#enjoy your feast wtf

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Silk Ribbons

maegor x niece!reader

Summary: Maegor crashes Aenys name day tournament which turns into more blood. He shows up unannounced to the feast where he gives all of his attention to Y/n before taking her back to Dragonstone.

Warnings: 18+ death, blood, blades, swearing, wine, bondage, oral (f receiving), p in v, it’s a maegor the cruel fic like wtf else can i say

Authors Note: this was a request from my bestie 🫣😮‍💨, pls i’ve never really read maegor ff so i hope i did him justice

Word Count: 4.2k

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Servants rush around the Red Keep trying to get everything in order for the feast being held later this evening in celebration of my father’s name day. I’m whisked out of the castle followed by guards who escort me to my carriage. There’s three raps on the wood before we jolt forward venturing into the city.

My father insisted I come to the tourney even though I personally have no taste for it. Instead, I would have been content to host a great ball that lasted days. I sigh and look out the window watching the common folk slowly make their way to the tourney grounds. I don’t think I’ll ever understand what all these people see in such brazen acts of violence, and in the name of my father of all people.

The carriage slows as we push through the tourney grounds opening gates. We come to a stop near the entrance and my door opens. My guard escorts me through the doors and up the stairs to find my seat.

“Come, you’ll sit in front of me and your father.” my mother waves her hand to me.

I sigh as I make my way to the front row of chairs. I know these are the best seats but I have no idea why my parents would think I would want them. I look across the arena and see the seats quickly filling up. My father pats my shoulder on his arrival as he places his hands on the rails to begin making the opening announcement.

“Welcome and thank you all for joining the celebrations for my name day. Good luck to the brave knights, may you fight and win with honor!” my fathers raises his hands and the crowd begins to erupt.

As my father makes his way back to my mother the first two knights are called to the sands. After I hear him sigh and take his seat I allow myself to look off into the clouds and daydream. I lean back in my chair and to anyone else I look as if I’m enjoying the fight but instead I’m dreaming of flying through the clouds on dragonback.

The duels continue as I let my mind drift away. The clashes of swords are turned into dragon songs and the shouts form commands. The announcer calls two new knights to the sands and the crowd goes hushed as a third knight enters the sands.

“Is he mad for coming here?” my fathers voice breaks through as he speaks to his guard.

I shake my head and scan the sands in front of me. The only thing that seems to be happening is the announcer speaking to the third knight. I tilt my head studying them as my father hushes his quick words to the guard. I gasp and grab my chest as the knight strikes the announcer in the face, who falls to the sand not getting up. Guards rush to the announcer as the knight stalks over to us.

“Brother,” the knights deep voice carries up to us. “I will have a place at this tournament.” he points his sword up to the box.

“Go back to Dragonstone, Maegor.” my father calls down to him.

I scoot up to the edge of my seat to try and look upon my uncle. I haven’t seen him in ages but it seems if his temperament hasn’t changed. I lean forward and peek over the rails at him as he rips his helmet off and throws it up at my father. My father ducks barely escaping the flying metal but trips over me in the process.

“Guards, get Y/n out of here.” my father fumes as he rises once more.

I’m pulled up by my arms and I quickly turn to look down at Maegor before they hide me away. Our eyes lock on one another quickly before the guard harshly pulls my arm, jerking my body. Maegors eyes narrow on the guard who’s currently tugging me away from him.

“You let that man handle her like that?” Maegors voice rumbles against the walls.

The guard pulls me down the stairs and we hear continued shouts coming from the hall. Loud footsteps stomp down the stairs and the guard begins to pull me away even faster. I sigh in relief as my carriage makes its way into my sight and I practically sprint to it. The guards hand loosens as hear a slash of metal through bone.

For a moment my breathing stops as I think I’ve been struck as I felt the shutter of the blade. My eyes widen as I turn and take in the scene. Maegor is standing there holding Blackfyre with the guards blood dripping off of it. I look down to my arm as the guards dismembered arm falls to the ground. My eyes then travel to the guard who is on the ground in a state of panic and shock before he goes completely still.

“He should not have touched you like that.” Maegor sheaths his sword, looking to the body at his feet with disgust.

“Uncle,” my voice trembles as steps over the guard and comes to tower over me.

“You’ve become so beautiful, Y/n.” he brings fingers to ghost over my cheek.

My breathing intensifies at his gentle touch after he showed such violence. My eyes dart to the body behind him and he grabs my chin and forces me to look to him. His smile borderline predatory as he begins to lean down. My eyes go wide the closer his mouth comes to mine until he turns his head quickly to whisper something into my ear.

“Maegor you bull, what have you done?” my fathers voice booms behind us as he looks in horror at the guard.

“Did you not see the way your own guard was pulling her. She’ll have bruises come morning. Is this how a Princess should be treated?” he turns to my father tilting his head.

“Please do not use my daughter as an excuse for your wanton brutality.” my father storms over to him.

“Aenys, you don’t want this fight.” Maegors hands go to my father’s shoulders.

I don’t know what leads me to do it, but I place my hand on Maegors arm. He turns and looks down to me curiously as he allows me to remove his hands from my father. I turn to my father who looks from where my hand is placed on Maegor to me.

“Daughter, step away from him.” my father warns.

My hand slips from his armor as I slowly step back to my carriage. Maegor watches every step I take as my father watches him. I slip into the carriage and shut the doors behind me. I sigh out in relief and slide down into my pillowed seats.

The carriage begins to move and I look out my window to see Maegor watching as I’m pulled back through the city. I begin to fan myself off hoping the adrenaline will start to wash away. I find myself blushing at his words of calling me beautiful even though I shouldn’t. I’ve always secretly wished he would see me in that light instead of a child. His temper terrifies me, but Gods he is so handsome.

Once we make it through the gates of the Red Keep I’m escorted directly to my chambers. I huff claiming a chair not wanting to be sequestered here all day. After an hour I pick up a book to hopefully lose myself to another world until the feast begins.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

“Princess,” my mother’s soft voice lulls me out of my nap.

“No, did I miss the feast?” I quickly rise from the chair in a panic.

“I’ve come to check on you and to see if you still wanted to attend after today’s events.” she grabs my hand to rub soothing circles on it.

“Of course I want to go to the feast. They have been making my gown for almost a full moon.” I whine.

“I figured as much.” she chuckles as she goes to the doors to allow my handmaidens flood in.

I’m quickly stripped of my dress and lead over to the bath. Lavish oils and soaps are brought out and I hum in relaxation as I’m pampered to. My hair begins to be brushed and secured out of my face by a pale pink ribbon. I rise out of the tub when the water turns tepid and begin to dry off. I’m offered a new slip that seems to be made of the same silk as my ribbon.

I gasp as my gown is brought in for me to finally look upon. The gown is white but with all of the beading it looks as if it’s the soft pink of a morning sunrise. It fits closer to my body than I had originally thought but when looking in the mirror I admire it even more. The beads fade into crystals that flow up the neckline. They offer me a close fitting crystal necklace that brings out the rest of the details in the gown. After they place my earrings I’m guided out of my chambers and down to the dining hall.

“You look absolutely lovely.” my mother smiles as I join her on the dias.

“They outdid themselves with this gown.” I look down to admire it.

I take a sip of wine and take in the life and merriment around me. I look down to my father who seems happy enough but I can still see the lingering frustration. Servants come out and fill our plates once everyone has found their seats. The doors to the hall groan open and my father’s face turns red as Maegor saunters in.

“May I sit next to you, Y/n.” Maegor licks his lips looking down at me.

I nod my head as he pulls the chair out loudly next to me. Servants rush to fill his cup with wine as he continues to look at me. I feel my cheeks heat and I quickly turn back to my plate. I can feel my father’s eyes on me but I don’t have the courage to look anywhere besides my plate.

“You look ravishing in this dress.” Maegor purrs lowly.

“Thank you,” I murmur willing my cheeks not to tint as I take a sip of wine.

“Will you let me take it off of you later?” I cough at his low his words.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” my fathers voice laced with worry at my sudden coughing fit.

“Yes,” I nod clearing my throat attempted to offer him a smile.

My father huffs as we return to our meal. It seems as if the whole hall is blind to the tension radiating from our table. Laughter and toasts are shouted across the hall and all I can think of is Maegor who has slowly been inching his chair closer to mine. I try to ignore his closeness until his thigh is pressed against mine.

“Is there something you needed?” I turn and blink up at him.

“You,” his voice low as he looks down at me with dark eyes.

“Maegor-“

“Come, let’s dance.” he rises above me and offers me his hand and I can see my father turn to us with a scrunched brow.

I place my hand in his palm as his fingers engulf mine. He pulls me down to dance as a new song begins. He pulls me flush against his body and I squeak in surprise. His hand continues to hold mine while his other goes firmly to my lower back. My hand rises to his chest as I look up to him.

He holds me possessively as he stares down any man who looks too closely. My eyes land on my father who is currently seething next to my mother who looks worried. I squirm in Maegors arms as his fingers trail up my spine and bury themselves into my hair. He tilts my head so I’m looking up at him as a smirk spreads across his face.

“You’re going to ruin my hair.” I whine breathlessly.

“Apologies,” he chuckles as his hand slides down to rest on my neck.

We continue to sway to the music and I allow my hand to travel across the expanse of muscle that is his chest. I can feel the dips and definitions through his doublet and can’t begin to imagine what they look like in all their glory. I feel his laugh rumble in his chest before I hear it. I tilt my head as I look up to him.

“Do you enjoy my muscles?” he smiles down at me.

“You’re just so strong.” I whisper as I squeeze his bicep allowing my hands to travel the muscle hidden beneath his sleeves shamelessly.

I gasp as he lifts me into the air as my hands wrap around his neck. He begins to walk towards the main doors while I look over his shoulder and see my father shoot to his feet. He looks to us in confusion and doubt until he sees our path is to exit. He shouts to the guards but it’s too late. I can’t help the excitement and adrenaline that flows through me.

He gets us out of the Keep through a back way I’ve never seen or heard of. Before I know it he’s pulling us on a horse and racing us to the outskirts of the city. I feel the low grumbling of the ground before my feet even touch it as Maegor lifts me back to the ground. My breath escapes me as I behold Balerion.

“Maegor,” I look to him with wide eyes.

“You’ll always be safe when you’re with me.” his words are soft as he begins ushering me over to the rope to climb his massive dragon.

He climbs directly behind of me which offers me some semblance of comfort. As I reach the saddle my head spins as I look down. Maegor settles behind me and quickly grabs the reins. Balerion rises to his full height as I tremble in his arms. He begins to break into a run as we start to take flight.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

We are soon circling Dragonstone as Balerion lets out a fearsome growl. As he descends on the rocky shore some of them begin shaking in his presence. Once we settle I soon realize he wasn’t just shaking the ground, he was waking Vhagar. Gods these dragons make the Red Keep look like a cottage.

Once we make it to the sands he grabs my hand and we begin our walk into the castle. As we make it to the main doors I begin to make out the image of Visenya. She smiles to me but glares to Maegor.

“What have you done, you fool?” she looks to him.

“Found a bride. You told me I should marry and secure my line.” he shrugs as I gape at him.

“It seems as if this is the first time your bride is hearing of this.” he replies curtly.

“Well I planned to woo her with my tongue for a couple of hours before I asked.” his words cause a blush to creep up my neck.

“Must you be so foul?” Visenya scoffs at him. “What is your plan for when Aenys comes to get her?” he raises her eyebrows.

“He’d be a fool to face me. We will be wed on the morrow. He can’t take my wife away from me.” he pulls me closer to his side.

My head is spinning with this discussion. I feel as if I don’t have a say in the matter but I’m not upset at the outcome. I worry for what my father and mother will think but they’ve been asking me to marry for years. I shake my head trying to bring myself back to the present as Maegor begins pulling me into the castle.

He rushes us up the stairs and seals us behind a set of double doors. He turns and stalks over to me grabbing at my waist and pulling me to him. He looks down to me as his hands move to the back of my gown.

“Do not rip this gown Maegor. It took almost a moon to make.” I try to make my voice sound firm.

“Mm,” his fingers begin to slowly unlace the back of my gown.

His fingers ghost along my back as he loosens the gown. He steps back and pushes the gown down my shoulders causing it to pool around my feet. I’m left in my silk slip and I begin to feel as if I’m left in nothing by the way he’s looking at me. One of his hands goes to my hair and pulls the ribbon out causing my hair to cascade down my back.

“Do you always match your hair piece with your slip?” he asks lowly as he trails the ribbon along my arm.

