#i just feel like any and all emotional weight to this has died and the characters are more and more obviously actors on a stage

[rxttenfish]

Asking because I’m extremely curious about this, how did MonProm’s writing get different over time? I remember you saying that the lore and characters feel different, and that it's missing sincere character interactions, too. I know almost nothing about the lore and I’ve only seen a few people mention the characters, so I’d be interested in a rundown of what aspects you think got worse in the series

I wouldn’t mind a very long response since I’m not that active in the fandom, I need to catch up on what happened

sorry for taking so long to answer this! i kinda waffled on it for a long bit, mainly because i started doubting myself again, and whether or not this was me simply overreacting or being tinted by nostalgia or simply being extremely picky and choosy in what i like (the last of which is true, i seldom get into fandoms at all for this reason and stay away from most popular media, but i wasn't sure if it applied here). i've posted about it already, but i'm in the middle of a psychotic episode where i can't feel a lot of pleasure to begin with + most things i do experience ending up solidly in the "very bad" category, so as you can imagine, i really didn't want to mislead and check that i was actually in objective reality.

as it is, this is also when a lot more screenshots started to be posted in the monster prom tag, and that helped me bridge the gap back into returning to the games themselves and feel like i was making a more accurate judgement. if you're one of those people who have been posting screenshots, i sincerely thank you, and i appreciated seeing you in the tag greatly.

for those not in the know — i've been in the monster prom fandom since it first released, prior to even the first additional ending to be added (the "Punch the sun" ending, and i recall the minor fandom drama that happened at that time due to it). my impression of monster prom is very much influenced by this, as what got me into the first game was the fact that the characters genuinely seemed to care for each other and were friends with each other (not merely tolerating each other's presences nor dressing it up, they sincerely thought of each other as friends and were open about that fact), on top of the wide variety of small details and statements that, if taken at face value, could create compounding complexity in the lives of each and every character and had wider implications for their lives.

no, they were not necessarily explored nor even necessarily "real", with so many conflicting events and statements, but i liked this too, because it meant a wider flexibility in what you could imagine, helping to create a more tailored experience for everyone who thought about these characters. this was what i liked about the early fandom too. what was baseline "canon" was so vague and minimal that you could have wildly different interpretations of the same characters' histories and relationships with each other. you would have radically different perspectives on what the world itself looked like, what it was like, that there wasn't really any wrong answers so long as their personalities remained the same. this is where you got the old headcanon of polly and liam being childhood friends who knew each other as humans, or that the world of monster prom was post-apocalypse where humanity itself had gone extinct or only existed in tiny pockets, or my personal headcanon that both monster and human society existed right next to each other and had minimal crossover for petty cultural reasons. this was also prior zoe-as-ro, and there were wildly different interpretations of zoe's personality, with most going for a far more disquieting creepy-cute than the deep nerd we got.

this is why you get stuff like the timeloop theory, where everyone is repeating the same weeks leading up to prom over and over, and are perhaps vaguely aware of it but broadly unconcerned. this is also why it felt like the joke that, the characters were still in high school but were all fully legal adults with most in their 20's, best landed, because it was absurd and strange and didn't quite make sense, but the world itself was inherently absurd and semi-malleable to begin with. realistically, i felt like everyone understood it was making fun of the trope of having adults play teenagers in american sitcoms and wildly casting outside the age range, but for more in-universe explanations it wasn't any different from the way that you would have a large, dramatic ending in which everything changed, but then you'd restart and everyone would be right back at the beginning with nothing different, or even having conflicting events in the same run. it was a dream-logic that fit with the tropes and, thus, diagetically made sense.

to be clear, i don't mind canon having a set, well, canon on which it refers back to itself. i don't mind expanding that or including more things which are set in stone. but there was a perceivable shift in how the games handled this over time, becoming a lot more... bitter, it felt, towards all of these different branching ideas and concepts that, yeah, the people making them knew wouldn't necessarily be "canon" because "canon" already liked to contradict itself so much. most people weren't even sold on any one idea, and there was a much greater sense of enjoying and appreciating all the varying ideas people would come up with even if you personally didn't share them. making the characters be out of character was the real crime, because then it didn't diagetically make sense in the same way, didn't wholly fit.

(again, this is not to say fanon didn't happen and characters weren't smoothed down into a simplified personality that fit these varying fan-interpretations instead of the game itself. certainly damien love/lust was just as bad as it had ever been, and everyone loved to mangle his character into a more stereotypical "bad boy with a heart of hold" all the time. but it certainly felt less set-in-stone about it than it does now, with any deviation from the norm being considered strange and odd and even broadly shunned from the wider fandom.)

all of this is setup for establishing what the writing, lore, and characters felt like in the earlier days. the characters were the strongest part, with their relationships to each other being equally as important. the lore played it fast and loose and was far less interested in setting anything in concrete because that wasn't the important part. the lore wasn't the important part, which was what made it all the more intoxicating to think about, all the more fun to play with.

montrip is easily the biggest offender when it comes to setting everything in all-or-nothing terms and demanding absolutism from the world. broadly i blame the hitchhiker conversations for the worst of it, but i think ultimately the way they handled the entire premise of the game is where this problem stems from. it's not really an exploration in the same sense that you might explore the first game, discovering different perspectives and different people with different relationships to each other. it's an exploration in the sense of a sequel that over-explains the monster, that takes the most boring option out of all those that were possible and floating around and settles on something that was blatant, obvious, typically rejected not because of how novel it is but how trite and par for the course it is in the rest of the genre.

yeah, okay. humans know nothing about monsters and there's a "monster dimension" that exists separately from the human dimension. there's no crossover between the two of them. of course there's a big grand-scale fight between the eldritch powers that zoe used to be a part of, from which not only are slayers the main organization against them, but also the merkingdom has some horse in this race too. it's an urge to make things so universal in explaining them, in revealing connecting threads which unite everything that's ever happened in here, that makes the worldbuilding and lore immediately much more boring than it ever was before.

and it didn't have to be this way! nothing in the first game contradicts any of this too explicitly (see the above, the first game loves to contradict itself), and i would even be happy if this was basically canon but never stated or confirmed to be the big overarching everything going on underneath it all. i believe you should probably know these things about any world that you create and have them in the back of your mind. the difference is that you can know these things and keep them in mind, even focusing on things where its very relevant, and still not reveal them. this is why you have lore bibles, after all. every horror writer knows exactly how their monster works and the full underlying reason for everything that happens, but that doesn't mean the audience will see it or possess this same information too, and leaving it intentionally obscure will make far better stories.

which, this is bad enough, but it wouldn't be the breaking point for me if this was all there was.

but the worst thing of all has to be the slow decay of the very same characters that sold me on this world, this lore, this game in the first place. monster prom is nothing without the characters in it. it's a dating sim, it has nothing but characters to get you to play, and liking these characters are the entire reason anyone would pick up monster prom in the first place.

and the first game pulls this off extremely well. it's all in the tagline: be your worst self. they are, indeed, all terrible people. yes, even that character that you just thought of right now. they all have points in the game where they commit atrocities, where they kill or hurt people, where they do inexcusable things that could not be ignored in a more serious setting.

but that's the point. i think there's something very powerful in creating a character who not only do you love and love their personality and the way they interact with the world, but who also are inapologetically terrible, and to have the humor and the charisma be so good that you don't get bogged down in the "this is awful". likewise, it never feels the urge to really go out of its way to justify what's going on. this is not to say theres no discussion of if someone "deserved it", but usually there's still the sense that the joke is on them, that this is still an extreme reaction specifically for comedy and not necessarily something that can be justified. you can have damien set leonard on fire and have it feel earned, without prompting the needed reaction of what it's actually like to watch someone burn to death.

this is what sets the prank masterz ending apart from the rest of the game, and really establishes it as the first real "bad ending". because nothing that you do or happens in the prank masterz ending is any different from anything else that happens in any other run. you summon evil beings from other dimensions as a throwaway gag on how visiting one location raises your stats. you kill other people and damn them to terrible fates. you watch as body horror happens. the only difference is that, in the prank masterz ending, the laugh track doesn't play.

the rest of the game and the writing echoes this philosophy, this careful interplay of tropes that keeps everything tongue in cheek and yet sincere enough to make sure emotional beats still land when they're needed. the characters feel true to themselves and their own emotions, even when the world is extreme and excessive, when everything else runs on comedy logic.

this is also what i noticed failing first as time went on.

like i said, fanon has always existed and there's always been very specific ideas as to what characters are like in the same way fanon always flattens down characters into the same tropes over and over. scott is stupid and innocent and doesn't know what sex is. damien is violent and hot and too cool for anyone else. miranda is the idiot girl character. repeat over and over and over until you get sick of it.

but it's been an issue as time has crept on that canon has started to approach fanon and began to merge with it. now, scott is so innocent that he can't even curse. polly starts being mean to her friends and saying things that would be very hurtful to hear. the merkingdom isn't really super evil and fucked up, it's just miranda that's like that. they become simpler, easier to digest, streamlined for social media posts and mass-sharing. they become less and less subversions of existing tropes and moreso just another example of them, something else to add to the collection, not their own individual stories.

even further from this, what more complex traits they had are now stated and not shown. polly is stated to be smart and clever in a way that her party girl persona doesn't imply and to be sincerely rather down to earth with the people she cares about, but we seldom ever see this anymore unless its the game specifically trying to make a point about it, in which case it won't let her do anything that implies cleverness and moreso will just outline it in the narration. vera is stated to care for people in a very genuine and heartfelt way, but seldom will get a chance to do so, and every opportunity for her to do so to their faces is missed while she will just outright state it later. it does not feel consistent, it does not feel like any of these are intended reads of their actions. it feels like the devs have something they want to do but no idea on how to actually do so. and forget it if you want these traits to manifest in small ways that show up in unrelated moments and scenes.

the dialogue becomes harder and harder to tell between each speaker, if you are just looking at what's said and not at the pictures attached to it. the characters' distinct voices have been eroded away, so that they speak more and more like each other, relaying the same terms and ideas in the same words. perspective becomes a suggestion, instead of a must.

this is something that started back in monster camp too, as all of the endings in that game felt ultimately the same as every other ending. it's very hard to place or define the full reason why, why there feels like there's no emotional stakes nor investment, why everything feels moreso like selecting different coats of paint and trying to find all the different ending pictures rather than being interested in exploring the characters as characters.

stranger yet, the series that started with the tagline of "be your worst self" has experienced a kind of... softening, for lack of a better word? what i mentioned about being able to handle the balance between terrible people who do terrible things and the light tone of the game starts to change, as abruptly the same characters who were down with violent murder in the first game start to lose their nerve, acting more and more on more typical morality. it's one of those things that feels like it's starting to damage the tone, as abruptly it's not as absurd as it used to be, demands less suspension of disbelief which could buffer and support the rest of the setting on it. there's even a part in one of the endings in montrip which involves current-polly and current-scott looking back on their monprom selves and reacting in horror at how violent and careless their pranks are, in a way that fundamentally felt like it was undercutting and disparaging all the things that felt fun and made monprom what it was.

which is odd, really, because more and more i feel like the characters in these games like each other less and less. the friendships and genuine enjoyment of each others company that brought me to this game in the first place has gone. now they don't mention each other as much, don't care for each other's feelings and reactions as much, aren't as willing to support each other. they are more and more found on their own, relied on their own, seem to seek out contact and interaction with their own friends less and less. it feels like they're all separating out into their own worlds, but also feels like they wouldn't willingly want to interact with each other if they weren't already forced together by some other outside contrivance.

if anything, i'd compare it to every other dating sim out there, where you, the player, are the most important person in these characters' lives, and they only feel ambivalent or antagonistic towards every other character. which, again, is not why i picked up monster prom or why i liked it so much in the first place.

and it's because of this that it feels like the current state of the series has to focus on its increasingly weak worldbuilding and lore, trying to form a more serious foundation without character relationships being so tightly bound together, without the characters themselves being more developed and rich, without an aspect of absurd humor to rely on.

more and more i've noticed monprom has to rely on referencing other series to make itself funny and create humor, which, again, it's always done. it was just easier to ignore back then, if you didn't know what was being referenced, because there was always more going on in the exact same scene to bolster it and give context clues as to the setup and punchline at play. it feels like the current games are much more dependent on you knowing pop culture references in order to have any fun with it, and i'm someone who, again, is very picky in what i like or what i'll seek out. i'm not interested in a stream of references about other things that i would much rather be doing than playing through a game that feels like it hates that i like it at all, when i could, again, just be engaging with the thing that takes itself seriously and knows what it wants.

[peonysgreenhouse]

-`♡´- return.

summary: the obey me brothers react to mc coming back to life!

tags: obey me brothers x gn!reader, hurt/comfort, implied character death

i. lucifer

lucifer quietly steps into diavolo’s office, his usual professional mask quickly slipping onto his face, mouth set in a firm line as his eyes wander about the room. he freezes where he is when he sees who diavolo is talking to.

a familiar side profile, those kind eyes and soft lips he remembers so well, and he feels his breath hitch in his throat. this wasn’t real, he saw you die in front of his eyes. just how could you be here right now?

