#it does leave some suspicious implications though

[anakur]

Cuddling him would include... (Featuring The Main 4 & Butters)

🌹| A/N : My first post ^^ I'm glad to have finished it though I am a tad bit worried over my characterisation of them. Guess that's just how I am haha

🥀| Warning(s) : slight nsfw implications- mostly parents' assumptions, but also during the last part for Kenny

Stan ⋆ ˚｡⋆🎧˚

Listening to music. Sharing earbuds or earphones. Especially when his parents are arguing (or if Randy is just... Being Randy)

You two are cuddling, as you look up, you see Stan with his earbud in hand, listening to the noise outside his room. He sighs before turning to you. He presses you closer to him as he turns up the volume on his phone. You wrap your arms around his neck and he closes his eyes, relaxing at your touch.

Smells like weed. Because,, Tegridy Farms.

Wears his beanie when you're cuddling. You take it off and he gets grumpy. Kiss him on his forehead in conciliation and watch as he gets that stupid Charlie Brown grin on his face.

The first few times you cuddled in Stan's room, he cleaned it up beforehand but after the first few times, he stops. Not to say his room is dirty, just, you may find an empty bottle on his nightstand, some clothes tucked underneath his bed or a hoodie draped over his desk chair, threatening to fall.

At some point Stan may get up to move it but it only ends up falling, so he leaves it on the floor. Next time you come over its still there (he swears he picked it up eventually and it just fell again)

The first time you two were cuddling he spent the majority of the cuddling session with his face pressed into the crook of your neck or your shoulder. You found it sweet. He was flustered, because in actuality he was trying to fight the urge to vomit. Eventually he has to excuse himself for a moment. Felt he messed up and ruined the moment, but his heart skipped a beat when he came back to see you waiting for him with open arms.

Kyle ⋆ ˚｡⋆📚˚

He finds drooling to be a bit gross, even though he knows it's not something you control. In the beginning of your relationship he will wake you up to tell you that you were drooling. Reasurres you it's fine when he watches you get embarrassed. Later on in the relationship, he'll just grab a tissue from the box on his nightstand and wipe it off himself.

It's what he keeps his tissue box there for. nothing else

Has to keep the door open, because his mom tells him to. Although his dad is a bit more lenient about it.

Sometimes when you forget about it, Ike will come into the room- having announced himself by a short knock at the door- as he stares at his phone and simply tells you:

" Mom says to keep the door open. "

Ike then proceeds to leave it wide open

" Close it halfway. "

He's already gone.

Kyle's the one who gets up to do it, leaving the door ajar. Everytime. Doesn't make you get up. If you ask for a glass of water, he'll also get it for you (and give you a forehead kiss). Don't abuse that power though, once you overuse it he'll start making you get it yourself.

Will not fall asleep when you're playing with his hair, but, he does feel very comfortable in that position

Says very sweet mushy stuff to you and gets embarrassed when he realizes you were awake the whole time. He trails off and stops talking.

Pushes you away playfully if you ask why he stopped or tell him to continue talking.

If you're watching a movie and cuddling, with a blanket covering you both, especially if it's dark outside and the lights are turned off, Sheila eyes you suspiciously when walking by. Staring particularly onto the blanket on your laps, covering you both waist down.

Kenny ⋆ ˚｡⋆🗑˚

Finds it cute when you drool. He'll chuckle and wipe it off.

Keeps his door closed. Hates it when you can hear his parents arguing. He would offer to share his ear phones but they're not in the greatest condition. Electric sparks flying and exposed wires. So, bringing your own pair would be very much appreciated.

Whispers mushy things to you when you're asleep. When he notices you're awake, he switches it up and starts saying dumb things just to make you laugh. Hears you give in and start giggling and he grins, acting surprised as if he had no idea you were awake.

When Kenny's household becomes too loud, he'll take you outside and lay on the grass together. Makes up constellation names.

It's the middle of the night while you're both sprawled out on the bed. You're sleeping and he's awake. He listens to the sounds outside the window and your breathing. When he hears you moving, he looks over and gently pets your hair, telling you to go back to sleep. His voice quiet and gentle.

be prepared for waking up and having Kenny casually mention he got morning wood

Cartman ⋆ ˚｡⋆🍫˚

Liane asks him to keep the door open but she's very lenient about it, by simply mentioning it as she walks by Cartman's room.

Also will bring you two snacks

Cartman is the type of person to tell his mom you're hungry, when, in fact, he was the one who suggested getting something to eat.

Flabbergasted when his mom turns to you asking what'd you'd like to eat.

Tries to cut you off, suddenly switching to 'we'

Smells like food.

Unlike the other guys he does NOT clean up his room beforehand. I believe however, his room is clean for the most part.

You had to nag him to clean his bed. Yes, his sheets are regularly washed and his bed gets made (both by Liane), but he eats in his bed. Which leaves some crumbs, that stay even after he 'sweeps them off' with his hands.

Imagine Liane's utmost surprise to see her darling son, Eric, on the bathroom floor, with his bed and pillow covers, squinting at the instruction on his phone. He mutters some swear words, before finally turning to her for help.

So the next time you come over, he had cleaned his bed hours before you came and restrained himself from doing anything on it until you arrived.

Actually gets pissed when you don't mention or even notice how clean his bed suddenly has become.

On second thought, he realized you probably will not praise him on a such a basic household task. But c'mon at least acknowledge it.

Lets you lay on him, sometimes.

He's watching some dumb videos on his phone as he had gracefully allowed you to lay your head on his shoulder.

You ask him to turn down the volume.

Fights the urge to not be a dick about it, and not raise the volume.

Begrudgingly he reaches for his headphones.

Once you fall asleep, he starts rubbing your back slowly. Immediately yeets his hand away when you wake up.

Doesn't want to deal with you waking up, even if he himself had also been awake.

" Eric... " you mumble, opening your eyes.

" Go to sleep. " he pushes your head down, as gently as you'd expect him to, onto the pillow.

" But I want water... "

" No. "

" ... What do you mea-"

" If you drink water you'll end up pissing yourself while you sleep. In my bed. "

"... That's not how it works. "

He then proceeded to press you into his chest.

" Fucking sleep. "

Butters ⋆ ˚｡⋆🌼˚

His parents definitely have him leave the door of his bedroom wide open. Not just slightly open. No, fully open. So, the cuddling has to be kept at a modest level.

Just sitting next to each other with some space in the middle between you both.

If his dad walks in, he'll stare at you, as to make sure nothing suspicious is going on.

If his mom walks in, she might remark how nice it is to have you over, asking if you two are comfortable and reminding to keep the doors open.

Holds your hand. Either your fingers are intertwined or he plays with your fingers as you talk, or just lay there in comfortable silence.

Falls asleep first, despite his attempts at staying awake, to make sure you sleep peacefully. However Butters is the one who wakes up first, so you just have him staring at you for a couple of seconds before realizing it may have come across as creepy and apologising for it immediately.

When you traced your finger along the scar on his face, he like squeezed his eyes shut at first. But then next time you ask before doing so, and he relaxes into it. Now he melts when you do it.

Would brush his fingers through your hair, no matter its length. But if his fingers get stuck he freaks out and thinks its his fault.

[cinnamonest]

Yan childe x teacher reader BUT the reader has a lover OMG I CAN'T-

//cucking + filming noncon, age gap, Ajax is an awful little bastard as usual

(also here's the original Delinquent!Childe x Teacher!Reader post, and the second sequel post)

Oh anon. Anon. I love this, but consider: take it a step further.

The poor boy finding out that his precious teacher he’s been fantasizing about fucking silly is MARRIED.

Typing away on her keyboard when his eyes drift and he stiffens up when he sees the ring he never noticed before. The pain. The horror. Devastated.

He’s never even met the guy, and yet he hates him so much. It’s not fair that he got to you first, just because he was born earlier than he was!

He’s probably not good enough for you. Some old guy who can’t rail you with the vigor and intensity that a young guy like himself can, probably can’t keep up with your drive either. You must be so frustrated and unsatisfied.

Now it feels so awful on his tongue to call you what he normally does. Miss _____, he says, and it feels like he’s spewing poison from his mouth, knowing it’s some other man’s name practically forced on you by dumb traditions and social standards (not that he wouldn’t do the same, but that’s different). It makes his chest hurt to hear it, the name feels like a constant reminder that some other man basically has laid claim to you, that the name marks you as belonging to someone who isn’t him.

He does some digging, finds everything he can on the guy, any online profiles or social accounts. Ugh. You deserve better. If it were him, he would just support you himself, you wouldn’t have to slave away doing paperwork all the time.

Even worse is the fact that the guy has a nice job — you know, the kind you need some higher degrees for, which he definitely won’t get seeing as his behavioral record is pretty much guaranteed to keep him out of any credible institution… still, you don’t need that much money to get by. Sure, he’ll never make that much (without getting into crime, at least, which isn’t an impossibility…), but still, he’s better for you.

It’s so much worse, though, when he stalks your accounts, sees pictures of the two of you together. Makes him feel sick to his stomach, you look happy and he doesn’t like that. He ends up having to close the window, unable to handle any further emotional damage.

He starts to pry, little by little. Can’t be too blatant, but he slips in a question every now and then — how you met, what you two do for fun, so on and so on. It makes his stomach churn to hear you talk about him, but he can’t refrain from continuing to ask, practically a compulsive urge.

God forbid you express any sort of discontentment. Even the slightest frustrated sigh, passive-aggressive comment in regards to the man, and so on, he perks up and zeros in. Oh, so you are unhappy. Typical unsatisfied wife that’s getting pent up from unmet needs and all that.

He’s very attentive to those complaints, the things you mutter under your breath and the implications of it all. He works too long and is never home (terrible, he would never leave you so lonely), he’s never helpful around the home (which wouldn’t be so much of an issue if you were home all the time and didn’t have work responsibilities), he suspiciously disappears sometimes for “work trips” or unexplained entirely (unforgiveable, your suspicions are well-founded, he’s definitely cheating and you shouldn’t forgive it).

Sometimes you sigh and shake your head — ah, sorry, I shouldn’t trouble someone your age with all this… but he assures you it’s fine… also he’s searched a list of local divorce attorneys, you know, if you consider that, which you should.

He’s not the best at being subtle or exercising restraint, so he can’t help but actually mention it out loud — life is short, better to divorce than stay in a miserable relationship! But you sigh and say it’s not that serious. He holds out on the hope that there’s an unspoken “yet” at the end of that, that eventually you’ll get fed up.

But you don’t. You keep tolerating it. It’s somewhat understandable, since divorces are difficult and messy, and you would need somewhere to stay and all that.

But getting one’s own place isn’t that hard. He would know, now — he’s actually been picking up odd jobs recently, all to get his own place. Hard to balance that with schoolwork, but he manages (and he’s in the absolute bottom-tier difficulty for courses anyway, with very little actual homework, and it’s not like he’s prepping for college like a lot of his peers). You’re very pleased with it, say you’re proud of him for being so dedicated and responsible, completely unaware that he only really has one intention for doing it all anyway.

He was planning to take that part slowly, ease his way there, but you push the limits of how much he can tolerate when he’s forced to meet the guy face-to-face. He’s just sitting there as per usual in your after-school sessions, talking a mile a minute as per usual, having a good day, completely unprepared for the psychological gut-punch he’s forced to experience when that same face he saw online comes walking right into your classroom. The sacred space that’s supposed to be just for you and him.

His soul is crushed when you get up to greet the guy all happily, practically ignoring him for several extended seconds before you gesture over to where he’s sitting and introduce each other — with himself as the student I’ve been tutoring, you know the one. The man nods, casts a single uncaring glance his direction.

Right. She mentioned you before.

The hell does that mean. He keeps the smile plastered to his face, but it’s twitchy. What did you say? Was it bad? No, you wouldn’t say anything bad about him… except maybe certain factual statements like the whole behavioral record thing, but he can accept that that’s his own fault.

Still, he doesn’t like the way the guy looks at him. A vague condescending, disdainful glance. Makes him curl his hands into fists and clench his jaw. If it weren’t for the whole “impulse management” thing you’ve been hammering into his head for months now, he might have outright attacked the guy.

It’s practically torture to sit there. You say something about how you’re going out for your anniversary, so he came to pick you up. Awful. Like you might as well have stabbed him. Not to mention it’s cutting into what’s supposed to be his time with you, and now he has to leave early.

So he’s forced to walk to the front doors with you both, listening to you talk all happily about where you’re going, while he’s forced to continue to pretend to be perfectly fine with it. Ugh.

You bid him goodbye, and he smiles and waves and walks the opposite way… and the moment you’re out of sight, he’s scowling and grinding his teeth and kicking rocks on the road all the way home, sulking like a petulant kid, imagining all the horrible ways he hopes your date goes terribly wrong.

It makes him seethe all night long, laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, nausea ruining any chance he had of sleeping. He can’t even go sulk around his parents with the hope of getting attention like he used to do when he was mad, now that he lives in this little apartment by himself.

How is he supposed to live under these conditions, no attention available on demand. You don’t even text him to see if he got home safe like you do sometimes. Probably too busy doing whatever with your husband who’s more important than he is. Hmph. His mind briefly flickers to wondering what you’re doing now that it’s later in the night, but the obvious realization only makes him feel ten times more sick. He doesn’t get any rest.

And the longer the night goes on, the more irritated he starts to feel, the misery and hurt begins to turn to bitterness and anger. He starts to feel like you probably know — no, you definitely do. And yet, you willingly tortured him like that. You've been so nice to him, giving him all that attention and affection, knowing you won't ever give him what he really wants and being totally fine with causing him so much pain. He's hurt, and more importantly, mad.

But he can't hate you… your husband, however, is a different story.

That guy kept his arm around your waist walking outside, rubbing it in his face like that. He’s certain that your husband must realize that he loves you (way more than said husband does, for the record), but that look of disdain — he doesn’t even see him as a threat, does he. Thinks that he’s not even proper competition. That much is painful. Bothersome. Annoying. Rage-inducing.

Well, he’s wrong.

That’s the thought that pushes him over the edge. He’s already had the idea in his head for a long time, he just kept bailing out every time he gathered the gall to go through with it, much to his own shame.

But clearly, continuing to be passive is not going to get him anywhere. Come to think of it, a few months ago, he would never have hesitated to go through with whatever impulse struck him, no matter how violent. It’s not like he hasn’t been expelled or arrested before.

He appreciates the time he’s spent with you, but he’s starting to think that all those little speeches about “self-control” and “thinking before you act” and all that have only really just made him docile and tame. How embarrassing.

A man should just take what he wants, right? Anything less is practically a blow to his pride.

He’s still not the brightest when it comes to formulating plans, but his rather straightforward plan ends up working. You actually agree to swing by when he says he has something to give you, something too big to carry to school himself, so he needs you to come pick it up with your car and all that. You must really trust him. Or you’re just naive, maybe, but he likes to think you trust him, however unwise that may be.

He worries that you might back out, but you show right up to his door. The motions from there are mechanical, putting his brain on a sort of autopilot mode in which he just goes through with it, without thinking too much, lest he hesitate, until you’re secured.

Grabbing you by the shoulder and jerking you inside, hand over your mouth, other arm around your waist and picking you up. It's a short distance to the bed (well, mattress on the floor), since it's just a studio apartment and all.

You being so weak makes it so much easier. He can technically tell you're struggling, but it barely feels like resistance, just weak squirming and thrashing that doesn't even loosen his grip in the slightest. You make cute little noises of surprise and confusion and fear, muffled by his hand over your mouth.

Sadly, he can't afford to have you attracting attention from the neighbors, so he's forced to keep you gagged, pulling your shirt over your head (to which your whimpers turn to full-fledged sounds of panic), and — after the brief moment where he has to detach his hand from your mouth, hearing you stammer out a wait, wait— balls it up and stuffs it into your mouth, quickly grabbing the duct tape (he, feeling very proud of himself for such clever forethought, thought to go ahead and tear some long strips off and stick the ends to the wall ahead of time), and placing it over your mouth, flipping you over onto your stomach.

You're so cute. You make the cutest little noises, your eyes get all teary, you squirm and whimper and try to pull yourself away, but he's got your wrists pinned behind your back with one hand, the other pulling your hips back. The cutest part by far has to be when you feel him jerk your skirt up, his cock pressing against your flesh and pushing inside of you, your squeals get louder and higher pitched and you struggle so hard, to no avail.

