love you here and there. I love you for a week. I love you when you do as I please. Bullshit.

Mina constantly pestered Katsuki that his definition of love feels more like a chore or a job interview than like something a human would be able to accomplish. It wasn’t his fault he had some standards everyone else seemed to lack.

So even now Katsuki doesn’t like to admit that he fell in love at first sight, because it wasn’t the first time when he looked at you.

A quiet ping of his phone tore him out of his work. A new message from someone he didn’t recognise. Without much thought he opened the text.

[Hi, you may not know me but we go to the same lecture on Wednesday at 1 PM. I heard you have neat notes and wanted to ask if it wouldn’t be a problem if you send me today’s ones. I  got sick and couldn’t come and I wouldn’t want to fall behind with the material. Thanks!]

Geez, was there a longer way to type it? Couldn’t you just write: can you give me notes? On the other hand he always complained about people being douchebags.

Clicking onto your profile Katsuki saw a cheesy photo and a few posts from your daily life and vacations. Nothing much to be honest. Yet, he could vaguely remember your face around the people who entered the lecture hall. It won’t hurt to help.

[Sure]

[File attached]

Pushing his phone to the far end of his desk he went back to work. A few minutes later there was another quiet ding and this time Katsuki felt irritation bubbling inside him. It was you once again.

[Thank you so much!]

[I owe you]

[If you ever need anything feel free to write]

Whatever.

It only took a week for Katsuki to be indeed looking for help from someone. Once in a while, during his hero training, he was forced to pair up with someone in order to work on his rescue skills. Usually they’d use dummies but some fucktard in the course planning team decided that it would be most helpful if the students could train with a real human.

Normally Katsuki would ask Mina. He’d swallow his pride and force himself to listen to her babbling for two hours. Just to get it done. Unfortunately, Mina dumped him today, leaving only a [sorry, not feeling well, find someone else]. Damned flu season.

Who was he supposed to ask now, Denki?

As he scrolled down his chats, your profile pic flew by making Katsuki halt.

If you ever need anything feel free to write.

Screw it, you said it yourself, might as well find a person already and move on with his day. He typed a quick explanation and pushed the send button. The day was nearing the afternoon when you responded.

[Sure, if it’s two hours I can make it. Send me when and where I should be]

He shrugged and gave you the address for today's training.

In the early evening Katsuki found himself trotting towards his usual fighting ground absentmindedly. He was thinking about something related to work at Miruko’s when the idea flew out of his head. You were there, he could see you from afar, walking in circles in front of the main door.

Were you an idiot? It was the middle of winter and the early evening cold tore through layers of warm coats to sink into your bones. Why weren’t you entering the building to warm up a bit.

That’s why Katsuki is so stubborn about the whole love at first sight thing. It certainly wasn’t that exact moment when his heart skipped a beat because of you. You were shivering, hiding your chin and red tinted cheeks deeper into the collar of your winter coat. When you spotted him you reached out a gloved hand and waved.

“What the fuck are you doing outside, get in there or you’ll catch another cold.” He persisted, ushering you towards the entrance.

“Wow, good evening to you too.” You looked at him from under your woollen hat, surprised to get yelled at first thing you see him. Though, you did hear the upcoming pro-hero Dynamite, who went to the same lecture as you, was rather intense. “I don’t know, this place just looks fancy. Didn’t want to stand inside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“So you stood outside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“Exactly.”

He let you in and showed you around. After leaving your coat and getting a warm tea (his idea), you were ready to help with his training. The support students and university staff running around asked you to take off any unnecessary piece of clothing such as jewellery or sweaters that could get in the way. You gladly went through with their instructions.

You b-lined another student, a senior support course, who showed you the place where you’d be waiting to be rescued. The spacious arena was moulded into the shape of a city. Some buildings were fine, others rundown as if a villain attack rolled over them. There were paveways and roads, streetlamps and plastic trees. You even spotted a car, though it didn’t look like it could take off anytime soon. 

“It will look the same over and over. You sit or lie down in the place where I leave you and wait for your hero.” Your guide briefed the rules. “And every time pick out a different scenario and tie the band in the place that is put on it.” He handed you a dozen of ribbons with small notes attached to them. The first one you grabbed read: broken arm (tie around elbow).

“Sure.” You nodded your head and he left you on the second floor of a wannabe office building. There were a few chairs scattered around and a table that had a weird bite mark on it. You obediently wrapped the band around your arm and sat down on the floor, waiting.

You wondered how it’ll be, to get fake rescued. You were never in such a situation, always watching the villains from the comfort of your TV rather than first hand. What was Dynamite’s quirk? Suddenly you felt stupid for not knowing. On the other hand, you were never up to date with new heroes and all the popularity polls or colourful magazines. Guess you’d just have to wait and see.

Katsuki didn’t leave you for long. You were counting the pieces of shattered glass beneath your feet when a series of explosions passed beside the building. The small pieces you were meticulously adding shook and you let out a squeak when something heavy hit the wall behind you.

“Shut up, it's me.” Craning your neck, you saw Dynamite’s face, upside down, looking at you. He was halfway through the window. “What have you got?”

“God, you scared me.” You chuckled but quickly shut your mouth. The guide asked you to play the best victim you can. Victims shouldn’t laugh.

Dynamite hopped in front of you and crouched to read the note attached to your elbow. He mumbled something in the lines of fucking scenario and looked you straight in the eye.

“I’m gonna get you out of here.”

There wasn’t anything dramatic going on, it was even quiet outside save for a few shouts here and there. Yet, there was just something in a bulked man looking at you and promising you protection, one secured by his own arms. You felt like the guy from the firefighters video.

You couldn’t stop the giggle at the thought.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Dynamite spat.

“Nothing, nothing.” You shook your hands in front of your still laughing face. “Oh shit, this one’s supposed to be broken. Okay, just save me already.” You really fought with the snicker but the cheesiness and awkwardness of the whole situation had you in a chokehold.

“Whatever.” The hero sighed, visibly annoyed, and scooped you into his hands like a sack of potatoes. “I’ll need you to wrap your legs around me. Push the broken arm into my chest and use your healthy one to hold onto me.”

You did as instructed and glued yourself to him as tight as you could. He still held you with one of his arms and just when you started to wonder how the two of you would get down from the second floor he jumped out of the window.

A scream escaped your lips but it was muffled by a loud explosion.

For the next two hours you flew through the air in Dynamite’s hands over and over again. He held you in different ways, depending on your supposed injury, but every time you landed into the safe zone, you realised you were the first or nearly the first. That guy was quick like hell.

The last scenario rolled over and it was a panic attack. You were supposed to be physically fine but otherwise unresponsive and difficult to work with due to your shock. Dynamite tried to take extra steps to calm you down, speaking about how he’ll take you to safety and how it will all be over in a second. It looked like he was having a hard time.

“I need to touch you to take you somewhere safe.” He said, wrapping one of his hands around you.

When you were both at the safe zone, with cardboard paramedics to take care of you, Dynamite did something different. Instead of leaving you in the place where the group of injured would grow, he carried you straight to the ambulance.

“She has a panic attack.” He said to the empty fake vehicle and you just couldn’t take any more of it. You erupted in a fit of laughter. Your body shook in his hands and you gripped the X on his uniform to steady yourself. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You tried to explain but the laughter squeezed your throat. “I’m a shitty actor.”

“I see that.” Dynamite grumbled.

“Do you really need to talk to cardboard people and empty vehicles for two hours every week?” You asked, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“Is it really that fucking funny?”

“No, no! I get it.” You finally calmed down, letting go of the front of his costume. “It’s not that funny, maybe a bit but not that much. I think I’m just in a good mood.” You shrug your shoulders. “It was fun, flying with you, like a free rollercoaster ride.” You gave him a big, big smile. A big genuine smile. A big, genuine, lovely smile, with your eyes closed and teeth out and cheeks tinted pink.

People are stupid. That’s what Katsuki thinks. It’s not love at first sight. It’s love because of a single sight.

Even though Katsuki came to some fundamental conclusions in the topic of love he would get all defensive and intense when he was asked about how the two of you met. It would sound way better if he could say the two of you met, then started to talk more, then went on a date and agreed to meet each other and so on. He just felt so stupid, so awkward and silly when he had to admit that all it took for you was a single smile to make his heart skip a beat.

The worst part? It felt a little pathetic honestly, as if people never smiled at him, but truthly they didn’t, not like that. Not like you.

Katsuki still doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Yet, every other piece of his meticulously calculated equation of love was torn down and rewritten, all of which he gladly took.

[jujutsukaisenwriting]

Slow-Burn Confession

Summary: a fic that I wrote for the request (see my previous post). In short, both Nanami and reader are IN LOVE but have no idea how to confess and/or act around each other. "A toothrotting fluff" (c) ehehehehehehhehehehe

Characters: Nanami Kento x reader

Word count: 3.3K

Nanami was absolutely fazed.

Throughout the years of working in Jujutsu Tech, the idea of falling in love with someone from the college has never crossed his mind. It’s not that he proclaimed celibacy and followed it: in fact, he had his fair share of hookups. But unlike Gojo or Geto, he never walked around bragging about them, so people naturally thought that romance was completely irrelevant for Nanami Kento.

He thought so too — until you appeared in his life.

He remembered that day all too well: how you stepped in front of everyone, sunlight caught in your hair, and announced that you are a transfer from Kyoto and will be working with Tokyo colleagues from now on. Of course, Gojo was the first to greet you. The white-haired idiot straight up approached you and hooked his arm around your shoulders casually. That’s when Nanami saw it: a small smirk of disapproval and a hint of irritation in your beautiful eyes. Without realizing it, Nanami sighed in relief: Gojo’s charms did not seem to work on you.

Wait, why did he even care?

Since that day, everything has changed for Nanami Kento. He has never been in love, but he became literally obsessed with you — and he was determined to figure his way out through the intricacies of love and to win your heart over.

The thing is… 

He had absolutely zero idea how to do it.

~~~

As you climbed the stairs of college, you were wrapping yourself in a huge knit scarf. The autumn was unusually cold so you required an extra layer of clothes when going to work. Busy untangling the scarf, you didn’t watch your step and bumped into a familiar tall figure.

Nanami’s perfume, an infatuating mix of wood, bergamot and vanilla, hugged you like a blanket. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a second and savoring just how perfect this man smelled. And then you lifted your eyes and met the steady gaze of his brown eyes.

His expression was unreadable and even scary. His sharp features and piercing eyes always made you feel smaller and more vulnerable — though you were a Grade 1, thank you very much. Also, you were helplessly in love with this man, and that made the whole situation so much worse.

“Nanami? I doubt he even knows what’s love”, Shoko let out a hearty cigarette puff when you asked her once about Nanami.

“Whaaaaat? This guy only knows work and drinking. Sometimes, cooking. Romance is not for him, babes”, Gojo rolled his eyes and made a face.

“Nanami is a very reliable man but I doubt he is interested in finding a romantic partner”, Geto said sympathetically. 

That was it. Everyone confirmed that Nanami Kento was the worst possible choice to fall in love with. But you just couldn’t help it (and frankly, didn’t want to fix the situation). Every time you managed to steal a glance at him, something hot, unfamiliar, and fuzzy started tossing in your chest. You craved his touch or at least attention — but he was way too scary and unapproachable to even try. And the way he acted around you: it was more than obvious that he saw you just as another colleague. Nothing more than that.

As you met his gaze, you just stood on the stairs, your lips parted slightly and your eyes opened wide in surprise. His expression remained unreadable, but then he jerked his hand suddenly — and you both stared at a rather huge coffee stain on your beige coat.

“Oh”. That’s all you managed to say.

Nanami’s face grew bright red and his expression became somewhat scary. You involuntarily took a tiny step back, as he reached out his hand and tried to grab your coat.

“I… let me fix this”, he mumbled, looking everywhere but in your eyes.

“Do I annoy him so much that he can’t even look at me?”, that was your thought as you just stood there in one place, with his hand clinging onto your sleeve.

“Yo, Nanami! Undressing a girl right in the street? Way to go!”, Gojo’s voice from somewhere behind carried a healthy dose of mockery, and Nanami’s face grew even hotter.

“Shit, shit, shit!”, he thought frantically, still unable to let go your coat. He just wanted to help untangle your stupid huge scarf, but it seemed like his body started acting on its own in your presence. Now he was standing there like an idiot, got your coat dirty and worst of all, made a fool of himself in front of you (and apparently, Gojo).

“Let’s just get inside”, you proposed quietly, trying not to look at his fingers and trying not to imagine how his hand would look on your neck. Or on your waist. Or in your hair. Dammit.

He nodded way too quickly and finally let go of your coat. “I’ll pay for the dry cleaning”, he said in a weird voice and started walking without looking at you.

You just sighed and followed him. Seemed like you’d spend another day dreaming about this man finally looking you in the eyes and making the move.

