#dragons take all of our food

[here-there-were-dragons]

as a general rule, on average, if americans consistently complain about a food being conceptually weird, gross, and scary, then it probably tastes amazing. or at least inoffensive.

this is because in my experience americans for the most part (give or take a few exceptions by region) think eating literally anything other than beef, chicken, bread, eggs, peanut butter jelly sandwitches, ketchup, and disgusting cloyingly artificial brown sludge soda is insurmountably weird, gross, and scary.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

We had one of Steff's comedian friends staying with us on the weekend, lovely lad called Sam from Singapore. He had never been to Wales before, and he requested that we take him to a Welsh restaurant so he could try Welsh food

That's surprisingly difficult, actually. Like a lot of Welsh culture, our culinary traditions have not exactly been applauded over the years, so you don't really see them. But a lucky Google search revealed a brand new one has just opened in SA1 called the Welsh House, so great! Away we went.

Fuck me, they went all in.

It wasn't just the menu (though fuck me, what a menu - one of their 'for the table to share' options was little mini leek and cheddar Welsh cakes with salted butter and they were paralysingly good). It wasn't just that every alcohol was Welsh, even including the wine (surprisingly good btw, called 'Naturiol'.)

The table centerpieces were daffodils. All signs for the toilets were Welsh only. The walls had photos of Wales, modern and historical; the windows had the fleur de lis; the specials board (pork belly in Welsh cider and damson sauce with honey and wild garlic glazed carrots) had dragons on. I realise this is probably normal for country-themed restaurants, but I've never been to one for Wales before.

But the best bit, see, was the music

I clocked, when we walked in, that they were playing If You Tolerate This Then Your Children Will Be Next by the Manic Street Preachers (you always clock the Manics). Ah, I thought. A Welsh song! In a Welsh restaurant! Ho ho ho.

As they seated us, it became What's New Pussycat. Ah! I thought. Another Welsh song! Fu fu fu.

Then they played Monster by the Automatic and I was like my god are they only playing Welsh music?? That's so cool! What an eclectic mix that's going to be. We should suggest to them they should look into Welsh language music too, really mix it up.

And then they played Anrheoli by Yws Gwynedd and lads, Steff and I lost our shit. We lost our fucking shit. Sam's sitting there, utterly bewildered. The staff are nervously edging away from us. We don't care. It's the first time I have ever heard a Welsh language song played outside of a Welsh language setting. We're so excited.

"They're playing Welsh music!!!" says Steff. "Holy shit!!!"

"Imagine if they played Sebona Fi!" I say, humorously.

"Nah," says Steff. "You can't in a restaurant. There'd be a riot, it's faerie music."

"...what?" says Sam

We explain the cultural phenomenon that is Sebona Fi. The song changes: Primadonna Girl, by Marina and the Diamonds.

"She's Welsh??" says Sam.

"She's from Abergavenny!" we beam.

"I don't know what that means," nods Sam, who is from Singapore.

Next: The Bartender and the Thief, by the Stereophonics. We're in high spirits. The extraordinarily Welsh wine arrives, as does the rarebit on sourdough starter. Sam, a gay man, delightedly orders the faggots and peas.

They play Ben Rhys by Gwilym Bowen Rhys, and we lose our shit again. Sam is now used to this, because comedians are adaptable. "They even have daffodils!" I say, misty eyed. "Is that relevant?" Sam asks, fascinated.

They play Hiraeth, by PLU. Hard to explain that one. Very hard to explain the effect it has when it's played in a restaurant, but Sam looks around the suddenly muted room and whispers "Are we in church?"

"It's about Hiraeth," whispers Steff. "So kind of."

Next: the Masses Against the Classes, by the Manics. Utter tonal whiplash. This playlist is not remotely restaurant appropriate. It's perfect.

"You'd think they'd pick like... a genre," Sam says dreamily. "We just went from church to the barricades."

The faggots arrive. "I forgot it would be a western sized portion," Sam says morosely, of what to me is a normal sized plate of food. He tries one, and brightens.

They play Sebona Fi.

The place erupts.

[judasofsuburbia]

something something kindergarten teacher! steve who is so tired of going on bad dates. kindergarten teacher! robin who doesn't want him to give up.

“Really? The date went that bad?” Robin asks again. 

“Yes,” Steve drones. “I swear she looked like she’d rather be at the dentist than on a date with me.”

Robin makes a sad face at him. Steve continues to sort the paint jugs and throw out any that have been mixed with other colors. Robin finishes putting toys back into cubbies and sanitizing the fake food. 

“Okay so,” Robin starts. 

Steve immediately holds up a hand. “Don’t say ‘maybe she’s not the one but someone is’. I’m sick of this, Rob. I feel like I’m just better off alone.”

“Not true,” Robin argues. “You’re a catch. You’re attractive and good with kids. You make me laugh so hard my ribs shake. You’re a great listener and you make amazing cocktails. Great helmet of hair. Who wouldn’t want to date that?” 

Steve’s heard it all before. He loves Robin, he does, but it doesn’t seem to matter what she thinks of him because no one in this town wants to make it to date two with him.

He used to be so good at this. Always had a girl on his arm at football games in high school. Always had a date to prom. Always had some girl to make out with at parties. Even when he realized later on in his twenties that he liked boys too, he still couldn’t find one that took his attraction seriously.

Steve Harrington? Like both? Unheard of, apparently. 

Still, Steve didn’t want to start the first day of school on a bad note. “Thanks, Rob. I might need to lick my wounds for a second but I’ll get back on the horse I promise.”

“Good because our marriage pact could be closing soon,” Robin mumbles with a sly smile. 

Steve’s head whips around. “Are you‒”

“I have a ring picked out,” Robin practically squeals. 

Steve does his best to gently set down the paint jugs and rip off his latex gloves before darting across the room to pick Robin up in a twirling hug. He kisses her head repeatedly until she’s groaning, giggling, and shoving him off. 

“Rob, that’s amazing,” Steve breathes. He squeezes her tightly again. 

“You better keep your mouth shut,” Robin warns with a pointed finger. “It’s so hard to surprise Nancy Wheeler but I think I’m finally going to be able to.” 

Steve’s grinning from ear to ear as he mimes zipping his mouth closed. “Secret’s safe with me.”

The alarm on Steve’s phone breaks them out of their little love fest and suddenly the halls are filled with parents, children, and teachers gabbing to high heaven. Robin gives him a salute before crossing over onto her side of the classroom. Technically, there is a foldable partition between the two rooms but it will be a cold day in Hell if Robin and Steve ever actually separate their classrooms. 

Steve goes to stand by his door and greet his new gaggle of students. He high-fives each of them as they walk through the door and points to their assigned cubby and seat.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s looking around the room and sees that two seats are still empty. Dustin and Max Munson. He didn’t see them at parent-teacher night last week but he knows from their file that they’re fraternal twins from a single, widowed dad. He tries to keep an eye out for them but he knows the other kids are getting restless. 

Then he hears, “Oh, Mr. Munson, you’re actually in Steve’s‒sorry, Mr. Harrington’s class. He’s just right across the way.” 

Steve glances across the room and does a double-take. Across the room is the alleged Mr. Munson, this tall, lanky man with curly brown hair that hits his shoulders with a blank bandana tying down the top of his head, big brown eyes, a leather jacket with pins, a white tank top, and coverall sleeves tied at his waist. He’s positively breathtaking. 

Holding either hand are Max and Dustin. A little redhead with a baseball cap, overalls, and a striped shirt. A little brunette curly head with green khaki shorts and a shirt with a dragon on it. Mr. Munson smiles apologetically at Robin and walks across the room to Steve’s. Dustin bolts to his assigned seat and starts talking animatedly to Will Byers who looks a little scared out of his mind but is quickly rescued by Mike Wheeler who is just as excited. Max stays glued to Mr. Munson’s side as he walks up to Steve.

If Steve’s not mistaken, Mr. Munson looks him up and down before speaking. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Mr. Munson says and of course, his voice is pretty too. “This one is a little nervous about being away from her dad.”

Steve draws his eyes away from the strong neck and pale collarbones that poke out from underneath his jacket to the scared girl. He bends down to her level and gives her a soft smile. 

“Are you Max? I’m Mr. Harrington,” Steve says.

Max blinks, inching more and more behind Mr. Munson’s pant leg. 

“School’s kinda scary, huh?” Steve asks. 

Max nods.

“I know I get a little nervous on the first day and I’m the teacher,” Steve admits in a small, dramatic voice. He sees the tiniest sliver of a smile on Max’s face. “I’ve sat you next to Lucas Sinclair,” Steve points to the smiling kid on the other side of the room. Lucas gives a small wave. “He’s a very nice boy and I think he even likes the Bulls,” Steve gestures to Max’s hat. “So, I think you guys will have loads to talk about. We’re gonna have a really fun day, okay? And then you’ll get to tell your dad all about it.”

Max glances timidly around the room again and slowly lets go of her dad’s pant leg. Dustin rushes over and shows Max where her cubby is which detaches her completely. Max sits next to Lucas who does get very excited over her hat. Steve and Mr. Munson watch her relax little by little. 

“Holy sh‒shirt," Mr. Munson coughs and smiles sheepishly. "Wow, uh, you really know how to talk to them. Literally made her a friend within five seconds."

Steve stands and tries to regain composure now that the irresistible dad’s attention is on him. 

“Thanks,” Steve says quietly. “The first day is always a little tricky.”

Mr. Munson holds out his hand and says, “Eddie.”

Steve takes it, feeling a little dizzy over how firm his grip is and the callouses on his hands. “S-Steve. Harrington.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it last week. Last-minute towing emergency for Chief Hopper,” Eddie says, finally dropping Steve’s hand. 

Steve playfully rolls his eyes. “I’ve been telling him for years that he needs to dump that old hunk of junk already. I’m guessing you work for Munson Mechanics?”

Eddie smiles boldly and glances down at his attire. “Yeah, that’s where I get this sick uniform. Very exclusive.”

“I’m jealous,” Steve laughs nervously, trying desperately to keep his eyes on Eddie’s face. But even then, his eyes are so pretty and his smile is so radiant. There’s faint stubble on his upper lip and jaw. Steve wants to run his fingers over it amongst other things.

“Well, I won’t keep you much longer,” Eddie smiles, clapping Steve on his back. “Maybe I’ll get you a free oil change for your trouble.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble‒”

Eddie leans forward a little and squeezes Steve’s shoulder. He whispers, “Or maybe I just want to see you when there are not twenty five-year-olds staring at me.”

From this proximity, Steve can smell his cologne and lingering car oil. He can feel his brain cells dying every second he inhales the intoxicating aroma. Steve breathes shallowly, too aware of the growing blush on his cheeks, and says, “S-sure. I’d like that.”

Eddie smirks and has the audacity to wink before going to each of his kids, ruffling their hair, and kissing them goodbye with a big wet smack on their cheeks. He passes by Steve again and murmurs, “I won’t say goodbye to you like that. Not yet, at least. Good luck with my little gremlins” before walking out the door. 

Steve hears the clunk of his boots echoing down the hall and each step makes his heart beat louder against his ribs.

He dares to look at Robin across the room who is staring at him with a smug grin on her face. She mimics getting on a horse and does a little lasso with her hand. 

Steve adjusts his glasses, clears his throat, and says in his best teacher voice, “Alright friends, who’s ready to start kindergarten?” 

EDIT 2/8: READ THE FULL FIC HERE 🤠

[permanentswaps]

Virtually Limitless

For as long as he could remember, Dan had struggled with dieting and exercise. This year, he finally decided to make a change and go all in on fitness. That was how he met Cole, a hunky 26-year-old trainer at the local gym. After training with Cole for a few months, he still wasn’t making much progress. But that was ok, he was happy to crush over Cole and to discuss their mutual love of video games.

Dan loved video games so much, that he had actually made a career out of them. Dan's workplace, WeTech, was all cutting-edge virtual reality startup. One day, without his bosses knowing, Dan got his hands on a yet-to-be-released prototype and a game titled "Dragon Slayers." Naturally, he asked Cole if he wanted to try it out.

"So, how does this work?" Cole asked, a mix of excitement and curiosity in his eyes.

Dan, grinning with anticipation, replied. "We pick our characters, put on the headsets, and say 'Start' followed by our player number. When we’re done, we just say 'Exit' and our player number again."

"Sounds pretty straightforward," Cole remarked, a playful smile on his face.

