#Stone Coast Posting

[stonecoastweather]

is tresspass happy? what's she up to?

Silent Surface: She always brings quite the cheer when she's on air! There's not a time where she falters, be it her current search through my archives, or when her ancients left...

Ah well, it's a quality that I value very much nowadays! With contact from other groups dropping to an all time low I often worry if we would be the last ones left. Though, let's stow that thought away for later, yes?

Peals of Rippling Stone: She is well, of course. It's well within my ability to monitor whatever physical condition she may have. As for mental, I suppose that it is better to ask her yourself?

Nonetheless, I have received no status reports on her ongoing project. I believe that she is looking into weather patterns of the old age, before the voidfluid revolution I believe?

I must profess my concern that she may find nothing of it. Most of those texts from Silent's archives remains to be rather densely worded and far too... archaic to be of use.

It must be of no matter.

[pokimoko]

I have had it with these motherfucking spam bots on this motherfucking site.

[neptuneiris]

Cruel Summer (01/10)

Sunset's Bay

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader

summary: There are two sides to the city of Sunset's Bay, the rich who live in 'Crown's' and the poor who live in 'Black Waves'. What happens when a rich guy and a poor girl meet and inevitably fall in love? In the city where they live and with their status, that can't be possible.

words: 5.8k

series masterlist • next part

I wasn't sure about posting this but if you like the story I will continue with it, it all depends on how you receive it😬

in case you like it, I want to advance that the story will be a kind of forbidden love by the fact of rich and poor hehe and I have a lot prepared, basically everything is already written, I just need to structure it in a better way

this has only been an introduction to the world of Sunset's Bay, so I hope you enjoy it and the warnings will be added as I post the chapters if you like it🤗

so enjoy!

Sunset's Bay.

The hidden but mostly inhabited beach on the California Coast, with golden and white sands that slide into crystal clear waters of such a deep blue that it seems infinite.

According to Google, it is one of the most beautiful beaches in Northern California and where teenagers living in surrounding cities yearn to come every time a new summer begins.

Sunset and sunrise on these waters are beautiful, as they transform the horizon into a palette of vibrant colors, from warm shades of gold and pink to soft purple and the deep blue of night.

Every summer, the beach comes alive with exciting surfing tournaments, as well as Sunset's Pier, the midpoint of the beach where everyone mingles, transforms into charity events with live music, fireworks and lamp shows that illuminate the night with a mesmerizing light show.

Boat and yacht rides add a touch of sophistication to the coastal scene. This allows tourists to explore the waters beyond the beach, visit small islands up close and enjoy the serenity of the open sea.

But on top of all that, everything is meticulously maintained, most of it, like the clean, spacious beaches, adorned by palm trees swaying gently in the sea breeze.

And your favorite section, the volcanic stone cliffs that are distributed in specific locations on the beach, offering rocky walls as you sit on the seashore behind you and all around, emerging as natural guardians of the beach.

And from their heights, you can take in panoramic views of all the beauty of the landscape, encompassing the vast endless ocean and coastline to the endless horizon.

You always looked forward to coming here as a child when a new term at school ended and your mother was always willing to come and spend the vacations with your relatives, the Blackwoods.

They always welcomed you and your mother and together with your cousin Alysanne, you had an amazing summer.

Ever since you were little, you have always been tattooed with the memory of the sand on your feet, the salt air in your nostrils, the water enveloping you completely and the sun in full sunset caressing your whole face as you watched it on the horizon starting to descend on the shore of the beach with the cliffs behind you.

And now, that's all you know, a life in Sunset's and your frequent days at the beach.

Living with your aunt and uncle and Alysanne in a house big enough to also make room for you on the beach shore, this has been your home for exactly a year now.

And now summer has begun.

"Sam has sent a message."

You raise your gaze to Alysanne as you finish cleaning one of the tables.

"He says to meet him at the beach with the others in the evening. Do you want to go?"

You place a small smile on your lips.

"Sure."

"Table nine!"

You both turn your heads toward your boss, who looks at both of you as if he wants to kill you at any moment, and you quickly rush to serve the food, briefly wiping the sweat from your brow to keep working.

"Hurry up, Blackwood," Mr. Frey tells you reluctantly as you begin to pick up the orders on the tray.

You let out a long breath and glance at the clock briefly before going to serve, realizing that you will have to put up with this for four more hours and for the rest of the summer as well.

Unfortunately you and Alysanne have to work, as it has been for some months now at a seafood restaurant where the 'rich' people from this side of the city come to enjoy the delicious food.

And because of the summer, the work has increased. But that doesn't stop them both from having fun now that summer has begun.

So as soon as you and Alysanne finish your shift, you head home as soon as possible and start getting ready to meet your friends at the beach.

Previously going out and having fun was a problem for Alysanne's parents, your aunt and uncle were not the liberal type, but as soon as you both started working and helping them with the household expenses with what you could, they started to be more permissive and understanding.

And this is your home, the less ostentatious side of the city, but still genuine.

Once you join Sam and all the boys on the beach, you head for the small boat floating near the shore.

It is not a luxurious boat, much less can it be compared to a boat or yacht of the latest model, but it is a modest boat that has seen many summer seasons.

And it has taken them all to many spots on the beach and you have shared many anecdotes on it.

And as the boat glides through the calm waters, you and Alysanne enjoy the laughter and stories shared by the boys from the neighborhood, Sam, Daniel and Chase.

The three of them have been childhood friends of Alysanne's and when you came to live with her officially, she introduced you to them and now you all have formed a group of friends where you enjoy afternoons like these with Sam's boat and where you also go swimming and surfing all together.

The sea breeze caresses your faces and the sun slowly begins to descend as it paints the sky in warm golden tones, until the afternoon turns into night.

And on the beach, with a campfire in the center, the starry sky above and all together in a circle, you start burning marshmallows and drinking beer.

"And tell us..." speaks Daniel, watching you both curiously, "How about the slave life for the rich people?"

You and your cousin let out a small laugh.

"Slaves?" you repeat amused.

"Well yeah, come on, you said your boss... what's his name? Grey? Payne?"

"Frey," Alysanne corrects him.

"Yeah, that," he points to her, "He's a jerk or not?"

"And no concept of patience and prudence," you add.

"I imagine the ones who eat there are worse, no?" asks Chase.

Daniel snaps his fingers at him.

"Lannister?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. Jason Lannister has that vibe."

"I put him in the top one of the most hated, along with the Baratheons. And I have a feeling the Arryns do too, I don't know why," Daniel again looks at you both, "Right?"

"You work for them," Alysanne tells him amused, "Don't you know that?"

"Well, it's not like they can tell me much for cleaning their boats and yachts but... no–they're extremely nice, though..." he holds up his finger with a thoughtful expression, "Though I think there must be something wrong with them."

Alysanne lets out a snort.

"They're rich and live at Crown's, practically owning all the establishments on the beach just like the Lannisters, Baratheons, Tyrells and others leaving nothing for us, the poor ones, because they despise us," she says with an ironic but true tone "Of course there must be something wrong with them."

"One time one of them didn't leave me a tip," you say, remembering, "The Tyrell's."

Sam looks at you amused.

"Tips are not obligatory."

"Oh come on," you retort, with a touch of irony, "They're rich, they can have yachts and mansions, but can't they at least give me a five percent tip?"

"Yet it's not obligatory."

Everyone lets out a laugh.

"Yeah, it's not the nicest place to work and the customers aren't necessarily nice but the pay is good, after all," Alysanne says as she shrugs.

And that's true.

Even though it's not a good work environment, the necessity is what makes you not quit and endure as much as you can. Even though your aunt and uncle are taking care of you and taking responsibility for you, you know you can't continue that way forever.

You want to be independent, pay for your own things, especially you want to pay for college, but to do that, you have to work and now this is the job.

Besides it's useless to find work elsewhere when the owners are still the same; rich and arrogant. And you can't find work on your side of the city because the pay won't be much or maybe they won't even hire because they can't afford it.

But right now, being here enjoying the summer with your friends and your cousin, you allow yourself not to think about it and just continue to criticize the rich people.

And after many cans of beer, Chase picks up his guitar and you all together start singing in the most off-key and horrible way possible, laughing amongst everyone with the jokes filling the air, just like the heat of the flames and the aroma of roasting marshmallows.

"You had a party and didn't invite me!?"

Almost everyone together turns their heads unexpectedly toward the approaching outside voice laden with amusement and mild reproach.

And then they all see Cregan Stark with a huge grin and a bottle of beer in hand.

The guys soon start showing off at the mere sight of him, making jokes and greeting him with great enthusiasm, as Cregan greets them.

And you just watch Alysanne with a sly smile, amused by Cregan's sudden appearance, but of course, she quickly hides all traces of whatever her reaction is to seeing him, adjusting her expression to one of neutrality as she tries to appear disinterested.

But you know.

And you're amused at how she acts as if you don't know her.

Cregan Stark is the spoiled son of one of the wealthiest families in Sunset's, living in one of the most exclusive areas on the Crown's side.

His appearance reflects his status; brand name clothes, really expensive accessories, late model car and an attitude that denotes familiarity with luxury. However, despite his wealth, Cregan has proven to be different from other boys in his social environment.

Although he has access to all the luxuries, he does not carry with him the air of superiority and arrogance that many would expect from someone like him and that those of his class usually display.

In fact, Cregan became friends with Chase, who works for his family in the ports.

And it was Chase who introduced him to the group and although at first no one felt confident with him, Cregan instead of imposing his status, imposed a genuine and friendly demeanor that won the friendship of everyone in the circle.

Later everyone understood that he doesn't really enjoy being with people from the same environment as himself. The wealthy teenagers he usually hung out with, for the most part, were overly judgmental and arrogant.

So thanks to Chase, he found company with all of you, the guys from across the city who don't have a mansion and all the money in the world, but who are genuine and free of pretense.

Despite the looks people give Cregan for not understanding his choice of company, he deliberately ignores them. His parents don't say anything to him either, although he says they clearly prefer that he stop interact with you.

"I am deeply, intensely and extremely offended," he says expressing mock indignation, holding a hand to his chest, watching you incredulously but amused.

"Come on, man, don't get dramatic," Chase tells him giving him a friendly tap on the shoulder.

"Yeah, we're just getting warmed up," Sam encourages him.

"Besides..." says Daniel, in an exaggerated tone, "We can't send messages across the beach, us poor people have to use carrier pigeons like the olden days to get anything to you, but guess what... we're so poor we can't even afford pigeons."

Everyone lets out a laugh, enjoying Daniel's humor in implying the differences between the poor and the rich on the beach.

"Stop, seriously, why didn't you guys tell me you were doing this?" Cregan asks, taking a seat on the logs.

"I heard there's a party on your side of the beach and I figured you'd be heading over there," Chase tells him, "Which you did, didn't you?" he points to the beer in his hand.

He lets out a long breath.

"Yeah but it was pretty fucking boring."

"Boring?" you repeat incredulously, "A party with a DJ, champagne and yachts I highly doubt is boring."

"Well, not that it wasn't fun," he says looking around and observing everyone, "But I wanted this, to be with you guys, the atmosphere."

"And how did you know we were here?" asks Alysanne curious.

"I didn't exactly know," he smiles at her, "So I just decided to come and try my luck."

"Oh man, stop it or you'll make me cry," Daniel jokes, holding a hand to his heart.

"He loves us, doesn't he?" asks Sam, with a smirk.

"Yeah, he definitely loves us."

Everyone laughs and you watch discreetly as he and Alysanne start throwing their little looks at each other.

"Party with DJ and yachts? Man, if I were you, I'd be enjoying that," Sam confesses, shaking his head in a gesture of incomprehension.

"It's not big deal and people are hateful, believe me."

No one argues with him about that but you too sometimes wish you could have fun like that, have the experience of going to a beach party like the rich kids in the movies, just once.

But the time will come, someday, there are still many summers left to enjoy.

The conversation flows as the boys settle around the campfire, the warmth of the fire contrasting with the cool night breeze blowing in from the sea.

The atmosphere is filled with laughter and banter, and the relaxed beach setting becomes the perfect backdrop for a night of genuine camaraderie.

Cregan, with his carefree and genuine attitude, seems to fit right in with all fo you and that he values sincere company over superficial luxury.

And you don't know exactly how much more time passes or how many beers that Daniel brings back the theme of the rich party on the other side of the beach.

"Hey, Cregan," he says, leaning forward with a mischievous expression, "Since you're here, why don't you take us to that party? I'm sure it's not as bad as you say."

Cregan raises an eyebrow, amused but surprised.

"What?"

Something about Daniel's words clicks in everyone's head, even yours, so you quickly exchange glances with Alysanne. And Cregan notices how everyone starts to truly consider it.

"Do you guys really want to go to that party?"

"And why not?" asks Alysanne, with an grin, "I'm sure we can have fun, even if we're not part of the rich circle."

"Yeah, and besides..." adds Sam, with a persuasive tone, "It would be interesting to see what the other side of the city is like from the inside. We've never been to a party like this."

Cregan seems to think about it for a moment, looking at the boys with a mixture of doubt and amusement.

"Seriously you guys are telling me this? The rich haters?"

You shrug.

"The rich hate us too."

"And that's precisely why we want to go," Sam says, gesturing animatedly, "We want to try something different. And who knows, maybe we'll give you a good reason to have a little more fun at that party. Right, Chase?"

Everyone looks at Chase, who shrugs.

"I guess that wouldn't be bad."

"But you haven't thought this through," Cregan insists, "As soon as they see you all, they'll know you're not like them."

Everyone looks at themselves and well... he's right.

The rich, especially those who are the same age as you, have a radar to recognize someone who is just like them... or not.

But you don't blame them, since you have them too, the difference is that you don't make disgusted faces or criticize in whispers as soon as you notice.

You notice your two-piece bikini top is wrinkled and is clearly second hand, besides your worn-out sandals. Alysanne is also in the same condition as you and the boys... well, they're worse.

Sam's shirt is torn, Chase's is torn, and the clothes are visibly secondhand.

"We have better clothes at home," you tell Alysanne and she nods.

"And we take our shirts off and stay in shorts," Daniel says, in solution, "Are we at the beach or not?"

"And if something goes wrong, we can always run out and come back here," Alysanne suggests.

Everyone nods and basically watches Cregan with puppy dog eyes, hopeful that he will take you to his kind of people.

"What do you think, Cregan?"

Cregan is silent for a few seconds, his gaze sweeping over the group around him, analyzing and thinking about all the things that could go wrong. And he doesn't pass up the abandoned cat look that Daniel and Sam throw at him.

And finally, he lets out a laugh and a resigned sigh.