~~~

After the morning incident, Nanami just could. not. focus. He had no idea how to approach you now. He also could not stop thinking about how he almost touched the skin of your wrist when grabbing your coat. The thought sent shivers down his spine and caused pleasant and exciting tingling in his chest.

You just got him in a chokehold.

He spent a few hours deep in thought but did not come up with any plan. As he finally worked up the courage to come to you, he found out that you were already sent on a field trip with the students. And obviously, you took your stained coat with you.

Nanami groaned quietly, returning to his desk. 

Just how on Earth do people confess to each other?!

~~~

When you got to work the next day, you saw a box on your table. The box looked quite presentable: in delicate pastel colors and with simple yet pleasing patterns. There was also something atop of the box: some money and a note that said “for the cleaning”. No signature or something else: just dry information. How Nanami-like.

You were more intrigued by the box though. After quickly shoving the money in the pocket, you opened the cover and an overwhelming and warm smell of cookies filled the room.

There was a whole assortment: chocolate, lemon, and even coffee cookies. Each one of them looked perfect, surely straight out of an expensive bakery.

“Woah, cookies? Who’d get you these?”, Gojo appeared out of nowhere, trying to reach for the box. You immediately closed the cover shut, preventing the heist attempt.

“I don’t know”, you lied, knowing damn well Kento got these for you. “But I need to find out what bakery they are from. I haven’t seen any sweet looking so ridiculously good”.

Nanami who just happened to pass your desk, perked his ears at your words immediately. You caught his gaze and smiled warmly, “Um, thanks for… everything. Where did you get these cookies from? I might become a regular customer”.

He opened his mouth and shut it immediately. “Then you’ll have to move in with me”, were the words he wanted to say but never in his life he’d admit that he spent the whole night backing these cookies for you. He’d also never admit that he imagined feeding you with a cookie, collecting crumbs from your lips with his own lips and covering your mouth in a sweet deep kiss while leaning you onto his kitchen counter…

“Shit!”

Kento shook his head in irritation and glared at you, involuntarily allowing you to catch this slight hint of his annoyance. He didn’t think you’d take it personally: he was mad at himself for being so sappy around you. But you couldn’t have known it, obviously. So instead of admitting his feelings, he just mumbled something and paced away, his usual composure and confidence radiating while his head was a wild mess of emotions and thoughts. 

And while you watched him go, your heart aching in an unusual manner, Gojo managed to steal a cookie and laughed diabolically, shoving the whole stuff in his mouth.

“Dat stuff’s good”, he mumbled. “Tastes like homemade ones”.

“Homemade? Nah, can’t be true. Kento would never…”, you thought, wishing desperately for these cookies to really be homemade ones. 

With a sigh, you took one and tasted it. As expected, it was out of this world.

Just like damned Nanami Kento.

~~~

Since then, you haven’t seen him around for almost a week. While your eyes were desperately searching for him in the crowd, Kento was nowhere to be found. Finally, you went straight up to Shoko who never made fun of you and was as supportive as possible for a person who spent a couple of years with Gojo and Geto.

“Oh, Kento is home, recovering from an injury after the mission. No biggie”, Shoko just casually dropped, 

An injury, huh?

“It’s now or never”, you said to yourself while taking a taxi after work and carrying a box of sweets in your lap. “After all, I can visit a colleague and check up on him. Right?”