"Ready to go?" Dan asked, his enthusiasm infectious.

"Let's do it," Cole replied, the room buzzing with a shared sense of excitement. And with that, they plunged into the virtual world of "Dragon Slayers."

“Start Player 1,” said Dan.

“Start Player 2,” said Cole.

The room filled with the soft hum of tech and the glow of screens as they launched themselves into the digital adventure.

Once inside, Cole marveled at the virtual landscape of impressive mountains and valleys. Meanwhile Dan found himself enamored by another “landscape,” the topography of his newfound, virtual washboard abs.

"So, this is what it's like to be in such great shape," Dan mused, his virtual avatar flexing his digital muscles.

Spotting a beacon in the distance, Cole paid no attention to his comment. "Look, there's a beacon; we have to go this way!" he exclaimed, pointing towards the glowing light on the horizon.

Their journey reached a climax when they faced-off against a formidable dragon. After intensely battling for what felt like hours, the two sat down for a debrief.

Dan, catching his virtual breath, couldn't help but muse aloud, "That was incredible! Imagine having such a youthful and strong body all the time."

Cole, grinning mischievously, replied, "Maybe you could know," and without further explanation, initiated the process. "Exit Player 1," he declared, his voice echoing in the virtual realm, and his consciousness was abruptly pulled from the game.

Dan, still processing, hesitated for a moment. That was his player number. Then, with a hint of curiosity mixed with uncertainty, he muttered, "Exit Player 1." An error message flickered in the air in front of him..

Dan said with uncertainty, "Exit Player 2." In that instant, the virtual world around him warped, and he felt a sudden shift. Taking off his headset, he found himself looking at his own body, which had a playful smirk plastered across its face.

"This is so freaky; I didn't know if that would work," Cole confessed.

Dan, distractedly running his fingers over his new biceps through the fabric of his shirt, said half-heartedly, “We …. We have to switch back.”

"Hey, what’s the rush?" Cole asked. "Let’s stay like this for a bit. I can help get your body back on track with its diet, and in return, you might pick up some muscle memory from my training expertise."

Dan, still adjusting to the surreal experience of being in Cole's body, raised an eyebrow. "You really think that's a good idea?"

Cole chuckled, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes. "Think about it, Dan. You'll get firsthand experience of what it's like to live in a body like this, and I'll ensure your body doesn't go on a fast-food frenzy while you're in mine. It's a win-win!"

Dan, intrigued by the proposition, finally grinned. "Alright, let's give it a shot. But just for a few weeks, okay?"

Cole laughed, clapping Dan on the shoulder, or rather, where his shoulder used to be in his own body. "Deal, buddy! This is going to be epic!"

---

Over the ensuing weeks, Dan wholeheartedly embraced his new life as Cole. The gym transformed into a second home.

One night, he found himself cheering on a client during a challenging workout.

Dan grinned, offering encouragement, "Come on George, you've got this! Remember, pain is just weakness leaving the body!"

The client, panting but motivated, nodded appreciatively. "You're on fire today, Cole! What's gotten into you?"

Dan laughed, a blend of his own infectious enthusiasm and newfound charisma. "Just trying out some new tricks. Gotta keep things exciting, you know?"

"Haha, I getcha.” George replied, wiping his sweat with a towel. “Oh by the way, I’m hitting the bars later with some friends. Wanna come along?" he asked.

Dan hesitated for a brief moment. In his old body, he would have never been cool enough for a night out like this. However, with newfound confidence and the thrill of embodying Cole's persona, he grinned and replied, "That sounds awesome, dude. I'll be there."

Later, at the local bars, Dan found himself reveling in the attention he was receiving from both guys and girls. Feeling the gaze of a guy from across the bar, Dan playfully flexed his biceps, a cheeky grin playing on his lips. The guy, drawn in by the confident display, couldn't resist approaching.

"Hey there, looking good," the guy said, initiating a playful flirtation.

“Not so bad yourself,” Dan replied. “What’s your name.”

“Bryan,” he replied with a smirk.

Before Dan knew it, he was back in Cole’s apartment hungrily making out with the twunk in his bed. As Dan ripped off his shirt, Bryan’s eyes grew wide looking at his muscles. Dan raised his arm and flexed his bicep at Bryan again before grabbing behind his head and holding Bryan’s face against his armpit.

Slowly, Dan reached down to unbutton his pants and slide down his briefs. Bryan quickly followed suit before straddling Dan’s waist. As Bryan shoved his face back into Dan’s pecks, Dan began to finger Bryan’s hole and cover his dick with lube. He thrust his hips upwards, slowly at first, but then picking up the pace.

As he pounded his hole, Bryan whispered “ugh I love your muscles. Please flex for me, sir.” Overcome with lust, Dan couldn’t help but flex as bear hugged Bryan and coated the inside of his hole. He’d have to do that again, he thought.

---

After enjoying a month in one another’s bodies, Cole and Dan returned to the virtual world for another quest. Following another climatic encounter, this time with a minotaur, the pair prepared themselves to exit the game.

Cole, eager to resume his life in his original body, confidently uttered the command, "Exit Player 2." However, the response was not as anticipated.

An eerie silence followed before an unmistakable voice echoed through the virtual space, delivering a message that froze the avatars in their tracks, "You can only go back to your original body."

Cole's avatar stood motionless, disbelief etched across its virtual face. "What? That can't be right," he exclaimed, trying the command again, "Exit Player 2!"

Dan, stifling a smirk, puts on a face of fake bewilderment. "Weird, I wonder why its not working," Dan said, his digital brows furrowed.

Panic seeped into Cole's voice as he desperately sought a solution. "We need to figure this out. I can't stay in your body forever," he muttered, his frustration palpable.

“Hmmm.” Dan said. “Exit Player 2.” The game ripping him back to reality.

---

Driven by desperation, Cole pleaded with WeTech to rectify the glitch that confined him to Dan's body. Despite his sincere appeals, the company's response was far from sympathetic, and in a cruel twist of fate, Cole found himself facing accusations of alleged theft of company equipment, resulting in his termination. The once-thriving fitness trainer now grappled with the harsh realities of unemployment and an out-of-shape body.

As Cole navigated the unexpected turns in his life, Dan reveled in the newfound freedom that he had secured. You see, a week before the anticipated swap back, Dan took it upon himself to email his former colleagues at WeTech, disclosing the glitch and urging them to patch it. Unbeknownst to Cole, this intentional act sealed Dan in his new, hunky body permanently.

Now, Dan looked forward to exploring life on his own terms. Particularly intriguing was the prospect of deepening his connection with Bryan. However, even if that path didn't unfold as expected, Dan wasn't concerned. With a body like this, the possibilities were virtually limitless.

[formosusiniquis]

y'know like barbie

ao3

It's Erica who gives him the idea, incidentally. Though she carries herself with a maturity that far surpasses the boys most days and though she's been through multiple life altering events, she does continue to only be eleven. Which is, it turns out, prime babysitting age.

The Sinclairs are going out of town overnight, it's their anniversary -- 18 blissful years, since our marriage can vote we thought we deserved a night away -- and they don't want Erica to spend the night home alone.

Enter Steve, who the Sinclairs trust with their children and who is inexplicably the only person Erica would accept staying the night with her. Steve honestly didn't believe it even as Mrs. Sinclair was saying it. But he smiles and nods, looks over the emergency numbers on the fridge when they're pointed to, nods at the money on the counter for food that he probably won't take, and waves as they walk out the door promising that he and Erica will be fine for the night and not to worry.

It's only when their car is out of the driveway and the door is shut that Steve realizes he isn't really a babysitter. He is a keep children alive while in a dangerous situation and when the situation is over drive them around because you feel bad that their childhoods have been marred by trauma-er which doesn't have quite the same ring as babysitter, and it's a lot harder to say with that rude tone the boys have been favoring. He also realizes that he's never actually dealt with children, or not girl children. The boys had all been older than Erica, when he had started keeping them alive. Max was definitely basically a teenager when he started really dealing with her; and she was usually okay to do what the boys wanted to do, like go to the arcade. Hopper didn't really trust him with El and that was fine, he wasn't sure he trusted himself with El either.

It put him in an awkward spot now though. Staring at Erica in her kitchen, a little afraid to ask the question on the front of his mind which was "What now?"

So he asks the second question on his mind, "What do you want to do that isn't eat ice cream all night?"

Say what you will about Steve Harrington, and a lot has been said, but he always keeps his promises and he always brings a pint of ice-cream for Erica to have when he comes over to the Sinclair house. Tonight he brought three, all different weird flavors he thought she'd like to try.

"Why can't I eat ice cream all night?" She says it with a challenge in her eyes, but he'd bet dollars to donuts that she's just doing it to make him sweat. "Because I've seen you eat ice cream, we've only got enough for two hours at most." His hand migrates as if of its own mind to his hip. "You need more than two people for Dungeons and Dragons, right?"

Her brows raise, for the first time since he's met her Erica Sinclair is stunned silent. Maybe she's just surprised he got the name right.

It lasts about as long as it takes him to notice it. "You'd play Dungeons and Dragons with me?" There's something fragile in the way she asks, and there is the eleven year old girl she's meant to be. 

"Sure, you'd have to show me how, but if that's what you want to do I'm game."

Eyes narrowed in a distinctly intimidating way he kind of thinks she stole from Nancy, he does his best to make his sincerity clear on his face. "We need more than two people, but I've got something else we can do if you think your fragile manhood can take it."

He's got a retort at the tip of his tongue about just what his manhood can take and remembers just in time that yeah probably shouldn't make a joke like that in front of an actual child. "My pride isn't that delicate, I think I can handle anything you dish out."

"Famous last words."

He follows her to her bedroom, waiting outside the doorway to let her space stay private until he's told to come in. A clear plastic tub slides out from under her bed, out of sight but easily accessible and when the lid pops off he gets why. Rows of Barbies stacked neatly on top of each other, a mass grave for childhood. Steve has a stuffed bear, fur rubbed off of one ear, tucked up on the shelf of his closet that also got put away sooner than he would have chosen to, when it was too babyish.

“Alright, so who is the, like, elven warrior.”

“That’s not how you play Barbies.”

It’s snapped so fast that he thinks it embarasses her. He tactfully avoids eye contact, pulling out a doll with blonde hair snipped into a professional, if uneven, bob and a green skirt set. She's missing a shoe. “Then how do I play Barbies?”

“That one just won the Nobel Peace Prize, she solved world hunger, but she has plans to kill the Barbie who won the prize in Physics because she stole Barbie One’s research and gave it to NASA claiming it was her own.”

“Right, of course.��� This was the kind of shit that happened on Dallas, only Barbie had a lot more awards. “And they’re all called Barbie?”

“Except for Ken, but Ken doesn’t do anything.”

“Well if Barbie just won the Peace Prize wouldn’t she use Ken to kill Barbie so she doesn’t get caught.”

Erica manages a look that is both condescending and considerate. “Barbie can do anything, including get away with murder; but she wouldn’t want to dirty her hands with that sort of thing.”

“And if Ken goes to jail it’s no loss.”

“Right.”

-

So maybe it's more accurate to say that Dustin actually starts it.

Dustin with the shittiest attitude this side of the Ohio, something Robin blames him for.

“Like father, like son.”

“Dustin doesn’t even know his dad.”

“I mean you and Eddie, dingus.”

“I am not that kid's dad. A brotherly figure at best, strong male role model more likely.”

“He’s a bitch because you are, Steve. Maybe if your and Eddie’s love language wasn’t being as bitchy as possible it wouldn’t have rubbed off on your kid.”

“Please don’t put Dustin and rubbing off in the same paragraph let alone the same thought wave.”

Dustin comes sprinting into Family Video on a Tuesday afternoon. “Steve! I need your car.”

“Did you learn how to drive when I wasn’t paying attention?”

“Obviously, I meant I need you too.” His hands are on his hips, eyes rolled. Shit maybe he did get it from Steve. “There’s this theoretical physicist coming to Notre Dame to give a talk on the Multiverse Theory.”

Steve was allowing himself a second to consider whether this was worth it, for once, instead of just blindly agreeing to drive Dustin wherever. The drive sucked ass, but it would put him close enough to Chicago that he could try to find a music store that would carry albums from the international metal bands Eddie couldn’t stop talking about.

