#and when he found out she could cast wish...he was SO PROUD

[mysticarcanum]

straight up getting emotional about a thing that happened in a campaign that ended over a year ago

like. i wrote an ambiguous and biased backstory of a character who is part of an apocalyptic world-ending cult, who deep down wanted to study wizardry but had to frame it as going undercover as an apprentice and stealing secrets from this doddering old archmage to aid her people’s cause . and then she goes and learns wizardry and eventually realizes she wants more for herself and breaks from her cult

and i mean. there’s a lot of ways my dm could have run with that. i was fully expecting that archmage to be furious at my character for lying to and stealing from him. and so when they ran into each other again, i was braced for a fight, or at least an altercation

but instead the archmage went. i knew all along. of course i knew. i’m a divination wizard, silly. i saw a young woman in a bad place and i wanted to help her. i thought that by showing her kindness and creating an environment for her that wasn’t all about power struggles and nihilistic fanaticism that she might realize that there was more out there in the world for her. that she deserved more. you didn’t steal secrets from me, because i gave them to you. i was your teacher. i loved you and love you still

and god i didn’t know where that character was going to end up before then. i thought maybe she could go on a typical wizard hubris spiral, or a revenge quest against her old cult, but in that moment i was like. oh. she is loved. she has new friends, new family. she has a reason to change, a reason to care. her story is just about love, and about making people’s lives better

her alignment shifted from neutral to neutral good soon after. she never stopped being curious, sometimes to the point of foolishness, but she never squandered her teacher’s gift. she left the world better than she found it

[yandere-writer-momo]

Baki 12 days of Christmas… an angsty yandere for @justamegafan. Merry Christmas!!

The mc is Hanayama’s arranged fiancée who he hates (at first). A trope I will never stop writing until I’m shot dead on the spot

Yandere Baki Shorts: A Christmas Carol

Yandere Hanayama Kaoru x Afab Reader

TW: Angst, mentioned character death (spoiler), Yandere, and mention of terminal illness

Hanayama often found his fiancée scuttling around his office like a little crab. She was such a skittish thing, with big, innocent eyes and a soft voice. She was weak, something Hanayama disliked most in a partner. And she always tried her best to get to know him… today was no exception

“Can we please spend Christmas together? Just this once?” Hanayama sighed when she stared up at him with her doe like eyes. Why couldn’t she get the hint that he wanted to be left alone?

“This is merely an arrangement by our families, I could care less about your feelings and the stupid holidays.” Hanayama ran a hand through his dark locks. “You’re bothering me so I suggest you leave.”

Hanayama ignored the soft sobs that escaped her lips and he didn’t even cast her a glance when she wished him a soft “Happy holidays.” The door quietly shut behind her and he went back to work. At least she could shut the door properly.

Hanayama shoved the Christmas cookies she made him into the trash beside his desk and continued to work on his paperwork. Hopefully this was the last time he’d ever have to deal with her… he couldn’t stand this arrangement but he kept with it because he wanted to honor his deceased mother’s wishes. Hanayama knew he could never grow to love the meek woman no matter how hard he tried, she’d break if he so much as touched her. She was far too fragile for him.

When it finally became night, Hanayama decided to retire for the night. The yakuza went to lay down in his bed but the screen door to his room suddenly opened and a cold, winter breeze blew in. What on earth?

“Hello.” Hanayama nearly jumped out of his skin when a ghostly apparition stood at the foot of his bed. The youthful face of his mother stared back at him which left his mouth gaping like a fish. “It’s been so long…”

“M-mom?” Hanayama reached out for the figure but she gently put his hands down. She was as cold as ice… “Why are you here?”

“We need to go for a walk… a nice, long walk.” His mother gave him a soft smile as she lead him around towards the door of his room. “A walk in the past.”

“The past… what do you mean?”

“Well, I’m the ghost of Christmas past.” His mother smiled as the walls of the compound began to change to the ones he was familiar with when he was a child. What kind of magic was this? How was this even possible? “You need to be reminded of your origins…”

Hanayama was shocked to see himself as a child crying as he sat beside his mother in the old family room. The ghost beside him pointed to the red welt on her human body’s face. “I used to beg your father to stay with me every once and awhile… to spend time with us as a family.”

Hanayama frowned as he watched the image play out of his mother. How could he forget that his mother had begged to spend time with his father when he was younger… perhaps he had blocked all those memories out since he had to become the leader of the yakuza at a young age? “This was the Christmas where I found out I had cancer… I really wanted to spend time with him since my time was running out…”

The ghost shook her head and lead Hanayama back to his room once she felt as if he understood her point.

The ghost held Hanayama’s hand. “You’ve grown so much… you look just like your father.”

Hanayama went to hold the ghost but she pushed him back, “and you’re just like your father.”

“Wait! Please don’t go-“ the figure of his mother was gone in a flash which left him clutching his chest in sorrow. Why did his mom leave so fast… wasn’t she proud that he’s taken over the family? Why did she show him such an image?

“It’s been awhile, Hanayama.” Hanayama froze when he noticed the ghostly figure of Retsu standing at his door. “It seems that it’s my turn with you as the ghost of Christmas Present.”

Hanayama was silent in thought. Retsu had just passed away recently yet… why would he be here? Retsu had nothing to do with his life…

Retsu waved Hanayama to follow him and Hanayama obliged. The two walked in silence until they stopped in front of a small room in the furthest corner of the compound. Retsu placed a hand on the screen door which made it into a mirror that they could see inside… (your name) sat in her room violently coughing.

“You know I was her best friend when I was alive.” Retsu whispered as he turned to look at Hanayama. “She’s dying, you know.”

Hanayama froze in shock. (Your name) was dying… she was dying. Why hadn’t she told him she was sick? Why- Hanayama was drawn out of his thoughts when Retsu held up a hand. The Chinese man frowned at Hanayama. “You don’t listen to her so she’s never told you… she needs new lungs.”

Hanayama placed a hand on the doorway when he saw her hold up a handkerchief full of blood. She was so fragile… just like his mother. And he had been so cruel to her. How could he-

“I was planning on confessing to her once I beat Musashi.” Retsu shared with Hanayama as he went into the room and sat beside (your name). She obviously couldn’t see Retsu as she softly cried. “I was in love with her.”

Hanayama clenched his fists as he watched Retsu drape a blanket around (your name)’s shoulders which made her look around the room in surprise. The man turned to Hanayama with a frown. “But my own pride ruined everything… I just want her to be happy.”

“… did you come here to gloat in my face?”

“No. She didn’t feel the same way.” Retsu smiled at Hanayama as he combed his fingers through (your name)’s hair. The ghost smiled sadly. “It’s so unfair… she deserves so much better than you.”

Hanayama was offended despite how correct Retsu was… he truly didn’t deserve (your name). She was always kind and sweet to him despite how many times he pushed her away over the years. She was undaunted by his rejection and still tried to get to know him… he should give it another chance. He should do something wonderful for her tomorrow…

Retsu rested his ghostly head on (your name)’s shoulder with a sad sigh. He pressed a parting kiss to her shoulder which made her glance around the room in confusion. The man then lead Hanayama back to his room. “I’m sorry… my feelings started to get in the way of what I was meant to show you. You’ll be visited by one last ghost, the ghost of Christmas future.”

Hanayama went to say something to Retsu but he was gone in a flash. The yakuza stood in the center of the room in confusion. One more ghost… who on earth could that be?

Hanayama then felt a sudden chill run down his spine as the room before him melted away into that of a grave yard. A ghastly figure in a black cloak that covered their body floated into the room. A skeletal hand was placed on his shoulder while the other pointed at a gravestone with (your name)‘s name on it. No… (your name) would die? She couldn’t die… she was so young.

Hanayama didn’t even have time to think before the ghost snapped their fingers and showed Hanayama a much older of himself who sat hunched over his desk. The older version sobbing as he held his head. What on earth had happened?

“You never found love again after she died.” The ghost whispered into his ear. “You actually went insane with guilt and it made your yakuza family fall apart.”

Hanayama watched this foreign version of him chug down an entire bottle of whiskey as he held a picture in his hand… it was a wedding picture of him and (your name)… they were meant to get married in a few months… so this must be a few years from now.

“I didn’t know… I didn’t know…” the other version of Hanayama whispered as he pressed his forehead against the picture. “I’m so sorry… I’m sorry.”

Hanayama frowned at how his office was in disarray. This wasn’t like him at all… why on earth was his office so messy?

“She kept all your paperwork organized. She’d sneak into your office when you were asleep to try to help you out since you’re not every good with numbers.” The ghost chuckled bitterly. “She as such a stupid woman… falling in love with a man as selfish as you.”

Hanayama gasped when the ghost pulled up the hood over their head to reveal (your name). Except there was no warmness in her eyes nor was there her tender smile. Why did she look so cold… why did she look at him with such eyes full of resentment? She loved him…

“This is your future. My future.” The ghost told him with a sigh. “You have to change, Hanayama.”

Hanayama but his lip as he stared at the sobbing figure of his future self. He didn’t want to be so pathetic…

“What do I have to do?” Hanayama asked the ghost who frowned at him. She didn’t say a word as she walked away. Hanayama went to follow her but the hallways began to distort and show Hanayama a different ghost of (your name) who sat side by side with the ghost Retsu. They looked so happy… she wasn’t supposed to be with Retsu. She was his. “Wait! Where are you going?”

Many images of the way he’s treated his fiancée flashed by him as he hopelessly chased after the ghost. Her teary face and bloody handkerchief now haunted him… he didn’t want her to suffer anymore. Hanayama didn’t want her to die… she couldn’t die. And he certainly didn’t want his wife to be with another man. No. She was his… (your name) belonged to him.

“There’s nothing you can do.” The ghost told him as she gave him a soft smile that was eerily similar to the ones his (your name) gave him. “Now wake up.”

And that’s when Hanayama fell into a dark bottomless pit. The large man couldn’t even utter a sound before he woke up in his bed. His body was covered in sweat and his eyes were wide in horror. A nightmare…

Hanayama’s hands grabbed at his body in shock before he gave a laugh full of disbelief escaped him. He was alive… he was fine…

Hanayama shot out of bed and quickly made his way towards (your name)’s room. He had to make sure she was alive… he had to make sure she was okay.

Hanayama slammed the door open to (your name)’s room which scared the poor girl out of her wits. She was already dressed for the day and was shocked to see Hanayama in his pajamas.

“O-oh. I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong-“ (your name) was shocked when Hanayama pulled her into a hug. The giant man pressed kissed all over her cheeks with passionate fervor.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Hanayama chanted as he ran his thumbs over her soft cheeks. “Let’s spend Christmas together.”

(Your name) couldn’t utter a single word out before she was whisked out of her room and brought to the dining room she had always wanted to sit at with him. What was going on? Had Hanayama gone insane? She was going to leave him alone just like he had wanted… so why did he have this sudden change of heart.

Hanayama had his servants quickly prepare a gran breakfast for the two of them. His large hand held hers close to his chest. The yakuza boss pressed kisses all over her knuckles as he waited for their food.

“I won’t ever ignore you again. We’ll spend every meal together and you can move into my room…” Hanayama gave her a soft smile. “And I’ll pay for your medicine, okay? You can get that procedure-“

“I-I never told you I was sick.” (Your name) whispered as she tried to pull her hand away. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything for me-“

(Your name) gasped when Hanayama suddenly pulled her onto his lap and pressed his lips against hers in a searing kiss. His dark eyes never let hers. “Nonsense… I’m going to be a good fiancé from now on and an even better husband.”

Hanayama’s hands began to explore her curves as a different kind of hunger filled his eyes. “I’ll take care of your every need from now on… because you’re mine.”

Rather than change for the better, he had changed for the worse

[themidnightcrimson]

ghostface ࿏ wm

summary: in which wanda has been missing for months, and the last place you expected to find her was behind a ghost mask with a knife in her hand.

words: 7.7K

warnings: ghostface!wanda, top!wanda, fem!reader, blood kink, knifeplay, dubcon/noncon, cumstrap (r receiving), horror and fear, lots of blood, some more blood too, also there is blood

this post is a dark!fic and is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

Steve passed behind the couch and handed a bottle of beer over your head. “Thanks, Rogers,” you said as you took the chilled bottle, handing it to Natasha who sat beside you on the couch for her to open it for you.

You watched as Nat reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and took out her switchblade, flicking the lever so that the dainty but incredibly sharp knife popped up in front of her face. The light from the movie playing on the television in the dark room reflected off the spotless blade. She smirked a little, always proud to show off her knife skills, as she took your beer bottle and used the knife to pop the cap, cold smoke hissing from the bottle’s rim. She handed it back to you and tossed the cap onto the pile of beer caps sitting on the coffee table in front of you. The three of you had really blown through several cold ones that night.

You, Steve, and Natasha had recently started having weekly Friday movie nights. Each Friday, you got together in Natasha’s homely little apartment and ate pizza and drank beer while watching a scary movie of your choice. Naturally, Natasha chose the Texas Chainsaw Massacre the first night, and the next week, Steve chose the original black and white Frankenstein movie which he said was scary enough for him. This week it was your turn to choose, and you had chosen The Conjuring.

Steve winced from behind his beer bottle as the movie played. He looked funny, a large muscular man, cuddling up on the old blue recliner and struggling to hold his stomach down as the movie played. Natasha watched it with wide eyes that didn’t blink and an amused smirk on her lips. You were somewhere in the middle, not as easily bothered as Steve but not coldhearted sociopath like Nat. Still, when something did get to you, you always grabbed Nat’s arm and hid your face in her hair.

Things had been different the last few months. Before, there would be two more people in your party—Wanda and Vision. They were soulmates in the form of best friends, although everyone knew Vision had a crush on Wanda. Although she found him annoying, he was a doting friend whom she cared a lot about—you all cared a lot about.

Two months ago, Vision was driving when his car was struck by a large truck losing control. He died twice—once on the road, his bloodied bodied having flung through the windshield and onto the concrete where his head cracked. The paramedics were able to revive his pulse and take him to the hospital. In the middle of an emergency surgery that was supposed to save his life, his pulse stopped and did not come back.

The worst part was that Wanda was there the whole time—in the car with him before the wreck, crouched over his body as the paramedics resuscitated him, holding his hand in the screeching ambulance, and outside the room when the doctors pronounced him dead again. Vision had died twice—and Wanda watched each time.

It was Vision’s dying wish to have his body dedicated to science, so there was no burial. When Wanda completely disappeared, there was not even a funeral held. No one had seen or heard from her since Vision died, and you remembered that every time you saw your friends. Her absence was unignorable.

When the movie was finally over, Steve insisted that you watch something lighter so that he could feel better before going home. Natasha laughed as he put Bluey on.

“God, I feel drunk,” you groaned as you laid your head back against Nat’s sofa and cast your legs across her lap. “We drink too much.”

“You drink too much, bunny,” Nat remarked as she opened another beer for herself. “You’ve gotta remember you’re still a lightweight.”

“Have some water,” Steve said, grabbing a water bottle from the table and tossing it to you. The water felt refreshing on your tongue as you chugged half of it in one go.

“Woah there, everything you just drank is gonna come right back up,” Nat laughed, gently taking the water bottle away from your mouth as you swallowed the last bit and wiped the stray drops from your mouth.

Feeling antsy from the movie, Steve opened his phone and checked his messages. You watched as his eyebrows sewed together, his eyes widening. “Guys.”

“What?” Nat sighed, casually casting an arm over your shoulder as she stared mindlessly at the TV.

“Sam just sent me this article,” Steve said, turning the phone so that you and Nat could see the screen. “Apparently, we got a killer on the loose.”

Natasha leaned forward with concern, reaching over you to grab Steve’s phone so she could read it. You peered over her shoulder and saw that the article said there have been multiple fatal stabbings across the city in the past week all linked to one unidentified suspect. Out of abundance of caution, the police department was issuing a citywide curfew starting at 11 p.m. and warned citizens to be on the lookout for a tall, cloaked individual wearing a white ghost mask.

“Ghost mask,” Natasha remarked as her eyes read over the words at the same time as yours. “Jesus Christ.” She handed Steve’s phone back to him.

Steve sighed and read over the article again. “What has the world come to?”

Your face was set in an expression of concern as you thought over the circumstance, and then you remembered that the city has issued a curfew. Grabbing Nat’s wrist, you turned it and looked at the time on her watch. “It’s 10:50. The curfew starts a 11.”

“Shit,” Steve groaned in realization, looking at his watch, too.

“You guys can just stay here tonight,” Nat offered, sitting up with urgency.

“Nah, Nat. I have to train early in the morning,” Steve said, pushing his phone into his pocket and downing the last of his beer before slamming it down on the coffee table. “And after that movie, I’m barely gonna get enough sleep tonight as it is.”

“I bet I could make it home before 11 if I leave now,” you said, standing up to your feet.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Nat said as she sprung to her feet with you. You looked at her questioningly, and she tilted her head and hesitated. “If there really is a killer on the loose, you shouldn’t be walking home alone at night, curfew or not.”

“I need to get home to feed my neighbor’s cat,” you argued. Nat’s eyebrows raised, and you sighed and explained, “She went on vacation for a week, and I’m supposed to feed the cat every night. It’s already so late—the kitty’s probably starving by now.”

“Then let me walk you home.”

You tilted your head like hers. “Then you would be the one walking home alone, silly.”

“I’ll get her home,” Steve announced as he slipped his brown jacket on. “Her apartment is on the way to mine.” Nat stared at him, not very convinced. “It will be fine, Nat. But if she’s going to leave, we need to do it now.”

Throwing her head back in frustration, Nat gave in. “Fine. But you better use yourself as a human shield if a guy in a ghost mask jumps out of an alley at you.”

Steve crouched and leveled his fists in front of his face, punching the air in front of him. You and Nat just stared blankly at him as he straightened and smiled sheepishly.

“Aren’t you the one who just nearly pissed your underwear from a scary movie?” said Nat.

“That’s demons!” he argued. “I’m a total boss in real life.”

“Don’t ever say total boss again,” Nat grumbled as she picked up your jacket from over the couch and slipped it over your arms gently. Nat was always extra caring and protective over you. Whether it was a best friend thing, a sister thing, or something more, she always did everything possible to make you feel safe and taken care of, especially after Wanda disappeared. She knew how close the two of you were and how much it affected you when she up and left.

Natasha walked the two of you to her front door, Steve leaving first and you following after. Before you passed through the door, you stopped, turning to Natasha who stood close to you.

You hesitated. You had asked everyone you knew this question a million times, almost every other day. You felt annoying and absurd, but you just couldn’t help the constant gnawing feeling inside you that was driving you crazy. But you knew Nat would never judge you.

Natasha read the concern on your face, crinkling her brow and leaning closer to you. Looking up at her, your lips opened a few times before you whispered, “Have you heard from Wanda?”

She must have assumed that was what you were going to ask, because her lips pressed into a straight line and her eyebrow softened. “No, I haven’t bunny,” her raspy voice assured you.

Disappointed, you sighed and looked at the ground. Nat’s hand met your shoulder, her warm palm rubbing it comfortingly.

“She just needs some time.”

“It’s been two months, Nat.”

“Everyone grieves differently, bunny,” she told you as she had told you a million times before, after each time you had asked her. “She’s grieving Vision, and you’re grieving her. Just as you want her to move on, you need to move on, too.” Hearing someone tell you to just move on was never the best advice, but with the way Nat was holding your shoulder and the gentleness laced in her voice, as if she was afraid that talking too loudly might break you, you found it assuring.

“Okay,” you whispered. She gave you a look questioning if you were okay, to which you answered with a slow nod and a soft smile.

“10:52!” Steve called from down the apartment hallway.

Nat quickly leaned forward and kissed the top of your head. “Be safe, bunny.”

“You, too.” You patted her arm and turned away, catching up to Steve who led you down the stairs.

Everyone had taken the curfew seriously, because the streets were nearly empty as Steve walked you home. He talked about all the training he had to do in the morning, to which you disinterestedly listened because it comforted you from the dark, quiet streets. Once you finally made it home, Steve hugged you goodbye and left to go to his apartment just a couple blocks over.

First, you took out the key your neighbor had given you and went into her apartment, being met with her orange and white cat who was already meowing at the door when you walked in.

“Hi, kitty,” you cooed, leaning down to rub the cat’s back as he pushed his forehead against your shin, his tail curling around your calf. “I’m sorry kitty, I know you’re so hungry.”

You got the food out from the cabinet where your neighbor kept it and poured it into the cat’s bowl, watching him instantly settle down into proper loaf position to hungrily eat.

“I’ll be earlier tomorrow,” you promised him, giving him a few more pets before you watered your neighbor’s succulents and then left, making sure the door was locked behind you. A door down, you entered your own apartment, sighing and letting your back lean against the cool door for a moment.

Coming back home alone was always depressing. You didn’t understand. You had lived alone for years because you liked it that way—you liked having your own space, your own things, your own comfort zone to relax in. The past two months, the emptiness was deafening.

“Maybe I should invest in a cat,” you murmured to yourself as you slid your jacket off and hung it on the coatrack.

After taking a shower, you still felt a little too tipsy to sleep. Plus, as braver you were than Steve, the movie did have you feeling a little on edge. So instead of going to bed like you normally would, you dragged your favorite fuzzy blanket from your bed to the couch and turned on Bluey, starting where you left off at Nat’s. You also got a bowl of Lucky Charms both for comfort and because you needed your stomach to settle from all the pizza grease and alcohol.

Five minutes into Bluey and stuffing your face, you felt your phone ringing from the table beside the couch. Crunching on the cereal, you glanced over to your phone that vibrated, moving slightly atop the table. It was Nat’s contact lighting up your phone, the screen filled with your favorite picture of her where she’s wearing a green face mask with a cucumber slice over one eye, her other eye squinting open.

