#anyway. ANYWAY. just going full brain worms lately

[mixelation]

oh yeah while i'm here. speed run au thoughts ->

so i do like the idea of this being the one AU where tori comes clean about the reincarnation thing (i feel like this also has to happen in async, but probably very late in the game). however also i cannot see her doing this without having first solidified a LOT of trust

so what could catalyze her deciding this reveal is a good idea...? the idea i have been rotating is:

i don't think orochimaru cares too much when she just up and disappears. however he might suddenly care a whole lot if she reappears hanging around the hokage. that is HIS pet fuuinjutsu master in training, not yours!!!!

some sort of Situation happens where he grabs her and brings her back to oto. tori you silly child this where you belong

tori gets upset because she LIKED not being in oto and also she's pretty sure it looks suspicious af she's just with orochimaru again. like PROBABLY the conclusion here is that she went on purpose. and now she's mad because this ruins being able to go back

wrong!! minato shows up and is like hi guys!!! don't mind me just here on my legal right to kill orochimaru <3

so he kills oro, grabs tori, and goes home. what an exciting day

minato: hey, why are you crying? are you hurt? did you want to say bye to someone? tori: did you come to save ME 🥺🥺

and like. minato didn't kill orochimaru for tori per se, but he needed to do something about him anyway. this just sort of sealed the deal + gave him a reason to act

tori voices the fear that he thought she was a traitor. however this did not occur to minato even once because even if orochiamru is a master manipulator...... minato is a better manipulator for this sort of thing. obviously tori would not betray him and his wonderful family?

i think i would probably have it as a plot element that someone (shikaku?) keeps pushing minato to let someone do a mindwalk on tori. this is less because he thinks she's super devious and more because mindwalks can pull up forgotten memories + let an adult analyze a child's memories, so tori's brain is probably full of details on oto she can't actually articulate even if she's cooperative in being interviewed

so this Incident is also a catalyst for shikaku brining the mindwalk idea up AGAIN and minato is like "tori i think this would be a good idea. i promise it won't hurt or get you in trouble" and tori is like. my GOD you could not handle what's in my mind, and does a Reveal

i think minato is secretly revealed because tori has wormed her way far enough into his heart that he's starting to consider that this is actually an insane way to treat a child. however it's fine she's secret been a grown up this whole time

[ninzied]

his hands are in my hair, his

in which henry’s hand in his hair just does things to him, okay?

He’s not the big spoon all the time.

When they’re pressed for space (the limo in Berlin, for example), he somehow ends up with his head tucked into Henry’s shoulder—blissed out, fuckstruck, arm draped over Henry’s torso, Henry’s fingers in his hair.

Or when Alex falls asleep in other places Henry would call inopportune (listen—the Met Gala ran late and it’s a long train ride back to their brownstone), it’s always to Henry’s body wrapped warmly around his, the soothing feel of Henry’s fingers lightly dragging through his curls, against his scalp down to his nape, and…mmm…Alex can’t help but nod right off.

All right, so, maybe he’s starting to see a pattern form here.

Henry has a thing for his hair. Alex knows it. Alex likes it. (More than likes it—can be very vocal about it in fact—and it’s not not partly because of the way Henry flushes pretty pink when they’re dancing in front of a statue of Venus and Alex makes how much he enjoys it known directly into Henry’s ear.)

Alex is also learning that under the right circumstances, he likes it to the point where his brain short-circuits by shutting off altogether—which, whether it happens while they’re at June and Nora’s or on the couch in their own home, so entirely not his own doing.

Alex can’t help if his boyfriend’s obsessed with touching his hair.

Anyway, case in point: tonight they’re sprawled out on said couch, Alex with a textbook, Henry with David curled up on his other side, the two of them engrossed in their third episode of Bake Off. Alex is so content that he feels warm with it, even halfway to drowsy, even though he still has another chapter or four to get through before bed.

It’s a valiant effort, staying awake, considering Henry’s wound his hand through Alex’s hair yet again, his elbow resting on Alex’s shoulder, and he smells like home when Alex buries his face into his chest, just breathing him in, breathing in this, and—wait. Wait a minute.

Alex leans back, though not far enough to pull Henry’s hand away from his hair. Not that, never that. “How dare you try to lull me to sleep with your hand in my hair right in the middle of biscuit week?” he demands, suitably indignant for someone who’s just yawned so loudly that even David looked reproachful.

Henry levels him with a bemused expression. “Darling,” he says, like Alex is being a little bit slow. “You’re the one who put my hand there.”

“What?”

“You put my hand there,” Henry repeats. The corner of his mouth twitches up in the slightest hint of a smirk, which Alex resolves to do something about momentarily. “You literally reached over about five minutes ago, wormed your way beneath my arm and then bodily forced my hand in your hair.” Almost a full-blown smirk now, and yep, Alex is definitely going to kiss it right off his face in a second. “Wouldn’t be the first time, either, in case you happened to wonder.”

Lies, Alex thinks.

“Lies,” Alex tells him. “That is not a thing.” At Henry’s look, which is altogether too smug for his liking (another lie, thinks Alex again, he actually likes it a hell of a lot), he leans back in, pressing his nose against Henry’s jawline. “But I do like it when you talk dirty to me.”

Henry’s breath gives the tiniest hitch, fingers tightening almost reflexively in Alex’s hair. It sends a full-body shudder down his spine, driving all rational thought from his mind as he presses even closer, and, well—even if it is a thing that he does (it isn’t (oh, it so, so is)), Alex can hardly be held accountable when this is the state it leaves him in, can he?

also on ao3 because why not.

[alienpossession]

"You bring protection, right?"

"Well, lucky for you, the RA just handed out the whole box earlier today,"

He torn the packaging open with his teeth before grabbing it and snuck his throbbing 7.5" inch meat into the skin-colored condom with its slightly dark tip. Extra layer on the tip with no side feeling, the RA said, which he didn't even bother to check anyway. At that point, his focus is simply on his girl's throbbing pussy that already await to be filled by his cock

After what felt like hours, both he and his girl eventually finished with him somehow managed to shoot his load quite later in comparison to his eager girlfriend. But as they panted for breath and almost fell to slumber, the worm within the condom started its journey for control as it already devoured all the cum that it could have. As Jack's cock filled the condom to the brim, it slithered rather minimal to achieve the piss slit which it directly slid into. The once sleepy Jack alerted by the weird sensation but it's too late as the worm's microfibre already spread across his body and rendered it catatonic while its making the journey to wrestle control over his brain. Due to his massive load, the worm ended up rather fat and the journey taking some times.

He's totally aware of the alarming sensation in his crotch but he couldn't do anything as he helplessly tried to scream for help from his slumbering girlfriend. Eventually, the worm reached his brain and ever since that moment, Jack is no more as the worm assume full control of his body, taking his ass out from the dorm room with no regards to the girlfriend he just bred. He's going to the gym to finish his initiation as another newest recruit to the ever growing Master Jake's devoted followers

Directly inspired by Virginity by idude786 on Deviantart

[neetily]

↳ EVENT 37. Sam (Sleepy/Good Morning Sex & Coffee Shop AU)

— ✧ warnings: coffee shop AU, Creampie, Workplace Setting — ✧ word count: 1,645 — ✧ genre: smut (18+)

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

The relationship shared between a diligent barista and their regular customer is a special one, isn't it? The safely secured daily meeting, rise and shine to a new day full of you, greeting him with wide smiles and assured orders that he's learnt to heart by now; he's been seeing you long enough, right? As if you always show up for him. Your usual, you come to say, and he immediately knows what you mean. Working hands already moving on their own accord towards the ingredients, a set in stone routine he's come to enjoy since your arrival in the quaint little coffee shop.

He'd only picked up the job by chance, too. A change of pace or something, but seeing you saunter into the store every morning to greet the day with him without fail always has him cheesing, heart aflutter with— oh? A little crush? Surely these things go the other way, no? The trope being that the customer is in love with the barista, or maybe he's been consuming too many romcoms as of late. Imagining instead of the trained actors, it's you and him. He's allowed a little indulgence every now and then, right?

Well, maybe the opposite is true, too. The way you blush before his playful flirting, always hiding behind the faux professional facade of the work relationship that binds him, because it's easier that way, right? Dipping his toes into conversation with you, experiencing just a small slice of your daily life with the bright attitude he so often adopts to keep you coming back for more, and then abruptly leaving. Just like that: "Order number one!" Always number one, first in line; at least when he's serving, anyway.

And then, usually, you're gone. And it's nice like that, isn't it? To have such a regular ritual, your name ingrained in his brain, prepared to assist you eagerly in your morning seeking of energy. And in return, he gets a tummy full of butterflies and a reason to wake up tomorrow morning too.

But, you've shown up far earlier than usual for your coffee today. Only allowing him time to turn the lights on in the store and start preparing for the busy day ahead of him before your face popped up behind the glass windows, seeking his attention. And he'd intended on shooing you away, company policy begging him to act accordingly in the face of your unbridled enthusiasm to see him today, but there's just something about you— how easily you managed to worm your way inside the warm shop once he'd unlocked the door for you, his voice gentle and soft in his faux scolding of your barging in; he's not actually upset. In fact, quite the opposite. Allowing you special privileges simply because he's harbouring a painfully obvious crush on you, standing behind the counter as you edge the outskirts of it curiously. "Your usual?" He'd asked you. And to his surprise, you hummed a plain. "No, something new."

Turns out, your something new might be his new favourite.

Balls deep in your squishy little cunt, greedy hole just gushing around his fat cock with every pent up needy thrust he fucks into you in the cramped utility closet— he's been daydreaming about fucking you like this for a while now. Happy to have his fantasies confirmed, casually fucking into you as if he was your lover, hasn't he known you for long enough by now to be considered as such? "How— Fuck, so fuckin' tight—" He moans, all hushed despite the fact that it's only you and him in the store right now; co-workers won't be far behind at this rate. "How is it?" He smiles against your neck, nose buried behind your ear to let you hear exactly how happy he is to service you this good morning. Do you like your new order? Can I get you anything else? Your leg trembling in his tense hold, knee slung over his inner elbow as his own bend into his thrusts, grabby hands groping at your ass in an effort to keep you stable as his balls slap back against you from how desperately he delivers on your new order, wants to fuck you so well in hopes of having you order this from him again. A new usual, full of gasps and groans and fuck, your tight little cunt sucking his cock off perfectly.

You don't need to make sense in your response for him to understand what you're saying. Perks of serving you every morning, he muses to himself. Babbling moans behind your makeshift hand gag, muffled whines and furrowed brows encouraging him to continue, to keep driving his tip against that sensitive spot that makes you fucking squeak for him, a disgusting display of indulgence from how hard and fast he fucks into you; like a filthy virgin. Eager and reckless with it, a moaning mess himself from how dizzy he gets, struggling to keep up with his eager to please humps in and out of your squelchy hole, leaving himself more than a little breathless before you.

