#I could barely keep myself to 8 characters

[quinloki]

True Love

Me: *trying to decide what One Metal Poster I want with my 30% coupon.*

Also Me: *Accidentally creating a MEGA 9-Part Metal Poster of fave One Piece Characters*

My Goddamn Spouse: Okay, but when you buy that I want the coupon you're gonna get from it.

[twilightarcade]

One thing about me is that I'll wake up from a weird dream and go "wow..... this would make a pretty good game"

[hotjaneaustenmenpoll]

WHO IS THE HOTTEST JANE AUSTEN MAN ? THE FINAL

Propaganda...

Captain Wentworth (1995):

Ciaran Hinds has that perfect ruggedness yet friendliness to his face that makes him the perfect charming Wentworth. And all of the longing that he manages to convey in his eyes is so hot.

Wentworth may be angry/resentful with Anne but in general he is charming and the best friend you could ever have. Ciaran gets the pleasant parts of his character and brings them out, while keeping a guarded coolness (protective camouflage) with Anne.

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I dunno if this counts as propaganda or not, but Ciaran Hinds has a face that looks like it was jackhammered out of a shale cliff.

If a line like 'I am half agony...half hope' comes out of a face like that you know that man has a soul for poetry.

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in

F. W.

I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never.  

This is propaganda for the next round because I need my boy to be a finalist! But this letter is all the persuasion I need to know that he is a winner

Ciarán Hinds in this is a whole other level of "a good man" He makes Anne's decision at the end so much more perfect.

LOOK

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HOW

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HE

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YEARNS

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The yearning the yearning - JLM gives a great look but Captain Wentworth is the king of longing stares. He's trying sooo hard to hate her sooo hard to get over her - 8 years and he thinks he's ready to face her and move on but no he has to notice she's exhausted on the walk, that her nephew is being overwhelming, that she should be dancing and not just playing the piano for everyone else. And even though he's jealous later on when Mr Elliott gives her an "admiring look" in lime he's pleased for her because he knows she deserves to be admired and cherished even if he's angry that he wasn't able to be the one she let admire and cherish her. I just this man - he loves Anne so much and it's so so hot.

Propaganda for Captain Wentworth.

I've always loved Persuasion and so I was voting for him in his polls anyway, but I had never seen the 1995 adaptation. So because of this blog I decided to check it out.

Well. Now I'm obsessed. I came into this tournament fully expecting to vote Firth Darcy to victory. Ciaran Hinds suddenly showed up and sparta kicked him to curb. His every look, every gesture is laden with longing. He's so tender with Anne but then the barely restrained rage in his voice when he speaks to Lady Russell. He's rugged and manly yet tender and considerate.

I BURN, I PINE, I PERISH

If you're wondering why you should vote for Wentworth 95 in the @hotjaneaustenmenpoll, it's because he's got something hot for everyone.

Do you think it's hot when a man dresses up fancy? He looks very dapper in his uniform! Or do you find it more sexy when a man is more casual, a little mussed up, maybe even a little grimy? He does that perfectly too!

Do you find men hot when they're being tender and restrained? Or do you find men hot when they're losing control a bit, maybe getting a bit passionate with anger or jealousy?

Do you like a refined man of culture? Or a rugged outdoorsman?

A warm smile? Or something more broody?

Someone who's the life of the party, boisterous, laughing, charming? Or the strong silent type, serious, calm, mysterious?

Hinds's Wentworth does all of these sexy things brilliantly! You cannot lose with him, he's got it all!

II ranked Wentworth as the #1 Austen man in terms of fuckability, and I stand behind that when it comes to Wentworth 95 versus Knightley 09.

Is Wentworth 95 angry sometimes? Yeah. But that's hot, at least coming from Ciaran Hinds' ruggedly handsome face. Have you heard of makeup sex? Tell me Wentworth 95 and Anne don't have the most scorching hot angry makeup sex imaginable 🥵

And yet Wentworth 95 is also super tender! The slow, gentle, worshipful way he kisses Anne at the end?? So beautiful and hot. The longing way he looks at Anne in silence. The way he is so solicitous of Anne's comfort to put her on the carriage with his sister! You can just tell he's gonna take the time to worship his wife in bed.

And let's not forget that he writes the most romantic letter ever written! The depth of passion in this man, my god! 🔥💕🔥

This is not a who is the better man contest, or who is the more faithful to the book, or who would you most want to marry. This is a hotness contest, and Wentworth 95 is so fucking hot.

Mr Darcy (1995):

Colin Firth (1995) is book Darcy brought to life. He uses tiny gestures and looks to communicate with us and Elizabeth… his struggle is so subtle but so palpable. A beautiful asshole with a creamy nougat center. Just perfect.

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Those heart-eyes right up above☝️? Hot!

Passive-agressively drinking tea? Hot!

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The way he rushes over to see Elizabeth at Pemberley on those delicious long legs of his with that slutty wet curl hanging over his forehead? Hot!

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Fencing? Hot!

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The way he is so concerned about Elizabeth crying and takes her hand even though he shouldn't? Hot!

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This dimple-y smile of pure joy because he knows he's married to Elizabeth freaking Bennet? Hot!

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Colin Firth Darcy is simultaneously immaculately put together and entirely falling apart internally. The wet shirt scene is so iconic not (only) because ‘oooh almost-shirtless sexy man’, but because it’s a metaphor for how he’s absolutely falling apart!!! This is a private moment, when he doesn’t think anyone can see him. And then he bumps. into. Lizzie. At his house!! And the entire sequence that follows with him rushing out still doing his jacket up to catch her before he leaves. They are both on the back foot and it’s THAT moment of confusion that opens a more honest dialogue between them.

Without Firth in a lake you wouldn’t get Macfadyen in a downpour!

There's a reason why Colin Firth is forever known as Mr. Darcy above all other roles he's had and will have! Even ignoring the wet white shirt, which has become A Thing now, he is so hot with his curly hair and his little half smiles and his intense looks of longing and his legs that go on for milessss.

This cannot be real. My fellow Jane Austen people. Without Colin Firth’s Darcy we wouldn’t have 90% of modern JA content. He opened a door and there was no turning back for modern culture. There would be no MacFadyen standing half undressed in a field at dawn without Firth jumping into a lake first. There would be no hand flex if there hadn’t been Firth doing his best impression of a man undressing Elizabeth Bennet with his eyes and hating himself for liking it. There would be no Bridgerton without Bridget Jones. Let’s face it people. We wouldn’t be here having these arguments if Colin Firth had not been Mr Darcy.

Colin Firth understood Mr. Darcy in a way no other actor ever has. He is awkward as fuck in a way that comes across as snooty and judgmental on a first watch-through, then can be read as awkward and longing on a second time. His performance had such depth while looking extremely shallow at first glance. This man WAS Mr. Darcy. (I love 2005, as well, and I love Matthew McFayden, but he was awkward for awkward sake.) Colin Firth made Darcy's awkward look snooty and aloof.

THE socially awkward Darcy is the 1995 Darcy - look at him coming and sitting in awkward silence with Elizabeth pointedly asking her if she wants to live a long way from her family (to obvious relief) and then abruptly leaving - vote for him please 😭😭😭😭

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Colin Firth served so much as Darcy that when they did Bridget Jone's diary, they brought him back.... AS DARCY. The smoulder. The angst. The man is the quintessential Darcy.

“Firthing” is an actual term that is used now to describe someone yearning intensely. It is named after Colin Firth’s Mr Darcy performance.

Colin Firth all the way. He's known in our household as Owl Eyes because in every frame he's mooning over Elizabeth Bennet. Unsurpassable, unmatched, golden television (and some of the worst dancing you've ever seen).

Colin has beautiful, touchable curls.

Link

My high school English teacher was very into using movies to teach alongside literature, which was a great teaching tool. When we read Pride and Prejudice, he used both 2005 and 1995 for various scenes. What stands out to me all these years later was when it got to the part when Lizzy went to help Georgiana after Caroline dropped Mr. Wickham's name and Darcy gives Lizzy this look:

My teacher stopped the film and pointed at Darcy's face and said, "See that? That is THE look. If someone ever looks at you like that, you know they're in love." And what is hotter than that?

Also this teacher had two cats named Lizzy and Darcy. Not relevant to the poll but I wanted you all to know about them.

Colin Firth dazzles and amazes in the nuanced performance that just blows all other attempts away.

The best thing about the Colin Firth wet shirt scene is actually the scene that follows where him and Lizzie are both just dyinggg of embarrassment but Darcy pulls himself together refuses to lose his advantage and runs to get dressed and chase her down before she leaves - just the mix of cringe and hopefulness at seeing her again is so well done and so attractive!!! (this is just the bit where he's running after her but I love it all!)

[homelanderbutbig]

A Quaint House With a White-Picket Fence (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1139 words. Pure fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

You teach Homelander about Animal Crossing.

With a rare day off, you decided to spend your afternoon doing something you haven't been able to for a while, play Animal Crossing. Homelander has never played a video game before, and he has made it perfectly clear to you that he has zero interest in doing so. He is also not shy at showing his jealousy at how engrossed you get playing your silly games instead of paying attention to him. As a result, you usually only play for short periods of time when you're alone.

Today was different. You have been doing nothing all day except play Animal Crossing, just like you used to do before moving into the Tower. You don't even hear him storming into the penthouse, in one of his signature grumpy moods. Grumbling irritatedly seeing you lounging on the couch, he can't believe you aren't acknowledging him and inviting him over for a cuddle like you always do. It's not like he's easy to miss.

Homelander walks over in front of the couch, attempting to make a point with his purposefully loud footsteps. And yet, you still don't even look up as he looms over you. Rolling his eyes, he places his hands on his hips as he taps his fingers on his belt. He can feel his anger bubbling to the surface, with the annoying little beeps and boops coming from the game only serving to aggravate him further.

Finally, he's had enough at watching you ignore him. With a motion so fast you barely even register what is happening, he picks you up so he can lie down on the couch, keeping you on top of him. His arms are wrapped immovably around your waist while his big head is snuggled firmly on your shoulder. He lets out a deep huff from his nose, making certain that you know how exasperated you've made him.

You stay there for a moment of tense silence, waiting for him to say something first. You feel bad for not even noticing him, but you want to see where he is mentally before you make a move.

"What is this?" he eventually asks you, contempt dripping from his voice. If you won't stop playing this dumb thing, he may as well learn what it is.

"Animal Crossing," you tell him, laughing as you practically feel him rolling his eyes. Ah, he's in one of these moods.

"It's a game where you get to play in this cute village and just do whatever," you try to clarify. "You can fish, catch bugs, decorate your house, and make friends with your neighbours. It's relaxing."

"…Why?" he retorts. He is baffled at how doing things in this game that you could do in real-life would have you so fixated.

"I dunno, it's hard to explain," you respond. "There's no stress in this world, no time-limits or deadlines. It's like… an escape."

Homelander is hushed as he contemplates your answer. The appeal still doesn't make a lot of sense to him.

"What… are you playing as?" he enquires, brow furrowing slightly. Your tiny avatar appears to be a boy with slicked-back blonde hair, wearing a blue shirt with an eagle design.

"I tried making you," you answer honestly, with a brief giggle. You click a mysterious button on your gaming device, and suddenly this character is smiling wide back at him.

"You… made me?" he ponders, rubbing his head into the crook of your neck.

"Yeah, I normally just make myself but… I wanted to see how you'd look too," you smile, returning his nuzzle. "You turned out cute, right?"

He sighs, not dignifying you with a response. This facsimile is nowhere near his level of perfection, but at least you tried.

"What's that noise?" he mumbles. "It sounds like a bug."

"What direction is it coming from?" you respond. "It might be a mole cricket, I haven't caught one of those yet."

"To the left," he guides you, using his super hearing to easily discern the origin of the bug's droning call. "Under that rock."

Homelander watches as you pull out your shovel and hit the rock, causing a cricket to pop out which you swiftly catch with your net.

"Look at that! We caught a mole cricket!" you exclaim.

"…Now what?" he queries. He doesn't understand why you seem to excited over this, it's just a disgusting, insignificant insect.

"Now we take it to the museum, so Blathers can put it on display," you reply.

"And what, we get a reward for it?" he asks.

"No, it's just for fun!" you attempt to explain. "We can get a golden net if we catch all the different kinds of bugs though!"

Once again, he feels flabbergasted by your reasonings. This is just one of those weird human things of yours that he figures he will never understand, no matter how many questions he asks.

Homelander decides to stay quiet for a while, simply observing as you go about your activities. Seeing you run around this confined space, pointlessly catching more bugs and fish. Listening to you tell him which animal villagers are your favourites, showing him your house and how you decorated every room.

Strangely, the longer he watches you play, the more relaxed he starts to feel. It's weird, seeing your miniature caricature of him running around this fake town. He's just spending his days trapped in this virtual world, living in a quaint house with a white-picket fence, surrounded by friendly neighbours… without anybody staring at him like he's a freak… without a care in the world.

He's living the life Homelander always wished he could.

"Do you think we could ever live in a place like this?" he contemplates in a somber voice. The genuineness of his thought takes you by surprise.

To be honest, you don't have an answer for him. Vought has such a tight grip on every aspect of his life, you aren't sure if he'll ever be able to be free of their influence. He's never known what it's like to be 'normal', his entire existence has been dictated for him, his every opinion pre-calculated for what's best for the company.

"Hey, why don't we spend the weekend at your cabin?" you suggest, trying to pivot the heavy conversation away to something more tangible. You put your game down to caress his cheek, feeling him angle his head into your touch. "Just the two of us, no schedules or worries."

You can feel a little smile spread across your shoulder at your proposal. Homelander tightens his hold on you ever so slightly, cherishing the feeling of your small stature in his arms. He's glad you aren't able to see his face right now, letting him hide the fact that he's blinking away forming tears.

"Yeah," he whispers. "I'd like that".

[st6rrrs]

DONT BE LATE | PROFESSER TOM RIDDLE

please enjoy!! do not copy, steal, or use any of my work :))

SUMMARY: y/n is failing professor riddles class so she goes to "speak" with him after class

WARNINGS: SMUT, dub con, Sub!Reader, Dom!tom, Manipulation, Begging, Spitting, choking, fingering, virgin reader, age gap

MINORS DNI!!!

CHARACTERS: Slytherin reader x professer riddle

A/n: this might be confusing but bare with it, reader is 16!!!

you had recently been failing professor riddles class so he had asked you to stay behind so you guys could have a little "chat" about extra credit and other things... as he described it. you were currently on the way to his classroom, it was 8:30 at night, he said this was the only time he wasn't busy.

you were still in your school uniform cause you didn't have time to change out of them you knocked on his classroom door, it immediately opened like he was waiting there for you. "your 30 minutes late y/n." he said looking at you in the eyes which instantly makes you nervous each time "i-im sorry professer, i-i lost track of time" you said while stuttering

he smirks and move to the side so you can enter the room.

it was weird being in the classroom at night, it was quiet and empty "take a sit ms. L/n" he says while taking a sit at his desk. you do the same but on the other side of the desk

"as you know you are failing this class y/n" "im very disappointed in you"

you look down

he then gets up and walks over to the other side of the desk your sitting on hovering over you.

"i-im sorry i-i just b-been" he stopped you before you could finish your sentence by putting his finger to your lips shushing you. you looked up at him confused

"i dont care for your excuses y/n. now get up" he demanded

you looked up at him confused but did it anyway

"now bend over the desk for me"

you looked at him in horror. you were his student and he was your professor

many of the girls in Hogwarts had a crush on professor riddle, i mean come on he was in his mid 20s, handsome, and tall with pale skin, jet black hair, and dark brown eyes.

you had to admit he was quite handsome but this was wrong...

"w-what?"

"dont make me repeat myself" he said with a stern look

"no!, wha- thats disgusting"

you stormed past him towards the door but he grabs your arm, pulls you back, and slams you onto his desk face first

"i told you i dont like repeating myself"

"oww get off of me" you groaned

he lifts up your uniform skirt and pulls down your underwear admiring the view

"p-professor stop" you begged

"keep begging, i like it when they do that"

he spit on his finger and sticks it in you going in and out. you were a moaning mess

"gosh your so tight" "are you a virgin?" he asked while sticking another finger into you

you were a whimpering mess you couldn't even answer his question.

he suddenly pulls his fingers out, you groan loudly "answer the question and i will continue"

"i- uh yea." you said nervously

he then flips you over on your back, takes his belt off, he pulls his pants down then his boxers

your eyes widened at the length of his cock it was probably 7 maybe 8 inches and it wasn't just long it was thick too

"uh professor, that isn't g-gonna fit" you said with fearful eyes

he laughed.

he jerked his length off then lined himself up with your slit and then began to push the tip in

you whimpered and tried to push him off but he kept pushing in

"relax."

he pushed all the way in without warning. you yelped out in pain "shut up." he then stars thrusting into you slowly, you could feel the tip of his dick hitting your g-spot he then starts to speed up. "profesor" you whimpered he then takes it out and pushes it all the way in. you let out a pornography moan you didn't know you could do. you start to feel that feeling in your stomach that your friends always tell you about. "yea you like that slut" he groaned as he came, you soon came right after him he then pulled out and put his boxers and pants back on

you pulled your underwear back up your shaky legs and grabbed your stuff so you could leave. he grabbed your arm

"tomorrow 8:00pm dont be late."

[neil-gaiman]

I was a teenager when I found Death of the endless. A few years after “A Game of You.” probably sometime near or at the time the “The Time of Your Life” collected version came out. I didn’t have a ton of money but you’d better believe that what I did have went directly to those books. 

Later, I’d figure out how to afford a few collectables. I think somewhere I even have the first “Action Figure” of the character. 

I haven’t exactly fallen out of love with comics, but I’m now a decades older, married with two children-person, who has significantly less time and attention for anything these days. Video games are often easier escapes from reality, though usually less rewarding. In short, I haven’t touched my longboxes in a while. 

About 8 years or so ago we adopted our second dog, a beautiful Chocolate Lab. 

Fitting that his name was Buddy, we wanted someone to help keep our other dog company. At the shelter, we were waiting to see some dogs, when one of my kids asked to pet a dog that was waiting to be placed in a shelter room. He’d just been dropped off, the shelter said “by an older couple who said they just couldn’t keep up anymore.”

My kid had barely touched his head when he leaned against her with full adoration and trust. I’m not sure if he hadn’t gotten much affection in a while, or just fell in love. With us, he was always very affectionate. At 9 years old already, we knew that our time with him was relatively limited, but there was absolutely no question from that moment that he was going to come home with us.

A regular fixture in the lives of my family, including my kids and my dogs, my mother adored Buddy. My mom had always loved dogs, but hadn’t been able to keep one for the past few years in her apartment. But she would come over daily, and spend hours with Buddy, just slowly stroking his fur and chatting with him about his day. 

In 2020, when my mother passed away, and she no longer showed up at our door, Buddy noticed. He would look for her. He missed his friend. He did his best, as a dog, to console us as we wept, resting his head in our laps, putting his paw on our knees. 

Today was Buddy’s last day with us.  For the past few weeks, his health had been in steady decline. I did the hardest thing I’ve had to do yet, and scheduled an appointment to let him go peacefully. He was so well behaved, he gave no trouble to the vet, and he passed away resting his head on my legs.

Because the universe works the way that it does, between waking up today, and Buddy’s appointment, I found myself with several hours to spend. Maybe because of the recent new about the Sandman show, or something less knowable, I remembered that I had those comics. 

I knew right where they were. 