Shifting the bowl to your right hand, you reached to your left and grabbed the phone, tapping the answer icon and bringing it to your ear.

“Yes, I made it home safe, Nat. Steve didn’t get stabbed, nor did I, and everything’s safe. You can sleep soundly tonight,” you immediately answered with a little giggle, already knowing that she was calling to bombard you with questions about if you made it back safely.

There was a beat of silence where all you heard was Bluey playing in front of you and the distant sounds of your neighbor’s cat meowing. A staticky hushing sound flooded through your phone’s speaker, and then a voice.

“Speaking too soon?”

The left side of your face where the phone was pressed tingled at the unfamiliarity of the voice in your ear. It was a strange, raspy voice, and you could tell almost instantly that it sounded audibly modified.

You second guessed yourself—was it someone else who called you? You took the phone away from your ear and looked at it again, but it was still Nat’s name in heart emojis and the picture of her in the green face mask with the cucumber slice over her eye. You brought it back to your ear, eyebrows sewing in confusion.

“Who is this?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” the voice drawled, low and hoarse in your ear, a tone of excitement laced in their voice.

You couldn’t help but feel a tendril of fear in your chest as the logical side of you tried to sort through all the possibilities of why Nat’s number had called you, yet you were not speaking to Nat.

“Is this a scam caller?” you blurted. “I know they figured out how to make it look like one of your contacts is calling you, but I’m not interested in your multilevel marketing scheme tonight, okay, buddy? Try again with a geriatric and maybe you’ll catch your luck.”

You were about to hang up before the voice spoke again, loud but hushing in your ear. “Let’s see… The Texas Chainsaw Massacre? No, that’s Natasha’s. What about Frankenstein? No, you’re too young for that. That would be more of Steve’s liking, wouldn’t it?”

Your lips fell open as the voice piqued your concern again. This definitely was not a scam caller, because there was no way a random stranger would know not only your friends’ names, but also which movies they had picked for movie night the last two Fridays in a row.

“What about… The Conjuring?!” The person’s voice rose in excitement, blaring through the speaker of the phone. A hissing laugh flooded the line, and your heart was starting to noticeably pound in your chest.

“Sam?!” you confidently asked, despite the seeping fear in your chest. Sam would know what you all had watched together, and he would definitely be the one to prank call you using a voice modifier just to scare the shit out of you.

“Is Conjuring your favorite movie, y/n?”

Your body froze as your brain started to run out of possibilities as to who it could be. The sounds of Bluey and the neighbor’s cat started to drown out of your hearing, your hand on your bowl of cereal turning sweaty and hot.

“Why don’t you put the Lucky Charms down so we can have a proper conversation?”

A gasp struck out of your throat as you set the Lucky Charms down harshly on the table, a few marshmallows and some milk spilling out of the bowl and onto the table. Pushing your blanket off your body that was now growing hot, you turned around to look around your apartment. The kitchen was empty, and so was the bathroom that you could see into, and so was your bedroom whose door was open.

“Who are you?” you demanded shakily, whipping your head to the window where your blinds had broken and hadn’t been replaced, looking out at the fire escape and seeing no one there.

“Don’t turn your head too hard there, y/n. You’ve had a lot to drink tonight, haven’t you?” the sinister voice said over the phone, and now your entire body was starting to throb in fear.

“If this is a prank caller, you should know my friend is a hacker and she will find out who you are,” you said, jumping up to your feet and turning in circles around your apartment even though you still saw no one there.

“One… two… three… four…” The voice counted, and on the other end of the line you could hear the light clinking of metal. “Thirteen… fourteen… fifteen! Fifteen beer caps!”

Your eyes went wide and instinctively started to moisten as you realized that the sound of metal was the pile of beer caps that the three of you had built on Nat’s table.

“Oh, you said your friend is a hacker? Are you talking about Natasha? Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Natasha won’t be helping you out with anything anytime soon—or ever.”

Could it be Natasha herself prank calling you? That would be extremely out of the blue for her, since she seemed so worried about you walking home and she knew you were feeling extra sensitive about everything that had happened in the last few months. There was no way she would do that. But it was Nat’s number calling you, and there was the sound of the beer caps in her apartment, and the words of the person telling you that Nat was in some way incapacitated permanently.

“I’m calling the cops!” you yelled, taking the phone away from your face and instantly ending the call. Your trembling fingers fumbled to go back to the call app and dial the local police station’s number, accidentally opening other apps. Before you could dial anything, Nat’s contact lit up your screen again. Frustrated, you denied it, but almost instantly it blocked your screen again.

Maybe it was all a joke and now Nat was calling you to tell you she was okay, you thought. You answered the call with a very frustrated, “Hello?”

“You hang up on me again and I will gut you like a fish!” the voice angrily hissed with such power and fury that it made your back straighten suddenly. The loudness of their voice overpowered the voice modifier, but even as their voice changed, you still couldn’t put a finger on if you recognized it or not.

You just closed your mouth, breathing hard as your forehead grew sweaty and feverish.

“Unless you want me to slice pretty little Nat’s throat right open, I suggest you sit still and comply.”

Relief washed over you as you took the caller’s words meaning that Nat was still okay. In the silence on the line, you could hear the sound of a car in the background. This person was driving.

“What do you want?” you asked, and now that you knew for sure they weren’t near you, you ran to your bedroom and opened the drawer of your nightstand as quietly as you could.

“I want you to tell me your favorite scary movie,” they lolled with bemusement.

Focused on getting the gun out of your drawer and bullets from a pack of ammo to load it, you didn’t say anything.

“Oh, c’mon. It’s a simple question. Everyone has a favorite scary movie.”

You realized that you didn’t hear the sound of a driving car in the background anymore, and they were getting impatient, so you blurted the first thing you could think of. “Saw.”

“Saw? With all that blood and gore?!”

“It’s a classic,” you breathed as you loaded the gun and then held it up, carefully walking back into the living room.

“You Americans always follow the sheep,” they said with a despicable laugh, and you could hear noises in the background.

“So… you’re not American?” you asked, trying to get more information about who was calling you. While you wanted to hang up and call the police, you knew they would just keep calling you back quicker than you could dial 911, and you thought you might as well try to figure out more.

They dodged your question completely. “What do you like so much about Bluey?”

Gasping, you turned towards your TV and pointed your gun at the animated characters on the screen. It was sickening, looking at the cute, childish show while you were holding a gun and being held hostage on the phone by a psychopath. You were starting to think they must be just a prank caller. Maybe they picked some random person, who happened to be you, and followed you to Nat’s apartment. They saw you were drinking and used their own beer caps to make you think they were in Nat’s apartment. Maybe they had seen you through the window eating Lucky Charms and watching Bluey. It had to be a prank.

“It’s… it’s cute,” you faintly answered, going to the window slowly, with your gun pointed at the glass.

The voice laughed again, singeing your nerves as you peered out of the window into the darkness, looking around as far as you could to make sure no one was there.

“Do you wanna hear a joke?”

Seeing that no one was anywhere near the window, you moved back across your living room.

“Sure,” you whispered.

“Knock… Knock.”

Your eyes instantly shifted to the front door which was right ahead of you. Did you even lock it? Were they mentioning the door because they were right outside?

Quickly, you jumped to the door and locked the handle and slammed the chain shut at the top of the door. Holding your breath, you brought your eye up close to the peephole, expecting to see some strange man standing outside your door. To your relief, there was no one there.

“W-Who’s there?” you whispered, keeping your eye at the peephole in case they jumped into sight.

You were met with the sound of the call being disconnected. Confused, you looked down at your phone, but the moment you did, you heard the piercing sound of glass shattering. Out of fright, you dropped your gun, and it slid out of reach under the kitchen table.

Shrieking, you turned around and saw that the window you were just standing at had been kicked through. In came a dark figure slinking through the broken window, heavy boots crunching the shards of broken glass on the floor as they stepped into the apartment. You froze. Their other foot came through, the trail of their black cloak slipping over the windowsill as they stepped fully inside your home. They stood, straightening themselves like a demonic shadow standing across the room from you.

What should have scared you the most was the large, shiny knife they held in their hand. But what really scared you was when they lifted their face to show a white ghost mask with darkness for eyes and a horribly, sickeningly twisted open mouth in the shape of a scream. From across the room, you saw the blood splattered across the mask, staining its otherwise spotless white surface. The black glove on their hand squeaked as they tightened their fist around the knife, the ghost mask tilting slowly to the side as they stared you down from behind the mask.

Your phone slipped out of your hands, and the sound of it crashing to the floor propelled you out of your frozen state. Unable to breathe, you grunted in fear as you turned and started to unlock your door so you could run away.

Heavy booted footsteps came thudding towards you as your sweaty fingers struggled to unlock the door, and you turned your head to see that they were coming right at you, raising the knife in the air which spread their black cloak out like wings of a black bird coming down to snatch their prey. You shrieked and jumped to the side right as their arm came down, hearing their large knife stick right into the wood of the door.

Stumbling like an idiot, you sprinted to the only other exit in sight—the broken window they had just come through. You had a little time as they were pulling their knife out of the door, but right as you got to the window, they were running towards you again.

The fear and adrenaline pumping through your blood was making you dizzy. You let out another undignified squeal of terror as you moved away from the window and jumped between the couch and the TV.

The masked killer which you had read about in the article stopped when they saw you moving directions, now standing on the other side of the couch from you. You jumped to the right, but they moved with you.

“Stop!” you screamed, moving to the left only to have them move at the same time as you, still holding up the shiny knife that glinted under the light of your apartment.

You were cornered. There was nowhere to go now. You just stood there, your knees shaking, crouched, just waiting for them to make their move.

In a sudden swoop, they leaped over the couch and lunged at you. You screamed, jumping away just in time for their knife to slice across your upper arm in a non-fatal catch. The person fell right into the TV, the screen on which Bluey still played turning into glitches as they knocked it right off the wall in a loud crash.

Sprinting to your bedroom, you slammed the door shut and locked it, lunging towards the window by your bed. You could hear them fumbling to get up in the other room.

You had this window glued shut several years before out of fear for your own safety. You lived in a dangerous city. There was a fire escape right outside your window. It was only common sense to have glued it shut so that no one would sneak into the window right beside where you lay sleeping in bed.

The cut on your arm was already gushing, bright red lines of blood flooding down your arm and trickling into your palm, making your grip on the window slippery. The cut hurt, and as you tugged upwards on the window, it hurt even more, but you were desperate. People could lift cars out of their own adrenaline, surely you could snap the barrier of super glue standing between you and your last effort to escape.

The doorknob to your bedroom aggressively throttled. You could hear them shoving their shoulder against the locked door, and you started to sob as you tried harder to open your window, feeling like there was a timer right over your head counting down to your own death. It was a manic state you were in, pulling at the window as your arm covered itself in your own blood and the person started using their boot to heavily kick down the door.

“Come on!” you cried, your bloody hand slipping off the window.

With another powerful kick to the door, it came right off the hinges, slamming into the adjacent wall as the cloaked, masked person started storming towards you.

There was nothing left to do. You tugged at the window again, not even bothering to watch them come towards you. If you were going to be murdered, you didn’t want to see them as they did it.

Instead of a knife, you felt two gloved hands grab you by your sides and lift you, throwing you onto your bed. You lost your breath as your back hit the mattress with force, and you watched as the person climbed over you. You were at least going to give them a fight.

Raising your legs, you tried to kick them away, but they grabbed hold of your ankles as they climbed between your thighs, using a great deal of strength to keep your legs still. You even heard them grunt in frustration, and the sound of them struggling to hold you down gave you a boost of confidence to jump up and punch them right in the mask. The person took one hand away from your leg to cover the mouth part of the mask, and you used the opportunity to kick them in the chest. To your surprise, they hardly faltered. The mask faced you again, and something in you twisted. The mask did not change its expression, but you knew now they were very, very angry.

They snatched your free leg and climbed further over you, leaning down and snapping their knifeless hand over your throat, squeezing hard. You watched as they raised the knife above your head. You choked and grabbed at their hand, using your legs to try and kick at them again, but they were kneeling between them, so all you could do was dig your heels into their hips which didn’t have any effect.

Their hand squeezed your throat hard, the leather of their gloves digging into your skin. Losing air, you grabbed at their iron grip on your throat, staring up at the horrifying ghost face above you and their knife positioned to strike.

If they were going to kill you, your dying wish was to see who this serial killer was. They were breathing hard, loudly, distracted by the passion of their pending kill, so you flew your hands to their face and ripped the mask off.

A head of red hair came spilling out of the mask as you tugged it off, and you were met with wide green eyes. If you weren’t already being choked, you would have lost your breath at the sight of Wanda above you.

“W-Wanda?” you choked, your face going bright red as your vision blurred. Your eyes shifted between the mask in your hand and her face—it was her the whole time.

Her lips snarled, showing her canines at you. Her pupils were wide and frenzied, a pink flush in her face and a shine on her forehead whether from the efforts of trying to catch you or from excitement of finally catching you. Her lip was busted from when you had punched her over the mask, a little blood bubbling into her mouth and spreading across her teeth.

She looked at you for a moment, her face hardening, and she released her hand from your neck right before you were about to pass out. You desperately sucked in air, coughing and choking as your lungs filled with oxygen.

“So I did get you,” she said, her eyes moving to your bloody arm. Her tongue ran over her lower lip as she reached down and ran her gloved hand over the cut, smearing more blood across your skin. Fear twisted inside you as you watched her pink lips turn into a demonic smile.

“Wanda,” you whispered, breathing heavily as you saw her more clearly now. “What have you done?”

Was she the same ghostfaced serial killer who had been killing people in the city? Is this where she has been for these two months, breaking into people’s homes and stabbing them to death?

“It didn’t take long for Natasha to swoop in, did it?” she asked, and you realized then that when the voice modifier glitched over the phone, it had been her voice you heard. It’d been so long since you heard it that you hadn’t even recognized it, but you knew now.

“What?” you breathed, eyes flickering to the knife still in her hands.

“I’ve been gone for two months, and she already has you in her grip,” she spat, her lips curling in anger.

“Where did you go?” you blurted. “Why did you disappear?”

A smile stretched at her mouth. “I needed some time adjust my… perspective.” She enunciated the word slowly and sharply as she brought the knife to your bruised throat.

You gasped and flinched when you felt the cold metal lay flat across your skin and then turn so that the point pushed against your flesh, threatening to rip it.

“I used to be so selfless. I avoided you for Vision’s sake, so as to not hurt his precious feelings.” She started dragging the point of the knife down the column of your throat, her breath hissing between her teeth in excitement. “But Nat was still there after he died, so I left. I couldn’t be around if I couldn’t have you still.”

You watched her in terror as she spoke, her wide pupils focused on the way the knife moved across your skin, pressing in but not cutting.

“I sat back and watched. I watched you see her nearly every day. I watched you go to her house for those stupid little movie nights. I watched you sit at home and talk to her on the phone. God, how could you stand listening to her voice that much?”

“Nat was there for me when you weren’t,” you spat, forgetting that she had a knife to the most vulnerable part of your body.

Her eyes shot up at you again, seized with anger. She dragged the knife down to the collar of your shirt as her other hand grabbed a fistful of the fabric, and she started cutting it right off your body. You were reminded that Wanda was not herself now, that she had spent the last two months going insane. You were not safe.

You gasped as Wanda cut right down the fabric of your shirt so easily that it made you realize just how sharp her knife was. She pulled the fabric off your body and threw it down, leaving your upper body entirely naked. She looked down at your chest and seethed.

“You’ve always been so perfect,” she whispered, using her knife to draw a gentle line down your sternum. “I love watching you through the cameras but seeing you in real life is so… fucking… hot.”

She got a little ahead of herself as she dragged the knife down between your breasts, her hand jerking and cutting the skin on the inside of your breast. You shrieked and jumped, feeling tears well up in your eyes and spill down your hot face.

“C-Cameras?” you stuttered, your chest heaving as you breathed through the pain.

Wanda looked up ahead of you, and you tilted your head up to follow her eyes. How could you be so unobservant? In the top corner of your room was a little black circle with a lens, and as your eyes shifted, you saw that every single corner of the room had a little black lens.

“And in every other corner of your apartment, sweet cheeks, as well as Natasha’s.” She laughed at the terror on your face as you realized that you had been watched for weeks on end without even knowing.

Her eyes fell down to your chest where the cut on your breast was bleeding now, gravity tugging a drop of the blood down the center of your stomach. She let out a shuddering, primal growl as she leaned down and brought her lips to the cut.

Your body stiffened as you felt her lips, so close to a sensitive part of your body, kissing the deep cut that started to bleed more. She kissed it again and then ran her tongue over it, moaning at the taste of your blood. It made your face go hot and red as Wanda’s hair tickled your arms, her tongue moving upwards until it swirled around your nipple.

You squealed, thinking about asking her to stop but knowing it was no use, anyway. It scared you the way your body reacted to her, your nipple hardening in her warm mouth as she sucked on it.

She let it go with a pop, coming back up to reveal that her lips and chin were smeared with your blood. You glanced down to see that the breast she had paid attention to had smudges of blood all over it.

“Wanda, please,” you begged. “I’m sorry for whatever you think I did. I didn’t mean to hurt you or—”

A sudden slap to your face stopped you from where you spoke. Your head whipped to the side with the force of the slap, and through the stinging pain of the leathered force you also felt a sharp pain—she had been holding the knife. Warm blood trinkled down your sliced cheek as your flooding tears mixed with it.

“Don’t be so sad, detka,” she purred, taking your chin with hypocritical gentleness and turning your face to look back at her. “You can’t help it you’re a needy slut. I mean, just look at what’s happening. Here I am, cutting you up, and your little pussy is already so wet, isn’t it?”

She rolled her hips forward suddenly, and you felt a hard bulge under the cloak press against your core. The friction made your body shiver, and it was then you realized the wetness between your legs. Wanda grinned widely down at you, looking like a predator with her pearly smile covered in blood.

“Besides, it’s Natasha who stole you from me, and I don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

She looked down at your shorts and started to tug them off, but your eyes widened at her words. “Nat? What did you do to her?!”

“Shhhh…” she shushed you as she peeled your shorts and panties to the floor, leaving you completely naked under her. “Don’t worry, detka. I always clean my knife between kills.” She smirked at you and sat up, kneeling between your open legs.

Your mind raced at thoughts of Natasha—was she dead? Was it your fault? Was Wanda going to kill you, too?

You jumped when you felt the knife dragging across your inner thigh, slicing open your skin that bubbled with more blood. Wanda groaned at the sight, and you felt a mix of relief and fear when she set her knife down on the bed near her hand, far enough out of your reach.

“Just look at you, detka,” she purred as she smeared the blood around on your thigh, the pain vibrating through you. The terror of bloody craze on her face struck a chord inside you that made you both scared and thrilled. “All bloody for me—and so fucking wet.” She moved her eyes to your pussy, using her finger to spread your lips open. Your cheeks burned when you heard the wet sound of your folds moving.

Wanda reached down and grabbed at her crotch, grinning as she leaned back down to you and started kissing the bloody side of your face. “I’ve been waiting so long for you,” she whispered right into your ear, making your skin hot. When her tongue licked up the blood on the side your face, you cringed and whined. She moved her kisses to your neck, biting you with force as she started to grind her hips against you, getting excited.

Your core was throbbing hard as her bulge moved right against you, your knees bending up around her and threatening to spread wider for her. She was putting you under a bloodied haze, and your body was yielding to her. It made you cry harder, but your hand met her shoulder and begged her closer against you.

“Fuck,” she groaned, grinding harder against you. She was breathing heavier now, and when she leaned up to look at you again, there was even more blood on her face. “I want you to watch me fuck you.” She reached down between her legs, and chills ran up your spine as your body tensed in preparation. “I want you to look me in the eyes as I fuck your pussy the way it should be fucked—because it’s mine and you’re mine, and there’s just nothing you can do about that, can you, pretty little doll?”

Your hands grabbed desperately at her arms, words leaving you as your body grew hotter and hotter with desire. She shifted the fabric of her cloak, and pressed herself down against you, her hand still reaching down.

“My pretty little doll,” she breathed as she stared down at you. Suddenly, you felt the tip of something large pressing into you, and suddenly her strap was sliding all the way inside you. You groaned as your walls stretched around her girth, hands grabbing a fistful of her cloak as she buried her cock deep inside you. Wanda only laughed at the look of pain on your face, snapping her hips so that the entirety of her length pushed into you.

“Wanda,” you begged—begged for her to stop, for her to continue, for her to kiss you, for her to let you go—you didn’t know what for.

“Just as tight as I thought you’d be,” Wanda groaned, her eyes rolling back as she started to move her hips. You laid under her, legs spread, bloodied and cut up, letting her fuck you right there on her own bed.

“Too big,” you whined when she started moving faster, her strap bulging tightly inside your pussy. She only laughed again.

“Take my cock, detka. Or would you rather take my knife?” She grabbed the knife again and pushed it right against your throat, causing you to screech in fear. “I would like to leave as many cuts on your pretty body as I can, but I think you might not want me to cut right here, would you?”

You wanted to shake your head but quickly decided against it with how hard the knife was pressed to your throat, so you gave a pathetic, “No.”

“Good,” she growled, her free hand grabbing your hip to keep you still as she started fucking you harder. Grunts of pain left your lips and grunts of pleasure left hers as she drove herself inside you over and over again, thrusting her hips upwards to meet that sweet spot inside you just to drive you a little crazier and make your body betray your mind even more.

It was working. The pain faded and pleasure filled in all the cracks as she fucked you. She was groaning like a wild animal, and the sight of your blood on her face made you even more sickeningly turned on.