And his thighs burn too; it's far too early in the morning to be exerting such strenuous amounts of activity, but he's just so fervent. Keen to keep you coming back, to retain his favourite regular customer and her pretty pussy, precum turning your insides all sloppy and wet to help ease the glide of his rock hard cock in and out. Just throbbing with want to prove himself to you, his voice coming out all choked and strained from how much your hole has to stretch to fit his ardent fucks. "So good, fuck, jus' like that, yeah?" He's not even fully aware of what he's saying, trying only to turn you on enough to keep you squeezing his cock like that. Acting on pure impulse, and his instinctive need to praise you. Can't focus on how much he's exhausting himself before the long shift ahead of him when he's so fucking deep inside your tight little cunt, determined to fuck you good enough to keep you coming back over and over again. Daily morning fucks to help wake him up, to give you the energy you so clearly desire. God, he knew you were his favourite customer for a reason.

Body flushed and skin sweat soaked, he continues pumping his fat cock into you despite being short on time. Too lost in the way your soft insides massage and beg for his protruding length, how your cunt swallows his cock whole and still asks for more, twitching around him so nicely when he starts to press sloppy circles against your wet clit, whining loud in response for how much it throbs under his touch. It's silly how fast his orgasm grows, creeping up on him with every bullying thrust of his cock inside of you, every little gasp and mewl his drooling tip fucks outta ya.

And shit, he doesn't even fucking know if anyone else has entered the store or not by now, not even done preparing for the day before being coaxed into your warm wetness like a bitch in heat. A mere dog when presented with your pretty pussy, convincing himself that he's just putting the customer first, right? Helping you reach your high with harsh swipes of his thumb, fucking begging for you to cream his cock from how messy his thrusts grow, simply stuttering into you in an attempt to hold back so that you can cum first. So that he can fulfil his role as your server, and see to your needs before his own.

"C'mon, let me make you feel good—" He whines, right down your ear all pretty and high pitched, shivering into you with haphazard thrusts, your cunt easily edging him until finally, you tip over and he's graced by the feeling of your walls squeezing around him more, convulsing around his cock in a way that leaves him light-headed and addicted, much like you are to his morning coffee. A few fucks later into your impossible tight cunt and he's giving you your morning cream too, pumping you full of sticky cum, fat load filling you up as your walls milk him empty—getting your moneys worth—effortlessly knocking the wind out of him from the sheer amount of pleasure washing over him. It's almost unfair to be feeling so good, he thinks to himself.

Only stopping thrusts when he realises just how tired his legs are, gently helping you down as he's sure there's an ache in your legs too, having to stand in such an awkward position just for him to fuck you all better. But it was worth it, no? The dumb smile you wear when fixing your outfit out again tells him as such, prompting him to mimic the expression with his own lopsided grin at how sticky and tacky he feels too. He'll have to clean up before preparing the shop, but for now, he tucks his cock back into his boxers before zipping his pants back up.

He's done this all in the wrong order, but as he stares down at you with utmost affection, he can't help but to find you so cute at such an early hour. Settled on asking you out on a date once he's back on the shop floor, feeling a little bashful too in spite of the cum surely dripping down your thighs, he wants to ease the tension first. "Good morning, ma'am." He lovingly strokes your hair, boyish laughter soon following at the way you clear your throat in assumed embarrassment. It's okay, he gets it. "So, how about your usual now?"

"Please, if you wouldn't mind."

And how could he? After all, you've just accepted his load; coffee is the least he could do for you.

[queer-ragnelle]

So, regarding your novels, what made you write backwards? I'm so curious about it.

TL;DR I started writing in Mordred and Galahad perspective. I then became possessed by the "older" characters and went "back" in the timeline to write their origins (starting with parentified Agravaine). I did this several times until I ended up with Ragnelle/Gawain as book 1, "the beginning," of what turned into an Epic many books long.

Let me give you a timeline...

1900s: I am born and develop Arthurian brain worms.

21st century: The worms declare Ragnelle/Gawain are my favorites and I write their Wedding multiple times for fun based off what can be gleaned from Wikipedia and retellings as I have no medieval resources at my disposal.

February 2020: I think Mordred and Galahad would make neat narrative foils and write a short story about them playing chess.

March 2020: The plague. I'm furloughed from my job. Writing becomes my full-time focus. I write 60,000 words in Mordred and Galahad perspective, plotting their story to be a trilogy.

June 2020: I'm back to work but I'm still writing. With money and curiosity at my disposal, I begin hoarding Arthurian books. Local quirky secondhand bookstore owner had an Arthurian fixation in his youth—I clear his shelves. He asks if I'm a medievalist major and I have to break it to him I'm just a High School drop out at the mercy of the Tell-Tale knights chattering in my head. I learn more lore. I splurge to buy the Vulgate cycle. I'm forever changed.

Late 2020: Reading medlit and retellings and watching all the movies super charged the brain worms. The Vulgate especially. I develop an obsession with circumventing the Orkneys/Welshmen blood feud with the power of gay sex. (Joan Wolf did it first in her 1988 book The Road to Avalon with Agravaine/Lamorak.)

January 2021: Historical research shows that Islam didn't exist yet during the 5th/6th century I'd been writing in. I order Zoroastrianism by Mary Boyce to make sure I'm depicting Ragnelle and Gromer's religion properly. But it's nbd their page time is minimal as background characters right? ....right?

2021 continued: The Agravaine/Lamorak brain worms take on a life of their own as I'm hospitalized and bedridden. Chronic pain and isolation become my themes. I write endlessly on my phone from bed. 2/3 novels are completed and readable straight through with a third book in pieces. These are currently at a combined total of nearly 140,000 words. (Plus the notes file with scenes I haven't moved yet...whoa.)

Late 2021: I rediscover old Ragnelle/Gawain stuff and decide to write about their wedding. Again. But this time with legit sources. Except Ragnelle isn't some ambiguous character of color, she's now very specifically Persian [Iranian] Zoroastrian. So the whole thing takes place in Persia and research goes crazy. Someone gives me their college log in so I can download and hoard essays and textbook PDFs. I do beta-read trades with people in facebook groups (bad bad idea) and yet...

End of 2021: I get sample edits from various editors including one guy who insulted my "lack of education" and said emulating J. R. R. Tolkien's old style didn't work anymore and I should take inspiration from The Hunger Games....for my queer romance in Persia. Right. Anyway I pay the $100 for the pages edited so he'll go away and continue searching for my unicorn editor....

2022: Ultimately facebook group scouting finally yields results as I stumble upon a fellow Ragnelle/Gawain enthusiast who would become my editor!! Editor says I have to cut the giant book into thirds, so what is now book 1 ends up chopped.

2023: I'm still revising book 1, now titled The Moonlit Knight, with my editor. All the while I'm drafting book 2, sporadically cheating to write in other books including an Elaine and Perceval book that appeared out of no where, and scouting out beta readers. One beta reader came via a tumblr mutual who connected me through instagram. A second beta reader discovered in a discord server. Another beta reader from a different discord server. So on and so forth.

Early 2024: Beta reading continues, until I have readers for every angle I require; queer people of all flavors, Zoroastrians, Arthurian enthusiasts, Jewish readers, people with DID knowledge etc! Slowly but surely I work through revising the book with all these wonderful people to a final 95,000 words!

Mid 2024: But now...it needed a cover. I commission a tumblr mutual and work for weeks with them on that, still editing/revising and having betas read book 2, Sunshine's Lady, which is currently almost 132,000 words long and half edited/beta read.

September 2024: I still haven't published. lol. But the process takes a long time and has a lot of moving parts!

So why do I actually recommend this method? Well, this has been hugely helpful to write foreshadowing. Forgetting for a second the blueprint drawn from Arthurian Legend itself, I know how my story with my version of the characters is going to go, so I can set all of that up way in advance. It's all well and good to know (spoiler) Arthur dies at the end, but it's never been about the conclusion so much as the journey there and the unique perspective of whichever character the author has chosen to focus on. I mean, Godfrey Turton's The Emperor Arthur is Pelleas point of view. He's instrumental at the battle of Camlann. It's the same with Bernard Cornwell's Warlord Chronicles and our one-handed friend Derfel, the reasoning for which isn't revealed until book 3. The world is your oyster! Fixate on your special character and set that shit up and pay it off!!!

Knowing what you're writing toward is extremely helpful during the drafting process. Even if it's only vaguely shaped it'll develop detail as you revise. Other than Derfel's missing hand, the best example of this I can think of is in Realm of the Elderlings series by Robin Hobb. It has a huge fanbase on tumblr for a reason, it's just an insane amount of set up you're not even aware of until the impact slams into you many books later and you're left going, "Whoa.....it was there the whole time." Mind blowing. I want have half as much narrative resonance as that.

Another thing that came of this is, since I wrote Agravaine/Lamorak first, and I'm obscenely Ragnelle obsessed, she pops up in their pov as a hag, only for them to not realize she's one and the same as Gawain's bombshell wife they "meet" later. I wrote this as the lads first, but it's extra funny now that, actually, the reader will experience Ragnelle's perspective first. Hottie uncursed Ragnelle does know she met them before, but feigns otherwise. So it's very fun to see the same encounters happen a second time a few books later. Agravaine is like, "Okay granny whatever. Bye... :^/" and Lamorak is like, "That granny was weird but I like her! :^)" meanwhile the reader is like, "AHHHHH! I KNOW HER!!! YOU FOOLS DON'T KNOW HOW IMPORTANT SHE'LL BE AHHH!!!" At least, that has been the beta reader reaction, which is gratifying. Even better, the books can be read out of order, so actually if you read Agravaine/Lamorak before Ragnelle/Gawain, it works in reverse, too. So if the reader knows who Agravaine is from reading his perspective, when Ragnelle or Gawain runs into him, the reader will realize who he is before it clicks for the point of view character. I had a lot of fun developing all of this across the series for multiple characters, it certainly happens more than once.

Wow that was long but I hope it makes sense and gives you an idea how it all went down. Thanks for taking an interest and I hope you enjoy my books when they're out. Take care! :^)

[definitively-different-drivel]

WIP Wednesday game

Yo! I was tagged by @whimsicalmeerkat and @dear-massacre I'd tag folks but I suspect they've all been tagged already. It's also a bit late, so I'll just get on with it. Here's a bit of my latest brain worm that I put some words in on this week. Fair warning, it's full rough draft, no real editing done. Premise is that Stiles finds himself slipping into alternate realities and quickly realizes something's gone terribly wrong with his magic. Anyway, here's some of what I have so far on Falling out of Rhythm:

It started out innocuously enough.

Stiles had a dream. Any other dream and he'd be concerned at just how real it felt, but this?