I shake my head not trusting my words as I shiver under his touch. His hand travels back down to my waist and splays across my bare thigh. I look up to him with low lids as his hand begins to move to my inner thighs. I grab on tightly to his arm as he trails a finger along my slit. My breaths come out in pants as he continues his journey through my wetness.

“On the bed.” he looks down to me as he removes his hands.

I compose myself enough to turn and walk to the bed. I crawl to the middle of the bed and lay on my back as he begins to crawl over me. His hand trails up my body with my ribbon following. He dips down and when I think he’s finally about to kiss me he whispers into my ear.

“Hands above your head.” I whimper at his words and do as I’m told.

He brings my ribbon up to my wrists and secures them to the headboard before he rises above me. He looks at me with a sinister smirk and I clench my thighs in anticipation. He hums as he looks at me completely at his will. He stalks around the bed looking at me before he settles next to me.

His hands trail up my bare leg as he lifts my slip with his hands and bunches it up above my breasts. He groans as he takes in my body and his hands begin to travel over every inch of skin. My eyes shut as his hands continue to snake around my body pulling soft whines from me.

“Maegor,” his name falls from my mouth as he pinches one of my nipples between his rough fingers.

“Mm, you like a little pain?” he coos as his other hand cups my other breast roughly.

A moan tears through me as I squeeze my legs shut. He chuckles lowly as I begin to feel his beard across my chest as he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth. My chest arches up into his mouth as his teeth tease my sensitive bud.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun.” he says arrogantly as he blows on my nipple.

He trails sloppy kisses down my torso and begins to pepper kisses along my hips. My hips jerk up as his tongue begins to dance on my hot skin. He spreads my thighs and groans as he’s greeted by my wet core. He dives down and his tongue begins to lap at my clit. My hands tug at the headboard causing it to groan as he chuckles into me.

My hips grind against his face seeking more pleasure until his hands land on my hips stilling me. He attacks my clit with his tongue as a moan tears through me as pleasure bursts through my body. He looks up to me from between my thighs licking his lips.

My chest is rapidly rising and falling between us and he dips back down to my sensitive core. He offers soft licks at my clit sending jolts through my body as he teases a finger at my entrance. He slowly pushes a thick finger into me ripping a moan from my lips.

“Maegor, please,” I whine as he slowly starts to pump his finger slowly.

His tongue swirls against my clit as his finger starts a fast rhythm. My thighs try to close around his head again but this time he ignores it as he focuses on my pleasure. As my whimpers fall faster he slowly starts to add a second finger. I cry out as I clench around his fingers and allow him to pull pleasure from my body.

His name is the only word that falls from my lips as I come undone around his fingers. He continues pumping into me as my legs quake around him. He pulls back and hoovers above me with a wet beard. My legs shut once he rises off the bed and I look to him with low lids.

“You will be my wife.” It is a statement as he pulls off his shirt.

“Yes,” I nod still trying to catch my breath as I drink in his bare chest and the muscles that he’s showing off.

“Say it.” he says lowly as he begins to unlace his trousers.

“I will be your wife.” my voice unwavering.

He pushes his trousers the rest of the way down and crawls above me on the bed. His hands spread open my thighs once more as he settles between them. I gasp as I feel him glide through my wetness. He dips down and I crane my neck hoping to finally kiss him. He smiles and pulls back much to my frustration.

“Maegor,” I whine.

“Yes?” he chuckles as he kisses across my chest and makes his way to my neck.

“Untie me, please, I want to touch you.” my voice needy as I arch my body into his.

“Since you asked so nicely.” he sucks on my neck as he slowly unties my wrists.

My hands fly to his bare skin caressing and feeling every muscle I can reach. His hips slowly rock into mine causing him to slide against my clit. My nails dig into his shoulder as he bites down onto my neck. He raises his head above mine and I move my hands to his neck to hopefully pull him down into a kiss.

The second his lips touch mine I melt into him completely. My fingers travel to his short locks as I pull him closer to me. Maegor groans as he slowly begins to push into me as a sigh falls from my lips. I’ve never felt this full before. He looks down at me with a furrowed brow and I can tell he’s holding back until I can fully adjust. Once it becomes tolerable I move my hips and he snaps his back into mine.

His pace is brutal that has my eyes rolling into the back of my head. Moans and whimpers fall from my lips as he pounds into me seeking pleasure. His lips find mine again and his tongue begins to lash against mine. He pulls back and looks at my face as his fingers begin to circle my clit.

“Maegor, Maegor please,” I sob as I come around him while he continues to push into me.

His lips crash to mine roughly as his hips repeatedly snap into mine. His teeth catch my bottom lip as I cry out. My fingers claw at his arms for support as he continues to pull pleasure from me. His trusts become sloppy as his fingers make their way back to my clit again. My vision blurs as I explode around him once more. He settles deep in me as I feel him begin to fill me.

“So fucking good for me. My perfect Princess.” he grunts as he continues to grind his hips into mine.

“My husband,” my words barely audible as I continue to cling to him.

He flips us over remaining in me saying he wants to be as close as possible. My body and mind too tired, I simply let my eyes flutter shut as I drift off to sleep.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌

[overnowsfcb]

even if they talk; trent alexander-arnold smau

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x nepobaby knowles!model!reader

face claim: taylor russell

summary: people will criticize everything, but there is someone who will never fail you, and that was trent.

warnings: mostly fluff, angst (bit of hate and critics towards reader).

note: this is my first smau i hope it's not too bad! i would love to hear your thoughts or suggestions, also requests are open! — venus 🫂💐🫧

INSTAGRAM!

liked by ynknowles, virgilvandijk and 1,199,023 others

trentarnold66 🤷🏽‍♂️

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user1 the best out there

user2 unreal 🔥🔥🔥

user3 let's go reds!

ynknowles congrats! is there some secret routine helping you before the game to be that amazing? 🤔

↪trentarnold66 Maybe.. But I can't share any details here 🤫

↪user4 ARE WE MISSING SOMETHING????

↪user5 whats so interesting??? share with the class????

user6 yn and trent interacting??? i- wow

↪user7 if i hadnt seen it with my own eyes id say everyones tripping

user8 are they implying something or is just me

↪user9 I THOUGHT EXACTLY THE SAME

user10 YOU BETTER EXPLAIN YOURSELF ynknowles

user11 LET HER COOK

↪user12 girl i think they've already had a feast

user13 wtf is yn doing here

↪user14 she ruins everything good

user15 i hope trent doesnt distract w this... cant even say it

↪user16 yeah we know what she did to her exes so...

↪user17 put some respect on beyoncé's daughter's name and inform yourself before talking, mind you

NEWS!

comments

user trent can do so much better than yn. she just wants to stay relevant

user shes using trent because she has no talents to show

user i've heard rumors about how yn's exes have ended. trent, watch your back, my man.

↪user you talk as if she murdered them??? plus she never did anything to any of her exes you're just talking bc it's free

user i just hope that trent can open his eyes asap

user what a disappointment from trent. i thought he was better than dating a spoiled kid with too much time and money in her hands

user y'all are just jealous that she has what many desire 1. money 2. fame 3. beauty 4. trent's dick

user why is everyone jumping to conclusions though? we should give them the space to tell us whenever they feel ready

user i love how haters act like they know everything about yn's life and they dont know shit

TWITTER!

INSTAGRAM!

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ynknowles paris you are the vibes ⭐️ so damn proud of my little blue and this mind-blowing tour, i love you momma beyonce !

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beyonce Love you endlessly, my angel. You know how much your support means to Blue. 💙

bellahadid Prettiest fairy in the world.

troyesivan mmm alright??? why are you so perfect???

user18 no trent here though 🤷‍♀️

user19 this is the confirmation about how yn just uses trent

user20 ugh. i hate these nepobabies who think the world revolves around them

ynknowles has restricted the comments for this post

TWITTER!

INSTAGRAM!

liked by ynfan34, trentfan78 and 18,905 others

ynknowlesupdates Yn Knowles in Anfield today with friends! This is the first time we've seen her in public in three months.

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user1 i cant stand her 😒 smile or smth if youre gonna see your "boyfriend"

↪ ynfan1 if you cant stand her then poke your eyes with a spoon and dont bother 😁

ynfan2 omg this will be the first match that she attends. i hope she enjoys it!!!! (win please)

ynfan3 I MISSED HER SO MUCH IM GLAD SHES WELL

ynfan4 baby looks tired of people taking pics of her 😕 i wanna hug her

↪user2 but shes there for that??? she loves attention

↪ynfan5 or maybe just MAYBE she wants to support her boyfriend??

ynfan6 TODAY I WAS MISSING HER MORE THAN ANYTHING SHE LOVES ME

trentfan1 WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE DOING THERE?? i though we had gotten rid of her 😩

user4 if we lose today you know who is to blame...

trenfan2 over and over again i will repeat it until trent leaves her, shes with him for fame

↪ynfan7 yeah cause trent is soooo worried about what you think right???

user5 i bet shes there just for the cameras

trentfan3 yn trying to be a wag is so cute and laughable. she doesnt even measure up to the real ones.

↪user6 ikr? shes trying so hard poor girl

trentfan4 the fact that she goes with her friends 💀💀 i bet no wag would want to be seen with her

INSTAGRAM!

trentarnold66 Just clever people can handle how flawless my queen is. Happy first anniversary, my love. I love you madly, always. No need to demonstrate anything on social media when we're tellin' each other how much we love at every hour. ❤️

tagged: ynknowles

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ynknowles i love love love you so fucking much you dont have an idea

↪trentarnold66 i love you more more more than you could imagine

ynknowles thank you for being the most perfect man ive ever known t ❤️❤️❤️❤️

↪trentarnold66 i just try my best to be on your level, lovely

beyonce You are such a gentleman, Trent! Grateful for the way you take care of my angel.

liked by trentarnold66, ynknowles and 21,234 others

ynfan8 A YEAR??? BUT IF WE FOUND OUT FOUR MONTHS AGO

↪trentfan5 i feel so stupid how did they hide it so well 😦😦

trentfan6 shut them up trent

trentfan7 THATS A GOOD MAN!!!! men just take notes rn

bellahadid Thank you for taking care of the purest woman in this world, Trent 💖

ynfan9 not bee and bella thanking him 🥺🥺

↪trentfan8 im gonna cry he must be so cute

↪ynfan10 no bc she surely spent some tough months with the hate towards her and he sure was the supportive boyfriend as he should 😭😭

trentfan9 WHY NO ONES TALKING ABOUT THE BATMAN KEYCHAINS???

↪ynfan11 nonononooooo i love them best couple in the world

ynfan12 the pics he takes of her, the caption, everything 😪😪😪 god send me a man like that

trentfan10 the people who said they were going too fast must be regretting it 🤭

ynfan13 im afraid we'll find out they have kids when they're in uni, lmao. happy anniversary you two!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[frankcastleonlyfans]

Hi! Darling, I was wondering if you can make a fic or oneshot where in mom!reader is like eating her pregnancy cravings and dad!daemon like doing everything he can to make pregnancy cravings requests possible and mom!reader is like i want a roasted chicken or barbecue but it has to be cooked by a dragon fire and dad!daemon is like casually requesting caraxes to make fire or cook the chicken or any meat his holding out in front of caraxes to cook it and the guards, dragon keepers and servants are like wtf 😶 because this man is doing everything his lady pregnant wife is requesting! 😂🖤 and also like the mom!reader is like near daemon waiting and excitedly watching because she is excited too eat the roasted meat! 😋🍖🖤 sorry for the long request is fine if you can't make it i enjoy and love the fics you make! 🖤🖤🖤

𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

pairing: dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader

warnings: just fluff this time, lots and lots of fluff

author's note: hi nonnie, my love!!! i'm so sorry, i tried to make a drabble out of it, but i couldn't write it so i did this headcanon. i hope you still enjoy :( <3

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

dad!daemon x mom!reader au masterlist

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

During your late pregnancy, you had some weird cravings.

And Daemon, like a good husband, got for you everything you wished for.

So when you craved boar stew, Daemon had to hunt a wild boar just for you.

And when you wished for oysters, but the ones from the coast of Dragonstone, he got it for you.

And when you pratically cried for a huge and spicy mutton, Daemon was there, cutting it in pieces to feed you.

But this time, you woke up with the strangest of wishes.

"Daemon." You called in his ear, stirring him awake, "Daemon, I'm craving roasted pork."

He opened his eyes and stared at you. He wanted to whine for being ripped out of his dreamland, but you were looking at him with your pouty lips and huge begging eyes.

"What's the catch this time?" Daemon questioned.

"...roasted in dragonfire." You murmured in the crook of his neck, hiding your face as he chuckled.

