#he can have a slay every once in a while as a treat but .

[strawglicks]

graham doesnt slay graham isnt cute graham isnt hot he is stupid and pathetic and a sopping wet cat in a cardboard box and i wouldnt have it any other way

[smutinlove]

hi! how are you? can I make a request? so ive been imagining in my head how would jason react to reader going to the wayne gala with him? (for being more especific after jason introduce reader to the batfamily reader gets invited by jason's family to go to the wayne gala)

how would the batfamily treat her? how does Jason behave on gala nights?? sorry for so many questions lol

thanks for reading this <3

y'all are FEEDING THE DEMON inside me. slay

-not proof-read. has punctuation mistakes (probably. maybe.. idk)

•after a few embarrassing encounters (for jason HAHA) with his family, you were formally invited to have dinner with them. and dinner turned into an invitation to the wayne gala. pretty big, huh?

•at first, you were hesitant... but jason said he wouldn't go without you and you did not want that. so you went with him.

•i mean, it was one thing being with him. but his arm wrapped around you waist while he introduced you to everyone, calling you his, "girlfriend."

•and whenever he called you his girlfriend, he blushed and smiled.

•i mean, usually jason would be one of those "macho, no feelings/emotions need to be shown" kind of men. but when he's with you, it's a whole new genre.

•he's so gentle with you. your dress got stuck? he'll buy you a new one. hungry during the gala? he'll make you sit down and give you a plate filled with food. (his siblings said that he's so chaotic during gala nights... not true.)

•and omg, speaking of his siblings, they are so protective over both of you. if you hurt him, count your days. if he hurt you, that's a different book in general.

•dick is like an older brother, except he is so sweet and genuine. he knows everything about everyone. tim is like the nerdy but really chaotic younger brother. he's super smart, but also on the brink of causing an alien invasion and murdering everyone in the galaxy. but he's just a goofy little boy <3

•steph is such a girl's girl. she's so friendly and sweet. she's an angel, i swear. cassandra cain doesn't talk much. but she isn't untoward or rude to you. she just doesn't talk a lot. but she has said a few nice words to you.

•damien... that little minx is formal. but once you break down his barriers, he is just another child and child soldier. you and him bonded over your love for animals. he even introduced you to alfred the cat.

•now, papa wayne, the man, the myth, the bat. bruce wayne. he was very friendly. holy shit, this man raised amazing children. he deserves the world. he is very sweet to you, always making sure you're comfortable. he's like a dad to you. (i wish he was my dad)

•alfred, the heart of the bat family. he's formal too sometimes. but he's really nice. he's helpful and witty. he knows everything about every member of the bat/wayne family. if you want to see jason in diapers or when he was in an awkward teenage phase, ask him. he has pics of EVERY batfam member.

•let's just say that jason was raised by amazing people. and those same people adore you with everything.

jason is my pookie bear. he's just a big cuddly teddy bear and i love him for that

[outofconcheol]

friends forever? (lmh x f!reader)

pairing: Minho x reader (afab)

genres/au/rating: fluff, humour, angst if you squint, brief smut, established relationship, 18+

summary: Minho has the difficult task of wooing someone very important to you.

warnings: CATS, a very confused Minho, swearing, mentions breakups, mentions periods, just lots of feels ok, smut warnings: brief oral (f receiving), kissing

word count: 1.9k

a/n: Where are all my cat people at? this idea came to me today and it was so cute i almost passed out (jk I did actually pass out today). i really said enough of Minho wooing reader, i want to see this man woo a cat and i made it happen! Also Lulu is one of my nicknames for my cat (but he's a boy). this is very unedited, I wrote it in like an hour but I hope you enjoy!

It’s past midnight when Minho notices the eyes for the first time. They peer at him from the endless darkness of the hallway and he looks around nervously, wondering if he should say something. In the corner of his eye, he can see you rustling around in the kitchen, cabinets opening and closing as you try to find some snacks for the both of you. If there’s an intruder in your apartment, you don’t seem perturbed, humming quietly to yourself.

He wonders if this is some kind of test from the universe, if some evil spirit’s been sent down so that he, as your newly-minted boyfriend, can prove that he’s brave and worthy of protecting you. But before he can whip out his ghost-busting skills, your sock-clad feet are padding towards him on the couch, a surprised gasp leaving your lips.

“Oh! I see you’ve met Lulu.”

Minho blinks once, twice, before following the sound of your voice, looking down over the edge of the couch. 

Those same eyes from the hallway blink up at him. It’s a cat. Your cat, fluffy fur and all, looking at Minho through narrowed eyes.

Immediately, he softens, silently relieved that he wouldn’t have to slay any demons tonight. Minho loved cats. He had three of his own waiting at home. He slides off the couch, dropping to his knees, extending an arm out.

“Hi there Lulu, I’m Minho. Nice to meet you.”

Lulu cocks her head, taking a few seconds to look Minho over, assessing him from head to toe. And then she… remains completely still, refusing to budge and accept the offer to smell Minho’s hand. Minho feels his heart drop, arm still outstretched with the hope that she’ll change her mind, but to no avail.

“Babe,” Minho zips his head in your direction, and you offer him a comforting squeeze to his arm. “Lulu takes a while to warm up to new people, it’s nothing personal. She never liked any of my exes.”

You giggle, pulling Minho back onto the couch with you so he can rest his head in your lap while you start the movie. Minho tries to focus on the film, but his mind remains elsewhere, darting over to the side where he sees Lulu sitting next to the couch. Eventually, she jumps up onto the cushions to join you, snuggling into your side, but maintaining a safe distance from Minho.

Minho resists the urge to overthink the interaction from earlier. He knew better than anyone that cats were temperamental beings, and that they required extra love and attention. So what if Lulu never warmed up to any of your exes? She’d warm up to him eventually, because he planned on sticking around for a long time. 

If you asked Minho the key to winning a cat’s heart, he’d tell you time. And maybe lots of treats. But mostly time. He thought time would be enough to heal the frosty first impression he’d left on Lulu, but every time he was over at your place, there she was around the corner, mean-mugging and making him feel guilty for crimes he didn’t commit.

He didn’t want to worry you with his silly beef with your cat, knowing that you loved her and she’d helped you through many hard times. 

So Minho, being the amazing boyfriend he was, tried to tackle the problem on his own.

He started with treats of course. The sizeable dent in his wallet from owning three cats only became all the more palpable when he’d buy an extra box from the pet store every week, hoping to woo over Miss Lulu with the five-star meal of some pureed chicken in a tube.

Lulu stared down the tube like it was a foreign object, before slapping her fluffy tail against Minho’s face, turning on her heels, and walking away.

She had the same reaction to the freeze-dried treats he tried the week after.

Then he theorized that maybe Lulu was averse to the smell of his own cats on him. So Minho kept an extra pair of clothes in his car all the time, one he’d change into before coming over. When he knocked at the door, he was met with your dazzling smile, cupping his face to press your lips to his, but as soon as it was over he caught sight of Princess Lulu running down the hallway away from him.

Months passed with Minho doing everything he could wrap his mind around what he could do win over the second most important person in your life (after him, of course). He’d even powered through a tense meeting between Lulu and Soonie, Doongie, and Dori, worried that his sons would scare her away, or even worse, hurt her, and that would be the end of you and Minho. But much to his surprise, Lulu played happily with the boys, even letting Dori tackle her and lick her fur.

And so began Minho’s mutual grudge against your cat. He did his best to hide it, but the lack of acceptance from Lulu was getting to him, like an arrow through his heart. He wondered if he could survive years by your side with a cat that hated him, but one look at your sparkly eyes and pretty smile told him that yes, this was worth it. You were worth it.

So Lulu ignored Minho. And Minho ignored Lulu. And both of them continued on in their own little worlds, centered around you. 

Minho slams his lips against yours, pushing you up against the door of your bedroom, smirking when he feels your lips part in a soft moan. The two of you make out lazily against the door for a few moments, until you’re both breathless and panting, Minho stepping back to admire the handiwork he’d left on your neck, the angry marks disappearing underneath the neckline of your shirt. 

Minho runs his thumb over your lip, watching your eyes go dark with desire, and in no time at all, you’re pinned underneath him on the bed, legs dangling with Minho in between them. He wastes no time diving in, eating you out with fervor until you’re writhing against his face, a wave of pleasure building inside you.

Only for it all to come crashing down seconds later, when he suddenly stops. You let out a pathetic whine, running your fingers through Minho’s hair while he remains crouched in between your thighs.

“Min, baby what’s wrong?” you lift his chin up so he’s looking at you, and the look in his eyes is so starkly different from a few minutes ago, his face pale.

“She’s watching us,” he whispers, like he’s seen a ghost.

You follow his line of sight to the top of the dresser, where Lulu is now perched, tail tucked underneath her butt, eyes narrowing at you and Minho.

“Just ignore her, babe,” you nudge his head between your legs again. Minho gives a few tentative licks to your folds, but lets out a heavy sigh, sitting back on his knees.

“I can’t.” And he looks so unbelievably guilty it makes your heart melt. You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, before throwing on his discarded shirt, softly padding over to where Lulu rests.

“Hey pretty girl,” you coo at her, cradling her in your arms. “How about we go drink some water, huh?”

Minho sits on the edge of the bed, legs crossed and head in his hands. He doesn’t hear you come back inside, jumping slightly when you throw your arms around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“She doesn’t hate you,” your voice is muffled, nuzzling your nose against his jaw.

“She does,” Minho whines, trying not to let his voice break. “She literally won’t accept any treats from me. Every time you have period cramps, she glares at me like she’s saying “It’s your fault, asshole.” She even plays with Changbin more than me. And he’s allergic! She hates me and you’re going to break up with me because I can’t get along with your cat.”

“Why would I break up with you, silly?” you giggle. “I love you.”

Minho grabs you by the shoulders, cupping your cheeks in his hands, shock on his face.

“Y-you do?”

You nod your head, reaching up to grab his hand with your own.

“I love you, Lee Minho. And Lulu too. My heart is big enough for both of you.”

Minho feels better after that night, his anxieties melting away, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can survive this impasse with Lulu.

Until you ask him to do the unthinkable.

“Please Minho? It’s just for one night.” you beg him. Something urgent had come up for work, and you needed to take an overnight trip to handle it. Which meant Minho had to stay home with Lulu.

Minho wants to protest, saying the little brat will be fine, but then you pout. And it’s game over. He’s agreeing before he can think it through.

So you leave, the door clicking behind you, and Minho sits on the couch, Lulu across the room from him, the two of them staring each other down much like the first time they’d met. He takes meticulous care to fill up her food bowl and clean out her litter box, his heart doing a flutter when she doesn’t refuse either.

But she remains at her safe distance, and Minho is alone on the couch, missing the warmth of your presence next to him. He clicks through a few tv channels, before turning the TV off, throwing his hoodie on and slipping out onto your balcony, making sure to leave the door slightly ajar in case something happened to Lulu.

He sits with his knees curled to his chest, watching the city lights twinkle, until he hears a soft whine. He turns to see Lulu across from him on the balcony, maintaining her healthy distance, but staring at him with curious eyes.

“You’re a tough nut to crack Lulu, you know that?” Minho blurts out. “I just wish you’d like me, kiddo. I try so hard for you. And for your mom.”

He leans back against the railing, letting out a heavy sigh, and the words keep pouring out.

“I love her a lot. Like a lot a lot. I think I’m probably gonna marry her someday. And then we’ll be stuck together whether you like it or not.”

Minho closes his eyes, wondering what the future would hold for the two of them, when he feels it. The soft brush of fur against his leg, and then tiny vibrations.

He blinks his eyes open, and Lulu is nestled against his leg, soft purrs coming from her as she burrows her nose into Minho’s sweaptants.

Tears prick at the corner of Minho’s lids as he fights every bone in his body not to jump for joy. He reaches over, softly stroking Lulu between her ears, and chuckles when her tiny mouth drops open.

“Of course. The only thing you love more than attention is ____. I should have known.”

He stays impossibly still, battling against the ache in his leg, his eyes growing heavy with sleep. 

That’s how you find him in the morning, still cuddled up to Lulu. You smile softly, grabbing a blanket from the couch to throw over Minho while you work on breakfast for him and Lulu, finally content that the two most important people in your world love each other as much as they love you.

a/n pt. 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

[97keanu]

John Constantine x f!Reader

Premise: As Constantine's assistant, he tests your limits often. You know you're a smart, good girl. So when one wrong placed bet has you on your knees for Constantine as he enacts only your wildest fantasies, you don't know where you two stand anymore. You thought your little crush on him was buried deep, but it turns out you are willing to do much more than you ever want to admit. Tonight, he pushes you farther than you thought he ever would...

Tags/CW: MEAN!Constantine, bratty!reader, princess coded!reader, reader who thinks she's too good for you, leashed!reader, pet play, puppy!reader, bimbo-fied!reader, bdsm, age gap, p in v, f!reader, crybaby-ish!reader, crying kink, choking, AGGRESSIVE, oral (m receiving.), dub-ishcon, degradation, humiliation, praise kink, girl on top, raw, edging.

Be added to my tag lists here! Read more of my works here!

You knew making a bet with Constantine was never the right move. Your pride got ahead of you, trailing behind it your ego, and your intelligence, that you love to portray in yourself, nowhere to be found. You knew there was no way you would be able to figure out how to hunt a demon all by yourself, you should have never accepted a bet that if you did, Constantine would start treating your training seriously. Now, you've lost, and on top of it, you agreed to do whatever Constantine said from now on. And that does mean, whatever he says, you soon realize...

"I am not doing that, Constantine!" You stomp a chunky heeled foot and fold your arms, trying to look mean and serious the way he does, but failing.

"What's wrong, you're such a 'goody-two-shoes' that you can't have some fun every now and then?" He takes a long draw from his cigarette, he's so close you can smell the cologne mixed with smoke coming from him.

It was bitter and spicy, only the smallest hint of sweetness.

"Fun? You think leashing me is some sort of 'fun' for me?" You scoff and glare as he blows smoke into your face, batting it away with one hand.

"Yeah, it'll loosen you up a bit. Maybe you can turn that bright mind of yours off while I tug on your leash and make you sit pretty." He gives you a thump in your forehead when he mocks your smart tendencies, and you feel anger rising even more.

Your cheeks go red and you know you just look even more pathetic when you're mad at like this.

"I don't see how any of this has to do with learning to hunt demons or helping you." You scoff and turn your eyes from him, completely baffled by the whole idea.