Keeping the knife on your throat, steadied with her elbow digging into your collarbone, she slipped her hand down between you and started rubbing your clit with her gloved fingers. The leather was painful at first, but as she massaged your clit just right, it started to propel your pleasure.

Disgusting sounds filled your ears. The squeaking of the bed under her forceful thrusts, the wet squelching of your pussy as she filled it with her cock, the sound of her grunting, and the vibrations of your own moans in your throat that you tried your hardest to keep silent.

Wanda took notice of this and pushed the knife harder on your neck. “Go ahead and let it out, baby. I’ve always wanted to hear you scream.”

It came tumbling out of you as you moaned for Wanda, and it encouraged her to fuck you even harder. The blood from the cut on your inner thigh was mixing with your own juices, causing a symphony of wetness and squelching from between your legs as she defiled you.

Pressure built in your lower tummy that bulged from her large strap filling you up. “That’s it. Cum on my cock, detka. Give yourself to me.”

Wanda was close to cumming herself, and it was evident in the way her hips thrust wildly and without rhythm, her eyes struggling to stay open.

“Wanda,” you moaned, grabbing at her as your orgasm started to crash over you. You couldn’t help but scream as your insides quivered around her, her strap still hitting all the right places inside you as you helplessly came.

Wanda grunted and opened her mouth, quickly reaching down and squeezing the base of the strap as she came. In the middle of your climax, you felt her faux cum spill inside you all at once, pumping you full until you could feel it in your lower tummy.

You were blinded by many things—from the shattering orgasm Wanda had just given you, from the blood loss you were enduring, from the fear and terror of the situation. By the time you came down from your high and could see again, Wanda was looking at your throat. In the heat of the moment, she had accidentally cut it just a little—not enough to really hurt you, but enough to make her go even crazier at the mere thought.

You were shaking and panting as Wanda smirked in victory and in malevolence. She looked over to the ghostface mask beside you and picked it up, pulling it on back over her head. She leaned down closer to you, the black eyes of the mask boring into your own as her head tilted.

“Let’s do another round, yeah? This time with the mask on.”

[kyojurosprettygirl]

love casted in the stones. 2

Gyomei Himejima x Gorgon! Fem! Reader

Gyomei was constantly defending you, and because of his respected status, and truthful words, people couldn't go against him.

"you do not know her, therefore your opinions on her are invalid."

"as far as i am aware, neither of you were with her during that meeting, all the hashira have accepted her and it's time you both do as well."

"she can not control the way she was born, you were in the wrong for saying that."

.the two kakushi that had spoken ill of you were almost released from their duties because of it

Gyomei was always bringing you to meet with his students, majority of them finding who you were interesting and holding you to a high regard, simply because Gyomei did too. His students began to adore you soon after your first meeting.

"can she turn anything into stone?"

"no, she cannot, just humans she makes eye contact with."

"will she be visiting us during training? i hope so.."

"im sure she will, i let her know in advance."

"where's y/n? we made some gifts for her!"

"she isn't here today, but if you'd like i'll give them to her."

.they were amendment on giving the gift to you themselves.

Gyomei was the one who helped you accept who you were, lifting your spirits up with praises and reasons you shouldn't be ashamed of yourself. he made the days you felt embarrassed and insecure bearable.

"you are unique, it is something you should feel proud of, that ability of yours is something some would wish for."

"your blood holds centuries of culture and generations, you truly are a special thing. you should be proud of who you are."

"your snakes and eyes, i've been told they are extremely beautiful, there are days i wish the gods would grant me just a minute of vision just so i could see you."

.once, he went to the temples and prayed for hours to the gods, asking them to be able to see you one day.

Gyomei was the one who brought you to come to terms with the night you had lost your friend and accidentally killed the two slayers, and although some might deem it unforgivable, slayers and their families know deep down, that the second they or their children pick up a blade, they have signed their life away.

"it could be a selfish way for me to think, but it was a simple mistake, it wasn't like you could control the abilities you were born with."

"the fact that you are alive, and living out the life you didn't want to live out initially, shows your beautiful and strong heart. I believe your friend is smiling down at you, for granting his wish."

"the families of the slayers, they knew their children would die one die. it's the cost of being a demon slayer, it is not always you'll walk out victorious. if you would like, we could visit them together."

.you did end up visiting the families, one was kinder than the other, but you left both estates with a less heavy heart and being forgiven of your destruction.

Gyomei was eager when you had told him you wanted to go back to the ruins of what was once your home, he was eager to finally know more about you and felt honored you had chosen him to go with you.

"i can only imagine the fear that went through everyone's mind, you seemed so content in your life here."

"would you like to take some of the remaining scriptures back, then? i would like to know more about your kind, these might hold some information you could explain to me."

"we should take the items back home with us, we can place it on his tombstone when we get back."

.you had found your friends old home and took some of his and his grandpas belongings to place on his grave the day after. Gyomei was always there. he was there to pray with you when you went to visit your families graves. he was there to find a solution when it came to stoning people. he was there to give you a place of solace.

"she holds you dear to your heart, she always thinks about you. had it not been for you, i would have never met her, so i am here to thank you."

"you said you wanted to go to the market right? we could blindfold you, if you'd like, you do not need to do this if you aren't comfortable."

"it is okay y/n. im here with you."

.he is always thanking your friend at his grave when he can, he never ends his prayer without a thankyou. he also taught you how to get through the days with a blindfold over your eyes, you picked up on your surroundings easily with him.

Gyomei was the only person your snakes felt comfortable enough to show themsleves and were constantly nuzzling into him.

"It's okay y/n, I do not mind. although I must ask, are they as fond of Iguros snake as they are of me?"

"they seem very long, are they? they must be thick too.."

"are they always hidden? i hadn't realized they could hide themselves to appear as normal hair.."

.every time he was near, he could hear a small bundle of hisses drift into his ears. he got so used to it that he would worry he did something if he couldn't hear them. they are also very fond of Iguros snake, but not it's owner.

Gyomei was never seen without you near by, as grounded as he was, he felt like he was in the clouds with you around. at some point, your sweet voice was the only thing he could think about, and he had made it his mission to get you to join the corps.

"she's very sweet, i feel very comfortable around her. my entire week is made the second i hear her."

"she is very strong, i don't need to worry about her as much as people think so. she is just anxious about her abilities."

"i will take full responsibility in training her, if i must."

.once you had picked up stone breathing, you had created a few more forms for it. since then, you and gyomei were always seen together for missions, successfully becoming partners (you as his tsuguko). you had discovered soon after that if demons get your blood into their system, they turn to stone.

Yours and Gyomeis tombstone had snakes sculpted around it, some even formed a heart, unworn wedding bands were placed atop of it.

funfact! After the final battle, gyomei was granted his prayer once he died and he regained his vision in the afterlife. he thanked the gods as you both made it to heaven together.

back at earth, the kakushi and removed your blindfold. they found that they were able to safely look you in the eyes to prepare you and him for burial. they had buried you and gyomei facing eachother. ( they had found out from his students that Gyomeis final wish was to be buried facing you. )

[pinkydevil16]

Aegon Targaryen x reader: part 6

Aemond walked beside Y/n, feeling her wobble as she tried to hide how she felt sparks of pleasure run up her body when she stepped in an odd way. Aemond's arm tightened around hers as they entered an empty hall, pushing her against the wall as she squeaked in surprise, Aemond stepping back as she looked at him confused.

"Y/n, you cannot allow our brother to defile you in such a way, if he does so again i shall take his hand." Aemond's voice was deeper than normal as Y/n turned red, her thighs clenching as she thought of his fingers on her, she had hoped no one had noticed but now fear coursed through her. Moving forward she placed her hands on his chest, tears in her eyes as she begged her brother.

"Please do not tell anyone, please Aemond i beg of you, i, i will be ruined. Grandfather had said before i am unlikely to he married off as i am, if he knew i would be thrown to the old and disgusting Lords. Please, i am sorry, i shall never stray again, please." Aemond enjoyed watching her beg, he knew how harsh Otto and her Septa was to her, she was his sweet sister and she deserved the best. Pulling her into his arms he hugged her, tucking her under his chin as she cried and begged him over and over, he felt satisfied she trusted him.

"It is alright my dearest sister, i shall protect you from yourself, you are too innocent and Aegon wishes to take your innocence. He is not to be trusted." Y/n nodded in his arms, her hands fisting at his top as he felt his heart swell. Proud of her for listening to him, he wanted her to hate Aegon, to see him for what he truly was, how Aemond saw him. Y/n shook in Aemond's arms, clutching to him as she spiralled in fear of her septa finding out what Aegon had done. Aemond walked her to her room, her arm tightly in his as she leant into him, her head on his arm as he spoke gently to her reminding her how good she had been for telling him. Aemond helped her inside, her body still shaken from the encounters with both her brothers. Y/n sat on her bed, a servant prepping everything as Y/n tried to calm herself, praying to every god she could that her Grandfather and Septa would never know of her sinful behaviour. A knock on her door shocking her, standing she felt dizzy as she opened the door, seeing Aegon's face as he smirked at her. Pushing open her door Aegon dismissed the servant girl, Y/n panicking as she left, afraid of her telling her grandfather of a man being alone with her.

"Aegon please, Aemond knows, he, he knows and if he knows then Otto will know. Please if you hold any love for me you will stop, i will be thrown out and cast aside if they find out." Aegon's face turned to one of confusion, all thoughts leaving him as he moved back, he had come to tease her a little hoping to see the Y/n he once knew who loved him dearly. Instead he was greeted by a frantic and terrified version of his sister he did not ever wish to see again.

"Y/n, please calm down, you must breathe, have a drink." He looked around her room for some wine, finding none as Y/n curled in on herself on the floor, her arms hugging her legs as she panted. Aegon opened the door calling for a servant to bring lots of wine, he had been in such a state before and had only found alcohol to stop his panic. Crouching down he pulled her arms from her legs, Y/n wrapping her arms around his middle as she cried onto his shirt, mumbling about how she would be forced to marry a disgusting old man. Aegon stroked her hair as he pulled back her head to pour wine in her mouth, the bitter taste making her wince but Aegon praised her as she drank. His voice commanding her to drink helping her to ground herself, his constant praise and petting of her head assisting her until she was lightly hiccuping in his arms. Aegon half lifted her as he made her lay in the bed, her hand pulling him with her as they cuddled just as they had as children. Aegon felt loved once more as she curled into him, holding her protectively in her arms trying to coax out of her why she was so worried.

"When, when you married i was told i was not chosen as i, i would never be good bride to you. So i tried my hardest, be-because i wanted to make you and everyone proud of me, but my Septa has said if i do not improve i will be given to whatever Lord will take me. Aemond said you are not to be trusted but you are all i have ever trusted. I am terrified of our grandfather, i think he hates me Aegon, he is so cruel and he tells my Septa i have been naughty even when i have not." Aegon shushed her as she rushed out each word, unable to stop herself as she began to panic again, moving to get out his arms as she begged him to let her go. Kissing her head as she struggled against him, barely able to form sentences as she babbled on to him.

"Please Aegon, they, they will send me to the silk streets." Aegon's heart broke as she cried once more, her head in his shoulder as he held her tightly to him, trying his best to comfort his sister. He had always assumed she had distanced herself from him because of his actions, he had never considered those around him had manipulated her to be so weak and pathetic. She was a princess and yet was terrified Otto would send her to be a whore, a threat he had only made once when he had been angry at Aegon and so took it out on Y/n, but her Septa enjoyed taunting her with the threat. Aegon held her close as she slowly calmed, her body still shivering every few seconds as she breathed gently against his neck, he had decided quickly he would stand for his sister to be treated in such a way. Creeping out from beneath her tired body he pulled her sheets up to cover her, kissing her on the head as he snuck from her room. Making his way to his father's room he found his mother, brother and Otto already speaking to the King. Aegon frowned as he entered, one of the first times he spoke to his father truly sober, Viserys sighing as he shouted at everyone to be quiet. Aemond glaring at his brother as Alicent tried to calm her son, Otto smirking at Aegon as he believed he had finally gotten back on Viserys good side. 

"Aegon what is the meaning of your interruption?" Aegon cleared his throat as he steeled his voice.

"I want to marry Y/n, i do not care that i am married, i have not fathered any children with her and never will. Aemond may take her as a bride and i shall marry Y/n, i also wish for Otto to be killed. He had tormented her for years and her Septa, they should both have their heads removed for such cruel-" Otto laughed as he moved to wrap his arm around Aegon, squeezing him tightly as he spoke calmly.

"I think you much be confused Prince, the Princess is my dearest granddaughter, you chose Halaena as your bride if you do not remember then that would be on account of your drunken habits. Would it not?" Aegon pushed out his arms as he walked towards his father, Aemond moving to block him as Alicent stared at her father in confusion, she knew he had been harsh on Y/n but Aegon was sober and would never normally have an outburst in front of his father. 

"Enough. Y/n is already betrothed, but i will take your allegation seriously Aegon, Y/n has been an outstanding Lady and i do not want to hear from anyone that she is being mistreated or it will be taken to the council." Everyone turned as he declared Y/n to be betrothed, the two brothers stopping their glaring to stare wide eyes at their father. Alicent moving closer to him to help him sit back down, checking on him before she spoke.

"Viserys, Y/n is not betrothed i think you are confused." She whispered, not wishing to embarrass him but utterly confused at his statement.

"Y/n is betrothed, she has been betrothed to Jacaerys since he was born. Their betrothal was meant to be announced when she was younger but events delayed the announcement. Now everyone leave me, you have outstayed your welcome and i wish to sleep." Aemond pushed into Aegon as he passed him, sending a confused look to Otto who had always promised him Y/n would wed him one day. Alicent watching as her father and sons left before assisting Viserys to bed, sitting next to him as she took his hand.

"Why did you not tell me? I have been asking you to tour her for years, we have all been saying she is not ready yet?" Alicent felt awful as she recalled the times she had seen her father's harsh behaviour towards her daughter but ignored it as Y/n no longer was so troublesome as she was as a small child. She had seen how her septa and Otto treated her, brushing it off as normal as her father did the same to her so she would be ready to marry the King.

"I may be old Alicent but i am not blind." He dismissed her, still as confused as was before, exiting she turned to find her father next to her.

"You must get rid of this betrothal Alicent, Y/n is a danger to us all if she marries that bastard." Alicent sighed, looking at her father.

"Is it true?" Otto looked confused as he stared at his daughter, she looked exhausted as she waited for him to answer.

"Is what true?" Alicent sighed, holding her head as she snapped at him.

"What Aegon said. Have you been cruel to my daughter? And her septa, have you been-" Otto muttered annoyed, pulling his daughter to walk beside him as he interrupted her.

"It is not important, Aegon is a drunk and an obsessive boy, he would do anything to make Y/n his. You saw it yourself when they were children. We must be smart." Alicent nodded, already fearing for her children's lives the more Viserys deteriorated, each visit to the maester making her more paranoid. She knew Rhaenyra and Daemon had plans to visit Viserys soon, her second child with Daemon almost ready to be birthed from what she had read in letters Rhaenyra sent to her father. Otto left Alicent to ponder as she entered her chambers, Larys Strong waiting for her with new information, she held back her disgust as she sat down. She had sacrificed so much to get where she was, Y/n could sacrifice too. 

What do you guys think of this series? Do you like where it's going? I always feel a bit sad whenever i write about this Y/n as her life seems awful but i can't help it, it just kind of happens whenever i write this series.

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[invisible-storyteller]

Happy Birthday, Mieczyslaw

Stiles & Claudia (~850 words, gen) Written for @teenwolfrarepairevents April Character of the Month: Stiles Stilinski

“Hey, Mieczyslaw.”

Claudia's smile was worn out and nervous on the TV screen, her messy ponytail and sleep-thirsty eyes depicting a woman who had just returned from a strenuous battle. The excited tapping of her fingers was almost disharmonious with her weary complexion, but the slight accent with which she spoke revealed her exhaustion-mixed anticipation. She looked absolutely beautiful, and so tragically young. 

She had been around Stiles’s age when this message was recorded. It was on the night his parents had taken him home from the hospital 30 years ago, but no one had remembered until they had found the tape among her old stuff while the sheriff was preparing to sell the house. 

Stiles had forgotten how her voice had sounded without the burden of fear and sickness. 

“You must be wondering: Damn, who the fuck is this woman? And okay, I might not have so many wrinkles now - although you did give me a few already -, but I'm not that old, young man, so don't get fresh with me!”

Stiles scoffed, almost not remembering how his mother used to be. Before.

“Anyway, Natalie gave me this sort of idea to create a time capsule, so here I am! Talking to you! Well, actually, talking to myself, 'cause there's no one else here.” Stiles couldn't help but laugh at that. “Hopefully, we’re watching this together.” His smile dimmed instantly. “I like to think that we’ll always have a good relationship, and that in twenty or thirty or whatever years, we’ll be laughing over how awkward and ugly I am on this video, and that I can scold you for calling me ‘ugly’ and say that you’re one to talk, you took after me.”

The image his mother had painted was bittersweet, and Stiles wasn’t sure he had been right in requesting he watched the video alone. But he wanted to cherish everything about her, just the way the camera had captured her, on the day she had become his mother.

“I guess I should talk about how I imagine you as a grown man, but I'll be honest, lisek, I don’t have a single clue.” Claudia laughed a bit self-consciously. “I’m just as young as you are, and I know that I can’t expect you to have it all figured out by the time you turn 20 or even 30. You can be so many things still, and the last thing I want for this message to be is some kind of a manual about what I want you to be. I want you to be nothing but what you already are, Mieczyslaw! Funny and stubborn - because you must have inherited those traits from me - and loyal and smart like your dad. I even bet you're braver than you think, and don’t argue with me, lisek, I’m your mother. I know better than you.”

A chuckle bubbled up from Stiles as he wiped at the salty traces of tears with his sleeve. He had missed out on his mother’s discipline as a teenager, and it was comforting if alien to experience it in 30 years' distance.

“I probably tell you this all the time, but I’m proud of you.” Here Stiles’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. “I hope that you’re happy. That there are people that you love with all your heart and that there are people who love you back just as much. I hope that you see the good in yourself, and I hope that you know that things can always change. And keep this in mind, lisek: no matter where you are in life, I'll be there with you. Always.”

Stiles gave a small nod that his mother could no longer see, and ached a little more for her to be here. To see him now. To know that Stiles was better than he used to be. That he wasn't that loud, unruly, annoying kid that drove his parents mad. That he wasn't that kid anymore who his mother ran from into certain death.

He wished she was here.

"Oh, somebody's up," He heard his mother sigh heavily on the screen as the raucous sound of crying pierced through the silence. "You're a lot to handle, you know, lisek?"

Stiles cast his eyes downwards.

“But I wouldn't change a thing about you. I love you, my little Mieczyslaw,” His mother said, and Stiles looked up in time to catch her blowing a kiss to the camera, “Kocham cię. Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

The video ended with a man's desperate shout for her wife in the distance and Claudia Stilinski rolled her eyes fondly as she went to turn the recording off. That was it.

Stiles sat there for a while, swallowing his sobs, before restarting the video. Halfway through the second watch, a hand landed gently on his shoulder and soft lips planted a kiss on the top of his head - a helpful reminder that he wasn't alone.

“Are you okay?”

Stiles silently sniffled for a bit, and then, with a tentative smile on his lips, nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

And he meant it.

[ntaras]

Thanks for the link!! Dude went waaay too far, he seriously wants MK v.s DC to be canon ahzah. I want to slap him whenever he calls Raiden and Fujin demigods lmao. Like, Elder Gods>Gods>Demigods (or half-gods) it really isn't that hard, man. 😭 If we follow his logic then what are Taven, Daegon and Rain supposed to be? And spare me your titans crap. Out! Out!

And we really ignoring the Tempest creating Chaosrealm? 😔 At least they might have referenced it with how it came to be in MK1 ig. At least, he acknowledged Deception lore with the soul stones and the sorcerers in the Nether.

Okay so now I'm just gonna ramble about Frost. 🗣️

The small attention given to Frost and Nitara is cool. Although when it comes to Frost, it kind of sucks because on the surface it really looks like a bad case of "this character is evil because they had a rough childhood but we are not going to delve in the why and the how it affected them". The "bad childhood" is such an easy card to pull when it comes to explain a character's motivation and it COULD be good if writers actually chose to acknowledge and treat it properly. However, the way it's presented in MK11 is weird and frustrating because while we are made aware of Frost's struggles (her false feelings of not being good enough in Kuai's eyes, her feeling like she's always underestimated and unworthy, her wanting to prove herself to an unhealthy degree) they're never developed and explained. Paired with Kuai Liang's claim that he gave her a home and that she was a talented student, it makes Frost look like a major dick who's just overly arrogant, who just killed her mom for no reason and who actually takes pride in it.

You have to dig yourself to at least try to understand/come up with an explanation related to Frost's issues with authority, her arrogance, why she clashed with Sonya upon meeting her the first time in DA, why she rebelled against Kuai Liang while simultaneously wanting to earn his respect... Which she DID but she fucked things up herself!!! And it makes me sad because Kuai Liang was genuinely proud of her and cared about her. Frost finally had the love and attention she wanted and there's no doubt she would have become grandmistress after Kuai Liang at some point but she had to ruin it herself because of some sick thirst for even more power.

And while I actually really like the "bad childhood" and "found herself participating in death matches" elements brought by NRS, I struggle to understand Frost's problem with the truce between the Lin Kuei and the Shirai Ryu in this timeline. It comes from nowhere and just makes Frost look like a grade-A asshole for no reason. It even results in Kuai Liang no longer caring for her when he used to be more sympathetic to her in the Midway timeline... Until Deception and that's because she slaughtered a good chunk of the clan!!! In MKX, Frost had just rebelled against a truce. I don't think we are even told if Kuai Liang at least attempted to talk to her and understand what she was going through. He just cast her out and like, yeah, I can understand why he'd be mad but at the end of the day it makes both Frost and Kuai Liang look like assholes lmao.