And so, I spent my morning with Buddy’s head in my lap, gently stroking his head, reading comics, and dreaming of a friendly person, who loves everyone, even the creepy and weird ones. Someone who would make sure that Buddy wasn’t scared or lonely. Someone that could make sure he knew he was loved. Someone who would lead him to where my Mom would be waiting for him to ask him how his day was. And for a little while, I was very happy.  Thank you.

That made me very sad, and made my day at the same time. I'm glad you wrote it. I'm so sorry for your loss. Thank you.

[laurfilijames]

Breathe

Pairing: Will "Ironhead" Miller x female reader

Rating: M but will be E as smut is definitely coming (I surprised myself and didn't write smut in the first chapter)

Words: 1,815

Warnings: PTSD. Anger issues. Almost passing out. Sexual tension. Mentions of previous assault (choking).

Summary: You've seen Will at the gym many times before, and he you, and today you finally share a moment, discovering your assumptions about him are right.

A/N: Here I was thinking my first character fic for Charlie Hunnam would no doubt be Jax Teller, and then this guy swooped in and floored me. (I also haven't finished SOA yet and feel like waiting to write for Jax until I do, and also my feelings about him are soooo conflicted) Will is an absolute MAN and I'm in love.

This will be a series and it will be smutty and indulgent.

---

It had almost been a year, but he would always be known as the man who nearly choked a stranger to death in the cereal aisle of the local grocery store.

Will - as you overheard him be called by the man he usually came to the gym with who looked just like him and assumed was his younger brother - often cleared anyone away from any machine out of fear; the other patrons sacrificing their workouts in favour of not wanting to provoke someone who may snap if he didn't get his way.

He was solo today, grunting and groaning to the left of you as he worked through his second set of bench presses; your eyes often drifting over to him in the mirror in the event he needed a spot.

You blinked as he slammed the heavy barbell back on its rack, shifting your gaze back to yourself performing deadlifts as he sat up and rubbed a towel over his face to catch the drips of sweat running down his tanned cheeks and into his blond beard.

Distracted, you lost count of your reps, cursing to yourself internally as you suffered through two more than was necessary, your hamstrings on fire and barely able to complete the last one with proper form before dropping the weights to the floor with a huff.

You glanced in Will's direction, catching him staring at you where he nodded before you quickly averted your gaze. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him lay back on the bench and continue another set, his noises of effort making your heart rate increase possibly more than your workout was.

Passing him to go to the squat rack, you couldn't help but notice the way his muscles flexed as he worked, the way his cheeks flinched as he clenched his teeth together tightly, similarly to the way he did even when he was 'relaxed' and not straining through an exercise.

Happy to be facing away from him, you started through your first set, thinking you were keeping track of your reps, only to find your mind wandering back to thoughts of him.

You sympathized for him, hearing his fiancee had left him after the event at the supermarket, knowing he had likely seen and done so many things people could never fathom experiencing in his many years in the Special Forces, and on top of all of it, not even being able to go to the gym without every person giving him a wide berth and downcast stares when they passed by.

"Damnit," you breathed, realizing you yet again lost track, only to be startled when a deep voice sounded behind you.

"You're at 8," Will spoke, making you glance over your shoulder to see him as much as you could as you squatted through another repetition.

"Thanks," you puffed, trying to sound as genuine as you could, thankful for his attentiveness while you did your best to look effortless in completing four more squats at the heaviest weight you had ever done so far.

"No problem," he smiled, assisting the bar back onto the rack when you were done. "I notice you lose count a lot."

He stated it so matter-of-factly, making you knit your eyebrows together quizzically as you turned to face him.

"Sorry!" he raised his hands in defense, "I'm a numbers guy, I tend to notice shit like that, I'm not trying to be an ass."

"No, it's fine," you returned with your own smile, "I guess I just never thought anyone would pay close enough attention to something like that, especially to someone they don't know."

Will tilted his head to the side and shrugged, like he wasn't quite sure what else to say to explain his behaviour.

"I appreciate it, though," you added, seeing a sort of discomfort crease in his features. "Saved me from doing an extra one. I thought I was only at 7."

Your laugh seemed to relax him, bringing out a light in his blue eyes and his smile that you instantly knew you could become addicted to seeing.

"Well, I'm happy to have helped, then. I'm Will, by the way."

He held his hand out, and taking note of the size of it as well as the length of his fingers, you swallowed and extended your own, meeting his eyes as he shook it with a firm grip.

"I know," you answered, seeing your response immediately wash a shameful look over his face.

He quickly withdrew his hand and moved it up to scratch his head, coming to terms that everyone knew who he was and the reputation he had.

"I've heard your brother," you accentuated as a question, "say your name a few times here."

"Oh, uh, yeah, that's Benny, my younger brother," he confirmed, placing his hands on his hips with a sigh of relief that your recognition of him wasn't only due to his infamous incident.

"Was he in the Service, too?"

"Yeah," he nodded, biting his lower lip.

"Your family must be proud of you both," you stated, positioning yourself under the bar to begin another set.

"Some days more than others," he said quietly, watching without shame as you lowered yourself into a squat and powered back up again with an enticing thrust.

Will cleared his throat, "You've got great form."

The tone in his voice made you steel yourself before continuing with another rep, feeling adrenaline rush through you that wasn't on account of the weight-lifting.

"That's it, breathe through it," he purred, that voice of his making you lose focus.

You closed your eyes and exhaled deeply, trying to match your breaths properly with your execution but failing, your mind going to a place you couldn't deny it hadn't been before in all the times you worked out at the same time as him.

It was good to work until failure, you reminded yourself, but as Will counted you to your twelfth and final rep, you struggled to reach the top of your squat let alone get the bar back on the rack.

Will effortlessly took the weight of it in one hand, lifting it easily for you to set it back in place.

"You okay?" he asked, assessing you with concern as you wiped moisture from your brow while his other hand rested along the small of your back.

"Yeah, thanks."

He stood close to you, enough for you to smell the intoxicating scent of his sweat mixed with lingering shower gel or cologne, and when you turned, his hand fell away from you just as yours felt the intense need to touch the dampened cotton shirt that clung to his warm body.

Suddenly feeling dizzy, you shifted on your feet and reached out to grip his forearm for support, shaking your head and apologizing.

"Sorry, that's the heaviest I've lifted and I guess I didn't eat enough for breakfast before I came," you stammered, looking up at him to see his face screwed up with worry.

"Hey, it's fine," he soothed, his hands holding your shoulders in a strong, reassuring grip. "Just breathe."

You did as he suggested, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply and slowly, your hand loosening on his forearm only slightly while he remained unmoving.

"Good, that's good," he whispered, his face leaning closer to yours, and you didn't dare open your eyes again in fear you really would pass out.

"Keep breathing," he repeated, prompting you to continue what he was quickly causing you to forget.

Another slow, calming breath filled your lungs, and when you blew it out gradually through your parted lips, Will spoke again, his fingers pressing into your shoulders.

"Good girl."

Your eyes flashed open, his words making you feel like you were in a haze, his crooked smile and glint in his alluring blue irises creating the opposite effect this whole exchange was meant to have.

"It always helps me," he admitted, his eyes not shifting from yours. "Whenever I'm stressed or angry…to breathe through it."

"Does that happen often?" you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"Hmm, sometimes," he began, not seeming offended at your question. "Less than it used to."

"You must have been through a lot," you spoke, letting your thoughts come out freely, your hand giving a reassuring squeeze over one of the tattoos covering his forearm.

Will licked his lips, leaning slightly closer to you, holding in a breath despite knowing he shouldn't in a moment like this.

"Hey, are you done with this?" a man asked, pointing to the squat rack that was left abandoned beside you, his unexpected voice startling you both.

"Yeah, man, go ahead," Will answered, nodding at the man once and giving him a curt smile.

You watched Will size him up as the man switched out the plates on the bar, like he was waiting to see if anything impolite would come from his mouth next or turn into a threat somehow. The veins in his neck bulged as he increased his breaths, his cheeks flexing again due to his teeth clamping down on each other forcefully. When the other man continued about his business, Will seemed to blink back to reality, his chest still heaving sharply as he struggled to find calm.

Not thinking twice, you reached up and placed your open palm on his chest, directly over his furiously beating heart, bringing his attention over to you along with a sense of surprise.

He blinked quickly and sighed, his eyes searching yours for something to help him until you spoke.

"Breathe, Will," you coaxed, reminding him of what he needed to do, seeing him close his eyes and begin to slow it down until his breaths eventually matched yours.

"Thank you," he muttered, reaching his hand up to cover yours that remained on his warm chest, giving it a gentle squeeze as he flashed you a weak smile.

"Hey, I was gonna grab a protein shake from that smoothie bar down the road after, why don't you join me?"

"I'd love to," you beamed, feeling more than okay with ditching what was left of your workout to go with him, the look on his face making it even more worth it as he grinned brightly and took your hand to lead you toward the change rooms.

"Grab your things and I'll meet you outside," he ordered gently, revealing his effortless ability to delegate, and your willingness to want to comply.

Will leaned against the side of his truck as he waited, sighing to himself while he attempted to sort out everything he was feeling; the mix of wanting to lean in and trust you overpowering his usual go-to of staying distant and playing it safe, all of which was confirmed when you walked out the doors and instantly brought an easy smile to his face.

---

Part 2

Taglist: none!! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in this series or any other Charlie Hunnam roles I may write for 💗

[velvetlilacsdaisies]

Flames & Weapons pt. i

OC!Fem!Reader x Garrick Tavis, OC!Fem!Reader x Bodhi Durran

Word count: 3.5k

Synopsis: What happens when you attend Basgiath war college as an infantry cadet with your lover, your ride or die best friend and your twin brother? Alot of fucking shit. Follow the story of our oc’s Allie Henrick and Katia Lalley as their bond of friendship remains strong as their dynamics of life change around them. What happens when they meet two fellow first year riders in their first year? Will their world change forever? Then again nothing can be as expected in war college. Stay tuned as our oc's become badass infantry cadets.

Warnings: swearingggg (a lot.), iron flame spoilers???, NO USE OF Y/N!!, mentions of cheating, let me know if we missed anything 🤭

Author’s Note: SURPRISE!! A month in the making thx to my procrastination hehe sorry allie. This is a self indulgent fever dream of a collab between @garricks4thwingqueen (president of the garrick tavis fan club fr) it’s first person original character fic. Primarily focusing on GarrickxOC but with side quests of BodhixOC as well. It’s an entirely new perspective for me to write bc i do y/n pov or third person so this was a treat. We hope you all enjoy!

Three years…three years I had spent in that toxic cesspool of a relationship. For what? For everything I had an intuition about to be true? Fucking incredible. Nothing like being right and a fool, maybe once RSC started Malek could put me out of my misery, and save me from the overwhelming amount of embarrassment I felt. The clock tower in the courtyard sounded alerting it was a quarter to 8, indicating it was almost time for Battle Brief as the chatter in the halls started to die down outside my door.

I sighed, finally rolling myself out of bed after lying there, staring at the ceiling replaying the events of last night since the alarm on my bedside table went off an hour ago, but I was numbly stuck in the warmth of my blankets. What a waste of time… I’ve repeated that to myself for what felt like the umpteenth time that morning.

I barely had enough time to get dressed in the navy blue uniform I grew accustomed to, and put my auburn hair into the slicked-back bun I had to wear, my hair was barely unkempt and uniform not as crisp as the codex required. I was sure to get yelled at by one of the executive lieutenants today, but I didn’t quite care, too numb to feel the usual anxiety I would feel about abiding by the stupid little handbook we were given in the beginning of the year. I dreaded every second of the thought of going to Battle Brief. Being forced into proximity with Zachariah made my stomach churned at the flashbacks of last night.

Minimal conversation was my goal for today, I thought, setting the agenda internally for myself as I walked to Battle Brief. Just make sure my battalion doesn’t do anything stupid and stay in line. I didn’t need to get reprimanded anymore than I probably already would be today. Plus after the night I had prior, I just couldn’t bother with much interaction with anyone. It’s bad enough I had to show up for classes. I put my bag on my shoulder and made sure that my door was locked as I made my way to the academic wing of the infantry quadrant. I was never more thankful for having my own room, one of the primary perks of being a Battalion leader.

I entered the somewhat crowded hall that was used for Battle Brief. A giant map in the middle of the room, showing all of Navarre. Keeping my head down as I made my way to my usual spot.

"Allie you missed breakfast." My best friend, Katia, said concerned. I slid into my seat between her and my twin brother, Drew. He offered a tight-lipped smile in greeting. “You’re going to be sluggish through morning lessons.” She added.

"Fuck off, I’m not gonna die if I miss breakfast." I whispered snappily.

"Eat this," Drew said with a roll of his eyes, ignoring my foul mood, tossing an orange to me.

It landed on my desk with a thud, as I wasn't paying him any mind, no, my sole attention at this point was on my ex and the girl that had her arm wrapped around his waist as they walked into the enormous classroom. "Fucking hells, Chiara Reid?” Drew hissed lowly to us as they walked by.

"Oh shit?" Left the girl besides me lips as they both realized the cause of my current mood. Katia’s eyes now set to a death glare at the pair that passed by.

“I saw them kissing in the library last night. Dumb ass tried denying it all.” I sneered, pushing the lump that had formed in my throat down.

It was the last straw of the tension that had been building between us in the last few weeks. We had been together since we were teenagers, but I guess that hadn’t accounted for anything when you attend war college together.

The last few months were filled with fighting and arguing over his lingering eyes and neglectful behavior. It had driven me mad to the point that I felt crazy for even accusing him of such thoughts of cheating, but last night had confirmed my intuition was right. Fighting the burn in my eyes as silver tears lined them, threatening to spill. I would not get upset over some loser. Katia grabbed my hand, rubbing small circles on the back of it.

“I’m gonna beat his fucking ass.” Drew glowered, gripping his notebook until his knuckles turned white.

"It's not worth it Drew, he's in our squad you know the penalty," I murmured, glancing his way. "I guess I'm out of a best friend now.” He mumbled, slouching in his seat. I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, feeling guilty that I got in the way of their friendship.

Katia scoffed, “You’re more worried about losing a best friend than the fact he treated your sister like shit? Unbelievable Drew…”

“Yeah, well he was my friend first, and I warned him—” My twin grumbled, leaning over me to glare at her.

“Warned him? I fucking told him I’d castrate him if he ever did something to Al. And unlike your pansy ass I fully intend on keeping my promise.” Her green eyes were darkened.

Drew continued to haughtily argue in a hushed whisper with her trying to prove whatever point. I kept opening my mouth to try to shut them up, but they just kept volleying back and forth retorts to one another before I could get a word in.

I rubbed my temples, trying to focus on what our professor was debriefing instead. I didn’t expect my breakup to cause a full argument between the two people closest to me. Any other topic? Yes. Not this though.

Their voices started to raise as they used meaningless insults as jabs towards one another, causing the attention of the cadets around us to look at us. Including Zachariah and Chiara. The girl only had a smug smirk on her face, which made the impreding frustration that had been rising since I woke up grow even more.

“Silence.” Our professor yelled across the room. I slid myself down into my seat, making myself as small as possible in the crowd of infantry cadets now looking our way.

"Henricks', Lalley I didn't realize this was a socializing hour." The professor shouted mockingly. Instantly, Katia and Drew shut up, muttering coy apologies, both embarrassed they were caught.

“Now can we turn our attention back to the map.” The professor continued the lesson. I had to pinch Katia’s arm as she reached behind me to flick Drew on the side of the head. An “ow” leaving her lips as she finally stopped and actually started to take notes for class.

These two would be the death of me…

"Look I know you guys dated for years, but you had a hunch. Think of this as a celebration of a new chapter?” Katia sighed, stopping mid-route in our evening run.

"I just don't feel like doing anything extra this weekend, especially socializing." I groaned, lifting my hands and resting them on top of my head.

"Which is exactly what you need, to socialize." A mischievous glint sparkled in Katia's hazel eyes. I didn't like that glint. She had always been the rebellious one since we became friends years ago. She always got into trouble, and then I had to bail her out or succumb to her ideas. “We should definitely go to Chantara tomorrow night.”

She used any excuse to find a way to party or sneak off campus. I’m surprised I’ve upheld my titles with her as my executive squad leader with the antics she always seemed to get us into.

"This is the one weekend I'd rather just stay in my room—" I started to protest going back into a jog.

"Just humor me, Henrick." She rolled her eyes. "Besides, I'm finding the infantry dating pool rather incestuous at this point." She pointed in her mouth, making a gagging noise as she kept up her pace with me. "Anddddd Garrick and Xaden will be there and you're finally a single woman." She wagged her eyebrows at me. I just rolled my eyes at the suggestive expression on her face knowing what she was thinking.

"Fine." I huffed in the refreshing air of a late summer evening.

"Yay!" She squealed excitedly. "We're gonna have so much fun! Not to mention Garrick looked like he wanted to beat Zach's guts out before Drew stopped him; after the little spat you two had last weekend."

Garrick and Xaden…Any mingling between Riders and Infantry was frowned upon. The codex even goes as far to state there will be no toleration of inter-quadrant dating during a student’s attendance at Basgiath. But that hadn’t stopped us from becoming friends with riders. The four of us hit it off the first night we met.

I thought to myself silently as I thought back to that first night out in town during first year.

"Damn, we both clean up nice." Katia whistled.

She wasn't wrong, despite wearing our infantry winter fur-lined jackets, we looked good. We didn't have to wear our typical uniformed sleek buns, and finally could let our hair down for once. Despite the anxiety that brewed in the pit of my stomach, I was excited that my best friend had convinced me to sneak out.

I shook my head, "You're crazy, you know that right?" She linked her arm with mine, grinning maniacally in response as we left the barracks.

She led me through tunnels and stairs I’ve never been in since we started infantry a few months ago. “How do you know about this?” I asked again. She’s been rather elusive and secretive on how she even learned about Chantara, the town older Basgiath students would frequent on the weekends to drink, party, and shop at.

She pushed her brunette hair over her shoulder, shooting a wink at me. “It’s amazing what intel you can gather with incredible charm, good looks…a few gold coins.”

We reached an ancient iron gate that a couple second years were standing at. The smell of churam filled the air, making my nose scrunch up. The codex said the herb was forbidden from school property?

One of the second years grinned seeing my best friend. “Lalley, you’ve got some guts. I didn’t think you and your friend would actually show up.”

She walked up to the man, her smile alluring radiating under the dim patterns that lined the stone walls. “My promises and threats are never empty.” Reaching into her pocket, she set two gold coins down into the guy’s hand.

He handed a coin back to her, “promise me a game of darts later at Féasta?”

“Yeah, sure.” She replied coolly, her tone sultry. Though I could tell by the look in her eye, that was one promise she wouldn’t be following up on. I was ready to lose my composure, biting my lip to stifle the laugh about to fall from my lips.

His grin grew even broader. “Sweet, just follow the path through the clearing and you’ll see a fork—take the left. We just let a group of riders through not too long ago. Just follow their obnoxiously loud yelling if you’re unsure.”

She linked her arm with mine, using her free hand to wiggle her fingers at the man in goodbye. “Thanks Trey.”

She discreetly dragged me outside a reasonable distance from the gate before I burst out in giggles. “Thanks Trey?” Mocking her flirty tone.

“Listen,” she giggled lightly herself. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. And I’m desperate for a drink and a dance.”

“It must be so hard to be single.” I said sarcastically.

