#has at least an allegiances description

[feyhunter78]

The Floret Flower

Description: Cregan has fallen for the flower maiden who smiles so sweetly at him, if only his honor would allow him to act. Also, PSA I'm not gonna be using the gifs of the HOTD casted character, he just kinda looks really young to me and it icks me out. We are fancast Cregan only girlies on this blog (no hate to the actor!!! Just my personal preference)

“Go on, taste the sun.” The words echo in his mind, spoken to him by an old washerwoman as he traveled South. Her words had an air of mysticism and promise about them, one he found much easier to believe every time you crossed his path in the Godswood, ducking your head shyly, a bashful smile on your face.

A radiant, radiant being you are, with the grace and beauty of a flower maiden, brimming with life in a way he knows can only be brought to fruition in the South.

“Lord Cregan, good morn.” You say sweetly, flowers woven in your hair, a gown of light blue adorning your figure. It has been many mornings of you greeting him. Of you hanging upon his every word, fussing over him when exhaustion shone on his face, and the pleas, and arguments of noblemen echoing within his skull. The smell of death and ashes is thick in the air everywhere but the Godswood, everywhere but where he saw you.

It would not be difficult, throw you over his shoulder, get to his horse and ride for the North. It would be a long ride, and you would surely fret and cry, but there would be enough time on the road for him to reassure you. To soothe you and assure you that he had done what was best. It would not be safe for you, not a delicate flower such as you. Ever since he has taken control of King’s Landing, its men were like beasts, prowling for any unattended maiden to take as a bride. His own men could barely find the time to wrangle their southern brothers into a more honorable way of going about satisfying their needs.

“Lady y/n, are you alone? Where are your guards?” He asks, glancing around for the very men who were supposed to be watching over you.

You scrunch your eyebrows and look around as if you had not even noticed they were missing, keeping your voice light as you approach him. “Oh…well, I am sure they are around here somewhere.”

He bites back a heavy sigh of frustration. These King’s Landing guards were utterly useless, he would need to assign some of his own men to you. “They should be near you at all times, it is not safe for a lady to wander the Keep unaccompanied.”

You cross the remaining space between you and him, and look up at him, smiling brightly, standing far, far too close. “Well, I am not unaccompanied now, am I? Not since you are here to protect me.”

Gods damn him, he cannot resist your smile. “You are right, My Lady, but still—”

“Your guards must be near you, to protect you.” You say, pitching your voice down in an attempt to imitate him. “It is unsafe for a maiden of your virtue to walk amongst these war-fed beasts.” Cregan stifles a laugh, but you hear it and your expression changes, a victorious light in your eyes. “I knew it, I knew I could make you laugh!”

His chest warms at your words, had you really been attempting to find ways to make him laugh? Him? The man who stormed into your home and seized control with bloodied hands, whose allegiance was to the very side you were against, not only due to family ties but personal ideals as well? “I am honored that you would dedicate even a moment of your time to my amusement.”

You cast your eyes downwards, and he cannot tell if it is a demure act or a bashful one. “You have been so kind to me, it is the least I can do.”

“You are easy to be kind to, My Lady.” He says truthfully, delighting in the way you take his proffered arm without delay.

“As are you, My Lord.” You look up at him and the sun hits you perfectly, a halo around your head, your skin glistening, your lips stained a tantalizing reddish color from the berries he knew you had eaten earlier. He knows all that you eat, drink, your movements throughout the Keep, who you speak with, who you did not speak with, it is all known to him. Obsessive his sister Sara would say, she would tease him mercilessly for his over interest in you, but he cares not.

Taste the sun. By the gods old and new, he wants to. He wants to taste you over and over again, wants to steal the sun and bring it back North with him.

“Is that so?” He cannot help but poke and prod, desperate to hear you sing his praises once more.

You roll your eyes playfully. “I see what you are doing, Lord Cregan, if you wish to hear your virtues tolled there are plenty of bards around that would do so.”

“You have caught me.” Cregan relents, smiling softly down at you before smoothing his expression once you both near the entryway back inside the Keep. He cannot be seen as showing you favoritism, not when there may still be cravens and traitors about. He will not have you marked as a weakness of his, a potential target.

“It seems you cannot escape my notice, in words or actions.” You say teasingly, your breasts pushed up tantalizingly as you press yourself against his arm, body turned towards him, your head tilted up to meet his gaze. “I am simply too astute.”

You do not make his mission easy, no, even though he is sure you have not a single impure thought in your mind, his is swimming with them as he feels his head dip down, his eyes flickering to your lips.

Before he can lose his grip on his honor and kiss you senseless, he is saved by a pair of passing noblemen, and he straightens up, putting distance between the two of you. “That you are, Lady Florent, it is honorable for a lady to possess a good sense of such things.”

You give him a quizzical look, followed by a slight pout, and unhook your arm, clasping your hands together before you instead, putting on an air of polite indifference. “I thank you for your kind words, Lord Stark.”

You walk in silence, footsteps echoing on the marble floor, until finally Cregan spots your familiar door. “My Lady, this is where I shall leave you.”

You nod and break away from him, your skirts sweeping across the floor with your quick movements. You reach for the door handle then pause, your back still to him. “Do you find me unpleasant, My Lord?”

“Unpleasant?” He echoes, unable to fathom how you would come to such a conclusion.

“Or is it that you find me shameful to be seen with?” You turn on your heels with your words, tears shining unshed in your eyes.

“Lady y/n I—do not understand, where have these thoughts sprung forth from?” He says, taking a step towards you, arms outstretched as if to collect you in his arms and hold you close to his chest.

“You turn from me, close yourself off from me whenever others appear. Have I shamed you? Am I hideous? Do you find myself, and my house that lowly, that you cannot stand to be seen in my presence?” Your words are harsh, but your tone is soft, your bottom lip trembling.

Cregan grabs your shoulders, pulling you into his embrace, his hand cradling the back of your head. “No, no, Lady y/n, it is nothing of the sort, please, banish such thoughts from your mind.”

You look up at him, tears collecting on your cheeks, a heartbroken expression that feels akin to a knife through his chest on your beautiful face. “Then what is it?  Because I cannot deny my feelings any longer, and I do not wish to be made a fool.”

Go on. The words echo in his mind, and he grips the chains around his will tighter, he cannot break, not now.

“Tell me the truth, tell me you do not desire me, and I shall abstain from your presence.” You say, gaining strength from anger as he stands silent.

Taste the sun.

“Speak, Cregan Stark, deny me or take what is being offered.” There is no room for argument in your tone, he must make a choice or watch you smile in the arms of another.

The chains slip from his grasp, and he cups your face, crashing his lips to yours.

I wanted to make this smutty so bad, but the inspo was simply not there today

HOTD TL: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool, @jennifer0305, @solkara, @simpinonyouz, @lorarri

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (22)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: angst, violence, domination ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Aemond's journey on Vhagar to Winterfell, which would take a week on horseback, took him two days. The North was like a white, glistening wilderness to him, once in a while small, grey villages and the strongholds of minor lords could be seen on the ground.

When he finally reached his destination he had to admit that Lord Stark's fortress impressed him − his great stone fortress floated among the snow-covered hills.

Vhagar's arrival led to panic and the local population fleeing away from her resting place − Aemond ordered her to stay where he thought that her large body would do the least damage, on a hill away from the stronghold.

He was welcomed by the guards, to whom he announced who he was and to whom he was coming.

He was received with honours and hospitality; the young lord, Cregan Stark, sat with his advisors behind a long wooden table, looking at him with concern.

Aemond knew that the Starks had never broken their promises, and his father had sworn allegiance to his whore-sister.

He had to change his mind.

"My Lord." He said lowly, nodding. Lord Stark also nodded in response.

"My Prince. I must admit I am surprised to see a messenger from the Red Keep in areas so far from King's Landing. Explain to me with what matter you come with." He said calmly, but also with a kind of suspicion that he did not like − he knew that he had to be careful with his words.

"I come on behalf of my brother-king, who has expressed his wish for you to pay him homage in King's Landing, along with the other lords." He said matter-of-factly, not taking his eye off him.

He, however, did not lower his gaze either; he furrowed his brow, surprised, glancing quickly at the maester, who whispered something in his ear. There was a commotion behind the table.

He found with amusement that the word of his brother's coronation had not reached Winterfell before he arrived.

He thought this was a good thing, as he had taken them by surprise and could press them.

Cregan Stark grunted loudly, looking at him uncertainly.

"What of your half-sister, the legitimate heir to the throne established by your father-king?" He asked, trying to hide his nervousness and stress, his hand clenched into fist on the table in front of him.

He pressed his lips together, wondering how much he could allow himself with him.

He figured that the boy was about Jace's age.

"My father, on his deathbed, decided that he would not go against the will of his ancestors, and that his first-born son should sit on the Iron Throne." He said with certainty and smirked, seeing the commotion behind the table again, the tentative conversation distracting the young lord.

"Silence!" He called out loudly, raising his hand, the men around him fell quiet. Lord Stark hid his face in his hands, letting the air out quietly. He wanted to say something, but didn't have time; a guard stepped inside, bowing low.

"My Lord, forgive my boldness, but a messenger from Dragonstone has arrived." He said quickly, his heart pounding fast in anticipation, a cold sweat run down his back.

He prayed it was Luke.

He pressed his lips together as Jace was led inside; the boy stopped abruptly, clearly frightened at the sight of him − he felt like laughing at this pathetic sight. Jace, however, pulled himself together and walked closer, still at a safe distance from him, bowing to the young lord.

"My Lord. I come by order of my queen-mother to remind you of your father's oath of allegiance to her years ago." He said in trembling voice, straightening up.

This was something that he had not anticipated.

Lord Stark stared at them with his mouth open, himself not knowing what to make of the situation, horrified and confused. He shook his head, pressing his fingers together between his furrowed brows, letting the air out with impatience.

"I'm lost. Do we have a King or a queen then?" He asked, clearly upset and frightened by the fact that a skirmish was about to take place in his court that completely did not concern him. He grinned mischievously at his question, looking at Jace with a satisfied expression on his face.

"My bastard nephew is flying around the kingdom, trying to steal my brother's throne." He said lightly. Jace lit up with a blush of shame and clenched his jaw, looking away, intertwining his hands behind his back in an attempt to calm himself.

"My uncle and his family have committed treason, planting a usurper, drunkard and rapist on the throne." Said Jace, looking at the young lord.

Cregan Stark laughed at their words, shaking his head, clearly disbelieving what was happening before his eyes − his advisors also seemed confused, looking at them uncertainly.

He thought with rage that it had become a spectacle.

"After your whore mother, who should sit on the Iron Throne? You, Lord Strong?" He asked tauntingly; Jace almost threw himself at him but the guards stopped him, catching him under the shoulders. He laughed out loud, shaking his head, furious and amused at the same time.

"Laugh, uncle. Unlike you, Lord Stark and the North know what honour and loyalty are. The North never forgets. Luke will remind your wife's father of that as well." He said with satisfaction, as if he thought that he had found his soft spot and made no mistake.

He tried to do his best to restrain his involuntary reaction but couldn't, his eye widened in shock, his brow furrowed in concern.

Luke will remind your wife's father of this as well.

Luke flew to Storm's End.

He no longer cared about Lord Stark's decision, whether he would support his brother or not − he felt like rushing out and flying on Vhagar straight to Lord Baratheon's stronghold.

"Enough of this childish pushing. My father supported the heir chosen by King Viserys and I will not question his decision. Is there any document confirming the King's change of will or am I merely to take your word for it, my Prince?" Lord Stark asked him, and he pressed his lips together, turning his head away impatiently.

He had nothing to back up his words, because he didn't believe them himself.

He saw Jace throw him a look full of satisfaction and thought that he would pierce his skull with his sword one day.

"If my words mean nothing to you, Lord Stark, so be it. However, be prepared that when me and Vhagar return, not even a stone will be left here."

He left the stronghold angry and bitter; he thought that until Jace arrived everything had gone according to plan and cursed loudly at the thought that he would have to return to King's Landing reporting his failure.

His brother ordered him to return to the Red Keep immediately after his conversation with Lord Stark, but he made a different decision.

He ordered Vhagar to fly to the skies and headed for Storm's End.

Through the storms and heavy rains, the journey took him longer than he had planned and he wondered if he would still find his wife there.

He wasn't sure if it was a good idea to arrive unannounced, but he was too desperate to wait for her to return to King's Landing.

He would go mad if he had to wait any longer.

When he arrived the weather was similar to when he had come to choose his future wife; all wet, he called out to the guards to lead him inside, and they immediately obeyed his command, recognising him.

It was the middle of the night, and his unannounced visit had brought everyone to their feet − Lord Baratheon was waiting for him in the throne room, dressed hastily in his daytime attire, clearly unhappy to be awakened from his peaceful sleep.

"Forgive me this intrusion, my Lord. I wish to see my wife." He said quickly, water dripping from his wet, white hair onto the stone floor − only now did he feel that he was trembling all over from the cold.

Borros sighed heavily and ordered his servants to take him to his daughter's chamber.

As he stepped inside, his wife jumped up, terrified, looking at him with her mouth parted, lightning and heavy, gusty rain outside the window − it seemed to him that she was not sure whether she was dreaming or not.

"Aemond?" She asked quietly, uncertainly, and for a moment he could not move.

He looked at her gentle face, her large eyes, her loose, shiny hair wonderfully framing her soft cheeks; he could see the outline of her girlish silhouette through the thin material of her nightgown, a body that belonged only to him.

He realised with pain how much he wanted her, the separation of a few days had made his cock pulsate painfully in his breeches.

"Did you speak to him?" He asked impassively, looking at her as if he wanted to devour her.

He felt like throwing himself at her, but he needed to hear it.

To hear that she had obeyed, that she had done what her husband would have wanted her to do.

He saw her press her lips together and tense up all over.

He did not like it.

He felt his heart pounding hard and stepped closer to her; she moved back, looking at him pleadingly, sitting down on her bed.

"We only exchanged a few words, I didn't expect him to come here." She said horrified, clearly noticing on his face how slowly rage began to pulse through his veins − he felt that he was so tense that something in his body was about to burst.

"What did you discuss, sweet wife?" He sneered, a malicious, poisonous threat in his mouth, evidence of the madness that lurked in his mind and heart.

He saw that she feared him now, that she could already see right through him.

"I told him to send my condolences to his mother for the death of her child." She whispered quietly, trembling all over, frightened, waiting anxiously for his reaction.

He felt that if he could, he would have breathed fire with rage.

What right did she have to meddle in these matters?

What right did she have to sympathise with his enemies, to speak to the bastard who had disfigured him for life?

He felt all his frustration, the failure of his mission in Winterfell, his failure as brother and son crush him under its own weight, the fire that burned within him was as black as his heart, consuming even its light, turning everything into a void.

His lips curved in a dangerous, animalistic grin.

"I'd rather you concentrated on giving an heir to me, instead of considering the offspring of others. You're not very successful at it so far, are you?"