“lucifer!” you call, his presence being made known by diavolo, who grins wide upon seeing lucifer’s mesmerized expression. “oh, i missed you so, i–” you grip onto him tight, lucifer hesitating to return your affection out of both fear and regret. surely, he’d wake up any moment now in his own room and see that this was all a dream, remembering he had similar dreams after lilith’s fall. oh how his heavenly father liked to torment him so, even now.

“how did you…?” he clenches his jaw to keep himself from breaking. not in front of diavolo, not in front of you could he cry. lucifer hadn’t cried in eons, not since he was cast out of the celestial realm, but now, more than ever, he feels the weight of centuries of living creeping up on him, bubbling to the surface like a pressure he had let simmer for an eternity. “it’s really…?”

“it’s really me…” you whisper, putting your hand on his cheek. his hand comes up to cover your own, wishing he could shred the glove so he could feel the warmth of your hand on his. “it’s hard to believe, right? i was in the celestial realm for a while but… then i got sent back down here.” lucifer’s eyes flick to diavolo, who sits back in his chair with a smug grin on his face. he’s sure he now owes him two lifetimes worth of debts, one that he’d gladly work to pay off. you being here was worth more to him than anything the three realms had to offer.

“you’re never leaving again, understand?” his tone is more desperate than commanding, linking his fingers with yours. his other hand touches the spot where your mark is from making a pact with him, an eternal reminder that you both were connected. “from now until forever, you’re staying at my side.” 

you laugh breathily: “yes, i’m yours, lucifer.”

ii. mammon

an unexpected knock at the door resounds through the hall. he doesn’t have the energy to get up and open it, knowing it was probably asmodeus out from a wild night out. hearing the knocks once again, he sighs, slinking over and throwing the door open, ready to snap at whoever is there.

when he’s greeted by your smiling face, eyes bright and glittering as you choke out words that he’s been dreaming of hearing ever since that night you died, he grips the door so tight that it threatens to shatter under his grip. lucifer stands behind you, his arm linked with yours and the brightest smile he’s seen on his older brother since the days spent in heaven. 

he doesn’t care if he’s imagining things, he doesn’t care if it’s just a cruel illusion – mammon is greedy. he reaches out and pulls you out of lucifer’s grasp, holding you tight against his chest like you'd slip out of his arms if he let go. his breath hitches in his throat, hands running up and down your body, trying to commit this feeling to memory in case it turns out his hunch is right.

a flurry of emotions runs through his head, he has the urge to be angry that you left him, if only you could see the lengths he went to to get you back, all the restless nights spent bargaining with witches in back alleys and dark places. but he’s always cared for you more than he’s cared for his own pride, maybe even more than he’s cared for his own self. if this were an illusion he’s damn sure he’d sign over his own life to make it real, if even for a moment.

“hey,” your voice is more gentle than he remembers, “i’m here, i’m back, mammon.” when you push him back gently to cradle his face, he shatters, bursting into a fit of loud and childish sobs. he doesn’t care, he doesn’t worry about how pathetic he might’ve looked to you, you were back in his arms. 

iii. leviathan

levi hardly ever left his room, not since the night you had died. he only came out when he needed to eat, or when lucifer would forcefully drag him to class. the days were long and dull, not even TSL seemed to make him light up anymore – it was much too painful to face the world without his henry at his side.

he gets curious one night when he hears the sobs of his older brother downstairs; had something else happened? stepping out of his room, he could’ve never imagined seeing the sight in front of him: mammon sobbing in your arms, lucifer stroking your hair from behind, the two brothers sandwiching you in like a vice.

it’s you, his breaths grow shaky as he nearly jumps over the banister trying to get to you, it’s his henry, his best friend, his–

“you left me, but you’re–!” he quickly pulls mammon aside, tears of his own pricking at the corner of his eyes. “you’re back… why did you leave me? why did you–?” his tone is harsh, but the way he’s gripping onto your shirt, fists balled up and tugging you out of lucifer’s grip and into his chest, you know he’s more upset with himself than anything.

“…promise me you won’t leave me again,” his voice is small, and it has fresh tears running down your cheeks.

“i promise.”

iv. asmodeus

he comes home late, in the hours where the devildom was at it’s darkest, smelling of alcohol and the perfume of other demons. fully expecting another lecture from lucifer, he tries to open the door as quietly as possible, slinking through the doorway, making his silent entrance. as he sneaks up the stairs and towards his room, he sees that the door to your room was open.

that’s odd, he thinks, but not entirely strange – mammon would often tuck himself away under your covers, sleeping in your room as it was like a second home to him, even when you were gone. 

but then he hears it, the sound he so often dreamed of, so often tried to pull out of others as his fingers danced down their sides, but it was never the same. your laughter. 

he hurries in, a sight in front of him he never thought he would see again: you with your head in lucifer’s lap, levi cuddled up beside you, mammon hugging tight to your other side. as your eyes snap up to meet asmodeus’s, he feels his cheeks heat up, the shame of what he’s done since you’ve been gone creeping up on him slowly. 

but then you’re up and running to him, latching onto him like a vice and he finds himself smiling, the warmness of your body against his melting away his guilty thoughts like snow in the spring. 

“it’s about time you came back,” he kisses you over and over, not missing an inch of your face. you taste salty, and he doesn’t know who’s tears he’s tasting at that point – yours or his. “you’re mine. don’t you ever think about leaving again, ‘kay?”

v. satan

a quiet knock at his door in the early hours of the morning alerts him, and he stiffens, knowing it was probably lucifer here to check up on him. the thought of seeing his brother made him sick, so he continues reading his book as if he heard nothing.

“can i come in?” a soft voice that sounds like yours asks. has he lost it? has he been awake for so long now that he had finally slipped out of sanity? if he tells you to come in, it doesn’t register until the light from the outside hallway makes its way into his room, satan hissing at the way it blinds him.

the way the light wraps around you makes you look not much different than an angel, ethereal and as radiant as the sun. you reach down and touch his cheek, noticing how hollow his cheekbones and how dark the circles under his eyes are. he hadn’t been taking care of himself, had he?

“satan, i’m here,” you smile down at him gently, “i missed you. i missed you so much.”

“you… you’re actually alive?” he heart beats wildly in his chest, “but… but i researched this and… and it said there was no hope! how can you be here now?”

“i’ll explain later.” you kneel in front of him, hand still on his cheek. “now, i just want to see you.”

he wants to be angry at you. he wants to scream at you until his throat is burning, wants to make you feel every second of agony he had felt since the moment you died. but he can’t, no matter how angry he was at himself for his failures, he could never take that out on you. “this is real, right?” he grits his teeth, sure you could hear how fast his heart was beating. “i’m not going to wake up and you be gone, right?”

“i’m not leaving you, satan.” you shake your head, “not now, not ever.”

he finally cracks, pulling you into his lap and burying his face into your neck. you smell just how he remembers, and he pulls you close, close, closer until you’re flush against him. even then it’s not close enough.

satan doesn’t trust himself to speak, no words seeming accurate to say how he felt in the moment. he lets the tender moment pass by in silence, until his brothers come in after deciding the both of you had enough alone time.

vi. beelzebub

the darkness of the devildom starts to wash away as the morning hours come. of course, it was never truly bright as it was on earth. beel finds himself waking up after another nightmare, hand clutching at his pillow like he would often clutch onto your hand when he had dreams of lilith. 

in his dreams he sees you, shining like you always did, snuggled up against his chest. in the next moment, he sees blood staining your clothes, eyes wide in horror as you beg him to save you. beel is never quick enough, dying before he even had the chance to touch you, the last words of yours as cruel as a knife to the gut: why didn’t you save me?

beel makes his way to the kitchen, having left quietly as to not wake up belphie. he’s sure that it was levi’s turn to cook breakfast – not that levi would actually do it. levi didn’t leave his room unless forced to, after all. beelzebub could at least take over that job for him.

he passes by the common room, hunger pains keeping him from checking to see what his brothers were doing convened in there.

“oh, beel!” beelzebub whips around at the sound of your voice. he could never forget, not in a million years, just how sweet you sounded. like the brightest symphony or the softest lullaby. after you died, he found himself replaying your recorded phone calls with him over and over, to soothe him before he fell asleep.

“you’re… alive?” his eyes widen, and you pull yourself out of asmodeus’s lap to sprint to beel, who easily catches you in his arms, hoisting you in the air and spinning you around. tears prick at the corner of his eyes, and he crushes you into his chest. 

“yes, i’m here beel!” your voice is a bit strained due to how hard he’s squeezing you. 

“i’m sorry for not protecting you,” he whispers, “it’s my fault you were–”

“it’s not your fault.” beel leans down, letting you run your fingers through his hair, “not for lilith… not for me. none of it’s your fault. you did all you could.”

he smiles a watery smile, hands still strong around your waist: “thank you.”

vii. belphegor

as most nights go, belphie dreams about you. his head resting in your lap, your soft hands threading through his hair– it’s pure bliss, and he wants to cling to the dream as long as he can.

in fact, if he concentrates hard enough, he can feel something stroking his head in real life, his head resting on a surface both familiar and alien– did his favorite pillow always feel like this? but soon, beel’s voice pierces through the gauze, tearing his dream apart, and belphie opens his eyes.

blinking irritably, it takes him a second to process what’s going on– beel is smiling in a way he hasn’t seen in years. and his head is resting in your lap. you’re gazing down at him, something tender in your eyes, beel by your side.

it’s a dream. it has to be. there is no way you can be here, that you can be real– you were gone, and he was stuck, going around and around in his own head uselessly– but then you breathe, “belphie, i’m home,” and he turns and hugs you so hard you fall back on the bed, startled.

there is a flurry of limbs, of movement– beel has wrapped his arms around you from behind, and belphie is clinging to your front, head pressed in the crook of your neck, hands running all over to make sure you’re real.

hasn’t he wanted this moment forever? his two favorite people in the world, by his side? he doesn’t need an explanation, a reason. in fact, he’s sure mammon or lucifer will storm in in a couple more minutes, and he will have to tear himself from your side. belphie will have to share you with his five less lovable brothers.

but for now, you are his again. and it is enough.

[roguelov]

OKAY BUT IMAGINE;

Becoming Morpheus's safe space or his emotional support human. Like one day you're walking through the Dreaming and you find Morpheus, who is completely overwhelmed with his feelings and is hiding from everyone. So you, who has been completely nervous and a little intimidated by him bc he's literally an Endless, go up to him and hug him without hesitation. You comfort him without asking any questions or trying to get him to talk about it. You just let him feel with no judgement.

Que to like maybe a couple weeks or months later where Morpheus just constantly seeks out your touch for comfort. Like will literally cross a whole room just to touch you no matter whoever is there or wherever you two are. He just automatically relaxs at the touch and he also like to see the light blush that appears on your face because despite how normal the touching is by now, he still makes you nervous in a butterflies in the stomach type of way.

OH MY GOD MY HEART IS MELTING AT THIS I DIDNT KNOW I NEEDED THIS UNTIL YOU SAID IT

You were in the library assisting Lucienne with reorganizing all the new books. The two of you were talking about anything and everything. It was calm, and enjoyable.

Until such a peace was interrupted.

Hasty footsteps cut through your melodic conversation. You both turned your head to find Morpheus marching through the library. His eyes determined and somewhat harsh as each of his steps were filled with a near righteous purpose. He seemed to be on some personal - and dare you say important - mission. As if, he was trying to locate something, or someone.

Morpheus’s eyes flickered over to you. Instantly, he beelined it directly towards you. Once within your grasp, he hugged you from behind.

Someone. He was trying to find someone, and that being you.

You tensed up, feeling your heart skip. His arms tightened around your waist as he pressed his forehead into your shoulder. He let out a deep long heavy exhale as some internal weight lifted off of him.

Lucienne bit back a smile. You glanced at her with wide eyes, feeling a heat rise to your cheeks. She knew of your small crush on the Endless, a secret she swore to keep. “I will finish later, there are other things I must do,” she said with a slight playfulness in her voice.

You wanted to call out to her, to tell her not to go, but all those words died on your lips. Once she disappeared from sight, you let out a small sigh. She will give you grief later.

“Apologies,” Morpheus murmured, still clinging to you. You tensed at the soft hypnotic timbre of his voice. “It has been a … difficult morning.”

With each passing second, the stress continued to melt off of him. How could one hug, one touch from you, calm him so immensely?

“It’s ok,” you tried to keep your voice steady. “Just took me a bit off guard.”

“Should I -“ he slowly removed his arms.

“No,” you blurted out. “It’s fine, really. You just looked so … so … angry earlier, I didn’t know what you were going to do.”

Morpheus sighed, returning his arms around you grateful for it. “Again, I am sorry if I alarmed you.”

“Please you don’t have to apologize. If I can bring you any kind of comfort then I’m happy to help.”