The taxi driver caught your gaze in the rear mirror and grinned, as if reading your thoughts. Your cheeks grew hot and you looked in the window, trying to focus on anything but the thoughts in your head.

~~~

The sound of the doorbell was unexpected, to say at least. Nanami heard it while lying in bed, reading a book and trying to distract himself from the annoying pain in his shoulder. The wound hurt like hell for the first couple days but it got much better. Still, Shoko insisted he’d stay at home and even Yaga chimed in, basically forcing Nanami to take a few more days off.

When hearing the doorbell, he raised a brow in surprise and reluctantly got out of bed. At first, he thought of putting on something more presentable than a pair of grey sweatpants and a blue shirt, but honestly, the illness got the best of him and he decided he didn’t really care. It was probably a delivery he forgot about, so his home clothing was more than enough to deal with another overly enthusiastic teenager with a pizza box.

The door swung open and he froze in place.

“You?!”

As he opened the door and you met his direct gaze, you felt pinned to the ground. The sight of Nanami in his sweatpants and loose shirt stirred something primal and uncontrollable in you. You gulped loudly and felt your face growing insanely hot.

“I erm… I wanted to check up on you..”

As you spoke, you took an awkward step forward and obviously stumbled. He instinctively caught you, his strong arms wrapping around you and instantly flaring up a wildfire in his chest. He was about to say something…. but then he looked down.

“Oh”.

A box of sweets that you’ve been holding was smashed between you two, cream and jam all over his shirt and your much-suffering coat. Your face grew bright red and you tried to pull away but his hands were holding you in one place firmly, not letting you move even an inch. Only after a few moments, he lifted one hand slowly, delicately putting his fingers on your cheek and wiping cream off it. Holding your gaze, he put his fingers to his lips and licked the cream carefully, a tiny smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

“Vanilla, huh, Good choice”, he said expertly, still holding you.

“How are you feeling?”, you asked in a tiny voice, kind of traumatized by your close proximity. His body was so insanely hot in all senses and the way his was holding you… 

You shifted a bit and suddenly felt it. Your eyes darted a glance below and he immediately released you, taking a step back.

“Much better now, thanks”, he couched, quickly turning around and gesturing for you to come in. “Did you come for anything specific or?...”

You instantly scolded yourself for the visit. Of course he wouldnt’ have expected you: he probably didn’t even think of you.

“I just wanted to check on you”, you mumbled in a weak voice, pulling away slowly. “Shoko told me you were injured”.

“It’s nothing”, he echoed, his eyes basically glued to you. “Wanna come in?”

Even if the Earth stopped spinning in space you’d be less surprised. “Come in like… in your house?”

In his head, Nanami groaned. Why did he even think you’d like to come in? You probably just stopped by with this stupid box. It was probably Shoko’s idea after all. Like he had any chance for your attention…

“If you don’t want to, it’s…”

“No, I want”, you stepped in confidently, leaving the remains of sweets on the ground in front of the porch (“will throw it away on my way back”).

Nanami’s brows raised in a mix of surprise and relief. You wanted to come in, that was good. Meaning his presence may even be pleasant for you. That’a s good start, right?

As you stepped in, you looked around, studying his place. As expected, it was neat yet surprisingly cozy. All his belongings basically radiated Nanami’s aura of peace and comfort. You spotted hell lots of books, a few candles here and there, and several intricate works of art on the walls. Overall, it felt oddly like… home.

Behind your back, Nanami coughed. “Would you like tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, please”, you turned around, and he couldn’t help but flicker in awe. You looked so natural in his apartment. As if you lived here with him for a few years to say at least. He desperately wanted to come close to you and kiss you but instead, turned and headed for the kitchen, cursing himself for looking so unpresentable.

As you watched him go, you felt your face going red again. Kento’s loose shirt and sweatpants showed off his perfect physique of a damn Greek God. And if before that evening you were mostly interested in him as a person, now you simply felt like a feral monster who hadn’t seen a man in forever. You whimpered quietly and followed him to the kitchen, having absolutely no idea what to do or how to act.

From his part, Nanami also had absolutely fucking no idea what to do next. The very thought of you being in his house this late at night — that was something Kento had never expected. Yet, here you were, following him to his kitchen and looking too damn cute with your hair fuzzy from the wind outside and with this hint of pink on your cheeks. More than everything he’d love to pull you close and never let go but went to the coffee machine instead. After all, he promised you some.

“I like your place”, you finally said, breaking the silence. “It’s very… cozy”. 

He hummed in agreement, busy with the coffee and the cups. “Thanks. It took me quite some time to arrange everything to my liking, sugar”.

You blinked in surprise. “Huh?”

Kento looked back at you, his face going red. He picked up a sugar bowl from the counter and repeated, “Would you like some sugar?”

“Oh my god, I’m so dumb”, you muttered. “Two, please”.

He pretended not to hear what you just said but noticed the way you reacted to his words.

“Could it be?...”

All events and the tension of the past few months since you met just exploded in his brain, pushing him to the limit of self-control. At that very point, Nanami Kento gave in to the reckless abandon and decided to test the waters. 

“Fuck it”.

He handed you the coffee cup, his fingers obviously brushing against yours. As you savored this faint touch, you looked up and met his direct and piercing gaze. It wasn’t the gaze that you were used to see. It was something brand new. Something both alluring and frightening. Something that made your knees weak.

Kento took a small step towards you, his mind going blank. The world around suddenly stopped existing and he didn’t give a shit about anything right now. His eyes were locked on your face, and he took another small step forward. And another.

As he approached, you just stood frozen in one place, completely dumbfounded. Nanami Kento, the infamous stoic sorcerer with no love life (according to the colleagues), was coming up to you in his damned grey sweatpants, looking like he was about to devour you whole. You wanted to say something, ask him what’s going on or simply object against such straightforwardness — and then you felt the tight grip of his hand in your hair as he pulled you close till your lips crashed in his.

With one hand locked on your hair, his other hand gripped your waist, moulding your body into his. He kissed you so hungrily as if he had been hiding that starvation for too long and now, finally, he had you in his arms. Your hands shot up, one arm around his neck and the other tangled securely in his blonde locks. As his tongue was exploring your mouth deeply and hungrily, you let out a soft gasp, his name rolling off your tongue like a prayer.

“Kento…”

He pulled back a bit, lips swollen and eyes glowing with a dangerous gleam.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You gulped nervously and finally asked the question that’s been haunting you for all this time.

“So can I… assume you like me too?’’

You expected anything, honestly. That he’d frown and say something like “it’s too early to discuss things like that”. Or that he’d say he was interested in sex only. 

Instead, Nanami laughed.

He laughed openly, his eyes now full of weird happiness. You were completely taken aback by his reaction, but he didn’t give you an opportunity to pull away. Keeping you in one place with his arms, he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, grinning against your skin.

“I don’t like you. I love you, sweetheart”, he muttered in rasped voice. “I love you so fucking much, you have no idea”.

And that was it. His words broke through the dam and you giggled too, following his laughter. It was the laugh of relief, of finally letting go of all the tension and uncertainty between you two. Still laughing softly, he scooped you up and headed for his bedroom in long confident stride, shaking his head in amusement.

“Kento”, you called him quietly, still not quite believing it was happening and resting your head against his chest as he walked.

“Hmmm?”, he looked down on you, a smile curving his lips.

“Can you… put a tie on?”

He let out a bark of laughter and nodded, his eyes gleaming mischievously.

“Your wish is my command, love. But be prepared that this tie is gonna move from my neck to your pretty wrists in no time”.

Nanami looked you in the eyes, his gaze full of adoration and love. And that was the moment you knew.

“I’m stuck with you, huh?”, you asked softly with a smile.

“Forever, sweetheart”, he confifmed, kissing your hair and laying you on the bed gently. “Now gimme a second to put on the damn tie and I’m all yours”.

You giggled happily at his words, watching him rummaging the closet. 

Everything was just perfect.

And in about one minute after the tie was found, perfect became even better. Side note: you never knew you could be that loud.

[jobean12-blog]

Unchained Melody

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 424

Summary: Just a quiet (other than his guitar) moment between the two of you.

Author's Note: Thanks to that new trailer I'm about to just...not exist. So I had to write something because I'm feeling everything. There's no dialogue here so I hope the love comes across anyway. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff

This gif is NOT mine, it belongs to @a7estrellasthank you so much, I couldn't find it on the search engine but here is the post.

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

Under the cool, quiet of the night, the sky stretches endlessly, and the blackness is littered with the soft ebb of twinkling stars.

His guitar hums, the gentle strumming of his strong fingers echoing a wordless melody, a sound that seems to blend into the stillness of the night.

You sit beside him, his warmth seeping into your very bones, as you place small flowers into his hair with delicacy. The vibrant colors stand out against the dark strands and ease the darkness the surrounds you.

His eyes are closed, long, dark lashes fluttering along his cheeks, and you kiss them, brushing your lips lightly over his beard until you find his mouth.

The night stills, the sound of the guitar fading in the lingering warmth of his kiss. A gentle silence follows, and when his eyes open, they find yours, deep and expressive, conveying everything his heart holds but words can’t capture.

You move the guitar aside and slip between his legs, a silent request for a lesson. His strong arms encircle you, careful yet safe, as he takes your hands and guides your fingers over the strings with his.

The melody starts again, now shared between the two of you and his lips brush along the shell of your ear, then your neck, whispering sweet words of praise, each a soft caress to your skin.

A single flower slips from his hair, drifting slowly down until it lands on the guitar. You stop playing and he places the instrument on the porch, taking you in his arms and turning you to face him.

He twirls the small stem between his large fingertips and studies it, then tucks it behind your ear. His touch lingers, tender and slow, as his eyes meet yours. Without a word, he draws you closer, your heart matching the rhythm of his.

His breath warms your lips, a soft pause before his kiss finds you, stealing the air from your lungs. His hands trace your curves with reverence, each touch both desperate and tender, as if he’s savoring every moment, unable to get enough.

The exploration is slow, despite his longing, and a quiet intensity builds between you.

Your own hands find their way into his hair, losing themselves in the thick strands, uncaring of the flowers that fall, drifting to the ground and painting it in an array of color.

The world around you fades, the night, the stars, everything melting away until only he remains- his touch, his kiss, the warmth of his body against yours.

[ovaryacted]

COMPLICATED

─ Javier Peña x fem! reader || WC: 3.2k

SYNOPSIS: You begin to realize Javier's position at the DEA is putting a wedge in your marriage. It was only a matter of time before everything you've built crumbled once you reached your breaking point.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. ANGST. Established relationship. Javier & Reader are Married. Marriage problems. Arguments & Confrontation. Thoughts of slapping Javi. Mentions to prior sex & intimacy. Javier is falling apart. Self-sabotage. Mentions of religion/faith. Mentions of the DEA & Javi's job. Both Javi & Reader are in Colombia. Reader's occupation is unknown. Spanish dialogue between Javi & Reader. Please proceed with caution if relationship issues/arguments/possible DV are a sensitive topic for you.

Disclaimer: I have not watched Narcos yet. This is all just my interpretation of another aspect of Javier Peña’s character. Therefore, it is not strict to the canon or details of the show.

A/N: I wrote this for @almostfoxglove's Angst Challenge for August and got Javier Peña, so this is what I came up with! I will admit, I rewrote this fic twice because my initial outline changed halfway, so I started from scratch and got this. It is angsty, and I do want to mention that this is a different take on Javier P., because I personally do not characterize him this way but I ventured out of the norm and put him through situations (I love him a lot though). Anyways, I hope you all enjoy. Reblogs, comments, and likes are always greatly appreciated! <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

You waited for him, the same way you always did.

Sitting on the couch and staring idly at the TV screen, you tried your hardest to find something to occupy your mind again. The cigarette comfortably sat between the index and middle fingers of your left hand, the weight of the two golden bands on your ring finger enticed you to take another drag.

You always hated how much Javier smoked. The stress from working at the DEA compelled him to go through two packs weekly, an ashtray present in every room of your quaint apartment, probably another on his desk at work. You didn’t predict there would come a time when you’d consider yourself a smoker, much less of cigarettes, despite recalling the multiple times you reminded your husband of how bad they were for his health.

“Those things will kill you before your job does, Javi.”

The irony in your words, a hypocrite of your own making.

You don’t blame him for not listening, either. Now you think you get the appeal of going through the cancer sticks one by one. You crave the high of the nicotine rushing through your veins with every inhale and relieving your jumpy nerves. The peace you’d feel for a few minutes was the only tranquility you could get in the hectic mess of your crumbling life.

You wish you knew how things got to this point.

The years blended throughout your relationship with the charismatic Javier Peña, a fine man you bumped into on your way home and accidentally sent all your groceries falling to the ground. Apologies poured out of your mouth repeatedly, and he bent down to help you clean up your mess, offering to cover the expenses of the ruined food you just bought with a faint smile.

The curl of his lips and the sparkle in his brown eyes bewitched you from the start, and you took the money he offered in your palm before he walked off, your sight trailing down on the cocky sway of his hips and the broadness of his back.

He dwelled in your mind like a phantom, haunting you in your dreams and inhabiting your senses. You didn’t anticipate to bump into him two weeks later while running errands, the smug look on his face at the sight of reencountering you so quickly didn’t go unnoticed. It was a simple conversation, a brief introduction followed by an offer for drinks when you both had time with reassurance that you would meet him under better circumstances.

The rest was history.