He sat up in a warm, dark room, scattered with pictures of Derek and Stiles, of pack both known and lost and living. A warm, gravely voice spoke from the bed as Stiles' hand rested on the doorknob. "Stiles?"

"Derek?"

He heard Derek roll towards the door. "You'll wake the family. Come back."

Stiles chewed his lip. "But-"

"You really want to face my mom?"

Stiles hesitated; he shook his head. Everything felt fuzzy, muted. He could hear Derek shift, waking in his concern. "Sorry, had a weird dream."

It wasn't a lie. This was definitely a weird dream, but he didn't want it to end, not with Derek's arms wrapped around him beneath ungodly soft blankets as the crescent moon peeked over the horizon, casting eerie tones across the sleep-rumpled bedding.

He couldn't help it. Sleep took him, depositing him back in his own bed with Stiles none the wiser.

It went on like that for a while. Stiles came to enjoy the prospect of sleep. It didn't get too awkward even though you'd think it would, catching dream-glimpses of lives that weren't his own, but Derek was always there.

Things weren't perfect in all of them. They weren't perfect in most of them. Plenty of the strangely vivid dreams showed evidence of tragic pasts, like the dreams that saw them sitting on the steps of the Hale mansion, silently sitting before the wreckage of Derek's family.

Others, though, saw glimpses he grew to love.

His favorite glimpses were those with his mom, as much as it hurt. She seemed so vibrant and alive, so thoroughly her that he couldn't help blending into the play, pretending the dream were true.

He really should have known better.

Light streamed through the windows as his dad sat at the table, sipping coffee as he surveyed files from the station. Stiles set a pate at his elbow, earning a look from his dad.

"Eggwhites, Stiles, really?" "No heart attacks on my watch, old man." He settled into his seat. He almost missed the covert fork that snatched a bit of Stiles' double-yolked monstrosity. "Hey!"

They fell into easy bickering as Stiles sought for supremacy in a mock-battle over delicious, terrible yolky forbiddenness.

One moment, he was denying his dad artery-clogging danger, the next, he was perched atop a picnic table overlooking the most spectacular view of his life. Fading rays of light painted the sunset brilliant shades of purple and blue as they reflected off endless waves.

It took his breath away.

He found himself leaning against a warm, strong frame; fingers traced through his hair. He closed his eyes, resisting the urge to count fingers. His heart ticked up; he rationalized. This had to be a dream. Maybe he'd developed narcolepsy? He didn't want to go, didn't want to acknowledge that this wasn't-

The fingers stopped. Derek made a noise of concern.

"I'm alright." He wasn't. Derek tensed. He corrected himself, "Or, I will be."

"You sure?"

Stiles leaned into the touch. It occurred to him, in a vague sort of way, that he should be freaking out, but everything felt so fucking right. He sat there, curled against Derek until he flicked back into his own reality.

It was the most natural thing in the world.

The sunset blinked out; he was staring down through misty eyes at a photo album as his dad fretted.

"Stiles?" His mouth went dry. "I think I need to talk to Deaton."

[scarlthesnarl]

if you feel you have reached this message in error

~~~~~~~

This is just a short little nothing WIP for the immediate aftermath of episode 20 of G-Witch. I had some feels I had to get out, spoilers below. Based on how "late" it was by the time Earth House found Suletta digging through the rubble, I'm willing to bet that she wasn't answering her comms/couldn't and so there were likely a lot of folks thinking she may be one of those trapped or killed.

Thanks to @red-the-royal for entertaining my brain worms on this one!

Anyway, Miorine's POV for discovering the school's been attacked again but WORSE.

~~~~~~~~

Of all the sights of carnage and horror that have seared themselves into her mind over the past 12 hours, the endlessly scrolling list of the dead from the second attack on Asticassia was the thing that threatened to send Miorine into a full blown breakdown.

Some of the names she recognized from her own classes; most she did not.

The news feed that was playing on the left of the screen was showing images of collapsed buildings and mobile suits accompanied by rescue personnel sifting through the rubble for survivors and the dead in the heart of campus.

Her hands shook as her fingers clumsily tapped through her contacts, trying desperately to reach out to Suletta. Miorine hadn't seen her name on the constantly updating list, but that meant nothing with so many still unaccounted for.

She found Suletta's entry where she'd hidden it at the bottom of her contacts and hit Call.

Distantly, she was surprised it didn't fail to dial as it should have if she was a blocked contact. Even so, the call rang several times before it cut.

Connection failure.

She tried a few more times. Nothing. Perhaps someone from Earth House could be reached.

So she called Lilique.

Then Martin.

Till.

Ojelo.

Suletta.

Nuno.

Suletta.

Aliya.

Suletta.

Chuchu.

Suletta, Suletta, Suletta.

Sixteen instances of call connection failure ping red on her screen. Desperate, she sends a message through the Gund-Arm Inc company employee emailing list for the first time since Suletta's last duel, praying one of them would respond, confirm everyone is okay even if they didn't all receive it.

All possible direct options exhausted, she finally turns to contacting Guel.

M: What in the world is happening up there Guel? Who attacked the school? I cannot get in touch with anyone in Earth House. Are they okay?

Is Suletta? Please tell me she's okay.

Miorine's typing stopped dead the moment she spotted a clip of Earth House came on the screen, showing nothing but a blown out ruin. She felt her heart rate pick up, panic setting in. Was EVERYONE dead?

G: I don't know where to start. "It's bad" doesn't begin to cover it. We've got Shaddiq, but the other one of those witches from the Rumble had been holed up somewhere and she just started shooting everything and everyone.

G: Panlunch is helping with clearing rubble according to Felsi. Earth House was okay last she saw the rest of them and were evacuated safely.

Guel Jeturk is typing…

None of them have seen Suletta since before she went to class today. They're looking for her too.

G: I've tried contacting her a few times myself and got nothing, but you'll be the first to know once I find her, I promise. I have to go, some members of my house are in rough shape, and I need to get back with Lauda to bring them home.

Miorine choked back the urge to vomit as everything sank in at once. It was hard to not know her ex-groom's class schedule by heart. Or shove down the knowledge that the lion's share of the devastation cut huge swaths through the academic buildings. No, no, no. Suletta would have been in the center of it all and was likely buried beneath tons upon tons of debris.

Every last gamble she had taken had failed to keep the girl she loved safe, and now she wasn't even certain that Suletta was still alive. Miorine dropped her head into her hands and despaired.

[stillfertile]

I have a couple things for u, first, ur header is elite, greatest picture of the deweys ever. i love looking at it every time i come to read ur blog like the morning news:)

Second, u gave me the brainworms with ur fantastic dewey art (u know the one) so now I'm going to share my brainworms with u. i like a good traditional a/b/o but consider this: alpha brandon but with Beta connor. connor may be a beta but that doesn't stop brandon from trying to put a baby in him at any given opportunity.

if i were a writer and i felt like adding some angst, i'd slip in a little something like: late at night when one thinks the other is asleep, "I wish I was an omega so I could give you what you want" or from Brandon, "sometimes, I wish you were an omega"

buT it needs to be the kind of angst that can be resolved like, "you're everything I've ever wanted, you're enough just the way you are"

anyway there's my brainworms, alpha brandon and beta connor:)

DUUUUDE DUDEDUDEDUDE IM THINKING ABOUT THIS SO HARD

Brandon would be sooo obsessed with knotting Connor, even though betas aren’t necessarily built for it. “Please, please can I knot you. I wanna—want to pump you full of pups, get you knocked up with my litter. If I pull out it’s not gonna take, Connor please”

THE AAANGST OF NOT BEING ABLE TO GIVE HIM WHAT HE WANTS Im thinking. stupid fight where Connor explodes at Brandon like “Im not your stupid omega, so stop treating me like one.” But in reality he just feels guilty for not being what Brandon wants. And Brandon misunderstands it as Connor doesnt like him back <3 IT WOULD BE SO MESSY

thank you THANK YOU anon for giving me your brain worms, if you have any more give me ‘em all :DDDD

[forgivenpunishment]

canon divergence: 7

name: nicholas d. wolfwood alias(es): nick, 7, nicholas, wolfwood

relationship(s): fiancé?: vash (w7) [status: unknown] - @sixty-billion fiancé: meryl (w0) - @misplacedreporter metamour/??? - @full-of-mercy adopted little sister basically: @threadsandwings current team: @misplacedreporter, @full-of-mercy, @crybaby-livio

divergence from canon: World 7 in the Meryl multiverse diverts right at the beginning; instead of rescuing Meryl and Roberto from the grand worm, Wolfwood and Zazie's plan goes the way it should. The reporters die in the worm, leaving Wolfwood to guide Vash on his own—as intended. The duo did try to rescue them, but were too late after the undertaker fought Vash on it longer than in canon.

effects from divergence: In canon, I see this as one of Vash's first "wins" with Wolfwood and one of Nicholas, The Punisher's first "failures" as a weapon. The plan was to separate Vash from Meryl and Roberto, and Vash showed Wolfwood an alternative (which, as we know from other canons, is one of the lessons Vash always teaches Wolfwood).

Succeeding in killing the two people closest to Vash (at the moment) would push Wolfwood's dial more towards "weapon" and further away from "human." Vash, being Vash, sees him for what he is immediately and follows him anyway—he still sees "the eyes of a good guy" despite his best efforts to hide them.

Meryl (w0) appears in the middle of their journey to JuLai, and accompanies the two of them. Since Meryl had been in a relationship with Vash and Wolfwood in World 0, she starts trying to crack 7 open to get him to see himself as a person instead of a weapon with varying degrees of success.

Eventually she does get through to him, and together with Vash they form a bond—7 nearly allows himself to call it "love." These thought patterns are incredibly difficult to work through, and require time, patience, and care.

important story notes: World 7 ends in complete failure. Lost in the wastes, the three of them are forced to take shelter in the unstable ruins of a warehouse-type building when a violent typhoon bears down on them. The building collapses; Vash is impaled and uses Meryl's cube to send her and 7 (who was attempting to dig them free) off to a new world.

7 does not go to the same place Meryl goes; he winds up in a new world's JuLai, delivered to the hands of his employers from that world. The Eye of Michael gets strange energy readings (higher dimensional readings) from him, and test him relentlessly for months. Using these readings, they intend to attract the source of his teleportation.

During their experimentation, they attempted to rewire 7's brain to its weapon-like state (which was not a hard thing to do—he had only just started treating himself like a person at the tail end of World 7, so that on top of the way things ended makes it easy to fall into old thought patterns). Further experimentation explores the idea of using him to seek dimensional anomalies and eliminate them, but this is never finished.

Meryl is captured in a failed attempt to world hop; the EoM traced her (and the Cube) using the strange energy readings they discovered on 7 and redirected the teleport to their JuLai headquarters. She too is experimented on and the Cube goes through rigorous tests. They use her to conduct further social experiments on 7 as well.