"All right, all right. I'll take you. But if we have a bad time, don't say I didn't warn you."

"That's what I like to hear!" exclaims Sam, raising his arms in victory.

"We won't regret it."

"We may not but the rich will."

"Thanks, Cregan," says Alysanne, patting him on the back.

You frown as you watch her gesture and also notice Cregan's confused look for a moment, but go back to watching the boys.

"Well, then let's go before I change my mind."

You put out the campfire, pick up the trash and with laughter they all very animatedly walk away from your spot on the beach, heading first towards the trash cans and then towards Cregan's car.

"You do know Cregan likes you, don't you?" you say to Alysanne, walking a little further away from the guys.

She gives you an incredulous look.

"What?"

"Oh come on and you like him too, don't deny it."

"Of course I don't."

"Of course you do."

"You're crazy."

"And you won't stand a chance if you keep treating him like just a dude."

"Oh yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

You let out a laugh, understanding that it will be difficult for her to accept and share it with you, so you give her time. The guys behind you laugh too, with the echo fading into the salty air, leaving the sea breeze and the sound of the waves behind.

The difference in locations is completely noticeable.

You leave behind the small wooden houses, the unkempt streets, the establishments where you and your friends can shop, the bicycles and old cars, to move to large neighborhoods with green grass, trees and bushes on every corner with huge luxurious houses, almost mansions with modern cars and expensive decorations.

The guys are excited and so are you, as you have never explored these sections of the beach before, which are completely exclusive and with access for the rich people.

Obviously there are entrances with booths and security guards, so Cregan's appearance alone proves he's a Stark and he's allowed in without objection.

And soon enough, you arrive at the party.

"Oh my goodness, look at this," exclaims Alysanne, wide-eyed as she takes in the scene.

"That's a Prestige F4?" asks Sam in surprise, eyeing the luxurious yacht in the distance.

"Seriously, how much money do these people have?" mutters Daniel, in shock.

"More than you'll ever have," Alysanne tells him with a smirk as you all walk onto the beach illuminated by the party lights.

"You don't know that," Chase replies to her, pretending to be offended, "Maybe someday I'll get rich and buy one of those," he points to the yachts.

"I'm very offended that you didn't invite us to your parties sooner," Daniel says to Cregan, putting a hand to his chest as if he were badly wounded, "How could you hide all this from us?"

"Don't draw too much attention to yourselves, guys," Cregan asks with a mixture of concern and amusement in his voice.

"We won't," says Sam, "We'll just enjoy ourselves apart from the others but inside, you get it?"

The music starts to get louder and soon enough, we are inside the party.

Blue and purple neon lights illuminate the white sand, creating a dazzling contrast against the night sky. Waves break gently on the shore, almost muted by the music vibrating through the air.

There is indeed a DJ from a raised platform and most of the people here dance in the center to the music, some with cocktails in hand, bottles of champagne or recording the moment on their phones.

Near the dock, several luxurious yachts are docked, all decorated with lights flashing to the rhythm of the music. There are people inside them, enjoying the party from right there.

Some people get off the yachts to join the party on the beach, while others stay on board, enjoying the view and the exclusivity it offers.

If not beer, there is a bar offering a variety of exotic drinks and gourmet appetizers, such as sushi, caviar and canapés.

And throughout the party, groups of people are spread out, chatting animatedly, laughing, toasting and dancing. There are also party games, such as beer pong and spin the bottle.

While others gather around improvised campfires farther away near the sea, where the atmosphere is more relaxed, watching the spectacle around them.

The air is permeated with the smell of sea salt mixed with expensive perfumes and the sound of laughter and music all along the beach.

It is a party that clearly reflects the wealth and status of their hosts, as well as the people present; pure spoiled kids with rich parents.

"Are we going to have fun or what!?" exclaims Sam excitedly, fully entering the party and everyone follows.

Chase convinces Cregan to be worrying since most of the people here are in their own world and he doubts drunkenly checking to see if they have the latest model Iphone or what.

And honestly you relax too as everyone here is having fun and you along with Alysanne look more presentable in nice bikinis.

They are second hand still but they are more cared for than the others you have.

Sam quickly orders drinks, surprised and excited to have gotten a bottle of champagne, then Cregan and the others take him and you and Alysanne to a more secluded spot.

You make a space for yourselves on the sand, a bit secluded from everyone, having the view of the huge luxurious houses, the cliffs in the distance and also the illuminated yachts on the dock behind you.

Pretty soon you have your beer and start enjoying yourselves just like everyone else, not worrying too much and just pretending you are one of them all.

Mingling with the rich at Sunset's pier is one thing, since the pier is the center of the entire beach and there are no prejudices there, but now pretending to be one is completely different.

You find yourself watching everyone around you when Alysanne nudges you slightly and points her gaze to a specific spot.

"Look at that."

You follow her gaze and see a group of girls.

"That bracelet is from Pandora, I saw it on Instagram."

From here you can see how their gold and silver necklaces and bracelets sparkle. Also the bikinis they have on are beautiful, certainly brand name. There is also a girl with a Guess bag and they all have the latest Iphone model in their hand.

And you turn to Alysanne with a shrug.

"Why are we judging when it should be the other way around?"

"We're not judging, we're just noticing the differences between girls like them and girls like us."

You both let out a laugh.

"You definitely want that Pandora bracelet, don't you?" you look at her amused.

"And you don't?"

The two of you continue to observe or rather admire all those rich girls who have fancy accessories when suddenly you hear a specific boast behind you.

You turn your head and see the dock, noticing how some impeccably dressed people are boarding one of the larger yachts docked near the shore.

And there they are.

You think as you make out those distinctive black, red and silver hair.

Of course they couldn't miss a party like this, the sons of the most influential families in the city, the Lannister's, Baratheon's and Targaryen's, practically the elite of Sunset's.

You've seen Cerelle, Tyshara and Loreon Lannister before on the Sunset's Pair, their red hair gives away who they are instantly. They always brag about their luxurious yachts, cars, jewelry stores and everything else they own.

Their father, Jason Lannister, has built an empire based on shipbuilding and port development.

From what you understand, his company designs and manufactures some of the most advanced and exclusive ships for the world's elite.

In addition to this, Lannister also owns a network of ports and shipyards on several coasts, allowing him to maintain a steady flow of wealth through port fees and contracts with global corporations.

This influence has given him a prominent place among the city's powerful and his family has inherited not only his fortune, but also his imposing and domineering character.

So it is no surprise that the Lannister's are typical spoiled children with clearly very wealthy parents, as are the others, especially the Baratheon's, Cassandra, Maris and Floris.

Known as much for their tanned skin and peculiar dark hair as for their arrogant attitude, they always seek to be the center of attention at any such social event.

Cassandra, the eldest, has a dominant bearing and never misses an opportunity to show off her status. She is also the best known of the daughters to go out every now and then with a boy from an important family either from the city or abroad.

Next, there is Maris, the quietest of the three and the most reserved, but still, as you have heard, just as spoiled and boastful as her older sister.

And finally, Floris, Cerelle's best friend and supposedly the most arrogant, capricious, shallow and boastful of the three.

She is the one who seems the sweetest at first glance, but her spoiled nature soon becomes evident when something doesn't go her way.

You also know that there are two other children, a daughter and a son, Ellyn and Royce, but apparently Ellyn prefers to stay at home and Royce does not live here.

Her father, Borros Baratheon, is a most important and influential shipping magnate and merchant in the region, known for his connections with outside businessmen.

He owns one of the largest commercial fleets operating along the entire Pacific coast. You don't know exactly what it's about but the guys have talked about how his company specializes in logistics and shipping goods across the ocean or something like that.

And finally, the sons of the most powerful family in the entire city and the entire country, the Targaryen's.

Viserys Targaryen is known as the most powerful man in the entire country and by extension his entire family as well. He owns one of the largest and most influential corporations in the region.

Your uncle Ben always had a kind of admiration for him, though your aunt always expressed her dislike of him, as well as the other families, for simply being other greedy money-rotters who drive up the costs of the city for all that they invest to elevate their status and leave you poor people increasingly difficult to make a living.

You honestly couldn't agree with her more, but the Targaryen's have been forging their main empire here in Sunset's for a very long time now and there is nothing that can really be done about it.

The Targaryen business empire focuses on multiple sectors, but they are best known for owning a very prestigious bank, where they serve wealthy elites and large corporations, as well as financing large scale projects, such as real estate developments, technology or even public infrastructure.

You understand that he has built and manages shopping malls, corporate skyscrapers and exclusive developments in major cities across the country, as well as high profile tourist destinations like Sunset's.

So basically all of them and him especially have total control over the financial resources of the region, as well as infrastructure and development in the most luxurious sectors.

Although Viserys and his wife Alicent are no longer seen as much at events this side of Crown's and on the pier, their influence still shapes everything that happens here.

"Hey."

Sam snaps you out of your thoughts when you feel him tap you on the shoulder and you turn your head towards him, confused and attentive.

"Hm?"

"What are you looking at?" he asks you amused, sitting down next to you and offering you a new bottle of beer.

"Oh, no, nothing, just..." you shake your head, taking the beer and not paying attention to the son's and daughter's of rich parents.

But Sam had followed your gaze before.

"I know, they're beautiful, aren't they?"

You immediately watch him intently.

"Who?"

"The yachts," he tells you as if it's obvious, "Imagine spending a whole weekend on one, just doing this..." he points to the beer and all the partying, "In the middle of the ocean."

You let out a small laugh.

"That's your biggest dream, isn't it?"

"And for the yacht to be mine, obviously," he says excitedly, turning his gaze back to the dock where they all are, "If I used to see them from afar and feel envious, now it's torture to have them so close."

You look to where he sees and he has a very good point. They could live perfectly well on one of those yachts and there would be no problem, which is also one of your dreams.

"Oh, come on Sam," you give him a friendly smack, looking at him again and you notice the gleam of longing in his eyes, "Surely your charm can make a girl from Crown's fall in love with you and let you enjoy the amazing yachts."

He looks at you incredulously.

"A Crown's girl with someone like me? Are you kidding?"

"It's not impossible," you shrug.

"Oh yeah, here at Sunset's everything is impossible if you don't live on this side of town."

And that's another good point and very true.

Daniel joins you and Sam's little group and you stop paying attention the moment you turn your gaze back towards the yachts and them specifically.

This time you focus on the Targaryen's, Helaena, Aegon and Aemond.

Surprisingly, despite being in the top tier of the wealthiest and most powerful family in the entire city and country, compared to the Lannister's, Baratheon's, Tyrell's, Arryn's, Stark's and Greyjoy's, they are not so smug, superficial and arrogant.

Although, come to think of it, the only exception is Aegon.

The eldest of the brothers, he is characteristic of his carefree and arrogant attitude. His life is summed up in parties, girls and excesses. Everyone knows him, he is the soul of the party and drives all the girls crazy.

For him, life is a game where he always wins. Sometimes he seems like the typical privileged son who has never had to strive for anything, but his power lies precisely in that.

Then there is Helaena, the only sister among the Targaryens who has a pleasant and gentle presence.

Although she is rich, the richest of them all and extremely beautiful, she doesn't abuse it, she doesn't show it off, she's not shallow or arrogant, besides she's always looking out for her siblings.

She is the kind of person who doesn't need to shout to be noticed and with just a quiet smile, she earns the respect and admiration of those around her.

You know a little about her as Chase has a little now not so secret crush on her and honestly you don't blame him, she is absolutely beautiful and even kind, which is rare due to her provenance.

And finally there's Aemond, who of all them, he's always been... different.

Where Aegon is shameless and carefree, Aemond is calculating and serious. Always impeccably dressed, with an expression that doesn't say much and keeps him at a safe distance from most.

From what you've heard, he's extremely intelligent, he's also reserved and quiet, the complete opposite of Aegon.

There is also a rumor about him about his left eye, something about an accident as a child and where he apparently wears a prosthetic.

You don't really know much about it or him but he's always been intriguing and mysterious, in a way.

You focus on him specifically, watching him from a distance, curious, as he takes a seat on the deck with an expression you can't read as it doesn't tell you much.

You watch as his short silver hair moves slightly in the wind and breeze, as well as he watches everything around him intently, to again focus on his siblings and Floris.

Floris is his girlfriend, apparently they have been dating for a few months now and have given a lot to talk about since no one expected Aemond to even date anyone.

But there they are.

You watch as Floris approaches him and takes a seat on his lap, looking radiant in a tight dress and a huge smile on her face, but he, on the other hand, remains expressionless.

Floris murmurs something in his ear, to which he responds with a slight smile, but averts his gaze to the horizon. However, she gently takes him by the jaw and leaves a soft kiss on his lips.

They begin to kiss and you look away, trying to refocus on the party and enjoying yourself here with your friends.

However, being here with all these wealthy people, especially the Targaryen's, you can't help but feel that divide about the rich and the poor at Sunset's.

You feel like you live in two different worlds, where they, the rich, live a life completely oblivious to the concerns of the people on the other side of town, in Crown's.

While you and the others work in the restaurants, clean their yachts, boats, houses and make sure their lives are comfortable.

They float above it all, the Targaryen's, Lannister's, Stark's, Baratheon's and so on, attending parties and making decisions that only benefit their own.

But you, the poor, the ones who live in Black Waters have nothing, you don't have the money, the influence or the power. Even the name of your side of town is a mockery to them, the rich, in despising even more the poor who don't have what they have.

But that's the life in Sunset's Bay.

[jarofstyles]

Illicit

Hello my loves! Welcome to the first part of our next mini series we've been working on behind the scenes. The next 2 parts are available immediately on Patreon now, but will be updated here in the next few weeks!

Patreon

Warnings- cheating ( WITH y/n), Asshole Harry, I hate everyone but her, old money/wealth, toxic relationship dynamic, harry is mean and will be mean but not to Y/N lmao, smut

WC- 2.4k

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Harry had just finished cleaning himself of cum as his phone rang. 

It was his girlfriend. ‘Girlfriend’, really, because this wasn’t a real relationship. Not in his mind, anyways. 

“What?” His voice was a sharp whip, already annoyed that the post orgasm bliss had been interrupted by Katherine. Y/N was sitting next to him, her leg thrown over his thigh as fingers traced over his chest, absentminded circles pausing when she heard his attitude already. Her brow raised as he lifted the phone to show the name on the screen, making her nod, lips turning down. That irritated him further. 

“When are you coming to get me?” A voice that pierced his ears made him close his eyes, a dull throb beginning to coast down his head. “Daddy said you’re coming to the event and you were going to pick me up!” 