His arms gave you a small squeeze, almost as if in a silent thank you. “You truly are a wonder to behold,” he whispered.

Your heart fluttered at his touching words. “How so,” you asked with a giddy smile as you placed your hands over top of his.

“You can always calm my chaotic emotions.”

You turned your head slightly to peer at him from the corner of your eye. All you saw was his messy ruffled hair. You leaned your head towards his, and lovingly rest it against his. “Always happy to help,” you whispered softly into his hair.

Morpheus was thankful to have hid his face, for he knew if you looked at him you could see his unspoken love for you. A mortal who went from stranger to confidante. His dear mortal whose words and touch can assuage any turmoil within him. His infatuation that held his heart in a way he could not comprehend. His love who he hoped would stay by his side when he gathered the courage to ask.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

Thank you for everything.

“Of course, I’m always here for you,” you hummed.

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Lonely Nights

Requested: Yes [Are you willing to write toxic Ghost? Like after sex he just kinda leaves you to play on his xbox?]

Warnings: Lack of aftercare, inattentive partner

A/N: Gahhhhh, I was very hesitant about this one. I do think Simon can be very…..not great to partners, even ones he’s close with. Especially the ones he’s close with. I think he has a hard time registering his partner’s feelings and remembering the courtesies of aftercare. I think he’s more used to one night stands that he kicks out after he’s done with them, not people who put their whole hearts in his hands. You know? So he kinda just…..accidentally treats a partner like that because it’s what he knows.

Ghost has never been the most….in touch with his emotions and those of the people around him. Even yours, as close as you two might be. It’s just not something he really manages to do well. He tries, God knows he tries, but he just fails, time and time again. And you’re left to pick up the pieces of yourself that he broke off with every accidental pain he caused. And you know he doesn’t mean to, that he just doesn’t know how to do this, be in a normal relationship, a loving one, but you’re not sure how much more of this you can take.

This would be one of those times. You were hurting everywhere after he had been too rough with you, practically on the verge of tears when he finally rolled off of your sore body, snatching his pack of cigarettes and his old beaten up lighter from the nightstand before making his way out into the living room like he usually did. You were stunned, for lack of a better word. Shocked that he had actually left you like this. You knew he wasn’t the best at these things, but how could he not notice the state you were in? Your emotions? Your pain? How could-how could he just leave you like this? How could he be so oblivious to something so plain to see?

Your legs shake as you crawl out of Ghost’s bed, almost slipping and falling onto your ass in your attempts to get up, hobbling out to the living room with a thin blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You wanted to call out to your lover, beg him to come back to bed with you, but your throat felt like one big bruise and when you opened your mouth to speak, you could only wheeze.

And then you saw him, lounging half naked on the couch, cigarette in hand as he watched rugby on the tv. You knew he noticed you coming in, he always did. But just like all the other times, he didn’t even bother to acknowledge your existence, just taking a long drag from his fag before puffing the smoke out through his nose, looking all the part of a lazy dragon who’d just fattened himself up on some knight who died screaming in agony.

Whimpering, you stepped closer, silently begging for his attention and affection when you sat beside him on the couch, croaking quietly to him as you touched his arm. A twitch was all you received in response, having to manually wrap his arm around your shoulders for any kind of comfort. He didn’t pull away, but neither did he lean in, stroke you, pull you closer. He was dead weight around you, devoid of the affection you so desperately needed in this instant. With a whimper, deprived and needy, you lean in closer, nuzzling your head against his chest like a lonely kitten, trying to get even an ounce of his attention.

“Not now, Love.” Was all you got, Ghost’s cold hand sliding under your chin and lifting your head up and away from him. “Go back to bed if you’re feeling tired.”

Heartbroken, you try to protest but just end up coughing, hand clutching your pained throat to try and stifle the growing ache. That at least earned you a little rub on your back from Ghost but it ended all too soon for you, not even a word of protest from him as you stood and shuffled back to your shared room, his eyes laser focused on the tv the whole time, while yours kept hopefully glancing back at him, only to end up disappointed once more as the door shut behind you with no interruptions except for the tv turning up just a bit louder right before you started crying, curling up on the bed and seeking what little warmth remained under the covers, face buried in Simon’s pillow and hoping beyond hope that he’d come in and scoop you up into his arms, apologize for leaving you so hurt and sad, promise to never do it again.

But it never came. And you spent the whole night alone in that big bed until Ghost finally came back in, just the slightest bit tipsy as he crawled onto his side of the bed, giving you nothing more than the lightest kiss to your head before he was dozing off for the night.

And that. That was what broke you, your heart shattering in your chest and cracking the fragile dam that you’d built up against your tears. Through shaking shoulders and quiet sobs, you felt resolve sink into your bones.

You couldn’t take this anymore.

[gatorpond]

i hate to do this, but i need help again. my brother died in late may & i've been struggling since to eat, sleep, or take care of myself. i have a work backlog & was unable to do my physical therapy so my pain is slowing me even more. if anyone has the ability/feels like donating, my kofi is here. shares are super appreciated.

y'all have helped me so much & i can't thank you enough. i really can't. i don't know how to even put that into words. i don't have much of an irl support system and y'all have literally saved my life during this time. i wish i could function better so i could stop needing help. at this point, i've lost weight, have been too dissociated to function, and have been set back months of work on my physical therapy. my disabilities are back in full force. i struggle to remember to take my meds. i sat in my chair and didn't move for 6 straight hrs yesterday. i've also been spending much of my time helping my mom sort thru medical records/legal paperwork. i don't want to reveal too many details publicly, but his death was. traumatic & potential medical malpractice. i cannot overstate how hard this has all been. i'm not trying to twist ppl's emotions to send me help; i just want to be very clear what my situation is. i'm applying for food assistance again (was rejected last time) but for housing, utilities, insurance, medications, there's no assistance in my state. i have to have funds. all of that to say: i'm sorry to have to keep leaning on y'all so hard. i'm trying to get my feet under me, i swear. but i still can't seem to manage it. this shattered my world. i hate that i need to worry abt finances at all right now. thank y'all for any help. and for those who have been so patient with me wrt comms & owed art: i cannot say thank you enough. y'all have been so understanding. i'm working on your pieces as much as possible, i promise. if you have questions, my dms are open. you can contact me thru email/telegram too.

[savagewildnerness]

Let’s breakdown this scene…

Lestat, playing piano: bent over, lost in the world of the music - out of this world entirely. Louis sees a broken thing playing a plank of wood. A far cry from the proud, splendid creature he once knew.

(From Interview with the Vampire) "My eyes widened as I studied this stooped and shivering vampire whose rich blonde hair hung down in loose waves covering his face.”

Side note from me, as I love to talk about things that make The Vampire Chronicles appealing to me. Some people seem to be of the view that they wouldn’t desire immortality, only to be these sad, lonely, melancholic creatures… but I have always felt this way myself - even when I was a tiny child, long before I read The Vampire Chronicles. There has always been an innate loneliness and isolation to me deep inside. I don’t think you’d necessarily know it to meet me, mind! I am a smiley person! I like to do childlike, fun things. I try to bring happiness, not gloom to the world.

However, my instinct has always been to retreat into my own, wordless, unbound imagination, and to feel entirely alone, in truth. And still, I am. As a child, I felt more the weight of the world as if I were already 1000 years old. Now, loss of hope that comes with time is both sadder, scarier and, in its way, more freeing.

Anyway - imagine having infinite time and so being able to truly drift out of existence for decades. It’s such an appealing concept to me. I know Lestat is very sad here, but the idea of this kind of true escape… oh how I yearn for it. To let the world crumble around me. To step out of existence for some decades, with the possibility of return, not the reality as it is in mortal life that that is you falling through cracks you’ll never crawl out of ever again…

Lestat names Louis, reflexively when asked who said “hello”. He hasn’t turned to see Louis yet. To Lestat, Louis died 50 years ago. He is a ghost, surely? Lestat’s voice has a flat affect here. He isn’t thinking. He is merely reacting.

When Lestat first looks at Louis, I see fear:

- Does Louis really exist?

- What will Louis do?

- Must Lestat be drawn back into the world here? To acknowledge reality?

(From IWTV) “`I've dreamed of your coming . . . coming. . ' he said.”

Lestat asks Louis if he’d like a rat, as if he were a hallucination still, more than real-Louis. I think Lestat knows Louis is real when he speaks, but he’s still only half in reality himself.

Louis says “I’ve come to see you”, but Lestat is still half in his own constructed world with his music and Argerich… I love how Lestat hugs and caresses his plank-piano, drawing it into himself, as if drawing music in to himself. Me too, Lestat. Me too. I adore how Rolin and all added music to this scene. It isn’t there in the books. Of course it makes a through-line for rock star Lestat, but it is a deep love of Lestat’s and I am SO HAPPY with this addition!

I know a lot of people find “Siri, pause…” funny, but I must be a weird human, as I just find it oddly poignant. Like did people watch and laugh at this moment? This feels like when I go to see a play and people all laugh at something and I don’t laugh, then some other thing I laugh out loud at, but nobody else is laughing. And this is why I can’t do memes or any popular thing. SIGH. ANYWAY!!!

The way Lestat puts the keyboard up on front of himself, like a shield as Louis moves closer, his breathing growing ragged. Lestat genuinely scared… as though Louis’ mere presence might obliterate him if he gets too close. And of course, he does not know why Louis is there. Is he there to kill him? Does it matter if he is? He should kill him. He could too, right now. The emotional support piano becomes a protective plank.

But what Lestat is not expecting is Louis’ kindness, care, worry and empathy.

“Did you save my life in Paris?”

And now we get the first glimmer of the old Lestat as Lestat lifts his chin, shakes his head, tries to be nonchalant and to muster up his old pride, maintain any pride he still possesses. He immediately dismisses Louis’ niceness with a self-criticism as he truly perceives that he put Louis in danger by not protecting him from Armand. Responsibility in Nicolas’ death, and, he thinks, in Louis’.

Lestat is defensive. His unspoken mantra, “Don’t see me. Don’t see the real me, Louis. I cannot take it. Not right now.” Lestat is almost begging Louis to tell him he hates him, as he’s imagined Louis’ hate all these years… I fear halluci-Louis may not have been the kind, loving vision for Lestat that DreamStat was for Louis…?

A side note again: Lestat’s “All hail me” gave me a full-on spontaneous existential crisis. Folks, does Lestat say “All hail me” in the books? I hope not! Because for as long as I remember, in appropriate circumstances, I say “All hail me” and obviously it’s a turn of phrase, but I had a sudden heart stopping moment where, with a chill, I thought *Did I get that from Lestat?!* Am I entirely even my self at all?! Am I merely a manifestation of all the art I have ever consumed? Am… I… Armand!?!?!??!! Oh MY! I don’t think Lestat says this in the books though, right? Right!?!?

Well, Lestat puts his piano-plank down, terrified Louis might show him love. Craving it. Fearing it.

“Been enduring here?” Lestat is truly proud now. He will not admit his pain. As if not speaking it could make it invisible when it’s plain all about - from within him and without. It is *very* Lestat when questioned on the pain in his soul or shown that it has been seen to be like “I am FINE” & to think that’s how he comes across to others, when really of COURSE they see how broken he is. And then he bemoans that nobody will let him be broken, when he himself struggles to be broken other than when alone or on the page.

“I didn’t know it was a gift.” - Lestat is still wary. Still expecting hate from Louis here… unable yet to fully accept and understand…

Then Louis begins to say the only things Lestat has ever wanted to hear and know from Louis - thanking Lestat for the gift of vampiric immortality, showing he understands the beauty of it and intends to value that and use it… & Lestat is done for; broken open from here. He still, for a moment tries to fight back with “Shall we list all the ways we have wronged each other…” etc. But really, Lestat can now no longer maintain ay facade. Louis has opened him up.

And now we are open to Lestat’s thoughts for the last half-century. Armand erases Louis’ suicide attempt from his mind, but it is the first thing Lestat asks about. In his mind he has replayed for 5 decades how Louis is dead and it is his fault.

Sam and Jacob are so brilliant and beautiful as they open to each other in this scene. Claudia. Grief. Pain. Then, love. Broken-Lestat is particularly too much - holding on to responsibility over Claudia’s fate and how she looked at him at the end and he did nothing… and Louis, trying to take away and share the burden. Louis - so empathetic… and as they move through grief to love, words fall away (or become too personal to matter) and the storm outside echoes the storm of their hearts and their love.

(From IWTV) ““…And as I looked down at him, as I saw his yellow hair pressed against my coat, I had a vision of him from long ago, that tall, stately gentleman in the swirling black cape, with his head thrown back, his rich, flawless voice singing the lilting air of the opera from which we'd only just come, his walking stick tapping the cobblestones in time with the music, his large, sparkling eye catching the young woman who stood by, enrapt, so that a smile spread over his face as the song died on his lips; and for one moment, that one moment when his eye met hers, all evil seemed obliterated in that flush of pleasure, that passion for merely being alive.