He felt his own heart stop when he heard what he left his mouth and he regretted his words immediately.

He saw in her gaze that she didn't believe it either − her face took on an expression that he had never seen before; her eyebrows arched in pain, her eyes looking at him in disbelief as if he had just his her in the stomach with all his strength, her body trembling on the verge of sobbing.

He wanted her to say something.

For her to say that he was a fucking bastard.

For her to ask how dare he speak to her like that.

"Forgive me for being a disappointment to you, my Prince." She said so painfully calm that he couldn't get anything out.

My Prince.

Not my husband.

He stared at her, unable to move, having a complete blank in his mind − his wife lowered her gaze, letting the tears of humiliation and pain leave the corners of her eyes and run down her cheeks.

He wanted to approach her, to wipe them away, to place tender kisses full of devotion and longing on her sweet, soft face, to tell her that he didn't think so, that he had said it in rage only to hurt her.

He couldn't get the words out.

He lowered his gaze, swallowing loudly, horrified by what he had just done.

He had destroyed everything.

Everything they had built together.

He had crushed her, hit her most sensitive spot because she had dared to show compassion to his nephew.

Because she wasn't as cold and calculating as he was.

Because she was a better person.

He saw her turn over on the bed, laying with her back to him; he knew that she was crying, that he had hurt her, stabbed her in the back.

He wanted to approach her and had already taken a step towards her when he heard her voice.

"− please, don't touch me −" She mumbled and he felt the cold flowing through his body, the tightness in his chest from which his brow arched in pain.

"− return with me to King's Landing −" He choked out pleadingly, wishing only that she would forget what he had said.

That he could go back to the moment that he had walked into her chamber and begin all over again, just throw himself on top of her, panting with longing as he had desired.

"− no −"

He stood for a moment longer looking at her with a blank stare, then turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

He flew through the skies, screaming along with the lightning in the heavens, furious and distraught, pressing his face against his saddle.

He was a mere fool, a weak brat who destroys everything in his path.

He walked into the Red Keep furious, tired and discouraged, the thought of not seeing her for a few more days drove him mad.

He laid down on the bed in his chamber, trying to sleep, exhausted − however after moment his servant entered his chamber, saying that the King was expecting him.

He thought that in the state he was in now, without his wife being able to calm him down, he might have killed him.

Aegon welcomed him in his chamber, sitting at a large table, having just eaten his morning meal.

"Welcome, brother. Sit down and speak." He said lightly, taking a sip of wine, wasting no time since the morning.

He, however, just stood, looking at him indifferently, thinking on whether if he cut his throat now he would be able to throw it at one of his servants.

"Jace came to Winterfell right after me. Fucking honourable Starks don't forget their oaths." He said dispassionately − Aegon sighed heavily, stroking his chin.

"Grandfather will not be pleased." He said lightly, as if his younger borther had just broken a very valuable vase and was about to be punished for it − he chuckled under his breath at that thought.

"Of course. He's the one who actually wears the crown, not you." He hissed; Aegon looked at him warningly, and for a moment they stared at each other, tension hanging in the air between them. Finally, however, his brother grinned as if remembering something.

"I am sending you and Criston to Harrenhal." He said calmly, and he froze, looking at him in disbelief.

"What?"

"An uprising has broken out in support of our sister-whore. They've hanged our Lord Strong in his castle. You have to deal with it, because I don't think we want the other Lords to consider revolting as well?" He asked, plucking one grape from the bunch, taking it into his mouth with a loud crunch of juice.

He looked at him horrified and pale, unable to utter a word.

"For how long?" He asked uncertainly, and his brother laughed under his breath as if he found his question amusing.

"As long as you deal with it." He said softly, taking another grape in his hand. Aemond thought for a long time, looking at him.

"In this case, I'm taking my wife with me as soon as she returns from Storm's End." He said with emphasis, intertwining his hands behind his back, impatient.

He couldn't allow her to be left alone with his brother, much less after the way he had treated her.

He knew that he had to try to make it up to her, but he didn't know what could make her forget such hurtful words.

"You are to set off immediately." Said his brother in an unobjectionable tone, raising an impatient gaze at him. "Your wife will be safe here and will wait patiently for you."

He looked at him with his lips pressed together, his heart pounding like mad.

He was doing this on purpose.

He wanted to push him away from her, so that she would remain in the keep completely defenceless.

"No." He hissed low, squinting. "I will fly with my wife, or not at all."

Aegon stood up slowly, walking around the table, watching him closely. He smiled broadly.

"Be careful or I'll think you've fallen in love with her. Don't be silly. It wasn't a request. Do you want your wife to become a widow?" He asked lightly, raising an eyebrow, waiting for his answer.

He looked at him in disbelief, his lip parted slightly.

The power drove him completely mad.

He wondered what they had done, putting him on the throne, placing a crown on his empty head.

Aegon, seeing his lack of response, patted him on the shoulder, exactly like the day that he'd taken him to the brothel.

"Get that matter sorted out and go back to fuck your wife as much as you like, brother."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @tempt-ress @blairfox4 @crazymusicgirl104 @ahristata

[mandos-mind-trick]

00:00 (Zero O'Clock)

Summary: On the run from your family, you meet your soulmate after he's sent to retrieve you. Can he offer you what you've been yearning for since your mark first appeared? Or will he turn out to be just like everyone else in your life?

Loosely based on the BTS song of the same name.

Pairing: Hunter x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, some brief mention of kink related things, brief mention of a knife kink, canon typical violence, some semi-descriptive mentions of abuse and child abuse, some angst, lots of fluff, as usual reader has a backstory for plot.

A/N: I'm trying a bit of a new format with this one, at least as to how the story progresses. I'm not sure about the beginning, but let me know what you think.

MASTERLIST

Five Minutes.

Your legs are aching almost as much as your lungs, but you don’t stop. 

You can’t stop. 

Tree roots and vines threaten to trip you with every step, but you push onwards. Get to town. You just have to get to town and you can stop. 

Three minutes. 

The timer on your wrist is like some twisted countdown. When it appeared over ten years ago, you were confused. Your soulmate couldn’t be that much younger than you. You had thought perhaps they were a different species, one that matures faster than others. 

Ten years, forty-seven days, six hours, and fifteen minutes. 

That had been the number seared onto your skin one day, the numbers slowly counting down as time went on. You tried to mark the exact day on the calendar, but it was difficult. You went off galactic standard time, as your countdown seemed to match how the hours and days passed for you. 

You daydreamed constantly about your soulmate. You researched species after species, trying to find any sort of answer you could as to why your soulmate mark had shown up so late. 

It wasn’t until the war when things began making sense. 

It wasn’t until the war that things began falling apart for you. 

The sudden appearance of the clone army, millions upon millions of beings created over the ten years before the war started, answered many people’s questions. Millions upon millions of beings in the galaxy that had lived for years without a soulmate link suddenly having theirs appear in the last ten years. 

Your soulmate’s a clone. 

Your father was not pleased. 

Your home planet was not part of the Republic. It had always been independent, and once the war started, the governing body decided to side with the Separatists. Your father was a loyal supporter of this decision, funneling your family’s vast wealth and resources to aiding the Confederacy of Independent Systems. 

You thought the entire war was stupid. Why couldn’t people just be happy with being either part of the Republic or not? 

The first time you spoke out against it in front of your father, he dragged you from the room and beat you with his belt. 

The second time you spoke out against it, at a dinner with several important political figures including your grandfather, he beat you right there in the dining hall. 

When he discovered your soulmate timer, it got worse. 

He tried everything he could to remove it. 

You knew it was useless. Even cutting the skin off with a knife, the mark would only appear again as it healed. Burns, scars, even chopping the limb off wouldn’t work. It would simply appear elsewhere. 

Your father thankfully never went that far. 

Your hatred towards him only deepened as time went on. 

News of your grandfather’s death reaches you shortly before the end of the war. You don’t cry. You barely knew him, and what you knew of him was that he was equally as cruel as your father. 

As the war ends, so does the Republic. 

Shortly after, the Empire is on your doorstep demanding allegiance. They get it, and the occupation begins. 

Six months later, you run away. 

You run and keep running. A month later, the bounty hunters begin appearing. You evade them easily enough, and when you can’t evade them, you make sure they can’t follow you.

It’s been almost a year since the war ended. Your timer is still steadily counting down. Your soulmate is still alive somewhere. You debate trying to find them, but you know finding clones means getting close to the Empire. You know nothing good would come from getting caught by the Empire. Even worse, they might return you home. 

Two minutes. 

Your feet hit solid ground, relieved to be free of the damp mud you had been running through for the past ten minutes. You race into town, hoping to lose him. 

He had appeared an hour ago, your little shack that had been offering you reprieve his target. He’s here for you, sent by the Empire or your father, you’re not sure. Either way, you’re not keen to find out. 

You were gone long before he reached your abandoned hut. You had headed towards town, hoping to reach the spaceport and convince someone to take you to their next stop before he even noticed you weren’t in the hut anymore. 

Except it was a long trek to town, and this wasn’t a normal bounty hunter. 

The first shot had narrowly missed you. 

A warning. 

You had taken off running, zig-zagging through trees as fast as you could. The shots had followed right behind you until they had died out, leaving nothing but the sound of the jungle, and your own heavy breathing. 

He’s right behind you. You know he is. You should have run for it from the start. 

You desperately need to stop. You need air, your lungs beginning to spasm painfully. You’re not going to get much farther without a reprieve. You hope you can lose him in the evening crowd, ducking into an alley. 

You press your back against the wall, putting a hand to your wheezing chest. Your eyes screw shut for a moment, urging air back into your lungs. Your legs are trembling like they may give out under you, but you know you don’t have long. He’s probably already in town. You need to stay ahead of him. Pray you can catch someone leaving at the spaceport and escape. 

One minute. 

Your soulmate is about to appear. Maybe they’ll help you get out of this mess. You can’t reach the spaceport in that short amount of time. You glance at both ends of the alley. There’s no one. So who-

A hand wraps around your throat, slamming your back against the wall behind you. Your hand is quick to grab your knife, aiming it for the throat, but his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping it.

“Give up, kid.” He drawls, tightening his grip around your wrist until you’re forced to drop the knife. “You’re not going to win this.”  

You struggle against his hold, even though you know he’s right. 

30 seconds.

Just thirty more seconds. You can fight that long. 

You drive your knee up into his stomach, but he doesn’t release you. His grip tightens around your throat, black dots beginning to form in your vision. You drive your fist into his elbow, his arm bending awkwardly. His fingers slip from your throat and you inhale sharply, your vision swimming for a moment. 

“Let her go.” 

You both look up in shock at the voice. Modulated by a familiar looking helmet, grey with an orange stripe down the middle. He’s standing at the entry to the alley, blaster drawn and pointed at the bounty hunter. 

“She’s my quarry.” The bounty hunter says, hand dropping to his own blaster. “I found her first.” 

You quickly duck, covering your head as the shots ring out. Your gaze is drawn down to your timer, eyes widening a bit. 

00:00:00:00:00

This is your soulmate? 

You push yourself back up, glancing at the body of the bounty hunter for a moment before your gaze falls on the clone. His armor is pieced together, lacking the normal consistency you associated with clones and their armor. Had you been wrong? Is he not a clone after all? 

“It’s you.” You whisper, dropping the knife from your hand. 

“Give up the fight, kid.” He says, voice distorted by his helmet, blaster trained on you now. 

You make a face. “I’m not a kid. I’m older than you.” You press your back against the wall. “When I pictured us meeting, this wasn’t what I had in mind.” 

He tilts his head, and you can picture the confusion on his face. You hold up your arm, revealing your soulmate timer now at zero. He lowers his head slightly, looking at it. He glances down at his own arm for a moment before lowering his blaster. You watch him fiddle with his vambrace, tugging it down with his sleeve enough to reveal tanned skin underneath. He’s quiet, staring down at his skin for a few moments. 

You could run. You could use his distraction to try and escape.

You don’t want to. You had been destined to meet at this moment. Since your creation, maybe even before. 

Maybe he can help you. 

But he was sent after you. 

He wouldn’t really return you to your father, would he? You had heard about clones being forced to reject their soulmates under the Republic. Was the Empire enforcing that too? He wouldn’t...would he? 

Your legs are shaking still, your body exhausted from running for so long. Always on edge, always watching your back. You slip down the wall, sitting on the ground. You stare up at him, finding him watching you. “Are you with the Empire?” You ask. 

“No.” He says, straightening up a bit. “We were sent after you by a third party.” 

“Oh.” You say, nodding. “Are you...going to take me back to my father?” 

He stares at you quietly for a long time. This was going to complicate things for both of you. Would he still return you to your father, even now knowing you’re his soulmate? Did you try to run, leave behind your soulmate to try and save yourself? You know it’s only going to get harder to be apart from here. Now that you’ve met, the longing will start, the need to be close. 

That’s why the Republic wanted clones to reject their soulmates. Not even the best programming can undo the natural need to be close to one’s soulmate. 

“I’ve caught her.” He speaks into his comm. “Get back to the ship and meet us at the spaceport.” 

“You should just reject me now.” You say, and he looks at you again. You wish you could see his face, read his expressions. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? At least, that’s what the Republic wanted.” You shrug. “It’ll hurt less for you later when my father decides to kill me.” 

“Why would he go through all this trouble to get you back if he’s just going to kill you?” He asks, stepping closer. 

You snort. “You don’t know anything about me, do you?” 

“You’re a runaway rich kid, and your father is willing to pay a lot to get you back.” He says, wrapping a hand around your arm. He hauls you to your feet far too easily, spinning you so you’re pressed against the wall. 

“Moving a bit fast, aren’t we?” You quip, his hands gripping your wrists behind you. 

“Can it, kid.” He grunts, cuffing your arms behind your back. 

“I’m not a kid.” You huff, tugging against his hold, but you quickly give in. 

This wasn’t what you were expecting when you pictured meeting your soulmate. Of course, you’d spent most of the war hearing nothing but propaganda against the Republic and the clone army, so you really didn’t know what to expect. They’re not quite the mindless soldiers like you’d been told, at least that’s what you’d discern since this group was apparently working independently of the Empire. 

“You’re making a mistake.” You say as he takes your arm, tugging you towards the end of the alley. 

“I’m sure you see it that way.” He says, leading you onward. 

You plant your feet, trying to get him to look at you. “No, I’m trying to warn you. If you actually bothered to look into who I am, you never would have taken this job in the first place.” 

He finally stops, turning to look at you. “Why do you care?” 

“You’re deserters, aren’t you? I’ve only heard propaganda, and seen clones in passing once, but I do know most of them are loyal to the Empire now. Most of them aren’t out here playing mercenary and bounty hunter. You received coordinates for a place to drop me off, right? Somewhere in the D’Astan sector? You know what that sector looks like right now? It’s crawling with Imperial troops and ships. The war had barely ended and they were already invading. I ran because my father is a cruel man who spent my whole life beating me to submission. He’s a weak man who can’t stand things not being in his control. The Empire has completely taken over and I’m one of the few things he has left he can control. I don’t want that.” 

