#as soon as i saw it i just had to draw it as otto

[evilbiomes]

saturday babey….

(redraw of this)

[insomniakisses]

An eye for an eye | One

Characters: Aemond x sister reader (platonic), Rhaenyra x sister reader (platonic), Alicent x step daughter reader (Platonic) (hotd characters)

Reader type: Female

Warnings / Notes: tw viserys, tw otto, tw daemon, events of driftmark, absent and shitty father viserys, metions of torturous, dragons, graphic violent scenes. I think thats it. Possable targcest in the future.

Parts: Two.

You couldn’t help the giggles that escaped your lips as you ran around the gardens, aemond chasing after you soft giggles falling from him two. The younger boy declaring he was going to catch you but he was at a disadvantage you were 4 years older than him, though even at the age of 10 he was gaining height and strength.

You begin to slow as tiredness kicks in and he smirks, using the last of his energy to surge forward catching up with ease as he wraps his arms around you and pushes you both to the floor. Laughter escaping you both on impact. Though its short lived when rhaenyra comes bolting over pulling you off the ground a hard glare fixed on her face.

“That is most un-lady like sister,” she hisses before her gaze fixes on your brother, “Aemond do you not know how to properly behave around a lady?” She scolds and you roll your eyes seeing jace and luke laughing behind her.

“I- we were playing! Only playing! Shes not hurt i promise-“ the young prince stutters clearly afraid of the much older royals wraith knowing just how protective of you your sister can be.

“Really?” She draws out with a scoff bringing ur arm into view and he sees the smallest of scrapes along your forearm his eyes widening.

“Rhaenyra!” You call shaking off her grip and moving to stand by Aemond, “its barely an injury, it doesn’t even hurt. You needn’t worry yourself!” You exclaim hand clasping Aemond’s as you continue. “He will take me to the maesters to get it checked out now, won’t you Aem?”

The boy nods with a small smile when you squeeze his hand in reassurance making sure he knows your not in the slightest mad at him and that everything is okay.

Spending the rest of the day inside the two of you resigned to the library reading up on family histories and practicing your High Valyrian. Save the brief interruption from Alicent, the queen asking to check your injury having been informed by Rhaenyra that her “undisciplined” son had caused you harm.

Though as soon as she saw you two laughing and joking around she knew in her heart that there was no way he would have hurt you. Especially not intentionally.

You simply smile at the queen greeting her by her title and allowing her to gently lift your arm inspecting the wound before she left you be leaving a soft kiss to both of your heads as she bid her goodbyes. On her way to the king no doubt.

— one year later —

The whole family was being taken to Driftmark, apparently for the funeral of Laena Velarion. Though the two of you had only spoken once, having accidentally ran into her and Rhaenyra, she seemed nice enough and you were sad that she had died so early into her life. Your half-sibling however didn’t seem to care. Aegon was ceaselessly complaining as usual, Helaena of in her own world like always and Aemond, well he was respectful enough to understand why you were going but he clearly wasn’t saddened by the news.

The king and Alicent were set to arrive by boat accompanied by the four of you, but Aegon having recently mounted Sunfyre for a real flight insisted he go by dragon back the king uncaringly agreeing and shooing of Alicent’s protests. Her visible worry evident the whole way as she picked and chewed at her fingers you and Aemond sharing a concern look before going over to her. Grasping a hand each you held her tightly and she smiled. You couldn’t tell if it was forced or not, but she let out a small exhale as she held you giving away she was more relaxed even if it was only slightly.

Once the ship had docked Alicent all but ran to Aegon though he rolled his eyes and told her to leave him be as he wasn’t a child anymore. He failed to see how she flinched when Sunfyre moved or how she stood still till the dragon moved away. One of her biggest fears dragons were, something you had picked up recently.

You latch back onto her arm when she’s beside you again, having grown rather attached to her in the years of Rhaenyras absence. She had left without warning or a goodbye. You can still remember the nights you laid crying for her hugs or her soft touch when she braided your hair helping you ready yourself in the morning. All of that was Alicent’s job now, not that she minded, she loved you as her own and enjoyed how you curled against her needy for a mother’s touch. She just wishes you wouldn’t call her Alicent, it always hurt her not hearing the word “mother”.

———— That Night ————

The funeral had been somewhat uneventful, Aegon had gotten drunk and was sent to bed early by Otto and Daemon had made a scene laughing during the ceremony. But that was all really, soon you were all sent to bed and you had fallen asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. Exhausted from the day of traveling no doubt.

However, the sound of whooshing and a dragons deep roar had woken you, slipping on a cloak and your shows you had gone to investigate. By the time you came downstairs there was shouting and a trail of blood into the main hall. Following it you entered seeing Aemond holding his eye and the adults screaming at each other. Jace with bloody hands and Luke with a broken nose yet Rhaenyra, Daemon and Laenor were nowhere in sight. You rushed to Aemond side feeling Alicent pull u into her body your hand grasping her dress as you stares at the bloody sight.

Then in came Rhaenyra and you completely zoned out staying by Aemond’s side and holding his hand throughout the whole ordeal. Crying for your brother when the king seemed not to care and made no move to punish the boys for attacking him.

After all was said and done Aemond was given milk of the poppy and essence of night shade for the pain and to help him sleep. While the rest of you were ushered to your respective chambers though you slept very little worried about Aemond and so saddened at Rhaenyra’s intention of having someone torturing him. Afterall he had just lost an eye.

———— Back in Kings Landing ————

“ALICENT ENOUGH!” the king roared, having had enough of her nagging.

“THEY TOOK HIS EYE, YOUR GRACE, SOMEONE HAS TO PAY!” And he sighs sitting on his throne looking half dead.

“My dear wife,” he starts voice bored and tired. “Lucerys is just a boy. Children fight. Get over it.”

She scoffs at this, fighting the urge to yell again knowing his power out matches hers. “A debt is due your grace, an eye for an eye. He is your son!”

“What would you have me do?” He scoffs, “The boy is at dragon stone and he is my grandchild.”

“I dont care!” The queen protests, “You have to do something! Rhaenyra’s son has taken the eye of my own, a punishment is deserved. Someone must be punished!” If the queen had known her lack of precise words would lead to the events that would unfold that night she would never have been so careless.

“Fetch Y/n” is all he mutters and a guard sets of at once, Alicent so caught up in her thoughts not quiet hearing what he had ordered. Its only when a sleepy and confused you is escorted in that her breath quickens.

You stand there rubbing the sleep from your eyes, blinking away exhaustion as your blanket lays draped over your shoulders giving you a slight waddle when you walk.

“What is she-“ Alicent is cut of by the king. “Bring me her eye, a debt is to be payed and she is like a daughter to Rhaenyra. Lets settle this now”

Your heart fills with fear and dread as does Alicent’s as your grabbed by two guards another forcing his knife into your flesh. Alicent screaming protest as she herself is restrained tears falling down her face at your pained crys and shrieks. Your father simply holding his head in his hand as he feels another migraine coming.

“MOMMA PLEASE! IT HURTS MOM PLEASE MOMMY HELP!” you continue to scream and thrash around the knife in your flesh leaving messy cuts until your eye pulls out with a sickening wet pop and you scream loud.

You both released and alicent runs to you scooping you up and rocking you as you cry, hands balling up her dress as a mumbles mantra of “momma” escapes your lips she holds you as the maesters tend to your wounds and give you all the same teas and treatments Aemond had gotten in drifting mark. The king and guards now long gone.

“Im so sorry baby” is all she keeps saying kissing your head and carrying you to her chambers. You spend the night there, tucked into her embrace as she holds you swearing to protect you from this day swearing that one day the king will get what he deserves. And praying to the gods for all her children to be safe.

A/n. So this was part one hope u liked it 😁

[theobjectofyourire]

Being Daemon's Daughter Would Include (Part III)

a/n: hi hi hi! once again, I'm so in my feels and absolutely blown away by all the love on this series! I definitely plan to continue this well into the reader's adulthood, I'm just enjoying the baby/pregnancy stuff so much! I got a little carried away again, so you get lots of daemon/wife goodness in this one, too! lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist for future parts!

Part I / Part II

summary: Daemon has always gone to any lengths to protect you, even before you were born. And oh, what gifts he will bestow...