World 21's Wolfwood (Wayward Wolf verse: @full-of-mercy) comes to the rescue, and Meryl and 7 are free from the EoM—but things are back to being... weird... between them. Not only is he lost in a brand-new world, he must acclimate himself to traveling with another version of himself.

She calls the other Wolfwood "Nico," and 7 "Nick." They also successfully save a Livio/Razlo (@crybaby-livio) from EoM capture.

A short time after the great escape, the team takes on another EoM stronghold, leaving a trail of cultist bodies in their wake. They raid the Eye of valuable supplies and set them back potentially years in preparation—suggesting a possible good timeline for that world's (currently young) Nico and Livio.

They hop from world to world after that, until reaching a general state of contentment as they build their relationships. A world in which Knives (@millionsnife: plantfam verse) has a wife and three kids (to their utter astonishment) provides them with extended relaxation. 7 takes the time (under slight pressure from that world's Knives) to propose to Meryl. In a vivid dream, he also proposes to his own world's Vash (nsfw), but is it real?

Related tags:

#[doomed by the narrative; world 7] #[pack tactics; merylverse] #[this could be the day i die for you; misplacedreporter] #[shadow of myself; full of mercy] #[say you'll never die you'll always haunt me; sixty billion]

[palialaina]

....it's so nice to know that I am not the only one who does a thing in panic mode.

Though I suppose, being fair, Reth brought this one on himself.

Berryyyyy......

I did... a thing. And now I don't know what to do with myself. You know Reth and I have been talking a lot lately, and the other day I told you I thought he was cute. But I'm really not the kinda person to do things on impulse. I'm the take my time and think about things sorta person. And he's only just started telling me what's really up with him, and more than anything I just wanted to be a friend that he can trust.

.....but as he was kinda joking around he told me I could flirt with him or give him a heartdrop lily if I wanted to. And so I said okay and then...did. It's not that I didn't mean it, because I did, but I think I was taken aback at myself just as much as he was, but he asked if I was really sure and then said he was gonna take the gift before I changed my mind. And then we both got awkward and said we had to get to work and ran off. I.... don't know what to do with myself now??

Anyway, if Reth comes looking, I'm not here. I'm hiding in a hole somewhere.

Help.

-Lark

I honestly can't say if this is better or worse than what happened with me and Jel. But it makes me feel a little better? (Though I suppose Reth being far more forward than Jel made it easier to shove something at him immediately.)

I tabled my dinner party idea (for the moment, we're gonna try and all four of us get together next week. Squee!), brought macarons and other new cooking recipes over for Lark, and we spent a few hours going back and forth about which one of us is more awkward. And we're kind of decided we're siblings, or maybe we were in the place we were before.

I like that. Having them as a sibling.

But that was definitely a fun letter to get. At least we can both agree that we have very terrible ways of starting relationships...

Less dramatic news, my entire house smells of fish, and I am entirely blaming that on the trout dinner. It's so hard! And catching rainbow trout takes forever... but it is kind of nice to just sit and catch fish. I think I understand a little more why Einar likes it. But I still think I prefer my garden.

Oooohhh.... I wonder if I can use all the fish I don't want as worm food?

I may have to try that. I was catching a lot of dace between my two rainbow trout.

Fortunately, I have mostly covered up the scent with blueberry pie. I used up all my blueberries, but you know what? Totally worth it. Mmmmm~ I absolutely remembered this recipe without any help at all. Maybe I was some sort of baker in the other life? Reth's soups and the other dishes confuse me, but sweet like the macarons or the blueberry pie aren't so bad!

I have one more room to add to my house after the living room's done, but making it is a little tricky. I don't need a full sized room for a second bathroom (I'm shy about people walking through my room! It's silly, but... that's more my space than the rest of the house, I guess...) so maybe just a hallway sized spot with no windows will be okay? Or maybe two, and it's just a really long bathroom?

I'll have to think on it. But I swear, every time I earn some money up, this house eats it. I will be glad when it's done, I have so many other things I want/need to buy.

....no, brain, we don't need to make a guest room for Lark to sleep over in. And no power in the world could convince Jel to stay the night, no matter how much I'd like that.

I had the whole table laid out earlier, before Lark's letter arrived. It's a shame it'll all have to wait, but oh well. I can make it again next week. If they show up.

I hope they do. I really want to have a tiny dinner party with the people I like best. Both romantically and not.

[thatswhatsushesaid]

I see you have songyao on your bio blurb, which isn’t something around on The Untamed I’ve followed so far.

Would you mind please laying the fandom brain worms on that for a newbie? Their early timeline interactions are very cute, but I suppose I hadn’t considered it from a shipping perspective

hello anon! I assume you mean 'sangyao' rather than 'songyao,' because I, um. ...while I am sure that there is someone out there who has written some flavour of jin guangyao/song lan and ships it for whatever reason, I am not that person lol. the other ship I enjoy sailing in this weird, fucked up little novel about gay sword wizards is jin guangyao/nie huaisang, and I enjoy it because it is so satisfyingly crunchy.

I'll preface this by saying a couple of things which may seem a little weird, but they bear mentioning anyway because I think my way of enjoying non-xiyao ships with jgy is not the norm lol. so:

I don't consider sangyao to be a 'canon' ship in the same way that I do xiyao (I'll die and kill on that hill, esp wrt how it's portrayed in the untamed/cql, but that's neither here nor there), which means I don't think there's a defendable argument to be made based on what we're given in the text alone to state that jgy and nhs have reciprocal romantic feelings for each other. however--

what they do have in spades, especially in cql, is fantastic on-screen (or in-text) chemistry, and pathos, and a shared victimization by nmj, and Tragedy™️, and in the magical land of transformative fiction, I fuck with that shit heavily. 👀 god what wouldn't I give for a post-canon soliloquy by nhs just going full-hamlet on the audience about killing his ophelia, if ophelia in this context also was the one who murdered his father. (and.. married his... mother..??? nevermind it's not going to transpose perfectly but you get what I'm saying.) if anyone has the chops for it in-character, you know it's nhs.

imo, jgy's love and devotion to lxc is something so integral to his character across all adaptations of mdzs that even when I ship jgy with other characters (e.g., nhs, su she, or even jiang cheng), I still write him as being in love with lxc at the same time. ('write,' she says, as if she has actually gotten any mdzs fic to a state where it is fit to be shared with the internet. lol) this last point is one that I don't believe is commonly shared amongst other people who enjoy shipping jgy with nhs or other characters, and that's fine obviously. I'm just mentioning it to emphasize that maybe my particular brand of sangyao brainworms are not the same species of sangyao brainworms commonly found in other corners of the fandom. but this isn't a bug for me with sangyao, this is a feature--because think of all the ways you can lean into this to create beautiful, painful romantic friction between jgy and nhs in this context? "why won't san-ge give up doing shitty things for his shitty father and just come back to qinghe with me?" well, a-sang, if he wouldn't do that even for lan xichen, why would he do it for you? just... just twist that knife, just a little.

I've written in a couple other places specifically about why I enjoy this ship: here (along with why I also enjoy suyao and... do not enjoy nie//yao, at all), as well as here, where I dig down into the stuff that throws me right out of the immersion of the story vis-a-vis jgy's characterization. (tl;dr, jgy doesn't want to be a nie, and he does not want to hurt nhs, at all, period, before the guanyin temple confrontation).

also, all the late canon sangyao vibes contained in all their beautiful, terrible multitudes inside artworks like these.

I hope these are adequate sangyao brainworms for you, anon!

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] || Also on AO3.

Chapter 20: July 2016

Jon couldn’t sleep. Despite the events of the day, not to mention the extreme emotional roller-coaster that had been the conversation that followed—despite, in fact, being weary to the bone and feeling drained of all energy—he found himself lying awake in the darkness.

There were probably a lot of reasons for this. One was the general unfamiliarity of the mattress—it wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just different enough to make his brain itch a little. On the other hand, the feel of the sheets was definitely unpleasant, too stiff and scratchy where they touched his bare skin, too light and insubstantial where they didn’t, and they smelled of bleach. He was starting to ache a bit, not crippling agony, but definitely the kind of pain that distracted him from being able to sleep, but the painkillers were too far away. He wasn’t alone, either, and while he didn’t necessarily prefer being alone, he was used to it at this point and suddenly and unexpectedly sharing a room, not to mention a bed, no matter how large, was making it hard to fall asleep when he hadn’t mentally prepared himself and they hadn’t discussed boundaries.

Also, Tim snored like a horse being sawn in half.

Jon lay on his back for a while, trying to call on literally any of the coping mechanisms he’d come up with over the years to fall asleep, hopefully without dreaming. Then the thought of the dreams he’d been having lately, coupled with the idea dropping into his mind that he might dream about tonight, about the tunnels and the worms and the screaming and everything else, struck him like the proverbial ton of bricks and effectively killed off any idea of sleep for the moment.

Carefully, so as not to either exacerbate his injuries or wake Tim, he peeled back the top sheet and eased out of the bed. While he was on the one hand reluctant to go wandering around Melanie King’s house without her permission, he was…curious. As long as he didn’t touch anything, it should be fine, right? If all else failed, he could always claim he’d been looking for the bathroom.

The door opened silently, and he closed it gently behind himself before making his way down the hall. It was carpeted, thank God, which meant the likelihood of creaky floorboards was greatly diminished. It was also dark, though, and he had to move extremely slowly and carefully to keep from getting hurt…or making too much noise. As late as it was—as late as it had to be—he didn’t want to wake anyone.

There was a light on towards one end of the hall. The tiny part of Jon’s brain that had been in full panic mode since the first worm had reared its ugly head clamored that Melanie had left the candle burning and the living room was on fire and oh, God, Martin was in there, but he made himself think rationally. The candles didn’t seem to actually do much damage, really, not unless the wards were tested severely. And they seemed to have been placed sensibly, or rather, things around them had been placed sensibly. Besides, the light wasn’t right for it to be a fire. It was too dim, too…steady. It must be something else. Probably someone had just left a lamp on.

As he got closer to the source of the light—the door to the living room, which was ajar—he could hear voices. Sudden panic made his heart kick against his ribcage for a second, until he got close enough to make out words and recognized the speaker. Martin.

“—bad as all that,” he was saying. Something in Jon’s chest he hadn’t even realized was tight loosened at the sound of his assistant’s voice. “Not now, anyway.”

“He left you trapped in your flat for two weeks.” It took Jon a second to recognize the voice as Gerard Keay’s. “And then let you get eaten by worms. Sounds pretty bad to me.”

“This wasn’t his fault. And it wasn’t his fault I was trapped for two weeks, either. Jane Prentiss had my phone, she’d texted him and told him I was sick.”

“And he didn’t come check on you once.” That was Melanie.