" Was this the price of that involvement? A sensibility shocked by change, shrivelling from fear? I thought quietly of all the things I might say to him, how I might remind him that he was immortal, that nothing condemned him to this retreat save himself, and that he was surrounded with the unmistakable signs of inevitable death. But I did not say these things, and I knew that I would not.

" It seemed the silence of the room rushed back around us, like a dark sea…””

Bonus: misprint in my TVL copy!

(From TVL) “Louis had come finally to this very place and seen me through the windows. I tried to imagine it. Louis alive. Louis here, so close, and I had not even know it. I think I laughed a little. I couldn’t keep it clear in my mind that Louis wasn’t burnt up. But it was really wonderful that Louis still lived. It was wonderful that there existed still that handsome face, that poignant expression, that tender and faintly imploring voice. My beautiful Louis surviving, instead of dead and gone with Claudia and Nick.

But then maybe he was dead. Why should I believe Armand?”

[goldfades]

hi my love! can i request a little something of paige comforting her gf through a hard time? i’ve had a rlly tough semester and my car just died so im rlly going through it rn 🥲🥲🩷🩷 i love u and ur writing sm <3333

𝐏𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐀 & 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ─ PB⁵

─ word count | 412

─ warnings | literally nothing but fluff!!!!!!!!

─ ev's notes | hey my love!!! im so so so sorry that your semester has not been the best but i hope summer treats you so much better, and i hope you enjoy!!! i love u sm more, mwha mwah mwah. also this is really short, kinda like a comfort fic type vibe but i hope u enjoy it nonetheless!!!!!!!!

PAIGE'S ARMS ENVELOPED you in a tight hug, feeling the stress of the last week melt into her.

You fought the urge to cry because you were so insanely grateful for your girlfriend. She had been gone for the week because of a series of away games, but now she was back, and her presence brought you comfort like nothing else could. You buried your face in her shoulder, inhaling her familiar perfume, letting the warmth of her embrace chase away the tension that had been building inside you.

Paige's arms tightened around you, her fingers gently tracing soothing patterns on your back. "I missed you so much," she murmured, her voice soft and filled with warmth.

"I missed you too," you admitted, your voice slightly muffled against her shirt. "It's been a rough week without you here."

She pulled back slightly, cupping your face in her hands and searching your eyes with her own. "I'm here now," she said firmly. "I'm sorry, baby. I know it's been hard but I'm here for you always."

You nodded, feeling a rush of relief wash over you at her words. "I know," you replied, your voice wavering slightly with emotion. "And having you back makes everything better."

Paige smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. "Well, I'm not going anywhere," she reassured you, her gaze unwavering. "We'll get through this together."

You leaned into her touch, feeling the weight of the world lift off your shoulders in her presence. "I love you," you whispered, the words spilling out effortlessly.

"I love you too," she replied, her voice filled with tenderness. "You hungry?"

"Not really, I just had-"

She furrowed her eyebrows as she met your gaze, observing your expression before she shook her head. "Nah, you're hungry. What do you wanna eat, baby?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at her persistence. "Okay, maybe I could eat a little something," you admitted, grateful for her caring nature.

"Let's see..." Paige thought for a moment. "How about we order in? Or I can make us some pasta, or we could go for pizza if you're feeling something more indulgent."

"Pizza sounds great," you replied, the corners of your mouth turning up into a smile. "And maybe some wings too?"

Paige grinned, her eyes lighting up at the suggestion. "Wings it is," she agreed, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips before pulling out her phone to place the order.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[somerandomdudelmao]

CASSEROLE I HAVE RETURNED AND WITH A FIC THAT I THINK YOU’LL ENJOY OKAY THANKS

still don’t know how to add cuts in asks/reblogs so we’ll deal with some empty space again ig

Leo awoke with a senseless, overwhelming FEAR rooted deep within his gut. He sat upright in bed, his leg still aching from the beating he took in the Prison Dimension, but he knew that wasn’t what he was worried about. He started looking around, his eyes wide and red with terror. In the end, he was unable to find what he was looking for.

But then, all of a sudden, with no prompting whatsoever, fear turned into a DESPERATION so LOUD AND PAINFUL that Leo thought he would be crushed underneath it. It was a feeling unlike any other, an emotion he’d only felt once before, and it was CRUSHING him!

And for some odd, unbelievable reason, it all centered around Donatello.

His Twin.

Leo didn’t even give himself the time to think on it any longer. He just ran out of bed as fast as his still aching legs would go! He opened the door to his train car, almost ran right past Donnie’s because he’s still not used to the new layout of his brand new forever-home, but quickly corrected himself before getting to the kitchen and ran back towards Donnie’s room.

When he finally arrived, Donnie was already on his feet. He seemed frazzled, dazed even, by something that wasn’t even there.

And by god, Leo felt exactly the same way.

The two were inseparable within an instant.

Leo crashed into Donnie’s plastron immediately, making the two turtles crash back onto the soft-shell’s bed. The lack of retribution towards the sudden physical contact on Donnie’s end made the bubbling anxiety within Leo’s chest tighten, constricting on his lungs and making it hard to breathe. Leo tried to fight it back, because he knew that Donnie felt the same way, but it only led him to a new feeling he hadn’t yet felt. A feeling of loneliness, of grief, of being lost and worried he’d never be found…!

Nope. Wait, scratch that, he has felt this feeling before…

But for some reason, it’s worse this time…

Leo’s chest ACHED so so much with all these new, unprompted emotions that just came out of NOWHERE, and so he just… Cried. He cried into Donnie’s shoulder, tightened his grip on his twin, and just barely managed to lift the weight in his heart by a little bit. Slowly but surely, after what felt like an eternity, Leo’s tears slowed, his exhaustion from just being woken up taking up the space that the emotions left behind. Until eventually, there was nothing left to feel except an insurmountable emptiness and exhaustion.

The red-eared slider didn’t want to let go of his twin just yet, didn’t wanna leave the only proof of his very existence, but he knew the hug had to end at some point. So, with a heavy heart, Leo began to let go.

But Donnie, despite everything, still clung desperately to Leo’s body, muttering words that Leo couldn’t hear. His voice was a whisper, a desperate and sad version of a voice that Leo had grown to adore. It wasn’t the voice of exasperation or the voice of annoyance, no. It was the voice of longing and desperation… A voice that did not belong to Donatello in the slightest.

“Tello…?” Leo murmured into his twin’s shoulder, his own voice raw from the tears he’d just shed. “Are you good?” He didn’t get an immediate response, so he just hugged harder.

“I feel like…” Donnie suddenly began, his voice still quiet and sad. Leo tuned his ears so he could listen intently, not wanting to miss a single syllable. Because… What an odd way for Donnie to start a sentence. “Feels like you left and never came back.” Donnie said. “L-like you died or something, and that you were gone for years! Then I woke up and you were with me again, but something was still missing, and then you just… Then it clicked back.”

Oh. So that’s what that feeling was.

“I feel the same way.” Leo supplied carefully. His head was beginning to hurt from the sudden swell of emotions, but he pushed the pain away for the time being.

And then suddenly, before Leo had time to even process what the hell just happened, Donnie’s grip loosened and his head plonked onto his shoulder heavily. He didn’t just immediately fall asleep, but the turtle looked TIRED AS ALL HELL. Poor guy was probably awake all night again! So Leo did what any Good Samaritan would do and carefully set Donnie to bed, not wanting to touch his shell and warrant an unprompted panic attack. But just as he was about to leave Donnie to sleep, his twin grabbed ahold of his wrist and didn’t let go.

“I JUST- I want to be sure that you’ll still be here. My cameras were ruined in the attack last month and I haven’t gotten around to fixing the ones in your room yet, so I just… I-I need to-“

“Donnie, if you wanted a Twin Cuddle, you could’ve just said so!” Leo giggled half heartedly, the smile on his face feeling more like a grimace. “Now move over you big log!”

“Shut up, Dum-Dum.”

Idk how to end this so we’ll leave it there ig. This was inspired by a previous ask similar to this where they wrote in brackets that the present twins just spontaneously felt the same way as the future twins. Thanks for that little burst of inspiration!

and thanks to Cass for making the comic and for existing and for murdering my feelings it makes me feel great kthxbye-

OOOOOOHH THIS IS INTERESTING

[nahoney22]

might i request f! jedi reader comforting tech after her death as a force ghost as he mourns her?

i saw the rule of 'no major character death' and im not sure if this falls under it, so if it does, sorry! love your stuff

Death Is Just A Word*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Tech X Jedi!FemaleReader

word count: 1.4k

prompts: none

When everything gets too much for Tech, he finds himself entering a forest to relive his stress and emotions. He just didn’t know that his fallen Jedi will be there to meet him.

Warnings: death warning, heavy angst, comfort, reader is a Jedi who has died via sacrifice, mourning, can be a platonic or romantic relationship, Tech fears failure and is emotional, can also be read as gender neutral.

The Marauder was a mess of tension. Failed mission after failed mission, constant arguments over strategy, and a void in the team’s dynamic that no one could ignore. Every time they fell short, Tech felt the sting deeper than he ever let on. The others thought his frustrations were just his usual pursuit of perfection. They didn’t realise it was the gnawing guilt beneath the surface; a guilt that whispered it was his fault you were gone.

You had sacrificed yourself for them a month ago, throwing yourself into the path of certain death to save them all, especially him. Tech had replayed that moment a thousand times. Each calculation, every step, and the single flaw in his plan that led to your choice. No matter how much he tried to logically categorise his grief, he couldn’t find a solution that brought him any peace.

Now, every corner of the Marauder reminded him of your absence. Your datapad still lay in the corner of the cockpit, untouched since that day. No one had dared to move it. It was absurd, really. Tech wasn’t one to let sentimentality interfere with logic, but there it was: an irrational need to leave your things as they were, as if by doing so, he could somehow preserve a piece of you.

One night, it all became too much. After yet another mission gone wrong, with tempers flaring and his mind buzzing with thoughts he couldn’t stop, Tech couldn’t stay aboard the ship. The tightening in his chest, the erratic pounding of his heart—these feelings were new and unnerving. He was usually so controlled, his emotions filed away in neatly ordered compartments, but now they were spilling over in ways he couldn’t manage.

“I need a break,” he muttered, barely audible to the others. He didn’t wait for a response before heading down the ramp and disappearing into the darkness of the nearby forest.

The cool night air felt suffocating as he stumbled deeper into the woods, branches snagging at and clawing at his battered armour. Tech’s mind raced familiar patterns of calculations and probabilities that were now distorted by flashes of grief, anger, and regret. His breath hitched, the sharp ache in his chest refusing to go away. The weight of it drove him to his knees, collapsing against a tree as he buried his face in his hands.

“Why can’t I just… process this?” he whispered to himself, voice trembling with frustration. He was supposed to be the logical one, the one who could solve anything. But how could he solve the emptiness left by someone who wasn’t supposed to be gone?

The forest was silent, save for the rustling of leaves in the wind. And then, something else.

“Tech.”

His head shot up at the sound of your voice. No, it wasn’t possible. He was hallucinating, his mind frayed by exhaustion and grief. But then he heard it again, softer, more familiar.

“Tech, darling. Look at me.”

Tentatively, he lifted his gaze. There, just a few steps away, was your figure, glowing faintly in the moonlight. You looked as you always had—serene, your eyes filled with the quiet understanding that had once brought him comfort. But there was something ethereal, otherworldly about you now, your form shimmering like mist.

He blinked hard, certain he was imagining things. “This this is not real,” he muttered, his voice laced with desperation. “You can not be here.”

“Maybe not in the way you’re used to,” you replied, that familiar teasing lilt in your tone as you fold your arms over your chest. “But I’m still here.”

Tech took a step closer, bewildered. “I was under the impression that only Force-sensitive beings could perceive Force ghosts.”

You simply smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

He stared at you, his mind racing even more, trying to find the answer that fit the parameters of what he understood. But there was no logical explanation, no way to rationalise why he, a mere ‘defective’ Clone, could see you. He was about to press further when the weight of his unresolved emotions crashed over him again, overriding his curiosity.

The confusion morphed into anger as he shook his head. “You sacrificed yourself. You… you did not have to do that. You could have stayed. I would have found another way.” His voice cracked on the last words, frustration and grief intertwining in his chest.

You laughed softly, the sound light despite the tension in the air. “Oh, you’re upset with me? That’s rich. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful?” He stared at you incredulously, his logical mind struggling to keep up with the emotions crashing over him as you teased him. “Do you think I wanted you to throw your life away? We needed you—I needed you!”

Your gaze softened, and you took a step closer, though the distance between you still felt insurmountable. “I made my choice because I care about you all. Because I care about you. It’s what a Jedi does. I am to protect those I care about, even if it means sacrificing something precious.”

Tech clenched his fists, struggling with the reality of seeing you again, with the overwhelming mixture of relief, anger, and loss. “I really miss you,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “I keep trying to carry on like I always do, but nothing feels right without you. I can not focus. I can not summarise reasons as to why the missions have been failing. I can’t-.”

“Not everything can be calculated, Tech. Sometimes, you have to trust what you feel.”

