#I doubt Vincent would

[capitalisticveins]

Questionnnn

If Darlin’ DOES, SOMEHOW, say they wanna be turned, whos turning them?

Since William invoked Alexis to never be able to invoke Sam, how will Sam get Alexis to invoke him so he could never invoke Darlin’, or lie to them, like how Vincent made William do it?

If Sam does the turning it’s gonna be a huuuge power imbalance too.

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price as Frederick Loren

The House on Haunted Hill (1959) dir William Castle

[phoenixcatch7]

Okay but why haven't we had a time travel/fix it fic where after some shenanigans everyone decides to take down shinra, they split up to take out the important figures, sephiroth obviously takes hojo for any and all of a dozen good reasons.

And then hojo pulls a winter soldier sleeper code on him.

And then everyone is suddenly dealing with a brainwashed sephiroth.

-

Hojo has to have some way to control sephiroth as he grew into his monstrous strength and power, yes? And learned helplessness isn't enough of a reassurance your prized military leader powerhouse isn't going to wake up one day and realise just how easily he could paint the labs walls red with chunks of you. And because hojo is obsessed with total power and control, dealing with a murder machine with huge mental issues, it'd only be fitting he create his own emergency shutdown.

In the most needlessly traumatic and mentally violating way, of course. Would sephiroth even know, if he couldn't remember? Would he have long stretches of emptiness in his memories that never get explained to him, or would he wake up where he'd blacked out, just another day in the labs?

Imagine, his allies watching on the cameras, as sephiroth stalks into the labs, a predator sighting its prey, exchanging a few cold words with hojo, raising masamune... And then hojos mouth opening, sephiroth going stiff like an animatronic, rearranging himself on the floor where he stood, face hidden behind his hair. Hojo leaves the room and he doesn't move, doesn't respond to any comms or passing scientists accidentally rolling a cart over his coat and hair.

Hojo ordering sephiroth to reveal their plans, their allies, their resources. Sephiroth doing it. Hojo deciding to punish sephiroth for the rebellion with lab procedures, or hojo ordering him to hunt down his co conspirators and end the takeover. Sephiroth doing so, heavy in his steps, crashing through walls and doors, heedless now of morals or civilians, silent, unresponsive. So completely unlike the jenova malice they'd been prepared to fight, that sephiroth had been bracing against. No arrogance, no mocking, no dramatic battlefield or hungry glowing eyes.

The puppeteer becomes the puppet, and with it, every trace of holding back. The perfect soldier.

I imagine the first trigger word would be lucrecia.

[limonjarritos]

The wine bottle and symbolism

this is personally my take on the symbolism of the wine bottle/bottle opener as based on a post by galaxitic

The wine as a symbol for obsession for a loss of control. For how Vincent feels about his fixation with Rody. Of even in a way a symbol for Rody himself.

The wine opener being Vince's semblance of control over that obsession. That he believes he has control on his feelings about Rody. But when he goes to open that bottle its not in a semblance of control but that of panic, that of impulse but he still tells himself that it's something, not realizing that with a sip of the wine he's consumed back. His rational is consumed. Just like how this whole time Rody has made him drunk with impulse.

How the wine is admittedly what does him in.

Vince breaks the bottle, breaks 'Rody' through a lack of control. He uses the bottle opener to try and open the real thing, drunk and searching for more, willing to truly give into his impulses and be intoxicated.

Vince has for the most part up until this point been bottling up his feelings, playing the part of mild mannered and in control (though his control isn't perfect. The rat, the watching through the peep hole-)

Rody taking that broken bottle in hand, takes said obsession and kills Vincent with it. Because a broken bottle is going to hurt you. Because Rody is so broken right now, shattered, reeling from the revelation that Manon has been killed. The love bleeding from his body and a hot demand for revenge coming to him that results in the burning of Vince.

[fullscoreshenanigans]

Still the greatest loss in the official translation

[blondeaxolotl]

now I'm imagine r!ciel tortures or tries to torture kitty sebastian out of spite and o!ciel actually gets very defensive ;w;

He's just mad because Vincent and Rachel didn't let him keep the cat he "rescued" from a shady alleyway. The cat in question being Undertaker (who's btw 5x larger than any other cat), both of them were worried and thought if they let him keep it, UT would not only eat the other cats (Sebastian, Mey-Rin, Bard, Finny, Tanaka) but also them as well.

[lecliss]

I know I obsessed over it on my last playthrough, but I'm once again fucking EMOTIONAL over the kid asking Vincent to avenge his parents deaths. Like just. The silence. The fact that Vincent crouches down to the kid's level to let the kid know he's listening. Getting up and walking away without a single word to the kid. The refusal to be a part of more vengeance. And denying the kid any opportunity to be aided in an attempt at it. Like Vincent is genuinely so bad at talking to people and doesn't want to talk either, but he doesn't have to say anything in that scene for the intention to be clear. The world doesn't need to keep perpetuating that cycle and Vincent's not about to be an accomplice in that for a literal child.

[rmu-vincent]

Dear Mr. Edgeworth,

I recall from one of your previous postings that you are particularly fond of cats, and am interested in your opinions on other animals commonly kept for human companionship. What are your thoughts on dogs? Horses? Rodents? Birds and reptiles?

I would assume that last one would have interesting twofold connotations given your status as a law student, due to these creatures' association with the legal profession - the epithet of "legal eagle" on the positive side, and all the jokes about snakes and crocodilians' show of professional courtesy on the negative. As an enthusiast of all things reptile related, I feel it is a reputation undeserved by these misunderstood, scaly creatures... as well as those aspiring to take on careers in law, very important for society...

But I digress. Lastly, I would also take it that, for rather obvious reasons, you don't really like fish, the way they remind you of a certain someone...

Regards, Seraphine. Again, may you excel in your studies, and no slanderous jokes come your way.

Dear Ms Seraphine,

Thank you for the kind words and inspiring thoughts.

Despite, as you noted correctly, being fascinated by cats, I am not that fond of most domestic animals, and my liking for cats is simply an amusing exception. However, there are still some species that I could call charming and interesting in ways different from keeping them as pets.

The first animal that came to mind was a graceful black panther. Ever since I was a kid, I thought of panthers as majestic, powerful guardians, trustworthy leaders, and dangerous vigilantes. They might not represent justice in the traditional sense of court cases and hour-long debates, but if one crosses their road, they should be wary of seeing their eyes shine in the dark when the night falls.

On the other hand, I could never resist swift, elegant antelopes' beauty. As someone who has always strived for success and improvement, their efortless endurance and resilience resonated with me; antelopes are in a constant state of action, awareness, and searching for new paths, opportunities. For me, they are a symbol of motivation and energy.

As my final point, I would like to mention swans. Even though they are often depicted as an embodiment of love, from swan figurines being placed on wedding cakes to towel swans on hotel beds, these birds have always struck me as an exquisite representation of change. On another note, the concept of a swan song has captivated me ever since I learned what the expression meant. It is impossible to deny that I spent hours considering what my swan song could possibly be, and to tell the truth, I still think about it from time to time.

Unfortunately, I do not have a strong stance on reptiles. They are the most beautiful when admired from afar, and their quiet deadliness amazes me; snakes in particular have been painted as villains since the beginning of time, so despite me condemning the demonization of reptiles, I understand why people have those... preconcieved notions about them.

Keeping rodents and other smaller animals as pets does not make much sense to me. For me, it would be impossible to love something that is barely capable of communicating its needs. These fluff balls always seemed closer to decor than to actual companions.

As for fish, I would not say that a certain someone you mentioned has enough influence over me to make me actively dislike fish. Marine species look magnificent in acquariums when the interior is done right, and personally, I do not mind fish... served with a tasteful side dish, that is.

Best regards,

Vincent Edgeworth

[giantkillerjack]

Excellent news! The next chapter I am writing of my graphic novel features three characters who are based on famous actors - and I just found out EACH OF THEM HAVE THEIR OWN EPISODE OF THE CLASSIC MUPPET SHOW! As character research goes, this is such a treat! These chapters are gonna be so fun and silly!

(Also, it turns out Lynda Carter did an episode on this show!!!! Which is so wild to me because I think of her as solely a modern celebrity, since I learned about her from her tumblr. But it turns out that linear time is a thing, and so there she is in the 70s as well! Right in between Christopher Reeve and Carol Channing!!! @reallyndacarter just in case you see this, that is so cool!!!)

[beauzos]

i think Jerome Horn is aroace. i wasn't sure about it before but that seems like the most likely thing he Is, between being bisexual or aroace. i don't know if he's exactly strictly aroace, but i do think he overwhelmingly does not experience any romantic or sexual attraction to people. i think this is interesting to experience in the 19th century.

