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misguidedasgardian · 2 years

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The White Dragon (25)

25. In the Dragon's den

MASTERLIST

Summary: The consequences of Aemond’s actions

Pairings: main Harwin Strong x Fem!Targaryen reader

Warnings: cursing, medieval and A song of ice and Fire AU customs, minors getting married, talks about “bedding” and “having sex” about underage persons.

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3.4 k

Notes: SURPRISE! I finished it early!

Criston Cole being petty HAHAHA his part and thoughts in this are written sarcastically, just so you know! 😂

Since Aemond confessed to the small council of the horrible accident, the meetings were tense, and almost awkward.

He had gained a seat in it, alongside his brother, the King. Aegon had to be dragged to attendance, sometimes suffering the spoils of the night before where he indulged in wine and sex. Since he rose to power he didn’t even bother in leaving the Keep, he just brought his ladies from the skin trade and his other vices to the Keep through secret passageways and sometimes he wouldn’t even bother in hiding them.

“Had the Blacks declared war yet?”, asked Aegon, playing with the dragoneye in front of him

“No”, Otto muttered, their silence was terrifying. They expected a full scale attack, they were sighting the skies for enemies every hour. But the silence was worse. They had been

“What about the ravens we have sent?”, asked Alicent

“We received letters from all over the Kingdoms”, said the Hand with a smile, “Ha! see? a letter from the North, already the lords of the seven Kingdoms are falling in line”, claimed Otto, removing the seal and opening the letter. Alicent had a pleased and content smile on her face. But at seeing his father’s grin change suddenly, panic quickly settled in

“What? What is it?” she asked, Aegon raised his gaze as well to look at his grandfather

“They recognized Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen as the legitimate Queen of the seven Kingdoms” he said, reading.

“What?”

“They left it clear that they bend the knee, recognizing her as the legitimate heir to the Iron Throne”, he continued, “Furthermore, they know about the death of the princess and they…”, he swallowed hard

“What?”, asked Alicent

“They considered it an act of war, they called their bannermen, they are gathering the northern army to march south”, Alicent opened her eyes widely

“They won’t dare go this far south”, she said

“Once they meet with the Knights of the Vale, they will”, Otto said, “the northerners went ahead even more, they repudiate the ascension of Aegon the drunk, calling him a usurper”, he said firmly

“They would wage war against the crown?” she asked, indignant

“...Against the usurper”, he called, “That wretched princess whored his sons to Cregan Stark, it has to be” she muttered

“They loved each other since they were children”, said Alicent. They were interrupted by a guard, who entered solemnly, guiding a maester, a letter in his hand

“Lord Hand, a letter from Dorne”, he said, delivering the letter a making a bow, and then abandoning the room

“Let’s see”, he opened the letter and read attentively, and then his face showed that it wasn't good news either. “We don’t with dance dragons” he muttered, “But Dorne recognizes no King, but Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, and will not recognize the rule of the Usurper Aegon the drunk”, he spitted out, “For the Princess’ death, we will collect every soldier that crosses the border and sink every ship that dares to cross our shores”, he read

“Gods be good”, cried the Queen, “what about Highgarden? and Riverrun?”

“No news of highgarden, the Riverlands are of the Strongs and the Tullys, both houses are Black”

“So…” muttered Aegon, who was suffering the consequences of the exploits of the night before, “We don’t have the North… we don’t have the Vale, of course we don’t have the Riverlands because of the Strongs… We don’t have Dorne either”

“We have the Stormlands” mutter the Queen, “We might have the Reach, we have the Westerlands”

“We haven’t got word from The Reach” muttered Otto, “They keep this Kingdom’s food in their storages, we do not risk in involving them, they will stay at the sidelines, as they had always done”, but then he smiled, “but we have Oldtown, they had been preparing their army for years”, Alicent looked at him with warning.

“We can’t leave the castle because they have the city watch, mother”, murmured Aegon, “One step out of the keep and we are dead”

“THIS IS YOURS BY RIGHT!” she snapped, “VISERYS…” and then she got quiet, “wanted you to be King, this is your birthright” she continued, in her eyes unshed tears, “the Gods are with us”

“They Gods don’t have armies”, said Aemond

“You killed the only person that was preventing the blacks from coming for our heads”, said Tyland, “Rhaenyra doesn’t give a shit about Aemma, Daemon won’t hesitate to throw the entire country into war”.

“Yes, Aemma…”, said Otto, “the only valuable asset we have, she is the key to the Riverlands, Harwin is still alive, as are their brothers, three grown dragons…”

“Wed her to me”, said Aemond

“Before she found out what you did?”, laughs Aegon

“Yes”

“It could be a good idea”, muttered Tyland. Larys only looked at everything with a shy smile

“How long until our army is here?”, asked Alicent

“It could be months, but the Baratheons are preparing as we speak”, said Otto, “and we have the royal army”

“If the City watch takes arms against them it could mean a civil war”, said Alicent

“What news of Harrenhal?”, asked Alicent to Larys

“It’s been quiet, my brother hasn't call for his banners yet”, he said with that unsettling smile

“He must be in mourning”, whispered Alicent

“We could take the advantage”, said Tyland, “Harrenhal is essential, is a great garrison to gather a large force, and the closest to King’s Landing”

“I agree”, said Otto, looking right at Aemond, “we need Harrenhal”, Aemond knew his grandfather was speaking directly to him. He understood his role, he was the dragon rider with the biggest dragon, the one that was dispensable, his brother was King and his sweet sister, she couldn’t ride to war.

So he was the chosen one

To fly into battle and destroy his family, the family that he had come to love. Perhaps he could speak with Aemma, perhaps he could talk to Rhaegar and Maekar, and. He drew a sharp breath, he had killed their mother, they would kill him in sight, or try to. He wouldn’t be able to bear to kill his nephews.

“We will find the most suited commander to lead the forces from the capital to take Harrenhal”, said Otto.

Perhaps Aemond killing the Princess wasn’t so bad, it’s like the cut the head of the dangerous dragon. Well, the dragon did have another two heads, two chaotic, restless mindless heads… Daemon and Rhaenyra will eat each other first.

“In Harrenhal we don’t have more than a thousand men, but as soon as Daemon reaches Riverrun we are expected to gather the entirety of the Riverland army”, told Harwin pointing at the map, “But I’m worried about those little towns in the path of the Lannister army, we will have to guard them, either way, when we secure the Neck The northers and the army from the Vale will gather easily, when we gather that force we will destroy everything in our path”, said Harwin, sure of his word

“But if we gather all the forces, it will be easier for a dragon, Vhagar, to burn them all”, observed another

“Yes, it would be wise to keep them separated”, said Rhaenyra

“Lord Borros has allied with the Greens”, said Daemon

“So it looks like the North against the South”, muttered Rhaenyra

“We need to find a way to block The Lannisters from joining King’s Landing Army”

“The Riverland army seems to be the obvious choice”

“So Harwin, I need you to call in your bannermen”, said Daemon, “we need you in the Riverlands”

“I will…”

“No!”, said Rhaenyra, calling the attention of everyone there, “It’s too dangerous”, Daemon wouldn’t miss how Rhaenyra grabbed his hand. But Harwin retracted his hand from hers

“This is what I need to do”, he said firmly, “this is how we fuck them up, I want theirs heads in spikes”

“Don’t we all”, said Daemon, looking at him, amused.

Meanwhile, in another room in the castle

“This shit is ridiculous”, growled Crestan, as he packed the few belongings he had on his bag, “I’m going to look for her and nobody is stopping me, fuck this shit!”, he mumbled to himself, “Like hell they will burn me, they don’t know shit!”. He grabbed his sack and threw it over hsi shoulders

Great dragon lords these ones, not even a scout to search for her!

He will take matters into his own hands

He managed to exit the castle without being bothered, and now he was walking towards the small village, crossing it to get to the dock.

But before he could reach his boat, I mean, ship, he was intercepted by none other than Daemon himself

“Where are you going?”, he asked

“To search for her”, he answered plainly

“If you sneak me into King’s Landing I will let you leave”, he said, his hands grasping his famous Valyrian Steel sword, Dark sister

“King’s Landing? Are you insane?”, he asked. Daemon just shook his head

“Speak nothing of it, and you will be able to leave this gods forsaken island never to return”, he said firmly

“So the only thing I have to do is take you to King’s Landing?”, Daemon nodded, “Well, raise the anchors”, he said with a mocking smile

“What are you going to do there?”, he asked

“A nephew for a niece”, he cryptically said

In Winterfell, the castle was on high alert, all the Lords and ladies had returned home to gather their men, and soon they would all march and gather all of their force in Moat Cailin. And then, wreak havoc in the Capital.

They knew the Riverlands belonged to the blacks, so they didn’t quite know who they were going to face. It was expected that small towns could rise against their lord in allegiance to the Usurper, but still.

Maekar and Rhaegar had stood alongside Cregan, and the man trusted them with everything regarding the preparations for the march. They had reports of all the Lord and Ladies ready to march from their homes, so clearly Winterfell and all the towns around it had gathered their men and were preparing to depart.

Maekar grabbed his brother and took him to the God’s Wood, so they could have a proper conversation, alone.

“I spoken to Cregan, and i made a decision”, he said

“You made a decision?”, Rhaegar asked

“We both are parting ways”, he said firmly. and Rhaegar looked at him, angry

“But mom said…”

“Mom is gone”, he said firmly, “she might be gone for good, or she might be in some distant beach, washed up on some shore, but right now, she isn’t here”

“What should we do, then?”, asked Rhaegar

“What is the first place those fuckers are going to try and take?” Maekar tried to reason with his brother. “They are going to Harrenhal, that one-eye bastard on that fucking flying dinosaur and I have to be there with our father”

“We are going, then”

“No, you are staying here”

“I’m not letting you leave to go fighting and probably dying, while I stay here doing nothing!”, he fought back

“You are not doing nothing, you will stay with Lord Cregan, and march South with him and his army”

“But…”

“They are our allies”, he sentenced, “they are going south, they are putting their lives at risk for us, for our cause, for mom, you and Karnax are going to guard them and protect them”

“You are going to die”, he said firmly, “you cannot face Vhagar alone”

“I probably won’t be alone, there is Daemon, and Rhaenyra, and Jace, and Luke, they all have dragons, together we will defeat Vhagar”, he said, sure of his words but not truly believing them, he pictured many members of their family flying into the battlefield atop their dragons, Aunt Rhaenyra wasn’t one of them

“We will meet in Harrenhal then, but you have to promise me one thing”

“Yes”

“You will call for me, whatever happens”

“Very well”, and Maekar offered his arm, and Rhaegar grabbed his forearm and his twin did the same.

“Good luck brother”

“Don’t fucking die”, said Rhaegar, “Or I will kill you”

“How are you going to kill me if…”

“Shut up”

It was hard for them both, they were the oldest of the siblings, they had a responsibility, and that responsibility was their two baby brother and sister. They were too small to understand what was going on, so they couldn’t quite explain it, but, they couldn’t just leave and abandon them

“Will you be good?”, asked Maekar to both children, and they nodded

“Why is everyone leaving?”, Asked Saera

“We have to go to King’s Landing”, said Rhaegar

“Why? Can we go with you?”

“You must stay here”

“Where is mama and papa?”, asked Vaegor

“They are in Dragonstone with aunt Rhaenyra”, they didn’t have the heart to tell them you had perished, not yet.

“You have to stay here, and be nice”, demanded Maekar

“When mama and papa are going to come?”, asked Saera

“Soon we will all come back, and then we will go home”, said Rhaegar, “but right now you have to stay here”

They weren’t proud of abandoning their little siblings, but they did know that this was the safest palace of all, that here they were going to be safe, war was no place for children, Dragonstone was the enclave of The Blacks, sooner or later the war was going to reach it.