cw: I actually don't think there are any warnings for this one! Daemon threatens violence?? other than that, it's just fluff. inspired by the scene in ep8.

~~~~~~~

A Dragon's Custom

-In the very heart of Dragonmont, amidst sulfur and brimstone, Daemon Targaryen felt a true hero as he retrieved the dragon egg that would soon rest in his child's cradle.

-The day of your birth drawing ever nearer, your mother's belly greatly swelled. Growing larger by the day, he had teased, a comment which had been received by his lady wife with both a chuckle and a threat of violence upon his person. He expected no less from such a woman, his eyes sparkling as he knelt before her, pressing his forehead against her stomach as he whispered to you.

-"You must be brave, little one. I will soon need you to defend me from your mother's temper."

-His words earned him what was, admittedly, a rather playful slap to the back of the head. "You truly are a scoundrel, dear husband," she sighed, weaving her fingers through his silver hair.

-He merely smiled as he kissed her belly, her hands, her wrists, finally rising to meet her lips. "Your scoundrel, my love."

-She melted in the arms of her dragon, who murmured sweet nothings into her hair as he slowly ran his fingers up and down her spine, soothing her aches with his warm touch. She all but whined when he pulled away with a gentle farewell.

-"Must you go?"

-"Aye," he mumbled, lips against hers in one final kiss, "but I promise you'll be happier for it."

-"I disagree. I'd much prefer you by my side."

-"As would I, my love, but our child deserves a gift only I can bestow, and I daren't wait any longer to retrieve it." Her brows furrowed at his words, uncertain of their meaning as he caressed her belly with the back of his hand. "The child of the Rogue Prince deserves a dragon egg, do they not?"

-Your mother's eyes filled with tears. She was, of course, familiar with the Targaryen customs and had dearly hoped they would be passed to you, but she had worried, as of late, whether such a thing would be encouraged.

-Though cherished by many, not all in Viserys' court approved of your mother. The Hightowers, in particular, had been averse to the match, for while her bloodline was undeniably strong, she herself could not be considered a tame woman.

-She was well-versed in the graces, it was true, and a delight to all she entertained. In such matters, the nobles could not find an ill word to speak against her, but nor could they deny the indocility, even rakishness cast in her shadow. She had not known Daemon a fortnight when the King's own Hand had discovered them in the Dragonpit, having just returned from a moonlit ride atop Caraxes, and in the midst of acts unbefitting a woman of her station.

-Ser Otto, in fairness, was not wrong in his judgement. In their youth, your mother did little to quell Daemon's chaos. If anything, she encouraged it, thriving alongside him in his adventures. He had pleaded with the King to deny the marriage, and Viserys had half a mind to listen until he saw his brother's smile. As one, they seemed something out of Valyria itself, in all its glory, and he could not bring himself to tear them apart. He gladly consented to their union, going so far as to allow a Valyrian ceremony with only a handful of guests and the stars standing witness.

-In the months that followed, they retreated to your father's ancestral seat at Dragonstone, preferring to avoid the politics and scheming of King's Landing at all possible costs. The gods, it seemed, were not so easily satisfied.

-A raven was flown to the Red Keep shortly after your mother fell pregnant, and the news was met with no small amount of excitement. Your father's first marriage had left him without an heir, and many had presumed the Rogue Prince had little interest in furthering the line. Viserys requested his presence at court, if only to determine his brother's true thoughts about the babe.

-Daemon arrived on dragonback a few days later, descending with the impish smile well-known to him, and something warm, almost kind stirring in his eyes. There was no doubt of his happiness, a great relief to his elder brother.

-Viserys was, indeed, gladdened by the fact that they had found peace on Dragonstone, but he was eager to see them return to the Red Keep before your mother gave birth. This much, the King had insisted upon, for the Maesters and midwives of the great castle were said to be the most skillful in the realm. Daemon could deny many things, but his brother's summons was not among them.

-"We shall return, brother," he had said with a cold smile. "Upon your command, my child will be born in this nest of vipers, but never will I allow a single drop of venom to so much as graze their skin."

-"Daemon, you needn't-"

-Your father would not hear it, paying no mind that interrupting his King was easily a punishable offense. "They will have a dragon of mine own choosing," he declared, "and shall be raised as their mother and I see fit, in accordance with the customs of our ancestors."

-"As is your right." Viserys maintained the stoicism expected of him as King, but a genuine joy shone through the façade. "Your child shall want for nothing," he promised.

-"Nor shall my wife." Daemon's eyes narrowed as he lowered his voice, ensuring that none but his brother would hear his solemn vow. "Should any in your court speak so much as a word against either of them, I shall gladly cut out their tongue." Without thought, he found his fingers dancing upon the hilt of Dark Sister, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "If your dear Hand is anything less than welcoming, I will take great pleasure in relieving him of his duties by way of beheading."

-Were it anyone else, such a threat would have been followed by severe consequence, but Viserys had a soft spot for his younger brother, whose fire so much reminded him of their mother. Daemon climbed atop Caraxes, returned to Dragonstone, and no more was said on the matter.

-He did not tell your mother what was spoken, nor did she wish to hear of it. She knew well what your father's temper could do, coupled with his unyielding loyalty. Upon his heated word, you would have a dragon. She did not care for anything else. She brought his hands to her lips, kissing each knuckle before releasing him to his task, wondering which egg he would choose. In his mind, however, there was no question.

-His cousin, the Princess Rhaenys, had recently departed with her children after an extended stay on Dragonstone. Her own dragon, Meleys, had accompanied them and laid a clutch of eggs in the island's volcano, Dragonmont. It seemed the greatest of all omens, for years before his cousin had claimed Meleys, when he himself was just a babe, Daemon's mother was her dragonrider.

-Though he could scarcely remember her, he had been told by all that he was, undoubtedly, his mother's son. In her arms, to the dismay of the Maesters, she had taken him upon the back of her dragon for his first flight not a fortnight after his birth. A creature of scarlet scales and copper claws, she was one of the swiftest dragons in the realm, even after so many years of comfort. He could not think of a better gift for you than an egg from his own mother's dragon.

-The descent was not an easy one. Many had tried and failed, the slightest misstep resulting in the most fatal fall, but your father was not afraid. He relished in the danger of it. He was not halfway to the bottom when he felt the mass shift, crumbling under his boot and echoing throughout the volcano as hunks of rock hit the ground. Any other man might catch his breath or clutch his heart. Your father only chuckled as he continued to maneuver himself masterfully. Going to such lengths for a child not yet born to him, smirking in the face of risk and finding no fear in his heart, it made him feel a good man. He did not know if his talents were well-suited to fatherhood, but of this, he was certain: you would always be protected.

-Leaping to the ground, he imagined spending the rest of his days defending you, willing at every moment to vanquish any enemy with a single stroke of his sword. Though your mother was a rogue in her own right in her earlier years, she had, as of late, preferred comfort and calm to the uncertainty she had once craved. Of course, he hoped your life would be peaceful, but he wondered if that's truly what you would want, or if you would take after him, forever trying to satisfy your own impulsivity.

-There were seven eggs in Meleys' clutch. Seven eggs for seven kingdoms, Daemon could not help but think, smiling as he gathered them with care. Each were unique unto themselves, though they bore the mark of their mother. One had golden flecks reminiscent of his brother's crown. Another was as pink as a maiden's blush, but it was the seventh egg that most caught your father's eye.

-As crimson as Caraxes' scales, with dapples of a spring rose and shadows of the purest black, there was no gift so befitting the child of the Rogue Prince. He held it dearly in his hands, admiring the way it shimmered in the slight streak of sunlight. They would place it in the warming chambers until your mother gave birth, where it would then reside in your cradle until it hatched. The thought of you flying alongside him on a dragon of such striking beauty stirred in him a giddiness he had never before felt. He wondered if this was fatherhood. Could he really be so lucky?

-He returned to your mother somewhat filthy, ash smeared across his cheeks while his leathers retained the scent of the volcanic rock.

-"You stink of dragon," she said, crinkling her nose as he drew nearer.

-He gave her a wry smile as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "My darling wife," he murmured, "I know very well that you love it."

-She giggled as she brushed her lips against his, hands tangling in his hair. He smelled of adventure. Danger. Power. He was a Targaryen, through and through, and she secretly hoped you would be the same.

-She pulled away and this time, it was Daemon who moaned in protest. She merely chuckled in response. "Shall I have a bath drawn for you, husband?"

-His fingers danced across the small of her back as his eyes twinkled. "Only, my love, if you'll join me."

taglist: @rosaryos @justaproudslytherpuff @sirlovel @fulla02

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

A second queen  Part 1- Broken promises

Pairing: Daemon x Fem. Reader (Summer Isles) x Ashara Martel (OC character. Will appear in the parts 3 & 4)

Themes :Ansgt 

Warnings: Daemon being a jerk

Word count: 1.9k words

Summary: Your days as Daemon’s lover would soon draw to an end, and not because of marriage. What he does next will change everything for you. 

Want to be tagged? Want to know the rules? Read all here.

If you like this, please consider giving it a reblog.

It was the year 104 AC.

Westeros, under the rule of Viserys, first of his name, prospered. Trade flourished, the Dragons thrived on the Stepstones, and the Gods of Valyria were openly honoured by many.

But this tale is not about Viserys. This is a tale about his much younger brother and what he did before he donned the crown.

                                    ✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

It should have been the happiest of days. The sun was shining, spring had just arrived, and all of Kings Landing bloomed. 

Daemon had been talking of marriage, of having a family, and of you being his queen.

His queen, indeed. Daemon swore he would make you, a fatherless child from the Summer Isles, his queen, and the mother of his heirs. 

His heirs. Viserys had no son, no heir of his own, and Daemon, as his brother, was first in line to the throne. He was much younger, born when Viserys was well into adulthood and already married. Still, despite this vast age gap, the brothers loved each other deeply, and they both had a deep devotion to duty.

Alas, that devotion to duty would now undo every plan you and the prince had ever made and destroy every dream you had ever had.

"My love?" you called out when you burst into the prince's rooms, for you had something of great import to say. You stayed in the parlour, acting as if you had never gone beyond that point. As someone who was both low-born and not formally betrothed to the prince, it would have been most unseemly for you to go beyond the parlour anyway. 

There was no answer, save for hushed tones coming from another room. Daemon was here, talking to someone else. All the more reason to stay where you were. 

"Daemon?" You called out again, and this time, someone did come forward. You smiled, thinking it was the prince. 

Except that it wasn't. "Ahh! Thank goodness you came here and saved us the trouble of finding you."

Your smile died when Lord Otto Hightower, Hand to the King, made his way towards you. The man never liked you, never approved of your relationship with the prince. In fact, as you had heard, he had tried every trick in the book to persuade Daemon to leave you and marry a proper lady of recognized birth.

And Daemon himself was just a step behind him, looking more than a little forlorn, his eyes never seeking yours. He was racked with guilt. 

You looked on, confused, and then, you regained your wits and curtsied as deeply as you could. "My prince," Daemon, you addressed him first, followed by "my lord," to Otto."You were expecting me?"

"Indeed," Otto gave Daemon no chance to speak. "The prince has an important announcement to make. He is to marry soon."

Shocking indeed, but still, it made you happy as hope took root in your heart. "Really?" Daemon was making everything official. Finally. You saw visions of a beautiful wedding in the Great Sept, of Viserys walking you down the aisle and Daemon kissing you after exchanging vows. What beautiful and enchanting visions you had, and oh, how you would come to curse such dreams much later. "A strange way to propose, my prince, but I..."

Otto could barely control his laughter. "Did you think he meant you? Oh no, my dear." He dried his eyes with a small square of silk and composed himself. "The prince is betrothed to Ashara Martel, Princess Meria's daughter."

Engaged? to someone else? when he was happily making plans with you? You sputtered. "Daemon?"

Daemon didn’t look at you. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you. He knew what he was about to do would break your heart, but as his brother and Lord Otto kept saying, duty had to come first. He swallowed and dithered, his tongue tied up in knots. 

When he didn’t answer, you grew frustrated and cried, "Say something!"

"The king is ill," Otto said again, not giving Daemon a chance to respond. "And needs another heir. The prince needs to marry for this to happen."

But Daemon need not limit himself to one wife; the law actually left room for certain allowances. "But he can marry me too; take me for a second wife," you said as tears pooled in your eyes. "The law allows it."

"Indeed," Otto agreed, albeit reluctantly. "But only if there is no hope for heirs. Something the prince need not worry about, and may never need to worry about, if Ashara gives him children. And she will," he continued smugly, having finally found a way to drive a wedge between the two of you. "I am certain of it. The Martels are a most fertile family."

"But..."

"And there are no illegitimate children to think about," Otto interrupted.

Flustered, you reply with: "But that is the thing, my lord. Daemon, I'm..."

"And you are a bastard," Otto cut you off abruptly. "A union with you will bring no advantage to the crown."

It was as if you had been slapped across the face. "What?"

Otto simply smirked. "You, my dear, are a bastard from the Summer Isles. No man of high standing has claimed you as their child. You have no last name, no title, and no connections of any consequence. Marriage to you would be meaningless." He eventually turned to a humiliated Daemon. "You agree, yes?"

Daemon, thoroughly ashamed by now, couldn't bring himself to look at you. So many nights he had spent swearing undying love to you, promising to honor and protect you for the rest of his days, and now, he has to go back on his word. Duty had to come first, he was told. The people would never accept a low-born foreign queen, he was told. It could cause political instability and destroy the goodwill gathered through Viserys’ reign, he was told. This had to be done, he was told. And Daemon, not wanting to hurt his already ailing brother, did as he was told.   

"Yes," Daemon said, ashamed of what he was doing, fixed his gaze on everything but you. "I cannot wed you, y/n."

You could only listen, too stunned to speak.

"A high-born princess is an ideal bride for a prince of the realm." Daemon looked up, ever so briefly. The tears in your eyes made him hate himself even more. "And not a bastard of little importance."

Otto positively cackled and said: "You will be provided with a manse in the north..."

You sniffled when he went on to say you would be sent to frigid Bear Island. Far away from the capital and the prince. Out of sight, and out of mind. Oh, how that hurt. 

"And plenty of coin. Servants will be hired to see to your every comfort."

Daemon ached to say, "I'm sorry." He truly wanted to say, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Except for the ones Otto taught him to say, those words never came. "And you are not to look for me; you are not to write to me," Daemon added mournfully when two knights of the King's Guard marched in. Otto gestured for them to come over. "Not now, not ever."

"Daemon?" You tried to squirm away when they grabbed onto your arms, to escort you back to your rooms, and then, out of the Red Keep. "Why are you doing this?"

"This is how it should be," Daemon said simply, his gaze going back to the tiled floor.

One of the knights held on too tightly, making you yelp. Daemon remained completely unresponsive, something you were not accustomed to. "Daemon!" you cried in despair. Everything he told you was a lie. All his plans and promises were lies. All your hopes and dreams, your very world, started to crash all around you.

Daemon kept quiet, cursing himself for not being stronger for you and for putting duty before his own heart. "This is how it should be," he forced himself to say, and his own eyes started to sting.

You weren’t given another chance to speak, as the knights pulled you out with them.

                                         ✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

You were given only an hour to pack your things and leave the Red Keep. Maids were sent over to help and to hurry you along. Your eyes stung again.

It’s as if he can’t wait to be rid of me.

You swallowed as fear took root. You had no friends save for Daemon, no one who could help you. And no one would now, Otto would guarantee it.

Your fingers felt like they were all thumbs, and your knees kept shaking. Your stomach was in knots. You looked out the window, out into the city, and at an uncertain future. You didn’t know where to go or what to do. You wanted to pray, hoping that Daemon would at least honour his vow to provide for you, and then you shook your head bitterly, thinking that he would break this promise too. You picked up your things, collected what coin you had for yourself, and left for the cheapest inn you could find, someplace where you could stay until you could weigh your choices. 