I really like Frost and I wish she wasn't just reduced to a lost cause because at the end of the day she's just a troubled young woman who obviously went through a lot. Kuai Liang himself had a rough life and that's why I just hate that he doesn't at least try to be considerate with her and understand her story. You'd think he would be made aware at some point that Frost fought in death matches??? Like, I mean, that's such a fucked up thing to do. How did Frost even find herself there?? The way I see it, Kuai Liang was turned into a weapon while Frost had to turn herself into a weapon in order to survive and I think that's a neat comparison, especially when you consider Frost willingly cyberized herself. However, they sadly never address it.

I'd loooove to know more about Frost's family life. I'm still working on my headcanons but I'd like to go in a direction opposed to Kuai Liang and Bi-Han. Like, while the brothers were trained and pressured by their father to master their cryomancy, Frost's mother wanted her to conceal her powers in order to live a normal life. I definitely don't think she was a good mom, therefore, she was quite rough and commanding in the way she forced her daughter to hide that part of herself that Frost struggled to control and it made their relationship really tense. I definitely don't think Frost loved her mother but I also don't see her willingly killing her in cold blood. I mostly see it like, Frost's resentment toward her mother grew so much that a fight between them caused her powers to go out of control and cause her mother's death. Self-defense might also be to consider. Maybe. idk. that's pretty much a W.I.P and I like to consider every possibility.

Okay now that I'm done, I'm really curious to hear your take on Frost. 👀

i think dominic needs to just make his own game so he can write whatever lore he wants instead of doing what he currently is doing and we’d all be happier.

to be fair i forgot about the tempest being a thing but i am not an official writer so what excuse does he have. (also looking up the tempest led me to being reintroduced to zaggot cause i have not read the older comics in yearssss. but what a name.)

but frost!!!!!!!!! i agree with pretty much what you said about her. i adore her but for some reason she cannot get a complete arc nor an attempt at digging into her character. she deserves the recognition that mk12 bi-han is getting because he is a carbon copy of her but that’s another topic.

i adore how self-sabotaging and aggressive she is, but i wish she was actually given reason behind her character! frost being confirmed to have a shitty childhood and killed her (also shitty) mom does offer reasoning behind her personality but i wish it was actually explored in canon. like you said, you really have to dig to figure out the reasoning behind frost’s actions because she’s one of the many characters who are not given much for the audience to work with.

but i’ll take the scraps :,)

like i said i agree with pretty much what you said about her, and i think we’re in the same boat regarding headcanons. i’ve also thought that she forced to conceal her powers by her mother, which also begs the question on if frost’s mother was a cryomancer or if her father was. had it been her father, i wonder what happened to him considering there’s no mention of him (because frost specifically says she killed her mother). i’ve thought about if her father was somehow not in her life (be it that he died when she was young, before she was born, or left her and her mother) and he was a cryomancer, it caused her mother to force frost to suppress her powers because she did not know how to deal with it. but if it was her mother who was a cryomancer, her own mother could’ve tried repressing frost’s powers as a means of protection (protection being isolation of her daughter) or a projection of her mother’s own shame/issues about her cryomancy.

either way, i think she was forced to repress her cryomancy by her mother (which i think would be painful, because cryomancy typically shows up when the cryomancer is older but frost is on the very young side. she ultimately was alone in dealing with this unknown power.)

i do not think frost killed her mother out of cold blood either! it was ultimately just the result of of poor parenting and resentment building up on both sides. and the way her mother raised her lead frost to having issues with authority, for example, kuai liang.

i think i’ve briefly mentioned it before, but i think frost views kuai liang like her mom. like, there’s a part of her that views kuai liang as the closest to “kin” because he is the first cryomancer she’s met. above anyone he would understand her isolation and rage, and i think in turn she would understand him in a way. i think they’re both characters who have walls up but at the same time having a shared power automatically reveals some vulnerability to each other. but frost has IMMENSE issues with her vulnerability, and i don’t think she’d easily be open to another authority figure when she already dealt with her mom.

with kuai liang being her mentor i don't think she can help herself from automatically linking him to her mom and as a result wanting to take control before another authority takes control of her and suppresses her. she doesn’t want to be a child anymore, but be the ultimate authority (which only causes her to act more childish- with extreme naivety and rebellion).

and going off what you said about kuai liang being forced into a weapon while frost chose to become a weapon, i think being a weapon is what frost views as the ultimate authority (or in other words, violence is the ultimate authority to frost).

i do think kuai liang would have known about frost being in death matches (which i also have no clue how that girl got involved in them) and had to teach her fighting methods different from how she used to fight, or even teach how to be better at whatever methods she used to use in those matches.

also fun (and unfortunate) fact, had the mkx comics continued we would have gotten A LOT more focus on frost because her and kuai liang are meant to parallel hanzo and takeda. she could’ve gotten a fully fleshed backstory and yet we were robbed as usual

in the end despite all of frost’s flaws and mistakes, i genuinely think she should be redeemed instead of only being a lost cause. i hateeee how dismissive kuai liang is of frost and how easily he gave up on her in the nrs timeline. like i do think she represents a metaphor for kuai liang as the final challenge he has to overcome in order to finally redeem the lin kuei, and she does some very messed up things that really push kuai liang towards the edge, but because of that metaphor i really think it’d be fitting if frost’s redemption was also kuai liang’s completed redemption of the lin kuei. (i also do think her being a metaphor for being kuai liang’s final challenge to redeem the lin kuei can explain her issue with the shirai ryu as the clans used to be enemies, but idk it’s just an attempt at trying to make it make sense in a thematic way lol.)

it would also allow kuai liang rest because i do think his story needs to (or at least needed to considering we won’t have sub-zero kuai liang back) end, and i think it should end with “sub-zero” being passed to frost because she should get to a point where she deserves to be grandmaster.

anyways to sum this up i wish we got her backstory because i am sick of people (the writers) dismissing her as an ungrateful brat who’s a lost cause… she deserves her story!!! she deserves to grow as a character!!! i love her dearly and i appreciate her <33

[gossipgoal]

hey!

idk if you would mind writing for him but if you dont, can you write something super angsty for Vince Dunn please? 🙂

Vince walked along the quiet, moonlit shore, his thoughts drifting to Y/N, the alluring girl with piercing green eyes who had captured his heart. They had been friends for years, but recently, their relationship had deepened into something more.

By Y/N had been through so much in her young life. By the age of 21 she had lost her sweet parents in a tragic boat accident on the shores of Washington where she had grown up her whole life. The accident had left her with deep scars, both physical and emotional. She was an only child who was deeply close to her parents, loving the shoreline and helping her dad fish off the boat. She was nearly left alone but luckily she had Vince . Vince admired her strength, but he could see the pain in her eyes, especially on nights where her vivid nightmares were so terrifying.

One night, as the wind whispered through the trees and the waves gently lapped at the shore, Vince had just arrived home to the shore home after a grueling game when he heard a soft cry. Vince followed the sound to Y/N's in their shared bedroom , where he found her tossing and turning in her sleep.

"Y/N," he whispered, gently shaking her awake. "It's just a dream, you're safe."

Y/N's eyes flew open, wide with fear. She clutched at Vince, seeking comfort.

"It's okay," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm here."

Y/N buried her face in Vince's chest, her body shaking with sobs. Vince held her close, whispering words of comfort as she cried out the pain of her past.

"I miss them so much," she whispered, her voice raw with emotion. "It hurts, Vince, it hurts so much."

Vince stroked her hair, his heart breaking for her. "I know, Y/N, I know how much your loved them. But you're not alone. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

They sat there, on the edge of her bed, as the night faded into dawn. Vince listened as Y/N poured out her heart, sharing memories of her parents and the life they had lost.

“I wish they were here," she said softly, wiping away her tears. "I wish I could hear their voices, feel their touch."

Vince took her hand, his gaze gentle. "They're always with you, Y/N. In your heart, in your memories. And they would be so proud of the person you've become."

Y/N smiled faintly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thank you, Vince. For being here, for understanding your my only person left ."

Vince leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Always, Y/N. I'll always be here for you."

As the night moon rose over the horizon, casting a glow over the sea, Vince and Y/N sat together, finding solace in each other's presence. And in that moment, they knew that together, they could face whatever challenges life threw their way.

Because love, true love, had the power to heal even the deepest wounds.

[azi-sings-calliope]

Hiii to celebrate my new name, I wrote a little fanfic drabble about Calliope and Dream! (Set after Calliope is freed, they discuss Orpheus)

-----

The grass was unusually soft this time of year.

But then again, Fiddler's Green always had greatly appreciated her presence. The sun shining through the canopy glittered in such a way it hadn't for centuries.

The shafts of light, much like the Goddess across from him, filled him with wonder, bared guilt, and however much he wanted to deny himself he felt it, slight yearning. Perhaps it was because both the light and the woman, though he supposed Calliope possessed her own kind of luminescence, had not been seen in this realm for many ages.

Both of these events, or lack thereof had been of his own accord. Dream remembered this bitterly, remembering the day he closed the gates and held them fast so she could not enter the realm. Remembered the roaring emptiness that was the lack of Orpheus.

As his eyes flicked up to Calliope's face, he wondered why he had ever forced her out, why he had ever felt he could. Sitting before him was a woman just as, if not more, capable than himself of ruling the Dreaming. Anyone, mortal, immortal, dreaming or awake, could not mistake her as anything less than a Goddess.

A dissertation, Dream found when she opened her mouth, to be as accurate as it was simple.

"You said, at our last meeting, Oneiros..." They both winced at the memory. Calliope's voice, even weighed with centuries worth of grief and wounds, stagnant and new alike, had a rich, musical tone to it.

She could insult him, berate him, scream curses in a thousand languages to him and he would gladly listen if only it meant to hear her voice.

But Calliope, even proud and hardened through her millennia of existence, even after their son's death, had always been one to find strength in kindness. Though Dream knew he didn't deserve it, he found no use in pointing that out.

"... that you would invite me back to your Dreaming. And I ask you now, Shaper of Forms... if you wish to speak." Calliope finished. She sat up straighter, warm brown eyes watching his every move, as if she were a statue of a great god and he was a commoner kneeling before her, praying.

Dream swallowed, matching her inky eyes with his own. He searched them, and found nothing but warmth. He hoped she would find gratitude.

He opened his mouth, and found himself at loss for words. Dream did of course wish to speak, but for once his words were not carved into stone, set for eons, and he found himself lost, hoping new words would appear in Lucienne's library, words that would allow him to convey what impossible emotion he could share with her.

"I do... I do wish to speak with you, Calliope." Dream's voice was shaking, with loss and regret and love and gratitude and awe. "I... I wasn't sure if you would want to see me." The last words were a gamble, but a smile played across her lips, and he closed his eyes. It was a reverent action, as if his was offering thanks to whatever gods were listening, though he knew the Endless were unaffected by those powers. Perhaps it was to Calliope.

She somewhat tentatively reached a hand out to his, where it was resting against the grass. He turned up his palm, both their fingers trembling. Calliope traced the lines of his palm with her fingertips, each touch lighter than moth wings against his skin.

Her voice pulled his attention from her touch back to her face. "I am simply glad you invited me." Not a shred of anger in her voice.

"It was never my right to invite you. You have claim to this land, always." Dream stopped himself from speaking further, and they both felt the unsaid words. It was never my right to cast you out.

Calliope's hand stilled in his own. "Would he have had a right?" Her voice remained steady.

Dream's did not. He closed his eyes, which proved to be a mistake. A thousand memories, a thousand dreams of Orpheus played behind his lids like Destiny was flipping the pages backward on his book. As Dream pressed his eyes shut tighter, tears threatened to spill.

But he forced them open. Took a breath, though he did not need to breathe, and wondered if Orpheus was still alive, would they all be sitting under the canopy, listening to him play his lyre? Would he have had a right?

Dream's eyes flickered to the leaves above her, searching for a distraction. But he found none.

"I would have made mountains that scraped the stars if it would please him, and oceans twice as deep as the land was tall if he found it even slightly beautiful. I would give him claim to the wonders this world has to offer, and find those it doesn't." Dream vowed this with certainty, though vows between deities were not often done with shaking voices and grief in a garden.

A tear was trickling down Calliope's cheek, reminding him if the little waterfall where their son had first learned to play the lyre. She made no move to wipe it away, and it remained much like the memory.

Neither said anything for quite some time.

Calliope leaned against a tree to her right, tucking her feet under her and gently sweeping her brown hair behind her ear. The golden, dappled light played across her, making her seem as if she was an angel in a grand painting. She reached out her hand.

"Come, Oneiros."

He came. Dream leaned against the tree with her, the rough bark biting into his back. They clasped their hands, sat with her knees against his upper leg.

It was comfortable. But there was always that missing space between them.

Calliope sighed softly, not one of content but if grim certainty.

"I am angry, Oneiros."

"I know."

She sighed again. "We are angry, the both of us, at the world. At choices that even we as deities could not interfere with. I am hurting, and so are you, and that is our reality." Ever so gently, she turned and rested her head on his shoulder, looking up at him if he ever moved away. He didn't.

This was a way they had often sat, admiring the views of the world, of their son. It was comforting. It was terrifying.

"I've -" Dream's voice cracked. "I've never been very good at reality."

He felt Calliope chuckle slightly against his shoulder. "I've gathered."

Dream closed his eyes again. "So what are we to do?"

She shrugged, sighing again. "Move forward. Never forget the past, I suppose."

Dream's fear, then, was realized, and he had no doubt it was Calliope's as well.

He knew, as it was his function, that nothing was ever truly dead until it no longer appeared in memories, in dreams. The world would dream of Orpheus until the world was no more, and even then.

It felt, then, that in the Green, in their intimacy, that a wound was being prodded at. Not in a torturous way, but in the way a doctor did, before it was fully healed.

"I think, old love, that we confront our realities now." Calliope stood, and Dream sorely missed the feeling of the soft fabric of her chiton against his arm.

"Shall we?" She asked.

"Shall we what?" Dream asked, standing now too.

Calliope extended her arm, as if she were trying to touch the rays of sunlight.

"Come with me -" Calliope said, sure and proud, but warm, still laced with that intimacy shared but seconds earlier. " - to the Waking."

Dream stopped. His world has given him safety, surety. The Waking had left him afraid.

"Why?"

Calliope only smiled. "We may find what we're looking for. Perhaps something we're not."

Dream smiled tentatively, and stepped towards her. "And just what are we looking for, Calliope?"

Calliope's smile turned sad as she flicked her eyes up to the canopy. "Reality, Oneiros."

-----

They had found reality, or some form of it.

Many museums had art, sculptures, all forms of beauty. None possessing the kind she could create.

Dream had asked Calliope to show him what she had inspired. She showed him countless books, read them to him.

The sound of her voice speaking, sometimes singing or reciting words she had inspired was painfully beautiful. He had loved it, but when she sang, only wished for a lyre in the background, to serenade them both.

But there was no lyre for them anymore. The Met held a Greek Myth exhibit, and neither could bring themselves into the Orpheus section. Reality existed, whether they saw it or not.

So here they sat, and Dream had though a million times before, no sight he loved like this.

Calliope sat, with a pistachio cake, her favorite kind, and a coffee in her hand. She looked almost mortal, but gazed with far more age in her eyes than any human would ever be capable of.

Dream knew art. He had spoken to, inspired them. He even considered himself an artist of a kind. But no matter the billions of artists he would meet, no matter how talented, a child with crayons or a Renaissance oil painter, they would always fail. Calliope would make frauds out of them all, for an artist could capture beauty, sound, but they could never capture just what it was like to sit across from her while she picked pistachios off the top of a cake.

They could never capture what it was like to feel her presence when he saw her in the Dreaming for the first time. They could never capture the admiration he felt for her, even while he was all of inspiration itself, and she was a Muse, he never could quite understand how she carried out her role so well, with so much love and care, and still have enough to show him. They could never capture the joy at learning she was with child, and never capture the dread of learning that baby was mortal. They could never capture the grief of losing that son and hearing her scream and see her fall to the ground. They could never capture the regret of learning they had taken the final days of her presence for granted.

They could never capture the emptiness of watching her stand, wiping the pistachio crumbs off her jeans, bidding him farewell, and watching her walk away into the crowds.

And they could never capture the certainty of knowing that she would return.

[robinismywife]

𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬 (p2)

PAIRING: A!Elvis or (real)Elvis x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Elvis was done with making movies. However, when his manager approached him with another movie contract he couldn't resist. Especially, since Y/n Y/l/n is involved...

WARNINGS: Mentions of vomit, smoking cigarettes, eating. If I missed any plz inform me!!

A/N: Omg I hope you like this!! Writer's block has hit me like a truck these days and I can't seem to write anything I'm actually proud of. I know this is very short so I'm sorry if this dissapoints you, I'm trying my very best!! <3

(the gif is not mine! Found it on pinterest!)

Elvis found himself waking up excited to go to work for the first time in years. Even though, as he got ready, he tried to convince himself it was because filming was fun, deep down he knew why. Y/n. She was truly fascinating, not to mention a sight for sore eyes. She truly lit up the set when she walked in.

The entirety of the cast and crew stayed at the same hotel. Therefore, Elvis felt that he needed to get a little more dressed up and show everyone how professional he was. Honestly, he didn't really know what he was doing. Every movie he made felt like the first.

Elvis never felt comfort in the movie-making process. The only times he felt like he was in his element were short lived, since it only took a couple of weeks to record the songs in the studio. He hated these songs- The lyrics were repetitive and very stupid. It was embarassing having to sing these songs for everyone to hear.

After taking a last look in the mirror, he nodded to himself and walked out of his hotel room. The elevator reached his level and the steel doors opened, revealing the woman he had been thinking of all morning.

"Morning" Elvis mumbled, standing next to her

"It is indeed morning, Mr. Presley" She spoke coldly. Elvis's blank face turned into a dissapointed frown. It seemed as if he was the only one willing to be friendly.

"No- I- I meant good-"

"I know what you meant" Y/n stated stifly and the doors opened once again. After a long awkward pause the two had finally reached the hotel's cafeteria that was filled with people.

"Why do you hate me so much?" Elvis spoke irritably, trying to catch up with her quick steps.

"Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't" She told him casually grabbing a plate and filling it up with breakfast goods from the buffet.

"Lord, you're insane, woman" Elvis sighed in defeat. This was not going to end well.

"I've heard that one before- For someone who's all about novelty, your insults are predictably average" Y/n put down a spatula she had been holding and made her way through the crowded room. Elvis couldn't keep up with her pace and witty remarks. Even so, he jogged after the woman, who had already started talking to some of their castmates.

Y/n placed her plate down on the table, greeting her new coworkers. She sat down sighing, as the conversation around her became more lively by the minute. Deciding to focus on eating her breakfast, she didn't partucipate in the discussion much. Elvis, of course, found the opportunity to keep talking to her. He pulled out the chair next to her and made himself comfortable, not caring that Y/n was obviously startled, thinking that she had gotten rid of him.

"Don't ya run away from me like that" He spoke a little out of breath, trying not to be heard by their colleagues.

"I do what I please, Mr.Presley- Now, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me alone"

"We were talking-"

"There is nothing left to say" She picked up her fork and played around with the bacon on her plate, that was slowly getting cooler and cooler.

"Isn't there? Don't ya wan't to tell me all about how much ya hate me?"

"I don't hate you. I wish I could but I can't-"

"You can't?"

"Are you deaf, Mr.Presley?"

"No-"

"Well, then I think I've made myself pretty clear" She finally shoved a small piece of bacon in her mouth, signaling the end of the conversation. The irony of their chat was that Elvis was even more confused now. Y/n was saying so much but yet so little. He never heard exactly the answer he needed and that pissed him off. She wasn't making any sense- At least to him.

"Elvis, aren't ya getting any breakfast?" Nancy, one of the cast members, asked, mouth full of toast.

Elvis audibly groaned, realising how wipped he was by a woman that wasn't even his. Looking right at her he shook his head in dissapointment. He truly hoped she wasn't enjoying this whole situation, but the devilish look in her eyes told a different story.

"Well, aren't ya, Mr.Presley?" She asked him playfully. Damnit, she was indeed enjoying his suffering.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

"She hates me Ron, I tell ya" Elvis frowned as he spoke to his costar Ronald Winters.

"Son, you're making things a lot more confusing than they actually are" Ronald filled both of their mugs with coffee. They were both waiting for the director to show up to their last-minute meeting. Y/n hadn't arrived to the office yet so Elvis had time to talk to Ron about everything.

"Nah, she's the one making things confusing and everything- I-I-I'm just trynin' to be friendly, ya know?"

"Maybe she doesn't want to be your friend, Elvis" Ron spoke with a weird look in his eye that Elvis couldn't quite place.

"Well, that's what I've been telling ya, Ron!"

"You misunderstand me, sonny, what I-"

"Good morning" The conversation died down instantly, making Y/n's entrance in the waiting room extremely awkward "Do you want me to leave?"

"Oh no, dear girl, me and mr.Presley were merely talking about this meeting- Unexpected, isn't it?" Ronald changed the topic quickly, trying to make Y/n feel welcome.

"It's probably a last-minute script change, nothing to worry about" Y/n spoke casually, pulling out a cigarette and putting it between her scarlet lips "Want one gentlemen?" she pointed at it.

"Ahh no, no I-I-I'm trying to give it up- Bad habit, bad.." Ronald mumbled and cleared his throat. Excusing himself he walked to the bathroom down the hall.

Y/n then walked towards Elvis, closing the distance between them "Sorry Ι scared your pal away, Elvis" She took a puff from her cigarette. Elvis couldn't help but stare at her lips as they produced the gray smoke. This whole situation was making it very hard to hate her, especially when the urge to kiss her face off was that intense. He needed to play it cool, just like she was doing.