Leaving Saera and Vaegor they got out of the castle, ready to part ways, the entirety of the Stark family and the rest of their court was outside, to say goodbye to the men that were going to war. Rhaegar went straight to his betrothed, as Maekar walked towards Cregan to let him know of his decision

“My brother will guard your march, I have to go ahead and go to Harrenahl, my father is going that way”, Cregan nodded

“Be careful boy”, he answered, I’ll see you in three weeks time

“If we fail, can you promise me you’ll retake Harrenhal?”, he asked hopefully, Cregan only smiled

“I promise”

“When I’m back from war”, Rhaegar said gently, “I’m coming back for you”, he said sweetly, she slapped his chest playfully

“You better Southerner”, she warned cheekily, “I’ll be waiting for you”, Rhaegar smiled

“When I’m back, we will marry”, he said and she smiled and nodded, “and in your belly you will carry the most beautiful girl”, he whispered, making her blush

“And then the strongest boy”, she continued. Rhaegar stole another kiss from his betrothed, “Where will we live?”, she asked

“Wherever you want”, he offered, “we could stay here, or we could go South, to the Whitehall”

“I’d love that”, she said

“Very well”, he leaned in and kissed her again, “Can I ask you to…”

“I will take care of your siblings”, she said with a wide smile

“I love you”

So with sweet words and hopeful promises, Maekar flied towards Harrenhal on Aerion, while Rhaegar rode his horse at Cregan’s side, his dragon Karnax flying above them

They sat Aemma in the small council meeting, she looked at all of them there, Queen Alicent, Otto Hightower, Aegon and Aemond

“We want you to write a letter”, said Alicent. “to your family in Dragonstone”

“And what will I write in that letter?”, she asked in a whisper

“That your wish is to avoid the war”, she said, “that you want to return to your family and for doing so, the armies that had gathered against us will dissolve”

“The war is breaking out?”, she asked, with her big eyes wide open

“Yes”, said Otto, “but it is not too late, write this letter for your aunt…”

“I’m not comfortable with this”, she said

“I don’t give a shit!”, jumped Aegon, “write the fucking letter!”

“Aegon!”, called Alicent. Aemond placed a hand on Aemma’s back making her jump

“This could be very helpful”, he said in a whisper, “we want to avoid bloodshed, we want to avoid war”

“If you wanted to avoid war you shouldn't have usurped a throne”, she said looking back at him

“We didn’t usurp it”, said Alicent, “this is King Viserys last will”

“Oh I bet it was”, she mocked, she slid the piece of paper and the quill back to Alicent across the table, “you are not going to use me”

“She is right mother, perhaps we should send Rhaenyra and Harwin a finger or one of her ears”, Aegon mocked. Aemma jumped backwards trying to get away from him

“Ser Criston, escort Princess Amena back to her chambers”, commanded Otto and he, with a complaint smile, did.

Criston Cole looked at the princess, disgusted, he loaded the young princess, why?, because he recognizes the type in her, the type of girl that would bewitch a good man such as Aemond, and drag him to damnation, and to forget his vows, just like princess Rhaenyra. She seems all sweet and good, but he knew better

When she left, Alicent took a long sigh

“You will not marry that girl”, sentenced Otto, and Aemond looked at him

“What?”

“She is a traitor, of a family of traitors, she will not bend the knee, we cannot have you marry her, we need you to secure other alliances”, his grandfather explained

“But we will ask something of you”, said Alicent, grabbing his hand over the table. “Make sure to put a baby in her belly”, whispered the Queen. Aemond looked at her with his eye wide open

“What?”, he asked cautiously. His mother was embarrassed, he knew as much

“I’m not proud…”, she began, “but Rhaenyra's strongest ally is her sister’s family, we have her daughter, she would never put her at risk, as long as we have her they won’t attack, if Aemma is with child the risk diminishes…”

“The Princess is dead”, he said bitterly

“But her allies aren’t”, said Otto, “her siblings aren’t, they have two grown dragons, and the North!”

“I’m not marrying her…”, he whispered, “and you want me to defile her…”

“Aemond”, called his grandfather, but the young man just had to look at him once for him to keep quiet

“It’s Aemma”, he said to his mother, “my Aemma, and you want me to ruin her, to break her”

“She is our hostage”, said Otto, and that made Aemond’s blood boil

“She is not “ours”, she is mine!”, he said firmly, “My Aemma”, he grunted, “Not our hostage, she is mine”. ANd with that, he left the room

Indignant, he felt disgusted, betrayed, his mother! what she asked of him. He wanted to be alone, away from all these people, maybe what he truly wanted was to go back to those times where he thought he had a complete and happy family, with Aemma and his nephews and his sister.

She needed to see the one good person he realized that lived in the Red Keep, so he went to look for his sister, but Aegon found him instead

“Did you enjoy the mission I gave you?”, he mocked

“No, she is barely a woman”, he said firmly. He was not going to reveal to him how much he loved her, NEVER.

“The more younger women are, the most delicious”, he whispered

“I can’t believe the Gods put you on this earth before me”, he grunted

“Oh I bet you are”

“I will comply with this disgusting mission”, no he wasn’t going to comply to their sick mission, but Aegon didn’t need to know, the last thing he wanted was him going after Aemma, his sick brother drunk with wine and power

”Are you sure brother?”, asked Aegon, ignoring his brother, “that you are up to the task?” he rolled his eyes, asking the gods for patience, “because if you want, I could break her in for you”, at that he grabbed his brother by the collar of his tunic and threw him towards the wall of the hallway

“If you touch her…”, he whispered, “...I’ll kill you”, he whispered dangerously against his face

“I’m your King”, muttered in threat

“You more than anyone know how little that means to me”, he answered, releasing him and kept walking, forget Helaena, he needed to clear his head, and what better to do that then a quick flight on Vhagar’s back

More notes: You should have realised by now how much I love cliffhangers HAHAHA SORRYYYYY

taglist!

@tearsarcane @integra1127 @aestmilky @thanyatargaryen @tythaitie @lostinworldofdarkness @voodoogoul @wildmindedbeauty32 @lil-pudd @alicattx @electric-bloo @astaaan-lol @stargaryenx @kaitieskidmore1 @bregarc @lilpnd @jcpenneyyy @janelei @fexibau @ladyoakenshield157 @danielle-leah1997 @lady-ragnvindr @cecilyjmorgenstern @omgsuperstarg @bugheadskid @batprincess1013 @her-fandom-sanctum @holb32 @blue1006 @stargaryenx @grippleback-galaxy @mikariell95 @genesisliveson @mendes-bae @caspianobsessed

@notmundane3000 @kamisunshine

#harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong #harwin strong x targaryen reader #ser harwin x reader #harwin strong #rhaenyra targaryen #hbo house of the dragon #house targeryen #house targaryen #house of the dragon #misguidedhotd

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honestlydarkprincess · 1 month

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K. So a few years ago the price of eggs skyrocketed and people’s solution was to cross the US-Mexican border and smuggle Mexican eggs back to the US because they were a lot cheaper.

I want Bobby to do this and be arrested in Mexico because I think it’d be hysterical.

“Athena have you seen the price difference? I had to take the risk, these eggs were a steal!”

“Shut the hell up.”

LKJSDF Amazing 😂 I'll go with him and go say hi to my extended family while he steals the eggs

#dadbodbobby #jess gets mail! 💌

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lauratheghost · 4 months

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My trip to Montreal

& the Sleep Token show

(long post below)

The Trip:

I went with my sister, who did the driving. The drive there was awesome. We left at 5:30 a.m. and there was no traffic at all. The border took five minutes. We laughed at the "warning Canada ahead" sign (that was like five feet in front of the border 😂)

It was like an hour of driving through massive farms before we reached the city? Idk why but I didn't expect the farms.

Driving in Montreal was another story. It was terrifying 😭 I have car anxiety in general but it was so stressful. It made traffic in Boston not seem so bad. The way the lanes were marked was confusing to us, and some of the signs were also confusing. We hit a speed bump going crazy fast because we had no idea what the sign meant and the actual bump on the ground wasn't yellow (now it seems obvious though, ok 🤷🏼‍♀️😂) and the buses drive crazy fast and one cut us off and almost hit us.

Our phones didn't work as soon as we crossed the border. We tried to add a global package to our plans but it still didn't work. This was only a major problem because we needed GPS. If we missed a turn we would have to find a Harvey's or Starbucks or something to get their wifi and reroute. It took us a long time to get to Laval 😂

Once we got to the hotel we parked the car and didn't use it again until we left. But we took taxis and that was cool! I don't think I've ever taken a taxi before and the drivers were really nice.

We loved our hotel and we could see Place Bell from our window. The area was so nice, and very clean for a city. It feels like Laval is an up-and-coming city because of all the construction we saw, and our hotel was also new apparently.

Everything was so cheap? The lattes I bought were like $6 CAD so $4.40 USD. In my hometown, lattes are double that. All the food and snacks were such a good deal. I stopped obsessively checking my bank account after a while because everything seemed so inexpensive 😂 (Also, I'm a cheap person so this is saying something lol)

It was more of a culture shock than I expected. I knew it was going to be a lot of French but I guess I didn't grasp the reality of that until I was there. Thank God I took french in high school. I could not really hold a conversation, but I could read some signs and menus and kind've get the jist of what people were saying to me.

Everyone was so kind and helpful. We asked a lot of strangers questions and they were all very nice. I only had two small experiences with rude people (and I laughed about it)

Crosswalks were also a bit scary lol. It was weird that some cars still go when the crosswalk button goes off. In my area, all directions of traffic stop while people cross.

My hotel was 50 % people with Sleep Token shirts and 50 % hockey players 😂

We LOVE Tim Hortons 😍 Their iced mocha latte was amazing. I wish I had one in my town now.

Three days went by so fast! It felt like one day.

We went to Mount Royal Park, the Cosmodome, the Biosphere, and La Rhonde. I rode the ferris wheel even though I'm scared of heights. I think my heart stopped for a second but the view was beautiful. 😂🥰

Some random things we noticed- nobody really wears jeans or Crocs 🤷🏼‍♀️😂 everyone dresses a bit nicer. And we didn't see any cops besides event security the entire time we were there, which is unheard of in Massachusetts, I see cops drive by twenty times a day everyday probably. There were lilacs everywhere which I loved. So many people biked- it made me want to be more healthy and active. Public transport seemed very available and I'm jealous of that because public transport where I am is trash.

Can you drink in public? Idk, but we saw a guy drinking a twisted tea while casually crossing the road lol.

The Show:

People were lined up starting around 7 pm the night before 👀

At 5:30 a.m. there was maybe ten or fifteen people camped out with tents and everything. I applaud their dedication, but I could never 😭

I kept an eye on the line and once the merch stand opened I went over and bought a shirt beforehand. I got a t-shirt with the tour dates on it 🖤

The line system seemed really unorganized. Nobody knew what line went where. Besides that, getting inside was easy and I liked the venue.

Our seats had a good view, but we were so high up it made me a bit anxious. It was a little hard to see III because of the fog/lights, and Espera was kind've blocked by a light fixture, but I had a great view of IV and II which made me really happy 🥰

ESB's opening set: So, they are not exactly my cup of tea BUT I don't think they deserve the hate they've been getting. My only problem was that the singers scream sounded the same over and over. I wasn't sure if he was saying the same phrase or not, but it made every song sound the same. They did have some good moments though! There was a moment where he screamed lower/more gutteral and I liked that more. There was also a moment where the guitar and instruments sounded really cool but I can't explain it. I was glad to see they had a little mosh pit going too.

Sleep Token was amazing as expected. I'm forever in awe of how good Vessel sounds live. I was so happy I could see II good too, I loved watching his little dances and hand gestures. I saw III do his little swimming motion and he did get a pit! A pretty big one too from what I saw. I didn't expect them to hand out drumsticks and stuff so early, because they didn't play TMBTE or Euclid yet- but they were just doing that fake-out encore thing I guess. 😂

I love the diversity of the fans at their shows- all types of people and all ages and it's so nice to see 🖤 The guy sitting beside me did not look like someone I would expect to listen to Sleep Token, but he was singing every word and recording all the same parts of their songs as me 😂

After the show I got to meet @shatterthefragments !!! It was so great, and they made awesome ST keychains- I will treasure mine forever 🖤

I still haven't really processed any of this yet because after the show I was constantly busy- between packing up and doing the few last things we wanted to do in the city, and then driving five hours back home. There's videos and pictures from this weekend that I haven't even looked at yet. I will definitely post some videos or photos here soon though

Overall, I give this trip a 9/10

I'm so glad I impulsively bought tickets and got my passport renewed. It was so fun and it makes me wanna travel more in the future. 🖤

#sleep token #personal #ramblings #traveling #montreal #canada #laval #place bell

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birdofmay · 8 months

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I thought you're in Frisia

I'm used to people asking "I thought you're Frisian" because they don't know that Frisia is a cross-border cultural region in Northwestern Europe.... But....