And sure enough, you never heard from Daemon. Not when you begged for an audience with him; not when you sent him letters, telling him what you wanted to say that day. In fact, you had heard through the grapevine that your letters had been burned without even being opened. And Bear Island? That never happened. You certainly didn't receive a cent of what was promised you, just as you suspected. And when someone from the Red Keep did turn up, it was with a bag of coin and a letter from Otto, demanding you quit Westeros altogether. A ship was sailing for Volantis that very day, and he insisted you be on it if you knew what was good for you. 

You were too stunned to do anything but obey. Besides, what could you do anyway? You were a bastard, low-born, with no name or title to speak of. However, despite everything that happened, you still held on to a faint sliver of hope—that Daemon would ride up to the port and beg for your forgiveness, that he never wanted to lose you. He would insist on marrying you. You looked and looked, thinking he would find the courage to come for you. 

Alas, that never happened. There was no sign of him anywhere, no word, nothing. When the ship pulled out of port and set sail, you sighed and looked toward the horizon, towards a new country and a new life. 

And you later heard about the wedding and how grand it was. In the customs of Dorne and Valyria, in fire and blood, and under the light of the sun. You sighed, thinking how it should have been you, but alas, there was no point in wistful thinking now. You composed yourself, for the lady you served had come looking for you.

"Coming, my lady!" you cried when Lady Talisa Maegyr, a young lady of fourteen, showed up by the door, a bundle of new dresses in hand. "My lady," you winced, noticing the color of one particular gown. "Must I keep telling you orange is not your colour?"

"One more time," she giggled. "As always." Talisa then turned when she heard a cough. Go on, Jace," she told a little boy standing next to her, one with silver-gold hair and vivid purple eyes. "Go say good morning to your mother."

[allkordelia]

Keep Me in Your Thoughts (18)

Rhaelle and Daemon was soak when they finally got inside the castle, rhaelle took them through a secret door  that lead to her studies and chamber. They walk through her studies to the door on the wall just few inches away from the fireplace and walked into her chamber, their was linen towels awaiting them on her bed. She grab one and gave the other one to daemon, rhaelle dried her hair as she walk to her draw to pull out a nightgown the gown she had on now was a bit uncomfortable from the rain the dress was sticking to her skin.

She glance at daemon as he patted the linen against his long white hair taking him into consideration, she can still sense was mad or was he sad, she couldn't tell not truely but she could sense he was not himself.

"Daemon." She called causing him to look at her, the storm of emotions was still spiraling inside his purple orbs making the words she was about to say get stuck in her throat.

"Do you mind?" She turn away gested to her dress, she heard shuffle and then hands on her back. As he untie the strings of her gown, she felt his thumb caress her skin when he finish the gown sag making her hold it against her chest.

She said a quick thank you and walk away to her folding screen, she laid her nightie on the bench cushion that sat in front of the window. She let out a quiet sigh not knowing why she was sudden feeling this way, she shouldn't and he shouldn't either. They were barely lovers. Rhaelle moved from behind the screen to find Daemon gone, she frown as she looks around her room.

Did she truely hurt daemon's feelings by confessing the truth, she wondered, or did she wound his ego. Either way she should not be sad but rather happy his gone, maybe he will stop this charade and finally leave her be and everything can go back to the way it should.

The door to her chamber was opened making her turn to see daemon, he wasn't wearing what he was previously but a long white tunic and loose brown trouser.

"Where did you go?" She asked looking at him.

"Back to my chamber to get changed, a maid would be bringing you some tea soon enough." He said walks over to the fireplace, he put a log into the fire making it get warmer in the room, "Come.  You must be freezing." He beckon her towards him as he glance over at her before looking back to the fire and she didn't nove from her spot as she watch him.

"Are you mad at me." She asked, daemon was poking the fire with the fireplace poker, he turn to look at her with a confuse look.

"Why would I be mad at you?" He questioned placing the poker back in its original place, rhaelle shrug before folding her arms.

"I don't know, maybe because I loved otto before you." She look down to her bare feet, she heard daemon move before she saw his boots in her field of vision.

Daemon moved his hands to rest on her shoulders making her tilt her head up at him, he gave a small smile as he squeeze her shoulder.

"I am not angry, jealous maybe, " he chuckle making a small smile appear on rhaelle's lips, "But, I am not angry, I can never be angry at you, rhaelle." He said using his thumbs to rub at her collarbone.

Rhaelle move her hand to grasp at daemon's forearm, he slowly move his hands from her shoulder to her jaw. He tilt her head so she could look at him, daemon stare at her before leaning, rhaelle was about to turn her head when his lips went to her forehead. She stare at him in stun as he pulled his lips away before leaning his head against her, she swallow closing her eyes feeling his nose  bump into hers.

"Nobody deserves your love," he spoke in valyrian, "Not even me."

She opened her eyes to see him with his own closed, the thought of kissing his lips made her lean close. Daemon's eyes snap opened after feeling her lips brush against his, he looks at her to see regret written in her eyes making her step out of his touch and distance herself from him as he watch. 

"The night is growing late you should return to your chamber," Daemon frown as he look at her watching the fire dance in the fire pit.

"Is that what you wish?" He asked softly, she nod her head, "Then, i wish you a goodnight, my queen."

"Goodnight, prince daemon." Daemon walk to the door he looks at her one more time to see her staring at the fire with a look of distress, rhaelle heard the door click and then closed making her hands go to her face as she tries to hold in her sob.

Daemon stood outside her door he could hear shuffling before slowly backing away from the door, he sigh walking down the other end of the hall. His shoulder hit another with armour making him look up and see gwayne, the mormont knight look back at daemon with narrow eyes before looking down the hall to rhaelle's quarters.

"Do not worry. Me and the queen was just talking," Daemon says, gwayne look back at daemon with a glint in his eyes.

"Oh, I know." Daemon raised his brow at the knight, "Why would she ever be with you when all you do is remind her of king viserys."

Daemon stepped forward with a sneer, "You know nothing of what you speak of, boy." Gwayne held a small smirk as he look away from daemon.

"I know more than you, prince. You forget I too lived in the red keep for some time with her,"

"And yet, you never came to her rescue when she was being used by your father." Gwayne snapped his eyes back to daemon with scowl.

"I was just a child like she was, and I had a reason for being away. What is your excuse, hmmm?" Daemon and Gwayne glared at each other, but daemon knew as much as he hates it gwayne was right.

He had no excuse for leaving rhaelle with those beasts, and the thought that she and him could never be together is because of his brother made his blood boil and his heart clench.

"It would be best if you leave now and save yourself this embarrassment, rhaelle will never love you and deep down you know it too." Gwayne walked away leaving daemon alone in the corridor with his thoughts.

@beggarsnotchoosey @cleverzonkwombatsludge @watercolorskyy @avidreader73 @green-lxght @supermassiveblackhope @stormgirlfriendd

[unohanabbygirl]

I actually think a fmbh au where circumstances (either Otto’s planning or Luke saying he’s not a Virgin in order to get out of it) see Aemond being the one people look to to carry the child. As you’ve said it would be an extremely traumatic event for him and I def think Luke would command Aemond to be silent on their wedding night while he messed up the sheets and cut his own hand to fake the blood. Pressured by Otto, you are tots right he would refuse to switch position even if Luke offered so I think Luke would def use his position as Aemond’s lord and husband to accept a faked bedding. This au would be so interesting because I feel like Alicent and Otto would pressure Aemond into continually trying to seduce Luke when a baby obviously didn’t arrive. In your story, Luke and Aemond kept coming back to each other for sexual release not only for their own sense of loyalties to not cheat, but also because they had slept together with assigned rolls on their wedding night that fit the comfort they had in their own bodies. Hate sex is a powerful way to draw characters to each other, but I think with this wedding night of Aemond being forced to bottom, they would never return to each other sexually so easily as we might see in fmbh. What would the story look like of their marriage was a stale one with no sex because Aemond was terrified of his own body which turned to even worse resentment, and Luke hated Aemond too from the start so he wasn’t about to spread his own legs. Thoughts??

You’re spot on. Having sex with someone you don’t even like is already bad enough but being forced to fit yourself into a role you’ve never been comfortable with whilst forced to acknowledge a part of yourself that you’ve been taught to view as shameful would def create a barrier between these two that wouldn’t allow for the dynamic we currently see to flourish. Since in this scenario the bedding was faked and they never actually had sex no emotional nor physical ties are created (which is good considering it would’ve been incredibly traumatic for both of them but especially Aemond). There’s no urge to seek each other out for more despite the hatred there, no dealing with a sudden desire to have that connection once more since hate is incredibly powerful and oftentimes goes hand in hand with lust. That lust soon having turned into genuine desire and an urge for affection.

Aemond would begin to view having sex with Luke as something to dread for the simple fact that his mother and Grandfather want him to carry on the Hightower line through Driftmark. I can clearly see a constant pressure on his shoulders throughout the years to finally go through with it just to get things over with and honor his families wishes, but always falling through last minute. Memories of Luke on top of him with pity in his eyes inspiring such anger because he’s put his body through years of training to never be seen as weak again. Shame that his nephew even saw him in such a state at all. He can’t follow through even when he feels like a complete failure every time his mother asks him if he’s yet with child only for the answer to be “no” time and time again. Theres too much negative emotion there to inspire anything other than hate and frustration.

It’s the same for Luke to a certain extent; while he surely doesn’t like Aemond he can’t help but feel horrible. He isn’t blind, he knows his husband is dealing with constant pressure to bear an heir no matter how much Luke insists it won’t be necessary as his point anout Driftmark passing through one of his sisters still stands. There’s pity alongside his dislike as well as sadness. Rhaenyra would never in a million years do something like that to him, so to see Alicent’s eyes on Aemond’s belly is hurtful. And he isn’t even the person her presence is digging into.

Luke is 100% the sort of man who’d want to have a discussion after x amount of years has passed because it’s that much of a sore spot. But Aemond refuses off jump; it’s bad enough he’s expected to act as Luke’s broodmare, why must he open himself up emotionally as well? Especially to the person who took his eye and still to this day has never apologized (at least in this Au)

However, I do see Laena being the one who slowly brings them together. Alicent would likely insist that Aemond take to her like a mother would in perpetration for when its his own time. At first he isn’t all that receptive because he’d always imagined if he were to have children he’d be a father rather than a mother, but soon enough he actually finds himself relaxed with parenting. If Laena cries he takes to her instead of servants, if she’s hungry he’ll stay and watch as she’s fed. Of course Luke’s there, so taking care of her would open them up to each other slowly yet surely.

[writingsofhubris-a]

Cabinet Man - Ch. 5

The news reporters reported that I died [AO3] Rating: T WC: 2.2K | 17K Tags: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Slow Burn Fandom: Spider-Man (Movies - Raimi) Ship: Otto Octavius/Rosalie Octavius Disc: Ce, qu'on appelle une raison de vivre est en même temps une excellente raison de mourir. | What is called a reason for living is also an excellent reason for dying Otto Octavius, soon to be a doctor, knew his reputation preceded him in more ways than one. He’d all but written off marriage from a young age, until he saw a woman who’s flick of a hair, a rustle of skirts, took his attention firmly from the science he had so long been taken over his mind.  [<<] | [>>]

Of all the things that Otto found himself comforted by, the drone of the city was one of them. Through his entire life, the silence of hills, the dirt that would fall onto his clothes, never seemed to draw him any further from the streets and chaos that rang through the brick buildings. 

Otto rarely would take advice from those who were not his doctor, but at the urging of Curtis, he really couldn’t find a reason to deny the request. Going out to the country, allowing the reprieve for his mind, was just tantalizing enough for him to accept the advice. The stifling heat was getting to him in the midst of August, ideas and solutions to his problems compressed in oppressive humidity. Plus, Curt had paid for half of the trip, and Otto never turned his nose up at gifts. Doctor’s orders were orders, even if they weren’t always your personal psychian. 

Otto walked up the well taken care of, stone steps, watching his footing for an uneven surface. The door at the top of the stairs was slightly ajar, the heat inside the building allowed it’s chance to exit the building. The man at the desk was clearly falling prey, eyelids half closed, lips parted to let soft puffs of air escape. 

It wasn’t until he saw Otto that he straightened up again, lips now the pleasant smile all service workers would affect when faced with a customer. 

“Good afternoon, sir. May I offer you assistance?” 

“Doctor Octavius. I should have a room reserved for a week.” 

“Very good, sir.” The man took the moments to look through his reservation book, before finding Otto. The process went considerably smoother than Otto had been fearing; his key was offered, and he was instructed to room 8, just around the corner. His luggage was deposited in his room before Otto could turn down any help. With no other reason occupying his thoughts, Otto walked around the grounds, allowing a mental map to build in his head. 

The grounds were well contained, well manicured, perfect for a vacation unconcerned with the mundanity of city life. Shrubs were being attended to as he walked by, sharp shears softly snapping in the evening. The workers nodded their heads at him, before continuing their work. Over a crest of a hill, he fancied his eyes strong enough to see the smoke from the nearby village. The grounds sprawled larger than Otto had expected, much to Otto’s shock. To his knowledge, hydropathy was not a practice engaged in outdoors, but perhaps that was to account for those who designated the resort as a secret meeting ground. Otto couldn’t judge those who did, even he being taken in by the greenery. The spots of shade invited him for a nap, the rolling hills begged for a walk and contemplation. 

But most surprising, Otto didn’t encounter another person after those workers for about an hour and a half. He’d almost point to the weather, but even here, it wasn’t as stifling and oppressive as it would have been at home. 

A handsome couple walked up the path towards him, her hand lightly on the man’s elbow, blushes faint on their cheeks. The sudden knowledge that he had stumbled onto a private conversation washed over Otto, and he took the moment to turn off the path, acting if he only had been looking closer at a rosebush, buds slowly exploding in a mess of petals. 

But that movement enabled him to finish the map in his head, seeing the dirt of the drive just down the house, the house just to the side. The carriage that had only just stopped caught Otto’s attention, though he was not entirely sure why. It wasn’t until he took a half step into the rose bush that the door was opened, and a familiar parasol was out of the door first, covering the deep brown hair secured under a hat. 

How could Otto not recognize the woman who had been stuck in his mind for months? 

Yet the realization didn’t stop Otto from disappearing back into his rented room, the nerves building in his chest almost too much for the moment. Coming here had been a bid to offer his mind a short break from the love-struck thoughts that he’d been inundated with for so very long. 

His notes were spread on the desk provided, and he couldn’t find it in him to relinquish the work he was supposed to shelve. 

The wood was warm in Otto’s hands. He pushed away from the dock, muttering softly to himself. He had little idea of what he properly was doing. The basics were well in his head, knowing only enough to glide through the water, but not enough to make it look, or feel, easy. He only rationalized it with his family lineage; too many of his relatives had found their home on the sea. What kind of Octavius would he be if he didn’t find his own way with a simple rowboat? 

The oars once more in Otto’s hands, and he started to pull the wood through the water, feeling the resistance of the liquid. A few yards from the dock, and he heard his name yelled in slight surprise. 

“Otto!” his head snapped up, only to see the woman he had watched arrive yesterday flounce up to him. Her beauty could not be understated, the deep green taffeta dress fitted just right to her, accented against the light greens of nature. Her steps were quick, stopping with a swing of her skirts at the end of the dock. The shade from her parasol wasn’t enough to mute her expressions, however.  

“Rosaline! I’m sorry, I’ve already cast off. I can’t turn back.” 

“Are you staying here long?” Her voice was strong as it called over the water to him, her eyes only caught on him. He could hear the tones of disappointment, her chance well missed this time. 

“Yes! Can I find you tonight?” 

“Join us for dinner!” The offer was hurried, something to ensure a meeting as he drifted further into the lake. 

“I can’t.” 

“Then tomorrow. Promise me you’ll find me in the maze.” The request nearly made Otto shoot to his feet, almost made him lose his balance and capsize the rowboat. His sudden surge forward only made the boat rock before he understood the danger, his eyes still locked her. 

“Yes! I’ll find you!” he was quick to make the promise, and even at that distance, he was able to see her face light up in excitement, her grin nearly infectious. 