"It might teach you that you can't just go off on your own trying to slay a demon before you're ready. It also might show you where you fit in all of this..." He teases you, pull a lock of your hair between two of his fingers.

"And where's that? Beneath you?" You say it with disdain, but the truth is that you wouldn't mind that so much. The heat between the two of you has been brewing since you started the job with him. It was only a matter of time...

"Lighten up, Princess. It's just my way of pay back for you losing the bet. Besides, I might even give you a treat if you're a good girl." He pulls your chin up, forcing your big doe eyes to look into his deep brown ones.

And that's how you ended up here. On your knees, a leather collar around your dainty little neck, looking up at Constantine as he tugs you towards him. You can't believe you've been brought so low. You started this job because you thought you had the smarts and academic research to help aid in finding demons. Now you're looking up at your own personal demon.

"Crawl." Constantine commands, and pulls on your leash, forcing you to follow if you don't want to be choked.

You feel so humilated. Your cheeks heat to a level that you didn't think possible, and your lip quivers as you try to force down your sudden feelings of inadequacy. Constantine is not stopping until you really know your place.

"Sit." He finally says once he's dragged you to the bedroom, yanking on your chain when you don't do so fast enough.

You feel tears welling up, and soon enough, you know it's not just because of how embarrassed you feel about the situation. Instead, you feel yourself beginning to like being commanded as such. Deny it all you want as tears roll down your cheeks, but you like giving up all the control you fight for.

"Don't cry," Constantine laughs at you, his cruelty knowing no bounds. "You don't know how much more it turns me on to see you cry..."

"You're sick..." You whisper and look at the ground, but Constantine's yank of your leash stops you from looking away.

"Don't act like you're not enjoying this, Princess. I can see it in your eyes." You gaze at him and hate how easily your rising arousal is seen.

Constantine sits on the bed, watching as you sit on your knees before him. The hard wood floors are leaving your knees aching already, and somehow that pain is sending heat between your legs in waves.

"I want you to undress." Constantine commands you.

You want to resist. You know resisting is almost as bad as admitting defeat, however. And since you've already lost once, getting you into this situation, you feel like the test is on now.

"This is completely ridiculous..." You grumble, your hands folding over your chest.

"Is it?" Constantine laughs while he looks down at you, cheeks hot and wet. "You're the one who agreed to let me test your limits however I desired. You knew what you might be getting yourself into. I'm sure you secretly hoped it would come to this."

His voice chides you like a child, making you feel even lower, and the worst part was, he was right. Fantasies of Constantine doing whatever he pleased with you had floated through your head when you agreed. You never thought it would involve treating you like a bad puppy, however.

"You're so cruel to me..." The last part comes out in a whisper as your arms move, lifting your shirt to reveal what you have on underneath.

"Interesting how such a prude as yourself has such sexy lingerie underneath..." Constantine's eyes eat you up.

He watches with hunger as you kneel there, your lacy, black bra the only thing that covers your chest, which is heaving with the nervous and aroused breaths you take.

"I..." You try to think of something smart-assed to say, but end up short.

The truth was, you started wearing such lacy and tempting things beneath your clothes soon after you started working for him. You know why.

You know that you wanted to be ready, just in case...

And now here you are, all blush and embarrassment, tear stained cheeks and anger for being brought to this, laid almost bare in front of him. This man you have claimed to his own face to dislike. You feel such a fool as yourself probably deserves to be treated as such as he pull your chain nearer to him.

"Don't be so pathetic, puppy..." He gives another yank. "I think you'll find if you're a good doggy for me I might just give you a treat."

You glare at him as you sit so perfectly between his legs. You can see the huge bulge pressed up against his black suit pants, and you shift your thighs uncomfortably as you realize how badly you want to take him into your mouth. When your big eyes look up at him, lashes batting and confused, Constantine smirks.

"You don't have to hold yourself back, go ahead, take it out." And despite yourself, your hands are moving to the zipper and buttons of his pants, so slowly.

You let Constantine's cock take over your view, flopping out of his pants and easily into your hands. You're tired of fighting it. The ache deep in your stomach and between your thighs has gotten too persistent to ignore, and now here you are, leashed and stroking your boss's cock.

You know how much he's enjoying this, beyond even just the pleasure you're feeding him right now with your hand. He likes this feeling of domination over you, likes seeing you finally let go. You can't help but feel like this is where he thinks you belong. Beneath him and doing what you're told.

"That's it..." He sighs, leaning his head back ad your hand warms his cock for him. Even just the smell of it from how close you are, is filling your pretty little head and driving you mad.

You bite your lip and look up to him, he's loosening his tie and pulls your leash again, leading you even further to do what he wants. Your mouth waters as you think about putting something as big as his cock in it. You don't even know if you could fit it all, to be honest...

You hear him let out a small moan, obviously not wanting to do so. And as he does, you realize he needs this, this release, just as much as you do. You may be the one leashed and collared, but he's the one who's needing his cock touched so badly right now.

You bring the tip to your pouty mouth, and Constantine's warm brown eyes look down at you. You look into them sweetly and tease him with your tongue. He seems to be responding well, until goes on too long, and he reached a hand up and takes it behind your head.

"I can't wait that long, puppy." His voice is filled with need, and as he pressed on the back of your head, you can't help but open up, taking his cock into your mouth.

What really surprised you was how deep he pushes you, taking in way more than you thought possible and still having more left over. You choke for a moment, and it's clear Constantine likes hearing it. He continues to bob your head for you, his grip tightening and getting rougher just to hear your muffled cries. You feel the tears welling up again, this time involuntarily, caused by how rough he's fucking your throat and face. You grip his thighs, hands against his pants, and look up at him like the pretty princess you are, being all used up by such a wicked man as him.

"God, you've got such a cute face when you take my cock like that..." He groans out, head falling back once more as he loses himself in you for a moment.

You feel how tight he has you pulled by your leash, and you know you couldn't stop if you wanted to. He has you so perfectly trapped right now, and somehow being so restrained makes your pussy even wetter. You had no idea you needed to be tamed like this.

Suddenly, he pulls your head violently from his cock, spit trailing and eyes blinking out a few more tears. You look up at him with your big wet puppy dog eyes, trying to catch your breath and stop from choking on your own spit that's accumulated.

"Alright, princess," he starts with a heavy breath of his own, pulling your lead and your hair as he moves you up on to the bed with him. "I want to see what else you can do."

Constantine perfectly places you on top of him, his cock underneath your pussy, your thin piece of underwear being the only thing stopping him from slipping inside of you.

He's kept most of his clothes on, and somehow it makes you feel even more degraded knowing that he doesn't even feel the need to get that naked and open to you. It feels quick, it feels easy, it feels like fucking a stranger in a seedy little hotel room. You adore it...

You don't even have to be told, your mind is taken over by your own needs, and you begin to rub your soaking pussy against his solid cock. Constantine smiles and seems to be praising you for your good slut abilities.

"Such a good whore for me..." He whispers, grabbing your hips and rocking you into him in just the right way.

You're so much smaller on his frame as you needily grind yourself into him. He seems so much bigger, and the fact that he's so much older than you, so much more mature, adds to the fact that you feel humiliated and used by him. You're sure he feels the same, and enjoys seeing your young little body using herself up on his cock. You can tell by the way he's looking at you right now, like a hungry wolf waiting for the perfect moment to slaughter the poor little lamb.

"Move them to the side..." He says with a husky breath, not even trying to be kind or nice in asking.

"Y-yes..." You muster out, and reach down, moving your panties out of the way to expose your wet little slit.

Constantine easily lifts you up, and in one solid motion, not waiting to let you acclimatize to such a large cock. You cry out, loud and long, and he cuts it off with a quick pull of the collar, that choking feeling back and the pain and domination mixing with the pleasure of being so perfectly full. You let out a few choked noises as he grinds you in as deep as humanly possible.

Your mind reels from how much has been taken from you already tonight, and a small bit of fear settles in you as you wonder what you've gotten yourself into. How aggressive could he possibly be? You have no idea, but right now, despite being on top, you've never felt so inferior to Constantine, and with the way he's cruelly enjoying your pain, you shudder.

He only let's you remain still like this for a moment, obviously admiring his handy work on you. Soon enough, he's quickly lifted you again, and slammed himself back into you. You feel as if you may break into two, his cock splitting you so deeply. He continues this, hitting the deepest parts of you with such pleasurable pain that you pant out, breaths shaking and mixing with your cries. Your cheeks are stained with your mascara as more salty tears find their release and you begin to wonder where a fucking like this was all your life.

"I love seeing you so sloppy and your perfect little make up your work so hard on completely fucked like this." You hear Constantine say as he continues to use your body however he likes, fucking you harder and faster as he goes.

One of his hands finds your clit, rubbing circles that cause you to double over into him, your hands gripping his white button down and tie, face so close to his now.

"A good whore doesn't come out of the bedroom without a mess on her face." He whispers to you, so close now, he can see all the pain and desperation, all the need and pleasure on your face as your mind is completely fogged.

You keep letting him take you, slowly becoming more and more malleable in his hands, becoming a moaning little mess of a girl that is being fucked on his cock, making a mess of that as well as you get wetter and wetter, his hand bringing you closer with every stroke against your swollen and needy clit.

All you can do is close your eyes and lose yourself on him. You feel yourself edging closer and closer, and your lip trembles, your teeth finding it and biting to keep yourself from cumming to fast, but it's no use.

"F-fuck...I'm going to..." You can't stop the whisper that comes, and you begin to unwind.

You feel him stop suddenly, and then laugh.

"I'm not doing all the work, princess." He says, and leans back, putting both his hands behind his head, one still holding your leash of course.

"Wh-what?" You blink, breathing trying to regulate, looking up at him like a lost little puppy.

"That's right, I wanna see you work yourself on me. It's time you do some of the work if you want to cum, that is." His stupid, mean, cocky face tells you there's no getting out of this, but your lip pouts anyways.

"Hey! That's not fair, I was so close..." You see that it doesn't matter what you say, and his accompanying laugh doesn't make you feel much better anyways.

Your aching and throbbing cunt gets the better of the situation, and you put aside your stubborn nature for the prize of more friction.

You lean up, one hand out stretched as far as it goes, keeping your balance on Constantine's chest. Your hips rock, slowly, then picking up speed and losing awkwardness in favor of deeper thrusts of his cock into you. You begin to moan, finally finding the ultimate pleasure you were missing, free hand moving to your clit once more and giving the needed attention.

"Don't you dare cum without asking me, puppy." Constantine has sat up a bit, so he can pull you closer and say this while looking directly into your eyes. His intensity let's know their will be punishments if you don't do as he commands. You nod your head, willing to do anything right now.

You continue on, fucking yourself perfectly, and feeling your pussy tighten on it's own around him. He's harder than ever, his hips bucking into a bit despite saying you needed to get your own cum from his cock.

"I love seeing you work so hard for it." He whispers, his hand reaching out and wrapping around your neck, moving your head to keep eye contact despite wanting nothing more than to close your eyes and relish in the pleasure.

"Constantine, please, I need to cum..." You whisper out, eyes pleading and messy with running mascara.

"You'll have to do better than that. I need you to beg like the good dog you are." He responds with a wicked grin, eating up all of your desperation with glee.

"Oh god, please, I can't keep this up," you try to get out of it, but his grip on your throat tightens.

"I decide when you cum. Get that through your pretty little head, princess." He scoffs.

"Fine," you cry as he digs his cock deeper right where you need it.

"I'm begging you, please let me cum, I'll do anything, I'll say anything, just let me cum..." The words come out whiney, and breathy, and fast, need building beyond what you ever thought, your hand having to take breaks on your clit, knowing if you don't you'll fall over the edge.

"Anything?" Constantine replies, and you have a bad feeling about the look on his face.

"A-anything..." You whimper out, grinding relentlessly like the needy little bitch you are.

"Fine." he licks his teeth. "Bark like a dog for me, and I'll let you cum."

You look at him stunned for a moment, not wanting to do something so humiliating, cheeks burning hotter than they already are.

"You're kidding..." He stops fucking you and tightens his grip on your throat further, choking out the second word, he doesn't need to say that he's not.

You feel so close, and you need this so bad, but you have never felt so degraded...

Moments pass, and the loss of friction and the need for more builds.

You hold your breath, trying not even to breathe right now, trying not even to give him anything after he's taken so much from you tonight.

When you do breath, you feel utterly embarrassed about what comes out.

A whimper, then a bark. From the look on his face, you know it's not enough. You continue, your bark growing louder and louder until you're desperately crying it out. When you look back, he's laughing at you, and you feel like a school girl again, getting bullied. Somehow, that makes the need grow even more.

"Alright, alright," he says between laughs. "You can cum..."

And then, it's you that holds him down, your muscles tighten and Constantine let's you take him for the first time tonight however you want. You get the power right now, you've earned it after what he's put you through, and he freely let's you fuck him and use his cock however you need. And you do, and you feel yourself spilling, spilling, spilling...

You release on him, and he tells praises you as you do, your walls tightening and bringing him to his own release. You feel his cum, hot and sticky, filling you up more and more with every stroke.

"God, you're so pretty when you take what you want. What a pretty little puppy you are..." He breathes, keeping up with an endless amount of praise that you so desperately needed as you finish, coming down slowly from everything and finally resting, exhausted on his chest, cock still inside you, twitching.

You two say nothing for a long time, laying just like that, and to your surprise, sleep gets the better of you, and you find Constantine's arms wrapping around you to keep you from falling off his chest, and cock. You drift off to the most peaceful, dreamless sleep, you've had since starting this job. Maybe he was right. Maybe you did enjoy this more than you thought, but you'd never let him know that.

Taglist: @worldsgreatestsinner @discoscoob @nwheregirl @slutforsoldierboy @sughcashsaiki @sebastianstanisahotmf @iovesia @brooxie3

Ask to be taken off anytime, be added to the tag list here!

[buterccup]

GEN Z READER IN TASK FORCE 141 HC

A/N: I saw a couple of these and I couldn't stop trying to find more, and I just love the concept of all these big men trying to understand the reader's humour but I also love how they try to watch over them even though they can easily take care of themselves. Also, do expect the codename to change if I make another one of these but if anyone has ideas please tell me. Anyways I hope this doesn't flop and please enjoy.

Warnings: Dark humour, Suicide jokes, simping, swearing, mentions of parents leaving the reader, basically gen z stuff, usual CoD violence

Character(s): Soap, Gaz, John, Ghost, Price x Gn! reader (And graves kinda-)

Codename: Daffodil

There is no thinking about it you are the youngest and probably the shortest in the task force.