So mean, though, to pretend like you didn't see it coming. You know what you did. You led him on on purpose. Knowing full well the sort of things he's done to other people — beating his peers black and blue on impulsive whims, getting into fights because he felt like it, stealing stuff and vandalizing stuff and all those other things he knows you know he did, since it's all on his records… you willingly came all by yourself, in private, with someone like that, who you know full well is so much stronger than you are—

What did you fucking expect?

Up until then, the stream of words from his mouth are all amused and teasing and sadistic, but in those words, and the sharp jerking thrust accompanying them, you hear that underlying anger breaking through. You really hurt him, you know, by being married. He loves you so much, and you had to go and do that to me, he says, as if it was a retroactive choice, as if you should have predicted his presence in your life years in advance, as if you willfully did it to spite him years before you knew he existed.

Is it irrational? Sure… but it isn't going to change that he feels that way, and he’s mad and you can't do anything about it anyway, so he's going to keep blaming you for what you did wrong.

He keeps muttering about how stupid you are — for coming here so naively, for choosing your dumb fucking husband over him when he's so much better and loves you so much more, for all the little things you did to lure him in and make him want you so badly, for being so nice to him and having a body you should have known would make him want this so badly.

It's all your fault.

The words get more and more muffled and slurred as the movements get faster, harsher, you squeal with each thrust that makes the springs creak and the whole mattress itself move back and forth against the floor. He points out that you're leaking all over him, fluid drooling out of your hole and spilling onto his hips and thighs, satisfied by the shameful little whimper you make and the way you hang your head. You must not get fucked good enough at home, huh.

And then, he starts to slow down. There's a pause. You see him reach over, to where he tossed a few things that were on you when you came in onto the floor. Fishes something out of your purse.

You made a confused, panicked little sound when you notice he's holding your phone. Easily unlocked, whatever method you use — he holds it up to your face or forces your thumb to press against it, or, most alarmingly, even if it's protected by password or pattern, he enters it with a single try. Shouldn't have opened your phone around him so much, of course he would pay attention to that.

You're flipped onto your back, reeling from the sudden harsh movement, grunting and squirming when your bra is pulled up to your collarbones and your skirt pulled up even further, exposing your body completely before shoving back inside of you, and oh, what a euphoric sound you make — and this time, you visibly clench down on him when he does. Perfectly timed, too.

Your stomach clenches in dread and panic as you see your phone’s front side facing you.

Smile.

You cry out louder than ever before, struggle so hard, so good. His hand latches onto your throat and squeezes hard, and your hands, now no longer in his grasp, reach up to claw at them, all entirely futile. The sound of skin slapping skin reverberates around the room, and you see him tilt the camera downward, ensuring he captures the sight of his cock pounding into you, stretching you apart, all the slick fluid now coating everything from your thighs to his hips, and the sweet, precious sounds you make for him.

He wonders if anyone has ever made you react like this before. If your husband is going to be torn apart by the realization that he's made you feel better than he ever has, that he's better and bigger than him. The sheer fear on your face would suggest that. The thought feels euphoric.

He re-angles himself, leaning forward a bit, ensuring his body presses against your clit — you start to tense up, push back, your heels dig into the mattress and your body writhes with greater force than ever before. Your eyes squeeze shut and you shake your head but he doesn't stop, and you hate yourself so much in the moment for the sensations your body feels, the guilt and despair overwhelm you, you feel a cold chill in your gut — but you finally spasm and shudder on his cock all the same, clearly trying so hard to minimize it and hold back the sounds and movements, but the involuntary shudders and soft little cries are unmistakable all the same.

Normally, he would want to stay inside you longer — but there will be plenty of chance for that later. This time, the prospect of pulling out and capturing it is too tempting, and God, is it satisfying when he does. The squelching sound, the way his cum starts to drool out of you onto the mattress, the way your hole twitches from the sudden absence, slightly agape from the intrusion. It's so, so perfect, better than he could have even imagined.

You rip the tape off your mouth, gagging and coughing from the strain on your throat, and the overwhelming sensation leaves you in a dazed stupor for a few moments… your head slowly drags over to him, and an ice-cold spike of fear strikes through your heart when you see that he's still on your phone.

Slight movement from you as you try to push yourself upright takes his attention away from it, eyes flickering over to you.

Ah, right.

You make a scared little sound and pull your hands close to your chest (very cute!) as he looms over you again, but you're helpless to do anything as he puts the phone down to flip you over again, this time taping your wrists behind your back, adding a new layer over your mouth, and finally one on your ankles. Your struggles barely faze him.

You see him zip his pants back up and pull his shirt back on, standing and making his way over to the door, shuffling his shoes back on before grabbing your car keys.

I'll bring these back. Your place is only five minutes away if I drive, you know. I won’t get into any wrecks this time.

It occurs to you that you've never told him where you live, but it's the least of your concerns then and there. Your heart sinks to your stomach as he takes your phone again, grinning as he types and, after a pause, makes one distinct, final tap that you know can only be hitting 'send.'

His head turns over to you, that same dopey, carefree smile on his face as always, that now seems so much more sinister than before.

Don't worry. He won't have enough time to call the cops.

Your muffled words don't stop him. You writhe pathetically on the ground as the door opens and closes before you, listening in dread and despair as his footsteps slowly fade away.

[voxisdaddy]

AGHHHHH- Now I need a part 3 of ice cream because I need to know what the fuck Velvette gonna do!!!! Like manipulative queen ain’t gonna just let you leave the store! And what even is her goal with reader? To date her again? (Kinda want toxic get back together feels fitting lol) Maybe Velvette wants to date the reader again just to break up with them. Or maybe she wants to make it so reader never leaves her! But reader seems soooo done with her but she also seems to kinda miss Velvette! BUT IF SHE GOES BACK TO VELVETTE?! Honestly they both seem to miss each other just as much as they hate each and don’t want to get back together.

Ice Cream

Pt.3 - FINAL

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Velvette x Reader

C/TW: cussing, use of Love Potion, implications of sex

Type: Headcanons

In which we see the new routine between ex's, Velvette and Reader.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She was like a drug. One you couldn't get enough of. That was evident enough to her associates Vox and Valentino. For nearly on a weekly basis they'd find a trail of clothes, yours and Velvettes, leading to a somewhat private room.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ How did things get here? Well, when you have two ex's who are so passionate about one another, love or hate, theirs gotta be some kind of release. Of course it doesn't have to lead to seeing each other regularly but...what were you supposed to do?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You never wanted to see her again. But apart of you craved her.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ When you'd find yourself back in your place at 2am, feeling hot, icky, and used, you'd often tell yourself that this isn't so bad. You're getting the best of both worlds, right? You get to satisfy the carnal need to be with her, and the satisfaction of not getting to see her most days. No strings attached. You made sure of this every single time it happened. No matter how tired you are, how much you may want to lay there forever with her. you always leave.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You didn't always feel like that though. Sometimes you really did loathe the times you'd be with her. You forgot just how much Velvette is. And how petty she could be. That was always most evident she'd invite you over during late nights.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Now what about Velvette? How is she doing with this new change of your relationship?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She thought she knew what she was doing when you guys started going out again. Well it's less going out and more...spending time in. Late at night. Maybe once a week. Where nothing you do is ever love. Where it never lasts that long. Where she always wakes up alone...yeah. She knows what she's doing.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She really thought she did, okay?!

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ That day at the thrift store, she might have went in without a plan but she's quick on her feet. She's observant. She can take something and run with it. She's great at that. And it worked. Somehow she managed to get you to start seeing her again. And by somehow, well...

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She has a love potion, remember?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ That day when she offered you a drink, from her own cup so you weren't suspicious of it, she felt this rush. What should she do first? Convince you to get back with her then dump you? Make the score even? Lock you in a soul binding contract so you can never leave again?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She settled on your visits. It's more than enough. She gets a good fuck and doesn't get to see you for several days at a time. Win win.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Eventually the potion fades but fortunately for her, she doesn't need to sneak you the drug in order to get you back in her room. The love hate passion you have for one another is enough to bring you back most times. Occasionally she'll slip it in your drinks somehow if she needs to. Rest assured, when she does she doesn't take advantage of you though. It's more so to keep you hooked. To keep coming back.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ If you ever caught onto the use of the potion though, she's already a step ahead of you. Vox's hypnosis really comes in handy.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ "Make 'em forget." She'd grumble lowly to Vox.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Remember how I said she thought she knew what she was doing? The weekly sex was enough for her. In her control. SHe can take it wherever she wanted. Until her feelings started to come into play.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She was already acting out on her feelings-going after you and desperate to keep you in reach. She's not a chaser after all. She's a temptress.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ But as more time went on, the more her more emotional feelings wanted to play. She could no longer pretend she didn't feel that heartache when you'd leave her bed as soon as you were both done your business. Those earlier times were easier to ignore unwanted feelings. For several weeks things have felt different. They've been different.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Sometimes she doesn't even leave her bed in the mornings. Those days she spends hugging the other pillow. The one you used to use when you stayed with her. When things were happy. When you were both happy.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Eventually your anniversary was around the corner. Your actual anniversary. Or it would be if you were still together. But you weren't now so... what do you guys even do?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You'd both contemplate this separately.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You guys weren't together. You both in your own ways made that clear. But it felt wrong to not do anything for that special day...

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ The week before your anniversary, Velvette wanted to ask. She wanted to ask so bad.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ But as usual, she just let you leave. This routine you've developed, with the help of the potion at times, seemed so set in stone. If anything changes then you could either be back together or separated for good.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ It just so happened to be around that time where she'd have to sneak you the potion again, so you can keep coming back. But with your anniversary just days away, she couldn't bring herself to do it.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She knew she shouldn't change this routine. Even if it left you both feeling awful. It still kept you in each others lives in an intimate way. Almost as if you're just a hair apart from being together again. Back when you'd always come back because you loved her.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ But she wanted to know for sure if you'd come back on your own. No potion, no booty call, just Velvette being patient. You'd come, right?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ So the day of your anniversary she waited.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ And waited.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She wanted to text you so bad but knew that in order to get your answer, she had to wait.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She's not calling off work because she has other plans! It's just a needed day off, is all.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Would ordering in dinner for you both be too hopeful? She thought, scrolling through a restaurant menu.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Posting a pic of you and her is definitely too much.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She's only dressing up because she likes to look her best! She tells herself as she puts on a lovely dress that's far too special to be worn any other day.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ This isn't the chapstick flavour you always liked her wearing when you'd kiss her. Her lips are just a little chapped.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She's just scrolling through your last anniversary sinstagram stories because she intends to delete them. She's not...missing you or anything.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Her hearts not breaking as more time passes...it's not.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ 12:00 A.M - MIDNIGHT

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Velvette holds back a sniffle as she takes another bite of ice cream.

IM SORRY PART 3 TOOK A MONTH. I deadass didn't know how to end it lmaoo I feel bad ending it off sad. I was gonna make it happy but honeslty a sad ending felt more fitting. Wanted to hurt Velvette more than reader today I guess lmaoo

sorry if some text cut off. I wrote this on PC and for some reason, I only get shown if words get cut off when I'm on mobile :c

also I wrote the last bit, starting from where Velvette wants to ask you about your anniversary, while listening to the sad version of Married Life from Up. I might've cried for this fic guys TvT

[wardenparker]

The Viper’s Bride - ch 6

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst​

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit Word Count: 11.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid* Anger, arguments, hurt/comfort, Oberyn and Ellaria having some group sex as they do, a whole lot of tears, an intense lack of sexual education, homophobia, reference to past killings, angst. Summary: Misunderstandings and high tension after King Joffrey’s murder, leading to volatile moods for nearly everyone.  Notes: Internalized homophobia and a lack of sex education is such an intensely important set of topics to me, and being able to address them with such sex and sexuality positive characters like Oberyn and Ellaria is a beautiful personal catharsis. 🧡💛✨

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5

As soon as possible, Oberyn ushered you, Ellaria and Raeden back to the brothel. The panic on the streets is settling in as word spreads. The fear of war or change always affects the lower rungs of society in a more base way than the nobles’ petty squabbling. Once in the safety of the rooms, his eyes cut over to Raeden. “You will stay with our lovers at all times outside these walls.” He orders. “I do not know now when we will be able to leave King’s Landing, but we should be cautious.”

“They will never be beyond my reach.” He promises, his hands twitching to reach out and offer comfort but unsure of himself in this situation. Dancing with Ellaria and offering her comfort are two different things, and you had spent your entire day at the prince’s side with such seeming happiness. Until the moment of tragedy, of course.

The death of the king has unnerved Oberyn far greater than he has led on. Not because the pompous little shit is dead, no he found that to be most satisfying. The way he died was what concerned the prince. Poison. The manner of demise that the Prince of Dorne has implemented many times and is well known for. The fact that he had not been accused of anything was merely because Cersei’s grief had left her unable to hatch her schemes quick enough to implicate him along with Tyrion. When the king started to choke and turn purple, both you and Ellaria had been on the cusp of taking a sip of your own goblets, causing Oberyn to knock them out of your hands most violently. Striding over to Raeden, he cups the back of the taller man’s head, dragging him closer. “Accept nothing from any noble.” He hisses.

"Nothing, your Grace." This side of the man is the face of a warrior, and it is a face that Raeden recognizes. There is worry there, concern, and while that does give the younger man pause it is good see that his concern is for the two women and not just for himself like other nobles. "There will be invitations, though," he needs to make the prince aware of that, if nothing else.

“They come through me.” Oberyn insists before he pauses. It would be suspicious if he were to change the way he normally acts so he shakes his head. “Inform me.” He decides. “And you will be with them at every moment. Not a drop of wine passes their lips unless it is checked.”

"We are not under suspicion, are we?" As shaken as you are, you have been sitting in a tangle with Ellaria to ground yourself and seek comfort. The last thing you had expected was to be pulled into Queen Margaery's arms and be on full display in front of the entire court as she trembled in grief.

“The king was just murdered.” Oberyn scoffs. “Everyone is under suspicion, though Cersei will use this to hang her brother. But we cannot be too cautious.” He warns. “Others may use it as an opportunity to take advantage.” While he is a second son, he is still important to Dorne.

"Oberyn's knowledge of poisons is well known," Ellaria explains to you quietly, patience in her voice as she hugs you to her side. "As is his hatred of the Lannisters. Even if they do not suspect he poisoned the boy's wine himself, it is not a stretch to believe that he may have had a hand in things. We must all be cautious."

Oberyn nods as he watches Raeden’s eyes narrow with understanding. “Yes. We have to be cautious.”

"What a hellish day." You sigh quietly, curling in on yourself and deflating away from Ellaria's side as everything begins to catch up with you. To begin the day worrying about something as trivial as a bath, to go through arguments and confusion and guilt, and to come out on the other end having witnessed a murder is making your head spin. "I think...I will retire?" Looking up at the prince for permission, you feel like a child all over again. "If you do not require me, that is. Sleep is sometimes the best remedy for an unhappy day."

He lets go of the man who bears your marks and he nods. “Of course.” He murmurs quietly. “Take your Raeden with you and rest, unless you wish to have the comfort of multiple bodies.” He offers. “Then you are welcome to the bed here.”

"There will be no pleasure for me tonight." Standing two feet from a dying man has erased that need from your body and mind for the foreseeable future, and you shake your head. "I may read, but sleep is preferable to feeling sick."

“Comfort does not always mean pleasure.” Oberyn reminds you, frowning slightly as he takes your comment as an insult towards him. “Goodnight, Princess.” He moves towards Ellaria and pulls the other woman into his arms.

The light in his eyes extinguishes when he is displeased, you have already noticed, and in the moment before he turns away from you he is supremely displeased. Without the presence of mind to understand exactly what you have said wrong, you all but flee to the adjoining bedroom. The man is mercurial and fascinating, but until you learn his ways and his meanings you fear you may misstep more often than not.

“She did not mean it that way, lover.” Ellaria hums, reaching up to wrap her arms around Oberyn’s neck to comfort him. Scoffing, he shakes his head. “It was meant.” He grunts, his own sigh far heavier than perhaps he understands himself. Your judgement of him is something that he finds far harder to cast off than most. “So I dare not disappoint her expectations.”