“Good!’ It was the last thing he heard from her before the sound became too faint, and Otto allowed himself to memorize each of her expressions. The gust of wind playing with the hem of her skirt, curls shaken loose from its style and caressing the skin of her neck, Rosaline only could be compared to Aphrodite in his constant, lovesick state. Her visage was entirely memorized in seconds, imprinted into his mind without a thought more. 

He didn’t touch the oars until her image had settled in his mind, and he found himself successful in keeping the boat from tipping, gliding smoothly into the spot he had taken it from shortly before. It wasn’t until he endeavored to try and stand that he found himself suddenly assaulted by the cold water of the lake, his mouth only just managing to close in time. He wasn’t graceful as he thrashed his way back to the dock, covered in algae and a bit of mud. His body back on the dock at long last, Otto could finally hear the peels of laughter falling from the porch, ones that he was vastly familiar with at that point. His head whipped around to see the source, and his mortification was full. The last person he had wanted to see him in such a state was sitting on the poarch with a book and her father next to her. He had missed the display, but it didn’t stop Rosie from trying to stifle it with a hand over her lips. 

His gaze moved from Rosie to a maid, already with her arms full of towels for Otto. 

“Here we are, sir. The lady up there saw your spill and wished you to be taken care of.” 

“Thank you, miss.” Otto’s smile was kind, as he looked at her, before shaking his head at Rosie. The crimson was still bright on his cheeks, and Otto took the chance to hide it with one of the offered towels, scrubbing off the bits of green plant he could feel covering his skin. “Do you provide a laundering service, miss?” 

“Yes, sir. I would guess you’d like this clothing to be laundered today?” “If it could be. I don’t want to find out what stains I can create yet.” He smiled at her, mind once again on the promise of the next days. 

“Rosie?” 

“Otto?” Her voice carried to him from the foliage, clearly on the other side of the natural wall. 

“I will admit, I’m quite confused how a labyrinth can be used to medicate one’s humors.” Yet there was a humor in his voice even as he said it. His hand moved to the well manicured edge of the bush, the pricks of sharp sticks poking into the meat of his hand. The slight pain forced Otto to pay attention to his surroundings more fully. This meeting was secret, for certain, but perhaps not entirely undue. Though short as their courtship has been thus far, Rosie certainly seemed a woman willing to throw social rules to the side if it came to her benefit. 

“I would assume it’s to keep the mind sharp, wouldn’t it?” His jovial state was reflected in her voice, a laugh waiting to spill from her lips. 

In a shift of his weight between his feet, Otto nearly swore that he had caught the glint of Rosie’s eyes through the branches, for just a moment. 

“Is it? I find logic puzzles to serve me better.” 

“Perhaps, but if you are not sharp enough to find your way out of the labyrinth, are you safe enough to be let out?” Her question quickly evoked the story Otto was well familiar with; the offspring of the Cretan Bull and Pasiphaë. 

“I believe that was an attempt to cage a monstrosity, not a human.” 

“Wasn’t it human in its own way?” 

“Only half so.” “Will you argue that the creature is not human on virtue of the desire to be human? That due to its desire to be human despite surface level mutations, it is not human?” Her questions took Otto aback for a few moments, realizing the truth of her words. She didn’t stop in his silence, however. “Do you think he would have needed those stone walls, the twists and turns, if he had been shown a mother’s love? If only his father had offered his palm instead of his fist, that he would have done those actions that were expected of him?” The rebuke, suddenly so very far from the original topic, slapped Otto across the face. The point was clear; what did he consider ‘no longer human’? A percentage? An action? Was the minotaur just a simple product of his circumstances? 

“No. I don’t think that it would have taken so freely if it had not been shown how; if it had been shown love deserved to us all in the light of the sun.” Otto paused, looking once more at the twigs and the leaves in front of his face, thinking through the thoughts in his head. Rosie stayed silent, clearly waiting for words to grant their pattern on him. “Suppose he had. If this creature that was brought into this world without the volition of his mother, of his father, suppose he had been offered the love and joy of his siblings, the bosom of his mother, the palm of his father. Would the world have allowed such a creature to move freely among us? Or would his prison have only expanded from the stone walls and harsh turns, to the moat and the edge of the city. Would that have been enough for this creature who inherently stands above all?” It was Rosie’s turn to fall silent, waiting for his words to parse themselves together, to allow the moments needed for her decision. 

“Yes. He could have found happiness. Perhaps the city walls would have confined him, but I believe even a few friends could have found their way to his aide.” 

“And what of the people who fear him?”

“Would his father’s zeal not be enough to save his hide?”

“Only as long as his heart would beat. Would his words and actions stop Theseus?”

“He wouldn’t have heard of the horrors in the subterranean labyrinth. There would have been no incentive for his troubles in Crete.” At the location, Otto felt the branches press into his hand from the other side of the wall. The soft sound of a hand over branches then reached his ear, scratching sharp points against dry skin. “How far can you walk to your left, Otto?”

“My left? I have ten yards. Twenty on the other side.” 

“Lovely. I may not be able to look into your eyes here, but would you walk with me?” The coy tone of her words tugged the smile that was so strange to his lips. He knew that in rejecting her offer, he’d be nothing more than a blubbering idiot. 

“Whichever way you would like.” He allowed her only two steps to hear her direction, before her voice once again rose and twisted through the sticks. He realized there must not have been enough room to her left as she turned to his left, leading him to the ten short yards he could walk. 

“I believe that the creature would have found its way in this world, somehow. Not an easy life, yet what life offers ease and breath? How can one find humanity without the trials to test character? To test the strength of one’s wills?” 

“Perhaps its joy would have been found in mechanical endeavors such as clock making. Unable to show one’s face to the public, yet worn and shown by man. Perhaps even loved in the way only a layman could love an expert. Fully but only to the surface.” 

“Precisely. Or a repairman, an expert in a field that the average person cannot pray or hope to fix. So many of our own mechanisms have found themselves in boxes, easily returned to their manufacturer.” The last few words started to quiet, just as Otto’s hand rested on the corner of the bushes, holding himself from walking through the branches. 

“Rosie!” His voice rang through her words, cutting the next words off with a sudden silence. “I do believe you have lost me.” 

“What… Oh!” Her laugh was musical, addictive, and Otto didn’t even realize his shoulders had met the corner as well, face pressed centimeters from another scratch on his cheek. She pulled him closer just by being herself; though their topic had been the minotaur, he almost wondered if their topic instead should have shifted to the sirens of the same pantheons. 

“My thoughts take me too easily,” She finally said, voice nearly sheepish as she had returned to where Otto was. 

“Perhaps this is one endeavor we should both be on the same side to reach.” Her pause was enough to make him rethink his words, worried he had stepped over a rule in his enjoyment of their conversation. 

“We will be, one day.” The branch so very close to his cheek suddenly pushed in, her hand on the other side of the leaves, wanting to reach as close to him as she could. His hand moved to match the apex of the bump, their hands connected in every facility that they could manage. It wasn’t enough, Otto knew that. Rosie must have, as well. 

“I’ll find myself following your footsteps that day,” Otto promised, his eyes cast down to the packed earth. “We will find the labyrinth exit together that day.” 

“Don’t make promises you are unable to hold to, Doctor. I will hold your words as gospel.” He snapped his gaze from the ground to search through the branches, digging around as he was able until he was able to locate the smallest of glimpses of her irises, their eyes locking firmly and entirely, before the breeze tweaked a leaf to hide their eyes once again from the other. 

“I’d promise you the sun in your hand if that would convince you to stay.” His voice was half breathless as he said the words, and he earnestly hoped that Rosie was unable to hear that failing on his part. 

“How long is it you’ll be staying?” 

“I leave tomorrow afternoon.” Otto felt the pause ring through his head and his heart, the gap suddenly appearing between them in a way that nearly forced him to reach out to her through the bush. “Yourself? When will I find you in New York again?” 

“In a week only. Father demanded we spend some time from the cloying, heavy atmosphere of the city.” 

“May I call on you when the time comes?” 

“I would find my heart heavy if you did not.” THe truth rang through Rosie’s voice, and Otto knew that he would do whatever he could to spend that time with her. 

“I will.” Too many promises made in just a single afternoon, Otto knew that he would be unable to fill them all. Not that he wouldn’t give it his best effort, that was certain. For Rosie, he would figure out a way to bring the moon down to her. 

“Thank you, Doctor Octavius.” Otto’s head leant against the hedge for just a moment, allowing a soft sigh to fall from his lips. 

“You’re welcome.” Her steps started once more, continuing to fall further and further from him. He pulled back at last, looking at the apex of the bush, wishing for a glimpse of her skirts but unable to even find that. 

It wasn’t until he turned to find the couple standing at the edge of the path, the lady whispering something to the gentleman, her arm wrapped around his forearm in a manner Otto wished to recreate with Rosie. 

“Oh, hello.” The blush he’d worked to overcome years ago was on his cheeks, embarassment at showing vunerability in such a public place intimately clear on his face. 

“Do you need aide in finding an exit, sir?” The man’s voice rang into Otto’s ears, brushing Rosie’s soft voice like cobwebs from his mind. 

“No, I do believe this is a test of wills, isn’t it?” An attempt of a smile was on his face, the effort to cover his blunder failing in the most simple of ways. 

“Perhaps you are correct, sir.” The lady’s voice, fine as porcelain, now rang. Her hand motioned to the carefully maintained arch of leaves they had presumably walked through. “But you are just one turn from the exit.” 

Tags! @niffysboxers @yesalwayswelles @overlookedfile @arandomnerdsblog578 @unitedfandomsoftheworld @emotrash1 @randomfandomtrash28 @tsukiakarinobara

[latenightartist-author]

Oops Otto octavius x reader

Otto came home late and found yn wasn't in her usual spot. He set the groceries on the table and put stuff away assuming she was asleep or was busy drawing.

Otto had met yn at a science and art convention and one thing led to another now they have been together for 3 years. Yn was usually up late side effect of being an artist or maybe it was her depression and anxiety who know but she was normally at ottos side soon after he was home since he tends to leave her alone all day.

Ott looked in the bedroom and couldn't find her them check the art room. Nope no there either. He started to get a bit worried when Flo chirpped at him and pointed to the bathroom light. As he walked closer he head his yn's voice.

"Motherfucker." She winced, "stupid female standards." Otto knocked on the door.

"Dear, can I come in or are you busy?"

"Hey otto, yeah and also yeah. Fuck." She said as otto came in and saw her in the bath cover in bubbles and little spots on her leg bleeding.

"What happened?" He asked worried at the blood as Larry and move got a rag and tried to clean it up.

"I'm fine otto just having difficulty here. Why do women have to shave their legs but men get to be as Hairy as they want?"

"Uh? Seixist beauty standards? Are all those little blood spots from a silly little razor?"

"Otto this isn't a silly little razor it's a death machine."

"Do you want some help darling?" Yn crossed her arms and handed it to him. He starts to help and nics her a few time, "it barely touched you how is this possible"

"Like I said death machine" She said and otto picks her up and wraps a Towel around her and gets the bandaid out, "Otto I can handle myself."

"Nope my dear that small razor hurt you so you are getting dried off then cuddled." yn smiled and Otto got one of his shirts out and a pair of her shorts.

[thiccanimethighs]

Evermore Chapter 5 - Otto Octavius x Reader

The next few days passed in a blur and soon grew into a week. And in that time, you and Otto had created a routine of sorts. 

You would wake up, have coffee with Otto, spend the next few hours working and bantering with Otto to pass the time, have dinner, which was usually whatever sad instant food Otto had lying around, read whatever Otto had lying around on his bookshelf, and then head to bed. And then pretty much repeat it all the next day.

You had surprised yourself by how quickly you became comfortable around Otto. While the first day had done wonders to boost your confidence around him, you only started really giving him a chance on the third day, after you had woken up to find a giant bag filled with clothes and other necessities, as well as some drawing supplies.

You wondered how he found out you drew, but then realized you probably didn’t wanna know.

It still shocked you that it had already been a week and that somehow you weren’t dead, especially with some of the insults you threw Otto’s way.

And it was on this day, one week in, that you realized, you were beginning to go stir crazy.

“Ugh, I can’t take this anymore!” You yelled, hands gripping your hair. “I need to go outside, I need fresh air, I need other interactions than just you!”

Otto shot you an offended look.

“I’m not saying you're bad company, your great company actually. But there's only so much a person can take of you and I think I’ve reached that limit! It also doesn’t help that I’ve been cooped up in this warehouse for a week!”

Otto sighed and turned to face you. “Fine, if you wanna go outside so badly, I have some errands I have to run tomorrow that you can come along with.”

“Really!” Your face brightened as you looked at him. “Wait, it’s nothing illegal, is it?”

Otto chuckled and shook his head. “No, my dear. Unfortunately, these errands are not the illegal kind.”

“Oh, well that’s good. Alright then, I’ll tag along for some errands.” You said with a smile, the actuators behind Otto chittering about excitedly when they heard you agree to come. 

You chucked a little bit at their antics as Otto tried to calm them down. You sat back down in your chair, determined to get as much work done tonight as possible so you didn’t feel guilty not doing any work tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~

The next morning was the quickest you had ever gotten ready in your life, you just couldn’t wait to step outside of this warehouse you had been trapped in for a week.

Downing your coffee in about ten seconds, you were almost bouncing in your spot as Otto grabbed a larger trench coat to hide the actuators and a fedora to hide his face.

You had calmed down once you and Otto walked outside, the two of you not really speaking much as you walked through New York. 

Eventually, you and Otto stopped in front of a large building. You sweatdropped at Otto when you saw where the two of you were.

“Really? Grocery shopping?” You teased at him.

Otto shrugged and started moving towards the doors, “Well those instant noodles in the kitchen just don’t appear by themselves.”

You sighed and followed him into the store, deciding to grab a basket when you saw Otto walk right past them.

Otto kept his head low and walked straight to aisle 5, grabbing packages of instant noodles and throwing them in the basket you grabbed.

“You know,” You spoke up as Otto threw another instant noodle package in the basket, “There are many other things to eat other than instant noodles.”

“No time to make them,” Otto told you as he began to walk down the aisle.

“I mean, I could make it.” You said, causing Otto to stop and look at you confused. “I’d have no problem making food.” You told him with a smile.

Otto turned fully around and crossed his arms at you, “Alright, and what exactly would you make?”

You froze trying to think of something when a lightbulb suddenly went off in your head. Grabbing Otto’s hand you pulled him towards the meat department. You grabbed a package of ground beef and put it in the basket, not noticing Otto putting a package of roast beef in the basket as well. You then pulled Otto towards the vegetable department, grabbing a bag of potatoes and also putting those in the basket as well. Finally, you dragged Otto towards the canned goods, grabbing two cans of corn.

You smiled up at Otto once you had gotten all the ingredients, and realized that you were still holding his hand, causing you to blush and drop it, not noticing that Otto was sporting the same blush you were.

You and Otto stood there in an awkward silence until Otto cleared his throat. “So what exactly will you be trying to make?”

You perked up and looked at him when you realized he asked you a question. “Oh! I’m making mush!”

Otto just stared at you confused.

“It’s essentially shepherd's pie but without the layers.” You tried to explain, “You take the ingredients of shepherd's pie and you just mix it together in a bowl instead of layering it and putting it in the oven.”

Otto continued to stare at you confused.

You blushed and looked at the ground. “It’s a family recipe. My mom would make it all the time before she passed.” A smile coming to your face as you thought of your mom.

Otto blinked down at you. “I see. Well, we still have a few things to pick up while we're here.” Otto began to walk away from you. “Hurry up,” Otto called back at you with a teasing voice.

You follow him around picking up the last few things like stuff for coffee and some cleaning supplies. And eventually, the two of you finally finished and started making your way back towards the warehouse.

Otto immediately took off the trench coat, the actuators moving around excitedly now that they weren’t trapped under the coat, and started putting the groceries away as you started pulling out some pots and pans to start cooking.

You kicked Otto out of the kitchen and told him to go get some work done, saying you’d come get him when the food was done.

With Otto back in the lab, you began getting everything ready to cook, excited that you were finally going to get to eat something other than instant noodles for a change.