When Laswell first told Price that he will have someone younger than he expected to join the task force he immediately said no, he wasn't going to babysit you.

Plus you looked way too young to be in the army

Little did he know, you got your codename for a reason.

But once Laswell said you were very strong and he could trust you to hold your own and that he had to, he didn't have much of a choice.

And as expected once Price and Laswell introduce you to the boys they were shocked too.

There was a literal child in front of them.

And Soap being Soap he let out a little chuckle earning a nudge and glare from Ghost and an "ahem" from Price

"This is Daffodil, your new rookie. And I warn you don't underestimate them just from their name. Treat them well."

At first you were very quiet and only spoke when spoken to, almost beating Ghost's stoic and quiet nature

To which the rest of 141 joked about quite a lot

but after a while, you started to open up to them which was a nice sign

But the boys did catch onto your humour pretty quickly which caused them to worry for your mental state.

You would start saying suicide jokes at 1 mile per second at every small inconvenience.

"If that happens again I'm going to jump in front of a car- I am going to hang myself- I cannot right now-"

"Kid...It's just paper work..."

"Exactly"

One time you and the group were going after a target and of the guys' men shot you in the arm. It wasn't as bad as you thought it would be but it still hurt.

While Soap and Gaz asked if you were okay you were completely hysterical at the moment. So much in fact that you shouted something so stupid before the guy met his inevitable end.

By Ghost too:D

Thanks Ghost<33

"Do you want this back???"

BLAM

"Oop, mans left quicker than my dad."

To say the least, your boys were concerned for you because of that

Even Ghost tried to check up on you every minute or two after they got the bullet out and patched you up.

You all eventually got the target in the end but your boys ended up forcing you to go get your wound checked since a, and I quote, "Crusty dusty" building wouldn't be the best place to pick out bullet fragments.

You came back with one of the doctor's pens because you liked it and claimed you finessed him when in reality he gave it to you because he noticed you staring and you were too scared to ask.

It was a LED cat paw pen

"Gaz what does finesse mean?"

"I don't really know..?"

"What do you mean you're supposed to know-"

One time you shouted slay during a mission once Ghost killed one of the targets.

To be honest, it did make him laugh but Price, on the other hand, didn't understand but he soon got what it meant. Kinda.

With that being said Gaz and sometimes Soap are the go-to when Price or Ghost don't understand what the hell you just said since they are the younger ones.

Which also means you got along better with them

And if they don't understand something they always try their best to find out and find more things you would laugh at.

Soap even goes that extra effort to make memes and send them to you.

But don't get me wrong you love spending time with Price and Ghost.

And speaking of memes you always end up making stupid gifs of Ghost and always end up sending them to the tf141 group chat that you made to annoy them most of the time or Ghost himself where you sometimes end up joke flirting with him

Mans is scrumdiliumcious if you did say so yourself

(Ahem basically the gif at the start of the hcs)

One time you called Ghost Mummy and Soap and Gaz wouldn't stop laughing while Price sighed at the little slip-up.

It wasn't a slip-up.

You defiantly burst into Price's office most of the time too when you have nothing to do.

Even though hearing Price drone on about his paperwork doesn't sound that fun it's nice to hear his voice.

And If you didn't have good parents or were absent most of your life he would never turn you away once he sees you at his door.

This also applies if you have good parents too

From the number of times he had to lecture you and your boys about how you can't have McDonald's after a mission and how it's bad for you is basically allowing him to adopt you.

Once you met Grave one thing kept popping into your mind.

Fix it Felix.

Which didn't really give you both a great start but he warmed up to you sooner or later.

And as much as an asshole he is most of the time he actually gets concerned when he hears one of your suicide jokes.

When he first heard one over coms he made sure to keep an eye on you every so often and even messaged you after the mission was over.

Don't get me wrong Graves is kinda...shitty but that doesn't make him that much of an asshole to not check up on a 'child' when they say something concerning.

And when all your boys are free and there is time you all have a movie night.

It's quite relaxing, it was nice to have these quiet moments with your boys considering your jobs.

Although one time it was getting really late and you all got through 2 movies and you almost looked like you were going to pass out so that's when papa Price came out.

"Papa, more movie."

"No the movie is over, we gotta go.."

"PAPA"

"Oh, Jesus Christ.." (💀)

"Me. Want. More. Movie."

"No Daffo-"

"YOU LIE"

"Kiddo the movie is-"

"Price what did you do-" (🧼)

Once you calmed down and Price realized what you said he cried internally.

Everything was okay in the end though and Gaz had that on camera so they can always look back and laugh at it.

Requests: Open

Part 2!

[man-down-in-hatchet-town]

So I Spied Another Day...

You know it was a good show when you can’t decide whether your heart is so full from all the love and joy, or so empty because it's over.

Really do buckle up, because this is a long one.

So the show went a little like this. They played the Spies pro-shoot on a giant movie screen, but any time a song started, the audio changed to the instrumental track, the video typically faded to simple background graphics, and the cast came out to perform the number live in concert style. There were also a series of audience participation prompts up on the movie screen, such as standing to deliver a line in unison, giving Lauren a standing ovation for the Pay Attention! Reprise, enthusiastically booing Dr. Baron von Nazi and the still infuriatingly catchy Not So Bad (for anyone who’s curious, in addition to encouraging boos and yelled disagreements with von Nazi, they also cut the audience participation bit from the song).

The energy in the room was so electric and full of joy and warmth. People shouted out iconic lines, went wild for everyone’s entrances, and absolutely lost their damn minds over Curtwen at pretty much every opportunity. And the cast were clearly having just as much fun. Doing This has always been my favorite, and there was something so sweet about them singing it again all these years later. We finally got Joey performing Spies Are Forever (Evil Reprise) again and it was just as chilling and beautiful as you’d expect. And One Step Ahead was just on a whole new level. I don’t want to give anything away, but the details in that performance were INCREDIBLE.

It was simply so special seeing most of the original gang come back while also bringing some new friends along. Shout out to Mariah for coming out at the top of the show so ready to play, setting the tone for the whole evening. Shout out to James for putting his comedy chops on full display (LET JAMES BE FUNNY MORE) and dancing the hell out of One More Shot (another favorite number). And shoutout to Carlos Alazraqui (taking over the roles of Sergio and Vladimir Poopin) and Tommy Link for coming into this crazy part of our world with such enthusiasm and silliness. Brian deserves a medal for agreeing to once again play the most cringe-worthy character in all of Pulp-StarCanWrecked history, and for sounding so fucking good while doing it. Tessa was having a blast in full unhinged glory and I gladly worship at her altar. Lauren is maybe the funniest person alive and deserved her standing ovation, prompted or not. Seeing Joe Walker perform live has been Item Number One on my fandom bucket list since I moved to LA a couple of years ago, and I still can’t quite believe I managed it. I’d wondered if he’d be rusty, but honestly he sounded great; it was like no time had passed. Mary Kate still has one of my all-time favorite voices and her Tatiana remains forever engaging. Joey showed up dressed to slay as a gay evil genius Bond-movie supervillain and proceeded to thoroughly deliver on that promise. And Curt… every time I watch Spies I am increasingly blown away by what he does with this arrogant, broken mess of a character. He clearly loves Agent Mega as much as any of us, and to see a performance refined and powered by such clear and thoughtful passion is just a huge treat.

(And while he wasn’t in the cast, I can’t not mention Corey. Between his roles as director and co-writer, so much of what Spies is comes directly from him and we don’t appreciate that nearly enough. And shout out to Esther Fallick for her wonderful work as Susan and the Informant. She might not have been there in person, but her incredible performance was with us the whole time.)

I know this is preaching to the choir, but Spies Are Forever really is such a special show. It’s a story about recovery, and devastating as it can be, I think there’s also something deeply healing about it at its core. For one thing, I know it played a huge role in mending my relationship with my asexuality. I will forever be grateful to it for existing, to TCB, Talkfine, and the original cast for creating it, and to those same people for maintaining its legacy with the amount of love and care it deserves. It was a privilege to be in the room as so many people came to celebrate this miraculous little musical. There were a couple of minor tech glitches (I wonder if they’ll even include the “big one”—the projector jumping over most of the staircase scene before getting fixed—in the digital ticket version), but nothing that could even begin to damper the magic of the night.

We all know that spies never die (except for Owen and the Informant, oops). And at times like this concert, I think this special little show with its short run in 2016 will prove to be just as immortal.

[theforgottenmcrmy]

Second Sons (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Please note that this is an overall Part 25 to the series Growing Strong. The masterlist, and part 1, can be found HERE ᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, a couple curses, canon typical violence, canonical character death, a couple people rip off Olenna Tyrell's lines because she's an icon

Summary:

A short flight, and he would return to his mother. To his siblings, except for Jace, who was hopefully safe and probably still in the Vale. To his cousins, and his betrothed. To his friends. And to the man who had offered him more fatherly guidance than probably any other had in his life, regardless of the personal cost to himself.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy reading this one as much as I did writing it. I have one more tentative part planned to connect the events of s1 to s2, but depending on how episode 1 on Sunday plays out, I may tie it into the plot of that episode. I'm not sure yet if I'll keep writing this story into s2 while its airing, or wait until after it's out. But if I do end up waiting until it's out in its entirety, I can almost guarantee I'll at least have one shots or related hand canons posted since those are fairly easier to whip up.

Prince Daemon Targaryen was well on his way to speak with the dragonkeepers to ensure Caraxes was adequately prepared for a flight to Riverlands.

The queen had yet to grant him her permission to depart Dragonstone- as Maester Gerardys had so kindly informed him the day prior - but her lack of approval would not change the inevitable. The Riverlands were essential territory to the war that was all but upon them, and Prince Daemon was of the belief that the arrival of a dragon upon his doorstep would be most efficient in swaying Lord Grover Tully to remember his oath.

The same notion had sent the eldest Velaryon princes, Crown Prince Jacaerys and Prince Lucerys, to the Eerie, then the North, and to Storms End respectively. The princes, and their dragons, had left Dragonstone the evening prior. As Daemon strode through the halls of his family’s ancestral keep, shadows from the rising sun filtered in from windows throughout. It was near midday, and not a word had been received yet from either prince.

Fortunately, not enough time had passed for such a fact to become a concern, even for Rhaenyra. Jacaerys, if he’d been wise, would have flown on Vermax to Claw Isle, where the loyal Lord Bartimos Celtigar’s household would have offered him shelter for the evening, before braving the rest of the flight to the Eerie the next day. Any raven he might have sent the evening prior would not have been received so soon. The same could be said for Lucerys, who had most likely been taken in by Lord Borros Baratheon and treated to a feast that would have lasted well into the night.

Prince Daemon - or was he Prince Consort now? - did not know exactly what compelled him to travel through Dragonstone’s training yard on his way to speak with the dragonkeepers. Perhaps it was the dreadful reminder in the back of his mind that once his business was finished with them, he was expected to return to the Chamber of the Painted Table, to the grueling politics that did not cease despite the Velaryon princes’ departure.

But what Prince Consort Daemon Targaryen did know was that Dark Sister hung heavy at his side with every step he took. The blade sang to him, even now, calling for the spilling of blood. Green blood. It had been quite some time since Daemon felt drawn to the alluring chaos and thrill of battle. The past few years on Dragonstone had been some of the most peaceful years of his life. Perhaps he might have grown content with such tranquility, given his rather tumultuous youth. But all thoughts of that had been swiftly set aside upon the slaying of his brother - most likely by the efforts of that scheming Hightower bitch of a queen - and the loss of another daughter.

The precious life lost was the first casualty of the Green’s treason, and was not likely to be the last. But for their Visenya, for Viserys, Prince Daemon would see all of the Hightowers to a just end. And, if said ends occurred between Caraxes’ maw, or by the sweep of Dark Sister, all the better.

Given the time of day, Prince Daemon had not expected the Dragonstone’s training yard to be occupied. If he had, he might have chosen another route to achieve his means. But as he entered the cavernous room, the familiar sound of a blade meeting a stiff bag of hay filled his ears. The usual guards, a pair each, posted by the entrances on either side of the room watched in silence as a lone figure sparred with a training dummy in the middle of the yard.

The young Lord Selwin Tyrell-Strong wielded not a wooden practice sword, but a real one. Each slice that tore through the air resulted in straw leaking from the dummy and drifting slowly to the floor.

Prince Daemon knew he ought to have ignored the boy and continued on his way, but something gave him pause. He watched with scrutiny as the young lord, who was so focused he had yet to become aware of the prince’s arrival, went through his motions. The confident, smooth movements, a varying but ultimately repeating set of strikes and blocking imaginary blows, were clearly more muscle memory than any conscious thought. The preciseness of the strikes, despite the target being stationary, were decently placed and well informed, the lordling having aimed for weak spots that would exist in an opponent's armor, and, of course, the heart. It was apparent that Lord Strong and whatever various masters at arms had instructed the boy thoroughly.

Though there was still room for improvement, even Prince Daemon was forced to admit the boy held decent promise, particularly for his age. Perhaps the bold show at dinner two nights past was not merely an isolated spectacle at all, but rather an indication of something more.

But Prince Daemon was wise enough not to always speak the thoughts that came to his mind. He had no duty to compliment the boy’s form, and certainly no desire to inflate a young lord’s ego.

So instead, Prince Daemon called out, “You seem to be in the wrong place, My Lord.”

With a small jump, Selwin halted his movements at once. To his credit, his grip on the blade remained firm as he slowly brought it down to his side. “My Prince?”

Daemon walked towards him slowly. His gaze was appraising as the young lord turned to him as he approached.

“I am told many of our guests are in the Chamber of the Painted Table, undoubtedly eager to take advantage of every moment they can obtain with our new queen,” Daemon explained simply.

Selwin took a steadying breath, visibly regaining composure from the exercise. “I shall leave them to it, then.”

Daemon’s brows raised. “You are not one for politics?”

“If I need to be,” the boy answered carefully, his focus flitting back to the training dummy.

“But it is not what compels you to rise for the day.”

It was not a question, but still, Selwin answered.

“That has always been my mother’s area of expertise. And my brother Derrik is a far better student of hers in that subject than I could ever hope to be.”

Daemon did not fail to notice how Harwin Strong went unmentioned. The Lord of Harrenhal might have been born to inherit it, but Daemon knew Harwin had little desire for ruling and even less patience for courtly designs. Harwin Strong was Lord of Harrenhal solely because his honor and sense of duty bound him to be. Daemon Targaryen enjoyed the luxuries his title and residence at court had brought him, but even he could not deny that, at some level, he and Lord Harwin Strong were cut of the same cloth. They were men both far more at ease in the training yard, if not the battlefield, then in a ballroom gallivanting about solely for society’s amusement.