He stares at you for a while. You know he’s thinking over your words. He won’t trust you, not completely. If you can just get to him a little, though, you may be able to save your own skin, and maybe his as well. 

“You’re my soulmate.” It feels unreal saying those words. You’d pictured it a thousand times, and yet, none of them had come close. “If nothing else, trust me on that basis. I know you’ve been told your whole life to reject me. I don’t want you to.” 

He stares at you for a moment longer before turning, tugging you along as he makes his way towards the starport. Tears prick your vision. You have no idea what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. For all you know, he doesn’t believe you and he’ll take the risk returning you to your father. 

He has no reason to trust you. 

For all you know, he’s going to reject you. 

If that’s the case, though, why hasn’t he done it yet? 

“Can I at least know your name?” You ask softly, looking up at him. 

He stays silent, walking you into the starport. Thankfully it’s late enough that it's not very busy. This looks bad, it looks really bad for you. 

“Hunter!” 

Of all things a child runs towards you two. 

“We were getting worried.” The child says as Hunter leads you towards an Omicron-class ship. 

He leads you up the steps, three more clones inside. Well, at least you think they’re clones. None of them quite look the same, at least size and height-wise. One is lankier and is wearing goggles, the other is a giant of a man, and the third has a cybernetic arm and legs. 

Hunter pushes you down into one of the seats rather roughly, pointing his finger in your face. “Don’t move.” He says threateningly, leaving you sitting there.

It’s not like you have much of a choice. There’s not much room to move anyway, as the large one and the child join you. The ship rumbles as it comes to life, forcing you to press back into the seat as it lifts off the ground. Your arms are pressed uncomfortably behind you, hands going numb as the cuffs cut off circulation. 

Your stomach churns with the familiar jump to hyperspace, Hunter not returning until the ship is well on its way to most likely your drop off point. You’re nervous, not just for yourself. Hunter must not have believed you. You’re sad for them, and yourself. 

The large one pulls off his helmet with a sigh. Though he’s very large, his face is unmistakably that of a clone’s. They really must have been hired by a third party. Your father never would have stooped that low. He’s in for one hell of a surprise when they show up to hand you off. 

Your gaze is pulled away from the big one as Hunter enters the hull, removing his own helmet. He doesn’t look like you expect a clone to. His hair is long, held back by a red bandana. He has the rugged face of a clone, but the left half is covered in a skull tattoo. It’s intimidating, just like his gaze as it burns into you. 

The one with the cybernetics follows him, his helmet removed as well. He’s paler and gaunter than the others, a headset wrapped around his head. He takes a seat at the computer, typing rapidly. 

“If what you said is true, we can’t risk turning you in.” Hunter says. 

“Why would I lie to you?” You ask, though you already know the answer. 

“To save your own skin.” He says. “I believe you, that you were running for a reason. But that could be any reason. Not just the story you told me.” 

“Then by all means.” You say, trying to get comfortable with your hands behind your back. “Research away.” 

It’s quiet for a few moments, part of the screen visible over their heads from where you’re sitting. You are telling the truth to them. You have no reason to lie. Especially not to your soulmate. 

“You’re a Separatist?” Cybernetics asks you. 

You roll your eyes. “You know, just because someone lived on a Separatist planet doesn't mean they were Separatists too. I hated them. I thought the war was stupid. Why couldn’t they just be happy not being part of the Republic and the Republic just leave them alone?” 

“I think it was a bit more complex than that.” Hunter says. 

You roll your eyes again. “Well, it’s not like I was ever getting the truth there. We were fed Separatist propaganda for years, even before the war started.” 

The ship goes quiet again, broken only by the sound of Cybernetics typing at the computer. 

"She's telling the truth." He finally says, breaking the quiet. "Imperial files have that whole sector listed under their control.” 

“We can’t risk revealing ourselves.” Hunter says. “But we need those credits.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes once more. “If you bothered to check my bag, you’d see I have plenty of credits in there.” 

Their eyes fall to where your bag has been placed on the chair behind them. Hunter opens your bag, digging through until he finds the box of credits. He opens it, looking inside. 

“That’s far more than we’ll get from Cid for this job.” Cybernetics says. 

“You can have them.” You say. “It’s my dad’s money anyway. I took what he had on hand before I left.” 

“You’d just let us take this.” Hunter asks speculatively. 

“If it means saving both our skins and keeping me from having to see my father ever again, then yes. You can have my whole bag, if you’d like.” 

Hunter stares down at the credits for a moment before heading into the cockpit once more. 

“Hey, Cybernetics.” You call before he can follow Hunter.  

“My name’s Echo.” He says with a frown, obviously offended by your nickname. 

“Okay, how was I supposed to know that? It’s not like you’ve been very hospitable.” You shrug as he disappears into the cockpit too. You nearly jump out of your skin as you turn, finding the child standing next to you. “Oh my, you’re a sneaky little thing.” 

“Sorry.” She laughs. “My name’s Omega. That’s Wrecker.” The giant clone waves. 

You nod back, your arms still cuffed behind your back. “Hello.” 

Hunter reappears, coming to stand in front of you. “If you’re tricking us in any way, I will not hesitate to shoot you.” 

“If you knew the things my dad did to me growing up, the things he would do to me if he ever got his hands on me again, you wouldn’t hesitate to trust me when I say I want absolutely nothing to do with him or the Empire.” You stare into his eyes as he kneels in front of you. “He’s a horrible man and he can waste all of his money and resources looking for me for all I care.” 

Hunter undoes your cuffs, and you rub your sore wrists. “We’ll drop you off on the next inhabited planet we can find.” 

You frown. “So that’s it? We’re not even going to talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He says, turning his back to you as he sits at the computer. 

“Like hell there isn’t. If you’re that dead set, then just reject me now and get it over with so we can both move on with our lives.” 

“I can’t trust you.” He says over his shoulder. 

“I’m not asking you to trust me.” Your voice wavers a bit. “I’m asking you to talk to me. Either talk to me, or just reject me and get it over with.” 

***

The ship is quiet as it floats aimlessly through space. You gaze out the viewport at the thousands of stars in front of you. Hunter is in the seat across from you, his seat turned to face yours. 

“I have to protect them.” He says. “If anything happens to them...” 

“I know.” You nod, turning to look at him. “They’re lucky to have you. All my life I’ve been wishing for someone to care that much about me. Someone who would protect me. My mother was always too scared he’d turn on her if she said anything. It wasn’t long after the war started that I figured it out, that my soulmate was a clone. My father wasn’t happy about it. He tried everything he could to remove my timer. It never worked.” 

Hunter tenses a bit at your words. It feels good, talking about it finally. Even if he did decide nothing was to come of your link, it still felt good to tell someone about what had happened to you. You’ve never had that chance before. 

“I never thought much about my link.” Hunter says, turning his gaze out the viewport. “I couldn’t. The Kaminoans created the rules about seeking out soulmates and the Republic agreed. I didn’t have time, anyway. We were always moving, always on a mission. I hoped the war would end before the timer reached zero. I’m not sure I could have rejected my soulmate. Most of the clones ignored those rules. They kept their links, secretly keeping contact with their soulmates.” He shakes his head. “I figured it would happen when it happened. I didn’t think it would be like this.” 

“What, that you’d desert the army and wind up bounty hunting your soulmate who was a Separatist?” 

“Something like that.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. 

“Where do we go from here, Hunter?” You ask, turning to look at him. You take in his profile. The skull tattoo, the slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. He’s handsome. Ruggedly handsome. Not totally what you would consider your type, but perhaps the link to him was more than just looks. 

You’d been raised with the idea of becoming someone’s trophy. You’d never hold power in your own family. You’d be someone’s pretty little wife who served drinks and made babies and made her husband look good. You’d marry someone just like your father who would beat you with a belt if you spoke out in opposition against him. 

Then your mark had shown up, and with it came the idea of something else. Something more. Something different. 

Hunter is different. 

So very different. 

He turns to look at you, his eyes studying your face. “What is it you want?” 

You smile, leaning back in the seat. “I want to live on a farm on a small planet with kind people that care about each other. I want to care for animals and to play in the dirt. I want a house that’s just the right size. I want to be happy and safe away from politics and war and my family.” You stare into his eyes, deep into the rich depths of them. “I want to be happy with my soulmate.” 

***

You lay in bed, staring out the open window. The cool morning air is blowing in, rustling the curtains. The sun is just starting to rise, painting the sky in yellows and oranges. It’s quiet, the only noise the occasional bird song as the world begins to wake up. It’ll be warm today, the perfect time for you to finish planting your garden for the season. 

An arm wraps around your waist, warm lips pressing kisses to your exposed neck. You smile, leaning back against the broad chest. 

“Morning.” You murmur, biting your lip as his stubble tickles the sensitive skin. 

He murmurs his greeting against your neck, his hand trailing up your bare side. 

“We have to get Omega up for school soon.” You say, his lips working on sucking a mark onto the skin under your ear. “And we should take that milk into town.” His hand slides higher, cupping one of your breasts. “And we need to get the guest room ready for when Crosshair arrives.” 

Hunter hums in your ear, pulling you tighter against his chest. You can feel him, hard against your lower back. “Worry about that later. Right now, I need to make love to my wife.” 

It’s been nearly two years since that fateful day your soulmate hunted you down during your escape from your father. 

Not long after, you had found this place. It was almost exactly what you had imagined, what you had told Hunter you wanted. It had felt too good to be true, at least until you began to settle in. It took some adjusting for the others as well, but they eventually found their places. 

Echo decided to leave with Rex, feeling it was the right choice. You know it hurt the others to let him go, but you felt if he was happier fighting with the rebellion, then he should. You still see them occasionally when they drop by for a quick rest. 

During one of those rests, they had brought a new figure into the house. They had stumbled across Crosshair being held at a facility and had rescued him. That had been a big adjustment, as he dealt with a lot of trauma from his time being controlled by the Empire. 

Eventually he healed, and he grew bored. Echo and Rex offered him a place with them, helping them, but he decided on a different route. 

He became a bounty hunter. 

He still stopped by every so often, spending a few days on the farm before he’d leave, heading out to catch more quarries and get more credits. 

Wrecker and Tech settled into farm life nicely. You had worried Tech might work himself to a coma as he spent endless hours learning everything he could about the planet, its flora and fauna, its weather patterns and seasons, the native cultures. He’d set up the house to best utilize the weather and natural phenomena, picked the best crops to grow and which animals would be the easiest to keep. Wrecker was more than thrilled to help with the actual farm work, tending to the animals and the more heavy-lifting aspects that came with it. 

Omega settled in best of all, making friends in the nearby town and starting school. Hunter’s happy in this domestic life. You can tell just looking at him. He had shared similar dreams with you, settling down on a remote planet so that Omega can just be a kid while she still can. A place that’s safe, far from the reach of the Empire. 

It’s been quiet since you landed here. You haven’t seen or heard anything from the Empire or even a bounty hunter. You had all been a bit on edge at first, waiting for the inevitable arrival. 

It never came. 

You’ve been safe, you’ve all been safe, for the first time ever. 

Marrying Hunter had been an easy decision. There was no legal benefit in it, since he was a clone and you had left your family and its name and its standing behind you. You had done it mostly because you wanted to. Adopting Omega had been the natural next step, of course. It hadn’t been a legal adoption, again for obvious reasons, but it still felt good to put a name to it all. 

You’ve built a new family, one you actually want. 

One you actually love. 

Hunter turns your body just slightly, his hand trailing up to your jaw. He cups it gently, looking down at your face. 

“What?” You ask, your cheeks flushing just a bit. Two years and you still feel a bit sheepish under his gaze. 

“You’re just so beautiful.” He says, leaning down to kiss you. 

“You say that all the time.” You murmur against his lips. 

“Because it’s true.” He murmurs back, deepening the kiss. 

You press your body back against him, touching as much of him as you can. He’s softened a bit in two years, you’ve noticed. With the constant strain of fighting and continuous missions behind them, they’ve all softened a bit. Farm work is hard, but not nearly as demanding as what they had spent their entire lives doing. He’s still just as strong, but the hard ridges of muscle are gone, leaving soft edges in their wake. 

That, and finally getting some real food in them has helped. 

You like him no matter what, but you prefer his soft body. It means he’s well rested and well fed. Something he deserves after everything. 

His lips trail down your neck and shoulders, his deft fingers sliding from your jaw down your body, pausing just to pluck at one of your nipples playfully. You gasp quietly, reaching back to tangle a hand in his hair. 

You’ve had plenty of time to learn each other’s bodies over the years. Your first time together had been rushed and desperate in the fresher on the Marauder. It had been a result of the yearning, the need deep within your souls, your very beings, to be linked together. To be as close as you possibly can to each other. It had been awkward fumbling in a too-small space. 

Once you’d found your home, you both finally had space and privacy to take your time. Testing, trying, playing. A few times you’d allowed his knives in bed, and once you’d reenacted your first meeting, except that time ended with you being fucked handcuffed against a tree on the edge of your property. 

Most of all, though, you enjoyed the quiet moments like this one. The gentle lovemaking on lazy mornings, the quick moments when you can slip away from your responsibilities. The nights when he gets that look in his eye during dinner and you know you’re going to end up tangled in the sheets, moaning his name. 

Twelve years ago you never would have thought this could be real.

Two years ago you never thought this could be real. 

Fate is hardly ever wrong. 

You gasp quietly as his fingers slip between your thighs, finding your slick folds. He licks and nips at your skin, leaving a trail of marks no doubt. He has said more than once he loves your scent and the taste of your skin. It had taken some adjusting to his enhanced senses knowing he could hear and smell everything, and he has a habit of smelling and tasting everything. 

His hand grips your thigh, draping it over his waist. His fingers slip through your folds again, gathering your slick on his fingers before he presses one into you. You’re already wet, anticipating a rather satisfying morning. He runs his thumb over your clit and you jolt a bit, still sensitive from the night before. 

You moan quietly, tugging lightly on his hair. He groans in response, breath fanning across your ear. His scalp is sensitive. You’re able to reduce him to shivers by just raking your nails across it. 

He slips a second finger into you, his pace lazy and slow as you writhe in his arms. You can cum easily just from his fingers, something he’s rather proud of. To you, it’s a testament of just how perfect you are for each other. 

You know he wants you to cum on his cock this morning, yet you can’t help but whine as he pulls his fingers from you. He shushes you, shifting you ever so slightly before the head of his cock slips along your folds. You moan, walls clamping in anticipation. You’ll never get tired of him, of his body, of how perfectly it fits against yours. How perfectly it fits inside yours. 

He slides in, in one go, pausing for a moment once he’s seated fully inside you. His arms wrap around you, holding you as close to him as he can. You can still feel it like the first time you had sex, the bond between you. The link tying you together. The energy thrumming through you and into him, and then back like a circle. 

It’s something unexplainable. Something precious and unique and it fills you with warmth every time you think about it. 