“We all can’t be fortunate to have their hometown sweetheart attend War college with us now can we?” She used her linked elbow to nudge me, causing me to shy away from her. She just pulled me closer. “You owe me the favor of being a wing woman tonight, I’ve covered for you and Zach too many times this year… and we haven’t even made it to squad assignments yet.”

“Whatever you say Kati.” I just rolled my eyes, shaking my head at her.

The walk into Chantara was brisk, as we giggled about what we should expect for our first night out of Basgiath. The town was lively, citizens of the town and students all throughout the town square browsing the market stalls that lined the cobblestone. Strings of lights glimmered lining the stalls, while musicians played on the corners. Everything was so lively to what we were expecting. There were three different taverns in the town square: Féastas, Lúchás, and Doyle’s. We decided to try Lúchás first seeing the group of riders Trey was talking about wandering in there, along with some couple infantry and healers.

“I knew I should have ordered food when I was up there because I’m starving.” My best friend said as she came back to our table with Lavender Lemonades.

The bar wasn’t crazy packed due to the cold weather, but there was a sizable amount of patrons in here. It was cozy, we had a table right next to the hearth, and I could see why most of the patrons were Basgiath students. The music from the band wasn’t ancient sounding, and the barmaids weren’t either. It was very youthful and merry than the taverns we had back home. Scanning over the decent sized room, my eyes landed on the opposite side of the room. On two riders more specifically, the one looked to be Katia’s type. Tall, tanned skin, dark hair. Though a scar marred his eye, it didn’t take away from his handsomeness. He would be perfect for her.

I did promise an attempt at being her wing woman tonight. My eyes kept lingering on the man next to him. He had an inch or two on his friend, longer dark hair that was more styled than his friend's unruly short waves. The most built man I’ve ever seen, Amari had to have designed her herself, his relic a masterpiece expertly marking his bulky biceps. I have a boyfriend…

“Huh?” I said as she was trying to get my attention, my gaze not leaving the far left corner of the room.

“For once would you not be in a daydream!” She chuckled until her gaze followed mine. “Oh wow, they’re hot.” She blurted.

"Shh, don't be that obvious," I said, slapping her shoulder while we both took in two very tall and handsome riders in their black leathers.

“Oh please like they aren’t even looking our way.” She scoffed, taking a sip of her drink.

But they were, well at least the taller one was looking directly at me as his friend tried to get his attention. And I couldn’t help to unabashedly stare back.

Garrick’s POV

“Garrick!” Xaden half raised his voice snapping his fingers at me, drawing my attention back to our usual corner of the tavern.

“What?” I peered over to my best friend.

“Were you even listening to what I said?” He acted annoyed.

‘Don't lie, you weren't.’ Chradh chuckled.

‘Are all dragons as sarcastic and grumpy as you?’ I chidded back getting only a huff of hot air as my answer. "Yeah, something about… OK yeah no."

Xaden chuckled, finally noticing what had caught my attention across the tavern floor. "You're obviously looking at the shorter infantry cadet, aren't you?” He nudged my side. “Only you would be the one to be six-six, and have a thing for extremely short girls, dude. She can’t even be more than five foot nothing dude.” He rattled off.

Xaden had a thing to point out the obvious and be rather talkative once he had a couple drinks in his system. Reminding me of his younger cousin, Bodhi, every time I had drank with him. I paid no mind to his rambling as I walked to the table the two infantry girls sat at.

“Where are you going? You don't even know if she's single." Xaden started to say as I couldn't help myself. I heard my best friend mutter a curse and his footsteps behind me.

"Could I fancy you two ladies to a friendly game of pool?" I asked the two girls. The taller one looked like she was about to speak first, but the shorter cadet with auburn hair was the first to open her mouth.

“Not even a ‘hi what’s your name?’ Typical rider fashion.” She had a brow arched in my direction, causing her best friend to giggle as she teasingly scoffed in my direction. Holding out her hand she beamed up at me. “I’m Allie, and this is Katia.”

That evening was the first night of what started the friendship of two first-year infantry cadets and two first-year rider cadets. Our friendship only grew over the last year as Drew and Zachariah started joining us. Though Drew and Zach were wary of the riders at first due to silly rivalry between the quadrants.

The next night, Katia met me outside in the alcove of the infantry courtyard like we always had since that winter in first year. The only difference was we no longer had to cough up gold coins to pay our way into town, and could go freely.

Our walk into Chantara was enjoyable as today had been the coldest day in July after our new cadets had joined us just a few weeks ago. My heart rate was almost pounding in my chest as we neared the tavern. Why was I so nervous? Yes this was my first trip into the town as a newly single woman, but that didn’t change much? It already felt like I was single by the end of first year anyway, and we’ve been to Chantara plenty of times since then.

We made our way to our usual end of the tavern where our crew usually hung out which now consisted of Drew, Katia, Xaden, Garrick, and myself. I noticed three extra bodies, two I didn't recognize at all but one had a shorter but similar build to Xaden, the second a female abou Katia’s height with short pink hair that was half shaven. Of course, Drew was shamelessly trying to flirt with her. Then there was the familiar mop of curly-haired dirty blonde 20-year-old I'd recognize anywhere.

"Sawyer!" I said excitedly, wrapping my younger cousin into a tight hug.

"Missed you too, Big Al." He chuckled. I flicked his ear at the mocking nickname.

Sawyer was all that Drew and I had left for our family. Our parents were in infantry while Sawyer's were riders and we lost all of them in an ambush on an outpost several years ago, including Katia’s; her mom a rider and father an infantry cadet. The four of us easily had become a found family of our own.

We were introduced to the other new first-year riders; the man that looked like Xaden was his younger cousin, Bodhi, and the pink haired girl was Imogen. I remember Garrick and Xaden telling us stories about them, so it already felt like I somewhat knew them. Bodhi seemed more eager to talk to us than Imogen. She stood by Sawyer and Xaden’s younger cousin a majority of the time. Even as Katia tried to compliment her hair, she offered dry responses. But everyone fell into a familiar session of banter and catching up on what's been going on for the last couple of weeks.

Throughout the night, I got lost in my thoughts. The summertime had the bar packed to the point everything was so overstimulating. The music, the loud chatter, it was too much. Why did I even come here? It was stupid to listen to Katia, I should have just stayed back in my dorm. Everyone seemed to be having a great time, but I wasn’t.

Then I saw the familiar sandy brown hair at the entrance to the tavern. Zachariah. Chiara in tow with him, as I made eye contact with my ex. His face looked as if he saw a ghost, and quickly pulled her to the other side of the bar.

“Allie, what the fuck?” Sawyer was the first to speak up.

“Yeah isn’t that your boyfriend?” Xaden offered a glare towards the shorter man across the crowded room.

“Was her boyfriend,” Katia sneered. “Two timing piece of worthless—”

“Kati.” Drew gave her a look of warning.

“I still haven’t got to fulfill my promise.” She leaned back in the booth, crossing her arms. Xaden, who sat next to her, playfully shoved the side of her head.

“Pipe down, firecracker. You’re not going to do shit.” He smirked, as she swatted his hands away.

“Riorson, it was hair washing day.” She groaned. I rolled my eyes at her dramatics. At all my friend’s dramatics actually. I didn’t want to discuss the newly ended relationship tonight or have it made a big deal. But also I certainly wasn’t expecting Zach to show up with his new girlfriend to the tavern he knew my friends frequented at.

I felt a pair of eyes glance towards me from across the table, looking over I saw Garrick looking at me. His usual hardened look was replaced by a look of concern, his hazel orbs intently focusing on me. He cocked his head towards the back door, signaling me to join him outside. I followed him towards the door, once he got up, and into the cool evening air.

I didn't realize by now that I had tears threatening to escape until Garrick pulled me into his chest and wiped a tear from my cheek.

I had been so focused on lessons and training the past couple days, I hadn’t realized how much I bottled up trying to play it off. I was upset, frustrated, and beyond done.

“It’s okay,” he whispered as my shoulders began to shake from my quiet sobs.

Garrick had always been the one that I was closest to. He always somehow caught a glimpse of the ugly side of things in my relationship and was always conveniently there to pick up the pieces when Zach would storm off.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured against my hair.

Feedback is always appreciated, likes, and reblogs as well!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[crucifiedfaerie]

Gods & Monsters ༉₊˚✧

GodOfDeath!Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader AU

(THIS IS A DARK!FIC PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS AND THE AUTHORS NOTE BEFORE PROCEEDING !!!)

➴ Summary: Death has followed you like a shadow your entire life. After losing everything, you call out to him in a moment of desperation. Maybe that was his plan all along.

➴ Playlist: Track 1 | Track 2 | Track 3 | Track 4 | Track 5 | Track 6 | Track 7 | Track 8 (listen in no particular order, these songs just inspired me)

➴ Word Count: 2.2k

➴ Warnings: 18+ MDNI under any circumstances, DARK!FIC, fem!reader, dom!kylo, a lot of angst, BLOOD, major and minor character death, reader is suicidal, kylo is the god of death, kylo is obsessive, selfish, and manipulative, stalker!kylo, reader is naïve, a little soft!kylo bc he loves her but again he's selfish so should i really call it that ??, soul selling, SMUT (manipulation therefore DUB-CON, very rough sex, unprotected PiV sex, sadist!kylo for a second ??, naked sub/fully clothed dom, dacryphilia kind of, light bruising, blasphemy and sacrilege), typos probably

➴ Taglist: ( @enviedear @capitanostella @teapartydreams )

A/N: guys did i just lowkey write a snuff fic? maybe. (yes) its left up to you to decide if this has a happy ending or not. kylo is selfish and manipulative, yeah, but hes also sexy and in love so idek how to feel myself. @enviedear and i have been playing around with the idea of godofdeath!kylo in our dms so special thanks to liv my beloved <3 i hope you guys enjoy and i also completely understand if some of you aren't chill with the themes of this fic.

It appeared that death followed you wherever you went, trailing behind you like an invisible shadow you couldn't escape. It started when you were younger with any pet you would get mysteriously dying, you don't know when but at some point you had given up on trying to keep them. Friends and family followed suit over the years, all of them as tragic as the last one. It was as if Death was puppeteering your life, tugging on the strings that held your heart together... and you didn't quite understand why.

You couldn't seem to remember what it was you'd been thinking about on your walk home. Maybe it was what your mother had decided to make for dinner. You stared at the pot still boiling in the eerily quiet kitchen. Or perhaps it was how you had promised your sister you'd play with her when you came home. Your eyes darted to the toys that had been carelessly scattered over the floor of your family's shared bungalow, noticing how a light mist of crimson coated them.

You tried to remember, but one singular word kept interrupting your thoughts. Blood. All you could smell... was blood.

You tried to scream but it was as if the air had been stolen from your lungs. All you could see was red. Red. Red everywhere. On the floors. On the walls. When you saw them, the shriek that escaped your heaving chest pierced the silence of your home, bouncing off the walls and ringing in your ears.

Your family was dead. Slaughtered and discarded on the floor as if they were simply livestock.

As you backed away, you nearly slipped in the puddle you realized you were standing in. The sticky, wet sound your shoes made as you moved was revolting and you felt acid burning at your throat. You stumbled into the living room, just barely making it to the soft carpet before falling to your knees. You heaved, but nothing happened, your empty stomach having nothing for your body to forcibly expel.

You collapsed to the floor, body wracked with sobs. You screamed and screamed until you thought your vocal cords might tear.

Gone. They're all gone.

You don't know how long it had been. Maybe hours, maybe days. You laid there, your screams subsided to sobs and you wanted nothing more than to be with them... No, you wanted to be them.

Why couldn't it have been me? Why my mother? Why my sister? Please, I just want to die. Please Please.

For what felt like an eternity, you silently begged for death. How ironic, you thought, that you begged for the thing that had taken everything from you. You had already dealt with plenty of loss to last you several lifetimes, and now you had lost the last two people you loved. There was no physical pain on this planet that would ever compare to what you felt now. You only wanted it to be over.

You saw something out of the corner of your eye. A tall, dark figure, lurking in the shadowy corner of the room. You looked up, attempting to blink the tears from your raw eyes, unable to make out any distinct features of the being that stood before you.

"You- Did you do this?!" You sobbed. "Did you k-kill my..." You couldn't even say it. If you said it out loud, that meant it was real.

The figure stepped forward, allowing light from the window to cast down upon him. Your teary eyes widened as you realized who this man... this being, was. The aquiline nose, dark locks, and scar that trailed down his cheek you'd recognize anywhere. Kylo Ren, the God of Death, stood before you. You had only heard of him in legends, but he was even more marvelous looking in person.

"I do not take. I only collect." Ren said firmly, yet a hint of compassion laced his words, making you feel... safe? In any other situation, you would have laughed at the idea of feeling safe around the literal personification of death itself, but you were in no mood for laughing. He continued. "I hear souls call out to me, and I answer."

"My family... who did this? Why wasn't I-" You choked out, weakly pointing to the adjacent room behind you. You began to sob again, feeling hot tears run down your face.

"Raiders..." Ren knelt on the floor in front of you, getting down to your level before continuing. "Sweet, mourning lamb, there's nothing you could have done. They went quickly, I made sure of that." He reached out a large hand to gingerly wipe the tears from your face, and you melted into the divine warmth of his fingers.

"Did you come b-back for me too? Please, I don't want to be here anymore- I can't do it without them, please! I'm nothing!" You begged him through sobs.

"Not to me." Ren sighed calmly, a sympathetic smile resting on his expression. "I do not answer the calls of souls whose time are not up... but you're different, special..." He trailed off, his voice still firm but sounding like he was was pondering something.

"I don't understand..." Your voice was just above a whisper.

Ren paused for a moment, the two of you sitting in silence as his dark eyes scanned yours. He held out his hand to you and finally spoke. "I want you to join me. Let it all die, let everything go, and I will give you what you so wish for."

Your eyes widened at his request, staring into his intense gaze. "Join you?" You croaked.

He nodded slightly. "Rule by my side, little lamb. I feel so drawn to you, I always have... And I know you've felt it too." His tone was soft, but there was a small shred of desperation there.

"And everyone I love? My family and friends?... Will I see them again?" You began to turn your head to look at the door to the kitchen, but a strong hand grabbed your chin at light speed, turning your head to look at him again.

"No- You're still... Holding on! Let go!" Ren raised his voice, startling you. He was inches from your face and his eyes were filled with pure panic, as if he were afraid you were changing your mind.

Memories of your family and friends played like a movie reel in your head. So many moments that you'd never get back. They were gone, and you'd never see them again. What's done is done and you had nothing now.

But as you stared into Ren's wild, dark eyes, you saw an offer being handed to you that you couldn't refuse. An option to never be alone again. To forget every detail of your life as it stands. To not feel the pain that laid so heavily on your heart and soul.

I understand.

You inhaled sharply before placing your shaking and much smaller hand in his. "I'll join you." You said it so quietly, you weren't sure if he had even heard it.

Ren certainly did, however, and within seconds he pounced, closing the gap between you. It was as if your words were an invitation he had been eagerly waiting for and his warm lips crashed into your cold, trembling ones. You felt every emotion at once coursing through your body, and you thought you might spontaneously combust at any moment.

The kiss of death.

He did not pull away though, he only continued to kiss you with more urgency. He pushed you backwards until your back was pressed against the plush carpet. When you touched him, he felt like he was made of marble. As if you needed any more emphasis on the fact that this was no human man that loomed over you.

Ren's large hands began to explore your body, his fingers running along your sides, causing a warm bolt of electricity to shoot through your core. You instinctually moaned against his mouth, and you felt him smirk.

He trailed his mouth down your neck, leaving red and purple marks, before pulling away to admire his work. "You already look so divine in this life... I can't begin to imagine what you'll look like in the next." Ren's voice was low, smooth, and his words dripped with honey. It elicited another moan from you, causing him to let out a dark chuckle.

At near light speed, he practically ripped your clothes off, pulling your shirt over your head first before making quick work of your pants and underwear. You were left naked and writhing on the floor as you watched him work at his belt, kneeling over you.

You couldn't help but think of how morally wrong this all was. This was no simple kiss of death... No, this was blasphemous. Sacrilegious in every sense of the word and you... loved it. You loved how your body betrayed you every chance it got, ignoring every single alarm bell that rang in the part of your brain that clutched onto what little was left of your sanity. It was exhilarating.

With quick fingers, Ren freed his cock from the confines of his pants, causing it to spring upwards. You marveled at him, wondering if maybe this was his weapon of choice. Maybe he would impale you on his dick and literally fuck you to death. You saw him smirk as if he had heard your thought. He most certainly did.

You watched, your body trembling, as he lined himself up with your entrance. Ren did not give you a moment to think before slamming himself into you, bottoming out within seconds. Your view of him was clouded by white-hot stars and he watched as your face contorted from the pain and pleasure of being split in two by him.

Ren's thrusts were erratic, unrelenting as he plowed into your cunt. His fingers dug into your hips, surely leaving bruises... not that it would matter tomorrow. You were completely cock drunk, under some divine spell he had surely cast over you. "Feels... s-s-so.... g-" You trailed off, lost in the violent pleasure he inflicted on your small frame.

He chuckled at your futile attempt to form a sentence. "Look at you, little lamb. Already coming undone at my hand. You want release so badly don't you?" His voice was full of compassion but his words were laced with darkness.

You knew it wasn't only your impending climax that he was referring to. You whined, your eyes welling with tears as you nodded frantically. "Please." You let out in a choked sob.

Ren let out a moan and angled his hips to thrust into you deeper, hitting your g-spot again and again with each erratic snap of his hips. He leaned down slowly, his hair tickling your cheek. "Then let go, sweet thing. Let everything go." He whispered in your ear.

You became putty in Ren's hands as you came, clenching around his cock as he continued to violently plow into you. His lips found yours and he kissed you with wild desperation. After a few more thrusts, he followed suit, bottoming out one last time and letting out a groan as he came deep inside of your cunt.

As you came down from your high, you watched hazily as he fumbled with something on the side of his belt. Ren looked down at you with adoration, and with a swift movement of his hand, you felt ice-cold metal pressed against your naked chest.

When you looked down, it took you a moment to process what had happened. Ren had impaled you through the chest with his lightsaber... yet you felt no pain. Only an intense warmth that radiated through every cell of your body.

Your eyes darted up to his face, illuminated in the crimson glow of his weapon. His expression was soft, attentive. You tried to speak but only a choked whine came out, the air having been stolen from your lungs by the fiery plasma that crackled inside of you.

Ren quickly brought his hand up to hold the side of your face, wiping stray tears and gently stroking your jaw with his thumb. You didn't even realize you had started crying again and you began to taste copper. "Shhh, don't be frightened my mourning lamb. It will all be over soon, just let go... Let go, and you will be mine forever..." His voice was deep but it had a sickeningly sweet quality to it.

You couldn't fully decipher what he was saying, so you focused on how nice he sounded instead. How merciful, you thought, for this voice to be the last one you'd ever hear on this mortal plane.

Your vision began to tunnel in on Ren's face. You thought you heard him call you his mourning lamb. What was it you were mourning again? You couldn't seem to remember what originally got you into this situation. You couldn't seem to remember anything. Anything besides Kylo Ren, that is.

"Finally... At last, you are mine."

The last thing you saw was the smile on his face. There was something... dark about it. His eyes were intense and he looked excited, as if he were finally getting something he'd been waiting ages for. Before you could dwell on it for too long though, everything went black.