And as Prince Daemon sized up the Lord of Harrenhal’s youngest son before him, he surmised that perhaps the apple had not fallen far from the tree.

“Ah yes, Derrik Strong- your late uncle’s namesake.” However, Daemon had spoken his truth at the dinner two evenings past: it truly was younger, not the older, of the Tyrell-Strong boys that resembled their late uncle, Ser Derron Tyrell. Unable to refuse the urge, Daemon gently goaded, “Our queen, on the word of your mother Lady Tyrell, I am sure, has told me he is quite intelligent for his age.”

Selwin said nothing.

“It must be heard, living in his shadow,” Prince Daemon prodded.

Lifting his sword, as though to inspect the blade, Selwin refused to take the bait. “I do not believe that I do. We are merely… different. We possess different strengths. He is more knowledgeable about court and politics, and I am more comfortable here, training.”

“But it is said that you are to inherit either Higharden or Harrenhal someday- and your brother is to inherit the other. You will rule somewhere, someday.” They might not have been the Iron Throne, but neither of the boy’s potential inheritances were anything to scoff at.

“Then I shall. It is my duty, and I will endure it, as my father does.”

Daemon did not doubt that. The Strong sense of stubbornness runs true. “And what if your brother challenges your succession?” he posed then. “He could, as you well know. Regardless of what Lady Tyrell and Lord Strong have decided, he is the eldest. When your mother and father are gone, by all laws of the land, he could pursue both seats of power, and the realm at large would not find fault in him for doing so.”

“I do not believe Derrik would go against our parents wishes,” the young lord asserted calmly. He lowered his blade once more, and fully turned to the prince. As Selwin met the Rogue Prince’s critical eye, his jaw tightened. “But even so, if that is what my brother desires, I would not stand in his way.”

“You would truly stand aside?”

“He is my brother, Your Highness. I would sooner fall on my own sword than willingly spill his blood.”

“You care for him.”

Selwin repeated, “He is my brother, Your Highness.”

They were seemingly at an impasse in the conversation, and yet, Prince Daemon felt surprisingly satisfied with the boy’s response. A few moments of silence passed between them, the Rogue Prince looking upon the youngest Tyrell-Strpng boy thoughtfully.

Eventually, Prince Daemon recalled what he had originally set out to do. The dragonkeepers would start to wonder where he was, even if they didn’t dare to ask after him.

So Daemon conceded, “Very well then, My Lord. I shall leave you to your practice now.”

Selwin bowed his head, but said nothing in response to his departure.

Prince Daemon turned to continue on his way, but hesitated. Quietly, so as not to be overheard by the guards dutifully keeping watch, he advised, “Mind your stature while blocking. Your left flank is a bit too exposed- you might stave off your opponent's blade, but anyone with merely half their wits about them will take advantage of it and deal you a nasty blow to the ribs.”

Selwin nodded appreciatively.

Prince Daemon finally did as he had announced, and continued across the yard. Not bothering to turn his head entirely, he called back to the young lord some final parting advice.

“Do keep practicing though, Lordling. One never knows when they may be called upon to lift a sword for their queen."

Lord Larys Strong, recently reaffirmed Master of Whisperers to King Aegon, Second of His Name, unrolled his most recently received correspondence with care.

Faint screaming echoed off the stone halls and walls surrounding him. Such was the consequence of having his office in dungeons of the Red Keep. All prisoners who ended up on this particular floor, the one just below the Black Cells, never rose above it again, but Larys was able to come and go as he pleased. And he would be lying if he denied that he derived a bit of pleasure from the fact.

Of course, he had his living quarters elsewhere, in a more socially acceptable part of the Red Keep. But for his official workspace, he had chosen this.

The King - both Viserys, and then Aegon, thought Larys’s choice of office, which was little more than a rooted out cell with a desk and chair, was rather peculiar. But Larys had been quick to remind each of them that such a location was extremely practical for his profession. And the convenience of being so close to those he was entrusted with wringing out information from, no matter the cost, could not be overstated when considering his physical limitations.

Larys scanned the letter briefly. It was from Harrenhal. Ser Simon Strong was more than happy to heed Larys’s request to provide him information from within the keep’s walls, and to relay information Larys provided to him back to others in return. Slowly, but surely, doubt was being sewed into Harrenhal’s soil. Doubts of its lord, who had been physically absent for years, and doubts of the credibility of the Targaryen princess who the Lord of Harrenhal would undoubtedly support in the upcoming war of succession.

Not too much longer now, and his brother’s steward, Lord Dannis Chambers, might have a mutiny on his hands.

Just as Larys had intended.

Larys smiled to himself as he retrieved some parchment and a fresh quill from the desk drawer. As he penned his response to his uncle’s letter, the candle’s throughout the room flickered.

He could not afford another failure. Not now, with the Hand of the King watching and scrutinizing his every move. 

To say that Lord Otto Hightower had been more than displeased with Larys after Lady Tyrell had failed to be eliminated from the political landscape would be a severe understatement. Not only had Lady Tyrell reunited with Larys’s insufferable brother, her husband Harwin, but the pair had already reached Dragonstone with their children. And from Dragonstone, they had begun to communicate with Harrenhal, Highgarden, and other reliable allies, Larys assumed, to begin coordinating aid for Rhaenyra’s cause.

But now that the cow had been milked, there was no squirting the cream back up its udders. And all Larys could do, and what he had been moderately successful in doing thus far, was mitigating the situation he had found himself in. Controlling what he could control.

That was not a new mantra to him, having been born a crippled second son. He owed the life he currently enjoyed entirely to his particular talent of making the most of what he was given, and using it to his advantage.

Larys faintly heard himself idly humming along as he finished his letter, rolled it up, and sealed it. He set it aside to be sent out by raven the next morning. Then, he reached into the desk drawer and withdrew another piece of parchment.

There were so many relations Larys had to tend to these days. But tend to, he would. The Dowager Queen, the Hand, the new King... It did not matter that Larys was not truly loyal to any one of them, so long as they each believed him to be.

Their belief in him directly correlated to more power. More power meant more control. And what had Larys always exceeded at?

Controlling what he could control.

Sewing seeds of doubt. Cultivating the crops of chaos.

And watching as the realm in the name of Hightower Greens, in the name of the Targaryen Blacks, in the name of whoever found themselves in power- burned.

The humming continued as Larys penned his next correspondence.

To My Dear Cousin, Alys…

“Tell me, Your Highness, what exactly does Vhagar eat?”

Prince Aemond Targaryen credited the countless etiquette lessons his mother subjected him to throughout his youth for his strength in resisting snapping back a sarcastic response.

This one- was it Ella? Elle? …Either way, she was polite with her questioning at least. Shy, almost.

“Whatever she likes,” Aemond replied, giving her a small smile that made the poor girl flush as red as the tomato on her plate. Ellyn, that was her name. “She still enjoys hunting for her own food, on occasion. However, most of the time, I ensure she is provided with only the most exquisite quality of pork and beef.”

For almost three full days, Aemond had been hosted at Storm’s End. He’d allowed himself to be swooned over by the majority of Lord Borros Baratheon’s daughters, all while assuring the Lord of Storm’s End of the heaping rewards he was to receive should he pledge himself to Aegon’s cause. Privately, Aemond was a bit cross at having such a large part of his future- his godsdamned wife- decided for him, but when his mother put the proposal before the small council, he knew he could not, would not, voice his disapproval.

For Aemond was nothing if not a dutiful son. His mother’s lack of empathy for his position, the infuriating care she still held for Rhaenyra, and her insulting unwavering loyalty to his oaf of an older brother aside.

For his mother, Aemond would give up his own choice of a wife. And though he knew in his heart that he deserved nothing less than a true Targaryen for a bride, being a true Targaryen himself, he would settle for a Baratheon girl. For his mother, Aemond would play envoy, remain polite, mind his tongue, and secure Baratheon’s allegiance. For his mother, Aemond might have been willing to give up all semblance of himself, if only to save her and their family.

“Hm,” another of Lord Borros’s daughters, Maris, chimed in, and most unwelcomed at that. “It would seem the dragons eat better than some of the small folk these days.”

Aemond only remembered her name due to the alarmingly large number of times the young woman had managed to vex him thus far.

He bit his tongue. Again. “A sad reality King Aegon wishes to rectify, My Lady.”

Maris’s attention fell back down to her plate. But under her breath, she muttered, “Doubtful.”

Another sister- whose name also escaped Aemond, but he knew her to be the eldest- gave Maris a stern look from across the table. “Maris!” she reprimanded in a hushed voice.

Maris did not look apologetic in the slightest. Instead, she looked rather determined. It was a small wonder where her stubbornness came from, given her sire. “What? ‘Tis true. You know the small folk are always the ones who suffer the greatest when the realm goes to war. Nobility may suffer financial losses, or political standing. But it won’t be us out there, going hungry. Spilling our own blood in the name of others.”

“I will not assume that you plan to grace any battlefield with your presence, My Lady,” Aemond replied, his tone clipped. “But you may rest assured that should my half-sister refuse to acknowledge Aegon as our king, I will meet any army she may gather head on.”

Maris’s eyes hardened. “The odds would be in your favor though, wouldn’t they? Why, what is a thousand men versus the likes of Vhagar?”

“Maris, please,” Ellyn begged her. To Aemond, she inquired sweetly, “All of this talk is futile, is it not, My Prince? Surely there will be no war. Princess Rhaenyra will see reason.”

“We can only hope,” Aemond said placatingly.

Perhaps his half-sister would see reason. But Aemond doubted Rhaenyra to come to terms with her situation whilst Daemon was beside her, filling her head with incendiary thoughts. Even if Rhaenyra yielded to Aegon, Daemon would need to be dealt with.

It was a good thing Aemond was more than up to the task.

“I do hope you are engaging in appropriate topics of conversation with His Highness,” Lord Borros said from the opposite end of the table.

His lordship had been distant, seldom engaging in conversation throughout Aemond’s stay. Nay, it was mostly his daughters and wife that had attempted to get within his good graces. Not to say that Lord Borros had been rude in a sense- but he had not been very welcoming, either. But that was just as well with Aemond; he was not in Storm’s End to make new friendships. He was simply to sway Lord Borros to support Aegon, and to ensure his continued loyalty to the crown, select one of his daughters to be his bride.

“Of course, Father,” the youngest daughter replied quietly.

Aemond did a double take. The girl had said no more than five words in his presence the entire stay thus far. Seldom had she even made eye contact with him.

Her name was Floris, Aemond recalled. Of the four, Lord Borros’s youngest daughter was indisputably the most attractive, a fact of which was obviously a source of pride for Lord Borros. But she was the youngest, not yet flowered. She was rather soft spoken, too. The girl was still innocent to the true nature of the world in which she would be expected to thrive. In a peculiar way, the youngest Baratheon girl reminded Aemond of his sister, Helaena.

Aemond had yet to formally choose which one of the girls was to be his future bride. But he knew he would not be choosing Floris.

“His Highness was merely enlightening us of the many ways King Aegon intends to help the less fortunate in the realm,” Maris shared with her father, smiling sweetly at the man whilst sarcasm dripped with her every word. Once Lord Borros looked appeased, Maris dared to shoot Aemond a challenging smirk.

Aemond would most certainly not be choosing Maris as his bride, either.

Before he could contemplate a witty response, the doors to the dining hall were thrown open hastily. A visibly fatigued servant rushed in.

Lord Borros rose from his seat at once, his dark brows furrowed deeply. He bellowed, “What is the meaning of this?”

“My Lord,” the servant boy bowed. “A visitor just arrived. He is in the courtyard now.”

“A visitor?” Lord Borros echoed, still frowning. “At this hour? Well, who in the Seven Hells is it?”

Though the messenger did not address him, Aemond did not miss the wary glance the boy threw in his direction before he answered his lord.

“Prince Lucerys Velaryon, My Lord. He comes bearing a message from Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

…

For his mother, Aemond had agreed to be civil.

But as for himself, Aemond knew he could not let the opportunity before him slip through his fingers. And as the intoxicatingly wicked ideas filled his head as to how he might turn this chain of events in his favor, all thoughts of the Dowager Queen, his sweet sister Helaena, and her young, vulnerable children faded far into the recesses of his mind.

Prince Lucerys Velaryon, newly reaffirmed heir to Driftmark, and future Lord of the Tides, followed the soldiers escorting him though Storm’s End with his back straight, and his head held high.

He knew very well what- who- was waiting for him when he would arrive in whatever hall Lord Borros welcomed him in. The mountain of a dragon lurking beyond Storm’s End upon his arrival with Arrax was enough of an indication of who awaited him inside.

But his mother had sent him to Storm’s End with a purpose, and a message to deliver. He would not let nerves break his composure, nor deter him from his task.

The guards finally parted before him, opening the doors to the hall within. Lucerys clung to his resolve as he stepped forward. Thoughts of his purpose gave him courage, despite his daring to wonder whether Aemond would be the only Targaryen he would soon come face to face with.

Lord Borros Baratheon sat upon the Storm’s End throne up ahead. Various soldiers and nobles lined the room. Closest to Lord Borros were three younger women, who Lucerys assumed could only be his daughters. Amongst them, with long pale hair that contrasted against the waves of dark hair so similar to Lucerys’s own, was his uncle, Aemond.

Aemond, who looked far too smug with Lucerys’s current predicament. It was such a shame that Lucerys did not plan to grant him any further satisfaction from it.

Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled from the windows and ceiling above. But Lucerys pushed onwards, and forced himself to take a few more steps into the room.

“Lord Borros,” Lucerys called to him, “I’ve brought you a message from my mother, the queen.”

Lord Borros’s expression as he beheld him was a rather peculiar one. The lighting was a bit poor in the hall, but Lucerys could have sworn the Lord of Storm’s End looked particularly pale.

However, the words that came out of Lord Borros’s mouth were anything but meek.

“Yet a few days ago, I received an envoy from the king. Which is it? King, or queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it.”

The Lord of Storm’s End found his own joke rather funny. The shoulders of one of his daughters, the fourth one standing beside Aemond, shook with silent laughter. Lucerys did not deem the observation worthy of a response.

“What is your mother’s message?” Lord Borros eventually bid him.

Aemond still smirked at him, but Lucerys refused to meet his eye. Instead, he wordlessly held out his hand. One of the guards who had escorted him stepped forward, grabbed the sealed parchment from his gloved hand, and walked forward towards the throne. He deposited the scroll in Lord Borros’s awaiting hand, but despite the message finally being within his grasp, the recipient still looked frustrated.