"I can't believe I am actually doing this."

That's how you both ended up inside the dragonpit in the early morning. Daemon requested for a huge pig to be brought, and asked someone to bring him Caraxes.

You gave little jumps excitedly, mostly for the food, but also because the whole situation was so funny.

The dragon keepers brought Caraxes, and stared at you both like you were crazy.

And the pig couldn't stop screaming.

"Hello, boy." You smiled as the dragon stretched its huge neck and leaned its muzzle on you.

"C'mon boy, make me a roast!" You clapped as the dragon turned towards the swine.

"Caraxes, stop snuggling with Y/N and please just burn the pig." Daemon pinched the bridge of his nose, watching you play with the huge animal.

"Dracarys." Daemon commanded, and the dragon spilled his fire so fast that the pig could not react. It was so hot and quick that was painless.

The pig was still in his feet, burned on the outside and deliciously cooked on the inside.

"Ooh, good boy Caraxes!" You praised, hugging his warm muzzle. He huffled in your body.

"Don't I get a hug after all this?" Daemon pouted.

You walked towards Daemon and kissed him sweetly, making the guards and dragon keepers turn around to give you privacy.

"Now, you get a kiss. After I feast in that pork, you get the whole meal." You smirked, biting his lip.

[flyingcatstiel]

I’m currently reading superbat fics (sorry, destiel, stony and dinluke, I’ll get back to you some day) and I’m having great time with commenting and authors replying to me. It’s a whole new fandom experience when I can read fics just for personal enjoyment, without planning fic rec lists. So much easier to comment, wtf. Anyways, I’m following 4 superbat identity p*rn fics right now, and it’s glorious. What a feast. My favorite trope, so many interesting ways to explore it. Happy holidays to all superbat writers but especially those 4 WIP writers🎄

ETA - here be some recs

ETA, March 2024 - HERE BE SOME UPDATES!

@pinkb00bsocks asked about those 4 WIPs. Here they are! The usual disclaimer - there are plenty of excellent superbat WIPs going on right now, but I've limited spoons and these are the ones I currently enjoy.

The World and All Its Hedgehogs by Ginevra_Benci [M. 8,007 word count, WIP, 4/?] To investigate illegal arms sale taking place at a tropical resort hotel, Batman goes under cover as a vacuous billionaire Brucie Wayne and Superman takes a part time job as a porter. They didn't coordinate this, they don't know each others civilian identities. Every time they talk there are at least 3 different conversations going on and it is glorious. Also, so much lust. ;)

(Also, check out Interviewing & Counceling series by the same author. Clark is having a superhero identity crisis and Bruce is there to catch Clark gently as he spirals down. It has one of the softest identity reveals in superbat fics. ETA - the series is now complete, it has 5 parts and 18k word count. Awesome ending to the softest identity reveal story)

Watching Our Stars Align by ClarkeStetler [M, 28,840 word count, WIP, 7/14] There's a dating/chatting app only for superheroes and all identities are secret. What could go wrong? Bruce and Clark get matched under their new pseuds, and same happens to Tim Drake and Conner Kent. Now fathers and sons gotta navigate complicated relationships that come with secret identities and judging your coworkers hastily while talking heart to heart to anonymous superhero. The identity porn part happens through DM, which just happens to be another favorite trope of mine. [The story is going strong, it has 10/14 chapters now and a wonderful tangle of 3 secret identities!]

(Love) Triangles Have Multiple Centers by frozenpotions [T, 27,281 word count, WIP, 4/10] This fic wastes no time getting playboy billionaire Brucie Wayne and pining-after-his-coworker journalist Clark Kent together. After that, first time uneasy partners Batman and Superman gotta solve a case and their civilian selves gotta deal with the realities of their one night stand. Complicated doesn't even cover it! [The fic is being updated and Clark and Bruce are being put through new trials, 6/10 chapters]

A Favor for a Friend by RedFive [Explicit, 18,286 word count, WIP, 4/7] Omega verse fic with alpha playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne and omega journalist Clark Kent. I'm fascinated by dominant, flirtatious, sexually ravenous alpha Brucie Wayne who moonlights as a stoic, covered in scent blockers thus unclear second gender, Batman. Meanwhile omega Clark, due to being Kryptonian, is much less ruled by his second gender. That is, until he meets Mr. Wayne. This fic has so much lust and tension between the two. Does accidental heat triggering counts as a soulmate mark? I'm gonna count it like that. [The fic has entered the finish line, only a chapter or two are left to finish this wild, explosive, life changing story of two people who were meant for each other. 8/? chapters, 44k word count] The fic is now complete!!! 9 chapters, 56,153 word count. (Also, there's this new TV show about two gay dudes, and istg, they look like Bruce and Clark from this fic. I'm not naming it here because I don't want to highjack the show tag with superbat post, but go and check the tag on tumblr)

*****

And a special shout out to two identity shenanigan WIPs that are not actively updating but are absolute must reads.

ship-to-ship combat by pomeloquat [M, 62,737 word count, WIP, 12/13] OK, so, for me personally, this is the ultimate identity p*rn fic across all fandoms I've read so far. This fic has one of the highest amount of secret identity pairs in superbat fics. There's the usual pining silently Batman/Superman, then there's Clark dating Bruce, Superman saving Bruce Wayne from peril, Clark Kent chatting with Batman. And the cherry on top is Clark writing Bruceman fanfic which is basically a RPF of his two friends, Batman and Bruce Wayne. Which leads to an internet friendship with a fellow fan, who is, you guessed, Bruce. This fic has great reflections on fandom and shipping culture. But the very beating heart of this fic is about how easy it is to lose something you wished to have but were afraid to ask for. The fic, at 12/13, is technically a WIP, but the main reveal is already done, and it is glorious. ETA - THIS IS NOT A DRILL, the fic is finished and the last chapter is a super meta cherry on a top of delicious, layered superhero identity and fandom shenanigans parfait. 13 chapters, 76,7k word count.

10 Things Every Brucie Fan Needs in Their Life by pomeloquat [T, 8,956 word count, WIP, 5/10] The main premise of this fic is hilarious and yet so, so right. Bruce Wayne is promoting himself as a nation's boyfriend instead of a playboy, and is making bank out of his wholesome, PG rated merchandise. The chapters of this fic tell continuous story but they also can be read as separate vignettes, so there's really no cliffhanger. This fic is so soft and fluffy, it will heal your soul. Also, Superman has celebrity crush on Bruce Wayne. Batman is amused.

[sanjisblackasswife]

hiii! I saw that you already did dad headcanons, but I was wondering how you think those same boys would react to hearing the news about their s/o being pregnant. And how would they break it to the crew?

A/N: OP Boys As Daddies Here! Enjoy!

Next part will have Cora and Law <3

Monster Trio React to Their S/O Being Pregnant (SFW)

Cw: VERY SLIGHT mentions of abortion

Black Fem Reader in Mind

Ft., Luffy, Zoro, Sanji

Sanji

I mean it was bound to happen.

Not saying Sanji has a breeding kink, but he has a breeding kink. He got with you and just didn’t know wtf pull out meant.

Plus he does not believe in condoms.

But none the less Sanji would be a treat to tell

It was after dinner and you and Sanji were talking as he cleaned and you wanted to let him know gently because he was a very dramatic man.

“Ji… how do you feel about kids?”

He answers you with glee, he loves kids, he always wanted to have a little family of his own with you once you all achieve your goals. It actually ends up calming the nerves you began to have.

You kept asking baby questions and eventually he turned around and caught on.

“Y/N…”

“Hm?”

“Y/n….what are you trynna tell me…”

“….”

“…”

“I am pr—-“

The words didn’t even come out of your mouth yet his eyes lit up like a light and he grabbed you tightly crying on your shoulder not even believing you at first until you brought him the pregnancy test.

He still has it btw.

Sanji somehow had a suspicion you were pregnant. He knows your body better than yourself, so even though he cried a little he was happy that his assumptions were correct.

You both didn’t even sleep that night, you just kept talking about your future. You had to hold him to keep him still he just couldnt stop jumping around

As for how you both announced the pregnancy he wanted to tell everybody at breakfast so he made a feast. When Robin asked what the occasion was he grabbed you by the hand and told everyone.

“Y/N and I….are pregnant.” :)

Luffy: Men can’t get pregnant…

“LUFFY!”

None the less it was super sweet and honestly you becoming pregnant changed him in a pleather of ways.

He became more mature, protective, vigilant, calm, and even slowed down on his simping for other women. Because now that you have his baby inside you

You both are his only focus now.

Zoro

He didn’t believe you but Chopper was the one to tell you both actually which was really cute because they both nearly fainted.

Also He actually doesn’t understand how you could have gotten pregnant

“UM???? YOU CUM IN ME EACH TIME?!”

“Yeah, but i thought after you take a shower it all comes out.”

Bless him

Though his reaction is a bit …delayed best believe he does become happy.

Shocked, but happy.

He will respect your decision whether you want to keep the baby or not but deep inside he hopes you keep it

But thank God you do!

You actually caught him doing that and teased him all day.

He becomes a damn menace though.

He steals parenting books from the library and reads them after training. Even though he acts like having a baby isnt a big deal he is internally panicking.

He wants the best for both you and the baby and it shows in the most annoying way though.

He doesnt even tell the crew yet because he believes them knowing would stress you out

However Zoro is doing that all alone himself

“What are you doing?”

“I cant get up?”

“Its not good for the baby!”

“….i have to pee….AND IM LIKE 2 WEEKS PREGNANT AND IT IS???”

The crew found out because Zoro was upset

You and Zo are known for drinking together alot but of course you stopped and plenty of people began to notice everytime you turned down a drink.

You were sitting on Zo’s lap by the fire with everyone and even Luffy was drinking except you.

“Y/N are you sick? Why arent you drinking?”

“She cant.”

“Why?”

“Because i said so, Luffy.”

“Youre not the boss of Y/N she can drink if she wanna—“

“SHE CAN’T IT’S NOT GOOD FOR THE BABY!”

Cue in the dramatics.

Zoro to this day slaps his head thinking about how harshly he made sure YOU and Chopper won’t spill but he ended up doing it himself.

But his worries were diminished realizing the amount of well support you both got from the crew since then.

Zoro puts your safety above his every single time and actually gets mad when you don’t listen.

He takes more care of hisself and he isn’t too reckless when he is fighting. For the first time in his life he knew his life was worth taking care of for his future family.

Luffy

Doesn’t get it, but he is a good sport

When you and Chopper tell him he just can’t understand???

“Who’s baby is it?”

“YOURS OBVIOUSLY!?”

“I thought you said if i pull out you wouldn’t get—“

“PULLING OUT BEFORE You ejaculate not AFTER—“

Not until you’re about 2 maybe 3 months and showing is when he finally registers he is going to be a dad.

Every month up until then he looks at you and wonders why you don’t drink, fight, or any thing that you usually do until FINALLY Law explains it to him like he’s 5.

Now that he is up to speed about you being pregnant he suddenly becomes pregnant?

You got cravings? So do Luffy.

You want cake and tacos at 2am

Bless Sanji heart because Luffy do too

He actually ends up gaining a little bit of weight but it wasn’t even noticeable really, he trains too the rubber man really just bulked up

Luffy was showing his concern of being a father to Robin alot. He didn’t want to worry you in thinking he didn’t want the kid especially if you were willing to rid of the baby if he suggested.

Overrall during pregnancy he intrust the crew to watch over you when he leaves. He has complete trust to make sure you are okay and well and healthy.

A few cute things is he will have some moments where he stretches out his belly to bump yours, talk to the baby, sing to it, and even place his hat on your tummy always reminding him or her that their daddy will be the king of the pirates.

You honestly believe you having this baby has matured him in ways you didn’t think was possible.

[neophytepagan]

Do you think Caesar would secretly enjoy Vampire Arcade feasting and eating to the point he makes in mandatory for a healthy soldiers to donate blood.