~~~~~~~~~

Otto’s head perked up when he heard the lab door open and saw you poke your head through the door

“Food’s ready!” You called to him excitedly 

Otto sighed and stood up from his desk, moving towards the door and following you into the kitchen. 

You handed a bowl of food towards him and it was exactly what he was expecting it to be when he looked at it, a giant glob of mashed potatoes with ground beef and corn mixed into it.

He took a bite of it and nodded to you when he realized it was pretty good.

Your face lit up and you grabbed your own bowl to start eating.

The actuators started gathering around Otto’s bowl of food, wondering what was in the bowl that made you smile so much. 

“We should've made this for her!”

“Yeah! She should be smiling because we made her food!”

Otto glared at the actuators and shooed them away so he could continue eating.

‘It doesn’t matter whether we made her food or if she made the food’, Otto thought to himself, ‘The thing that matters is that she’s smiling.’

A small smile came over Otto’s face as he looked at you before going back to eating the food you had thoughtfully prepared for him.

[trexy225]

*Sad Slay*

Heyy besties. I added Muppet gifs because I'm classy like that and this is a big block of text. Here are the messages between cedar and I please read them because it’s important. Here is also another post that I think is important to read as well. Cedar shouldn’t have lashed out like that.

So. Some of y'all may know of the fic that I have written. And how Cedar is not happy about it. They have told their side of the story, and now it's time to tell mine. I would like to say that at the very beginning of all of this and I have ALWAYS had positive intentions and I always assume the best out of people and assume that they also have positive intentions. (Something I learned as a Camp Counsler. Conflict resolution besides my very complex lore as a T-Rex in a skin suit is just one of the many skills I have under my belt from my summers there ^^)

I was going to just let this go, but one of Cedar's "friends" just SEEKED me out on a server to harass me. And I think it's time that I tell my side of the story. I use Cedars name because they are well known in the fandom and I mean we all know who I'm talking about. This has continued and many people have cold blocked me and I’m deciding to back away and just have this post.

I truly hope that everyone actually READS my fic to form THEIR OWN opinions. At the end of the day, don't listen to me. Don't listen to Cedar. We're all sane enough to form our own opinions. I am human, I make mistakes. Cedar is human, they make mistakes.

I'm going to tell a full timeline of my side of the story. It's long so I apologize for that. But I am going to post this and hopefully, this can alleviate some of the drama because I just want to write. I believe in hearing both sides of the story, especially in these cases.

So, let's get to the very beginning.

My mom met my dad and on the first date he asked her to iron his shirt- Oh fuck too far back (he did actually do that and somehow they're still married)

Sorry, I giggle.

OK, cedar's morelikedoccock fan page was the very first introduction to Doc Ock tumblr that I had besides hey there I'm Ashley. (love your gifs btw they're iconic and just lovely). So yes, there may have been a parasocial relationship happening and you just... I mean your art is fantastic and it inspired me to write an entire fic inspired by your AU. But I will get to that later. So I know that you're human and that I'm human. I did look up to you. And I know that we are all "strangers" on this app. But I really don't see it that way, we've interacted many times and the same goes for other people that I have met online. I'm a friendly person, and I can be sensitive I admit that. But I think that I've behaved accordingly to all of this.

So my Tumblr has always been SUPER weird. Like asks didn't come in until like two months after, I couldn't dm, comment, reblog, like, or follow any people basically. And that happened with Cedar's profile. And I have back and forth of the both of us going "lol that's weird I didn't block you" and Cedar was actually the one who helped me get the bug fixed. That's why I went to Twitter because I couldn't dm them on Tumblr. Now my Tumblr is fixed and it's thanks to Cedar. So thank you for doing that ^^

I wrote this fic and published the four chapters (and I am not joking) when they posted the very first drawing of Mutated otto you know the one on the glass it's very hot. And I finished this fic LONG before they started their own fic. My doc was created on April 28th if that gives you reference. So all that I really had were the few drawings that they wrote. And I didn't want to rely too heavily on those because I had an original idea and I wanted to publish it. I was not plagiarizing, I was writing an original story inspired by your au.

As for the fic. I do admit that I did post like four chapters. Like I said the asks came through like two months after and I am working on my restraint and self-control and impulses took over. But as soon as I saw your post about not wanting that I immediately took it down and apologized in an ask. And you said "I'm not angry!" and I decided to not publish anymore and ask you if I could publish it after you finished your fic. And you agreed. So I decided to go back and rework it so that it would be good enough for you, I had friends beta read it and such and I was hoping to have Cedar beta read it and give me the thumbs up. But then Cedar blocked me on literally everything. I did seek them out on their art account because I have worked so hard on this fic and really wanted their blessing. But I've only gotten responses that don't want me to interact with them.

I believe that this has all been blown out of proportion and I wish that we could have discussed this together in private and found some sort of compromise or something. I just want to write my stories. And the discussion that we did have was not beneficial to either party. The way that I was treated wasn't ideal and I wish that I wasn't called childish. Because I'm not.

I do apologize for saying that comment was from you. If it wasn't, I'm sorry. The words used were just eerily similar to what you messaged me and when you replied fifteen minutes after I put two and two together. Emotions are high, and I apologize. And whoever did write that... wow. Just wow. Only I get to call myself a terrible writer smh.

Also, regarding my grammar. I'm an amateur writer. This is why I use Grammarly premium, use code Rexy-

Overall, please don't go after me or Cedar. I know that some of you will ignore this because people ignored Cedar's tag and went after me. I'm just tired.

But in the end, I truly believe that this is one of my best fics ever, and I needed to share this story to you all. I was aware of the reactions I may get, but in the end even after all the tears shed and everything that's happened. I don't regret it. Because this is a good story, and I believe that it should be shared.

Please, go read it and form your own opinion because I am NOT copying Cedar, I am NOT plagiarizing them and I am NOT a stalker or a bad person. I just want to write and unfortunately, this happened in the process.

I will continue to write this story. Please do not go after Cedar, I still love their art and I wish that I could see it. But I respect their wishes and I don't look at their account anymore. Any information has come from friends and I don't actively go "What are they saying about me?!"

Anyway, the fic is on my about the author page along with my other stories which I encourage you all to go read because I believe that I'm a good writer (even though you can see that my writing has improved in my latest fics haha) I hope that someday we can all look back at this and laugh. Because wow this has been a lot.

I am keeping my comments and dm's open because I believe in having a conversation about these kinds of conflicts and resolving them together. And by having comments and dms open there is no need for anyone to have to go to my twitter or discord. I’m posting this, and then I’m not doing anything else.

Anyway buy war bonds and slay all day besties ^^ I hope that you all have an amazing life.

[lavenderpearls]

Some thoughts about Basta (and Capricorn)

I just saw a post about the Inkheart characters and how PTSD could be a possible explanation for Basta‘s behavior. And I had thoughts about it.

So I decided to share them, even though I have no idea if anyone is interested in this.

I think that PTSD is kinda a part of what’s going on with Basta. We know he had a rough childhood, wasn’t treated well by his parents or the people that were supposed to care for him back then. And later Fenoglio stated that Capricorn didn’t treat him much better. (And let’s be honest, we also see that Capricorn only „cares“ for him as long as he‘s useful). And then there’s all the other stuff, like that time he got both his arms burned or later when Mo read him, Capricorn and Dustfinger out of their world.

So yeah, he surely has been through a lot.

But while that would be enough to end up with PTSD, I think he fits the criteria for Antisocial Personality Disorder a bit better.

According to the DSM-5 the symptoms of Antisocial Personality Disorder are

• Failure to confirm to social norms concerning lawful behaviors, as indicated by repeatedly performing acts that are grounds for arrest. (Do I even have to say anything here?Basta killed people, is the reason for Dustfingers scars, stole stuff, broke into houses, used to set things on fire, kidnapped people, all of this multiple times and in Inkspell it‘s literally mentioned that he was arrested after Capricorn died)

• Deceitfulness, as indicated by repeated lying, use of aliases, or conning others for personal profit or pleasure (Tbh this is more of a Capricorn thing, who also has ASPD imo, just a different subtype, but I‘ll get into that later)

• Impulsivity or failure to plan. (Throughout all the books Basta is CONSTANTLY doing impulsive stuff, and in Inkheart Capricorn literally said that this was a problem with him)

• Irritability and aggressiveness, as indicated by repeated physical fights or assaults. (I can’t mention all the times this was the case, it would be too much)

• Having no regard for the safety of self or others. (Pretty self explanatory.)

• Consistent irresponsibility, as indicated by repeated failure to sustain consistent work behavior or honor financial obligations (A little more difficult, because of the way the inkworld works and how Basta's life turned out in our world. He‘s never had a normal job. His job basically was being a criminal.)

• Lack of remorse, or inability to feel guilt, as indicated by being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another. (The times he killed people and didn’t give a shit? The fact that he had no problem with threatening children? Just to name a few things. He never really seemed to feel guilty for all the things he did. The only time he kinda feels bad about it is when he thinks this could cause problems for himself, like that time he made sure the cat in Meggies room could escape through the window. He didn’t care about the cat. He was worried that it would bring bad luck to him to let it starve in there. Just as an example.)

So with all this we can be pretty sure he has ASPD.

But there’s more to unpack.

One of the criteria for the disorder is that these or at least similar antisocial behaviors already occurred before the age of 15. We don’t know exactly if they did, but I think we can assume it. If I remember it correctly Fenoglio mentioned that Basta was younger than Meggie, wo was 12 at that time, when Capricorn took him in. And probably not because he felt sorry for the boy, but because he saw something in him that could be useful later.

Speaking about Capricorn. I said that I’m sure he also has ASPD. But he’s pretty different from Basta. At least in some ways. He’s so cold most of the time, much less impulsive, he’s able to plan ahead and also to control a bunch of other criminals.

To make this a little shorter, there’s a lot of different theories about this that include different subtypes, but one basically says that you can somewhat put people with ASPD in two different groups.

The ones that are cold, more rational and manipulative (like Capricorn) and the ones that are more openly aggressive and impulsive, like Basta. (That’s also where people sometimes draw the line between psychopaths and sociopaths, even though there‘s also a little more to that, but I‘m not gonna get into it now cause this text is already ridiculously long)

But to stay with all this 'subtype of ASPD'-stuff for a little longer - you might wonder at this point where Basta's superstitions and his constant fear of bad luck fits into all this. And I have a theory for that as well.

Malignant Narcissism. A syndrome first described by Otto Kernberg. It’s, to keep it short, a mix of narcissistic personality disorder (which btw very often appears together with ASPD) and ASPD.

It’s, apart from all the stuff I mentioned earlier, characterized by sadism (remember how Basta actually enjoys threatening people, how he likes to tell stories about all the awful stuff he and others did in detail, watching people get uncomfortable, etc? Sounds pretty sadistic to me.) AND paranoia. He’s constantly afraid something bad is gonna happen. But this could also be due to some OCD that he might have as well. (I gotta say this here, with personality disorders it’s not uncommon for people to have multiple ones that overlap. That’s what often makes it so hard to give a proper diagnosis.)

But what’s more interesting to me is that malignant narcissists, while usually not caring about anyone but themselves and being unable to maintain healthy relationships with others (remember when Dustfinger was hiding in Bastas house and mentions that Basta has literally no friends?), can show some sort of loyalty to a few people. Which is the case for Basta, since he‘s incredibly loyal to Capricorn.

So while generally being a pretty awful person, Basta has, at least somewhat, the ability to care about a selected few individuals.

Which I think is also the reason why there’s more fanfiction about him than Capricorn. Capricorn doesn’t care about anyone. He doesn’t even care about his own mother, or Resa, who was known to be his favorite of out all the maids. As soon as she caused problems for him, he decided to get rid of her. So with him, there’s a lot less to explore and to work with.

And, something more general about ASPD, it‘s as far as we know at this point, usually caused by a combination of genetic and environmental factors, such as neglect or abuse during childhood.

And Capricorn is a great example for this, since the genetic and environmental factors are both definitely there. We know his father used to beat him, and Mortola displays a lot of ASPD symptoms herself.

And for Basta, it was mentioned that he was a very unhappy child. Sadly we don’t know anything about his parents or what exactly happened during his childhood. (Maybe we could ask Cornelia about his parents in the next livestream?)

There’s still more I could talk about, for example some interesting studies about ASPD and reactions to fear that would also apply to both Basta and Capricorn, just in different ways or how ASPD works in general, but maybe I‘ll make a different post about that sometime.

Also feel free to tell me what you guys think about this, it‘s super interesting and I bet there’s even more to say that I haven’t talked about.

[the-silentium]

Jinx

Masterlist

Pairing: The Swedes x Reader

Words: 3300 words

Warnings: Mention of semi-nudity.

A/N: Hey dear people. I know I usually write for Five, but I had to write at least once for these nice brothers who I clearly love too much. @jossambird​ this one is for AND is because of you. Please enjoy!

What made you pleasant in the brothers’ eyes was exactly why people generally avoided you. You didn't talk much, always preferring to stay by yourself instead of gathering into groups, passing your time daydreaming, and drawing on a weird small board instead of drinking collectively with the rest of the Commission's workers. You had a perfect mission success rate and to the surprise of many, you always came back unscathed. A lot of agents asked you about your methods but you never answered, much to their annoyance. Not even your supervisor knew, not that he minded. 

So a majority of the Commissioners treated you like an outcast, someone to be left alone and forget. In your time as a reject, you met the only trio that was as silent as you. You never planned on accepting more than one cooperative mission with them, but something attracted you to the brothers. Maybe it was their acceptance of your personality, how they never forced you to express yourself and treated you like a normal person or perhaps it was the bond they shared that made you desire to not be alone anymore. 

The boys didn't mind your presence around them. They quickly realized that a lot of the rumors about you were false, you had so much more to give to those who accepted your introvertness. You were diligent in everything you were a part of, always taking initiative before the brothers even asked you to do something, you were observative enough to predict what they needed and always gave them a helping hand whenever they asked. You were a hard worker, that was for sure. On the other side, after a couple of missions alongside you, they noticed that you often put everyone's need before your own, so they had to keep that in mind. 

A year later, you were an unofficial member of the group, accompanying them more often than not on their trips. Oscar became your best friend, the one with whom you'd share the second twin size bed available in the crappy motel rooms, the one who had managed to make you open up about your past -some part of it, at least- and the one who would always hold your hand whenever the dark was too much for you to handle.

Axel was often the one to make you laugh, with his snarky remarks to Oscar's stupid pranks or with his silly fire camp stories. (The boys will never tell you that, but these stories were made solely for you as a mean for Axel to hear your melodious laugh. Never did the older brother tell his siblings stories of the sort. Oscar and Otto were quick to realize their brother's enamored behavior, to which Axel threatened them to keep their mouth shut about.) To your delight, Axel even let you cook meals from your country. He often helped you around the kitchen just like you often did when he was the cook. 

To your embarrassment, you systematically seemed to fall asleep on Otto whenever he was your couch buddy. His body heat mixed with his height made it perfect for his bicep to serve as your pillow. He always said that it was fine, that you needed the rest but you couldn't stop yourself from feeling ashamed. In return, you made sure that you helped him with the chores and the cleaning. 

You smiled as you stopped the vacuum, admiring your handy work. Wherever you guys went, the stray cats were always welcome into your little temporary home, meaning that cat hairs were everywhere. This time wasn't so bad, the only two stray felines passed the majority of the time on someone's knees seeking body heat. 

You put away the vacuum in its rightful place and made your way to your bed. It was rare, but sometimes you had your own bed. You were grateful that Otto found a place for rent, causing you to have your very own room for the first time in three months. You loved Oscar but you couldn't wait to remove your pants and bra and walk around your room with only a baggy t-shirt and panties on. 