Sure, you knew Javier was a busy man, always on the run due to his highly demanding job you didn’t initially know of. From how he carried himself, you gathered he was associated with law enforcement, not from Colombia naturally, but perhaps the United States. You didn’t suppose he’d be affiliated with the federal government of all things, and the thought of what he was doing in the country worried you the first few months of being with him.

But all of your apprehensions about his professional occupation went out the window when you got into bed with him, limbs tangling into the sheets, and hushed promises whispered sweetly in your ear. All you cared about were the words he’d say as he took you every which way, claimed you his all over his apartment when you’d meet him late at night after a stressful work day.

That was the most intimate you knew him, in the throes of passion in which he seemed to be an expert. His hands strung your body with ease, pulling on the invisible red string that connected the two of you whenever his fingers wandered between your thighs. He drank every moan and cry of his name, hips moving against you so reverently others would mistake you for a place of worship.

It was a matter of time before dates turned to sleepovers, and your stay in his life became more permanent when you moved in with him. You didn’t object when he got down on one knee and popped the question you’d been waiting to hear after a year, jumping in your heels with a broad smile and tears streaming down your cheeks once he slipped the ring over your finger.

You never got the wedding you dreamed of since you were little, and you didn’t go on the honeymoon he promised you due to his prior commitments. Instead, you settled on going to a courthouse when you briefly visited Javi’s home in Texas and stayed in his government-covered apartment while in Colombia.

The signs of stress were there from the beginning of the relationship, but the rose-tinted shades you wore were a perfect fit. To you, ignorance was bliss, and you refused to pop whatever abstract bubble you found yourself trapped in with the man you’ve come to know as your partner.

You stuck by him when he needed you most, never opposing him when he sought after you for solace following the close calls he had while chasing down Escobar’s men. You kept your mouth shut when you saw him cleaning up the wounds he hid from you, locking the bathroom door behind him to avoid worrying you to such an extent. You didn’t utter a word when he started coming home later and wouldn’t give you notice, blaming the job and the intricacies of the caseload he was assigned to manage.

“I’m sorry. It’ll get better.”

You wanted to believe him, to think that somehow the craziness that was happening with the business of narcotics in Colombia would be slowing down, and your life would go back to normal, the way it should be. That way of life was gone. Sometimes, you think you’ve never had it to begin with.

You didn’t ask for this. Neither one of you did.

The disconnect between you grew after another close call on a raid, causing your first full-blown argument. The aftermath resulted in harsh kisses and bruises on your thighs from when Javi fucked you hard against the wall, holding you tightly as you scratched down his back. The subsequent times were like that; you could only communicate with him when your bodies engaged in the best way they knew how. All the pent-up frustration was released when he was inside you, groaning apologies and curse words as he filled you to the brim over and over, and you took it with a smile of forgiveness.

At some point along the way, there was no more fun to this game of tension you’ve created to ignore the elephant in the room. Not after the bickering turned into disagreements, your pillowcase growing wet with suppressed tears after a yelling match. The touches turned fleeting, the nights were lonely, and the animosity that wedged itself in your marriage thrived in the dismissive regard you both held for one another.

Your touch burned him more often than not; the last time he caressed you with care was lost to the ravages of his anxiety. All that remained was the past, the memories that you shared before shit hit the fan, and frankly, you don’t think you could take any more of this torture.

The other side of your bed stayed messy and cold, barely catching him when he left in the mornings for work. The caseloads kept piling on, the raids got more personal and farther from home, and the cycle continued to repeat itself. There wasn’t an end in sight, not soon anyway.

Stuck in your thoughts, you missed the instant the front door opened and closed, stubbing out your cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. You glanced over to see Javier stepping through the entryway, peeling his leather jacket off and tossing it to the side while holding your gaze momentarily.

“You’re still awake?” Javier asked you, hinting an edge to his voice as he spoke to you.

“Hello to you too,” you responded calmly, asserting your tone. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d wait for you.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Somehow, the faux concern made you chuckle dryly, watching him walk past you to head right for the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and leaving his back turned to you.

“And what else do you need me to stop doing?”

Your question forced Javier to pivot and face you, his glass sat on the counter as you observed him. Keeping your distance, you stood on the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the archway and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Tell me. What else do you need me to stop doing, Javier?”

He remembers when you only called him by signature terms of endearment. Baby. Honey. Amorcito; he particularly loved that one. Now, you addressed him by his first name as if it were its own curse word.

“What the fuck do you mean?” he raised an eyebrow as you continued to speak, malice brewing inside as you itched to say the things you’ve kept bottled up.

“It seems you want me to stop everything. You don’t even come home anymore. I forget you live here sometimes,” you said, trying to be sarcastic, but your words were as sincere as they were hurtful.

“I do come home when I can. It’s been busy at w-”

“Work. It’s always about work and your fucking job. Work this, work that. Do you ever get tired of making excuses for yourself?” His eyes narrowed, staring you down as his body became rigid.

“Do you think me going out there every day chasing down these fucking pendejos is a godamn excuse? No estás pensando con claridad.”

“Oh, I’m the one that lacks sense. That’s rich coming from you.” You started to laugh, standing straighter and looking at your spouse vexingly. “You don’t think going down this goose chase with your head cut off to catch Escobar is crazy? Te has vuelto loco, Javi.”

“I do this for you. For us.” You know he’s trying to convince himself of this lie more than you.

“There is no us if you’re not here! You haven’t been here for months! I don’t know shit about you anymore, and this job has turned you into a different person.”

It was wrong to raise your voice at him; the previous quarrels usually passed through intense conversations, and he’d walk out the door to leave you for the rest of the night, but it was never this intense. You think this time would be the dreaded catalyst you’ve prolonged to avoid, and there was no turning back.

“You knew what you were getting into when we started dating. I told you what I do for work, I told you how this was going to be. It’s not fucking easy. You know this.” He took another sip of his whiskey, gulping it down all at once, hoping the buzz would give him the strength to handle the onslaught of words he knew was coming.

“So now it’s my fault that our relationship is falling apart? What? I should’ve known better than to fall in love with you? Should’ve known better than to marry you?” You were inching closer, your hands flailing around as you spoke exasperatedly.

“Yes. Maybe you should’ve known better.”

The only thing that could be heard in the kitchen was the clink of the ice melting in Javi’s glass, reaching a stalemate as you stared at him in bewilderment and heartbreak. You stepped forward to meet him chest to chest, imagining yourself slapping the words clean out of his mouth. You opted for putting your pointer finger under his chin, the tip of your nail grazing the underside of his jaw as rage washed over you.

“You don’t get to say that to me. Not after everything we’ve been through, everything I gave up to stay here with you in Colombia.”

Tears graced your lash line when he looked at you again, your brows creasing as the mask you’ve worn for so long unraveled. You tried to stay the good wife; you did, but you were getting edged closer and closer to the breaking point. Javier wants to be surprised that you found the audacity to confront him like this, but he knows it was what he deserved. Perhaps he deserved worse for what he’s put you through.

“Why can’t you give this up? Why? You know how this is going to end. I’ll hear from Steve that you didn’t make it back from another assignment or worse. All of this and for what? Help me understand, please.” You begged him to see your pain, hoped to see things as he saw them, to understand why he was going to such great lengths to kill a man at the expense of everything else rotting around him.

“It’s complicated. Everything about this is complicated. The last thing I need is for you to get involved in this mess, too.”

“It’s always complicated with you.” You shrugged with a shake of your head, admitting your defeat.

“I sit here and wait for you to come home, and you don’t. You’d rather be out there, doing god knows what, while I stay and twiddle my fucking thumbs waiting for something to happen,” you looked down to the floor, staring at your feet as the emotions swirled inside you, losing control over the storm of their intensity.

“I don’t complain or say anything when you don’t come home. I get it, this is the job, this is what you have to do. But I don’t see you, Javier. You don’t talk to me, you don’t touch me, or even look at me…I don’t want this for us anymore.”

You didn’t think your words were getting through to Javi anyway as he remained quiet, the stinging bitterness festering before was forgotten and replaced by the dull ache of his heart. Hearing you say this to him hurt in ways grazed bullet wounds and rough tumbles to the ground couldn’t amount to. The self-loathing and anger that’s been building inside him after discovering all the corruption of his job settled in the pit of his stomach, bile rising to the back of his throat at the thought of it. He hated this.

“I don’t want this either. I don’t want to keep hurting you…”

I don’t want to lose you.

“Then why do you still do it?” You presented your left hand to hit his line of sight, gesturing to the two rings you wore, the ones he gave you when he swore to love you for the rest of your life. “Does this mean anything to you?”

It means everything to me. You mean everything to me.

The words were too heavy for him to say, refraining from confessing his true thoughts the way he wanted. His lips were sealed, but his eyes confirmed what you already knew. He was just too cowardly to do or say the right thing himself.

“I love you Javier, I do. So much that it pains me, but this is not a life we should be living. Don’t you want more than this?”

Of course, he wanted more. When he slipped that ring on your finger, he had already envisioned the life he had dreamed of with you. A quiet life somewhere in the countryside, away from all of the noise of the government and countries that were running rampant with issues he shouldn’t be responsible for fixing. He saw the distant future, a kid or two running in the yard while you sat on the porch to watch them, a look of peace on your pretty face as you peeked over at him from across the ranch.

A happy home, a happy life. That was what he wanted, what he prayed for.

Javier despises himself for being unable to amount to his dream for both of you. He’s so wrapped up in this nonsense with the DEA that he’s had tunnel vision so profound he can’t see the light anymore.

“I know you’re not going to stop until all of this is finished, I know that. But I can’t do this anymore. So I’m giving you a choice, the DEA or me.” His eyebrows shot up at the sudden ultimatum you’ve proposed to him, eyes growing wide as he comprehended the hand you’ve forced upon him.

“You can’t make me choose this, that’s not how this works. I can’t just drop everything for you, not now when we’re this close. Don’t do this to me, please…” his hands landed on your shoulders, squeezing them to make you rethink what you said before doing something you may regret.

“I don’t want to do this, but I have to,” your eyes met the brown irises you used to spend hours looking at and admiring, the spark in them long gone. “I can’t stay here and watch you destroy yourself, Javi. I love you too much to witness that. Please don’t put me through that.”

Walking away from him and heading to the bedroom, you knew nothing else was left to say. You couldn’t save him, your love couldn’t save him either, and you thought maybe backing him into a corner would knock some sense that he’s been missing.

As you entered your bathroom to look at your reflection, you heard the front door open and close again, exhaling a shuddering breath. He’ll be outside for the night, maybe stop by a bar and drown his sorrows before going to work again as if nothing happened. Your eyes turned bloodshot as you cried, your hands covering your face to muffle your sobs as you sank to the tiled bathroom floor with your back to the wall. You brought your knees to your chest, comforting yourself and hoping something would come in the form of a miracle.

Maybe you’ll wait for him a little longer. Maybe you’ll leave your ring on the dresser with a letter, find your way back to the United States, and rebuild your life, forgetting all about Javier Peña. Maybe there was nothing left to give, nothing left to save. Maybe you just didn’t know what you were doing, and you went over your head.

You prayed for whatever God existed to give you the strength to persevere through this troubling time. In that silent prayer, you wished for the man you still loved to come back home to you, for him to want a better life for himself and to end this torment he continued to put himself through.

Slipping into the empty bed like you’ve done so many times before, you tucked yourself in the sheets that still smelled like him, glimpsing at the window to count the rays of moonlight that peeked through the curtains to help you doze off.

You dreamed that in the morning, you’d wake up to strong arms wrapped around your waist, apologies and promises muttered alongside kisses to your temple as he reclaimed you as his, the way he used to do before all of this. You desired to give him what he wanted, be the person he needed to show him better and save him from himself. But that was wishful thinking.

The man you knew, the man you loved, wasn’t here anymore, and there was no way you could bring him back.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Spanish Translation: pendejos - idiots, No estás pensando con claridad - you're not thinking clearly, Te has vuelto loco, Javi - You've gone insane/you’re crazy Javi.

[buddierecs]

post season 7 buddie fics

in honour of season 8 coming out in a few days, here is a list of fics that have been released over the hiatus set post season 7. all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