It was a second too long for Dustin. “Steve, a theoretical physicist-”

See Steve had this suspicion that the kids did actually think he was an idiot. He was pretty sure that none of them, hell maybe none of Hellfire, save for Lucas realized that every athlete in the school had to keep up at least a 2.5 GPA. Which might not have been anything to write home about but Steve kept a 3.2 for most of high school, until the multiple concussions started to catch up with him. He wasn’t stupid, was the point and even if they didn’t think he was an idiot in a mean way he was a little sick of the shit.

“I know, like Barbie.”

That shuts Dustin up real quick.

“N- no, not like Barbie! Barbie is some girl's toy.”

“Excuse me?” Robin, who told Steve that she would not help him parent his children on work days or any other day ending in y had remembered that Martes doesn’t have one and her shift was almost over. “What does that mean, exactly, a girl’s toy?”

“And,” Steve adds, because he can and because Eddie made him drive him to fucking Bloomington because he was fixated on time travel and needed access to some science journal that only existed at Indiana U apparently, “Barbie is on a research team looking for the Higgs particle so she can start figuring out time travel.”

The bell chiming as Dustin leaves has never sounded sweeter.

He’ll definitely end up taking the twerp to stupid Notre Dame.

-

The thing is that Steve thinks he’s never really stopped being a bitch.

He doesn’t want to stop. He likes being bitchy. It’s fun, when you’re doing it with people you like it’s pretty funny, and honestly he’s kinda like Spiderman. With great power comes great responsibility, he’s only bitchy responsibly now.

And it’s actually perfectly responsible as an older brother type babysitter figure to correct the behavior of the younger siblings by being bitchy. If they don’t learn at home they’ll go out in the world thinking that kind of behavior is acceptable, see Steve Harrington in his early high school days who talked to people like his father did.

So when Mike interrupts El with, “I’m not going to ask Steve, he probably doesn’t even know what a Pulitzer is either.”

He says, “Oh, yeah like Barbie won. Or Nancy will someday, probably. It’s a journalism award, Wheeler.”

And when Lucas corrects, “I don’t actually think you can win an award for comics. It’s still really great though, Will!”

“Barbie won the Kirby Award in 1985 for best artist, I’m sure Will is soon to follow.”

Or when Nancy tells Holly, “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to be something important instead?”

“You could be an actress and do something cool like go to space if you want, Hols, like Barbie.” And maybe he says it with a little more bitch than he should that time, but he’s seen the ballerinas in Nancy’s room, she didn’t always want to be an investigative journalist.

It gets to be second nature. When someone starts being shitty about something or to lighten the mood.

Erica doubts whether she should run for student council. It's her first step to being actual president, like Barbie.

Dustin makes a crack about Steve's possible future prospects when he butts in on a conversation between Steve and Robin. "I could do all three, I could be a counselor and a hair stylist and an engineer. Maybe I'll add EMT too, Barbie wouldn't stop at three, why should I?"

Or when Mike sneers at him, "What are you a cop?" All because Steve told him not to buy weed now that Eddie had stopped dealing.

"Ew, no, because you look like a fresh-faced little narc trying to be cool and you're gonna get ripped off."

"What so not like Barbie?"

"The Barbie world has achieved equality at a level that it doesn't need the cops." Eddie sometimes has to get high after a run in with Powell or Calahan who he still doesn't really trust after the spring. Steve has been treated to many a lecture on why the police were a waste of resources.

He lets Mike sit with that for a minute before he adds, "Like Barbie, I am very cool and know what it looks like when I'm being taken for a ride. If you're gonna get pot from someone other than Eddie, ask Hop where he used to get all of his shit."

It doesn't feel stupid, until El comes running into the cabin one afternoon that Steve has decided to join the rebuilding effort. It’s actually just him and Hop, who has started trying to quietly parent him, something he’s not entirely convinced isn’t revenge for telling Wheeler that Hop has smoked pot before. Steve is pretty sure El was crying when she came in, something he bumps up to a certainty when he sees how awkward Hop looks right now.

“You mind taking that kid? It’s been a long time since high school.” he rubs the back of his neck, Steve does appreciate that he has the decency to feel weird about asking. “If it’s anything outside of big brother shit I can take over.”

He does let himself get suckered by that big brother line.

El is facedown on her bed in a clear ‘leave me alone I’m crying’ pose but he figures he’s already here it’s not like he can turn around and tell Hop that he was too afraid to approach a crying teenage girl. Like that wasn’t the whole reason he’d been sent in the first place. “Hey Ellie, can I come in?”

She sits up, tear tracks plain on her face but no more are falling, and nods in that endearing, aggressively certain way she’s got. “Is everything okay?” He pauses and asks, “Was it Mike?” because he knows that’ll be the first thing Hopper asks when Steve comes back out.

“You are worse than Dad.”

“That stings, Ellie Bell.”

She takes a deep breath, steeling an already impressive will, “Lucas says it is okay to just want to be happy right now, but all they talk about is what they are going to do. Dustin is talking about going to admission early, Will talks about talking to Dad and Joyce about art school, Lucas worries about his sports and scholarships, and Mike talks about classes that count twice. I do not know what I want to be. I do not know why I have to be anything.”

“You guys have been through a lot. I don’t think anyone would blame you for taking time to just be a kid.”

“What if I never want to be something? What if I do not ever want to go to college?”

He’s made his way over to the bed with her, sits tentatively on the edge like he’s seen Joyce do before. “Then you don’t. You’ll probably have to get a job at some point, but that doesn’t have to be what you are. Lucas isn’t a landscaper just because he mows lawns in the summer.”

“You don’t think Dad would be upset?” she asks.

“I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would really make Hop mad. And you might change your mind. I've been out of school for almost two years and I’m only thinking about college now. Or you could go to college and change your mind about what you want to be. You could be a hundred things, you could be anything! Like Barbie.”

He feels like an idiot almost immediately. A jerk quickly after that. He’s made El’s genuine crisis part of his stupid running joke. But something settles in the room. The underlying tension, the thing that had the hair on the back of his neck raised. He realizes, now, that her powers had probably also been on edge.

"Like Barbie." She says it with a graven seriousness, like Steve's dumb little joke is a mantra now.

"Yeah, and you're a sophomore you don't have to have your whole life figured out right now. And don't take life advice from Henderson anyway, he thought it was a good idea to raise an Upside Down slug as a pet."

He mostly just used it to be a bitch though. Because it was fun. No, it was what he was good at. So good at it he didn't even have to try.

Because Steve had a plan to be bitchy. Specifically to Mike Wheeler who kept flirting with Steve’s boyfriend while taking advantage of his hospitality. Sure it was at their stupid Dungeons and Dragons game, and yeah Steve was the one who said they could host the game at his house now that Eddie had graduated. Yes, he knew Eddie didn't mean anything by it when he responded and usually didn't flirt back with the kids. But it was still the kind of behavior that had to be gently corrected, for Mike's sake because if he didn't stop things were going to get drastic.

His initial plan is already in action. He encouraged El to come along to watch the Party play. It was, admittedly, a half hearted plan. Wheeler got so awkward anytime El was around he mostly just hoped that would keep him from trying anything.

It isn't. Eddie starts to describe a new character, "Blonde and statuesque, she has a long bow in hand and delicate elven features."

And even though El is sitting a few feet from him Mike perks up the way he always does when there's a new NPC to flirt with. He is going to have to have a talk with Eddie about letting the kid try out a bard.

He does at least have one other tool in his belt. "Oh, like Barbie."

Steve knew what he'd get as he said it. A groan from Dustin, who falls for this as being sincere about as often as he falls for the dumb-dumbs and dipshits line -- which is everytime for the record. Will and Lucas keep their laughs small, enough that they're covered by Erica's snort. The original Hellfire crew mostly looks confused, it's becoming less and less their default as they warm up to the Steve he is rather than the Steve they thought they remembered; but he likes to keep them on their toes.

Eddie is charmed. He can tell. Sees him duck his head behind his screen and his binders, trying to preserve the stern and scary dungeon master image. That apparently isn't possible if you're smiling like an idiot at your stupid boyfriend, so he's been told.

And Mike has maybe been on the wrong end of the joke a few more times than everyone else. He turns an interesting shade of red, two parts anger and one part embarrassed is Steve's guess. The foot stomp is unexpected, but he expects its been passed down the Wheeler line as a shared signal of outrage. "Not like Barbie, this isn't some stupid kids game. She's probably a hot, wisened archer ready to reward us for helping her village, not some stupid doll that you're obsessed with."

Eddie's blank face with the twitchy eyes has fallen into place when he sits back up from behind his screen. His things aren't going according to plan, panicked face. "I think that's a good place to end things this week. Wheeler, Henderson, Jeff, and Lady Applejack you've all cleared enough experience to level right? Do that before next week."

Steve knows enough to keep his mouth shut while everyone packs up to leave. Sends a small smile to Erica on her way out to the family minivan, he knows she struggles a little being the youngest at the table even if she won't say it. He has to imagine that the outburst had stung a bit.

"You gotta be nicer to little Wheeler." Eddie chides once everyone is gone, halfhearted at best when he's telling Steve off into the soft skin of his neck. When he feels the admonishment more than hears it.

"I'm not mean to Mike." He says on instinct, he does try not to be. "And he started it."

"Definitely think you started the Barbie thing, Sweetheart."

And well, yeah. "I Barbie all the kids equally."

Eddie hmms Steve can feel the vibration of it through his back and on his neck. Eddie is about to start something he better plan on finishing. "He asked Hop where he should get weed."

Oh. "I didn't think he'd actually do it!" And then, "Is that why he keeps flirting with you, revenge?"

"No, he's got a bunch of misplaced jealousy because Will and the girls think you're hot." He toys with the edge of Steve's shirt as he says it. Perpetually cold fingers brushing the clothes warmed skin beneath making him shiver.

"The girls don't think I'm hot."

He hums again, nips at the blush red skin at Steve's neck. "El used to, Max definitely has a taste for jock.

"That's not my fault, you let Mike play a bard." He wishes he didn't sound so desperate.

"Wanted to leave the Paladin spot open for you, baby."

"I'm starting to feel convinced, we could go upstairs and you could show me your character sheet."

The things he'll say to get laid.

"Don't think I can do that Stevie, smooth as a Ken doll down there. Could show you the actual character sheet though." 

His back is cold as Eddie pulls away, smirking unrepentant as he lets Steve have the tiniest taste of his own medicine.

"Barbie has a very active sex life, actually." He's never been one not to double down. "Let me show you the fun we can have without getting your dick out."

-

He does leave it alone for a little while, even though he really, really doesn't want to. But despite what his friends, his fifth grade report card, and his mom might think; Steve is capable of keeping a hold of his worst impulses when he wants to.

So he lets opportunity pass him by.

He makes no comment about Barbie when Eddie talks about how John Carpenter is a film auteur. Not even when Dustin tries to define auteur for him. Incorrectly, but Robin comes to Steve's defense.

Barbie goes unmentioned, barely when an argument breaks out about Nobel prize winners, of all things. He thinks the kids argue more now than they ever have like it's the only way they have to get their bloodlust out now that the Upside Down was closed. He was quickly boxed out of the conversation, even if Erica kept sending him little glances over everyone's heads. (She'd let him have Peace Prize Barbie a couple weeks ago and maybe he was a little obsessed.)

Holly wants to be a vet now, a singing vet who is also on TV, but mostly a vet. She tells him all about it while he waits for Mike to find his shoes? Definitely not his quarters for the arcade, the day any of them bring those is the day Steve brings the nail bat back out. He’s one impulse purchase away from getting one of those little coin dispenser belts that the employees have -- Gareth just quit, maybe he still had his? Mike's frown is a little less general annoyance at Steve and a little more confusion when he's finally ready to leave and Barbie has gone unmentioned.

He almost breaks again when Eddie starts talking about sports. Or he starts talking about NASCAR which is close enough for Eddie, he has a surprising taste for racing for someone who never wanted to put his van on the starting line at parties. A woman led a Busch Series race for the first time, what a year '86. He's got no opinion on Barbie's ability to drive at all.

He could let a joke go. He could be nice. It wasn't so out of character that it needed this kind of attention.

-

Mike has forgiven him by the time the next session rolls around. Delayed two weeks after Eddie screamed so loud on stage that he couldn't speak for two days, and then again for Jeff's emergency appendectomy. Eddie has stopped leaving pointed gaps in conversation for Steve to fill with mention of Barbie, he has had his thinking face on instead which is good for Steve about as often as it isn't.