She was huffing like a child, not wanting to wait. Realistically, he would leave in 30 minutes. Y/N would stay curled up in his bed and wait for him to come home before he took her away to one of his family cabin’s with the rest of their friend group- the ones who knew of him and Y/N. He would spend the entire night trying to think of an excuse to get back to her early, and hoping Katherine wouldn’t throw a fit about not being able to come on this ‘business trip’.  

“You live with your father. Could you have not shared a ride?” His tone was icy, something Y/N had never been the recipient of. Thank god, really. As sexy as it was to hear him talk like that to other people, it would definitely make her cry. The man was intense, even he knew that, but not everyone seemed to catch on. 

“Hazza! Come on.” She whined. “He already left and stopped by the office. I’m getting ready now but we have to be early for the photos!” As if that was going to help her cause. It was like the girl had a handbook on how to say the wrong things. 

Harry didn’t do those stupid step and repeats. While Katherine loved being the center of attention, it wasn’t something Harry desired. In actuality, he detested it. He hated paparazzi and had broken 2 cameras from having them in his face without a second glance. No aggression, the picture of calm with pure ice on his face as he did so. If they valued their possessions, they shouldn’t be shoving them in people’s way. That’s what he thought, at least. 

“I’ll be there in an hour. I’m not doing those photos. I don’t care what you do. Now stop calling me when I'm in the middle of things. You know if I don’t answer once, wait for further instruction.” He paused. “And stop calling me that childish nickname. I don’t find it cute or endearing, it’s embarrassing. Goodbye.”

There was a sharp squeak as he hung up the phone and threw it to the ground, rolling Y/N around onto her back and sliding his still sticky cock back inside of her yet again. His annoyance was clear on his face, but it quickly melted away as her arms wrapped around him and her lips covered his face with soft coos, legs pulling him in deeper. Maybe she was a bit sore, maybe his last load was still dripping out of her messy hole, but she knew exactly how the man needed to express himself. 

“I know.” Her silky voice wrapped around his tension and broke it down, slow thrusts inside of her quelling the bubbling irritation in his stomach and turning it into arousal. Y/N could read his stone cold features, knew what his eye twitch meant, the simple movement of a brow or the tiniest down or upturn of lip. This magnificent woman seemed to have him all figured out, and he felt like shit for having to leave and be seen with another woman. “I know, baby. Only a few more months.” Fingers stroked his hair back, guiding his lips to her own.

 He kissed her back, eyes squeezing shut as he allowed himself to lose the anger that had developed by focusing on her. The heat of her cunt wrapped up tight around him, snug. Fitting him perfectly, just as it always had. Y/N was the one he had wanted to take to these things, but he had to wait. For once, his patience wasn’t being practiced. 

The best thing in his life had to be hidden from most people, all because he had taken a stupid deal. He had to go out with the girl who thought she was going to be the next Mrs.Styles, while all he wanted to do was stay nestled in his luxury sheets with Y/N’s soft, supple body to worship. 

It was all his fault, though. 

He had always been ambitious. Ruthless, some may say, but he knew that to a degree he could be cruel to get what he wanted. That was how had been raised. His father had put that right into his head, doing anything for success, power, money… that’s how he ended up in this situation. 

In order to secure the deal of a lifetime, he had agreed to date the man’s daughter. Maybe that sounded cruel, but he knew the intentions from the get go. The man was using his conventionally pretty, high society daughter to try and sweeten the deal- but he knew the true motivation. An attempt to get him into the family and continue having control of the company through his daughter’s supposed relationship with him. If only he had been smarter, if he had done more research. He would know he was sending a sacrificial lamb right into Harry’s awaiting lion jaws. 

See, she had been no stranger to him. Katherine had been after him for quite a while. They were acquainted to a certain degree, running in similar circles and society dinners. The crush, more so the obsession she had with Harry had been no secret to anyone. She claimed to have been in love with him, but Harry knew what it truly was. A lust for money. An infatuation with the power he could secure her. She loved what Harry could represent for her, not only to secure place in the society she had been thrown into as she grew up- but to elevate it. She knew the score, knew what Harry’s ring could mean. 

Katherine knew nothing of his true personality, his likes, his dislikes, his jokes. All of those things were reserved for the tiniest selection of people that she only knew of in passing. His real friends barely touched that superficial, vapid, bitter world. Katherine’s family was new money, looking to secure their place in society. Harry’s wealth went in decades, and it would most likely stay that way. Her vying for his attention didn’t shock him in the slightest. 

The condition of dating Katherine for at least a year had been one he had wanted to scoff at, one he had wanted to tell Mr. Eugene Brant that it would be obvious what it was, but he was smart enough to bite his tongue and agree. Playing stupid was a superpower, letting him think he got one over on Harry and vastly overestimating his daughter’s appeal. One year of being toted around with her overly big smile and his signature scowl on his face hadn’t been an issue. It was something he would merely go through the motions of until the exact year was up and she would be out of his life. 

At least, it hadn’t been until he met Y/N. 

The first woman who had ever captured his heart and soul. Softened the edges of his razor sharp glare.

She hadn’t wanted to give him the time of day once she realized he had been flirting whilst not single. She hadn’t known the deceptive relationship and it hadn’t been her fault, but that didn’t mean Harry was going to leave well enough alone. Even after she had dumped her  Shirley temple on his brand new pure cotton button up. 

If anything, it made him want her more. 

One thing about Harry? He was going to get what he wanted. He would bet anything on it. He was patient, stubborn, and fixated. Checking guest lists to see if she’d be in attendance to parties, see if she was going to hang out with his friend group, he was on the prowl to get her to talk again. 

She had blocked his number already- he didn’t really have a chance to explain. He understood why, but that didn’t mean he was going to give up. 

When he finally did have the shot to tell her the relationship was a hoax, she was still doubtful. Dubious looks sent his way as he had pulled them into a private room of the club they were at- one his father owned, funnily enough- his hand holding hers as he sat beside her to plead his case. He was strong and defiant, insisting that it was a means to an end and there was no clause saying he couldn’t date other people- but he would like to get to know her on a real level. 

Against her better judgment, Y/N had fallen for the soft green eyes, the soft looking lips with the sharp cupid's bow and his even sharper tongue. Giving him one date was all he needed to get her on board. 

Fidelity wasn’t a term in the contract he had signed. Stupid, stupid mistake on Brant’s part. A new money, no lawyer to look over, a hasty mistake that would most definitely come to bite him in the ass. Harry hadn’t honored fidelity in the slightest even before he met Y/N. Sex was an outlet for him, as was the gym, things that were pleasurable and stress relieving. He’d only slept with Katherine a handful of times, tapering that off when he saw it made her get more and more attached. She had obviously known Harry had a reputation and while the sex had been alright, there hadn’t been much to his benefit besides the fact that she swallowed his load. 

Surprisingly, it wasn’t that hard to find willing participants. 

Sex with Y/N had completely rocked his world. He thinks, in part, it was because they had a real connection. She made him wait, she made him work his way up to that if he wanted- and made him stop sex with anyone else. As if he had any interest in anyone else. Y/N had taken up the majority of his brain that wasn’t filled with revenue and contracts and contacts and emails. She was his escape. 

The first time they had sex, Harry had fallen for her. There was no question in his mind. Despite being positive that he wouldn’t ever marry for love, Y/N had him questioning that. She had flipped his entire world view upside down, made him weak in the knees. 

Y/N wasn’t in the public eye. Her family had some elite ties, but she was friends with a lot of the quietly wealthy people who didn’t feel the need to showcase it to everyone who looked with tacky labels and monograms. She’d gotten into one of the best schools, gotten her degree and continued her friendship with her roommates and best friends- who just happened to be the girlfriends of some of his best mates. The real ones. There were only a few single members of the groups, and Y/N had been the new blood that had people wondering. Harry had been interested immediately. 

It was about 4 months into their relationship and everything still felt fantastic. Y/N knew more about Harry than anyone else ever could. She was the one with the key to the future, even if she didn’t know the exact depths his feelings went to. 

“I don’t want to go.” His lips parted from hers. “I want to stay here… want to stay buried inside of you, want to feed you your chocolate and lick it from your tongue.” Inhaling his words, she moaned as his hips rolled and he found his home back at her most sensitive spot. He had spent hours finding it, claiming it, and he knew it was his. “Spent all week working… I just want my sweet Angel.”

Noses brushed against one another, Y/N’s bleary eyes opening up to look at his own. Hazy, dark green, hooded. She gently dragged her nails over his shoulder blades, arching up into him and pressed a bit harder on the skin to make him moan in surprise. “You have me, Harry.” She whispered. “You have me now. Leave with my traces on your cock… then come back and take more. We leave tomorrow… and you can hold me how you like. Kiss me. Our friends don’t care. They’ll keep our secret.” Even if it was forbidden, their tight knit group knew exactly what the relationship between Harry and Katherine really was- and none really liked her. They knew Y/N made him happy, softened him up, they’d all been rooting for this. Their safe space. The only ones who knew. 

“She won’t ever have me.” He reassured. “I’m yours. I want your marks on me.” Breathing harder, his thrusts getting a bit more deep. “Make me bleed. C’mon, my sweet girl. Paid for those nails… give me what I want.” Her cunt quivered around his prick, making him smile. She pretended not to like that sort of thing, but she got them done specifically for this. To quench his thirst for pain, for marks. They loved it. “She’ll never have me like this. I’m yours.” He whimpered, the freak of the bed and their noises filling the room. “M’yours, baby. My sweet Angel… stay in my bed and wait for me. I’ll give you everything. Just wait for me.” 

She would. She would wait for him, to be his fully, as long as it took.

[aealzx]

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Update Post

Prologue | AO3

Previous Next

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Being taken to a rich man’s manor left an uncertain taste in Jazz’s mouth, having long ago learned of the trouble her siblings and friends dealt with in relation to such places. But the positives were too important to them to get hung up on being prejudiced, so she tried to remain hopeful while they drove to their destination.It wasn’t like every rich man was the same. They couldn’t all be lonesome stalkers trying to kidnap other people’s spouses or children. Right?

It was tough having four people squished into the backseat of the car, but having her little siblings both so close to her was doing a lot to keep Jazz’s frazzled anxieties from that morning from fraying any further. She couldn’t believe the sun was already so high in the sky now, the clocks she’d glimpsed before reading just an hour or so before noon. She tried to blame her irritability on being hungry, but her nervousness making her have little appetite tried to disprove that.

The drive was thankfully quiet, leaving Jazz a recently rare moment to sort through her thoughts as one hand lightly rested on Danny’s chest and the other absently ran fingers through his hair repeatedly. Sometimes it was hard to hear or even see him breathe, so the physical movement of his chest rising and falling reassured her. And since she knew sometimes comatose patients could still register stimulus from the outside she hoped he earned some sort of comfort from her fingers through his hair.

It was those thoughts Jazz was lost in when they pulled through a set of heavy iron gates amidst stone walls. As expected, the manor was huge and the grounds surrounding it were expansive. But what was unexpected was that the grounds and manor exterior actually looked lived in and welcoming. Well kept gardens and walkways, and clean windows that weren’t even partially hidden. The glass was mirrored to keep prying eyes from seeing anything they shouldn’t, but somehow while the manor felt isolated it also felt inviting to those who were welcomed in its walls.

“Here we are,” Dick announced needlessly, pulling the car in to coast up next to the curb leading to the front door. There were both a set of stairs and a ramp leading up to the threshold. Something Jazz couldn’t remember seeing before for a private manor. She heard Sam draw a deep inhale while she stretched and realized she must have been dozing. She couldn’t blame her, even Danielle had decided to take a short nap to recover some of the energy she’d spent in the fight. While Sam, Tucker, and Danielle pulled their lethargic bones from their seats, Jazz waited patiently for Dick to half jog around to her seat. She didn’t realize her legs had fallen partially numb until Dick carefully lifted Danny from her lap, letting her help him keep the blanket tucked around the lad before he stepped away to allow her to exit the car and close the door.

“...Do you think he’ll be like Vlad?” Tucker asked once they started heading up the stairs, and Dick made a mental note of the name. It didn’t sound like someone the kids liked.

“No,” Sam answered easily, and when Tucker squinted at her incredulously Sam pointed towards the front door. “For one thing, he doesn’t live alone in this huge house like a loser,” she commented, having noticed Alfred already waiting for them at the entrance.

“Welcome to the Wayne Family manor, young masters and misses. Master Bruce will be with you shortly,” Alfred greeted them when they reached the top of the stairs, stepping forward to open the front door and hold it for their guests.

“Thank you,” Jazz responded quickly, causing the other teens to give a muttered chorus of thanks as well.

It was nice to be in an actual home again, after so long, and Jazz didn’t realize the kind of comfort it would bring to have the door closed behind them. The manor felt safe. Solid walls blocking the world from staring at them with suspicious eyes. A warm air that smelled faintly of burning wood from a fireplace. They gathered in the foyer for only a short minute before a calm voice came into the room. “Alfred, is that Nightwing with the kids?”

The voice was strangely concerned. Not in a way that made Jazz think the owner was reluctant to have visitors, but someone who knew what to expect and it worried them. A moment later a middle aged man in a suit was entering from another room, followed by a young lad and two dogs.

“Yes, Master Bruce. The children you told us about are here,” Alfred confirmed as Bruce approached them, looking them all over with an openly worried gaze. Jazz wasn’t sure what to say, openly staring back as Bruce took the sight of them in. Even the other three weren’t sure how to respond, the behavior being completely different from what they were used to from rich people. Of course Vlad always feigned concern, but it was easy to see he was being manipulative and it was isolated to certain people.

“Good morning, Mr Wayne. I hope we’re not intruding unwelcome,” Dick greeted, momentarily surprised by Jazz stepping between him and Bruce to block Danny from the apparent stranger. He allowed her to do so though, not wanting to stress her out more by trying to control her.

“Of course not,” Bruce assured, seeming to regain his composure and stop over analyzing his guests. “I have to admit I’m somewhat confused as to why I was the one chosen to entrust these kids to. But after hearing they were somewhat like my son Duke, it made a little more sense.”

“You have kids?” Sam spoke up, unable to keep herself from asking the question. So the quiet boy hovering in the back wasn’t just another visitor? And the other two older boys that had come into the room like curious spectators too? One of them was leaning against a doorway, while the other tried to look inviting as he’d come down the stairs. And to Dick’s surprise Stephanie was also there, giving him a subtle wink as she entered from a different room than the others.

“Yes, I have several children,” Bruce confirmed, reaching his hands out for Duke and Damian since they were the closest, resting a hand on each back. “This is my youngest, Damian. This is Duke, who I just mentioned. Stephanie was adopted shortly before Duke. And my second oldest is Jason, over there. You caught him and Stephanie while they were visiting, they actually live closer to where they work, but they and the rest of my children are free to come and go as they please. I hope you won’t be bothered by that.”