You passed the table where Axel was reading a file and Otto was bent over a map marked with red dots here and there. You stopped at Otto's side in hope of catching his attention. It didn't take long. 

"I finished the vacuum, you won't have to do it later." You smiled as he huffed and rolled his eyes, unsurprised that you hadn't listened to him when he told you to take the day to yourself and let him do the cleaning. "If you guys need me, I'll be in my room." 

Otto hummed in response as Axel nodded, a small smile on his lips. You had to curl up your toes to refrain yourself from moving forward and do something stupid. Quickly, you turned around and walked to your room, glancing for a second at the snow covering the houses, trees and yards. The sight was truly bewitching, although you weren't a fan of the cold temperature. 

Looking under your bed, you pulled out your bag and searched around in its depth, taking out your fully charged iPad and apple pencil. 

Drawing has always been a part of you, despite what it caused. You had to get your thoughts and ideas out of your head and drawing was your way of doing it. All you had to do was find a way so no one could see your drawings. It wasn't easy with your old sketchbook, anyone could find the book and open it, so you requested an iPad with a compatible pencil and locked it with a very complex password. 

You verified that the door was completely closed before caving to your wants and discarded any unnecessary clothing, leaving you in your most comfy oversized t-shirt and your undergarment. 

Now comfortable, you jumped into the bed next to your tablet and started drawing as soon as you positioned yourself with your back pressed onto the headboard. You didn't know how long you passed there, drawing the content of your mind, only knowing that you were at your fourth piece when the door flew open, presenting you Oscar with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, leaning in the doorway. 

"I came to ask if you wanted to watch a movie, but I see you already have one." He snickered. 

You had once told the brothers what your "small board" was, although skipping the part that it was your drawing tablet. You showed them the music and videos kindly pre-installed by your supervisor and of course, Oscar wanted to watch modern movies with you. You'd never scrolled through the entirety of the movie selection available, but you should have. Before you knew, Oscar had selected Fifty Shades of Grey and everything went down from there. Needless to say that his own time period wasn't that open into showing nudity so it was a shock for him. At first. You were only grateful that the older brothers weren't interested into watching modern movies and that they never knew why Oscar teased you with a color. 

"I'm not watching anything, Oscar." You countered defensively.

He entered the room, unbothered by your appearance. 

"What are you doing then?" He reached for the iPad, causing you to hit the lock button in a hurry, hiding the lines and color behind a hard black screen and a password. 

"But I wanted to see." He whined, putting. You made the error of rolling your eyes, giving Oscar the opportunity to grab your pencil out of your hand. 

"Give it back!" You yelled, reaching for the electronic crayon. Oscar stepped away from the bed, almost making you fall off the bed. 

"It's a pen? You draw? Can I see it?" His eyes were sparkling, but it didn't hurt in the slightest when a categorical no fell from your lips. "But why?" 

You jumped out of bed, ready to jump on him if need be to recover your stolen good. 

"Because. I don't have to give you a reason- Oscar!" You followed him out of the room as soon as he dashed for the door. He stopped in the living room, where he used his height to annoy you and keep the device out of your reach. You tried to reach it on your tippytoes, without success. 

"Oscar I'm not kidding. Give it back." Your patience was getting thinner by the second. 

"Same for me. I want to see." He smirked at something behind your shoulder, but you couldn't care less at the moment. 

"I said no!" You tried again to reach for your iPad in the outstretched arm of the younger Swede, unconsciously offering a perfect view of your behind to two completely red Scandinavian. 

"Give it back!" The desperation in your voice caused Axel to intervene, his heart reacting to your panicked state. 

You felt tears forming into your eyes, from anger or distress, you didn't know, but you harshly wiped at them in hope of concealing your weakness. Oscar froze at your movement, eyes widening at the sight. Someone behind you grabbed the devices from Oscar's hand, before handing them to you. 

"Enough brother. She said no." His tone was hard and let no place for discussion, not that Oscar would have tried to argue after he saw the water in your eyes. 

With shaky hands, you pressed the electronics to your chest, protecting them from any other wandering hands. With them close and safe, your frantic heartbeat could finally slow down. 

You turned to Axel to thank him until you noticed how bright red his cheeks and neck were. He was still glaring at Oscar, although when he realized that you had turned to him, his gaze fell somewhere near you. The realization of why he couldn't meet your gaze dawned on you like a cold bucket of water, your very own cheek reddening. 

Mortified, you fled to the security of your room, the door banging on its hinges behind you. You searched the doorknob for a lock, helplessness invading you when you found none. Rushing to the bed to hide under the covers, you could only hope that the boys would leave you alone for as long as you needed. Forever would be an acceptable amount of time. 

You cried yourself to sleep, remnants of your panic playing tricks in your head, tormenting you with what-ifs. What if Oscar had seen your drawing? What if he decided to try again in the future? What if the boys decided that they had had enough of you? What if- whatif--

A soft knock resonated through the door, waking you in a panic. You had a terrible headache and your eyes were burning. You were disoriented until Otto's soft voice reached your ears. 

"Dinner is ready. I brought you a plate." 

You couldn't possibly think of eating at the moment, but you couldn't find it in yourself to let your sweet Otto turn back, defeated, to the kitchen. 

"Come in." You managed to croak out, your throat not used to form words instead of sobs. 

Otto opened the door slowly, the light of the house entering your dark room, allowing Otto to see your form concealed under the sheets. Only half of your head was poking out of your safe zone, giving him all the information he needed on your state. 

You managed to give him a small smile as he walked into the room to place the plate onto your nightstand. He paused for a second, seemingly thinking over what he wanted to do or say, before making up his mind.

"Oscar is very sorry." His hands formed fists when he met your red eyes. 

"I won't say it's fine because it's not." You answered, breaking the eye contact to concentrate on the wet spots on your pillow. 

"We know." A shadow blocked the light coming from the hallway and into your room, creating an enormous dark form onto the opposite wall. You lifted the covers to hide the remaining of your face, causing Otto to walk out of the room to keep the newcomer outside. 

The smell of the food was heavenly despite the fact that your stomach wasn't ready to welcome any of it soon. You pulled the cover off your face to allow fresh air to enter your lungs and repositioned yourself in a somewhat comfortable position. It didn't take you long to drift off, too tired to resist the welcoming arms of Morpheus. 

You woke up to a pair of steely eyes glaring at you from the doorway. Nervous, you got up from the bed and followed the retreating figure. On your way, you grabbed and slipped on your sweat pants, running to catch up with Axel. You collided with his back when he stopped abruptly and fell on your ass due to the force of the impact. 

Your eyes widened as soon as you caught sight of Oscar's body lying on the floor, blood running down his nose, eyes open but unseeing. A scream died in your throat, the pitiful sounds you managed to do were muffled by your hand covering your mouth. Axel turned to you, glaring at you from his vantage point. 

"He saw your drawings. It's your fault." 

Sobs shook your body as tears ran down your face once more. All you could do was chant a succession of no, desperately wishing that it wasn't true, that you didn't kill him. 

You expected the older brother to kill you in retaliation, but he must have known. No, he knew. As a fruit of your imagination, he knew how to make you suffer. Slowly, his arm lifted to the side, pointing towards the door where Otto was waiting, a blank expression darkening his features. 

"Leave." 

Your heart stopped. You would be alone again. Just like the past 16 years of your life. The only ones who accepted you were now rejecting you because they had seen what you so desperately tried to hide. Because your selfishness had broken them. Why couldn't you just stop drawing? Why-

Axel's hand closed firmly on your upper arms, the surprise and fear causing you to shot up into your bed, the sheets falling from your body and exposing your sweaty skin to the chilly air of the room. You slammed your hands onto your mouth in hope of containing the sobs and not disturb the other residents of the little house. 

Just in time, your body stopped shaking, your tears stopped falling and your breath stopped breaking. You stiffened as a knock resonated in the air, Oscar's voice breaking the silence. 

"Are you up?" 

You were relieved to hear his voice, to know that he was still alive and well. You really wanted to answer him, to let him know that he was forgiven and that you didn't hate him, but you knew you looked like hell and that it would only hurt him more. So you stayed silent, waited until your heard his footsteps walking away to get up, gather your clothes for the day and with the discretion that one could only acquire after years of training, you made your way to the bathroom down the hallway. 

The woman looking at you through the mirror looked definitely dead, with her dull puffy eyes, her untamed hair, the tear tracks on her cheeks and her pale skin. Quickly, you showered to remove any trace of your sadness, took an aspirin to lower the pressure into your skull and got dressed to not embarrass anyone furthermore. Now, the woman looked just like you, healthy and beautiful, if not just a little more down than usual. 

As you came out of the bathroom and entered the living room connected to the kitchen, Oscar immediately shot up from the couch like he had waited for you all this time. You knew Otto and Axel's attention were on the both of you even if they continued with their activities, making breakfast and petting the cats. 

"I am so sorry. I crossed a line and I know it wasn't right. Please, don't hate me. I'm sorry." He was as shaken as you were if his disheveled hair was anything to go by. This was a first. 

"I don't hate you, Oscar." He relaxed at your word, a soft smile leaving his lips. "I forgive you, but please, don't do it again." 

He shook his head and wrapped you in his arms. The tightness was a bit too much, but you didn't mind, you hugged him just as tightly. 

"Thank you." He whispered as he pulled away, a small smile on his handsome face. 

You playfully punched his shoulder to which Oscar retaliated by poking your sides until you were on the floor, laughing so much that your headache came back. 

"Food's ready." You cheered at Axel's statement, successfully pushing your white-haired friend off of you when he wasn't focussing. 

"Thank you." You said to the cook while getting seated to your place. He hummed, just as usual, the events of the day before seemingly forgotten. 

Despite your great appetite, you didn't touch your fork, instead gathering the courage to come clean. 

"My birthday is October 1st, 1989." The Swedes froze, surprised about the new information. Everyone at the Commission knew about the children born on this particular day. You continued when Oscar opened his mouth. "My ability," you frowned, "if I could call it like that, is that if I accomplish a specific task, people die."

The brothers were lost, not getting to what you were implying. 

"If someone sees a drawing I've made, they die. Generally in the next day or so. It can be by a heart attack, a brain hemorrhage or a stupid accident." Your gaze found Oscar's grey one. "You didn't see it, did you?" 

He shook his head, a smirk stretching his lips. "You're that bad, eh?" 

You kicked his ankle under the table, a yelp resonating into the room. 

"You could have died, you moron." 

"You're not kidding?" His head tilted to the side.

"No! How do you think I killed for the Commission for the last 16 years? I only had to show them a drawing and they were dead by the next day!" You huffed, frustrated that he didn't believe you at first. "I've lost my family because of it, I won't lose my friends too." You chewed on the interior of your cheek, your gaze fleeing everyone’s by falling on your plate. 

Before any dark thoughts could invade your mind, a hand fell on your shoulder. Axel didn't have to say it in words for you to understand. They'd never give up on you, no matter what, the reassurance making you smile to your plate. 

"Why don't you stop?" Otto's question pulled at your heart. 

"Because whenever I draw, I draw my family. I miss them a lot." You could hear the laugh of your little sister in the wind sometimes or could see yourself playing in the snow with your older brother. It was an accident, you didn't know at the time, but when you showed your very first drawing of the neighbor's dog to your family at dinner, you had sealed their fate. Four heart attacks under the same roof on the same night was hardly a coincidence, leading the Commission to take your case seriously. They took you in and made you who you were. 

A chair moving harshly on the floor caught your attention. Oscar walked around the table to hug you from behind, his face pressed against yours.

"We are your family now." 

[snippychicke]

Swedish Short--Seven

First of the prompt requests! @the-silentium​ wanted some ‘Pining for your brother’s best friend’ which I broadened to just Pining, though I did keep the original idea for Otto. whose bit is twice as long as Axel’s and Oscar’s...but we all know he’s my fav....

Rating: Everyone! 

Warnings: None!

First | Previous

--Axel--

Once again, you watched as the women in the stall next to yours flirted overtly with the tall pale man. He was a frequent customer to the small farmers market, and always drew looks. Especially from the women in the stall one down for yours whom you swore the farmer had hired to draw in people. 

Should you be happy that he barely paid their flirts any mind, unlike most men who always ended up buying more because they pushed? Well, you were anyways. 

"They flirt with any mildly-attractive male, I swear," you spoke as he left them behind and started to browse the fresh herbs you had laid out. "I mean, not that you're mildly attractive. Your very attractive. But! I mean! I'm bad at this, I am so sorry."

He looked up from the basil, his icy eyes meeting yours and a faint smile on his lips. And oh, you had it so bad for this man and you knew nothing about him. Except he came every week, quickly seeking out what he needed, yet seemed to always take his time with your stall. 

Or maybe you were just being hopeful. Maybe it was just because he was picky about his herbs and spices.

"Oh! I-I did find that cardamom you asked for last time," you ducked beneath the table and pulled out the small glass bottle full of small seeds. 

A true smile pulled at his lips, lightening his face and god you were so heads over heels. "Thank you," he spoke, taking the bottle from your hand, his fingertips brushing yours. You pretended you weren't affected as he carefully studied the tan seeds. Or the fact you were gleefully taking in the sharp lines of his face, or how his neck stretched as he held the bottle up, letting you catch a glimpse of the contour of muscles beneath, and the hint of collar bone. 

"How much?" He finally asked, turning back to you. You flushed, caught red handed. And your first impulse was to insist it was free, maybe for being a loyal customer, but you were running a business. And also didn't want to be too obvious.

"Well, since you're my favorite…" wait what were you saying? He arched a pale brow, not helping your heart any. "...customer. I don't know, whatever seems fair to you," you ended quickly before closing your eyes and wishing you could just disappear.

You think you heard an amused snort, but for all you knew it could have been the wind. Or his boot against the gravel walkway. You opened your eyes after he had pulled out his leather billfold and placed a few bills on your counter. "I'll see you next week, raring." 

--Oscar--

Oscar had a bounce in his step as he weaved through the masses of suits in the headquarters of the Comission. Axel was talking with AJ, and Otto enjoying the myriad of weapons in the store room. 

He had been given the task of getting a new suitcase, and he couldn't be happier about it. Wholly because he knew you were working in the room, as always. Doing….whatever it was you guys did; he didn't exactly know, nor really care.

As soon as you saw him walk up to the counter of the briefcase room, ringing the little silver bell despite the fact he knew you saw him, your eyes narrowed as you turned away from whatever you were doing on the old computer and stalked towards him. "You do realize that was the fifth case you three lost in this quarter alone!"