“Where’s the bloody maester?!”

An awkward silence filled the air as the maester in question shuffled through the crowd. As he did so, Lucerys took a moment to properly assess Lord Borros Baratheon. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d hoped to find in such an angry face- perhaps a trace of his grandmother, Princess Rhaenys. A familial resemblance was plainly evident in their shared shade of dark brown hair, at the very least. However, there certainly was no shared similarity between Lord Borros and that of his father, Ser Laenor Velaryon. His father had always taken after the Velaryon complexion, and Lucerys could not recall his father frowning enough times for him to deduce whether it resembled Lord Borros’s currently gruff expression.

All the while, he felt Aemond’s eye boring into the side of his face.

The maester had finally appeared and taken the scroll from his lord’s hand. While the maester read over his mother’s message, and subsequently relayed the contents to Lord Borros, Lucerys took the moment to calm his gradually rising nerves.

Lucerys tightened his jaw. What precisely was Aemond hoping to accomplish by staring at him so? He would not be goaded into engaging with him, for nothing beneficial could possibly result from that. Not but a little over a week ago, Jace and his uncles had been unable to make it through a mere family dinner without blows being exchanged.

Lucerys gripped the pommel of his sword with a tightly clenched fist. Granted, it was the same sword that Selwin and Lord Harwin had determined was not the most suitable for him, but it was a sword nonetheless. Lucerys could only pray to the Seven that he would not have cause to draw it- he had promised his mother as much, after all.

The maester excused himself, and it was as though all eyes, even Aemond’s, fell upon the Lord of Storm’s end as they eagerly awaited his reaction.

“Remind me of my father’s oath?” Lord Borros scoffed. “King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact.”

That was news to Lucerys, and information he planned to pass on to his mother when he returned to Dragonstone. But he would not let his surprise show.

“My Uncle Aegon has cause to want to buy your allegiance with such a promise, My Lord,” Lucerys replied carefully. “The price of honor is high, but it is always one worth paying.”

Lord Borros scoffed. “Honor… I do not know if your mother can define such a word, boy.”

Lucerys fought the immediate urge to rise to her defense. But Lord Borros’s comment was a peculiar one. Aemond must have thought so too, as he finally tore his eye off of him and looked towards the Lord of Storm’s End inquisitively instead.

“Nevertheless,” Lord Borros continued on, his increasing irritation evident with each word, “Let’s say I do as your mother bids… Which one of my daughters will you marry, boy?”

Lucerys could not bring himself to even steal a glance at the daughters in question as Lord Borros gestured to them. “My Lord, I am not free to marry. I am already betrothed to my cousin Rhaena Velaryon.”

Lord Borros looked over at Aemond. “I’d heard as much… So you come with empty hands?”

Was upholding an oath and maintaining honor not enough motivation to support the realm’s rightful queen? Was loyalty so easily able to be bought?

Lucerys’s gut sank, but he refused to let it show. He might have been young, with plenty still to learn, but he knew a lost cause when he saw one. The atmosphere of the room shifted, churning faster and steadily brewing into a storm.

“Go home, pup. And tell the bitch your mother that the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes.”

Lucerys’s jaw tightened once more. He managed to ease up on the tension just enough to get out, “I shall take your answer to the queen, My Lord.”

He had turned and taken two steps when another voice called out.

“Wait!”

Lucerys let out a small sigh, but forced himself to turn back around.

“My Lord Strong,” Aemond crooned mockingly at him.

Nearly all rational thoughts fled from him as the insult hit his ears. Lucerys took several steps forward back into the room, but instead of Lord Borros, it was Aemond that he approached.

“The lighting in here is poor, Uncle,” he said to him. “So I will forgive the mistake your remaining good eye has made. But Lord Harwin Strong is far from here, and both of his sons as well.”

One side of Aemond’s lip threatened to curl up into an angry snarl. Unfortunately, he did not yet take the bait. “Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm, trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”

“Your brother’s throne?” Lucerys echoed with disbelief. At that moment, he was unsure of whether he held anger or pity for Aemond, who sounded so certain of his brother’s claim to the Iron Throne. “I will not discuss such gross accusations with the likes of you, Uncle, for you can hardly be considered an unbiased party. And I will not fight you. I came as a messenger, not a warrior.”

“A fight would be little challenge. I’d rather you pay the debt you owe me.”

Aemond reached upwards and removed the patch that covered what remained of his left eye. Even with the poor lighting, Lucerys could see the blue gleam of the sapphire that had taken the injured eye's place some years ago. Lowering his hand, Aemond threw his overcoat aside, and unsheathed a dagger from his hip.

“Here is a knife, just as the one you had that night. Put out your eye, and I will let you leave.”

Aemond threw the dagger downwards, and it skittered across the stone floor. It came to a still at the halfway point between him and Lucerys.

“One eye will do,” Aemond prattled on. “I would not blind you. I plan to make a gift of it to my mother, actually.”

Lucerys wasn’t entirely sure whether the Dowager Queen would be pleased with such a gruesome gift. Regardless, his answer to his uncle would have been the same.

“No.”

Aemond’s smirk faltered. “Then you are craven as well as a traitor.”

“Not here,” Lord Borros warned.

Instinct alone forced Lucerys to retreat a few steps backwards when Aemond suddenly stalked towards him.

“Give me your eye, or I will take it, bastard!”

Aemond scooped up the knife he had thrown onto the floor with an obviously practiced ease. With similar swiftness, Lucerys unsheathed the sword at his side, holding it out before him defensively.

“Not in my hall!” Lord Borros roared, rising to his feet. “I want no blood shed beneath my roof. The boy came as an envoy, and he shall leave as one.”

Aemond’s nostril twitched.

To the men who had escorted Lucerys into Storm’s End, Lord Borros commanded, “Take Prince Lucerys back to his dragon. Now.”

As the guards moved about him, Lucerys held Aemond’s eye as long as he dared. Eventually, he relented, sheathing his sword and following the escort out of the hall.

By the time he was returned to the yard, the rain had begun to pour. Arrax, spotting him despite the sheets of water, cried out to him. Lucerys approached him with a determined pace. Once he had reached the dragon, he looked over his shoulder.

Vhagar was nowhere to be seen.

Lucerys closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he turned back to Arrax. As he commanded his mount to remain calm, to focus, and to listen to him, he allowed himself to think of their destination.

It was a short flight back to Dragonstone, just as it had been to Storm’s End. The poor weather, which was not ideal, would most likely add some additional delay to the flight. But if Lucerys remained centered, and if Arrax obeyed him, they would make it back safely.

Lucerys would return back to Dragonstone. He did not know what Lord Borros’s refusal meant for the queen’s cause, but he knew beyond a doubt that his mother would not be angry with him for his failure. If he knew anything at all in those harrowing moments, he at least knew that.

His heart pounded madly, betraying everything he had just asked of Arrax, as he saddled up, and the pair ascended into the stormy sky.

Steam filled Aemond’s eye and ears as he watched Lucerys be escorted out of the hall.

He might have taken the moment to allow himself to recompose, and excuse himself to his guest chambers to clear his head before he did something foolish. He might have taken the high road and walked away, had he not been incensed beyond the brink of sanity by a single childish remark.

A snicker came from beside him.

“Was it one of your eyes he took, or one of your balls?” Maris taunted, raising a mocking brow at him. She shrugged nonchalantly. “I suppose I should be glad you shall be choosing one of my sisters to wed. I want a husband with all his parts.”

A blood red haze carried Aemond out of the hall and into the stormy night.

With a careful hand, and an even more cautious step forward, Selwin opened the door to the library at Dragonstone.

He stuck his head inside the chamber, just past the doorway. He did not dare to breathe as he patiently waited a moment and listened. Nothing but the sounds of the softly flickering flames and the cracking of wood met his ears, until-

A faint crinkle of a page, as a page was turned.

“My Lord?”

Selwin stood up straight, and his eyes were wide as they landed upon the source of the noise.

Lady Rhaena Targaryen, who was seated in a red plush chair beside the flames contained in a rather grand stone-carved fireplace, beheld him with a befuddled expression.

“Lady Rhaena,” Selwin all but blubbered, his cheeks feeling a bit warm from being caught in such a poor state of decorum. “Forgive me, My Lady. The queen granted me permission to peruse the library earlier this afternoon, but I did not anticipate it already being occupied.”

Lady Rhaena’s expression shifted seamlessly from curiosity to one of slight amusement. She gestured vaguely around the room. “No trouble at all, My Lord. ‘Tis hardly as though there is not plenty enough room for the both of us.”

With her blessing, Selwin took another step into the room and allowed himself to fully take it in. It was far grander than he had imagined it to be. Although, that ought not to have been  too surprising. The Tagaryens weren’t exactly known for doing anything on less than a grand scale.  Rows and rows of books and scrolls comprised many aisles, with each aisle running the length of the room on either side. Beyond the shelves, the warm orange rays of the setting sun bled into the room.

In the very center of the room, to his immediate left, was a large stone table. Various books and scrolls were piled atop of it, as though they had been recently browsed, or perhaps were awaiting the return to their respective places upon the surrounding shelves.

Lady Rhaena, who had been watching Selwin with a keen eye, had an open book resting on her palms. Still a few paces away, Selwin could not make out exactly what the contents of the pages pertained to, but he did not believe the words to be of the common tongue.

 “Are you particularly fond of reading, Lord Selwin?” she inquired politely, rising to her feet.

As she moved to approach the table beside him, Selwin suddenly found his boots to be alarmingly intriguing. “Not particularly,” he mumbled. “My older brother is far more inclined to take to scholarly pursuits than I.”

Lady Rhaena placed her book, the pages still open to where she had paused in her reading, upon the stone table. “...But?”

“I must admit, I do enjoy a bit of history, My Lady.”

“Truly?”

At the sound of her genuine surprise, Selwin mustered enough courage to meet Lady Rhaena’s eyes once more and nodded. “Our maester in Highgarden used to tell me all about the histories recorded and housed in the Citadel. And while those sound fascinating, I was always far more interested to hear about the accounts kept here, in Dragonstone. Is it true there are texts here from Old Valyria?”

“A few,” Lady Rhaena confirmed. Her fingers absentmindedly brushed the pages of the open book before her. “Since the queen has given you her permission, you would be more than welcome to read some of them, as well as whatever else you are able to find in here…. However, might I make a recommendation for you to start with?”

“Please do.”

Selwin watched as Lady Rhaena disappeared momentarily down an aisle of shelves on the right hand side of the room. She returned a moment later with another book in her hands. As she resumed her place before the stone table, Selwin turned to mirror her stance.

Lady Rhaena carefully opened the book. Her eyes skimmed the text rather quickly as she turned its pages. Then, she abruptly stopped. As she looked back up at Selwin, she offered him a smile. “Perhaps this may satiate your interest. For a little while, at least.”

Selwin read over the first couple of lines.

… In the year 73 AC, Harrenhal was without a master once more. Queen Rhaena Targaryen, who had resided within its walls for many years, had finally passed, and King Jaehaerys found himself tasked with appointing its new lord. The task proved to be challenging, as the rumors surrounding Harrenhal had only grown in number and validity over time…

“It’s an account from the Old King’s reign, and the events that led to your ancestor, Ser Bywin Strong, being named as the Lord of Harrenhal,” Lady Rhaena explained helpfully.

Selwin tore his eyes away from the page. “Thank you, My Lady. This was a very thoughtful recommendation.”

“I hope you enjoy it. When you are through, you shall have to let me know what you made of it. It was written by Grand Maester Elysar during King Jahaerys’s reign.”

“And it recounts the king’s actions,” Selwin repeated plainly as another thought struck him. “Should this not be kept in the library within the Red Keep?”

Lady Rhaena tilted her head as she glanced back down at the book with a pensive look. “Mayhaps. But the maesters keep so many texts, it would not be possible to keep them all on hand for the king- or queen.”

“A point I did not consider,” Selwin admitted sheepishly. “Besides, ‘tis hard to imagine this accounting holds any particular weight when compared to others of more import.”

Lady Rhaena paused. “I respect your opinion my lord, but I cannot agree with it. House Strong may be young when compared to some of the other houses in Westeros, but there is no foretelling of what may yet come to pass. Perhaps Ser Bywin’s inheritance of Harrenhal is only the first part of what will be the larger history of House Strong… Why, it is said that Lord Harwin is the strongest man in all the Seven Kingdoms. Surely that would at least be of a small note?”

Selwin did not bother to stop his chuckle. Maybe that still rang true. But his father, while still relatively young, had begun to pass what most men considered to be their prime. However, so as to not insult the lady beside him, Selwin acquiesced, “A small note, perhaps.”

“And what of you? Do you not think yourself likely to do anything of note? You are to be the next Lord Strong, or even the next Lord Tyrell, are you not?”

“I do not know.”

Lady Rhaena was particularly perceptive, Selwin would later deduce. “You would let your brother claim the lordships of both your parents’ houses?”

Selwin managed to hold in his chuckle this time. Hadn’t Prince Daemon inquired about exactly the same topic not but a day before? Now that he thought about it, Lady Rhaena, though said to physically resemble her late mother, emulated her father in more ways than one might initially suspect. Selwin believed as much, particularly at that moment; both Rhaena and Daemon had managed to pry thoughts from him he had not been comfortable enough to share with even his own family.

“I do not know,” he repeated once more, feeling a bit foolish and more like his age than he could recall in recent memory.

Most mercifully, Lady Rhaena was not one to take joy in his discomfort. It was not difficult at all for Selwin to believe Lucerys found himself a bit ‘smitten’- as his mother often put it- with his betrothed. Any young man would be, would they be so fortunate to be betrothed to the kind-hearted Rhaena Targaryen.

“What do you know?” she gently prodded.

Selwin refused to meet her eyes. Had he not been so conflicted within himself, he might have been concerned with burning a hole through the text before him with the sheer focus he placed upon it.

“I know that Aegon’s treachery means war is likely to ensue. I have read enough history to know that usurping a throne does not tend to end in peaceful terms, let alone terms in which no blood was spilled at all. I know war is coming, and I know my family is in danger because of it. But I have nothing to offer. My father, as you put it, may be the strongest man in all the Seven Kingdoms. My mother is the Lady of Highgarden. My brother is intelligent beyond his years, and when the time comes, there is no doubt in my mind that he will make a fine lord- of whatever inheritance that may be. But as for myself? I am…”

He felt Lady Rhaena’s intense gaze upon him as he searched for his next words.