“Two days is not long enough to know a person’s mind,” she tuts softly. “And she watched a man die today. For the first time. That can be difficult to process.”

There is a rational side of Oberyn that understands that, but right now he doesn’t care. He grips his lover’s chin and stares into her eyes. “Call the whores in.” He orders. “Plus the ones you wished to try.”

“The one I wish to try has retreated.” Ellaria pouts at the closed door to the other room, where Raeden had dutifully followed you. “No matter. Is Ser Loras joining us tonight?”

Oberyn shakes his head. “Another time. The man has decided to comfort his sister.”

“Ah.” She nods, understanding that Oberyn feels rejected on two fronts and not simply one. “I will see who is available for us.”

“I don’t care if they are available.” Oberyn grunts, pulling away and striding quickly over to the table to pour a glass of wine before he stares into the cup and sniffs it. “Get them here.” He orders before he takes a sip. “And tell Littlefinger they will be in my bed for the rest of the night.”

Ellaria nods, saying nothing and certainly not pointing out that Oberyn twists his face in exactly the same way that their oldest daughter does when she throws a tantrum for not getting her way. Instead she simply glides from the room, knowing she will have to come back with a bevy of willing bodies in order to calm him tonight.

His jaw is clenched, hand gripping the goblet as he stares at the door that has shut off his view of you and your soulmate. There is a divide between you and for the first time since you had busted into his room and demanded his protection, he regrets marrying you.

****** Undressing from Dornish gowns is easier than the ones you grew up with, and it takes half the time you would normally need to be in a nightdress and under the covers. Raeden has not joined you, not yet, but you barely notice from how distant he has felt since you spoke this morning. Perhaps no one wishes for your company tonight. That would be disappointing but not a surprise.

It is only ten minutes from the dismissal of your company from his presence that the noises start to come from Prince Oberyn’s chambers. Making Raeden quickly step back from the door and hastily start removing his sword and armor to distract himself.

Any attempt to read will now be in vain, and you put down your book on the table beside the bed. This is precisely what you could not stomach for yourself tonight – physical pleasure would only make your roiling stomach feel much worse and you sigh into the night air.

"I have never known you to judge how people behave." Raeden comments, slightly disappointed in your sigh. It reinforces his fear that you will reject him if he were to confide his secrets to you. "Yet you judged your husband."

“I judged nothing,” you insist, surprised to hear him think so. “It is simply that I do not crave to be touched tonight. Is that so terribly wrong after seeing a man murdered?”

Raeden turns to you, his robes discarded and just the soft shirt underneath cladding his chest. "My love...you husband did not offer to fuck you." He hums. "He was offering you the safety of his bed for comfort, just comfort. And you rejected him most curtly."

Frowning when you turn to look at him, the air of having done wrong hangs over you and makes shame twist inside you alongside the guilt you have felt for hours. “You sound as though you want me to go to him.”

"I doubt you would care for what you would see if you entered his chamber now." He shakes his head and frowns. "I will not have any opinion of your actions, my princess." He offers stiffly.

“Gods above, will everyone stop calling me that?” Despite it being your husband’s title, you feel no connection to it, and you end up sitting straight up in bed. “I welcome your opinion, Raeden. I treasure it. But when no one around me will speak plainly is it my fault for misunderstanding?”

Raeden's jaw clenches and he doesn't move, doesn't soften to comfort you like he would have only days before. He cannot. Not when things have shifted so drastically, and he is feeling as if is being tossed about in a storm on the Narrow Sea. "Then I shall remain silent so there is no chance of misinterpretation."

In a flurry of frustration, you nearly throw yourself out of the luxurious bed and stamp across the room, flinging yourself onto the chaise under the windows instead. If he is going to be rude and dismissive then you want nothing to do with him, either. “Good night, ser.” You grit out before extinguishing the final candle and plunging the room into darkness.

Raeden stands in the darkness, anger and shame twisting in his gut. Along with the arousal that every moan and cry of pleasure from next door fosters in his loins. Instead of begging for your forgiveness or relighting the candles, he gathers his armor and his sword in the darkness before leaving your chambers. "Good night, princess." He murmurs before shutting it behind him.

******

“Raeden?” From her position between Leyth’s legs, Ellaria spies him the second he appears dressed only in his undershirt and a frown while carrying his armor. “Has something happened?”

"Forgive me." His eyes shift uncomfortably away from the scene of absolute debauchery in front of him. Trying not to hear the sounds of skin slapping as your husband doesn't pause in his thrusts into the buxom whore under him. "I— I just need to—" He gestures towards the door that leads out into the hallway of the brothel. He will redress and stand guard outside the chambers where his soulmate and her husband are sleeping. Instead of going out of the door from your chambers to the hallway, he had fucked up and entered Oberyn's chamber.

“You are welcome to join us if you wish.” She reminds him, doubting but hopeful that he might be enticed.

The shake of his head is quick, almost violent. "I—I cannot." He grunts, eyes falling on a male whore who is laying on his stomach, obviously resting or preparing to rejoin the group. "My apologies for disturbing you."

As quickly as he appeared, he is gone again. Out through the door that leads to the hallway where no one but passersby will encounter the weary knight.

In the dim light from the torches, Raeden redresses, leaning against the wall as he stands between the two doors that lead to the chambers. One he is unwelcomed in right now, one he desperately wants to enter but cannot. Not if he wishes to keep his soulmate.

******

The next morning when Leyth's familiar face delivers fresh wine and a tray of delicacies to break your fast with, you barely stir on the chaise. You had not moved back to the bed after Raeden stormed out last night and you had cried yourself in and out of rest through most of the night. The pillow you finally fell asleep on is stained from tears and it is surely the worst night you have spent in weeks – since finding out you would be destined to marry a man who was not your soulmate. At least then you had had Raeden to comfort you for a time.

Raeden's eyes are heavy, staring between the doors as he stands watch. He had not slept. Keeping guard over your rooms as was his station and duty. Unable to rest, his spine stiffens slightly when he hears your soft groans as you start to wake. He missed holding you, being close to you. But you had wished to be alone so he had granted your wish. The door to Oberyn's suite slips open again and another two naked women file sleepily out of the room, besides Leyth, the man and another woman had left earlier.

The day holds no appeal for you whatsoever, with the people closest to you seemingly all upset with you, and you send Leyth away as politely as you can without dressing. No one wishes to see you and you do not wish to see them if they feel that way, so you will stay here and read. Even food holds no appeal for you, which is a change from your normal self indeed. Since Raeden had not returned at any point you have to assume - with regret and something else that you cannot or will not name – that he spent the night in another bed. A whore's maybe, or even Ellaria's, and that thought brings a whole new wave of tears.

******

“Good morning, lover.” Oberyn frowns, his eyes still closed, although his arms open to allow Ellaria to snuggle into his chest. “How was your sleep?” He asks groggily, still tired and sated from the activities of the previous night.

"Someone was snoring," she chuckles softly, crawling a few inches to deposit herself in Oberyn's arms. "How did you sleep, my love?"

“Better than I imagined.” Oberyn hums, rubbing her back gently. “Better than the cold bed next door.”

"What do you think happened?" Doubtful that you would have dismissed Raeden or that he would have left without some kind of deep disagreement, Ellaria frowns even as she places a kiss on Oberyn's shoulder.

Oberyn rolls his eyes and sighs. The hurt he had been dealt last night for offering you solace was not quite healed. “No doubt her lover tried to comfort her and was tossed out on his ass.” He snorts. “I dare not ask so I am not accused of suggesting an orgy.”

Ellaria almost groans, leveling her soulmate with a dubious glare. “Have we not learned that she is sheltered?” She reminds him, sitting up against the pillows at the head of the bed. "You offered her the comfort of multiple bodies and she took your meaning to be literal. That is not a sin, Oberyn. Only foolish."

“As you say.” He grumbles, the stubbornness of most Martells is enhanced in the second son. “Despite my repeated reassurances that I would not force her.”

"And you have not. She thought she was declining an offer." The fact that his mind and his reason seem to be clouded by you is worth noting, but Ellaria knows her soulmate well enough to know that he is still wounded, so she will not press his pride. "As for Raeden, I do not know what might have happened. But certainly your bride had a very lonely night."

“Where do you think he spent his night?” Oberyn wonders. “He would not even look at the brunette as I was plowing her field, so I doubt he spent the night between the thighs of a whore.”

"You ordered him to protect the princess," Ellaria reminds him, having seen which door Raeden went out when he retreated last night. "So I expect he stood guard all night as he was told."

He huffs, sitting up and rolling his eyes. “Gods old and new save me from these two literal creatures.” He groans, shifting so he can move to the edge of the bed and stand up. You and your soulmate are going to be the death of him.

Raeden's back straightens like a plank when the door to his right opens to reveal the prince draped in his untied robe looking bleary eyed as though he has just awoken. "Your Grace." He manages to stifle a yawn, swallowing it down and looking straight ahead to mask his tired features.

"Gods’ fool." Oberyn hisses, knowing immediately that the man has not slept for a moment. "I did not mean for you to stay awake all night." He motions Raeden over towards him. "Come. You will sleep before you fall down where you stand."

If he had his mind, he would argue that he could not protect you while asleep in a different room, but Raeden is altogether too weary for such a debate and nods dutifully before following the prince into the large chamber with its oversized and overstuffed bed. Just the night before it had been swarming with writhing bodies, but now it is simply disheveled as it stands empty in the center of the room.

“Strip your clothes and sleep.” Oberyn grunts as he moves over towards the table to grab a cup of wine. Needing to wash his mouth clean of sleep before he takes his lover to the bathing chamber to wipe her skin clean of cum.

“It is not the longest watch I have stood, my lord,” Raeden insists, though he is unbearably tired. Ill thoughts are a taxing burden and make a man weary all on their own.

“I do not make my men stand watch until they are too tired to fuck or fight.” Oberyn scoffs. “You will sleep, your princess is still safely pouting in her chambers.”

Having felt the sting of your rejection himself, Raeden says nothing to defend or condemn you. He says nothing at all, but weakly strips down and crawls under the plush blankets strewn across the prince’s bed. You will come looking for company when you are ready. You always do.

It is telling that the man almost immediately falls asleep. Making Oberyn smirk as he watches him for a moment before turning his attention back to his paramour. "Come." He urges her quietly. "We will spend a lazy morning in the bath while the lovers recover from their trying night apart."

“Poor dears,” Ellaria clicks her tongue and shakes her head, but leaves it at that as she follows Oberyn out of the room. You will both be fine, as long as you stop being stubborn and reach out. Although, the same could often be said of Oberyn.

Sleep comes easy for a soldier. He is used to falling asleep quickly and waking just as fast. Now, with the emotional turmoil of the night, he is exhausted and seems to be asleep right before his head hits the incredibly soft pillow. Dreaming of you, Oberyn and Ellaria twisted together in passion and laughing together as he stands off to the side. Rejected like he always has been.

******

It is well past midday when you finally emerge from your chamber, sheepishly intending to offer apologies to those you upset last night. It evaporates in the face of Raeden’s still-sleeping form laid out bare in your husband’s bed. The sharp intake of your own breath barely comes before a sob, and all at once you are fleeing behind your chamber door again with a violent slam.

The slamming of the door rouses Raeden, making him groan as he lifts his head and looks around sleepily. "My love?" He croaks softly, confused about where he is since he had been sleeping so soundly. He blinks and rolls over, the memory of Oberyn ordering him to sleep coming back to him and he realizes he fell asleep in the prince's bed. He wonders where the prince and his lover are, remembering that they had been there when he had climbed into the bed.

Unable to distinguish exactly why you feel so betrayed to see Raeden in the bed the prince and his soulmate normally occupy, you fling yourself onto your own bed instead and bury your face in a new pillow to soak it through with fresh tears. It feels as if a dagger has been shoved through your heart and twisted, leaving you ragged and breathless for reasons you can neither articulate nor separate. All you know, in that moment, is that the other half of your soul saw you in pain and instead of reaching out a hand to help you, he became as unyielding as his name and sought pleasure from others while you were raw and wretched.

Groaning, Raeden sits up and he rubs his hand over his face. Wondering if you are still in your room, he shuffles to his feet and walks over to the door. “My love?” He croaks out, knocking softly.

If you had a prayer of hearing the weak motion normally, it certainly would never have been heard over the muffled sound of your own tears blocking your ears. There may as well be no one else in the world for the kind of alone you feel in this moment.

He opens the door when he doesn’t hear you call out. Still sleepy enough that your muffled sobs don’t register as he calls your name. “Are you awake?” For all he knows, you have decided to sleep the day away. He steps into the bedroom and closes the door behind him, still nude.

His voice is a surprise, finally near and loud enough to hear, and you shove yourself up to sitting only for the dignity of not being seen sprawled out like a sobbing child. "Of course I am awake. It is past mid-day." You cut out, desperately trying to wipe your eyes. "I take it you enjoyed your night very thoroughly without me."

Raeden blearily rubs his eyes and frowns in confusion. “What?” He asks, instantly annoyed at your tone. “What are you talking about?” After so little sleep, he is not functioning at peak condition.

"I recognize that I was not pleasant company last night and I had intended to apologize for that, but I stepped out from my room to find you sleeping very soundly in my husband's bed. Naked. As you are now." Halfway between hurt and anger lies jealousy, and the ugliness of it twists inside you like a serpent. It makes you mean when you do not want to be, needy for the same frustration in others that you feel in yourself. "I hope that it was worthwhile."

The sleepiness is instantly gone and all that Raeden sees is the anger, the disgust on your face, hurt it in your voice. You think that he slept with your husband, or maybe his paramour and he knows he was right now not to share himself with you. “Exceedingly, Princess.” He stiffens, jaw clenched and his heart shatters, knowing that the love he thought he had does not exist. “No apologies are necessary. I am but a servant.” Bare assed, Raeden bows mockingly and moves to the door.

If he heard the wretched sob that came from your mouth after the door closed behind him, he gave no indication. Raeden only returned to the bedside where he had awoken to retrieve his clothing, dressing again with an unmoving continence and automatic movements.

******

Unaware that turmoil and angst are afoot, Oberyn sighs, completely rejuvenated after his bath with Ellaria. “I should let the girl come to me.” He argues as they walk hand in hand, dressed in nothing more than silk robes and their hair wet from scrubbing.

"I wonder that you think so, being the father of eight daughters." She tells him flatly, but squeezes his hand to show she is not upset with him. "She does not know how to trust you yet and the last words spoken between you were in anger. At least show her that you are no longer upset."

Oberyn bites his lip and frowns, feeling that his lover is making a good argument. While he had felt his innocent gesture had been taken as an insult, you did not know him well enough to understand that he does know that not everything can be fixed by a romp in a bed. “I will speak with her before waking Raeden to dress.” He decides, looking at the woman who has stood by his side for nearly twenty years. The woman who wears his makes and is half of his soul.

"Take her for a walk." Ellaria suggests, leaning over to place a kiss on his shoulder as they walk together. "Or share a meal with her. Something that she would consider...normal." There is always the chance that you will not want to see or speak with him, but she does not think you are a cross enough person to have that anger in you. Stubborn, perhaps. But your soul seems to be a bright one most of the time.

"I will show her the markets along the waterfront." He remembers how much you seemed to enjoy the sounds and smells of the waterfront. "I will drop in to speak with her and then come back to dress."

"She will be safe with you, and you will be seen being unafraid in the chaos of the day." Ellaria nods, clearly approving of his decision. "It will be good for both of you."

He kisses her hand and stops in front of the door that leads to the room you are occupying. “If she is unwilling to talk, I will leave her to sulk. And we will venture out.”

"I will go and check on our slumbering knight in the meantime." She tells him with a grin.

“My sun, my world.” He promises her with a tender kiss to her lips. Far more intimate than most exchanges of lips in this establishment.

"My beloved." Unable to let him go without one more kiss, Ellaria hums in satisfaction and flits away, pushing through the door to his left to go in search of their Ser Raeden.

Oberyn had thought to knock for a brief moment, but he did not wish for you to ignore him. Instead, he opens the door and slides inside the room to speak with you.

The crying has stopped, thank the gods in their heavens, or at least it has paused. When you hear the door scrape open you feel heavy and exhausted from so many tears and barely move from your place in the bed. "If you have come to be angry with me again, Raeden, I cannot stomach it," you manage despite your scratchy throat.