THIS...... This hurts! 😞 Like hey, you don't have to rub it in that we had some peace and quiet before other people came here and before you know it your land is called Germany! 😂

#not autism #anon ask

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whumpwillow · 1 year

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trope: humiliation character: royal whumpee

Oh nooo, I watched too many Game of Thrones and HOTD to think up of something original, I think this trope is such an already explored area that risks to borderlines RPF... BUT I'LL TRY LETS SEE

CW : ITS F ING LONG | Humiliation(Obviously) | Torture | Degrading | Furniture Whump

A royal Whumpee was one of the youngest heir to a failed crown that has fallen to an armed rebellion by a new dynasty. It's not like Whumpee was directly responsible for how the last monarch managed the realm or how the system failed the people, but Whumper has planned the rebellion well, awful rumors that made the commoners scared with Whumpee already spread long before any violence broke out. Abandoned and alone, Whumpee becomes the target of contempt and hatred at every turn.

Another thing is that by the time the smoke of war clears, they're the last surviving symbol of the previous royal line, and the next guy in NEED the kingdom to know they're not in charge anymore. Mere floggings or degrading parades would not suffice. The message must transcend borders, reaching neighboring kingdoms and former allies, acknowledging that the last ruling dynasty is DONE. And Whumper know just how to make a scene that crosses borders.

Caretaker is a diplomat sent by one of the kingdom's former allied state. Whumper had finally opened communication to their realm, and its their job to attend the court to re-establish connections. They have heard that the Whumpee is still alive(which is a good news, as Whumpee shares a bloodline connection with Caretaker's own monarch) What they didn't expect is that they would be standing beside Whumper in the negotiation room with other envoys, completely silent and broken, wearing robe that bears the symbol of their house.

As Whumper welcomed all of the foreign guest, a guard callously strips away Whumpee's robe, revealing a body marred by hundreds of bruises, cuts, and burn mark. They forced them to crawl as Whumper used them as a chair throughout the talk. Throughout ALL talks, in the duration of Caretaker's stay. Caretaker's home kingdom is desperate to keep Whumpee alive, and Whumper knows it. It is a simple matter to injure Whumpee every time the any former allies brought up terms that Whumper didn't like, sometimes forcing Whumpee to beg, bring the envoys their pens or lick their boots, or maybe flog them until the disagreeing party concede.

Other envoys are appalled but find themselves trapped by the exigencies of forging strategic alliances and securing crucial trade agreements. Caretaker had to juggle between appeasing whumper and other diplomats, strategizing and compromising here and there to keep the discussions brief to keep spare Whumpee from prolonged negotiations, becoming Whumper's unwilling political advantage. Just as planned.

[I'M SO FUCKING SORRY I CANT WRITE AND IT ENDED UP INTO A POLITICAL FANTASY I COMMITED A CRIME]

Haha its not a crime don’t worry 😂 and a trope can never be explored too much. Have you explored it to the depth that you are satisfied? No? Then it’s not too much ✌🏻 also this is such a tasty scenario omg, what with whumper using whumpee as a bargaining chip in the negotiations with caretaker

#whump #whump prompt #willow answers #answered asks #whump prompts #whumpee #whump tropes #royalty whump #royal whump #royal whumpee #royal whumper

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acourtofthought · 1 year

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Who is guilty of considering the novella a cute little Hallmark Christmas special?

That would definitely be me 🙈

I don't think I ever really read it, I mostly skimmed for Feysand scenes during my first read through and have used it to search for Elucien / Elain / Lucien parts since then (occasionally catching moments involving the others).

But I finally did today and I was shocked with how much information it seems SJM is giving us for the future of the series.

I've always argued in favor of Elucien's book being next and the novella left me feeling like it's still a very real possibility even though there are hints of future storylines for all the characters.

The following paragraph seems like it could set up Azriel’s story and it makes sense when you consider that his biggest obstacle is overcoming his issues with the Illyrians:

Perhaps we needed a permanent presence out here, until the Illyrians remembered things like consequences. But the war had impacted us all, and with the rebuilding, with the human territories crawling out to meet us, with other Fae kingdoms looking toward a wall-less world and wondering what shit they could get away with … We didn’t have the resources to station someone out here. Not yet. Perhaps next summer, if the climate elsewhere was calm enough.

Yes, a presence here was needed. But later.

He would be the perfect character for Rhys to assign as that permanent presence (which Az will riot over, no doubt, however Rhys loves putting everyone in places they don't want to be only to have it be the best thing for them in the end). But it doesn't sound like we're ready for his book just yet.

"if the climate elsewhere was calm enough". "Yes, a presence here was needed. But later."

The Illyrian storyline didn't happen in Nessian's book because "the climate elsewhere" is still not calm enough.

Things currently affecting the climate (not the weather kind 😂):

(1) Mor felt more than saw Feyre stiffen beside her at something Eris had said. Her High Lady answered Eris, “Your father is forbidden to cross into the human lands.” No room for compromise with that tone, with the steel in Feyre’s eyes. Eris only shrugged. “I don’t think it’s your call.” Rhys slid his hands into his pockets, the portrait of casual grace. Yet the shadows and star-flecked darkness that wafted from him, that set the mountain shuddering beneath his every step—that was the true face of the High Lord of the Night Court. The most powerful High Lord in history. “I would suggest reminding Beron that territory expansion is not on the table. For any court.” Eris wasn’t fazed. Nothing had ever disturbed him, ruffled him. Mor had hated it from the moment she’d met him—that distance, that coldness. That lack of interest or feeling for the world. “Then I would suggest to you, High Lord, that you speak to your dear friend Tamlin about it.”. “Why.” Feyre’s question was sharp as a blade. Eris’s mouth curved in an adder’s smile. “Because Tamlin’s territory is the only one that borders the human lands. I’d think that anyone looking to expand would have to go through the Spring Court first. Or at least obtain his permission.”

Rhys’s cold face turned contemplative, though. She could easily read the reluctance in his eyes, the annoyance at having Eris tip him off, but information was information.

As if he’d known that sleep had been futile for me last night after Eris’s not-so-subtle warning about Tamlin and his borders.

(2) “I am not going to disband the Illyrians. There is nowhere for them to go, anyway. And if we try to drag them out of those mountains, they might launch the very assault we’re trying to defuse.” Az said nothing. “But perhaps more pressing,” I went on, jabbing a finger on the sprawling continent, “is the fact that the human queens have not returned to their own territories. Beyond that, Hybern’s general populace is not too thrilled to have lost this war. And with the wall gone, who knows what other Fae territories might make a grab for human lands?” My jaw tightened at that last one. “This peace is tenuous.”

(Rhys and Az are talking about the issues with the Illyrians but he notes that even more pressing than their issues with the Illyrians is their issues with the Queens on the continent and other territories).

(3) If we sweep in, even to stop them from triggering another war, we’ll be seen as conquerors, not heroes. We need the humans in other territories to trust us, if we can ever hope to achieve lasting peace.”

“Then perhaps Jurian and Vassa should deal with them. While Vassa is free to do so.”

(1.1) Azriel arched a brow. “You mean to visit the Spring Court?” I wished I could say otherwise. But I instead told him what Eris had implied: that Tamlin either might not care to enforce his borders with the human realm or might be open to letting anyone through them. I doubted I’d get a decent night’s rest until I found out for myself.

Rhys to Tamlin: “And,” I went on, “she was as disturbed as I was to learn that your borders are not as enforced as we’d hoped.”

SJM is again drawing attention to the fact that Rhys is extremely worried over the thought of Tamlin not enforcing his borders, to the point that he's lost sleep over it. And as we find out later in the novella and Silver Flames, Tamlin has still not been enforcing his borders (also, his military forces aren't where they need them to be) and he's not any closer to getting to the point where he will. In SF, the action they take in response to all of that is to station Lucien there to be their eyes and ears and contain any damage because it's such a pressing concern.

So that makes three major issues affecting their climate outside of the NC. The problem with the human queens (only Briallyn was dealt with in SF so the others remain) and territories on the continent, their need for the humans to trust them, and the fact that Springs borders are not being enforced which is a concern because of Berons (and the other territories) desire to expand.

Every single one of those concerns is strongly connected to Elain and Lucien. Spring / Beron because of Lucien's connection to them both and the hints of Elain in Spring. Building trust with the humans which is very Lucien-centric at the moment as he's living with Jurian and Vassa and has helped them rebuild and sort out their politics. The queens across the sea, who Vassa (housemates with Lucien) has a vendetta against because they sold her out to Koschei. Not that the BOE would defeat them all however I imagine there will be conflict. The concern that other Fae territories will try to push into the human lands (Lucien connection again). And Elain is connected to those things through her visions, her past with Graysen and the humans, and Nesta (in SF) reminding us that Elain had always wanted to travel to the continent.

I found another possible Az storyline. I think he'll be the one to hunt down Bryaxis:

“No word on Bryaxis, I take it.”

Az studied the floor as well. “Not a whisper. Or a scream, for that matter.”

I’d planned to hunt Bryaxis down for months now—to take Feyre and let her track down the entity that, for lack of a better explanation, seemed to be fear itself. But, as with so many of my plans for my mate, running this court and figuring out the world beyond it had gotten in the way.

“Do you want me to hunt it down?” An easy, unruffled question. I waved a hand, my mating band catching in the morning light. That I hadn’t heard from Feyre yet told me enough: still asleep. And as tempting as it was to wake her just to hear the sound of her voice, I had little desire to have my balls nailed to the wall for disrupting her sleep. “Let Bryaxis enjoy the Solstice as well,” I said.

I think Az facing off with a creature who is "fear itself" would he amazing considering we'd get a glimpse into the darkest, scariest corners of Az's mind. But again, it doesn't seem to be a pressing concern at the moment.

There's a lot going on in these spin-off books and even more has been thrown in to the mix since SF and the crossover but when SJM made a few mentions of the most pressing issues that were at the forefront of Rhys’s mind, I can't stop myself from thinking Elucien being next is a strong contender.

#elucien #pro elucien #acotar 5 #acotar theory #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #azriel acotar #acofas

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raetttriestowrite · 7 months

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First & Last Lines

Rules: Post the first and last lines of the last 10 fics you posted. WIPs are welcome. Not super strict!!

I was tagged by @mirrorthoughts so thank you! Everything I've posted is from Bless This Mess, This Mess Is Mine series so let's see how this looks all laid out. 😂

I'll Keep You Like An Oath - Part 13 Booker recognises the flashbang for what it is as soon as it's tossed into the room, closing his eyes and bracing without a moment's hesitation. - Booker would do anything, here and now, to keep that.

When the Lonesome Whistle Cries - Part 12 Desmond comes out of sleep to the low murmur of voices somewhere in the room and the smell of coffee on the air. - Every thought is molasses slow and syrupy and Desmond. Sleeps.

I'm Standing Here Until You Make Me Move - Part 11 The world is still fuzzy at the edges, hard to grasp. - His apartment in Paris is obviously compromised, and he'll need something set up for when he needs to leave.

You'll Find a Man Once Lost at Sea - Part 10 It had never really clicked before, but Desmond is realising now that he's not very good at taking orders. - Previous offer stands if anything else comes up.

Take the Photographs and Still Frames in your Mind - Part 9 The Victor Safehouse turns out to be a somewhat ramshackle building at the edge of Tsaritsyn, a town which is itself just outside of Volgograd, Russia. - Your suite in Rome is no longer empty.

After I Count Down, Three Rounds - Part 8 With nothing better to do than wallow in his own guilt and misery, Booker spends 6 months testing the limits of his liver. - Shit, he thinks, blinking at the view, the floor to ceiling windows are a nice fucking touch.