You reached out, your hand hovering just above his chest, over his heart. “I’m still here, Tech. Not in the way you want, I know. But as long as you carry me with you, I’ll always be a part of you.” Your gaze was steady as you met his eyes. “It’s okay to miss me. It’s okay to grieve. But don’t forget that I believed in you—just as you are. You don’t have to solve everything.”

A single tear slipped down his cheek, and for once, he didn’t hide it. “You always had a way of getting under my skin, making me feel things I didn’t think I could,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I never got the chance to tell you what you meant to me.”

Your smile turned wistful. “I already knew, Tech. I always knew.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze turning pleading. “I know it is no longer physically possible, but I wish I could hug you. I never got to when you were alive.”

The pain in your eyes mirrored his as you shook your head slowly. “I wish you could, too. But I’m afraid you won’t be able to feel me.” You looked down at your hand, as if willing it to bridge the gap between you. “This is as close as we can get now.”

Tech’s shoulders sagged with the weight of that truth. He wanted so badly to reach out, to feel the warmth of your presence again, but all he could do was hold onto the memory. “I don’t know how to do this without you,” he admitted, his voice subtly breaking.

“You’re stronger than you think,” you said softly. “Trust in yourself, just like I trusted you all these years. And when it feels too heavy, remember that I’m still right here, where it matters most.” Your hand, still hovering near his chest, flickered slightly, as if you were fading.

He nodded slowly, unable to find the words as he watched your form begin to dim. “I will try.”

Your figure shimmered in the moonlight, a final, lingering smile gracing your lips. “Goodbye, Tech. Until we meet again.”

And just like that, you were gone, leaving him alone in the darkness of the forest, the echoes of your words lingering in the stillness. But for the first time in weeks, the silence wasn’t as unbearable. There was a small comfort in knowing that you were still with him, in some way, in the space that mattered most.

As he stood there under the canopy of stars, Tech wiped away the tear that had escaped, a quiet resolve settling in his chest. He wasn’t alone. You had made sure of that, even in death.

And somehow, he found the strength to take a deep breath and walk back toward the Marauder, where the others were waiting. For the first time since losing you, he allowed himself to believe that he can move forward.

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets s @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot t @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder r @the-bad-batch-baroness @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894 @lulalovez @green-alm0nd

[suashii]

୨♡୧ TREAT YOU BETTER — bakugo x reader. sfw. hurt/comfort. fluff.

jumping to conclusions and making assumptions without all the facts is rash, you know, but you’re starting to think you’ve been stood up. what else does it mean when your date is fifteen minutes late and has left three of your texts unanswered?

a flurry of emotions whirls around inside of you as the realization dawns on you; embarrassment, anger, sadness. the last one pisses you off even more because you shouldn’t be sad. that poor excuse of a potential boyfriend certainly didn’t care about you, so why should you place any weight on his actions? if anything, you dodged a bullet.

that’s the logical, rational way of thinking, but ignoring the pang in your heart is harder than you think. you can’t help but get caught up by the wave of disappointment that washes over you. the plastic straw between your teeth is almost chewed beyond recognition as you contemplate whether you want to swallow your pride and stay to eat alone or admit defeat and just pay for your lemonade.

on the other side of the window, where city lights gleam as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, bakugo is walking home from patrol. his eyes wander, taking in the scenery with each of his steps. it’s by chance that his gaze turns to the very restaurant you’re in, and even more of a coincidence that he notices you with the way your cheek is smooshed against your hand.

he had planned on going straight home after finishing up for the day but the mere sight of you has him making a detour to join you inside.

you’re just about to consider flagging down a waiter when a commotion erupts at the entrance. if it had been ten minutes ago when you were still eager about your date, you would have turned around to see what everyone was clamoring over. instead, you sigh, hoping that it won’t be too long until you see someone who can give you your bill.

you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to drown out the noise but your effort is for nothing as patrons and staff alike continue to animatedly “ooh” and “aah” at the person’s arrival. the cherry on top of your already forming headache comes in the form of a chair scraping across the floor; much too close for it to be anywhere other than your table.

thinking it’s your overdue date by what has grown to be twenty minutes, a bitter protest bubbles up in your throat—something about how he’s already wasted enough of your time and you don’t have any more to spend on him. although, it dies on your tongue when you open your eyes and see a familiar head of sandy blonde hair and a set of piercing scarlet eyes. you breathe out a breath you didn’t know you were holding upon seeing the man across from you.

“someone’s awfully dressed up to eat unaccompanied,” bakugo starts, propping his elbow up on the table to replicate yours. he takes in your outfit; more formal than anything you’d usually wear but less than what he recalls you putting together for any of the UA dances when the two of you attended. if he had to guess, bakugo would conclude that he interrupted a date.

“yeah, well, i wasn’t supposed to be here alone,” you tell him, flicking your straw.

you’re dressed for the occasion, that much is sure, but something about your air is off to bakugo. he watches quietly as you aimlessly play with your straw. your eyes are turned down, like if you look up and meet his, he’ll see something you’re trying to hide. it clicks only a second later and the lax expression bakugo’s wearing is traded in for a frown. “your date didn’t come?”

“nope,” you pop the p and give your straw one final flick before pushing the glass away and sitting back in your chair. now that the cat’s out of the bag, you finally find the courage to look the man in the eyes. it’s strange, you think, that all of those negative emotions that you were drowning in only a moment ago don’t feel as suffocating now. the only thing that’s changed since is bakugo’s presence. you can’t put your finger on it, but him simply being here has made you feel a little better.

“asshole,” bakugo mumbles under his breath, though it’s loud enough that you can hear it. it almost makes you smile.

bakugo crosses his arms. he had originally come in to poke fun at you and maybe get a look at the guy you had come with but he’s glad that he missed the punk, and for more reasons than one. he’s sure that if he saw him now, his name would be making headlines for assaulting a civilian. although, somehow the thought of seeing him with you happy and joking—having a good time is even worse to katsuki. 

there’s an itchy feeling in the back of bakugo’s throat as he thinks about why that is. it’s something he’s known for a while, at least since the two of you graduated, but something he has yet to confront; at least with you. he’s acknowledged these feelings that venture beyond friendliness himself, though, and he finds this part a bit pathetic, he hasn’t come clean about them to you.

maybe that’s because he isn’t as courageous as he paints himself out to be or maybe it’s because there’s a little piece of him that feels as though he isn’t good enough for you. but his glimpse of how poorly you were treated tonight is all it takes to convince him that he could do so much better, and you deserve as much.

with a newfound resolve, bakugo clears his throat. “have you looked at the menu?”

your eyes flit to the menu at the center of the table before that dart back up to your companion’s face. he doesn’t look upset like he had earlier on your behalf. you had scanned over the menu a few times during the delay but instead of saying so, you ask, “why?”

“because, i’m going to give you the date that prick couldn’t.”

whether it’s the declaration itself or the person it’s coming from, you aren’t sure, but your heart skips a beat with katsuki’s words. it’s a gesture you can’t see him doing for many others and that fact alone warms your cheeks. still, you can’t be positive that he meant in a romantic sense, the way you had taken it. as embarrassing as it is to ask, you’d rather be on the same page than get your hopes up over a chummy attempt at cheering you up. “um, like a date as friends or…”

“an actual date,” katsuki clarifies. he can’t quite tell if your eyes are widened in pleasant surprise or partial horror. the last thing he wants to do is make you uncomfortable, even if that means humiliating himself. so he adds, “if you’re okay with that.”

for the first time since you sat down, a genuine smile pulls at your lips. you were sure this night wouldn’t turn around but you’re starting to think this is a better outcome than you could have hoped for. because, unbeknownst to katsuki, each of your failed dates have been placeholders for the one you’ve truly wanted—him.

“yeah,” you nod, “i’m okay with that.”

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

[fandomsnrambles]

The spinjitzu family has recently become my roman empire for some reason, you’re all going to see so much of them 😭

Anyway, i’ve been thinking about his relationships with his sons recently. And I know he doesn’t have a good relationship with any of them.

I know people argue ‘Wu was his favourite’ but i think if we actually look at how he acts, you realise he didn’t really have a favourite. I also feel personally inclined to respectfully mention that just because Garmadon said it, doesn’t make it true. Characters have biases that mess with their worldviews after all. It’s like saying Wu’s to blame for the devourer’s bite because he said he was. Even though he was like seven, maybe nine and had no idea that snake even existed.

Thats why you should take everything they say with a grain of salt and then consider their actions.

Wu’s relationship with his father is complicated. In the spinjitzu books he mentions how he wants his father’s approval, but doesn’t know how to start with getting it. We also get hints of the FSM’s (flawed) parenting methods in the show. I’ve noticed he’s emotionally distant even if he’s physically there. I mean, Wu says his father talked to them (Garmadon and Wu) less after the Aspheera incident. Makes me think that the FSM was definitely not there emotionally.

Due to this, Wu’s emotional needs as a child weren’t really met. His fathers distance hurt him and the FSM (maybe accidentally) neglected him. I say accidentally because i’m pretty sure the FSM is a traumatised child soldier who doesn’t know how to properly cope with everything so they just shut down/dissociate.

Wu was also raised with high expectations (alongside Garmadon.) This probably put him under a lot of stress to keep up. I’m thinking gifted child who got burnt out and more depressed as he aged.

I also think the FSM has trust and paranoia issues. You can look at Nineko and the way they went about dying for this. This guy really hands their son a script of where he died without telling him he gave it to him and mentions the bare minimum details. (I wonder if mentioning too much details got the FSM hurt. Maybe thats why he’s so distant.) Of course, trauma doesn’t really excuse being a flawed parent.

I also feel the need to mention that Wu unintentionally copies his father’s trauma responses. Heck, we could even talk about how Garmadon does the same, and later Lloyd. They all bottle their emotions and issues and hope nothing bad ever happens with that ever. Too bad for them though, we know how this ends

(Oof this is ✨generational trauma✨ at work)

Moving on to Garmadon, we know that after he got bitten by the devourer, the FSM helped him through his episodes and tries his best to find a cure. From this i can honestly say that the FSM did love and care for his sons. But this doesn’t mean they knew how to properly show that they did (especially because he doesn’t have a proper basis for what parent-child relationships should even look like.)

We see this when we get to know of Garmadon’s insecurities as a child. He doesn’t think there was anything wrong with him and seems to hate how the FSM tries to find a cure for him. Maybe because he doesn’t like the implication that he needs ‘fixing’ more than anything else. Garmadon’s also different than Wu in the sense that he grows more resentful of his father as he grows older whilst Wu clings to his father’s attention to get approval/praise.

I also want to mention how this resentment built up also affects how his perception of Wu’s relationship with their dad. He thinks Wu is favoured probably because Wu doesn’t have the venom and is the good one (because the venom apparently makes Garmadon the ‘bad’ one) and he sees his younger brother as the golden child. This probably built to jealousy and then guilt for the jealousy because Garmadon does love his brother a lot.

The high expectations also come’s into play here. It probably puts a lot of weight on Garmadon’s shoulders. Which doesn’t make his growing feelings of resentment better nor does it make his insecurities about his venom any better.

What makes this whole situation worse is that NO ONE in this family knows how to communicate. Wu doesn’t tell his dad or his brother how he feels, Garmadon doesn’t as well and FSM wouldn’t be caught breathing a word of his feelings to be honest.

This whole family would rather die than communicate ffs.

In conclusion:

[sparklingcid3r]

😭 the idea that darry is so young and scared but every time he looks at soda and esp pony he sees that theyre smaller and scareder. i feel like tht fact plays big into y he discounts his grief and doesnt let himself process literally bc he is too empathetic lowkey to givr himself any space

Actually, the worst day of Darry’s life wasn’t the day he received the news his parents had died. He didn’t process a single thing that day, other than My brothers need me. I need to be there for them. He sees his pain in their eyes, only bigger, and he lets them feel it first. While they crumple under the weight of a world crashing down, Darry will make sure he stays upright, just so they have something to hold onto until the pain passes.

Actually, the worst day of Darry’s life was the day he finally finished battling for custody of Soda and Pony. With no more preparations to make for funerals, no more meetings with social workers to attend, no more going through everything his parents left behind, all he had left to do was live with this thing he’s created in their tiny house, this thing that vaguely resembles a normal life, but will always be just a little bit wrong.

Because that was the day he couldn’t push any of his emotions down anymore. There was nothing else to move on to, no task that he was being relied on to assume control of, and he couldn’t run from his grief anymore. It finally caught up to him and he wasn’t ready, and suddenly he has weeks upon weeks of grieving and bereavement to sift through while his brothers have already started wading through theirs.

Darry was left to drown in it, and like everything else leading up to the worst day of his life, he does it alone, when no one is awake to hear the muffled sobs through the walls.