ice cream before dinner (my beloved) by: cloudydaisies "gerrard messes with the team's schedules and eddie 'i just drove my son to flee the state' diaz is the only option to watch mara and jee-yun after school on tuesdays, which, shouldn't be a problem at all, right?" word count: 58k important tags: girl!uncle eddie, fluff, friends to lovers, love confessions, feelings realisation, minor buck/tommy, family feels take me home (to my heart) by: literalmetaphor "eddie and maddie end up in an impossible situation." word count: 20k important tags: car accidents, injury, hurt!eddie diaz, hurt!maddie han, maddie & eddie friendship, worried!evan buckley, getting together it's always on the tip of my tongue by: allyasavedtheday "eddie diaz vs the great romance paradigm." word count: 17k important tags: character study, therapy, emotional hurt/comfort, falling in love, demisexual!eddie diaz all my little words by: youbetsya "eddie: did you just send me an email?? buck: yeah lol eddie: why… i dont think you’ve ever emailed me actual words before. just stuff to print when your printer is broken buck: did you read it? eddie: Not yet. too busy trying to figure out why the fuck you’re emailing me buck: just read it dude 🙄" word count: 11k important tags: texting, idiots in love, getting together, eddie diaz mustache three strikes and you're out by: eightpackdiaz "buck's soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend chooses to ignore him every time the kiss cam points in their direction. eddie does the opposite" word count: 3.1k important tags: minor buck/tommy, cheating, kiss him, jealous!eddie diaz, tommy kinard bashing, first kiss a honey shade of blue by: hattalove "one toddler, two conversations, and so many missed opportunities for buck to act like a guy not in love with his best friend." word count: 8k important tags: getting together, pining!evan buckley, first kiss catatonia by: dqstcrdly "buck and eddie get into a car accident, buck thinks eddie is dead, and goes catatonic about it." word count: 13k important tags: car accidents, near death experiences, love confessions, angst, hurt/comfort, getting together, tommy kinard bashing knowing me, knowing you by: kiwibuckley "five times eddie was the better (boy)friend, and the one time he was the boyfriend" word count: 10k important tags: 5+1 things, friends to lovers, getting together, minor buck/tommy, tommy kinard bashing, eddie diaz loves evan buckley, petty!eddie diaz, pining sweet talk by: daisies_and_briars "eddie asks to crash at the loft while christopher is gone, struggling to be on his own. only problem? there's only one bed, and no couch." word count: 6.5k important tags: there was only one bed, minor buck/tommy, healing, couch theory this postcard tells you where we've been by: daisies_and_briars "eddie finds a collection of postcards buck sent to chris over his summer in el paso." word count: 3.5k important tags: getting together, first kiss, fluff, christopher diaz has two dads glass on the pavement under my shoe by: doitgently "buck takes a great big tumble. like always, eddie is right behind him." word count: 9.4k important tags: near death experience, major character injury, love confessions, angst with happy ending you'd have to stop the world (just to stop the feeling) by: wenttoafortuneteller "the eddie diaz gay realization arc we all deserve. in which bobby puts some pieces together, chimney sees something he shouldn’t, hen gets to have a conversation she’s been waiting to have for years, and buck can’t understand why his best friend is avoiding him." word count: 23k important tags: character study, catholic guilt, pre-relationship, self-discovery, self-acceptance, feelings realisation hope it hurts, burns & you finally grieve me by: dylaesthetics "eddie spontaneously visits a church and things fall into place." word count: 4.8k important tags: character study, religious guilt, angst, friends to lovers, getting together

[joelsgoldrush]

wip wednesday: "epiphany" (worst!logan x fem!reader)

third time lucky because i posted this twice with different passages and none of them seemed to satisfy the overachieving monster i am 👹 but let's forget that detail.

this fic is making me crazy... in a good way. i'm enjoying the whole process even though imposter syndrome's hitting harder than ever </3

thank you @moonlight-prose for tagging me 🫂💗

also tysm to @lubdubology because she’s an amazing beta (sorry for tagging you again and again 😭 don’t mind me)

He thought that not seeing you for a week would snuff out his feelings. That by next Wednesday, every thought tied to your name, every urge to uncover the last of your secrets, would be extinguished. That's what time usually did: it diminished dangerous desires that couldn't afford to be voiced, and buried those longings that had no place in the light of day. Logan now figures he’s been underestimating the spell you cast on him with just a few glances and the intensity of your eyes. He’s seen you animated, angry—both defiant and vulnerable. Each of your gestures feels like a memory he can’t quite place. The way you laugh, the right corner of your mouth lifting just slightly higher than the left—he swears it isn’t the first time he's seen a smile brighter than the sun. Still, he convinces himself it’s all in his head. He must be the one losing his mind, the years finally catching up to him. It’s the only reasonable explanation for the thoughts that consume his every waking moment. He’s wrong—you’re right. He’s seeing things where there are none—you’re simply too kind. Too kind. Too young. Too damn clever for your own good, with your books and that sharp mind of yours. He wonders how you see yourself. Do you like the reflection in the mirror? Are you content with the way your life has turned out? Do you, too, lie awake at night, the bed stretching endlessly, aching for a touch that never comes? The walls in this place are paper-thin. When darkness falls, and the moon rises, the big, scary Wolverine can’t close his eyes.  Instead, he listens.  You play the same movie on repeat—a romantic comedy that lasts exactly one hundred and twenty minutes. For two hours straight, he’s privy to your laughter, your commentary at the characters on the screen. He hears you cry when the lead couple drifts apart after a terrible argument, but they always find their way back to each other, and you watch every second until the credits roll. None of the other films you pick ever ends in heartbreak, he realizes. They all have happy endings—the kind you wish for yourself.

no pressure tags: @zloshy @princessanglophile @hauntedhowlett @wlwloverwrites + whoever wants to post sth they´ve written

[silhouetteonpaper]

Pessimism and Pancakes

Summary: When you wake up feeling off, your girlfriend knows exactly what you need—and she won’t give up easily. Wanda Maximoff x Reader WC: 1,046 Warnings/Themes: Angst to fluff :)

Your alarm blares the same obnoxious sound that drills into your head every morning. Quickly reaching to stop the noise, you tuck yourself back under the heavy pile of blankets in a tired haze. With an exasperated sigh, you turn your head to glance at the time. 7:00 am, the same time you wake up every single day.

But this morning is different, like a thick fog has settled over your body, trapping you from doing anything. You’re supposed to train with Wanda like you do every morning, but something in you makes you slowly close your eyes instead. Maybe a few more hours of sleep would cure this hazy feeling.

It feels like barely any time has passed when there’s a knock on your bedroom door. Whoever’s there pauses before walking in, the door closing behind them. You’re too far under the covers to see who it is, let alone care who’s there.

“Are you awake?” A Sokovian accent fills your ears, immediately alerting you to the woman standing next to your bed. None other than Wanda, here to see why you weren’t in the training room. You only groan in response, still half asleep. “Why are you still in bed?” She asks.

A part of you prepares for her to be mad, but the other half still couldn’t care less. Now blinking away the remaining sleepiness, you can’t help but feel fatigued in your awakened state. You simply ignore her, hoping she’ll just go away if you don’t move a muscle. But the bed dips, and you can tell she’s sitting right beside you.

“Are you alright?” Wanda asks, reaching for the top of the blankets. She attempts to pull them down, but finds you tightly holding them above your head. Not only was missing training unlike you, but hiding like this was even more out of character.

“I’m fine.” You voice, the sound muffled. Wanda doesn’t buy it though, trying to pry the blankets down once more. The frustration in you grows, wanting nothing more than to be left alone right now. You feel off kilter—even while laying down, like your mind is unwilling to think without every single thought falling into a hopeless dark depth.

“I said I’m fine Wanda!” You snap, your head popping above the sheets as you pull them tightly to your chest, snatching them from her arms. She raises her eyebrows in surprise, slightly caught off guard by your behavior. You’re never this short with anyone.

“What’s going on? First you miss training, and now this?” She questions, her expression filling with concern. At first she was assuming you missed your alarm, or maybe wanted to sleep in after a long day yesterday, but your actions now prove otherwise.

“Sorry that I don’t want to do the same thing every day. Next time I want to live in a time loop I’ll call Strange.” You jab, huffing as you turn your back to Wanda completely. She pauses for a moment, exhaling as she thinks. You can tell she’s playing with her rings, she always does when she breathes like that.

Maybe a part of you feels bad about how you’re acting, but you don’t have enough energy to care right now. After a minute of sitting in silence, you feel Wanda stand. It isn’t until the bedroom door clicks shut that you know she’s gone.

You inhale deeply, hoping a regulating breath of air will calm this growing pit in your stomach. It doesn’t. It’s not like you have a high-stakes mission coming up, or even a stressful meeting. The feeling just sits inside you and nothing seems to shake it.

The ever-growing pessimistic thoughts pause as you hear the door swing open once more, this time without a knock beforehand. “Alright, I’ve got pancakes with all your favorite toppings. Time to sit up!” Wanda exclaims, placing something on the nightstand before yanking the pillows out from under you.

You groan, but ultimately listen as you know she won’t relent. Wanda sets up the pillows behind you as you lean against the headboard. She presents a tray full of fluffy pancakes, embellished with everything you usually put on them. “Wanda-“ You start, only to get interrupted.

“Nope, don’t talk to me until you’ve eaten. I know how you get when you don’t eat.” She smiles, sitting back down on the side of the bed. You shake your head, attempting to hide the smile on your face as you begin to eat.

“I’m sorry.” You voice through mouthfuls of her delicious home-made recipe. The guilt inside you grows after your bout of frustration directed at Wanda, and here she is making you food in return. She chuckles, shaking her head.

“You don’t need to be sorry, it’s okay to have an off day.” Wanda replies with a shrug. An off day, the kind of thing normal people have after a long week of work or a chaotic night prior. You’re anything from normal, living here in the Avengers Compound. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a rest day every now and again.

There’s been a handful of days when you’ve had to drag yourself out of bed, yet still you carry on with your day like usual. Something about today is different, though. Even though you feel compelled to leave your bed and get on with things, something inside you just physically… can’t.

“What are you thinking about?” The abnormal amount of time you’re stuck staring at your plate leaves Wanda curious. You snap back to reality, putting your fork down.

“I don’t know, I haven’t felt like this before. I just feel really… shitty.” You shrug, looking at Wanda like she has all the answers.

“That’s alright, we don’t have to train today. We don’t have to do anything today, if you don’t want to. All I ask is that you communicate to me where you’re at, so I know how to help you.” She offers with a warm expression. Now it’s your turn to smile at her, nodding as you continue eating your delicious breakfast.

“Thank you,” You add while finishing your last few bites of fluffy pancake. “Could we watch those sitcoms you like?

Wanda grins, “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

[iloveyanderes]

EVEN MORE YANDERE/SAGAU IDEAS!!!!!!!!!!! WITH A LITTLE LESS YANDERE ON THE SIDE😉 BECAUSE I FORGOT TO INCORPORATE IT BETTER

1.A girl gets isekai’d after a boy she’d bullied had enough and killed her. She woke up in the body of a really kind girl in genshin that everyone is obsessed with, she decided to pretend to be this girl as a means of survival, as these people would most likely kill her if they found out she wasn’t that kind little girl. Along the way She met a boy who ended up being her first true friend, making her realize what she has done and wrong giving her the courage to want to change. Just when she got better leading to the path of redemption the boy was found dead completely crushing any type of kindness in her heart, she realized all the genshin characters had killed him so she vowed to kill them all but not before ruining all of there lives first(I actually attempted to write this a long time ago on wattpad but it never went into fruition, so this might seem familiar)

2.Small sagau idea but it goes like this: girl has golden blood for a completely different reason then the sagau idea, ends up in genshin and everyone mistakes her for the creator and she's freaking out trying to convince everyone she's not the creator

3.Genshin impact x Ichigo from tokyo mew mew reader. With your transformation, cat ears and tail, and the actual ability to turn into a cat everyone is trying to get a reaction out of you(look online and you’ll understand why) I'd imagine yae would take advantage of it with the whole gorou situation as proof. Also there is no way inazuma doesn’t have a bunch of light novels or manga on magical girls

4.Dragon reader vs bird reader. You’ll get no further explanation

5.Sagau idea where instead of the reader being the creator they are a holy saint/saintness who's supposed to represent the creator as their prophet who will feel nothing but utter devotion when they see the creator. However on the day that you prophesied the creator would descend something goes wrong, when you lay your eyes on them the only thing you feel is fear and disgust. It’s immediately prevalent that This is not the creator but a demon, everyone else believes this to be the creator however so you can’t really do anything without the fear of being killed or worse, so you resolve to find the true creator while pretending to still love this demon. Meanwhile the demon is someone who always believed themselves to be better then the creator, they’re jealousy blinded them until it turned into envy where they wanted to be the creator. Quite literally trapping them down in hell when they were supposed to descend and taking their place. Since they want to be the creator that meant they had to be loved by everyone including you-especially you. The saintness meant to serve the creator and adore they’re every movement, so they casted a charm spell that seemed to work on everyone-except for you. It doesn’t matter they’ll do anything to get your love- because it belongs to them not that creator-they deserve that destiny

6. Not a genshin nor sagau thingy but what if a genshin archon reader accidentally falls asleep(can be any element you want but I chosen dendro for this) and wakes up thousands of years later where teyvat has become nothing but an empty shell, eventually you get picked up by the astral express after wandering the empty planet. you adventure all the new worlds, help the trailblazer while ignoring their weirdness, and find a way to mourn all your lost comrades. It’s discovered that elemental energy had mixed and muddled with each other eventually forming into something more murky and hallow which made the Aeons, you discover this when they start to hunt you down as there obsessed with you and the idea that your the last ‘pure’ being in the universe, something they want to obtain.

[hotvintagepoll]

Peter Lorre (The Maltese Falcon, Arsenic and Old Lace, Casablanca)—to me he DEFINES scrungle hes the first person i think of every time the term comes up! i want to fold him up like a paper accordion and put him in my pocket. guy that spawned a million voice artists and impersonators. they made a ghost version of him for halloween cereal staple boo berry. bewitched by his nervous mania and tooth gap <3 (for the purposes of propaganda im linking a photo from his extremely short appearance in muscle beach party bc ive been obsessed w it for years and i couldnt find any video for it :/ anyway imagine youre frankie avalon spending the whole movie battling a bodybuilder faction thats taking over your beach and your girl and then you find out this fucking guy is their mastermind mystery leader and hes stronger than all the bodybuilders combined. like Huh. What.)

Tony Randall (Lover Come Back, Pillow Talk)—he's SO TIRED he's three-wheeling ALL THE TIME on rock and doris's shenanigans and he is always SMALL. PATHETIC. INHERENTLY FILLED WITH ENNUI. i feel like all these 60s comedies are very Straight Laced and Heterosexual and yet somehow tony randall is always there having the worst day ever.