He loved seeing you so wound up. The way your face flushed slightly, your brow wrinkled just slightly. Especially when he grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "Time is relative. Technically I lost that one twenty years ago. And it was an accident."

"You accidently threw it into the Seine?" He wasn't quite expecting the fact you already knew about his escapade, until he saw the monitor behind you set to a familiar bridge. 

His smile turned into a grin. "Were you spying on me, love?

Your face flushed and you crossed your arms, anger turning into embarrassment. "What? N-no! Its just the scream you let out was hilarious…"

"There was a spider on it!" 

"You’re an assassin."

"It could have been a poisonous spider!" Despite the fact he was being teased, he loved seeing that smile on your face. That you were happy despite yourself. He wanted to see you smile openly. To hear you laugh without reservation. "We could go back and look for it together? The ice cream in Paris is amazing."

Instead of rolling your eyes as usual, you leaned on the counter, coming even closer to where he could see the mix of colors in your eyes. He leaned closer as well, happily loosing himself in trying to pick out the different shades in them. "Why do you always ask me out every time?"

He blinked. Wasn't it obvious? "Because I want to? Even if you keep making excuses, you haven't said no yet."

Was that color on your cheeks as your gaze darted away from him? For a moment he had hope as you deliberated your words. Except you snorted and shook your head. "..Yeah, right. You are such a playboy, Oscar. Here's your case."

You all but shoved the heavy box-shape briefcase in his chest, completely unaware how his heart broke. Except that still wasn't a no. He just had to prove he wasn't being a flirt, but he was completely serious when it came to you.

Somehow. 

--Otto--

Being on a break was good for the brothers. It gave them all a chance to breathe and relax from the constant fighting. 

"Oh shit, no no no!" You voice called down the hall as Otto walked towards the kitchen, which meant passing by the 'game room' as Oscar called it. The youngest had happily adjusted to the era, taking quickly to video games and had even made friends from the pawn store where he had bought his machines. 

You, being the closest. You were often over to play some fighting game Otto didn't know the name of, or even care about other than it drew you to their home. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. 

Because god did it hurt to see leaning against his brother on the couch, so easily affectionate with him as you tried to murder each other virtually. 

He passed the room, expecting to see such a scene, and instead saw you stand and stretch, shirt riding up from the hem of your pants and allowing him a glimpse of the flesh of your hip. 

His hands clenched into fists as he resisted the urge to run his fingers along the curve of your hip, wondering if you were ticklish or not, or if it was as soft and smooth as it looked. 

He pushed himself to carry on, pausing only when you squeaked in surprise behind him, followed by a laugh. "Oscar! Cut it out, you know I'm ticklish there!" 

Otto squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to see that mental image. Torture. This was torture. He was head over heels in love with his brother's friend. Who was quite possibly more than a friend. Either way, you were clearly not uninterested in him, since you rarely spoke more than short sentence towards him. 

He knew he looked rather intimidating, and his usual silence didn't help much. Usually in their line of work, that was a good thing. Now he almost regretted it. 

He reached the kitchen, sighing when he saw that yes, the pile of dirty dishes earlier had only grown in size while he was away. He rolled up his shirt sleeves as he silently grumbled to himself. He didn't mind, truly. While Axel would always clean up after himself, Oscar would only do the bare minimum.  He was just in a bad mood, seeing you and his brother. Hearing you laugh, knowing Oscar had touched the same skin he yearned to feel. 

Getting to see you smile. Like always.

"Oh my god, I forgot!" You voice called out behind him, and he looked back to see you at the doorway, face slightly pink. "I'm sorry Otto, I meant to come back and work on some of these."

He wondered if his face was a pink as yours as he shook his head, turning back to the pile of suds growing. "...it's fine." You were a guest anyways, and Oscar's at that. 

"Nonsense." You appeared at his side, a dish towel in hand and determination on your face. "I'm helping, and that is that."

Why were you so cute? 

The pair of you worked in companionable silence. And Otto could feel his heart pounding in his chest as if he was in a vicious fight for his life, and not washing dishes. 

"Where...do these go?" You asked once everything was done, holding a stack of plates and looking a little befuddled. Which only made his heart ache at the adorableness of it.

"I can…" you silenced him with a look, your expression severe except for a faint smile dancing at the edge of your lips. 

Part of him wanted to push. To see if he could get you to smile and laugh if he decided to just pick you up and place you on the counter, pinning your smaller body with his own. 

But that thought led to others; like what it felt to have your legs on either side of his hips, your lips far closer to his own. 

Oscar's voice cut through his thoughts, silencing that line of thinking as he called your name. "Hurry! I need you!"

Your smile turned into a drown as you looked over your shoulder and down the hall. It was easy to tell you were wavering, torn on what to do. 

"Go," he encouraged despite not wanting you to, reaching out to take the dishes from you. Your gaze turned back to him, indecision evident. "You helped a lot,” he continued, trying to convey how appreciative he was for your time. “Thank you."

He couldn't resist shifting the dishes to one hand and correcting a stray hair and the chance to brush your face. He could watch the blush bloom across your cheeks. But you didn't seem bothered by the affectionate action. If anything, Otto swore you seemed to savor it as much as he did. 

Oscar called your name once more, urgency tingeing his voice. He watched you give, silent as you nodded your head and retreated down the hall, and he couldn't help but watch you leave.

(Next)

[grand-commandant]

✖ - a repressed memory

Warning for non Otto related death.

~

No matter how good you think you are there will always be the a risk of the stupidest little things that will trip you up and ruin everything leaving you scrambling to not make things worse. Footsteps coming a little bit too soon, the drunken stumblings of another body the least fortuitous way, your information being very incorrect on the location of a pickup, even something as simple as a wrong target… Now the latter one was always a particularly nasty development and sadly not always caused by your source being vindictive but either way the results were always messy regardless.

Anyway, how was he supposed to know that the form he had taken of a now corpse happened to be the husband to a woman who saw him attempting to get back to the safe house? He was in enough pain as it was with a likely dislocated shoulder and freshly bruised both round the eyes and throat, it was all just some horrible coincidence that he walked right into. Then to make matters worse this unknown lady with auburn hair plaited tight forced his able arm over her own and there was such steel in this woman’s pale eyes with all anger directed at the cause (Oh the irony) of his situation than any towards himself and seemed oddly protective of despite her petit size in comparison. From that point he knew there wasn’t anything to be done in that moment given there was every chance of her accidently drawing attention his way and the pain was muddling his thoughts furiously thus he was half dragged half marched in silence until they reached the presumed home where she unwittingly led a perfect stranger inside. Before he could utter a word he had been sat down in a chair by an open roaring fire and left while she went elsewhere.

The entire situation was simply bewildering in how fast it all had happened alone.

“Quite the finest mess you have landed yourself into this time,” is muttered darkly before there is an attempt to move the hanging right arm though the flash of pain quickly derails the ideas of fixing it without help.

“Ach, least nobody will have to know of the embarrassment. She can be merciful at times.”

Any further grumblings are interrupted when his “saviour” returns carrying a paper-thin box tucked under her arm and makes a strange gesture with her hands that he cannot not immediately recognise. He blinks. Frowning deeply her palms are raised before a second attempt is made with slower and clearer finger movements and while it takes him a moment he manages to process that she must be mute, it would explain the odd silence. Unable to decipher this particular version she uses he attempts to bluff instead.

“Forgive me, I must have hit my head a bit too hard!” he answers all apology while motioning to both his face and shoulder hoping that the lack of using a name won’t turn around and bite him soundly.

“Wars have been far gentler.”

Otto is given a silent version of a few tuts and another series of gestures between her mouth and chest then she places the box on the nearby table so that she may start sorting through the contents for whatever specific thing she might be after. From the various small bottles and bandages removed it clearly is medical based, this is quite a savvy one to be having her own supplies in an age where the idea of a woman with a skillset having long fallen out of favour for their supposed dainty hearts being too weak to handle anything. There is another wince when she starts to roll up the sleeves of her blouse to tackle the most pressing issue knowing what’s coming. Unexpectedly she ever so gently presses her lips to his forehead causing a mild blush, a finger to be wagged in his peripheral vision and the hanging hand taken in her own as though to comfort what will no doubt be excruciating encounter.

It is these simple gestures that makes him inwardly wonder if this is what it was like with people whom you are not forced into watching your back on the constant just to be on the safe side? It felt so different from the family connection endured through your initial host parents and less of an expectation of duty but something of genuine care? Kindness? The tiniest scrap of his mind contemplates if the right descriptor would be a word that starts with an l but it is quickly stamped down as utterly ridiculous because that is a disgustingly soft human trait and not one a changeling could possibly know or understand. Like so many things it was something to be faked to get what you needed from another and there are far more important things to be focu- -

His thought process is quickly derailed by the awful grinding pain when the shoulder is forcibly shoved back into the socket and he does not even pretend that it did anything other than set his nerves were set on fire and cause a hissed yell that doesn’t stop even when the movement does. She says nothing of course despite the cursing being spoken so close to her ears, no instead she is gently rubbing the shoulder blade with one hand while the other is gently checking all the joints down the limb to make sure they are working as they should. After another pained groan he gives her a grateful look because it would be too impolite to do otherwise and is offered a loving smile in return and a wink. A hand motions to the box and she is now pouring something that smelt utterly foul onto a cloth and bringing it over to dab carefully around his still swelling eyes in an action so softly done that almost reminds him of a mother’s.

Alas a changeling by nature means no loose ends should ever be left over no matter how small for they are too much of a risk to do and he cannot stay here longer than absolutely necessary when there is a string leading to this very home with a ticking clock following it’s wake. It will be well into the night when she is slumbering deeply that he will apologise truthfully before her throat is slit. The second he leaves that home he will never remember doing so.

[halloweennut]

Homeward Bound part 3

In which Chiro meets the Skeleton King’s newest General, and Mara has an in-out-of-body experience

-

Tension had broken.

The Formless and Army of the Dead had struck the outer defenses of the city, trying to break through into the streets of Shuggazoom. The Sun Riders were quick to begin defense, rallying the rest of their allies to the fray as the Hyperforce launched into action to go on the offensive Jinmay staying behind to go on defense as well. The Robot broke into its vehicle forms, allowing the team to split more efficiently into the horde.

"Otto and I have the right side," Gibson reported over the comlink.

"Sprx and I have the left," Nova replied. "Chiro, Antauri, you on center?"

"We go it," Chiro replied. "Let's get them back and regroup!"

"On it!"

"Chiro, are you sure you can handle this?" Antauri asked on the private comlink channel.

"I am," Chiro replied, voice short. He was fine, truly. He wasn't allowing the information and confirmation of his mother's life and death to cloud him, not when he had his team to lead and Shuggazoom to protect. "I'm going to be."

He swore he could feel Antauri's near parental concern in the back of his head. But before either could continue, they came to a short stop at a goliath of a formless, his mighty fists swinging up to bear down on them. Quickly, they reversed, barely avoiding the impact. Chiro swerved once again to a stop, hopping out of the vehicle to charge. "Antauri! Let's get this guy down!"

The goliath slowly turned to face the two, charging towards him. He once more swung his fists up, and they bore down on the ground, Chiro and Antauri diving out of the way, weaving around him and taking out the formless at his feet. The goliath tracked them, and if he was frustrated, they couldn't tell. Chiro and Antauri looked over at each other and nodded, before sprinting between his legs. The goliath couldn't move quickly enough and lost its footing, tumbling to the ground. His body broke apart, taking out a small squadron of Formless along with it.

"That takes care of him!" Chiro cheered.

"Let's not celebrate too soon," Antauri warned. "We have the rest-"

A small blur appeared, bursting from the Black Spire on a standard formless motorbike.

"What in the-" Chiro peered ahead, trying to make them out.  "Please don't be Mandarin. I am not in the mood."  

"I don't believe it is," Antauri replied. "It's too large."

"We'll worry about them later," Chiro said. "Let's get the rest of them."

They turned their attention back to the horde, running to the vehicles, but the approaching figure's presence weighed on Chiro's mind. By the time they all regrouped, they had entered the horde. The remaining Formless parted as the bike came through, stopping in front of the Hyperforce. A lithe, skeletal figure stood from the bike. They were unlike the rest of them, less uniform but even closer in appearance to Skeleton King, official even, with the helmet and cape that mirrored him. They stood still, staring at the six vehicles, the only movement being the slow flutter of their cape and long braid.

"Um...anyone else think this is creepy?" Sprx said over the comm. "Chiro, what's the plan?"

"They aren't attacking...," Chiro replied, unbuckling his harness. "Stand down."

"Chiro, what are you- Chiro!" Nova shouted as she watched him leave his vehicle. Chiro stared down at the new figure, who slowly turned their head up to him. They otherwise didn't move.

"What does the Skeleton King want now?" Chiro shouted. "Who are you?"

"What the Skeleton King wants," they croaked after a moment, voice dead and hoarse, as though they hadn't spoken in years. "Is Shuggazoom to fall. For you to fall. For the Hyperforce to fall."

"What else is new?" Chiro rolled his eyes. "Now who are you?"

"A General is No One under their King," they replied. Chiro raised an eyebrow. "I am a tool for him to use to destroy you, boy."

"Joy,"  Chiro deadpanned. "Stand down, "General." We have most of this squadron defeated, and Shuggazoom's defenses are strong."

"No."

"Chiro! Get back inside!" Chiro could hear his team over the commlink.

"I'll be-" he began, only to see from the corner of his eye the General draw a blaster and fire. He ducked, the background noise of his team shouting in alarm. Sprx burst forward veering at the General. The impact sent them flying, crashing hard into the ground. But unlike the rest of the formless, they didn't dissipate. They slowly stood, unsettlingly so, as if they were a marionette sorting out their strings. Chiro didn't hesitate to clamber back in, quickly buckling up. "Regroup!"

"Chiro, are you alright?" Gibson frantically asked as the Robot reformed.

"I'm alright," he said. "Let's take out the rest of this and get home!"

The General didn't attack again, nor did they lead the Formless in an attack. If anything, they led them back, taking the remaining soldiers with them. The Hyperforce watched them recede, taking out the lingering few in the back before heading back to the city.

"What happened?" Johnny shouted up at them when they came into range, exciting the Robot. "They just left!"

"They receded," Antauri explained. "The Skeleton King has a new pawn in play."