Isn’t There A White Knight Upon A Fiery Steed - Part 7 The temple hums around him, alive with power. - He doesn't need to know which name is the right one, if he knows that.

I Am The Opposite Of Amnesia - Part 6 They drive until dawn, crossing the border into Germany and continuing on. - "Sure, count me in. Not like I've got anything better to do for a while."

And So He Wandered Down The Road - Part 4 Desmond is sitting in what must be the most uncomfortable chair known to man, staring at the woman he's been running from for fucking months, and feeling like a god damned idiot. - "Yeah," he says; steady, steady, "Just get us out of Amsterdam."

Killing Idiots from Acre to Dumbass - Part 3 Altaïr is a novice the first time he sees her. - Altaïr files that away in his mind - another piece of this puzzle - and hums.

hmm. idk what to make of that. i cant even recognise any patterns O.o but! there you go! 😊 imma tag @frogwithapen, @tkwritesdumbassassins and anyone else who wants to do it!

#the oldest here is from like. June 2022 lolol i am Slow writer #tag game #raetttriestowrite #fanfiction #btmtmim #bless this mess this mess is mine

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mariamariquinha · 2 years

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Poker Games (Mike Duarte x f!reader) - one shot

Part 2 (because I can't control myself)

Summary: The guy was a bitch.

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: I've never watched a single episode of Law and Order, but let’s pretend I did. A lot of bad words, unprotected p in v sex, smut, kinda of rough sex, alcohol consumption and... Eh. I guess. If there’s anything more, again, pretend you didn’t see.

Author’s Note: First of all, I would like to give a HUGE thanks to my dear (and who are already my friend, sorry) @thoroughlymodernminutia. Meaghan helped me a lot because, as I said, my ackowledgment about this show is zero. She was a sweetheart as always. Check out her gifs, too! ❤️❤️❤️

I also want to say that this will be a one time thing. Sometimes I can’t promise a shit here 😂😂😂 But now I’m kinda serious, as much as I love to write for Maurice, I’m already working with two cops (Carrillo and Benny), so I need to write for my other characters away from the police work.

If you want to find amazing jobs about this baby here, follow @the-hinky-panda and @bullet-prooflove! They are THE BEST.

For taglist, I’ll tag @cheesybadgers (because she’s always supporting my ideas here) and @mysoulisasunflower (because she’s a sweetie and make amazing gifs too).

That’s it! Woo-hoo!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

--------------------------------------

You didn't like him right off the bat and you never hid it; just like he didn't disguise that he noticed.

Mike Duarte could have any reputation in the Bronx Gang Unit - everyone with age and experience had one, it wasn’t spectacular and you could easily list other officers with lesser titles than his who were worthy of any pomp or recognition. And in a way, at first, things flowed well. Despite the differences, you had found a certain rhythm that didn't even include a basic exchange as ‘co-workers’.

But you didn't like him. And he knew it.

Not hate, perhaps… it was a subliminal sense that happened when you used to lay eyes on a person and knew there was something. If someone asked you, you wouldn't know how to pinpoint it. Not that someone would. As a lesser-ranked professional, as a lieutenant, you simply withheld comments about your superiors because you knew better than to try your luck. Certain kinds of opinions were better left in your own head.

Things started to escalate little by little - all because of that case. In theory, the functions there were separate. You've always been from different departments, but a common situation ended up connecting the two of you, and since then it worked. Somehow.

Sometimes the two of you discussed more banal things: procedures, bureaucracy, witnesses. As a lieutenant, again, you found your limits fairly easily, and the understanding always earned him grunts or eye rolls on your part. Duarte used to look, wait for a more verbalized reaction, and then return to the subject. His team already knew him like that, sometimes you got sympathetic or condescending looks, and that was it.

Things started to escalate to the other side at the same pace, you would say. A practically premeditated, probably predictable, fight that built up and heated up over the weeks. Ugly, cunning, with certain types of offense that bordered on a lack of respect that never existed in that implied relationship of misunderstandings. He said you didn't understand, you countered by saying he was gaslighting you. It was an exchange of complicated words that resulted in a later intervention by your captain, from your department, who really was your boss.

“If you carry on like this, you'll leave the case, understand?”

It should have been a threat, but it felt more like relief at the time. You scoffed, and in that moment, when you looked at a Duarte standing in front of you with his arms crossed, visibly victorious, you both knew there was more to it than 'professional differences'.

No one brought it up.

Did this go on for days? Weeks? Something like that. You stopped bickering with each other in conventional discussions and everything became so pragmatic, so mechanical, that when the case was resolved, you didn't feel the conventional victory or relief. Everyone went to celebrate in a bar, you attended, but you didn't stay long to raise a flag of peace. You weren’t in the mood.

He didn't seem like the type to need a few drinks to get up his nerve for something, always very assertive and confident in his own words and actions, but Duarte waited until you were alone between one round of drinks and the next, leaning against the bar.

“You don't look very satisfied,” That smug grin was there, accompanied by his eyes checking you out.

“I forgot the fireworks at home, I'm sorry.”

“I'm just saying that the merit of this is also yours. It was collaborative.”

“How many times did you have to repeat this in front of the mirror to sound even remotely convincing?”

“Three,” You rolled your eyes, turning back to the bartender preparing the drinks to give the most explicit sign of not-in-the-mood-for-talking. Duarte didn’t see it that way, though. “Four if you count that I changed the speech last time.”

“Should I be curious to know what the other version was?”

“You are good at what you do.”

That definitely wasn't expected and it wasn't the starting point of a more peaceful relationship either, but it was something. He wasn't the type to lie for benefits, nor be charming for interests - there wasn't a thing you could offer. You looked at him, he looked back at you, and for a brief moment, with the light of the establishment or just the fact that Duarte was keeping his mouth shut, you almost saw him differently.

Still, you shrugged your shoulders and maintained a veneer of disinterest.

“That's how I got to where I am and how I won almost every family poker game on Thanksgiving.”

“Almost.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Why? What could make you lost?”

At the same time, the drinks were placed in front of you and you smirked with as much falsehood as you could display, calmly grabbing the glasses.

“My aunt majored in Mathematics at Harvard.”

“Sounds unfair.”

“That's what happens when you try to face someone with more power than you, Captain Duarte. You lose.”

He didn't even look for you for the little rest of the night and when you left, carrying nothing but your own farewells even though you knew you would bump into that team eventually at the station, looking back was like seeing a puzzled figure.

That was new.

------------------------

One day, early in the morning, the two of you arrived together. You both parked, got out of your cars, and you didn't particularly see him until you noticed a hand intervene in your path to open the access door to the station. You looked up and he was smiling discreetly, further intensifying your frown. Duarte nodded inside, the door still opened by his grip.

You didn't thank him. He surely wasn’t expecting this anyway.

-------------------------

It was another night shift and you were visibly tired but steady. Your part of the precinct wasn't as busy, but still, you considered it possible to enjoy your dinner in the conference room - a Caesar salad, which was hardly suitable for dinner, properly speaking, but you didn't have that in mind.

You managed to enjoy everything in silence and calm. You stretched out a little in the chair, worked on your neck and sciatic nerve, grunted and closed your eyes for a moment to relax.

*knock, knock*

Just two were enough to make you wake up from a good trance and let out a brief 'come in', waiting for what seemed to be trouble coming from somewhere. Well, it wasn't. It looked like one, though.

“Did I interrupt?” Duarte pointed at your finished meal and didn't dare go further into the room than his own head peeking through the half opened door.

Yes.

“How can I help you?”

“It's not a help. I mean, it depends on the point of view.”

You were ready to ask what that was really about, but he didn't give you a chance to answer as he walked right in and closed the door, a deck of cards in his right hand. Huh. Very funny.

“I thought you were busier,” Your voice had a sarcastic tone, almost a joyful one, and he shrugged, putting the cards in front of you.

“That night at the bar sounded like a challenge to me.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Eh. That's the problem with half-telling things to curious people.”

“They show up at your dinner hour and ask you to play poker with them?”

“I know you want to. I can see it in your eyes.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“You can’t see a thing in my eyes, Duarte.”

Of course, the idea, despite being against you, tended to be more favorable on your side than not. Still hesitantly, you pushed the remnants of your dinner aside and grabbed the cards with both hands, shuffling them.

“No chips?”

“We can work this out.”

Seconds later, Duarte returned to be in front of you, pulled up a chair and distributed two handfuls of paper clips on parallel sides. Jeez, you wanted to keep a smile or any indication of excitement from your face, but it was inevitable.

“Gambling in the workplace… I'm glad it’ll be your fault,” You murmured, shuffling the cards a little more.

“It's not gambling if we aren’t playing with money,” He explained. “But we can always adapt to our interests.”

“What makes you think that something of yours interests me?”

“I don't know. What I do know is that I want something.”

He was going to make you ask, of course he was - paying attention, it even sounded like an interrogation where Duarte planted the specific traps. There he appealed to your curiosity again.

Dammit.

“And what do you want?”

“A dinner, perhaps?”

A moment of silence fell between the two of you and you somehow expected him to laugh, say it was a joke, divert the subject to the poker game. You'd honestly prefer him to say whether he was going to play Texas Hold'em, Omaha or Courchevel; it would be easier to say that your skills were very limited and mediocre to just one of them. Of course, this wasn’t the case.

That's why you went back to the cards, saw your fingers stopped and started moving them again.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you want to have dinner with me?”

“I wouldn't appreciate leaving the impression that I’m like your aunt in any way.”

It was the second time that night that Duarte left you motionless, speechless, looking at him and waiting for the laugh, the mask to fall. None of that happened. He continued to stare at the game space for a while and when he saw that you didn't react, he looked up to watch you.

“Texas?”

Right. The game. You blinked a few times, began to deal the cards and digest what he had said. It didn't sound bad, not at all, but you didn't think he'd heard you right or even considered what you'd said that night. It had been over a month. Anyone would forget.

The game started silently, just the sound of cards and clips being passed bit by bit. He won the first game by being distracted, as you just stared at the cards instead of saying anything about it or paying more attention, but there was no overheard celebration on his part. In the second, you were more prepared - more aware.

“That was just a metaphor,” Luckily, it would be a full house. Fortunately. In the meantime, you've seen Duarte shift in his chair, then adjust his bets of ten or fifteen paper clips. “I understand that your position is greater than mine.”

“But the hierarchy bothers you a little. The procedures may not work in your favor when you are one of the younger or less experienced nieces.”

That made you frown. With three cards turned over, you both raised the stakes, but you decided to keep pressing.

“Only when it is misused.”

“Do you think you were wronged?”

“Did someone scold you in any way about our discussion?”

A fourth card was turned over and you looked at each other, either because of the game or because of the tone that the conversation had just started to take. He looked for some physical trick in your expression; when he didn't find it, he gave up the move.

“Full house.”

Your clip bargain certainly felt nice, so you pulled it all in your direction and drummed your fingers on the table as you watched him get the cropper done.

“Don't you think you've come a long way for a simple poker game?”

“I think it's already clear that I didn't come for the game.”

You considered him for a while, watched the dealing of the cards.

“The dinner, then.” A statement, not a question. “Where?”

“Where do you want it to be?”

“Not in your house.”

“Scared of what you may find?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I'm already scared of what I'm going to find before I even accept this invitation.”

He hummed, but didn’t say a thing. Hopefully, Duarte didn't even notice that you would make a Flush. The stakes were raised, he pressed harder until you both reached the fourth card.

“Funny to think you've already made up your mind.”

Well, you… didn’t. Not at the moment. You could say ‘no’ straight away and maybe he was expecting it. Still, you didn’t. And unfortunately you had no answer to that.

“Are you going to try to convince me then?”

“You don’t like me.”

“As a matter of fact.”

“Take it as a chance to confirm that I'm the asshole you think I am.”

Was that what dinners were for? To prove the point that a person was a complete idiot and spend hours dealing with it just for confirmation?

“All.” With determination, you've put all your clips into the bet. He analyzed the scene, ran his tongue over his teeth and arched an eyebrow, the smirk playing on his lips.

“All.”