Jerome obviously just believes he's heterosexual. it's a bit sad to imagine him forcing himself to go through the motions of romance because he understands it's an expectation. i haven't developed her much, but i do have an idea on a woman he's probably courting on and off. i'm sure he enjoys her company but he doesn't feel any actual romantic love towards her. he's probably been tossing around the idea of marrying her to the point of mentioning it to her a few times, but he just never gets around to it because it isn't something he actually wants that much.

casual sex and sex work was very common in the West as well, you can expect Jerome has himself going through the motions of that too. i don't think he hates sex, he has his own needs, but he's super neutral to it because he isn't?? attracted to anybody anyways? i can imagine him wondering if it's exaggeration how a lot of cowboys coming back from months' long cattle drives are obsessed with sex lol. doesn't bother him any if he doesn't have sex for a while, or if he never had it at all.

i also just feel really bad for that woman he's courting. she doesn't deserve to be someone a man who doesn't even love her 'settles' for, either, because i'm sure she's very in love with him on the opposite end.

[junicult]

!! the bachelors as fathers

contains ; sfw! sooo much fluff. fem!farmer. unnamed child. established relationships — marriage. your child is implied to be around kindergarten age. men that are good w kids hehehe. not proofread / slightly rushed in some parts. i’ll edit it later LOL.

note ; i get asks on this topic at least twice a week. i’m finally caving. here’s my birthday gift to you <3

harvey.

- he was honestly made to be a father.

- despite his taller stature, there was something about him that felt so comforting.

- if a child had walked up to him all alone, sobbing with snot down their nose, he didn’t hesitate to kneel and help them find their parent.

- soothing them, grabbing their hand and asking questions to calm them down.

- no, it wasn’t a daily occurrence but it’s definitely happened to him a couple times. and each and every time he was able to help them relax, and easily reunited them with whomever their guardian was.

- he’s good with kids. always has been.

- he probably even had a babysitting job every now and then when he was younger.

- there’s was no doubt in his mind that he wanted to have his own when he grew up. and when you just so happened to stumble into his life, marrying him with the same ideals…well.

- you obviously knew he wanted kids before you got married.

- and when you realized you wanted him to be the father of your child; was another one of those instances where you got to see just how good he was with them.

- hearing how sweet he’s always been to vincent during his doctor visits, especially when the boy was younger.

- he’s a girl dad. say what you will, but he is.

- he’ll sit at the unbelievably tiny table, cramped in the tiny chair with his knees up to his chest while he tips back the empty teacup and his pinky in the air.

- he’ll even wear the tiara.

- zero complaints.

- you and his daughter would literally be the most important things in the entire world to him. he’d do anything for you two.

- like…ugh. oh my god.

- sometimes you’d come home late, and you’d walk down the hall to hear his gentle voice animatedly in your daughters dark bedroom.

- and you’d peek in, and there he was sitting at the end of her bed, quietly reading while she sleepily listens all tucked in.

- or even times when you’d wake up in the middle of the night to an empty bed, confused.

- so you’d walk out to go find him, having no clue where the hell he was so you check your daughters bedroom,

- and well, there he is. long ass limbs tucked and haphazardly strewn about to make room for your daughter who lays next to him sleeping peacefully in her toddler bed.

- he’s not asleep (obviously), but he lays with his eyes closed until you gently creak the floorboard.

- “she had a nightmare.” is all he says, and it’s enough to make you smile.

- even though he’s already so health conscious…it only grows after you have a child.

- “did you brush your teeth? make sure to get the gums.” “a balanced breakfast is the perfect way to start the day!” he sounds like a elementary classroom poster.

- the minute someone in the house sniffles…he’s checking everyone’s temperature.

- during the winter, he’s at the door wrapping your daughter in multiple puffy coats, scarves, earmuffs, gloves, before letting her step outside.

- you’re not off the hook either, but you never bundle up the way he wishes you would.

- “why doesn’t mommy have to wear this?” she pouts while he’s helping her in her thick boots.

- “why don’t you ask her that?😊” (he’s instigating.)

- i’m telling you, girl dad.

sam.

- his own kids weren’t on his radar when you guys first started dating.

- but he’s always liked them. especially when vincent was born.

- he was that lowkey irresponsible but very responsible older brother.

- like, he’d be in his teens telling his very impressionable younger brother to say bad words and then would act shocked when he got in trouble for saying them.

- but when it came to being the oldest man in the house while their dad was away, he really showed maturity in helping jodi and being there for them.

- and while you both established a committed relationship, that one day you’d want to be married and have kids—he idealized it a bit more.

- but then again, it was still one of those things you both needed to really think and talk about before you even acted on it, especially since you got married young.

- lol i feel like jodi or marnie forced u guys to watch jas and vincent for a weekend once.

- and after how well it went, that was kinda when it clicked that you guys were ready.

- he’s both a girl dad and a boy dad.

- he’d literally jump for joy for either outcomes. he was just excited to finally be a dad after years of daydreaming of it.

- as much as i don’t wanna say it, i still feel like he’d be much better at the fun stuff then the parenting stuff.

- i just think it’s bc he thinks with his heart more then his head, and when his child is sad and pouting, he’s too sympathetic to hold his ground.

- he wouldn’t leave it all for you to do, but he’d definitely be worse at scolding if you aren’t by his side.

- like, she colored all over the walls or something. his initial reaction would be to freak out and find a way to clean it before you’d find out (he doesn’t wanna add more work to your busy day), but then he’d scold.

- “no, don’t do that. wall, bad. paper, good. understand? nod if you understand,” …well he’s trying.

- then you’d come home to see him scrubbing the walls while your child blissfully doodles in her coloring book on the floor beside him.

- if he had a son, he’d have a little bit of practice from those few years where he babysat vince.

- lol, there’s a lot of features your son would inherit between the two of you.

- but personality wise…your son is definitely a mini-sam.

- and imagine one day, it’s the early stages of spring so sam’s typical allergies start to act up.

- you’ve always known how to handle him when he gets really sick. but picture your red-nosed, leaky-eyed husband standing behind you while you rummage through the medicine cabinet,

- and all of a sudden you hear a familiar sniffle from down the hall.

- you just freeze, slowly turning to face sam who’s making the same face that you are. until he starts to laugh.

- yeah. so now here you are, both of your boys snuggled in bed with the same sickly look, mumbling about how grateful they are that you’re there to care for them.

- and here’s the thing. if your son is sam’s mini-me…then i can assure you you’re stuck with two of the clingiest boys by your side.

shane.

- he never really thought he’d get a loving, happy family of his own.

- but he definitely daydreamed of it in times when he really just wanted an escape.

- he was always the best with jas.

- he doesn’t necessarily treat her like his daughter. but it’s not like she gives him any reason to.

- he doesn’t treat her like a child, per say. just kind of like another person. probably bc of their trauma bond lol

- he cares for her like an older brother cares for his little sister.

- so even though he has jas in his life, someone he cares for so strongly, he still doesn’t think of himself as being a good father.

- when he met you though, and you were so reassuring and sweet, that thought definitely changed.

- it went from him seeing a life alone, to pondering a family of his own.

- when he finally had the motivation to clean himself up, it approached a couple years since he’s been sober and it was definitely in the forefront of his mind to start a family with you.

- i also think of him as a girl dad. i can’t picture him as a boy dad at all not even gonna lie 😭

- like he’d be the kind of dad that would dress as the supporting character in your daughter’s favorite movie for halloween (spirits eve wtvr)

- also the kind of dad that’d join in on tea parties as well, just with the most plain look on his face despite him not minding being there.

- also…let me tell you there would be a whole inside joke swear jar thing in ur house.

- when your daughter was old enough to decipher what words were “good” and “bad,” the swear jar became very important.

- i think it started when you were pregnant.

- “ah fuck, i think i cooked this wrong. damnit.” he’d mumble.

- “we should probably stop saying those before the baby comes.” you hum, and he looks at you all confused.

- “saying what?” bc they’re in his daily vocabulary to the point where he forgets they’re “inappropriate.”

- so there came the swear jar. and every now and then it’d be a little inside joke when he swore, you’d look at him like, “drop a dollar in the jar😁”

- and when you’d say one, he was so petty matching your exact tone and smile.

- your daughter just grew up with it. it became an even bigger inside joke when you were all sitting at the kitchen table one night, he leans in to take a bite of food and, “shit! that’s hot.”

- before you even said anything your daughter smiles exactly like you would, “that’s a dollar in the swear jar, daddy.”

- ur both STUNNED. and also very proud in a sense.