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

It seems that Vhagar is the only living, breathing creature that still cares about Aemond. His sister is apathetic at the prospect of his death, his mother sold him and his brother to Rhae Rhae knowing that it's was death sentence, he probably will never interact with Daeron, and I'm pretty sure that Alys will work against him. As far as I'm concerned, he should just take the granny and give her the best time of her life, inflict as much damage to the blacks as possible and then die, but not before forcing the morally grey™ Rogue prince to do the same.

And it's crazy, but they managed to get me, once a staunch Alicent supporter, to scroll through anti Alicent Hightower tag and just agree with almost everything. Her character assassination was appalling, not only the book Alicent would never, but ep 1-8 Alicent would never. I wish I could erase this horrendous season from my memory. Idk if you've read what Hess said, but according to her, Alicent in the scene at Dragonstone with Rhaenyra realised that she never really sacrificed anything and that's why she agrees to sacrifice her son(s) for "peace". Also, she claims that the writers' intention was to make the audience believe how everything is finally going to be alright because these two women are friends and will work it though, but then *gasp* we see Aegon leaving in the cart and we realize that the war is still going to happen because Rhaenyra will think that Alicent deceived her!!. She must be proud of herself. I can't believe how vile and deranged these writers and showrunners sound (and maybe even are).

Hello!

I lost count how many times I read these words (or even wrote them myself) in the span of the last week but this show is an absolute mess. And it's not just about the stupidest bias, the quality of the script or the lack of subtlety with which the writers are shoving their views on the characters' relationships down our throats. It's also the fact that every person involved in the creative process has theit own view on what's going on - and sometimes these views are diametrically opposed. Take Olivia saying that in her mind Alicent wanted to spit in Rhaenyra's face when she asked her to give Aegon up but mentioning she doesn't know how the material was edited yet - and the writers going all "Oh, she is liberated now! She is atoning for her sins!" (which sins exactly, by the way?). In what world is this situation okay? The actors are barely hiding their dissatisfaction about the plot - and the writers just keep doing their thing which is talking absolute nonsense. Stellar project, well done, HBO.

I am still in the "don't hate the characters, hate the writers" mindset (and have no plans to change it) - but did the writers do Alicent dirty. They dehumanized Aemond the most - but Alicent drew maximum humiliation card. Self flagellation in front of the woman who is an active threat to her children's (and to her own life)? Selling said children (at least her sons) to said woman? Amazing character development.

And as for Aemond, I have the feeling that Vhagar will be his only friend and ally as well (unless the writers turn their own story on its head and have Alys fall head over hills in love with him or something like that). At least, hopefully, he will have nothing to do with Helaena's death (I am pretty sure they will make it the fault of someone from TG - B&C wasn't made into a joke for nothing after all).

This show has become so draining recently, istg.

[victorbutnotreally]

I don't know - Kim Seungmin x Male Reader

genre: angst

warnings: major character death, mentions of car accident, suicide, self-harm, mentions of coma, swearing, implied depression.

11-8-23

It's been two days since Seungmin got into a car crash. I couldn't bring myself to write the first two days, I barely left the hospital room. God, it hurts so much to see him like that..I can't do this. But he'll get better. I know that. He's not weak…he isn't. We still have that show to watch. I have uncanny counter on my watchlist and I'm not gonna watch it without him.

12-8-23

I'm gonna rip off this page and show it to you, Seung. You're so precious to me. I'll always be there for you. I know you know that already, but I wanted to say it anyway. I almost lost you. You looked so peaceful in that coma, but I was so distraught. I didn't know if you'd wake up…you know I hate not knowing things. I didn't know if you could hear me, or feel anything. I didn't know anything, Min…anything. Future me is gonna be so happy when you wake up. But just know that I believed in you since day 1. I knew you'd wake up. There's no way you wouldn't.

14-8-23

I'm losing hope. He isn't getting any better. Nothing's changing. But I think he'll be fine. He'll probably be fine. I don't know what I'll do without him. He's been by my side since we were babies and I don't know if I'll be able to function properly without him. But…everything's going to be fine. Everything will be okay.

15-8-23

Why isn't he waking up? I'm angry at everything. The world, that drunk bastard who hit my best friend's car, myself for some reason. I know there's no way I could've prevented this, but if I had driven him, maybe, just maybe, none of this would've happened. I don't even believe in God, but why did he let that happen? How could god let such a beautiful soul suffer? He's only 23. He's my everything, and the universe is taking him away from me.

16-8-23

I would've done anything to be in his place, to take away the pain he must be feeling. I wish it was just an organ that had something wrong with it, so I could save him. I'm praying to whatever God there is, just so he could at least let me know he's still there. Just for him to move an eyelid. He doesn't deserve this. He never did and he never will. But I'll stay by his side. I promise.

20-8-23

How is it going, future me? I haven't done anything these past few days, but you already know that. I can't get out of bed and I can't bring myself to eat. But you have to do better, okay? Min could wake up any day and I know he wouldn't want to see me like this. I feel so useless…I don't even know if he can hear me. I've been talking to him, hoping he could hear me, since the day of his accident. But I can't go there anymore…I want to, but I can't see him like that. I can't see him looking like he's dead.

22-8-23

Writing in this goddamn book is the only thing keeping me sane. I still have the entry I need to show Seungmin. I have to show him that myself if when he wakes up. I'm so ashamed of myself… I cut myself just so I could feel something. I can hear his fucking voice in my head calling me an idiot and telling me to stop. But I wanted to feel something. I'm sorry, Seungmin. I know I said I wouldn't do it again all those years back, but I just had to.

23-8-23

Seungmin loved these kinds of dates. 23-8-23..sounds pretty cool. I don't have anything to write, but the date reminded me of him.

24-8-23

I went to the hospital today. It's been a few days since I visited, and I thought he'd be better. But he looked worse, if that was possible. He looked so pale and so fragile. But hey, I look worse too, and I'm alive here. Is that the right word? I don't know. I told him I was sorry for breaking my promise and cutting myself. I kissed his cheek. He doesn't really like kisses, but I know he does. Idiot. I really hoped he'd feel that kiss and wake up to swat my hand away or something.

25-8-23

He's gone. he's dead. my best friend is dead. my Seungmin is dead. why should i live . how could you seungmin? he wouldnt want me to cry so fucking much over him but i don't know if i can even keep living at this rate. i don't know. i don't know and i hate it so much

26-8-23

would i be horrible for not attending his funeral? i can't go and see him dead. he once joked about wanting me to show up to his funeral in cartoon clothes. and i told him that i'd die first. that was kind of my biggest wish, to die before him.

27-8-23

we love him so much. i could see the members trying to keep it together, especially chan hyung… some of them were just broken. they looked as dead as he did. i couldn't bear to look at his family. i wanted to be a good friend. go and comfort them. or something. but i couldn't. should i just end it all? follow that dumbass everywhere like i said i would? at the time, i only meant that damn roller coaster i was scared of, but i'd really follow him everywhere.

28-8-23

i visited his grave. i never thought i'd visit his grave. never. but i wanted to apologize again. for everything.

29-8-23

i can hear his voice in my ears sometimes and i hate it so much. i miss him. i'm scared that the voice would fade.

2-9-23

i can't remember his scent. i have his perfume, but i can't remember what he smelled like. i don't know. i don't know what to do.

3-9-23

i always used to write dates like 3/9/23. one day, i saw his notebook and it he wrote it with dashes in between. it looked so pretty to me, so neat. everything reminds me of him. i didn't know that losing someone would make me sound so cliche. is this me trying to be funny? was that a joke? i let out a huff of air. seungmin would've rolled his eyes for sure.

4-9-23

i can hear his voice fade. i don't want to be alive when it's gone. i don't know how i made it this long. everything hurts. maybe it'll get better. apparently everything gets better. but even if it does, even if i recover, seungmin would still not be there to make fun of me or hug me. i won't get to see his smile in real life again.

5-9-23

its a rainy night. stars and raindrops. is it him? telling me he's okay? but i'm not okay.

BREAKING NEWS: MN LN OF STRAY KIDS FOUND DEAD

[vinnystarman]

EDDSWORLD LORE ANALYSIS BUT I'M ABSOLUTELY DERANGED!!!!

"Wait this thing has LORE????" Yes!!! IT HAS LORE

I just rewatched eddsworld for the 2334idfk443th time in a row and realized I haven't seen (not that there isn't I just haven't seen) people talking about the fact that the series seems to have a really weird (and quite frankly fragile) canon, this goes to some minor details like differences between the stages of the series (retro, classical, legacy and beyond) and other stuff like how I think we actually kind of know what in the actuall hell was Tord even doing in those 8 years between his original departure and the end in eddsworld legacy BUT I'M GETTING AHEAD OF MYSELF before we start I want to make some points clear for the sake of clarity:

☆ I will be talking about the series and it's characters specifically in the context of the series, for example: I know why Tord the irl person left the series but I would be speaking only about Tord's (the character) departure, the same goes to any other irl event that had an impact on the series

☆ keep in mind this is only what I think (even though I think i'm absolutely right about everything) so if you disagree in any of my points that's absolutely fine!

☆ I will be speculating about future stuff so take all of those bits with a grain of salt because i'm a great observer but (unfortunatelly) not god so I can't acurrately see the future lolz

so…. how do we start?

well… we could start strong by one of the most interesting points I thought about!

as ridiculous as it sounds, i'm pretty convinced that Tom always knew about Tord's laboratory! and I have proof of it actually

one of the most solid proof I have appears in the episode "The Snogre" to be fair, that episode is gonna come up A LOT in this so you might want to re watch it first :3

in the minute 1:57 Tom apears with a "snow tank" that he uses to defeat the snogre, later, him and Edd have this exchange:

How'd you build that snow tank so fast?

Snow tank? (the snow falls off the ACTUALL TANK TOM CASUALLY IS OPERATING???)

this tank has the (i don't know how to call it so let's just say) serial number "CDT-01" which at the time was a nice little nudge to "moving targets" since it's the same tank the guys use in that episode but in this post "The end" world it should be noted that the "CDT-01" tank also appears in the minute 3:25 meaning up to that point the only way to access the tank was getting into Tord's laboratory and figure out what to press to get it (This tank might also be the one portrayed in movie makers but it's most likely that they are the same tank since they have the same serial number and in moving targets, this tank is stolen from Paul in that same episode AND THIS IS RELATED TO SOMETHING ELSE THAT I'M GONNA SAY HERE SO IT'S NOT A PLOT HOLE OK? BARE WITH ME)

the second one is that the lab was in Tom's room aka Tord's old room, this is the primary reason why Tord came back anyways, to get back to his laboratory (OR IS IT)

This is what I think happened:

Tom found a really suspicious button behind two frames (or one) maybe when he was moving his stuff into it and painting the walls (I highly doubt Tord had blue walls on his room), made a little mess trying to figure out what the actual fuck was going on, realized what it was and decided not to tell the guys because well… as we can see they LOVE pressing buttons and Tom knew it was gonna end up in catastrophe and shut his mouth because of that

that aside of ourselves, my second point:

The real reason why Tord was so hostile to Tom in the end wasn't (or at least not exclusively) because of his rivarly with him but more so because Tord wanted to capture monster Tom!

what do I mean by this? well to understand my point we need to understand how (i think) Tord and his army were operating at that time:

The red army as a whole has only been described once at this point in time and it was in the episode "Fun Dead" in the second 0:08 by the news lady as "Armed vigilantes" that were controlling the Zombie situation (that they [even though accidentally] caused) this meaning that as for now they aren't seen as a threat, on the contrary! They were helping the population! and maybe i'm giving Tord too much credit for this but I bet THAT (beeing seen as vigilantes and not some terrorist group) was intentional, you see, Tord is smart and a little manipulative, the most "evil" thing to do was letting the zombie infection run free and then take control of the post apocaliptic, in shambles world but he didn't, Why? you may ask; because he is more treacherous than Judas, that's why, maybe i'm looking a little too much into this but if this is the route he is going he would need more than one threat right? this is where monster Tom comes into play, I DON'T KNOW WHY ANY OF YOU HAVE EVER ASKED IT BUT WHY DID TOM BECAME A MONSTER RANDOMLY IN POWEREDD? I know it was hinted before that maybe he is half demon somehow??? BUT LIKE… MAYBE I'M DUMB BUT THAT'S WEIRD. And as the scientist he is (why don't I see more scientist Tord fanart?) Tord asked himself the same question, we know that because when we took a look into his laboratory we saw that he was studying monster Tom as it's shown in the end part 2 in the minute 2:42 (THIS GUY'S LAB IS SO MUCH TO UNPACK) this indicates that it isn't crazy to assume he was trying to take Tom out of his senses to get to monster Tom, because as we can see in that same episode he is wanted by the authorities for a large amount of money, probably because they got caught doing some sketchy stuff so, in an attempt to hype up his organization's reputation once more he tried to cause another problem for them to solve

this is what I think happened: Tord somehow knew about monster Tom and realized he could use him not only as another way to make his organization look like heroes to the public eye but also for studying (and maybe experimentation but not really sure since at that point Tord already had that weird chemical that gave life to stuff and converted people to zombies) he assumed the way to get to the monster was making Tom furious so that's what he tried, that's why he was specially hostile to Tom, that's why he was so surprised when Tom left the house (because i've seen people assume that was his objective but if it was then why did he looked so taken aback?)

continuing with Tord my next point is: We kind of know what Tord was up to all along and i'm not so sure he created the red army

WHAAAT???? VINCENT YOU ARE CRAZY FOR THAT ONE!!! WHAT MADE YOU THINK THAT TORD DIDN'T CREATED THE RED ARMY? THAT'S LITERALLY HIS TRADE MARK!!! HE IS THE RED LEADER, EVERYWHERE HE GOES THE RED ARMY SYMBOL APPEARS!!!

well yes, that is true but just because he later on becomes the red leader it doesn't mean he created the red army as it is.

let me explain: in the episode "moving targets" not only do we are shown Tord's fondness of militaristic activities but also in the minute 6:12 we see Paul and some unnamed enemy base guard (that i'm pretty sure had a fanon name but I completely forgot oh well) and you may ask "ok so what?" ... Sir that's Paul, this openly states that before he joined the red army, Paul was with this other random army which if you look closely has a suspiciously similar design to the red army's uniform, not only that but again, in Tord's lab we can see a picture of 4 people (minute 2:42) and these people are: Tord, the enemy base guard marked with a big X (maybe he's dead or simply left the army), Paul and Patryck, this meaning that Tord knew them from before, now, as always, here is what I think happened: After his departure in the episode 25ft under the seat, Tord at some point found the enemy army from the episode moving targets and considering how the gang messed them up they weren't in the best conditions, so at some point between the episodes movie makers and space face Tord takes control of this army and makes it HIS red army, this could've been by force or (what I see more plausible but who knows) joined the army as it is and began working his way up until he ended up leader of it CONTINUING WITH TORD BECAUSE HE IS A SNEAKY BASTARD (i love him i hate him so much) WHAT IS GOING ON WITH HIS LAB??? Tord's laboratory even though solves some questions it opens up even MORE questions like these: HOW DID HE KNEW ABOUT MONSTER TOM IF HE ONLY APPEARED IN POWEREDD AND THAT EPISODE AIRED LONG AFTER HE LEFT?? WHY DOES HE HAVE BARRELS OF THE WEIRD LIFE-GIVING CHEMICAL FROM "THE SNOGRE" AND "FUN DEAD" IF THAT ALSO HAPPENED LONG AFTER HIS DEPARTURE??? WHY DID HE INSTALLED A SECURITY SYSTEM IN THE HOUSE???

WHAT DOES THE MAP WITH THE NOTE MEAN???

well I have answers for 3 of those 4 questions, so, hear me out on this one: Tord kept using his laboratory even after he left. THIS SOUNDS CRAZY AND IT IS BUT HEAR ME OUT.

in the end part one, even though he was let in by edd Tord tried to sneak into Tom's room anyway, and he did it in a way that showed that maybe, just maybe it wasn't his first time doing it and if we look at it from a strategic perspective it's basically the perfect place to hide something like that.

it's a place that no one would search him in because well... at that point it had been years since he left, it's just a normal house where three friends live, nothing suspicious going on with that so if he had his laboratory right there it would be convenient... Really convenient, this is the reason he has stuff from stuff he couldn't have possibly had from before, that's why he had time to build his giant robot, he had all the time he was living there and also when he wasn't, that's what he knew about monster tom. that's why he had pictures of his army friends, that's why he had the chemical, because he never truly left.

this would also make my first idea even more possible because Tom wasn't even surprised to see Tord's laboratory in his room and Tord wasn't surprised either to see Tom there, this meaning that maybe somehow they had seen eachother before, maybe while Tord was sneaking in or out and Tom in an act of friendship decided to not get Edd or Matt involved for their own good

AND NOW, LET'S STOP SPEAKING ABOUT TORD FOR A MOMENT BECAUSE I NEED TO SAY SOMETHING ABOUT EDD.

IS FUTURE EDD GONNA PROTAGONIZE THE COMICS MATT SPOKE ABOUT IN HIS UPDATES VIDEO?????

I HAVE PLENTY OF REASONS TO THINK THAT WE ARE GOING TO SEE MORE ABOUT THE FUTURE BRIEFLY POSTRAYED IN WTFUTURE BECAUSE IF WE TAKE AN ACTUALL LOOK AT THE TEASERS MATT SHOWED THEY SHOW A FUTURISTIC CITY WITH DRONES AND SOMEONE WITH EDD'S DISTINCT HAIR AND FUTURE EDD'S COAT ENTERING A BUILDING THROUGH THE WINDOW SO IN MY OPINION WE ARE GOING TO GET EVEN MORE INSIGHT ON HOW'S THE WORLD DOING UNDER THE RED LEADER'S LEADERSHIP WHOHOOOOO long live cola

that aside because I got overly happy when I remembered that

WHAT IS GOING ON WITH THE LOBSTERS.

in the episodes "the surf and turf wars pt 1 and 2" we are presented with a new problem, for the ones that haven't seen it or don't remember, in the episodes, Matt gets turned into a lobster monster by a chemical with dubious origin, we actually have a name for this chemical! it's named "NM-8" and ok, this is maybe a far FAR stretch BUT I CAN'T POSSIBLY BE THE ONLY ONE WITH THE THEORIE THAT MAYBE, JUST MAYBE THIS CHEMICAL IS AN ADVANCED FORMULA OF THAT LIFE-GIVING CHEMICAL OF TORD'S I say this since both substances have similar effects, and according to this, in the same episode, the barrel of nm-8 ends up there anyways because while transporting the chemical THAT IS WIDELY STATED THE ORIGIN OF IT IS HIGLY CONFIDENTIAL NO QUESTIONS ASKED the ship hits a bump and when the captain asked "what happened" is sent to the brig because he broke the rule of not asking questions, this leading to the barrel falling overboard and ending up in the beach where it's found by Matt and the episode continues

who would need such level of secretism? who would need that much confidentiality? well I have certain people in mind, if we think about it from a narrative perspective it would make sense for the chemical to be property of the same guy (or guys) that made the other chemical to be responsible for it, maybe in some elaborate scheme to finally get back at the world after the giant robot fiasco and hey, maybe it was impossible before but now with the Tord Youtooz? WITH TORD APPEARING IN MATT'S VIDEO AS AN INTERRUPTION WITH THE STYLE OF A STOLEN TV SIGNAL???? IT'S PLAUSIBLE AND IT WOULD MAKE A LOT OF SENSE! but as always that is only speculation, I can't see the future, just theorize and communicate what I think and let's be honest, the next episode will probably be about the guys cleaning up the lobster mess (WHICH IS AMAZING AND I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE) but always remember, Tord ends up taking the world in the future anyways so stopping him right now, whatever he is up to is not really an option unless someone comes back from the future to help

AND THAT'S ALL SORRY IF IT'S MESSY, I STARTED WRITING THIS AT 3 AM AND HAD TO WRITE IT IN SEPARATED MOMENTS SO YEAH THE CONTINUITY IS NOT GREAT AND ALSO ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LENGUAJE SO YEAHHHHHH

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia - Chapter 8: The Woes of Womanhood (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 8: The Woes of Womanhood

With the return of Prince Daemon, and Princess Rhaenyra, the Red Keep braces itself for the inevitable implosion of scandal once more.