"They shot at Chiro!" Otto replied. "Out of nowhere like this was a western or-"

"They shot at you?" Jinmay asked, checking Chiro over. "Are you alright?"

"I'm alright, promise," Chiro replied. "But we now have another thing to worry about."

"Whoever that General is," Gibson said, "they're quick with that pistol. We'll have to account for that the next time they rear their head."

"They weren't like the other Formless," Nova added. "Who are they? Or, were they?"

"Anyone, I fear. A remaining member of the Cult who gave up their soul for the Skeleton King, a corpse stolen...," Antauri trailed off. Chiro looked out into the Wasteland, over No Man's Land, to the shadow of the Black Spire. Whoever it was, he wouldn't let them help Skeleton King win.

-

Mara wheezed, collapsing to the ground, coughing and sputtering. It felt like she had been struck. It took her a moment to right herself, but she stayed on the ground, catching her breath. The Alchemist was soon at her side.

"Mara, what has happened?" he asked, kneeling at her side to help her up. She weakly shook her head.

"I...I don't know...I was just walking, trying to think, and then...It feels like I got hit by a cruiser," Mara said breathlessly.  "But there's nothing here that could have- ugh..."

"Easy, Mara," Alchemist said, sitting her on a low boulder. "It seems as though your body and you are still connected. What happens to it, you feel."

"Then what is happening to me?" she asked. The Alchemist shook his head.

"I'm not sure. Wherever you are, I hope it doesn't been you are harmed," he replied. Mara shook her head, breathing slowly as the pain ebbed. Once it cleared, so did her mind, allowing her to think.

"If...If I'm still connected," she said. "Can I somehow see what they see, make them open their eyes or move them? Like a puppet."

The Alchemist gripped his chin in thought. "Perhaps, but it would take meditation and time."

"Time is all I have. I can figure out meditating. Spent enough time zoning out in space, can't be too hard," Mara said. She slipped off the boulder to the ground, sitting cross-legged. "...Can you stay? Just in case my body is flung around by something again."

"Of course, Mara," he nodded, and sat down on the ground with her. "It's been far too long since I've done so myself."

"Maybe you can try to re-establish with your body too," Mara said. She knew it was a hopeless endeavor for him. He smiled, faintly. "Or just...go down memory lane."

"There are many memories I miss," Alchemist said. "Albeit nostalgia, I long for those days before...this."

"Same...," she trailed off. Mara took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It took time for her to forget where she was, ignore the Alchemist at her side and let her mind slip away. She felt her forehead twitch, becoming aware of her own head and shoulders, weighed down. Mara blinked. She couldn't recognize where she was, nor could she control her body as it continued to walk. But the sky was dark, and the sound of hundreds surrounded her. She clenched her jaw, trying to force herself to look up, or around her...

Mara gasped, snapping awake as she was violently forced out and awake. "What...who..."

"Mara, what did you see?" the Alchemist asked, holding her shoulder steady as she panted.

"Darkness. All I saw was darkness..."

[pidayforpi]

“Heinrich...? Heinrich, mein dear fella...”

Heinrich soon regretted answering his master’s call.

He had ignored his master’s orders so many times, he should had ignored this one as well.

(Content Warning: Blood(-sucking))

Heinrich got out of his room and into the living quarters of the Zeppelin, yawning and rubbing his weary eyes. Doctor von Goosewing always woke up so early in the morning, sometimes he had already gone on adventures before Heinrich even woke up. The fragrance of home-brewed coffee told him the doctor was still at home.

“Ja, doctor?”

Heinrich put on his glasses to look at his senior clearly.

If it wasn’t for the deerstalker, pince-nez glasses, brown checkered coat and spats, Heinrich would think an intruder had entered.

The “doctor” in front of him looked nothing like the one and only Doctor Otto von Goosewing. Hulking, crooked, ruffled feathers, sharp nails, bloodshot eyes...Even his signature coat and spats were ripped.

Heinrich stopped in his tracks when he looked his “master” in his eyes. His heart started racing, body trembling...The same reaction he had when he saw a vampire. And he could tell a vampire when he saw one.

What Heinrich feared the most had happened right in front of him.

The wampire hunter was a wampire himself.

“Come here immediately...” The doctor panted, signalling the gosling to come closer with his long, sharp fingernails.

Heinrich held his robe close to himself. He should had chosen something more flexible instead of his usual attire as his pyjamas, so that he could be on the run anytime. Then again, who could have predicted a vampire would appear in a vampire hunter’s abode?

Let alone the vampire hunter would become a vampire.

“I vant to suck your blood, Heinrich!”

Goosewing let out a maniacal laughter, echoing throughout the airship. The gosling froze in fear and disbelieve, the blood-chilling cackle nearly made him scream and cry.

Never had Heinrich felt this fear. Before, he knew that whatever danger he was in, the doctor would come to his rescue in a jiffy. But now, when the monster he’s facing was the doctor himself, there’s no-one Heinrich could call for help.

“Heinrich? Heinrich...?” Goosewing called his assistant with his usual beckoning. There’s no running away this time. Goosewing could already see him. Their eyes had already met.

Heinrich shook his head. He had never outright rejected his master’s order, only ignored and pretended that he didn’t hear the doctor. But this order was an order Heinrich could not obey.

“Are you...defying me, Heinrich?”

Goosewing waddled towards Heinrich.

Heinrich wanted to say “no”, but that would be lying. Heinrich took a step back, wanting to rush back to his room and wake up in his bed. Perhaps it was just a dream?

But the painful grip of the doctor on his arm disproved this hypothesis immediately.

“Didn’t you heard me? I said I vant to suck your blood, Heinrich!” Goosewing grabbed Heinrich’s left arm with his strong, mutated right hand. His beckoning had changed from a sly request to an enraged order. “So be a good boy und let me take a bite at your neck, ja?”

The old gander forced a smile, letting the gosling see his sharp canines. Heinrich always loved his master’s warm smile, but the expression he’s given now was far from gentle.

Heinrich mustered all his strength to shake his master off, making a run away from the living room. But that would only delay his suffering for a bit. Trapped in a flying Zeppelin, there’s really nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Especially from a vampire. A stronger, faster, larger vampire.

Instinctively, Heinrich headed for the master bedroom. Doctor von Goosewing must had some vampire-repelling tools in his room.

The first and only thing Heinrich could get his hands on was the gander’s trusty blunderbuss, already loaded with a wooden stake. Before Heinrich could search for a less deadly tool, he was pulled into a tight bear hug.

Heinrich had his face buried into the rough, untidy feathers of the gander. A sharp pain on his arms implied the gander had already dug his nails through the robe into the gosling’s skin, preventing his prey from escaping again.

Heinrich breathed loudly, his rapid heartbeat synchronising with that of the vampire gander. He could hear the vampire’s heartbeat clearly, letting him pinpoint where the heart was.

“Blood...I must haff blood...” Goosewing moaned like a mindless zombie, beak agape and salivating. Heinrich looked at the firearm in his right hand. He could still move his lower arm, aim the gun and pull and trigger. At point-blank range, there’s no way he could miss the heart.

Heinrich hesitated. Either the vampire, or himself. One of them must be down today.

Moreover, the monster he’s looking at was no longer the doctor he knew. He was now a vampire, a shadow of his former self. It’s alright for Heinrich to fire the stake. That would be what Goosewing wanted as well: If Goosewing had control of his body now, he would end his own life; If he hadn’t, he would want his assistant to do him the favour, with his trusty blunderbuss no less. Goosewing would rather die a hero than end up a “villain”.

But still, Heinrich hesitated. The doctor who had protected him...The doctor who had taken care of him...The doctor who had loved him...Would Heinrich want to kill his beloved Doctor von Goosewing?

Although a vampire now, to Heinrich, Doctor von Goosewing was still Doctor von Goosewing.

In the split second, Heinrich made the decision against his better judgement. A tear dropped from his puffed cheek, as he dropped the blunderbuss.

“Doctor, p-please! V-vake up!” Heinrich weakly pounded on the gander’s chest. “It’s me, Heinrich! Your assistant!”

Goosewing only snickered in response. “I’m vide avake, you silly boy!” The old gander made a pondering expression. “Or am I...?”

“N-n-n-nein doctor, you are n-not! L-Let me f-fix you a c-cup of coffee, alright?” Heinrich tried to convince his doctor to let him go, and buy some time for him to think of how to save his transformed master. But the arms surrounding him was no looser.

“Or p-perhaps I c-can f-fix your b-bed, doctor?” Heinrich panicked, trying his best to talk his way out of the situation.

Fear started to creep in again as Goosewing stayed silent. The terrible silence prompted Heinrich to think of another proposal, when Goosewing slowly replied.

“Nein, Heinrich. I zink I just...haffen’t had mein breakfast...” Goosewing uttered, as his stomach growled in response.

“G-G-G-Great! H-H-How about a s-s-salad, a s-s-s-sandvich, or a...a...” Before Heinrich could think of another dish to sate his master’s appetite, the elder gander lifted him off the ground, forcing eye contact with him.

“I’m actually craving something more...bloody.” Goosewing looked at gosling, licking his sharp fangs with an audible slurp.

Despite having stalled for a few minutes, Heinrich couldn’t escape his fate. With his arms pinned and his feet dangling in mid-air, Heinrich could do nothing but wildly twist and kick.

The vampire gander took off the gosling’s hood, revealing a tender, yellow-feathered neck. Not waiting another moment, the former vampire hunter sunk his canine teeth into his assistant’s skin, and began his feast.

Heinrich cried out in fear and pain, his struggles intensified three-fold. His predator reacted by grasping his prey more tightly, fingernails holding him in place but taking care not to draw blood, lest some of those delicacy were lost.

With every suck, he could feel some of his energy drained from his body. With every sip, he could thrash and struggle less powerfully. With every drink, he could hear his master swallowing his blood with a gulp and a ripple at the throat.

Eventually, Heinrich’s vision grew dimmer, his body went limp. Before everything went black, he could feel the suction on his neck stopped, the grasp on his arms ceased, and hear someone calling his name. Was it a concerned call, or a crazed taunt? Heinrich blacked out before his light body hit the ground.

———————————————————————————————

Heinrich woke up looking at the same metal ceiling. A low rumble told him he’s still in the Zeppelin. But in what form? A mortal, a vampire, or a ghost?

He slowly opened his eyes, detecting his environment. He was in a bed. His bed, to be exact. The bed sheets and the room decorations gave it off. Was it a dream then? No. The sharp pain at his neck gave it off.

Despite his light-headed sensation, Heinrich sat up, tears and sweat dripping down his face. He searched for his glasses on the end table next to the bed, and got a better look around him.

His master was right next to him, sitting on a chair besides the bed.

The small, silly-looking old gander. Not that monster from that living nightmare.

But the holes and scratches on the doctor’s coat told Heinrich they were the same person.

Doctor von Goosewing was asleep on the chair, head facing down, body bending forward. Nothing could be seen outside the window except the full moon on the night sky. How long had the doctor been watching over his assistant, desperately waiting for him to wake up?

Heinrich softly patted the senior on the shoulder, where the coat was damaged the most. Goosewing opened his eyes, not even bothering to fix his pince-nez. Upon seeing his assistant, the elderly gander gave the young gosling a warm, big hug.

Goosewing caressed his soft head with his shaking hands, voice trembling. Heinrich blushed at his master’s sudden affection, but he understood how he felt right at that moment.

After a minute of embrace, Goosewing let go of Heinrich. His smile faded, as he stood up and turned around, unwilling to face his assistant.

“I...I vill take care of you until your vound heal und your blood level restore...” Goosewing said with his back turned to Heinrich.

“But after zat...” Goosewing paused before continuing, seemingly struggling internally. “...please leave me, Heinrich.”

Upon hearing that, Heinrich immediately got up from his bed, only to trip on his weak legs. Goosewing lent a hand to his assistant to help him stand, holding his small hands with his large, shaking ones.

“Forgiff me, doctor! Vas it something I haff done?” Heinrich put the blame on himself, to which Goosewing shook his head.

“I...I...” Goosewing stuttered as tears welled up in his eyes. “I hurt you, Heinrich! I couldn’t control meinself! I attacked you! Bit you! S-S-Sucked your blood!” Goosewing shouted the last phrase with great disgust and regret, heavily ashamed of what he had just done to his innocent, young assistant.

“It vas mein stupid chemical! Mein stupid brain zat couldn’t distinguish between coffee und carpet cleaner! I am a failure! A maniac! A monster!” Goosewing covered his face, tears slipping through his fingers.

“So please leave me...before I become a wampire again. Please...get away from me, as far as you can, before I...I...” The gander was cut off by his own sobbing, falling to his knees as tears fell onto the metal ground.

The scene which happened just that morning replayed in the vampire hunter’s head: The Greatest Wampire Hunter in Ze Vorld, biting at his own assistant’s neck, drinking from his vein as he screamed and begged. When Goosewing woke up, his beak was full of blood, and his cold, dying assistant was on the floor. The blood-sucking willian attacking the gosling, was no other than the wampire hunter himself.

Heinrich got to the same level as his master, not knowing how to respond. He gave the doctor a soft embrace, waiting patiently as his master let his emotions out.

“But you saved me just now, didn’t you?” Heinrich spoke softly with a smile. “Otherwise I vouldn’t be hugging you right now.”

“B-but I vas ze vun vho hurt you!”

Heinrich gave his master a pat on the back. “I’m okay now. See?”

“I haff hurt you many, many times, doctor. I...I always put you in danger...leaving vhen you need me...hiding vhen you call for me. I...haff abandoned you to face wampires alone, risking your life for mein own safety...But you never scold me, punish me, abandon me...”

Heinrich held Goosewing’s hands, and looked him in his watery eyes.

“I should be ze vun to apologise, doctor.”

Goosewing took a few strong sniff to stop his sobbing for a while. “But vat iff I turn into a wampire again?”

“I vould run away und hide until you turn back to normal.”

“But...” Goosewing hesitated to speak out his greatest concern. “Vat iff...you turn into a wampire...? I...I might haff already passed ze curse to you!”

Heinrich replied immediately, with a kind, innocent smile.

“Zen we vould be wampire wampire hunters!”

Seeing his assistant’s positivity, Goosewing couldn’t help but smile.

The two ganders shared one last embrace, shedding one final drop of tear. Under the shimmering moonlight, a vampire hunter and his assistant showed the world the definition of love.

Peace or peril, may we face together hand in hand.

(14-6-2020)