- you just burst out laughing while he tries to think of a counter, but really, he’s too amused to even say anything back (thus drops a dollar in the jar!)

- 😓😓he’d be the sweetest when it came to his daughter all sad about something.

- no matter what it was. even if she as much as scrapes her knee, he would be so affectionate.

- he’s not the “walk it off” kind of dad.

- if she came to him sobbing, he’d immediately calm her down by picking her up and propping her on the couch, searching for the stuff you use for wounds in the cabinets.

- “it’s okay, you’re okay. it was just a little scrape, you won’t even feel it tomorrow.”

- and he’s wiping her tears, pressing a kiss to her forehead before going into the freezer and getting her ice cream (before dinner😨) saying, “don’t tell mommy, okay?”

- although you try finish up work early enough to tuck your daughter in bed, sometimes you end up running late.

- so uh…shane sometimes forgets to put her to bed, and of course she’s not gonna say anything!!! bedtime is a child’s worst nightmare!

- and usually when that happens, you’d end up coming home to the sight of the two of them, knocked out sharing the same blanket on the couch, cuddled up together while the tv’s still on.

- and when that happens, well, you find it a little hard to take that sight away.

sebastian.

- girl dad. sorry i just had to start with it.

- maybe i could see him with a son, but honestly…no i can’t.

- but i’m not gonna lie to you,

- for a while i feel like he didn’t want kids. not really at least.

- he’d think about them and it was always a nice idea, until he really thought about it and all the mess that babies come with lol.

- plus at the point in his life when you two met, he just wasn’t ready. for a while at least.

- when you talked about it, the topic of children was only on the table. you knew you wanted them, just not yet.

- it took a good handful of years before you actively started trying.

- even though he was prepared during your pregnancy, i feel like it didn’t hit him he was a father until after ur baby was born.

- he fell in love. swear.

- like…that tiny, wrinkly little lump was his. he helped make that. and not only was it his but it was also the woman he loves’.

- it took him a while to get into the system of it all when it came to caring for the baby. i’m talking changing diapers, feeding, burping, things like that.

- but when he was left alone with her, he was kinda in his own little world. he could hold her all day and never get tired.

- and that was a concept so crazy to him bc he didn’t get that kind of love from a father growing up.

- which is exactly why i feel like he’d actually be such a great dad.

- he could be stern when he needed to be, but never strict.

- “eat your greens,” kinda dad LMAO. especially if you were the one to make them.

- when she’d come up to him with the messiest doodle of your little family on a piece of paper, he’d think of it as a masterpiece.

- he’s not very expressive tho LOL like he’d look at the drawing and only smile, a little “thank you,” in a sweet tone.

- that’s just how he is lol. on the inside he’s sobbing.

- it would always end up on the fridge.

- he spends a lot of time at home.

- which results in a lot of time he spends with your daughter, even while he’s doing his own thing on his computer working.

- but nearly every day he was greeted with a, “daddy, can we go somewhere? what’s mommy doing?” and depending on where you were, he’d help get her shoes on and take her out on a walk to go find you.

- she got her outdoorsy side from you, that’s for sure. but because she needs a guardian, he’s gotten much more used to being outside.

- it was often you’d be working on your crops outside, wiping sweat from your forehead & turn around to your daughter eagerly wanting to help.

- now, this is not to say that your relationship w sebastian was poor before you had your daughter, i’m not saying that at all,

- but because of her adventurous personality, and clinginess to the both of you—your bond grew even more.

- “she wanted to see you.” he’d sheepishly smile, leaning to press a kiss to your forehead while you both turn and watch her feed the chickens.

- “didn’t you have that website to finish?”

- “…okay i wanted to see you too.”

alex.

- absolutely wanted a family. holy shit there’s zero doubt in my mind.

- he’s kinda wanted a more traditional household, probably based on the ideals he grew up with.

- but he absolutely didn’t mind you being the breadwinner. he honestly enjoyed it much more.

- he’d spend hours daydreaming about living on the farm with you. carrying one child on his shoulders and holding the other’s hand while guiding them around the town’s fair.

- and lowkey, i feel like one of his favorite topics of conversation was discussing how your children would be raised lol

- talking in bed at night like, “i think our son would be a gridball fan. maybe even grow up to be a player himself.” while he sighs longingly.

- which also ties into me believe he’s a boy dad. you know he is.

- i definitely feel like he’d have a boy and a girl. it’s his dream.

- he’d be fine with two boys or two girls but when he daydreamed about his future, it was always you, your son & your daughter.

- it’s just once again the traditional picture of a household and even though i don’t really think he’s that old fashioned after he met you, i still believe he’d want 2 kids.

- he would seriously daydream it all the time. the months of your pregnancy, when you found out it was a boy he really saw his future fitting like a puzzle piece.

- after a couple years, your son (who may i add was literally his mini-me) got a bit older, you both discussed it was time for another.

- and when you found out it was a girl…god. i definitely think he cried, disagree all you want.

- he’s such a caring dad. i believe he wants the best for his children, and he knows what it was like to be neglected so i can never imagine him being like that.

- first of all, you already know every single day of the summer he’s bringing them down to the beach.

- packing a bag, (that takes him halfway through the day before he realized he forgot towels) propping up beach chairs & an umbrella for shade.

- he’s never opposed to a good sand castle. especially when he remembers to bring the little molds that help with the foundation.

- kneels in the shallow end, standing close to his kids when they want to swim.

- and he’s always a fan of recapping it with you at the end of the day.

- “tell mommy what you found at the beach,” he ushers, bouncing your daughter on his hip while your son eagerly begins.

- i feel like after having children, not only is he a good dad, but he becomes an even better husband to you.

- he just loves how hard you work for him and your family, so you can bet on mother’s day, or your birthday, he’ll be all about making it special for you.

- all of them wake up earlier then you, making breakfast (well, watching him make breakfast) before they put it all on a plate and deliver it to you in bed.

- ur the kind of parents that other parents are jealous of, y’know?

- he’s just so in love with you, and the kids you made. it makes him love you even more.

elliott.

- he’s always wanted kids. he would find himself daydreaming, even when he was in his early twenties, about one day raising a child with the person he loves.

- when he met you was the start of his writing career.

- at that point, it was a little underwhelming, which was the perfect opportunity to get start a relationship with you.

- you were both fairly busy, but the thing about his job was he could lounge in your cottage while you were off working,

- and when you were able to spare a few minutes, you could stop in and see him.

- while your relationship progressed, you began the discussion of getting married and having children one day.

- it just so happened to be right when his career was taking off when you finally settled into your lives together.

- which postponed trying for a little while, but eventually you were able to.

- lol, i’m gonna say it;

- without a DOUBT a girl dad.

- oh my god he would daydream of having a little you running around, tuft red hair with your sweet smile.

- and with how melodramatic he is, imagine that projected onto your daughter LMAO.

- if you couldn’t find him in his typical writing room sometimes, all u had to do was walk to your daughters room where he propped up his own little desk.

- just so he could be near her.

- he also is just entranced at all times, he loves holding her, just looking at her.

- he’s extremely helpful.

- for the most part, he was always immediate to react if your newborn needed something. the second she’s cry, he was up on his feet telling you to stay put.

- he’s just very understanding with how busy you are, and he never minded spending more time with his daughter.

- if it was the middle of the night, and she needed something, he’d always shake his head to you pushing off your blankets, whispering, “i got it, my love. go back to sleep, i’m sure she’s fine.”

- especially on days where he knows you’re particularly stressed, he’s not letting you lift a finger.

- anyways, it carried on when your daughter got older, too.

- she’d walk in all, “mommy, i threw up,” & he was on his feet to help before you even registered what happened.

- he’s just always been fantastic help.

- one of his favorite things to do is read to her.

- similar to harvey, except ten times more.

- he’s acting out each part, using different voices for different characters, making a grand show of it all just to hear his daughter giggle.

- it’s become a habit every night, and since you’re typically busy most evenings, it’s often you’ll come in to find him mid-storytelling.

- even if you intend on reading to her, you always end up stopping to let him finish. he’s so entertaining with it that even you’re interested in this plot line for 2 year olds.

- he’ll never skip this routine.

- and when he kisses her goodnight, he tucks her in, pushes her hair from her forehead and bends down to plant a soft kiss.

- “goodnight, sweetheart. sweet dreams.” he always says.

- he’s gentle with you, he’s even gentler with her.

[bosinclairsgff]

What the slashers smell like

Warnings: this is realistic lol

Includes: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Otis Driftwood, Baby Firefly, Amanda Young, Mark Hoffman, RZ Michael Myers, The Grabber, Thomas Hewitt

A/n yes I realize this may be just a bit weird

- He smells like grease, sweat, and a cheap cologne. Of course there’s a hint of iron on him most days buts it’s just faint enough to miss. Bo definitely washes his hair with soap. He also reeks of cigarettes.