This is round 1 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Peter Lorre

he's pretty much the archetype of the scrungly little guy. the blueprint. the example by which all other scrungly little guys are judged

The perfect sniveling character actor, “scrungly” is the first word that comes to mind when I think of him.

The entire point of his iconic role in Casablanca (apart from introducing the central plot mcguffin) was to be LITTLE and SCRUNGLY to make Bogie look even cooler. And Maggot in Corpse Bride - the littlest scrungliest guy in that film - was a parody of him.

I think Arsenic and Old Lace is his quintessential "scrungly" performance. He's so put-upon and tired...all he wants is sleep and some schnapps! I love the way his shoulders fall slowly when he thinks he's caught (he looks like a sad puppy!), only to gleefully sprint out the door when he realizes how dumb those police officers are.

Between his big eyes, wheezy laugh, short stature, and expressive faces, Peter Lorre achieved icon status as the scrungliest, littlest guy in Hollywood. His scrungly little guy energy was often contrasted with the more typical masculinity of the leading man, but whether this contrast was meant to make him seem especially sinister, comedic, or pathetic, it always left an unforgettable impression!

I'm sure somebody else has already submitted him (if not then ???) but he's a cute kind of scrungly little guy. He's got a distinctive nasal voice with an accent that is instantly recognizable and often imitated. His later horror movies are so much fun, especially when he's playing off of Vincent Price. He's so good at being unhinged, creepy, or manic, but also pathetic and sympathetic.

Classic scrungly hollywood golden age little guy who was friends with Humphrey Bogart and still played some of the wettest most sniveling characters ever committed to celluloid (complimentary) there is a deep despair and darkness in many of his characters that enhances his scrungly

To be clear, I am one of those people who will argue that Lorre is one of the most underrated film actors, but the POINT is that he's also just a scrungly delight. A delightfully pocket-sized man. Somehow endearing even when he is being actively amoral (see esp. Casablanca. "I found myself much more reasonable!") The faces he makes while doing the Russian cossack dance with a butter knife between his teeth in Silk Stockings make me laugh just thinking about them.

Wikipedia described his typical characters as "timidly devious", lots of weird little villains and evil sidekicks that are pretty horrifying but still manage to be sort of pathetic and the very definition of "poor little meow meow". His look and voice and mannerisms are so iconic they're still imitated

Cartoons for the next century have and will continue to include Peter Lorre-esque characters when needed to up the scrunge factor (see Bugs Bunny and so many more).

[editor's note on below link: I'm not actually sure how many of these characters are directly influenced by Peter Lorre, so take with a grain of salt. tw for suicide.]

The poster boy for Scrungly. Everyone who wants to draw a scrungly guy draws Peter Lorre. Gomez Addams of The Addams Family was based on him

Tony Randall

"you had everything going for you! poverty!! squalor!!!!" "girls again!!! what's this obSESSion you have with giRLS???"

[sugar-crash]

🍬King Candy (Wreck-It Ralph) x (gn) Reader👑

(Beginning Relationship Pt. I Edition!)

(I thought this song would be fitting considering King Candy’s voice is based on the vocal performance Ed Wynn did for the Mad Hatter… That and its… Nostalgic🔑 [I saw the animation meme culture rise and fall.] lol)

- So, as we all know, the more unpleasant parts of his personality (which could tie him to Turbo) are suppressed, and hidden, though they can still peak out when he’s feeling particularly malicious.

- He’s a slime, a real manipulative rat who’s so sure he can keep everyone in the dark, who takes it slow with you at first to try to maintain his hard work.

- There’s a clear wall between what he displays in front of others and how he is, just the way he likes it, but honestly— If you mean so much to him, you get a weird mix of the two (well, more than usual), a kind of sweet goofiness that’s followed up with a snide remark about being the most skilled in some specific topic.

- Again he’s not the best lover, though from his previous indiscretions he has learned to be more open to others feelings— But only for your sake, mostly cause he can’t stand anyone else besides you…. And Sour Bill sometimes, but he’s mostly the personification of a minimum wage worker.

- Spending time together after hours is a must, though he’s more understanding now than he was before, not demanding every moment of your time but relishing whenever you do.

- I think all that time alone before Sugar Rush got plugged in made him lonely, and less stubborn to admit that he wants that comfort from someone else.

- I don’t think it’s much of a far reach when I say maintaining the King Candy persona is something he is very fluid in, but it’s exhausting at times.

- When he gets that seldom time alone without any of his kingly duties he finds himself yearning for your comforting touch, that stubbornness making way as he makes Sour Bill retrieve you.

- I can see moments between the two of you to be on the tamer side, not as many arguments like Pre-RoadBlasters, little to none really, but there are these tense moments where you ask him something a little too close to home and he becomes stiff in your arms if only for a brief moment.

- As much as he wants to be, not only for himself but maybe even you— He isn’t perfect, he isn’t the person he tries so hard to be, that gleeful and peppy voice going flat the second he isn’t feeling it anymore.

- It becomes apparent the more you know him he’s far more serious than he lets on, puffing his chest up slightly when things don’t go his way and he has to play dirty, which he’s certainly no stranger to...

- In comparison to himself when the arcade first ever opened, he’s certainly grown from that childish hatred, for better and for worse.

- He’s more affectionate for one, providing you with comfort fitting to how you are feeling at that moment, little compliments, and gestures of affection to quell your anger and anxiety in a matter of seconds.

- Quick to learn every little thing about you to make sure he’s able to relate to you, though his intentions with this information go back and forth.

- He wants everything on a silver platter, not only for himself but also for you, making the other subjects of Sugar Rush bend over backward for you, even when you object to all the attention.

- I think one of the ways he dotes on you in a way is date planning, various areas in Sugar Rush vary which can be very nice date spots… He seems like the picnic blanket and tea liker as King Candy, as stereotypical as that is lol.

- Though if that isn’t your style, he can always do dates at the castle, like baking— chatting the night away, it’s the simple things in life <3

- Even with his character growth he is far from a good person, which we all know and love for the most part. He’s fully aware that the things he does to bar you, Venallope, the Sugar Rush inhabitants, and even the arcade entirely is cruel, spiteful even. But what could he have done? Let himself fade into obscurity and be characterized after one of his biggest mistakes?

- No, no, not when he still has so much to provide— He’s a person, just like everyone else, better yet he was programmed to be better. Why should he stand aside and let the world spin without him? Why should he look at you from afar when he has every right to want you?

- That’s part of the reason why he’s so adamant about keeping his spot as the monarch of Sugar Rush, he’s the rightful ruler after all.

(Cr cqh’r lncp, hjw cq cr?)

[starzzmissthesun]

i think you should totally drop whatever hc/ideas you have lying around honestly...i would love to see more into ur brain...pls <33

:DD

Hi!!!! Sorry this is a little late, I got so distracted with an animatic im working on(😈) and then a stupid essay😭😭 being honest rn... Almost all of what I've been thinking about is my fic.. 😔

But!! I can still go a little into that without spoilers. I've finally figured out The Perfect ending for this story that I feel fits with the overarching themes I wanted to tell. I've been making sure that every little detail fits with the themes I wanted to show, I wanted it to overlap Regulus and barty's characters and their overarching themes with PD. I also didn't want to just replicate PD cause I feel like that doesnt have the depth or commentary I want to out into it. Idk ive always thought it's super fun to put everything as some sort of symbol or metaphor or foreshadowing. I'm like literally so close to being done drafting and then I can actually talk about it a little more😭

Anyways! I've also been thinking about barty post regs death 😔(when am I not) But more specifically how every memory he had would almost be tainted, everything now would have an air of questioning and unsureness. Even memories where Regulus isn't there, just wondering where was he? What was he thinking? Am I remembering this right? What could've I changed? What was the domino that caused all of this to happen? Eventually finding it hard to accept the way it really was, having the "I guess it was" and feeling it, but overintellectualizing it. His logic and reasoning is his downfall in this situation, that's what makes him go crazy. (Side note I NEED to make a little post about his intersection between intelligence and madness) Hes doing a complicated version of when there's a task that seems so simple that you think it's a trick, but it's not, it's just that. What happened with Regulus was just that.

Also, I've recently self reflected and realized that a lot of my barty characterization is similar to how I think of Leonard Cohen's art(who I LOVE LOVE LOVE) Idk if you've listened to him or read any of his work, but I HIGHLY suggest it, it's perfect for fall. Anyways, a lot of his songs and poems carry themes of having a twisted self image, not completely self deprication though it may seem, but something else. It's closer to understanding and knowing that you are. Different. And unconventional. It's an uncomfortablility he has with himself. Being soemthig twisted from what you should've been. A lot of his stuff is also to do with tragically losing someone, out of their own choice, and still feeling very loyal yet bitter. Also of loving something so much that it turns dark, or it goes too quick, it spirals. Also his love songs are very barty's perspective on bartylus to me. And like, obvious war mentions. I could give some specific recs similar to barty or them if you'd like.

Another thing is of Regulus and his relationship with his dad. Though I see it completely reasonable if his dad was just kind of, not there and neglectful, it could give very interesting implications to his character, I like it the other way around. Orion seeing what a more carefree attempt at raising a child does and keeping Regulus even closer than he did before. I think Orion always liked Regulus more, despite him being the second, because he was a model son. I don't think he wanted this life or even to have kids, so Regulus being so complacent and in line with what he was supposed to be as a pure blood made him the decided favourite(as much as he could have one). He was always keeping a close eye on Regulus and he could feel it, but he didn't do anything out of place anyways. Orion could tell when he was even thinking something he wasn't supposed to. I believe that, no matter how much she tried, walpurga was too caught in her own head about her duty as a mother to see S+R as anything other than Her Kids, as property that she was supposed to care for and tend to, she obviously loved them, but couldn't see through them. But Orion was there around every corner looking through regulus' eyes into his soul to search for any thing out of his perfect kid.

Anyways.... That's all I can think of rn😭 but if you have questions about ANY of them lmk!!! I love yapping about my little thoughts 😁😁

[rgbstatic]

Rewatching Marble Hornets really has me questioning why Alex wasn't really included in Creepypasta media, at least alongside his peers with Masky and Hoodie.

This may be spoilers if you've never watched Marble Hornets before (its 15+ years old, but I digress).

First I do want to establish that in Marble Hornets.

Alex is the acting antagonist, Jay is our unreliable protagonist and narrator, Tim eventually becomes a side protagonist. Hoodie is a side character who often seems to help our protagonists. Every other character are side characters that help move things forward and intensify plot- when I go into detail on some characters, some of what I say can be applied to them too.

Next, the Operator's way of controlling it's "proxies".

The Operator has some sort of aura that, when exposed, causes some sort of illness. Coughing fits, seizures, and presumably more. It's presence also in turn causes paranoia, insomnia, memory loss, and a general loss of senses. This is what it seems to use to control others.

You see this with all characters in the series, how ill they get, how paranoid they get, how the worse these all are the more they do things for the Operator. You see this happen to nearly everyone.

For Tim, he is able to eventually curb this via medications, presumably seizure medications. It doesn't fully stop Tim from being controlled by the Operator and acting as Masky, but it does over time seem to make it happen less and less. You also see Masky act in later acts of the series against the Operator, or at least for Jay.

Hoodie is interesting, because you really don't see much from him, but most of his appearances is helping Jay, and you find his house full of medication bottles, presumably stolen from Tim or from some other means. The totheark videos have many purposes. They can threaten Jay, or they can warn him, they can help him. In some you see messages which echo and parrot the drawings Alex makes, in others you see him give Jay clues. He both works for the Operator, but against him and Alex at the same time.

Jay starts off as seemingly one of the only people on the cast/crew of Marble Hornets to not get involved when Alex first started his shenanigans. He remembers Marble Hornets and starts looking, immediately he gets sick and paranoid and starts encountering the Operator. He is tired and irritable, and towards the end you see him make more and more rash decisions, violent decisions. His path seems to mirror Alex, the only difference is that Jay wants to stop all of this.

Alex is the most interesting, because you almost never if at all see him ill. You can presume that maybe he saw the Operator as a kid, as one of the totheark videos show childhood home videos of him and mark him with the Operator's symbols and show's the being there, but you never see it. Alex acts under the operator seemingly at all times. He starts off paranoid, maybe even afraid, but very quickly he becomes numb to it. Seth and Sarah die very early on. He attacks Brian, Tim- all so early on, and he seems to feel no remorse for it. Eventually, it does seem like he falls away from the influence. He moves away, stops recording. This goes on for years, until his girlfriend finds his old camera. Almost instantly the Operator is there. She is missing, but he survives. Once again, the moment the Operator is involved he works under him without skipping a beat. He knows she's gone, he drags Jay into it to stop him from searching further, or perhaps to be a magnet to finish the job of those who escaped before. Alex doesn't have any sort of alter ego. He remembers, he remembers everything. Perhaps he acts out of self preservation, but something else is going on. Alex starts to corrupt the footage just like the Operator, he seems to be able to call it to him and he approaches it, stands in it's wake unaffected. He's too far gone, maybe he always was.

All of this is to say, he is the villain of this story. He may eventually be defeated, but you could argue Tim gets better and moves on and never is a proxy again.

Alex should have, and should be viewed as a more scary person, with the likes of other creepypastas, because for all intents and purposes he was the Operator's favorite, and the one to carry out it's wants and to carry out it's actions. Hoodie and Masky disobeyed time and time again, Alex continued without question or remorse. Killing people not even involved with the story.