And since vampire are weak to sun, perhaps he enjoy having Arcade dependant on him during the day (or even threatening him to expose Arcade to the sun)

caesar using arcade as a new propaganda tool, like, hes a strix or blessed by nox or mors or something like that. and hell devour your soul if you defy caesar. and caesar uses arcade as his ethical execution method. 0% waste. arcades vampire venom numbs them so they cant feel anything as he drains them to death. but he makes other people watch arcade tear the guy apart as a deterring tactic.

and "why doesnt arcade just eat caesar" is a reoccurring thought. i think logically arcade wants to but he has no one else who can help him or is even willing to. and heres caesar gladly feeding him and harboring him and helping him figure out wtf is going on with his body. i also like the idea that arcade accidentally makes caesar his thrall by consuming a little bit of his blood, so caesar is HIS vampiric servant but neither of them really realize it. Caesar definitely likes how dependant arcade is on him tho

[rosewaterandivy]

Through Me Prequel - i. the hanged man

Summary: Steve may be slow on the draw, but hand to god, he's sure there's something ... off about you. Or, the three times Steve was a witness and the one time he wishes he wasn't.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader, eventual Steddie x fem!reader in the series

WC: 5.2K

Warnings/Themes: cursing, criticism of religion (catholicism/xtiantiy mostly), religious themes, canon-typical violence, death, idolatry via smut, blasphemy, heretical notions, angst, occasional fluff (as a treat), Biblical & western literary canon and media references/allusions

A/N: This is the first of three prequels centering on the three main characters. If you're up on your tarot know-how, you can glean some info from the banner, etc. 👀 Special shout out to my beloved Jo (@jo-harrington) for looking this over way back when! If you haven't checked out As Above, So Below, wtf are you even doing with your life!?

Please do not interact if you aren't 18+.

Nota bene: Reblogging, commenting, and liking my work is always appreciated; reposting, however, is not. This (*) is a singal to check the footnote at the end!

Enjoy! 💜

Masterlist | Playlist | Currently Spinning:

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"I don't care how many angels can fit on the head of a pin. It's enough to know that for some people they exist, and that they dance."

— Mary Oliver, "Angels"

Wednesday, November 9, 1983

You first meet Steve Harrington on a cold day in early November. A feast day, memorializing one basilica or another according to your latest missive— it was hard to keep track, much less whether it was one to be observed. 

A shrill ring from the phone in the motel room, this side of too loud and unfortunately, it’s enough to rouse you. 

“What?”

“We have some concerns regarding a small Midwestern town, Hawkins, Indiana.”

Blearily you sit up, “Yeah?”

“Just a drive-by should suffice.”

A sigh, “Got anything else for me?”

The voice paused, as if annoyed by your tone. “We’ll be in touch, as always.”

The sound of the dial tone did nothing to elevate your mood. While presently not on a mission, you bided your time by locating relics and artifacts for future use. Yesterday’s attempt turned out to be more burden than boon— not only was the pawnshop owner a shyster but a gun-for-hire. So, no relic to be had and you had to disarm the guy, what a waste.

Luckily, Hawkins was only four hours drive from Lebanon and sounded like a pretty easy day. 

But no one bothered to tell you that a boy and teenage girl were missing.

Driving down main street, the town seemed fairly normal. But the gooseflesh running up your arms and legs told a different story. As did the telltale scent of bleach in the air, signaling the presence of some high-voltage electrical discharge— ozone.

Flipping on your police scanner, you were able to glean the address of a witness and potential suspect. Consulting the map on the passenger seat, you turn off the main drag and head toward the outskirts of town. 

In the driveway, there are two vehicles, one black sedan and one maroon BMW. Parking in front of the house, you grab a pen and a notebook along with a badge. After checking your hair briefly in the side-view mirror, you pull on a trench coat and knot it at the waist.

Walking up the pavement, you note the police tape against the double-doors and tire treads from other vehicles. Based on the number, you’d have to guess a party of some kind was thrown the night before. 

Three quick raps on the door.

“Police, open up!”

A harried, but well-kept woman opens the door. “Yes, can I help you?” She asks politely, with a slight tremor in her voice.

“Are you Mrs. Harrington?” She nods. “Very well ma’am. I’m Detective Constantine with Hawkins P.D. May I come inside?” You display your badge for her viewing.

Another voice sounds out from the house, perturbed. “Tell her to come back with a warrant.”

The woman’s eyes blow wide, hesitant to refuse her husband. Her mouth opens to explain.

You sigh, pocketing the badge and raise your voice. “Sir, considering that a girl went missing here on your property last night, I am well within my rights to search your home without a warrant.” You smile, trying your best to remain civil. “But I am more than happy to radio the Chief from my car to relay your sentiments.”

The sound of shuffling papers and a creak from an old office chair. The door opens wider, revealing a man, Mr. Harrington, bags under his eyes and tie loose around his neck. 

“I assure you, that won’t be necessary,” He says with a tight-lipped smile and opens the door wider.

With a nod, you enter, notebook out and pen ready. Assessing the home, you take a few cursory notes. Walking from the foyer to the living room, through the dining room and out onto the patio you stop— a young man in a pool chair grabbing your attention.

He looks dazed, staring at the covered pool. Legs pulled to his chest and chin resting on the tops of his knees. Dressed in a teal sweatshirt, sweatpants and socks you wonder how he isn’t shivering from the cold. 

In an attempt to gently alert him of your presence, you softly clear your throat. His head jerks upward quickly, panicked eyes locked on you. “It’s okay,” you say, sitting on a chair to his left. “I’m just here to ask you some questions.”

He nods slowly, eyes never leaving you. A dull buzzing rattling in his chest. 

Briefly consulting your notes, you lick your lips. “It’s Steve, right?”

“Y-yeah, Steve Harrington.”

“Great!” You smile and nod. “I’m Detective Constantine. Can you tell me about the party last night?”

He nods gaze fixed on you, on the hazy glow that seems to encircle your head; he blinks and scrubs a hand down his face; the image gone. “It was just a small thing, me, Tommy Hagan, Carol Perkins, and Nancy Wheeler.”

“And the missing girl?”

“Right, Barb Holland. Nance invited her.”

“Nancy Wheeler, she’s your girlfriend?”

Another nod. 

“Did you notice anything odd about Barb or anyone else last night?”

“No, not really. She didn’t, uh, seem to want to be here.” He frowns, brows furrowing, a slight tremor runs through him, from the cold or the shock, who’s to say?

 “I think she cut her hand opening a beer, maybe?” 

Jotting down a few more notes, you nod. “But didn’t make a call or say anything about making plans to leave?”

“No.”

“Did you hear anything?”

“Nance and I went inside, Barb stayed out by the pool. Didn’t hear anything from upstairs.”

Glancing up from your notes, you pause. Steve’s warmed up to you during the brief conversation, legs crossed in front of him instead of drawn to his chest. He looks tired, looks scared.

“Your room, I presume.”

He blushes at that, nods. Takes a tense breath in, inhaling the tangy scent and taste of newly forged metal - sharp and pure at the back of his throat.

“Can you point to where you last saw Barb?”

He does so, drawing your eyes to the far lip of the pool where the Harrington lot backs into the woods. There’s a tinge of ozone in the air, albeit fading, and a tang of copper. That’s to be expected from a cut on the hand, but the electrical discharge—

“There wasn’t a storm last night? Lightning or anything like that?”

Steve shakes his head, opens his mouth to say something when the sliding door opens. 

“He wants a lawyer!” Mr. Harrington shouts, “Steve, I told you to request a lawyer before speaking with the cops.”

Steve rolls his eyes and turns back toward the house, “It’s fine, dad.”

Before Mr. Harrington can get his panties in a twist, you decide to take your leave. Standing, you pocket your notebook with one hand and place the pen behind your ear with the other. Extending a hand toward Steve, you smile. 

“Thanks for your cooperation Steve.”

His hand clasps yours—warm and oddly familiar. “You’re welcome, I’m happy to help.”

Cocking your head, your eyes narrow to where your hand meets his. The feeling subsides, quelling any suspicions you may have had. 

“Mr. Harrington.” You drop Steve’s hand and nod to his father, “The precinct will be in touch should there be any further questions. Your patience and cooperation are appreciated.”

And with a turn of your heel, you walk away.

A few hours later, there’s another knock at the door.

Steve answers it, waking from a nap on the couch. Eyes slowly opening, mouth like dried cotton. 

The advil he’d swallowed earlier clearly did nothing to alleviate his headache, and the nap proved less than helpful. 

At least the buzzing had died down. The newfound shortness of breath, however, had lingered.

He pulls the door open with a huff to reveal none other than Chief Hopper and his deputy.

“Afternoon, Steve,” he greets, eyes scanning the entryway. “Your parents home?”

Steve shakes his head, rubs the sleep from his eyes. “A detective already stopped by, earlier today.”

Hopper’s lips pull tight. “Huh.” He nods to the deputy and they leave to assess the scene, “Well, s’it alright if was take a look around here?”

He sighs, growing weary. “Yeah, sure.”

“Get some rest kid,” the Chief says and turns on his heel to go.

Steve shuts the door and drags himself upstairs. Falls face-first into bed with hopes to sleep off his headache and exhaustion.

Doesn’t hear the phone ring or Nancy leave a message.

In fact, he sleeps for three days. Specters of light dancing behind the darkness of his eyelids, and wakes with dried blood in his ears.

Sunday, January 1, 1984

He recognizes the buzzing first, the reverberation lodged somewhere behind his ribs. Knows the headache is likely to follow and shoves his sunglasses on, as if that could possibly help.

Steve’s idling in the parking lot of St. Mary’s waiting for Nancy while she attends Mass. Something about a feast for Mary or the circumcision of the Christ-child, he stopped listening and looped the curls of the telephone cord around his finger.

Parents already gone after the Christmas holiday, never staying longer than necessary.

He’d hemmed and hawed at all the right parts, while scanning through the paper for showtimes. Circled Scarface— as if she’d see that, Silkwood— a maybe, if he’s being honest, and finally Terms of Endearment— god help him.

And now, it was 30 minutes to showtime, and she was running late. 

In the distance, he sees a bright flash of light. Hears the rattle and hum that follows.

Soon after, a black impala pulls into the parking lot. Correction, a smoking impala peels into the lot, sliding into a nearby parking spot expertly.

Well, that's new.

He watches as you exit the vehicle, slowly, casually, not with haste. Brushing the plumes of gray smoke aside flippantly, as if it wasn't cause for concern. A pair of sunglasses affixed to your face, frames and lenses dark resting on your nose and cheekbones. 

A tiny lift of your crimson mouth is all it takes to send the blood rushing to his head. You nod in greeting to the congregants as they exit the church, as they shake hands with the priest and visit in the narthex. 

You share a look with the priest, meaningful and urgent.

A tingling sensation as Nancy opens the door and slides into the passenger seat.

“Sorry about that.” She leans over to kiss him on the cheek, but Steve can’t stop staring at you.

Thank god for sunglasses.

“You okay?” Her voice is tinged with concern.

“Yeah, fine.” He says absently, shifting the car into gear, “Thought I was getting a headache but—”

“Another one?”

Steve sucks his teeth, he really doesn’t want to have this conversation again. “It’s not a big deal Nance.”

The tension in his neck and shoulders alleviated, a dull roar in his ears. 

Pulling out of the parking lot, they pass where you’ve parked. His sunglasses slip minutely, just enough for him to glance at you over the bridge of them.

Catching his eye, you send a redolent wink in response.

“Do you know her?”

He clears his throat, letting the pedestrians pass by. “Uh, maybe?” 

Nancy turns quickly, hazarding a glance, licks her lips while Steve clenches his jaw.

“Wow,” She breathes. “She’s—”

Steve speeds out of the parking lot like a bat outta hell. And Nancy never got to complete that thought.

Saturday, November 3, 1984

He doesn’t see you again that year, but Nancy does.

Saturday, June 29, 1985

The heat on this bus is oppressive. Offensive, even.

Even more so combined with the sweat 70-odd middle schoolers. The green ringer t-shirt with the unfortunate goldenrod yellow collar wasn’t helping things either. But, if you’d known all the particulars, you wouldn’t have taken the job.

Bagging hellspawn in the wilds of Wisconsin wasn’t worth dealing with a bunch of tweens who were hormonal and struggling to develop something called empathy.

They were mean in a scarily accurate and precise way.

“Okay twerps!” You raise a hand in the air, and count it off, “1, 2, 3, eyes on me!” 

You lean against the back of the seat, facing the kids as their conversations drop to a murmur. Clipboard in hand, you flip through the brightly colored papers before addressing them once more.

“We’ll be coming to our final destination of Hawkins, in a few moments.” You pause to wipe your brow, “Couple of things to keep in mind: take only your stuff and no one else’s. Locate your adult person, parent or guardian, and then…”

You wait as the bus hisses to halt in front of the high school. 

“Hey, sit back down Henderson, I’m not done yet.”

He grouses, crosses his arms and reluctantly sits.

“Right, so you find your adult and then check-out with me. Get it?”

“Got it!” They yell back and then it’s off to the races.

You brace yourself against the onslaught of tweens rushing toward the exit, clipboard clutched to your chest.