- This man is musky I’m sorry. He probably doesn’t shower a lot. His hair is very greasy, all the time. He usually smells like a moldy basement and sweat. With a waxy smell (duh).

- This man smells like blood, sweat, alcohol and a man who hasn’t showered in YEARS. He is stinky sorry girls. He also smells like piss.

- Baby takes better care of herself than Otis does. She smells like alcohol, blood and maybe I cheap perfume she stole from one of her many victims. Something floral.

- She takes regular showers so she’s not stinky. Amanda doesn’t care what shampoo she uses so she probably smells like coconut or vanilla, whatever she found at the store. I say she most likely doesn’t drown herself in perfumes. However there’s slight irony smell about her most days.

- This man smells like a expensive cologne he bought years ago and still hasn’t used it all. Also, he DEFINITELY uses three in one shampoo, conditioner and soap.

- He smells awful. Reeks of death and literal shit. Michael kills humans and animals, he’s stinky guys. He doesn’t know how to take care of his hygiene. His breath is AWFUL to.

- Albert loves being clean and well kept. He showers regularly, brushes his teeth regularly and wears a nice cologne. His cologne smells like old spice.

- Another stinky boy! He does not shower, ever. Maybe he’ll take a bath? I doubt it though. Thomas smells like blood, human shit and pure musk. You know how in cartoons when someone stinks there’s a green cloud? Yeah, that would be him.

[vaokses]

I shall be (Pirtir, Ch.3)

Series Masterlist

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Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: After what you're certain has been the longest dinner you have ever endured, you prepare to retire for bed. You must face the consequence of a secret you once shared when there's a knock on the secret door of your apartments.

Word Count: 5.4k (sorry 😔)

Warnings: Topic of arranged/forced marriage. Usual Targaryen incest stuff.

A/N: This makes a tad more sense if you've read the prologue on Aegon's PoV, "How long this love can hold its breath". I hope you enjoy, and I would love to hear your thoughts on this!

Title is from "I never again shall tell you what I think. I shall be sweet and crafty, soft and sly", by Edna St. Vincent Millay.

After Helaena leaves you by your apartments, you enter and dismiss your handmaidens, unwilling to stand another moment of scrutiny, of performance. They have left the hearth lit and you set out to undo your hair slowly, trying not to remember the last time you stood in this room, sitting by this very hearth as your mother explained to you how you weren’t safe here anymore, how you had no choice but to leave. 

It somehow makes the truth of what awaits you more real, that these are the rooms they have decided to assign to you. It makes all of this, the reality of what has happened and what will, more solid, more tangible. 

Your thoughts are interrupted, as are your actions, by the faintest clicking sound, as if something is knocking quietly on glass.

You have only recently learned of the secrets of the Keep, after listening too many times to your mother and father reminisce about their encounters over the years, between Daemon’s exiles and wars and returns. You only recently learned of the hidden door in the middle glass window behind the bed, the one where someone is knocking softly right now. 

With an impulse so stupid you would believe it beneath you, you approach the door, and quietly open it. 

On the other side, the deserted ramparts of the Keep at his back, stands Aegon. When you open the door fully, he offers a small smile, somewhere between daring and apprehensive. A familiar smile. 

Your eyes widen, and your next words leave your lips in a hiss, “What are you doing!?” 

He shrugs, “I was knocking like an idiot here for a while, whe-…?” 

Before he can finish his answer, you have reached for him, fingers grasping at the sleeve of his shirt and pulling him inside before anyone can see him standing at the hour of ghosts outside your rooms.

You step back, startled and confused -and, most of all perhaps, affronted at your own choice, at your own carelessness-, and for a few breaths you seem to merely stare at one another, perhaps equally surprised at finding yourselves here. 

You find yourself uncertain on how to move, how to play. Any mask you might find useful to wear now wouldn’t have opened the damn door, wouldn’t have participated in this foolish risk by allowing Aegon to enter you rooms. 

A reminder, perhaps to yourself and not him, and you voice, “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“I believe I should be saying that,” He comments, defiant glint in his eye, lips pressed into a thin line. “You traveled to every city but this one, visited the seat of every family but this one, in these past two years. I assumed you had decided you would only return to King’s Landing to lay waste to it.” 

You aren’t sure why it is he feels he has any right to reproach you for not visiting, or why it is you feel the need to defend yourself, explain the reason behind your absence all these years. 

“I traveled only to where I was welcomed.” 

If he knows you’re lying, which you doubt, for you doubt he ever cared enough to ask if you were extended an invitation from the Keep, he makes no mention of it.  

Silence lingers, and though you know you should ask him why he’s here, tell him to leave, summon the guards, you say nothing. Instead, for what feels like the first time since you arrived, you look at him. 

Stupidly, the first thought that comes into your mind, and the one that lingers, that brings to the tip of your tongue questions you know better than to ask, that fills you with the reckless impulse to want to know the story behind it -and each story you’ve missed out on-, is that his hair is shorter. 

“We are to be married,” Aegon says. You take a deep breath, and find that you cannot release it. You nod your head instead, wordless. “Have they told you why they agreed to it? My mother, my grandsire?” 

“The King, no matter the…state of his body or spirit, can overrule his wife and his Hand.” 

“You know it was not my father’s doing. As…happy he seems to be that you would dare resign yourself to a man like me, he didn’t arrange this.” 

Years ago, you might have offered an apology he won’t hear from those he deserves it from, you might have crossed the distance between you, you might have offered comfort. Years ago, you might have not turned a blind eye, you might have not looked away. 

You turn towards one of the shelves by the hearth -strange, how you still remember it is this wall that first illuminates when the sun rises-, and grab the napkin dragon Helaena gifted you from a nearby table and place it upon the shelf. 

Turning back around, you answer the previous question, you offer a safe answer, 

“No one tells me much of anything, so I’m afraid I don’t know their reasons. But I could venture a guess.” 

A truer answer would be that love for a daughter doomed the Greens, while a daughter’s love granted victory to the Blacks. That in refusing to marry Helaena either to Aegon -to give him heirs, to secure his claim as your mother secured hers- or to someone else -a royal womb, a wife in exchange for an army, for another House sworn to their cause-, Alicent accepted defeat. That in betraying who you were -who you might have been- to allow for the most useful lie to wear your face as if truth, in chasing that safety you believed you would achieve by turning the Realm to your cause, you helped Rhaenyra win her war. 

Aegon turns his head to look at the dimming flames of the hearth, a furrow between his brows. 

“They refused before.” 

“Helaena would have been sent to Driftmark were she to marry Jace, y-…” 

“I don’t mean them,” He interrupts. He doesn’t look at you still, finding the dying embers apparently fascinating. His hands twitch, much like his sister’s did before, opening and closing, as if needing to release nervous energy. “I mean you and me. I asked, my mother refused.” 

Your stomach does a strange flip, as it does when Vermithor makes a vertical ascent into the clouds. No, not quite like that. It feels more like when he just narrowly avoids a crash against a cliff face when speeding through the clouds over the Stormlands. It feels like that faint moment when Vermithor loses his footing on unstable ground and fails to land. 

“What? When?” 

“After you left,” He replies. He ventures to look at you, only briefly, and at your questioning look Aegon shrugs and explains, “You wanted to stay.” 

That isn’t the explanation he seems to think it is, but doesn’t seem inclined to clarify any further. And you aren’t sure you want him to, because an echo of a promise you once made -when you were younger, and the world was smaller- is getting louder. 

Instead of asking anything else, you remind him, and yourself, of the war that loomed over this family.  

“When we left, Aemond didn’t have Vhagar, and my bond with Vermithor was too new. Now…there haven’t been so many grown dragons with riders since King Jaehaerys’ reign,” You point out. “Your mother understands now, as I hope the rest do, that if a war for the Iron Throne is to be waged, there will be naught but ash and charred stone to rule over once it’s won. Destruction is assured, mutual destruction.” 

“And you are here as…what? A sacrificial lamb to prevent bloodshed?” 

You look at him, and with more impulsivity than you should allow yourself, you answer plainly, 

“Baaa,” Dumbfounded, Aegon blinks, once, twice, before a smile lights up his expression. His shoulders shake lightly with laughter, and you find yourself smiling in kind. And relentless, like a weed you couldn’t pull from its root and now regrows, is that impulse from your youth, that familiar warmth in your chest and in your cheeks at being the one to make him laugh. “I gather it depends on who you ask. I’m sure many would see me a herald of doom and not a sacrificial goat.” 