“N’no, that’s fine. It’s their home after all, not mine,” Sam stammered, backing away from the conversation uncomfortably. None of these people looked all that similar, and none of the kids looked uncomfortable about being there. In fact Stephanie seemed excited about something. Was she just happy to have guests? Duke looked nervous, but it was that general unease of someone trying to make a good first impression. And the way Bruce held them wasn’t out of possession, but familiarity. They could easily brush him off if they wanted to, but they didn’t. At first glance Bruce seemed to genuinely have the life Vlad wanted, minus there not being a wife as far as the kids could see. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

Throughout the light conversation Danielle had been looking between the home’s residents, squinting slightly as more people showed up. She knew Jazz had thought this arrangement was strange, and they all had a general unease towards rich men. But it hadn’t been until Jason made himself visible that Danielle had realized what was going on, and all of her unease fled. Of all the ones who had been helping them, Jason was the one that had the most distinct presence to her. Something not quite like her and her family, but also not quite like the others. A lingering sensation that Danielle recognized even without the usual red helmet. And when Jason raised a hand from his pocket to briefly wave at them when Bruce introduced him, Danielle immediately noticed the bandaged finger on his other, mostly hidden hand and grinned.

“Hey! It’s nice to finally see your face. You look a lot less grumpy without the red helmet hiding everything,” Danielle suddenly beamed, lifting off the ground to float over to Jason.

To their credit, the Wayne family tried to act surprised at her comments and metahuman feat. “Excuse me?” Jason asked, pulling back slightly when Danielle hovered close to him.

“You’re the one that was carrying Danny when we all first met. With the red helmet and brown jacket,” Danielle insisted, pointing. “So your name’s Jason? That’s great. That must mean… Damian is the little guy that sedated me. Stephanie is the really cool girl in purple. Duke has to be the one in yellow that drove everyone away from Deathstroke. And you must be Batman.” She pointed to each of the members in turn, ending with Bruce as the rest of her family's expressions changed from general discomfort to dawning realization. 

“That’s why you brought us here,” Sam commented as the pieces lined up in her mind “You could have just told us we were going to your house. That would have made the drive a lot less sullen.”

The room was quiet as the Wayne family subtly glanced between each other, trying to rapidly judge whether they should lie, or confirm the observations. The pause was short, but also long enough to cause Danielle to look between them all in genuine confusion, knowing she was right but wondering why no one was saying anything about it. 

Yet before anyone else could comment or otherwise respond Jazz was the one making a distressed noise, rushing over to Danielle to grab her and pull her back. “HHHHHH DANI!” Jazz wheezed, snatching the girl from the air and lightly placing her hands over Danielle’s mouth. “What did I tell you about spilling people’s secrets? You’re supposed to wait for them to tell you first,” she scolded, looking for all the world like an embarrassed parent whose child had just announced something inappropriate in a public space.

Danielle was already sputtering when Jazz pulled her back to ground level and smothered her. “What? I thought that’s what all this was over. You really expect me to just go along with the hoodoo pretend that they’re completely normal people we’ve never met before?” she protested, pulling away from Jazz and almost stomping in front of her.

“Yes!” Jazz almost hissed. “If they’re not ready you just have to wait,” she insisted, eyes flicking between the others as they were collectively starting to give up on the facade.

“Oh come on!” Danielle burst in response, throwing her hands up in exasperation and breaking away from Jazz. “We’ve had dinner together, a sleepover, kicked each others’ butts, kicked butt together, and she’s seen me topless! You really think we’re NOT on a first name basis yet? Most people just have to say Hi to each other.” Throughout her list of evidence Danielle gestured to various members, Stephanie and Jason from the first watch, Dick and Duke, the three that had taken her down, then Stephanie again, then wildly gesturing back and forth between herself and everyone else. She really couldn’t fathom why Jazz was making such a fuss about playing pretend when it would be so much easier to just let them know they didn’t have to hide around her.

Jason wasn’t sure who broke first, but he was going to blame Stephanie for her almost immediate snort. She tried to smother it down to save face, but it had already been done. And a moment later Dick started chuckling helplessly in both mild disbelief and amusement, which immediately set Stephanie off into a full laugh. And at that point Jason gave in and started laughing quietly as well while Duke and Damian turned to see Bruce’s opinion on the matter.

At this point Bruce could only heave a helpless sigh, relaxing his demeanor completely and taking away any residue of what persona he may have had.

“Well, this will certainly make it easier,” Damian commented as Stephanie settled down into giggles and Jason pushed off the door frame.

“How did you even recognize me? I’m the only one you never saw even a glimpse of my face, and I made sure all the injuries from this morning were hidden,” Jason asked, half curious and half wanting ammo to counter the others’ badgering for him being the one who was called out first.

“Oh, it’s because you’re the only one I’ve met in Gotham that has… that whole vibe thing you got going on there,” Danielle responded, pausing as she wasn’t completely sure how to explain what Jason had that the others didn’t, rolling her finger in a circle while pointing to him.

“The what now?” Jason asked, unimpressed. How was he supposed to figure out how to cover for something so vaguely described?

“The… weird… I dunno what it is, man. Okay? You just feel different from everyone else. Like Jazz and Sam and Tucker feel different from Danny and me, and everyone else feels different from all of us. It’s just a vibe you got,” Danielle tried to elaborate helplessly.

“She says you stink, Jay,” Stephanie blurted, sticking her tongue out slightly to tease.

“Can it, Steph. I smell fine,” Jason shot back.

“Ooookay. Since we’re all officially on a first name basis then, why don’t we get settled in so I can change and get cleaned up too?” Dick interrupted the mild squabbling. “.... Babs says she’ll also meet us here after working with the JL since we’re not doing the double identity thing.”

“I’ll prepare a meal for a full house then,” Alfred announced, “Will you still need me to show them to their rooms?”

“No, Alfred. Thank you. We’ll take care of it,” Bruce declined, hands still resting on Duke and Damian’s backs. This wasn’t how he’d wanted it to go, but maybe it would be for the better. Maybe this would better facilitate the openings to learn more about the Phantom children like Tim had also realized having them in the manor would allow. “Take Danny upstairs, I’ve already contacted Dr. Thompkins to help get him settled, and get you two looked after,” he directed Dick. “I left the door open for which room to use.”

“Good,” Dick nodded, shifting to head towards the stairs Duke had come down from. “Jazz, we’ll put you next door, so you can follow me too,” he offered, knowing Jazz would want to keep Danny in her sight as much as possible.

Giving a nod to Dick, Jazz started to follow, but took a moment to point a finger at Danielle. “Don’t cause anymore trouble. And don’t tell anyone about these guys being who they are. Got it?” she warned, putting on her best serious face.

“I got it, sheesh. I’m not going to go blurting their secret out to anyone. Who do you take me for? It’s not like I’ve told anyone at home about Danny either,” Danielle protested, rolling her eyes.

As Jazz’s expression reflected immediate barely suppressed frustration at Danielle just blurting a hint about Danny, Jason hurried forward one step and put his hand between the two girls. “We already knew about that. Danny is also known as Phantom, yeah?” he revealed, defending Danielle this time so she didn’t get more unnecessary lectures her way. Jazz seemed uncomfortably surprised at first, but then calmed down significantly.

“See? I know what I’m doing,” Danielle grinned smugly.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. I just don’t want to deal with the amount of chaos you deem acceptable,” Jazz retorted to the girl.

Stephanie had to laugh at the exchange, stepping towards them to finally get them moving considering Dick was waiting patiently by the stairs and Alfred had already left. “Come on, let's get some actual clothes for you instead of stolen cheap things,” she laughed, grabbing Danielle’s hand and pulling her towards the stairs. “If you don’t like anything in my closet I’ll take you shopping later. On Bruce’s card of course.”

Following Stephanie’s lead, Duke approached Tucker and started to usher him upstairs too. “You too champ. We’ve got more boy clothes than girls. There should be something that fits you too. And I’ll show you which room you can use.”

“Wait, I get my own room?” Tucker gawked, following Duke as Sam had already started to Follow behind Stephanie and Danielle. It earned a laugh from Stephanie and Duke as they led the new residents to get settled.

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I already had this part typed, so just had to spend like 6 hours drawing the pic today. Yey quick update~

Also I had to rewrite Bruce like 7 times in this part because I could not figure out how he would/should behave for the initial part. @ v @ So I just settled for more confused dad vibes.

I also learned from the previous chapter that Dick's butt cheeks have names like boobs, and I cried from laughing too hard X'DD I knew he was a fan favorite, but I didn't think he was that kind of favorite. I appreciate all the facts you guys give me. They're so fun.

Also just to clarify/restate, Jason is not a halfa in this fic, he's a revenant. So he doesn't have the same vibes as Danny and Dani, but they are still different from the others.

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Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, 

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics

[vestaignis]

Скала Дан Брист в Ирландии.

Приблизительно в 5 км к северу от деревни Балликасл, в ирландском графстве Мейо, находится удивительный мыс под названием Даунпатрик-Хед. Возвышаясь на 38 метро выше моря, он открывает захватывающие дух виды Атлантики и высокие утесы вдоль берега. Название Даунпатрик возникло со времени, когда сам Св. Патрик основал церковь в этих местах. Вы можете все еще увидеть руины церкви, с каменным крестом наверху. Ежегодно в конце июля здесь собираются верующие, чтобы провести мессу. Во время Второй мировой войны тут был построен пост береговой охраны, который теперь используется, чтобы исследовать птиц, которые гнездятся на высоких утесах.

Отрезанная от материка и лежащая в 80 метрах от берега, находится знаменитая скала Дан Брист. Морской стек отделился от материка в 1393 под воздействием воды, и люди, живущие на утесах, были спасены с помощью веревок. Конечно же, не обошлось и без иной версии отделения скалы, которая увековечилась в древней легенде. Предания гласят, что когда-то на месте Дан Бриста жил непокорный языческий вождь, который отказался обращаться в христианство. В знак протеста самый почитаемый святой Ирландии, Патрик, ударил посохом об землю, отделив скалу вместе с вождем. Как бы то ни было, вертикальный утес является очень интересным местом – его высота составляет около 45 метров, а ширина и длина, соответственно, 63 и 23 метра. Высокие утесы мыса Даунпатрик и скалы Дан Брист, демонстрирующие многослойные разноцветные пласты пород, были сформированы более 350 миллионов лет тому назад. Эти места представляют особый интерес для орнитологов, которые наблюдают здесь за редкими птицами, гнездящимися на скалах, а в весенний период тут буйно расцветает армерия, создавая поистине фантастический пейзаж.

Dun Brist Rock in Ireland.

About 5 km north of the village of Ballycastle, in the Irish county of Mayo, lies a stunning headland called Downpatrick Head. Rising 38 metres above the sea, it offers breathtaking views of the Atlantic and the high cliffs along the coast. The name Downpatrick comes from the time when St Patrick himself founded a church here. You can still see the ruins of the church, with a stone cross on top. Every year at the end of July, the faithful gather here to celebrate mass. During the Second World War, a coastguard post was built here, which is now used to study the birds that nest on the high cliffs.

Cut off from the mainland and lying 80 metres from the shore, lies the famous Dun Brist Rock. The sea stack broke away from the mainland in 1393 under the action of the water, and the people living on the cliffs were saved with the help of ropes. Of course, there is another version of the separation of the rock, which was immortalized in an ancient legend. Legends say that once on the site of Dun Brist lived a rebellious pagan chieftain who refused to convert to Christianity. In protest, the most revered saint of Ireland, Patrick, struck the ground with his staff, separating the rock along with the chieftain.

Be that as it may, the vertical cliff is a very interesting place - its height is about 45 meters, and the width and length, respectively, are 63 and 23 meters. The high cliffs of Cape Downpatrick and the cliffs of Dun Brist, demonstrating multi-layered multi-colored rock layers, were formed more than 350 million years ago. These places are of particular interest to ornithologists, who watch here rare birds nesting on the rocks, and in the spring, thrift blooms here, creating a truly fantastic landscape.

Источник:://t.me/roundtravel,fishki.net/4284556-velikolepnaja-skala-surovoj-irlandii.html,/terra-z.com/archives/66906, /notionsontour .com /delightful-downpatrick-head-on-the-wild-atlantic-way/, /wallpapers.99px.ru/wallpapers/332882/,/pressa.tv/web-puteshestviya/30655-skala-dan-brist-u-beregov-irlandii-7-foto.html, /pikabu.ru/story/skala_danbrist_v_irlandii_7142151,/kulturologia.ru/blogs/110418/38561/, /dzen.ru/a/Y0xHzOMj-kbmAiMe.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

2.3k words- wanderer comes with you on a job. things are likely to go up in smoke.

"this. was such a stupid idea." wanderer hisses from his spot beside you. back pushed against a well-aged stone wall, his hat in his hands since the obscenely round headwear makes hiding behind a wall a very convoluted endeavor.

you, who was standing nearest to the corner of the wall, peaking around it every so often swiveled your chin towards him and brought your finger up to your mouth to harshly shush him.

"i didn't ask for you to come. you invited yourself!" you hiss quietly back at him. the veins in his forehead from your return fire felt like they were around to fry and malfunction.

"no," he rebuttals, "buer insisted." which was... half true.

nahida had caught wind of a very interesting commission posted on behalf of the adventurers' guild on treasure street. something involving old books or scripts and she took a liking to it. 'you already know all of whatever's in those dusty tomes,' he had told her. still, nothing beat recovering the physical wisdom she already had so she could hold it in her small hands and fawn over it... so she claims. that's why he was here in the first place.

going along with whoever decided to take on the job beat out over having to endure her pressing gaze that lit his back on fire. the problem was that you were the one who took the commission.

while he tolerated your presence and didn't dislike you being around or yapping even if he was in a sour mood, when you were working out on the field- even he knew you were a reckless lost cause. did you bring results? yes. but you always found the most ludicrous ways to get there. if he took his eyes off you for a second, who knows what trouble you'd get yourself into.

presently, you and he had successfully snuck into the hideout of which the lost books were rumored to be. an old stone building that once stood as a small manor. the books were rumored to be in the last remaining tower on the east side of the main building; or so says the suspiciously detailed commission. of course, this hideout wasn't without its squatters. treasure hoarders infested the place like worker bees in a hive.

you both had gotten lucky so far. reckless as you are, he was half convinced you'd storm the place, guns blazing and just bull doze yourself all the way through.

as for what was going on around the corner, you were currently listening for the small group of treasure hoarders to pass by; or you would be if your hat wearing companion would stop nagging. shushing him between your teeth once more, you swirl your head away from him. annoyance bit at the back of his neck, still he obliged you by staying silent. one of his feet propped up against the wall behind him as he idled.

the chatter between the men you were both sneaking around faded into a murmur as he watched the back of your head from the corn of his eyes. the adventure's uniform was always tacky to him. apparently you thought so do, if all the changes you've made to yours was anything to go by.