“What would have your Ser Raeden upset with you?” Oberyn frowns, unhappy to see that you have been obviously crying. “The man was sleeping yet an hour ago.”

This was not at all the voice you were expecting, and it wrenches a dry, cracked sob from you by way of surprise. "Aye. He was. Exhausted from a night that I had no part in, I take it."

He pauses, confused by your meaning and then it clicks. The man had stripped down, taking Oberyn’s order literally. You must have seen him sleeping while he and Ellaria were in the baths. “Gods help me.” He groans, striding over to the table and pouring you a cup of wine to soothe your throat. He shakes his head as he walks towards you. “Your lover stood guard outside the chambers all night after your spat. Guarding his princess.” He explains. “While I take no issue with having him in my bed, the man was only there to rest. After I had awoken for the day.”

Pulling the robe over your nightdress back onto your shoulders from where it has become disheveled, you look up at the prince with genuine confusion clouding your eyes. "He would have said so. Surely?" At least...you hope that he would have. But he has not been himself lately. "He has acted so strangely the last few days it is like I hardly know him anymore."

“Did you ask, or did you accuse?” Oberyn asks you bluntly. “I offered last eve to send the whores away for the night and let my wife be comforted by a bed filled with her lover, her husband and her friend only to be told that the thought pleasure was revolting. As if I was crass for offering.”

You tilt your head at him, sniffling back more tears, and hold the wine he has handed you in trembling hands. "I did not—" A wave of shame washes over you and makes your stomach turn to boot, and your head drops to match it. "I did not understand that you meant to send them away," you admit quietly. "You offered me bodies for comfort and I...I misunderstood. But I had thought to turn down the offer kindly. My only fear was in disappointing you."

“Ellaria surmised as much.” Oberyn sighs and steps closer. While you are not as young as he had feared when learning of you, you are still very sheltered. His hand reaches out to caress your shoulder and offer the warmth of his arms if you would like it. “I would not lie to you. Your lover has not received any pleasure in my bed beyond the hour of sleep he had stolen.”

Shifting over slightly on the bed makes enough space for him to sit, and you nearly hold your breath until he takes it, afraid of misreading a gesture again. More than anything, what you have craved since last night is safety as much as comfort. What happened to the king was unimaginably cruel and violent and what little sleep you had was marked with nightmares from it. "I had intended to apologize to you when I left my room some time ago. But being so unpleasant last night. But I—I saw him in your bed and I...I assumed..."

“Star, I admit that I had my fill of lovers last night.” He will not lie to you. “It would have shocked you to see what was happening in that room. Your Raeden would not even look at the whore I was fucking when he burst in. He had stood sentinel during the night so you would be safe.” Oberyn reaches over and covers your hand with his own. “It has been a taxing few days for you. I will not stay angry at small miscommunications like this.”

"It is not the lovers that I mind." It never has been. Although the realization of exactly how prolific his sex drive is was a certain amount of shocking, it does not offend or upset you. "Take as many as you like, continue on as you have been, that does not upset me." You remind yourself to breathe, and to drink the wine that was brought to you to soothe your throat. "What upsets me is feeling as if I am not wanted or needed. Or, worse, feeling as though I am in the way."

“You feel as if you are not wanted?” He is confused by that because he has mentioned several times that he would like to have you in his bed. “I am afraid I do not understand.” He confesses. “My lover and I would like you in our bed, not just to make you writhe with pleasure. And your Raeden is your soulmate. He wants nothing more than to be with you.”

"He did." But you are convinced that something has changed in him. "Last night he refused to speak to me when I wanted nothing more than to be understood." Taking the chance on leaning closer to him, the warmth of the prince beside you is more comforting than you would have expected. "Yesterday at the wedding he said we did not know the difference between lust and love. He has been a very different man since arriving in King's Landing."

“I am afraid that my paramour and I have caused friction between the two of you.” Oberyn sighs. “I must apologize to you for that. I never wanted to come between you as soulmates.” He frowns and tries to decide what might be best for you and your lover. “Would you like to talk to him?” Oberyn shifts and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

"I would not know what to say." You were both so angry when he came in just a little while ago. So filled with venom and unhappiness. "Perhaps he was correct, and I do not know my feelings at all. I cannot say anymore."

“Speak from your heart.” He urges you, reaching over and touching your chest where it beats. “You love him. Sometimes you must fight for what you love.”

He means well, you are certain that he does. But when he reaches to touch your chest gently over your nightdress there is a moment where you are certain you will ignite from a simple touch. "You make it sound as though I ought to have a suit of armor."

“Perhaps you should.” He smiles at that, happy that the unhappiness in your eyes turns to mirth for a moment. “Passion outside the bed is just as important as in it.”

"Passion outside of the bed has never lacked before," you tell him honestly, feeling again that the pull of truth runs deeply between you. "I have only shared my bed with two people, and they have both been guarded secrets."

“Two?” His brow raises in surprise. “I had thought your Raeden was your only lover.”

"It has been pointed out to me that sharing a bed with someone can mean things other than lovemaking." If it can be an offer of comfort, surely it can be other things as well. "My father employs a maester to look after his library, and that maester had had a child before taking his vows. She was employed as a kitchen maid in our home. And...she was very special to me."

From your tone, he knows that this woman was far more than a ‘friend’. “She was your lover.” He is delighted that you are not as prudish as you might have seemed, exploring pleasure with another girl before your soulmate.

“Not…precisely.” As close into his side as you are, you look down into the wine in the goblet in your hands instead of over at him. “Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that we were as close to lovers as two women can be.”

“Did you touch her?” He asks, tilting his head. “Taste her skin and learn what makes her keen in pleasure?” With your literal interpretation of things, perhaps you are unaware of what being a lover means.

“Well…I…yes, but—” This need to be honest with him has let you flustered and honestly wondering how you had gotten so off course in your conversation. “But…” With his reputation surely he understands this already? “Two women cannot…there is not a way for them to make love…”

He chuckles, sliding his hand up from your chest to cup your cheek. “My dear,” he murmurs softly. “Love comes in many forms. Sex is the same. She was your lover. You touched her as a lover does.” He explains softly. “If your Raeden just uses his mouth to make your cunt spasm, do you not consider yourself to have found pleasure?”

“But that is not…it is not sex.” As crudely as you are capable of speaking about it to the person you are sharing the act with, this moment is far from that. The prince is far more experienced, worldly, and knowledgeable than you are, yet the basic fact of what you were taught remains. “For a man and a woman to come together…to find pleasure…that is different.”

"Does that mean that any man I have in my bed does not have sex because his cock is not in a cunt?" Oberyn asks, genuinely curious about your reasoning.

“I—no…you have…” You sigh, dropping your face into one upturned hand and despising yourself for turning meek in front of the man you promised yourself that you would not be a fool to. “I have no trouble speaking of desire while receiving it, but discussing it like this appears to leave me dumbfounded.”

"There is nothing to be ashamed of." He hums, shaking his head. "The septa will not quiz you and beat your hand with a stick if you feel different that I do." He chuckles quietly and sighs softly. "You most likely felt shame at wanting your friend, touching her and wishing to touch her, no?" He asks.

"It was not to be spoken of." There was too much fear there, even at the age when other girls were beginning to be married. "She would have been sent away. Or...knowing my mother as you do now, you can imagine that it might have been worse."

"I imagine she would have had you dragged through the streets and beaten." He grunts, unhappy with the idea and cursing your mother. "And how did you act when asked about your lover? Even innocently?"

"We always said that we were reading together," you explain, huffing out a soft laugh. "She was annoyed at the idea of educated girls in her home, but lost interest after that."

"But you were fearful of someone discovering your secret." He pushes. He wants you to make the connection that he believes is why your lover is so changed since his arrival in King's Landing. He has seen the desires in the man's eyes, along with the shame.

"Of course." Her fate would have been sealed if you had been discovered. She would have been sent away at the very least. You cannot even imagine what your own punishment would have been.

"So you were guarded. Closed off." He hums. "It is smart when you do not wish to be judged."

"You are trying to make a point, but I fear I am not myself enough to understand."

"Your Ser Raeden seems to be hiding a secret." He points out gently.

"And...he fears I would judge him." It takes having the puzzle pieces laid out before you to be able to see the image they complete, but you nod solemnly. "I would not. No matter how terrible. But I thought surely that he knew how much I love him."

"Fear has a way of making you disbelieve what you know to be true." He murmurs. "You know your Raeden is loyal to you, and yet just this morning you were sure that he had shared my bed without any thought to you."

He is correct, though the feeling of discontentedness in the pit of your stomach is very uncomfortable. "I fear the situation may be more complicated than it seems."

"I will send your lover to you." Oberyn offers, patting your knee gently. "If your talk does not go how you wish, I will take you to the waterfront markets. How does that sound, star?"

"None of this is why you came to me; I do not think." While he has listened and given you admirable support, you have been exceedingly selfish with his time. "Will you tell me why you came, first?"

He hums and tilts his head. "I had come to apologize for my cross behavior." He admits. "I do not wish you to believe that I was angry at you. I was hurt, but I wanted to make amends. To offer to visit the marketplace on an outing."

"Then we should go to the marketplace." Feeling that everyone you care about was upset with you last night was not a pleasant sensation and you want nothing more than to erase it from your heart completely. "And perhaps..." A nervous swallow comes with a flustered face, but you are feeling more yourself now and braver. "Perhaps tonight we might spend time together? Not as two pairs of soulmates but...all together?"

He watches you for a moment before he nods. "That can be done." He knows that means that his usual entertainment will be placed on hold, but the ease of your relationship is more important than fucking that blonde he had seen in the baths. "After your talk with your Raeden? I must dress anyway."

"Thank you." Gratitude is not something you expected to feel today, but you certainly do.

"You are my princess." Oberyn reminds you, giving you a soft smile and leaning in to kiss your cheek. "I will send him in shortly."

"I have grown up with a view of marriage that is quite uncomfortable and certainly not encouraging," you remind him. "So I am grateful, and thankful, to find it is possible to be honest with you and be myself with you. Even if it is not always perfect."

"Perfection is boring." Oberyn smirks as he stands, caressing your cheek before he turns and walks to the doors that connect your rooms.

The waiting seems to take forever, but you dress yourself in something simple while - you assume - the prince is speaking to Raeden. By the time your chamber door reopens you are sitting at the long table with food and wine, barely picking at what was brought to you but knowing that you need something to keep your strength up.

This time when he enters your chambers, Raeden is fully dressed. Making sure that he looks as presentable as any other day had been a chore while Ellaria had chastised him as if he were a small boy. It had shamed him and now when he closes the door behind him, he stands unsure as to what to say or how to make amends.

“Raeden…” Taking a deep breath and smoothing your dress despite it being already pristine, you stand from the table and come around it. “Please allow me to apologize. I was upset last night and acted out, and I did not mean to aim those frustrations at you. Even worse, today when I had made up my mind to find you and make this apology then, I instead lashed out. You deserved none of this behavior.”

Instead of dismissing your apology with a frosty demeanor, Raeden bows his head. "I should not have left." He murmurs. "Nor should I have accepted your husband's offer of sleep." It had been an order, but the fault is still his. "It will not happen again." You are his soulmate, who the gods have determined he is supposed to be with and love. Only you. So he will do his best to honor that.

“You were exhausted. Sleep was needed.” Taking the chance to move closer to him, you step out and find that he does not shrink away from you. “My love, I know that these few days have been trying for both of us.”

"There have been many changes." He agrees diplomatically. "I do not fault you for being wary and cross." He covers your hands on his chest with his own. "I will not let you down again." Reminding himself of his duty to you, his station is necessary. He was forgetting that he was born without a name. Without a future.

“It is I who have let you down.” But the feeling of his warmth so near has you nearly sighing it is so comforting. “So many changes and I have not once asked if you are still happy. Or what could be done to make you even happier.”

"You are my soulmate." He insists. "It is more than I deserve just to touch you." He has long known that you deserve more than him, though you do not think so.

“That is not the same as being happy.” Both of your arms encompass him, Drawing him close to you in the middle of that room. “You deserve happiness.”

"Happiness is not always possible for some of us." He reminds you, even as he allows you to pull him close. "You do not need to worry about me, my love."

“Is there not a chance that it could be?” Risking pressing too hard and upsetting him, you cannot find it in you to back down from this idea. It seems to have burrowed inside of you most ardently. “I know that you wish for more than you have, love. But perhaps it is both of our fortunes that might change in Dorne, and not only mine.”

"I cannot wish for more than you." Raeden insists, clenching his jaw slightly and clutching at your hands almost desperately. "I am not discontent with you." He swallows harshly and bites his lip. "I do not understand what you are meaning."

Swallowing pride and fear, you cling to Raeden’s hands and remember the prince’s words. “May I tell you something, my love? Something that…I have been afraid to share? That I taught myself to think of with such importance?”

"You can share anything with me." There is a certain sense of irony in his statement. That he would protect you from anything, protect any secrets you might have. Even if he did not trust you with his own shameful secrets.

Managing to get him to sit with you, you pour wine into a second goblet for him and pick at the excellent fresh berries that had been sent up much earlier. “Do you remember Brynna?” You ask him after a pause, telling yourself to be brave. “The kitchen maid that I was close friends with? She married a little more than a year ago.”

Frowning slightly, he takes a sip of the wine, grateful to have something cool on his throat. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink either. "Yes, although you stopped visiting with her after you—we discovered that we were soulmates." He murmurs, feeling guilty that you had to push your friend away so that your secret bond with him was not discovered.

“Yes, I did.” It was soon after that that the maester’s daughter met her own soulmate, so your guilt had been quickly assuaged. “But I did not quit her company for the reason you might think.” Telling yourself to trust and to take the leap, you still have trouble finding his eyes. “I feared that you would reject me or be angry if you discovered her in my bed.”

He frowns even more, staring down into his cup and then up at your face, even though you will not look at him. "You—" He starts to question you and then stops, clearing his throat. "I...I see." He doesn't know if he is more confused or relieved that you have some kind of history with someone you shouldn't.

“I did not know that two women could be lovers,” you explain, feeling utterly childish about your ignorance. “To hear my septa or my brothers speak of it…a man is utterly necessary for an encounter to truly be considered lovemaking. But I—I have learned that is not so.”

Raeden takes a large gulp of his drink, his dark eyes finding yours and he pauses for a moment before he asks, "Do you— uh, prefer that?" He asks, reaching for your hand. "Does a man repulse you?"

“No!” Your hand fits into his immediately, grasping his fingers tightly as they lace through your own. “No, of course not, my love. It is only…it is different. Not better or worse, but rather…I enjoyed both. And I was very ashamed to enjoy it as much as I did, because I did not know how very natural it was. And I believe I am starting to understand that finally.” Leaning forward, you press earnest kisses to his knuckles, hoping to have cracked some kind of barrier between you. You had thought it existed so that he would not be disgusted with you, but here he is reaching for your hand. “I do not wish to keep secrets from you any longer, my love.”

"There is something I must confess to you." He croaks out, fingers squeezing yours as his heart pounds in his chest. Sweat starts to create a find sheen on his skin as his nerves starts to get the best of him. "I—I have never spoken of this to—to anyone."

“You can speak to me of anything.” You promise him, your other hand abandoning your wine to hold his tightly.

"You know that I have had lovers." He ventures softly, waiting for you to nod before he continues. It had not been a secret from you, and more acceptable since he was a man. "When I— when I was in training, my father send me to be trained by an old friend. Since he could not publicly claim me."

“That is how you came to the Vale.” You nod, having remembered the stories he had told you of his past. “Yes. I remember.”

He takes a deep breath and downs the rest of his wine. "While I was training, I had a – a friend." He confesses. "Much like your Brynna."

“Would you tell me about her?” It is no matter to you that he had other lovers. You know he has. Perhaps he feels shame or guilt for having loved her? But that does not matter to you in the least.

"His name was Alren." He chokes out. "He was the fourth son of Lord Royce." He explains, unable to look you in the face for fear of your reaction. He has never spoken of this, never dreamed of speaking of this with you.

“Oh.” Tightening your hold on his hand, you see those impregnable puzzle pieces slide into place. “And it was Alren who was your lover?”