“Lamb,” He corrects, pointlessly, aimlessly. Silence lingers, and a few breaths after, he presses, “Is that why you are here, then? For…for the future of the family? You didn’t want to leave in the first place. I thought…” 

When it seems he cares not to continue his sentence, you clarify, 

“It was once my home, it’s true, but I…no longer recognize it,” You admit, with more honesty than you should allow yourself, perhaps. From your window you can see the Dragonpit. When you were children you would go there so often, and though the trip had to be made on carriage, in between jests and games, or sleeping in your mother’s lap, it seemed such a quick trip, such a short distance. “It all seemed so much smaller, before. Easier.” 

You shake yourself from this foolish nostalgia, and return your attention to the present, to the inside of this room. You return your attention, and your gaze, to Aegon, who still stands there, almost awkwardly, in the middle of the room. 

“Wine?” He asks, faintly moving back and forth on the balls of his feet, a jarringly nervous, almost childish, gesture. You do not understand the part of you that finds it endearing. 

“No, thank you.” 

“I would like some.” He states, but makes no move to pour himself a glass. Instead, he merely looks at you, expectant, eyebrows raised and smile a taunt. 

With a deep breath, refusing to let him anger you as easily as he would when you were younger, you acquiesce, and turn your back to pour him a cup of wine. 

“I-…They told me you wanted me,” Aegon confesses, the last two words stumbling on an eager tongue. You keep your attention on pouring the wine, and keep your back turned to him, somehow knowing it is while you aren’t looking that he speaks freely. “I was told you chose me.” 

You finish pouring a cup -and one for yourself, for you gather this won’t be an easy conversation-, and turn to face him. Aegon stands tall, head held high, and yet you look at him and think only of someone trying to hide, itching to curl in on themselves, make themselves smaller. 

His expression struggles for the same control he demands from his body, eyes guarded, jaw set tight.  

Not unlike the first time you approached Vermithor, you find yourself waiting for his next move, awaiting a signal to follow, an opening for you to act. 

And yet he doesn’t move. You aren’t sure if he is expecting you to, but regardless, you follow his example and hold your ground. Extending your arm, you offer the drink, but he makes no move to accept it. 

“Was it a lie?” Aegon asks, quietly. 

Something within you is begging you to admit the truth, to say yes. A part of you wishes to risk ruin the very purpose you serve being here, bring forth further division if you must; if that means getting to start the life that begins once you marry with no lies, with your true face. 

But you have been a liar far longer than you have been anything else. You weren’t allowed to train with a sword and shield, you have been sent to roam unfamiliar halls and live with unfamiliar faces, you have been parted from your protector as Vermithor retreats to the outskirts of the city. You are alone, with no weapon and no dragon. 

You have nothing but teeth and nails and lies, and you have no choice but to put them to use. 

“No, it was not a lie,” You tell him, and the surprise he doesn’t bother to hide, the flickering vulnerability you doubt he could hide even if he wanted, that part his lips for a breath and bring a momentary tremble to this brow; they make that part of you wish to offer an apology. The closest you can offer to one is a half-truth, “If I am to marry, I would have it be you I take as a husband.” 

And in the blink of an eye, Aegon retreats, cautious again. It feels entirely too close to failure, to deficiency, to let him take from you your advantage like this, because you let a face you don’t wear any longer decide on the words to leave your lips. 

Petulant, he corrects, “That isn’t what I asked.” 

And now he does approach, taking the goblet from your outstretched hand and downing half the wine in one gulp. You follow him with your gaze as he walks past you to sit in one of the lounges by the hearth. 

“Is it not enough?” 

He answers with a smile, somewhere between bitter and resigned. The smile hasn’t yet fully curved at his lips when it has already fallen leaving in place an expression torn somewhere between uncertainty and a reckless kind of longing. 

You are a Velaryon in name alone, this everyone knows. You are not salt and sea, but even you know the mightiest of vessels can be brought down to the depths by a single crack, a single leak -a single leak, that allows the ocean a way in, a way to reclaim what it deems hers-. Perhaps that is why it is so easy for you then, to take a step back, the beginnings of a frown furrowing at your brow, the faintest movement of your head as you deny his unspoken admission, as you refuse hearing the ever-louder echo of a past long gone. 

You were barely more than children, with no understanding of the world or what it would ask of you -of either of you-, when you made the foolish promises you did. It was a folly of youth, and while nostalgia does often cloud your gaze and leaves a faint stinging in your eyes in its wake, you understand, as he should, as he must, that that is all it was. 

But doubt creeps in, saltwater through a crack in the hull of a ship, for you understand now, that whatever you had and forsaken, whatever you have made yourself forget, Aegon has kept, and remembered. 

How could he, after all this time? How dare he, after all that has and all that hasn’t happened? 

You once were naïve enough to think love might prevail over war, but you knew nothing of either. Now, you know better, now you see things as they are, as they were. 

And still, something like regret pulls at your chest, something like a dead hope digs under your skin. Foolish, reckless. You tell yourself to take another step back, but you cannot move. 

But before you can forget yourself, before you let echoes guide your actions or your voice, Aegon turns away, a humorless and quiet chuckle leaving his lips, his gaze for a moment falling to the cup of wine in his hand before gazing upon the quiet flames of the hearth. 

“It is preferable to the alternative, I suppose. My mother wouldn’t forgive me if they had to have my betrothed dragged to the Sept against her will.” 

What is expected, what is needed to get the upper hand, is to offer comfort, empty if it must be, that no woman would have to be forced into a marriage with a Targaryen Prince such as him, that the mere idea of a woman not being delighted to be his wife seems impossible to you. A lie, a false promise, anything. 

And yet you cannot speak, you cannot move. You will tell yourself later that you were observing, as Lady Mysaria so often reminds you to do while at court. 

As if by instinct, an instinct older than your oldest one -you feel robbed of all you learned since you left this place, for a moment, stripped of every instinct your exile imposed upon you and every mask you learned to wear since leaving-, you recite a lesson,  

“Betrothals are sacred, in the eyes of any of the Gods. Any daughter, any loyal daughter, would sooner die than dishonor one.” 

A groan answers your words, mocking. 

“Don’t you tire of it?” Aegon asks, drawing you away from your own thoughts that seem intent on chasing themselves in circles. His head tilts to the side as he considers you and your silence, before he answers his own question with a humorless scoff. “But there’s no reason you would, really. It has always come easy to you, you just-…it’s easy for you.” 

“What is?” 

“Perfection,” He blurts out, before shrugging one shoulder defensively. He takes yet another sip of wine, and seems to laugh at a joke only he hears before he says, “The Realm’s Delight’s first and only daughter, as Valyrian as the ones in the histories. Rider of a dragon second only to Vhagar. So famed for your grace and beauty you might as well be the Maiden herself.” 

Your brow furrows and your eyes narrow. 

“Is this your attempt at an insult?” 

“In all these years, not one story about a mistake. Not once I heard about you stepping out of line.” 

“Court gossip rarely cares about daughters. I was never relevant enough to be gossiped about.” 

“You are your mother’s heir. If she ascends the throne, you are to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms after her,” He insists, lifting a finger off the goblet to aim it in your direction in accusation. At your answering silence, Aegon smiles, humorless and a tad mad, and after a sip from his drink starts again, “If she doesn’t, you still might be, now that you are to be my wife.” 

“You speak of treas-…” 

He interrupts you with an exasperated groan, letting his head lull backwards on the chair.  

“Oh, don’t start. You shouldn’t take me seriously,” He advises, lifting the cup in a mock toast to his self-pity before adding, “No one does.” 

“Yet many would have you and not my mother sit the Iron Throne.” You admit, not thinking twice about walking to the hearth and taking the seat by his.  

In your mind lingers the thought, the reprimand, that you should know better than to do this, to say this. With lies and charm you’ve learned over time to loosen people’s defenses, to bring forth truth from them, and it does not surprise you that Aegon makes it frighteningly easy, still driven by a reckless kind of honestly -or a helpless one perhaps, truths escaping him like sand between his fingers-, still leaving himself exposed. And you should know better than to allow him to bring forth in you the same kind of carelessness. 

You keep your attention on the flickering flames, and notice out of the corner of your eye that he has seemed to move closer and is watching you with some strange glint in his eyes. You turn your head to look at him, a question written in your own gaze. 

He motions you closer, as if about to tell you a secret, and foolishly, you oblige. 

“It’s because my cock is bigger than your mother’s.” 

You lean back with a scoff that he only grins at. That, that is entirely becoming of the boy you remember from your youth. 