“Hunter,” You whisper, walls clamping around him. 

He shushes you, lacing your fingers together. “I’ve got you.” 

He begins to move, slow and steady. Your eyes drift closed, savoring the feel of him, the drag of his hips, the stretch of his cock. The softness of him around you. You feel safe in his arms, like nothing can hurt you, nothing can touch you. Nothing can ruin this moment. 

You’re not going to last long, his fingers slipping between your thighs to circle your clit once more. Your legs shake, walls gripping him like your body is trying to hold onto this moment forever. 

You cum quickly with a quiet cry of his name, his own thrusts getting sloppy as he moans quietly in your ear. He stills as he reaches his own release, his groans vibrating through your back.

You lay there for a moment, clinging to each other, basking in the early morning glow. Neither of you have the will to move, wanting to stay like this forever. 

Alas, that’s not possible as a loud crash is heard from downstairs followed by Omegas giggles and Wrecker’s rather loud apologies. 

“The kids are awake.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

“Yes, it seems they are.” You say, a smile tugging at your lips. 

“We should get up before they destroy the kitchen again.” 

“Agreed.” You say, reluctantly pulling away from him. 

You both dress, preparing to start another busy day. Hunter pauses by the door, leaning down to kiss you softly. 

“I love you.” He says, practically beaming down at you. 

You smile, tracing your fingers over his cheek. “I love you too.” 

And you mean it. 

Taglist:

@stressed-cherry, @6oceansofmoons,  @ladytano420, @spicy-clones, @kaminocasey

[bluetortoist]

Time for another Batman OC! Again not too awful original, but this one is my own take on the Brave and the Bold character Scream Queen.

She was Crane's star student, who became obsessively hopelessly in love with him enough to follow him down his path of a rogue while also both, harboring a complicated romantic relationship together. This one's a little dubious sooo

CW: Stalking, Student/Teacher descriptions down below

Name: Kathleen "Kathy" Holloway

Alias: Scream Queen

Age: 27

Gender: Cis Female

Identifies: Bisexual

Race: Human

Ethnicity: White

Nationality: American

Birth town: Gotham Heights

Current Living: Grand Avenue

Allegiance: True Neutral- Neutral Evil

Powers/Abilites:

Cursed hooded dress - Her magically cursed dress hoodie gives her many different abilities, such as below:

Flight

Invisibility

Sonic Scream - one of, if not her only, means of attack. It let's out powerful screams enough to blast through concrete and even metal to an extent. Every scream she emits is different sounding than the last; She hypothesized that the different screams it omits are most likely the screams it's collected from all of its past victims.

Life Force Draining - This ability is what helps power her Sonic Scream. It emits a different colored beam that is used to literally take the breath away of any living thing until the victim is drained completely of their life force (their breath per se), leaving them as a completely immobile, breathless husk. This, remarkably, is also collected by the cloak and stored as another victims scream to add to the ever-growing collection. This can and WILL kill the victim if not treated right way.

Medical/ Pharmaceutical Knowledge - Her family background and her Major in college has made her very knowledgable in the ways of treating illnesses, injuries, and even some knowledge in drugs/medicine. Even though she never got licensed, they are skills that absolutely do in a pinch and help with Crane in the lab sometimes.

History: Kathy Holloway was born into a wealthy family who does business selling medical technology. Perhaps not as wealthy and as influential as names like Wayne, but were still known and respected fairly well by those around them since they help contribute to some of the hospitals in Gotham. In her childhood, Kathy was determined by teachers to be intellectually smart for her age. However, she was als considered "the creepy weird girl" that her peers hated to be around or bullied her. It also didn't help that she had little interest in what other people her age liked and would sometimes get into arguments and fights with other kids. She was bothering a lot of her peers to the point that word got around and even her family couldnt help but think she was a problem child. But in response to her high intellect, they made her spend a few years of her childhood studying, then counseling at school and then taking finishing lessons at home as a means of keeping her in line and shaping her to be "normal" enough. It put a lot of pressure and hurtful abuse on her self esteem. She still wouldn't break from her usual self, but she tried her best to play along just so it could stop. When Kathy became 13, it started to feel pointless to her parents, and she was then considered "not to be bothered with anymore" and focuses on furthering her younger brother's growth instead.

Later on in highschool, it was at least a little less restricting than it was at home. Kathy was still ostracized among peers who grew up with her, but still managed to become friends and eventually a relationship with a senior year boy. However, she quickly became infatuated with him to the point of stalking him. She was caught and had a restraining order put on her, she was suspended from school for a time, which isolated her even more. She managed to graduate highschool with relatively no troubles, but as soon as she did, her family kicked her out of home, and cut her off after feeling too much shame from their failed and disturbed child. She hasn't made any attempt to contact any of them since. Luckily, Kathy had some money to her name, enough to find a place to stay, found a job at a nearby metaphysical shop, which was then when she found the cursed hooded dress that she decided to keep. When she discovered its frightening abilities, she quickly begun figuring out how it works and, taking inspiration from her favorite horror movies, uses its powers to commit small, haunted robbery's that left police and detectives baffled at how this is even happening. Gotta pay the rent and food somehow.

After a while, after finally scraping and stealing enough, Kathy uses said money to finally get into Gotham University. It was there she met Proffessor Crane, taking one of his Psycology classes. She didn't think much of him at first, but as soon as he acknowledged her intelligence and in her assignments (considering her one of his star students), how she saw how he revelled in his obsession with fear, and his phobia experiments on other people, she felt a kinship to him and his dark eccentricities and fell instantly in love with him. She would stalk him for a few months after that, trying to get his attention in any way subtle way she could. There was reluctance, but Jonathan gave in and thus begun having a relationship with his star student, albeit brief. She still stalked him, even finding out that he has taken on the Scarecrow persona after hearing how he was fired and kicked out of the school for his horrible experiments.

She continued her schooling after his attack on the University until she eventually got her masters, but continued keeping tabs on his whereabouts and activities. Even taking on her Scream Queen persona to help him out of a jam or two (much to Scarecrows confusion and uneasiness at first). She was finally caught one night when she got a little too brave sneaking into one of his secret hideouts and they found out both their identities. Scarecrow honestly thought that he would never see her again, let alone all that she has been doing without him noticing OR she was the reason behind a few of his close calls. Nonetheless, he couldnt take that risk no matter how fondly he thinks of her. But in response, Kathy insisted that as a compromise, she stay by his side and work alongside him in whatever he needed; She was more than willing to take this chance to be near him as much as she could. Scarecrow was both reluctant and distrustful at first. She knew his hideout and, apparantly, more so about him than he thought and could use it however she pleased. But on the other hand, she would've done so anytime but didnt and already said she is loyal to him (definitely stroked his ego). He definitely thought her strange abilities could be useful and knew how capable she was already. They, at first, agree to work together in the sense that they could both ruin each other at anytime, but Scarecrow soon starts realizing that they work together a lot better than he thought. Thus begun a complicated, twisted, slow burn romance that he never thought he'd get into with his right hand in fear, "Scream Queen".

Notes/Quirks:

Its typical, but she likes horror movies from all range of subgenres, but has a personal love for the ghost/haunting genre; she knows a very good amount of horror trivia; Some of her favorite directors are Dario Argento, James Whale and Wes Craven.

While in school, Kathy minored in Film/Acting because of her love of horror media and the means of producing and acting in them. Taking much inspiration from the actresses and female characters is what made her borrow the term "Scream Queen" as her alias.

While working at the metaphysical shop. She learned a few things like tarot reading from a former friend/employee of hers. She didn't entirely believe it (at least not at first before she found a literal magic hoodie for crying out loud!), but she thinks it's all very interesting to learn about.

She prefers to be called by her shorter name "Kathy" because she doesn't like her full name or when other people use it. Jonathan is one of the handful of people whom she let's call her "Kathleen".

The only family members that Kathy can say she remembers fondly or indifferently towards to was her little brother, and her estranged Aunt on her mother's side. Her Aunt being the one person she felt connected to due her Aunt also being seen as an embarrassment by her family. She unfortunately passed away when Kathy was 11. Kathy and her little brother, sadly didn't spend much time together. Her brother would be constantly away in his own schedule their parents made and was 7 when Kathy was kicked out. He doesn't remember much about her.

[thesakuragarnet]

Deal With The Devil (Dabi X Fem!Reader)

Summary: You've got a feeling that your sudden promotion has little to do with your boss finally recognizing your potential and everything to do with the strings your lover is pulling to bring you closer to him.

Part three of Dabi X Fem! Support Course Graduate Reader (Part 1; Part 2)

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY! S3XUAL TAGS WILL BE HIDDEN BELOW THE KEEP READING BUTTON!

Non-Spicy Tags: swearing, heavy smut, Dabi X Fem! Support Course Reader, making out, some g0re-y imagery/metaphor but none actually other than Dabi-typical b0dy horror

Word Count: 2,999 words

Tumblr Original <3

Spicy Tags: f0replay, mirror s3x, vag!nal s3x, aftercare, slightly rough s3x, pull!ng out, vag!nal fingering, gr!nding, d0ggy style, slight ma$turbat!on, 3dging, 0ral s3x, cunn!lingus, slight praise k!nk, slight 0ral fixation

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things were getting dicey in the news. The League was on the move...meaning your lover was getting anxious. They'd had to relocate from their home base in Kamino Ward, and Dabi's visits were growing few and farther between. Not by his choice of course...he loathed being far away from you. There was an ache like no other burning throughout his body...just for you. It grew stronger with each passing day. Each new encounter was more possessive. More greedy. More needy. Filled to the brim with an intensifying passion. It was enchanting. Some intrinsic part of you wanted to say to hell with it all and run away with him. But...you still had a job...an important job at that. You were one of Detnerat's Support Item specialists, and, lately, they'd been asking way more of you than ever before. Rumors were spreading about some shifty work higher up...and...when the new requirements for your temperature controller popped up with new measurements...and a familiar-looking jacket to attach them to...you slowly began to connect the dots. You were making Support Items for villains...or at least, your company was. More specifically...your life's work was going to belong to exactly who spurred it in the first place. Touya Todoroki.

...

Once Detnerat's allegiance was revealed to its employees, Dabi decided he wanted you closer. You got a letter in the mail at the end of last week...from your boss...your boss's boss's boss... Re-Destro himself. It was something about a promotion, effective immediately, with instructions regarding new living quarters and a laboratory for you to carry out your projects. The next day, moving trucks arrived at your apartment complex, along with a stretch limo with a nearly silent and slightly rude driver. You panicked, packing what little you owned as quickly as possible.

...

The limo stops at Gunga Mountain Villa: an old architectural blemish hidden in the forests of the mountains. To your surprise, you quickly gathered that this was, in fact, the home base for the Paranormal Liberation Front...an organization that you knew Dabi had recently joined as a lieutenant.

Speak of the devil, the moment you step out, Touya Todoroki appears out of thin air.

"What a coincidence," He smirks sarcastically, looking down at you with a mischievous glint in his eye behind his indifferent facade. "I'll lead you to your new home, darling," He muses, and you fall into step beside him into the villa. The halls are bustling with all sorts of riff-raff going about their daily duties, and some of them give you confused stares, immediately looking away once a certain pair of cerulean eyes bores into them.

In the distance, you see a lanky figure brandishing a laptop; his long, inky black hair hangs loosely. You recognize him from Dabi's descriptions whenever he'd complain about his new colleagues.

"Is that-" Before you can finish your sentence, Dabi nods.

"Stay close. Don't talk to him," He murmurs under his breath, and you feel Dabi's arm wrap around you, pulling you close to him and draping over your shoulders as Skeptic approaches.

"Off to have fun with your little pet, I see," Skeptic snorts cynically as he walks, typing away and barely looking up.

"She's not a pet!" Dabi snaps, eyes burning as venom coats his voice, seeming to dare Skeptic to hurl any more insults. Luckily, the man keeps walking in the opposite direction. Dabi's jaw clenches as he squeezes your shoulder, walking even more briskly. He leads you up several flights of stairs and down a hall to a door.

Your heart stutters in your chest as Dabi opens it. You recognize the charcoal black walls...the black silk satin bedsheets...you'd seen it in pictures he'd sent you of himself. Though...there's a noticeable addition to Touya's bedroom. One of the walls has been replaced by a mirror, hung parallel with the bed on the opposite wall.

"The movers will set up the rest of your things in your lab. It's gonna be in the basement by the auditorium," Dabi yawns absentmindedly as you shrug off your backpack filled with blueprints. "But...this is where you live now. I guess," He shrugs, trying to sound indifferent, but you can hear the tension in his tone.

"So...we're sharing this room?" You raise your eyebrow, and the devious grin spreads across Dabi's face once again.

"Unless you have any complaints about it," He croons, turning to face you. The room is dimly lit, and Dabi pulls the door closed before taking a few more steps toward you.

"I know you've had a stressful day with the short-notice move...so why don't we relax?" He chuckles darkly.

"Remember as always. Anything you don't like. Just say the word. I don't mind," He whispers in your ear, and you nod. Even in his darkest moments, this is something you're always thankful for. Despite him being a literal villain, he's gentle with you...unless otherwise discussed. He's...deliberate with you. Sometimes it makes you wonder if he's scared the slightest wrong move will scare you off. The last thing you want is for him to disappear...after all...you'd only just recently gotten him back after all these years. He loved you. He truly, wholeheartedly loved you. It was a bit strange, considering how he was portrayed in the news and by the public. Sure, he could be called a monster for his patchwork skin and for the things he's done, but you knew a different side of him. A real side of him. A raw side of him. A side that...perhaps you were the only one to ever see. He cups the side of your face, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb...and sweetly connects your lips. You dissolve into his embrace, feeling his hand snake around your waist and pull you flush against him; both of your hearts pound in your chests as you kiss one another passionately. It's so easy to get lost in Touya's kiss, especially with how your lips fit together like a final puzzle piece. Every time he kisses you, it's as if the whole world suddenly makes sense. Nothing else exists but you and Touya.

Dabi's hand drops from your cheek, resting against the back of your neck and pulling you in as he slides his tongue against your top lip. You let him in, meeting his tongue eagerly with your own. The hand at your waist travels to your back, gripping the fabric of your jacket in a fist. He wants it off. Without a word, you start shrugging out of the sleeves, and Dabi begins to slip out of his own jacket. The conductor cuffs clink to the floor, but you'll worry about repairing them later. Dabi's kisses grow more hasty, lips sloppily connecting over and over and over before he starts to move from your lips to your jaw. His hands find their way to the buttons of your blouse, roughly unbuttoning it at a furious pace. You submit to him, letting him drag his teeth down to your neck, where he starts intensely sucking on your flesh. You gasp when his hands cup your breasts, squeezing them in a way that's borderline concerning, but you know he'd never hurt you...not in a way that you didn't consensually ask for at least. Hot and heavy breaths burst from your lips as your hands find their way through his charcoal-colored hair, eyelids fluttering as he bites down possessively. Slowly, you feel him leading you backward to the bed, and, the next thing you know, you're falling onto those inky silk sheets.