"He was." Raeden confesses. "I—it was secret, it had to be. Until—"

“Oh, my love…” When his eyes drop and his shoulders draw in on themselves, you lean down to kiss his knuckles again. “Something happened to him?”

"He— someone discovered his...tastes and Lord Royce was not a man who accepted such things out of his son, fourth or no." His hands curl into fists and he lets out a ragged breath. "His lord father beat him to death in front of every boy there. Demanding the name of his lover. While I watched, helpless to save him." Alren had screamed out, begging him not to come forward. To save himself as he was brutalized by his father. Raeden had been frozen in fear, terrified of suffering the same fate as him. If the legitimate son of a lord could be treated so, what would they do to him?

“Gods in all their heavens…” The story nearly chokes you, wrapping around your throat and pushing a gasp from it and furious tears that anyone should be treated so for who they loved. “What a barbaric display, to have so much hatred for his son. I—” And yet, you can imagine it, having grown up with a mother who wished you dead. “I am sorry that you were afraid to share this part of yourself with me, but please…please know that I love you all the more.”

“I—know it is wrong.” He insists. “Unnatural to have those desires. Especially when I have my soulmate.” He swallows. “I am sorry for hiding it from you, but I will not betray you.” He vows.

“I thought it wrong as well. Unnatural as well.” You shake your head, more at your own self than anything else. “But I think perhaps it is not as sinful as any other love. And that we were misled by people who shared our fears.”

Thinking about that, he brings your hand up to his lips. “You are my love.” He promises you. “That will never change.”

“Never.” That is a promise you can make to him just as easily, but you find his eyes and hold them. “I was upset to see you in the prince’s bed today because I thought you were still angry with me, and might turn me away. It was only fear, my love. Not that I would be angry with you for desiring another.” Perhaps a touch of jealousy had joined the feeling, but you cannot be entirely sure who you were actually jealous of.

"I would never turn you away." He frowns at you, wondering how you could possibly believe something like that. He had been upset that you had been so stubborn last night to think the worst of your husband who had been nothing but generous towards you.

"Fear has a way of making you disbelieve what you know to be true." The words come naturally although they are not your own, and you hang your head. “The prince told me that. And I believe he was entirely correct.”

"He is a surprising man." He cannot help but chuckle in relief. "You have married a good man, my love. You are lucky."

“If you…” Even the idea of breaching this subject with him makes you nervous, but anxiety is far less important than Raeden’s happiness and security. “If it is something that you are interested in exploring again, that is…I know that the prince has expressed interest in bedding you.”

"I—I wouldn't— no, you—" he stammers, eyes widening slightly as you offer him something that he had never expected. He shakes his head. "I could not hurt you like that." He doesn't think that you would want your soulmate to be with someone else.

“It would only hurt me if you turned me away in favour of him.” You shake your head and clasp his hands all the more tightly. “I would never ask you to do something that made you unhappy. But my love, if you wished to take someone else to your bed, all I would ask is that you tell me first?” A soft, almost sheepish smile overtakes your face. “You should be happy, and if I can give you happiness by sharing you…that is something that I have only recently learned is possible.”

"I think that you are more interested in a place in the prince's bed that you wish to admit." He murmurs, looking over at you. "I—say that if you wish it, I want you to also have that opportunity." He sighs. "I know that I am drawn to both your husband and his lover." He confesses, embarrassed by saying those words out loud.

“If you wish for that chance, my love, I cannot see them denying you.” In fact, given some of the glances you have seen Ellaria giving Raeden since you met, and both of their blunt honesty, you are certain they would be thrilled to welcome him into their bed. “For myself…” your shoulders round a little and you cannot help but be a little embarrassed by how well you remember the moment. “I…kissed him. Yesterday. In the garden at the Red Keep. It was impulsive and I was afraid you would be upset with me for…finding myself attracted to him.”

“I would rather you desire your husband than fear the bedding we both know must come.” Despite what has been said, an heir is expected of you and people would spread rumors of you did not provide him with one.

“It does not make me love you less,” you promise him, knowing that that was the fear the foremost of your mind. “Just as I know your own desire does not affect your love for me.”

“Never.” He assures you, leaning down and kissing your hands one at a time. “Are you sure you do not feel any different?” He asks softly, wanting you to make sure. That is his biggest fear.

"Only in that I now wish to spend my time with three people instead of only you." It is a different feeling, to be sure, but not an unpleasant one. "The earliest feelings of attraction are rarely unpleasant, even if they might be different."

"No, I – I meant your feelings about me." He sighs, knowing that while you have your husband, your new title, basically the world at your fingertips – he has nothing. Nothing beyond his place with you.

"I love you. That will never change. No matter our circumstances, the world around us, or even if we were both to marry other people." That inevitability, once terrifying, now only seems as a minor hill to climb. A surmountable barrier. "You are my soulmate, and nothing can ever change that."

He cannot help but pull you on his lap. Needing to have you close as he nudges his nose against yours. "You are mine and I am yours." He promises you softly. "I love you, and I will always love you."

"Always." You promise him, the gentle whisper all it needs to be in the quiet room as you wrap your arms around him.

"So we agree?" He murmurs softly. "We are each perfectly fine with exploring intimacies with your husband and his lover?"

"As odd as it might sound to an outside ear?" And it would, there is no doubt or pretense about that. "I believe – yes. We agree." Pressing a firm, earnest kiss to his lips, you hold him a little tighter with that affirmation. "He asked me to walk with him today, and I asked if we might all spend some amount of time together. Perhaps...the topic can be broached then?"

"If you wish." He murmurs, sliding his hand up your back and holding you close. He closes his eyes and breathes you in, sighing softly. "I love you; I am sorry for our fight."

"I am sorry for it as well, my love." Your forehead against his is grounding, anchoring you to the moment and to the strength of him.

"If you are with your husband, I will try to sleep again." He decides. "Unless his lover needs to have me nearby. I am exhausted." He admits, knowing that he can admit that to you.

"He said that you stood watch all night." A thing which of course would make him exhausted, and you press a kiss to his forehead as well. "Rest well, love. May I wake you when we return from the markets?"

"I would go with you if you wished." He promises you. "You can wake me whenever you need me."

"Rest, my warrior. There are no more battles to fight today." There should not have been any, but the past cannot be changed. "And if you decide to spend time with Ellaria while we are out walking, I hope it is everything you could wish for."

"I am too tired for my cock to stir." He groans, shaking his head and giving a small smile.

Affecting a playful expression of shock and concern, you point to the bed immediately and barely manage to suppress a grin. "Then you must sleep immediately! For as long as you need, ser!"

He chuckles sleepily and nods. "I will." He promises. "I am surprised I woke." He had been sleeping hard when the sound of the door woke him.

"I will let you sleep." With one more kiss, you reluctantly extract yourself from his lap and stand up. He will be able to sprawl out on the bed and enjoy his rest, and you will walk with your husband with a much lighter heart.

******

"I hope her lover has patience since he is sleep deprived." Ellaria hums as her eyes flit towards the door connecting the rooms.

Oberyn nods as he knots the belt around his waist, securing his robes and hanging his dagger from his waist. "You will knock their heads together as if they were naughty children if they argue." He teases, well aware she might do the same to him if pushed hard enough. Now that he has more insight into your nature, he finds himself more patient.

"If I must." Ellaria chuckles, laying back on the bed as she watches him dress. "We had been thrilled to see she was not a child when we met her, but in many ways she has been treated as one. It is a shame."

"Her mother is a bitch who should be beaten." Oberyn grunts, looking into one of the mirrors and examining his beard before pulling out his dagger to scrap a patch of skin smooth. "Jealous of her own daughter."

"Lover, you are preening," she teases with delight. "Huffing and puffing like a great defender while you make yourself handsome for her. It is rather charming."

"Hold your tongue." He narrows his eyes in the mirror playfully before he looks back at his task and carefully drags the extremely sharp blade over his skin. "I am merely making sure that I look confident and collected as I walk the streets of King's Landing."

"With your bride." Ellaria's amusement is obvious, and she all but giggles when the door that connects your chamber to theirs opens to allow you through. "And here is the princess herself." There is no malice in her voice, no jealousy or resentment, only teasing and a good nature. "Our beautiful prince is making himself presentable for you, dear."

Oberyn blows out a raspberry towards his lover and drops his dagger after he finishes the last pass. "My love, you tease me." He grumbles quietly, eyes sliding over to where you are standing. "I gather your talk was successful?" He asks you.

"It went a good deal differently than I had anticipated, but...yes. All is well again." Feeling confident enough to step into the room and over to the pair of them, you are still more than a little nervous about going out and being seen with him. He has, after all, an immense presence and there are always eyes on whomever he is with.

"That is fantastic." He hums, cleaning the blade with a cloth and sliding it back into it is sheath. "As much as I enjoyed the sight of your lover in my bed, it is not a sight I wish friction over." He picks up a bottle of the oil that he uses to sooth is skin and splashes some into his palms to coat the freshly shaved areas.

"It will not be, in future." You can assure him of that, which makes anticipation tingle through you.

His brow arches as he finishes applying the spicy, sweet-smelling oil and reaches for the same cloth the wipe his hands. "That is a curious way with words, princess." He murmurs, his eyes sliding over to his soulmates before back to you.

"It was a curious talk." The coy little smile that curls up in the corner of your mouth is not intentional, but rather naturally playful. You feel so much lighter and freer than you had even an hour ago. "Raeden's story is his own to tell, but...it is safe to assure both of you that your honesty with us about your interest has helped us to be more honest with each other."

"Then it is was a very fruitful conversation, indeed." He hums as Ellaria looks very pleased with the turn of events. "Honesty is what is needed in lasting love and passion."

"I could not agree more." It is a fact, indeed, which you are grateful for in this moment. "Which is why I told him about Brynna."

"Brynna?" Ellaria's head tilts curiously as she looks between you and your husband. Oberyn had not told her so she surmises that it must have been something personal. "What a lovely name."

As the prince already knows the tale, you step closer to the bed where Ellaria is reclining and sit down on the edge of the mattress beside her. "She was...it has been explained to me that she was my first lover. I did not, at the time, understand what it truly meant."

Ellaria's smile blooms slowly, taking over her face until pure delight is etched in her features. "So you do know what a woman's touch is like." She hums, very pleased with your newly told tale.

When you nod it is a sheepish thing, and you fluster under how pleased she seems to be. "And I know now that the shame I felt at my time with her is not necessary." Although it may take time to shake the spiderwebs of guilt from your heart, you have certainly taken a large first step today.

Straightening, Ellaria leans into you and cups your cheeks with both of her hands. "Good." She smiles at you softly. "There should never be any shame in love. No matter the form it takes."

"I will do my best to remember it." She is intoxicatingly close, and you know that shyness reads easily across your features, but it is not for embarrassment or nerves. It is only the promise of things to come.

"See that you do." She urges you with a smile. She leans in and softly presses another feather light kiss to your lips for a brief moment before she pulls back.

The prince has been watching you, you realize when you open your eyes again, and you fluster completely, all over again. "I will do my best to return him to you is as good spirits as he is now," you promise Ellaria, finding yourself reluctant to slip away from her but at the same time eager to spend time with your husband. It is an odd feeling, but not an unwelcome one.

Oberyn rolls his eyes but he strides over to the two of you so he can kiss his lover and collect you. “I am always in good spirits around a beautiful woman.” He protests before kissing his lover soundly. “Where is your paramour, princess?”

"Sleeping, my lord." Raeden had been asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, and you hope he rests well after a whole night standing guard. "I thought to wake him when we return."

“Good.” He nods his head and looks over to his lover. “Ellaria will be happy to lounge here and rest as well.” He smirks. “She was up late doing other things.”

"Enjoy yourselves." Ellaria lays back in the luxurious blankets and yawns dramatically, flashing you both a smile even as she waves you off. "And make him buy you something beautiful, darling. He gives wonderful gifts."

“I owe you something as well.” He smirks at his lover and offers you his arm. “Shall the Prince and Princess of Dorne be seen visiting the merchants and looking wildly happy?”

"I think they shall." It gives you such a giddy feeling to take his arm this time, smiling more than you have in a month and feeling like quite the gem although there is nothing at all different about you this afternoon than there has been any other day. The only difference is this man, and the fact that you are allowing yourself to enjoy the affect he has on you.

______

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My Masterlist!

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s1 episode 24 thoughts

aka SEASON FINALE! wow, one full season with these nerds... time flies <3

this episode was super fast-paced and full of twists and turns, straight from the beginning. we open on a very jerky chase scene that was hard to watch and which set the mood as a guy was shot and then jumps into some water and no one can find him

!! the title sequence changed !! it said "trust no one" rather than "the truth is out there"!! surely this means something, but what? i'm spooked!

mulder is sleeping on his couch again. can we please start a fund to get his ass a mattress. it's getting serious.

looks like he fell asleep working on a case when a phone call from deep throat wakes him up, telling him to change the channel where he sees the news of the opening car chase and records it on his VCR (how vintage!)

he shows the footage to scully who is basically like why do we trust this deep throat fellow- a valid question, as mulder trusts almost everybody like a little baby duckling- but scully referring to him as "deep throat" means they've discussed the subject before, which is interesting

we then visit a scientist who is working on monkeys. scully, for some reason, wants to say hello to the monkeys- perhaps we can chalk this up to her innate goodness

the scientist is like "leave those monkeys alone" and she says "i'm sorry, i thought they were friendly" scully, you should know that monkeys are NEVER friendly! they tried to bite her but thank god they missed because these are, after all, no ordinary monkeys, but Alien Monkeys

after the monkey business scully is pissed because they have no leads and she says we need to wrap this up! we've learned nothing! ohh i wrote this next part down word for word because it gagged me:

mulder is so trusting of deep throat and scully says he's stringing mulder along for some unknown purpose...

to which he says: "you think he does it because he gets off on it?"

and scully replies "no, i think he does it because YOU do"

oh i gasped and yelled at my screen! she got him! valid question though, why is this guy leaving them little clues beyond his earlier in the season confession of alien murder guilt? it IS suspicious.

mulder and deep throat confront each other and play more sick and twisted mind games which is fine; deep throat insinuates that mulder doesn't care as much as he used to which is rude but it spurs him on his quest for answers

next the monkey scientist kicks the bucket which obviously means his monkey science was deeply important

the guy who was doing the running during the car chase confessed to being underwater for 3 days after he was shot which obviously has implications but we aren't given a whole lot of time to explore them

back at the monkey lab, now a crime scene, mulder hands scully a flask of mysterious liquid and says "what do you think this is". she says "i don't know" then runs on a quest to go find out because he asks her to. god, dana scully has really had to endure SO much with this man, and now a mystery liquid from the monkey lab? again i ask where her compensation is

mulder breaks into the dead scientist's house, which revealed another basic and universal truth akin to gravity: if no one lets mulder in a house, he Will find a way to break in. he cozies up to the dead guy's desk and starts flipping through his stuff, and the runaway underwater alien guy calls and he picks up the phone like this is a typical day for him. alien guy is emitting some sort of gas that hurts everyone which is unfortunate.

scully fell asleep on the couch of the microbiology department which was soooo <3 but then the lab scientist comes in with the plot twist...

monkey liquid reveal: it has some sort of secret bacteria... with a new base pair! which means it HAS to be some sort of extraterrestrial life!

mulder tracks down a storage unit that is filled with bodies in tanks, and he looks like a kid in a demented candy store while some crazy orchestral stuff goes on in the background. then he is chased by some people but leaps over a fence with astonishing agility.

scully realizes that the monkey liquid is actually Very Important and they meet up to explore the tanks and she says she's sorry for doubting him. "i should know by now to trust your instincts" she says, to which he replies "why, nobody else does" and they both smile and it is not emotional at all, shut up!

"you know, i've always held science as sacred. i've always put my trust in the accepted facts. and what i saw last night... for the first time in my life, i don't know what to believe" <- banger scully line

(i don't believe that this is the first time she's questioned it, though. she's been on edge the whole time, this is just the most she has been. she was thrown off by the psychic who quoted her dad, and by the alien bites in the very first episode. regardless, character development!)