“By the Gods.” You mutter, false disgust attempting to mask something childish, something like laughter. He leans back, stupidly proud at having caught you off-guard, and you furrow your lips to hide a smile. 

“You still make the same face when you get ruffled.” 

“I do not get ruffled,” You argue, “I am merely appalled at your…your vulgarity.” 

He shrugs. 

“You let me in.” 

“I-…shut up.” 

He laughs again, and you shake your head, looking away. 

“Do you wish for me to leave?” He asks, and something gives you certainty that he will obey if you say you do. Which you should, for it is beyond inappropriate for a maiden to allow a man into her private apartments, not to mention unbecoming of your mother’s heir to wish for the company of the largest threat to her claim. 

You cannot tell the truth, duty binds your lips with precise stitching; but you cannot lie, for in the quiet of it all the world seems smaller again, easier to handle. 

And for those few breaths of silence, you think this is the most honest you’ve been tonight. 

When you first arrived in Dragonstone, it was to you as wild and foreign as it must have been for your ancestors when they first reached the island; and like them, you too were escaping, fleeing from what you were promised was certain doom. 

You were asked to call that place home, and yet you were not taught the layout of the castle or its surroundings, you were not taken sailing between Dragonstone and Driftmark by Laenor as your brothers were, you were not shown the path into the Dragonmont and into Vermithor’s lair, no. You were asked to call that place home, but Lady Mysaria sat with you on that balcony that looks in the direction of King’s Landing -on that same spot where you said goodbye to her a mere day ago-, and she told you that a home is a lie and a heart a shackle, and she promised to teach you to survive as a woman in a world of men. 

You were taught to lie, to mask what you felt and what you thought, and to offer instead of the truth what was most agreeable, most useful. It was an easy lesson to assimilate, almost an instinct you were merely reminded of and not taught, and you dread to think of what that makes of you. 

What was most useful then, what kept you safe then, what was needed from you then, was being a loyal daughter, with no ties to anywhere beyond her mother’s home, with no bond to anyone beyond the safety of her family. And so that is what you became. 

You made yourself forget the world and the life that was before, the girl you adored and the boy that in another life you might have loved. More importantly, perhaps, you made yourself forget what could have been, what would never be. 

You could not, not entirely, because there’s a box of dead bugs in your room that you meant to send to Helaena and yet you never did, and there’s a feeling you weren’t allowed to voice but you couldn’t swallow, and so some words remained stuck in your throat for over three years; but you tried. 

You tried, you tried with everything that you are to forget about it all, to believe the tales you told others about the fickleness of youth, but now you’re back here and memories are not so easy to push away -and there’s a napkin dragon in your shelf and warmth in your chest as you sit beside Aegon-, and the words unsaid tighten your throat at each lie you attempt to tell, each mask you attempt to wear. 

But there’s safety in the lies, in the masks. Anywhere in the world, be it Dragonstone or the seat of some House or another, you can wear a mask. Anywhere in the world, alone or surrounded, you can protect yourself with lies. 

And you cling to them, even now, especially now. 

“I-…you should leave,” You say, but then remind yourself that there is no room for mistakes. For half-truths, or half-lies. So you correct yourself, “I want you to leave.” 

To your surprise, and to the dismay of a part of you the long night and the even longer absence make difficult to force down now, he obeys. 

___ 

It is only you, the Queen, and her handmaidens in the room as you sit together for tea, and you are eyeing the window behind her as Alicent attempts to entertain you with talk about the wedding preparations. That the guests from the Reach are to arrive earlier than expected, that the Lord Hand has called for a septon from Oldtown to perform the rites, that the eldest son of Lord Tyrell has sent you a crate of hippocras as a betrothal gift. 

You can only sit in silence and listen, listen and linger in the realization, horrifying and painful, that these celebrations are months in the planning. The realization that while you were travelling the realm in service of your House and your mother, foolishly believing you were free to choose a husband or not choose one at all, your choices were being stolen from you. 

“I was younger than you when I married,” The Queen comments. “I would have never imagined you would remain unmarried for so long.” 

You care not for polite conversation, nor any games. With a deep breath, you finally take your eyes off that window and blurt out,  

“You advised me and Helaena, when we were children, that if the men were to ever come to take us away, we should ask our dragons to unleash dragonfire on them, or on ourselves,” There’s something quite close to horror in her expression, in her widened eyes and parted lips, when she looks upon you. “Does it truly surprise you, that we understand the…the gravity of marriage?” 

The Queen is quiet for a few breaths, returning her attention to her plate and busying herself and her hands by cutting open a biscuit. The silence is starting to become uncomfortable when the Queen clears her throat and speaks again, voice tight, hoarse, “You remember.” 

“Should I not, Your Grace?” 

She scarred you, with her grief, her grief for two girls that weren’t yet dead, that hadn’t gotten yet a chance to be alive. She scarred you and in doing so she taught you; she taught you much more than your mother ever could.  

Many times, Rhaenyra spoke with you about the life and death of her mother, and what fear she had for motherhood, how it was for many years a death sentence in her eyes. But her admissions were always followed by a soft, loving smile, by her hand grasping at yours, and the promise that her fears pale in the love she has for you and your brothers. 

Alicent never made such promises, such assurances. 

“I was…not myself. You needn’t heed the advice I gave that night.” 

She was drunk, and tired, and angry; but neither of those things made her any less herself, nor her words any less honest. Of course, she won’t admit that.  

You want to call her out on her lie, for you remember that night, and you remember well. You remember that when you told her you had no dragon, for Vermithor was still asleep and unknown to you and the egg placed in your cradle never hatched, Alicent merely looked at you with rage and sorrow over a decade old and replied, neither did I.  

You were children, you were foolish and naïve children, and the next morning Helaena asked for you to accompany her to the Dragonpit, and tried to explain to Dreamfyre why she had to obey you if you ever came to her and commanded dracarys. 

“It was advice I valued then and now.” You admit, finding her gaze and offering the faintest of smiles. 

“It…gladdens me to hear that then, Princess.” 

“Advice my aunt must value as well, for she remains unmarried.” 

It is a provocation, and a careless one at that. You knew that before you voiced it, but you trusted the Queen not to falter. And she does not disappoint. 

She drops the knife, and the noise of it hitting the plate rings in your ears. For a moment gone as quickly as it began, as if a compulsion she has tried to bury, the Queen lets her nails dig at the skin of her thumbs. 

“I resented my husband, for many years, for allowing his daughter the liberties he did, for turning a blind eye the way he did,” She admits, and there’s that tone in her voice again, the tone of that night, tangled in anger and helplessness and regret. Now there’s shame, in the bow of her head, in the restless movements of her fingers. “And yet…my girl, I couldn’t-…” 

“I would venture to guess many have vied for her hand in these passing years?” 

“My father would have her married and shipped off somewhere far in exchange for an alliance, but…she wishes not to,” She looks at you then, lifts her warm gaze to yours. You’ve seen that look in your mother’s eyes before, you’ve seen it in Mysaria’s, in Rhaenys’. You realize now, with horrifying certainty, how fortunate you are that you haven’t seen that look in Baela’s or Rhaena’s eyes, or in Helaena’s. Alicent gestures with her hand aimlessly, to the nothing and the everything around you. “What use is there for all this, for any of it, if I cannot protect her?” 

“I cannot speak on a mother’s duty or choices,” You say, and though you wish it would, it is not a mask like the one you presented to your grandsire last night, telling him what he wants to hear while you grit your teeth at what leaves your lips, no. It is the closest to truth you can offer. “But I am very glad to see her contented, happy even.” 

The closest to truth you can offer, without revealing something wrong, something rotten. Like envy, like jealousy. 

But you gather the Queen hears it regardless, for she sighs, and adds, “Which she achieved by remaining unmarried.” 

You hear the words she doesn’t say, you see something like regret in her warm eyes, and stupidly, some part of you still the child that brought a sweet pastry to the Queen after finding her heaving panicked breaths and paler than a ghost, you want to reassure her, to accept the apology she doesn’t voice. 

But Alicent starts again, composed again, distant again, 

“You are a woman grown now. I trust in time you will learn to…handle Aegon, guide him. You must a-…” 

You know where this is going. You just want one conversation where you aren’t asked to do something for someone, where you aren’t reminded of what is expected from you. One. 

You stand from the table with a scoff, walking away and towards the window, “I am not a shepherd, and your son no sheep.” 

“I only mean to help you.” 

“I do not recall asking for help, Your Grace.” 

The Queen joins her hands before her, head held high, back straight. A picture of a woman’s role, a woman’s duty. You look away and instead look out the window. 

“You valued advice I gave before, and I ask you to do so again. I only mean to make this easier for you, child.” 