He leaves it alone. A little bit of non-life threatening surprise is good for the soul, or something. Listen, he’s made it this far by only asking questions when shit is about to get really, really bad and Eddie’s thinking face has only resulted in something bad once or twice -- and they probably should have spent more than a couple minutes negotiating that particular kink anyway.

When the kids start showing up and nothing has come from the thinking face, he assumes it was just for them anyway. He settles in to see whatever shit Eddie is going to do.

"From the ditch you pull a human man, a paladin. His plate is dirtied by his time on the ground but clearly gleams in its typical state. He's handsome, a square jaw and fluffy brown hair-"

"Ugh is this Steve? You already made us do a quest for him," Mike complains, maybe he hasn’t completely forgiven Steve for that last interruption.

Steve has, by his own count been the inspiration for at least three NPCs for this campaign: a white light faction rogue, Sol, that the party had to rescue from the dungeons of the nightmare King after he was caught sneaking into the bedrooms of the prince -- like it was Steve's fault that Wayne had super hearing; a young fighter from the gladiatorial combat ring who helped the party rescue a group of kidnapped children that were going to be used as bait in the next round of fights; and the most obvious Prince Stefan who sent the party on a quest to kill his betrothed a Duke called Thomas the Boarish and rescue his knight Rowen and beloved Bard Edwin -- it's not like he could unkiss Tommy, and he could be a dick but boarish was dramatic. 

He was not this paladin, assuming Eddie was telling the truth about saving the Paladin he'd made for Steve.

"Cut the out of character chatter, Michael, before it starts counting in game. The Paladin before you is handsome in a bland, approachable, non-threatening way," Mike opens his mouth again, how is that not like Steve surely perched at the edge of his tongue and stopped in its tracks by elbows from Erica and Joey. "He introduces himself to his rescuer, Will the Wise, 'Thank you, kind sir, I would have been down there for ages before my lady noticed my absence. I am Sir Kenneth.'"

"What deity does he serve?" Will asks, something suspicious drawing across his face.

"Is there a holy symbol on his armor?" Gareth follows up. Gareth has been backing a lot of Will's plays lately, Steve thinks something might be going on there but he hasn't wanted to deal with Eddie teasing him for being a meddling matchmaker, again.

"There is no identifiable holy symbol on his clothes or armor." Eddie says, there's a mischief in his eyes, the way he tilts his head with quiet challenge and smiles.

"What God do you serve?" Erica asks, blunt and to the point. She gets cranky when her rogue doesn't have anything to stab.

"'The Lady in Pink,' he answers."

Any time Eddie reveals lore shit there's always a bunch of people talking over top of each other. It always turns into the kind of mass blob of shouting that Steve has a hard time parsing out, especially these days. Eddie somehow manages to distinguish not only people but the things they're saying and keeps his cool enough to keep the story going.

"Roll your insight, Gareth. Jeff, with a 15 history check, you have heard some whisperings from your homeland about a newly ascended goddess but not a name. Dustin, you're not getting shit with a 5 don't even try that but my back story says shit with me. Will, pretty sure that's a cleric spell but I'll let you have it he's a Neutral Good alignment. An 18, shit, yeah Garebear he does seem to be telling the truth that is the deity he follows; but that isn't the whole truth, you know a lot of the newer pantheon have a colloquial name and a true name."

"I'm sorry," Lucas says, "we aren't familiar with your lady. What can you tell us about her? Why would she leave you there? And that's a 14 on persuasion before you even ask."

"Why would I have asked that, Sinclair the elder? He has stars in his eyes when he speaks, 'before she ascended she was already limitless. A powerful warrior, an expert marksman, a mage beyond compare. Her power grew and grew until the only place left to explore was godhood.'"

"And what's her real name, if we wanted to spread the word?" Joey asks.

"'Oh she's everything. She's the lady in pink, she's the goddess with the golden mane, but before she ascended she favored one name I assume she has kept it.'"

"What is it?" Mike asks, perched at the edge of his seat.

"Oh no," Dustin whispers, a dawning horror on his face.

"'Barbara, though she preferred it shortened. Nicknames you call them," Steve sees the joke, knows where this is going a split second before reality breaks through the haze of fantasy for the players around the table. Eddie's smirking now, smile too pleased and too attractive. "'Y'know like Barbie?'"

[dragon-ascent]

Hello, how are you ? Since you have open request I’d like to ask something : How do you think our favorite dragon Zhongli will react to his wife being accused of lying because they have corrected an historian on a false fact about Morax ?

Since English isn’t my first language I’m afraid this is not clear, I’m sorry.

Ooh, I like it, here's what I've come up with <3

-----

The tension is palpable and certainly not what you were hoping to land yourself in when you accepted Zhongli's request to be his plus-one aboard the Pearl Galley.

"Forgive me, Mr. Changying, but that's where I'll have to correct you," you tell the stocky man before you. The food and drinks on the table are long-untouched. "Rex Lapis didn't take on such a grand ten-headed and eight-armed form to exterminate those sea creatures. In fact, he personally went door to door to trap them in little Geo contraptions, even having a bit of trouble with the.... particularly wrigglier ones."

Changying's eyes practically roll into the back of his head. "Do you truly believe that rubbish just because that is what's commonly peddled? That the Geo archon, who could raise the mountains and calm the tides without breaking a sweat, found the task of getting rid of tiny sea creatures tedious and challenging?"

Sighing, you say, "Even the gods are subject to being less-than-perfect in their methods. And besides, the damn things were inside people's houses - brute strength would not have been handy at all. Rex Lapis needed to be careful and meticulous so that none of his people were harmed. Hence the Geo cages."

Despite how neatly you'd presented your counterpoint, Changying merely scoffs as he adjusts his glasses. He jabs a finger at you accusingly. "You're lying, just like everyone else," he growls, "and you clearly have no respect for our late archon! Do you even like him?"

Your breath nearly hitches in your throat as you gaze up at him in shock. "Ex...excuse me?"

The man pulls no punches as he continues his rant against you. "How can you so blindly believe what the masses think? Maybe if you were a real Rex Lapis follower like me, you would learn some critical thinking skills and draw more accurate conclusions!"

"I'm afraid I am on the side of my partner here, Mr. Changying," cuts in Zhongli, placing an arm on your shoulder. Relief floods your veins as you let out the breath you'd been holding. "They are correct in explaining that Rex Lapis had to go the simplistic route when dealing with Liyue's sea creature infestation."

Changying's eyes grow wide. "Forgive me, Mr. Zhongli," he murmurs, and you're not ignorant to the way his tone mellows out and becomes more respectful as he continues to speak. "I didn't know you were also in agreement of that story. But let me explain why he likely-"

"It is alright for you to have your own interpretations of events, especially for a being with an expansive history that is always being debated over," says Zhongli calmly, poised as always, "but when these interpretations are unrealistic and you still try to present them as fact...while belittling other people, no less...the line must be drawn somewhere, yes?"

Changying blanches, stammering, "Er, but don't you think Rex Lapis would appreciate deviating thought processes more, especially when..."

Zhongli's eyes narrow ever so slightly, his visage still calm as a pond. "Perhaps so, but what he would not appreciate is his people trying to one-up others in an attempt to prove they are his most loyal followers." Your husband glances at you. "I know my partner well, and they love Rex Lapis dearly. Not only do you accuse them of lying, you also undermine the love they hold for the deity."

His hand brushes against yours and he interlaces his fingers with you, giving a gentle, reassuring squeeze. You smile softly.

Changying scrambles for words, useless excuses and explanations that hardly justify him being on his high horse.

Zhongli, unamused, fires his parting shot. "Far be it for an ordinary man like myself to tell you what to do, but here is some advice: gather reliable citations for your claims, provide succinct evidence, and be respectful of those with opposing views, and perhaps then Rex Lapis would consider you a favorite of his."

With that, Zhongli escorts you away from the scene, knowing full well you will always be his favorite by far - the approving smile he gives you conveys that perfectly.

[shiny-kaibernyte]

I immediately gave you a follow since you wrote Drayton content. Toothpaste man!!!

Anyways, I love drama. I like the idea of Drayton pining after the reader while also making Kieran jealous 😭😭 could you write something like that??

Please take care of yourself btw! You write wonderful content!

We love our toothpaste man! And I'm so glad you like my stuff. This is so sweet of you and such an amazing request as well I would love to do this for you! I really do hope you like this 💜💜

Side note: I got a shiny Popplio when I read your request so I named it Cloudy as a little nod to you whenever I play.

Pokémon Scarlett and Violet Indigo Disk DLC Spoilers ahead!

A rivalry between the Dragon Elite four members and the Champion of the BB League turns into much more than just a race for Pokémon battles. When Drayton just wants to take you out on a date, Kieran's jealousy comes out to play, only pushing Drayton's goal to win your heart more.

SPOILER WARNING AHEAD (Indigo Disk Main Story and a little bit of The Teal Mask)

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

A Dragon’s Heart | Drayton x Reader

“Awe, come on~ just one date!” Drayton innocently pleaded, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His eyes staring down at you whilst you scribbled down notes from your previous shiny hunt. 

You shook your head with a cheeky smile on your face, as you continued to scribble, “And my response will remain the same Drayton, a cafeteria chat is not a date! Maybe I'll say yes when you think of something creative, hm?”

“I’m creative! The cafeteria is just easy, it's not too noisy since everyone eats out in the terrarium! Plus free food!” He joked, attempting to make it sound appealing, even though he knows it's not good. Unfortunately, his brain can’t think of anything good enough, at least for him. Everything he’s thought of, he doesn’t think is good enough for you. And he’s thought of a lot. “I can help you out with your shiny notes, you know~ maybe even join you on a hunt!”

“Drayton, you don’t know the first thing about shiny hunting, let alone actually joining me on one.” You sighed jokingly, looking up at him as you closed your notebook, “If I remember correctly, didn’t you fail a shiny Pokémon?”

His face turned slightly red, embarrassment washing over him for a moment as he grumbled to himself, “Hey I thought the Axew was sick… It’s not my fault I didn't know the Axew was going to run from me!”

“You threw a berry at its head!” You exclaimed, lightly chuckling when you saw his embarrassed face. “And you call yourself the Dragon expert” 

His embarrassment turned into laughter as he thought about how stupid that was, the pair of you laughing together with bright smiles on your faces.

Your laughter didn’t go unnoticed however, from across the room, Kieran's eyes glared into Drayton. The sound of you laughing along with him only fuels Kieran's desire to be the best. But the jealousy was too strong for him to focus with the two of you laughing. “If you two are finished chirping like Starly’s over there, Drayton, you have a battle in five minutes. I suggest you get going.”

“Relax Kieran, I got plenty of time bud! Besides, it's unlikely they will be on time, it takes a while to prepare for a battle against one of us. So my opponent can take as long as he needs to!” Drayton argued with a hint of playfulness in his voice as Kieran gritted his teeth. A small smile crept on your face when you heard Drayton’s response, that was something you always admired about him. His patients was contagious, never rushing anyone into anything, always trying to make someone smile. Sure he has his moments of cockiness but that just adds to his character, every Dragon has a bite after all.

“Spoken like a true Elite, Drayton!” You chimed, standing up from the sofa. Drayton’s face turned a light pink, his heart lightly thumping. Surprised at himself that something so simple made him blush. His dragon heart only making more room for you.

Kieran's heart pounded in rage at your words, annoyed over the fact you were saying those words to Colgate and not him. Eventually, he puts on his no fudges given face and turns towards you both fully. “If you want to remain as the top Elite four members, Drayton, I'd get to your battle. I still have the power to remove you from this club.”

“Alright Alright! I’m going!” Drayton sighs, raising his hands in defeat. Kieran shook his head displeased as Drayton stretched his arms up, a sigh leaving his mouth before turning back to you. “So about that date… How about instead, as a warm-up, you come watch my battle as my special guest? That way, it’s not our official first date and I still get to spend time with you.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, trying to see where he’s going with this and what extra little plan he has going on inside that head of his. Until he raises a hand up for you to take, a genuine smile on his face as he patiently waits for your decision. With a bright smile, you take his hand, “I think that is a fair deal.”

“Have fun moping, Kieran!” Drayton yells as he gently pulls you along with him towards the door. Kieran had steam coming off his body as he watched the pair of you leave, and not just from Drayton’s response. A smirk appeared on Drayton’s face when he saw the jealousy in Kieran’s eyes. 