“He’s my boss, Neens. Not my friend. Not…I mean, we weren’t then. I’d barely managed to get upgraded from nuisance to colleague. If it happened now, yeah, I think maybe he would have. But back then, I wouldn’t have expected him to come see how I was. That’s not the relationship he had with any of us, really, least of all me.”

They were talking about him. Jon’s stomach squirmed slightly with guilt, because there wasn’t anything Martin had just said that was untrue. Over the last four months—particularly the last few weeks, since the night Martin had sung for him when he’d asked—they’d become friendly. For God’s sake, Martin had carried him back there, had wrapped him in his own jumper when he couldn’t stop shivering, had comforted and protected him. And he’d…been useless. As both a boss and a friend.

“He really thought you were a nuisance?” Gerard’s voice brought Jon back to the present, although not particularly pleasantly.

Martin snorted, sounding amused. “Oh, yeah, he was never subtle about that. You should hear the summing-ups he did on most of the early statement recordings. ‘Well, this is obviously patently false, but if it does turn out to be true, I hope it kills Martin.’”

His imitation of Jon’s voice was almost spot-on, and it was pretty funny, even if it was also a bit too close to a direct quote for comfort. It sounded like Gerard and Melanie both found it funny, too,    because they laughed, if reluctantly. “And now?”

“He pushed me a bit too far one day and I snapped at him. Things got a bit better after that, weirdly.”

“Told you. Sometimes you have to take up space,” Melanie said.

“I’m six foot six and over three hundred thirty pounds. How much more space can I take up?” Martin huffed. “Anyway, that’s when he started…I don’t know, respecting my work? Not nitpicking it so much, anyway. We didn’t get to start being friendly until after Prentiss, though.”

Someone sighed. Jon presumed it to be Gerard, since he spoke next, but while the door was ajar, he’d positioned himself on the hinge side so that if it opened, he would be hidden, which rather limited his line of sight. “What did he push you over? I’m genuinely curious as to what the final straw was for you over someone who had the power to make the rest of your life absolute hell.”

There was a surprisingly long pause before Martin answered. “That guy you bought Ex Altiora off of made a statement.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. That was the latest one he’d unearthed. We were researching it, and…honestly, Gerry, it’d been a lousy day to begin with. You know those days where nothing goes right? Started off with my alarm not going off and went downhill from there. I was tired, I was stressed…I was starving, because I hadn’t had time to eat before I left and I forgot my lunch, and it was the end of the pay period all the bills came out of, so I didn’t have money for the canteen. Just altogether not in a good mood. And it was Mum’s birthday, which didn’t help.”

Melanie sighed this time, a lot more exasperated of a sound. “You got Sheila when you called, too, I bet.”

Martin sighed, too. “Give the lady a cigar. Anyway, yeah, it just…it was a perfect storm of suck, so when Jon basically accused me of slacking off, I blew up at him.”

It hadn’t really been an explosion, Jon thought to himself, so much as the pop of a Christmas cracker, but he put that aside at the question Gerard posed. “And you weren’t worried he’d actually kill you?”

“I said he was starting to put the pieces together, not that he knew what was going on. At best I thought he’d try to fire me. I almost wish he had. Might’ve made things easier. Or Elias would’ve come down and killed us all, I don’t know.” Martin was really way too nonchalant about these things. “Anyway, Jon’s not anything like Gertrude Robinson, thank fucking God. The more I’ve got to know him, the more I realize that if he’d actually known these things were dangerous before he went to record them, he wouldn’t have actually sent any of us to investigate. Even me. He’d have probably tried to go himself. He’d never sacrifice anyone else for his own curiosity, and I think he would actually die before he let any of us be hurt.”

“Oh, I’m so glad the two of you have found each other, that’s exactly what the world needs,” Melanie drawled.

“Shut up, Neenie.”

“Okay, let me ask a less obvious question,” Gerard said. “You weren’t worried he’d start sending Tim and Sasha on the dangerous fieldwork if he didn’t want you at least out of the way, if not dead?”

Jon slammed his hand into his mouth, despite the pain it caused around the worm holes, to keep from gasping aloud. That had never occurred to him, but—hang on, he hadn’t only sent Martin to look into things, had he? He’d—Tim and Sasha, they did their share of fieldwork, too. He tried desperately to remember if any of them had been cases that wouldn’t record on his laptop. Oh, God, had he put Martin in danger and let Tim and Sasha stay safe because he wanted—he didn’t really want Martin dead, he’d been annoyed by him, exasperated, would have been happier at the beginning if he had quit, but dead?

“We don’t have to do actual fieldwork that often, really. It’s mostly phone calls,” Martin answered. “And…I’m not stupid. There are some things Tim’s better at than I am, or Sasha. And I know better than to get too close to the Buried, not after what happened at the Mermaid Inn.” He sighed. “But…well, sometimes people will talk to me who won’t talk to the others, because they can tell that I know. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to let anyone else go to Bexley.”

“Bex—shit, not that woman bound up in the Flesh, the one with the…”

“Angela Grackle, yeah.”

Jon frowned, momentarily distracted by the fact that they’d never known Angela’s last name and that Martin had claimed not to be able to find her—it had been one of the last times he’d insulted Martin on recording, more out of habit than anything—but then Melanie started speaking and he focused back on the conversation. “You know they’re not going to let you get away with that now that they know about the Fourteen, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” Martin sounded resigned. “I can already foresee some nasty go-rounds with Tim about it.”

“Buddy system, Martin. You should’ve been using it from the beginning. Always goes worse for us when we try to go solo. I mean, look at me.” Gerard yawned. “I’m…shit, I’m actually tired. God, you have no idea how good that feels. But I need at least a night’s sleep before I try to give a proper statement to your Archivist.”

“Don’t call him that, please.”

“What, Archivist or yours?”

“Good night, Gerry,” Martin said emphatically.

There was some soft snickering and a bit of murmuring Jon couldn’t quite make out. He pressed himself harder into the corner, hoping he wouldn’t be given away when the others came out into the hallway—he’d never make it back to the room unobserved—but nothing happened for an agonizingly long time. After a couple of minutes, though, he heard Martin call quietly, “Jon?”

Guiltily, Jon pulled himself out of the corner, stiff and sore from having stood still too long, and came into the living room. “How did you know it was me?” he asked, pulling the door shut behind him.

Martin was alone in the room—Jon could see now that there was another door he’d been too shell-shocked to notice earlier—and still sitting on the loveseat, although he had his feet propped up on the low coffee table in the middle. He also had his eyes closed and his glasses off as he rubbed at his forehead. “Saw the flash of socks under the door and knew someone was out there. Sasha would’ve been on the other side of the door so she could see as well as hear, so it was fifty-fifty whether it was you or Tim. Took a chance it was you.” He slid his glasses back onto his face and raised his head to look at Jon. Surprise flitted through his eyes as his eyebrows jumped up to his hairline.

“It’s not mine,” Jon said weakly, feeling his face catch fire. Melanie had offered to find all of them something to sleep in—she hadn’t been able to find anything that fit Tim, who had simply stripped down to his pants, and she’d given Sasha an oversize sleep shirt that would do—but he wasn’t sure which of them had been more dismayed to discover that Jon and Melanie were essentially the same size. Still, she’d handed Jon a soft cotton t-shirt and a pair of flannel sleep pants worn smooth from numerous washings, and even a pair of socks he’d at first looked slightly askance at but that had turned out to be the most comfortable things he’d ever put on his feet. And he was grateful.

He just knew it did something probably unhelpful for his reputation, such as it was, to be wearing a shirt advertising an American punk rock band’s European tour.

“I know it’s not yours. I’m just…surprised is all. When Neens said she’d given you lot stuff to sleep in…never mind.” Martin gave him a tired half-smile. “Hurting?”

“A little.”

Martin gestured to the various seats in the living room—the sofa he, Tim, and Sasha had crammed onto, the loveseat Martin had somehow managed to share with Melanie and Gerard, an overstuffed leather armchair with a knitted throw tossed casually over the back. Jon contemplated the chair for a moment—something about that throw drew in his attention—and then, rather to his surprise, made his way across the living room and settled next to Martin on the loveseat.

“Do you mind?” he asked, somewhat belatedly.

To his relief, Martin shook his head. “Not if you don’t.”

They sat in silence for a bit, but it was a comfortable one, not charged or tense like the silences in the Archives usually were, especially these days. Finally, Martin took a deep breath. “So…how much of that did you hear?”

“You, ah…everything from Gerard saying I’d let you be trapped for two weeks without checking on you,” Jon admitted. “I am sorry about that, Martin. I—I should have—”

“Honestly, Jon, I think the fact that you wouldn’t have is the only reason she went away,” Martin said. Jon blinked up at him in surprise. “I wasn’t afraid of her. Not then. Not once I realized…I wasn’t sure if Tim would come to see how I was doing, but after a couple days, I realized nobody was coming, and that meant nobody would walk in on her unprepared. So I wasn’t afraid anymore. Her leaving was probably less because she was bored and more because she was starving.”

“Starving,” Jon repeated.

“She fed off fear. Most things that have become that entwined with the Fourteen do, in the end.”

Jon could hear the faint note of sadness in Martin’s voice. He studied his assistant’s face, then asked the question he probably didn’t want to know the answer to. “Even you?”

Martin swallowed and nodded. “Even me. Eventually. It hasn’t happened yet, but…every time I Look, every time I See, it gets worse and worse. Someday I’ll go too far and I’ll have to, and the worst of it is it’s not going to be a big thing. It’s like putting a single drop of poison in the well every single day until one day you can’t drink the water anymore.”

“It’s not the hundredth blow that splits the stone, but the ninety-nine that came before,” Jon said softly.

“Yeah, something like that. It’s…never mind.” Martin took a deep breath. “But no, right now I don’t have to live off the fear of the people around me. Prentiss, though…me not being afraid of what would happen was probably what got her to let me go, in the end.”

Jon mulled that over for a minute. “So that’s the trick? Not being afraid?”

Martin shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s really difficult to just…not be afraid. There’s a rumor…some university student who had an encounter with an agent of Terminus and lost the ability to feel fear…but that’s not something that comes easily to most people. I wasn’t afraid for myself because I was, well, prepared. At least at home. I had the ward, and I knew it worked. I had a few things that would have helped if she’d forced her way in. And if all else failed, I could have taken a few precautions to make sure she couldn’t have used me to get to you all.”

“I’m going to have to get you to teach me some of those things,” Jon murmured, settling back against the loveseat. “Not tonight, though.”

“No. No, not tonight,” Martin agreed.

Another silence fell. This time Jon was the one to break it by blurting out, “I didn’t really want you dead, you know.”

Martin gave a surprised and slightly bemused-sounding laugh. “What brought that up?”

“It’s…you were, y-you were talking with Gerard and Melanie about the way I treated you in the beginning, and—I was awful to you, I shouldn’t—”

“I probably deserved it. At least some of it,” Martin interrupted. “And no, I never thought you actually wanted me dead. I’d have called you out on it if I did. I just thought you hated me.”