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 |

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist | 

Warnings: Nothing of note, except longgg chapter ahead. Alicent, Daemon and Rhaenyra interactions ahead!

Word Count: 7.1k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out! 

A/N: hello all! i'm sorry for this very late and much needed update to se zaldrizoti' prumia, which is why this chapter is longer than usual haha. my exams are finally over and i'm on break now, so i will be devoting myself to writing more all the way till school starts again.

also: i added in an extra rhaenyra and reader interaction at the end of chapter 7. it's not crucial to the understanding of the plot, but it does explain why rhaenyra is significantly more civil with the reader in this chapter, so do check it out :) if you're lazy to go back and read it, here's a separate post i made of it! happy reading!

p.s. check the a/n at the end for some future plans I have for this fic :)

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

109 years after Aegon’s Conquest, 5 months later 

The persistent cries of a babe echoed throughout the Queen’s chambers, and the wet nurses and nannies watched with pity as Alicent attempted to soothe a wailing Helaena, to no success. “Shh, it’s alright, Helaena. Don’t fuss, please,” Alicent implored softly, looking a little close to tears herself. 

The doors to the nursery opened quietly, and you stepped in, concern etched on your face upon hearing all the crying. The skirts of your dark red gown swished as you walked, alerting the people in the room to your presence. Stark relief was painted on their faces as you walked over to Alicent and she handed Helaena wordlessly over to you. You adjusted Helaena in your arms, cooing at her softly, “There, there, little princess. Ry iksos sȳrī, dōna dārilaros.” Gradually, Helaena started to calm down, staring up at you with wide purple eyes as you sang a soft lullaby in Valyrian to her. When her eyelids finally fluttered shut, you gently placed her back in the cradle, rocking her a few more times for good measure. 

Alicent was sitting in her bedchambers adjoining the nursery, head bent, looking weary. Nonetheless, she shot you a smile as you entered the room quietly, moving to pour her a cup of tea. “I fear sometimes I would be bereft without you” Alicent’s voice was soft, as you walked over to her, handing her the cup of tea. “I would feel like a hollow shell without you.” 

“Don’t say things like that,” you comforted her, “You know you’re doing the best you can.” “And yet, I can barely soothe mine own daughter who is only five moons old,” Alicent bit her lip, cradling her cup of tea. You could tell from the nervous bobbing of her throat that she wanted to pick at her nails again, which was why you brewed her the cup of tea. She was unable to pick at her nails if she was holding something hot. And so it had become habit for you to hand her a cup of hot tea whenever she was distressed like this. 

“Not everyone is born to be a natural at parenting, Alicent,” you consoled her. “And babes are difficult to understand, much less comfort.” “I am the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, if I cannot even be an adequate mother to my own children, how do I even bear the title of ‘Mother of the Realm’?” Alicent sighed, looking downcast. “My children are more taken with you than they are with me. It is a little disheartening to see.” You inched closer to her, and she placed one of her hands in yours, another holding onto her teacup. You squeezed her hand gently - another strange habit that the two of you had unconsciously developed. It reminded you so much of Rhaenyra, and your thoughts wandered to her, and how she was faring on her marriage tour. 

In truth, apart from Helaena, Alicent was still mulling about the conversation with her father nearly six moons ago. Though Otto had not brought up the subject in earnest again, Alicent had noticed Otto’s visits to her apartments increase over the past few moons. His visits, which were already quite frequent, had built up to a daily occurrence, with Alicent uncomfortably glancing at her father as his green eyes rested on you whilst you bustled around, serving the both of them or soothing Alicent's children. Alicent was compelled to do something, anything, to warn you of her father’s deepening interest in you, but with Helaena’s birth and her still acclimating to the duties of a Queen, as well as her uncertainty over her father’s intentions, she had kept mum. 

“You know,” Alicent’s voice startled you out of your train of thoughts. “You would make a great mother someday. Should you wish to marry, of course.” “Are you chasing me away from your service, my Queen?” you teased her playfully. Alicent’s eyes widened with panic, “Oh no, I was just mentioning- since you are wonderful with Helaena and Aegon and-” You squeezed her hand lightly, “I was just jesting, Alicent. I know you meant it as a compliment.” Alicent’s shoulders loosened slightly, as she laughed. “Oh. Forgive me, Y/N. My mind was occupied. But I really do mean it, you know,” she said earnestly. You smiled at her, though it did not reach your eyes. Your thoughts were still consumed by the conversation you had with your father at the Kingswood. The past six moons have been devoid of any correspondence from your father, something you would have greatly relished all those moons ago. Yet now, it only served to make you feel like you were on the edge of a cliff, unsure when you would plummet. You shook it off, not wanting to feel the unpleasant crawling feeling under your skin whenever you thought about your father. 

“In truth,” you began quietly, “I already am a mother.” Alicent looked puzzled. “I do not know whether I will be fated to be a mother of my own children in this lifetime, but in my view, you are like a daughter to me, Alicent. So in a way, I already am a mother.” Alicent’s eyes grew misty, as she said quietly, “I feel you are akin to a mother to me as well, Y/N. Words cannot express my gratitude towards you for your guidance over the past few years.” You smiled, moving to brush one of Alicent’s loose strands of hair out of the way. 

The both of you were interrupted by the sound of a soft knock at the door as another lady-in-waiting of Alicent’s, Lady Eliza Butterwell, a shy maid of fourteen entered the room and curtsied. 

“I apologise for the disturbance, Your Grace. But the King has called for the court to gather in the throne room.” Alicent’s brows furrowed. “Whatever for?” Her next words shot an odd thrill through you, one that you haven’t felt in several years. “Prince Daemon has returned to King’s Landing on Caraxes, Your Grace. With a crown.” 

The way to the throne room was swarmed with courtiers, but you were fortunate enough to find yourself as one of the spectators at the front. You caught a few faint whispers as you walked into the throne room, "Daemon..." "The Triarchy, all dead..." "The Myrish have never been more humiliated!" "At last, my ships can travel through the shipping lanes without fear of being attacked again..."

You played with the rings on your fingers nervously as you watched Viserys sit himself on the throne, his expression brooding. He afforded you a small nod when he glimpsed you in the crowd, to which you replied with a small bow of your head. Your eyes were so busy watching the entrance however, that you failed to notice the watchful gaze of Otto Hightower on you. His gaze soon turned away when Viserys caught him looking at you, his lips pressed together. 

It all came to an end however, as the crowd quieted, and the distant clink of armour could be heard. Your eyes were narrowed and your eyebrows furrowed as Daemon swaggered into the hall. Your eyes were drawn to his now shortened hair, and a crude makeshift of a crown seated upon his head. You could sense a change in him, and not just in appearance. 

Your lips turned downwards as Daemon sauntered too close to the throne, and was met with the sword of a Kingsguard to his abdomen. The fool. Your eyes narrowed even further when Daemon lifted a beaten hammer at Viserys, seemingly in challenge. 

“Add it to the chair.” A loud clatter reverberated through the room as Daemon dropped the hammer on the floor with a flourish. You had to bite back a smile. The years have not tempered his flair for the dramatics. 

The tension was palpable between the two brothers as Viserys stared at his brother, trying to decipher his true motives. “You wear a crown. Do you also call yourself King?” “Once we smashed the Triarchy, they named me: King of the Narrow Sea.” So they really did prevail in the end. You smiled slightly to yourself. Of course Daemon would miraculously manage to reverse the odds. But you felt bolts of alarm going off in your head as you registered Daemon’s words. The fool, is he meaning to challenge the King? Has war clobbered him such that he has lost all his wits? 

“But I know that there is only one true king, Your Grace.” You loosened a subtle sigh of relief as Daemon genuflected in front of Viserys, taking his crown off. “My crown and the Stepstones are yours, Your Grace.” 

The court watched with bated breath, as Viserys rose from the throne, climbing down the steps and standing before Daemon. 

Daemon registered a movement at the corner of his eye, and turned to meet the distrusting glare of Otto Hightower, which Daemon returned with equal venom. So, the leech still lives. How unfortunate. His gaze then trailed over to a familiar figure clad in dark red. 

You.

Violet eyes met yours, and he let his eyes trail lazily over your figure. He noted the coil of tension in your muscles as you observed the proceedings. His lips quirked up into a smirk, and you narrowed your eyes at him, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. Daemon noticed, concealing a chuckle, which seemed wholly inappropriate at this moment. He directed his gaze back to Viserys, staring back at him unflinchingly as he scrutinised Daemon for any ill intent. Brother, really? Daemon wanted to scoff when he saw Viserys glance at that cunt of a Hand. Do you distrust me so? 

“Rise.” Daemon got to his feet, looking at Viserys as he clapped a tentative hand on Daemon’s shoulder. He has grown more haggard through the years, Daemon noted with concern, his eyes trailing discreetly to the leather gloves Viserys now wore. Has marriage not been treating you well, brother? What have those cunts done to you while I was gone?  

You applauded with the rest of the court as Viserys swept Daemon into a stiff, but genuine brotherly embrace. A smile tugged at your lips as you watched Viserys escort Daemon out of the throne room, and Daemon shot you an arrogant smirk as he passed you. Subconsciously, you felt the lightest you had been in these three years.

It was a refreshingly cool day and the air was abound with a celebratory mood as the court gathered in the gardens for the “small” feast heralding Daemon’s return. Dressed in a cream gown with a ruffled off the shoulder overlay, your gauzy dusky orange skirt overlay billowed slightly in the cool breeze. Your cream skirt was embroidered with gold swirls faintly reminiscent of roses, which matched the golden belt inlaid with seven large rubies Viserys had gifted to you recently. A golden rose dangling off a chain hooked on the belt glittered in the sunlight. 

Viserys was holding court in your small party of four, consisting of you, Alicent, Daemon and him. Otto stood away at a respectful distance, likely out of disdain for Daemon than by choice. 

“No, no, no, no, I will not revisit this debate. You were always Mother’s favourite,” Viserys declared heartily. His gloved hands were resting on both Daemon and your shoulders, as he chattered to Alicent happily. “Our mother, she had no regard for customs, traditions or rules. And I sadly, was no great warrior.” Viserys sighed as you and Daemon shared an amused glance. “Lady Primrose was always partial to you though, brother,” Daemon pointed out. Viserys chuckled, “That’s because you nearly drove the poor woman up the wall with your antics. Or should I say, the both of you did,” he wagged a finger at the both of you, expression accusatory yet his eyes were smiling and full of warmth. 

You and Daemon exchanged identical smirks. “Well, if you weren’t always such an-” you were cut off as Viserys clapped a hand over your mouth, and Daemon sniggered at your indignant expression. “Ah, I thought the passing years would have cooled your temper, Y/N,” Viserys chided. Daemon lifted his eyebrows in mischief, “Indeed, byka zaldrizes. It has been three years, and you are still as hot-headed as ever.” You narrowed your eyes playfully at him, “Only because you deserve it, Your Grace.” 

“Now you know why the two of them nearly drove Y/N’s mother to madness when she was raising all three of us,” Viserys laughed to Alicent, whose expression was courteous, yet taut with awkwardness. She felt supremely out of place in the midst of your reminiscing, and you shot her a sympathetic smile. Daemon’s eyes followed your every move, even as he made a jape at his brother, “Come now, brother. Do not absolve yourself of any responsibility. The three of us all had our fair share of rebellion.” “I never said I was absolving myself of any responsibility,” Viserys joked goodnaturedly, clapping Daemon’s shoulder. “Though the fact remains that the two of you made up the bulk of trouble caused in the Red Keep.” 

Your eyes widened slightly when you saw someone enter your conversation. Rhaenyra tried to look subtle as she sidled into the gap between you and Alicent. Viserys didn’t notice, still chattering happily to Daemon, but you saw that Alicent had a similar expression of surprise. 

“Congratulations on your victory,” Rhaenyra smiled warmly at Daemon, seemingly ignorant of the reprimanding glare Viserys was now levelling at the unexpected appearance of his daughter. Viserys released Daemon’s shoulder, moving to take a heavy swig from his goblet. Daemon shot you a look that clearly said: whatever happened here? You discreetly tilted your head in a ‘I’ll explain later’ motion, and Daemon redirected his attention back to Rhaenyra. “Thank you, Princess.” 

The ensuing silence had never felt more painful. “Perhaps Prince Daemon would care for a tour of the gallery? He hasn’t yet seen the new tapestries gifted to you by Norvos and Qohor.” You bit your bottom lip at Alicent’s very obvious attempt to thaw the stifling atmosphere between the five of you, and at Viserys’ mocking expression of disbelief and concentration. “Would you like to see the tapestries?” Viserys could barely contain his mirth, and Daemon had tilted his head downward to muffle his laughter, while you looked disapprovingly at the two of them. “He has no interest in such things!” Viserys guffawed, clapping Daemon’s shoulder, oblivious to Alicent’s crestfallen expression. 

Daemon felt a glare upon him, and he looked up to see your frown as both brothers were in stitches. He smirked at you, clearly amused by your protective mothering of the young Queen. 

Ah, my little rose, caring too much for others, as always. Daemon mused to himself. 

“I’d like to see them.” Viserys’ expression immediately turned into one of barely veiled irritation. “Well then, you should not deprive yourself.” You winced at his snappish tone, as Rhaenyra shot him a cold smile. “I shall enjoy them alone.” 

You were about to excuse yourself to go after her, when Viserys clapped a hand on your shoulder once more, ordering a servant to refill your wine goblet. Alicent gave you a nod which conveyed her understanding, and she excused herself from the group, heading towards the bench where Rhaenyra was brooding after being chastised. Viserys was all too happy to see her go, directing you and Daemon into another conversation about your late mother and Prince Baelon, as well as your shared childhood. 

After a rather taxing conversation with Viserys and Daemon, you managed to excuse yourself as Viserys was occupied with some courtiers eager to curry favour with the King. Heading to the Godswood for some reprieve, you exhaled in relief when you found the clearing to be void of any presence. At long last, some peace. You closed your eyes and felt the summer breeze caress your face gently, smiling happily. 

You heard an infernal clearing of a throat behind you, and you reluctantly turned around to meet Daemon’s twinkling violet eyes, his lips turned up in his signature smirk. 

“Seven Hells, must a lady kill to have some peace for a minute?” you grumbled. Daemon chuckled, moving closer to you. “Having killed as much as I did in the Stepstones, I would say you do not need to resort to such drastic measures, byka zaldrizes.” 

You rolled your eyes in mild frustration, “I suppose it would be far too impolite of me to ask for you to leave me in peace, then?” Daemon smirked as he loomed over you, his eyes scanning you shamelessly again, like he did three years ago in the throne room when you first saw each other after so many years, “Court etiquette would deem it so, byka zaldrizes. But if I recall correctly, you were never one to ask when it came to me.” 

Vexed, you made a beeline for the tables set in the open corridor that was shaded by a trellis creeping with wisteria flowers. Daemon followed, watching you like a hawk as you loaded a plate high with lemon cakes, strawberry tarts, currant compote, gingerbread and figs. Daemon leaned over your shoulder and snatched a strawberry tart from your plate, grinning as you whirled your head around to glare viciously at him.  

You ventured to sit beneath the Godswood tree, setting your plate of treats on the ground, and crossing your legs in an unladylike manner. Daemon smirked as he watched you: this was a familiar sight from your shared childhood. He unhooked his scabbard which Dark Sister was sheathed in from his belt so that he could sit down next to you and lean back against the trunk of the Godswood. He secretly tried to make off with a lemon cake, but you smacked his hand away, causing him to lift his hand to his chest with a wounded expression on his face. You dipped a gingerbread into the currant compote, munching on it. 

“You’ve changed, you know,” Daemon remarked, finally successfully thwarting your attempts to stop him from pillaging from your platter of sweets and lifting a lemon cake to his mouth. You offered him an exasperated look, yet he could detect the faint hint of fondness in your glare. The both of you had been like this since you were children, always sneaking off with lemon cakes and strawberry tarts from the royal kitchens and huddling under the Godswood, giggling and munching on your stolen goods until you were discovered by the servants.

“I could say the same for you,” you eyed his new haircut. “You always used to have a preference for longer hairstyles.” “Well, that was before someone decided to cut off my hair during my sleep once,” Daemon snarked, running his hand through his hair. You snorted, “You can’t still be hung up on that, can you, my Prince?” “How can I forget the only girl who was foolish enough to use Dark Sister in such a manner?” “I believe the word you were looking for was audacious, my Prince,” you smiled winningly at him. Daemon only rolled his eyes, reaching over to snatch the strawberry tart you were holding in your hands, causing you to let out a sound of protest. 

The two of you sat in silence in the Godswood for a while, as you nibbled on your sweet treats. “In all honesty,” Daemon’s head snapped up in interest. “I think I’ve changed little over the years, but so much simultaneously.” You eyed the fig in your hand with despondence, “Do I sound foolish?” 

“Yes,” Daemon answered, causing you to chuck a grape at him, which he caught with annoying ease. “Seven hells, let me finish before you resort to violence, byka zaldrizes. I think you sound foolish, yes, but I happen to think you have changed a great deal. And for the better.” 

You mockingly gaped at his last remark, “A compliment from the Rogue Prince himself? Have the Seven Hells froze over?” Daemon narrowed his eyes, moving to smear currant compote on your gown, but you squealed and darted further from him. “Curb your disbelief, will you?” he scoffed, taking a bite out of his gingerbread dipped in currant compote. “It’s not just the hairstyle I fashion that has changed, you know, byka zaldrizes.” 

“Well,” you mused, “I suppose you do seem changed by your exploits in the Stepstones. More mature, perhaps, to a minute extent.” Daemon raised an eyebrow, “Coming from you, that is high praise, byka zaldrizes.” 

“I thought you might still be irate, or disgruntled after Viserys unnamed you as heir.” Daemon snickered slightly under his breath, remembering how wroth he was when the messenger from his brother came. “Well, they say time heals all wounds, byka zaldrizes.” You smile weakly at the mention of the word ‘time’, recalling your father’s ultimatum. “Let’s hope you can refrain from causing any more trouble this time then.” Daemon’s face twisted unpleasantly, “You mean, if that cunt of a Hand doesn’t decide to slander my name once more.” 

“Speaking of, you seem quite…close to the new queen, hmm?” You heard the displeased edge in Daemon’s voice as he refused to address Alicent by name. How childishly Daemon-like. “I’m her chief lady-in-waiting, Daemon. Is it not natural for me to be close to her?” 

“This is different,” Daemon leaned forward, eyes alight. “You care for the girl, don’t you? Far beyond the limitations of devotion that a lady-in-waiting has for her queen.” You looked at him, unimpressed. “I do not see how that is any of your business, but yes, I do. Alicent is akin to a daughter to me.” 