Just in terms of story, for the longest time Masky and Hoodie were side characters that popped up once every several entries. It wasn't until over half way through that Tim becomes a central character. Alex is always there. It's his story, it's his tapes, it is him who brought the Operator to them all over and over and over again, he is the main character with Jay as a narrator of things he has done. It all leads back to him.

Something something, i think 15 years is long enough to give this evil guy a bit of spotlight in his own story.

[pleasantspark]

Dissecting the Inconsistencies in Poison (Commentary)

For some fucking reason despite this song intending to be Anti-Rape and Blake trying to be the next Michael Kovich with him trying so hard to sound like him, the song makes me think it's Pro-Rape.

I'm not above a love to cash in Another lover underneath those flashin' lights Another one of those ruthless nights Yeah, yeah, yeah

In this verse, Angel Dust is talking about his work as being a Porn Star, and how he spends time under the spotlight recording with strangers "Another lover" implies there's more than one each night.

I shoulda' guessed that this would happen I shoulda' known it when I looked in your red-hot eyes Spewin' all your red-hot lies Yeah, yeah, yeah

In this verse, he laments on how he should have guessed what had happened, and how he should have known it by telling from a red flag via Valentino. Red hot lies are also referring to manipulation.

What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself

He blames himself for ending up in this Hell.

'Cause I know you're poison You're feedin' me poison Addicted to this feelin', I can't help but swallow Up your poison I made my choice, and Every night I'm livin' like there's no tomorrow

This verse conflicts me, on one hand, he's accepting of the poison and refusing the much needed help, and I am pretty sure Val isn't actively trying to isolate him from anyone else, which makes him less of a threat and all of his threats have to do with something related to making Angel Dust fuck other people. And most of the threats sound so goofy that it makes me wanna fucking cringe.

He's talking about how he has no choice but to accept the poison I get it, he's a victim but the thing is about Angel Dust as a whole is, that the song is not even representive of the fact this guy is a victim of SA, rather he's depicted as enjoying it and doing all this.

Oh-oh, oh-oh Any way you want me, baby That's the way you got me, I'll be yours My story's gonna end with me dead from your poison

Most of the time, I believe he finds himself in a place where he is trapped, although there's tons of people who he cares about. The best part of a character arc for him would technically be Angel Dust being led to believe most of the people in the Hotel were "using him" and that he is forced to stay with Val until he is showed that people care about him.

I got so good at bein' untrue I got so good at tellin' you what you wanna hear I disassociate, disappear Yeah, yeah, yeah So far beyond difficult to resist another gulp

In this verse, he is completely talking about losing himself, and falling into the gulp of Val's poison. Which we don't see any of.

Yeah, I know it's poison You're feedin' me poison I'm chokin' from the taste and I can't help but swallow Up your poison I made my choice, and Every night I'm wasted like there's no tomorrow Oh-oh, oh-oh Any way you want me, baby That's the way you got me, I'll be yours My story's gonna end with me dead from your poison Poison, I'm drownin' in poison I'm fillin' up my glass but it's always hollow Full of poison, I'm sick of the poison Wish I had something to live for tomorrow…

And it ends with him having a (semi) realistic panic attack to distract us from the fact that Angel Dust deadass sang a Love Song about his abuser.

This is a Pop Song.

I feel like making a song about anti-rape SHOULDN'T be something like Pop, it's too cheerful and makes it insensitive. I feel like something on the level of Nirvana can actually work out.

In Conclusion, while Poison is catchy, it's NOT a good song at all, and gives me mixed signals. Compared to Addict its a complete downgrade of it, beyond the vocals and lyrics. No 8 year old should be listening to this, and no one should "Cum" to the visuals VivziePop.

[murpyperpy]

🩸Yandere Vampire x Reader 🩸

During your trip to the library you meet the only other person in your small town who seems to be interested in more than petty drama. The library hold extensive knowledge in its old other worldly books but you struggle to find a relevant story to capture your attention. That is why when you see the man across the room with him slender pale hands wrapped around a Jane Austen delicate nails taping against the spine, you rush over.

“How do you do Sir.” You sing excitedly starring up at him fully of glee at expectancy. You bob down with a short bow.

He brings his hand to his hat and gives it a slight lift. It falls on his dark wavy hair ( which you shamelessly find yourself staring at)

“Hello madam” He’s says politely, annunciating every syllable. He follows your eyes to the novel. You have captured his attention fully as he takes in your appearance rosy cheeks, long lashes, the white lace at the hem of you skirt. Most importantly to him some semblance of a character someone to converse with in this dreary town.

“How did you manage to get your hands on a book made in the last hundred years!” You exclaim only half joking.

Immediately he started thinking of ways to get you to stay with him. His mind rushes through this times customs. Dinner. He plans to invite you to dinner.

“From my personal collection naturally,” he jokes “I’m Amias, who may you be lovely?” He listens and you introduce yourself studying the amusement in your eyes. You have been so clearly starved of attention of civil conversation he promises himself he will assist you if not for him self but for your own good.

“You could always come see my private collection. All of the latest releases. And, at this late hour I could provided you with sustenance .” He offers nervously. He loosely defines sustenance as some kind of edible thing available at his manor.

Now those of you brave enough to comment must pick the choice of this adventure!!

A) Indulge his request and walk through the woods into his manor. (OoooOoOoO spooky~ 🫣)

B) Decline despite his possibly negative reaction (you just meet this guy! Do you even trust him??)

C) Creative wizz kid leaves a prompt! (YAYAY)

[quaithe-seastar]

The Dragon's Gold

Chapter Thirteen

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Aerys Reyne (male oc)

Summary: Aerys Reyne, son of Naerys Targaryen, the second-born daughter of King Viserys and Queen Aemma, has been best friends with Aegon since childhood. As boys, they had been inseparable. Wherever one boy was, it wasn't long before the other came running behind him. That was until forbidden desires of the heart forced a wedge between them. After the death of his grandsire, King Viserys, Aerys finds himself torn between two sides: stand by his oldest friend or stand by the only mother he has ever known.

Warning: descriptions of burns and other injuries

A/n: There may be medical inaccuracies, so I apologize in advance for that. As always, dialogue in italics means that the characters are speaking in high valyrian. I was just too lazy to attempt to translate it. No beta, so I apologize for any grammar and spelling mistakes.

Aerys

Agana descended from the sky with a painful-sounding call. The noise pained Aerys more than the burns he had received at Rook’s Rest. He turned his head, observing the messy, hastily bandaged wounds. He had been offered milk of the poppy, but Aerys had declined—something he was sorely regretting now as the pain steadily crept up on him. It wasn’t the actual burns that hurt so much as it was the skin around it that was burned less severely. The more severe burns on his shoulder and arm still felt numb. He could feel a slight warmth, but that was it. 

Agana dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. Aerys groaned; the pain in his arm flared as his body jerked forward. He kept his right arm clutched tightly to his chest as he struggled to lift himself off his saddle. Painful whimpers escaped his throat with every move he made. Aerys had no choice but to slide off of the side of Agana’s body as he had done at Rook’s Rest. He did not believe he would be able to climb down with only one arm. He kept his knees bent, trying to ease the shock of his jump. He stumbled but was able to steady himself before he could fall.

Aerys looked around, watching as the dragon keepers made their way towards them. Their eyes widened as they observed the silver dragon’s wounds. The distress on their faces was evident. It made sense. The dragon keepers worship the dragons. They see them as gods. 

To see one of their gods return in such a broken state must have filled them with overwhelming despair. He shifted uncomfortably as their eyes shifted onto him. They looked at him with such loathing it made him feel ill. They must hate him. They must believe he is not worthy of being bonded to such a beautiful creature. In that, perhaps they were right. Agana was only injured because of him. The silver beauty deserved much better than him. 

Agana trilled, trying to get his attention. He turned to her, watching as she moved her head closer to him. Aerys lowered his head, resting it against the side of her face.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again.

No matter how many times he said it, it never felt like enough. How could words ever be enough to make up for the pain she had endured? Agana called to him. The sound gave him some comfort. She pulled away, growling at the dragon keepers who approached them. Aerys rubbed a hand over the scales on her neck, calming her down.

Aerys led her back to her cave, himself. He stayed with her, rubbing a comforting hand over her snout, lulling her to sleep. The searing pain in his arm was becoming even more challenging to endure, but he did it for her.

“Lord Reyne!” A shaky voice called out to him.

Areys turned his head, watching the unknown Hightower knight cautiously move towards the cave. The man stopped, standing a couple of feet away from the gate. Terror filled the man’s face as his eyes observed Agana.

“What is it?” Aerys asked impatiently, wishing for the man to go away.

The man stared at Agana for another moment before flinching. He quickly turned his head towards Aerys.

“The lord hand has ordered me to inform you that they have returned to the city.”

Aerys’ eyes widened. Aegon was here. He stood to his feet. Agana tried to raise her head, but Aerys pressed a hand against her snout. He leaned down, resting his head against hers.

“You must stay,” he replied sorrowfully. “I will return as soon as I can.”

Agana whined but remained still. Her body was too exhausted and in too much pain for her to move around. It broke Aerys’ heart to leave her in such a state. 

“Rest now, Agana.”

He rubbed his hand over her scales one last time before turning away. His eyes filled with tears as she let out distressed chirps, trying to call him back to her. Aerys clenched his fist, trying desperately to ignore every fiber of his being that was telling- screaming at him to go to her side.

-

Aerys returned to the red keep, escorted by the four Hightower knights Ser Criston had sent to retrieve him. The trip had not been nearly as quick as Aerys would have liked. As he made his way through the city, he quickly noticed the palpable uneasiness and fear among the smallfolk as they eyed him warily and whispered to each other. He could not blame them. He had heard of the horrid display Ser Criston had put on for them as he made his way through the city.

The dragons were the symbol of House Targaryen, his mother’s house. They were the true power and strength behind their family; they would have been lost without them. To present Melyes’ head as if it were nothing more than some hunting prize ... it was a terrible ignominy. Aerys was glad he had not been there to witness it. The thought of it made him ill and filled his heart with a great uneasiness. The people believed the dragons to be gods and the Targaryens, by extension. They believed them to be invincible. Ser Criston had just proved to them that they were not.

Aerys pushed past the small team of maesters who were awaiting his return in the outer courtyard.

“Lord Reyne, please!” They called out, running behind him.

The man paid them no mind. He had to get back to Aegon. He needed to know if he had survived the journey. Aerys had been unable to ride by Aegon’s side, as he had to fly with Agana back to the Dragonpit. The last time he had seen Aegon, they were placing his broken body into a wooden box. Ser Criston insisted that the king’s body had to remain hidden. The sight of it had made Aerys’ stomach lurch. 

Even the memory of it now made him feel like he was going to spill what little food sat in his stomach. Aegon appeared almost dead, his body lying so still in that awful wooden box that looked like a casket. Aerys shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the memory. He had to believe Aegon would be alright. Otherwise, Aerys did not know how he would be able to carry on. 

“Lord Reyne, please wait!” One of the maesters cried out, grasping onto his uninjured arm.

Though Aerys quickly slipped away before he could get a firm grip on him. He hurried around the corner, eager to reach Aegon. The doors of Aegon's room were wide open. His kingsguard stood post by the door. They turned their heads, watching him as he approached. Aerys did not give them enough time to shuffle out of the way, pushing his way through them. 

The first thing his eyes fell upon was the two silent sisters who lurked in the corner of the room. His breath quickened, and his body broke out into a cold sweat. Why were they here? Aerys wanted to scream at them- order them to leave. Aegon would not die. Their presence was not needed or wanted.

Aemond stood at the foot of the bed. Aerys rushed to his side, pushing the man out of the way. This was all his fault, Aerys thought. He acted hastily, and now Aegon was paying the price for it.

A much larger team of maesters crowded around Aegon's body, making it difficult to get a clear view of him. Then, one of them moved to retrieve something. Aerys let out a short gasp as his eyes observed the severity of Aegon’s injuries. They had stripped him of his armor, exposing his charred, mangled flesh. 

Aerys’ heart raced painfully in his chest, and his throat tightened. Blood pounded in his ears, leaving him deaf to the world around him. Was Aegon going to die? The maesters skills could only go so far. Were his injuries too severe to be treated? And what of injuries within, injuries that could not be seen with the naked eye? 

Aerys could feel the sweat rolling down his skin, making his hair stick to the back of his neck. His feet tingled, and his knees buckled slightly beneath his weight. His vision blurred, and it became almost impossible to focus on anything. Aerys wanted to flee. He couldn’t bear to look at Aegon like this. He couldn’t bear to watch him fade away from this world, away from him. But he could not leave him- he would not. Not this time.

Aerys feels someone grab onto his arm, though he cannot make out their face. He hears them speak, but he cannot make sense of their words. His breathing grew more ragged and heavy, making it almost impossible to catch a full breath. 

Perhaps he was more to blame for this than Aemond was. Aerys was no warrior. He had rushed into battle without any clear plan or strategy. In the end, Aegon and Sunfyre had fallen from the sky, and Agana was permanently maimed.

Agana. 

His beautiful dragon, whose silver scales glimmered like the moon. His silver maiden who has served him faithfully all these years, protecting him, giving him strength. Yet he could not do the same. He had failed her by sending her into a battle she was unprepared for. One that resulted in her losing an eye. Aerys thought back to how he had left her, broken and alone, as she cried out for him. He was not deserving of her. He believed that before, but he was more sure of it now.

“...Aerys,” a far-away voice calls to him.

Something- someone grabs onto his uninjured arm, trying to pull him away from the bed. But Aerys stands firm, refusing to move.

“Aerys,” the voice calls again, much louder this time.