Jon wanted to deny that he’d hated Martin, but he wasn’t sure he plausibly could. Instead, he asked the question that had been bothering him…well, for a while, but especially since he’d asked Martin why he stayed. “So why didn’t you quit?”

Martin was quiet for a lot longer than Jon had expected. Finally, he said softly, “We can’t, Jon. None of us can. We’re bound to the Archives now.”

That probably should have been horrifying. Or terrifying. Or both. Jon was vaguely aware there was a distinction between the two, but he couldn’t remember what it was exactly. It had something to do with the mood, didn’t it?

He must have said something out loud, because Martin gave him a funny look. “Terror comes before an event, horror comes after. One of my teachers said once that fear is worrying there’s a werewolf after you, terror is seeing it spring out of the bushes and charge at you, and horror is realizing your feet are stuck to the ground. Something like that. Why, are you trying to figure out which one’s more applicable here?”

“I mean—kind of?” Jon tried to laugh. “It doesn’t really matter, I suppose. It should be…I suppose it should be horrifying, right?”

“But it isn’t?”

Jon shrugged. “I can think of worse things than to spend the rest of my life working in the Archives with you.”

The surprised laugh that burbled out of Martin was one of the nicest sounds Jon thought he’d heard in a while. “I think it might be more productive to talk about this in the morning. Once you’ve had a good night’s sleep. But…for what it’s worth, thank you.”

“Thank you,” Jon said, suddenly aware he hadn’t said it earlier. “For…everything today. For saving my life. For looking after me.” For caring about me, he wanted to add, but he bit that back. It felt…a bit excessive, really.

“Of course.” Martin sighed. “I wish I’d told you sooner. I wish you’d all been more prepared. I—I wish I could have done more. But I was glad to do what I did.” He paused. “Speaking of, I’ve, um, Melanie left the bottle of aspirin. Do you…?”

Jon was, in fact, still in a fair amount of pain. “Please.”

Martin opened the bottle and shook out a couple of the little white pills, then handed the rest of the bottle to Jon before tossing back the ones in his cupped hand and chasing them with a sip of tea. Jon took three—more than he probably should have, but the pain was severe and he hoped it would help him sleep—and was about to dry-swallow them when Martin nudged him, very gently, and gave him the mug as well. “Here. There’s not much in it, but it should be enough.”

“Thank you.” Jon’s fingers were not shaking as he took the mug, and if they were, it was definitely from the pain. There was no more than a swallow left in the bottom, and it tasted faintly sticky, but as Martin had said, it was enough to keep from feeling the powdery drag down his throat.

He set the mug down on the coffee table and leaned back against the loveseat, waiting for the pain to subside enough that he could force himself to his feet and stumble back to the room he was sharing with Tim. Or maybe he’d stay here until Martin left—presumably he had a bed of his own somewhere in here—and sleep on the loveseat. It would be safer. Funny how he never worried about what might happen if he slept in the same room as Martin. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Tim, just that he worried one or both of them might do something…unseemly. There was, strangely, no fear of that with Martin.

Jon was still turning that over in his head when he drifted off to sleep, right there in the living room.

[pumpkintheriddlemaster]

do you have a favorite tma episode? :)

I’m so sorry this took me so long to get too, I just had a hard time trying to pick?!?

I couldn’t choose so now I’m gonna make it everyone else’s problem in this text response.

Like ok, the first that always comes to mind is MAG 65: Binary and MAG 74: Fatigue.

Binary because the thought of an Internet creepypasta being a real actual thing that exists in universe is the funniest thing imaginable.

Also how lovely the story is told! God such a good episode.

But like, there’s also Fatigue which like, keeps popping up in my mind low key only because there was a Uquize that gave you “what statement giver you are” and I got Lydia Halligan for ep 74 and it’s stayed rent free in my head so now it’s one of the few episodes that pop up in my head when someone asks.

Also that and you can feel the fact the jonny wrote this sleep deprived, bless.

I also, unfortunately, live in a constant state of fatigue so much relations to be had 😔.

BUT WAIT!!! THERES MORE???

Yes there’s more I love horror.

MAG 177: Wonderland is my absolute #1 fear and actually concern irl so I tend to actually really like and really relate to it? Like my body is in pain a good percentage of my time alive and more things keep popping up that are Concerning!™️ but going to the doctor about it gives me pause because of past experiences. I’ve also straight up broke down when I came home once because of anxiety and the fact that I Hate Being Touched And Doctor Had to Poke And Prod At Me And I Didn’t Like How I Was Spoken Too And So Much More ;-;. It’s just a good episode that Hits, me, in the face, at Full Speed!!!

Other eps I like for no other reason other then “Vibes Hard” are 24: Strange Music, 81: A Guest For Mr. Spider (huh I Wonder Why), 87: The Uncanny Valley (lmao), and 22: Colony (lmao I wonder why that one as well)

Also another I like for funny reasons is MAG 165: Revolutions because of someone on tumblr put the statement to a lowfi beat and it fucking ruled.

There are probably more that I might like more but it’s been a while since I’ve listened as I have the “can’t really pay attention or enjoy anything I like lately if I’ve already heard it before even if I really really really like said thing” disease. Which I believe comes from the depression side of my ADHD :/

(This has also started to effective my enjoyment of new things as well. :( man :( my brain sucks :(...)

So my rule of thumb is, if I remember it and it’s not the first few eps then it’s up there on my list!!! :D (because the first eps are truly sooooooooosososo good!) I also left out any that just had moments I liked after the statements as I wanted to focus on the statements and horror stories themselves! Not just for my undying admiration and love for Asexual King Jon Jarchivist J Jim’s and Martin Kartin Blackwood. Oh how I love them dearly <3

I can however tell you the ep I absolutely can not listen to again tho!!!

No matter how many time I relisten (or attempt to, stupid brain) I can never listen to MAG 6: Squirm ever again! I just can’t! My sex-repulsed ass was already second-guessing listening when I heard the episodes description for the first time. And then it got worse as I listened because EW GOD NO WHY EW. Like ew god the implications??? 😨 like I already think it’s gross but the worms make it more gross and horrifying. I already remember all the relevant information form the first time around! I don’t need another go! thank you! Have a good day!

Also side note, not anywhere near my favorite or least favorite (tho I can still relisten to it, mag 6 is the only one I can’t) but MAG 172: Strung Out scares me. Not in a “I relate to this” kind of way, I have never done a drug in my life and find it to be a waist of my time, hell I don’t even drink for the same reason. (Plus looking at my ADHD and some of my heritage, I’d be much more prone to addiction anyways.) To me it’s a waist of time and money and not something I care for as, surprise! I don’t like losing or being out of my own control! This ep scares me the same way it would probably scare Mr. GhostHunter Shane Madej.

Anyways! There’s my TMA episode thought! :D

[moon-lords-lower-body]

Ask game, 15 and 4

OOOOH ok so 15 is interesting bc back in the day, i wanna say late 2019-early 2020? I actually had like unique crimson/corrupted versions of p much all my main ocs at the time. But all that art is pretty old, and im not rly using the headcanons that its all based on BUUUT i do think they will influence my answer. Im just gonna give general answers for each biome infection (and also lunar stuff bc. I think theyre also very very good for turning characters Eeeevil) n then rattle off some more interesting specific cases

Corrupt- i get the feeling a corruption infection is kind of like being a zombie but a little to the right. A lot of brain fog and not really all there mentally. Wanna bite. Dunno why. Wanna dig holes. Wanna shove people in holes. Also seems like itd be an airborne thing, but not in the way of like. Single celled bacteria invisible to the human eye, but like spores and poisonous fungi and that kinda thing. This kinda feels like a nice default thag i think a lot of my ocs could succumb to tbh, but i dont think any are particularly interesting EXCEPT. For Maxwell. Bc. Ive got 3 guide ocs. Scott, whos like your beginning prehm guide whos got pretty good all around knowledge but doesnt rly delve deeper into any specific terrarian aspect. N then Zach, whos like the guide at the endgame, knows just so much insider knowledge abt the lunar amd solar cults yes i made a solar cult, hes the "what's next?" To scott's "what is?". N then Maxwell is the guide right into hardmode, has extensive knowledge about the hallow and world evils, esp corruption. And like. He would absolutely knoe about how corruption spreads and how it infects people and he'd know exactly how to prevent it. So if he got corrupted its bc he WANTED. To be corrupted. For one reason or another. Large scale revenge? Mad scientist research? Who knows.

Crimson- a crimson infection is just straight bloodlust and violence babey! Just visceral instincts overriding all. Kill kill kill bite bite bite and whatnot. I think to get a crimson infection, it would be really super easy if you're not careful. Like a bite that breaks the skin could do it. But yknow if ur in full armor ur basically fine. More potent than corruption, harder time spreading to those who are prepared. It is for this reason i think Vexx, Dynamo and Crow especially all could be taken over w crimson just so easily- all are pretty reckless, and crow's poking around in there often already for research purposes. Fuck now im compelled to draw like super ultra crimson crow or some1 but its soooo late rn

Hallow- lots of "warped sense of justice" kinda stuff. No harming of wildlife, such a crime is punishable by death, spreading "good" chaos by force. Murder is okay 👍 I think mattie would succumb to this p easily. He seems like the type to hang around the hallow anyway and yknow, hes a bit naive and gullible. Very strong heart + easily malleable mind which is a winning combo for a hallow infection. Same thing w Val and Izzy who im aware ive never mentioned but all you need to know abt them for this is that they're teenagers with very strong opinions. OH ALSO yall've seen that episode of Gumball "The Joy" right? The one with the outbreak of a joy virus that turns everyone into very happy zombies w big dilated eyes and pastel rainbow bloodshed. Thats also what im picturing. Good shit

Ok rapidfire lunar stuff lets go

Solar- similarly violent and aggressive as crimson but more strategic rather than purely instinctual. Affects my melee ocs the most (terra, dynamo)

Vortex- alien worms and parasites In Ur Gutz!! That make you diseased before taking over to give you the planning abilities to strategically take out the others in your life one by one (pixie, vivian, crow)

Nebula- BECOME PART OF THE HIVE MIND TODAY AND MOVE LIKE A WEIRD PUPPET AND ACT LIKE A LEECH (mage) (mattie, isaac, not izzy bc shes like 15 and perfect)

Stardust- alters your brain matter in such a way that you just sooo want to live in space and ur gonna take EEEVERYONE w you by FORCE bc isnt it so PRETTY (vexx, tbh i think isaac already has a bit of this in him already. Hes fuckin weird. Again not val bc shes 15 and perfect)

Okok one more interesting thing: Astral Infection! Including it bc crow canonically (at least in the current cal multiplayer run) did get a pretfy bad astral infection..infection, basically from breathing in all the Particles. All the snow and dirt n shit. And it all kinda gathered in his lungs and started burning them from the inside out, and it just outwardly looked like a high ER-worthy fever and bad cough, still scary but like. Not "i think an alien disease is eating away at him from the inside" scary. Thankfully his besties stopped it from getting worse, bc otherwise it wouldve completely burned holes thru his chest and killed him, his body just kind of letting out more toxic fumes until hes like. Zombified or smth. Im still new to cal and also idk the full lore </3

Wow that was a lot of rambling! Its 1:40 am so im gonna answer the other questjon 2morrow! (Same deal for the other anon thag sent in a question, TY BTW)

[a-libra-writes]

Game of Thrones Imagine - Being a Widow with a Child

In this preference, you'll be with: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Mance Rayder, Eddison Tollett, Theon Greyjoy, Yara Greyjoy, Victarion Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Grey Worm, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn of Blackwater, Petyr Baelish, Robert Baratheon, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Doran Martell, Arianne Martell

This is going along with the lore that highborn widows with sons are allowed to stay at their deceased husband's keep and rule it until their son is of age! Tho there's some daughters too. IDK this was just in my brain.