"okay," you whisper. wanderer kicks himself off the wall before placing his hat back on his head with practiced grace. "coast is clear, let's go before someone else comes back around." as you take off around the corner his eyes roll before he's chasing after you.

for all his moaning, the previous nomad had no reason to doubt your skills. you were good as what you did. it was just always more trouble than it's worth sometimes.

with the same tactic of wait, listen, dash and repeat, you both managed to get to the tower and pushed past an old, domed wood door. the spiral of stone steps leading higher into the tower was so visibly unsafe, one wrong step on the wrong piece of rock would send a typical person tumbling all the way back down. of course, if that did happen, wanderer would just latch onto your collar and fly you the rest of the way up by your fabric scruff.

after an annoyingly long trip up in upward circles, you come to another door identical to the one at the bottom. wooden, domed and built with iron latches. twisting the handle and releasing the latch, the door opened, and the scent of dust hit your nose.

you step into the old room that looked like a small library once a upon a time and waved your hand in front of your face to stave off all the dust in the air. you coughed on it as wanderer watched you with crossed arms.

"you're so dramatic," he sassily told you before walking further into the library. a perk of not needing to breath was not caring about dust apparently. your lungs were currently envious of his mechanical innards.

"oh... shu-t up-" you choked, following after him.

the library itself wasn't grand. it was obviously old. cobwebs on the ceilings and in all corners, layers of dust that could easily create a thick quilt if it was all gathered in one place. the room of shelves held so many books draped in peeling covers and age-damage. still, somewhere among them was the books you needed to find.

it took a long time, longer than you wished, and more battles between dust clouds, spiders, and cobwebs that you care to admit, but you had finally found what you were looking for. placing any loose pieces of paper into your satchel on your hip, you take the book and wrap it up in cloth before also tucking it away.

"i think that just about does it." you say, latching your satchel up securely. "let's get out of here before-"

the sound of echoed, rushed footsteps stomping their way up the stairs behind the cracked door of the library interrupted you. spinning around, you faced the door as wanderer clicked his tongue.

"you just had to go and say something dumb."

"why are you blaming me?!" you screech.

"there's someone up here alright!"

one of the owners of the rushing feet shouted. wanderer's glare towards you made you look away quickly with sweat running down your cheek. you were guilty of nothing that he can prove. he stomped over to you and pulled on that cheek, his fingers pinching the flesh as his insides whirled in irritation. "you loudmouth!" through your squinted eyes did you see steam puffing from his mouth?

the cracked door blew open and behind it came rushing in three treasure hoarders. a knife thrower, a burly man with a shovel, and an excentric looking fellow in a red overcoat. 'oh great,' you think.

wanderer releases your cheek as the three men rush in. he grabs your arm and shoves you away from him and kicks starts your legs for you. you duck between the bookshelves as they give chase. the knife throwing man tries his luck, his projectiles lodging into the bookcase just as you find safety behind it. skidding to a swift turn, you counter with your own throwing skills- although with a stray rock on the floor inside of a knife.

a satisfied thunk sounded among the scuffle as the rock struck him on the head and he soon followed it to the floor. he deserves the headache he'll wake up with. your small victory was short as you yelp when the burly man with a shovel swings it and you just barely managed to duck under the woosh of its motion. rolling away from him you run, leading him towards a bookshelf you noticed was unstable earlier. once he was in place, you shoved the shelf with your shoulder, toppling it over the man.

books pelt him before the wooden encasement pins him to the floor. it was just heavy enough to keep him down long enough for an escape. stepping on the fallen shelf, you hear the treasure hoarder groan at your added weight on his back before you were rushing around the library back to the front.

"hey, [wanderer]! we've really gotta go!" you stood still in the library and wonder where the third guy had ran off to. he was the one you were most worried around. the last thing you needed was a molotov being thrown at you. "[wand]-" your second shout was cut off by a blast of wind swishing at your side. once the wind blew past, the sound of shattering glass echoed in the once tidy- but dusty- library. followed by a plume of fire.

"stop shouting! you're just giving yourself away!" you found wanderer at your back the moment you recovered from the sudden burst of air. there was a rumble in the floor caused by his vision as a blast of air sprang up from below the third attacker's feet. it violently burst from below, lifting him off his feet and onto his back.

three knocked down treasure hoarders. nice.

soon, the stairwell begin to fill with more noise. more shouting and stomping just like earlier. as you look over wanderer's shoulder, your voice chokes at the remnants of the flame-fueled molotov he had blasted away from your earlier. this library was the best fire starter in the books! dust, paper, wood. it checks all the boxes. and now you'd have to deal with more treasure hoarders.

"oh, come on!" you groan. wanderer looks behind his shoulder at you. he wonders if you realize that you've grabbed onto his arm or how close your nose was to his cheek at this angle. he clicks his tongue again before looking behind your head.

with his vision against his chest, he lifted his free arm, flinging a slice of air through a small window. the glass shatters, falls outside to the ground and the open air invisibly floods the room. it only adds to fan the flames that were now beginning to eagerly eat anything around it to grow.

moving, and dragging your wrist with him, he jumps up onto a nearby desk just under the now empty window frame.

"don't bite your tongue," he tells you. you look at him like he's nuts before he's shoving you out the window back first. shoving his palms against the front of your shoulders. your arms flail before the view of the library and wanderer, spin and flip to the outside stone of the tower and then the sky. there's a second of skirmishing noise before the sound of wind deafens you.

wanderer is quick to fly out of the window after you. diving down in the air, he swoops his arm under your stomach, securing you to his side. your body folds inwardly due to be stopped at free fall and wanderer takes a full few seconds of levitation before blasting off away from the scene.

"are you crazy?! why did you do that?!" you complain. rightfully so.

"did you want to stay and get burnt to a crisp?!" how he found the audacity to argue with you, you don't know. "we got what we needed anyway!"

"how about a little warning next time?!"

"stop shouting! you'll bite your tongue! don't you listen!"

"I have to shout so you hear me!"

the way he is holding you was backward; your legs were at his front with your arms clutching onto the flapping fabric that dangled on his person. clinging onto him, you watch the tower disappear behind the clearly strategic retreat. observing as smoke begins billowing up in the sky and you wonder if you'd have to include 'the result of the job was a massive fire' in your commission report.

it would break poor nahida's heart to know that so many books were lost to a reckless treasure hoarder who though a fire molotov in an old library was a good idea.

when you finally return to sumeru city and write up your report, your prompt in delivering it to katheryn. you glance over to the puppet who still hadn't dismissed himself back to the sanctuary of surasthana to do his own report back to the dendro archon herself with questioning eyes. was part of his task also to wait until you had submitted a report? what was keeping him?

walking over to his side, you dig the book out of your satchel along with the pieces of loose parchment. you offer them to him.

"do you need to take these back to lesser lord kusanali?" his arms remain crossed along his chest and he makes no move to uncross them to take your items. your chin juts up a fraction as if to tell him 'are you going to take these or?'

without so much as a word, he spins his back towards you. you're about to give him a piece of your mind, when he talks. "give them to her yourself." starting off, he walks further up treasures street, and you were left there flabbergasted. was he going to make you finish this job alone? "are you coming or not?" his voice called from up the slopped roads. he was waiting for you.

'guess he isn't.'

you jog to catch up to him, book clutched to your chest, and he waits until you were beside him to start walking again. just before he moved to open the door to the sanctuary, you stopped him.

"thanks for helping me out earlier." he turned to look at you quizzically. "you know? for deflecting that flaming bottle? it would've sucked if it caught the job items on fire."

"it wasn't a big deal." he turns away again.

"i also appreciate that you didn't let me get hurt."

there was a silence. then, "you're welcome." it was a genuine statement. not a hint of sass. it made you feel pretty proud. "come on." he told you before he's walking inside with you in tow, but not before opening the door for you.

nahida was pleased at the newfound items she could safely store away after thoroughly studying them. but when you informed her that the rest of the library you ventured to in search of those items went up in smoke? lesser lord kusanali wasn't the happiest archon in teyvat about that.

a/n: you'll never guess which scene i rly wrote all this for was- also yes i put [wander] in brackets when reader was speaking bc he's obvious named differently, so its more or less a name placeholder lol

[phyrestartr]

Prisoner of the Coast | Sukuna x M!Reader (WIP)

#SFW wip, reader is a water dragon, sukuna is a ronin, lore, mythology, there's plot, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, probably sad ending?, AU note: I JUST WANTED TO POST SOMETHING IDK

tags: @kamote-kuneho @prettorett @memedealer-exe @tr4nniez @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @memedealer-exe @silvern1006

Fear was not what he felt. Ryoumen Sukuna did not fear you who he faced; he was not a weak man. He was not a faint-hearted warrior. He was not a coward. But gleaming, ghastly eyes reminded him of mortality. Of the very human blood embedded in his veins. 

And the longer those round, moonlit eyes stared, the longer they sliced through the endless, empty blankness of the forgotten seaside palace, the louder that sound of drumming shook Sukuna's skull, against his ribs. But he was not afraid; he did not fear the gods. He would not fear one of their ilk in the flesh. 

The sound of water shifting echoed in the infinite void, dancing off distant walls as shards of light managed to catch on gentle, lapping wakes. Yet your head never moved an inch. Sukuna had seen other snakes do the same in his travels, keeping their heads still while their bodies squeezed and slithered–but their eyes were bound to fall closed. Yours stayed awake. Staring like the head of a Lion Dance puppet. Abnormal. Unaware of such abnormality. 

Sukuna gripped one of his swords tightly, ready to quick-draw if you'd chosen to strike. Gods were like that–hateful, horrible, honourless–and he expected nothing less from a beast like you; however, you'd been meandering towards him his entire stay, he realized too late. Slow. Quiet. Patient. The way one might approach a scared animal. 

I'm not getting paid enough for this shit. Sukuna found a smile, though. Maybe I’m getting paid too fuckin’ much. Who the hell does this thing need protecting from, huh? 

The question gnawed on his mind as your grandeur size became near-tangible–then, your eyes closed. Right when Sukuna started to make out the glint of scales against the moonlight of your eyes, the shimmering glow vanished, leaving only dappling sunlight streaming in from time-worn holes in the towering ceiling. 

“What do you want?” A man’s voice, your voice, asked from the shadows. The source was lower than before, ringing from a height so oddly human it gave Sukuna whiplash. 

“Ho? A shapeshifter?” Sukuna wondered, grinning. “You think you can take me on like that?”

“I don’t intend to ‘take you on’ at all, samurai.” You sighed and paced. Sukuna followed the sound of bare feet stepping on stones, coupled with the stiff drag of something scratching against the floor. Perhaps a tail? Perhaps fins? He didn’t know. The sunlight protecting him proved too stark against the shadows you dwelled within. 

“Someone has sent you here,” you decided. Sukuna felt your stare on him, though he could not see the twin lights. “My parents.” 

The grip on his blade lessened. “More or less. Said there was a godling that needed babysitting.” 

“Babysitting–?! The fucking audacity. Well, I promise you, this isn’t babysitting.” You snapped, bitter. 

Sukuna smirked. Never did he imagine a god-like thing would be so rough around the edges. “Then what would you call it?”

“Imprisonment.” You stepped toward the light when you said it, coming from an angle Sukuna didn’t expect, making him whirl in place and face the shadowed silhouette standing too close yet too far away. “And you’re my own, personal jailer.” Then, after a moment, you added, “Well. I guess it is glorified babysitting afterall. Expensive babysitting, at that. Congratulations on the easy money.” 

“That mean you’re gonna make this simple for me?” Sukuna asked. He tucked his arms into his sleeves as he waited for you to say something, but you only stepped back into the empty blackness filling your glorious cage. 

“Might as well,” your voice echoed, wilting, “I don’t care to leave this place anyway.” 

“‘N why the hell not?” He asked. 

But there was no answer; there was only the quiet splash of water, and twin ghost lights disappearing into the depths.

[lookingforhappy]

Extra Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven - Transcript

(note that there is a lot of random placements & repeated paragraphs. I've tried to connect as much of it as possible, and cut out repetitions to make it flow a little better. Hope this is enjoyable/interesting!)

as much content as I could find from Viktor's book transcribed in one post, picture credit to the TUA Prop Auction:

EXTRA ORDINARY MY LIFE AS NUMBER SEVEN AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY VANYA HARGREEVES Vanya Hargreeves is well known for her virtuosic skills as a violinist. Less understood is the role she played as one of Reginald Hargreeves' adopted children, standing alongside - but never counted among - the famous Umbrella Academy super kids. This is her story, in her own words. "An incredible read... a revealing portal into the amazing life of Vanya Hargreeves and the life she has lived. I couldn't put it down!" -Gerard Way

Vanya Hargreeves is well known for her virtuosic skills as a violinist. Less understood is the role she played as one of Reginald Hargreeves' adopted children, standing alongside - but never counted among - the famous Umbrella Academy super kids. This is her story, in her own words. Extra Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven is a tell-all autobiography by one of the central figures of Reginald Hargreeves experimental and tragic team of heroic children, collectively know as the Umbrella Academy team. In this book, Vanya, ready to expose the truths behind the Academy's operation prior to it's disbanding in the mid-late 2000's, goes all in. With stories and anecdotes from her many years in the shadows. Vanya Hargreeves pulls no punches. No stone is left unturned, and no other member of the team is left unmentioned, for good or for ill.