Soon his focus returned to the matter at hand, and he smiled at you, pushing and holding the door open for you as he guided you through it, “After you sweetheart~”

[minhosimthings]

Girl Dad!Skz headcannons

Pairings: husband!Skz × wife!fem!reader

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, mentions of pregnancy, reader wears a dress, mentions of food, teensy swearing

A/N: GUESS WHO HAS BABY FEVER AYY ITS THIS BITCH RIGHT HERE. I am so DONE with watching my fav idols play with babies and not expect me to die. WHERE IS MY CHAN WHO'LL GIVE MR A BABY HUH? anyways enjoy my very drunken headcannons

Bang Christopher Chan

DID I JUST HEAR BEST DAD IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD

This man was born to be a dad istg

He'd be so amazing when you're pregnant, like he'd ask his mom for advice, give you belly rubs if your ask and will willingly lend his entire closet to you.

Would be so supportive through the birth process, is not disgusted or anything because he is him.

"She looks just like you."

Would be just a teensy bit overprotective, just a teensy bit.

"And you will bring her back by 7 yes? Oh and what's your address for unrelated purposes?"

*sends the address to Minho incase he needs to murder anyone*

Would be so comforting when she gets her period

"you know I used to do this to your mother.", While massaging her back.

The baby would grow up multilingual and Chan would be so smug about it

"my daughter is my second producer

Lee Minho/Lee Know

Would have such mixed emotions when you tell him you're pregnant

On the one hand A PERSON MADE UP OF BOTH OF YOU? WOAH

On the other hand OH SHIT A PERSON WHO HAS BOTH OUR GENES

Cooks all your weird ass cravings for you but not before giving you a side eye

"Alright y'all are gonna get a sibling." *Is talking to the cats*

Buys everything cat themed

"baby what if the baby is a dog person?"

Y'all have twins, a boy and a girl (manifesting my twin dad Minho fantasies)

Would dance for them when they're babies and would get elated when they try to copy him

Pouts when their first word is mama

Brags so much about them

"I mean they are MY spawn, obviously they're better at dance than your kid, Susan"

Seo Changbin

GIRL DAD GIRL DAD GIRL DAD

So elated when you tell him you're pregnant

PREGNANT CUDDLES KZKSNSNJ

Would be a 100% on board with lifting your belly to save your back

When you find out it's a girl, he straight on sobs.

"I CAN'T HANDLE ANOTHER PAIR OF ADORABLE YN EYES LOOKING AT ME"

Holds the baby extra carefully in his buff ass arms

She looks like you part 2

Tea parties with her are serious buisness for him

"jagi can't you see im currently discussing with the princess about her magical dragon I'll do the dishes later."

Would probably ask her if she wants to go to the gym with her dad and when she says yes he'd be so happy

"you're better than your mother she can't even lift her ass up and go to the gym"

Hwang Hyunjin

When I say this man would paint you a portrait when you tell him you're pregnant-

HE'LL PAINT YOU A FUCKING PORTRAIT

So sweet with you all throughout but also a nervous wreck

Much like me

Would love to paint your belly if you allow him to

Would try your weird cravings with you

And actually like them

Let's not pretend like Hyun doesn't do the pregnant woman pose everyday

Cries so hard when your baby is born

He doesn't mind the gender or anything, but when he found out it's a girl-

"GUYS ITS A MINI Y/N"

She looks like you part 3

Such a clumsy mess when it comes to taking care of her

ART CLASSES ART CLASSES ART CLASSES

"Darling, we painted this for you."

Han Jisung

Immediately freezes when you tell him

Jisung.exe has stopped working

"wait so the protection didn't.... Protect?"

Now Y/N.exe has stopped working trying to figure out whether you actually used protection or not

Talks to your belly all day

Treats the baby like a gossip partner

"girl you won't believe what Hyunjin did today."

"what did he do?"

"yn shush I'm talking to our baby girl."

Is your personal high school cheerleader during the birth

"jagi you are slaying right now you can do this."

Cries when baby is born part 3

Calls her a co-producer part 2

Spoils her shitless

She has him wrapped around her finger, much like her mother :)

Making playlists with her is his love language

Lee Felix Yongbok

Did I just hear breeding kink

Cries when you tell him

Bakes so many brownies when you tell him like one time that you're craving his brownies

Makes your weird cravings part 3

Idk what it is with me and DanceRacha making all your weird cravings

Runs you baths, with bath salts, bath bombs, scented candles and massages your aching muscles I WILL DIE RIGHT NOW

Is the best during the birth, holds your hand allowing you to squeeze it as hard as you want

Dresses baby up like the fashionista she is

Is so amazed and ecstatic when the baby gets an Aussie accent

"JAGI SHE JUST SAID BREKKIE"

Kim Seungmin

Tsundere daddy meow

Will literally melt like his face will be like 🥺

Buys all the cute stuff on day one

I'm talking cradles, blinkies, toys, bonnets for some reason

"of course she needs a ponyo outfit darling come on"

Tones down his teasing a bit

Still makes fun of your penguin walk tho

And if you cry, he will comfort you and never forgive himself for it

Is kinda disgusted by the birth process but he's a strong soldier

Cries when baby is born part 4

Like Kim Seungmin crying is a real thing chat

Singing lessons are free for her, and she has her dad's angel voice!!

Also inherits her dad's roasting style, and she's the only one who can roast him back hehe

He kinda died inside when she told him he was old (he's never been prouder)

Yang Jeongin/ I.N

Bruh this guy istg

Mixed emotions part 2

"IM TOO YOUNG TO HAVE A CHILD"

Calms down eventually (after a slap on the head)

BELLY RUBS

Spoils the shit out of you because obviously

Asks his mum for advice part 2

Sings to your belly at night when he thinks you're asleep

Secretly hopes baby will have his dimple

He loves kids, so parenting is a natural thing that comes to him

Probably more experienced at holding a baby than you are

Feeds her for the first few days when you're tired

Perfect husband honestly he should marry me

Loves braiding her hair and giving her fashion advice

Mini fashion shows!!!

Dances with her a lot

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

i keep laughing when i read the dnd campaign with the beast pirates-

now i need to see how it would go with shanks and his crew

Imagine DND game night with the Red Hair pirates

Yassop: *the reluctant DM* All alright, so you've all fallen through a sinkhole and landed in the goblin King's throne room. Benn's paladin lands directly on the heir to the goblin throne, dealing *rolls dice* 17 points crush damage, and you killed him.

Benn: oh come on, I didn't even do anything.

Yassop: the goblin king, with his too-tight pants, ruffly white shirt, and long blond hair, launches himself to his feet. And in a booming voice, he yelled out, "These outsiders have murdered my son! Throw them in the dungeon!"

You: but it was Benn's fat ass that did it! Why do I have to go to the dungeon?

Yassop: The goblin king pauses, clearly thinking it over, after a moment he says, "Fine, that one's excused," before yelling, "but the rest go to the dungeon!"

Lime Juice: fuck me.

Shanks: what the fuck, we just broke out of jail less than three in-game hours ago!

Yassop: *definitely not punishing them for murdering an important NPC, and is trying to buy himself time to figure out what to do* Huh, I hadn't noticed...

Lucky Roux: For the love of god!

Yassop: Anyway, the entire party, minus (y/n) Dragon born, is taken to the dungeon. The goblin king turns to your dragon-born and looks you over, "Now, what shall we do with you?"

You: I'd like to roll a perception check, I'd like to know the vibe of the goblin king's court, from the nobles to the servants. *Rolls a D20* Fifteen with my plus eight modifiers, so twenty-three.

Yassop: Both groups, nobles, and serfs, are terrified of their king. You can see that a servant in the far corner has bandages under his shirt. It appears that he's been flogged recently. You notice, the nobles' eyes darting nervously as they mutter to one another.

You: I'd like to offer my services to his majesty, as a bard.

Yassop: The king scoffs, "I have plenty of bards, I have no use for another, you shall tend to the hearths of my castle. Go, start with the kitchens." You are taken to the kitchens and see it's dark, humid, hot, and crowded. The servants are wary of you, you see many of them are injured, and gaunt. The châtelaine approaches you and hands you a large rusty ring of keys and a map. She tells you your responsibilities are to make sure all the fires in the castle are lit.

You: and how much am I paid?

Yassop: she scoffs, "Your pay is food in your belly, a roof over your head, and clothes on your back. Now get started." And she leaves in a huff.

You: I'd like to persuade the servants to work together to overthrow the Goblin King because they deserve fair wages and safe working conditions.

Lime Juice: *chortling,* of course, unionizing them is your first move.

Yassop: *frustrated,* roll a d20.

You: *rolls* nat twenty, let's fucking go!!

Yassop: you inspire a popular servant to take the lead, and they overthrow the goblin King. The servants beat him to death. *Rubbing his temples in irritation*

You: I free the group from the dungeon while the servants deal with the king, using the keys and map the châtelaine gave me.

Shanks: Before we leave, can we look for treasure?

You: .... let's only take a reasonable amount, we wouldn't want to make them our enemies.

Benn: very wise.

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

[sanctus-ingenium]

What role/niche do dragons fulfill in their environment? Or, if that is [secret]/redacted/Unknown [by universe parameters], are there other, smaller beasts - creatures not within our world, but common in theirs?

I've been meaning to draw a lot of these for a while now and this was a nice prompt thank you :)

Dragons support a large and surprisingly diverse community of animals. The primary producers are the unique photosynthetic cyanobacteria which are found lining the transparent flotation sacs of cloud fleas. 'Cloud fleas' can refer to any type of airborne zooplankton - that is, animals which do not actively fly but rather drift. Pictured is a daphnia type but there are a few others. The bacteria produce lighter than air gases as a byproduct of photosynthesis as well as nutrients for their hosts. The daphnia type pictured retain their large claws and use them to cling onto other individuals, sometimes producing really large structures which can form fantastic shapes at times. This is how they reproduce also (unlike in the water, they can't just externally fertilise eggs because gravity exists)

When they aggregate in large numbers (swarms reaching billions and billions of individuals), they become easy prey for dragons. The dragons capture the fleas using a dense array of rictal bristles. Living in and among the bristles are the monkey birds, a unique species of flightless bird which act as kleptoparasites, stealing the clumps of fleas bound up in dragon mucous before they can be transported to the dragon's mouth. The bristles are so dense that in order to get in there where the fleas are most concentrated, you wouldn't be able to fly. They spend their lives clinging among the bristles with their feet and wing claws, and they make their nests out of woven strands of mucous. New individuals join the birds' colonies when dragons are mating and their bristles come into contact with one another. Bird populations are controlled by hive serpents, who pick them off for a nice snack.

Barnacles and other filter-feeders are common on the windward-facing side of the dragon (what you'd call the front of the dragon). These do not harm the dragons and offer not much useful food for serpents while being very annoying to eat so they're usually left to their own devices.

The vampire chiton exoparasites can be found basically all over a dragon. They find a piece of cuticle that is thin enough to pierce and drill their siphons down into it to suck the watery connective tissue beneath. They are about a foot long and the main food source for hive serpents.

The serpents themselves are mammals. Nearly every dragon hosts a hive. Despite spending most of their lives on their hosts, they are quite strong fliers; they need to be, in order for the young queens to set out to make their own hives. The 'hive' consists of a reproductive pair and 20-50 of their offspring, with the queen being 1.5x larger than the others and by far the most aggressive. They have one tooth, a single elongated tusk which is used like a crowbar to lever the chitons off the dragon's cuticle. When working on the underside of a dragon, it takes a certain amount of skill to catch the chiton before it falls away. The serpent's neck and legs are very strong to produce enough force to dislodge a chiton, which are often so deeply attached that a human with a pickaxe would struggle to knock one off. The chiton is swallowed whole, and the shell digested.

Serpents viciously defend their dragons, controlling parasite populations and fighting off and attacking humans or large metal creatures they perceive as a threat. The name 'serpent' is given to them in the Mezian theocracy because they are associated with sin; hive serpents can be among the most dangerous combatants a holy beast might face. When the dragon has been killed, its serpents will flee and, more often than not, restart their hive on the ground if they aren't killed first. Outside of the theocracy, humans do raise serpents and use them for various tasks - a baby queen is taken from the wild (by killing every other hive member) and raised to imprint on humans. If their diets are not heavily supplemented with calcium carbonate, they fail to thrive.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

Do you ever struggle not sharing details of your story / spoiling people? It's one of the hardest parts of writing for me! I always want to just divulge all of my ideas immediately!