"Fuck," Dabi's voice is gravelly as he groans against your skin, and something stirs between your legs when you feel his clothed erection pressing up against you. Instinctively, you roll your hips, and Dabi practically melts into your arms, his resolve shaking as the muted stimulation sends shockwaves down his spine. Something snaps in his brain. His fingers start tugging your pants down, and you hurriedly kick them off with your shoes as your arousal grows. Dabi's lips trace down your body, licking between your tits and further down still, trailing down your stomach before stopping at the waistband of your panties. Teasingly, he hooks his fingertips below the elastic, plucking it so it gently snaps back against you. Blush tints your cheeks as he looks up at you with a knowing grin before he kisses your inner thigh, slowly snaking down your leg until he reaches your ankle.

"Take 'em off. On all fours, princess," Dabi commands, love lacing his tone as he briefly gets off the bed to finish disrobing. You follow his orders without a word, tossing your panties off the side of the bed before facing the headboard as you get on all fours.

Dabi clicks his tongue as you feel the bed creak.

"Face the mirror," He coaxes, and you shudder, following his instructions...you can see him climbing onto the bed.

Dabi's calloused hands trace over your thighs, gripping them tenderly as you hear a soft sigh from behind you. You lift your head, looking into the mirror as you were instructed, and you can see that your lover's eyes are practically glowing. The blazing cerulean bores into you, staring into your very soul...it's such a desperate longing gaze that he might as well be ripping the flesh off your body and leaving you completely bare to the bone. You watch him reach over, pulling the lube out of the nightstand drawer and pouring a generous amount on his throbbing cock. He shivers, muttering curses under his breath as he smooths it over, lazily jerking himself off as he stares at you.

"You're so fucking gorgeous, y'know that, princess?" He groans, bending down to press a slow kiss between your shoulder blades. The gesture sends shivers down your spine, and you can't help but stare in the mirror, as if in a trance, as he slowly starts to sink into you.

"Oh, God," Touya huffs, pressing into you until his hips meet your backside. The stretch feels so familiar, yet it still throws sparks across your vision.

"Touya," You stutter, and you feel him twitch deep inside you. He loves it when you moan his name...he's obsessed. Delicately, he starts rocking his hips, pumping inside you at a steady pace that wrecks your brain.

"That's it, baby," He pants, squeezing your thighs again as he pulls you to him, "Lemme hear you."

You can't help but dissolve into a stuttering, groaning mess as he fucks you, sweat dripping down your neck; Dabi reaches around, pulling you off your hands and knee and hoisting you up so your back presses against his chest. Your eyes practically roll back into your head as his hands travel roughly up your body, subtly heated fingertips pinching your nipples. Right as you open your mouth to moan his name again, Dabi takes one hand and forces your head to the side before giving you a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue slides against your own, almost like he's trying to savor every inch of you. The sounds of skin slapping against skin echo throughout the room, the undertones of both your muffled, pleasured noises peppered throughout.

"Feel so good," Dabi growls against your lips, his voice cracking on the end of his words as he twists your nipples and licks a wet stripe up the side of your face.

"Back down, sweetheart," He rasps, gently taking his hand from your chin and putting pressure between your shoulder blades. You lower yourself back down on all fours, your body jolting as he picks up the pace. Pleasure boils in your blood as Dabi's hand travels from your nipple to make a swipe at your folds, getting a mixture of your slick and his pre before rubbing it on your throbbing red clit. You cry out, twitching against him, and you hear his dark, strained chuckle behind you.

"Is this too much for you?" He sneers, rutting up into you, but his movements start becoming hasty, and he's losing his composure. You can feel his cock pulsing, and you just know he's close. You can feel it in your bones...and you're skyrocketing to the edge yourself. 4

"Fuck-I'm-," Dabi stutters before roughly pulling out all at once, forcing a pained and confused whine from your lips before he reaches between your legs with one hand, pumping two fingers inside and thumbing at your pulsating clit as he fists his dick with the other. You pant heavily, weak moans falling from your lips as you watch everything with blurry eyes, tears welling up from the overwhelming emotions. It all feels too good. So...so good. The feeling is apparently mutual as your name softly rolls off of Dabi's tongue as he comes undone with a few more strokes, and you feel the heat spreading on your back. Dabi's fingers twitch inside you as his body shudders, and, to your dismay, you feel him slowly slip his fingers out as he sighs. Uncomfortably on the edge of your orgasm, you sink, forehead touching the pillow as he suddenly grips your shoulder.

"Hold tight, babe," He mutters before climbing off the bed. From the mirror, you can see him walking into the side bathroom. You close your eyes and grit your teeth as you hear water running from the bathroom. It's taking everything in you to not start touching yourself like an animal in heat. Finally, the water stops, and you blink through watering eyes to see Dabi walking behind you with a rag in his hand. Delicately, he touches the warm, damp fabric to your back, and you feel something in your heart twist as he wipes you down with an unusual tenderness. His other hand gently rubs at your shoulder, massaging until he finishes cleaning you up. He grunts as he sits back on his knees, carelessly tossing the rag into a laundry basket in the corner before suddenly grabbing your hip and shoving you sideways; you find yourself on your back, staring at the ceiling. Your eyes widen as you look down to meet his half-lidded gaze.

"Oh, no. We're not done yet. You think I'd be so cruel to tease you like that? Good girls deserve rewards," He croons, hooking his arms under your legs as he lays down. Before you can blink, he's dragging his warm tongue up your dripping slit, flattening it out so every inch of you is tended to. He dives into your pussy, and you feel the cold contrast of the staples on the side of his face pressing into your thighs as his hot breath teases your clit. Finally, he wraps his lips around the pulsing bud, sucking with a lewd desperation as he looks up at you with hungry eyes. Your back arches, head sinking into your pillow as your eyelids flutter shut, and you get chills when you feel the vibrations as he sighs into your folds.

"Eyes on me," He hums under his breath, and you obey, looking down at him as he laps up your slit. His eyes are glassy, probably from coming down from his own orgasmic high as he steadily coaxes you back up to your own. Still, those cerulean irises shimmer in the darkness of the bedroom.

"Fuck, I love you," He groans, tongue swirling around your clit as his hands travel up your thighs. You try to respond, but the only thing that you can do is just helplessly whimper in pleasure. Dabi's eyes close, breath hissing sharply through his nose as he switches his deliberate rhythm, tongue flicking and swirling in all the right places. The pleasure is consuming at this point, and you feel it building deep inside you, threatening to come crashing down all at once.

"Come in my mouth, princess," He rasps greedily between sloppy licks and suckles, the obnoxious noises filling your brain. Dabi can't get enough, and you can see, hear, and feel it. The way he's devouring your aching pussy. The way he can't look away from you. The way his breath gasps like he's trying not to moan at your taste. It's all so much. It's so...

You're gonna come soon. You can feel it in your bones and the way your muscles start tightening up. Heavy sighs and sobs of pleasure pour from your mouth, and, unconsciously, you hook your ankles around Dabi's neck. The villain melts, obsessed with the idea of being locked into you; he's determined to make you scream.

Suddenly, the waves of raw euphoria flood your body, and your body practically convulses, eyes almost rolling into your head and jaw dropping in a strangled gasp. Still, Dabi doesn't stop. He practically latches on, not caring that you're almost suffocating him with your thighs as they flex involuntarily. He breathes hard, eyes flitting closed again as a low groan rumbles in his throat. He holds you down, slurping up your fluids and eating you out through your orgasm. Finally, he pulls back, lips dripping and body shaking as he gazes up at you.

"Fuck," You sigh, shuddering as your head swims in the clouds and your muscles finally stop spasming. Dabi crawls up to you, grabbing the edge of the comforter and throwing it over the both of you before pressing a longing kiss to your forehead. He scoops you up in his arms, cuddling you close as he nuzzles into the top of your head.

"We get to do this as often as you want now, princess," He snickers, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you as close as humanly possible. His skin is warm, and the silk sheets feel impossibly soft against you. It feels...peaceful. It feels...like home.

"I love you, Touya," You whisper when you get your bearings, and you swear you hear him trying not to cry, but you don't look for confirmation.

"I love you, too," He replies, and you let yourself fall asleep in the arms of one of Japan's most dangerous villains.

[fantasy-anatomy-analyst]

(image description: the first image shows several profile drawings of drow, titled "drow skin color based on snail consumption". the drow shown are a matriarch, chamberlain, baby, minstrel, and a more average drow representing everyone else. The matriarch, chamberlain, and minstrel all have colorful red and blue patches on their noses, eyelids, and upper lips. The chamberlain and average drow have almost the same skin color, being a warm-toned purple. the matriarch has more vivid blue toned purple skin, and the baby and minstrel have paler, more pink skin, with the minstrel's skin being even more warm-toned and covered in freckles. all of them have white hair, facial whiskers, very long ears, and golden eyes.

the second image is a colored sketch of a snail with pale blue-grey flesh and a grey spiral shell with some pointed spikes along it, as well as blue and white speckles. end description.)

I've been working on worldbuilding details for my drow! I'm renaming the wandering amab drow minstrels instead of just wanderers, and more importantly I've decided that domesticated cave snails are a major source of protein in the drow diet. A special breed of this snail is even utilized as medicine to trigger the natural estrogen boost of a normal afab drow transitioning into a matriarch. Like naked mole rats, this change can happen on its own if certain environmental factors are met, but the snails contain some chemicals that can cause the change to happen in a more controlled and efficient manner. The matriarch snails also have more blue pigments in their mucus gland compared to the regular meat snails.

like the real life pigment of tyrian purple, these snails are used to create vivid blue-purple dyes, with the most vivid dyes being reserved for the matriarch's clothes. and like flamingos, drow gain their purple skin color by eating a lot of these snails.

this is why babies and minstrels have the least purple skin. babies are only purple from a pigment transfer in the womb and from any excess pigment they might gain from breastfeeding, but will become much more purple when they're old enough to eat snail meat. minstrels are wandering outcasts, so their purple skin usually fades and they only manage to have any purple color when they occasionally pay a visit to other drow caverns, trading stories and goods from outside for a short rest amongst their own kind.

and sometimes a night with a matriarch, if she's willing. matriarchs give birth to all the other drow, being a eusocial species. amab drow are less common, so they're more restricted in their roles and expected to become chamberlains to the matriarchs, with their presence also helping to maintain allegiances between populations. minstrels are the amab drow who decided to abandon this way of life and do their own thing. but since their wandering also allows them to visit caverns much further off, they're still very important, providing genetic diversity, stories, trade, and news to every population they visit.

drow society changes a lot over time, becoming less reclusive as equality and intermingling between people species becomes more and more common. eventually, it is normal for drow to travel outside the caverns in their adult years just to seek education and familiarize themselves with other cultures. as a result, minstrels go from being outcasts who are begrudgingly tolerated to more accepted members of drow society, though their instinct to wander never really goes away.

I'm in the process of writing a new story that takes place a couple centuries before my main story, which will show the life of a drow protagonist back when the various people species were still wary of interacting with each other, so I will very directly be exploring the ways drow society changed over that time period.

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (18)

part 18 of ?? | 493 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

The amazing thing is that, despite half his brain being completely on fire with what he’s dubbed the Harrington Problem, Eddie still makes his shield and horses around with Dustin in a field in the middle of nowhere like everything is fine. 

Not sure I'm happy with the formatting on this one, but here's the Eddie vibe I was going for with it:

18.

The amazing thing is that, despite half his brain being completely on fire with what he’s dubbed the Harrington Problem, Eddie still makes his shield and horses around with Dustin in a field in the middle of nowhere like everything is fine. 

-

“There will be no more retreating! From Eddie the Banished.”

-

He even manages to have some fun with it. But the entire time, his mind is racing. Like a duck, or an iceberg about to menace the Titanic. 

He’d checked with Robin since the War Zone and been assured within an inch of his life that they are capital-P Platonic.

Fact: Steve had just let him blackmail him for no reason. 

-

“Never change, Dustin Henderson. Promise me?”

-

And while Dustin might be messing with him for the sake of his little ‘everybody should like Steve’ campaign, and Lucas might have gone along with it out of revenge for getting cut out of the last Hellfire session, Erica has no such allegiances.

The girl is vicious in her description of the guy’s financial shortcoming. Her brief tirade is softened only by a sniff and the small concession that at least Steve is saving up for a place on his own, instead of relying on his parents not charging him rent forever. 

And no, he also did not know that said parents were making him pay-to-own his precious Beemer. Or that Steve failed to negotiate for a reasonable payment plan to offset the basic living costs (like food) that they don’t cover. Jesus H. Christ.

Fact: Eddie blackmailing him is directly impacting Steve’s ability to get out from under the thumb of his own family. Which, rich parents can be assholes too, who knew. 

-

“Hey, Sinclairs! How are those, uh . . . those spears coming on?”

-

He looks over at Steve and Robin over by the RV, filling bottles with gasoline, and feels guilt flutter hotly in his gut. For all the bills that Steve had forked over, he hadn’t griped about it once. Every hit Eddie has seen him take, financial or physical, he’s absorbed like a goddamn sponge and then carried on with whatever he’s doing like a goddamn tank.

Soon enough, the sun will go down and they’ll hit the road for the Creel house, bound for whatever other hits might come. 

Fact: Eddie has been punching down these past several months when he thought (or pretended, because the suspicion had always been there) he was punching up.

-

“Steve, a word in the RV?”

-

Eddie isn’t sure if he’s going to make it through the night. Everything is rigged against him. Even if he does survive the alternate dimension nastiness, there’s still the real word murder charges to his name. He might never get a chance to explain what happened to Wayne, who's probably disappointed in him for getting dragged into it at all.

Fact: with all the shitty karma to his name lately, he isn’t sure he deserves to make it.

[astarab1aze]

➥ Runaway Mage

⸻Technical Information. // Face, Voice, etc.

01. Faceclaim. Yoru   [ Shishi no Odoriko ] & Personal or Comm'd art 04. Voice Claim. Miyavi, if he had noticeable vocal cord damage

⸻Profile Information. // Name, Age, etc.

01. Name. Kaede Shikabane   02. Alias. Shizuka, Kae   03. Sex. Male 04. Gender. Male   05. Age. 46   [ Dependent ] 06. Birth Date. October 31st   [ Balemagus ] 07. Blood Type. AB+ 08. Race. Half-Elfhen & Half-Feline, Zurine by nationality ; Yuureian by ethnicity. 09. Marital Status. Single   [ Multiship ] 10. Orientation. Bisexual   [ Biromantic / heavy male preference ] 11. Residence. He has no home, ever on the move, trying a little too hard to escape his own life in more ways than one. 

⸻Physical Information. // Body, Equipment, Family, etc.