After the deluge, you scramble off the sticky plastic seat. “Thanks Larry!” You call to the bus driver and walk down the aisle, making sure no one left anything behind.

A radio crackles to life a few rows ahead of you.

“Dustin? Do you copy? Over.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab the hunk of plastic and thumb the call button. “Uh, roger that. Breaker one-nine. Henderson left his walkie on the bus. Over.”

Static and then.

“Shit.”

Shoving the behemoth in your back pocket, you step off of the bus, clipboard at the ready to check-out the campers.

Swamped with beleaguered kids and frazzled parents demanding medications and prescriptions, and mailing addresses and so forth, that you barley register the crackle and static from the walkie.

“Can you uh—” You wag a finger at an overly eager parent and pry the thing from your pocket. “What?”

“... Are you seriously mad right now?”

“Yes!” You sputter, rolling your eyes at the voice over the radio. “I’m kind of trying to do my job here.”

A laugh. “Funny, I thought you were a detective.”

You pale, a dull roar crashing through your ears. The voice is warm and melodic, slow like honey.

Handing off the clipboard to a junior counselor, you peer across the blacktop. And spy a figure leaning against the hood of a red car wearing black sunglasses. A smaller figure, jumping and waving at you in, of course, green and yellow.

“But then again.” The fuzz of static. “You were getting cozy with the padre, so maybe a change of pace. You a novitiate or just confessing?”

You refrain, with difficulty, from rolling your eyes.

“What’s it to you?”

Dustin whining when it clicks back on, “C’mon man.”

“Dinner.”

A scoff, “You wish.”

“Clearly.”

His response brings you pause, unusually forthright.

Lip pulled between your teeth, you leave him hanging for a minute and mentally sort through all the reasons why you shouldn’t.

Potential murderer - they never did find Barb Holland.

He apparently hangs out with Henderson—too many questions there to unpack there, but mainly: … why?

Already has a girlfriend, Nina… Nicole?

It would distract you from your work, but all work and no play makes you restless, and a little reckless. Speaking of which…

Pressing the call button down, you sigh. “Counter offer. I’ll allow you buy me a late lunch at the diner.”

You remember seeing a payphone somewhere around there and it’s public, so if it goes south you’ll have an easy out; you make plans to befriend the waitress, just in case.

The smugness radiates from his voice. “We have got to work on your negotiation skills.” 

A crackle of static. You make a big show of turning the walkie’s dial off and shoving it back into your pocket before going back to work.

Following the directions he’d sent down with Dustin when he collected his precious walkie-talkie, you pull up to a place called Enzo’s.

Scanning the parking lot, your lips pull into a scowl when you see him.

Ah. There he is. You slam your door shut. That motherfucker.

Grinning like he’s the cat that caught the canary and goddamnit, being that attractive when smug shouldn’t be allowed.

“This isn’t what I agreed to.”

“Huh.” He cocks his head, “You don’t say.”

“What’re you playing at Harrington?”

He shrugs, hands shoved in the pockets of his too-tight jeans. You make the mistake of keeping his hands in your eyeline, looking down as you do so, and audibly gulp at the sight. Those jeans sure are tight, aren't they?

“My eyes are up here.”

You frown, and he laughs. Walks you into the restaurant— holds the door, and pulls out your chair, like a real gentleman.

A waiter quickly stops by, taking drink orders and rattling off the specials. You glace around the dining room, feeling out of place amongst the off-the-shoulder tops and high heels. Crossing your Converse-clad feet on top of one another, you stow them under the table and out of sight.

At least you weren’t wearing the ‘CAMP KNOW WHERE ‘85’ t-shirt and shorts any more.

Small miracles.

“Oh,” You say before the waiter, Kevin, goes to his next table, “Is there a payphone around here? I need to make a quick call.”

“You can use the bar phone,” He points to the bar by the hostess station. “Chris will be happy to help you.”

“Thanks!”

Steve eyes you as you stand up to leave, “Better be local distance or Enzo’ll be mad.”

“Bite me.”

He sips his drink. “Only if you ask nicely.”

With a roll of your eyes you leave him at the table perusing the menu.

Rapping your knuckles on the bar top, you smile as the bar tender approaches. “What can I get you?”

“Kevin said I could make a call from here?”

“Oh, sure.”

He leaves to get the phone and slides it in front of you before assisting another customer. You punch in the 618 area code followed by the all-too familiar number and listen as it trills.

Murray, of course, answers on the final ring.

Asshole.

“Behold!” He crows, “She brings me good tidings of great joy!”

“I hate you.”

He scoffs, “Yeah, yeah. What else is new?”

You turn back to look at Steve, he, annoyingly, waves. You reply in kind, waving your fingers before flipping him off.

“Not cursed? Bloodsick? Howling at the moon?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Still a messianic specter, sorry to report.”

“Sooooo.” You drawl, “This is your way of telling me you’ve got nothing.”

“Uh, huh.”

“And there’s no news.”

“Yep.”

You sigh, resting your forehead against the smooth lacquered wood of the bar. No jobs, no prospects, just great.

“Where are you staying? I’ll give you a ring when I get something interesting.”

You hum and stand back up. “Dunno Murray. Was kinda counting on a job to get me outta this town.”

Chris slides a drink down to you. Tequila, if you had to guess. Down the hatch it goes. You nod in thanks.

“Well, call me when you’re settled. Who knows, a slow summer might do you some good.”

“Ugh.” 

You hang up the phone with a clatter and turn back to the table with a huff.

Under the evening sunlight scattered by a canopy of leaves and panes of glass, he rests his hand on your bare shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly.

Steve shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be as cavalier with his hospitality and his attention. Doesn’t know you from Adam and has already offered up the guest room.

He’s not normally this sloppy. But after things had gone sideways in ‘83 and then gone to shit in ‘84, Steve found himself slipping. Always looking over his shoulder, wondering when you’d blow back into town.

The detective turned nun turned camp counselor (Dustin swore you made the best s’mores) turned… well, whatever this was.

Not such a mystery anymore.

There is heat. There is the frame of his bed cracking. Carpet burns on his knees and back. Damp hairs on the nape of your neck. Bruises and bite marks and scratches all over him and strangely none on you, but not for lack of trying.

When he holds your torso against his, you grip him right back, and the pressure makes him feel like he could snap in half. It is wild and ferocious, tension sparking like a snarling animal ready to pounce.

He doesn’t call you darling or baby or sweetheart because those servile names feel so discourteous to what you actually are (and it’s only an inkling, but if he’s right—). He only pants and grunts and whispers fuck, fuck, fuck like a prayer.

“Don’t hold back on me now, Harrington.” You laugh, licking the sweat dripping down into your mouth. “You’ve always been honest. Go on, tell me what you want.”

He fists your hair from behind, pulls a growl from your throat, tangles his legs between yours as the two of you lie on your sides and goddamn it, he fucks you like he could die tonight. The sound of your ass slapping the smooth plane of his torso rings like a bell through the room. Your fist finds a handful of his hair and wrenches him away. You hold him down and crawl on top with a low chuckle.

“Tell me what you want.”

It’s futile to fight you. You are faster and stronger and beneath you, in the vastness of his own room, you could swallow him whole and he would let it happen.

“I want you.” Steve breathes, raspy and raw, grabbing your shoulders in an attempt to pull you down. You bat him away and lean back instead, propping up on your feet, knees apart, showing him the entirety of your body. Gorgeous. Marble smooth. Hard as granite, but flecked with gold and dappled light.

Steve’s breath hitches in his throat.

You look cold in the way a statue might, but in the center where you are hot and wet, he could devote himself to forever. 

“I want you now.”

With a savage grin gracing the transcendent beauty of your face, you allow him this request. Steve Harrington, merely mortal, succumbs entirely to your touch. His body melts into yours, shudders with reverence for your power and gravity, and he feels like he could burst apart inside of you.

Your breath is all he can hear. Your sweat is all he can taste.

You are ethereal.

And he will worship you to the end of his days.

Thursday, October 31, 1985

The bells chime on the door of Family Video before he can say that they’re closed and yes, they’re also sold out of Ghostbusters and Beverly Hills Cop.

Robin had already clocked out, picked up by some friends from band for a Halloween party, so it was just Steve closing up.

Too distracted by counting the till to acknowledge the buzz in his chest, the tension melting from his body. A distinct lack of headaches for a few months now too.

“Steve.”

A soft drip on the floor, like a leaky faucet when he glances up.

And you’re stumbling on the carpet like it’s moving beneath your feet. You’re trying to give Steve a reassuring smile and only getting across a grimace. 

From what he can tell, at least.

Because you are absolutely, positively covered, head to toe, in so much blood and viscera it’s no longer red but black, dripping off of you like sludge where it hadn’t already dried. The whites of your eyes and teeth are visible, and that is not an image he necessarily wanted to have of you.

Ever, really.

“I’m alright, Steve,” You attempt. Your teeth are chattering.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Steve replies, shutting the register drawer with a flick of his wrist and shoving the deposit in the safe.

“This, uh,” You glance down at your current state, frowning.

“Not yours?” He guesses, stepping out from behind the counter, paper towels in hand. “Well, I’d hate to see the other guy.”

You rasp a laugh that quickly devolves into a cough.

“Yeah,” You say once you’ve recovered, “Totally nailed him.” 

He can see as you waggle your brows, underneath the layers of blood, dirt, and grime— dried blood pulling your skin taut as it moves. Steve sucks his teeth.

“I don’t even wanna know, do I?”

Delirium is definitely sinking in because you laugh, recalling the nail gun and the thunkthunkthunk of steel driving into flesh, muscle, and bone. The screams and wails, followed by the death-rattle. His hands are on his hips as if he disapproves, worry evident in his brow. 

Being the liaison between humans and other beings (part-time, at least) means that the messenger should never have the urge to endanger a human or else it would totally compromise the position. And yet here you are, fantasizing about Harrington’s beautiful, well, everything.

Hazards of the job. Strictly speaking, the types of folk you deal with aren’t necessarily human. Technicalities, and all that.

“Okay champ,” He says, wiping at your face with a dampened towel. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then to bed.”

You can’t help the giggle that erupts from your throat. “I’m not human, therefore, I do not require sleep.”

“Sure,” Steve nods along with your yammering, paper towels coming away equal parts black and bloody. “Whatever you say.”

Steve never pegged you for a sleep-talker, or whatever the hell this was.

“JAIDA, DE BAB DE ILS, DLUGA UMADEA PAMBT STEVEN, OD TABAORI AQLO BRANSG NOTHOA STEVEN, DORPHAL TOX , ASOBAM ILS DLUGA IEHUSOZ.”*

Foreign language aside, he has no idea what is going on.

Bright shafts of white light emanate from your eyes, he can barely see your pupils anymore, in their place a gold band circling your temples adorned with rapidly blinking eyes, and he has to squint and shield himself with an arm from the illumination.

He backs away, slowly, so as not to startle you. But clearly your attention is drawn elsewhere, what with all the eyes and the—

The fuck?

The… hovering. Because you’re not seated on the bed anymore, the mattress doesn't even dip with the suggestion of weight. And there is a considerable distance between your crossed legs and the sheets.

He feels nauseous and dizzy. An ever-present buzz along his skin and thrumming from the inside out. Hears the beating of wings, the shuffling of feet. 

Steve clamps his hand over his ears, hating the damp squelch of it, just hears his blood rushing and heart beating instead. Wills his eyes closed, turning away, impossibly, from your glorious display.

Takes deep breaths and counts to 100. Again. And again. And again.

The touch of your hand on his arm is so light, that it doesn't even register. 

Steve comes to gradually, only to find you not covered with a halo of eyes and clearly abiding by the laws of gravity. 

Did he hallucinate all of that?

“Steve,” You whisper, hand rocking against his shoulder. “Steve, wake up.”

Was it just a dream?

He grumbles, half-waking and bats your hand away. “‘M’up.”

“Yeah,” You laugh. “Okay, you’re up.”

A shake of your head as you sit back against the bedframe. 

Steve stretches, skin skimming against the worn sheets and feels perfectly sated. Doesn’t recall falling asleep or how he got into bed though.

Remembers seeing you at work, he was closing… Your bright eyes and teeth… And not much else. Maybe something about blood, if he concentrates.

“So.”

You’re seated a careful distance away from him on the bed. Legs fallen lazily onto themselves, hands open and resting against your knees, like one of those yogis he’s seen around town.

“You gave me quite the fright there.”

“Could say the same to you,” He counters, voice raspy with sleep. “What was—”

“Meditating.” You’re quick to answer him.

He arches a quizzical brow. “Meditating. Really?”