((also, love that she talks about holding science as sacred while wearing a cross necklace in every scene. she's got that "raised catholic" aura about her))

gasp! just as i knew it would be, the room of tanks is now entirely empty, all cleared out except for... deep throat? he reveals that this is the place where the first alien-human hybrids were developed out of terminally ill patients, who got better, but developed superhuman strength and the ability to breathe underwater. a valid tradeoff, in many ways, and exactly what has happened to our friend who was shot and hid underwater and now gives off noxious gas. so now they have to find him before the Others do.

mulder runs back to the dead guy's house, which he seems far too comfortable entering, and finds the alien hybrid man. alien man tries to choke him out, but mulder still says "i'll protect you"

(man, i love that line. we Will be psychoanalyzing that at a later date)

but alien man is shot by an intruder, and his noxious gasses burn mulder while he's tied up. poor scully has been blowing up his cellphone, to which he mumbles "i'm a popular guy"

(always with the damn one liners while he's beaten within an inch of his life; you are popular to one individual, mister mulder, but granted she's a very special one)

deep throat says scully can get into a high containment facility and trade the alien tissue for mulder which okay. sure. why not? she guesses the mystery password and gets into the building and. well. this was my reaction:

"she's opening a mystery container and i lowkey expect a frozen head but NO IT'S AN ALIEN THINGY AUGHHHH IT'S LIKE A BABY"

gross!

only 6 minutes left in the episode at this point and i was stressed! scully's got a box full of alien, is meeting deep throat on a bridge, and refuses to hand the alien box over because. again. who tf is this guy? he gets all mad and says that she NEEDS to hand the box over because these guys that they're dealing with took some of the alien tissue and injected it in children.

and this maybe was supposed to get her to hurry up but she was just like. nah why the hell would we give them the alien back? so we can get more alien children?

to save mulder, of course! because they are the only two who can shine light on what is really going on!

(don't talk to her in such a condescending manner, deep throat, i will bite you. she has perfectly valid reservations about handing ur mysterious ass a box full of alien. but she finally does)

and then as he hands the box over to the mystery people HE IS IMMEDIATELY SHOT! i gasped so hard here i actually hurt my mouth which is still recovering from surgery and so all of us had a bad time around this point. they do toss mulder from the back of a car, though, and deep throat's dying words are to "trust no one"

(so is it really mulder that we have back? if we can trust no one, does that mean someone has hacked into mulder? and scully doesn't know that? that's what i'm guessing here. sort of a winter soldier-ish situation)

13 days later, mulder calls scully in the middle of the night and says the fbi is shutting down the x files and they're being reassigned, but he won't give up, he can't give up. he says someone named "skinner" made this decision. i am unfamiliar with this individual but have a feeling we will become acquainted.

the season ends with the alien being placed in a mysterious room. to this i wrote the following:

"alien baby in formaldehyde in an archive i would kill to get my hands on it let me see it let me see it let me see it NOW"

(i bet they also have JFK's brain in that archive!)

so what a whirlwind of an episode! we certainly can't trust anyone moving forward, but does that apply to the trust between mulder and scully themselves? what will they do now that the x files have been shut down? somehow i have a feeling they will come back, a sort of hunch to do with the 10 more seasons of this show.

will they meet up for coffee during their new assignments? who is skinner? so much awaits us on the other side of this season, but i still need to process all i've seen so far!

[thatanimewriter]

NOM NOM.

➳ request: Yoo, ait so, I have some more fluffy ideas, if you'd like them. (I honestly forgot to send this in so I'm sorry about that-)So, headcanons about Pyrrha or Weiss x gn reader who's love language is biting/physical touch. I was also thinking about a scenario where Pyrrha/Weiss was talking to her friends and then reader just shows up and clings to her while like- just biting softly on her shoulder or smth? And she just- continues the conversation like nothing is happening. (But you don't have to do that if ya don't want to :>)

➳ character/s: pyrrha nikos, weiss schnee

➳ warnings: swearing, one implication of sex (pyrrha)

➳ notes: i personally think that if your partner DOESN’T bite you, you’re not real partners. there. i said it.

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

──  𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐑𝐇𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐒.

maybe she should reconsider her fashion choices.

people are gonna start thinking you’re doing some suspicious things

at least team jnpr are used to it by now cause it happens so often

but anyone else is trying to have a conversation

and they see someone (you) creep up behind her

they try to ignore you, they really do

but then you bite her shoulder, and she doesn’t flinch

just turns around with a

“hello again!”

she would probably try to do it back at some point, but i think she’s doing fine with just cuddles

she’ll leave the biting to you

but if you’re not biting her, you’re holding hands or someone is hugging the other from behind

it’s a bit strange but she got used to it and if you don’t bite her at least once

she’s comin to ask if you’re ok because this is an anomaly

no biting = you’re not ok

──  𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐄𝐄.

definitely a little bit like “wtf-”

this is a very foreign feeling

firstly, affection?? what that??

she only knows the BITTER, DARK TASTE OF NEGLECT

secondly, why biting??

why is that your chosen method of affection??

a lot of pushing you away at first because that’s not affection, just hold her hand like a normal person

but like pyrrha, she just gets used to it eventually

and any time you bite her, it’s now followed up by a big sigh

she probably doesn’t love it, but she can tolerate it because that’s apparently the way you show affection

NEVER do it in front of her family, you’ll both get degraded to shit (to your face) and now she’s officially disowned-

but if you do stop, she’s very SUS of you

not that she’d ever admit it, but she’d be worried because you didn’t bite her or you don’t do it anymore

this by no means she wants you to keep doing it though >:((

she does if it makes you happy n it lets you express yourself properly, even if it’s fuckin WEIRD

[load-theloading-artist]

Hello hello everybody,

It is i, load.

Who is currently dealing with stuff related to that of art, where it is a being a bish.

to compensate, I'm making text posts instead, Hallelujah.

ANYWAY, i have some thoughts

about Mirage...

I feel so bad for Mirage. There was actually a lot of potential for her that wasn't used. 😞

She really could've been used in the story, theres plenty of ways of how. And interactions and scenarios she could've brought. She's a magical cat for crying out loud! An entity known as a spirit by the Daemos! AND APPARENTLY A RARE TYPE OF SPIRIT TOO! Leif said so!

And yet she does nothing. She doesn't even get double digits of screentime, i don't believe.

She ends up serving no purpose to the story. And I consider it a writing crime that the only purpose she had was for MARKETING.

She was used for being turned into a marketable plushie 😭😭😭

--

Additional info that confuses me:

In episode one, where Lady Grandma is the only one left and before the portal closes, She orders Mirage to protect the group, and Mirage goes through the portal.

But this scene implies that Mirage is Lady Grandmas familiar. Or Guardian.

And in episode four, where asch is about to use his fire magic on ava after she provoked him, rhys yells out to him to stop, and wittle bwack cwoud with fwoating eyes knocks the two away from eachother and then stares at them in a corner stwikeing fear into their hwearts...

Oh look its a really gorgeous kitty! (i LOVE Cloud Kitties' design gosh shes beautiful.)

But. The part that then confuses me:

Is neither Asch nor Rhys RECOGNIZE HER.

(I personally dont see it, Asch knowing her, because it seemed he was more embarrassed of showing he thought she was cute, rather than actually knowing her. Idk if it's me not getting social cues, though. Perhaps he was embarrassed to know her? Im not sure why he would be embarrassed, though... this also kinda disproves Her being his familiar that Lady Grandma ordered Instead. theres also additional interactions that are missing to prove this is the case. But back to our scheduled program; )

???

What? What do you mean they don't???

We have implications that she's Lady Grandma's familiar!

And perhaps Asch doesn't know his grandmother very well or isn't as close to her until more recently.

But RHYS OF ALL PEOPLE, her MOST TRUSTED student/disciple, should recognize Mirage!

And yet he doesn't! So Lady Grandma kept mirage a secret from rhys??

Why??

These spirits that tend to become Guardians seem to be general information. It wouldn't be suspicious to have a familiar?

Instead, perhaps a sign of respect, as they seem to respect spirits in general! (This would've been cool worldbuilding, a familiar binding to you being a sign you are someone to respect because they respect you.)

Unless she intended Mirage to be an ace up her sleeve? that not even Rhys could know??

*sigh* Sorry, my logical side of my brain is spiraling.

--

--

Mirage deserved better, and an actual purpose to the story!

Actually, heres some ideas;

SHES the only way Rhys and Lady Grandma could actual communicate. Rather than... that uh.. bathroom scene.. with the mirror.. and..

I uh get the reference to the mirror, alike "oh a mirror is a connection to a different dimension"

But perhaps Mirage could've acted alike the eyes and ears on earth for Lady Grandma, though maybe it leaves Lady Grandma back on daemos in a vulnerable state, so she must do this sparingly (ignoring the whole magic is going extinct bit...)

Perhaps Mirage could've translated Lady Grandma's words to Rhys via something like telepathy. ... basically, Mirage being used as a phone but with video and extra steps.

Additionally, she could've been used to letting Rhys know something has happened to Lady Grandma. That would be a fun scene.

Rhys talking to Mirage or just hanging out with her until the music stops, it goes silent for out of the blue mirage telepathecally speaks her own audible words;

"Danger. Lady Grandma's (life) is in danger."

Hahaha...

Though i like the idea Mirage does not have the ability to speak. But can communicate in something akin to like sandman or sandy from rise of the guardians. (It's a good movie, has some flaws, but it's a good watch.)

Maybe she can, but it's more like audio clippings from things she's heard to communicate.

Or even, with her dreamscape esque design...

She can communicate through dreams. Perhaps Rhys is asleep, but he dreams of Lady Grandma being in danger. Thanks to Mirage!

--

Actually. I would love for her to USE some abilities herself. Ya know?

Maybe she can make people fall asleep.

And so maybe Asch gets too violent at some point, and she just kinda.. knocks him out. With her tail like a baseball ba-(im jk)

Perhaps she can lay on someone and purr, and her purr magically heals people~

Maybe she can create illusions. Who knows!

But please, she deserved to be a proper character apart of the story instead of a tension breaker or marketable plushie... *sigh*

Anyway, apologies for my rambling. I just... i have SO many thoughts related to My Inner Demons. And i plan to one day speak about it in full (but possibly still in parts) when i am able to.

[cantsayidont]

June 1988. 1988 was an extremely ugly year at DC, marked by gratuitous brutality on nearly every front. Not content with his vile take on Krypton in the WORLD OF KRYPTON miniseries (which could be summarized as "sci-fi blood libel"), John Byrne took the time to explain unequivocally that the ugly nativist implications of MAN OF STEEL were no accident.

In this issue, illustrated by Mike Mignola and Karl Kesel, Superman returns to Krypton with the help of Hawkman and Hawkwoman, and finds that it's now a planet-shaped mass of highly radioactive Kryptonite debris. Determined to search for "some trace, some artifact remaining of the race that bred me," Superman borrows a Thanagarian battlesuit and ventures out into the debris field, where the overwhelming radiation causes him to hallucinate an alternate reality where Jor-El found a way for the people of Krypton to survive their world's destruction and emigrate to Earth. This fantasy is narrated in the first person by Jor-El (in the form of excerpts from an imaginary journal), presenting a horrifying, frankly fascistic vision of malevolent immigrants, evil mothers, and populist genocide.

If you've read MAN OF STEEL, much less WORLD OF KRYPTON, it will not surprise you to learn that Superman's fantasy of Kryptonian survival and emigration very quickly turns ugly. As Jor-El's imaginary journal narrates:

In pop culture, the alien invasion story typically represents the fear of the violence of settler colonialism coming home to roost in the imperial core, and you could hardly ask for a more textbook example than this: The refugees from Krypton begin (re)building their own civilization over inhabited human cities, while relegating humans to reservations or concentration camps. Such a fantasy also fuels the delusion of self-indigenization, where settlers appropriatively define themselves as indigenous to the lands they or their ancestors have stolen. This is of course primarily a white fantasy; while the post-reboot Superman books did introduce a few Black and Latino characters, note that there's not a single person of color visible among the humans being interned. Note also that Byrne takes the opportunity to restate the fascistic thesis presented in MAN OF STEEL — that Kryptonian culture is corrupt because Kryptonians have "lived all their lives in isolation, denying their physical beings" in favor of technology and modernity.

That's not all, though. For one, you'll notice that Jor-El also describes as suspect the decision of some of his fellow immigrants "to live apart … to keep themselves aloof from the citizenry of our adopted world"; he acknowledges that the settler colonialism is worse, but he regards cultural self-isolation as inherently bad in its own right. Also, note that the Kryptonians rename Metropolis "New Kandor." As Byrne was most certainly aware, in pre-Crisis Superman lore, Kandor was the former capital of Krypton, stolen and shrunk by Brainiac and later recovered by Superman, who kept the bottled city in his Fortress of Solitude until he was able to find a way to permanently enlarge it. Kandor was, fairly explicitly, a Kryptonian ghetto: a closed Kryptonian community with rigidly defined borders, delimited both physically and by a set of complicated rules about who could enter or leave (and how), within which Kryptonian culture continued more or less as it had for centuries. What Byrne is saying here is that such (literally) ghettoized communities are intrinsically suspicious — that the inability or unwillingness to assimilate is categorically indicative of malign intent. The only virtuous decision for an immigrant or refugee, then, is to choose total and unconditional assimilation, as Superman does at the end of MAN OF STEEL and Jor-El subsequently does here:

Moreover, it's not enough for Jor-El to simply choose to become an Earthman (and implicitly an American); he must also "stand against [his] own race." As the fantasy continues, Jor-El creates synthetic Kryptonite and kills thousands of Kryptonians, forcing many of the survivors to flee into space. Since all of this is a hallucination in Superman's head, the version of Jor-El here represents Superman essentially imagining himself in his father's place, but in case that wasn't clear enough:

Jor-El does not, so far as we're shown, actually don the Superman costume, but he has expressly taken on that role, which in this case means becoming an explicitly genocidal populist champion. This is not hyperbole: Jor-El "rallies the people" against the evil Kryptonian elite as he carries out "the slaughter of a race."

The final conversation between Jor-El and Lara in the first issue of MAN OF STEEL had painted Lara in a rather negative light; while Jor-El is valorized for his rejection of Kryptonian values, Lara recoils from a vision of the "savage" people of Earth and hopes that their son will show them "proper Kryptonian ways." The unsavory connotations of that conversation (to which Superman could not possibly have been privy) play out even more explicitly in the climax of this fantasy:

In short, Lara becomes the ultimate embodiment of almost everything bad about Byrne's reimagined Krypton. This plays almost like a throwback to the pop psychology of the 1950s and early 1960s (when Byrne was a child), which held that the maternal role had to be carefully regulated, since over-mothering could be just as psychologically damaging as maternal neglect. Perhaps the ultimate satirical exponent of that philosophy in pop culture terms is THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE, but it was a common piece of conventional wisdom, expressed here without irony. Lara's final act of villainy is the corruption of Kal-El himself, since in this fantasy, Jor-El has not been able to "save" their son from Kryptonian degeneracy. (Note also that Byrne restates once again his revisionist contention that Kal-El was conceived on Krypton, but actually born on Earth.)

While Jor-El is not wearing a Superman costume in these pages, he is wearing a costume of sorts, an outfit that evokes both Doc Savage and Hugo Danner, the hero of Philip Wylie's influential 1930 novel GLADIATOR, two pre-Superman supermen of the 1930s. Around the same time this issue was published, Roy Thomas was integrating GLADIATOR (which had entered the public domain) into DC continuity in YOUNG ALL-STARS, whose central character Arn "Iron" Munro was Hugo Danner's son. (Munro's usual outfit was a black T-shirt over white trousers, the inverse of what Jor-El wears here.)

Jor-El's scream of anguish marks Superman's return to consciousness, so the fantasy ends at this point, and the Hawks help Superman return to their ship. Superman then provides the following summation of what we've just seen:

Since Superman's fantasy was a hallucination induced by radiation poisoning, one could potentially shrug off its ugliness as just a bad dream, but Superman rejects that, saying, "I'm afraid my vision was accurate," at least in its moral and political implications.