“I am naught but a second son. I am nothing. I can do nothing. My family could be in peril, and I am powerless to help them.”

It was silent for a long while.

Lady Rhaena confessed, “I believe I might be able to sympathize with you. I know what it is like to feel like nothing I do truly matters. I know what it is like to be able to do nothing, to feel powerless.”

Disbelief had Selwin snapping his head up in her direction. “With the utmost respect, Lady Rhaena, that is a bit difficult to fathom.”

She gave him a challenging look. “Really? Tell me then, My Lord, what would I do if the Greens surrounded Dragonstone on the morrow? Would I rally our sparse number of men to battle? Would I lead my grandfather’s fleet, engaging the enemy upon the waters of Blackwater Bay? Would I mount a dragon, and meet Vhagar and Sunfyre head on in the skies?”

Selwin mulled over her words. “Forgive me, My Lady. I did not mean to give insult.”

“No forgiveness is needed, My Lord, for no insult was taken.”

The text before him still laid open, and despite the heavy topic of conversation, the words seemed to call to him.

“I will not sell myself short just yet,” Selwin vowed then. “But if there is still room in the histories for my story, then there shall be plenty of room in them for your own.”

Lady Rhaena frowned. “I am not certain I follow your meaning.”

Selwin’s attention shifted towards the book to his right, the one Lady Rhaena had been reading. Valyrian, he realized, now close enough to plainly see the words on the page. He did not know the language, but he could deduce the topic based on the page’s illustration. Scales of various colors bordered the yellowing parchment.

“You are no less a Targaryen because you have yet to claim a dragon of your own. And those who harbor that opinion of you are of no consequence. What good do the opinions of sheep serve a dragon? Because that is what you are- a dragon.”

Lady Rhaena merely looked at him for a long while, her expression plain. Just when Selwin began to fear he may overstepped, she suddenly grinned.

“Prince Lucerys is most fortunate to have a friend like you, Lord Selwin. And any friend of Prince Lucerys can consider themselves a friend of mine.”

Selwin’s face warmed, but he could not pinpoint precisely why. “I shall strive to remain worthy of your friendship then, My Lady.”

Lady Rhaena plucked the book up from the stone table and closed it gently. She then offered it to him. “I have no doubt that you will.”

To what end did Aemond pursue him?

Lucerys wracked his brain for all logical explanations as to why Aemond stalked him. This was not merely the exchanging blows in the training yard, or coming to an impasse during a family dinner. His damn uncle was using Vhagar to actively hunt him, and Arrax, sizeable though he was for his age, was no match in size.

Finally, up ahead- there was a break in the clouds. As Arrax emerged through the cover, they were both freed from the storms roaring below. The sun kissed Lucerys’s face, providing a bit of warmth that offset the coolness of his drenched clothes and cloak.

Lucerys looked around, and attempted to gather his bearings. Vhaegar was nowhere to be seen.

In that moment, he thanked every single one of the Seven; they had finally gotten Aemond off their trail.

Lucerys urged Arrax forward at a more relaxed pace. Once he was able to find a landmark, he could determine which way was home. And once he knew where Dragonstone lay, nothing but a short flight home remained.

A short flight, and he would return to his mother. To his siblings, except for Jace, who was hopefully safe and probably still in the Vale. To his cousins, and his betrothed. To his friends. And to the man who had offered him more fatherly guidance than probably any other had in his life, regardless of the personal cost to himself.

The war may yet come, but Lucerys would be there to witness it. He would be a squire, he would learn anything and everything he would need to be a lord that Driftmark’s people could respect, a lord that they could trust. And he would continue doing everything in his power to make his mother, the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, proud.

The thought of what was yet to come gave Lucerys hope.

So much hope, he had not realized the sun had abruptly disappeared.

  …

  ……

  …

Lord Otto Hightower had been roused by a frantic messenger. Thankfully, he’d already been dressed, having fallen asleep at his desk. Still, the trek from the Tower of the Hand to the small council chambers, where he’d been summoned to by the king, felt far too long.

He entered the room without delay and made sure the doors were closed tightly behind him before he turned to face those within. Quite an assortment of the king’s council and advisors were present already.

As was his second eldest grandson, who stood a few paces away, dripping water from his clothes and long hair.

Alicent sat at the table, her head in her hands. Even from a distance, Otto could tell her complexion was far paler than it should have been. Ser Criston stood closely behind her, his focus shifting between her, the king, and Aemond.

“Grandsire, you’re here at last,” Aegon said by way of greeting. “We have news.”

Otto knew he would regret asking, but he did so nonetheless. “And what news might that be, Your Grace?”

“Lucerys Verlayron has been slain!”

Though it was Aegon who had answered, and eerily cheerfully at that, Otto was quickly able to deduce the true source of the news. He whirled to Aemond, gripping the young man by his overcoat in his fists. The fabric was still damp. “What have you done, boy?”

Aemond’s eyes were void of emotion. He did not even make an attempt to remove himself from Otto’s firm grasp.

His daughter pleaded, from beneath her fingers, “Mother have mercy on us all.”

At her proclamation, some semblance of life finally returned to Aemond’s eyes. He turned his head, still in Otto’s hold, and looked over towards his mother. The look he gave her was one of shock, and- rather surprisingly, Otto noted- betrayal.

“You only lost one eye,” Otto beseeched him, shaking him mildly to garner his attention. “How could you be so blind?”

“Release him at once, Grandsire,” Aegon commanded with a firm tone, an authority to his voice that Otto did not know he possessed.

Otto had little choice but to heed a command given by the king. He released Aemond’s overcoat, but still, Aemond did not step away. Instead, his focus remained on his mother.

“Prince Aemond is the true blood of the dragon,” Aegon praised him with a grin, sounding more proud of his brother than Otto had ever recalled him to be. “He has made a good beginning of things. He returns from Storm’s End a betrothed man, and he has demonstrated to Rhaenyra what will happen if she continues this senseless pursuit of a throne that is not hers for the taking.”

“Your Grace, do you truly believe the death of her son will dissuade Rhaenyra from her pursuit of the Iron Throne?” Otto demanded of him. “Do you think Daemon will be dissuaded?!”

Aegon waved him off nonchalantly, and it took every ounce of control in Otto’s being to stop himself from grabbing his eldest grandson in the matter he had just handled his young brother.

“Those are matters to be dealt with on the morrow. As is the planning of a feast.”

“A feast?”

“Aye, a feast,” Aegon confirmed. “We shall have a feast in Aemond’s name. But, as I said, that can wait til the morrow. But there is another matter that cannot. Will someone fetch me a quill and parchment? I wish to write to my dear sister and inform her of the news myself.”

...

......

…

Prince Daemon Targaryen had been the one to intercept the messenger. The queen was lucky to have been spared reading the filth of a message herself. Aegon, whose provoking words were permanently embedded in Daemon’s mind, would not be so lucky in the end.

His oaf of a nephew and his kinslayer of a brother could enjoy their feast while it lasted. They would not be the only ones to enjoy splendors in the days to come, Daemon would make certain of that.

Still, Daemon did not doubt his nephew’s vile message to be anything less than the truth. After all, he had been the one called down to the shore. Lady Tyrell, after calling her children back inside the castle walls, had directed him towards what had washed up. It had been an immediate recognition, and was unmistakable for any other beast.

Daemon knew the reality of what the day's harsh developments meant. He knew the reality of what was yet to come had been set in stone the moment his brother Viserys had gasped his last breath. But he anguished to know that this would be the event that would cement the severity of the situation for Rhaenyra.

She looked at him curiously as he approached. That was no surprise; they had not spoken to one another since their latest disagreement.

He pulled her aside, away from her advisors, and he gave her the truth as plainly and honestly as she was owed. When she pulled away from him, processing the devastation his news had wrought upon her, he fought the urge to look away, if not leave outright.

And as Daemon stood there, something resonated within him.

To many within the realm, second born sons might have been considered to be little more than a spare. But to have described Prince Lucerys Velaryon as such in the eyes of his mother… that would have been more egregious a crime than the manner of the young lord’s demise itself.

A/N: 🖤

[garvalhaminho]

forgot to post my thoughts while reading the first chapter of tlkof as someone who has only ever read tda and tid (translated from chaotic portuguese)

thais??? who??

dru likes learning by understanding how things work, relatable (SHE'S LITERALLY ME)

she's learning about downworlders and can ask magnus for help, but specifically cristina (the diva who loved studying faeries!!), mark and helen (icon) and kieran and i love that for her 💞 like yes give her one thing she can take advantage of

SHE'S GOT HER MOTHER ELEANOR'S JACKET !! I REPEAT SHE'S GOT HER MOTHER ELEANOR'S JACKET !!

not her dyeing her hair black (ate)

"thais always looked glamorous in her gear" 🤨 no look i know friends can find each other pretty and beautiful etc but when it's ya literature.....it's usually the censored version of "hot as fuck" JUST SAYING

DRU IS 5'3 YAAA WE'VE GOT THE SAME HEIGHT (i think, i'm not american)

i already love dru and thais's friendship 🫶 they match each others freak

dru trains to forget everything she's gone through 😭

oh already the preppy guys and fuckboys (mason hardcastle)

"dru and thais didn't need to ask each other; they knew already they'd be a team" awwww i already know i'm gonna love their friendship

paige ashdown when i see you in the street (no but like an ableist and fatphobic bully? i'll fight that fucker with my bare hands)

thais speaking portuguese in the middle of nowhere i love it

OH AND THE FUCKBOY IS HER EX AND HE SUCKS, if it was me and i had classes with him i'd literally throw myself off a bridge

dru inventing "sex crocodile",,, she's too iconic i fear

"nothing scared [dru}. nothing in a movie, anyway." babygirl 😭 i remember her like mentioning how she liked horror movies but the horror depicted would never be as bad as the real life horror she's experienced

dru still talks to kit 😭 no like imagine your sister still talks to your situationship of two weeks from three years ago, i'd jump off a bridge (yet again)

"there's no danger. we're on academy grounds" famous last words

"she tugged gently at a dangling lock in her friend's hair" THAT'S LITERALLY A MICROTROPE IN ROMANCE MOVIES

"she cursed silently, imagining every bad word she could think of and some she was pretty sure she'd just made up." let dru say fuck pleaseeee. just once. as a little treat, she deserves it

"she wondered for a moment if she should mention that her brother, mark, was the consort of the unseelie king" not her trying to use her connections

ASH SHOWING UP AND HUMILIATING THE LITTLE FAERIE MEN 😭 he slayed i fear

no yeah he's literally royalty he's literally a prince (get that bag girl!!)

dru thinking that ash's eyes were like the sea glass julian loved......oh how i love this family

"'how do you know my name?' she demanded. his eyes narrowed. 'you must be joking,' he said. 'you've forgotten? you can't have forgotten.'" of course she's forgotten a random guy she was with for two minutes three years ago, she has a life, YOU'RE just a SIMP

ash getting yelled at and reprimanded by his daddy or whatever but still literally helping his crush and sending her away to safety 🙏 and your man can't even text you back

julian and emma leaving london to take care of their child drusilla blackthorn

OH AND JULIAN'S GONNA NEED A LOT A THERAPY AFTER THREE BOOKS OF HIS KIDS GETTING THEMSELVES IN TROUBLE

he didn't even sleep during the three nights she was missing 😭

i fear i might become thais/dru shipper under the right circumstances

[skunkes]

sorry if this is a silly question but do you like. sit down and talk with your ocs in your head? and they tell you about themselves? how do you get them to reveal information....i am begging mine to let me know them orz

I do! In several different ways ^_^ the trick is to think of yourself as a character in your brain theater... ill mostly be explaining thru examples and using silly language ^_^ and its more How I Do It vs a how to....

"Sitting down and talking to em" interrogation style only happens before they're fully formed. when talon still didnt have very many traits it was like we were in a white room with 2 chairs... although you COULD make a scenario out of this its usually the Before for me. final tweaks in the form of basic traits and info before sending em out for further development

the way i get ocs to tell me about themselves is more thru actions! with talon I "locked him in a room" with al in the form of imagining how they'd meet. because I set it in talon's decrepit home with no running water or electricity, there come questions like. would he be accommodating? would he explain the vampirism or just rely on flashing his fangs or hiding them until its time to bite? these arent questions i actually went into the scenario having, but as you Play Dolls its questions that get answered anyway, ykwim? (although you could also go into the simulation (lol) with questions you want answered!) And its your brain so you can do as many takes and tweaks as you want, and things develop as you imagine the same thing, or different things, which all inform a character.

Scenarios could be anything. Im a serial daydreamer so anything goes depending on how bored I am or what im doing... and just like with real people, every scenario is a way to learn more about somebody...! It's like improv in your brain as you think up how they'd react and respond to things, and what they'd say. But also, going with your oc to the grocery store or a restaurant or to slay a dragon could give you insight into their behavior but likely not any info about their trauma or whatever, just like real people (but it also depends on the person) (and the oc!)

I DO have "sit down and talk" scenarios once i feel ive learned enough standard, early level friendship stuff about em though. It's much fun if you set the scene in your mind to mimic a real life Deep Conversation session. Sitting in the backyard on those plastic chairs, or aimless car ride at night. right now the one I keep going back to is just. Loafed in bed when you're really sleepy and just starting to say anything about anything and maybe get a little sentimental. sometimes its just me talking but I obvs have the ability to imagine how he'd be interpreting that in his brain, ykwim?? You play several roles at once I guess. It's like the sims, switching back and forth between povs, but the level of immersion i get into never feels like I'm Making Them Say It, it just feels natural at that point because I've learned enough.

There's also information that's shared by you figuring out what they'd Think (as above) vs what they say which is also fun characterwise... AND ALSO while im daydreaming scenarios I do multiple takes to find their voice. Like, I'm an overexplainer, a detailed therapy-speak-er. Sometimes I catch myself giving ocs that Voice and I have to do a retake. Like hold on, Talon would NOT be introspective. He wouldn't share all that shit I just "made" him say even if it is true and now I know about it. He'd say something insanely vague and confusing if anything at all. Let's take it from the top. etc

It rlly is about immersion! You have to have fun with it! Sometimes it's so Real to me that I genuinely can't develop an oc further because I cant make something up for them and they wont "tell me", which means I just have to spend more time with em I guess! or maybe need to leave em alone for a bit. or maybe ill never know (<- which also tells me about em!) just like real people. treat the fake people like real people in your fake dollhouse brain theater sims lot puppet show simulation.... also i added more in the tags bc i didnt know where to put it in the main txt 😭

[grailfinders]

Grailfinders #332: Dobrynya Nikitich

today on grailfinders we’re saying good riddance to Tunguska and the year 2023, but not before getting one last build in! our final build in 2023 is none other than Dobrynya Nikitich, the legendary bogatyr dragon slayer. and dragon rider, it turns out. maybe even just dragon? tbh I stopped reading this event after the story chapter that was almost literally just every character gathering around to say the sentence “Koyanskaya is not Daji” over and over. I might not have a great handle on what Nikitich is, but I’ve got what she can do down pat, so let’s get into the build!