Chapter One Our parting was sad, but natural in the end. I think about the circumstances of out vastly different births all the time. I've read the newspapers. I've seen the evidence. But at the same time I can't believe any of it. Even if Allison, Luther and all the rest of them were born and collected like the papers say, how did I become a part of this extraordinary family? Was I a dud, an unfortunate super-child who wasn't set up with the right circuitry? Or did I even come from the circle of miraculously born children at all? It made the most sense of any of my theories: a young mother, terrified by a future with a child she couldn't afford, saw the world-wide birth announcement, followed by Hargreeves' request and reward sum. I went through life cursing my mother, determined she was a money-grubbing con artist who sold me away to an eccentric, cold man who couldn't even use me for the purposes he set out. I was carted off like cattle and sequestered to a young life of self-doubt, all because my mother had wanted a payday more than she wanted me. I only sought out my birth mother once. All these news stories kept the identities of the traumatized mothers tightly under wraps, of course, but those were in the upstanding

publications. I believe that any detail about human history, if salacious or powerful enough to cause harm, can be found with the right kind of determination. I found a list of names, and scoured each for signs: did she have a boy or a girl? What had she done with her earnings from Hargreeves? Had she had other children? Where was she now? Two of the women could have lined up with my birth: Allison and I were the only female babies "found" by Hargreeves. It was easy to narrow down once I found pictures of them both: the woman with my hair, and my nose, lived in a small town off the Southern coast of Russia. At least, according to what I could find. I convinced Hargreeves that we needed to take the team there to train, after extensively researching the area's high mountains and secluded trails. It was perfect, and miraculously, he agreed! Thinking back, I wonder if he knew exactly what I was up to and wanted to help. We stayed for five days, and as the others sweated and trained, I kept records, and occasionally went off on my own. For any of the academy members to question Hargreeves' strict schedule or participate in non-approved "free" time would have been unacceptable. But as for me, I wasn't on the schedule in the first place. We spent enough time in Russia for me to track my birth mother down. I took buses, spoke what broken Russian I could to locals, and finally came to the house where I had been told she would be. We spent enough time in Russia for me to learn that the mother I had spent years searching for had died. The family of hers, and I guess of mine, who greeted me there invited me in. They seemed harmless and even kind. But I couldn't stay. Whether my mother knew I wasn't special or not, I realized I didn't want to know. I didn't want to hate a dead person any longer. Now I knew she was gone, it seemed pointless anyway. I've found that focussing on the past can only hurt me further. It's not worth spending any more of my time on the people who have all but forgotten me. I haven't gotten a call

from Allison in years, Diego's out fighting crime, Klaus has been partying himself into a stupor ever since we left the house, and Five is gone. Luther's the only one of us who stayed. I envied him for so many years growing up: Number One, the group's true leader. But now I pity him. Luther could have been anything: he could have had the fame Allison did. He could have gone wild like Klaus. He could have taken to the streets and fought against evil himself like Diego... but he stayed to become Hargreeves' pet. In the end, there was nothing really connecting the seven of us. We weren't related. We were nothing alike. We were just seven strangers living under the same roof: destined to be alone, starved for attention, damaged by our upbringing, and haunted by what might have been. We all wanted to be loved by a man incapable of giving love. Our father never missed an opportunity to remind me that I was ordinary - a hard thing for a little girl to hear. But lately I've started to wonder - what's so bad about being ordinary? From the second we're born we're told to reach for the stars. To accomplish great things. But there is a value in life lived quietly. Going about our days, little by little. Finding contentment in small victories - a promotion, a friend, a beautiful day. Sometimes, the simple things are extraordinary.

so-called rumours about Allison and Luther, no pun intended, I can't say for sure. I'd like to think that what they have transcends words - when we were kids, it was just obnoxious. They spoke in code, swapped whispers. They were part of a world in which we weren't allowed. But as we got older I realised it wasn't some fantasy world they were playing in. Their minds were off somewhere else together. They shared looks and gestures that were meaningless to the rest of us... save maybe Klaus, who can be oddly perceptive when you least expect him to. But as for a romantic relationship between the two of them, that's none of my business. Frankly, I don't want to know. Adopted or not, if it were two of your siblings, would you want to picture that? Their secret conversations were the first sign of what was to come: watching the two of them so happy together, and acutely knowing I could never belong would become an intimate feeling in my life. Soon, they were together on missions. They were training all afternoon. And they were playing games I couldn't learn the rules to. It was all too obvious that there was a club for children with superpowers, and ordinary children like me were decidedly barred. I would say it was Dad who implemented all of this. He caused my alienation through procedures, through harsh rules that we all followed for fear of the alternative. And to an extent, that's all true. I can't forgive what he did to me - but sometimes I wonder where Dad's actions ended and my siblings' began. When you consider what a mind, especially a young mind, will absorb and harness when put into dire situations, it's not at all difficult to believe that my siblings learned cruelty from Dad until they eventually made it their own. It wasn't just the rules keeping me out of top-secret meetings anymore. It just made sense that I should sit at the end of the table, so Diego could help Five's technique, or so Allison could paint Klaus' fingernails. I became accustomed to sulking and watching them from afar - most of my morning oatmeal went uneaten and but thoroughly picked at.

Meals became the one time of day we were all forced to be together - and I met them with equal parts anticipation and dread. Would today be the day I engaged Allison? Could I stand up to Diego's taunts? Maybe I'd show Five the musical piece I'd been working on for weeks. Though prone to arrogance and outbursts, even more than the average preteen, Five was my sole confidante in the years before he disappeared. It almost seemed fitting that of all the siblings to leave us, it would be him who I fully trusted, and who fully trusted me. Five was almost always one step ahead of Dad's manipulations, and he didn't play into the games of favourites like my other siblings. Five always told me that ego was man's most unattractive weakness - he thought himself above competing for fatherly love and prizes. Even then he was beyond his years. I think about Five often, and where he is now. The others say he's dead, caught in a terrible accident, or shredded up in the time space continuum. But I know Five, and I know he was too smart for that. Reckless, maybe, but he's brilliant. I wouldn't be surprised if he were living it up in the seventies now... but hippie hash wasn't really his style. For all I know he's gone to the future and never looked back. If he has, and he's happy, then I am happy for him. I'm sure none of us can say we never had a moment where we wished we could escape. Not just run away, but also go somewhere where Dad couldn't track us down and pull us back into his web. Surprisingly, I only ran away once. Despite everything, it took so much for me to believe I could belong anywhere else but the home in which I was abused. Shortly after Five dissappeared, I took his lead. It was about time I saw what's out there. But I knew nothing other than what I had been taught about myself and my life: I was simply not special. But I asked myself on that day: What if I was special, to somebody else? The rest of the world was ordinary. Maybe the real world was where I belonged all along.

One morning, I left the Academy - my bag stuffed to the gills with clothes, snacks, and mementos I couldn't leave behind. I think I even brought a dream catcher, for fear of nightmares from home following me wherever I went. I only made it to a bus stop, and I sat there all day long - and strangely, for the first time in my life, it hit me that I was completely alone. I had thought I was alone my entire life, but this was something new and entirely different. I was afraid of what I didn't know, and would choose Dad's torment any day over the endless dark that stretched down our street. Buses came, but I waved the kind drivers away. That night, I walked back through the front doors, and no one knew I had ever left in the first place. I wonder how long it would have taken them to realize - the extra girl they never needed was absent. Would it have made a difference? To this day, I'm not sure. The next time I left that house was when we all did. After what happened to Ben. Our everyday existence was full of evidence that Dad had stepped into treating us like experiments. Not as children, but like animals. And what happened to Ben was the last straw that finally shattered the illusion for the others. I regret that though I knew all along what they realised that day, I didn't have the spine to leave on my own. It wasn't until Allison took off for Hollywood and Diego cursed out the old man for good that I realized we were, ultimately, a broken family.

I had always kept up hope that my family would accept me into the fold. I thought that as long as there was a club to belong to, one day they would notice me and invited me in. Everyone would apologize: Vanya, we can't believe we wasted so much time without you, you're our sister after all. But it was then that I realized something massive: there was nothing for me to aspire to be anymore. It was liberating - the life that I had wanted for as long as I could remember was had finally fallen apart. Without "The Umbrella Academy," I had the freedom to be whomever I chose. Suddenly, my violin playing wasn't stupid - it was something that made me special in the real world. It made me enough money to afford an apartment - it's small but it's mine. It got me into an orchestra, a position I got all on my own talents. This meant I could teach young people how to be special for themselves. Teaching became my passion - my own, personal super power. I treated my students how I had always wished my father had treated me: I trained them, I listened to their problems, and I made sure each of them felt loved in their own, special way. Teaching may seem such a small profession to many, but it became the best part of my life.

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in August 2024. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup [ @1dmonthlyficroundup ] which you can find here!Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #65 |  ko-fi | fic recs

- Louis / Harry -

🌤️Your A-Team, Your Endgame by @silverkiiwii

(E, 70k, reality show au) a Next In Fashion au where Louis and Harry are partnered in the competition but they do not get along when they have to if they want to win. Full of fashion, banter, misunderstanding and a whole lot of making each other blush.

🌤️ Groupie Love by CuckooTrooke / @larrydoinglaundry

(E, 45k, m/f) In other words, Louis is a rock star on a world tour and Harry is a regular attendee. They could never work.

🌤️ But I know you by Thingssicant / @slowlyseducedbycurls

(NR, 26k, space) Harry is a journalist, Louis is an astronaut, but it's way more complicated than that

🌤�� You Can't Change The Rolling Tide by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(M, 24k, summer) Louis lives on a tiny island off the coast of England and runs a sailboat touring company. When Niall is sidelined for the summer after his knee surgery, Louis needs a temporary new partner. Who better to fill that role than Harry, recently returned to the island after five years away?

🌤️ At your service, for your usage (series) by @holdingontochaos

(E, 16k, sex work) Louis is a doctor who works so much that he has barely any time to himself for pleasure, let alone to clean his house so he hires Harry as his naked maid and kills two birds with one stone.

🌤️ the past might be painful, but i’m in love with our future by localopa / @voulezloux

(T, 10k, part 2 of trans Louis verse) it takes a lot of convincing for louis to let harry take him to his first pride. harry understands his worries and fears. really, he does. he just wants to show his boyfriend that he doesn’t have to be alone anymore.

🌤️ never just the tip by journeytothepast / @suckerforhome

(E, 6k, omegaverse) Harry believes alphas can't control themselves. Louis proves him wrong.

🌤️ You Put the Boom Boom Into My Heart by @kingsofeverything

(T, 5k, historical) Harry's been trying all summer to come up with a way to show Louis how much he means to him before he leaves for college. Or five times Harry fails to win Wham! tickets and one time he succeeds.

🌤️ The Island by @jaerie

(E, 5k, part 2 of The Wilds) Researchers plucked some of them from their secluded island and transplanted them into an enclosure against their will like a bunch of zoo animals. But they weren't animals and they all had a story of how they got here.

🌤️ Dear Louis by callmenine

(E, 5k, famous/not famous) The one where Harry is a popstar having an existential crises and writes a song for his high school ex-boyfriend Louis after more than ten years of no contact.

🌤️ Let the Feeling Last by @allwaswell16

(T, 5k, unhinged pet fic) Omega Harry thinks the alpha at the grocery store buying a cart full of vegetables must be an amazing chef. He doesn't know that Alpha Louis is feeding all those vegetables to his pet pig.

🌤️ Stars over Amsterdam by @hellolovers13

(T, 4k, exes) Fate in form of Eras Tour tickets forces Louis to meet up with his Ex. Hopefully soon to be Ex-Ex.

🌤️ (on the edge until) you pull me in by @justanothershadeofblue

(E, 3k, fantasizing) His dick is not about to fall off, thank you very much, Niall, but it has been a while since he’s had time for a wank. 

🌤️ i'm going out tonight by @disgruntledkittenface

(M, 3k, established relationship) Louis hasn’t been appreciating his boyfriend Harry. He only realizes it when Harry takes matters into his own hands.

🌤️ I just wanna be yours (wanna be yours, wanna be yours) by @dreaminrainbows

(E, 3k, pwp) Harry studies his sixteen year old self’s face for a long moment and it's truly pathetic how in fourteen years nothing has really changed.

🌤️ the sign on your heart (it's reserved for me) by moon_rose25 / @darkinfinity

(G, 3k, kid fic) The one where Louis Tomlinson is a single dad and is finally allowing himself to start dating. Insert Harry Styles, a charming coffee shop owner who sweeps him off his feet.

🌤️ HOT TO GO! by @allwaswell16

(T, 2k, famous/not famous) When Harry does something weird at the barricade, he leaves Louis’ show devastated and hoping he can somehow make things right. Or the accidental pervert fic

🌤️ Gotta Feeling by @allwaswell16

(T, 2k, tour guide Louis) When Harry's life in Manchester isn't turning out the way he thought it would, he decides to visit his best friend in Mexico City. Maybe Niall can convince him to move halfway around the world.

🌤️ Ice, Ice, Baby by cherrylarry / @beelou

(G, 1k, meet cute) Figure skater Harry takes Louis out on the ice for the first time

- Rare Pairs -

🌤️ Like A Force Of Nature by @reminiscingintherain

(T, 30k, Zayn/Liam) the Heartstopper AU no one asked for.

🌤️ The Grundy County Drag Show Incident by @haztobegood

(T, 3k, Zayn/Liam) Holding a wireless mic in her gloved hand, Veronica Stardust owned the stage. She was one of the most vocally talented drag queens in the Midwest. Part 2 of Grundy County Incidents

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | August 12th-18th 2024

Little bit late, but I hope you enjoy it!

Complete

Right Here, Right Meow by carpediaz/ @sofa-king-lame (Getting Together | 1,7K | General): The one where Buck gets a cat and ropes Eddie into looking after her. Not that Eddie needs much convincing, he'd do pretty much anything for Buck at this point.

plugged in by PretentiousSwanQueen/ @hotcinnamonsunset (Secret Buddie, PWP | 2,5K | Explicit): or: Buck and Eddie are secretly together and grabbing drinks with the team and decide to have a little fun with butt plugs along the way.

prove it by PretentiousSwanQueen/ @hotcinnamonsunset (Getting Together, Post-S7 | 3K | Explicit): or: when enough is enough, Eddie and Buck watch When Harry Met Sally because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. And you know. Blow jobs to follow.

🔥 Perfect Fit by Inell/ @inell (Post-S7, Friends to Fiances | 3K | Teen): Buck drops by to talk to Eddie after his break up with Tommy ends up with an unexpected offer. Eddie realizes that it’s time for him to finally make his move before it’s too late.

First Date Nerves by Inell/ @inell (First Date, PWP | 5K | Explicit): Buck and Eddie are on their first date, both nervous about taking their friendship to the next level. Neither one wants the date to end, though, so they continue it at Eddie’s house.

the cost of doing business by PretentiousSwanQueen/ @hotcinnamonsunset (Ravi POV, Secret Buddie | 5K | Teen): It happens like this: he had been this close! like, minutes away from printing out a new tenant lease! when the prospective renter in question calls the leasing office and mentions that she won’t be needing the 1 bed, 1 bath walk up in Faircrest Heights any more because she snagged a 2 bath loft downtown that seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity.

🔥 I'll Make This Feel Like Home by cairparavels (Post-S4 to S6 | 5K | Not Rated): Buck keeps calling Eddie's house home, and its making Eddie rethink a lot about his life. (Five times Buck refers to Eddie's house as his home plus one time Eddie does.)