Your Flush was like a sure win and you pulled it all your way with the biggest smile in the world. Duarte watched, between an abyss of curiosity and amusement, leaning back in his chair as he watched you adjust his mound and clean everything he had.

“Tomorrow at eight,” He leaned over the table, this time not distracted by any game.

“You still haven't told me where,” You, nonchalantly, kept your eyes on the cards. “And you need to win to get it, remember?”

“If I actually win, you won't accept my terms, Lieutenant,” His tone was challenging with a touch of smugness. That made you narrow your eyes at him, then shrug.

“You know that this still doesn't answer my question, don't you?”

“About me remembering the conditions of this game or why I invited you to dinner?” Duarte asked with more interest. “Yes, I remember what I said. I also remember that you didn't even hesitate to continue the game and preferred to ask my reason instead of going straight to the point, which would be your true reaction if you weren't interested, but we both already know that.”

Again, he was met with silence.

“And as much as you have your opinions, I liked you. More than you can imagine.”

“I wouldn't have imagined.”

“That's why I took the step to tell you that I did it for both of us,” He certainly felt extremely happy of having caught you in his own sense of pride or self honor, because Duarte saw the way your lips twitched, knowing full well he got you right there. “I'm interested in continuing. Best of three?”

---------------------------

He was right: you could say no. You could stop that game, not giving him the chance to win - to make his suggestion, at first.

Curiosity could be the most viable justification for this. You barely knew each other outside of work and he certainly wasn't on your list of friends, or even colleagues. In some context, between work gossip and extra alcohol at office parties, one would say he was attractive; in those conversations, you always kept quiet. Not that he wasn't handsome (he was), or that you hadn't already noticed that from the first moment (you did), but the circumstances meant that 'attractive' wasn't the first adjective that came into your head to describe him.

When you thought about dinner, you also thought about what to wear. Technically it would be something right after hours and because of the place, which was far from the police station, you wouldn't have much time for big productions, because your expectations weren't the greatest either.

You wore jeans, shirt, jacket, closed shoes. A purely professional meeting. And he thought the same thing, because when you arrived and saw him sitting at a table, casually looking at his cell phone, there was nothing new about his look.

“Ten minutes late,” He teased, watching you sit down.

“I got home to take a shower.”

“You took a shower?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Impressive.”

“I wouldn’t come here smelling like… day.”

“With all due respect, but you smell good during the day.”

That, maybe that was it. Duarte had mannerisms that were natural and intrinsic to himself, such as having the last word, pushing your buttons, and sometimes using phrases with flirty undertones. This bothered you a little because you felt inclined to give in at certain times, like when the comment was accompanied by a smirk - just the way he did in that moment.

It could be just his thing, that kind of behavior being bothersome. You didn't like to think about the possibility that, deep down, a part of you found it charming. When he wasn't using it to provoke you, of course. Didn't seem like the case at the time.

“... Thanks.”

He didn't answer, taking one last look at his phone before putting it in his pocket.

“What do you drink?” That's what Duarte asked instead.

“If I say blood from virgin girls, would you believe it?” You arched an eyebrow, seeing the way his lips curled into a small smile.

“Of course I would.”

And you got a surprise: that was a very pleasant evening. Neither Duarte nor you pressed that kind of small talk about personal life or professional past - if it was, it was very discreet, subjective, nothing you wanted to talk about too much.

He inquired about working as a lieutenant in that department, shared personal experiences from his time in the same position, but didn’t gaslighted you and offered no great advice as an older, more experienced sage. You asked about the real work in the Gang Unit, saw that he saved himself for more superficial things, and recognizing your place, you didn’t press.

No one expected an acidic comment or the moment when one of you would start a discussion if you were interested. There was a certain tune. The white flag of peace you haven't had since you met. Without effort, you'd say you could make the adjective beauty climb a little in your concept.

“I think that was better than if it was at my house,” He commented, the wind making you adjust your jacket but not repressing your scoff. You two were walking on the sidewalk, the offering of an extended conversation to a nearby park tempting enough.

“You would have to cook, so… If you say so.”

“The last time I used my kitchen for real cooking, you were probably still getting traffic tickets.”

“It's a bad way of saying that you're old.”

“And a shitty cook too.”

You both laughed, let the subject drop, and walked on for a little while longer in silence. That seemed like the right time to bring the other subject up, the reason you decided to be there in the first place.

“Listen, I… I should apologize.”

Duarte noticed the way you tipped your head to the side, trying way too hard to look at him in the eye. When you did, he was already there, stopping his steps, so you repeated the motion and sighed before keep going.

“Value judgments are not my thing, or at least they shouldn't be. I was unfair for being so direct in my opinions of you,” He just kept listening, almost lagging to give you an answer after your mouth shut.

“You had your reasons, I'm not an easy guy to deal with. Besides, what I imagine you thought of me wasn't the worst thing anyone's ever said. Just don't let your guard down now, I can still be obnoxious.”

If there was supposed to be a touch of humor in his voice, you missed it, as if the guy truly meant what he said.

“But we could go easy on each other,” The comment came right after. “You have natural leadership, this can take us to an unnecessary confrontation.”

He had his points, but you didn’t verbalize your agreement. Duarte huffed, raised both of his eyebrows and sent you a serious gaze.

“Starting with the fact you should use your words.”

“Not so fast, Captain,” You kept your feet. “I can still be obnoxious.”

“I have no doubts about that,” Was what you heard behind you as you continued walking.

---------------------------

No one commented on the change in behavior between you on a day-to-day basis. Of course, it would take another joint affair to test this new phase of amenities, but it was undeniable that you two started to get along better. Sometimes he would stop by their table, say hello; on busier days, he waved. In spare days, or rather in the evenings, he would gesture with a deck of cards and you would play poker.

The bets went from paper clips to staples to real chips you found around your house. The relationship went from mutual differences to reconcilable ones. Duarte went from being an 'annoying' guy to having nicer smiles, more interesting conversations and better jokes.

At that point, between small snippets of natural provocation, the attraction began to be more latent.

You didn't like this idea. And he knew it.

This type of situation was not uncommon and usually ended well, precisely because it was naturalized. You yourself have gone through the experience, acquaintances have, but you’ve always considered yourself a person of limits and Duarte just seemed to be outside of them. Like crossing a line. He had a bigger position, people could comment - if they weren't already commenting.

But then sometimes he would look at you, measure you, make another one of those flirty phrases and do things to maintain discreet physical contact. A touch on your arm, fingers brushing as they handed over your poker bets, leg poking yours under the table. You began to think of him with a little more affection and a dedication to your carnal reactions to closeness.

Ridiculous, you knew. The guy charmed you to another one of his traps.

On Thanksgiving that year, you didn't get to go home with your family - nor with your professional poker aunt. The promise to stop by after hours was so shallow that no one really heard it, the kind that if you went straight home no one would care a lot. The situation was already conventional, missing the holidays, so it didn’t give rise to further discussions; still, you felt bad.

“What are you doing here?”

You were looking at the computer screen with the report of the last case you’re working on that month and when you looked up, you saw Duarte standing in front of your desk with a cup of coffee in his hand, unpretentiously taking time. Instead of answering, you took your badge from your belt and showed him.

“Bad day,” He concluded, but even if you wanted to stay alone, Duarte pulled a chair from another vacant table and sat down there, determined to keep up the conversation. “What is it?”

“Doesn't it seem obvious?”

“You never sold yourself as a Thanksgiving enthusiast.”

“I’m not,” You sighed. “But it would be good to, you know, take a break. Eat good food. Not having to cook for the next few days because there’s a bunch of leftovers in your fridge.”

“It makes sense. This is a good time for those looking for virgin girls for big meals.”

Again, you didn’t answer, but shot him a middle finger before going back to your computer screen. He held that silence for a while, settling himself better in his chair and sipping his coffee in no hurry. If at a certain point he touched your knee with his and pressed a little, maybe to get your attention, you pretended you didn't feel it and held your eyes on the damn report. For as long as you could, of course.

“When are you leaving today?” Another question.

“Why? Planning to participate in my hunt for the girls?”

“Nah, I’m more like the Hansel and Gretel thing.”

“How would you feed a child to make him fat if you don't know how to cook?” A small smile played on your lips and when you dared a glance at his direction, Duarte was narrowing his eyes. “And I don’t know. Probably very late.”

“How late?”

“Does it matter?”

“We could do something.”

Your fingers landed on the keyboard and, taken aback by his words, you just stood there waiting for an elaboration. He adjusted himself again, this time looking more secretive about what he was going to say.

“Have fun.”

“This is very subjective,” That defensive tone came into view and he smiled.

“Just if you think it’s subjective.”

“Right.”

“But…”

Listen, you took pride in having certain life experiences, on and off the job. Once you answered a case of a boy who called the police because his roommate took a collectible anime magazine with Chun Li in positions… minimally gynecological. This matter lasted for weeks at the station. In personal life, it wasn’t much different. When you were still using dating apps, you got on a date with a guy who took his mother along. It happened.

However, you've never seen anyone be so succinct and blunt about their intentions with someone like him. Duarte was always very sincere in terms of his opinions and wishes, the type that went after what he wanted, and you were a little perplexed because you didn't know if that was just a friendly casualty or an invitation to sex. He could be like that. Surely you weren't the first person he got involved with there - if that was the real implication.

“You know that I still don’t like you, right?”

“I wouldn’t expect less,” Mike interjected with a head tilt. “Still, I’m having considerable success, don’t I? Making you like me a little more?”

He knew the answer. He… fucking knew, but that thing of ‘verbalize’ and shit always made him who he was. Insufferable. Annoying. Hot. Fuck.

“Nope. You’re still a bitch,” You insisted with a stubbornness that made him drop his head and sigh. “No need to fake this bothers you, Duarte.”

“Quite the opposite. And I can assure you I’m not faking it.”

Duarte didn't look away, didn't hesitate, certainly didn't even blink as he said each of those words in a volume for only you to hear. And he wasn't looking at anything but your eyes. Fixed. Direct. Diligent. This is what I want, he exuded. You didn't understand why he liked to value words so much when he demonstrated so much physically.

“... Fun, you said?” Man, you knew you were getting into dangerous territory, but you couldn't help the smirk, the teasing. “Will I need to bring my poker chips?”

“We can make it better.”

You didn't like him. And he decided that, at that point, it was pure bullshit.

------------------------

In a way, you didn't know what to expect from his apartment. It's like that reaction you just have about people around you, natural assumptions your brain makes: what their favorite food is, what they do in their free time, why they dress a certain way. Still, after giving a lot of thought to knocking twice on his door and standing in the middle of Captain Mike Duarte's considerably large room, you didn't expect everything to be so… organized.

Maybe the idea of him just relaxing didn't cross your mind or just wasn’t something that made sense, but your prospects suggested that for a place he would certainly barely stay for very long, everything would just be messed up. There was a nice rug between the sofa and the television, the industrial style of the room kept the tones neutral but wasn't unpleasant at all. You would definitely see a place like this on one of those real estate reality shows.

The American kitchen was technically small, with a black marble counter dividing it from where you were, and that gave Duarte full view to see your surprised expression.

“It’s not that bad, is it?”

“Not what I was expecting, you mean,” He laughed at that, walking towards you with two bottles of beer in his hands.

“Value judgment, mm? I thought we were over it.”

“You're the one who said I shouldn't get my hopes up,” Your words almost didn't come out when you turned fully towards him, mainly because Duarte was closer - too close.

“What I said was that you shouldn't let your guard down.”

“Oh, so you remember things when it’s good for you, huh?”

“Of course I do. Only someone really stupid wouldn't do that.”

“Coming from you, that’s another thing that surprises me too.”

Taking one of the bottles from his hand, you continued your way through the place, calmly looking around and stopping at the window, which didn't have a very pleasant view but good enough. By reflection, you saw him approaching again. Respectfully, he kept enough distance that you could feel the heat emanating from his body behind yours. It made you take a good swig of beer; suddenly you started to get hot.

“You didn't bring the chips,” He commented.

“No. We could make it better, yeah?” You couldn’t help it again, this time turning to look him in the face with intention. “By the way, you should be more careful, Duarte. I always catch you in your own arguments.”