However, Y/n saw right through the act and continued talking "Wanna take a puff, love?"

"N-N-No, I prefer not to smoke, if I can help it" He played with his rings, stressfully. This was going so wrong, he could actually vomit.

"Really? Wouldn't have guessed it," She spoke aware of her effect on him "Men such as yourself always love to indulge in a little puff here and there"

"Well, they ain't going to last long" Elvis shrugged, daring to look her in the eyes.

"What makes you say that?" She was intrigued.

"Trust me, honey, smoking a packet a day don't help with the rockabilly business"

"So, you're telling me you've never smoked a cigarette in your life, Mr.presley?" She smiled challegingly while her own cigarette was slowly burning up in between her digits.

"No, I'm sayin' that I used to but I don't no more- My mama hated it, stopped just for her, ya know?"

"I know," Suddenly her stare softened and she put out her cigarette in the ashtray "I bet she was a wonderful woman, Elvis".

Her gentle smile and quick shift in demeanor caught him off guard, but before he could form a coherent sentence the crew and director had appeared. It was time for the meeting and as Elvis' eyes searched the waiting room around him, he realised that Y/n was already in the meeting room. There goes his chance to get to know her better, to have an actual conversation with her.

Nonetheless, he felt somewhat proud of himself. She had let her guard down for him, even for a second. The ice queen was slowly melting and he was there to watch it happen. Perhaps Ronald was right, she didn't hate him. Y/n hated herself for not hating him. Now, Elvis had to find a way to gain her trust. This wasn't even close to love, he had to assure himself, just a challenge. A fun one at that.

[the-one-where-casey-watches-tv]

The Morning Show episode 3.10 "The Overview Effect"

The season of Alex Levy! It’s been awhile since I really felt proud of a character the way I feel proud of her. It’s also not too often in shows that you get to see a character grow and actually implement that growth. Typically, a character ‘learning their lesson’ marks the end of the story, but The Morning Show has a really unique pacing that does wonders for character development. They all contain multitudes and nuance and flaws and strengths, and that complexity of every individual is the exact thing that fuels the chaos behind this show.

I also think this show is slept on for some reason? I never hear anyone talk about it which confuses me with this kind of cast. From what I gather, it does too good a job capturing all the problems in our society and that’s a downer. I’ve always been impressed by that quality about it, the whole thing would feel silly if it didn’t feel authentic. But for anyone who feels that The Morning Show is just a stressful and sad reminder of the state of US capitalism and media- this season surprised me by building to an incredibly hopeful and empowering conclusion. One all about growth and accountability. I honestly feel like I have a better understanding of what the phrase “doing the work” actually looks like in the context of social justice and power after watching this.

Jennifer Aniston in "The Overview Effect". Image courtesy of The Hollywood Reporter.

Before this season’s finale, my opinion was leaning the complete other way. Bradley, who I’ve always identified with and loved, covered up her brother’s involvement January 6th. Hal wasn’t just there; he attacked a cop- and people were looking for him. Bradley didn’t just discretely ignore it, she doctored him out of footage, lied to the FBI, and continued reporting on the event. To me, she lost all her ethical standing with this, and she continued doing the news for a long time before anyone found out. As Laura Peterson told her, “It’s obscene”.

But then again, Laura only found out about it by scouring all of Bradley’s leaked emails and texts in search of evidence of Bradley sleeping with Cory. Before Alex got involved during “The Overview Effect”, I was rolling my eyes at the both of them. It was screaming ‘liberals who can’t get off their high horse but also aren’t ethical in their own lives when it really comes down to it’. Laura being so insecure about Bradley sleeping with someone when they weren’t even together to the point that she would violate her privacy like that felt incredibly low for Laura. Almost out of character. Her finding out about the Hal situation and her subsequent breakup with Bradley is what catalyzed the climax of this season, but I really wish she had found out some other way.

Nonetheless, I saw a glimmer of hope for Bradley when she resigned on-air. It was dramatic, as she and Alex both often are, but it was a step towards accountability. Losing her girlfriend, her job, and potentially the rest of her career made me feel like she is, indeed, paying the price for her choices.

Something else also happens here that manages to put Bradley’s transgressions in perspective. Paul Marks stops by Bradley’s green room right before what would be her final broadcast, blackmailing her with his knowledge of how the January 6th cover up could blowback on Laura, and telling Bradley to stop digging into Hyperion. “The Overview Effect” opens with Paul blatantly (to us) lying to Alex about that conversation, telling her instead about the support he offered Bradley in that moment.

Paul Marks was a great character addition this season. They planted the seed well that he was ‘not what he seemed’ and had something going on with Hyperion, his independent space company that was working with NASA. Stella had an old friend who tried to blow the whistle, but Stella really straddles the line between empowering from the top down, as she claims to do, and simply playing the game. She scared the friend away, and so enlisted Bradley and Chip to help her get to the bottom of whatever it was that she now regretted ignoring. All we knew for most of this season was that he didn’t assault anyone- he was “too smart” for that- but he sure did something, and absolutely no one would come forward.

Jon Hamm and Jennifer Aniston in "The Overview Effect". Image courtesy of TV Line.

The chemistry between Jon Hamm and Jennifer Aniston is really the thing that made him- and her- compelling. It was so genuine, and his affection for Alex is the one thing about him that I do still believe to be true. I’ll say it, he had great charisma and calming DILF energy. Without knowing what exactly he had done, the smitten part of me wanted to believe that it was nothing. Seeing that side of him, understanding what Alex saw in him, makes what she does in this episode all the more impressive.

Ever since her live resignation, Alex has been texting and calling Bradley to no avail. After her conversation with Paul, the one where he lies through his teeth, Alex decides to go check on her. When she shows up at her apartment, Bradley looks unhinged. Disheveled and manic, Bradley tells Alex she can come in if she leaves her purse and phone in the hall. Alex obliges, and when Bradley gets talking, it all makes horrifying sense.

Bradley admits to everything about January 6th, but then says something else- Paul knew about it too, and in their conversation, he referenced things he could only know if he had been listening to her fight with Laura. Alex is shocked, but, to her immense credit, not disbelieving. Bradley says she’s going home to West Virginia for awhile to take care of things with her family. Alex leaves, wrapping her head around the possibility that Paul is surveilling Bradley- and who knows who else. On the way home, she texts Bradley that getting away for a bit is a good idea, and that she should go back to West Virginia. After a moment of thought, she changes West Virginia to Hanover, a place they didn’t discuss, and hits send.

Reese Witherspoon and Jennifer Aniston in "The Overview Effect". Image courtesy of IMDb.

Alex’s little experiment proves fruitful. She gets back to her apartment and tells Paul that she went to visit Bradley. They chat about it, Paul playing a supportive boyfriend. So supportive that he wraps Alex in a hug and says Alex is right, Bradley should get away for a bit, go back to Hanover and recoup. Alex freezes. She doesn’t give herself away though. She agrees, hugs him back, and spends the night sharing a bed with someone that we and she now all know is very scary.

Then she pays a visit to Laura. A plan is formed, but we don’t find out about until the Hyperion-UBA deal is minutes away from going through. Right about as people are ready to start pouring champagne, Alex says there’s just enough time to put a counteroffer on the table. Laura has worked some magic at her network, NBN, and she and Alex are proposing a merger. They will share resources to save costs and form a true journalistic partnership.

Paul is caught completely off guard. He asks to speak to Alex in private, where they round a corner to come face to face with Stella and Kate- the original Hyperion whistleblower. They give Paul an ultimatum- walk away from the deal and come clean to NASA about sending them falsified reports on his rockets- or they will report on everything. Oh also- the transmission break when Bradley and Cory went to space? Not a broadcast issue, Paul cut the feed because the ship’s navigation system malfunctioned. Alex was absolutely right not to get on that thing. Also did this plot line remind anyone else of a certain submersible?

Paul, of course, accepts these terms because the alternative is life-ending, but he’s still flabbergasted at Alex’s turning on him. It’s a little sad, he really did love her and didn’t see it coming whatsoever, but not that sad because he was doing some fucked up shit.

For all of Cory’s heart attack-inducing running around this season, it was Alex single-handedly saving UBA multiple times over. She brought Paul Marks to the table, and she kicked him back away from it. And none of it was selfish. She was so thoughtful this season it blows me away. While Paul and Cory were both leaking scandals like chess pieces, Alex was processing them all with poise.

Billy Crudup in "The Overview Effect". Image courtesy of IMDb.

The idea that all the things that consume a news cycle, that prompt a notes app apology on Instagram and cost people their careers, are, at their source, a meaningless power play by executives with zero genuine interest, is the saddest thought posed this season. It was demoralizing to see Cory drop a bombshell and pretend to care about it when really all it meant to him was a successful board meeting. Knowing that origin of all these scandals, watching Alex, Chris, Mia, and Yanko put so much heart into thinking through these issues of race and pay inequality is just sad in some ways. The people at the top were preying on these ethics, on the outrage, on the news cycles, and people’s careful attempts to do the right thing were the very things executing Cory’s delicately laid plans.

Cory’s last-ditch attempt to reconcile with Cybil to save UBA really cements that all these issues of inequity meant nothing to him. He’ll go whichever way the wind blows. Alex, meanwhile, rejected Cybil’s pleas for allyship and engaged with her just enough to hold her accountable (“It isn’t just an email. You paid a black person less than a white person for the same job.”) She also knew when to take action and when to step back. She interviewed Paul on her own show and I truly don’t think their relationship ever clouded her work, but when Cybil was going to be interviewed, she was the one who arranged for it to be Chris doing the interviewing.

And in the end, Alex didn’t let a trail of injustices cloud her perspective. She was able to put what Bradley had done on the backburner for a moment, and get Laura to do the same, to tackle the wrongdoing of all wrongdoings. She did what Paul was relying on our society not being able to do- seeing through a scandal to its source. And she didn’t do it to save her own job- she was about to get the rebrand of a lifetime- she did it simply because it was the right thing to do.

But she didn’t forget about everything else. Before the credits rolled, Alex was holding Bradley’s hand as she and Hal stood outside an FBI office. Alex tells her it’s going to be okay, that she’ll be there for her, but that she has to do this. Bradley knows she does. This is what friendship should look like. Both unconditional support and accountability. I love this example proving that you don’t have to sacrifice one for the other. That someone can have room for growth, and they can do it by your side, with your support. That’s how we all get better.

Reese Witherspoon and Jennifer Aniston in "The Overview Effect". Image courtesy of IMDb.

I’m just so thrilled to see The Morning Show go this way. If you know me, you know I love a happy ending, and this may not be that, but it is hopeful, empowering, and motivating. And that’s what it’s all about, I think.

[bohemian-nights]

Moonglow

Word Count: ~7,818

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Nettles

Warnings ⚠️: Age gap relationship; minor smut

Description: Chronicling the events of how the Rogue Prince, Daemon Targaryen fell in love with a small unlikely dragonrider named Nettles 🐑🐉

AN: Requested by anon 👤

—————————————🐑-———————————

130 AC-Maidenpool  

She had tired herself out. They had spent most of their day riding upon Sheepstealer and Caraxes, scanning the Riverlands landscape below. Looking for signs of his traitorous nephew. The boy had hidden himself well enough. 

She hadn’t even bothered to make the appearance of leaving his bed chambers tonight. Or rather last night he supposed. His Netty had simply collapsed into his lap once the maids cleared away their dinner. He had to carry her to their bath. Wiping off the grime and stress of the day from their flesh. His sweet girl.  

They lay a pile of limbs in the center of his beds now. As naked as their name day. The late autumn night breeze from the open window he had thrown open cooled their once-heated forms. A thin sheet made from silk from Qarth lay draped across them. Leaving little to the imagination. The pale moon glow reflected off dark coils.  

They’d have to awaken in a few short hours. Take to the skies to renew their hunt. He could wake her now. Take her again as she had him. His insatiable girl. Having done so twice now. It was he now who had a craving for her. A craving to wake her from the land of dreams to slack his desires.  

The old prince reached a hand down to her heat. Resting his hand, one calloused from too many battles to name, upon her thatch of curls. Her sensitive bundle of nerves peaking out among them. She was still wet from their lovemaking earlier in the night. Slick mixed with his seed.  

Some of their combined spend had leaked out onto the sheets below. The maids would no doubt gossip amongst themselves when they saw the state of his sheets. Exchanging giggles over their chattering.

Netty fidgeted in her sleep at his touch. He shushed her. Placing a kiss on the top of her black mane. Resting his lips there and stroking a hand down her spine which seemed to quiet her. She nuzzled deeper into his neck. Spoiled thing. His sweet girl needed rest. She had more than earned it. 

He was proud to say that Netty had developed quite an appetite. On that, he had stoked. She had come to him a timid little thing. Oh, she was quick to point out his faults, but she was still a girl.  

An ill-used girl who had to grow up before she was ready. The streets of Driftmark, of Hull, and Spicetown were less than kind to the innocents of her ports and lanes. The naive and pure-hearted against a world of depravity. Quick to remedy the former.  

If she had been another woman, another person mayhaps it would have broken her. Lost to the world around her. Become like the rest. Mindedness and numbness or sinked to their cruelty, but she was Netty. She had her will. She had survived it and found her way to him. A light in the sea of darkness. 

She had come to life under his patient tutelage and her inherent curiosity. Weary at first. Not scared, no. She was braver than most. Fearless and cautious. A lifetime of disappointment had taught her to be so. 

Cautious of him. He remembered how she avoided him. Back at Kings Landing. It felt as though it were half a century ago, but less than half a year had passed since then. Since their fates had been tied to one another. Or some would call it that, but they were firmly attached. That could not be cut without harming the other. That they would not wish to break. 

You would not make much note of her. Baela’s letter arrived from Dragonstone to Harrenhal. Detailing the result of Jacaerys' experiment. His war effort. From that ghostly ruin, the old prince had his first glimpse into her existence. His first taste of her. Salvation comes in the strangest of casts.

An odd choice in a friend, but his eldest had lacked sisterly companionship since her twin had been sent to the Vale. While Netty was not a replacement for Rhaena, Baela had found a kindred spirit in the young dragonrider. 

She's a small dark thing with quite a mouth upon her when need be. It is like she sprouted from the earth. You’d not think that she would be able to claim a dragon, but she’s tamed Sheepstealer. She’s guarded, and reserved, yet her face can not tell a lie. She is the most wonderful company father. He had tossed the letter under a mountain of others and put aside the contents in preparation for battle. 

Daemon had indeed landed from one battle to the next. The first time that he laid his eyes upon her was atop Visenya’s Hill. Perched on dragonback overlooking the swamp of King’s Landing. She appeared well within her element on her brown mount. Amongst the smoke and ruin of a city under siege. A beacon. 

Upon a closer inspection, his eldest had been true in her assessment. Nettles was a ragged foul-mouthed girl. She had not used her blood to claim her skinny dragon. Not with the blood of old Valyria, she had not one drop of it. That much was clear. Her skin was the color of the earth. Her hair an inky midnight of ringlets. Her eyes were as dark as obsidian. As rich too. She was not a dragonseed, yet that had not stopped her.    

No, Netty had claimed her wild mount with her own cunning. Like all the children from Driftmark  to Dragonstone, she had heard the tales of the first dragonriders and put them to use. Except, unlike the Rogue Prince's ancestors she had not used whatever perversions and acts of vulgarity they had. 

A cleverness lacking in the rest of the dragonseeds, or at least not thought of for they had blood. Nettles had to make up for her blood deficiency, but she was more than her lack. One could blind themselves into thinking that there was nothing else to her. That on account of her birth she was tainted. Lucky in that she had claimed a dragon where others even with the blood of the dragon had failed. Or rather she had made her own version of luck. 

No matter how much cleverness she possessed, it was no match for a dragon. Blood was the only payment. Blood or some trick. Some sorcery. That had to be the answer. How else could she claim and take such a wild beast?  

One could not be deceived by her common looks. At least, that was all anyone would think. All they would see. All they would look for. For her bastardly nature. For her low ways. All that the sordid prince himself had seen and thought. Not looking for the maiden in plain sight. 

A girl. Scarcely older than Baela and Rhaena. A young woman. Shown so little kindness yet her heart was not frozen over. Who managed to carve out some life for herself with her persistence. Who deserved more than what she had been handed. 

She beguiled him. Stirred his blood. Invoked his curiosity. Enraptured him in her spell that she did not know that she cast. Swept away by her very being. Why wouldn’t she? She was a rare stone. Lost at sea to land upon his shores. No one had dared open her. It was an unassuming rock. So very small. Easy to miss, but if one were to catch sight of it, if they had taken the chance, dared to, they would find inside that rock a jewel. 

It was hopeless not to notice her. Black hair in a sea of silver, blondes, and browns. Brown-eyed and brown-skinned. Sporting a scar across her nose from what one would think was some ill-gotten misadventure. A marker of her previous life. An impossible girl. She stood out from court. A court that was morbidly fascinated by her. 

Her presence commanded it wherever she went on account of her visage. Of her abilities. It was not in admiration. No, she was treated as a pariah. A spectacle. An oddity. Something to be poked and prodded at. Her existence was a contradiction to everything they knew. She should not exist and yet she did. A worrying feat to those at court and beyond. 

The small brown girl shied away from it all. Apart from the newly appointed heir of the Driftwood Throne, Addam of Hull turned Addam Velaryon, who she had seemed to form an attachment of some kind with, the girl kept her distance from those at court. From him. She did not miss his gaze among the nobles and royalty of court. A prince's gaze. A rogue prince. His reputation preceded him. 

A girl like her, Nettles was well within her rights to be wary of him. Had every right to be. Of what it meant to be the subject of his interest. He was always watching her. An oculus of violet meeting brown a million times over. Within the training yard where she seated herself on a bench to watch. Occasionally taking up a bow or some throwing daggers to practice herself. Never a sword. She disliked the feel of them.

In the Great Hall during those days of endless feasts to celebrate their taking of the capital he sat two seats from her. Throughout the halls of the Red Keep he would find her. She was always the first to turn away from him. To walk past him without a word. Not out of shyness, but for what was her own good. Preservation. Guarding herself. It was what she knew best. The only way she had known until then. 

He ventured into her domain. Try as he might, Daemon Targaryen could not get her from his head. She haunted him. Day and night. Waking. In his dreams. A siren call without her meaning to. 

“I’m not your bastard.” It was what the small dragonrider insisted, even though she need not say it, when he trailed after her. Joining her during a mid-morning visit to Sheepstealer. The early days.

They had not said a word to each other until her skinny beast had been fed. Unlike the other dragonseeds mounts who took to the confines of the Dragonpit without fuss, the wild dragon had to be kept in an open field that once housed Vhagar. He attracted quite a crowd of peasants, children in particular, who both rider and dragon alike happily entertained.

Daemon watched Nettles slit a lamb's throat with Dark Sister. The prince had wordlessly offered up his sword for her use. He did not know what possessed him to do so. Only a curiosity to see something, his sword, in her small brown hands. Something of his to be a part of her. Even if he had forgone naming the outright need to see such. 

She hesitated. Her plump little mouth parted. Revealing the slightly crooked set of white teeth residing there. All too soon accepting his offer. No words came. Her lips locked, forming a thin line as she reached for his outstretched offer. The tips of their fingers briefly collided. A mere brush of pale battle-hardened skin upon young supple flesh. A small spark that lingered. Imprinting itself on his skin. Left to wonder if she had felt it too as he cleared his throat. 

It was a simple act. Clean in its barbarity. Most certainly not witchcraft. Natural. Calming Witnessing the bond between rider and dragon as the small girl softly spoke in the common tongue to the beast. 

Neither paid him any mind. One could get lost in it. Forgetting about all their problems if only for a moment. A sight Daemon could not say he had witnessed till then. One that would not leave him as the moons waned. 

“I’m not one of you.” She was the first to break the spell that fell. “I’m no one from nowhere. My ma as well.” Her warm brown eyes hardened by a margin. A speech well rehearsed. “Whoever spilt his seed inside her wasn’t more than a common sailor.” Nettles turned around to face him. 

She held her head high. Craning her neck up to him. Her gaze could never quite turn to stone. A  glimmer of something else lay beneath it all, but a determination was written on her sable face streaked. “I know who I am. I know what I come from and I know where I’m going. I won’t  be your whore, my prince.” 

It was his face that went sour as if he bit into a lemon. Setting to stone. “You need not worry girl.” He sneered down at her.  Daemon could feel his face heating and wondered if its color reflected his irritation. If she could see how she rattled him. “I am not in the business of taking ill-mannered children into my bed.”  Overreaction born from a blow. Nettles had figured him out with one dark glance. Unlocked truth's bitter taste. She could not tell a lie and snuffed them out equally. 

Netty had not meant to be cruel for the sake of cruelty only for her mere protection, but shame to say Daemon wasn’t a man well accustomed to frankness. Most certainly not from someone like her. Narrowing her eyes she wordlessly dropped his now crimson-stained sword onto the earth. She wasted no time climbing upon her dragon's back and commanding Sheepstealer to take her into the skies. Leaving him in that field red-faced and ablaze. 

When his annoyance evaporated the encounter served only to embolden him. Resolve him. He had gone to her with the intention of possession. Wanting to take her and rid her from his mind, but that was no longer possible. He would not be able to crack her by mere possession. He would not wish to, for there would not be a Nettles if he did. She embedded herself into him. He would not be satisfied until he had her. 

The Rogue Prince's watch continued on, but his growing fondness for the small brown unlikely dragonrider was not the sole occupation of his mind. State matters clouded his days. Council meetings became a disagreeable affair. Ideas were spouted out that would incite riots, discord, and discontent. The appointment and reward of men that were unfit to hold what they gained. They had won the city, but they were far from winning the war or the hearts of the people low and high.