Dobrynya’s a Drakewarden Ranger to have a permanent dragon partner to ride, as well as a Champion Fighter for a meatier axe, and a Draconic Bloodline Sorcerer to grab her armor phantasm, as well as her later ascensions. I mean she’s definitely got a lot of draconic blood, it’s just all wrapped up in a pervert horse. oh god I just realized he's staring at her underwear in the FA art what the hell

check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

next up: wait a minute, didn’t we just shoot you into space?

Ancestry & Background

our first question of the day is, “what the hell is Nikitich?” our second question of the day is “do we really want to waste time waffling on what she is when Custom Lineage exists?”

answering no to the latter gives her +2 Charisma as well as Darkvision and the Strike of the Giants feat to fight for better working rights for meteored animals. or it gives you a frost strike you can do once a turn proficiency times a day to deal an extra d6 of cold damage and force a constitution save on whatever you hit, reducing their movement speed to 0 for a turn if they fail. I know the ice axe doesn’t show up until third ascension, but I think a treat is warranted here.

Dobrynya talks a big game about how tenuous her connection to humanity is, so she’s an Outlander now for proficiency in Athletics and Survival. Folk Hero would also fit here, but a dragon is not a beast in D&D, so that animal handling proficiency would be completely wasted.

Ability Scores

I’m not going to lie, this build needs a lot of stuff, so we’re just going to point buy things this time around. even then, it’s pretty hard to get everything where it needs to be. Strength, Dexterity, and Wisdom will be set at 14, the former two to be good with an axe while wearing a bikini, and the last one so we can multiclass, and to make your dragons’ breath a little hotter. Constitution is at 13 so we don’t die. meanwhile, Charisma is all the way down at 9. we’ll need to invest a little for multiclassing later, but she’s not the life of the party. that means we’re dumping Intelligence at 8. not much worse than charisma, but she does leave all the thinking to others most of the time.

Class Levels

1. Ranger 1: starting off as a ranger nets you proficiency in Strength and Dexterity saves, as well as Animal Handling, Nature, and Perception. I know your dragon isn’t a beast, but there’s Fou who… is probably an aberration. well, at least there’s Taigong Wang’s tapir, which… also isn’t a real animal… but there’s the sheep thing! yeah, I don’t think that counts either. so much for an animal sanctuary, huh?

for further bafflement, we’re actually going with mostly OG ranger features this time around. but if you’re going to be a dragonslayer, it probably helps to have Dragon as a Favored Enemy for advantage on checks to track and find out about them. thankfully, most dragons are pretty easy to track on account of their size and their tendency to hang out in the sky. that being said, you need to slay/mount a white dragon before this is all done, so getting used to the Arctic is a must. thankfully, you’re a Natural Explorer up there, so it’s pretty hard for your traveling group to get lost or slowed down. you can also track creatures a lot better!

2. Ranger 2: second level rangers get a Fighting Style, and the Dueling style will even out the damage differences between two-handing and one-handing your battleaxe. you really need to lean over your dragon if you want to hit anything, so a free hand to grab onto something helps out a ton.

you also learn some Spells this level- Hunter’s Mark lets you deal extra damage with every attack against a target for up to an hour, and you can swap it to another as a bonus action if the first gets ko’d. it also gives you another bonus to tracking the target down! it’s hard to get species-specific bonuses in D&D, but if you only use this spell against dragons it’s kind of the same thing, right?

also, you get Jump, to jump. getting onto the back of a dragon after every time you attack is rough without something to boost you up.

3. Ranger 3: at third level you gain a Primal Awareness of the world around you, giving you some extra spells as you level up. I’ve said it before that I’m pretty sure your dragon isn’t a beast, but it’s better safe than sorry, so you get Speak with Animals for free. you can also cast Longstrider now to dash as a bonus action. when your main way to attack is hitting things with a big piece of metal, some extra movement can be very helpful.

you also become a Drakewarden this level, which gives you a Draconic Gift- it’s Thaumaturgy and a language. thankfully, you also get a much cooler draconic gift- your Drake Companion. you can summon a small dragon as an action whose appearance and breath type you decide on. it moves after your turn, but it can’t do anything but dodge unless you spend your bonus action commanding it. you can summon your drake once a day for free, or re-summon it by spending a spell slot. since you can decide on your drake’s appearance and breath weapon separately, you aren’t shackled to ice-type attacks this entire run, thank goodness. tbh I don’t think we ever see Nikitich’s ride use its breath attack. it could be anything! it could even be ice! though we don’t get any breath attacks until level 11- right now, this just gives it a damage immunity, and it can use its reaction to add its element to a nearby creature’s regular weapon for one attack, dealing an extra d6 of damage.

4. Ranger 4: use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Charisma to multiclassing levels. I wish we could keep this lower to match her… her, but we’ll make do.

5. Ranger 5: fifth level rangers get an Extra Attack each action, as well as second level spells! you get Beast Sense for free, but we’re more here for Magic Weapon. it’s not quite the glowy blue axe you get at third ascension yet, but this should help cut through dragons a bit easier.

6. Fighter 1: bouncing over to fighter gets you another Fighting Style, like Great Weapon Fighting. now if you hold your axe with both hands, you can re-roll 1s and 2s on your damage dice. with your dragon, giant strikes, and hunter’s marks, you can add a lot of dice to your axe.

you also get a Second Wind once per short rest, healing up as a bonus action. in most builds this is basically free healing, but even with the draconic wrinkle it’s still a nice addition.

7. Fighter 2: second level fighters can Action Surge once a short rest, adding an extra action to your turn

 this doesn’t give you more bonus actions, but it’ll be super useful later.

8. Fighter 3: third level fighters get their subclass, and as a Champion you get an Improved Critical, allowing you to crit twice as often. again, you can add a lot of dice to specific attacks, so adding them all to a crit just makes it even sweeter.

9. Ranger 6: now that we’re a couple levels in, let’s start talking about how we’ll take down Koyanskaya. if we’re going into Tunguska, we need to get prepared- that’s why this level you get another Favored Enemy in beasts and another Natural Explorer biome- forests. that should help with most of what you’ll be facing in there. probably.

10. Ranger 7: at seventh level you forge a Bond of Fang and Scale with your dragon, granting it a flying speed, and letting it grow large enough to ride on- though you can’t do both at once. it also starts adding elemental damage to its own attacks, and giving you resistance to the chosen damage type.

also, you can cast Lesser Restoration now. it’s not quite debuff immunity, but curing a debuff right after you get it is pretty close, right?

11. Ranger 8: for our next ASI, pick up the Fury of the Frost Giant feat for +1 Constitution, permanent resistance to cold damage, and when you get hit by an attack you can blast them back with ice, forcing them to make a constitution save to avoid cold damage and being frozen in place. you can do this proficiency times a day.

your Land’s Stride exists now too, so you can pass through any nonmagical terrain without worrying about being slowed down or hurt by plants.

12. Sorcerer 1: it’s been long enough, let’s ascend. as a Draconic sorcerer you get Draconic Resilience, giving you an extra 1 HP per sorcerer level (so. 1 for the build) and a permanent mage armor effect as long as you’re not wearing real armor, making your AC 13 + your dexterity modifier. it’s not super strong with your dexterity, but if you’re going to stand in front of 999 turrets this should help some miss.

you also learn some charisma-based spells! light and message are just kind of here because… why not. a lot of stuff in FGO glows for no reason, and if you’re on the Chaldea team they’re going to give you a communicator at some point. Blade Ward is another layer to your armor, giving you resistance to physical damage, and Sword Burst is spinning around in a circle. it’s a neat trick!

you also get a breath weapon a little early by casting Burning Hands. as a level one spell it’s pretty weak, but it can always be upcast.

13. Ranger 9: ninth level rangers don’t get a lot, but third level spells are nice! now you can Speak with Plants (boring) or turn that axe into an Elemental Weapon! this gives your weapon a +1 to hit, and deals 1d4 damage of an elemental type on hit. it’s not as good as hunter’s mark, but it does work on any weapon, not just your own attacks. also, flaming axes are cool.

14. Ranger 10: tenth level rangers get a third Natural Explorer biome like, for example, Mountains. sadly, “blasted hellcape” and “corporate office” aren’t biomes you can pick from- partially because they’re synonyms. that being said, if you’re stuck in the death zone you can use Nature’s Veil to hide yourself as a bonus action, becoming invisible for a round up to proficiency times a day.

15. Ranger 11: eleventh level rangers get their guts thanks to casting revivify, and your Drake’s Breath finally kicks in- as an action, you or your drake can breathe elemental damage in a cone, forcing everyone inside to take elemental damage if they fail their dexterity save. you can use this once a day for free, and you can gain extra uses by spending spell slots.

16. Ranger 12: now that we have multiclassing and feat stuff done, we can finally get a handle on your Strength for more accurate and damaging attacks.

17. Ranger 13: thirteenth level rangers get fourth level spells, letting you get in touch with your wild side and become a Guardian of Nature. there’s two ways to use this spell, but we’re here entirely for the first, turning you into a cat monster… turning you into more of a cat monster, increasing your walking speed and darkvision distance, and giving advantage and bonus damage to strength-based attacks.

18. Ranger 14: fourteenth level rangers get one last Favored Enemy, so let’s track down Koyanskaya and end that Aberration once and for all! (she is an aberration, right?)

if things go south you can Vanish as a bonus action, which despite coming later that NV, only lets you hide rather than actually vanish. you also can’t be tracked without magic, but you’re level 18, your enemies have magic by now.

19. Ranger 15: fifteenth level drakewardens have stronger breath attacks as well as a Perfected Bond, adding more elemental damage to your dragons attacks, and making them large enough to ride on while flying. on top of that, you can now spend your reaction to give yourself or your drake resistance to an attack proficiency times a day. it says “or”, but you can always be a rules lawyer and say it’s an inclusive or! I won’t tell!

you can also cast greater restoration this level, reducing the effects of exhaustion or removing one effect that is charming, petrifying, cursing, or reducing a stat or HP total of yourself or a party member. again, it’s not debuff immunity, but it’s the closest you can get in D&D.

20. Ranger 16: use your last ASI for more Strength. it’s not complicated, but neither is Nikitich.

Pros & Cons:

Pros:

I’m not going to sugarcoat it, I’m giving riding a dragon its own spot on the pros list. why? because riding dragons is cool, and you’re playing an RPG to feel cool.

as far as actual gameplay goes, you are fantastic at dishing out Burst Damage. whether that’s piling all sorts of damage modifiers onto a lucky crit, or action surging to blast a crowd with two breath attacks at once, you can fire off a lot of damage in a short amount of time. (also, while it’s technically not Rules As Written, you should be able to easily argue that freezing them in place with frost giant stuff would at least give them disadvantage, if not a force failure, on dex saves, forcing them to take the full brunt of 20d6 damage if you time it right)

as a ranger, you have a surprising amount of Utility for a mostly martial fighter, greatly improving your party’s time while traveling and providing emergency debuff removal and revivals. you’re no healer, but sometimes staying alive is a victory all its own.

Cons:

your multiclassing requirements alone use three ability scores, and that’s before we factor in the two other stats we need for the build to play well. all this means we never really get a chance to get the abilities we want high, which leads to…

weak spells that are easily avoided by enemies. your casting modifier for both kinds of spells is only a +1, so they’ll be whiffing a lot before you reach level 10.

we don’t even get started working on your strength, your main attacking stat, until level 16. even if we skip over the giant thing for later, that’s still not until level 11. you’re not very accurate for a majority of the build, let’s leave it at that.

[kuumara]

Will's possessed again. Don't even wanna call him that but whatever-he's locked in the bathroom. Screaming, yelling at him to let him out. Being generally violent. He's supervising him (on the other side of locked doors) because when he's like this for too long he starts hurting himself.

Sometimes in the middle of these episodes the real Will wakes up and takes control, but only for a moment. Mike hears him calm down, he's back.

He takes out his chewed up pencil and a little notebook; he still loves to write whenever he can, it makes him feel like everything is okay.

You okay, he writes on a piece of paper. It's more of an attempt of comfort than a question. Folds it up and pushes the pen and it through a hole in the wall. It was made by bullets from Nancy's shotgun when a demodog somehow got in this safe house. That was more than a year ago, probably- Will could still listen to and participate in their plans to find and kill Vecna while he was still weak. Then Vecna regained a lot of his powers and it got progressively worse, from these episodes happening once every 5 months to happening almost every 2 days.

Murray had said, "He's not allowed to listen anymore. We never know when he's just Will and when he's Spy-Will." That was half a year ago, but now they can kind of tell when he's possessed. He doesn't start being violent the second he gets possessed, he just gets this look on his face, an uncanny and unnatural look, wanting to get as much information as it can about their plans to stop Vecna. Then they of course lock him in a room, to prevent spying. Even Joyce didn't object, she just goes in a different building when this stuff is happening. Mike hates treating Will like this, he knows he's still in there while he's possessed, but Will isnt a frail 11 year-old anymore, when he's like that he can hurt others pretty badly. He almost broke Murray's legs once.

Mike wishes he could help. This wouldn't be happening if only he didn't let Will go that time in 1983. And 1984. And 1986-

Great even. Why?

The paper falls back through the hole. Mike smiles at Will's note. He enjoys talking to him, or just being close to him.

Do you think if Vecna gets cancer he's just gonna die and we dont have to kill him? He slides the paper and the pencil back. He hears a small laugh and laughs himself.

Maybe. I'll ask when he invades my mind again

Then he would get angry he would be like "why do you all want me dead" :(

Will doodles Vecna as a middle schooler getting bullied. They're both laughing now.

I enjoy talking to you Mike writes. He wants to write so much more and let Will know how much he appreciates and loves him, but after considering just straight up writing I love you he pushes the paper back.

Let me out then is what comes back. Mike's smile fades; Will's gone yet again.

After minutes of Mike not responding Will is knocking on the door between them, then pounding, then yelling at Mike for being a bad friend. All Mike can do is cover his ears and cry hopelessly.