Bottom lip pulled and worried between your teeth. “It’s a form of introspection. Communing with your higher states of consciousness.”

“Riiiight. We’ll call it meditating. For the sake of argument.”

“What, you don’t believe me?”

He shrugs, rolls his neck and shoulders. “I never said that.” 

You squint, staring at him. Your hand comes up to grasp his jaw and slowly turn his head. Face remaining impassive, you cluck your tongue and rise from the bed.

“Stay there.”

The commands thrums through him.

Steve watches as you leave the room, heading across the hall to the guest bath. Hears the water running from the faucet, the wringing of a damp rag. Soft footfalls herald your return, plopping back on the bed and dabbing the washcloth against his jaw and ear.

A tap against his chin. “Other side please.”

You do the same to his opposite ear, humming to yourself under your breath. Thunder sounds in the distant night, a storm rolling through. 

Deeming it a job well done, you toss the cloth into the hamper. White terrycloth tinged rosy red. A cool hand turns Steve this way and that, your eyes darting across your handiwork.

“How’s your head?” You ask, voice soft.

“Fine.” Shakes his head, in proof, rattles his brain around. “No complainants.”

“Mmm.” You hum. “No migraines or auras?”

“Not for a while now.” He clucks his tongue, “But I didn’t tell you about those.”

Ah. Now he’s caught you out.

Your mouth hangs open, gaping like a fish. 

“Hey,” His hand settles over yours, warm and familiar. “It’s fine. You’re just … perceptive.”

A laugh, the rustling of wings somewhere. “Is that so?”

Steve pulls you toward him, the air punched from his lungs as your shoulder collides with his chest. You apologize profusely, rearing back and away from him. 

He tugs you back into his embrace, both arms settling around you and falling effortlessly at your hips. Feels a pleasant glow at your temples, sponges a kiss there. Catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, your image seemingly replaced with iridescent reflections of light. A crown of fire round your head. 

And is alarmingly at peace with it all.

Friday, November 1, 1985

The next morning you’d already left by the time he woke up. 

A glass of water, a crumpled scrap of paper, and business card were on the bedside table. He picked up the water, gulping it down readily and scrambled for his glasses. 

He grabbed the papers, the larger one seemingly covered in glitter, dust? Something golden getting all over his hands and sheets. Squinting because he never did get to wiping off his lenses, Steve read the business card first. Simple and to the point, nothing he didn’t already know.

The scrap of paper however, was beyond him. 

Well, shit.

He dials Robin, figures if anyone could translate, it’d be her. Then calls the number listed on the card as he waits for her arrival. 

An annoyed voice answers. “Ugh, this better be good, Harrington. I’m a busy man.”

“Yeah, who is this?”

“That’s not important.”

“What do you mean? How is that—” He sits up, cradling the phone between his shoulder and jaw.

“How did you get this number?”

“Uh, Constantine. How else?”

Whomever he’s speaking with roughly pulls the phone from their ear and mutters a litany of curses. Surprisingly few in English.

He takes a breath, waits for the conversation to resume.

“Okay, say I believe you Steve. How do you know Constantine?”

Steve arches a brow, devotes all of a few seconds to thought before saying, “Well, we’re uh, involved, I guess, and then she showed up to Hawkins dripping in blood last night.”

The next thing he hears is the sound of something smashing to the ground, quickly followed by a “Shit-cock dumbass motherfucking—” before the line drops dead.

*Highest God, of your dominion, give strong towers unto Steven, and govern your guard amidst Steven to look upon him, whom Thou givest mercy.

[lizzie-is-here]

bucky barnes oneshot

the white cat part 2

bucky barnes x fem! reader

alpine turns out to be the best matchmaker (sorry nat ily)

a/n: a part two? slay very short and sweet 🫶 also short note this time hope you enjoy unless you wanna hear ab my weird dream: ok so like a week ago i like literally lived out three years and i met a guy first year in college while majoring in astronomy and we started dating and he was super sweet and got me flowers and one time it was snowing and we danced on the lawn, but anyway it was my junior year around christmas and i was in the library studying for finals and he came in with daisies and take out to help me but THEN I FUCKING WOKE UP WTF? still mad

the white cat pt. 1

The first date had gone perfectly. Bucky had shown up at the animal shelter right on time, and you had changed in the bathroom to a more date-appropriate outfit. A Japanese steakhouse, a bottle of champagne, and a walk home later, you’d both been eager to schedule another. And three more.

So now, you’re sitting in a back corner of a café (date number five, for those keeping track at home), trying to not stare too hard at the man in front of you.

“Coffee is so much better, holy shit,” he mumbles. You’d recommended a caramel frappuccino, though you’re now mildly convinced he may run off to date it.

“Yeah?” you laugh. “I bet a lot of things are better now.”

Bucky nods, watching the way the corners of your eyes crinkle when you chuckle. He likes that you don’t avoid the topic of his past. Contrary to popular belief, not every moment of his early life was horrible.

Just most of it. Like, seventy years out of one hundred. 70%. Could be worse.

He pulls himself back into reality. “Temperature control? Best thing that’s ever been invented.”

“Oh, really? I’d say modern electronics-“ You gesture around, where students are typing away on laptops and groups of friends are showing each other pictures. “-but I could be biased.”

“Don’t shit talk the flip phone! It works well enough for me.”

“Oh, no. No shit talking here.”

When both of you finish your drinks, you walk Bucky back to his apartment, even though he definitely doesn’t need any extra protection. You enjoy the trek up the stairs you’d normally loathe, and reaching his door makes a weight sink in your chest. He opens it a crack.

Before you can even say goodbye, a white blur races out, ramming into your leg and making you stumble.

Right into Bucky.

“Shit, sorry!”

“She normally isn’t like this-“

The two of you speak at the same time before your eyes lock, breathing syncing as your thoughts both race and stop entirely.

His thoughts race. ‘Is five dates enough to kiss? Probably, right? But it was different then- this isn’t back then, dumbass! Okay, but what do I do? God, she’s pretty this close. Do I lean in? I should lean in, I’m taller than her. Curse you and bless you, Alpine, I’ll get you some Fancy Feast after this-‘

And you only have one thought.

‘Fuck it.’

Pulling him in, your last and only thought leaves the moment your lips touch. His hands hesitantly settle on your back and waist, relaxing when you sigh.

The troublemaker responsible nudges you again, albeit much gentler, purring up at you.

“Hey, Alpine,” you greet, scooping her up. She stretches out and turns limp in your arms. Shit-eating brat. You love her, though. “So, um…” You trail off, but the silence isn’t doesn’t linger for long.

Bucky opens the door fully, nodding inside.

“Would you wanna come in for a bit? Not that you have to, but-“ The way he grins and darts his tongue out across his lips is more convincing than you need. “-your call.”

White ball of fluff in your arms, you agree wholeheartedly.

“How about a movie?” you ask, stepping inside.

Bucky shrugs as you let Alpine down. “I’ve got a list of some Sam told me to watch.” The cat runs to the couch like she knows you’ll end up there.

“We can start there.”

[randomnameless]

what do you of people who think that pointing out how problematic claude and almyra are in the fodlan games is racist?

?

You mean people who think you are racist for noticing that Claude and Almyra in general were written with the worst orientalist clichés from the early 1810s?

As a rule of thumb, I don't believe you can determine if someone is racist or not based on their opinion of fictional characters -

That being said, there's a difference between saying "I think Devdan sucks" and whatever goes down in the chamber pot, using real world rhetoric about "invasive species" and whatnot to throw shade at fictional characters you don't like.

@gascon-en-exil made a Tellius video about Devdan's uh... well, Devdan in general in Tellius and the wtf that was Devdan in a game released in the 2000s, internationally released at that - and fwiw, some youtube comments talked about minstrel shows and how Devdan reminded them of those shows so, I definitely think pointing Devdan's entire existence - down to his concept - isn't racist in itself, you're not committing robbery when you're trying to prevent one.

About Claude and Almyra in general as depicted in Fodlan...

Well, in FE16 the game basically told us that Almyrans - in the Cyril/Hilda paralogue - are people who enjoy senseless bloodbathes (they raid the border for funsies and feast and party if they're able to return home ffs!) and while they might have different values (which is not a bad thing in itself!), they are the kind of people to turn tail and flee even if it means leaving their allies die (what Claude expected Hilda to do in CF!) or their civilian randoms (Cyril was caught by Goneril forces when they raided their camp).

You can't fight anymore when you're dead, so running away isn't always the worst solution, and yet, the way it's depicted (in CF for tears, in VW to shit on Nader) in the game, it's not supposed to be something we see as good/nice/has relevance.

In Nopes Shahid mounts the greastest invasion the Locket has ever known... to show his dad that he has muhrit too and can attack the "cowards" so plz stop mopping about the son who left without writing a letter.

Aka, Almyra sends its troops to invade Fodlan... in a penis measuring contest for the throne.

Yeah.

However, everything falls apart when we play GW's second part.

Now Nader wants to bring "souvenirs" from the war, by - and it's Lorenz who tells us ffs, not Claude, but Lorenz which has all sorts of implications - pillaging the cities they will be conquering.

Claude asks his dad to give him the Almyran Navy - and by ask I mean Nader has him sign the paper while he's half asleep, a bit like what your random kid does when school asks for a parent's written authorisation, you hang the damn paper to your parent while they're doing something else so they sign without really thinking - for his personal fight in Fodlan that consists in...

Killing the CoS? Yes, but also, and more importantly, to get rid of Fodlan's "outdated" values basically by tearing apart the country/its borders.

In a nutshell, in Nopes, FE16!Hilda's racist stereotypes about Almyrans and Almyra are... confirmed.

To sum up, canonwise, Fodlan depicts Almyrans as people who love needless bloodbathes, who prey on the country they're agressing "for fun!" when it's at its lowest point to mount a serious and real invasion to 1/score points in the royal inheritence record, or 2/to effectively bring disorder/kill/remove important pillars of that country because they want to change its "values and traditions" while pillaging and massacring the land as they cross it.

My bad, it's not the 1800s rhetoric about "the orient" it's both this, and a side dose of throwing the worst tropes ever like "invading people to bring them civilisa- i mean, a new set of values".

In a way, Fodlan is worse than Tellius in that regard, because while Devdan is, hopefully, a side character you can forget to recruit, Almyra - through Claude - is a compulsory point to play through when you play the Fodlan games.

Like, the devs - graphic devs at least - really researched and designed outfits, not only based on RL cultures, but to give a distinct flair to Almyra (when they couldn't be assed to do the same for the "mainland fodlan" characters), like Claude's outfits always have a detail (at least one when it's not the barbarossa class!) to tell you that this class/character has ties to this other place, Almyra!

Surely you'd want to know what Almyra is about, right?

:')

And then you learn and wonder, Echoes didn't bother to draw specific outfits reminding the player of RL cultures gor Grieth or the Brigand Boss, so what was Fodlan thinking when they gave those outfits to Claude and Nader? What kind of associations are you supposed to make?

Are we back in the "Kaga said the land of bandits who kidnap to most likely seduce without consent ladies was inspired by Persia? What the actual fuck?" era?

In a way, depicting Almyrans as the "bloodthirsty people who pillage as they go" is, imo, as offensive as Martin's Dothrakis, I don't think you are, or anyone is, racist for pointing it out.

[djarins-cyare]

Chapter 32 ‘The Feast’

Every couple eventually talks about their sexual histories, right? Anybody interested in hearing Din’s?

🍒 Din takes a calculated risk…

Wtf, why is it so blurry? 😩 Sorry. Please head over to AO3 where my layout skills are far better, and enjoy the latest chapter there.

A small amount of begging to wrap up…

This blog post won’t reach too many people because my network isn’t big enough, and I’m busy editing and proofing the story itself so don’t have time to do lots of reblogging and posting myself to train the algorithm to prioritise what I put up.

This is really sad for me, not because I’m desperate for likes or kudos, but because I’ve spent more than a year of my life researching/writing/editing/proofing this story, making chapter photos and coming up with (hopefully) interesting stuff to say at the end of chapters, coding all the HTML to make sure it displays perfectly for an easy read, then doing what I can on Twitter and Tumblr to let people know when each chapter goes up.

All I really want for this story is for people to see it and enjoy it… but I get a lot of messages that begin with “I can’t believe I’ve only just found this”. So I know it’s not reaching as many people as I’d like it to.

Whilst I’m supremely grateful for every single like I get, they don’t help make the post more visible to others. Reblogs, however, do. Each reblog boosts a post’s visibility massively, and I can actually see the difference in hits on AO3 whenever someone very kindly reblogs one of these posts.