“It’s because you distract me.”

“So focus. Unless you’re bluffing about making things better.”

One step. He invaded your space and hovered over you, his chest almost touching yours as his eyes studied your face, but not like the conventional everyday times. Duarte had more intentions there - more interest, more opportunity. Your eyelids grew heavy, wobbly, ready to slam shut at any moment because you weren't going to be the one to initiate.

Duarte noticed that; he smirked at that.

“I said I liked you, but I think I adore you now. Quiet, concentrating and trying hard not to give in because you’re too proud to accept the fact that you thought about it too,” His hushed voice made you shiver.

“About what?”

“Us,” You didn't see, but you heard him put his almost untouchable bottle on a table by your side, just as you felt his fingers taking yours and doing the same thing. A sarcastic comment almost came out of your mouth, which didn't happen because Duarte prevented that too with a hand cupping your chin.

“Bold,” Was all you could manage to say in a broken tone.

“You're not really going to give in, are you?”

He didn't let you answer as he shook his head negatively for a moment before pressing his lips against yours. Duarte wasn’t frigid, much less discreet about his intentions. Your mouth opened at the contact almost as if it had melted and he wasted no time in deepening the kiss, which besides being good, made you grip the fabric of his henley tightly. That first contact was intense, like one of the arguments you guys had, like the occasional exchange of barbs that resulted in you huffing or raving about something. What was different there is that there was no disagreement: Mike was already taking your shirt off the bottom of your pants and you were already doing the same with him, whimpering when his skin touched yours.

The tightness in your jaw wasn't lost amid tongues tangling and clothes being discarded, and he used it to pull his face away enough to glare at you. The two of you had a look of pure fire, grabbing what you could while metaphorically fighting for dominance that, while unnecessary, made everything more interesting.

“If I put my hand inside your panties, I'll find you wet, won't I? Wet for me?” Duarte practically growled, watching how your lips turned into a smirk.

“Just like your hard dick in your pants?” You bit back. “That’s the difference between us, Captain, you can’t even hide how I make you feel.”

He maneuvered you with exceptional skill and you had to suppress a loud moan as you were taken to lie down on a sofa that was too small for the two of you, but enough for what you were about to do. Your pants were ripped off quickly and through his tousled strands of hair, you could see an animalistic need that made you even more aroused because heavens if that wasn't one of the sexiest sights you'd ever seen.

That haste only allowed him to remove one of your legs. Luckily, he didn't zip up his own dick as he pulled down his pants and underwear all at once, revealing his throbbing member.

“I’ll fuck you now, but be sure that this cock will be stuffed in your mouth soon, Lieutenant,” Duarte pumped himself twice, using a not-so-gentle grip to open your legs more.

All uncomfortable and improvised, like you haven't been dancing around each other for months. One of your legs was out of the upholstery, as was his, but that didn't stop it from penetrating your wet pussy in the right way, making you close your eyes for the wonderful sensation of that first intrusion. You moaned in unison with that. He still waited a while for you to get used to it, took his time to reach one arm over to the curtain and pull it closed.

That was the only moment of possible sanity between you, the only time he really looked at you, without provocation or desire to tease you.

“Don’t you dare,” You said.

“Not a word. For now.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time, Duarte.”

“I knew you liked it,” He leaned in to brush his lips to yours, gave a tug in your bottom one. “Nasty girl.”

If that couch was old, new, it didn't make much difference. The thing moved with every grinding of his hips, moving and creaking with the force of his thrusts. You grabbed him everywhere: his shoulders, his back, his hair, even the unfortunate couch. His pants were still halfway down his thighs and your bra was barely holding your breasts, which went from top to bottom with the firmness of his movements.

When your pussy began to tighten and orgasm seemed close, he cupped your chin again, this time pulling your face down so he could see you.

“Eyes open.”

And that's what happened, perhaps for the first time - your guard dropped. You came with a defeated, indiscreet groan; he came a little later, pulling out to spill his cum on your bare belly. The two of you looked at the scene, tried to control your panting breaths and then faced each other, just to burst into loud laughs.

“Poker, yeah?” He spoke first, pulling his underwear up and picking up his shirt off the floor to clean you up.

“Food first. Then poker. It’s Thanksgiving, after all,” You sat up. “I’ll choose the place too.”

“The place for what?”

“Take out.”

“Listen, when I said I couldn’t cook-”

“Nn-nn, Duarte. Virgin girls, remember? No children.”

“You have no timing for these types of jokes.”

“And this couch is terrible.”

#mike duarte #mike duarte x reader #female reader #law and order svu #law and order fanfiction #law and order fic #maurice compte

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gioiaalbanoart · 2 months

Note

Hello my talented friend! Ashley is stealing my heart. When can I read about her adventures? Also: can you tell me more about her? Where did she come from (in your brain) and why is she so cool?

Hello @fortunatetragedy !!!

Tons of kudos are flying to you, catch them 💗💗💗

(catch something to drink too is gonna be long 🍻 🍻🍻...)

****

Right now Ashley is arching a brow at me , arms crossed and foot tapping (even more than usual) to hurry up and get to work at her story. She's actually being patient (yes, she can be!) .

Because she knows I HAVE to close another writing fanfic first, which hopefully I'll do in the next couple of days 🤞 🤞

This is just how it has to be because I have to close a circle. We made a pact about it and I have no intention to piss her off more than I already did 😅

****

Right now I have approximately four draft/chapters and a lot of scattered material such as scene/dialogues/bits-of-plot-outlined-sort-of..... (big LOL on the last one , I might start to use post-it on the door too).

All of it basically on my computer or in snippets here on tumblr Which is why I was wondering on a section/post to keep updated until I'm ready to start sharing more....

Because (drums rattling) : The scarred angel is, in my brain for now, the first one of a trilogy.

It gives you an idea of how much urgent is for me to start working on it seriously and, most of all, continuously.

I'd like publish (on AO3, I suppose) once I complete and edit the first draft/book.....(I'm already sweating)

This while I'll work on the second book and so on (kind of like you're doing for DMLS).

This is the idea.....

NOW : We both know how wide is that fucking gap between an idea and real life, don't we?

****

Ashley Knox pointed her face in my brain exactly one year ago, just like that : that name, curly blonde hair, arctic eyes, scars, bad temper and all.

With a possible quest/investigation somehow linked to drug cartels (Thank you Ashley!)

I was just back to writing then, I already had others ideas but she just wouldn't leave me alone until my best on line friend pointed out she was so persistent because I HAD to write her story and there was no way around it.

I'm sure you're familiar with the situation....

So I started to write bits here and there while a kind of world/plot was taking his weird shape (the shape is still quite weird btw).

It includes violence because the story evolves mainly on the mexican border and will be somehow linked to drug cartels and, here too, there is no way around it.

But I want it also to be about healing and magic despite the plot/investigation and the background of the two MC (Ashley Knox and Amy Salinas, journalist, friend and...we'll see).

The magic part might be "subtle vibes, kind of, but consistent" and I know it will be a huge pain in the ass (More sweating here)

****

Ashley has been scarred when she was sixteen (in the story she's about 23), can't say who did it because it's part of the plot 😉

She has a raw temper and is a lone (red) wolf.

She always rubbed shoulders with taking care of herself, growing alone, dealing with random stray like her , cartels, violence, guns and so on. She also will seek for revenge.

I'm thinking at her revenge as parallel with the main investigation.

Despite the world she evolved in she has her own strict moral code, a lot of sarcasm and lot of strenght.

She could use some love too ....but she's really selective about it.

The "love" part would be ,idealistically, part of her healing path.

Of course it never goes from point A straight to point B.....

Amy is around same age, suffers from ptsd after being raped and "casually" meets Ashley and decides to stick around against ALL ODDS....

Part of it because she's thunderstruck /love first sight kind of 😂 , BUT nothing will be obvious about it. ...

Part is because she will be claiming her life back (healing again). Amy is strong too, in a different way, and that's not her world.....

I see Ashley/Amy relationship as a kind of love story/slooooooooooooooooow burn....I'll try to make it weird as possible and probably fail but we'll see 😉

The line relationship/love line will totally evolve with the flow.

****

I'll stop here because I' could probably go on and brag about Ashley even longer (You have my endless gratitude for giving me the opportunity btw 💗💗 )

****

Weird bonus facts

There is a "Jaime" in Ashley's background story that has been important to her, in a weird kind of way.... The guy is already dead but he' ha's been there with that exact name since the beginning. And now I know you 😉

Ashley has three scars : a long one on her right cheek, another on her forehead and a smaller like a sick joke of a smile on her left cheekbone....One year after she's born in my brain I have now a 25 stitches scar too (the recent surgery) . Lucky me on my smaller back not face but I can't help to think about some kind of parallel. For me casual/random don't exist. I just hope that it stops there....😅😅😅

Her favorite line is : "I don't care what you think" and goes around in my brain multiple times a day. Again, nothing casual.

"The end" for now 🙏💗💗🙏

#wip The scarred angel #OC Ashley Knox #OC Amy Salinas #authors supporting authors #fortunatetragedy earned my endless gratitude and is a terrific writer #go read Doom Metal Love Story on AO3 #do it now!#writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #ao3 community #writers on ao3 #archive of our own #I have a big work ahead...

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fleckcmscott · 2 years

Text

Tiny Sparks

Summary: On a beautiful night in Gotham, Arthur and Y/N enjoy a long awaited date.

Words: 3,441

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: @sweet-nothings04 requested a story that covered the date night mentioned in Ch. 5 of Way Back Home. Never had I thought that writing something relatively simple would be such a challenge! 😂 Thank you so much for the request! I hope you all enjoy. 😊 Much appreciation to @forever-fleck for allowing me to use one of her lovely edits for the intro-pic.

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

The refrigerator's glow beckoned like a distant star.

A salad packed for Y/N's lunch tomorrow. One inch of Five Alive orange juice in a plastic pitcher. An open can of Heinz baked beans sealed with plastic wrap. No, no, no. He scanned the door. Universal Foods ketchup, poppy seed dressing, mustard that dated back to 1982...

"Ah ha." Arthur ripped the jar of green olives from the shelf, twisted the lid with the urgency of a man opening a bottle of nitroglycerin. He shoved a spoon into the jar, shoved it in his mouth. The night out would delay dinner by three hours. By quarter past seven, his stomach had gotten loud enough to be picked up by a microphone.

Tummy tided over, he went to the bedroom to finish getting dressed. Though summer, a cold front had rolled in, settled over the city since Tuesday, a refreshing sixty-two degrees. He slid a short-sleeve dress shirt up his arms. Slipped a navy sweater off a wooden hanger, the cardigan with red, yellow, and pink stripes along the placket. A sheer knit out of one of Mabel's catalogs, perfect for layering, according to his sister-in-law. And the splashes of color fit the image he wanted to present tonight.

This would be his first performance since Y/N's and his return from Missouri. He'd written and rewritten, practiced his stance and body language, studied his facial expressions and showbiz grin. Done everything he could to make his material work. Whether it was confidence that spiraled upward or the urgent need to get onstage, he couldn't tell. But he had an inkling it'd all go swimmingly. Would've bet his last dollar on it.

As he folded back the sweater's cuffs, Y/N breezed through the doorway. She swooped to snag a pair of sandals from the closet floor and sat in the corner chair.

"Don't forget to tuck in your shirt," she said. Ankle crossed over knee, she secured a beige strap around her heel.

His movements slowed while he observed her. Since coming home, their emotional connection had deepened to a depth that rivaled the Mariana Trench. She'd seemed to strike an accord, both with him and herself. Revealed an openness she'd hidden behind a disarming smile whenever dodging the rare inquiry about her former life.

Now when she shared recollections, her face brightened more than it darkened. They browsed her photo album a couple times a week, getting through a few pages here and there. Some days only one. There were moments she'd cut herself off, maintain the border she'd built within her heart to banish the bad.

"Old habits are hard to break," she'd say, front teeth shoved into bottom lip, the pressure turning it waxy. But more and more, she pushed forward. Gave space and voice to her experiences. Interlinked their pasts and paths, the roads crisscrossing between them.