Daemon gave a snort of gravelly laughter, “You ought be careful, you know. Your maternal instincts might incite some trouble for you some day.” You bristled, “She’s a young girl, Daemon. As someone who is older than her and used to court machinations, I would consider it an obligation to acclimatise her to her new role. Being Queen is no easy feat, you know. Unlike being a Prince.” Daemon smirked, “And yet, you would not be in this position had I not opened your eyes to your fragile political standing a few years ago, did I not?” You rolled your eyes, taking another lemon cake. “If you are expecting some gratitude, I would regret to inform you that your hopes are gravely misplaced.” 

“I never expect anything from you, byka zaldrizes,” his smirk widened as he observed you while you nibbled on the lemon cake. “Truth be told however,” Daemon’s voice carried some genuineness, though he attempted to disguise it, “I am…pleased you took my advice to heart. Not a great many deal of people do.” You were mildly taken aback by how sincere he sounded: perhaps the Rogue Prince had a soft spot after all. “Well, it was sound advice,” you admitted, trying to sound pained. “Which was unexpected, coming from you.” 

“Perhaps you should admit that I’m a better influence than you think I am,” Daemon teased. You rolled your eyes, “Now, now, let’s not get a moment’s victory swell up your ego.” “Oh, I’ve won plenty of victories, byka zaldrizes,” Daemon snarked back, smug, “I dare say I have enough cause to be as proud as I am.” “Says the one who lost in a contest of arms,” you muttered under your breath. Daemon raised an eyebrow, flicking your forehead. “Ow!” you scowled, “What was that for?” 

“A reminder that insolence will not be tolerated in front of your Prince,” he grinned evilly at you. You narrowed your eyes, dipping a finger in the currant compote and moving to smear it on his forehead. Irritatingly, Daemon’s reflexes were much quicker than yours, and he caught your wrist with ease, tugging your hand towards his mouth to lick the compote off your finger while you shrieked. “That’s disgusting!” you sputtered out. Strangely, you felt a warm, rolling sensation at watching Daemon sucking the compote off your finger…however, you soon gagged at the thought. 

Daemon looked pleased with himself as he released your wrist, “I prefer not to let food go to waste.” You huffed, “I was wrong. War has not matured you in the least.” 

“Well, most of the court is terribly lacking in maturity anyway.” Daemon shrugged, leaning back against the trunk again. “Speaking of, how have you been faring in this court of vipers? Has your father finally found someone who is sufficiently tolerant of your impudence to marry you off to yet?” 

Your face visibly fell at his last question, causing Daemon to frown slightly. “Have I misspoke?” Daemon cursed himself after that last question. ‘Why do I care?’ He thought to himself. He studied your dispirited expression. ‘I don’t know why…I can’t stand seeing her like this.’ His memory trailed back to the day of that blasted tourney, where he swore he watched your heart crack into two. 

He never wanted to see that expression grace your face again. 

“The question of…marriage,” you spat out that word with such distaste. “Is a complicated one. My father has given me an ultimatum: I must marry before the year ends, or face being disinherited and disowned by House Tyrell.” Daemon was never a man to be shocked, but now he looked positively dumbfounded. “Surely you’re jesting?” Daemon thought back to his vague impression of Lord Matthos: the man had seemed kindly enough, albeit he always looked much older and weary for his age, which could be attributed to your infamous temper and tendency to reject any prospective marriage matches he tried to make for you. But still, Lord Matthos cherished you, his only surviving child. Or so Daemon thought. 

You shook your head despondently, “How I wish I was.” You sighed, your head drooped. “I thought…after so many years of resistance, my father would have finally given up on me. But it seems I was gravely mistaken,” your voice was resigned. “Laughable, is it not? You tried to warn me three years ago to save me from this fate, and I thought I had avoided it.” 

Daemon let out a jagged laugh. “Responsibilities are hard to evade, byka zaldrizes. Even as a Prince, I was forced to wed for the sake of duty.” You turned to face him, and he was taken aback to see the tears glistening in your eyes. “But you can evade them,” you pointed out quietly. “You could mount Caraxes at any time, fly to Dragonstone, King’s Landing, Essos, or wherever else to avoid your wife. But me?” You choked out a laugh, “I’m just a woman, Daemon. I have no dragon, or even a cock.” Your voice sounded bitter. “I always envied you for that. You men of the realm have more liberties than you give credit for. You can go wherever you please, fuck anyone you please, and to no consequence. I wish I could do the same.” 

Your words suddenly brought Daemon back to a memory of his childhood that he had long buried. He was nearing his 14th nameday, and he had finally convinced Viserys to sneak out with him for a night of revelry and debauchery in Flea Bottom. When he and his brother had returned to the Red Keep just before the hour of the bat, he had found you in his chambers, arms crossed and anger creasing your features, demanding an explanation of his whereabouts. When you had learnt that they were mucking about Flea Bottom, your face had turned indignant. 

“Why had you not asked me along?” your words surprised Daemon, and he guffawed. “Y/N, I’m not sure if you realise, but Flea Bottom is not a place for girls like you,” Daemon said bluntly, moving to fling himself on his bed. “And why not?” you raised your voice. Daemon had levelled an unimpressed look at you. “You’re a lady, Y/N. Ladies shouldn’t be seen in places like Flea Bottom. Now go away, you’re giving me a headache.” Daemon flopped his head into the pillows, groaning at the creeping hangover as a result of the amount of strongwine he had drank this evening. He thought you would just huff and go back to your rooms, but he was surprised to hear your next words tinged with hurt. 

“But…” you chewed on your lip. “You never even told me you were going. You tell me everything, even if I don’t want to listen.” Daemon had let out a groan of frustration, “And? Did you really want to hear that I was going to fuck some whores on the Street of Silk?” He heard your gasp, and it only solidified his belief that you were trying to nag at him like some prim, proper lady your mother was always training you to be. “I thought not. Now fuck off, I need to sleep.” He buried his face in his pillows, so he didn’t even notice when you left. 

It was only until you left that he realised he had brought back some cakes for you that he never had a chance to give to you, since you avoided him like the plague for the next few days. 

So that’s why you were mad at him. Realisation dawned on Daemon. It wasn’t because you were chagrined by his frequenting of brothels, it was because you felt hurt at being excluded. The three of you had used to do nearly everything together, and Daemon had considered you like a little sister after his mother’s death, though from the way the two of you bickered and roughhoused with one another, you were more like another brother to him instead. But something had changed after the first time he had paid a visit to the Street of Silk, and without him knowing it, he started treating you like a woman instead of his closest companion.

 He looked back at you. You were hugging yourself now, face despondent as you thought about your bleak future ahead. He suddenly felt the urge to embrace you, to wipe the gloom from your features. Yet while his heart willed it, his mind did not. So he could only take a deep breath and say in an unusually gentle voice, “I understand what you’re going through. I…” he struggled to get the words out. “...I’m sorry.” You turned your head in his direction, slightly disconcerted by his apology. “What for?” 

‘For you being a woman, for you being helpless to your fate.’ He tried to formulate a response. ‘For not being able to do more to help you. For everything.’ 

“For your situation,” he managed to choke out in the end, though they were not the words his heart wanted so desperately to say. You gave him a small smile, your eyes distant with sadness, “I never thought I’d hear you apologise…but thank you.” Although it is useless in preventing my fate. 

Daemon was internally frustrated with himself at his failed attempt at getting his emotions across, and at wiping the gloom from your face. Unsure of what to do, he picked up another strawberry tart and offered it to you. Dumbfounded, you opened your mouth and he gingerly fed you the tart. Despondent, yet utterly mystified, you studied him carefully, but his face gave nothing away. In the end, you dismissed this as just Daemon behaving unusually again. It was only normal after the bloodshed he had seen in the Stepstones…right?  

Despite your own predicament, it seemed relations in the Red Keep were taking a turn for the better. Over the past few months, Rhaenyra had gradually patched up her estrangement with Alicent, much to your delight. Rhaenyra had even warmed a bit to Alicent’s children, though she still regarded Aegon with a bit of disdain - you weren’t quite sure if it were due to his position as Viserys’ only son or because of Aegon’s tantrums. Helaena seemed to be comfortable around Rhaenyra however, always silent and content whenever Rhaenyra picked her up. While Viserys was still notably displeased by Rhaenyra’s abandonment of her marriage tour, he appeared fairly resigned by his daughter’s wilfulness. 

It was due to Rhaenyra’s warmer relations that you found yourself in the company of Rhaenyra more and more these days, like now. You were engaged in a game of cyvasse with her, although you were losing quite badly due to Rhaenyra’s aggressive play style. 

“I win!” Rhaenyra exclaimed with delight as she captured your last remaining key piece. You groaned, but smiled good-naturedly at her. “Well played, Rhaenyra.” Rhaenyra laughed, “Tis only your first time playing. You held up rather admirably in my opinion, but your defence needs more work.” 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” you smiled, reaching over to pour yourself another cup of tea. Elinda Massey, one of Rhaenyra’s ladies-in-waiting, entered the room to deliver a parchment to her, and Rhaenyra frowned as she opened it. 

“What is it?” I questioned. “A summons from Father,” Rhaenyra sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “It appears a few lords, notably Jason Lannister,” Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, “Have been inquiring about my prospective matches yet again. Father wishes to reopen talks of marriage when we break fast tomorrow.” 

You eyed her sympathetically, “I’m sorry, Rhaenyra.” Rhaenyra snorted, “Whatever for? Jason Lannister is the one who needs to apologise for being such a brash, brazen fuckhead.” 

“Rhaenyra!” You doubled over with laughter at her description. Rhaenyra crossed her arms. “Tis true, is it not? If only the Lannisters had as much wits to spare as they have gold.” You tried to contain your laughter, “I can see your uncle is rubbing off you.” Rhaenyra smirked, “Well, I should hope not. Did you hear about his latest exploits?” You smiled ruefully, “How could I not?” Daemon was never one to stray far from trouble for long, and war had not tempered his lusts in the slightest. He had taken up with his old companions of the City Watch, drinking in taverns, bedding whores, and the like. You were not wrong to say Daemon had not matured, but you didn’t know the full story. 

Rhaenyra stood up and walked to the window of her room, sighing as she clasped her hands behind her back. “Sometimes, I do wish I could be more like my uncle.” “An absolute scoundrel?” You answered, walking up to her and offering a goblet of Arbor gold. She smiled and took it. 

“A man. With an abundance of freedom to spare despite the fact he is married.” You raised your eyebrows, this sounded eerily similar to your conversation with Daemon under the Godswood a while ago. 

“It’s not just his freedom I desire,” Rhaenyra looked pensive. “Were I born a man, this bother of a marriage tour would never have occurred in the first place. There would be no call into question about my legitimacy and suitability for the throne due to my gender. And-” Rhaenyra struggled to contain her frustration. 

You gave her a sad look. Of course you understood what she meant, you had wished that yourself.  

“I hate to confess this but…” Rhaenyra bit her lip, “...I’m afraid of what the path of marriage has in store for me. I do not want to end up like my mother - I’ve seen enough of how she suffered in her tenure as Queen, trying to give Father the heir he so craved. I do not wish to just be some broodmare for my husband.” 

“Sadly, we are women, Rhaenyra,” you reminded her solemnly. Rhaenyra huffed in exasperation, draining her goblet with one huge gulp, putting it down on a nearby table before pacing around her room. You watched her in commiseration. “I almost forgot to ask - how is…your situation faring?” Rhaenyra asked delicately. You sighed, “About as well as you’d imagine. I must either live as a nameless commoner or as a married woman in two moon turns.” Rhaenyra circled back to you to take your hands in hers and squeezing it tightly. “Have you told my father yet? Perhaps he can arrange a betrothal for you, or convince your father to change his mind.” You gave her a close-lipped smile. “I wouldn’t want to trouble Viserys in this way. He is busy enough as it is.” And you still couldn’t resign yourself to the fate of marriage just yet. Nightmares had been plaguing you more incessantly nowadays, all either of being married off to some lord who was old and balding or someone whom you despised, of Aemma’s various miscarriages and her eventual death in childbirth. More oft than not, you would wake up in the middle of the night with cold sweat. 

Rhaenyra flashed you a sympathetic look, squeezing your hands so tightly in hers that they were growing numb. “In any case, I will be here for you, whatever you may choose.” You bowed your head in gratitude, “Thank you, Rhaenyra. But I couldn’t possibly, I wouldn’t know how to repay you.” 

Rhaenyra waved her hand dismissively, “Father always says you are family. And you are like a mother to me, especially after Mother died. Dragons look out for their own kind.” Your eyes grew misty at her words, as you murmured your gratitude under your breath. 

You noticed Rhaenyra looking out her window wistfully. “Is there something else on your mind?” You inquired. Rhaenyra turned to you, her eyes alight with curiosity. “Y/N, you’ve been to the city before, have you?” You looked puzzled at her question. “Yes, my mother had chaperoned me once, but it’s been a few years since that. Why do you ask?” 

Rhaenyra looked deep in thought. “In my governance classes with my tutors recently, they had been stressing on the importance of knowing the people of the land you're about to rule. Granted, they were talking about nobility, mostly, but I’ve always been curious as to the inner workings of the lives of the peasants.” You couldn’t hide your surprise. “The peasants?” Rhaenyra looked sheepish as she dropped your hands. “I’ve never really been to much parts of King’s Landing apart from the Dragonpit and the Red Keep. It gets a little boring after being cooped up in here for so long, you know?” An uncomfortable expression creased your features: Rhaenyra sounded like an exact mirror of your young self, eager to explore, to have fun. But now, you were grown, and much more cautious. 

“You could ask Ser Harrold to bring you around the city,” you suggested, but Rhaenyra looked opposed to the idea. “Then when people see me coming, they’ll think of me as the Princess and scrape away like subservient, mindless goats. I want to catch a glimpse of their lives, of their true thoughts about me as heir.” “So you mean to go alone then?” you looked unsure, but Rhaenyra nodded eagerly. “That would be the plan, yes.” Her face suddenly became a bit more serious and thoughtful. “It might be my last chance to sneak out for adventure. Once I am married…I do not think my future husband will be very approving of this notion.” 

You were quiet for a while, before you spoke up again, a sudden enlightening occurred to you, “Rhaenyra, you know…marriage need not be an end to indulging your desires.” Rhaenyra gave you a perplexed look. “What does that mean?” “You’re not just some highborn woman, Rhaenyra,” you took her hand, eyes twinkling. “You are the Princess. The heir to the realm. Even your husband will have to submit to you in the future as your king consort, will he not?” Rhaenyra was beginning to see the light in your logic, and her face lit up, though it dimmed again as she spoke, “But my father…I cannot guarantee that he will not rebuke me if I step out of the line..” You considered her words carefully, “That may be true…but so long as you don’t bring shame to the kingdom, and keep your exploits discreet, you will still be able to retain some level of freedom to pursue your desires.” 

Understanding was beginning to dawn on Rhaenyra, as the gears in her head began spinning. “You might be right.” She lifted her head in pride, “I am a Targaryen Princess, and heir to the throne after all. What should I have to fear about the opinions of others?” You squeezed her hand gently. “So you see, marriage might not be the end to your freedom as you thought. You are a smart woman, Rhaenyra. Do not let marriage confine you.” You were excited yourself. You didn’t have the same power Rhaenyra would have over her future consort, but still, you hoped that with Rhaenyra as an example, mayhaps there can be greater liberty afforded in marriages for highborn women, including yourself. 

Feeling confident of your own words, you looked into Rhaenyra’s violet eyes and smiled, “Always remember that you are the blood of the dragon, Rhaenyra. As heir to the throne, you have more advantages and liberties than most ladies of the land could ever hope for. Leverage them wisely, and be smart about your privileges to carve out the life you want to live.” You went silent, before adding, “Aemma would’ve wanted you to.” 

Rhaenyra’s face was suffused with a rosy glow, both at the prospect of regaining some semblance of control in her life, and at your mention of her mother. Aemma was always a soft spot for her, evident by the ruby falcon necklace Rhaenyra had taken to wearing everyday without fail. “You’ve given me a great deal to think about, Y/N,” Rhaenyra smiled gratefully at you. “It is good to have someone of the same mind as I am here in this Keep.” She squeezed your hand in gratitude. “Out of everyone, I understand most of what you’re going through.” You smiled motherly at her. “I would do anything to help you fulfil your desires. Always remember that I’m here for you.” 

Meanwhile, concealed amidst the secret passageways in Rhaenyra’s apartments, a cloaked figure listened intently, a smirk tugging on his face as he listened to the discussion between you and his young niece. 

It appears my niece has a desire to see the city, hmm? 

I think I can make that happen. 

In the morrow, you were trying to calm Aegon in Alicent’s solar as he threw a tantrum, protesting today's choice of breakfast: which was porridge. When you heard faint footsteps and the sound of the door to the solar opening, you looked up, pulling a smile on your face while trying to prevent Aegon from grabbing his plate and smashing it. That smile faded however, as you took in Alicent’s grim appearance. You soon learnt about the reasoning behind her upset expression, and you gritted your teeth, feeling like smashing up a plate yourself. 

Daemon. 

That fucking cunt. 

Translations: Ry iksos sȳrī, dōna dārilaros. - All is well, sweet princess.       

Taglist: @drwho-ess @graniairish @urmomsgirlfriend1 @thelittleswanao3 @animelover18 @llovinjoonie @gracielikegrapes @salembridger @itszzmoon @kmmg98 @travelingmypassion @zae5 @norestfortheshelbywicked @soleilgrec @anehkael @midnightprincess18 @lilith--666​ @saay-karani @dumbhxeredrose @syviiss​ @nyenye​​ 

Daemon General Taglist: @aiyaiy @kmmg98 @norestfortheshelbywicked @hb8301​ @hc-geralt-23

those who are bolded are those who couldn’t be tagged! let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist in the comments or through this form! 

A/N: And that's chapter 8! Chapter 9 should be released sometime next week, and Act 1 will conclude at Chapter 10.

Also, I've been thinking about setting up a writing Instagram account, where I will post regularly on my daily progress on my fics as well as behind the scenes of my fic writing (e.g. my mental breakdowns over writers' block, sketches of character's outfits and advanced previews of upcoming fics). Let me know if you guys will be interested in that in the comments!

Additionally, I've also been thinking of publishing one shots of Daemon and the reader's childhood as well as alternate realities of how the fic could've gone if some characters had made different choices. This will be after the completion of Act 1 of course, and I already have some ideas hehe so stay tuned!

As always, thank you for reading this far! Let me know what you thought about this chapter 💕

[guppygiggles]

Like Real People Do ♡ (Casper x Avery)

☁️ Summary: Casper moves to a new town. A peaceful morning longboard ride along the boardwalk leads to a chance encounter~! This story is written in first-person (Casper's) perspective.

☁️ Warnings: Light tickling (accidental + clinical setting), mild injury (no blood or gore), death mention (no actual death). Loneliness/insecurity mention.

☁️ Author's Note: This is my first fic (ever, lol, not just with these characters) so I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know if the tags/warnings are wrong and I will fix them. I am so thankful for the support and love I have received for my characters, it means so much to me.♡

This is a series now!

Part 1 *you are here

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

If you just got here and want to know more about my characters, you can read my comic starting right here!

"Alright, go ahead and lie back," the doctor instructed as she pulled the extender out from the examination table. I did so, swinging my legs up and planting my socked feet on the extender. Goosebumps rose on my arms as the cold vinyl was easily felt through my thin t-shirt. My eyes traced the borders of the sterile white ceiling tiles, my lips pursing as I prepared to be examined. "I'm just going to feel your belly, okay?"

“Just,” I thought.