The answer, weirdly enough... is no!

And a part of that is definitely due to me being a giant, secret-hoarding dragon in disguise. But another part of that is the fact that I largely suspect that...

Keeping secrets and avoiding spoilers is the reason this comic is still alive and updating.

Now, that may sound odd. Why would keeping secrets help me post? Sharing work is kind of the life-blood of a lot of creative endeavors. Storytelling is an inherently social activity. All humans, even the most introverted ones, thrive on peer recognition and feedback.

But over the years, I've come to realize something about myself. And this realization may be mostly stemming from me, but I suspect it's actually a pretty common factor for other creatives as well. So maybe I should talk about it (again).

Let me introduce you to something I call...

The Emperor's New Accomplishment.

Here's the thing. I'm an extremely introverted, non-social person. I can go for months without talking to friends easily, even if I love them a whole lot. That all being said, I'm still a human being, and my brain derives happy-social-animal chemicals from being recognized as A Person With Traits. Humans are built that way! We can't avoid it.

So what you gotta understand is - at all times, our brain is seeking social/peer recognition like it seeks out high-calorie foods. And it (largely) does not care what we have to do to get it.

Herein lies the problem.

Usually, creating stuff and thinking about stories and then sharing what we wrote with friends is a great way to get that happy chemical.

But it's time consuming. And difficult. And there's a shortcut.

What we seek when we create Scenarios and Characters and Conflicts is not hard work toiling away writing/drawing/constructing stuff. Many artists actively enjoy this process, but it's grueling.

And just telling our friends about our ideas actually accomplishes the end goal, as far as our brain is concerned! We made up ideas! We told people about it! We got the Good Feelings!

So when I tell people about my Plans to Write A Comic or Ideas To Make a Story, what I'm actually doing is tricking my brain into thinking 'wow, this feels great! We have accomplished the task we set out to do! No more effort necessary!'

And that motivation to actually draw/write/create?

It goes directly into the trashcan.

Now I'm not saying this to suggest people who do this/fall prey to this are lazy. They're not!

But our brains are. They're lazy, and they want to save energy. And they don't care if you WANTED to actually make the story. They will gladly rip the Motivation energy out of our grubby little hands when they no longer deem it necessary to the process.

So - why do I keep so many secrets? How do I stop myself from talking about what happens next in the story?

I'm doing it to keep my actual comic alive.

Disclaimer: Not everyone functions like this, obviously. Everyone has a different creative process. But this is how I've realized MY brain works, so I now take steps to trick my brain back into working. Ha! Take that, brain! Two can play at this--waitaminute.

[holysainz]

heating up - carlos sainz jr

pairing: carlos sainz jr x girlfriend!reader

warnings: none

summary: you convince your boyfriend to take on the hot pepper challenge … chili vs chili

You glance across the room at Carlos. Your boyfriend is sprawled across the couch, engrossed in a Spanish reality show. He’s so absorbed that he doesn’t notice the devilish smirk playing on your lips.

“Hey, Chili” you call, borrowing his nickname. It’s ironic given his pitiful tolerance for spicy food, a fact you’re planning to exploit.

“Yeah?” He replies, still glued to the screen.

You flash a grin, holding up your iPhone, “How about a hot pepper challenge?”

He turns, a horrified expression on his face. “You mean … on camera?”

You nod, savoring his almost cartoonish horror.

“Oh no. No, no, no,” he protests, shaking his head.

“But your fans will love it!” You argue. “Picture this: ‘Chili tamed by chili.’”

“Terrible pun,” Carlos grimaces but you know that he can’t deny you anything and see the resignation slowly start to spread across his face.

“Oh, come on! It’ll be fun!” You promise, flashing your most persuasive smile.

After a moment of consideration, he sighs. “Fine but if I end up in hospital, I’m blaming you.”

And that’s how you both find yourselves in your kitchen, surrounded by an array of intimidatingly red peppers of all shapes and sizes. You flip your phone camera on and your fans are immediately alerted to a new live stream.

“Hello everyone! As you can see,” you gesture to Carlos, who is eyeing the chili assortment with a mix of fear and determination, “I’ve managed to convince our very own Chili to join us in a hot pepper challenge.”

Carlos waves to the camera, forcing a smile. “I’m pretty sure she’s trying to kill me.”

Your fans are thrilled, flooding the comment section with laughing emojis and anticipatory messages. You decide to up the stakes.

“The loser has to do the dishes for the rest of the year,” you declare, raising an eyebrow at Carlos.

“Deal,” he agrees, much to your surprise.

You start off easy with some mildly spiced jalapeño poppers. Carlos manages it with just a few beads of sweat dotting his forehead. Then, you turn up the heat. Literally.

A red-hot habanero pepper is next. You both bite in. Carlos’ face goes from confident to confused to horrified in the span of seconds. Tears prick his eyes as he reaches for the milk … but you’re quick.

“Nope. No milk until the end,” you tease.

He glares at you but it’s short-lived as he doubles over coughing. You’re laughing so hard you can barely keep the camera steady.

The challenge continues, each round spicier than the last. Your fans are going wild, making their bets, offering their condolences to Carlos. Some suggest calling an ambulance preemptively.

Carlos, despite being a tormented, sweaty mess, hasn’t backed down. You’ve got to give him credit — his determination is astounding.

Finally, you reach the grand finale: the infamous Carolina Reaper. By now, Carlos looks like he might pass out but he stubbornly insists on going ahead.

“I’m not losing to a vegetable,” he states defiantly, glaring at the wrinkly red pepper as if his stare alone could send it up in flames.

The Reaper hits hard. You feel your own eyes watering but the sight of Carlos — eyes wide, face red, fanning his mouth frantically — is enough to keep you going.

“Okay, okay,” you relent, laughing between teary coughs and reaching for the milk. “I think that’s enough torture for today.”

Carlos doesn’t say a word, just snatches the glass and downs it.

Finally, he manages to croak, “I hate you.”

You’re still laughing. “Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad.”

“I’m literally breathing fire,” he complains. “I think I might have been turned into a dragon.”

Your fans are cracking up, their comments buzzing with laughter and commiserations for Carlos.

Wrapping up the live stream, you turn to Carlos, whose mouth is now firmly wrapped around the spout of an entire carton of milk

“You okay there, dragon?” You ask, still giggling.

Carlos just glares, face half hidden by the carton, his expression only fueling your laughter. “You know, you’re lucky I love you,” he chokes out.

And despite your grinning and teasing, you know you’re even luckier to have him.

Your spicy challenge video goes viral, featuring in countless meme compilations. Your fans, ever the comedians, edit fire-breathing animations onto Carlos and photoshop his face into every relevant House of the Dragon scene they can get their hands on.

Carlos grumbles each time he sees the video but you notice the smile he tries to hide. He’s a good sport, and though he’ll never admit it, he enjoyed the chaos. Plus, he’s free from dishwashing duties until the end of the year so who’s the real winner here?

You smile, plotting your next challenge. After all, what’s the good of having an extremely memeable boyfriend if you can’t immortalize his best moments on video?

—

taglist: @musingsbyshreya

[callsign-rogueone]

harvest day - l.m.

secret admirer!Liam x Luceran!reader. part of my Valentine’s Day celly! 💕 words: 932 🏷: reader is feminine and has longish hair (can be tied), but no pronouns used. I am once again making random stuff up about Navarrian cultures. featuring my farm-boy Sawyer headcanon lmao (Luceras doesn’t have one major city on the map in the book. It’s all farmland, and you cannot convince me otherwise.)

You nearly crush it under your boot in your hurry to get to class, stepping back at the last second to pick it up.

A tiny dragon carved from wood -- your dragon, complete with his horns and a tiny spiked tail. You run your fingers over the wood — it’s been sanded, perfectly smooth against your skin. The level of detail is incredible. This must have taken hours.

“You’re going to be late, humble one.”

Right. You tuck it into the pocket of your jacket, locking your door behind you and jogging down the hall. 

You make it just in time, apologizing your way down the row, stepping around people’s feet carefully until you’ve made it to your friends. You settle between Rhiannon and Sawyer, thanking them for saving you a seat. “Overslept,” you explain, digging in your bag for your notebook, which you had nearly forgotten to pack.

You remove your flight jacket, taking the tiny dragon from your pocket and setting it on the desk beside your pen.

“Whoa, sick! Who made that?” Sawyer asks.

“I don’t know. I just found it outside my door. It looks just like him, though. Even got the horns right.”

“It is a very good representation of me,” Cruith appraises. “Though I have never once been that small.”

“That's awesome. Maybe they’re like, a wood-wielder or something,” Ridoc suggests, leaning over to examine it.

“I’m pretty sure that signet doesn’t exist,” Rhiannon says dryly.

“If he can do all that with metal, then it's entirely possible someone could do it with wood,” Ridoc defends.

“That’s what she said,” Sawyer says quietly, trying not to laugh.

Ridoc grins. “I’m rubbing off on you, man.”

You snort. “Now that's what she said.”

“Focus,” Rhiannon scolds lightly, ever the responsible squad leader, her eyes not having left the chalkboard this whole time.

“Yes, mom,” the three of you chorus softly, turning your attention back to the professor. 

Violet looks like she has something to say, but she remains quiet.

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

“Mail call,” Rhiannon announces, distributing opened letters to each of you.

Your heart drops as soon as you start to read yours.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t realize the date. It’s Harvest Day on Wednesday. Last year I was just too busy trying to stay alive to think about it, but…”

Sawyer winces, understanding. “I wish I could be there too. I swear when I graduate, I’m gonna use all my leave every year to help them.”

“I’m so lost,” Ridoc says, looking between you.

You laugh, explaining. “Everyone spends the day — the week, really — helping their neighbors harvest their crops, and there’s always a feast at the end with what we’ve grown.”

“Gods, the food. My family doesn’t come from much, but that was always the one day a year I felt like we were rich,” Sawyer admits.

You sigh in agreement. “It’s gonna be so weird wearing black all day instead of fall colors.” 

“That is the most Luceran thing I’ve ever heard,” Ridoc says. “Sometimes I forget you guys are all farmers.”

“It’s only our single most important holiday,” you laugh. “And we’re not all farmers. Two of us are dragon riders.” 

Sawyer grins at you, putting a hand up for a high five. “Damn right we are.”

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

Everyone’s eyes widen at the silky orange ribbon tying your hair back. You beam, turning your head to show it off. “Courtesy of the wood-wielder. I have no idea where they got it.”

Your joy is short-lived.

“Precisely what is that, cadet?” Dain asks sharply, and your face falls. There’s only one thing he can be taking issue with, the only spot of color in the sea of black making up your formation.

“It’s a Luceran tradition,” someone says for you — but not Sawyer or any of your friends. “Today is Harvest Day.”

You turn toward the voice, seeing Liam behind you, his eyes locked with Dain’s as if he’s daring the wingleader to argue with him. How does he know about the holiday? Had he overheard your conversation with your squad earlier?

“I expect it to be gone tomorrow,” Dain concedes. “You’re all dismissed.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as everyone files out of the hall.

“Liam?” You ask softly, and he stops, turning toward you. “Thank you.”

Then you see the small block of wood in his hand, the rough shape of another dragon etched into it. “It was you,” you whisper, stunned.

He laughs. “What?”

You reach into your pocket, producing the carving of Cruith. “You made this, right? Were you the one who wrote those physics notes for me when I was in the infirmary, too?” 

He smiles. “Yeah. That was all me.”

Your heart flutters with hope. “Why?”

“Because I was too nervous to say it, but I really like you.”

You blink. Liam, the one who isn’t scared of anything, was nervous to talk to you? And he has a crush on you? You’ve always found him attractive, but you had never thought this a possibility.

“Say something,” Cruith prods, sounding amused.

You finally form words. “Do you want to go into town with me this weekend?”

He blushes, scratching the back of his neck. “I would really like that.”

“Hey, lovebirds, are you coming to breakfast, or what?” Ridoc calls. “Some of us are starving over here!”

You laugh, a sound Liam will never tire of. “Just a minute!” You yell back.

You touch your fingertips to the soft silk, looking up at him. “Thank you, Liam. It really means a lot to me.”

He smiles. “Of course, sweetheart.”