Of course, the principal authorial intent here is to reject and dismiss the Superman continuity Byrne had recently erased, in particular the previous Kryptonian diaspora, but the thesis of this story is perfectly consistent with mainstream American, Canadian, and European attitudes on immigration: Any immigrants or refugees must assimilate, promptly and completely, and those who don't, for whatever reason, represent a dire threat to the polity that must be met with expulsion or annihilation. If the number and/or nature of the immigrants does not allow for prompt assimilation, lethal violence — up to and including genocide — is not only appropriate, but a moral imperative for the survival of the imperial state and/or the "white race" [sic]. There are many people in the real world who expressly believe that, so it's not necessarily surprising to see it expressed so bluntly in a Superman comic, but it is very ugly.

This story was unfortunately not the end of it, so far as Byrne and Superman were concerned. While the fantasy sequence here amounts to Superman picturing himself as his father, the heroically genocidal champion of an imagined reality, it is still just a fantasy, even within the context of the superhero comic narrative. It therefore leaves unanswered (at least for Byrne) the question of whether Superman would actually be willing to commit murder and/or genocide to protect the Earth from others of his kind.

Since Byrne had taken pains to ensure that there were no other living Kryptonians — the only other was the Superboy of the Pocket Universe created to reconcile MAN OF STEEL with the Legion of Super-Heroes, who was already dead — he was obliged to invent some for the purpose. About three months after this issue appeared, Byrne's final storyline (in SUPERMAN #21, ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN #444, and SUPERMAN #22) introduced three facsimiles of pre-Crisis Phantom Zone villains in the Pocket Universe, whom Superman finally executes after they have completely depopulated the Pocket Universe's Earth (also conveniently ensuring that that world couldn't be used to provide any kind of end runs around post-Crisis continuity, and giving Byrne the opportunity to grind his heel on the earlier Superman mythos one more time).

With that story, the reactionary throughline Byrne had begun in MAN OF STEEL was complete, establishing not only that Superman was now a true-blue, American-born native hero, but also that he was willing to kill other Kryptonian survivors to defend his adoptive white Gentile American culture. "Yikes" doesn't begin to cover it, I'm afraid.

[nikofortuna]

JTTW Chapter 9 Thoughts

Chapter Nine for the @journeythroughjourneytothewest Reading Group! TW: mention of suicide under the cut, so the same as the actual chapter.

There is a lot of openly crying in this one! By men too, which is very refreshing to read compared to a bunch of modern stuff.

First up I do quite like how government officials aren’t necessarily chosen through nepotism or the like, but instead everyone genuinely has to study so when they become an official they have already proven smart and also have a good amount of knowledge to do their work well. Additionally theoretically everyone has a chance to get a government position as they aren’t barred by status from studying and taking the exam. It’s not a perfect system by all means, but it’s pretty decent all things considered!

Chen Guangrui had the fastest meet-cute to marriage ever, huh. He’s really chill with it too and I suppose this was somewhat common back then. Though for the comedy of it I can imagine him with a bunch of question marks around his head when he gets hit with the ball and led inside the residence. Was he considering that he got knocked out by that ball and dreaming this at any point? Probably not, but it’s still amusing to consider.

Scientific accuracies abound! A fish or snake blinking would indeed be a sign of them being extraordinary, because neither should be able to blink! They don’t have movable eyelids.

A few interesting notes from the German translation. The Hong River or Hongjiang [洪江] literally translates to ‘flooding river’ and the relation to water may implicate the flow of live and destiny. Also Liu Hong has the same character for Hong in his name as the river! Symbolically he ‘floods’ the family’s life with misfortune.

The J.F. Jenner translation calls the incense ring a sandalwood bracelet and so does the German translation, which is rather neat. While the original Chinese doesn’t specify sandalwood from what I could gather, this kind of wood can indeed be used for incense so it does make sense in that regard. Plus it ties back into Xuanzang later! I assume that is why they chose to translate it that way.

Though I find it a little bit suspicious, perhaps a little shellfish, that the Dragon King just keeps Chen Guangrui to work for him without even checking in with his family at all let alone making sure that they are fine, but essentially just leaving them to suffer. He knows they are in trouble because of the bandits too! So he really has no excuse there.

Poor Yin Wenjiao had to have some serious mental health problems after the whole ordeal that happened to her, otherwise her taking the out after all makes no sense. Nobody blames her for anything, which they openly and clearly communicated to her, and she technically gets back everything that had been taken from her down to her husband which is a legit miracle.

She mentioned before that she wanted to atone for things to her husband by ending her life, but I doubt her husband now alive again would have ever signed off on that, so this had to have been at least partially an excuse in her mind from the start.

This ending was actually omitted from the German translation! In there it basically just says she lived happily ever after, which I might actually prefer simply due to how little the book delves into Yin Wenjiao’s psyche and kind of just waves her away in that regard.

Lastly Sun Wukong continues to feel like the main character in comparison to the scripture pilgrim. This chapter was more a backstory of Xuanzang’s family, but not as much of himself. Meanwhile Sun Wukong was at the centre of his multi-chapter backstory at every turn.

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 9- Part 4

YOU!!!! 

IT WAS YOU WHO STOLE THE MAGIKARP FROM THE ORIGINAL THIEF!!! You’re the reason Xera lost out on another 500 Pokémon Dollars and was too stricken with Silent Protag Syndrome to get the overall 1000 back!! Ooooh, now I wish I had beaten this guy’s team even harder!!

Gosh!! Dangit!! Well- guess this means North Obsidia Ward’s where we’ll be going after this little story arc is done with…

Anyways, I healed up at the second Light Shard, the one on the roof, and now we can explore some more. Can I least see if there’s anything here to take in return for the thievery?

Yeah, this is a fair trade for a Magikarp, totally.

Found this too, though.

Ooh, that says “Yureyu”- so this was another Yureyu facility, huh? I wonder if that means there will be something even more interesting in there. But first, let’s see the rest of this space.

Oh hey, those can heal Burned Pokémon. Despite the large area, there doesn’t seem to be anything else hidden, unless I missed something.

But there is this, though- that’s a suspiciously-placed box if I’ve ever seen one. Interacting it with it should do something, right?

Aha! That boxed moved, like the one from before! And now we can go into this…I’m guessing it’s the second elevator!

Don’t worry about this other box, it’s nothing.

Let’s see where this leads on the other floors (though I think I already have an idea)...

Aha, I knew it! Now then, let’s just see what this other item here is-

A Net Ball- hm, okay. Good to have in case we need to catch a Water- or Bug-type. I could have Xera be mean and try to talk to the guy, but…nah, we’ll be stealthy, let’s leave him be.

Now we go to 2F, and I have a sneaking suspicion where this will lead too- let’s see if I’m two for two.

I was. :) 

Though, the TM being Quash, of all things…it’s a neat move, but I'm not sure I'm skilled enough to pull off good strategies with it. Still, we have it, and now we can progress further! Into the Yureyu place!

There was another moving box- gosh, there sure are a lot of these cropping up. I don’t think I like the implications of this…

Oh, Silcoon? This isn’t dangerous- its Defense may be fine enough, but it’s nothing against Gust!

I…think we can just keep Breeze in for this.

Round two of Gust gaming, let’s see it!!

THE AUDACITY??? That Seedot didn’t even use, like, Endure or anything, and it didn’t have anything like a Focus Sash either! How does that even happen!? I swear, for that Seedot to survive, it was probably like a…1-2% chance or something, VERY unlikely…

Welp, guess we’ll just have to Quick Attack to finish it.

I don’t even know what could be causing those moving boxes in the first place- but I hope it’s another event Pokémon!

Previous

Next

[scarletkilometers]

Seven Snippet Sunday

it’s monday afternoon but I wouldn’t worry about that. tagged by @bumblerhizal-art, tagging @guzmascanary, @cryptidpiers, & anyone else who wants to do this. taken from various in-progress pokemon fics

1) I Just Wanted To Illustrate A Headcanon About Possession And Delayed Amnesia And Now I’m Researching Folk Medicine, How Did I End Up Here

You turn your attention to the hearth where you’ve left a soup broth bubbling for your guest; kelp and dried fish, something simple and nourishing that he should be able to keep down even if his stomach isn’t cooperating. You leave it be and go about preparing an herbal tea to soothe his fever as well as any pain he might be in. Lady Sneasler sniffs the curling steam and recoils, giving you an offended look that can most politely be interpreted as You're not seriously feeding him that, are you?

"Oh, pardon me, I didn't realize you’d become an expert in herbal remedies. I've seen you eat Stunky carrion, My Lady, don't go acting like you have some kind of refined palate." Lady Sneasler gives a mollified sniff and stations herself at the head of the stranger’s cot.

2) Fun Times With Outsider POVs

You're about 6 inches from the door when someone calls out "Excuse me!" You turn to see a shy-looking girl jump up from the bench and follow you to the door. Your immediate impression of this girl is paaale, from her flax-colored hair to her all-white outfit to her suspiciously pristine shoes. 

"You were able to beat the gym leader, right?" She points at the Cerulean gym badge pinned to the strap of your bag. "That means you're strong, right?" 

"Sure, I guess so." You shrug. It's only your second badge so far, but if she wants to flatter you, you're not going to stop her.

"Then would you mind having a battle with me? I need more practice." The girl enunciates very carefully, and speaks with a noticeable accent. Probably foreign, then. 

3) Lunch Time With Selene And The Champion Of Alola

"It's some bullshit that Goli can't learn U-Turn, though," he grumbles. "Fuckin' obscene is what it is." 

"You gonna do League Regulation about it?" You half-tease. You take the basket and start helping yourself to the fried squash. "You're the law until I feel like taking my title back, and all. 'Can he get all the paperwork processed before being ultimately dethroned?' Think of the new layer of challenge that would add--"

"Shaddup, brat." He yanks the basket away and starts rooting around for any onion pieces you've left behind. "Pretty sure it don't work like that. You can't exactly regulate a Goldeen into bein' able to use Fire Punch, you dig?" 

"You can if you're not a weenie!" Guzma beans a piece of eggplant off your forehead. "Fi-i-i-ine, but does Kukui know you know that?" 

There is a moment of thoughtful silence before a wicked grin spreads across his face. "I think I'm gonna have to give the Professor a call after this."

4) The Existential Implications of Parasect

There might be Parasect in Galar somewhere, but if there are, they wouldn’t be anywhere near Spikemuth. So this is the first chance you’ve ever had to get familiar with one. You're struck suddenly by its eyes; what you’d taken from a distance to be cataracts is actually a film of fuzzy, fibrous growth that completely covers the creature’s eyestalks. managing the family grocery budget and making sure there was always good food in the house, recoils in horror. Mold! That’s mold, you idiot! You shut it right up. It’s not a strawberry that’s gone past its sell-by date, it’s a pokemon, and it belongs to your very good friend. Even if it is a creepy little thing.

“Cute, ain’t he?” Guzma sighs, touching his cheek to yours. 

5) Real Cahoots Will Change Your Life

It is far from a secret that the two of you came from another time and place, but there are many aspects of that experience that you simply do not refer to in mixed company. In some cases your shared status as outsiders allows others to overlook social missteps, and in others, it is an excuse to look at them twice as hard. There are feelings you don't acknowledge, opinions you do not voice, because doing so in mixed company would serve no purpose but to emphasize that you are not truly one of them. The atmosphere it creates is as oppressive as a hand on your throat. And for the two of you, strangers in a strange land, mixed company is thus far the only kind you've had. 

That, you suppose, is why you said yes. It is a kind of loneliness that cuts straight to the bone, and persists even as you find yourself surrounded by people.

6) I’m Pretty Sure This Is How Everyone Reacts To Seeing Leon For The First Time

The guy’s about Kukui’s height with a pretty similar build, but where Kukui is attractive in a relatively ordinary way, this guy is—there’s no other word for it—boy band pretty, with miles of shiny purple hair and absurdly sparkly gold eyes. He looks like a Disney princess and he’s wearing lime green running shorts and an awful tacky souvenir tee-shirt that reads Hulbury Aquarium over its stretched-out decal in giant orange letters. What the fucking fuck.

You know you’ve been staring too long when he clears his throat and asks “Are you alright?” His brows are creased slightly with concern. Fuck, those eyes. How are they so expressive? You force your jaw shut and try to come up with something non-obnoxious to say.

“Yeah, m’fine.” You are not fine, you’ve got twigs in your hair, dirt all down your front—that shirt was white, fuck your hot life—the pokemon you wanted to catch is long gone, and you’re apparently too brain-scrambled to manage complete sentences in the presence of the most stupidly pretty person you’ve seen in the last ever. Fuck this trip, you’re going home.

7) Cyrus Goes to Space & is Only 75% as Much of an Asshole

It’s night when you finally arrive on the island of Melemele, which suits you both just fine. After so long in the dark and gloom of the Ultra Beasts’s domains, the daylight of this world is like a sawblade to the eyes. While you have every intention of fulfilling your promise of delivering your companion back to his team, it quickly becomes apparent that neither of you are in any condition to do so. You’ve both been away from this world for weeks and you need to readjust, to light, to noise, to being in a world with people in it. Guzma is faring much worse than you in that regard. Even the minimal amount of human contact he had to endure on the voyage left him overwhelmed and glassy-eyed. You have no idea how long he had been in those dark, smothering caves prior to your arrival; you never asked.

[mars-tamriel-explorer]

In the Middle of the Night, in the Middle of the Woods

  The three of them make their way out of the tavern and into the warm, humid night in silence as they head towards Ravenna and Kaidan's bounty. Lucien stays quiet for about three miles before he starts asking questions.

"By the way, what are your names?"

"Ravenna."

"Kaidan."

"Ah, Kaidan. That's an unusual name. Where are you from, if you don't mind my asking?" He asks.

"I wish I knew," says Kaidan, "But I'm trying to find out."

"Ah, wonderful. And where, exactly, are we going at the moment?"

"For a drink," Ravenna returns, glancing back at him and letting her ruby eyes show. The implication is enough to silence him for the rest of the journey.

                                                            ~~~

"Eugh. I don't think I'll ever get used to that," Lucien says as he watches Ravenna pulls her teeth out of the exsanguinated corpse.

"Ditto," she says.

"Well, what next? Do you two have a plan?" he asks as Kaidan returns from dealing with the other bandit upstairs. "Riften," he tells Lucien, "We discussed it earlier. The Thieves' Guild, if they're still around, will be a good option to help make sure our tracks are covered."

"I still want to check out the Evergreen Grove before we leave the area," Ravenna adds, "Just remember not to pick the flowers there, lest we agitate the Spriggans."

"Are you sure that's wise? We're running out of moonlight," Lucien points out.

"Won't take but a moment. I just want to look at the alchemist," she says.

"Wasn't he in the middle of the pool?" Kaidan points out.

"Yes, but I can walk on water," she explains.

"How though?" Lucien asks.

"Rare vampiric blessing," Ravenna shrugs. So they go and let her look at the alchemist, and while she doesn't find anything interesting on him, something interesting does find them. As Kaidan and Lucien (especially Lucien) stand stock-still among the wandering Spriggans, a new, feminine voice cheerfully greets them.

"Hello! Are you three lost?"

All eyes turn to the speaker, a small and round-faced Bosmer woman with vibrant orange auburn hair.

"Uhh … No," Ravenna replies as she walks back across the pool towards her companions, entirely forgetting that walking on the surface of the water isn't extraordinarily normal behavior, "We're just exploring off the beaten path a bit."

"Ooh! Are you adventurers?" The Bosmer asks.

"No."

"Not exactly-"

"Yes!"

Ravenna and Kaidan both shoot Lucien annoyed looks for that, but the Bosmer just giggles.

"Do you folks know Skyrim very well?" the Bosmer asks. Lucien shrugs and Kaidan shakes his head, but Ravenna affirms.

"Like the back of my hand, actually. I grew up here," she says.

"Is that so? I don't suppose your group has room for one more?" The Bosmer questions, "I could use someone to show me around this cold, unfamiliar place. I'm a good archer too, so I could help watch your backs in return. What do you say?"

"Weeeeeell..."

"Um, see-"

"About that," the three of them all start at once.

"Is there some sort of problem?" The Bosmer asks, "I can find others to travel with, if so."

"That might be for the best, Miss -" Ravenna begins.

"Auri," The bosmer supplies.

"Auri. Sorry but we are on a fairly particular schedule right now I'm afraid. I'd hate to inconvenience you," she finishes, but Auri just quirks one copper-orange brow at Ravenna.

"You mean wandering around in the woods after midnight?" Auri points out coyly.