[goddessofvalyria]

RIDE OR DIE pt.2 | Aemond Targaryen x fem!oc

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3

GIF di sabrinaacarpenters

Summary: Aemond Targaryen is the owner of a famous strip club, the Blue Pearl. One night he visits the club and asks for the best girl, unaware of the consequences of his choice…

TW: 18+, MINORS DNI, She/Her pronouns, the fem!oc is named Maddy with long brown hair and blue-green eyes, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, SMUT, sexual tension, sex, sex, sex, drug use, Modern Aemond in Modern AU.

English is not my first language, be kind <3

This is my Masterlist

Words:

What will happen now that Aemond asked Maddy to go out on a date?

Read here under the cut!

She said "Yes" to a date with Aemond Targaryen.

Maddy stands in front of the small mirror in her bedroom, carefully applying the final touches to her makeup. Her long brown hair cascades over her shoulders, contrasting with the smooth, black fabric of her sheath dress. The dress is from Shein, simple yet elegant, hugging her curves just right, and paired with black heels that add a touch of sophistication. Her blue-green eyes, highlighted by her makeup, stare back at her with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

As she applies a final coat of lipstick, the familiar sound of raised voices echoes from the living room. Her sister, Maya, is yelling, and from the tone, Maddy knows it's directed at their mother, Miriam.

"Maya, stop it! She doesn’t need this right now," Maddy shouts from her room, her voice carrying a plea.

But Maya’s voice continues, dripping with frustration. "Why can’t you do anything right? We’re stuck in this hellhole because of you!"

Maddy sighs, her heart sinking as she puts down her lipstick. She knows their mother’s illness has taken a toll on everyone, but it’s Maya who has changed the most. The weight of their situation is pushing her to a breaking point. Maddy quickly slips on her heels and leaves her room, bracing herself for what awaits her.

In the living room, Maya paces back and forth, her face flushed with anger. Their mother, frail and pale from the effects of her illness, sits in her worn-out armchair, her eyes filled with tears.

"Maddy, are you going out?" Miriam asks weakly, her voice trembling.

"Yes, Mom… I am. But I’ll be back soon," Maddy reassures her, trying to sound more confident than she feels.

Maya suddenly turns to Maddy, her eyes glinting with a strange intensity. "Before you go, there’s something you should know."

Maddy frowns. "What is it?"

"I spent all the money," Maya blurts out, her voice both defiant and guilty. Maddy feels a cold wave of shock wash over her. "What? Maya, what are you talking about?"

"The money we had saved… I spent it. But don’t ask me how or why. I don’t want to talk about it," Maya replies, her tone harsh and defensive.

"You did what?" Maddy’s voice rises, the anger and despair mingling inside her. "How could you? That was for Mom’s treatment, for us to get by!"

Maya avoids Maddy’s gaze, her expression hardening. "I said I don’t want to talk about it, Maddy."

"Maya, what the hell is wrong with you?!" Maddy shouts, her emotions spiraling out of control.

Their argument escalates, the tension between them bursting into full-blown yelling. Their mother watches helplessly, tears streaming down her cheeks, unable to intervene. The weight of their desperate situation has finally broken through the thin veneer of calm that Maddy has been trying to maintain.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Maddy grabs her small black purse and storms out of the apartment. She can’t face Aemond, not like this, and not here. She needs time to cool down, to gather her thoughts. She doesn’t want him to see the reality of her life, the poverty and the struggles she faces every day.

Maddy walks briskly to the bus stop, her heels clicking on the pavement. The night air is cool, and she takes deep breaths, trying to calm the storm inside her. She has told Aemond to meet her in the city center, where it would be easier to hide the truth of her life from him. But when she reaches the end of her street, she freezes in her tracks.

There, leaning casually against a sleek black Porsche 911, is Aemond. He is dressed in a black shirt, leather jacket, and jeans, his appearance both sharp and relaxed, as if he is perfectly at ease in any situation. He looks up as she approaches, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that makes her heart skip a beat.

Maddy’s face flushes with embarrassment. Her neighborhood, with its rundown buildings and graffiti-covered walls, is a far cry from the kind of place someone like Aemond would be used to. She worries that he will judge her, see her as nothing more than the poor girl from the outskirts of the city.

But Aemond’s expression doesn’t change. He simply smiles, a genuine warmth in his eyes that makes her feel a little less self-conscious.

"You’re early" he says, pushing himself off the car and walking towards her.

Maddy bites her lip, trying to hide her discomfort. "I didn’t want you to wait too long."

"I don’t mind waiting," Aemond replies softly, his gaze sweeping over her as if he can see right through her defenses. "You look stunning, by the way."

"Thank you," Maddy whispers, her voice almost breaking. She can’t believe how much she has wanted to impress him, how much she has hoped that this date would be different, something special.

Aemond opens the car door for her, and she slips inside, grateful for the privacy of the sleek vehicle. As they drive towards the city center, Maddy can’t shake the feeling that Aemond knows more about her than she wants him to. She can’t help but wonder if he has seen the argument, heard the shouting. But he doesn’t say anything, and for that, she is grateful.

The restaurant Aemond chooses is intimate, with dim lighting and a relaxed atmosphere. It isn’t the kind of flashy place she had feared, but rather somewhere that makes her feel comfortable. As they sit down, Maddy finds herself relaxing slightly, the earlier tension easing away.

Maddy enjoys the date more than she expects. Aemond is attentive, genuinely interested in what she has to say, and she finds herself laughing at his dry sense of humor.

But then, as the evening wears on, Aemond asks the question she has been dreading.

"So, Maddy, how did you end up working at the Blue Pearl?" His tone is gentle, but there is a seriousness in his eyes that tells her he isn’t just making small talk.

Maddy stiffens, her earlier unease flooding back. She looks down at her plate, her appetite suddenly gone. "It’s a long story," she replies, trying to keep her voice steady.

"I have time" Aemond says quietly, his gaze never leaving hers.

Maddy hesitates, the walls she has built around herself starting to crack. She wants to trust him, but the fear of being judged, of being seen as less than what she is, holds her back. "It’s just… things have been tough," she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond reaches across the table and takes her hand in his. His touch is warm, reassuring. "You don’t have to tell me everything, not if you’re not ready. But I want to understand you, Maddy."

She looks up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. For a moment, she considers opening up, telling him about the struggles at home, the sacrifices she has made, the pain she has endured. But the words won’t come. Instead, she simply nods, squeezing his hand in return. "Not tonight, please."

“Not tonight.”

After dinner, Maddy and Aemond step outside the restaurant, only to be greeted by a sudden downpour. The rain falls in heavy sheets, the kind that soaks through clothes in seconds. Maddy shivers slightly as the cold droplets splash against her skin, and Aemond quickly pulls her closer, shielding her from the worst of it.

“Looks like we’re not going to get far in this,” Aemond says, his voice gentle but amused. “Why don’t we head to my place? It’s not far from here.”

Maddy hesitates for a moment, the offer catching her off guard. But the warmth of his presence, the way he has treated her all evening, makes her feel safe. She nods, a small smile playing on her lips. “Okay, let’s go.”

Aemond drives them through the rain-soaked streets, the city lights blurring in the distance. When they arrive, Maddy’s breath catches in her throat. Aemond’s mansion is massive, a sprawling estate with towering walls and elegant architecture. It’s a world away from the small, rundown apartment she calls home. As they drive through the gates, Maddy sees a large courtyard, meticulously kept, where a big dog is running around, barking happily despite the rain.

“Vhagar,” Aemond explains as he parks the car. “She’s a bit of a handful, but she’s harmless.”

Maddy smiles as she watches the dog run circles in the rain, feeling a warmth she hadn’t expected. Aemond opens the car door for her, holding an umbrella over them as they make their way to the front entrance. The mansion looms above her, every detail exuding wealth and comfort.

Once inside, Maddy takes in her surroundings, marveling at the high ceilings, the ornate furnishings, and the sheer size of the place. Everything is immaculate, every detail perfect. It’s overwhelming, a stark contrast to her own life.

“You can take a look around if you want,” Aemond says, his voice soft as he watches her. There is no hint of arrogance in his tone, just a simple offer.

Maddy nods, walking slowly through the large entryway, her fingers lightly brushing over the polished surfaces. The house is beautiful, but more than that, it feels lived in, like a home rather than just a display of wealth.

“I don’t want to seem disrespectful, Maddy” Aemond whispers, his voice low and sincere. “But now it might seem the opposite to you, pretty girl.”

Before she answers, he lean in and kiss her. The kiss is slow and deep, his lips warm and soft against hers. Maddy feel herself melt into him, her worries and insecurities slipping away as she wrap her arms around his neck. The taste of the cocktail linger between them, adding to the intoxicating mix of sensations.

Aemond pull her closer, his hands tracing gentle patterns on her back. The kiss is deep, growing more passionate, and Maddy feel a fire ignite within her. All the tension from the night, from her life, seemed to dissolve in that moment. She want to lose herself in him, to forget everything else.

They break apart for a brief moment, both of them breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. Aemond’s eye search hers, asking a silent question, one that Maddy answer by pressing her lips to his once more, with a renewed urgency.

The world outside the mansion, with all its struggles and hardships, seemed to fade away as Aemond guided her gently, lovingly, to his bedroom. The rain continue to pour outside, a steady rhythm that matched the beating of her heart.

Maddy and Aemond undress each other, their clothes falling quickly to the floor. In Aemond's eyes, Maddy looks ravishing: long dark hair, blue-green eyes, full lips. Such a beautiful, sweet, kind and intelligent girl forced to sell her body and dance for hours and hours for men. Aemond caresses her lips with his thumb, she is so damn beautiful. In Maddy's eyes, Aemond still standing seems like something forbidden: how could someone like him want her? Once again she finds herself dazed, staring at his body, his toned abs and a strong but soft chest. His arms as long as his hands. His v-line was defined that marked his hips and then, his manhood long, erect and painful for her.

Maddy can't help but pull his hair when Aemond finally presses his mouth fully against hers again, he makes her back up on the bed until she is lying on it. "Let me take care of you" He advances towards her, cowering against the covers as his warm body overtakes her. Under the soft light of the dim LEDs, Aemond appears like a forbidden vision and the feeling of his lips wrapped around Maddy's breasts and his hands placed softly on her thighs, keeping them apart, makes her gasp shamefully and he slowly moves down with kisses, tracing a wet trail from her breasts, her abdomen, her hips to her pussy.

"I'll eat you, pretty girl" Maddy feels herself melting under his touch. Aemond kneels on the floor in front of the bed, pulls her by the thighs and with two fingers opens her soaking wet pussy. Maddy looks at him completely submissive, completely flexible to his will. "Aemond…" her body trembles, her legs tremble. Aemond buries his face in Maddy's pussy, spreads her with two fingers and notices how fucking wet she is for him. He starts to lick her, Maddy starts to move her hips against his face, her legs wrapped tightly around his head, shaking, arching as she moans his name. All she feels is his mouth and fingers torturing her. Aemond's hands travel firmly to her hips to hold her still, Maddy shudders against his lips, Aemond adds his fingers sliding them into her.

Aemond continues to push his fingers into her, so tight and wet, he devours her as if it were his last meal, but he doesn't make her come. Maddy moans, her hands in Aemond's long silver hair. "Aemond…" she moans, arching her back, Aemond licks her clit, fills her with two fingers and then makes her come on his fingers. The orgasm overwhelms Maddy, leaving her immersed in pleasure. Aemond lifts himself onto the bed, kneeling in front of her, takes his manhood caressing himself a couple of times, leans over her, who feeling his erection press between her thighs, moans biting her lip when. Maddy feels Aemond's naked and hard length rubbing against her opening and getting wet from her, pushing only the tip inside… only to pull out a few moments later. "Please" Maddy whispers, Aemond moves the tip of his length to her clit, Maddy grabs a breast with her hand. Aemond grabs a condom from the nightstand, tears it from the packet with his teeth and puts it on. "I want you, I want you so badly that I'm ashamed of myself" Aemond whispers against Maddy's lips as her hand tightens around his length, aligns itself with her wet pussy, gradually pushing into her with a loud moan. The way his manhood penetrates her makes her moan shamefully beneath him, my hands meet her back and my nails dig into her skin.

"Aemond" Maddy whispers tightly to him. "Shh, it's okay" Aemond kisses her tenderly on the lips, Maddy tightens her arms around his neck. "Be a good girl for me" he whispers into the crook of Maddy's neck before slowly moving inside her unable to hold back his little moans. It's too good, too heavenly, too forbidden. The sound of their skin rubbing fills the room, along with their moans. Aemond pushes into her, his breathing heavy, he licks her nipple and caresses it with his thumb, Aemond grabs her thighs He feels her pussy tighten around his length, her hips thrusting towards him as he opens her up on his erection and she scratches him sensually on the back.

"My good girl" Aemond whispers completely lost in pleasure. His hand reaches for Maddy's thighs moving his fingers just enough to bring them to the edge. She feels her legs tremble and Aemond go rigid.

"Come with me" Aemond holds her in his arms, feels Maddy come tight to his cock and he fills the condom, collapsing on her sweaty body.