"Okay," I sighed, and then locked my teeth together. Perspiration formed between the vinyl and my clammy palms, and a familiar heat began to creep from my ears across my cheeks. Invisible under my soft layer of pudge, my stomach muscles knitted together. As she leaned over the table, I avoided the doctor's eyes, as if one glance would betray some emotion a little too complex -- a little too personal -- for a routine checkup.

She lifted my shirt to the bottom of my ribcage, prompting a shiver as the cold air rushed over my bare skin. Her icy fingers began to unceremoniously probe my stomach; starting above my bellybutton, she pressed and prodded in a seemingly random pattern. Toes curling, I tried to steel myself, to compose my face in a mask of indifference, even as I felt my blush deepen. My belly trembled as her fingers traveled down each side, then lower, pressing into the spots just inside each of my hip bones. I twitched, my composure faltering. Mercifully, I was able to quash my giggle into a sound more akin to a cough.

“Did that hurt?”

“Ah, no, it's just… sensitive,” I answered, cleaning my throat to lend more credibility to my coughing.

“Okay, good. You can sit up now.”

I sat up – a little too quickly – cursing myself as my head spun.

“Well, you're very healthy. We'll keep an eye on that low BP, just make sure you stay hydrated, exercise, yadda yadda, you know the drill,” she prattled as I prepared to leave, jamming my feet into my shoes without untying them.

I checked out at the front desk and got in my car. Once safely in the driver’s seat, a relieved sigh rolled from my chest. In the privacy of my sun-bleached and beat-to-hell Versa, I could admit, at least, in my mind: while I enjoyed being ticklish, it did make doctor visits a challenge at times.

Back at home, the rest of my Saturday proceeded without incident. My new job offered weekends off, a pleasant change from the unpredictable schedule of my previous position. Since I had just moved to Port Oleander, though, I didn't have anyone to spend them with. Most of the time, that was okay; I was pretty introverted, but I did get lonely sometimes. Well… more often than I liked to admit.

Standing over the sink, I ate dinner – leftover chicken with rice and green beans – while watching YouTube on my phone. I took a shower and brushed my teeth. In bed I watched the ceiling fan spin in the dark, trying to follow the tips of each blade with my eyes, until it gently hypnotized me to sleep.

+++

When I awoke, the room was dark and still. Rolling over, I grabbed my phone and checked the time, blinding myself with the backlight I had forgotten to turn down. Four a.m.

I mopped a sweaty hand over my face. For no reason I could discern, I had been waking up three hours before my alarm every day for the past month. With no hope of going back to sleep, I would scroll on my phone, waiting until it was time to get out of bed. Today felt different, though. While I would generally awaken groggy and irritable, today, I was restless and alert.

Summer was hot and humid in my new city, so I pulled on a pair of cargo shorts, my most breathable binder, and a loose t-shirt. “It’s supposed to be nice today. Maybe if I ride my longboard, I'll run into some other skaters and make a friend or something,” I thought, then blushed in spite of myself. Not very many people skated anymore, especially not in my age group, and even if I did run into someone… would they want to befriend a visibly queer person like me? Would I even be safe? Oleander seemed generally more open-minded than my hometown, but since moving there, I had already been the recipient of enough sour looks to make me gun-shy.

I shook my head to stop the spiral.

“All I can do is try.”

+++

Yellow streetlight bathed the boardwalk pavement as I made lazy, wide carves down the vacant street. Aromas of coffee, food and ocean spray enveloped me as businesses began to open. The smooth pavement was a refreshing change from the rough sidewalks where I had grown up, and with my wheels gliding like marbles on glass, I barely needed to push. Clean, cool air filled my lungs and whistled through my short hair, pulling negative thoughts from my mind. It was more than a plank of wood with some metal and wheels attached; it was a magic carpet, and I lived to fly.

I surfed along the boardwalk, watching the sky lighten in shades of red and orange as it prepared to welcome the sun. It was my first time visiting the boardwalk since moving to Oleander, and as I coasted, I came to a pier that stretched way out into the water.

“That might be a cool place to watch the sunrise,” I mused. Angling my feet into a turn, I felt my wheels roll over the wood slats, gently vibrating my feet up to my hips. I was surprised at how soft the wood felt; it rattled a bit, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The pier was dotted with awnings and folded-up stands, but no vendors had opened yet, and I was glad for the lack of pedestrians to avoid. I pushed hard as I cruised down the pier, feeling the cool salt spray on my bare arms and face. As I looked out across the water, something caught my eye.

I thought it was a glass bottle catching the light as it bobbed in the surf, but as I looked closer, I became more convinced that it was not a single object; it didn’t just shine, it glittered, as if someone had spilled a container of sequins in the water. Unlike debris, though, the sparkly mass did not follow the swell of the waves. Seeming to act of its own accord, it moved toward the coast and then back, vertically upward and then down, hovering just above the water. Squinting in the pre-dawn light, I could have sworn it had a smokey, blurry haze around it, too. There was something distinctly alive about its movements. Transfixed, I watched it move almost playfully as it bobbed and weaved along the coast.

By the time I looked up, it was too late. I slammed my foot down to brake, but the slick wood did nothing to stop my forward momentum. My arms pinwheeled as my stomach connected with the guardrail at 10mph. It was only then that I realized just how high the end of the pier was. Shock and vertigo seized my body as I flipped over the rail, hands grasping uselessly at empty air. The next few moments of my experience proceeded as a flashback.

I was nine years old, crying on a beach chair at the public pool. I had jumped off the high-dive for the first time, my skin stinging and red as my dad wrapped me in a towel and sat beside me. He rubbed my back. “You were brave for jumping, angel, but you gotta be careful how you hit the water next time, okay? Water is just like concrete if you’re too high.”

“I wonder if I’ll see him again,” was my last thought as I plummeted into unconsciousness.

+++

The first thing I became aware of was a high-pitched whistle, followed by a musty scent, like wet stone and paper. I opened my eyes to a small, circular room.

Across from me, just beyond the foot of the bed I was lying in, was a red door. The walls were white-painted brick and featured bookshelves that practically exploded with books. “This isn't a bedroom with some books,” I thought, dazed, “it’s a library with a bed in it.” From every available wall space hung scientific illustrations of all kinds. Above my head, a tall window flooded the room with sunlight.

I tried to sit up, causing pain to radiate from my stomach. I was hurt, and this wasn't a hospital, meaning I was in someone else's home… in someone else's bed.

My mind scrambled to fill in the blanks. I woke up too early, again. I was skateboarding. I could smell pancakes and coffee. I wanted to watch the sunrise from the end of the pier. My feet tingled as I recalled my wheels rolling over the wooden slats; it seemed to go on forever. Did I make it to the end? Wait… what was that in the water?

Whatever happened next must have led to my injury. Did someone attack me? I couldn't remember seeing anyone on the pier, but maybe I was wrong. Did I fall?

Immediately, I checked my clothes. They weren't wet, which meant I didn't hit the water, but my back felt a bit damp… perhaps from sweat. How long was I unconscious? Frantically, I jammed my hands in my pockets, looking for my phone. Not only was it gone, so were my wallet and keys. Fuck!

With some difficulty, I kicked my feet out from under the heavy quilt and tried to stand. For the first time, I noticed that the bed had a small table beside it. All my effects were there, along with a glass of water and some over-the-counter painkillers. I urgently checked my phone.

“Six P.M.?!”

I had been sleeping in a stranger's bed for at least eight hours. No, probably even longer. I thrust everything into my pockets and made for the door, feeling a flash of fear that it might be locked. Mercifully, it wasn't.

The door opened with a creak that was loud, but did not travel as the hallway was incredibly small. Stairs led both to and from the tiny landing, going so far in each direction, I could not see where they terminated. Whipping my head around, I looked out the window. I could see nothing but sky. Was I in a tower?

I heard movement from above me. Whoever it was that brought me here was coming back. I started to descend the stairs, as quickly as my aching stomach would allow.

“Wait, stop, please!” A man's voice called down the spiral corridor.

I didn't stop, though. Racing down the steps, I practically tripped over my own feet as I scrambled to escape. Maybe he didn't kidnap me – he did leave all of my belongings, after all – but I wasn't sticking around to find out. My heart thundered in my chest as sweat broke out all over my body. The stairs seemed to go on forever, and I could hear the stranger behind me the whole time I ran, begging me to stop.

“Please, you'll hurt yourself! Please stop!”

When I finally reached the bottom, I threw open the heavy door and gasped as I was met with a cold spray of seawater in my face. Far in the distance, across miles of ocean, I could see the coast. Desperately looking from side to side, I saw that the tower was surrounded completely by water. There was no escape.

“Please… don't go any further. There's no way off this island. Please, I don't want you to get hurt.”

A hand on my shoulder made me jump. As I spun to face the stranger, all the blood drained from my face.

I was stricken by how tall he was, dwarfing me by at least a foot. His skin – if you could call it skin – had the appearance of thick white smoke trapped in a bottle, seeming to billow and roll beneath the surface. Most strange of all was his head. I could see the faintest outline of a human-shaped face, but it expanded outward from the sides and top, forming rolling peaks like a cloud. In the center were two large eyes, the irises and lashes of which were both stark white. Despite the creature’s fantastical appearance, he wore a simple blue button-down shirt and slacks.

Suddenly, I felt sure that I had died on that pier. Perhaps I fell. Perhaps I was still falling even now, synapses grasping at straws, presenting a frenzied hallucination before death. I could feel my grip on consciousness slipping, like flat shoes sliding on ice.

“Please don't hurt me,” I whimpered, fighting the pressure behind my ears and eyes.

“My dear, you being harmed is exactly what I am trying to prevent.”

“What are you? Am I dead?”

“I'll explain everything, okay? Please come back inside,” he pleaded, offering me his hand. My strength was fading fast. Deciding that the risk of trusting this stranger was preferable to collapsing in his doorway, I took it.

+++

Like the bedroom I had awoken in, the lighthouse kitchen was filled with sunlight as I sat at the table. Riding above the ever-present scents of sea, stone, and paper, the dining room air was thick with bergamot and lavender.

“I know it's summer, but I drink hot tea year-round. Would you like some?” he asked.

I suddenly became aware of just how thirsty I was, having been unconscious for so long, followed immediately by a frantic jog down the longest staircase of my life.

“Please,” I croaked.

I watched the back of the cloud-man’s head as he prepared the tea, my brain immediately connecting the loud whistle I had awoken to with his old-fashioned kettle.

He took a seat across from me, porcelain clattering softly as he placed the teacup and saucer in front of me. I sipped, relieved at the familiar and comforting flavor of earl grey.

“Listen… I'm… very sorry. It's really my fault you ended up here… that you got hurt.”

I looked up from my tea, brow furrowed. His eyes were pained as he stared at the vinyl kitchen floor.

“I was collecting sea glass and I lost track of time. When it's dark, humans can't really see me, so I usually do it at night,” he glanced up at me, the faintest hint of blue tinting under his eyes, “when I saw you watching me, I was just going to disappear into the water… but then I saw you hit the end of the pier. You hit it so hard. I got to you before you fell into the water, but you were already unconscious. I didn't know what to do... so I brought you here, to my lighthouse.”

His face was a mask of apprehension and regret. I had no memory of hitting the guardrail, but it did explain the bruise across my stomach.

He continued, “I’m not a medical doctor, but I've read many of your medical textbooks. I… examined you, while you were unconscious, to make sure you weren't seriously injured. Professionally, of course!” The blue tint under his eyes deepened and spread a bit as he stole another glance at me. Was he blushing?

I offered a humorless laugh. “Well, I'm glad you didn't take me to the hospital, my insurance doesn't cover that, and god knows I can't afford it. I've fallen off my skateboard before, it's no biggie. I'm sore, but I don't think it's, like, serious,” I supplied casually, trying to comfort him.

He perked up, just a little.

“I'm really very sorry, and I'm sorry if I scared you, too. I know that seeing me must have been quite a shock. I've read many of your books, and watched you on TV and on the computer, but I've never met a human before.”

Reality began to settle on me. I still wasn't totally convinced that I wasn't flailing in midair, moments from death and hallucinating vividly, but if this was real… then this was the coolest shit that had ever happened to me.

“Even – and perhaps, especially – if am about to die, what's the harm in playing along?” I thought.

“What… are you?” I asked.

He brightened a bit more, even managing a shy smile now.

“I believe in your language, the closest word to describe me would be ‘elemental.’ I learned that from one of your Dungeons and Dragons books. And, I do actually have a name,” he gained a bit of confidence here, giving a little hand flourish, followed by a bow, “Doctor Avery Nimbus, at your service.”

I giggled, and as I did, Avery’s face lit up; his grin was so big, it curved his eyes into half-moons. For a moment, I could swear the room was brighter, and a warmth spread through my chest.

He proceeded, “And you are…?”

“Well, my name is Casper. I'm just your regular ol, garden-variety human.”

“Casper, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said, extending a hand across the table. I clasped it gently, his large hand almost completely enveloping mine. His skin had an interesting texture, too; it was cold and soft, much softer than human skin, and I could feel the swirling tempest beneath it, like storm winds against a window pane. He held my hand for just a tick longer than I expected. By the time I looked up, he was already looking away.

“Ah… it's starting to get dark, now. I should take you home,” he said softly.

I frowned. I had so many more questions. A pit grew in my stomach as I thought of returning to the mundanity of my life after this experience, but I couldn't just drop everything, could I…? Besides, I was afraid of overstaying my welcome. I had been sleeping in his bed for hours.

“How do I even get home? You said there's no way off this island, and I didn't see a boat out there…”

Avery beamed again. This time, there was a sly twinkle in his pale eyes.

“Allow me to show you.”

+++

I gasped as Avery hoisted me into his arms, easily carrying me princesses-style despite my extra pounds. The night wrapped around us like a star-studded cloak, Avery's body nearly invisible in the darkness. He stood on the rocky edge of the tiny island, the crashing waves spraying us with salty mist.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Oh, god… as I'll ever be,” I whined, my hand clutching the fabric of his shirt.

“Then here we go~!”

With that, Avery leapt upward with incredible force, propelling us into the night sky. My stomach dropped as I squealed, memories of the drop-tower ride at my hometown amusement park flooding my mind. I hated that ride, but my brother always made me go with him. Avery was trembling, though, and it took a moment for me to realize it was because he was giggling.

“I always love takeoffs,” he tittered, and then began to walk across the air in slow, bouncing leaps. The cool night wind caressed my cheeks as I leaned into his chest, blushing and grateful he couldn't see it in the dark. Looking down on the city below us, I could see where the black of the shore met the twinkling yellow of the boardwalk lights. In that moment, I forbade any further notion of this being a hallucination; even if it wasn't real, I was going to live as though it was.

+++

My feet kissed the ground just outside of my door. Looking up, I stared into the glittering blackness of Avery's face, the bits of ice in his cloud-head catching the lights around the apartment courtyard.

“Will I see you again?” I asked.

“If you like, certainly.”

“Can you come back tomorrow night?” I blurted out, blushing brightly -- and now, there was definitely enough light for him to see it.

For the first time, Avery laughed a real, genuine laugh. It was a symphony that started as a tinkling of giggles, crescendoing into a hearty boom that rattled my chest like a thunder clap, tickling my ears and making them flush.

“Absolutely, dewdrop.”

[ellemfaoh]

Pinball, Hair, and Detention Pt. 3 | Vance Hopper X Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (here) | Part 4

Word Count: 4.4k

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Rivalry, Angst, Fluff

Content Warnings: Kidnapping, Swearing, Female Reader Implied/Mentioned, Descriptors of character deaths, Blood, Beatings

Summary: Reader and Vance have some sort of ongoing rivalry. You accidentally spilled your drink on his hair and he in turn gave you a “fresh cut.” You one day get detention together due to fighting. On the walk home one day— where you both live merely a block away, he barely misses your abduction and watches as you helplessly get carried away in a black van.

A/N: As an apology for taking so much longer to post this, I made it a little extra long <3

A/N 2.0: Also we are so close to actually seeing action, I’m just a sucker for slow burns 💔

——————————————

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” You shouted at the masked man, backing up on the old mattress he placed you on, rusty springs creaking under your weight.

The Grabber gave a heavy sigh. “I really don’t like repeating myself. I’m sure that spray doesn’t affect your memory.”

This was a sick joke. You must’ve angered whatever god was out there because for the past two months your life was nothing but a roller coaster of hell. Your encounters with Vance, your hair, your reputation being ruined, and now your kidnapping. Did you do something in a past life to deserve this? You were an average middle school student: average grades, average friend group, average life. You never did anything risky or illegal and you helped out when you could—which is what got you into this mess. Maybe this was a lesson to be learned.

“Now, how about I get you some soda to calm you down? You like sprite?” His voice seemed a little singsongy—which really creeped you out, especially when he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You stay here and don’t try anything. This room is soundproof anyways, so no one will hear you.”

When The Grabber left, closing the heavy metal door with a slam, a loud click of the handle locking echoing around the room just a moment later. That’s when the dread fully sunk in. You were stuck in a creepy man’s basement with absolutely no way out. The floor was linoleum tile, the walls were solid concrete (with a weird orange strip stain all over them), and the window was probably around 8 feet high. Maybe that explained why he didn’t bother to put bars there yet considering everyone he’s kidnapped so far were pretty short. Billy was probably an average height, but Griffin was pretty short. He was also eleven years old—the youngest out of the victims so far.

You walked around the space you’d be occupying until your probable death, looking at the weird little hallway area with the toilet and a few rugs. Nothing of interest. How the hell are you supposed to use rugs to escape. When you walked back to the bed you noticed the black phone hanging on the wall, quickly running over to it and attempting to dial a number. When you held the receiver to your ear and heard nothing, not even a static fuzz, you realized it wouldn’t work. Suspicions confirmed when you looked at the snipped phone line.

“Damn it!” You yelled, slamming the phone back on the dialer. You slid down to the floor with stinging eyes and a tight throat. “I’m gonna die here. I didn’t even get to see my parents last night or this morning.” Sniffling, you curled your head into your knees. “And the last person I hung out with was Vance.”

Then the phone rang.

——————

“I didn’t do anything, I swear!” Vance shouted at the cops in front of him. “I watched the mother fucker shove her in that fucking black van and drive off! I have her backpack right here! If I did anything do you think I’d keep her shit?!”

“Hopper, please relax. No one is saying you’re lying. We were just asking if you got the events correct.”

“Of course I did! It happened barely an hour ago.” He said, taking in a deep breath and exhaling angrily. “I don’t hang with that fuckface, but I’m not about to let a kidnapping go!”

The room was quiet, police officers of the small Denver town looking at Vance and then each other. They all knew the boy well—he’d never come to the cops of his own free will. Usually people were coming to them about him. One of the secretaries was on the phone with the (Y/L/N) family already, informing them of the grave news and telling them to come to the station as soon as possible.

One of the officers, an older guy who frequently dealt with Vance, placed a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder, giving him a sympathetic smile. “We know you’re worried, boy. We’ll find her.”

Vance grumbled and stood up, face flushed. Embarrassment and anger most likely. “Whatever, I’m leaving.”

As he walked out of the station, Vance made his way back over to where you were abducted. Maybe he’d be able to find you without the cops, he was the one that watched you get taken after all. When he walked up to the curb where he found your bag, he looked for any hints. The black balloons in the tree were the only thing so far that was solid and concise evidence. The van had quickly pulled out and driven to the left, going straight for a little while—or at least until he lost sight of it.