In therapy, he'd talked about their trip, what Y/N had told him. Disclosed what was sufficient for Dr. Ludlow to get the drift. "It's hard for Y/N," he said. "I wanna be there for her. I don't want her to be sad anymore." Fourteen years of sadness had been enough.

"I think it's wonderful you want to help her. That many years of caregiving takes a toll. But she loved her father deeply, and sadness is a typical reaction to those types experiences. Let me ask you: if something happened to Y/N, what would your response be?"

His heart became a cannonball that plummeted to his stomach. "I'd die."

"No," Dr. Ludlow said, uncrossing her legs. "You would not die. You'd come to my office, and we'd work through it together. My point - we come back to this a lot - is that no emotion is negative. It's what you do with your feelings that matters. Sadness isn't a bad feeling. Unpleasant, yes, but necessary. It's a wave we all ride, just like happiness or anger. Let her ride those waves and be her lifejacket when she needs it. You'll know. Trust yourself to know."

He'd followed that guidance to the letter. The other night, they'd gone to bed at the usual hour, lain in the mottled blackness of their room. Soft snoring was the usual lullaby that sung him to sleep, but her repeated sighs continued well past midnight. He'd turned to find her on stomach, forearms shoved beneath her pillow. He'd pressed a kiss to the velvety valley between her shoulders. Placed a protective palm on her side.

She'd rolled onto her back. Spoke with a smile and wet eyes. "You give me a lot of strength by letting me be weak."

The inclination to argue had twisted his tongue. He'd gnawed the tip to stop himself. There was no way he'd say what he wanted at half-past lights out, anyway. Plus, he understood what she meant. Weakness was a hard-won refuge, third nature and allowed only with him. Still. During the decades they'd spend together, her characterization would be one they'd never agree on. It went right on the list alongside the greatness of Gotham and the entertainment value of Milton Berle.

Adjusting her champagne dress's petal sleeves, she swished past him to pluck gold earrings from her jewelry box and stepped to the vanity on the opposite side of the bed. She stuck a post through her left earlobe and screwed on the backing. "Mabel wants a tape of your set."

His great inkling suddenly shrunk to a pinpoint. "Why?" Recordings and he had a sordid history.

"She's dying to hear your material. That's a direct quote."

"Well... Would she accept a picture? I can write a joke on the back."

"How about this. I'll bring my recorder, and if you're happy with your performance, we'll send a copy. A lot of comedians record their sets."

"Oh yeah? A lot of comedians who? How do you know?"

"I've been to a show or two by now." She lined her eyes in the usual sable. "It might be good to hear the audience's reactions without the pressure of being on stage. What worked and what didn't."

"But that's why I have you," he said. When she smoothed a thin layer of silky rose shadow on her eyelids, he slinked up behind her. Traced a line down her bare arm and murmured in her ear. "You don't need all that."

"Uh huh. You don't say that when I'm wearing lace." The applicator dabbed his nose, leaving a pale circle in its wake.

Chuckling, he wiped the powder into his sleeve. "Okay. We can tape it. I think I'll be all right. I practiced a lot."

"You'll be more than all right." She spun to wrap her arms about his waist. "Just trust yourself."

A familiar directive, an encouraging echo. Her chin rested on his shoulder, warm breath on his neck. Tender hands followed the curve of her back, the zippered seam of her dress. His wedding ring gleamed in the mirror's reflection. "I will," he promised.

~~~~~

When Arthur had told her he'd signed up for an open mic at a new joint, Y/N had assumed it'd be the usual smoky nightclub, the kind frequented by couples who ordered one too many drinks. She was overdressed for a casual dining restaurant. And what were these kids doing here at this time of night? She would've tucked her nephews and nieces in by eight on the dot.

The microphone stood in the corner, a lone figure lit by the same recessed, sixty-five-watt bulbs as the tables. Behind it was a man in a faded purple t-shirt and rainbow suspenders, telling jokes about the shapes of jars. The ukulele he strummed was missing a fourth string. It struck Y/N that he was the perfect lead-in for Arthur's newest material. Family friendly and a little left footed.

No spotlight was in sight, so Y/N claimed the nearest two-top to be Arthur's spotlight. She retrieved her cassette recorder from her purse, set it in the center of the table, and scanned the crowd.

A man with lush, brunette hair picked his nose. Studied what he'd found while the woman next to him rolled her eyes and cried Oh, Harold. He stuck the golden nugget in a handkerchief. A grandmother wiped spaghetti sauce from her granddaughter's hands and asked for a doggy bag. One pair, in their fifties and looking as fish out of water as Y/N, shared a pitcher of cloudy beer.

Without a drink list on offer, Y/N had to forgo a Tequila Sunrise. She ordered plain seltzer for Arthur and a diet cola. After the show, they'd have Mai Tais at Traffic Light. Enact the plan they'd made surrounded by sunlight and strawberries.

Their vacation remained fresh in her mind, persistent as water flows shaping sandstone. What she'd assumed would be a search for reconnection and amends had turned into the mirror she'd avoided. The parts of herself she'd shielded Arthur from, the wounds she'd submerged in her marrow had flooded outward. A fountain of broken dreams and regrets, deep enough to drown in.

Her husband was a good, kind man. He'd been the first man she'd dated who'd lived her plight. The first chance to share what eight years of caregiving had done to her. Yet, she'd denied herself that comfort, convinced doing so would dismay him. And make her soul hurt all the worse.

And it had. Sometimes it still did. She'd spent too long trying to move on from it all. Yearning to forget. But the haven of Arthur's heart (and not a little prodding) allowed her to let go. Opening herself to him lightened her load, lessened her fear. The moments she felt small, protected by love and acceptance, brought an unexpected bliss. Turned the Shit She Refused to Talk About into the Shit She Could Talk About on Good Days.

Despite her relief, she'd had trouble sleeping when they'd returned. He'd made her chamomile, brought her along to the fire escape. Pulled her to his lap and guided head to his shoulder. Gently, he'd teased that it was nice to have company that late at night.

Puffing a cigarette, he'd shared past mistakes. A sampling of his notions after Penny had had her stroke, the ones that'd made him question if he was a bad person. If he had the capacity to love within him. He'd adopted the formal posture of a licensed therapist. "The doctor says we all them. Those thoughts. It's okay that you've had them, too."

Revealing his shadow self, the trust he granted her even after her confession, fertilized the seed of grace he'd planted at the cowboy bar. Vine by vine it grew, winding itself through each rib, weaving between her collarbones, wrapping around the facets of her neck. Every touch, every glance was an imprint of a promise. That no matter what had happened, no matter what would happen, he would love her.

He was helping her paste her dreams back together.

Rainbow Suspenders ducked out. Arthur emerged from the restroom alcove to the right. Diners seated along the wall offered a smattering of applause, breaking her out of her reverie and into a wide smile.

Nervous sweat shined his forehead, slender fingers played with one cuff. He began with a long breath and exaggerated bow. A trick he'd developed to hide that he was gauging his condition, the likelihood of ill-timed laughter. Once he'd straightened and caught her eye, he gave a little nod, more of a chin bob. She winked and pressed Record on the tape deck.

"Hello," he said, the start of his typical introduction. "I'm Arthur. It's good to be here. You know, growing up in Gotham was like staying in one place. There's a lot to do, but when you're a poor person it's hard to pay attention."

A cackle from the rear, a hearty guffaw to her left. The din of cutlery and conversation lowered. The press of everyone's attention turned to center stage.

With a flourish, Arthur took his journal from his pocket, presented it as a prop instead of an aid. He thumbed through its pages and leaned into the mic conspiratorially. "I've heard it's not nice to talk about someone behind their back. But what if you've talked to their front, and they want to walk all over you?"

~~~~~

Traffic Light was one of Gotham's best deals. Four dollars for an overflowing mound of Thai delicacies, one self-service plate stacked as high as GCR's Twin Towers. Available after nine o'clock Tuesdays and Thursdays. No sharing, please. Avoid waste and take plenty of napkins.

Just beyond the glass entryway, a praying Buddha statue greeted them, the tip of its ushnisha taller than a stupa. Golden elephants marched along sequined tapestries, plastic greenery hung from the ceiling, cradled in beige macrame. Behind the register, floral garlands topped royal family portraits. And facing the bar was a spirit house the size of a fax machine, where green tea and coconuts were offered for protection. Warm, woody incense merged with the pungent smell of curry to make Y/N's mouth water.

Arthur's long strides beat her to the buffet. He grabbed a scalloped plate, held it parallel to his chest. Drummed the bottom while he studied the unfamiliar cuisine. Grinning, she stepped forward to be his guide.

Chicken satay and steamed jasmine rice found an immediate home on his dish, peanut sauce cuddled up to dependable crispy wings. Scallion pancakes were deep friend, making him an instant fan. On her advice, he added a scoop of vegetable tempura, just to get a vitamin or two in his system. When he poked a squid's suckers, his expression was a mask of alarm. The seafood stir fry was a firm pass. Y/N ordered the yellow curry - two star spicy this time.

They settled on brown wicker bar chairs at the counter, which ran along the front window, facing the street. People hustling to work, to a relaxing night of dozing in an easy chair before the television, to fluttery first dates.

"So." Arthur dipped sliced carrot in her curry sauce, speaking and sipping his cocktail. "What did you think? I couldn't really hear the crowd. I was too nervous."

"No one could tell. You were a real professional out there." She nibbled the last vestiges of meat from a chicken bone. Wiped her fingers and pulled a folded tissue from her purse. "I just had a couple ideas."

"You took notes?"

"You can compare them to the tape later."

His set had started off strong and ended on a high note, bridging a lull that'd sagged the middle. He'd only been a beat off at times, a pause post-setup a split second too long. "The crowd got quiet about halfway through," she said.

"Maybe they were listening?" he asked. She didn't have to look to know he was somewhere between a squint and a grin. His tender tone held a challenge.

"It's possible. But I think they anticipated your shtick, the 'why' and 'what do you get' format of your jokes." Her fingertip followed the points on her paper. "Instead of asking, 'Why is marriage like fine wine?' you could deliver the whole joke as a sentence or two. What about, 'Marriage is like fine wine. The more it ages, the rarer it is.' And than make it personal by mentioning your favorite."

"Like, 'My wife and I are a fine Moscato?'"

"Merlot ages better."

Crossing his arms over his chest, he swiveled on his stool in mock offense. "Well, it is my joke." A truth and a tease.

She popped the last bite of spring roll between his lips, followed the gesture with a peck. He caught her jaw and brought her back for another. Head hazy, she dropped her lashes. Leaned into the warm palm cradling her cheek.

He wasn't the funniest comedian she'd ever heard. But he was the one she loved the most.

Just as he dug out his wallet, a couple halted on the sidewalk, breaking their stride directly in front of them. The man wore a pastel, plaid sportscoat, the woman a blue sweater embroidered with a white Scottish terrier. Y/N recognized them as the older pair from the restaurant, kindred guppies in need of a pond.

Plaid Jacket pointed through the window, waved the wave of the overexcited, and darted through the door.

He wiped his meaty hand on his trousers and extended it to Arthur. "Hey, weren't you that guy at Laughs Lots?" His breath stank of shitty casual dining beer.

"Yes," Arthur said, taking the offered hand. His smile started off disbelieving but then crinkled his entire face. "Yeah! That was me."

"Well, I'll be. Always wanted to do an open mic night, never had the guts, though. I play harmonica. I'm Bob."

The woman on his arm gave a swift nod. "Bob's real good, too. He's got 'The Entertainer' down pat."

That wasn't the first tune Y/N associated with a harmonica. But Arthur's style of jokes wasn't what she expected out of comedy, either.

"And that must be the little lady," Bob continued, nudging Arthur's arm. Then his eyes popped. "I've gotta take a leak." On that note, he jogged towards the back of the restaurant, fists at his side like he was running a race.