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Angst, violence, fear, anxiety, PTSD, mentions of rape.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Full speed ahead from here... Buckle the fuck in my babies, let's get this show on the road! I think we all knew that something was coming and here we are... Rapid fire posting from here on out, are you ready? Again, as always, thank you, thank you, thank you all so very much for all your love and continued support! You guys have made writing this so much fun! <3

Chapter 97: Consequences 

The sun rose slowly that morning, the room being cast in its gentle warm glow.

Shadows danced across the wall, growing larger with every hour that passed, and every crawling step that the sun took to get higher and higher in the sky.

You laid as you were, nestled beneath the sheets, with your hand still reaching for the blade Aemond had gifted you upon his departure. 

Always ready.

Always waiting.

For him.

The maids woke alongside the sun, stretching long arms above their bodies to straighten their spines, vertebrae’s clicking into place and aches settling into their muscles after sleeping on chaises and chairs for many nights straight.

They rose, and helped you rise, dressing you in a deep black and red skirt, with a black leather bustier top. The shoulders were cuffed with metal, with long dripping hoops of chains that pressed cooly against the bare skin of your arms. The neck was high fitting, and splayed outwards like dragon wings. 

As you sat at the table, waiting for the two girls to bring you food to break your fast, Amala entered first, a short bow, and the quietest of apologies on her tongue. The action caused panic to rear its ugly head within you, and so you darted your head backwards towards the bed, seeking out the place you knew the blade to be hidden, with your eyes. 

Movement in your periphery, you turned your head, and met the deep brown eyes of Alicent Hightower, dressed in an even deeper green gown, tight arms and stiff neck, standing in your chambers. 

“Good Morrow, Princess.” She greeted you, hands clasped gently at her front.

Your brows twitched as you looked at her, “Alicent.”

The Dowager Queen walked towards you slowly, “I thought I might join you to break our fasts together.”

You blinked at the Hightower. Her hair was half up, half down, pinned away from her face in a thick braid that Helaena used to wear across the top of her scalp, auburn wisps curling away from her face, escaping the style.

You opened your palm towards Aemond’s empty seat. A silent invitation to join you. A motion for her to sit. An unlikely guest in your chambers whom you had no real power to turn away.

A guest in whom you had to welcome regardless of the desire to slit her throat.

Alicent moved slowly, as though she was floating across the stones. Her feet did not make sounds as she walked, an entirely silent ordeal that made you see Alicent in Aemond in more ways than you had thought before.

Both having to have been seen and not heard. Quiet and dutiful. It was all there, the reflection of a mother in her son. The silent resentment of all those around. The even quieter pain that lingered behind the pairs eyes, pain from duty, pain from having no voice, pain from being trapped to the shadows of men before them.

Pulling out her chair, she seated herself down, eyes flicking about the chambers in inspection.

What she was looking for, you did not know. 

It was not long until Joanna, helped by Amala, brought in the food and plates for the both of you. It was as if the Queen had planned this breakfast, and that it was not at all as spur of the moment as she wished it to seem.

Alicent Hightower was always making calculated moves. 

You wondered what this one was for.

“And how are you?” She asked gently, thanking the girls as they bowed and left the chambers for you to be alone with the older woman.

You cleared your throat, serving yourself a plate of food as you stared at her. You let out a deep sigh through your nose and responded, “I have been better.”

There was no point in lying to her, nor did you wish to soothe any anxieties she, in your opinion, was most likely to have. And though you wished to have nothing to do with the woman seated opposite you, there was no denying the similarities that you both shared. The combined struggle that the both of you would understand, even wordlessly.

You were both women.

Alicent mirrored your actions, serving herself a plate of eggs, toast and cooked tomatoes, “It seems to be something we can all agree on.”

You blinked at her.

“What happened to you,” She began, hands placed delicately in her lap, which you knew to mean she was picking at the skin of her nails, “Was a horrific set of unforeseen circumstances. The Gods-“

“Unforeseen.” You hummed, picking up your goblet of fresh juice taking a sip, “Unforeseen for myself and Aemond, perhaps. But the King and his Council knew that I was to be brought to the Throne Room that day. You knew.”

Alicent cut herself a piece of toast, smearing egg onto its crispy surface, “I had cautioned the King against such an-“

“Alicent, you could not caution an ant if you wished.”  You breathed, cutting into your own toast with far more vigour than needed.

“Aemond was not privy to know-“

“As I am now aware.” You swallowed the bread thickly, “Please be transparent about your coming today.”

Alicent’s doe-y features hardened, and the calculating serpent you had become accustomed to, was revealed to the room, though her eyes still stayed soft, “I came to speak to you about my son.”

“Which one? The rapist, my husband, or the corpse?”

The reminder of Daeron set Alicent’s teeth on edge, jaw clenched as she stared at you, “Aemond.” She grit out.

“My husband then." You gave her a clipped smile, "What did you need to speak to me of, which you could no doubt ask him yourself? Do you not have a better relationship with him than I?”

“I wished to hear it from your own lips.”

“My lips have said many things about your sons, my husband especially. What does the famed Green Queen want to know?” You sighed, munching on some star fruit as the Lady Alicent Hightower struggled to keep her frustrations at bay.

“Do you love him?”

You laughed. 

You didn’t mean to.

But you just did.

Alicent was not impressed, and seemed all together confused. 

“If I did not love him, I would not be here still.”

“You would. It is a marriage-“

“-I would have thrown myself from the window like Helaena if I did not, or ripped his throat out with my teeth..." You paused, "Or yours."

It was blunt. 

Raw.

And hurt the both of you.

You strummed your fingers against the table loudly, looking down as you contemplated your next words.

“I love him. That is the truth of it. A sick and twisted truth if anything, but something I could have never fought. The Gods made us for each other. It is known. But my love for him does not outweigh the hurt he has inflicted upon me. He is still a Kinslayer.”

Alicent tilted her head, leaning back in her chair, chestnut waves falling over her shoulder, “As are you." One singular eyebrow raised, "I think you seem to forget.”

“How can one forget a life one took?" You spoke flatly, disinterested in the actions of the past, "My only consolation was that it was war when I did it. Aemond however, pushed the first piece on the board to start the others that fell. Like mother, like son.”

Alicent ate another piece of her eggs daintily, lifting to her lips with her fork, before swallowing, “The both of you are Kinslayers, acursed in the eyes of the people.”

You gave her a toothy grin, “Then what better way than to have those who are acursed as Kinslayers to be wed to each other. It would surely bring damnation and shame to any other husband or wife and their House, but the Gods made it so that we are together as one. In actions. In sin. In love. A small mercy really.”

Alicent gave an uneven smile, placing her cutlery back onto her plate, “It's strange, I must admit. The predicament we find ourselves in. But if anything, I am glad that it was you. That meek Baratheon girl would not have survived my son, I'm afraid.”

You frowned, and Alicent continued, “I would have no better match for Aemond. You have both always loved each other. You know each other better than anyone else, and at times, though it pains me to admit it, you know my son better than I do. You see him. All of him. The good and the bad. My parts that played in it, and yours. And I believe the Seven helped to bring you together.”

“It was the Old Gods, not the Seven.”

Alicent merely stared at you for a time, picking her napkin up to dab at her lips before placing the napkin back on the table, “With any luck, Aemond should return soon.” She stood, pushing her chair back as she smoothed out her skirts.

“Godspeed.” You prayed, and watched as she bowed and left your chambers. 

You finished your breakfast without the presence of the Dowager Queen, and when you were done, you made your way down to the Library to read.

When you entered the Library it was quiet and still, with one lone servant stoking the flames in the large fireplace, placing three to four large logs inside carefully.

As they heard your entrance, they bowed at the hip, keeping their face to the ground before they scuttled out of the room like a rodent.

You perused the isles of books for some time, fingers tracing over the worn spines, and dusted covers. Leather and embroidered tomes combined. As you came to one isle in particular, you thought back on the way Aemond had taken you against the shelves, face diving between your folds, his tongue lapping at you feverently before spearing you upon his cock.

Your core clenched at the memory.

Picking a tome at random, you pulled the heavy leather bound book from the shelf, making your way to seat yourself before the fire as you opened it up in your lap. The first page was worn, and faded, but the script was slanted beautifully by a careful hand.

‘Maegor the Cruel, The Usurpation of Aegon the Uncrowned, and The Seven Faith Militant. A History.’

You had picked quite the intense read, but began it nonetheless.

‘Maegor the First was the son of King Aegon the First and his eldest sister-wife, Queen Visenya Targaryen. Maegor was born of fire and blood, the prodigy of Aegon the Conqueror, A King who laid waste to all the realms who did not bend the knee on the back of Balerion the Black Dread. Maegor the Cruel had an older half-brother, Aenys the First, who was said to be a fair and just Prince.’

The day floated by as you read the history of Maegor and his violent rise to power.

‘Maegor had six wives, to which the Faith strongly rebuked, polygamy a sin in the eyes of the Seven Faith. Ceryse Hightower, and Alys Harroway - who was later killed by his third wife Tyanna of the Tower. Then, there were the Black Brides; Elinor Costayne, Jayne Westerling, and his niece, Rhaena Targaryen.’

The warmth of the fire settled over you gently, and your eyes excitedly read each page as you got more and more into the violence of the Cruel King. You had read the history once before, but you had been young and under the Septa’s supervision, which made learning about him boring and irksome. 

By now you had gotten half way through the tome.

‘At the death of his father, Aegon the First, his brother Aenys ascended the throne. Maegor was still exiled for his sins in marrying a second wife, and soon after his ascent to the Iron Throne, King Aenys passed. Maegor seized the throne, and crowned himself King. Yet his rule would not be an easy one. Some moons later, Prince Aegon, Maegor’s nephew, laid claim to the Iron Throne, as was his birth right.’

The sound of the library doors echoed in the chambers, but you did not raise your head.

‘Prince Aegon’s claim was supported by several Lords of the Westerlands and Riverlands, and so the Prince marched at the head of an army, fifteen thousand men strong. Queen Tyanna, Maegor’s third wife and the Mistress of Whispers, warned that Maegor's allies would turn on him for his nephews claim if there was show of his prevail. In the Battle Beneath The Gods Eye, Maegor and Aegon’s armies clashed, and fought in a bloody and brutal battle. Men were slain from their horses by archers and swordsman, dragon fire lay waste to hundreds of men, the earth under The Gods Eye was soaked with blood, and many soldiers sank into its red mud. Though it came to an end, Maegor slew his nephew and his dragon Quicksilver, tearing them from the sky on the back of the mighty Black Dread. Maegor the Cruel was thenceforth known for his cruelty and labeled a Kinslayer.’

“Princess, Y/n.” A voice pulled you from your book. Your eyes lifted from the page to meet Ser Criston Cole’s.

You straightened your back, looking to the two guards who flanked him either side, feeling a strange sense of dejavu from the scene before you. 

“Ser Cole.” You greeted him warily, placing the book atop the table in front of you and standing, body ready to take flight.

Ser Criston lifted his head high, “King Aegon has requested for your presence in the Throne Room.”

You blinked, and you stomach did a small flip, fear rising in your throat.

“And I suppose these guards are there to enforce my presence?”

The two men shifted, their armour scratching against each other, eyes aimed at the wall behind you.

Ser Cole breathed, “No, My Lady.”

“Then tell the King I am busy.” You moved to sit back down, but Ser Cole took a step forward towards you. 

It was clear then, that there was no real choice.

Not that you ever had one in the Keep.

It was not a casual invitation that they would like you to believe it was, much like Alicent's breaking her fast with you that morning, but they were not dragging you to the Throne Room, kicking and screaming as they did last time.

It did little to soothe your wrought nerves, but it was at least something.

The small voice in the back of your head screamed that it would be another Maester situation. Your intuition told you to run. Your baser instincts told you to fight.

But what if it was one of the maids?

Panic shot through you, and so you nodded, walking across the room, feeling as though each step further settled your doom. But you could not leave them. If it was one of the maids, if Larys had discovered them, you would not abandon them now in their time of need.

Ser Cole bowed his head to you, holding the door open before he began to lead you to the Iron Throne, the two guards walking closely behind you, ready to snatch you if you so chose to run.

Each step of the men was a shuffle of robes and armour, and you watched the sword on Ser Criston’s side sway heavily with each step, its long blade tapping the side of his thigh.

Each sway reminded you of how Aegon’s hand had swung down, separating the old mans head from his neck. How your Grandsire's blade had tipped at Aegon's side as he descended the steps of the Iron Throne to stand before you.