His vision began to clear as the pain in his arm flared up again, this time worse than before. He bites his lip, trying to keep himself from crying out. Pathetic whimpers escaped his throat as he tried to breathe through his nose. Fingers grasped his chin, turning his head to the side. Aerys looked down, finding the queen dowager staring at him.

“You must let the maesters treat your wounds,” The Queen dowager urged as she tried to pull him away from the bed.

“No,” Aerys gritted his teeth, trying desperately to ignore the searing pain in his shoulder. “I will not leave him.”

“Your wounds will fester. You must be treated,” she insisted.

Aerys ignored her, turning his head back to Aegon. She calls out to him again, but he shakes his head. He would not leave Aegon. No matter how painful it was to see him in this state, Aerys would remain by his side.

“Will he live?” Aerys murmurs.

“The maesters are doing all they can,” the dowager queen replied mournfully.

Her words do little to quell his worries. 

“The maesters will treat your wounds here, but you must sit.”

Aerys turns to her, prepared to refuse her aid, but stops when she looks sternly at him. He relents, allowing her to guide him towards the cushioned benches near the window. As soon as she stepped aside, the maesters descended upon him. 

One hands him a small cup filled with a white liquid- milk of the poppy.

“No,” Aerys groaned, pushing the cup away.

“It will help with the pain, Lord Reyne.” The maester explained.

“I said no.” Aerys asserted.

Aerys let out a pained hiss as the maester peeled the bandages from his skin.

“Just a sip, my lord, to dull your senses,” the maester reasoned. “The process will be rather painful.”

Aerys groaned, his body jerked to the side as one of the master's hands grazed his wounds. He finally accepted the cup, albeit begrudgingly. The white liquid trickled down his throat. Aerys quickly swallowed, not wishing to have the taste of it stuck in his mouth. When he was through, he shoved the cup back into the maesters hand. 

Aerys closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as one of the maesters opened the blisters that had formed and cut away the damaged flesh. The maesters whispered their apologies but continued their work. Aerys ignored them, trying his best to stay quiet. Thankfully, the milk of the poppy seemed to work quickly. His mind was becoming hazy, and his body grew heavy. Even the simple act of clenching his fist seemed almost impossible. 

Aerys tried to fight the fatigue threatening to overtake him. But it was a hopeless battle. His eyelids were so heavy he couldn’t lift them even a little. Perhaps some rest wouldn’t hurt.

-

When Aerys shut his eyes, he dreamed of crows.

There seemed to be hundreds- maybe even thousands of them. His eyes searched the outer yard of the red keep. All around, there were heads mounted on spikes. The smell of blood and rotting flesh overwhelmed the air. Crows sat on the heads, pecking away at the faces of the dead.

It was a grim sight, but to Aerys' surprise, he felt nothing. Neither happiness nor fear. He made his way through the throng of crows. Yet they paid him no mind. 

A thousand deafening caws sounded in the air, making Aerys press his hands to his ears to try and drown out the noise. The man raised his head to find hundreds of crows circling above him in the sky. But there was something odd. The sky was not its common shades of blue or gray, but red—like a giant never-ending lake of blood.

“Aerys,” a honeyed voice calls out to him.

Aerys lowers his gaze to find a woman- no, Helaena staring at him. She stands just a few feet away amidst the bloodied spikes.

“What’s happening?” He asks.

“It is time for you to wake now,” she says.

Without another word, she turns around and walks away from him. Aerys calls out to her, but she’s too far away. He tried to run to her, but he found himself unable to move. Aerys looked down to find himself standing in a large pool of blood. It was rising to his knees, or rather, he was sinking into it. He tried to call for help. He tried to twist, turn, and fight his way out, but the faster he moved, the quicker he sank.

Yet if he stayed still, he sunk all the same. The blood sat right under his chin. He lifts his head, gasping for air, preparing himself to be swallowed whole. His body sinks lower. The taste of iron coats his lips. Aerys tried to kick his legs as the red liquid reached his nose. 

It was too late. His eyes stung as the blood submerged him completely. His vision clouded with a red mist. The world around him faded. His lungs burned from being deprived of air. It was like someone had stabbed him in the chest. His ears throbbed, and he could only hear his pounding heartbeat. This was it. This was the end.

Aerys awoke with a start. His heart was hammering away in his chest as he sat up. His eyes searched around, meeting the familiar sight of Aegon’s bedchamber. Aerys was unsure of how long he had been asleep. It was still daylight outside. Was it the same day, or was it the next? He looked at his arm, which was wrapped in fresh bandages. Aerys found himself still resting on the cushioned benches near the window.

“Are you feeling alright, Lord Reyne?”

Aerys looked up, finding Maester Orwyle staring at him.

“I’m fine,” he nodded. “How is he?”

The maester looked nervous as he clasped his hands in front of his stomach. “I’m afraid it is too early to tell. We’ve done all we can. His fate rests with the gods now.”

Aerys wanted to laugh—the gods , of course.  

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Maester Orwyle asked.

“Yes, I just had a ... strange dream, that’s all.” Aerys brushed off the man’s concern.

“Ahh, yes,” the maester hummed. “Poppy dreams, they call them. It happens. I would not pay too much attention to it.”

Aerys nods his head. He had heard of the poppy dreams before. His father had been quite prone to them, or so he heard. They say these dreams caused his father to become oversuspicious of their liege lords, the Lannisters. The man was convinced that they were out to get him and intent on destroying his house.

“The small council is having a meeting,” the maester said. “The queen dowager insisted you be present.”

Aerys sighed and nodded his head. “As she wishes.”

Maester Orwyle helped Aerys get dressed in fresh clothes, before the two of them walked to the small council chamber. The rest of the council members were already present and seated. An extra chair was placed beside Ser Jasper Wylde for Aerys, now that Ser Criston had returned. Aerys quickly took his seat, trying his best not to react when his arm brushed against the chair as he sat down.

“Shall we begin?” Ser Criston announced.

Maester Orwyle was the first to speak. Giving the council a detailed account of the king’s injuries.

“Has he woken?” The Queen dowager asked.

Aerys wondered how she was handling all of this. Aegon was her son, her first son. He couldn’t imagine it was easy on her to see him return in such a state.

“No.” The maester answered solemnly. “I must admit, I’m not sure he will ever wake.”

Aerys let out a quiet scoff, dropping his gaze to the table. He refused to listen to the man. Aegon will live, I know he will. He’s stronger than they think he is, Aerys thought to himself. A thick tension grew in the air, as the maester finished saying his piece. They all believed Aegon would die. Doubters, he called them in his mind.

The Queen dowager is the first to act. She stands to her feet, resting her hands against the wooden table. 

“A king cannot rule in his sleep,” she says. “The realm will have noticed his absence. Let them hear of his great deeds at Rook’s Rest.”

Aerys turns his head, looking towards the end of the table where that one-eyed coward sat. Though the man kept his single eye lowered to the table. Aerys glared at him. This is all his fault, he thought again.

“But now we must name a regent to take his place. Until he recovers ... or does not.”

Aerys turned his head towards the king's seat- Aegon’s seat. He didn’t want to be here. He should have remained by Aegon’s side. 

“A wise strategy, your grace.” Lord Strong replied. “A regency will assure the people of the stability of the crown.”

“Did you have a candidate in mind, your grace?” Lord Tyland asked.

Aerys wanted to laugh. The answer was obvious. These lords were simply letting her down easy, like a mother does her child when they want something they cannot have.

“I myself served in this role for my husband. I am well-prepared to do it again,” she asserted.

Her eyes glanced at all the men around the table. It reminded him of when Aegon had done the same at the last council meeting when they had shut down his ideas in favor of Aemond, just as they were about to do to her now.

“You played your part admirably in a time of peace, your grace. But circumstances have changed.” Lord Jasper spoke up.

“And here I had forgotten,” she quipped.

Lord Jasper ignored her, continuing on. “The king does not lack for heirs. The obvious choice is his immediate successor, Prince Aemond.”

“Agreed,” Lord Tyland affirmed.

“Aemond is young,” she argued. “And his lack of restraint has already cost us dearly.”

She looks around the table again, looking for support. Aerys decides to answer her call.

“The queen dowager is right,” he says. “Aemond’s skill is best employed on the battlefield. The person best suited for the task is someone who already has experience ruling the realm. Don’t you think?”

“It is experience that offers the surest path to security,” Maester Orwyle chimes in. “Queen Alicent ably shouldered the duties of the realm when her husband’s health failed him.”

“Experience is valuable, yes, but the dowager queen is a woman.”

Aerys snickered at the master of laws statement. “I assure you, Ironrod, not all women are as faint-hearted as one so simple-minded might think.”

Aerys looks to the master of laws, who is glaring daggers at him. A smirk crosses his lips as he watches the mad turn red with anger and embarrassment.

“I am no stranger to rule or to sitting at this council. Aemond is a fearsome dragon rider; as Lord Reyne said, his skill is best employed in the field, but my experience is needed here, at this table.”

“No offense was meant, your grace, but at a time where we must show strength-”

The woman did not wait for Ser Tyland to finish speaking before calling out to Lord Larys Strong. Though the man proved to be of little help to her.

“I agree, your grace. It must be Prince Aemond. What would it say if, in response to Rhaenyra’s crowning, we raised up a woman of our own?”

“Then it should be Lord Reyne!” She countered.

Aerys snapped his head towards her, his eyes widened, “What?”

“Your grace,” Lord Tyland sighed.

“It is inconceivable,” Lord Jasper interjected. “The man doesn’t even have a proper seat on this council. Are we so willing to put the stability of the crown in the hands of a man who has spent years by the princesses’ side?”

“What are you implying, Lord Jasper?” Aerys snarled.

Before Lord Jasper could answer, the queen dowager called out to Aerys. He turned his head towards her, catching a glimpse of the stern look on her face. Aerys huffed and sat back in his chair. He looked to the master of laws, glaring at him one last time. His eyes flickered over to Aemond. The prince had his gaze fixated on him. Aerys shot him a glare before turning his eyes back toward the table in front of him. The queen dowager continued, arguing on his behalf.

“Aerys has proved himself to be a loyal member of our cause. He fought against Princess Rhaenys in defense of our king and was wounded in the process. The king trusts him. If he were here, I'm sure he would vote in favor of Lord Reyne himself.”

“Lord Reyne is too far down the line in terms of succession, your grace. Prince Aemond is the king’s heir.” Lord Strong replied. “But umm, the hand speaks with the king’s voice Ser Criston, what say you?”

All eyes turned towards the king’s hand. Ser Criston had been unusually silent since they had started the meeting. The man kept his head low but glanced his eyes up for a second before quickly dropping them back to his hands, which were clasped together tightly on the table.

“Aemond is the next in line. It must be him.”

The woman’s eyes were full of betrayal. Ser Criston had been her sworn protector and a dear friend for years. His words must have stung. 

“It’s agreed then,” Aemond speaks for the first time since they had entered the room.

Aerys leans back, dropping his gaze to the ground. He stared at the dirt and grime that stuck to his boots as Aemond walked around the table. He refuses to look at the man as he sits in the king’s chair- Aegon’s chair . 

“What is our standing in the riverlands?” Aemond asks.

Aerys chews on his lip, trying desperately to remain calm. He stays silent as Lord Tyland drones on about the Riverlands, as maester Orwyle talks about the smallfolk's unease, and as Aemond starts barking orders. He remains seated when all the others stand.

“We shall meet again at first light,” Aemond declared. “Oh, and someone cut down the fucking ratcatchers.”

Aerys finally stood, prepared to return to Aegon, when Aemond called for him to stay. The dowager queen tried to stay behind, but Aemond quickly dismissed her. Aerys sat back in his seat, fixating his eyes on the table. Aemond waits until everyone is out of the room, and the door slams shut before he speaks.

“I understand my brother ordered you to attend these meetings. I am now relieving you of your obligation.”

Aerys gave no reply, instead choosing to continue staring at the table. This did not seem to sit well with Aemond, who continued speaking at him. Though Aerys paid no mind to what he was saying. His words became muffled in his ears.

“Were you trying to kill him?” Aerys asked, interrupting the prince’s spiel.

He can see Aemond stiffen from the corner of his eye. Aerys turns his head, finally looking at the newly instated prince regent. The fury behind Aemond’s eye was palpable; a vein pulsed through the skin of his forehead.

“I’d choose my words more carefully if I were you, nephew ,” his words are laced with venom.

“Or what?” Aerys challenged.

Aerys was unsure where this newfound confidence had come from. He had never been very contentious, but something about Aemond drew it out of him. Aemond’s jaw clenched as he stared at Aerys, trying to intimidate him. 

“I was there, Aemond. You burned him.”

“Aegon wasn’t supposed to be there. It was he who put himself in harm's way,” Aemond replied nonchalantly.

“Only because you did not let him in on your ploy,” Aerys argued.

“Am I supposed to hold his hand and explain everything to him like a child?”

“No, but as his brother, you should stand by his side. Instead, you’ve done everything you can to undermine him. And now this?!”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” Aemond hissed. “Do not act like you are completely blameless in this.”

Aerys looked at him confused, “What are you-”

“I was there, Aerys,” Aemond snickered, mocking him. “Agana could have killed Rhaenys, but you turned her away. Perhaps if you had let her do it, I would not have had to act.”

“Well, I apologize, but not all of us are so keen on becoming kinslayers,” Aerys retorted, furious that Aemond would try to pin this on him.

Aemond growled and lunged forward. For a moment, Aerys believed he would strike him. He closed his eyes and prepared himself for the blow, but it never came. He opened his eyes, watching as Aemond pulled back, lowering his arm back to his side. The man’s breath is ragged, his single eye blazing with rage. Aerys can see how hard he is trying to restrain himself.

“It seems the milk of the poppy has left you delirious, nephew ,” Aemond jibed, his tone filled with malice. “Perhaps some more rest is needed.”

“I don’t need-”

Before Aerys could refute the man’s assertion, Aemond called out to the guards outside the room. Immediately, two members of the Kingsguard entered the room.

“Yes, your grace?”

“Lord Reyne is tired, see him to his chambers.”

“I am not tired,” Aerys rebuffed. “I must return to the king’s side.”

“Have the maesters prepare some essence of nightshade to help him sleep,” Aemond continued as if Aerys wasn’t even present.

“Yes, your grace.” The guards nodded, moving to Aerys’ side.

The man sent Aemond one last vitriolic glare before begrudgingly standing on his feet. The one-eyed man stared back at him with a vexing smirk upon his face. With his fists clenched and arms pinned to his sides, Aerys stormed out of the room. The guard’s armor rattled as they trailed closely behind him.

Aemond was demonstrating his authority, reminding Aerys that he had no allies here now that Aegon was abed. 

Tags: @saicherry, @sadpuffpuff, @willow-red, @teamavatar13