Opinion held high sway when there was another to claim the throne. An army and three dragons. The days of his brother's council and court had been more orderly than these proceedings. An ordeal in which he could find neither joy nor amusement. Leaving them in a foul mood. 

His mood was fed by one Addam of Hull. A laugh. He had made her laugh. A laugh that never ended. Clutching at her belly as she placed her other hand on the boy's pale bicep to steady herself.

If he were to go to her. To place his hands upon her cheeks he knew he would feel their warmth. Her elation. She reveled in his company. Free and open to express the range of her emotions. Her smile was crafted by him. 

In the blink of an eye, Daemon found himself before the happy pair, sword drawn in one hand. Knocking the boy face down into the dirt. A tan hand clutching at his bloody nose. Broken by his fall. He curled into himself as he was pummeled in the ribs by Dark Sister’s heel. 

The sound of her voice resounded across the yard. Pleading. Begging him to stop. He was deaf to her cries. To his ears, it sounded as if she were calling out to him from underwater.  He saw red take the form of a boy. It took Corlys and three other men to pull him from the bastard. 

Nettles stormed from the scene. Her mask of indifference towards him had turned to horror. He followed after her. His blood was up as he grabbed her arm. Sheltering them in a dark alcove before bending down to envelop her in a kiss. Pouring himself into her. Dragging her into his depths. Netty. He breathed the pet name into her honey mouth. She was too sweet, far too saccharine to be named any other. No, she was his. 

She had almost given in. Receiving his passions until his right hand wandered from her cupped face. Traveling under her skirts. Desperate to find her waiting core. The caress was returned with a bite. Forcing the Rogue Prince to release the grief-stricken woman. He had finally managed to extinguish the light from her eyes. Her palm reached up. He had been struck, but she breathed as if she had run clear across the castle. “Mayhaps I’m not worthy to warm your bed, but I pity you, my prince.” The sting of her words long outlasted the slap. “You are a bastard, but I believe even you are capable of more than the cruelty you show.” 

Daemon conceded that then and now it was a dangerous game of cat and mouse he played at. Endangering her. Making her a party to his wants. Far too dangerous. Especially when her person and his interest in her person did not go amiss from two pairs of violet orbs. A queen and her mistress. 

Rhaenyra was a covetous woman by nurture. Pampered from a young age. Raised to sit upon the Iron Throne despite her sex and the trouble which she found herself in on account of her impetuous nature. Over indulged by himself and Viserys. She was not familiar with compromise. Or one not in her favor. 

He had not visited his niece-wife’s bed in an intimate capacity for moons. Long before the messy business of this tiresome war. She had given birth to a girl. Their daughter. Her long-awaited daughter. The babe never drew breath. She had named her Visenya. More dragon than a child. 

Another blow was served in the shape of his bastard stepson, Lucerys death at the hands of his ill-tempered nephew. Then Viserys their youngest boy. Swept away in the chaos. Aegon was left traumatized by his escape and his younger brother's capture. 

Jacaerys followed his younger brother to a watery grave in the Battle of the Gullet. Another impediment was removed by intervention without the prince’s hand, but Daemon no longer had the taste for such plots. To mourn for one child and lose several others in a manner of weeks was a tragedy in the highest measures, but his wife pushed through. 

It was not like Rhaenyra to not rally her spirits even in the face of grief. She had a war to fight. Her losses had served to strengthen her resolve. However, it had served little to strengthen their relationship. 

One could not blame their lack of intimacy all on the children. Or the strain of battling for the throne. That would most certainly not be the truth of their situation. Even before the tragedies of war, whatever passion for the other had long since faded. 

Theirs had never been a great love, at least not a great romantic love. No, it was not a great passion that brought them together nor kept them, but they had a common cause. A cause that suited them and himself well. One he had admittedly lit inside of her when she had been but a girl. When his brother’s affections and favor had been bestowed on her. 

That had held them. That had sustained them, but it became increasingly clear as the war progressed the folly of their relationship. Born only from an eruption long ago set by the pains of a second son. A hunger. One that had overtaken everything in its path. Careless.  If there ever was a way to prevent this folly mayhaps they both would have been better off, but there was no way back now. That road was a broken thing. He had doomed them from the start. 

They made their concessions to each. A way forward into the murky waters. Rhaenyra not minded that he had rekindled his relations with Lady Mysaria. She would not say a word against the woman to whom she owed a great debt. The Lyseni whore was brought to court for both their benefits. The queen gained a mistress of whisperers and he a mistress. One trusted far more than she needed. Some things are better left in the past. 

The Rogue Prince bitterly regretted his decision to bring the White Worm to court and his bed from the moment she arrived. There was no love lost between them, however, she expected his complete confidence. Something he was no longer able to give. 

Where his wife was entirely a vain and vapid creature, Mysaria was an overly observant worm. In particular when it came to his activities and his lack of enthusiasm during their time together. Another folly to his ever-growing list of misdeeds. He had wanted relief from his torment. The very same comfort she had provided him when he last had known her. 

This time she had only brought misery. For that is what she had truly become. The years had not been kind to her, nor was she quick to forget the past or her tenuous position in his future. Her presence only served as a reminder. A reminder of what he truly desired. 

“Does my prince wish for another to join us?” My prince. The endearment, if one could call it that, whispered in his ear from the wrong pair of lips. The wrong cadence. All the more apparent when Daemon recollected the words uttered by another tongue. No matter how clipped her speech was, the Rogue Prince would prefer it over any. 

“A raven-haired girl? Young? Non-Valyrian? Dark? The look of Naath or the Summer Isles perhaps would please you.” A smile was plastered on her white face. Her eyes told another story. They were cold. Devoid of any life. “Netty is a pretty thing Daemon. An exotic feral beauty, but she is intoxicating.” A dagger to his underbelly. Grazing his flesh. Twisting its edge. 

She had offered him his spread of whores before, but they were no good either. He had difficulty performing following that kiss. He thought of her taste. Her lips. Her pert little mouth. He thought of what the rest of her might taste like. Another set of lips. Her cream. Pulling himself from the whores cunt. Taking his cock in hand. Imagining her soft little hand in replace of his.

In a few short tugs upon his member, he emptied himself on Misery's pale backside. Relief eluded him yet. Picturing her once more. Hardening with a strained groan at the thought of what his sweet girl might look like painted with his seed.  

There was no way to hide it even if he hadn’t made himself look like an old fool. She would know. In some regards, the whore knew him better than his own niece-wife and he knew her. That smile chilled him to the bone. He threw her from his bed. Ordering her never to return to it. 

Reckless. It was his way. His temper had served him well in the past, but his hot-blooded nature would only serve to endanger her. Nettles. A bastard girl with common blood. A girl who had survived the streets of Driftmark to claim a dragon. A girl who had barely lived. Tis her head that would be mounted upon a spike outside the Red Keep with one wrong move. 

Rhaenyra was a self-absorbed woman but even she could be roused from her slumber. The old prince had seen the looks his niece-wife had thrown the young dragonrider. The tight-lipped smile at the feast to celebrate the dragonseeds. The way she and her imp sniggered at the sight of her. The way her pale eyes darkened when she thought no one was observing her.  One word. One whisper from a worm. One order from an envious queen and, Netty, his Netty would pay for his sins. 

A private meeting was called to mule over her fate. Past the endless drivel of political appointments. Brought forth by the mistress of whispers who took pleasure in his agitated state  at the proceeding. 

“She is an intelligent sort of creature.” Netty was referred to in a manner as if she were cattle. He had to bite his tongue to withstand cursing at the lot of them. “More so than Hugh and Ulf.” That at least could not be denied. The two were arrogant as they were low in wit. “One like her has to be, I suppose.” 

His dear wife placed her pudgy hand upon his. Daemon placed a pat on said hand in placation before shaking her off. Slipping out from her grip, a set of violet eyes that matched his own blinked to keep from embarrassment. Her complexion and disposition betrayed her 

Her words dripped with distaste. “But one has to ask the question, Lord Hand, who would marry her?” Rhaenyra’s tittering resounded around the room. Echoed by Bartimos Celtigar. Her fool would have joined in on the jape, but the dwarf was noticeably absent from council. “We’d have an easier time marrying her beast off than her.”

Another round of sniggers could be heard before proposals were put forward. The girl needed to be married. Some phantom lord would have her for his wife. Netty lacked the proper breeding, even he would not argue that, but she was young and no doubt fertile. In possession of a dragon. What she was deficient in could be made up for in other areas.

One of Celtigar's runts mayhaps take her hand in marriage. They had always been in want of a dragon even if it came with a stain. Addam Velaryon was put forward by the Sea Snake himself. He would not soon forget his outburst in the training yard as he eyed the slightly younger Valyrian man. He had long since apologized to the heir of the Driftwood Throne, but suspicion played behind the old lord's jovial veneer. 

Addam was a decent young fellow in truth. He would not harm his Netty and the two might even find some felicity in the union, but his status as heir of his “grandsires” seat was a precarious thing. The remainder of Corlys’ nephews were not likely to give over their ancestral seat to a bastard no matter if they shared blood, much less two bastard whelps, one of which would further pollute their noble house.

The most unfortunate of them all, Dalton Greyjoy was added to the hoard. Rather gleefully by Mysaria. Echoed by the queen herself. The Red Kraken. A bloodthirsty savage.  Little more than a butcher, but he had served their cause well and had merited his reward.

Dalton Greyjoy. A raper with twenty-two salt wives. Each despised him more than the last. He would not object to taking Netty for his bride. He would not mind even if she were not a maid. Nor her bawdy tongue. She would be his lady wife if he accepted. 

She would be the one to bear his children. To warm his bed. He would fill her up with his rotten seed and she would birth him son after son until her body gave out.  He and that fetid set of islands he called home would snuff out her light. The thought of it, the images his mind conjured, boiled his blood. 

“The girl is little more than a child.” Daemon interrupted the council's musings. Inaction would no longer do. The violet eyes of old Valyria turned to him as countered their proposal.  A worthy excuse. One that no one would think anything of. What better than the truth to tear apart their dreadful suggestions? 

“She isn’t fit to marry anyone. Lest you wish to find her lordly husband burnt in his bed and her off to the Gods knows where or her beast in the hands of the likes of Dalton Greyjoy.” Celtigar, Gerardys, and Corlys were in reluctant agreement with him. The girl was too wild. Untested. A bastard girl with no ties to them. Too important to just hand off to some lord. There was no telling what she may do or what purposes her new groom might use her for.

No voices of descent were heard from any others present. Not even Rhaenyra nor the mistress of whispers could reject it. The matter was put to bed and another put forth. Maidenpool. A job for two dragonriders. 

His late brother's spawn had become a plague upon the Riverlands. Razing hellfire. The dragonseeds Ulf or Hugh were proposed to accompany him in the defense of Lord Mooton’s seat. Thick as thieves the pair were. Bastards in nature as well as name. Dull brutes. Dull company. There was merit in splitting the two, but he would not leave her. 

Abandon her in the capital without a soul to advocate for her. Care for her. True she would have Corlys. The Lord of the Tides seemed to have some regard for her, but his loyalty lay with his blood. If Nettles ever became a danger to himself or Addam’s position, he would not hesitate to cease his protection. Kings Landing as always remained a den of vipers.

There was of course the option to send Nettles away. To send her home, but she had neither a home to return to nor would she ever be allowed back to what was left of Spicetown with a dragon in tow. Unsupervised in the middle of a war or otherwise. There could only be one course of action.

He went to her. The first time in a fortnight to that open field. Reviving the ritual of the lamb’s slaughter by offering his blade. She snatched the sword from his outreached hand, remaining mute. He could take her anger, but he would need her to understand.

Daemon was the one to break the strained accord. “We leave for Maidenpool on the morrow.” Netty was not a fool. She made her protests known. The other dragonseeds mounts were larger than Sheepstealer. She had spirit, but in a fight against a skilled swordsman and the largest dragon in the known world, neither she nor her mount would be much help to the old prince and his blood wyrm. 

“I can not leave you here.” He would not mince his words. This was not solely for his benefit. This was first and foremost for her safety. “I know that you are fond of Addam Velaryon,” she made no move to contradict him, “and he of you, but he can not protect you. Neither will Lord Corlys. He will abandon you the moment his protection becomes an inconvenience for him.”  He had done so with his young foolhardy nephew those years ago. A bastard girl left in his care would fare no better. 

“And you, the Queen’s husband, will protect me?” The girl had turned away from him. Taking an interest in Sheepstelers hide. Her eyes were downcast. She thought him no different. No better than the others. Worse in fact. His loyalties were in conflict with one another and he had not done anything to recommend himself. To suggest that he would defend her. Protect her. 

That he saw her as little more than a useful distraction. A lustful prince who whispered sweet hollow words in dark enclaves and desolate fields. He would have his fun and toss to the side afterward. That was the face he had shown her. “I would not become a burden to you the same as any other lord?” 

“I would let you feed me to your beast if it meant your safety Netty.” The truth. Daemon Targaryen had resolved himself to his duty. He did not care if he sounded like an old fool. If he was one for her, he did not care. He had made his bed for her. He would keep to it even if she did not join him. 

She laughed. A belly ache of a laugh. Her face a light. Shining brighter than the sun’s glow. “Sheepstealer wouldn’t like that I’m afraid.” Still clutching her belly. Wiping a stray tear with the back of her hand. “He isn’t very fond of the taste of pig.” He joined her in jubilation. A much-needed moment of levity. 

“Do you wish that Addam of Hull was in my steed?” His thoughts had turned to the round of laughter she let out in the training yard in his company. The lightness of their conversation dimmed somewhat. 

Daemon Targaryen was and would always remain a possessive man. He would never apologize for that. It was infuriating that the bastard boy from Hull caused her unadulterated elation, but it was a pretty sight. A sight it seems the prince was capable of bringing on. Tenfold judging by the way she beamed seconds ago. Something he yearned to see more of. He supposed he was growing overly affectionate in his old age. He did not mind it. Not for her. 

Netty shook her head in reply. Taking her bottom lip between her teeth. Her gaze traveled back to Sheepstealer who seemed as restless as his rider. “Do you wish for your wife to be in mine?” Stuttering as she swallowed down her nerves. “Or a younger version of her-”, he pulled her to him. Leaning down so that they were in each other's eye line. He could see every freckle. Every mole that dotted her little face. Whatever she had to say quieted. 

They stood there for a spell. The wind howled around them. Just them. Drowning out all the rest. Whatever storm awaited them, they were shielded from it in each other's arms. “No.” A single word. It can have more power than a thousand. An action told more than it all.

She looked so very small in his hold. So very young. Wideyed. Reminding him of her youth and his years. He could see her reasoning. On the surface at least. They were both determined willful women, but that was where their similarities ended. The two were as alike as fire and earth and Daemon was glad of it. 

“No Netty.” The affectionate nickname slipped from his lips. She did not correct him this time. Simply nodding her head. Nuzzling into his touch as he began to trace the scar that marred the brown skin across her button nose. “I wish for your company.” Just yours. Only your little company will do for me. 

The first moon that followed at Maidenpool could be described as being on the very edge of felicity. The pressures of the capital dissipated. Contentment reigned. They had fallen into a painstakingly crafted routine. Broken only by Lord Mooton. The meddlesome fool. 

They had spent every waking moment with each other. Days and evenings alike. Dinners, riding upon dragonback scanning for the half-blind prince, accompanying him to the training yard, or meetings. He ventured to teach her some words in Valyrian after he had found she was literate in the common tongue.

“Madam disliked dolts.” She imparted little on her girlhood, but half pictures. The manse where she grew up. Where she escaped seeking more than a life of degradation. “My girls are better served literate Nettles.” Her voice grew low when recollecting her earliest memories. Not ashamed of her circumstances. For she couldn’t help what she was born in, but they were not fit for a child with so much light in her. The old prince welcomed the chance to give his Netty new memories. To give her everything she had not yet should have. 

Where he went, she went. Where she moved, he followed. Netty was at his side in sky and in castle. The only time they spent apart was when they rested their weary heads for the night. Separated only by one mere door. He requested that the lord place them in adjoining bed chambers. Thankfully the man hadn’t given much thought to their sleeping arrangements, but their host and his household were a prying lot. 

The lord could not keep from giving his own opinions. Fulfilling his own curiosity. A question. Why had they not split up while searching for Prince Aemond? They would cover more ground if they rode apart. Surely they could be back in King's Landing triumphant if they did. A much-needed victory. 

Surely his wife was in need of him. They had a war to win. Surely the Rogue Prince was needed back in the capital. Back to his queen instead of wasting his time here. Let the matter be done with so that he may return to her. 

An innocuous set of observations, but a bitter reminder of why they had come here. Why a prince had brought one bastard girl with him. A reminder of what they could not be to each other. Why did he waste his time with her? Why when this would all end? It was just a bit of fun. This was all a farce and Nettles wanted no part in it. 

She was halfway to where their mounts rested when he caught her. Flying would be the death of her in that state. Neither would the weather be helpful. Storm clouds gathered overhead. Breaking into a drizzle mirroring her clouded-over glower. “Netty.”

His Netty had made a valiant effort trying to outrun him. Going so far as to chuck her new leather boots at his head, but he caught her with ease when she was slowed down by the damp earth. Sweeping her in his arms. Shushing her as she began to kick at him. Determined to ride out the storm with her. 

“I am not a plaything for your amusement Daemon!” Daemon. The first time she had spoken his name and she wanted to run from him. Netty would have thrown herself on the ground or found the nearest object, a rock, to hurl at his head, but she remained firmly in his grasp. Keeping her from hurting him or herself.

“Let me go, you old man. I’m not yours to keep!” He turned her around to come face to face with a frightened child. His Netty gone. Replaced by a girl who had kept her safe when no one else had. “I don’t need your protection. You have a wife and your brood of children. Go to them! Go protect them!” He called out her name, but she refused to calm down. “Leave me be. I don’t need your pity!”

“I do not pity you.” He shook her lightly to stop her babbling. Taking her hands in his so that she could not claw at him. “I could split us up and we can be back in King's Landing by the end of the moon.”

Daemon had stalled. He would not lie to her. Yes, it was in part for Netty’s safety, but he had grown weary of the war. Of the endless council meetings which provided more complications than solutions. Of Rhaenyra and her stubborn conceit. Of Mysaria and her endless weed of deception. 

Here at Maidenpool with this small brown dragonrider, this impossible girl, he had not known such contentment. Not since he could recall. Not even in the early days with Laena. In Pentos with her and their girls. 

He had been well satisfied. Away from the schemes. With a morsel of bliss. Of love, but a taste wouldn’t do. The old prince knew that he would not find this again for he never had before. 

She too bloomed in his company. Her shy smiles had been replaced by laughter, mirth, and merry. Regular meals and proper rest had done well. A glow affixed to her brown face. Her old rags were long discarded. The cut of her new garments accentuated her shape nicely. No longer hanging off her slender frame. 

They breathed freely. Spoke freely. They held nothing from each other. Slowly Daemon was finding himself unable to go on without her. He had and could not go back to a life without her. What good was mere blood or a name? An empty life chasing after an iron throne that did little but rot its occupant’s away. 

“Say the word and we can be rid of each other but I do not wish to part from you.” If it was up to him they would remain in each other's company. With no end in sight to speak of. “Neither do I believe that you wish to leave my side.” Netty managed to squeak out a small no in affirmation. Still, she wriggled in his hold. He pressed on. The pads of his thumb caressing her wrists  to calm her  “I am where I should be.” They were well past the point of half-truths. There was no point in lying to one another or themselves. 

“You are not my plaything. I do not wish for you to be my whore. I love you. I am in love with you Netty. I love you, you wild thing.” She quieted. Stopped her squirming. Her dark eyes went wide. He was able to bring his forehead down to hers. “Every day when you are not in my arms I am in agony. That is why I keep you.” 

He had left her mute when he finally pulled a fraction away. Stunned to silence. Having to carry her back for she had gone limp in his arms. All Netty was capable of was staring at him with red-rimmed eyes. Half scared, half something unnameable. 

Dinner that evening was spent in solitude. A morose affair. Netty had locked herself inside her chambers once she had been deposited back into the safety of them. No sounds came from the other side of the door as he sat gazing into his chamber's fire. A silent taunt. The old prince wondered if she would sneak from her bed to take flight. Away from Maidenpool. From him and off into the unknown. 

In truth, he did not know how long he sat there with his thoughts. His conviction, however, strengthened in the flames. He would not let her leave. Away from here. Away from him. He wouldn’t let her. She was something entirely his. Not the realms. Not belonging to someone or something else. His. 

The old prince would play out Rhaenyra’s war, but he would not give up what he had found. He would not lose Netty. He would be lost without her. Above all others, his first duty had become to her. 

Daemon made to go after Netty. Lunging from the chair. The knob of the heavy oak door turned. Stopping the prince A brown little face appeared. A figure clothed in her nightgown and the dark robe he had gifted her. She closed the door to lean against it. Not moving. Still. Merely resting. One brown hand upon the knob while wringing the other. Their eyes met. She opened her mouth a dozen times before he took the first plunge. 

“Could you not sleep?” A silly question, but she granted him with a reply, a nod of a head. Lovely dark coils covered half her face. The light of the fire reflected off of them. Casting her head in a halo. A pretty sight. A sight he would never tire of. 

He motioned for her to join him by the hearth. She made her ascent. It was not a long walk for she broke into a run. Leaping. Netty pulled herself into him as he caught her. Tugging him down so that their lips met. Her little hands were greedy as they roamed his person. He was no better. They could not resist. 