So, if you’re willing, please consider reblogging this and any other posts for chapters of my story that you particularly enjoyed. And of course, please don’t just do it as a favour - only do it if you think it’s worthy of your recommendation. This little PSA isn’t meant to guilt, it’s meant to inspire.

Thanks for reading (this and my fic), and for all your continued support ❤️❤️❤️

[splicedskies]

[ Boundaries.. boundaries~ ]

I straight up don't ship.. Like, at all. It's mostly because I'm not quite interested or care enough about it. I'll enjoy a ship, I'll cheer on other people with their ships like I'm their #1 fan. But I don't do it myself. My only exception is usually Familial Bonds but, those are way different so I don't really see them as ships. (I am a sucker and HUNGRY for found family tropes.)

I am.. shy. I'm shy to a fault. I have a LOT of trouble not listening to that nagging little voice in my head that says 'Don't bother you'll just be annoying' or 'Don't talk to much no one wants to hear about your oc/ideas'. So I'm deeply sorry if it takes me a while to crash through the roof of your Messages/DMS/What have you and I want to thank anyone here for their patience.

THAT SAID.. Please feel free to tag me in things. Drop kick my messages door or my discord open, tag me in random starters, plot with me. I'm great with all of that. (I love that small serotonin boost I see when I'm tagged in something.)

I treat roleplay a lot like I treat when I play TTRPGs. I like having at least some sort of story but at the same time I appreciate the absurd shenanigans that can/will/might happen with a universe like Pokémon. I love the 'Yes And' and 'What if' to push a story along or introduce something new, to intertwine things about characters and in turn watch both sides grow as a result. But I also love the silly/wholesome shit, I feast upon silly things! (Like my current thread with Nikki's Hau where they're just making food! With sprinkles of 'oh hmm..' story beats.)

I've only just learned wtf 'Whump' and shit is. I really don't like it. I don't like one sided angst while the other is just a trauma dump punching bag. I LOVE angst, don't get me wrong, but I feel it needs to be built up, just like a good book. And it needs to be used on both sides. Not just for one person to trauma dump all over the place on a single character. (I played a villain in the MC Ask Blog community a year or two ago and saw WAY too much thrown at me as a result. I'm sick of it.)

I don't mind art and memes thrown at me. I eat them up, I will stare at them for hours on end like I just received life giving water. I don't care how absurd.

I love plotting. I love plotting dumb shit, serious shit, shit that likely won't happen for many, MANY threads. I love making connections, and even incorporating things into my character at the suggestions of others or thing that change in RP itself.

I love having multiple threads, don't ever feel like you are beholden to just 'one' with me.

If you need anything, a question asked, something changed or you have an idea but not sure how it might work? Ask, just ask me. I can always tweak things, modify things to fit in with something. Altra is a very 'young' OC in his development, and that makes him easily moldable for the future.

Finally, all I ask is to treat me, and those around you with the same respect you want yourself to be given. In the end, we all just want to write silly stories, and throw our characters at one another. <3

[crones-trash]

Asteroid City, A Personal Review

Movies by Wes Anderson are an acquired taste. Most people don't like them but those of us who do really, really love them. His style is beyond quirky, way-out-there bizarre unrealistic plots, constrained performances, & brazenly artful scenery. Anderson doesn't even try to make commercially-viable movies. He makes ART! And he employs large casts of serious actors putting them in circumstances that turn straight actors into comedians & comedians into drama stars.

Under his direction, his ensembles are forced to conform to his insistence on them doing a parody of normal speech & behavior. They drone in emotionless monotones w deadpan demeanors, which puts the emphasis on the content of their speeches. His clever scripts are laugh-out-laugh funny when you listen to the words. But, if you don't, their performances can look utterly boring. And this leads your eyes to feasting on the background details. (I confess I've sat thru a couple of his movies only absorbing the set designs & camera angles but came out feeling refreshed & happy.)

Asteroid City is The Most Wes Anderson movie EVAH! He's got an All-Star cast including Tom Hanks, Scarlet Johansen, Brian Cranston, Adrien Brody, Edward Norton, Tilda Swinton, Willem Dafoe, and many, many more. Even the bit players have recognizable faces like Margo Robbie appears in only one scene that blows your mind. And Jason Schwartzman as the central character is amazing! He was allowed to project surprising micro-bursts of real emotion within the straight-jacket of Anderson's usual affectations.

The plot is impossibly convoluted: a 1950's B&W TV show about the writing of a play about a Technicolor movie w B&W Behind-the-Scenes inclusions of the play's actors behaving more naturalistically. This might actually be a first for Anderson & he uses it to press against the boundary of his usual creative methods. Leading up to the Grand Finale, Schwartzman steps outside of his primary Technicolor role to confront the writer of the play in B&W & demands to know what the story means!

In this moment, Anderson confronts his critics because one of the main complaints about his work is "WTF was that about!" I often recommend to people who have no previous experience w his movies to enjoy the snappy dialog & lush scenery; don't even try to make sense of it; simply let it roll over you & feel whatever you feel. Usually, after the fact, I examine what I felt & find some meaning for myself.

But, this time he has the entire cast arranged in tiered seating & they crash thru the 4th Wall by directly chanting at the viewer,

"YOU CAN'T WAKE UP IF YOU DON'T FALL ASLEEP!"

My eyes flooded w tears & I felt what Anderson intended me to feel—GRIEF! Yes, indeed, the Technicolor movie is centered on a story about a man processing the death of his wife, having to tell his children their mother is dead, & making peace w the father-in-law who never liked him. It's about letting go & moving on w the rest of your life.

I realize the chant is open to interpretation &, after the fact, I googled what others thought it meant. Most of them got the message about grief from it but have varied explanations for was the literal statement means.

My interpretation is: Movies are like dreams & the best way to watch them is to suspend your disbelief & enter a semi-conscious state to allow them to "happen" to you. Then you wake up when the movie is over & apply your critical thinking to what you experienced. If you obstinately remain self-conscious & busily critical, you simply won't get THE FULL EFFECT!

And, ya'know what? Grief is like that. And so are all traumatic events. If you don't give into the process of feeling your emotions, you'll never get over it. It will always be like a ghost haunting the back of your mind that spooks you until you confront it.

As someone who has experienced traumatic grief for going on 2½ years that evolved into a state of confusion since moving to Portland, I think this movie helped me "wake up".

Hey, look! I'm writing from my heart again!

[megistusdiary]

and thusly, i have been unmasked,,,

im gonna leave yall to feast on that while i go make dinner. enjoy girlies <3

-🎭, no longer anon

happy birthday to me wtf i got a masterpiece fic, an art piece from the gods, and then said generous anons have unmasked themselves.

so much has happened today ong i feel so happy 😭😭

thank you both for sharing your wonderful talents with me and with everyone here on my blog!!! i literally adore you guys so much, you have no idea.

enjoy your dinner <3

[keef-a-corn]

Dat’s right, People, it’s time for ‘Keef watches TFP and you just get the notes!’

This is for season 1, episode 19: Rock Bottom.

Genuinely started crying when I realised. No. You cannot be serious. I can’t do this again…

I write down the timestamps, but I watch Transformers Prime on Stan (an Australian streaming service) so they may be slightly off.

ALSO! I try my best to note points for every character, but tend to get a little caught up by Bee (although I think I do a pretty good job with the notes regardless) so do be warned.