Ok this wasnt intended to turn into a fanfiction but lowkey slay

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can I ask for some Iron Valiant or Roaring Moon headcanons? Iron Valiant, Roaring Moon and Slither Wing are probably my favorite of the Paradox Pokemon! (I named my Slither Wing Mothra and my Iron Valiant Knight, if you're curious!)

Nice! I love Iron Valiant so imma give you some hcs for them and my idea for their backstory.

And also I called mine Grace! I wanna look for a shiny soon

.......

The first Iron Valiant was created with a scientist's vision: to make a Pokémon far more powerful than his Gallade or Gardevoir (both of which he has raised since they were Ralts), calling it the "next evolution".

He harvested some psychic energy from the two and several TMs to power up the machine, and it performed quite well in many tests. The fame that followed once he publicized his results made him obsessed with perfecting it.

So he tried going a step further and attempted to transfer the consciences of his two Pokémon next, thinking they could merge and "live forever" within his creation--never having to worry about being tired or hungry again

Of course, this goes awry as Iron Valiant goes rogue, killing him and fleeing the lab, leaving an amnesic Gallade and Gardevoir to be found by officials and taken to a PokeCenter for treatment.

Unfortunately they passed away a few days later, so nobody knows for sure what became of that professor nor that first Iron Valiant; only its schematics and notes were left behind.

With those blueprints, many more scientists tried replicating what he did, then a CEO specializing in Pokémon robotics opened a factory that mass-produced Iron Valiants, giving them the fighting-type programming so they could better defend the region from threats of all kinds.

They were marketed as "heroes" and “knights” that would slay rogue Iron Jugulis (even movies and fairytale stories spawned from this rivalry) and bring down crime.

Shinies were once believed to be a manufacturing error that completely skipped over the paintjob they intended to receive. 

But they were still popular given the whole "knight in shining armor" shtick.

Those transported to Area Zero still clashed with Iron Jugulis a lot; though even they see the many Venomoths outside as threats.

Of all the future Paradox Pokemon, Iron Valiants need the greatest amount of maintenance from trainers. They enjoy being spoiled and treated like royalty (which really involves simply washing and polishing their armor well after every battle).

While most are cold and calculated, they still have a Gallade’s honorable warrior image and a Gardevoir’s selfless nature, protecting trainers they’ve formed close bonds with no matter the cost--even if they received extensive damage.

[bloomingdarkgarden]

Hello,

First things first, sorry for any grammar mistakes. English is not my first language.

Second, I would like to say I am beyond happy that I found your page, and the fanfiction. I have been reading since I was a little girl, and this fandom was the first, where I was ridiculed for liking two characters together (Elain and Azriel). So at first it really turned me off from anything relaring to them, since I didn't want to be bullied. But after discovering you, I have to say I love them even more! I actually would like to know what SJM thinks herself about this ship war and how Elriel shippers are being treated and made fun off. But, lets leave it for another time.

Third, I think I have never read anything so lovely as your writing. The world you created, the words and actions you put into these characters are nothing short of breathetaking. What made you love Elain and Az in the first place?

To me I think, it's the potential of the way they would fight for each other. Feysand and Nessian, sure, they're mated and all, but these two, oh boy. The way they burn Prythian to the ground for the one thay chose.

Anyway, thank you for this hope you give us. For this beauty. And I hope one day to read an original book written by you 🩷

'There will come a poet whose weapin is his word. He will slay you with his tongue' 🩷

Hi beautiful,

Thank you for such kind words regarding the story. I’m sorry you have experienced ridicule over faeries. All I can say is that people take these books astoundingly seriously considering how many massive plot holes there are. I don’t have the ammunition for it, only the bandaids. You are welcome to hide under a a rock with me away from it all. There’s tea there. And naked pictures of bat boys.

It’s hard to say what made me fall for Az and Elain. But I love this question.

I think it’s has something to do with defying expectation.

She’s been spoken for and consistently underestimated most of her life. There’s something intrinsically interesting about her staring wide-eyed into her own fate and turning away to choose another destiny entirely. Elain has a tendency to shock people and I find that telling.

There’s truly something beautiful to me in the dark fragility between them. I find it absolutely hypnotic. Something about sharing comfortable silence at odds with their mutually charged need and desire. The delicacy is 🤌

For me it has nothing to do with them fixing one another. But merely existing with their demons, somewhere sweet and dark and entirely their own. I think it really hit home for me when Az was the one out of everyone to recognize Elain’s powers.

All she has ever wanted is to be seen. She said that once, regarding Greyshit. And the day Az recognized her Sight he saw her truly.

"-as if the understanding, our understanding… it freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in."

That was the darkest period of Elain’s life. And it was Azriel who saw her and delivered her from it. While her mate was in the room, at a loss. That's not something a girl ever forgets. Ever.

"𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙨 𝙝𝙚, 𝙩𝙤𝙤, 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙨𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙀𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙜𝙞𝙛𝙩 𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙.”

This raw, organic understanding.

Why everyone has to be mates is beyond me. That sort of pre-ordained shit reeks of conservative undertones / ownership and makes me 😬. Maybe just because I am a polyamorous bisexual faerie myself idk. I would be cool with it if it were one out of every 20 couples in ACOTAR or something. There are lovely fun tropes with it, but also problematic ones.

Why can’t we just have good old fashioned, star defying, cast-system-breaking-jack-and-rose-titanic-etched love affair idk.

If it happens with Elucien I'll be happy too, but that's another bag. I worship Lucien's ass. I just worship elriel's asses marginally more. I want the world for all our character's asses.

In my heart, Elain’s trembling fawn era is OUT. Elain’s dark-laced self-evolved reputation era defying the gods with a very bad bf no one wants her to have is IN.

Damn the Cauldron. Damn the Stars.

Lets 🫰 fucking 🫰 go 🫰

[just-a-itty-bitty-kitty]

Thinking about how the Narrator doesn't really know if the world stays saved when we die, and yet in some cases He tries to reassure/console us during our 'last moments'.

"You've paid a terrible price, but you've saved us all." He doesn't know that. Maybe He's just trying to describe it into existence, hoping that if you die with the thought, it'll become true? But in other times, He's sure that our death means doom for whatever world we've left behind. "The world doesn't stay saved if you die." Then why tell us that we've saved it?

I also think it's interesting how emotional Narrator gets by the end of each chapter 1. He treats us differently based on our actions and how we approach the situation.

If we try and save the Princess, he purposely makes our death as long and painful as he possibly can, presumably, out of pure spite. "It is agony. But you aren't dead yet." "She sinks the blade into your chest again, and again, and again... and you feel every inch of burning pain that slices itself into your body."

If we resist his instructions at first, but give in later, he seems genuinely apologetic. "This can't actually be how everything ends..!" "I'm sorry, but it is." or "As much as I'd preferred for things to have gone differently, I can't deny the reality of what has happened." He wants this to work, and he wants us to come out happy and content by the end of it.

He seems caught off guard in the Spectre route if we try to kill her while she's in our body. "Slay her would slay you. Are you sure you're willing to do that?" One would expect Him to immedietly be on board with whatever plan gets rid of Her, but the "heroic"(in His eyes) gesture immedietly makes Narrator develop a soft spot and start to worry for our well being. He doesn't like the idea of the hero being denied their happy ending.

He genuinely believes the Princess to be a manifestation of everything evil in the world and constantly denies her any personhood. It's not an active choice either, as Narrator is an Echo with a set amount of beliefs that cannot be changed. He never changes His mind about anything and one of His core beliefs is that He is right. He has to be, otherwise everything he'd done, everything he went through, it would all be for nothing.

That which was once a defensive thought, shaped by his own hurt and unwillingness to see another perspective, becomes a universal truth.

[chaoticevilbean]

Katherine x shelby x Joey headcanons if you will

It tends to end up 2 v 1 in most interactions. Sometimes it's Shelby + Joey getting into mischief or squabbling, sometimes it's them attempting to stop Katherine from fistfighting a zombie who she thinks groaned that her dress is stupid.

Joey usually cooks. He was raised as a pirate, so he helped out the cook a lot, if only to get away from some of the more irritating of his crewmates. Shelby preps ingredients, which she can do w/great skill as it's vital to being a witch. Katherine is no longer allowed in the kitchen the same time as the other two.

Joey has that disorder where you can't recognize faces. He relies on voice, outfit/hair, + general personality/vibe. He couldn't recognize Katherine as a monster-slayer until she spoke, + he relies on her dresses, her weapons, + her voice, primarily. Shelby is easier, as she's always wearing either her hat or Tortoise, + she tends to announce her presence loudly.

Katherine wants a pet, since both of the others have them. They are adamantly against her getting a pet, as it is likely to be deadly, dangerous, + growly. ("A pet like a bunny?" "No, bunnies are too soft to fight with." "... you mean fight beside, right?" "..." *walks off*)

There's been several reports of suspicious activities around Glimmer Grove. It is a combination of monster-slaying, unlicensed magic, + general piracy.

Joey is actually the reasonable one. He might follow the girls' lead when he doesn't know what to do, but he will drag both away w/all of his strength + powers of reasoning. He has selfish reasons, which means everything that he cares about (Katherine, Shelby, the three's lives) is the most important thing ever.

Shelby met Joey in the swamp + immediately decided to make several potions for him (mostly fire res + speed, bc piracy knows few bounds). She met Katherine + made a separate set (random ones to be fun. Then Joey comes to her in a panic to declare that he just had to pull Katherine out of the water bc she was fighting a drowned... w/a broken arm. There is a lot of ranting abt reasons to not do that, + reasons for every potion to be created + dropped on the monster-slayer's doorstep weekly.

Honestly, a lot of their lives is that. But Shelby also experiments w/potions, which comes with... explosive reactions. And then Joey tries the potions, or decides to rush off towards the nearest shiny thing.

There are many attempts to prevent theft. It does not always succeed.

All three are fashionable in wildly different ways.

Joey's crew tease him abt managing to fall in love w/a witch + a princess. His insistence they're both pirates does nothing, bc Katherine + Shelby tend to come in to do many witchy/princessy things.

Princessy things include singing while killing monsters, always looking perfect despite any state of health/injury, + somehow having a magical transformation btwn outfits.

Witchy things include picking things from the ground, putting random items in a cauldron, + cackling.

Joey once fought a bear bc it was standing near a buried treasure chest. Shelby fought a bear bc it looked funny at her. Katherine fought a bear bc she could.

Shelby adores chocolate, but can rarely get it. She confronts Katherine abt the boxes of chocolate that appear on her doorstep. Katherine says she knows nothing abt them. In honesty, she does! She knows Joey has been robbing several of the more prissy nobles in the lands. If it just so happens that he's taking their plentiful supply of treats along w/their gold... she knows nothing, honest.

Katherine has self-esteem issues, but is honest when asked + is best at accepting compliments. Shelby denies hers a bit, but ultimately lets the other two reaffirm her + accepts it okay. Joey vehemently denies having any issues whatsoever, to the point of Katherine tackling him as an excuse to hug him.

Shelby doesn't hide the relationship. She just, y'know, doesn't talk abt it. Ever. Except w/the other rulers, of course.

When they were pining, both Joey + Shelby came to Fwhip. Their reasoning? He was the only person who was courting Jimmy who actually "succeeded". Fwhip, being unaware of how Upworlder courting works, agreed he was qualified. Surprisingly, the technique of working together to create a pretty but useful item for Katherine worked amazingly.

Joey refuses to eat cake. Purely bc he isn't there to make sure it isn't poisoned.

Katherine once tried to have a pet pufferfish. It went missing. On an unrelated note, Joey seemed incredibly helpful the next few days, + Shelby gave her water-breathing potions to get a new one. She chose not to, instead getting a pet salmon.

Another unrelated note, Katherine created an aquarium for every type of fish except axolotls.

Hope this is adequate!

[shmowder]

long time listener first time caller 🫣

for the oc event: i’ve been rattling this idea around in my head for a little while of a nurse-type assistant character

her name is Jucika ✨ she can help you out by preparing medicine with gathered herbs and can turn bandages and tourniquets into more useful and effective materials. she can also assist in healing and assisting the bound with medicine and items You have to gather, but as the days progress there is more and more of a risk of her getting ill, and if she becomes ill she will no longer be able to assist you.

she’s a little bit weird and unsettling but she’s lived in what is essentially a convent her whole life so you can’t fault her for that. she’s in town because she’s mostly interested in burial traditions, deathbed care, hospice care, etc. and she studies different traditions. once the plague hits her goody-two-shoes nature compels her to stick around and help where she can.

she means well but for some reason u cant help but feel like she knows exactly when and how u will die (she doesn’t, she doesn’t even have any kind of supernatural abilities, but she will tease you by making you think she does)

she also loves 2 annoy dankovsky. she can’t help it. she lovesss being a dick to him cause he always reacts poorly and he can’t piss her off too badly bc he needs her around to help out. if u piss her off too bad she WILL stop helping you so watch out. she doesn’t belong to any specific faction - she’s a solitary person doing what she can to help. she’s just a weird little guy, single and ready to mingle in this crazy world while TRYING to hold you to some semblance of a moral standard.

She's just a weird little guy. She's just a little bit of a freak it's cool. She's just built like that. But oh, watch out :)

That detail about her stopping to help you if you were even rude one (1) time is absolutely amazing.

I can already picture the swarm of reddit posts complaining about how unfair this is and the game should have some leeway or give them a warning that being mean to her will cause this. Complaining how this is bullshit and now they have to replay the entire day just to suck up to her, how this is ruined their no savescum run.

A character that's controversial with the playerbase and sows chaos, a wildcard amidst the speedrunner community who pray every day that she isn't ill yet so they can get the premium medical items from her.

A character that looks evil, acts unsettling but is a actually a nice goody two shoes inside. Except that she tolerates no bullshit or rudeness, I love her. Slay Jucika, slay indeed.

Her design is very beautiful and in tone with her personality! The contrast between her pristine clean nun outfit and the dirtiedd medical apron. The knowing smirk on her face in the first image!

Maybe she likes to annoy Daniil because he also tried to recruit her into working under him (with no payment or nothing to boost, just the promise of fame) like he did with the Haruspex after meeting him?

Like he just was dismissive, you know how doctors treat nurses. Telling her to report to him as if he was her superior simply for being a doctor, only for her to put her foot down and make it her mission to annoy him each and every time he comes asking for help afterwards, taunting him for resorting to the nurse when a big capable doctor like him couldn't handle the situation or lacks the knowledge.

I adore her, go girlboss go! Also i really love her deep red lipstick, very few people and character designs can pull that off yet she does it so seamlessly. Iconic.