17. Physical Description. Kaede’s hair is rather long and layered, so it tends to sit in a boyish, fly-away sort of way. It’s a dark violet shade - or, pretentiously, midnight - and incredibly soft to the touch. The lighter, floral blue of his eyes contrasts nicely with his hair. More often than not, he prefers to wear it down, as he feels the style compliments his overall appearance. His body is slim with some light toning and he stands at a rough 5'5", a little on the short side even for an elf. His skin is somewhat unusually pale, denoting a lack of sleep and improper nutrition. He wears a crimson jade hip ornament said to have healing properties, handed down in his family by patriarchal members. He has an abundance of barely-there freckles all over his body and both self-harm & combat scars, a large gash across his throat and quite a few on each of his thighs - and many more on his arms, front, and back; Also has a birthmark under his right buttcheek that looks something like a smeary bruise. There is a surgical scar on his right hip caused by a near-ruinous injury and the surgery that followed. On each pointed long-ear, his lobes are pierced, as well as two cuffs on his right ear. He has a natural pair of darkly spotted snow leopard ears and a long, fluffy tail as well as slit pupils, long canines, patches of dark fur along his spine and shoulders, and claw-like nails. Also x3, he has a phenomenal ass.

13. Equipment. He is effectively always ready for a fight, keeping a Yuureian silsaph katana and at least four knives of varying styles and lengths on his person at all times. He will also have various items kept in a limitless bag including Zurine medical tools, a journal, palmseal, singing stones, minor husbandry tools, some specific alchemical reagents, witchlights, a collection of both expired and current border passes, various international currencies, witchlights, and some other magical items and tools. 14. Occupation. Untethered sorcier with allegiance to no governing body on the continent ; He has chosen to never kill for a ruler or agency, as well as never to be a court mage, devoting himself to a life of drifting in order to escape his obligations. 15. Job Performance. Not Applicable 16. Parents. Juno Miris of Lakensov, Vago (deceased) and Kurai Shikabane of Chiisana, Yuurei (deceased) ; He doesn't much remember his mother and though he doesn't know it, she remains attached to him in spirit as a demonic presence - his father, however, he is glad to be rid of. 17. Siblings. Terin Shikabane (deceased) and Morrigan ( @elysiumtouched ) through seemingly tenuous relations, but they are in fact all half-brothers.

⸻Personality Information. // Likes, Strengths, etc.

18. Likes. Kirati dragon's breath, Myrrdinian chocolate oranges, specifically Yuureian tea, most animals, long moonlit walks, most international foods, taking naps, drawing, listening to local street music, dancing, men with light hair, singing, spending time with his lixni Muushi, Vagoan whisky, knives, flowers, black coffee, sharing snacks and drinks, ignoring Crimson-Talon letters, reading and researching, exploring old ruins, etc. 19. Dislikes. Inefficiency, most mushrooms, most sweet things, being forced to improvise, being flustered or confused, blood on his skin or staining his clothes, the sight of corpses, failure, imperfection, being responsible for other people’s lives, lack of control, being noticed, most nightfolk, most humans, all Wildlings, the undead, cottonmouth cakes, scarbuncle cheese, most other sorciers, most other elves, etc.

20. Positive Traits. Honest. Diligent. Loyal. Protective. Committed. Persistent. Strong willed. Hard-working. Thoughtful. Kind. Generous. Earnest. Firm. Loving. Prepared. Giving. Mostly merciful. Self-sacrificing. Open-minded. Accepting. Proud. 21. Negative Traits. Distrustful. Obstinate. Conflicted. Reckless. Guarded. Hard-headed. Hot-tempered. Bratty. Snobby. Self-loathing. Self-conscious. Reactive. Melancholic. Isolative. Impatient. A smidge obsessive. May get jealous. Envious. Naive. Prone to panic. 22. Goals. To try to find a way to beat the madness before it takes him. 23. Desires. Freedom from his grief, and forgiveness for the lives he couldn’t save or had to take, whether against his will or not; To love and be loved as though he were truly worthy of it. He’s tired of floating through life with nothing to show for it, and being hunted as a consequence. 24. Alignment. Neutral Good

25. Personality. Kaede has some difficulty forming relationships with other people and is generally very slow to start. Incidentally, this frees up a lot of his time, so he pours nearly all his focus into his work. He’s incredibly flawed in some aspects of his reasoning and decision-making, despite his intelligence, having assigned an arbitrary amount of blame to himself for past failures and horrific incidences, perceived or not. He’s the small and silent type, with a spoonful of emotional baggage and social ineptitude. Though he comes off as cold and formal at times, he has a mischievous streak and can be rather playful under the right conditions. He can also be sweet and somewhat boyish, though he’s mostly a bit bratty and hardheaded. He’s a sensitive soul at the end of the day, riddled with trauma responses and other behaviors resulting from years upon years of emotional, mental, and physical abuses - where the bulk of his trust and mental health issues stem from. He has vivid flashbacks about the massacres, nightmares too, and such will drag him back into an incosollable state of fear and misery. Although, he tends to hide, like a feline trying to lick their wounds in private.

⸻Sorcery Information. // Affinity, Talent, etc.

26. Affinity. Necrotic and Fire - high-level control, practiced and mastered well at the Zurine Mages' University. 27. Shapeshifting. Not applicable - he never cared much for transformation as a school of magic and wasn't born naturally capable of it in the first place. 28. Utility. Wards, curses, summoning, husbandry, and illusions - moderate.  29. Specialization. Lightning Magic, summoning, illusions, and some Bestial magic - highly skilled thanks to years of careful study, practice, and fine-tuned familial & cultural techniques handed down for generations. 30. Graduate School. Zurine Mages’ University - the only active school for mages on the pangea ; Extremely dedicated to quality, well-rounded education and therefore expensive, though they do offer scholarships based on potential ; Open to all magical folk, or those who can afford it ; Generally treated as a sort of haven for them. 31. Classification. Anthromorph, Runaway Mage ; Anthromorphs are a sub-type of shapeshifter or were whose human and primary animal forms are permanently apparent in some combination - they are equally as animal as they are ‘human’ in appearance and physiology. Kaede is somewhat different as he gets his animal parts from his elfhen side ; Runaway mages, or untethered sorciers (typically), are effectively deserters and thereby marked for capture and hollowing, which drains a mage of their magic and leaves them a weak, nearly-mindless husk of their former selves - there is a steeper cost to receiving an education at the University. 

⸻Background Information. // Past to Present. // Warnings for...death, arranged marriages, underage marriage, murder, cheating, very dysfunctional families, abuse, and other things that were kinda common in medieval times. There's a lot more to Kaede's story et all, but I've kinda beaten all the details to death.

    Kaede has really only ever known death and misery over the course of his life.

Born to miserable people - Juno of Clan Miris in Lakensov, a free spirit of a fledgling warrior, and Kurai of the Shikabane Clan out of Yuurei, an insecure, powerless man - in a miserable, atypical arranged marriage brought on by desperate need for saphluvium and pig-iron. Juno was young when she was promised to Zenchuu Shikabane, and at the time, Kurai was only a handful years older than her. The two were inseparable when they met, and Zenchuu, next in line as head of the Shikabane, thought nothing of it. Allowing Juno and Kurai to befriend one another - seemed only fair when considering how much older Zenchou was in reality (14 versus 349). But such was the way of things, to secure much needed resources.

Some Vagoans dedicate their lives entirely to monster hunting and extermination, curse breaking, escorting, smuggling, artisanship, among other related fields of work - they forge their weapons and tools with saphluvium, silver, and both proper and pig-iron. With local mines fast-depleting, the Miris Clan was losing grip on their trade, gradually becoming poorer and poorer. It came to a point they couldn't take care of the children anymore, so they arranged marriages, hoping to restore their clan through agreements, alliances, and, well, marriages. Insodoing with Juno, they were able to secure enough iron, silver, and saphluvium to get back on track and breathe some new life back into their clan and community - the hope, then, was that her new family would treat her well and care for her in the ways they couldn't at the time, though it took much longer than it seems, and she wasn't treated well.

The Shikabane are, in some ways, obsessed with death due to generational curses, malice, and genuine evil that'd taken root hundreds of years ago. For some time, they were isolatory, refusing to interact with anyone outside the clan. Naturally, predictable problems cropped up, problems that some were desperate to be rid of and others were only too happy to wallow in. Much of their history is buried, though accurate and detailed descriptions of what sins were committed by their number exist, if only in theory. Such that happened to Juno, whose betrayal of Zenchuu by having an affair with Kurai resulted in her murder a handful years later, when Kaede was small enough to perhaps not remember her later on in life...and the Madness that gripped Taisho, the head of the family before Zenchou, that caused him to slaughter so many.

The madness persisted, and it was soon found a host of demons had possessed certain members of the Shikabane hundreds of years before, biding their time, lying in wait, on top of the threat of ever encroaching insanity - the curse of the Mad Empress all elfhen are subject to. Worse still, it was found Taisho aimed to use Kaede in a blood ritual as a vessel to house the devils inhabiting his body at the time. Taisho violently killed as many people as he could, from the oldest members of the clan to some of the youngest, and far too many had died before he could be stopped by the likes of Kurai and the few who remained that weren't children.

From that day on, though the blame wasn't Kaede's to bear, he was treated as responsible for it all because he was mentioned by name in Taisho's journals, multiple times. Endless obsessive rants about stealing his body, smothering his soul, working his way up to clan head again, murder murder murder- Kaede was special after all. The only member of the family in hundreds of years capable of wielding not one, not two, but multiple forms of magic with a very unique proclivity toward lightning magic and illusions. Taisho killed so many just for a chance to take him and use him, so the remaining family associated Kaede with their loss, as the cause of it, the reason. More than that, however, was the fear Taisho's ritual had worked, and the simple fact Kaede was there where Taisho was dead.

So Kaede got the brunt of everyone's wrath, but especially Kurai's. All failure, every misstep, every stumble out of line was punished severely for years. Kurai would beat him, lock him up in a cell beneath the main house, isolate him through manipulation, shunning, setting too many expectations for him to follow, preventing him from ever leaving the estate. He was kept a prisoner in his own home, taumatized and without any support, forced to learn how to master certain family techniques until such a time came they decided to ship him off to Zuri with Aoi and Terin.

Terin died along the way, slaughtered by Wildlings on the border between Chimeria and western Vago. It wasn't Kaede's fault, but Aoi would see his failed plan as the cause regardless, but the truth was that the Wildlings were faster and armed with silsaph blades. They didn't stand a chance, not really, not ever. In the end, Terin knew this well and had already accepted his fate, thinking of his death before it came a sacrifice to see Kaede and Aoi get away. It would've been easier if Kaede'd been the one who died, however, for upon arrival in Zuri, Aoi informed the sorciers in Azura of Kaede's ineptitude - bitter and angry at Terin's passing. For the following ten years, he wasn't allowed to leave the University tower, at all, put on an effective house arrest until one day, they ended this punishment and gave him an ultimatum: Serve us willingly, or serve us in death.

Naturally, he took their offer - anything to be free, even if only for a little while. They were unwilling to allow his talents go to waste, no matter how he felt on the issue, and resolved themselves to use him exclusively to suit whatever ends they saw fit. Treating him in his beastly-elfhen form as expendable, only still breathing because he's useful to them, ostracized by all irrespective of him in his totality. And, for a time, he played along, intending fully to escape the minute he breathed his first breath of fresh air outside the tower.

When such opportunity arose, tasked with hunting down a runaway mage, he killed his companions in cold blood, burned the order, and ran. He's been running ever since.

[une-sanz-pluis]

The argument that the prince was attempting to achieve his aims by some form of coercion receives support from Walsingham’s description of the manner of his entry into London. There is, however, no indication of the precise composition of his band of supporters. Was it in any sense an army? It has sometimes been assumed that the prince was raising troops in the Midlands during June, and that his letter contains a positive admission that he was doing so. An examination of the text shows that this assumption is unwarranted. The prince claimed that he had been given permission to assemble a certain number of men; that he considered his allocation to be inadequate; and that he withdrew to Coventry to discuss ways of increasing his contingent. He did not, however, say that he actually levied the forces allegedly assigned to him. There are grounds for disbelieving at least some of his statements, but it does not thereby follow that the prince assembled an army either before or after his arrival in the midlands. It also seems significant that although Walsingham takes pains to describe the imposing nature of the prince’s entourage, he seems equally careful to avoid giving the impression that it was in any way military in character. His observation that it was a gathering ‘qualis non antea visa fuerat hiis diebus [such as had not been seen before in those days]’ cannot have been intended to suggest that it was the largest army seen in England in living memory. It is far more likely that he was inferring that no-one could remember seeing anyone enter London with a greater personal following. It seems best to conclude that while there may have been forces somewhere in England in June which owed allegiance to the prince, they did not play any direct role in the political crisis of that month. This conclusion obviously has some bearing upon the question of what the prince hoped to achieve by his show of strength. For instance, it militates against the claim that he entered London with the specific intention of forcing his father to abdicate. If he had been determined to make the king surrender the throne, he must have been aware, since the frustrations of the parliament of 1411, that he could not hope to achieve his aim without resorting to armed force. It is not likely that the prince would have attempted a military coup unless he believed that it was certain to succeed, and it therefore seems reasonable to assume that if this had been his intention, he would have come to London with an army so substantial that no chronicler who described it could have left his readers in any doubt as to its nature.

Peter McNiven, "Prince Henry and the English Political Crisis of 1412", History, vol. 65, no. 213 (1980)

[catcas22]

skeletons drop this. wanna talk about the sun realm for a bit?

Okay, strap in. I've dropped bits and pieces of this theory/headcanon in other posts, but to lay it all out:

I believe that the age preceding Marik and the Erdtree was ruled by the sun god Uhl, the god of the Crucible. I believe that Uhl is the bearded figure commemorated in the statues throughout the dynasty ruins. I believe that the ancestral followers (emphasis on budding horns and animalistic attributes, just like the Crucible), the fire giants, and the dragons all worshipped the Crucible in some form.

They likely had very different cultures and religious practices (and I think the ancestral followers might have simply integrated the Crucible into an older religion -- a theory for later, perhaps), but all worshiped the Crucible and at least professed allegiance to Dragonlord Placidusax.

According to the description of the Flame of the Fell God incantation, the Fell God actually inhabits the massive ball of fire summoned by said incantation.

Look at it. It's a red sun. It has a corona and little solar flares and everything.

Statue-man down in the Uhl/dynasty ruins is holding a tablet that has a vaguely sun-shaped glyph carved into it. And there's a thing up in Mohgwyn Palace (part of the dynasty ruins) that looks like either a Mayan doomsday clock or a stylized sun.

(credit to GoriceXI on reddit for the pic)

Conclusion: Statue-man is Uhl. He is a sun god. He is Placidusax's god that fled. He is an Empyrean fire giant, and the Fell God was kicking back in the Crucible Tree the same way the Elden Beast is in the Erdtree. Placidusax was Uhl's lord. They may or may not have been married.

Ergo, the city of the sun realm was Farum Azula before Placidusax decided to pick up his kingdom and move it somewhere else.