Ned Stark

He’s a family man, so he finds your devotion to your daughter charming and attractive. When you married, he allowed your daughter to come along to Winterfell; he couldn’t imagine parting her from her mother. And a nice bonus is that she’s around Jon and Robb’s age, so she could have siblings right away. Though it’s a strange household — a “bastard” son, a son from his first marriage, a step-daughter and eventually a child with you — Ned’s heart swells when he sees you together with all of them. Oh, and Ned would never admit it, but… your soft body and even the stretchmarks are very attractive to him.

Robb Stark

While it’s unconventional for Robb to be marrying a widow, you’re still young and your child is a daughter, so there’s no “threat” to the Starks by her coming along (and Robb would never separate you from her, anyway). He’s unsure for just a day before he quickly takes to her. He has plenty of siblings, after all, and Robb tries to get Rickon to play nice with her. He’d probably be seen as more of a big brother than a real father to her, which Robb is fine with. He plans to do right by her and make sure she’s comfortable in Winterfell — also, it’s adorable how she trails after you.

Sansa Stark

At one point all Sansa could daydream about was being in your position: Married with a child, but now she’s not so naive. She understands you’ve been through a lot, having to protect your child through a war and manage a household that didn’t fully respect you. You take full advantage of the power widowhood gives you, even if it’s temporary. At least it allows you and Sansa to visit, and for you to protect her. As for your son, she’s quite fond of him, though sometimes his smile pulls at her heart because she thinks of her brothers. She’s delighted every time he slips up and calls her “auntie”.

Jon Snow

He has a lot of hang-ups about having children and fatherhood, as you know. Being around your child made him nervous, even if the boy just wanted to play with Jon and look at Ghost. He knew wildlings had different “rules” about these things, but… his heart melts when you care for the boy and he’s treated no different than the other children around. When you talk about the father, Jon is surprised you aren’t upset or ashamed. He thought wildlings lived unhappy and hard lives, but you both challenge that idea. Jon starts to get more attached than he’d like to admit.

Benjen Stark

He always has a little treat tucked away in his cloak for your boy, though you’ve teased Benjen about spoiling him. Your late husband’s keep is one of many places Benjen looks for recruits, so he’s seen your child grow up over several years. And he’s quite popular, with his unusual clothes and tales of the wall. It makes Benjen sentimental to talk to the boy; he’ll start to miss his nieces and nephews in Winterfell. He wonders what it would be like if you could meet them, since he’s quite interested in you. Oh, well. He’s not a man of regrets, so he treasures the moments he gets with you and your child.

Jory Cassel

Jory is surprised he’s marrying at all, let alone a lady of your station. You being widowed doesn’t trouble him, in fact, he wonders if you’re really alright with the arrangement. He wants to make sure your daughter is okay, too! Jory would never imagine separating you two, and while he’s awkward at first, you notice he’s a natural with kids — It must be from all the years of corralling the Stark children. You can tell Jory is very happy with your little family.

Mance Rayder

He’s enamored right away because before he joined the wildlings, never would he had imagined a woman trying to spear him while also carrying a child on her back. Now that you both know each other, there’s less spearing and more Mance humming a tune while your babe falls asleep. He gives you both a soft look when he does that, and you wonder if it’s because crows aren’t allowed wives or children. While Mance is on good enough terms with the curious and rough wildling children in camp, your child is the one who likes to ride on his shoulders on top of his red and black cloak.

Eddison Tollett

Edd grew up with younger siblings and some cousins, so he’s used to being around kids… it has been a while, though. He’s a bit amused by you, a wildling woman carrying around her sassy child on her back. Edd likes to complain about the boy raising hell, but he lets the kid get away with stuffing snowballs in Alliser Thorne’s boots. His interest in you doesn’t heighten or lessen because of a kid, though the boy certainly likes to follow him around. The other Brothers tease him about it, but Edd doesn’t mind too much. Beats sitting alone and talking to the horses.

Pre-Reek!Theon

He never cared much about the brats that ran around Winterfell, and he probably didn’t notice your son until he saw the both of you together. A visit from a pretty girl was rare enough, but a local widowed lady? That was interesting. Theon assumed you were trying to get favor with the Starks — specifically Robb — but he’d still flirt. Watching you be loving with your son stirs a lot of bitter, confusing and even jealous feelings in him. Obviously he’s not going to unpack all that.

Yara Greyjoy

The fact you have a brat at your heels doesn’t deter her attraction to you. She probably wouldn’t pay much mind to the child unless they were exceptionally clever — she outright laughs when they try to tell Yara off for flirting with you. She’s amused if your child begins to idolize her for being a captain, especially if the child was a girl. And when you interact with your child, Yara could almost call it… cute. And she rarely uses that word! The closer you both become, the more she’s like an older sister or cool aunt to your child.

Victarion Greyjoy

When Victarion finds out you’re a widow and not married, he has to physically restrain his relief and happiness. Good, no competition. If she’s a girl, she’ll be allowed to live alongside you on Pyke and little would be expected of her. If he’s a boy, that might be trickier. Victarion might be able to bring him to Pyke and raise him as his own, especially if you were a saltwife. The boy would never be considered a true Greyjoy, but he could still follow the Ironborn way and rise in the society. If you didn’t want your son to be Ironborn, well … sorry about that. Victarion wouldn’t admit it, but he’d like to watch you interact with your kiddo. It gives him a sad nostalgia he can’t quite place.

Daenerys Targaryen

She’s already fond of children, and since she adores you, she attaches herself fairly quickly to your child. She loves finding the similarities in your faces, and watching you play together. Sometimes it’s a bittersweet feeling; she thinks of her own loss and her childhood. But most times you can tell how delighted she is with your child running toward her excitedly, presenting flowers or some such gift. Half the time she doesn’t even need dragons to impress them; they like to sit in her lap and play with her silver hair or stare at her crown. When Daenerys is officially together with you, you both easily fall into parenting your child together.

Jorah Mormont

As if he wasn’t already weak for you… Jorah just adores how you interact with your child, showing them the wonders of Essos, the Khaleesi’s dragons in the sky, making sure they’re comfortable on top of a horse. His heart pounds when the child runs to him for something, and you look at him with such warmth. He’s already daydreaming about the three of you being a family, the thing he thought he missed his chance on. He’ll act paternal without even thinking about it.

Missandei

She was immediately charmed by your child, and the easy, sweet relationship you both had. Missandei can’t remember her mother, but she’s seen many slave and free children be abused through her life. Because of that and because of Missandei’s love for you, she’s always been sweet to your child. She’s happy to teach them languages or history when she has time. No matter how affectionate your kiddo is to her, she doesn’t believe how special she is to them until they called her “sister” or “auntie”. Even when you both were together, Missandei wondered if your child would ever accept her. She could cry once they consider her family.

Grey Worm

Given his and the Unsullied’s upbringing, Grey Worm never thought he’d have a chance to see a normal mother and child relationship. He watches you both with awe and fascination, standing far away so he doesn’t startle the child. Though the child is more likely to startle Grey Worm with his shrieks of delight and running around. Even when you tell Grey Worm he can play games with your child, he’s nervous about doing so, worried he’ll mess up in some way. Once you rope him into spending time with the two of you, he feels a sense of peace he never expected. Visits with you and your child quickly become Grey Worm’s biggest comfort.

Tywin Lannister

In all honesty, he would ignore your daughter for the most part, especially if she was younger. It was already highly unusual that he married a widow with a child; that child in question is certainly an outsider at Casterly Rock, unless you take great steps to educate her and bring her to court. She’ll have finery, but little warmth, unless it’s from you or some friends she manages to make. Even if she’s clever, it’ll take much more for Tywin to deign to notice her. She’s still expected to be presentable at events and in court, however.

Tyrion Lannister

He’s already good with children, and your’s is actually well behaved. Initially Tyrion was attentive to the boy to get your attention, in hopes of securing your favor with one of his schemes. He ended up being fond of the two of you, seeing your own cleverness and compassion in your son, and how much you care for him. It brings up some bittersweet memories of his own upbringing, but he’s also very attracted to your devotion. He might take your boy for a squire, if he’s old enough, or help him achieve a better position.

Jaime Lannister

First off, lucky for him that your spouse is out of the picture, that means any sneaking around is that much easier. He’s not too worried about your son, though; if anything, Jaime doesn’t think much of him. Jaime is distanced from his own children, so he would be with your’s, unless the boy was deadset on following him around. Which, given that Jaime is a famous knight and Kingsguard, he might. Jaime will amuse the boy for a time, but it’s your attention he wants. It’s nice that the boy doesn’t consider him a Kingslayer, though that’s likely because of your influence. And if the lad has obvious talent with a sword, well … maybe Jaime will offer to train him here and there, just to make you happy. He’d feel uncomfortable if the boy began looking up to him, though. He isn’t the sort of person who should be idolized.

Sandor Clegane

Initially, he doesn’t think much of your brat. He’s already in denial of his feelings for you, and a leftover kid from your deceased spouse makes things more complicated. It’s already strange how the child isn’t afraid of him and insists on saying hello. The worst part is he finds himself getting protective when he notices other children harassing your kid — it just takes a good snarl to get them running scared, and he sends the brat back to you, telling you to keep an eye on him. He doesn’t like the strange, sentimental feelings he gets when the two of you are playing together, all but grumbling when you call him over to visit. He never refuses you, though.

Bronn of Blackwater

He doesn’t care about a brat, even if they were born in silks and silver. As if you’re the first woman he’s slept with whose had a kid. Honestly, he rather likes the plumpness around your legs and stomach, and he doesn’t see stretch marks as some awful thing a woman has to hide. So, the mercenary is his usual incorrigible self with you. If he’s feeling like pushing his luck, he’ll tease you about having another kid when you’re sleeping with him… or he’ll mention it’s a shame the husband isn’t around anymore. It’s fun to almost get caught.