The blood. 

So much blood.

On you.

On the stones. 

You wondered for a moment, if the stain would still be there, or if they had tasked some poor servants to scrub it out of the porous surface as though their lives depended on it.

You tried to steady your breathing. Counting each step as you saw the large doors to the Iron Throne. Fifty-one. Fifty-Two. Fifty-Three. Fifty-Four.

Kings guards opening the heavy wood doors with steel bracketing along its face to let you in. 

Ser Cole walked ahead of you announcing you to the chambers, as you held your hands behind you, fingers digging sharply into the flesh of your palm. The King Maker voiced boomed as you looked to Aegon, who was seated upon the throne, lazily leaning on one side with his chin in his palm, as though summoning you back to the Throne Room was a chore and a bore. 

The Small Council were about the chambers, dressed in their robes and House colours, watching you with careful and guarded eyes, though nervousness shifted their bodies.

And there, beside the throne, once again, was Aemond. 

His presence did little to settle your nerves.

It was happening again.

Gods, please, help me.

Aemond's gaze had snapped to you as soon as you had entered, and although he stood tall and stiff, hands behind his back and face impassive, your presence had clearly come as a surprise.

Again.

Aemond looked blindsided. 

Completely at a loss as to why you were there, and it showed in his eye. 

The Prince looked as though he had only just arrived back in Kings Landing, dressed still in his riding leathers, hair pulled back and away from his face by braids, and lips pressed into a thin line. His brows had furrowed as he looked at you.

But Aemond hadn’t come straight to you as he usually did. 

Something was amiss.

“Husband,” You called out to him, schooling your voice to hide the rising panic, “I am gladdened to see you hale and hearty and returned home.” You gave him a small smile, and turned to the King, “You requested my presence, Your Grace?”

Aegon did not smile at you. 

He did not even sneer. 

The King merely stared at you with his intense, violet eyes, lips slightly pursing in thought before straightening into a flat line, much like his brother. But beneath those bright eyes you had come to fear, there was something simmering beneath.

Rage.

Swallowing and sensing that you were in danger, you turned to face your husband again, “Did you find the men who were responsible at the Red Fork?”

Aemond was still, shoulders tensed, head turning to look up at his brother who still sat staring at you, crown atop his head. You watched as your husbands lips opened to speak.

Otto Hightower stepped forward, his greying and receding hair shimmering in the light that poured in from the windows. His robes of green were trimmed with fur around his neck and chest, and the pin of the Hand of the King sat against his breast.

“You stand before King Aegon the Second, rightful heir to the Iron Throne.” His voice sent chills down your spine, skin breaking beneath your nails in your palm. It was happening again, “You have been brought before the King and his Council to answer for the crimes you are being charged.”

Your immediate thought was to turn to Aemond, to ask him what was happening, to beg him for help, but you remembered the last time this had happened. You remembered the last time he had stood there and watched.

You remembered as he had done nothing.

You remembered that you were alone.

Again.

Otto straightened, a ringing in your ears beginning to grow louder, “You are accused of treason; For the slaying of the Kings unborn child, aided by the traitor Maester. You are accused of conspiring with Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen against the Crown. You are accused of attempting to recruit Prince Aemond Targaryen to turn cloak and help your mothers cause. How do you plead against these charges?”

“What?” Your voice was so small, and sounded so far away.

This was it.

There was no going back now.

Aegon straightened on the monstrous throne of melted swords, “The Princess was given a gift by the Seven when my seed was put into her womb. She had made a confession to ensuring the death of her pregnancy out of spite when the Maester was charged. She has murdered my son. The Kings son. A highest of treasons.”

Your throat felt dry, “You raped me.”

Aegon’s lip twitched from the smirk he was holding back, “The Princess seduced me with promises of good behaviour for favours and fruit. Star fruit is your favourite, is it not?”

Aegon moaned as he heard you whimper, and let go of your throat, a lungful of air racing through your mouth as you gasped. Aegon fucked himself into you, the sound of his grunts and his flesh slapping against yours filled the chambers with your sobs. 

Aemond bristled beside his brother, eye narrowed on you. His posture was straight, and as your eyes flicked from one brother to the other, you realised there was no hope.

There was no hope for you.

Aemond had made his choice. 

And it was never to be you.

Aegon leant forward on the throne, silver hair shimmering in the light, “The Princess came to me after Prince Aemond left for Harrenhal. She was alone and angry at knowing that my brother was having an affair with the bastard wet-nurse, Alys Rivers. She begged me to warm her bed, and to give her an heir so that my brother would not suspect a thing.”

“You think the Knight would help you?” Aegon sneered, as you thrashed beneath him, pushing at him with all your strength, “Do you think he would listen to you? I could command him to come in here and make him watch, and he would do it. Should I call him for you?” He growled, fingers tightening around your throat, the room beginning to spin. 

You swallowed thickly, the sounds of Aegon’s grunts breaking forth in your memory.

The night he attacked you.

The night he raped you.

The night that changed everything.

“That's a lie.” Your voice cracked, looking up at the King, “You came to my chambers, and held me down, and raped me.” Your eyes flicked across the room, meeting a pair of distressed brown ones, “Alicent, you know this to be the truth. You were there. You helped me.”

Alicent stepped forward, turning to her son, “Is this true, Aegon? Perhaps the Princess had not known the implications. The Maester must have deceived her, or forced her to do as she did under threat.”

Alicent had given you Moon Tea after Aegon. 

She knew.

And she was lying.

"You're lying!" You sneered at the auburn haired woman.

Aegon looked down at his mother in mock pity, “Lord Larys Strong told me that she had been given Moon Tea after she was given my son. She had willingly and enthusiastically drank it, as she knew it was my child inside of her.”

Your stomach twisted in knots, and you felt as though you were going to be sick. But the anger of seeing Alicent play games with her own son, whilst her other watched you, was simply too much for you to bear. 

Damn them all.

“The Queen gave me the Moon Tea.” You declared, voice clipped, "Is that not an act of treason? Try your own blood before the Council for the sins of your flesh.” Your hands came down to your side, clenched into fists. 

You were not going to die in cowardice. 

You would bite, and scratch, and claw until the end.

As you always had done.

“Princess Y/n, might I remind you that you are before the Small Council and King Aegon. You will have time to speak for your innocence when the King has finished his petition.” Otto cautioned you.

Your breathing became laboured, shallow, angry breaths that heaved. 

It was that rage again.

That same rage that you had pushed down and away, that had been there at your finger tips, just beneath the surface of your skin, hiding in the shadows. The rage that you had clipped and preened like a rose bush, to not prick yourself on its thorns. 

A rage that was innately yours. 

Aegon straightened himself, the golden chains that sat heavily against his chest swaying with movement. He shifted, pulling himself to be seated in a stiff and upright position, as though one of the swords he was seated upon had slipped up his spine. 

He looked every bit his mother.

And then he thought. 

And the silence of the chambers was almost as deafening as the ringing in your ears. The pounding of your heart in your head, the rushing of the blood in your veins. You felt every bone in your body, the weight of them, the feel of them. Every tooth in your skull felt as though they were not sitting correctly, your tongue heavy and too large for your mouth. 

Aemond shifted again in your periphery, taking two short steps forward towards you.

Coward.

“Swear yourself to me.” The King boomed in the chambers, his voice echoing in the space and decision made. 

Aegon pushed himself to stand, looking down his nose at you.

“Bend the knee, and swear me as your King.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

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Bold is who I cannot tag!

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

ROUND 3 MATCH 5

Fenris propaganda:

“I've played through DA2 four times now and every time I think I'm gonna date someone other than Fenris and every time I don't do that”

“Please he is my husband. I literally cannot do a playthrough without romancing him regardless of how much I try to give the other chara ters a chance because his romance lines are just so good and he's always so surprised that Hawke is into him.”

Cove propaganda:

“This bad boy can fit so much autism in him”

“he is sooo loveable. he's autistic. he's kind. he has a scar on his arm from a waterbike accident. he likes food when they mix them he is VERY awkward with a crush (love it) and he's so interested in the ocean. hates being all formal and stuff. his game is basically about possibly living life with a neighbor like him and it's so cool. please play this game. for him. ocean man take me by the hand”

“Cove is the best boy. He's the deuteragonist (Next to the player) from the game and he's literally the best thing that happened to me. He can be kinda clingy, but who doesn't love a little guy who sneaks into their room to say hi (not as creepy as it sounds, I swear).”

“He is such a sweet person, that deeply cares about the mc, he is such a crybaby in the best way.”

“Look I know he's already your profile picture, but HEAR ME OUT ON THIS!! He's so nice, he's so sweet, it's childhood friends/neighbors to lovers, he likes sea animals and his game is summer themed and I'm a sucker for summer stuff abhdszagvaz!!!!! The VN is so wholesome and fluffy and Cove is just perfect boyfriend material”

[spacebarbarianweird]

Hi! Love your writing and I wanted to give you some food for thought, see if it interests you perhaps 🤭 Astarion×Tav is usually about someone smaller in size and maybe a druid or healer, but my character is a tiefling berserk barbarian... with a bigger body size... horns and tail in all their glory... if you are interested I'd love to hear if you'd got some headcanons for a character like this? 💕🙏🏻

Hi! When imagining a bigger f!Tav with Astarion, I can't stop thinking about Gwendolyn Christie (aka Brienne of Tarth) and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau (aka Jaime Lannister). Look at the photos of them, especially when Gwen wears high-heels (and she also has a husband who is much shorter than her but sews all her dresses to make her the most fabulous 6.3 ft tall woman)

Also, Neil Newbon plays a bigger druid, Tav. He was shocked that she picked Astarion in the first sex scene ^-^

NSFW Version

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion x F!BulkyTav

When you hug, Astarion's face is right up against your chest, and he can hear your heartbeat.

Which is soothing to him.

The running water problem is solved! You lift Astarion "bridal style" and put him onto your shoulders to cross the river.

Astarion is grumpy about it every time.

But deep inside, he enjoys it.

Need a better view to aim? Well, you are right here in all your barbarian 6.3 ft. glory!

Astarion can't take his eyes off how graciously you walk with a two-handed ax on your shoulders.

And once you both return to the civilized world, he will get you a dress and high heels.

Because with high heels and a dress, you will look like a gods damn goddess of war!

Is he intimidated by the fact you are taller? Never. You are his big and powerful wife, and he's proud of everything you do!

You are a big spoon, of course. And being wrapped in your hands makes Astarion feel warm and safe.

When in rage, you don't feel pain, and it hurts him to see you wounded and with broken bones

He puts your head on his lap and strokes your hair to soothe you after the battle.

Once, Astarion was caught off guard by vampire hunters who beat him and left him helpless in the sunrise.

You managed to get there right in time to crack the hunters' skulls.

And quickly carry Astarion to the safety and darkness.

Unfortunately, the merciless sun burnt him enough to slow vampire regeneration, and it took Astarion a month to fully recover.

All this time, you nurtured and fed him, telling him stories and legends of your people and only leaving him once you needed to fetch some food for yourself.

Seeing him being able to walk again was the happiest moment of your life.

When he drinks your blood, it's him sitting on your lap.

"You are a messy eater, you know that?" you ask, seeing him covered in your blood.

"You are a terribly messy eater, I hope you know that?" he comments, looking at you eating a boar's leg.

He laughs at you being not so discreet in the wilderness and attracting all sorts of enemies in your journey.

"Darling, you are loud like an ork and have the manners of a giant!"

Once you got so drunk in a feast after killing a dragon, you came to Astarion and started talking different sweet nonsense.

"I want to have silver-curled babies with you. Imagine how fierce they will be!"

Indeed, you are strong and fierce, wearing the heavy armor set, but you are still a woman, a woman Astarion loves and takes care of.

"Wear a helmet, Tav! Last time we had a quest, our half-ork companion used your head as a battering ram! Get the fucking helmet!"

Once, the enemy was too strong, and you ended up severely wounded. The most challenging thing for Astarion was to get rid of the heavy armor on your broken body to carry you to a safe place.

The view of you in pain and agony traumatized him so much he didn't dare to leave your side until you fully recovered.

You want to die in a glorious battle and bards to make songs about you.

Astarion promises you not to step into the sun once you die this glorious death but to make sure every bard and storyteller knows about your deeds and adventures.

But until then...

You have plenty of things to kill!

Hope you enjoyed it!