He decided to walk down the street and through the neighborhoods he passed occasionally. The kidnapper would be stupid to leave his van outside in broad daylight, especially since he knew Vance saw it just as clearly as you. He mostly scanned the houses, looking at the exterior and trying to feel the vibes. Some houses looked really gross and rickety, then there were the others that definitely housed a nice, big, happy family. Maybe that house he just passed was the Yamada’s. Vance had no idea how Bruce would react to your disappearance. For as long as anyone amongst your graduating class knew, you and Bruce had known each other for as long as possible.

How the hell was he supposed to find you like this? There are definitely a few thousand people in this buttfuck nowhere Denver town, he thought. He’d have to scour the streets for clues, look at people and analyze them. He’d figure this out. He knew the cops were doing a half-assed job with this case so far. You were person three, so that made this serial, but he’d been in the station while they mentioned a few things about the cases, some of them being brushed off. He really only trusted that old guy. Day 0, and he was determined to find you before the week was over.

——————————————

How many hours have you been down here? It felt like it’d been weeks, but you knew by the dead darkness outside and inside the room that the day ended. You had nothing down here; just the mattress you were on, the toilet, and yourself. You never thought you’d miss laying and doing nothing in your room more than now. Oh, you also had the ghost phone. You almost didn’t believe it when the phone rang, but you picked it up immediately. Even if it would’ve been a fluke, you’d hope and pray for anything you could get.

“Hello?! Hello?! Can anyone help me?!”

It was silent for a little while and you lost hope, leaning against the wall and covering your teary eyes while taking deep breaths to calm yourself down before you broke down. Your hand had drifted from your head to your hip, the phone knocking against the wall. When you opened your eyes and saw the image of a bloody and dead Griffin, you screamed, letting the phone go out of shock. You were in disbelief. You were scared. You were probably hallucinating too. The boy’s mouth was bobbing up and down. Was he talking? You grabbed the phone and pressed it to your ears, listening for any sort of noise.

“D…n’t cr…”

The words through the receiver were crackled and sounded like a whispered gargle. You could barely stand to look over at Griffin, his throat slit and body riddled with welts and blood. Now though, he seemed to be standing closer to you, not contorted in whatever hellish position you had first seen him in.

“What?” You sniffled, wiping your nose and eyes. “You…what do you mean?”

“Don’t cry.” The boy said, pausing for a moment. “Don’t let him see you like this. He loves it.” Silence again.

“You…you’re Griffin. You were the first to go missing. How am I talking to you?”

“I don’t know. Your name is the first thing you forget—All I know is that you should stop crying before he comes back. He loves seeing kids cry.” Griffin looked around at the room. “I had something to tell you, but I can’t remember. It had something to do with a door.”

“You know how to get out of here?!”

“No. The front door. There’s a padlock there, it’s the code used for my bike lock.” You waited for him to continue, give you the code or something. “I think the code is-”

“Put the phone down.” You jumped, Billy’s voice and any static the receiver had going dead. “That stupid thing doesn’t work anyways. Hasn’t worked since I was a kid.”

You placed the phone back on the wall slowly, glaring at the man as he stood in the doorway watching you. Why he came down here you wouldn't know. He squatted down and looked up at you. You felt a chill go up your spine, his beady eyes staring up at you gave you the heebie-jeebies. Why did he sit lower? Was this some way to play a mind trick on you? Make you feel empowered when he could actually take you out immediately?

“Why me?” You asked, taking the opportunity. You had a feeling you’d probably end up dying. You just wanted to know why. “Why do you do this to me? Why’d you grab me?”

He stood up, standing for a moment before walking over to you. Your heart dropped into your feet, your legs paralyzed in fear. Was he gonna beat you for asking? Maybe he’d stab you and teach you a lesson. His hand lifted up to tilt your head to look up at him, tucking a stray piece of hair back. His hands were cold, his demeanor threatening, but his voice sounded light and cheery. It was sick.

“I guess I’m aiming for someone else by taking you first. I don’t usually kidnap girls.” He stepped back, looking at you whole again. “Maybe after this though, I’ll consider it a little more.”

You nearly puked. Aiming for someone else? Did he mean Vance? Or Bruce? Was he stalking you guys? You hung out with them often—though Vance was less of a choice. He would consider kidnapping more girls ‘after this?’ Did that mean after he killed you he’d go for more? Your thoughts drifted over to kids you knew. Gwen, the girl who could see things in her dreams. You knew her from Amy, Bruce’s little sister. They hung out at the Yamada’s place together sometimes too. You couldn’t imagine either of them getting kidnapped.

“Don’t you even think about touching anyone else you sick fuck.” You cursed at him, an angry glare on your face.

“Wow, but of a potty mouth here.” He chuckled, eyes cold as he grabbed your hair and squeezed. “I suggest you behave well, you don’t want to act like the last few ‘naughty boys’ I’ve had recently. They didn’t have a very fun time.”

You cried out in pain, the added motion of him shaking your head causing tears to prick your eyes. He really was sick—talking about the previous victims like it was a normal occurrence. You hated everything. You wanted to go home. You wanted to talk with Bruce about stupid things like Mr. Roeder’s bad cover-up for his bald spot or something. You wanted to be sitting in detention ruefully staring at the board as you waited to go home. If only you waited a little longer, or went the longer route that day. You kept talking about yourself in the past-tense and honestly? It helped you prepare to be murdered later as the man let go of your hair and walked out of the room, the heavy lock sliding into place.

“Get me out of here.” You sniffed, sliding down the wall and deciding to let yourself cry. Forget the ghosts of the past boys telling you what to do, you’d cry as hard as he wanted if it meant you could even say goodbye to the people you loved just one last time.

——————————————

Day 3 of the search for you. By now people were desperate. There was a pattern with The Grabber. He wouldn’t kill immediately. No, he preferred to take his time with people. Mind games, physical violence—nobody knew what, but it was something. Vance and everyone else looking for you never would’ve guessed you were just blocks away, about twelve feet under in some dingy basement of a sick man. You lost track of time, all the sleeping and staring into space and random walking around made the minutes seem like hours and the hours seem like days. You hadn’t gotten any other calls recently, so it must’ve been your imagination. Maybe whatever gas you were sprayed with made you loopy.

“How do I get out of here?” You asked yourself, pacing around the room, feet dragging against the linoleum tile. You felt icky too. You hadn’t showered recently, you were dirty from the residue of the room in the air and on the bed. “What the fuck am I supposed to use?”

Suddenly the lights in the room blinked on and you hurriedly dove for the bed, pretending to sleep. You wouldn’t give this man the satisfaction of seeing or hearing your weakness. When the door creaked open and the light behind him poured in the room everything was still. Your breathing was kept even and slow even though your heart was pounding. He never gave any hints towards his intentions to you.

“I know you aren’t asleep.”

Silence.

“Tsk, naughty girl.” He said angrily, any singsong tone he had previously was gone.

You slowly sat up, turning your head to face him with an angry look. He held a tray with a plate of shitty looking eggs and an open bottle of soda. You didn’t even realize how hungry and thirsty you were until you saw the food. Stomach growling, your hand slid over your stomach. You couldn’t see The Grabber’s face—he was wearing a full mask today—but you could see the crinkle of his eyes as he (probably) smirked at you. Weakening you physically and mentally by hunger, what a fucking piece of shit.

“Why would I eat that? God knows what you put in it.”

“Eat it, don’t eat it, I don’t care.” He said, placing the tray down and looking up at you. You could almost see the sick and twisted smile of his mask blend in with his face. “I don’t need to drug you. I already have you right where I want you.”

Your heart dropped. Sure you knew your fate was probably already sealed, but it never hurt to have hope. Now though you might as well rip them up and throw them around like doomsday confetti. When the Grabber didn’t leave immediately and kept standing by the door you made a face. Why was he still here? Just leave. You wanted your peace and alone time. You had already cried what felt like all your tears the first day, so you just wanted the silence and stillness of an empty room.

“Why are you still here? Just get out already.”

“Give me a minute, I’m just looking at you.”

Eventually he opened the door and you figured that maybe there’s someone else in the house. There had to be. You took a deep breath and started screaming. Your throat burned and your head hurt, but you made sure to scream as loud as possible before you were stopped. A rough and calloused hand gripped your throat, fingers digging into the flesh and your windpipe slowly being squeezed. You clawed at the hands around your throat, struggling to breathe.

“Naughty. Very naughty girl.” He growled out angrily, pushing you to the floor and he quickly slid off his belt. “Very smart but very stupid girl.”

Your eyes widened as he folded the belt, raising the tough leather over his head. You started pleading even while knowing it was a fruitless effort. You tried to escape in some way, and now he’d punish you for disobeying. When the first strike of the belt hit your stomach, your eyes welled up with tears and you yelped. It didn’t last long—maybe a minute or two at best, but it was some of the worst pain you’ve felt. He left you a sniveling mess on the floor, red welts appearing slowly and blood springing from where your skin had split.

“Next time I suggest you be a little smarter. I should slit your throat for the ruckus you made.” The Grabber said to you, looping the belt around his waist again and muttering something under his breath. “Now I have to talk to him about it.”

“Him?” You hiccuped through tears, looking up at the man who glared at you. He left wordlessly, slamming the door behind him, save for the click of the door lock.

He didn’t lock the door? Not even after this attempt of yours? Did he forget in his rage? You slowly got up, your nerves screaming as your skin stretched as you stood—your stomach and left forearm probably hurt the most. He got you good. As you slowly made your way to the door, your foot knocked into the tray on the floor. Oh right, the food.

You got down on your knees and grabbed a handful of shitty scrambled eggs, stuffing them into your mouth. They weren’t great, hell, these were some of the worst eggs you’ve ever had, but it was better than the taste of hunger. You felt like an animal with how you were eating, and chugging the soda bottle didn’t help your case, but not everyone was perfect. As you wiped your face and kicked the tray off to the side while getting up to get out of this fucking basement the phone rang again. Maybe you died in the beating and this was a dream, but as it kept ringing you were more convinced it wasn’t a dream at all.

“Hello?”

“Don’t go up those stairs.”

“What the fuck? You aren’t Griffin. Why the fuck wouldn’t I try to get out of here?” You sounded bitchy, but you took a moment to think. Who was the other kid that was grabbed before you? “Wait…Billy Showalter?”

“Don’t call me that, and don’t go up the stairs. He’ll beat you with that fucking belt again.”

“If he doesn’t want me to escape then why would he leave the door unlocked?”

“He’s playing ‘Naughty Boy’ with you. I guess it’d be ‘Naughty Girl’ with you but still. You pissed him off just now and he wants to see if you really are as stupid as he thinks.”

“Hey–”

“Listen to me.” His voice was stern and heavy. He was taking no shit. “You already got hit a few times. That’s only a fraction of what his beatings actually feel like. He beats you to death and it hurts real fucking bad”

“What…” You started, choking slightly on your words. What could you do? How could this dead kid help you at all? “What am I supposed to do?”

“Play his sick game differently than he expects. Don’t be naughty. Don’t let him see you doing anything like scratching stuff on the walls or trying to get out of here. He won’t kill you unless he feels like he’s won his little game. You have time. He got me after two weeks, and he got the other one after his first. Poor kid almost got out of here too.”

Griffin almost made it out? He mentioned a lock on the door. It was his lock right? You couldn't help but shudder at the thought of poor Griffin dying violently to such a sick man at such a young age.

“Oh yeah, and there’s a cable hidden under the crack in the walls by the hallway. Use that somehow—don’t let my work be put to waste.”

“You got it, Paperboy.”

——————————————

Day 5 and Vance was still looking for you. He’d cut school to scour the streets for the black van or any sign of that fucker’s face. He’d threaten anyone that muttered a slight insult of your or Griffin’s or Billy’s names. He might’ve been an asshole, but he met the sick fucker that kidnapped you guys. He knows how it was out of your guys’ control. Your kindness was your weakness, but he figured the other two probably got tricked the same way. Helping out a stranger that needed help.

“Hey!” Vance heard his dad shout from his car, making the blonde jump. Shit, he’d get in trouble for skipping again. “Come here, Vance!”

Vance slowly trudged over to the family car; a beat up and dark blue 1972 Oldsmobile Cutlass. While Vance might’ve had his tough-guy persona on display constantly he didn’t exactly enjoy being chewed out by his dad, especially not in public. The boy kept his head down, refusing to look up for fear that he’d see the angry look the older man was giving him.

“If you’re gonna skip school to look for your friend, then can you swing by some of the shops and pick up our orders? Your mom would really appreciate it.”

Vance looked up in surprise. He wasn’t going to be yelled at? No anger? Just understanding? He almost didn’t believe it, just nodding in dumbfounded shock. His dad told him the shops needed, gave the blonde a pat on the shoulder, then drove off. After all of this, Vance finally snapped out of it.

“What the fuck?”

——————

One one last shop to stop by for the day. The utility store. His dad ordered some rope and chain for work, and his mom ordered cleaners for the house. Basic shit he could drag home and then keep looking. That’s how most of Vance’s days went now. Search for you for a while, hit the Grab N Go for pinball then rinse and repeat. Walking into the store, he started talking to one of the cashiers, giving the family’s last name and waiting for the guy to get the bag for him.

As he leaned against the counter and looked around while waiting, some other guy came up to the counter with a shop basket of things. Rope, tape, locks, and a bunch of other what seemed like miscellaneous things. Vance turned his head and looked up at the man, instantly seeming to forget how to breathe. Holy shit. The Grabber was right next to him.

He looked just a little different: he didn’t have his hat or sunglasses on, but the blonde could tell it was definitely him. It was in his face. He’d been looking for days to find this man or any sign of you and it just so happened that the little shopping trip his father sent him on led him directly to what he was looking for.

Vance quickly grabbed the bag of his family’s items and walked out. He needed to make sure he wasn’t easily recognizable as the boy who was with you that day. Lucky for him he wasn’t in his usual denim outfit, going with some black jeans, a wife beater, and an old red-and-tan letterman jacket his dad probably used in high school. Vance rummaged around in his pockets, pulling out a hair tie and pulling his hair back into a messy ponytail-bun kind of thing. He was very rushed, prepared to follow the man secretly.

“I should be a cop at this point.” He scoffed to himself.

The moment the Grabber left the store, Vance was on the hunt. With his hair tied up and his outfit styled in a less messy and more proper way he didn’t look super familiar—hopefully. He almost cussed out loud when the man started walking towards a car parked on the street. Fuck, this just got a lot more difficult. The man threw his bag into the trunk roughly and walked to the driver’s door. Wait—what did he buy again? It was something like rope and tape right? Did he see a hunter’s knife in there too? Fuck. Was he going to kill you today?

Vance moved with urgency, acting like he was also walking to a car close by and acting like he was fumbling with his keys as he waited for the Grabber to leave. He’d follow the car by running after it…or something. Damn, he really didn’t think this through huh? Looking around in urgency, he spotted Bruce Yamada not too far away and lucky for the blonde, he was biking. Taking a glance at the creep not too far away it seemed he was moving shit around in his trunk. Okay, he had time.

“Yamada!”

Bruce braked and looked over at Vance, a mixture of emotions swimming on his face. How else was he gonna react when the kid he could blame for your kidnapping showed up, not to mention looking nothing like himself. What was he doing?

“What do you want, Hopper?”

“Your bike.”

“Excuse me?”

“Give me your bike, Bruce—I’m not gonna steal it, I’ll return it to you, but I need to follow someone?”

Bruce turned away from the blonde, an incredulous look on his face. “What the fuck are you on? You don’t talk to anyone for days, skip school ever since Y/N went missing, and now you randomly start pestering me for my bike? You have a lot of fucking nerve V—“

“I need to follow the fucker that kidnapped your best friend, dipshit!” Vance raised his voice, making sure to keep it low so as to not alert The Grabber.

“What?!”

“Give it. I’ll explain later.” Vance yanked the bike from the raven-haired boy and started off after the car that had just left. Shit, what had he gotten himself into?

Taglist

(If your name isn’t actually tagged, you are unsearchable here on tumblr, sorry :/ )

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[impossible-rat-babies]

15 lines of dialogue

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

i got tagged by @lilas! ty friend! im gonna tag (sorry for possible double tagging): @thevikingwoman, @hythlodaes, @lavampira, @consulaaris, @gefiltefished, @scionshtola, @starrypawz and anyone else!

a lot of these are from unfinished wips w/o context, im so sorry

1. “Nay, I should have spoken my mind soon after arriving Slitherbough. Mistaken as you were to my nature upon us reuniting, I would not so easily cast aside that which you beheld.” They pause, a bitter smile coming to their lips. “A brilliant soul, I have been called before— nomenclature befitting Hydaelyn’s Chosen. And yet it is not Her light which eats away at me now.”

2. “I care in the loneliness that stood before me in the place beyond the stars. How it looked down at me and I wondered how I had not yet memorized its face. How it asked me if this would be the last time I would gaze upon its face, and if the ache between my ribs would leave me.”

3. Eyrie pauses, worrying their lip. “Pity—pity and sorrow ‘twas what I felt most keenly. Not truly alive, but never allowed to die. A most vile fate for a once great wyrm of the first brood.”

4. “Keeping yourself busy are you?” Alisiae asks, shutting the door behind her. They hold up the book idly, a sigh escaping their lips.

“T’was Krile’s idea. A measure put in place should my vision stagnate at this state, or deteriorate further.”

5. “I know, Alisaie.” They whisper softly, reaching out again to take her hands. Tinged with barely there warmth and stiff fingers as their hold her hands tight. “I know I am dying. I can feel it—beneath my chest, next to my heart. ‘Tis so very dark and cold there.”

“Then why?” She asks, voice tender in her throat. Fingers tensing in their gentle hold. “Why keep telling us it is going to be okay?”

“I would not have us give into grief.” They reply.

“Tis for the dead we grieve, not for the living. With the ache in my chest comes fear, but I would not give up hope. I would not see sorrow rob us of what time we have left. I would not see you mourn just yet.”

6. “Tis easy to peer from the outside in and question why your grandfather gave his life unto a people so fit to squabble and worry naught of any greater threat than that beyond their own borders. Your anger was not unfounded, Alisaie.”

“Still…I should have known better. What would grandfather have had to say?”

Eyrie grins, inclining their head towards her. “Oh something important I would imagine—he was oft given to providing sage advice…if asked or not.”

7. They look up at the sky stretching so far above—the distant twinkling of the stars.

“Ignorant I was to the horrors that would follow. All of my many long years in the wood had made me blind. To what one had to endure—what one would be asked to do; what I have done to my fellow man. There came a time when I stopped and looked back to see myself very far from the intentions that first compelled my feet to walk forward. And there would be no returning.”

8. “I can storm the tower, Y’shtola. ‘Tis simply…”

They rub their hands together, eyes narrowing.

“I do not trust my hands. Alphinaud tended to some of my hurts, but I was more afraid of his touch. Afraid of my own hands should he have found a bruise too tender or raw; what horrors a simple touch would invite into my head. If i had grabbed his wrist in my terror and broken it…how could I forgive myself for that? For hurting him?”

9. They pause, letting the words sink in as the boy deflates, working his lips in ill disguised frustration.

“Alphinaud.” They break the heavy silence looming above them. “I am not a sword to point at the enemies of Eorzea, or the Scions. I am not a soldier to be ordered about—told of my singular duty and thus committed to the cause without fear. Without despair or anxiety. Standing as a shield before the plight of a helpless world, begging for a hero to lead her to a new path. There is resentment there, Alphinaud—I will not lie. I love Eorzea.”