She doesn’t wait for an answer and knows better than to press for one. Instead she murmurs your title and your name as a goodbye, not waiting for a returned goodbye of Your Grace or a gesture of your own, before turning around and moving to leave the room. 

“You lied to him,” You blurt out, an accusation you are risking much if it ends up being wrong. When the Queen turns to look at you, you force yourself to hold your place, force your hands to remain in place even when you want to cross your arms, force your eyes to look at her even though a part of you fears her. You push on, “You told Aegon I wanted to marry him.” 

Alicent takes a breath, and says nothing for a few beats, expression carefully flat as she regards you. 

“Did you admit to him that it was a lie?” 

“No.” 

The only give she allows is the slight widening of her eyes, surprise but not quite. A breath, two, and the Queen bows her head in goodbye again, though now at her lips curves a smile. Sad, as all her smiles are, but a little defiant also. 

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!

Though she admitted a little bit to what her stance in regards to the marriage is, the aspect of the lying and especially the lie about choosing him are still the point of this story, and will develop further in the upcoming chapters.

Next Chapter >>

Taglist: @21-princess @mrs-starkgaryen @nymeriiiia

[dahliaslove]

⭑ HC’S OF SLASHERS WITH A BIMBO S/O

⭑ authors note: this was very fun to make so feel free to request any similar head canons also lmk if i should make a part two with more slashers :)

⭑ warnings: small mention of kidnapping, some of them immediately make your appearance sexual (sorry but they’re very mentally unstable), stalking, mention of panty stealing, corruption kink, aged up stu as if he got away with the killings and went on to college, small mention of fucking in a bathroom, basically they’re all perverts to some extent (sorry)

⭑ characters: thomas hewitt, michael myers, bo sinclair, lester sinclair, vincent sinclair, stu macher

no detailed smut, but minors don’t interact please!

THOMAS HEWITT

- living in the conservative and rural south, i doubt he’s seen many people decked out in as much pink as you while also simultaneously wearing as little clothing as possible

- luda mae will definitely judge you by the way you dress but once she gets to see how well you treat her tommy she’s letting it slide and excusing it by saying that it’s necessary to dress like that in the heat or something

- once you’re an established person in the hewitt residence i feel like they wouldn’t really have to hide their cannabalism from you too hard due to you being you know . . . oblivious

- hoyt would 100% make some sort of remark to you that has thomas fuming, like he knows you’re such a kind and gentle person and hoyt should not be trying to get with you like that, even if you don’t necessarily notice that he’s being sleazy toward you

- i know thomas would low key struggle to contain himself around you and is definitely ashamed about it because he should not be feeling this way when you’re not even doing anything necessarily sexual

- like he feels pathetic palming himself in secret while thinking about you in your short skirts and tight tops but after you find out about this he’ll absolutely let you help him out with it

- imagine trying to calm the creaking from his bed so his family doesn’t hear as you ride him silly with your skirt rolled up your thighs and his big hands holding onto your waist . . .

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MICHAEL MYERS

- the amount of pink you’re wearing is what first catches michaels attention. he definitely stalks you at first and just watches you waltz around in your bright pink attire, oblivious to michael watching you, very obviously too.

- to be honest i think this would frustrate him at first, like why aren’t you noticing that there a dangerous man following you around?!

- oh my god and if you’re someone who constantly forgets to lock their doors? michael is literally taking that as an invitation to break into your place. he doesn’t even bother to hide whenever you come walking down stairs in your short and cutesy matching pajama top and bottoms, he just waits for you to notice.

- mans is absolutely baffled whenever you turn to him and instead of freaking out, you just smile and ask him if he’s hungry. i would like to say that he would take this invitation and take a container of whatever food you have and then just awkwardly leave and question his whole entire existence.

- he comes back though, because even murderers have to eat, right? he just keeps coming back to your house frequently until he’s practically living with you.

- i feel like one day you would probably see him on the news while looking for something to watch and be like oh my god my new roommate is a killer? well . . . he hasn’t hurt me so it’s whatever i guess . . . wait! that’s why he never pays rent?

- once you guys cross the line from roommates to a couple, he will honestly be a little concerned for your well-being, like how does someone as oblivious as you even make it through the day?

- don’t worry though, michael will absolutely stalk you to check in on you and will murder anyone who does anything to you :)

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BO SINCLAIR

- to be honest, this mf is gonna sexualize you immediately. He’s turning his charm levels all the way to 11 and trying to win you over in his own manipulative and slightly hot way though.

- he definitely gets annoyed by you being clumsy, but he uses that as an opportunity to 100% be a pervert by letting his hands wander or just straight up staring down at your tits or ass.

- trust me, as soon as this man is in your vicinity he is rock hard because he literally has the dirtiest mind ever and has absolutely no chill. ( this makes the sex 1000% better though )

- he for sure has nude polaroids of you in his wallet, like imagine gifting them to him sealed with a bright lipstick stain on the back and a cutely drawn heart. he also jacks off to these in the back of his shop because he has no shame when it comes to you as i said earlier.

- he probably wouldn’t worry much about you leaving due to you being oblivious to the situation you’re in but he would definitely be more protective of you because of this when you get to know each other more.

- like if any tourist tries to do or say anything to you that he doesn’t like? he’s gonna try and keep his act together with clenched teeth and a strained smile before killing them off himself instead of sending them to vincent or something.

- definitely makes fun of you for being a naive klutz though. like he will manipulate you to the max to get you to comply for him, he’ll say things like “just please do it for me, okay sugar?” and have you wrapped right around his finger.

- the same kinda goes the other way, just to an extent. after a while of you laying some sweet loving on him he’ll definitely be asking lester to pick you up some pretty lipsticks and anything that he thinks you’ll find cute.

- over all, you’re bo’s walking wet dream and he literally can not get over you especially after you guys get in a relationship and to you he’s just your silly little mechanic boyfriend who lives in a weirdly empty town.

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LESTER SINCLAIR

- lives for the aesthetic and finds you so pretty but is a total pervert and he, like bo, uses your naivety to his advantage

- he gives panty stealer vibes to me, like i know he probably acts all innocent and puppy eyed around you but as soon as you look away for one second he’s going into your room and stealing your panties you know? (he still does it while you’re in a relationship too, because this man can not be stopped)

- say you work at a cute little diner he likes to frequent (because of you) he will go there every other day and butter you up only to leave the parking lot of the diner and jerk off into his hand on the side of some abandoned road . . .

- he will find a way to be with you whether it be literally stealing you away or finding you on the side of the road after your cars broken down and convincing you to stay with him. and with the second option being more likely (he will mess with your car and plan out the whole thing) you won’t even realize he’s got you tied in with him forever

- you’ll just think lester is the sweet southern man from the diner who’s turned into your boyfriend who takes care of you and let you move into his place really quickly

- He absolutely has a corruption kink, like he loves the idea of being with someone so perfect and just absolutely ruining them. he also definitely has you christen his truck for “good luck” by fucking you in there until you’re a sticky sobbing mess.

- but on the softer side of things, i know lester is so greatful for you and can’t believe that someone as sweet and pretty as you could love him. especially as someone who wasn’t loved properly as a child :(

- and he’s so protective over you too because he knows how mean the world can be and he doesn’t want anyone else to hurt you. so he’s definitely extra careful when he has you in the car and is picking up tourists. it’s low key funny because he’s over here worried they’re gonna say something mean to you and not that you’re gonna find out what he’s luring them into. if they do something though, he makes sure to tell his brothers to make their death slow and painful :)

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VINCENT SINCLAIR

- he absolutely adores you, like he loves having a silly lil naive pink loving partner.

- anytime you’re having one of your airhead moments he will calmly explain to you in more detail until you understand what he’s talking about :(

- he loves drawing you, he does it so much it’s to the point where his pink colored pencils are getting shorter and are always dull from use. he hangs the drawings up all over his walls and stuff too, which literally has you leaving kisses all over him and drowning him in compliments (he gets very flustered)

- tries to keep you away from the fact he turns people into wax statues, but is glad that you don’t even seem to notice! imagine you complimenting him on how life like they look and he’s like :-|

- probably very protective over you, especially if you come into contact with bo . . . who has no shame in flirting with you but you’re just like no thanks i have a perfectly awesome and cool boyfriend :) (bo’s ego was very hurt that day)

- this immediately has him rolling all over the house and happily dancing because he loves you so much and you’re all his

- just because he feels like this doesn’t also mean he’s not a perv like the rest of them though (you thought you were safe muahaha) he probably has so many nude drawings of you, mans absolutely gets every detail in them too

- he hides them from you at first but if you find them . . . oh my lord he’s gonna be so embarrassed . . . and hard. seeing him depict you so beautifully, probably splayed out on pink sheets too, immediately has you on your knees for him.