By the time they were finished with one another, they had become a warm heap in his bed. Bare skin against skin. Her pebbled nipples against his chest. Connected at their cores. His half-hard cock still tucked within her sopping heat. Her cunt spasmed around him, sending the most delicious shockwaves of pleasure up their spines on occasion. Radiating throughout their love-worn bodies. 

She would not have him leave her and he was in no position to argue. His silver head rested upon her dark coils. A hand gently stroked up and down the arm she had thrown around his middle.

Soaked. Satisfied. Mouthing at the pocket marketed red scars on his neck. He did not know where he ended and she began. “I love you too, old man.” Breathed into his skin as she began to drift off. He thought about taking her again then, but he let her rest. Joining her in dreamland. Well rested for the first time in moons.

It was a hard battle won, but well worth it. His most worthy fight. For her, for his impossible clever girl, got his netty he would fight a thousand battles. Again and again. Not for blood nor for title. For her. 

For a day more with her. For something as unassuming as an hour can feel like a hundred years if it is spent in good company of one’s choosing. The moons spent at Maidenpool certainly felt as if they were an eternity. Theirs. Entirely so. 

The old prince was drawn back to the present by a little whimper. He should let her rest, but he would not. Rest was for the penitent and the patient. Daemon Targaryen was neither of those things. Not in the least. Not when it came to her. Not at that very moment. Not with his impossible girl.

He could not resist her. He would never deign to try. Nor pass an opportunity to ensnare her into bliss for she deserved that and more. Planting another kiss into her hairline. A pale calloused hand renewed its descent between her damp curls that framed her cunny. Drawing slow circles into her little pearl. 

His lovely girl began to stir. Burying herself into the battle scars of old that lined his neck to enjoy the warmth of him. Her brown eyes fluttered open with a breathy moan of his name. Waking from dreamland to hazy pleasure. Melting into his touch as he replaced his fingers with his length. Sinking into her. Capturing her lips in the most tender of embraces. 

The hunt as well as sleep could wait for there were more pressing matters to attend to. He broke their kiss. Netty whined but he soothed her with a thrust that rendered a cry of ecstasy. A whisper played upon his lips. One that would usher them into the ardor that awaited at dawn's doorstep. “Nyke emagon jorrāelagon hen ao issa ōños.” I have need of you my light.

Ao3 Link:

[dilf-din]

Safe Place to Land: Part 7

—A Frankie Morales Series—

WC: 3600

Warnings: none, language

Chapter 6 // Chapter 8

January 2008

You took a sad look at the familiar space. The lights were dimmed, the chairs flipped on top of the tables like they were every evening you had closed down the shop since you were sixteen. Only this time, you didn’t have a closing shift tomorrow. You wouldn’t have a closing shift again. Tomorrow the new management would be coming in to paint the walls and change the locks. It felt like a burden was lifted from your shoulders but a new weight was set in its place at the same time. The cafe had been a second home to you your whole life. You had spent countless school nights doing homework in the comfy chairs while your dad closed up. You and your friends frequented the small adjoined dining area for lunch every summer, always a smiling face to hand you a pile of ham sandwiches and warm chocolate chip cookies.

You grabbed the ceramic tip jar you made as a kid that found a permanent spot on the counter and the picture of you with your parents that hung above the sink. A lump formed in your throat as you crossed the concrete floor, your footsteps padding softly. Your mom met you at the front entrance shutting off the lights behind her. You exchanged a small smile exiting the doors together. She locked up one last time and stood with her arm around your shoulder while you gazed on the building. You both let out a few silent tears.

She was the first to break the silence, “We did good, kid. I’m proud of all the hours you put in while staying on top of your classes. But you deserve a break, we made a good profit,” she said giving your shoulder a squeeze.

The couple that bought it out didn’t have huge plans to change anything. You were glad they weren’t bulldozing it to make a hot yoga studio. You could still visit to do homework, and you most likely would. Even if the couches were gone and the paint was fresh and the tables didn’t have wobbly legs, those walls would always be a haven you treasured.

You climbed into the passenger seat of your mom’s SUV and spent most of the ride home in silence. You glanced down at the photo of your dad that laid in your lap. The full moon lit up the sky and cast a glow making everything look like it had a silver lining. It felt like a visit from him looking down on you, reassuring you that everything would be okay. You knew he wouldn’t be disappointed in you, he would be proud of you both for making the hard decision. You found peace in what you knew to be true as your mom pulled the car into the garage for the night.

March 2008

For the first time since tenth grade, you were able to focus on school without having to worry about work. Granted, you spent most of your free time catching up on naps as you were already on top of your classes. It was your final semester and you were finishing up just a few credits that weren’t particularly hard because it was what you were passionate about. You spent your time reading, writing, and dissecting poetry. You wrote about Frankie a lot, reminisced on the four years you had spent together. You also wrote to Frankie a lot. The two of you exchanged letters weekly, writing several days of updates before shipping them off across the globe. Sometimes you pretended you were setting a message in a bottle adrift to him, aiming wishes on faraway stars that it would end up in his hands. He had been gone since that past August. His team had hit a hiccup recently that was going to extend their stay through this July. You had never gone so long without seeing him. Most nights when your Skype calls had ended, you found yourself curled around a pillow, eyes glazed over with tears. Getting to see and hear him for a few minutes at a time with a spotty connection was torture. He hated it too. He was doing what he loved, but his thoughts drifted back to you often. He had a hard time disconnecting that part of himself from you and at times it almost resulted in costly mistakes. One of the older guys in their squadron, Tom, had tried to give him some pointers on shutting your mind off when you were on duty. He had been in the game several years longer than Frankie and his friends had. Tom was one of the only ones with a girl back home, so he had a soft spot for Frankie.

“Fish, you’re no good to her dead, son,” Tom cursed through his teeth. The two of them finding shelter behind a rock while shots rang over their head. He had just blown their cover by being careless. “Look at me,” he continued, “Think about them, think about that guy trying to take you out, don’t think about anything else,” he said, voice even and calm even through his urgent tone. Frankie nodded and clenched his jaw. He forced his mind to be present. He wasn’t going to let his team down. He counted to five and leaned off to the side of the boulder he was crouched behind, pulling the trigger. The shot rang true and he saw their adversary slump over. “Atta boy,” Tom praised, clapping him on the back as if he didn’t just make someone else’s worst nightmare come true. Frankie broke out into a cold sweat and wordlessly followed after Tom.

We’re leaving for our spring break trip tomorrow. Mom booked us a week at a spa in Arizona. I’m going to be taking mud baths and getting massages while you’re eating MRE’s and sleeping under a mosquito net. Something about it feels so trite. I know I should be excited to relax, but all I can think about is you. I pray you’re safe, all of you.

I miss you terribly. My heartbeat will not be steady until yours is here to sing it to sleep. I hope these next months pass quickly for both of our sakes.

Be safe, my love

You folded your stack of papers and slipped them into an envelope addressed to him. This particular letter was going in a care package to his whole team. They had each requested a few things that you tried your best to find. A Rubik’s cube for Benny, a copy of The Hobbit for Will, some Mexican candies for Frankie and Santi. You also included some extra stationary, some durable pens, and a bandana you had sprayed fresh with your perfume. You didn’t know exactly where they were stationed. All you had was the base address. The box arrived there, and someone would deliver it to them. Frankie gave little pieces away in his letters. You knew it was humid, you knew it was wet, and you knew they were spending a lot of time between showers. Your skin pricked with phantom itches just thinking about it.

You taped up the box tightly and grabbed your keys to run it to the post office. You were meeting your friend Marissa to do some last minute vacation shopping this afternoon. You needed a few pairs of pajamas and a new swimsuit as yours was well worn with a strap about to pop at any second.

Marissa was in your Victorian Poetry class and the two of you became fast friends. She had big brown waves and hazel eyes. She had a quick wit and a sharp tongue, a little more fiery than you. You joked that you were her adopted introvert friend. She reminded you of Sadie in a lot of ways, vibrant and unashamed. She quickly became your designated passenger, tagging along on all of your mundane errands, manning the aux cord and acting as a snack dealer.

Spending the afternoon in her company put you in good spirits. She had yet to meet Frankie and asked you about him a lot. She saw the way you light up when you talk about him.

After dropping Marissa back off, you picked up food from your favorite Indian restaurant. You and your mom ate in the living room, some mindless reality show blaring in the background.

“This was a good idea, no dishes,” she smiled reaching for another spoonful of butter chicken to drop over her rice.

“This will be your first trip without dad, won’t it?”

She smiled sadly, “I guess it will. I hadn’t thought about that.”

“He would be happy you’re going somewhere to spoil yourself,” you reminded her, “He had to practically beg you to get new things for yourself. Remember that old hair brush?” you giggled.

“So it was missing a few bristles,” she said defensively.

“A few!?”

She laughed genuinely and it made your heart feel lighter. You had feared that with the loss of your dad she would lose herself too. They were high school sweethearts and had been inseparable for thirty years. It was weird in your house just the two of you, but you were glad for the company, and you knew she was too.

You tidied up the takeout containers while she headed upstairs for a shower. Noticing the clock nearing eight, you grabbed your laptop nestled on the couch with your favorite blanket. Like clockwork, Frankie’s Skype call came in a few minutes later.

Even though you could tell he was tired, his face lit up at the sight of you.

“Hola, amor,” he said shyly.

“Hi Franklin,” you joked, the nickname causing his nose to wrinkle.

“What are you guys up to tonight?” you asked, noticing the other guys lulling in the background.

“We just got back to base for a few days before we head back out. We drew straws for the shower and I lost,” he grumbled.

“Yeah I can smell you from here,” you joked causing Santi to laugh and come over.

“I sent your package today!” you said emphatically causing him to rub his hands together in excitement.

“Did you find the chamoy?” Santi asked eagerly.

“Did I find the chamoy,” you said smugly.

He and Frankie high fived, sharing quick remarks over the candies they both loved as kids.

“We’re leaving for our trip tomorrow,” you reminded him.

“That should be fun, love,” he smiled. His cap covering his all too greasy curls and you felt a pang of guilt again.

“It feels silly to do something so indulgent.”

He waved it off, “I’m glad you’re getting to go, really. You deserve to breathe for a while. You’ve had a long few years.”

“So have you,” you said softly.

Benny came barreling into the room slinging his towel across Frankie’s face. “Fish, shower’s all yours!”

You giggled at the way he launched it right back at Benny. “Go,” you urged.

“I love you,” he smiled.

“I love you.”

July 2008

Frankie’s fingers laced with yours as you wove through the farmer’s market. The hushed busyness making your ears buzz in the best way. Each booth full of local families picking out treats to last the week. You were sporting a coral colored sundress that left your shoulders and back exposed to the warm sun. Frankie in his usual cap, shorts, and patterned button down. He was excitedly telling you about the chiles he had found and how he was going to ask his mom for her salsa verde recipe for you two to make tonight. You had stopped by to pick up some of Frankie’s favorites for breakfast tomorrow. Farm fresh eggs, ripe peaches, two loaves of locally made bread, avocados, and an assortment of other in season fruits and veggies.

This was one of your favorite weekly traditions when he was home. Stocking up for the week’s meals ahead, walking hand in hand in the morning sun. You always stopped by the coffee cart set up by a local vendor on the way out and sipped your drinks in the car on the way back to your apartment. Today though, you had a full schedule with two wedding venues to tour. The paper bags rustled in the seat behind you as Frankie pulled your car down a winding gravel path. You had been emailing with the venue coordinator named Shay who had squeezed in a tour for you this morning before a wedding that afternoon. She knew you didn’t have much time to find something since Frankie would be leaving again soon.

You walked into the huge foyer and gasped. There were double staircases framing the space. Beautiful marble tiling on the floor reflecting the gleam of the summer light coming in through the ample windows on the wall behind you. There were several people stringing lights and securing floral arrangements to bannisters.

You were startled by a lilting voice calling out to you, “Morales?” she asked coming out from a room under the right staircase.

“Yes! You must be Shay,” you smiled extending a hand. “Thank you so much for making time for us. You’re one of the only spots in the area with an opening next Valentine’s Day.”

She smiled warmly and showed you a few of the suites. The rooms were large and bathed in natural light. Deep oaken furniture adorning them. This was one of the oldest houses in town, Shay briefly explained the history. She walked you through the area the caterers were prepping the food and into the outdoor area for the ceremony and reception. The property was huge. Weeping willows towering over the highest point in the house. They were hung with string lights perfectly framing the seating on either side of the aisle. It looked so beautiful with the golden light of day streaming through, you could hardly imagine how breathtaking it would be at night all lit up.

You followed Shay down a grey brick path to the reception area. There were long oaken dining tables set with cream colored linen and place settings under another patch of trees. Tall candles arranged in the center with more lights hanging down from above. A large gazebo making for a perfect dance floor.

“Frankie,” you almost didn’t dare to whisper.

“It’s perfect,” he agreed, matching the tone in your voice.

Shay’s phone rang and she excused herself to take a quick call.

You walked hand in hand to the center of the gazebo. The same white marble covering the floor. Bright white columns strung with lights and ivy supporting the gray shingled roof. A bar and a sound system were nestled in the back corner.

Frankie bowed and pulled you into a dancing stance. “Can’t you see it, amor,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, his beard tickling your ear. He spun you out to a song only he could hear, drawing you back slowly into his arms.

“It is perfect,” you agreed, “But it’s also so much more than the other place.”

“Then we’ll cut down somewhere else,” he said pulling you both to a stop. “Now is not the time to think with your head, you know in your heart this is the place for us,” he said softly.

A smile traced your lips as you took in the earnest look in his eyes. The wood of the bar, the tables, the bookcases all the same shade of deep brown that was staring back at you. You hadn’t expected him to have such an emotional reaction to all of this.

“I’ve been waiting for this for too long for it to not be perfect,” he said pressing his forehead to yours.

You willed yourself not to cry but a tear slipped down your cheek. “I’ll cancel the other tour,” you whispered and he grinned like a little kid, the same one you remembered growing up with.

He pressed a kiss to your lips to be interrupted by Shay walking back over. “Sorry, that was our bride checking in. So, thoughts?”

“We’ll take it,” Frankie smiled.

“Follow me and we’ll set up the deposit,” she smiled back.

Your kitchen island had turned into wedding planning central with a few pile spilling over into the living room. Invitations, color schemes, a menu, decorations. You were trying to nail down as many details as you could while Frankie was there with you. Not that he didn’t trust your judgement if it came down to it, but it was his day too. You didn’t understand when people let the bride take point on everything.

Frankie was pulling a tray of charred onions, tomatillos, and peppers out of the oven while a flank steak was sizzling in your cast iron skillet. You were perched on one of the bar stools with your laptop open in front of you trying to finalize a guest list.

“Okay so that’s all….four of your aunts and their families?” you confirmed counting off names on your hands.

“Yep, that should be it as far as family on my side,” he replied, scraping the blackened produce into your food processor. He squeezed some lime juice in and added a pinch of salt before pulsing it all together

“I wonder if Santi and Sadie will hit it off,” you commented, beginning to type the names of your half of the list. Sadie was of course your maid of honor, and Santi was an easy choice for best man for both of you.

“I’ve never seen him miss,” he chuckled, dipping a tortilla chip into the mixture and taking a bite. He let out a groan. “Babe you’ve gotta try this,” he said through a full mouth. He offered you a chip topped with his latest creation and you groaned in agreement taking in the tang and the subtle pice.

“That’s fucking good,” you said with a raised eyebrow.

“My mom would be so proud,” he smiled turning his attention to the steak.

“You ready for me to get the tortillas going?” you asked reaching for another chip.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind love.”

You hopped down and joined him on the other side of the counter, cranking on a burner and grabbing the corn tortillas to get ready to char a little. You were having simple street tacos with steak, lime, onion, and cilantro with some salsa spooned on top. Frankie was sipping a beer while he pulled the steak off the heat to rest.

“You are too good to me,” you said wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

The two of you made a quite a team in the kitchen. Although, to be fair, he carried the team for tonight’s dinner. But you were more than happy to cover dishes and clean up duty if it meant eating a meal this good.

You settled on the couch with a tray of tacos and extra salsa for dipping and went over your day’s accomplishments.

“So we booked a venue, finalized our guest list, picked invitations, settled on a color scheme, and set up a cake tasting today. I’ve never planned a wedding before, but it feels like we’re kicking ass,” you said taking a big bite of your taco.

“You don’t think it’s cheesy to get married on Valentine’s Day, do you?” Frankie asked, a hint of worry in his voice. He had been the one to suggest it in the first place.

“I think it’s sweet,” you said squeezing his hand, “Plus Valentine’s Day of ‘04 was our first official day together once you got back from training. I think it’ll always be a special day for us.”

He smiled and kept eating.

“What kind of dress are you thinking of?” he asked.

“I’m not sure, definitely something with sleeves since it’ll probably be pretty cold still.”

You talked of flowers, decorations, and awkward family interactions until your bellies were as full as your hearts. You stretched back on the couch as he walked to the kitchen and started connecting his phone to the small speaker you had hooked up to the little record player you had gotten as a high school graduation present from your parents.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“What about this for a first dance song?” he asked offering you a hand to lift you off the couch. Til Kingdom Come by Coldplay started playing and a smile lit up your face as he pulled you into his arms to sway for the second time today.

“Is this what you were thinking of when we danced at the venue?” you smiled into his neck.

“It’s a little faster than people normally choose, but I think it tells our story,” he hummed into your ear.

You closed your eyes and tried to imprint the feeling of this moment deep in your heart. The two of you swaying in your tiny apartment, dishes dirty from a shared meal, swatches of fabric and mock up invitations cluttering the side table, your shoes next to each other by the door. So many years leading up to this, to the two of you arm in arm, chest to chest. You thought if you were any more full of love for this man, you would surely burst. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple drawing a contented sigh from your lips.

“I love you, Francisco.”

I need someone, someone who hears

For you I’ve waited all these years

For you I’d wait til kingdom come

Until my day, my day is done

Just say you’ll come and set me free

Just say you’ll wait, you’ll wait for me

Taglist: @littlenosoul @shinypants13 @mirasantidotes @certifiedhunter @daff0dilfs @bannahrae74 @rav3n-pascal22 @evitamarija @reiya-djarin @wonwoosthetic @djarinsstuff @sotvtaughtmehowtofeel

[youranemicvampire]

Thoughts and opinions on The Little Mermaid (2023) with SPOILERS.

First of all, i'm so happy to be able to watch it. I've been waiting for it since 2019. And the casting announcement was the reason i became a fan of Chloe x Halle

The casting is perfect! I'm really a sucker for a good casting so....

Halle Bailey is everything Ariel. TBH, it feels like she's not acting that hard coz her expressions and voice are naturally Ariel. She's born to be a Disney princess. I could not imagine another person playing this role. From her face, features, physique, height and voice. She's a whole package.

Jonah Hauer-King is indeed charming. When his casting got announced, i never doubted him coz from his looks, he also has this Disney and Princely face. And i even like his version of Prince Eric better than the animated one.

Melissa McCarthy is great. She is actually terrifying lol but my complaint is that her make-up is lacking and then i found out that a straight person made it. I don't see the Drag in her face. It should have been better. Way better. They should have hired a queer make-up artist or someone in the Drag scene.

I know we all hate Awkwafina, but she actually has this annoying bird voice that is right for the role.

It's my first time to see Jessica Alexander act and whew! I think i might have a new crush. And she's bisexual??? I stan!

I don't have that much say for the other casts, but they are all great and visually amazing.

I expected a lot of changes, but i think it's good that they only changed the things that are necessary. It felt more genuine.

It's not that dark! It was just the right level of darkness for the scenes that are meant to be dark. The day scenes are actually colorful.

I saw a take about the sea creatures not being animated and expressive enough, but i think it's more of the CGI limitations, not the movie itself.

Having said that, Flounder could've been better. Still cute tho.

Halle and Jonah's chemistry is amazing. I'm a hetero-hater, but i was gushing in the theatre. Ariel and Eric are the best Disney live-action couple 💯 And Jalle's friendship offscreen is cute and wholesome.

I'm also a big musical fan so this live-action is special to me because they actually casted a singer and not just a basic one. What i hated about other Disney live-actions is the autotune. It's so annoying.

One of the minor issues i have is that i wished they didn't release too many stills and clips. I was kinda pissed on the "Under the sea" part coz i already saw the majority of it on social media. I wanted to be surprised because that scene was so fun and magical.

They should definitely have a sequel, a prequel, and a mermaid sisters spin-off. It would be a waste to only see them once especially Halle and Jonah's chemistry. The sisters are also too beautiful not to have their own stories coz from how they look, they have really different identities.

People complain too much on animal designs, but ignore the mermaid tails of Ariel and her sisters.

I'm also proud of Halle's acting coz i watched her on Grown.ish and her acting skills and confidence really improved by miles. Even when she lost her voice, she was very expressive. She didn't even have to try that much.

For me, this is the 2nd best Disney live-action so far. My first is still Maleficent.

Idk if I still need to say this, but the soundtrack is on-repeat after I watched. I actually want to rewatch the whole thing with subs coz i can't understand the British accent. lol

Halle Bailey needs to be in more musicals. I just can't get enough. Jessica Alexander should also be in more villain roles. Sapphic villain specifically 🥵

I also liked how Ariel and Prince Eric were longing for each other's world you know. It's a story about freedom really, not wanting to be boxed, and wanting to explore no matter how dangerous it is. It's such a queer allegory. And it's special knowing the original version of Hans Christian Andersen.

[sxugaryx]

Down the rabbit hole (Fanfic)

New Chapter of my Fic series <3

January 7th 18XX

Pinocchio had told his father all about the the new friend he made, well, everything except the part where he got lost, Gemini didn’t say anything either, neither of them wanted to let the secret out and not be able to meet with Alice.