[blackleatherjacketz]

Ghosts: Chapter 2

Bucky Barnes x Original Female Character

Summary: After seeking out an old partner he has history with, Bucky gets invited up to her apartment to see just how deep their connection goes.

 Warnings: Mature Content, Intense Sexual Flashbacks, ANGST, Kissing, Face Holding, Groping, Clear and Sexy Consent, Bucky Cutting Off His Hair, Mentions of Doctor Strange, Steve Rogers, Shuri, T’Challa and Sam, Spot The Deep Cut Sebastian Karaoke Reference

Word Count: 1.6+K

Tags: @bullet-prooflove @skittle479 @letsby

Read Chapter 1

That eerie feeling from before slowly shifts from a phantom sighting to a dreamlike state, one where she knows exactly who she’s looking at and who he’s supposed to be, yet his presence in her apartment is still nothing short of surreal. There are similarities with who he once was, the thick and heavy silence that lingers around him, the way his lips pout as he scans his new surroundings and the height of his shoulders as he crosses through her doorway, but that seems to be the extent of it. Everything else about him is different. It’s as if her brain had pieced together fragments of memories from their time together that she’d buried along with her past to make this version of him appear before her.

The only other common thread between them was how badly she wanted to touch him again, to get as close as they were back down at the laundromat, but their brisk walk back up to her place had disrupted the delicate dance they had begun on ground level. She hoped they wouldn’t have to start from the very top to earn his trust all over again, but his demeanor was much like that of a wild animal in a cage, pacing around his new environment before feeling comfortable enough to open up to her again. Despite his changed behavior and startling appearance, the danger of his past still looms over him like a darkened cloud in the sky, holding her vulnerability hostage.

“What were you going to do?” She starts, trying to break through the silence as he eventually turns around to face her. “If I had a family, a husband, kids, all that stuff?”

His eyes drop down to his feet before he looks back up at her to answer, his shoulders nearly touching his ears as he shrugs in hypothetical defeat. “I guess I just wouldn’t have bothered.”

“Really?” She steps toward him as he leans against her wobbly bookshelf, hoping to warm the chilled air between them. “That easy, huh?”

“Strange didn’t… if he had seen anything like that, I wouldn’t have…” Bucky stammers as he remembers knocking on the good doctor’s door in the middle of the night, that annoyed look on his face particularly exaggerated by his impromptu presence.

The two of them had never actually spent any time alone together, their interactions limited to the last fight against Thanos amidst thousands of other warriors. Their allegiance to each other was based on nothing more than a slew of loosely connected friends that happened to live in the same city, and a team that had disbanded after an insurmountable amount of loss. He didn’t expect the doctor to give him what he wanted right away, but he at least had to try; and thank God that he did.

“I would have left you alone,” he tells her, pushing off the bookshelf to stand up straight as she walks closer to him. That option had surprisingly never even begun to cross his mind, not once. But now that she mentions it, he couldn’t bring himself to imagine the devastation he would have felt if that were the case, if Strange had somehow left that out of his description before sending him off to see her. “If you were happy.”

“You don’t think I’m happy alone?” She jests, trying her best to lighten the mood or at the very least, make him smile.

“I just meant…” he trails off, his brow furrowing in frustration.

“I’m kidding.” She stops just short of him, the trepidation whirring through his nervous system as it buzzes in his skin and out into the air around him.

God, he’s really been through it, hasn’t he?

“You cut your hair.” She changes the subject, standing on her tiptoes to run her fingers through it in another attempt to ease the palpable tension in his body, to anchor herself in this very real moment. She stares at his familiar features as she cards her fingers through his locks, watching the muscles in his face relax just the slightest bit as his lids drop down over tired eyes.

“I needed a change.” He allows her to touch him, standing still as her fingers press into his scalp in one of the few welcome forms of physical touch that he can remember. “I wanted to change,” he corrects himself.

The extreme length of his hair had been with him for as long as he could remember, growing out in between periods of cryo as the only real way he could measure time during that period in his life. He could tell how long he’d been out on missions in between stages of freezing, personal hygiene being the last thing on Hydra’s agenda when he had a target to eliminate. After Steve had found him and set him free, he continued to let it grow, healing and survival being his only real goals in the midst of everything else going on in the world around him.

In Wakanda it had become a point of pride for him, a gauge of emotional and physical growth with each session of deprogramming he had with the Dora Milaje. The local children had pulled its length up into ponytails and buns before Shuri decided to braid it to match hers, only to have T’Challa pull him aside and tell him to take it out. After that he was frozen again along with Shuri, Sam, T’Challa and damn near everyone else he knew, only this time it was different. He didn’t have the nightmares he came to expect when Hydra had locked him up and frozen him away in stasis. He didn’t have any dreams at all, for that matter; no thoughts, worries, fears or anything else that might even come close to that… just an endless sinking darkness.

After he came back and Steve had left, he grew to resent the hair that he had been so proud of over those past few years. Every time he looked in the mirror he saw the man his best friend had fought so hard to bring back from the very depths of hell, only to leave him stranded the first chance he got. He tried cutting it off himself with his pocket knife in the bathroom mirror, but the tears in his eyes prevented him from shearing off more than just one jagged, lopsided lock.

Sam had brought him to his barber shop the very next day to fix the damage, trying his best to help him in whatever way he could. He remembers solemnly nodding to grant permission for the man to cut off his ponytail, to sever that metaphorical connection to the past; a weight suddenly lifted off of his shoulders as it silently fell onto the floor. It was as if that was the last domino to fall in his healing process, allowing him to finally feel light and free as if all of that grief and turmoil were finally behind him: Hydra, Tony, Thanos, The Winter Soldier and even his beloved Steve Rogers.

“I’ve wasted too much time doing what they told me to do,” He swallows his words down as his hands find their way onto her hips, her caramel eyes practically glowing as they draw him out of his painful past and into the present. “What they forced me to do.” He smooths his palm up the side of her torso as she gently walks him back against the bookshelf, cupping her face before the space between them nearly closes completely. “I thought it was time I start doing what I want.”

“And what do you want?” she whispers, bringing her lips closer to his as her heart rate increases, instantly warming her skin in anticipation.

The man she used to know would have shifted his weight against hers to change their positions, shoving her up against the shelf with a hand around her throat. He would have tasted her lips as he pulled them in between his teeth, taking control of the only thing he could without hurting anyone else in the process, but that was the assassin from the past. That wasn’t him, not anymore. Any remnants of that version of himself had been swept away along with his hair, never to be seen again.

“I want to kiss you.” He confesses, gently brushing his thumb across the apple of her cheek as it flushes. “I want to kiss you until I forget about everything else.” He leans in and presses his lips to hers, smiling against them as he feels her return the favor with a tender intensity that nearly knocks a few of the books off the shelf behind him.

All of that fear of who he once was, of who he still could be seems to melt away as he embraces her, his hand caressing her face as she realizes just how different he feels from all those years ago. His lips are no longer roughened from ages of dehydration and neglect, his hand soft and gentle as it holds her near. The scent of carbon no longer lingers on the dusting of gunpowder in his hair, the musk of black leather a distant memory as his tongue, now rich with flavors of coffee and chocolate, brushes softly against hers.

That distinct saltiness of his skin still remains somehow, triggering her subconscious to recall the very best parts of their forbidden trysts from so long ago. She holds his head with both hands as he exhales a moan into her mouth, letting him run his hand through her hair as his metal fingers wrap themselves around her belt loops to keep her close.

“I want that, too” she manages to say in between breaths, pulling back just far enough to look up into his darkened eyes.

“You sure?” He asks, holding onto her as tightly as he can for fear that if he lets go she might disappear entirely. He kisses her again to make sure her body’s speaking the same language as the words coming out of her mouth, her quickened pulse and hungry eyes calming his fear almost instantly.

“I’m sure.”

[midnightsapphire]

Omg yes!!!! I am a SUCKER for Hades and Persephone 100%😭😭😭here are some of my thoughts!! and boy are they a LOT!! You have no idea what kind of Pandora’s box just got opened in my mind lmaooo I am living for this idea!! I had fun writing this, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it💕

Now, I am not very knowledgeable when it comes to HOTD canon and what happens in the books, but I do know Aemond goes apeshit on the Riverlands literally breathing fire and death upon the people there. Which earns him the title of King of the Underworld, alongside the Kinslayer/One-eye title he already has.

Reader is the daughter of Lady Demeter, widowed, who is from a house with a very strong economical position (again I know basically jack shit about the hotd universe oop!!), because their lands provide a good portion of the produce, grains etc to the region/rest of Westeros. So from a political pov it's important to have access to them, especially during a war. Now bc this lady is widowed, her house' position becomes more and more fragile and in danger as the war goes on. She has so far done her best to remain as neutral for as long as she could, not swearing allegiance to anyone and trying to steer away from the Targaryen family fued. 

Lady Demeter's only heir is the reader, whom she is very protective of. Demeter turns away all suitors because no one is good enough for her sweet daughter and she wants to keep her safe for as long as she can from the horrible world she knows that waits outside of their castle walls (so much so that she does her best to forbid her from straying away too far from their borders. Not in a mother gothel kinda way, but more like in a I’ve seen enough for the both of us and I know what women must endure, so I want to protect you from it kinda way.)

She does allow her daughter to educate herself, and encourages her to read and develop many skills so one day she can be knowledgeable as a lady herself.

Reader is very interested in herbalism, basically anything that grows on their lands, she wants to understand the agriculture of her lands and how to protect it/etc. She feels in her element when she is surrounded by nature, often spending a lot of time outdoors studying all sorts of flora and when she's not outside she does her research on the plants and herbs in her library

One day she strays away too far, unknowingly into the warzone, when she is interested in finding a particular plant she read about the other day

That's the day her path crosses with Aemond

It’s a “spoils of war” type of deal. The innocent princess taken by the Kinslayer on his mighty dragon. 

At least that's what all the bards will sing about after she is abducted, but the bards don't know the truth. 

Yes, he does take her. But that’s only after he comes upon her being almost SA’ed by a group of his own men in the middle of a meadow.

She will never forget that sight of him.

The dragon he rides upon eclipsing the sun entirely, its shadow cloaking the bright meadow as he himself descents from the beast like Death himself, dressed in black armor, the glint of the Valyrian steel of his sword catching the light as he hacks and slashes through his men with ease. There's so much blood, it rivals the poppies that are crushed under his feet as he walks towards her.

He flies her away to Harrenhal after she tells him who she is (and Harenhal by its descriptions and depiction on GOT would make a nice underworld tbh, esp since Aegon, the king/Zeus, basically tasks/”banishes” his brother to execute his will. Again idk much about canon but that’s how I envision it). 

She is taken as a political prisoner to bend her mother’s will. Aemond of course trusts no one amongst his men after what almost happened to her in the meadow. His men are out for blood, on a rampage. Killing and pillaging anything they set their sights on (like soldiers do in war), and a beautiful girl such as her is an easy and desired target. 

So he keeps her in his own chambers at all times. No one else is allowed around her, only a selected few like handmaidens and maesters. 

This eventually sparks the rumors that he has forced himself upon her and has taken her to his bed, which spreads like wildfire throughout the kingdom for both friend and foe to hear, adding even more insult and injury to his reputation. 

He and the reader are the only ones who know this to not be true. In fact, at first he doesn’t even come near her. He can tell she is afraid of him, because she cowers away any time he enters his chambers. It also doesn’t help that he has her practically chained to a wall at all times, but only for her own safety because she almost made it out of his chambers once. 

He mistakes this for repulsion, because of his eye, because of his reputation.

And he doesn’t blame her. 

Beautiful girls such as her aren’t used to such frightening sights such as him

Not knowing that she’s afraid of him because she has been told so many horror stories about the “one eyed demon who rides a hellbeast '' that she still finds it hard to trust him. Despite the fact he has saved her. And especially since she knows she is only valuable because of her title. 

And also, because she was raised to be very sheltered, she is naturally wary/untrusting and guarded (despite the attraction/stockholm syndrome? she begins to feel for him). 

At first Aemond dgaf about her or her feelings, or about any of the rumors that claim that he has forced himself upon the girl. Because it serves him; his reputation of a ruthless and cunning war lord is only strengthened (and isn’t that what he basically is now? His only redeemable quality being killing and seizing things? Ever the dutiful son who does the dirty work for the family’s sake). 

That, and her mother is about to give in and align her house with his. Win/win for everyone.

And like I said I am a huge sucker for Hades and Persephone, which imo is incomplete unless pomegranates are somehow involved (I am also intrigued about this idea I read about that the seeds Persephone ate and which ultimately led to her being truly chained to Hades for six months aren’t like… Literal seeds of the pomegranate but uh, a different kind of seed.) 

I kinda envision pomegranates being her country’s trademark thing (it is also on their sigil)

Aemond brings her one (after searching for hours upon hours on dragonback to find a tree which wasn’t totally scorched to death) when he notices she doesn’t eat much and begins to wither away, not even finding the strength within her to scowl at him like he is used of her. 

He thinks that maybe seeing and tasting something from back home would lift her spirits. 

He doesn’t understand when and how he started caring about the wellbeing of a political prisoner beyond making sure they’re sufficiently fed so that they stay alive long enough to serve his interests, but he does. 

And he’s frustrated when he finds the pomegranate untouched, night after night, as he enters his chambers after a long day. The fruit is still sitting atop the same table where he had initially left it for her. 

Until one night he comes into his chambers and he sees that she has stopped resisting. 

He takes a look at the fruit sitting in the bowl, absentmindedly noting that he doesn’t remember ever having eaten it himself. He pops a few seeds in his mouth, *cough*six!*cough*, pleasantly surprised by the sweet taste.

He then takes a look at the girl, her chained wrists tucked under her chin as she is sleeping on her makeshift bed on the ground (he has given her his bed but she has always refused to sleep in it, despite the fact he has never once come near her, opting to sleep on a chaise longue in the other room.)

He feels a strange twist in his chest at her sight. It feels like pity. And something else altogether. 

It’s an alien feeling, and he doesn’t like it.

He blames it on the strange fruit as he walks away, adamant on ignoring it until it goes away.

It doesn't.

anon i think i just fell in love with your beautiful brain, may i have permission to write a whole ass novel in your honor with this idea?

[janeykath318]

The Power Of A Smile (shieldshock)

Prompt: “Quit smiling at me! I keep messing up my sentences when you smile at me like that.”

Darcy had always thought of Captain America as being a super serious, judgmental jock with little to no sense of humor. He came across as rather uptight in all the media coverage and interviews she’d seen and the stories Tony told her about Steve and his supposed stick up the ass didn’t help her perception of him.

So, she was a little surprised when she toured the Smithsonian and saw the vintage video clip of him smiling and laughing with the Howling Commandoes.

“So he could smile eighty years ago,” she mused aloud. “I won’t lie. It’s pretty darn cute. I wonder what it would take to get him to smile nowadays. Maybe recite the pledge of allegiance while standing on my head?” She snorted at the thought. “Not that I’ll get to make that discovery.”