As the rain patters gently against the windows, Maddy and Aemond lie entwined in each other’s arms. The warmth of their bodies, the softness of the sheets, and the lingering intimacy from their sex create a cocoon of safety and comfort. Maddy rests her head on Aemond’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, while his fingers gently trace patterns on her bare shoulder.

For a few moments, they simply lie there in silence, both savoring the closeness they’ve found. The outside world feels distant, its harsh realities momentarily forgotten. But as the quiet settles over them, the weight of unspoken words begins to press down, urging them to speak.

Aemond is the first to break the silence, his voice low and hesitant. “Maddy, there’s something I want to tell you… something I haven’t shared with anyone in a long time.”

Maddy lifts her head slightly, looking up at him with curiosity and concern. “You can tell me” she whispers, her hand resting gently on his chest.

Aemond takes a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he begins to speak. “My family… we’re wealthy, obviously. But that wealth didn’t come without a price. My father was a hard man, driven by power and ambition. He pushed us, my siblings and me, to be perfect, to live up to his expectations. And when we didn’t… well, he wasn’t the kindest man.”

Maddy listens intently, sensing the pain in his voice. She sees the shadows of his past in the way he speaks, the way his body tenses at the memories.

“My mother… she tried to protect us, but there was only so much she could do. My brother and sister dealt with it in their own ways, but I… I turned inward. I became cold, distant. It was easier that way, to shut everyone out, to pretend I didn’t care.” Aemond’s voice grows quieter, more vulnerable. “But it’s lonely, Maddy. I’ve been alone for so long.”

Maddy reaches up, cupping his cheek with her hand, her thumb brushing gently against his skin. “You’re not alone anymore, Aemond” she says softly, her voice filled with sincerity.

Aemond turns his gaze to her, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. “I want to believe that” he whispers, his hand covering hers. “But it’s hard to let go of the past.”

Maddy understands all too well. The pain of the past is something she carries with her every day, a burden that never truly goes away. She takes a deep breath, deciding to open up as well.

“My life hasn’t been easy either” she begins, her voice wavering slightly. “My dad left when I was young, and my mom… she got sick. Cancer. We don’t have the money to treat it properly, and I’ve had to do whatever I can to make ends meet. My sister, Maya, she’s… struggling. She made some bad choices, and now we’re stuck in this never-ending cycle of trying to… survive.”

Maddy’s voice cracks as she speaks, the emotions she’s kept bottled up for so long finally spilling out. “I never wanted this life. Working at the Blue Pearl… it’s not what I dreamed of. But I didn’t have a choice. It’s the only way I can take care of them, of my family.”

Aemond’s grip on her tightens, his heart aching for her. “Maddy, I’m so sorry” he says, his voice filled with genuine compassion.

Maddy shakes her head, a sad smile on her lips. “It’s just how it is. I’ve learned to live with it. But sometimes… sometimes it feels like I’m drowning, like no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Tears well up in her eyes, and she tries to blink them away, but Aemond sees them. He pulls her closer, wrapping his arms around her, offering her the comfort and security she so desperately needs.

“You’re stronger than you think, Maddy,” Aemond whispers into her hair.

Maddy closes her eyes, letting herself be held, letting herself believe—if only for a moment—that things can be different. That she doesn’t have to face everything on her own.

“I’m here for you, Maddy,” Aemond continues, his voice steady and sure. “Whatever you need, whatever it takes… I’ll be here.”

Maddy doesn’t know what the future holds or if things will really change. But in this moment, in Aemond’s arms, she feels a glimmer of hope. And for the first time in a long time, she allows herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things can get better.

They stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s warmth, finding solace in their shared pain and in the connection they’ve forged. The rain continues to fall outside, a steady, soothing rhythm that lulls them both into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, their hearts a little lighter than before.

The morning after breakfast, Maddy insists on taking the bus home.

In the early morning, the sun filters through the thin curtains of their small, cramped apartment as Maddy quietly pushes the door open. The joy she felt from the night before lingers, a small warmth in her chest that makes the world seem a little brighter. But as she steps inside, that warmth quickly dissipates.

The living room is eerily quiet. Her mother, Miriam, is asleep on the worn-out couch, her frail form barely moving under the thin blanket. Maddy’s heart clenches at the sight, knowing how weak and sick her mother is. But it’s the sight of her sister, Maya, lying on the floor that makes Maddy’s blood run cold.

“Maya?” Maddy whispers, her voice trembling as she rushes to her sister’s side.

Maya is motionless, her face pale, her breathing shallow. A small bottle of pills is clutched in her hand, some of the pills scattered across the floor. Maddy’s stomach twists in horror as she kneels down beside her, shaking her gently.

“Maya, wake up! Please, wake up!” Maddy’s voice cracks with panic.

After a few agonizing moments, Maya stirs slightly, her eyes fluttering open. She looks up at Maddy with a dazed expression, barely conscious.

“Maddy…” she mumbles, her voice slurred. “I didn’t mean to… sister…”

Maddy’s heart sinks. The realization hits her like a punch to the gut—Maya has spent the money on drugs. Maddy’s hands tremble as she pries the pill bottle from her sister’s hand, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts.

“Why, Maya? Why did you do this?” Maddy’s voice is filled with a mixture of anger and despair, but her sister is too out of it to respond.

Desperation grips Maddy as she runs into the only bedroom they share, frantically opening drawers and searching through Maya’s belongings. Her hands tear through the clutter until she finds what she’s looking for—more drugs, hidden away in various places, far more than what the money could have bought.

Maddy’s breath hitches as she realizes the full extent of the situation. It isn’t just about the money that’s gone. Maya is in deep, and the people she bought from will surely come looking for what’s owed. Maddy knows these men, knows the kind of world they operate in, and she knows she’s fucked.

Her mind spins as she tries to figure out what to do next. The only option is clear—she’ll have to work harder, longer at the Blue Pearl to come up with the money, to protect Maya, and to keep their mother safe. It’s a grim, suffocating reality, and it crushes the brief happiness she felt after her night with Aemond.

Just as Maddy is about to lose herself in despair, her phone buzzes on the bed. She picks it up with trembling hands and sees a message from Aemond:

“I had a good time last night. I’d like to see you again. I still think you were beautiful.”

Maddy stares at the message, the words almost mocking her in light of everything that’s just happened. A part of her wants to hold onto the memory of the previous night, to escape into the warmth and comfort Aemond offered. But the harsh reality of her life is too much to ignore.

Her fingers hover over the screen as she tries to think of a response. Finally, she types:

“I would like to see you again too, Aemond. I had a good time with you.”

She presses send, then places the phone gently on the bed, her eyes brimming with tears. The weight of her situation, the hopelessness of it all, comes crashing down on her. Aemond’s world, the world she briefly stepped into, is so far removed from her own. How can she ever reconcile the two?

Maddy collapses onto the bed, her body shaking as the tears finally spill over. She buries her face in the pillow, muffling the sobs that rack her frame. She cries for her mother, for her sister, and for herself—trapped in a life she can’t escape, no matter how hard she tries. The night before was a glimpse of what could be, but now, in the harsh light of day, it feels like nothing more than a cruel joke.

And so, she weeps, alone in the small, suffocating bedroom, the message from Aemond still glowing on her phone—a small, fragile reminder of a happiness that now feels impossibly out of reach.

[lxvebun]

You say I stole your dreams. You stole my heart

synopsis: Suguru comes to visit you one last time

content: Suguru Geto x gender neutral reader. Angst/comfort (?) It's a happy ending in a way but a little angsty. Even after all these years he is still a little lovesick for you<3 cultish/canon!Geto. Around 1k words. Perhaps a little rushed? Eng is not my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes!♡

“You shouldn’t be here” You don’t speak his name, afraid of what might bubble up if you do. Afraid it will stain your lips as silky and sweetly as it did back then. No, you keep your voice cold, trying to mask your emotions. Perhaps if you pretend you don’t feel anything looking at him, here standing in your doorway, eyes remarkably soft for someone so adept at killing as drinks you in, perhaps then you can convince your heart to stop trying to break out of your chest to get to his own.

“I know,” he begins. You sense a little hesitation in his voice. his eyes leave yours again to trace over your features, taking in all the details and changes he has missed over the years. You were always beautiful to him, but seeing you now bathed in the moonlight coming from the window behind you, hair a little messy from the sleep he has no doubt pulled you from, he’s pretty sure he’s in the presence of an angel.  God's could you get any more beautiful.

(His heart twists cruelly at him. Upset that the opportunity of waking up next to you like this, moonlight replaced by golden sunlight, has slipped right through his fingers all those years ago)

“I just wanted to see you, Y\N”  For what might be the last time part of him wants to add. The stronger part of him, the love he still carries for you in his heart won’t let him hurt you more than he already has. But he knows that you know he wouldn’t show up here unless something was nagging and eating away at his resolve.

Even after all these years he still has such a profound affect on you. The butterflies you thought had starved and died out are fluttering around again as if your insides have grown new gardens and flora at the sight of him, at the way your name leaves his lips still as soft and honeyed as you remember. Vines twisting around your ribs, deep blood-red roses blooming strongly against your heart, and an arrangement of wildflowers sprouting from your lungs. While it’s a beautiful feeling of nostalgia dripping with lost love, you cannot breathe anymore.

The logical thing to do right now is to close the door in his face and send him away back into the night, into the shadows he has grown familiar with over the years. You don’t, can’t. Even when your hands are itching to do so, make him feel at least a fragment of how you felt when he left. Like all the stars in the sky had been blotted out, as if they had no reason to shine anymore without him.

“I’m not going to invite you in’’ you say instead and lean against the open door. It widens slightly under your weight, allowing him a glimpse into your living room. It’s nice, cozy. Dark wooden bookcases lining the wall. Numerous soft throw blankets on your couch and lazy chair. Pictures of you and your friends line the walls, stretching from the living room into the kitchen. Plants on your windowsill along with snuffed-out incense and a lit tea candle casting a warm orange glow behind itself onto a picture of you and him. A little altar of sorts.

Maybe it’s sick of him to feel this way, especially since you’re not mourning him but someone from the past, a Suguru Geto that he only catches glimpses of when the sun shines his brightest,  but seeing him upon an altar of warmth that you made for him makes him feel a little more at peace for what’s next to come. For when you do finally close this door and he walks out into the world he still shares with you, for one last time.

He takes a step closer but doesn’t cross the boundary of your doorframe. His voice is soft, whispered, luring you in to meet him halfway without crossing over.

“I don't regret the path I've chosen, and I expected that I would have to walk it alone. The only thing that weighs spine-breakingly heavy on my shoulders is that I never told you how much I admired you, how much I loved you”

Your faces are close enough to feel his breath fawn over your face, a phantom kiss that lingers on your skin. For a second it feels like you’ve stepped into another dimension entirely, a blurred line between the past and the present.

"I love you"

You should be angry, upset, and push him away but oddly enough your heart beats a little calmer at his words, he manages to pull a real genuine smile from you

(he takes a mental picture of it. One he feels he’ll revisit soon)

You step away from the invisible line that separates you two, step back into the warmth of your home, smile still on your lips. He follows and steps back into the cold hallway with flickering lights, shoulders less tense than before.

Your hand rests on your doorknob again. There’s no itching this time. No pressure to push him away or close it too soon. You’re okay with remembering him like this.

"I hope that whatever you decide to do next, wherever you go next, you feel at peace, Suguru"

( you were correct, his name still stains your mouth all too sweet)

The last thing you see is a calm smile on his face and a gentle nod before you close the door. Listening as you hear him walk away, through the hallway, down the stairs out the apartment complex doors.

You walk towards your window, the one behind the plants and makeshift altar with a candle that burns a little brighter now. Not because you’re hoping to catch one more glimpse of him, he has already melted back into the shadows anyway. You’re looking outside through the tree branches, up towards a bright moon and clusters of stars, knowing that this was his Goodbye, knowing that this night is most likely the last you’ll share under the same starry sky.