“She sounds like a lovely young girl, I’m happy that you made a friend so far away from home” Geppetto was proud of his son, making friends can be hard, even harder in an unfamiliar place, “Just be sure to come back before dark remember? Don’t stay out too late”

“Father, I’m not a five-year-old child, I know how to take care of myself,” Pinocchio said confidently.

“No, you are a one-year-old brat that is too over his head,” Gemini said with a smug voice, he was right, at least about his age.

Pinocchio gave a small shake to Gemini’s cage, “Shut up Gemini”

Geppetto laughed and patted his son’s head “No matter your age, you will always be my little boy, please take care, son”

So, Geppetto went to his work, and Pinocchio headed to the Royal Opera House to meet with his new friend, he asked at the entrance, and a woman pointed him to where Alice was currently, “A friend of Alice? Hopefully, you are in your full mental faculties” Pinocchio found it odd how people would make comments about Alice like that, it seemed rude.

Alice was in a storage room, it was filled with boxes that contained props and costumes, it had a bookcase in the back of one of the walls, but the most eye-catching thing was the piano that took up the most space in the room, Alice was playing a beautiful tune, Pinocchio didn’t interrupt her, the melody was lovely, Alice gratefully moved her fingers along the piano keys, until the last few notes came undone, at the captivating music was over.

“That was beautiful! I wish I could play like that” Pinocchio smiled at her.

“You know how to play the piano?” Alice was intrigued, aside from Nan Sharpe who taught her how to play, she hadn’t met others who played it, it was odd since she worked at an Opera house, yet only she and another man, the one in charge of playing when it was needed in a performance, were the only ones who could play the instrument, most of the cast sang, and most of the orchestra played string instruments.

“Yes, my mother taught me how!” Pinocchio always got excited talking about Antonia, “She is a great teacher”

“She sounds like a great woman” This boy was so full of energy and very innocent, but she could tell he was strong, and she needed the help, she felt bad for asking but this was a dire situation.

“I’m sorry to ask you for this, but truthfully I need your help with something’ Alice felt selfish, she had just met him and she was already asking him a favor, a huge favor.

“I can help, I love helping others” Helping others makes them happy and that made him happy.

Alice grabbed Pinocchio’s hand, “I need you to come with me” She took him back to the door to exit the room, but outside the room, the place was no longer the Opera House, it was a completely different world, the plain was filled with grass, but not green grass but rather it has a light blue tone, the sky had a shade of purple and it was filled with bright starts.

“Wow, where are we?”

Alice didn’t expect that reaction from Pinocchio, she expected him to freak out and start to panic, it looks like they have something in common.

“This is like, a place between reality and not reality, I found myself in it, and I help others battle with their mind demons, I battled to my own land, my Wonderland, and I want to help others as well” Alice had already helped a few in her quest, she knows first hand how cruel one’s own mind can be.

“This place is very pretty, how did you find it” Gemini was amazed by it.

“Well, it’s a long story and very bizarre” Alice took a small pause “Maybe the two of you are truly mad like me, how come you both find it strange?”

“Remember when I told you we helped save Krat? We have seen so much strange stuff” Gemini answered, they were just used to things like this by now, “Not the strangest thing we have encountered”

“Yeah, we love a good adventure” Pinocchio was thrilled about this, he came to get a vacation and he also got a fun new adventure. He was enjoying London so much. “So, who are we going to help?”

“That’s the thing…” Alice was wondering how she should say this, “This time, I’m not helping someone, rather, I want to capture someone, although I guess I am helping someone because I’m helping the victims, and preventing more victims”

Pinocchio looked puzzled, “Victims? Did some get hurt by this person?”

“Have you not heard of Jack The Ripper?” Alice rolled her eyes, not at Pinocchio but at herself, he isn’t from here, she figured he wouldn’t know who he was.

“No, but if they are called “The Ripper” then they are not a good person” Pinocchio could figure out something as simple as that.

“This man has murdered five women, no one knows who he is, but I found his world, I need to find who he is and stop him” Alice would be lying if she said that she was only doing this out of the kindness of her heart, but unfortunately Nan Sharpe still worked as a prostitute, and all the victims were prostitutes as well, she couldn’t lose her, and she won’t let anyone else fall victim, but as soon as she stepped into the world, she was bombarded with enemies, almost as if he knew someone was there to try and stop him if she could only get closer if only she wasn’t alone to stop him, then she could catch him, and find a way to expose his identity, maybe no one would believe her if she reported it herself, but thankfully the police accepted anonymous reports sent by letters.

“That’s horrible” Pinocchio was sad and angry, he couldn’t let someone like that get away with what they were doing, “Let me help, I want to help” he had set his mind to it.

“Won’t we need a weapon or something? How do we get one here?” Gemini wanted to help as well but he just realized they had no way to fight.

“Oh it’s very simple really” Alice gave them both a smirk and from her hand, a blade manifested, the vorpal blade, and then with a wave of her hand it disappeared, she showed them her arsenal of weapons; her teapot cannon; the paper grinder; her hobby horse (who was her favorite); the clockwork bomb, that one made Pinocchio gave out a small chuckle, he found it cute; and finally her umbrella to defend herself.

“You just have to think of it, and it will manifest”

Pinocchio thought about the weapons he had previously used on his quest, he found himself being able to summon each one he had in mind, the pulse cells too, and all the other objects he had previously used before, “This is great, this is so cool!”

“Alright, are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” Both Pinocchio and Gemini said in unison.

———-

They arrived at their destination, the world wasn’t like the one he was before, they were inside a mansion, a terrifying mansion, stepping inside, there was blood all over the walls and floor.

“Geez this guy’s mind is truly creepy” Gemini was sure it was more than just creepy, it was disturbing.

“Looks like the entrance is empty, for now, that is, let’s explore” Alice led them along, although with less than a minute walking, Pinocchio finally realized something.

“Wait, when did my clothes change?!”

Gemini was stunned, he was in Pinocchio’s belt all the time and even he didn’t notice.

Pinocchio was wearing a blue tea-length dress, the bottom part had butterflies flapping in rhythm, and a white ribbon was tied in the back of his waist, he still had his belt where Gemini was, but it was more than just one, three belts decorated his outfit, he wore white stockings with and black boots, he was wearing gloves, but not like the ones he usually wears, although they were also white, these gloves were larger and went up to his elbow, and the front of his wrist was decorated with two more blue butterflies, one for each hand.

There was a full-body mirror next to them, and Pinocchio looked at his new outfit in awe, “I look… so pretty!” Pinocchio had never worn a dress before, he didn’t know he could wear dresses, and he loved it.

“Look Gemini, your cage is different too!”

Gemini still wore the green ribbon that Pinocchio had given him for Christmas, but now the ribbon had a blue color and a heart in its center, it was simple, but Gemini also liked his new look.

Alice was wearing a blue dress as well, although simpler than his, black stockings with white stripes, talk black boots, a white ribbon on her waist, and the front part of the dress was white with two pockets with two symbols and it was stained with a few drops of blood, she hair was longer now, not shoulder length like him anymore.

“Yes you do, but we must move along before we find danger, or the danger finds us” Alice grabbed Pinocchio’s hand and pulled him towards a hallway, before she had to retreat last time, she had managed to find a way to sneak in further.

As they wandered, Pinocchio examined his surroundings, the walls were not only covered in blood but in guts as well, eyes were stuck in clocks that watched them move along, and the chairs and tables were made of bones and flesh, Gemini was right, this just too creepy. Finally, at the end of one corridor, Alice pointed at the bottom of a wall, a very tiny door was there.

“Alright, drink this” Alice handed Pinocchio a small glass bottle with a purple liquid inside, he found it odd, but Alice was the one to know about this stuff, so he did as she said, he took a sip and began to slowly shrink in size, Alice had drank it too and soon both of them were small as a mouse.

“Is this some, um, mind-altering stuff? We can get to our normal size again right?” Although Pinocchio had seen all sorts of abilities when he saved Krat, he had to admit some of these concepts were a bit hard for him to grasp.

“Oh don’t worry, we can go back to our normal size when we want, we can even get bigger by eating a small amount of cake, although I only have a limited supply for that, we better save it for the real danger, well I guess we are already in real danger, more so, the danger that is too big for us, and then, we will be too big for them” Alice formed sentences as if she was a rollercoaster.

Both entered through the tiny door, which led them to a small room that contained a bedroom, a bookcase, and a few drawers, there was a desk filled with newspapers, upon closer examination, they all talked about him and his victims, Pinocchio looked around and found a small diary in one of the drawers, they all began to read what it said.

“Today one of those whores at the Mangled Mermaid decided to turn me down, that ugly bitch, how dare she? I showed her that she shouldn’t mess with me, I’m tired of all these women who think they can reject someone like me, someone who is actually important, not some low life bottom of the barrel scum”

The motive was there, simple enough, he was just a pathetic desperate man with a delicate ego, the entries continued, most were of his hatred for women, and they found out that this man was someone in high society, someone with connections, after his 3rd kill, his murderers got more methodical, the other two were planned in advance, that last diary entry made Alice heart sank,

“This fat tramp at the Mangled Mermaid managed to get me banned from the place, her constant complaining got the better of the rest of the pimps and now I’m not allowed back there, she knows something, why else would they listen to a worthless whale of a slut? Pimps don’t care about what they say, she must have something on me. I’ve been spying on her, I know that you leave at the same hour every day Sharpe, you are not going to be like the others, I’m going to make you suffer”

Alice's head hurt, she briefly fell onto the floor but regained her composure, she had to save her nan. “We must go, the only thing to find is their name” As much information as the diary gave them, there was no name, and they also would need proof of the deeds, there must be something else hidden around this mansion that could give them clues.

They stepped outside and regained their normal stature, as they kept exploring, they came into a large room, this must be the main hall, the room had stairs that led up top, but from the floor, a black thick liquid began to form and disturbing creatures that were made of the ooze and baby doll parts began to form.

“That’s ruin, ugly gross, and evil in a single monstrosity!” Alice didn’t need to explain more, Pinocchio drew his weapon, and she drew hers as well.

A horde of enemies came after them, some drifted in the hair, and some small ones slithered into the floor; Alice and Pinocchio were fierce fighters, the hordes of enemies might have been overwhelming if faced alone, but together they made a great team, most of the enemies had been defeated, the last one fell, but it wouldn’t be so easy, it was too early to claim victory, as all the remaining ruin became a colossal creature, it gave a high pitched screech and charged towards them, at one point, Alice was about to be hit, but she suddenly her body disappeared and she turned into dozens of blue butterflies, before regaining her true form, Pinocchio was a but stunned, but he couldn’t let himself be distracted, he helped Alice by baiting the creature to attack him, and from behind, Alice gave the finishing blow.

They both wasted no time in going upstairs, as they walked Alice could tell Pinocchio was looking at her differently, “Do I have something in my face?” She was curious, it could be possible that she was stained with ruin and she didn’t even notice.

“No, it’s not that, sorry for starting, you just, reminded me of a friend that’s all, she can also turn into butterflies” Pinocchio was apologetic, he didn’t mean to stare, he just had Sophia in his mind at the moment.

“Yeah, and blue butterflies as well, what a coincidence am I right?” Gemini found the situation to be quite odd, what are the chances after all?

“I would love to meet this friend of yours, if she is your friend, she must be as interesting as you are”

“Her name is Sophia and-“

But Pinocchio was interrupted, and a new wave of enemies attacked, not just ruin, but malformed house objects made with disgusting body parts, they kept up with the pace until they made it to the final room of the house, filled with locks, it was only a matter of finding their way in.

“Let’s leave it here for today, we can come back tomorrow and finally finish this” Alice was determined, they had made it so far in just one day.

Pinocchio nodded and they returned to the real world, back at the Opera House, Pinocchio was thinking, what he saw, it was all so scary, so awful, but he felt the adrenaline, his fighting instinct took over, and he felt at ease that he wasn’t harming real creatures but rather figments of someone’s twisted mind, and he was determined just as Alice to find Jack The Ripper and stop him.

“Oh my… that has never happened before” Pinocchio’s thoughts were interrupted by Alice speaking, he looked around but saw nothing unusual.

“Huh? Pinocchio your clothes didn’t change back!” Gemini was just as surprised, his cage ribbon was back to normal after all, and Alice's clothes were normal as well.

“I suppose something went wrong when we went back” Alice might know how to traverse the place, but she was no expert, if she had to assume, this was a one-time thing, and the next time they went together, whatever clothes he came with won’t get lost in the transition back, Alice does remember one time in one of the first minds she helped, that a small octopus tentacle was left in the floor once she came back, nothing else has left that plain.

“I don’t understand, but, I like this dress!” He was excited about his new clothes.

Alice just smiled at him, “Why you look even prettier than me”

They made plans to meet again tomorrow and Pinocchio left to go back to the hotel, he got a lot of looks on his way, a few men blowing him kisses, Pinocchio was obvious about their true intentions, he was just too delighted about his new look, he entered the Hotel and his father was in the room, he had a blue paper with some sort of schematics in his hands.

“Son, what did you see today at-“ Geppetto looked up and saw his son, he became speechless for a moment, there was nothing wrong with his son wearing a dress, it was more the fact that those were not the clothes he left with, and they were specially not that ridiculously detailed.

“Did you buy yourself some new clothes?” Then Geppetto’s tone became a bit irritated “Did you buy those clothes because you ruined the other ones?”

“What? No Father I didn’t ruin my clothes this time! I just… um, lost them I guess”

“What do you mean you lost your clothes?!” Geppetto had so many thoughts in his mind, all the worst fears a father can have.

“Um, well…” Pinocchio didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t tell him where he was, I mean sure his father had seen a lot of strange stuff back at Krat just like him but explaining everything that happened would be too much, he just wouldn’t believe him.

“What happened is that we went to see Alice at the Royal Opera House and Pinocchio tried some costumes, and when it was time to go we couldn’t find his clothes, Alice said that they probably got mixed up with the other costumes and someone took them, so she gifted us the dress, it was something she made anyways”

Gemini had Pinocchio’s back, they wouldn’t let his friend get into trouble over nothing, and he was proud of himself for making up such a convincing lie on the spot.

Geppetto gave a sigh of relief, “Look, it’s fine, I guess something like that can happen by accident, I’m sorry for making assumptions” He really was sorry for thinking the worst, but hearing your son say that they lost their clothes isn’t something a parent wants to hear, there were so many possibilities and he was glad none of them were true.

“Father, I look so pretty can I wear dresses more often?” Pinocchio had a big smile on his face.

“Of course son, you can wear what you want” Geppetto gently played with his son’s hair, if others found it odd, he didn’t care, let people talk and think what they would, if wearing them made his son happy then he was happy.

“Although for now, it’s getting late, let’s get some rest” It was almost dark outside and both of them had done a lot of work that day, it was best they went to bed earlier than usual.

“Yes just um…” Pinocchio looked at his outfit, his beautiful, ridiculously detailed outfit. “How do I take it off?”

Geppetto laughed, it reminded him of years ago on his wedding night, how his wife ranted for an hour about getting her dress undone, but that’s something that comes with dresses, the more detailed, the harder they are to take off.

Geppetto helped his son take off the dress and promised him that he would later buy him more dresses, ones that were simpler and didn’t take 20 minutes to take off.

Pinocchio lay in bed, he could sleep, and he couldn’t wait to see Alice tomorrow, and finally put an end to what that man was doing, he felt like a detective solving a case, and he felt joy at the thought of saving others.

[landosgirl97]

Teardrops On My Guitar - Drew Starkey

Summary: You are a castmate on Outer Banks. You have a crush on Drew and are best friends with Chase Stokes. Chase finds you singing in your trailer one day and convinces you to do an open mic night. He and the rest of the cast, including Drew, come to support you.

A/N: Bold words are song lyrics. Italics are memories that flash through her mind while she performs. Regular font is the present.

P.S. SUPER proud of this one so please let me know what you think.

"You're going to be fine. You're amazing. Take a breath." Chase said. "Why did he come? The song I picked literally says his name Chase! I'm so screwed!" you groan as your head falls back. "I'll make sure he's paying close attention then." Chase says with a wink. "Up next is Y/N Y/L/N!" you hear before you can even reply. You groan as Chase pats you on the back and walks back to his seat with everyone else. You hear them all whoop and holler as you walk onstage. Just before you get to center stage, you see Chase lean over and whisper something to Drew. If you weren't nervous before, you are now! You walk up to the mic and slyly clear your throat as you step forward and start to strum your guitar.

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

Drew looks at me. I fake a smile so he won't see, that I want and I'm needing everything that we should be. I'll bet she's beautiful, that girl he talks about and she's got everything that I have to live without.

You and the cast were having a get together at Rudy's apartment. Drew walked in late and he looked really good. "How was your date?" you heard Rudy ask him. "Dude. It was amazing! AND she's already agreed to a second date!" he says with a lovestruck look on his face. "Ooh what's she like?" Madelyn asked. "Her name is Claire. She's short, blonde, has the most beautiful green eyes, and has these cute freckles all over her nose and cheeks. She's a nanny for these two wonderful kids, she goes to the same gym as me we found out, and she has a German Shepard named Bentley!" Everyone in the room was very engrossed in the conversation and was oblivious to your pain, except Chase. He noticed you staring out the window obviously trying to hold back tears. He put his arm around you and pulled you into his side. You hid your face in his side and cried silently and he rested his chin on your head.

Drew talks to me. I laugh 'cause it's just so funny, that I can't even see anyone when he's with me. He says he's so in love, he's finally got it right. I wonder if he knows he's all I think about at night.

You and Drew had been joking around on set remembering stories from filming and talking by craft services. "...and then he fell and almost twisted his ankle!" Drew said. You threw your head back laughing at his story. He was laughing along with you and you couldn't help but zone out and think about how much you love his laugh and how carefree he looked. "...earth to Y/N!" Madison said, waving her hand in front of your face to get your attention. "Huh?" you said, turning to face her. "We've been calling your name for a while. You're needed on set. You okay? You seem out of it." she looks concerned. "I'm okay. Just didn't hear it. I'll head that way.

Later that night, you were laying in bed thinking back on your day. The happiest times were always with him. He never fails to make you laugh and smile when he's around. The way he jokes around between scenes to keep up morale, how he looks so beautiful when he smiles, his beautifully chiseled jawline.... you slowly dozed off to sleep dreaming about Drew and what it would be like if life were different.

Drew walks by me. Can he tell that I can't breathe? And there he goes, so perfectly. The kind of flawless I wish I could be. She'd better hold him tight, give him all her love. Look in those beautiful eyes and know she's lucky 'cause

You had just walked out of your trailer and were walking to set to film your next scene. You saw Drew start to walk toward you. His hair was still wet and he only had on swim trunks and shoes. Your breath hitched in your throat as he ran his hands through his wet hair and a water droplet slowly made its way down his abs. He looks breathtaking with the sun setting behind him and the beautiful blue and purple hues making his eyes shine bright. Until you realized why he had the bright look in his eye. You had heard yelling but hadn't realized who it was. Then you saw Claire inches from him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hers were around his neck. You saw her wrap her legs around his waist and the kisses they exchanged before he sat her down and walked hand in hand with her back to his trailer. You had never felt so heartbroken and devastated. You didn't even stay for post filming shenanigans that night knowing that it would hurt to look at them together.

So, I drive home alone. As I turn out the light, I'll put his picture down and maybe get some sleep tonight. 'Cause he's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar. The only one who's got enough of me to break my heart. He's the song in the car I keep singing, don't know why I do.

You drove home in silence. When you walk in the door, you don't even bother to go to the kitchen to get a snack. You toe off your shoes, hang your keys on the hook by the door, and walk to your room. You pull your guitar case out from under your bed and your songbook from your bedside table. You sat down and started to play the song you had written that first night when he came home from his date with Claire. You didn't even realize you were crying until a falling tear hit your guitar and another hit your hand. You decided at that point that it was better to just go to sleep for the night. You got up and shut off the light, crawling into bed. When you got situated, you saw the picture on your nightstand of the cast together at the end of season 1. His arm was around you and you were both making silly faces at the camera. You reached out and put the picture face down before rolling over and falling into an unrestful sleep.

He's the time taken up, but there's never enough and he's all that I need to fall into. Drew looks at me. I fake a smile so he won't see.

The cast had all followed Chase into the bar to see you standing by the stage tuning your guitar. You smiled seeing everyone until he walked in behind them. You weren't expecting him to come at all, knowing that Claire was in town. You couldn't let it show to him, so you willed the smile to stay on your face.It was like time stopped around him and you couldn't bear the thought anymore. Knowing what song you picked, your heart dropped to your stomach and you gulped . Uh oh.

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

After you had strummed the last chord, the crowd erupted in applause. You heard your friends in the back of course being the loudest ones there. You scanned the crowd for the one face you wanted to see. Your stomach dropped. He wasn't there. You looked at Chase as if questioning where he went. Chase just shrugged and continued to applaud you. You went to make your way off the stage when you saw him. He was standing by the stairs with an unreadable expression on his face. You made your way toward him and you both walked to an area where there weren't as many people. You forced yourself to make eye contact with him. "Hey." you breathed. "Why didn't you say anything?" he started. "Say anything about what?" you asked. You were genuinely very confused. He sighs. "Why did you not tell me how you felt?" Your eyes dropped to your shoes and a blush made its way across your face. "I was scared. And when I was finally ready to tell you, you came home from your date with Claire. And now it's too late because you're with her now." You said. He puts a finger until your chin forcing you to meet his eyes. "We aren't together anymore. That's why I'm here. Without her. The problem was, she wasn't you." You had tears brimming in your eyes as you looked at him. "Wow. I'm so sorry to hear that." "We both know you're not. Now, let me kiss you." he said as his hand reached your cheek and he leaned into you. This time, the teardrops weren't from sadness, but from pure joy.

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