🔥 Where You Go (I Go) by blueberrytwoberry/ @blueberrytwoberry (Post-S7, Getting Together | 7K | Explicit): Eddie stood before an open cupboard. He had a big cardboard box on the counter beside him. As Buck stood there, feeling as though he’d been turned to stone, Eddie put a stack of plates into the box. A stack of identical cardboard boxes sat by the kitchen table. Buck looked across all of it, his heart lurching painfully in his chest, and managed to ask, “What are - Eddie, what are you doing?” OR: Eddie's decided to change his living arrangements; Buck takes it poorly.

🔥 Vibrant by blueberrytwoberry/ @blueberrytwoberry (Soulmates AU | 8K | Teen): Color flooded into Buck’s world between one jump and the next in the middle of the tight, pressing crowd of a concert when he was twenty and making a pit stop from running somewhere - anywhere - away from where he’d been. He wished like hell, afterwards, that it had happened anywhere else at any other time. OR, Buck meets his soulmate, misses them, and tries to deal with that.

Right. Down. Medical. by blueberrytwoberry/ @blueberrytwoberry (Post-S7, Canon Typical Catastrophe, Getting Together | 8K | Teen): Buck hadn’t expected to end up in a disastrous accident when he boarded a train - the Pacific Surfliner - for what should have been a relaxing trip down the coast to enjoy some beautiful scenery and just relax, but if he had - and maybe he should have, considering the way bad luck and trouble seemed to follow him - he’d have expected something normal, you know, like a derailment. OR: Buck has some realizations about his life after an accident on a train.

like a vision reaching down to you by blueberrytwoberry/ @blueberrytwoberry (Post-S7, Crack | 8K | Teen): “You ever notice how a lot of the calls we go on seem kind of, I don’t know, predictive?” Buck asked, when the game they were watching cut over to a commercial, his voice an anchor dropped right in the middle of the spiral of Eddie’s thoughts, dispelling it. OR: The crew at the 118 realizes that the universe is, possibly, trying to tell them something via their jobs.

I never meant to fall for you but I was buried underneath by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Canon Divergent Probie Buck | 9K | Teen):  Buck is the new probie at the 118 and Eddie.exe stops functioning.

🔥an inch away from more than just friends by allyasavedtheday/ @littlespoonevan (Post-S7, Getting Together | 10K | Teen): In which Buck has a clipboard and a list and is about to romance the hell out of Eddie Diaz. (Part 2 of Eddie vs Romance)

🔥From the Ground Up by blueberrytwoberry/ @blueberrytwoberry (S3, Animal Transformation | 17K | Mature): Eddie’s life had gone to shit in roughly every possible way. He felt about two seconds away from breaking every hour of every day, like someone had stepped up in front of him, shoved him down, smashed the life he’d been working on, and left him to rebuild from the ground up. And so, really, the last thing he needed when he got home at the end of a long shift was to find a massive, weird-ass dog curled up on his front porch. And yet, there it was.

Lost 'Til I Found You by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (911/MCU Crossover, S3 | 20K | Teen): A 9-1-1 x Marvel crossover where Buck is a genetic son of Steve Rogers because the doctors the Buckley's used to make their saviour baby were also experimenting with the super soldier serum.

WIP

🔥Where there's smoke by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Multiverses | 18/31 | 22K | Teen): His eyelids are heavy. His lungs ache. The smoke is dense and thick, slowly suffocating him. Eddie feels himself drift as Buck’s voice penetrates the smoke, cuts through the fog in his brain. “Eddie, stay with me. Stay with me, Eds.” Eddie wants to stay. He wants to open his eyes and see Buck. He doesn’t want to leave. But he’s so tired, and sleep is calling him. Maybe it will be okay. Maybe his dreams will be sweet. Maybe there’ll be peace, there. And maybe, if he just rests for a little while, he’ll be able to find his way back.

Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 1/? | 6K | Explicit): In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path.

go and kill, go and die by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Zombie Apocalypse AU | 3/14 | 12K | Mature): The 118 are a group of survivors in a small California town in the wake of a zombie apocalypse. For months they've been isolated and safe. But the arrival of some new players, the search for some missing loved ones, will shake everything up and put their little team in jeopardy.

🔥 Long Death by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S7, Vampire AU | 13/15 | 62K | Explicit): In the summer of 2024, a never before seen form of vampirism breaks out in Los Angeles. Just as Eddie is about to get his son back. Six months later, Buck's life is permanently changed.

Podfic

🔥 [podfic] to hurt, to heal, to hope by be_brave13/ @djemsowhat // fic by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Post-S7, Getting Together | 10-20min | Teen): "I'd love to be more of a gentleman about this, and I mean this in the most abstract and metaphorical, and least possessive way possible, but in the spirit of not wasting any more time than we already have, Buck..." the words follow each other quickly through a single, whispered breath. "...you're fucking crazy if you think I'm letting you go on that date." "Eddie, you think I'm going anywhere, you're fucking crazy."

🔥[podfic] Advice Wanted by be_brave13/ @djemsowhat // fic by cairparavels (Social Media Fic | 45-60min | Teen): Eddie Diaz takes to Reddit to figure out why he hates his best friend’s new boyfriend so much.

[stonecoastweather]

Peals of Rippling Stone blinks idly at the comment, before turning to face the camera, if there even is one watching. “You cannot be serious,” he says, “Surely there is a better pastime for you than drinking cycles upon cycles of marsh water.”

@hlghlycorroslve

[thewisecheerio]

Elden Ring Map Overlay

Someone made a really helpful overlay of Elden Ring's base game map with its DLC map. https://www.reddit.com/r/Eldenring/comments/1dmm27d/so_i_overlaid_the_dlcs_map_with_the_base_games/

A few things stuck out to me:

The Church District, and especially Ymir's chapel, would have been a wonderful gazing ground for the Erdtree, as the Erdtree sits just north of it.

The heart of the Erdtree is right over Shaman Village, which makes me wonder if that's why the Erdtree is located where it is. It also makes me wonder if that's why the Shadow Realm is left with only a minor Erdtree in its place—a pale imitation of what was there before.

The back of the Shadow Keep abuts the furthest reaches of the capital, including the Erdtree Sanctuary and Marika's bedchamber. Her room is filled with scrolls and tablets that look very similar to those of the Keep, lending credence to the theory circulating about her having taken them from the Keep originally before it was sealed away. At the time, it probably wasn't much of a walk from the Storehouse's library to her chambers.

Messmer's chamber was built over what would be the Colosseum in Leyndell. The Duelist Helm tells us, "The snake is viewed as a traitor to the Erdtree, and the audience delighted in seeing these bronze effigies beaten and battered." Because of this helm, people had already been guessing that Messmer is why snakes are so reviled in gladiatorial imagery.

The timing doesn't fit his crusade, though—which likely has to post-date Godfrey's exile and the creation of the Tarnished, since he knows the word "Tarnished". Meanwhile, the Colosseums were around in Godfrey's time as Lord. So if the visual placement of his chamber and the colosseum (and the Duelist Helm) is purposeful, it makes me wonder what happened earlier in regards to him that would cause that connection. Maybe it's just a coincidence of map placement, but it's certainly suspicious. Was Marika playing a long con, slowly turning the culture against snakes, knowing what she would eventually do to seal her serpentine son away?

Stone Coffin Fissure's entrance, where St. Trina is imprisoned, extends between Gatefront Ruins and an evergaol in Limgrave. This makes me wonder if that's intentional, given that Stone Coffin Fissure does become Trina's jail. The gaols even glow with a sleep-purple hue, keeping their occupants in stasis and cut off from the reviving powers of the Erdtree.

The bull headed stone coffins are even more mysterious. When the Lands of Shadow are divorced from the Lands Between, they look as if they have come from across the Cerulean Sea. But when the lands are merged, that sea becomes a lake.

Does that mean this burial ritual is post-Crusade? That's a bit hard to square with the idea that the Ancestral Follower religion seems quite old, being connected to the Eternal Cities. And that religion's iconography involving bulls does make it the best contender for where these coffins come from.

So does that imply these were originally burials-at-lake instead of burials-at-sea, maybe rising onto the Cerulean Coast during the division of the Lands? Perhaps the lake they were buried in simply became a coastline as the water that would have otherwise covered them rushed out into what became an endless sea, exposing the lake bottom's treasures.

The Abyssal Woods is at a very deep elevation. So is the Forsaken Chapel where the Three Fingers dwells. The latter is still quite a walk from the Abyssal Woods, but it does make me wonder if the two used to be connected by further subterranean tunnels extending beyond what still exists in the capital's sewers. And I wonder if that's how Midra reached the Three Fingers.

[ishipallthings]

Cap Iron Man Rec Week 2024 (Mon)

Better Together Monday - July 22nd for @cap-ironman Rec Week

Very excited for Rec Week, hope you guys have fun too!

Remember to show some love for your hard-working creators!

Kludged Together by Veldeia @veldeia (MCU)

When he cut his morning jog short to join Tony Stark on a reconnaissance mission off the East Coast, Steve sure wasn’t expecting to end up stuck on a life raft in the middle of the ocean, his hand knuckle-deep in Stark's chest.

Even the Light is an Illusion by Mizzy (MCU)

Death threats are an unfortunate side-effect of being Tony Stark, so he's learned to ignore them. The problem is, when someone really wants you dead, hiding your head in the sand just kinda exposes your ass. But it's not just Tony's behind on the line. Whoever wants him dead wants him to suffer first, and they're willing to do anything to make that happen. Tony knows there's only one way out. To save Steve, the Avengers, and the general public, Tony has to die. Of course, death isn't always the end, and Tony does what any other self-disrespecting scientist would do: he finds a way to fake his death and avenge his own murder. The trouble is, terrible decisions usually have a terrible price, and this one is no different. Tony has a chance to save the day, but the cost may be more than Tony was ever expecting to pay…

Should You Choose to Accept It by elwenyere @elwenyere (MCU)

After a terrorist attack and a field operation gone wrong, the Avengers realize that Nick Fury's secrets are just the start of a much bigger mystery. Steve and Tony try to keep some things from each other as well, but that can't possibly affect the mission — right?

the things we invent when we are scared by nanasekei @elcorhamletlive (MCU, post-CA:CW)

Steve is trapped in a dream machine, programmed to make him believe he's living his happiest fantasy. Tony goes inside to wake him up, but what he finds is a lot more complicated than he expected.

i was put together wrong by suchmadnesss @suchmadnesss (MCU, post-EG)

Even in his anger, in his misjudgment, or even in the barest glimpses of inadvertent cruelty, everything Tony did was with passion. No matter what, he was always graceful, grandiose, effusive. Incandescent. Tony grows in front of the cameras and keeps a world of expectations balanced on the tightrope of his shoulders, but nothing ever seems to be enough. The hubris is a fallacy and the smirk Steve had always known to be a front isn’t whimsy, as he’d expected; instead, it’s bred. As he follows a couple of his steps, Steve feels as Tony does, which is to say: intensely. Every happiness is a marvel, every pain is acute. The higher they fly, the harder they fall. (In which the stones beckon Steve into a glimpse of Tony's past, and it proves to be his unraveling.)

What You Don't Know by Sineala @sineala (Noir)

In 1941, two strangers meet in a bar. And then Captain America meets Iron Man. And then Steve Rogers meets Tony Stark. They get it right. Eventually. And also they fall out of an airplane.

Let My Hands Do the Soothing by Sineala @sineala (616)

Steve's always been determined to do the right thing, and when Tony is in more trouble than ever, he doesn't hesitate. Severely wounded by multiple attempts on his life, framed for an attack he never committed, Tony is on the run from the government, ready to hunt down the villain responsible and make him pay. But he doesn't have to do it alone. Steve is there for him. But keeping Tony in one piece is harder than Steve thought it would be, and caring for Tony is bringing up feelings that are difficult to keep buried…

and a self rec!

ever be afraid to say by ishipallthings (MCU, EG canon-divergent)

Steve sees it happening a moment just before it does, Tony snapping on the Gauntlet and facing Thanos head-on, eyes bright and ever-defiant. And Steve—Steve’s heart falls to his feet. No.

Hope you guys enjoy the recs, and stay tuned for more! Please mind the tags before reading. Check out my tag for previous years’ rec lists :)

[basilpaste]

was talkin to some pals about it so... imagine loop nille post game friendship in your mind.

(755 words below.)

You are out of Dormont. For the first time you can remember with any clarity... you're free. Are you free? What does that even look like. There's still a weight in your chest, still a burning star where your heart should be. Still just a star where something resembling the hollow corpse of a human once was.

You go. You flee. It's what you're good at, isn't it? Hiding away from all of your problems, putting on a show, becoming someone else? Nothing you've ever done has given you any reason to believe that would change. Stardust's "it's thanks to you" was a nice sentiment, but...

You're on the road. You move quickly, now. It's not as though you need to eat. Or to sleep, really. You're more of an idea than a person, after all! So it's easy to move, to keep going, to not stop until your body gives out on you.

You head for the coast. You follow no maps, no roads, just moving on instinct. Just following the brightest star in the sky. You try not to think about why doing so seems so simple. If you do, you'll lose it. You head for the coast, as if tugged along by some invisible string. Or by anything else that doesn't bring to mind a pull on your stomach.

You head for the coast. And eventually you do not just head for it, you make it there. You stare into the sky on the shore of a town you did not pay attention to the name of. You can see an island in the distance.

That place is gone. You know that. Of course you do. You can't spend forever searching for a place that does not want to be found. You can't waste your life on remembering something that can't be remembered.

Yet, still... you look to the brightest star, how it hangs above a place the world forgot. And you mourn. You bend down, grabbing a handful of darkless sand in your lightless fist, and toss the powder-stone into the sky. It hangs like dust in the air for a moment that feels eternal, and then plumets into the sea.

That is the moment you meet her.

"Hey there, stranger. What brings you to town?"

You spin on your heel, water lapping at your ankles. For a moment, it's like you've seen a ghost. For a moment, it's like seeing a vision of the future.

A young woman stares down at you, an eyebrow raised. Her hair is split into twin braids, she slings an oversized hammer over one shoulder. When she smiles at you, you see a face much younger than her own.

You are possessed by the urge to run away. To vanish into the night, to dive into the inky water and to never, ever resurface. Instead you plant your feet into the sand and wave as casually as you can bear to manage.

"Who, me? Just... ah... Fishing."

She laughs. Her shoulders shake with it, eyes crinkling into something fond. She looks weary far beyond her years despite it.