Turns out, Darcy was very much proven wrong.

She moved into Avengers tower with Jane two months later and in all the chaos and excitement, almost forgot that she was gonna be working near her heroes (and sorta heroes).

They were in the middle of setting up Jane’s equipment when Darcy stepped out for an emergency snack and coffee run. When She returned, she heard a deep voice talking to Jane.

“Where would you like it, Dr. Foster?”

She couldn’t quite hear Jane’s reply, but when she walked in, Captain America was calmly moving the heaviest machine as if it weighed nothing. Darcy couldn’t help but stare.

“Holy beefcake!! Jane, you called in the big guns. And by big guns, I mean those biceps. Yowza!”

Jane winced. Darcy did too, cringing at her terrible lack of filter. She braced herself for an annoyed look or long suffering sigh from Steve, but his shoulders seemed to shake a little and when he turned back around, he was straight up grinning.

“Steve, this is my assistant, Darcy Lewis. Darcy, meet Steve Rogers.”

Jane’s look at Steve was apologetic, but Steve just stuck out one giant hand and shook Darcy’s, still smiling.

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Lewis.” He said, not at all sounding irritated or uptight.

Darcy’s brain went into buffering mode and she found speaking difficult all of a sudden.

“Uh-uh-uh. Same,” she finally managed. “Thanks for the help. Wanna share some snacks?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got a long, boring meeting to get to,” Steve told her. “If you need any more help, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“We won’t,” Jane answered for her. “See ya around, Steve.”

When he’d gone, she turned to Darcy and sighed.

“Please try to work on your filter, Darcy. I don’t mind it when we’re alone, but we’re new here and the bosses might not understand. We’re lucky Steve has such a good sense of humor.”

“Yeah, Whodathunkit?” Darcy murmured, ripping open a Snickers bar. She was still stunned. Had Tony fed her bad intel?

As she came to find out, he had indeed been inaccurate in his description of Steve, at least when it came to off duty Steve.

This Steve was pretty chill and friendly and had a very funny dry sense of humor. Also, he was definitely not a prude. In fact, he’d straight up join in on the rather inappropriate conversations she and Clint had about their favorite fictional character’s sexual proclivities.

“You’re bad, Cap,” she said in amazement during one such conversation. “Tony said you wrinkle your nose when anyone makes so much as an innuendo.”

“When he’s making them, I do.” Steve shrugged. “If he drew incorrect assumptions, that’s on him. And anyway, who really wants to talk to Tony about sex?”

“You have a point there,” Darcy admitted with a shudder. Steve grinned at her and again she was promptly struck dumb.

Darcy, Jane, and Natasha were sipping drinks and chatting about Darcy’s latest failed date, another frustrating episode in her sad relationship story.

“He was one hundred percent Neanderthal. Incapable of taking his eyes off my boobs for one second. Why are men like this?” Darcy complained. “He was kinda cute at first, but I would have used my taser on him if I’d stuck around any longer than I did.”

“I’m sorry,” Natasha sympathized. “That is unfortunately an all too common occurrence. However, I do know of some genuinely good single men, if you are ever interested in trying again.”

Darcy sighed and shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, Nat, but I think I’ll just…..” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steve sidle up to the bar with Sam, both chatting pleasantly. Steve turned, drink in hand, and locked eyes with her, face lighting up in a big smile. Darcy’s heart skipped a beat and she stared back mesmerized.

Natasha had to poke her to get her attention back.

“Earth to Darcy!! What were you saying?”

Darcy struggled to get her scrambled brain back online.

“Uh, I was saying I think I’ll take a break from dating for awhile,” she finally managed, though her words lacked any conviction.

She didn’t see Natasha and Jane look behind them and smile knowingly at each other.

“Well, you let us know when you change your mind. I’ve got the perfect man in mind,” Natasha declared, looking much too pleased for Darcy’s liking.

Avengers tower had a new resident and Darcy had taken it upon herself to give Bucky the grand tour and help him feel welcome. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable with her, so she kept on with her cheerful commentating. It was going well until they reached the gym and Steve happened to be there. He was lifting weights and winked and grinned at Darcy, causing her to stumble to a halt and forget what she was sayin. Ugh. She’d had enough.

Marching over to Steve, she put her hands on her hips and glared.

“Quit smiling at me! I keep messing up my sentences when you smile at me like that!!”

Steve opted for non-compliance.

“I mean it Steve! If you don’t cut that out, I’m gonna kiss that stupidly pretty smile off of your stupidly pretty face!”

Steve set down his weights, but kept on smiling at her.

Not one to make idle threats, Darcy dragged one of the exercise steps over to him and used it as a step stool while she followed through on her promise. Steve didn’t even try to run, but responded very enthusiastically and she quickly gathered that he’d been hoping for this result.

She heard slow clapping from behind them and Bucky’s rusty chuckle.

“Hmm, it would appear this is what you wanted all along, huh?” She asked when she was able to catch her breath again.

“Yeah,” Steve admitted, with a sheepish smile.

“You could have said so,” she playfully chided. “I’ve been kinda pining.”

“Natasha said you weren’t ready to date again, so I decided to give you the space to make up your mind,” Steve explained. “But you make me smile so much, it was challenging.”

“Aww,” Darcy cooed. “Well, let me tell you, the smile campaign worked brilliantly. I can’t even think straight when you’re in the room.”

“Ditto,” Steve replied happily, then he kissed her again.

It was a good thing Darcy had opted against trying to memorize her wedding vows, because the way Steve was looking at her as she read them off the little card was making her a gooey mess inside and she knew she would have made a fool of herself if she didn’t have them written down.

Steve, who had eidetic memory, didn’t have to worry about that and got both of them choked up with his heartfelt words. He had the most earnest pair of puppy dog blue eyes and she knew he meant every word he said.

She’d given Tony a lot of grief over the years about his misleading description of Steve, and he’d finally admitted he’d been very wrong about his teammate. In fact, he’d gone and got himself ordained so he could officiate the ceremony. Darcy had agreed, but had given him strict guidelines, which he mostly followed, much to their relief.

“I now pronounce you Captain and Mrs. America—er—husband and wife. Have at it, Darcy!!”

Grinning widely, Darcy kissed her new husband so thoroughly that he was rendered speechless for a solid minute and a half after they broke apart.

“Finally, it’s my turn to make you lose your wits,” she declared triumphantly.

[fideidefenswhore]

Can you tell me about the antipathy Anne Boleyn's household had for men? Thank you.

Ah, you know, I sort of jumbled up a descriptive word in my memory-- I'm going to fix it, it was more like an irreverent attitude towards men. They were part of the fun but they could take or leave them, was the impression left by Edward Baynton (the line was "a strong antipathy towards what he saw as feminine indepedence in the Queen's household", cited from the following) in his letter to George Boleyn (reflected in, 'undesired service/ require no hire')

Still, I don't think this narrative about Anne really holds water. James Taffe's new book about the households of Tudor Queens with Jane Boleyn as a case study is bound to prove, has proved, very unpopular in some circles (I'm somewhat surprised a takedown by Olga Hughes has not landed on her blog yet...is she on hiatus? She certainly went all-in on her AB 2021 review); but one thing going for it is the depth of detail. Anne was a protector and promoter of other women's interests in her household, it went deeper than mere courtly gloss. Why did she loan Elizabeth Somerset £100? Why did Somerset not want her husband to know about this? Why did Anne keep her secret? Why did Somerset ultimately betray her trust by giving evidence against her? Was that secret being used against her by someone else (Cromwell, etc)?

How is it argued that Anne didn't have friendships with women when at least one was reported to have endured even when it would have been safer to jettison the allegiance? Again we find Baynton, reporting that there has been "great friendship" between Margery Horsman and the Queen, and "reluctance to implicate Anne" demonstrating how "the arrest of their mistress had [caused] a rift between [vice-chamberlain and maid], reflecting then the divergence of their allegiances and interests."

[dormanta036]

it's about half past three at night and I really want to rant about my characters and my... deviation from canon, let's call it that. how do you, guys, feel about anti-villains? in my potential future fanfic (or all least in my drawings) my nerevarine is anti-villain and antagonist for most part of story.

he forced the more worthy in his opinion candidate to mantle nerevar, while convinced everyone dagoth ur included that she is true incarnation, only for using her as a weapon agains temple when the sixth house will be done away with. the same sixth house to which he swore allegiance and for which, in fact, for most of the story, he works honestly. because he needs their resources to get rid of the empire and because he need influence the opinion of the sixth house regarding cooperation with camonna tong, convince that they are untrustworthy and aren't useful enough for being allies and should be replaced or better destroyed so they won't create a trouble.

in other words, his idealistic stubborn soul is determined to fight at all with everyone at once, using enemies and allies, pitting them against each other.

he has an idea of ​​​​an ideal world and, in an effort to create it, he deceived and betrayed everyone who was close enough to him and almost drove himself crazy. how so? he was tired of imperial corruption and lawlessness, angry with the slave-owning orders of morrowind, saw stagnation in the theocracy. in his eyes vvardenfell was a cup filled to the brim, from which all anger will soon overflow. instead of waiting for the catastrophe to happen, he decided to try to get it under control, direct it to the destruction of what should not be and try to hurt everything else as little as possible. but there will be destruction and shambles. this is the burden he will have to bear. he started and won the war, reduced the influence of the temple, hunt down and killed almost all of crime syndicate members, destroyed the heart... and burned down half the cities of vvardenfell in the process.

his "nerevarine project" results both of his denial about being incarnation and wish to stabilize chaos he created by beacon hero-figure, direct consequence of learning about mantling from his telvanni friend's rant. nerevarine himself was sure that he couldn't be that hero, cause of his deceit, hypocrisy and cruelty. and he already played a different role in this party. the hero would definitely not have to be either a sixth house spy in the house hlaalu or a master thief, if the latter was still acceptable, since the thieves guild had the potential to become something more worthy, then the former was not. at least not such a terrible combination. the hero must be convincing, not to achieve his goal by manipulation, threats and blackmail. it had to be someone more in line with the temple description of the nerevar. it has to be someone who won't hesitate to strike. definitely not him.

despite nerevarine's always existing plans of betrayal, was he really...devoted to dagoth ur in his own way? they ill relationship is a thing that I have no idea how to integrate into the narrative from the perspective of my protagonist. i will simply say that the plans of the nerevarine, somewhat distorted under the influence of the heart, included the death of the nerevarine himself at the hands of a false incarnation as part of the mantling of the nerevar by the false incarnation, and the nerevarine himself in this scheme, respectively, took the place of the voryn dagoth. that, provided that dagoth ur will be dead by this time and the nerevarine himself will die while mantling voryn dagoth it should make them the one. well, he wishes to believe it will

[backjustforberena]

Thank you for your openness to discussion, I in no way meant to attack you or your pov.

I 100% don’t think Rhaenys isn’t a cold person. She will be moved by the death of Luke because that’s an innocent child. The same way she would’ve been touched by the death of any child. I do believe that due to the lack of contact she doesn’t really have a real relationship with them thus those supposed familial bonds are not very strong or present imo. The same way that she isn’t tight with the other Targs and has she mostly keeps herself to herself. Had Rhaenyra warded one of boys to Driftmark I definitely think the circumstances of their dynamic would’ve different.

I make my inferences regarding her relationship with Daemon because I think in ep 8 Rhaenyra says something along the lines that “Rhaenys has no love for us” which she doesn’t, which to me signifies a longer standing friction (from his relationship with Laena and then subsequently the fallout of Laenor) than something she would’ve had with Vaemond independent of how Daemon feels or views her.

Even if we take it on face value that her friction with Vaemond was greater, she still made harsh comments about Daemon and Vaemond’s personalities. At the very least it’s either the animosity is on the same level or worse with Daemon because it’s root cause is significantly bigger, has been around longer, and is unchangeable in some regards.

Thank you for that, and I do appreciate it. I think it's lovely to be able to have a discourse over this, and important as well that it's done in a kind and healthy way. Too many people can become aggressive and it's really uncalled for. I always find it interesting that people can watch the same piece of media and take different things from it or come to different conclusions or be attracted to different moments and different characters which pull their focus.

GOSH, how different might things have been if Luke had been warded to Driftmark? With that one, I tend to take the opinion that it was more within Rhaenyra's power to control that opportunity than it was Rhaenys's. And I don't think that that's something Rhaenyra ever would have considered due to her wariness of Rhaenys, her lack of foresight over keeping Velaryon allegiance, and, simply, her protectiveness over her boys. We get the impression that she absolutely cocoons herself at Dragonstone. Total isolation from court and from others. Viserys doesn't meet her youngest two (the eldest of which is 4) until that episode. So I can't see her offering to send Luke away in any capacity, not least to a woman she has wronged. Rhaenyra just doesn't trust Rhaenys and isn't willing to foster trust in Rhaenys. Be that good or ill, politically.

Rhaenys, on her part, I think isolates herself on Driftmark, throughout the series, to distance herself from her Targaryen colours and that goes allll the way back to the Great Council. It's subliminal in the fact she forgoes Targaryen colours except her armour, after that. It's in her unease at court and her ease at Driftmark. It's in the production designer coming to the designs of Driftmark and thinking "this is their [Corlys'] royal kingdom", and her ambiguous allegiances right up until the last moment. She's a Targaryen princess and Alicent believes she can sway her to their cause. That's how distant she is from that family, as much as she shows love for Viserys. If Luke were to be warded on Driftmark, the will would have to have come from Rhaenyra or from Corlys. It comes from neither.

I find that little exchange between Daemon and Rhaenyra really interesting. It's so close to giving us proper information and yet doesn't really. But Rhaenyra cites the death of Laenor as the cause of that friction, and it sounds as if Baela was offered and therefore "taken" to ward to placate that. "Us", to me, feels descriptive of Daemon and Rhaenyra as a unit, rather than as separate people spoken of in conjunction with one another. Oddly enough, Daemon's response, which is to accuse Rhaenyra of a bit of paranoia, indicates that he doesn't think Rhaenys has an issue? That felt very weirdly naive of him, especially given that for once, Rhaenyra was spot on.

D: Whatever disagreements we may have had, she’s not cruel… or stupid enough to do that. R: Disagreements? She believes we had her son killed so that we might marry. D: Yes… and yet, she’s taken Baela to ward. R: Yes. It is Laena’s memory she honors. She has no love for us. D: Has the vipers’ venom spread so far?

I think she dislikes Vaemond and dislikes Daemon. What I was attempting to illustrate was that, I think, we have a lot more solid evidence and specificity in regard to her relationship with Vaemond, to the one with Daemon. But the levels of feelings are, as you say, probably the same level. I don't think she ever says anything specific about Vaemond's personality. But "Daemon only ever does what is best for Daemon" is pretty damning. Not untrue, but damning!

However, the root cause has been around longer with Vaemond, if we take that root cause to be that Vaemond never liked Corlys and Rhaenys being married, or House Velaryon involving themselves with House Targaryen in the first place. As opposed to Daemon's root cause being his marriage to Laena.