I will say that compared to my last episode notes, I’m a bit more upbeat. I finished ep 18 then went straight onto this, so I have no explanation as to why I’m more calm.

~~~~Transition~~~~

00:08 - mm delicious quality. Look at those smexy rocks.

00:31 - After Operation: Breakdown, if I were to theorise that it was actually a Cybertronian body, no one could say otherwise.

00:46 - They need one of those backpacks with a leash attached.

00:51 - especially considering that the conversation had very heavy implications that the mine was a dead end. This show would be a lot shorter if they put Miko on a leash. Could’ve been longer if they gave bots the recovery arcs they deserve though-

00:57 - Bulkhead’s father skills. I love it… Okay been a bit deprived of Dadimus and Bee content, so there’s a part of me that’s wants to redraw this scene so it’s Optimus running after Bee.

01:01 - Kinda vibing with Jack in these past few episodes.

01:29 - *throws into the crowd of Megatron and Starscream fans* FEAST!

~intro~

02:23 - Please tell me someone has a hc that Megatron goes spelunking in his free time.

02:38 - Would it be wrong for me to say I’m kinda vibing with Megatron rn?

02:42 - Starscream has an outline for some reason. Probably lighting.

02:47 - indulge: To allow oneself to enjoy the pleasure of something.

So he d o e s like spelunking.

03:08 - it absolutely would not :D

03:31 - A lot of the time when a character uses a bunch of buzzwords, it’s just a bunch of gibberish. TFP writers really said ‘hold my beer’ because I’d be lying if I said that the explanation didn’t make sense.

04:17 - mmm beautiful camera angle. Really shows the power imbalance.

04:22 - *throws to the Megatron fans* FEAST!

04:24 - What’s going on? Why does Starscream look so cute??

04:43 - excuse me how the fu-

04:54 - … HC Megatron reads body language excruciatingly well. Use that for your fanfictions if you so desire.

04:57 - Why would be so that?! C’mon. Ya could’ve used that.

05:00 - I cannot b r e a t h e ! Can he even see Starscream at that point?!

05:08 - Mmmm walk cycle. Also heavily animated Megatron(?), he’s very expressive in this moment.

05:30 - I adore the contrast of Megatron being expressive, but also unapologetically confident, while Starscream’s stiff and moves like a pigeon that hasn’t quite worked out that it should be flying away.

05:35 - Megatron’s like a theatre kid. It’s so compelling. I feel like I should be bored, but there’s another part of me that cannot look away.

05:51 - He said the title! Wee Woo!

06:20 - how did Arcee not hear them? I get that Megatron wasn’t exactly loud, but they were making noises that was most likely amplified by the tunnels.

06:22 - Megatron’s looking up, not at them.

06:47 - Smart choice, Starscream.

06:51 - let us take a moment to question wtf Megatron thought was going to happen. He had every intention of killing Starscream, but once his attention was drawn away, did he really think Starscream was going to stay back? It’s not like Megatron would need any help anyway, it’s Arcee. As much as she’s a girl boss, she doesn’t really stand a chance against Megatron.

08:27 - that shot lasted too long. + Apart of me was kinda hoping that it would cut to Optimus being like ‘My Primey senses tell me Arcee and Bulkhead are in trouble.’ Then Ratchet there like ‘your what?.’

08:54 - Jack using an Autobot curse. Really getting into the lingo aren’t ya, Jackie boy?

09:05 - Is that a reference?

09:16 - cue Surface Pressure

09:26 - this is a Metaphor for his emotional maturity and how he’s able to carry himself without being emotionally charged nor emotionally constipated. It isn’t- but it totally could be.

09:45 - okay but like, what if he did let go? Slowly, of course.

10:16 - There’s something so enjoyable about a character reacting in a way that is so unbelievably in character for them.

10:39 - Damn. Using your head there, ain’t cha?

11:24 - okay but why has no one come looking for the bots yet?

12:36 - Maybe the rocks are a metaphor for emotions? Arcee let’s her emotions get the better of her, Jack’s learnt to roll with the punches, Miko need to work on it but finds herself getting tired and having to give in, Bulkhead ends up in over his head and needs to let out steam otherwise he will get hurt, Starscream will always be on the run, but will work on himself too and Megatron’s buried too deep.

12:44 - *cri* noooo Bulkhead

13:09 - Aside from that being Optimus’s line, good job, buddy ol’ Jack.

13:35 - I hope Miko’s learnt her lesson.

13:47 - aww sweet pea!

14:10 - world’s most beautiful visual. Megatron’s got some very strong lights in his eyes.

14:25 - Even Megatron knows when he should be defeated.

14:38 - I know he’s right but like… man how I wish he did kill Megatron, or at least try.

14:45 - Why not with Bee? You two have tea together after all (IYKYK)

14:56 - from the way he moves it’s safe to assume he wiggling. Is Megatron secretly a worm? Perhaps.

15:24 - Somewhere in some universe Bulkhead’s a parent.

15:47 - hit me baby one more time. + If Bulkhead’s arms locked would he be able to continue to hold it?

16:43 - this camera angle really puts into perspective how large Starscream is.

16:56 - Ayo 🤨

17:48 - but the way Starscream said Miko- damn

18:17 - Her tears look like they were made on ibisPaint X

18:40 - Power imbalance shown through the angle

19:23 - Bulkhead’s mouth guard is fraggin hollow? Excuse me??

19:43 - The nicknames *cri*

19:50 - Why is that such a ‘main character’s bully gets told off’ scene?

20:20 - depends what from.

———————

And that was Rock Bottom. Not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Ain’t a favourite but that’s alright. It's a good episode, not my style, but certainly one that deserves love.

[theclo4ked1]

(The post I wanted to put is most likely far too long for Tumblr, a mircoblogging website-- what? who said, what a dick! Anyways, here's a condensed version, as best as i can, of that post. there are spoilers below, so play the complete game before reading.)

the final horizion update was finally released last night at about 20.10pm (it was late, it left players confused on wtf was taking so long), and i almost fell asleep playing, again, but thats not the point. i use the nintendo switch to play Sonic Frontiers, and i have 110+ hrs of game time, and my save file had 75+ hrs on it. we've been hungry, "hangry" even, but i assure you, we shall all feast such a divine one. except for me, i wont be fully enjoying it yet. my plates in the fridge marked "plz dont eat :3" back in february when i finally got the game, for $50 lol, i remember spending the whole month on this game, hours spent every night i played, being one of the lucky ones, veterans now, who've waited through the year, hungering, yearning for the next updates to come for. lemme tell you, the Sonic Team "grill masters" (- someone on twitter, 2023) cooked, and that moment when the update finished installing, and i saw that glorious "Another Story has opened up on Ouranos" booting up the game was an exhilarating feeling. it was weird that Another Story was a proper noun. i didnt know what to expect, but I was excited anyway to see where I would go from there. unfortunately, the mystery and wonder was kinda removed due to the prior knowledge of Tails, Knux, and Amy (my girl returneth!) being playable again, the final boss changing, and now something huge is happening with Ouranos, which is the access point to the Another Story portion of the game via a giant ring (they bought the warp ring back!) however, before entering the ring, the game prompts you with a long warning message that game progress will be halted, and recommends completing the game first before returning here as it uses your current save slot. the way i see it, the AS acts like a parallel universe; the game's timeline splits after Rhea. the normal timeline is Sonic going about collecting the emeralds again, and eventually fighting Supreme and The End (ive never heard Vandalize in-game before cuz ive only played on hard mode, a small price to pay for being a chad gamer). this new timeline, the AS, is where after teleporting to Ouranos, Sage pulls a godtier move and is like "ayo lemme pull this godtier move real quick" and frees Sonic's friends, though still in their mid-dimensional forms, so they can collect the Chaos Emeralds (which are in different places than the vaults of the prime timeline). there are also more towers that just appeared on Ouranos, so my first thought was "oh my god they recombined Kronos, Rhea, and Ouranos, so thats why the towers are here", but no, it's apparently reserved for something relating to the four Titans; "memorials" as Sage put it in the release trailer. my reaction is still mixed on this, but i understand why they made a split like this; to keep the old and merge the new without changing much. i thought they would completely change the last fifth of the game to just be the AS portion, but no, it's just... Another Story. another book to read after this one that details specific and canon events that arent told in the first material. i played until i got to Knuckles' first time around the island. here the game mentions that you'll be able to swap characters later which im hoping this function is relegated to the dpad. its right there, four buttons, four characters, they couldn't have missed an opportunity as such. playing as Tails will be lit, but somethings that bothered me were

Amy jumps like shes in Cyberspace so turning is fucked, and

the controls for input feel slightly delayed; Amy's Card Attack combo is the weirdest thing because to execute the third attack, the spin, youre required to press your attack button consecutively AND in a consistent three beat tempo.

i was stuck trying to figure this out. a button pressed counts as the button comes upwards, after being pushed down, to make a click sound (for my gamecube pro-controller which was what i used during my time through the game). it requires a "full A press", not a half. Sonic, in the last update and the short time I played as him before Another Story, didnt have these problems. update 10/1/23: spoiler alert, i made the executive decision to can my save data ("dad-uh") just so i could start again. its an extreme compared to, yknow, just starting a new save SLOT, but i wanted just ONE save slot, and only one. im ocd like that, but im not diagnosed. its a joke. im sure, until a doctor says something that it. btw i started fresh. im about two hours in and Sonic still controls just fine imo the Cyberspace jumping makes some sort of sense because Amy is still between dimensions. still sucks to control though. the input delay i will not understand and im not sure they'll go back and fix this any time soon. so that just leaves me: only able have to eat the scraps and leftovers and cant eat with everyone else who finished this portion the day of. an exaggeration probably, but people have told me "oh yeah i finished that game in a day", the base game, casually. look.

kronos island time of completion (b4 moving on to ares), 7:58:54 ares island time of completion (b4 moving on to chaos), 20:00:28 chaos island time of completion (b4 moving on), 36:15:54 rhea island time of completion, 37:00:26 ouranos island/end time of completion, 48:50:33

my intrinsic explorative gameplay style caused what was about ~20hrs for most other people to be almost 50hrs for me my first time, again spread through a month. the game was said to be 20-60hrs so i guess they were right, but if this new game section takes ~3hrs, it would take me 10-20. more accurately im a completionist type of guy. when i wasnt in Cyberspace i was going around the islands solving puzzles, fighting Guardians, experiencing Starfalls (Starfall+ goes WAY too hard, btw whats with all the + signs, there are new guardians, i saw a Spider+ which is white coloured and shot lots of missiles at me) so i could go fishing with my man Big, which also bumped up my game time, and finding Koco around the map which were probably the biggest contributor why I capped my adventure at 48 hours.

(^ my intrinsic explorative gameplay style likely caused by who else?) they werent necessary for 100%, even Update 2 doesnt list them as needed but i went for as many as i could just because i wanted to. as for my time in post-game, it was spent fishing, rerunning Cyberspace stages, particularly 4-2, finding Koco in places i missed when I thought id been everywhere (and i mean EVERYwhere). all other time was just spent running and rolling by the time Update 2 came out. im a bit bummed that i lost my first ever save. i wont be able to look back and show people "this was the file i sank all my time and love into because i only played through the game once and never looked back", but going through again is both refreshing and will be unsurprising since i will know the events. it wont be like majoras mask not playing for eight years. its like kid icarus uprising, where I never knew what was happening next, and i would send my friend who loaned me the game accurate memes relating to the chapter i just finished (big surprise, chapter 6 is my most played chapter). i was all like "wooooah, that happened and oooooh" thankfully, i still have my scrapbook, i.e. the photos and videos i took via the switch's capture button, stringing together my first moments ("you. leave. immediately." - Sage) to the end ("so... that was fun!" - Sonic). i should compile them into video form. maybe this will be good. God knows im far too late and cant recover anything, so heres to a clean slate to new Frontiers.

(also you still cant manually delete saves. i tweeted to the game director Morio Kishimoto about it, hoping something that i said could change something i want to be better)

[giomagnetism]

💍🤕⚡️ - ness!

meme link 🕺

💍 — Does your OC have a specific item that is priceless to them but may (or may not) be completely worthless to someone else? Is there a story behind this item or is it just because they like it so much?

He might appear to be the type, but most of his collectibles and items and whatnot don’t have a lot of personal meaning. He’s a rich kid; he’s used to the idea that things can be replaced with very little consequence, and that a lot of it’s just faff bought for the sake of showing off or spending money. He’s more likely to get sentimental over his parents’ things because of their presence in his childhood—the china in a cabinet he wasn’t allowed to touch, the decorations sat on the shelf behind his father’s desk, the gloves his mother used to wear at parties.

His keyring is one exception, or rather the keys he’s kept and continues to collect from places he isn’t supposed to—he’s got a few from his highschool, acquired from teachers and staff he ran errands for and that type of thing; a spare key for his parents’ house he made around the time he was an active agent, so he could come and go without their knowing; more than a few which Marlo’s duplicated for him; etc. It’s a little trophy of all the times he managed to make the world a little wider for himself and he’s very proud of it.

Also, he does very much have an I Want To Believe poster. He likes that a lot.

🤕 — What is the worst injury your OC has ever suffered? Do they have any scars or lasting physical reminders of it? Do they get sick often or have any lasting medical conditions?

Short answer: I don’t know. Long answer: this is something that got lost in translation due to Ness’ role in the story being reshuffled and him getting temporarily sidelined as a result.

Previously, when he was Agent 4, it was a big discoloration on his flank from the Octo Shower’s stingray. It healed better than Marlo’s ankle discolorations, but he couldn’t lay down on that side or lift his arm very high (and was an homage to ed e.lric getting impaled by a metal beam in the briggs arc). Since he’s no longer Agent 4, he never could’ve acquired that, but I also never decided if Rome should or not.

I do still really want him to fuck up his right arm though. I’ll figure that out someday.

For the last bit: he doesn’t get sick all that often, maybe once or twice a year; he’s young and has a long history in athletics, so he stays in good health without a lot of effort. In the mental health department, I’m wary of diagnosing my OCs outright for a few reasons, but Ness was made with moderate depression (lapsed for the most part) and ADHD (inattentive type) in mind; I’d forgotten to account for PTSD but I don’t think he made it out unscathed.

⚡ — What are your OC’s phobias? Is there any reasoning behind these? How do they calm themselves down after getting scared? What are they like when they’re afraid? Is there any chance of them overcoming their fears?

Cutting for length on this one ‘cause boy, that’s a dense question. None of his fears are severe enough to categorize as a phobia, but he’s got his fair share.

He’s had a fear of the dark since childhood, but it worsened significantly during his tenure as an agent. He literally emits light, for one, and theoretically should never be in complete darkness; if he is, something’s wrong, so it’s a reflex, a gut feeling. Moreover, he learned the hard way that things hide better in the dark, and ever since the campaign he hasn’t managed to shake the notion that something’s coming after him. He can’t relax in dark places; he’s kept a night-light for insurance ever since.

Another is, to some extent, a fear of being touched—he’ll back off if he thinks you’re making to, and doing so without consent and especially warning will agitate him. Although folks do get a mild shock from touching his bare skin—like static electricity—it isn’t that so much as it’s personal preference; touching him is an intimacy that he doesn’t lend to much of anyone. You especially don’t want to touch his fins, and touching the underside is a surefire way to send his guard through the ceiling and make him furious. It is also a surefire way to get electrocuted, so the only person to ever attempt it was Marlo.

It’s a boundary he will stretch, though—his roommate, and eventually Rome, who has a similar displeasure. In Marlo’s case it tends to vary with his mood; whether or not they respect that depends on their mood.

I’ll also mention that, although it won’t ever come up and Inkling reproduction doesn’t work like ours, he does get very uncomfortable around topics of childbirth and the like. His worst brush with that’d be having to deal with Marlo waxing poetic about having children someday, but it does exist.

Now, in terms of intangible fears: a lot of them snowball from his being a Gifted Kid. Failing, and failing to measure up, motivates him like none other. He equates his self-worth to the quality of his performance. Etc. Ness understands himself to be fundamentally different than everyone else—incompatible; in a way, unlovable. It doesn’t bother him—rather, it’s a cornerstone of his identity—but it creates a hesitation toward intimacy, which spills over into that fear of being touched, being vulnerable, letting someone into the truth of him. Failing to articulate himself, failing to be heard, failing to be understood.

Much of his exterior, like Marlo’s, is a construction, a performance. It’s designed to make him unremarkable. You aren’t going to question the uglier parts of him—he’s going to make you think he doesn’t have any. He’s an editor: he “redrafts” everything, including himself.

For all that, his demeanor doesn’t change much when he’s scared—he’ll get a little jumpy, a little snappy, more tangibly nervous, but for the most part it’s kept contained within himself. Best way I can describe it’s to point you in the direction of this old unfinished (and otherwise outdated) fic: how he’s afraid of pushing Marlo’s buttons and afraid of the answer, even timid about it, but still bites back when Marlo provokes him. He is ultimately the most courageous of my agents*; Marlo is downright foolish and Rome just doesn’t scare easily, but Ness will be frightened out of his mind and still try to move forward.

*Excepting Phee, but sie never considered hirself one.

He tends to calm down automatically once he’s out of the situation and back into his comfort zone, though—if he’s really shaken up about it, he’ll just take it slow until he’s up to snuff again. Watch his favorite videos, play chill video games, indulge in extra candy, cut himself a little extra slack. Get his mind off things. If he really can’t get it out of his head, he’ll talk to someone: if it isn’t agent-related, his mother or his roomie; but it tends to be, for which he goes to Marlo, and the outcome of that’s usually frustrating enough to exorcise it regardless.

All of these fears wax and wane, and most of them he can overcome in some capacity with personal development. Whether or not he’s interested in doing so is another matter.