"Well." She says, putting a hand on her hip, "I'm not sure how much luck you're gonna get with your hands, stranger. Not unless you're trying to find a tidepool."

... Ah. Yes. You suppose you didn't think your little excuse through. You know that. You know how to fish. You did, once. You're not stupid.

"Hah! How true." You say. You can hear it fall flat.

She sizes you up. Despite yourself, you feel suddenly very exposed. What a strange stranger you are, right? Not even human. Most rational people keep a healthy distance from you. Some assume that you're merely a Sadness. You suppose that's not too far from the truth.

"It's late." She tells you after a long moment. "Bambouche is plenty welcoming. Don't stand in the sand all night."

A moment of understanding seizes you. You look at this woman and see something familiar. Not like before, no, something far more personal. Like a tidepool distorting your reflection.

She is asking you to stay. You've already made it to the shore, what reason do you have to flee? You look at her. She looks right back. You swear that you can see your eyes reflected in her own.

"Alright."

She grins and gestures for you to follow. You don't even have to think about it. Despite everything... you are still being led.

"You got a name, Stranger?"

You don't.

"Loop." You say.

"Pétronille."

[lancerliterature]

The Private Conference

(this lovely moodboard was created by @vintagedebutante ♥︎)

Pairing: President John F. Kennedy/Petite!Reader

Summary: As Cold War tensions rise, President John F. Kennedy calls one of his secretaries into the Oval Office to help him relax.

Word Count: 2.8k

Further Info: 18+, includes swearing and smut, specifically oral sex

A/N: happy Fourth of July, everyone!! i simply cannot think of a more patriotic way to celebrate than posting a fic about America’s hottest president. in this one, i tried to combine a few different requests, including one asking for the setting to be in the Oval Office, one asking for an angry/angsty Jack, and one asking for the reader to be on the petite side. i hope this fic at least somewhat does justice to those amazing ideas, and i hope you all have a wonderful, safe holiday! ♥︎

You froze for just a moment, almost like your shoe had caught on the carpet, when you stepped into the Oval Office and saw the President on the phone. This wasn’t uncommon—in fact, you’d estimate that at least half of all the “private conferences” you’d had with him since becoming his secretary had been interrupted, at some point, by a call. Typically, it didn’t put a damper on things (though you liked to groan and pout up at him whenever the phone rang, but that was only because you liked the way he would give your nose a playful, reprimanding pinch and tell you to “hush now, baby”). In all honesty, it made you feel oddly powerful, like a glamorous concubine of old, to sit with this big history book figure and listen while he discussed Castro and Khrushchev and all the other monumental responsibilities he carried on his wide, ex-Harvard-football-player shoulders.

On this particular afternoon, however, you immediately picked up on the fact that his call was putting him in a very bad mood. You knew tensions had been heating up with Cuba (you weren’t let in on any of the specifics, but you figured whatever threats Castro was making must’ve been pretty severe because, recently, you’d noticed your coworkers in the West Wing laughing less and pointlessly bustling around more), and you figured that was what the President’s call was about because you’d never seen him glower quite like he was now. His eyes were solid stone as he tracked you across the royal blue carpet; it was almost like he couldn’t truly see you through the dark film shadowing his gaze—he didn’t even offer you so much as a wink or a little throwaway smile.

As you came closer, you decided to test the waters and cast your usual finger-twiddling wave his way, but the only response you saw, and the only confirmation you got that he’d even registered your hello, was his eyebrows suddenly furrowing—drooping, almost—down his brow, as if your wave had actually stolen energy from him somehow. You quickly dropped your hand back to your side. The President was in serious need of some de-stressing today.

“Here’s the problem I have,” he was telling whoever was on the phone as you came up beside his looming Resolute Desk. “You can’t give me a definitive answer as to how long that’s gonna take.”

As he listened to the little voice (voices?) that jabbered away in response, he slowly swiveled in his chair to face you—and you supressed a delighted shiver. Since he was so tall (or maybe because you were so pitifully short), the two of you were exactly at eye-level whenever he sat down, and at this proximity, you swore you could feel the hot, agitated energy emanating off of him in thick, nerve-frying waves.

“Well, there’s no sense in you making any kind of official statement,” the President snapped abruptly, cutting the other man off (and making you flinch instinctively, which you normally would’ve been deeply embarrassed about after the fact, but the President hadn’t seemed to notice; at this point he was still looking more through you than at you), “until I can get up there and restore order.” You noticed then that his trademark East Coast accent sounded especially thick today, almost British. He pronounced “restore order” like ree-sto-ah oh–ah-dah, and he spit cigar smoke with every syllable.

Though the thought of turning around and leaving made your ribs clench around your heart with a yearning, almost schoolgirlish disappointment, you knew his needs ultimately came before yours. So, you started to mouth Should I come back later? as animatedly as your lips could manage, hoping you’d finally grab his attention enough to at least get a goodbye, when suddenly, his hand swung out to grab the skirt of your pencil dress and he pulled you, half-stumbling, between his large, knobby knees. Your hand flew to the edge of the desk so you wouldn’t trip over right into his chest (admittedly, if he was in a better mood, you probably wouldn’t have been so quick to catch yourself), and as you regained your bearings, you found yourself sucking in your cheeks to stave off a full-on beaming smile. You should’ve known better than to think John F. Kennedy was ever not in the mood, phone call be damned.

You were close enough to him now that, when you finished smoothing your rumpled skirt and looked up at him, you could smell the confused mix of cigar and minty toothpaste on his breath, and you could see the secret swirls of gray and green surging through the stormy blue of his eyes. He was definitely the most handsome man you’d ever been with—the combination of his boyishly-freckled, chronically-sunburnt cheeks with the square-shaped, no-nonsense masculinity of the rest of his face was undeniably endearing. During the quick half-second you two hung there staring at each other and his pupils (at last!) zeroed in on you and you alone, you felt a sudden sear of jealousy for the First Lady. It must be wonderful, you sighed inwardly, to be loved by a man so attractive. Sure, you were called in almost daily to the President’s office or the White House pool to help him “blow off some steam,” but you weren’t dumb enough to think that was love. You’d seen how he and his wife giggled like teenagers while they whispered in each others’ ears and how, whenever she spoke, he gazed down at her with eyes so soft and tender it made your heart hurt. The two of them simply sparkled. And though you liked to think you’d achieved a certain level of friendship with the President, he’d always made it clear, without ever having to say a word, that no one—not you or any other pretty young secretary, no matter how good you all got at giving blowjobs—could ever hope to reach the height of the First Lady’s pedestal in his mind.

As if to illustrate that very point, the President moved the receiver a few inches from his mouth and tore you from your thoughts with the very first words he’d spoken to you all afternoon, which were: “Don’t waste any time now, alright?” with a pointed glance down between his legs for emphasis. Then he added, “I’m having one hell of a day” and reached around to plant a firm pat on your butt.

And so, you began the familiar routine of stripping off your clothes and laying them neatly to the side—to ensure they’d stay wrinkle-free—until you were wearing nothing but your skin-colored stockings and the cross around your neck (for some depraved reason, the President liked it when you wore that necklace while you sucked him off).

You barely had time to kneel before he was clasping his hand around the side of your head and hooking his giant, hairy-knuckled thumb in your mouth to practically drag your face closer. Your throat tightened around a sharp intake of breath. Lord, he was impatient.

While you were in the middle of unzipping his slacks and pulling his penis out from the big bramble of hair beneath his belly, you suddenly jumped, startled once again as his voice sliced through the room, deeper this time and undercut with a predatory rumbling you could feel in your chest. “That fucker,” he snarled into the phone, which was now balanced between his shoulder and ear. “You oughta tell him he can stick that silly little ultimatum, if that’s what it is, right up his ass.”

Electricity sizzled up through your stomach. The President was going to be rough with you today, you could tell. You almost wanted to thank Castro personally for riling him up so much (you might’ve felt guilty for thinking something like that, but you were so confident the President would never let anything happen to his country that you truly didn’t see why Castro’s threats should be any cause for concern). Why the idea of the President taking his anger out on you was such a thrill, you weren’t sure. You were simply desperate for human touch as fast and hard as you could get it, you supposed—and in that way, if in no other, you thought you and the President were sort of kindred spirits.

You were practically leaning into his palm like a purring cat when he pulled his hand out of your mouth and ran it up over your cheek and back across your scalp to gather all of your hair into a makeshift ponytail. He was muttering into the receiver all the while (“Uh-huh. God, I know. Shit.”), his voice wet with saliva from the two or three painkillers he’d popped absentmindedly into his mouth.

Once your hair was all out of your face, you spit into your hand just like he’d once taught you to and gave the length of his gradually-stiffening cock a few long, indulgent strokes. But to your dismay, he gave absolutely no reaction. You watched, puffing your cheeks out with frustrated air, as he slowly set his cigar down in the ashtray and, like you weren’t even there, began tapping his pointer finger against his teeth like he always did when he was lost in thought—thought that clearly had nothing to do with you.

You didn’t waste any more time before bending over and wrapping your lips around him, eyes fixed frenetically on his face, and you swore your heart itself squealed with joy when, finally, his eyes flicked down to you, and he tilted the receiver away again to let out an appreciative, whistling breath.

You felt your hair tangle around his fingers as he moved his hand from the back of your head to the nape of your neck, and then, barely giving you enough time to adequately relax your throat, he pushed your head down with appalling strength, his tip jamming up into you with enough force to rub the insides of your cheeks raw. Your hands latched onto his knees.

“There we go,” the President said in a soft half-whisper-half-groan that made your inner thighs flush hot. “Atta girl.” Always the one to set the pace, he began moving you hastily up and down.

After working through the first eye-watering, throat-burning few seconds, you thought you were adjusting pretty well—until his hips made a sudden, violent twitch while he was buried to the hilt in your mouth (which was accompanied by a heaving grunt that could’ve been either from pain or pleasure, you weren’t sure), and you hacked a loud, wet cough that made the guy talking in his ear falter and go silent for a moment.

Your eyes fluttered wide. Had the President’s men heard you?

The President certainly seemed to think so, because he suddenly jerked you still halfway up his cock, which only served to send you into a fresh fit of choking, your whole body wracking with every cough. In an attempt to drown you out, the President leaned back in his chair and spoke louder into the phone. “Well, that bastard’s incompetent,” he said, patting his fingers against your cheek as if that would somehow shut you up. “I wouldn’t have him running, uh, a cathouse.” His wedding band burned cruelly against your skin.

Eventually, he oh-so-benevolently relented and lifted his hand from your neck, and you instantly whipped your head up—not so much to catch your breath (you were pretty sure you would’ve gotten ahold of your coughing fit without having to interrupt your “de-stressing” session if he’d have given you just a few more seconds) as to gauge whether or not you’d only made him angrier with all your noise. But to your relief, he was actually smirking now as he looked down at you, his lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh, completely unfazed by the men now clearing their throats and timidly resuming the conversation in his ear. That figures, you thought. The President probably wanted those men to hear you, deep-down. You knew him well enough by now to understand that he occasionally got off on the fact that his bodyguards and cabinet members were plainly aware of how many doe-eyed, obedient women—not just secretaries and interns but Hollywood starlets, too—he had giggling and dropping to their knees at the snap of his fingers.

At least you’d gotten him to smile, though—if not exactly in the way you’d hoped.

After a long pause, during which you were trying in vain to wipe away all the spit and pre-cum that had dribbled down your chin, the President said with an air of finality, “Alright, there really isn’t anything more to say here.” Say hee-ah. You froze mid-wipe and let out an excited gasp.

He responded by scooping a strong forearm under your armpit and hoisting you up onto his lap like you were nothing but a tiny doll, forcing you to clamp your hand over your mouth to muffle a squeak of surprise.

Leaning against his warm chest was like reclining into a giant sofa back as you settled onto his muscled leg. His penis, now only half-erect again, stirred plaintively against the inside of your thigh, seemingly sulky after having been abandoned.

“I’ve got my hands full over here.” The President was grinning widely at his own pun as he took to rubbing his free hand down your body, the width of his fingers splaying across the entirety of your stomach as he inched toward your clit with agonizing slowness. In retaliation, you reached back over his shoulder to grab a fistful of thick auburn hair.

“Call me back this evening with some good news, would you?” was the the last thing the President said before, in a blur, the receiver was slammed into its cradle and his hand was around your neck, his fingers were in your mouth, his hips were twitching up into your backside with an eager mind of their own. Suddenly, you could feel his heart thunking between your shoulder blades and your ear growing moist with heavy, animal-like breaths.

“God,” he groaned as he finally let his hand fall to your clit. “God-fucking-dammit. You drive me crazy, you know that? You dirty little girl.”

He started nibbling on your neck (he’d never actually kissed you—this hungry, barely-restrained biting, like a wolf chomping at its muzzle, was the closest he ever came) and cupping your breasts and tugging at your nipples with the same fiery-eyed ferocity you’d seen when he was on the phone. You and the other secretaries teasingly referred to this do-or-die passion of his as the famous red-blooded Kennedy “vigor” the press always talked about. Though what the press didn’t know, you and the girls always joked, was that this eager, youthful energy—this incessant, almost pathological need to dominate and conquer—extended far beyond just bull-headed political policies.

“They heard you,” the President was murmuring between his little bites. “God, they all heard you. That excites you, doesn’t it?”

Unwilling to admit how right he was, you instead smothered your face in his hot, pulsing neck to cover up a whimpering moan, and then you were twisting around to loosen his tie, unable to stop yourself—when a loud knock banged against the Oval Office doors.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” the President griped dramatically against your ear, making you laugh.

“I can come back later,” you said, more pleading with him than anything, whispering right into his mouth. You watched his eyes flick ravenously around your face as you wrapped your hand around his cock and added, with a small chuckle, “To finish you off.”

“That you will,” he said, “if you know what’s good for you.” Then he gave you that long-awaited wink and grin before wrapping his hands around your waist to stand you back up, and you were pleased to hear him groan softly at the loss of contact.

When you bent down with wobbly legs to pick up your clothes, he offered you his hand to hold and steady yourself on, and you felt yourself blushing at this perversely chivalrous gesture, even though he’d done similar things countless times before and was always unabashedly ogling your body as he did so.

“That knock means I’m going to have to head down to the Sit Room,” he told you then, wearily running his fingers through his perfectly-mussed hair while you tugged your blouse over your head, one hand still cradled in his. “But in about an hour, when I come back,” he continued, “I want you in here, naked and lying on that sofa over there.” He flung a finger towards the parlor area across the room.

You breathed a smiling sigh and shook your head, knowing you’d soon be in your office counting down the seconds. “Whatever you say, Mr. President.”