Petyr Baelish

He doesn’t think much about your child, initially. Petyr is just pleased your former spouse/lover is out of the equation, that makes things much easier for him. The only reason Petyr socializes with your child at all is just to impress and please you; he’ll buy something for the tot or make conversation with them just to see you smile. It’s easier to get close to you when your child is excited the moment they see him. Though truthfully, Petyr gets a little soft when he sees you bounce the kid on your knee. He loves seeing that sort of open happiness on your face.

Robert Baratheon

Though it caused a great scandal at the time of your marriage, Robert was never bothered by you being widowed or having a child. If anything, he thought the little girl was adorable. She was fearful at first, but then he bought all sorts of extravagant gifts for her while courting you… so now he’s good in her book. Your new husband further disregarded the court by bestowing the title of ‘princess’ to her, which perhaps was another way to please you. Robert is rather turned on by your motherhood, too — he finds the softness of your body and the stretchmarks attractive.

Stannis Baratheon

It was a strange arrangement that brought you two together, and though Stannis had his doubts, he agreed because it was for the best of the realm. Don’t expect him to socialize much with your young daughter; in fact, he has no idea how to approach her. He does take some comfort in her and Shireen getting along, which is more than he could’ve hoped for. Your kindness toward both girls surprises him in a good way. It’s actually… kind of endearing to see you teach them and play with them. He’s still not sure how he fits into it, but Stannis is fine keeping to himself. He figures the three of you wouldn’t want him around.

Davos Seaworth

Well, Davos loves kids and he’s great with them, so he’s amused when he sees your son running around the keep. He met you while gathering allies for Stannis, and quickly developed a rapport with the “young lord” of the keep… Though obviously, as the lord’s widow, you were the one he was discussing the war with. The boy was fascinated with him, so when Davos visited he’d bring a toy he whittled. Davos is in a bit of denial when he starts catching feelings for you, but it’s hard to keep that up when the three of you so well together.

Margaery Tyrell

It’s your child that gets her attention first, because such a charming little boy was a welcome sight in the court of Highgarden. Her cousins loved playing with them, and that led to Margaery finding out more about you. She greatly respects you as a widow, how you’re able to run your House and keep your former husband’s rivals at bay. While Margaery initially invited you to outings to gain your favor, she quickly becomes attached to you and your son. Margaery finds her guard lowering around the two of you, and pulls strings to ensure you’re more comfortable and safe. Her grandmother chides her against her favoritism, but she can't help herself.

Brynden Tully

The old knight is the sort of man whose a natural with children. He adored his nieces and nephew, and he’s always amused by the few children who come by the Bloody Gate, excited to see the famous Blackfish. Brynden will humor your child with war stories whenever you visit. He figures you aren’t truly interested in a man like him, but escorting a lovely widow and her sweetling to the Eyrie is a rare treat. He never fancied himself a lord who would end up married, and he still doesn’t, but… he does have a soft spot for how cute you both are.

Edmure Tully

Firstly — he knows his father would’ve never approved the idea of him marrying a widow, but listen. He likes a pretty smile and good sense of humor, and damn it, you and your son are adorable. He likes the boy run around Riverrun as he pleases, going around the stables and the training yard and the beautiful river. Everyone can tell he’s equally smitten with you. Proper etiquette be damned, he can’t help but invite you to come to Riverrun anytime. It would be considered scandalous if he wasn’t obviously intent on courting you soon. It’d be easier if you had a daughter, but he’ll still be like a fun older brother to your son.

Brienne of Tarth

To begin with, she would always do her utmost to protect you if she was in your service. But something about you being a widow raising a child on her own — perhaps it reminds Brienne of her father’s situation — makes her even more loyal and diligent. If your child begged enough, Brienne would find herself giving them lessons, even if they were a girl. She’d tell herself it was because it was important for a girl to protect herself, it was good exercise, good discipline… but really, she was thinking about her own home life again. Anyone foolish enough to mess with your kid is bringing the wrath of you and a 6”2 woman with a huge sword down upon them.

Ramsay Bolton

His delight at the demise of your spouse is lessened at the thought of you bringing your brat to the Dreadfort. He suppose he should be lucky; since she’s a girl, she can’t inherit your husband’s name, therefore she came along with you. While Ramsay cares little for her, he’ll certainly use her to get closer to you and as leverage if you try to leave. He puts on a mask of kindness and helpfulness so she’ll trust him, though you’re acutely aware it’s an act. The good news is, if you’re obedient, no harm will come to her — even Ramsay knows he has to play nice to keep you cooperative and willing to stay.

Roose Bolton

Roose didn’t give much thought to the child you were bringing into the marriage. She was of little political importance, except maybe for an arranged marriage later down the line. This leads to him being fairly indifferent toward her, though not cruel, and he makes sure she’s provided with anything she needs. He’s fond of watching you play with her, listening to laughter in the Dreadfort for the first time in years. He wonders if you’ll be the same with children you have with him.

Oberyn Martell

He’s very fond of your parental instincts and your love of your child; it’s one of the many things that drew Oberyn. He’s also fond of children and doesn’t see kids from other men as a “threat” to his own love for you — you’re talking to the guy who has eight children from several different women. He’d bring all sorts of toys and treats for your child when he visited, and bring them to play with his younger girls at the Water Gardens. He really delights in seeing the two of you happy together, and, you know… he wouldn’t be opposed to having another …

Doran Martell

No surprise, Doran is a natural with children. When you come to Sunspear, he sees no problem in allowing your child to tag along and makes sure they’re comfortable. They would have no end of playmates between Oberyn’s girls and distant Martell cousins. When Doran is having a difficult day, it warms his heart to see you and the children playing together at the Water Gardens. He’d have your child raised and educated as his own were, and would like it if they all got along.

Arianne Martell

Arianne first met you after your husband died; while she knew of him, he spoke little of his wife and child. Now that you have his keep under your command, she made a point to curry your favor… and ended up growing very fond of you and your son. Arianne is already used to having young children around, so seeing him run up to her in excitement warms her heart. She definitely dotes on your son to please you, and seeing you play with him and give him attention makes her smile, too. More than once you two have been invited to the watergardens to play with her cousins.

[reclusiverisottonero]

a veeery rough and quick ficlet thing feat. mer!risotto inspired by this fanart bc if i don't get the brain worms out i wont' be able to think about anything else. this is just straight up pwp and im sorry for any spelling/grammar errors.

(gn reader, monster fucking, thigh fucking, double dicks, self lubricating dicks, oral sex, dirty talk about cum inflation.)

Your hands trail around the black markings across Risotto’s chest, over scars and iridescent scales to the swelling slit at his pelvis just below his belt buckle. What you would call a pelvis, anyway. You’re not sure of the proper name for Risotto’s unique type of mer anatomy, but it feels a little too late to ask about it when you’re already naked yourself. He grunts at the soft press to the sensitive scales, a thick dollop of his slick oozing out over your digits. One of his hands strokes up your chest to rest light against your neck.

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” He advises. Which is funny, considering the way he always handles you as if you’re spun from glass.  Risotto leans down to press kisses to your brow and you feel him shiver as you dip two fingers inside. It feels interesting, to say the least. His inner walls cool with slick and strangely textured when brushed up against. He sighs into your hair when the pads of your fingers start to move in careful, probing circles and oh, there they are. The heads of his cocks twitch against your intrusion and you can’t help your curiosity. You take your other hand to smooth along Risotto’s scales, pressing here and there until—

“Ff—Fuck!” Risotto humps into your hands and you can feel the long outline of his cocks beneath his scales, the heads within jumping from the attention. He quickly takes his hands off your body to sink his claws into the soft sands on either side of you, groaning.

“Too much?”

“Too full,” He corrects you, “but keep going.”

So you press and rub and squeeze until Risotto is practically begging for you to let his cocks past the barrier of your hand. When you finally show mercy they jut out proud from his slit with a gush of slick spilling onto you both. Red and thick and even with both hands you can’t hold onto one properly. You press an open mouthed kiss onto one of them, getting a good suckle along the ridges before Risotto pulls you away by the hair.

You can’t help but chuckle around a mouth full of slick, “Close already?”

“Your mouth is very warm,” Risotto huffs, defensive.

He coaxes you to lie on your back and you spread your legs to let his cocks settle against your sex and up along your torso. You bring your legs back together around them, resting your limbs against Risotto’s own body. He kisses your ankle and leans down to bend you in half just enough for you to truly feel it. The pressure of his textured shafts against your sex causes you to moan out his name, and he takes that as his cue to start moving. Fucks your clenching thighs with smooth glides thanks to his natural lubricant, hard enough you’d be moving up the shore if his grip around your hips wasn’t keeping you in place.

You curl into yourself, stick out your tongue so that when the head of Risotto’s cocks slide along your chest you can lick over the leaking slits. He shakes hard enough, the base of his cocks pressing against you perfectly so for you to experience your first orgasm of the night. Your spend adding to the thick mess his slick and precum already have made of you.

“Little tease,” He moans as he fucks you through it, “Ah, yes! Keep squeezing me like that. Fuck, you feel so hot around me. Wish I could fuck you proper, bet you’re scorching inside.”

He continues to babble in your ear about how much he wants to fill you with his cum. Until you’re so bloated you can’t sit up without it gushing out of you. His hands take revenge on you for earlier, pinching your nipples and raking his claws over your soaked skin. You arch into each touch and start to clench your thighs rhythmically around his shafts. Alternate your affections on his cocks until Risotto finally has to pin your wrist down to stop it. Not that it does much when he can’t cover up your mouth now. You flex hard enough to make his thrust stutter and that’s enough distraction for you to catch the head of one of his cocks in your mouth. Suck and lick to make him writhe against you.

Risotto’s said before that oral sex isn’t something his kind usually takes part in, and it’s even more apparent by the flush going deep enough to be visible on his darker scales. His grip on you slackens from the pleasure as his cocks twitch against you. You take advantage of the moment and slip your hands free without any protests, take each cock in hand to push them together at the tips and stick your tongue out as much as you can to mercilessly roll it back and forth over them. Press the tips of your fingers into the dripping slits while you do it and with a loud sob he shakes apart, cums hard all over your face and body. You hum against them in satisfaction and he whines and twitches through it all until they begin to soften and retract back within him.

You are cleaned up, thoroughly. Risotto's mouth and tongue are just as big and thick as the rest of him. He revels in the taste of your skin and the heat of your sex as you cum into his mouth over and over. When it’s clear you can’t take anymore he kisses back up your body to your lips and rests his ear against the beating of your heart. The sun slowly sinks into the horizon of the ocean, the warm lights making Risotto’s scales practically glow.

“So,” He murmurs, sated and with a sly little smile, “same time tomorrow?”