Y/N snorted and patted her handbag. She hushed her voice and leaned towards Arthur, upper arm brushing his bicep. "See? You can mail that tape tomorrow."

~~~~~

With the brisk night air and clear, velvet skies, they decided to skip the train and walk home. They threaded around trash bags, hopped over sidewalk cracks, ran the last block to Sheldon Park. It'd closed an hour after sunset, but the iron gate's chain remained unlatched, either as an oversight or because the lock was broken. Likely the latter.

Y/N glanced over both shoulders. Pushed the gate ajar and slipped through the opening. Squeezed Arthur's hand and pulled him to follow.

Camping tents were set off from main entrance, tucked behind a dirt trail. Four or five, a number likely to grow given Gotham's continued stagnation. Flames licked the edges of a metal barrel, where men in ragged jackets warmed their fingers. Along the main path, two teenagers sat with a boombox, blasting the latest Run D.M.C. hit Arthur hadn't heard. Their sunglasses must've been to protect their retinas from their sneakers. Their shoes were so white they glowed. The two clinked Tab bottles and swigged.

Cinching the belt of her spring coat, she continued towards the center of the park. For being smack dab in the middle of the urban landscape, it was surprisingly quiet. No horse hooves clacked, no skateboards whizzed past. Hip hop was out of earshot now. About a minute later, he recognized where they were headed.

Ducks busied themselves on the rear side of the pond, chit chatting and grooming one another. Others slept with beaks buried under their feathers. The nearby bench was a recent addition, grass hadn't yet sprouted around its legs. Y/N sped ahead of him and took a seat. Leaned against the backrest and looked up.

It was six seconds before she spoke. "See that?" she asked and pointed at the sky. "That's the North Star."

"It's the bright one, right?" He settled next to her on the edge of the bench.

"In the tail of the little dipper. My father taught me where it was in case I ever got lost." A light laugh left her. "He tried to show me other constellations, but I was terrible at finding them. But on clear nights, we made our own. The Kite. The Tablespoon. The Stethoscope - though I think that's Orion's club or something." She folded her hands together in her lap. "The stars are hard to see here, with all the skyscrapers and lights. They're the one thing I miss from back home."

Arthur studied her face, all the details he'd memorized. Her brows remained relaxed, her eyes dry, cheeks flushed a subtle pink. He laced his fingers through hers. "I'm sorry you can't see them here."

"Don't be." Her gaze locked with his, eased into a smile. "You're the brightest star of all."

Happy roiling whirled his stomach, his pulse skipped a beat. He felt a sudden, indefinable feeling of rightness. He brought her knuckles to his lips, kissed them and kissed her mouth. She tasted like curry and coconut milk.

Scooting away, adjusting as he went, he reclined to rest his head on her shoulder. Look towards the stars and dream.

"Which one's The Kite?"

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics @iartsometimes @fleckficgirl

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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msmargaretmurry · 1 year

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18, 2, 25!

18. who would be on your dream hockey team — answered here! ❤

2. teams you have a soft spot for

other than My Team (caps), this category shifts and changes over the years depending on where players i like land and which orgs have pissed me off recently. i've had a soft spot for the panthers for years because i have a good friend from miami who loves them — so i was very relieved when matthew went there instead of to a team i hated 😂 and i have a BIG soft spot for the kraken. the canucks have so many players i like that i kind of have a soft spot for them even though i think the organization itself is a garbage fire. so i don't actually want them to win, i want them to free my children. honestly i have soft spots for a bunch of players but most teams i'm neutral-to-negative about even if i'm rooting for individual players on those teams!

25. what do you think is going to happen in the offseason?

well the offseason is almost over at this point!! i don't know what else has time to happen unless connor and leon announce they have formally adopted bedard and are exercising parental rights to let him cross the border into the states. idk, i don't really like making predictions 😅 i think that nhl media day, when it happens, is going to give us some great silly content, and hopefully some good wedding szn stories. this is what i'm holding out hope for.

#ask #hockey for ts

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forgetsrotation · 5 months

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[hc] [mewlsar] [mostly gaius thoughts]

dusting off this blog because i have headcanon text that is too much to be screenshot and shared as images 😂

I have most definitely talked about this before but I want to talk about it again!! It is very long-winded lol

I've been thinking about the progression of feelings from Gaius's perspective...

His first run in with Makoh'to, unbeknownst to Gaius, was during the XIVth's take over of Ala Mhigo. Not much here except Makoh'to was around to aid in helping some people escape. I have a comic I never got around to finishing where he strikes Gaius's gunblade off kilter from afar to ensure the safety of a few people. At that time all they could make out of each other was a vague silhouette... perhaps Gaius returns a shot and Makoh'to carries a scar as a reminder. Maybe a rain of arrows to distract Gaius and his soldiers and he is gone, along with the people he was helping flee... h mm.

Makoh'to is mostly a thorn in his side. I need to become more acquainted with 1.0, but Gaius does remember the miqo'te once he sees that familiar figure. Still wandering, still helping people it seems. Atp Gaius just thinks Makoh'to is naive, foolish, a bleeding heart for sure... which is useless to him. And he will pay back Makoh'to tenfold for his little act back in Ala Mhigo. Cue the attempt to kill him in 1.0 lmao that's canon for now!

Still funny to think Gaius could recognize Makoh'to would do what was needed to ensure Eorzea wasn't completely obliterated in 1.0. Like, Gaius knew between a rock and a hard place, Makoh'to was going to ensure Eorzea was at least still around even if it may still fall into the hands of the Empire. I think around this time Gaius starts to wonder more about Makoh'to's personal motivations and starts to build on his ever growing admiration of his rival. Carries into ARR/2.0. I'd love to expand more but it's more or less Gaius becoming increasingly confounded by the Warrior of Light who could harness his power to "aid" in Gaius's cause but chooses to... just be a naive fool and "help everyone". Gaius still has opinions in present-day about Makoh'to saying "yes" to most requests he gets without thinking about the political fallout LMAO

Gaius in Prae asking Makoh'to one last time to join him... it's a sign of utmost respect in a very peculiar way - despite thinking Makoh'to is a fool, perhaps he will be a fool the Empire could use. That he could use... there is no romantic feeling here tho. He's still trying to wrap his mind around how Makoh'to does what Makoh'to does. He's seen Makoh'to fell primals, his fellow countrymen, so many things... it's almost bordering idolization. But Makoh'to's terse rejection keeps him from crossing into that line. Like that rejection is a confirmation, yes, he is an absolute fool and not worth the time. Actually, it's more like he hate-idolizes the Warrior of Light. Not that Gaius knows ANYTHING about Makoh'to. He's never seen Makoh'to smile or laugh up to this point. And my god he won't until 4.x patches - and it STILL won't be at or because of Gaius

So my live / die comic where Makoh'to answers he didn't leave Gaius to die in Prae that day, he just let him face the consequence of his actions? Yeah, the beloved Warrior of Light known for being a silly lil guy really said that! He's had front seats to Gaius's shitshow for the past couple decades. (I imagine Makoh'to goes where help is needed.) While Makoh'to still holds onto the belief people can change, he's seen that has not been the case for Gaius who is nearing 60 at this point... so why would he help him then. Of course Makoh'to pities him at this point. I imagine during one of their earlier talks about Prae when they are on speaking terms (4.x or 5.x) that Makoh'to mentions that he DID pity Gaius at that point. And it would sting sooo much for Gaius to hear that.

Even during 4.x patches Gaius doesn't get to see Makoh'to's full range of joy. I mean... most of his friends seem to be in a coma with no signs of getting better. He's kind of stressed out of his mind. Gaius does get to see Makoh'to be vulnerable tho? And how he preservers in the face of uncertainty for the sake of his friends. It starts to humanize Makoh'to to him, in a sense. He is still the Warrior of Light, but he also is a guy named Makoh'to Mewriyo who cares very much for his friends. Gaius cannot even fathom being acquaintances with the WoL, but it's still eye opening to him? Like... this is the guy that defeated him multiple times. That's the guy and he's dealing with more crisis than anyone can imagine. Gaius has been keeping up with Makoh'to's exploits since 2.0. Not to an obsessive degree, but... he's definitely up to date on the details. He doesn't get it. This guy is nobody to anyone, yet trouble finds him at every corner and the miqo'te just rolls with it.

Then 5.x stuff happens and Gaius doesn't know nearly as much about the events of Shadowbringers, but he's recognizes the thousand yard stare Makoh'to has sometimes when no one is looking. Asking for the Warrior of Light's help feels... incredulous. And the fact Makoh'to says YES feels even more so - but Gaius expected Makoh'to to say yes given the circumstances. He would also understand if Makoh'to said no - or actually, he wouldn't. Not given everything else Makoh'to has said "yes" to... but Gaius doesn't dwell on it at all lol

Then the oddest thing happens - Gaius finds himself lost in thought and pensive as the events of SoW unfold and... the Warrior of Light is trying to comfort him? It feels alien. And unearned. But Makoh'to doesn't coddle, and he doesn't push. He just checks in on Gaius from time to time and assures him that they will do everything they can to rectify the situation. Makoh'to is also one of the few people who is not berating Gaius (at the moment) for his hand in all of this. Gaius almost wants to ask why, but he's got too much on his mind to pursue the thought.

This time Gaius can accept Makoh'to's pity. He feels conflicted about it though. He wants it, but he knows he's not deserving of it either. Gaius doesn't feel like he is on equal footing with Makoh'to and realizes he was never on the same level. Not even close! And that it was arrogant of him to ever think that.

The events of SoW wrap up and Gaius has much to deal with... Makoh'to and Gaius's relationship does not progress very far during this time, but Makoh'to has offered the olive branch of some sort of friendship if Gaius is ever in need of an ear and shoulder to cry on. Gaius still doesn't get it - he does not understand why this miqo'te would go so far out of the way to listen to him after everything they've been through together. But he'll remember the offer.

And what do you know, Makoh'to does come back to Terncliff to check in on him and Allie. At first it seems Makoh'to is mostly there for her, but the miqo'te makes time to check in separately with Gaius. Their conversations are very short at first and superficial - Gaius can tell Makoh'to is letting him control the depth of their talks and he appreciates it. NOW by this point Gaius has seen a genuine smile from Makoh'to and it was directed at HIM!! Gaius feeling seen by not his former adversary, but this kind old miqo'te... and yet it's not a romantic feeling that blooms in him lol. That still takes a while :3c

[Addition: During this time is when I imagine Gaius FINALLY letting it all out in Makoh'to's arms. He doesn't mean to break down crying in the arms of his former adversary, but he does and he can't believe how gently he is being held by someone he hardly knows.]

They find themselves chatting longer and more, about mundane things, philosophical things each time Makoh'to visits. And those visits become more frequent. Makoh'to's letters, when he can not physically check in on Allie and Gaius, are addressed to Allie but include snacks and trinkets to be shared with her father.

Gaius has to do a lot of introspection once his own feelings DO start feeling a bit more than that of a friend. He STILL feels odd having a friendship with Makoh'to. He's double thinking about if it's remnants of his old adversarial respect warping into an "inappropriate" affection. Like he's not trusting his own feelings, especially after having everything he ever believed in turned on its head, so like... doubly so. I think it's cute if Gaius kind of turns a bit awkward because he's actually thinking too much of this. And by this point Makoh'to IS putting the moves on him in the form of gentle physical touch and tender little smiles.

I don't think Makoh'to is Gaius's first anything, but it has been Some Time since he was last wooed. And the fact it's Makoh'to is... making him question his own sanity. This is where Gaius in my lore is always like "Of course everyone is mildly attracted to the Warrior of Light, that is natural" when he is just trying to work out his own feelings lmao

Just a lot of that goes on until Makoh'to makes his own feelings VERY obvious that Gaius HAS to confront it. I've always imagined it as Makoh'to mentioning, "If someone were to kiss me under the moonlight, that would be okay with me n_n" while sitting with Gaius at the lookout 😊it may not even happen that night but Gaius gets the greenlight to return those feelings haha

Then from there they get to know each other in a romantic sense! There's a lot of talk around the nature of their relationship, the seriousness of it, the potential fallout if the WoL is with the man formerly known as the Black Wolf... how Makoh'to can reconcile being with someone who has such a horrible history. You know, a lot of things.

And the rest is history :) I hope I can continue to draw and write bits and pieces of their relationship to share with everyone! o7

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