- i don’t care i would suck this man dry to show my appreciation, like until he has tears in his eyes and he’s just uncontrollably bucking his hips into your mouth

- basically he loves you in pink and is your #1 supporter!!!

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STU MACHER

- absolutely whipped for you and you have him following you around with heart eyes all over campus

- doesn’t tell you about his side hobby of killing people, because he honestly doesn’t feel the need too since you believe him anytime he says the red staining his shoes is paint.

- absolutely gives you the princess treatment since he has all that money from his rich parents, so he buys you new clothes, gives you mail money, money to get your hair done, ect, ect.

- but he also does it with his actions you know? like he absolutely opens the door for you with a dramatic bow and says something like “after you, m’lady”

- he’s the type of guy that will go out of his way to look up your skirt to fluster you though

- he’s still a pervert but he’s more jokey about it, for example, he makes all sorts of dirty jokes and giggles like a maniac when you don’t understand them. when you do though, you’ve got him down on his knees for you, if you respond back by flirting, just know he’s taking you off to some bathroom and absolutely fucking you dumb and when you’re done he’s flipping your skirt back down and leaving the bathroom with a spring in his step.

- basically you’re just his sweet lil bimbo partner who he spoils endlessly in kisses n’ nice stuff who thankfully never notices the blood staining random items in his apartment :)

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[chris-prank]

Doctor Seraph kidnaps hero reader for good -

Oneshot 

Villain sidekick yandere x GN hero reader

Warning: slight NSFW allusion, kidnapping, creepy behavior and forced proximity

(This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only, I do not support yandere behaviors in real life)

You opened your eyes, only to be met with darkness. Your figure was the only thing lit in the room. You could feel the restraint around your wrists and legs. They weren’t hurting you, but they were still tight enough to prevent you from moving. Then in the silence, broken up by your own breathing, a soft voice rose from the pitch black in front of you. 

“I hope your head doesn’t hurt too much…”

The hidden figure partially walked into the light, presenting you with someone that definitely didn’t look like a criminal. He was wearing a white knitted cardigan with gold embroideries on the sleeves and a black t-shirt under it. The reflection of the light in his glasses prevented you from seeing his eyes. It took you a good second to recognize him, but the situation in which you had found yourself gave you no doubt. The sound of his voice paired with his crazy curly hair tied back into a ponytail was all too familiar.

“Doctor… Seraph?” You tentatively asked. 

He smiled sheepishly and fully walked into your view, his feet almost touching yours from how close you two were now. 

“I’m flattered th-that you recognized me so quickly.” 

“What’s up with the civilian clothes? Is this some kind of off day kidnapping?” 

“What? Oh heavens no! I just thought it was best to show you my identity… to make it fairer for you.”

“Fairer?”

It took a moment for your brain to register what he meant, but that’s when you realize the lack of fabric around your eyes. You weren’t wearing your mask. Your stomach dropped. You were already imagining disaster scenarios where your family and friends would now be at the mercy of all the criminals you fought over the years.

“I didn’t even tell you my real name! What an inconsiderate host I am.” He gave himself a face palm, “you can call me Vincent.”

“Why… Why are you telling me all this? What do you gain from this?” You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, “is this some sick mind game before telling everyone who I am?”

You didn’t care to be hurt, to be kidnapped or tortured as long as your friends and relatives stayed safe. 

“Sharing your secret identity!? Never!” He sounded genuinely surprised, “it wouldn’t be really nice of me to do that to the person I love, don't you think?”

He got closer to wipe away the tears from your cheeks and excused himself for the misunderstanding he had caused. You tried to recoil from his touch all the while giving him a pure look of confusion at this sudden confession. 

“Don’t worry, I k-know that you feel the same way! You always were so gentle and kind to me compared to… the others.” He stuck his tongue out as if he was just reminded of the taste of spoiled milk, “But let’s forget about everyone else, we have each other now.”

He got on his knees as he said the last part and rested his head on your laps. He made a sound scarily similar to a moan while rubbing his cheek against the fabric. He stared up at you through his glasses and gave you a loving smile, but it quickly turned into an awkward one when he realized you couldn’t pet his head.

“Sorry about the restraints… I just can’t have you escape.” 

You didn’t respond. You didn’t know what to do or say. He took your silence as something positive, since he straddled himself onto your lap and nuzzled his head into your neck. His warm breath grazing your skin was overwhelming all of your senses. 

“You’re the first person to make me feel loved in such a long time.” He whispered with deep longing.

You could feel your heartbeat all the way into your throat, making you nauseous. You were attracted to him, no need to deny that, but this was going way too fast. That’s when it clicked in your brain.

“I don’t want to be with a criminal.”

He leaned back to look you in the eyes, shocked by your statement. 

“W-what?”

“I don't want us to be together if you’re still a supervillain.” You repeated confidently. 

“So…if I reform we can be a couple?”

“Yes!”

It was cliche, but you subtly crossed your fingers, hoping that it would be a good enough compromise for him. Vincent frowned, thinking about it for a good minute. 

“B-but they’ll put me in prison… and I-I won't be able to be with you–” He got agitated, as if the simple idea of being apart from you was a punishment in itself.

“Don't worry! You’ve never been as bad as your boss, people will surely accept you with open arms.” You swiftly added, “and if not, I’ll say that you’re under my charge.”

He stared at you with dilated pupils and a heavy breath. 

“You promise…That you will defend me from them?”

As soon as you nodded he went back to nuzzling his head into your neck and pushed his body closer to yours. You could feel something oddly hard poking at your stomach. 

“I knew you r-really cared about me.” He whispered. 

After a few minutes of silence, only being broken by small happy noises he let out during this forced cuddle session, you spoke up. 

“Can you untie me? It would be nicer if I could embrace you back, don’t you think?” You forced yourself to sound casual despite the amount of stress you were under. 

Vincent chuckled in response, causing goosebumps to sprang over your arms. He reacted as if you just asked a silly question. 

“I can’t do that…I know you truly love me, but I-I also know that there’s still a part of you… that wants to escape and stop me.” He shook his head. “You just can’t help it, my little hero.” 

You forced yourself to make an understanding smile. 

This was going to be a long ride. 

[livindeadgirlgrav]

Do you think Vincent can talk out of curiosity ? I like to think if he can he whispers mine in readers ear

Oooooooh I love this!

Do I think Vincent Sinclair can talk?

Honestly yes, I do think Vincent can speak. But I think he chooses not to. I mean we get to see how severe the physical damage left by his extraction from his twin brother, Bo was at the end of the movie. So I wouldn't doubt that Vinny doesn't have some type of speech problems like a speech impediment.

I like to think Vincent's mother wouldn't bully him for his speech but I'm not sure; But I wouldn't put it pass Bo to torment him enough to a point he just stops talking all together. I mean we see how Bo treats him; He's very narcissistic and manipulative. Just look at how Bo is able to abuse his brother enough to make him fall under his command and practically force/manipulate him to kill the towns people and anyone who wonders in. But regardless of all of the abuse his brother puts him through I truly think the siblings love each other just in their own ways.

Back to the topic, I do think Vincent can talk. But I don't see him shouting or yelling anytime soon. I like to think Vincent talks in a whisper/mumble forcing you to pay close attention to him. Also I think that would be the tell tell sign that he trust and loves you. If he does speak to you even in a whisper he's proving how comfortable he really is with you and that's a big accomplishment. I also love imaging what he would sound like, I think he would have a smooth deep voice with a thick accent like his brother. I also like to think he would possibly have a southern drawl kinda like Trace Adkins..(man I love a fine country men😩)

If I continue with my theories, it’s possible Vincent stopped talking to Bo and his father when he was little due to the abuse and it’s also possible Vincent went mute once his parents/mother died. Vincent was a good child and we hear in the movie that his mother thought he was talented(or was going to be talented). What I’m trying to say is that both boys loved their abusive mother, they are very much mama boys so I could definitely see them both suffering from losing her..I mean if we go back to the first time we meet Bo he’s in the church kneeling beside his dead mother (I believe it’s her due to the fact Bo apologizes when he’s in the church searching for Carly.)

But I could go on and on for days discussing my theories about the Sinclair brothers! Regardless I do think Vincent can speak he just doesn’t do it around new people or his mean abusive brother due to being scared of being made fun of. I love Vinny but just give him time to warm up to you and perhaps he’ll have a very small conversation with you. 🖤

Thank you tons for the request!! I love when you guys ask me questions like this! I love seeing others opinions and sharing my own! 🖤🖤