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

pussydrunk!Yuuji knew you had somethin special between your legs, even before you gave him a sample: He flirts with you endlessly, showing his interest in you any time he gets a chance. 'Fuck, y/n, have mercy...' Yuuji thinks when he finds you on your lavender loveseat beautiful brown legs spread, intently reading the magazine you're holdin up to your nose. The shape of your pussy in your tiny panties makes his mouth water; his dick rising so fast he gets a bit dizzy. "Hey, I'm so fuckin tired. Hope your day was better than mine, pretty baby.. Was it?" Yuuji asks sweetly. Your nose still pinches at the pet name "'S fine, I guess. Whooped the fuck outta Panda today." You answer without takin your eyes from the gossip you're currently consuming. "Scuse me, I was talkin to her. How rude!" You look down to see him starin between your thighs, leanin to plant wet kisses against your clothed clit lovingly. "So fuckin nasty.." You whisper, spreading to make room as Yuuji removes your underwear.

pussydrunk!Yuuji died and went to heaven the first time you let him hit: He's naked on top of you, eyes shut tight huffin hard as fuck in your face. "Ooh shit, girl! Tight as hell.. Ahhhh fuh- hold up.. Gonna cum, y/n. Pussy's too wet round my shit. Stay still for a second." Oh hell naw! Can't believe your ears right now. You didn't get all dolled up for nothing. Makeup perfectly matching your glittery sapphire one piece lingerie. "Yuuji, you just slid in.. Aint even start strokin yet." Tone heavy with annoyance, but he can barely hear you. Blood rushin in his ears; black dots his vision. Then Yuuji's filling you up half a second later; lickin and suckin on your neck as he presses in deep as he can. "Fuckfuckfuck! Please don't hate me, y/nnn.. Ah shit! Can't stooop.." He's crushing you under his weight, poor baby so incoherent. Doesn't even realize how he pathetically chants 'pussy's too good' as you land a smack on the back of his head.

pussydrunk!Yuuji feels like the world's ending when you don't let him fuck for a while after the first time: You're sitting with your back against your pillows in bed scrolling through the gram when he bursts in the room, briefly attempting to pry your knees apart. "Baby, come oooon. Need it so bad. Why are you torturing me like this?" Yuuji's been such a whiny brat about it. You want it too but he needs a fuckin lesson. "Boy.. First off, not ya baby. We ain't datin. Two, you came too fast, and waaay too fuckin much. Do you even know how much nut you spilled in my shit by the time you finished?" You fix him with a steely glare for good measure but his goofy ass only hits you with a perplexed "Ummm. A lot?" You scoff, rolling your eyes before looking back to your phone. "Baaaaaaby!" "Not cha baby.."

pussydrunk!Yuuji that starts bargaining after a few weeks, ready to gamble with his life if that means fuckin you asap: "Playin with my emotions, y/n. Just tell me what I need to do already. Do anything, name it. Just tell me what you want and it yours." He's got you pinned to a wall at the school, hands on either side of your head, dick tenting in his uniform. "No, Yuuji. Don't think you learned your lesson yet." "I did, baby! I'm sorry. So so sorry for filling your pretty lil pussy up without permission." You look into his shiny eyes, feeling a bit guilty at your teasing. His handsome features looking so devastated as he hangs his head, stuffing his face into your throat. Fuck, his submission has you so damn wet; panties sticking to your plump pussy lips. How much longer can you keep this up? "Hmmm.. Come over tonight?" Yuuji's like a kid in a candy store, head poppin up as he grins at you widely. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, baby." His kisses smother you as he whispers his appreciation against you lips. You laugh, pushing him back to retain your tough act. Even though all you want is to be impaled on his cock again. "Whatever, Itadori. Just dont be late. Oh and one more thing: Not your baby." Your tell him in a sing song voice, walking away with a little extra sway in your hips. "We'll see bout that.." Yuuji says to himself, squeezing his dick as he stares at the jiggle of your backside.

pussydrunk!Yuuji who refused to take any chances now that he's finally got another shot. He makes sure to jerk off before he comes over, hoping to God that helps with feeling of your compact pussy. When he gets there, he starts off with your pleasure; has you cum on his hand and tongue first. Yuuji quickly finds out nuttin before was a good idea. Especially from how his dick keeps jolting at the feel of you round his fingers, the delicious fuckin taste of you drippin down into his mouth. You're beggin for a break by the time Yuuji puts you on your side. "Pleeease baby, c-can't yet. Need a few mintues." Voice low, already a bit hoarse from screaming his name for the past half hour. "Aw.. I'm ya baby now? That right?" He coos, chuckling at how you nod but try scootin up to escape him swipin his dick up and down you drenched slit. He pulls you back by your hips, his fingers itchin to grip your y/h/c locks and hold you in place. "Naw, where you goin? Said I could finally get in this cute lil pussy tonight." "Can, just need to catch my- YUUJI!" Your not sure if you ever hollered so fuckin loud in your life, your soul descending straight to the depths of hell when he skewers you on his thick dick. "Hold up, baby. Pleeease! Dont gotta stop. Just n-need a quick break." "Mm mm, y/n. Can't do that." One arm slidin underneath you to wrap around and hold your tummy; the other under your knee to lift up your leg. Yuuji's thrusts are slow and shallow, just testing the waters of your perfect cunt, hoping to keep some kinda composure. "Oh. My. GOD. Got my dick trapped, baby. Lemme go so I can fuck you." Pulls your trembling frame closer against his body, kissing your shoulder, sliding in so much fuckin deeper. "Wait, Yuuji, wait!" You never receive any reprieve though. He only kisses your shoulder a second time, grippin at your tummy fat as he speeds up. "Wish I could. Mmmfuck.. Waited too long already." Eyes rollin back when he smashes his pelvis against your juicy ass over and over. "Cant think, cant eat or fuckin sleep without this pussy, y/n/n." Yuuji lifts your leg higher, opening you wider as his dick jams in to the base. Your pussy's drooling all over his balls, tits bouncing wildly and its getting really fuckin hard to take. "Y/nnn! Holy fuckin shit- gonna be mad at me when I creampie you again? Dont be, princess. Know I can't help myself." You're unable to do little more than wordlessly keen in response, poor cunt rapidly fluttering as his curved girth jams your g spot. Shit, no one's ever fucked you so thoroughly. You've never felt like this; can't even take a breath as he nails the tender spot with too much accuracy. "Yuujiiiiii!" You're squealing and squirting all over his cock, makin a mess of him without permission- just like he did a few weeks ago. Except, Yuuji fuckin loves it, is instantly obsessed with the sight and sensation. His eyes cross, saliva running down his chin as his body spasms and he nuts in you with everything he's got. "Oh fuck, y/n. This pussy mine! Baby, say it. Say it's mine, tell me you belong to me." It's the first time he's given you any typa command but you submit like you've been doin it all your life. "Yooours, Yuji. Forever yours!"

[starogeorgina]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧

Warnings: Swearing

Pairings: Jacaerys Velaryon × Targ oc

1.06

“Dayanara?”

Your eyes fill with tears the second you hear Rhaenyra’s voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go.”

Seeing you standing with a dark-haired babe in her arms, Rhaenyra feels a mix of emotions: shock, confusion, and guilt. When you stopped visiting Dragonstone, she knew something was wrong, but when none of the ravens she sent asking about your well-being were answered, she assumed Alicent was behind it, but never did she expect this. Soon as Rhaenyra returned to Dragonstone, the maester asked to speak to her in private as a matter of urgency and informed her that you had arrived earlier with a babe.

Her eyes brim with tears as she gulps down, “Wha—what is the child’s name?”

“Aelia, she’s my daughter,” you weep. “Mine and Jacaerys, I’m so sorry, Rhaenyra.”

You weren’t sure what you expected to happen next. Rhaenyra, to let you stay? For Jace to accept his daughter and proclaim his undying love for you? And that you’d live happily ever after? It was a nice thought—more of a foolish dream—to imagine anything good would happen next.

The door to the bedchamber creaks slightly, and you turn and see Prince Daemon glaring at you. He storms forward. “What did she just say?” He repeats the question when neither of you answer. “Jacaerys has a bastard with a green? No doubt another trick was orchestrated by those Hightower cunts. How do we know if the child is hers?”

You step back, holding Aelia closer. More tears spill from your eyes; it hurts to know he thought of you so poorly, especially since you were once so close to Rhaenyra’s small family.

“That’s enough,” Rhaenyra says sternly. “Nara is nothing like that; my sister would not lie about such a thing.”

“Is that so?” he snarks, only addressing his wife. “I distinctly remember the look on Prince Jacaerys face being similar to the one on yours whenever the greens toyed with you. All the years of cruelty you suffered—”

“I never meant to hurt Jace! I love him,” the words blurt out of your mouth. “I—I—I never wanted any of this; you must believe me. I wish things could have been so different.”

Your elder sister's eyes gloss over again as she watches you place the babe in the cot the master has brought to you. “What happened?”

You swallow hard; it takes all of your strength to not crumble under Daemon’s hateful gaze, but you refuse to give him that power over you. “I didn’t know I was with child,” you say, picking at the skin surrounding your nails. “It was only when Aegon kept making comments about my weight that the queen figured it out. I wanted to tell Jace, but I wasn’t allowed to leave the keep or write to him. I wasn’t allowed to see my brothers or Helaena until after I’d given birth; she kept me in complete isolation.”

“King Viserys wouldn’t have allowed that,” Daemon hisses.

“My father never knew. The maester told them I had a contagious sickness. And when I gave birth…” A sharp pain shoots across your chest as you feel the weight of your mother's betrayal crashing down, making it difficult to breathe. “They…they…”

Tenderly Rhaenyra strokes at your cheek. “What on earth did they do to you, my sweet?”

“They told me Aelia was dead, that she died after I’d given birth. I’ve spent all this time mourning my daughter, who was alive. She was being kept in the queen's quarters the entire time.” You try to push the awful memories aside, but they don’t budge, causing you to sob hysterically. Rhaenyra places her hand on the back of your head, gently stroking your hair in an attempt to soothe you. “The midwives who were there have been dismissed from the keep, and the only other person who knows is Ser Criston. He’s the one who told me Aelia was alive.”

Daemon and Rhaenyra share an unreadable look.

“There’s still so much I need to share with you, sister, but...” You wipe your nose with the back of your hand. “I know I have no right to ask, but may I tell Prince Jacaerys? I want to apologize for everything in person.”

“You may,” Rhaenyra nods, her eyes moving to Aelia, who was starting to whimper. “He has taken to his bedchambers to get ready for dragon riding. If you’re quick, you may catch him before he leaves. I’ll watch over Aelia for now.”

—

The look on Jacaerys face makes you feel sick; he was distraught and looked as if he might throw up. Within the space of a few minutes, you’d pulled the rug out from underneath him. Not only did Jacaerys know he was a father, but his daughter would be tainted with bastardy like him.

You take a deep breath. “She looks like you. Aelia, she has your hair and nose.”

Jace says nothing.

You go over the side of the bed he’s sitting on and kneel in front of him, trying to get him to look at you. Jace looked so happy when he first opened the door to his bedchamber and saw you standing there. “Jacaerys, please say something. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” He sounds deflated. “You've got nothing to apologize for; you didn't ask for this.”

“Didn't I? I chose to have six before marriage; I brought this on myself." You wipe away fallen tears with the back of your hand. “You need to believe me that I wanted to leave; I wanted to be with you!”

“It’s not your fault, Nara. I wrote to you every day. I tried to see you.”

“I never knew you tried to see me or sent ravens until a member of the kingsguard confessed the queen had them destroy all the ravens.”

You attempt to keep your tears at bay by squeezing your eyes shut, but they fall anyway. Jace wipes them away with the pads of his thumb. “I need to speak with my mother. Try and fix this mess before it’s too late.” Seeing the look of hurt on your face, Jace tried to retract what he said: “I didn’t mean it in the way that it sounded; I’m just trying to figure out how to solve this before your honor comes into question.”

“I don’t care what people say about me.”

“I do, because anything said about us will pass on to Aelia.”

Hearing the pain in his voice makes you cry even harder. “You're right, I've just—I can't think clearly. God only knows what Alicent has spread. I’m scared, Jace; you don’t know how vicious she can be. The things that she threatened me with... I can't forgive her.”

He goes silent for a few moments. “Where is Aelia?”

“With Princess Rhaenyra. Do you want to meet her?”

“Yes… no… I’m terrified.”

A soft smile pulls on your lips. “Let’s go then.”

—

The last few hours have been hectic. You stand in front of the black-painted table, studying each of the different houses and their locations on it. A single tear rolls down your cheek. Hearing the footsteps of someone walking up behind you, you turn to face them, fully expecting to see Jacaerys or Rhaenyra, but are surprised to see it’s Daemon. Gulping, you lower your head to look at the table again.

“Uncle.”

“We need to speak.”

Oh.

“If you’ve come to call me a Hightower cunt, there’s no need. I already know what you think of me and my daughter being here.”

When Jacaerys first laid eyes on your daughter, he started to sob, and while Rhaenyra comforted her son, Daemon became enraged and demanded you take your ‘bastard’ and leave Dragonstone at once, which caused him and your sister to argue.

“I used to pray to the gods nightly, begging them to bring my daughter back to me and to be reunited with Jacaerys. But never did I think it would be under such circumstances.”

“The gods can give as much as they take. Where is the girl now?”

“Aelia is with Jacaerys and Princess Rhaenyra.” You turn and face the board again. “My sister has shown me more kindness than my own mother ever has.”

He scoffs and comes to stand beside you at the table. “You could have gone anywhere on Dragonback. Why did you come here?”

��I considered going to Essos, but when Kain was in the sky, I told him to take us home.”

“And Dragonstone feels like home to you?” He asks sarcastically.

“No, but Jacaerys does.”

He rolls his eyes, “that’s very touching but you have brought fucking chaos into our house. And I want to know what you're planning to do about it?”

“I want revenge.”

“That is all very touching, but you have brought fucking chaos into our home.” Daemon rolls his eyes. “And I want to know what you're planning to do about it, niece?”

“I want revenge.”