"Er, yes?" Ravenna tries.

"But you're not doing anything suspicious. In the middle of the night, in the middle of the woods, right next to a corpse adrift in the pond?" Auri asks with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Lucien and Kaidan pale at this. Ravenna might be paling too, but she can't get any lighter than her regular skin tone. Auri blinks her large brown eyes at the trio like the cat that got the canary.

"Oh, just come on," Lucien relents when Ravenna and Kaidan have run out of evasive replies

"Wonderful!" their apparent new ally declares all too cheerfully.

"We have got to stop getting in situations like this," Ravenna suggests.

"Agreed," Lucien and Kaidan declare unanimously.

[its-kelsier-again]

Chapter 46-56

Well, I lost all my thoughts from chapters 41 to 45 after restarting my phone. Somehow, despite saving it and not touching it for hours before I did the restart.

Some of the thoughts I managed to remember and from the next section of the book are under the cut.

Uh, really I was loving Steris in chapter 43 (and pretty much everywhere she appears in) and speculating that she may have a connection to Autonomy due to showing boldness in her PoV chapters. Also, I was worried we wouldn't see her again after Wax leaves to help Marasi and Wayne, but I'm so we did.

I'm a bit curious if Wax and Marasi have their own "clones" from the Set. If Wayne does, I think Wax certainly does, though I don't know if Marasi's important enough to them to create someone to match her.

I was also suspicious of the Set's motivations and goals after chapter 44 and 45. Like, are they really going to blow up Elendel or do they have other things they're trying to accomplish? Things aren't as simple as they seem, I think

Chapter 46 I wonder if the tunnel connects with the one Marasi and her group is in.

Unless that's supposed to lead us into a false sense of security

Oh my god, Wayne set a house on fire. That's kinda hilarious. And it's not even the first building he's set on fire. Of course not

Oh that's interesting. Telsin and the Set faked evidence to make taking over easier. That actually sounds like a good idea. Implicate the people the Basian already hates and take power immediately under the guise of the reluctant greater good or whatever.

Chapter 47 Connection between aether and sand mastery?

Is Shai watching Hoid? I kinda love that. I also wonder why she can't go home. Is it because of the events in The Emperor's Soul?

It seems the Set may know about Awakening due to talk about a Command. Oh and they know about a broken Spirit Web. Cool. It seems they're very Cosmere aware in general.

As if we didn't need it to be super obvious that Gave was a villain.

The Scadrial Ghostbloos are VERY different from the Roshar Ghostbloods. Not just in how they treat each other, but I couldn't see Mraize and his people saving the prisoners.

Chapter 48 I think is some set up for Era 3 with Daal taking the drained Bands of Mourning.

Varlance doesn't have much of a backbone, but at least he's doing his job.

Chapter 49 I change my mind. While I think Wayne (and maybe Marasi) is the most likely to die, I don't think so now because Wax found Wayne "blessedly alive" in chapter 46 and he was just shot and survived.

Okay, but during the fight with the clones, it keeps focusing on how the metal mines are draining quickly. Hm.

That was a really good chapter. I loved that fight, it was so good.

Chapter 51 I wonder if Shai can go to and from Shadesmar using her stamps.

Chapter 52 I'm getting worried about Wayne again...

Chapter 53 Great, are those horrifying things from Shadows of Self back? And yes, appearently it is. These things sound terrifying and I wonder if we'll see them in Era 3.

I'm very curious to see what this soulstamp does.

Chapter 54 Did Shai just become an Elantrian?! Yup. She did.

Chapter 55 And Autonomy appears, appearently!

Not Wax buying alcohol from a shop he just help destroy.

Chapter 56 Well this is weird. Who are these people, and are they friend or foe?

Oh. These people think the outside world is destroyed. Is that why the Set has those set and film?

Wow. So that was an interesting chapter.

[firebirdsdaughter]

Things that bother me…

… I need to vent a little bc I feel really ill now, but, random salt:

I find it a little ‘hm’ that all the ‘good’ henshin items were weapons for humans and all the ‘bad’ henshin items were the ones about empowering HumaGear. Like, the RaidRiser got treated as ‘misguided’ eventually, but the ZetsumeRisers were treated as ‘evil’ through and through. The ForceRisers were depicted negatively, none of mbjr used them while ‘good’ it was a ‘big deal’ when Aruto used one in the movie. The SlashRiser seems to have been made for humans initially/was to ‘repurpose’ Jin (bc I refuse to accept that Yotagaki did not see him as a tool, not w/ his ‘kill the abuse victim’ bs). Giving humans weapons to destroy ‘unruly’ HumaGear was depicted as ‘good’ while HumaGear gaining the power to fight was depicted as ‘evil’ or at least needing to be ‘repurposed.’ Literally an issue that could have been resolved by giving Izu a Driver, but I correctly guessed they were never going to do that. As much as I have complicated feelings about Izu, missed opportunity.

Another large thing that bothers me about Naki getting a wolf Key is that literally no one else got the same animal. They literally only got that Key so that they could give it to Fuwa later. Putting aside my other opinions about how that was written (aka that I don’t think that relationship had anywhere near enough development for any of that), it’s really glaring. Gai gives Yua a different Key to use w/ the RaidRiser to ‘clearly establish’ her connection to ZAIA, but it’s not another beetle Key. Jin was heavily connected to Horobi, was labeled as his son before he transformed, but they didn’t give him another scorpion Key or even an arachnid Key. No one else got the same animal. Like… They couldn’t even be bothered to just use a different canine? Yua used the Jackal Key! That would have been fine. Additionally, this was the Ark giving it to them, who hates humans. Why the fuck would the Ark give them a Key matching that of a human? Like, the fact that this is the only case of two characters having the same animal is just… Just really comes across as Naki not being their own person or character, that they were just a plot device wedged in for Fuwa. Which he didn’t need? At least not like that? Like… The implications just bother me? They still could have done them lending him the Key if it wasn’t a wolf? Like… Esp w/ all his insistence that he’s the wolf guy… It’s… Really uncomfortable implications for me. It’s not cute. It’s part of why I was really expecting the writing to make them his new ‘assistant’ and put them basically in the exact same place they were before. Like, yes, I’m personally a bit sour on that relationship bc it got shoehorned in in place of my favourite relationship, I’m still mad about the writers just dropping Horobi and Fuwa completely outside of Okada (bless him) changing a line. I would have still whined about my fave relationship going out of focus, but even the slightest follow up… But the point is, branding Naki w/ a wolf Key just… Feels like the nail on the coffin of them having no point other than giving it to Fuwa later. Like… The fact that literally no one else in the show, no matter their close relationships, ever has the exact same animal… There were other extinct animals they could have used that could still result in a similar suit. The sea mink. A bear. I would still have preferred snake bc that was Nakayama’s suggestion and I think they are absolutely right. But the fact is, it’s just really… It stands out that Naki’s just ‘an extension’ of Fuwa. Rather than giving them a wolf Key, maybe… Actually make them and Fuwa acknowledge each other when they’re not onscreen? That would have gone a lot further for me than just handing them a wolf Key to ‘establish’ their connection. You shouldn’t need to give two characters the same motif to prove their ‘connected.’ Literally no other connected characters in the show have the exact same animal. Gai wanted to be Aruto, basically, but he didn’t make another grasshopper Key. He did make another insect Key, sure, but they didn’t do that, they gave Naki the exact same animal. Like I said, even just a different extinct canine. The Japanese otter. There’s a little creature known as a flying fox that humans made extinct. Owls. It didn’t need to be a wolf. And the fact that no one else got the same animal, even when they were literal family, makes it really ridiculous to me.

[oddaodd]

· Wailing Teapots ·

Summary: When Tommy begins suspecting of Y/n's true allegiances he goes and questions her in her apartment only to discover a dark secret. (Angst/Fluff)

Warnings: Implications of abuse. (Nothing too graphic but just in case).

Author's note: I'm back! It feels so good to write again! My life has been a bit hectic lately, but I hope I can continue to make time for my writing because it honestly feels like coming back home after the most exhausting of voyages. Anyhow I hope y'all enjoy this and have the loveliest of days. ❤️

·

Three strong knocks on the door stole Y/n’s attention from the live fire burning in her fireplace. With quiet feet she tiptoed to the door and placed her hand on the doorknob and stood still hoping to hear something that could tell her who it was behind the door, but she could only hear her own heartbeat beating violently in her ribcage as she held her breath.

She slightly hated herself for being afraid, but she couldn’t not be afraid, not with all the letters that had been delivered to her home.

“I know you’re in there Y/n”

As soon as she recognized the voice as Tommy’s, she finally breathed again before partly opening the door a weak smile gracing her features when she took in the sight of him. Before she could ask him what he was doing there he pushed the door open and allowed himself inside.

The smile vanished from her face in an instant and she quickly closed the door. There was something different about him, something that made the hairs on her arms stand up in trepidation. His eyes didn’t look like they had done a few nights prior when he took Y/n to the outskirts of town for a walk. The kind of walk in which one shares the kind of conversations that makes people grow closer together, the kind of walk which ends with a gentle kisses and fleeting touches.

“This is a nice place” he commented taking off his peaky cap, not even sparing Y/n a glance as he began walking slowly through the apartment which though small and plain held a considerable amount of expensive yet tasteful looking knick knacks that brightened up the whole place despite the old furniture that had beed there when Y/n first moved in.

“You couldn’t have waited for a formal invitation, could you?” She asked in a light tone still standing by the door, in the hope that it could change Tommy’s odd aura, but he ignored her question all together

“Almost too nice, wouldn’t you agree?” He asked picking up a vase and examining it before finally turning to look at Y/n.

“Tommy?” She asked, not really knowing why was he acting so strange.

“I know I pay you fair wages” he began, putting the vase down fixing his eyes on the fireplace where small traces of burnt paper rested “but I highly doubt you were able to make yourself of such an array of treasures with what I pay you.”

“All of this came with me from America.” She said feeling like she ought to explain herself and though her answer was an honest one, Tommy didn’t seem convinced, nevertheless, he hummed in mocking understanding before clearing his throat .

“Aren’t you gonna offer me tea?”

“Sure…where are my manners?” she said with a nervous laugh before walking to where her stove was and putting a kettle on.

Tommy followed her closely and drew a chair from her flimsy kitchen table before sitting down and taking notice of her shaky hands as she tied around a bit in the kitchen with her back to him as he sat on her favorite chair.

“Wish you had told me you were coming, I would have..”she began as she opened her pantry to put away some bread.

“You’ve been burning letters” he interrupted, not being able to shake off the image of the paper remains.

Y/n stilled for a moment before closing her pantry, thing which he noticed.

“Yeah, I don’t have the room to keep every single letter I get ” Y/n said, a defensiveness lingering softly in her words.

“I agree” Tommy said in a cold tone “specially when you are getting so many of them. Paul tells me he delivers at least 10 a week here” he continued, referring to the mailman who after being questioned by Tommy forgot all about post confidentiality.

“They are my mother’s” Y/n stuttered out.

The teapot then wailed, making her jump slightly before going to remove it from the stove and finally turning around to go and pour Tommy a cup.

“Right” Tommy said, his eyes not leaving Y/n’s figure as she poured the tea.

“Yeah, she’s ever so passionate about plants, been telling me all a-a-about her new greenhouse.” She continued pressured by Tommy’s heavy stare and silence.

Tommy offered a small cynical smile that Y/n didn’t see, she didn’t want to look at him. She felt like crying for she realized just then how suspicious she looked.

The sound of the chair being drawn again teased at Y/N’s ears, forcing her to look up at Tommy who was calmly walking towards her. She had never been afraid of him, but she couldn’t help but back away as he inched closer to her, her eyes widening.

“Who is Clyde Attenborough?” He asked producing another letter from his pocked like the many ones Y/n had been receiving for a while now. Same stamps and everything.

Color drained from her face at the sight of the letter and she found herself unable to produce an answer as her back came in soft contact with her pantry.

“What does he know? He asked.

“Where I live” Y/n whispered sorrowfully as a tear finally slipped down her cheek. Her eyes being for mercy.

“What have you been telling him?”

“Nothing” she answered truly.

“I bet he pays generously to know how the company works”

“I swear im not working for anyone else” Y/n stuttered, finally understanding why Tommy was so suspicious. Being his secretary, she knew plenty about the skeletons the family kept.

“Then why are you crying?” He pressed.

“Because you’re scaring me.”

Her words seemed to have an effect on Tommy for he immediately backed away, throwing the letter on the table, his back to her.

”I’m not gonna hurt you” he stated, beating himself up for corralling Y/n like that. His voice much less menacing than mere seconds ago. “Who is Clyde Attenborough?”

“I haven’t been honest with you” she finally confessed sniffing. To hell with everything.

At this Tommy turned around to look at her an unpleasant mix of emotions swimming in his eyes.

“Im married” she sobbed “Clyde’s my husband”

For the first time in a long time, Tommy was caught off guard.

“I came to Small Heath because I ran away from him, I figured he’d never find me but..” She said taking the letter in her shaky hands as if the thing were to blow off in any given second “I guess I was wrong. I-I don’t know how he found me”

She shifted her teary gaze from the letter to a shocked Tommy “I swear im not passing information” she chuckled sadly, the knot in her throat choking her a little.

Tommy stood glued in the same spot, not knowing what to do. His world had come crashing down when he began suspecting of Y/n’s alliances after Polly suggested he look into it. A pretty American girl, moving to a grey English town, taking up a job that was exhausting at best. It reminded him a little too much of Grace.

Now that he knew the truth , he didn’t feel any better.

“Is he dangerous?” He found himself asking after a few seconds of silence.

Y/n sniffed as she walked to her fireplace “I wouldn’t have left if he wasn’t” she said as she threw the letter into the crackling flames.

“Is he in Birmingham?”

“He keeps writing that he’ll come get me if I don’t go back, but im not sure” she answered.

Tommy fought the urge to go up to her and take her in his arms and instead put his peaky cap back on before heading for the door.

“I’m sorry” he whispered before stepping out of her place, The guilt of intimidating her in her own house gnawing at his insides and the newfound anger her husband created present on his drive home.

The next day Y/n noticed as she peeped out the window two men, both in peaky caps standing at the entrance of her apartment complex.

Three more days passed and Y/n was again surprised tby the sound of three knocks on her door as she read one evening.

“Its me, Y/N” Tommy’s voice flowed through the door shortly after the knocks.

Y/n quickly got off her couch and made her way to open the door. Her eyes falling on Tommy’s apologetic features.

“It’s dealt with” he said in all seriousness. The thick accent she loved so much vibrating through her ears.

As soon as she registered what Tommy had just said she let out a strained breath, her lips turned into a tired smile and a lone tear slipped out her misty eyes.

“Wanna come in?” She asked after a few seconds, feeling happier than she had felt for days.

“Is this a formal invitation?” He asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips, relieved that his antics from a few days prior hadn’t maimed Y/n´s trust.

At his question she just smiled, looking at him lovingly before taking hold of his hand and pulling him into her apartment before pressing her lips to his in a soft yer passionate manner. Without breaking the kiss, Tommy then closed the door.

·

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @writeroutoftime @babylooneytoonz @lilymurphy03 @slytherinicequeen

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

A new servant desperately struggles to understand what exactly Merlin is:

A cryptid? Arthur's boyfriend? Simply a dude? The court jester? Something else entirely? Who knows, certainly not the new guy.

The first time the new kitchen-hand, Tristan, saw The King’s dark-haired servant sprinting down the corridor, he couldn’t tell if the man was laughing or crying.

He was fast, faster than Tristan thought possible for someone whose arms were so full of laundry, but he politely steps out of the way, coming to the conclusion that he must’ve been late for something. At least... he did think that, until he turns the next corner to see three of The king’s most trusted knights peering out of windows and into random doors. Tristan freezes in the corridor, he’d heard that servants were treated extremely well here, but he’d only been employed for a few days and he didn’t want to risk anything by pushing past or addressing his betters.

One of the knights, Sir Leon, his brain helpfully supplies, spots him stood there, and his annoyed frown quickly morphs into a friendly smile:

“Pardon me, sorry, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Merlin around anywhere, have you?”

Tristan’s eyes go wide and the grip he has on his tray tightens, but he forces himself to take a breath and answer, trying his best to keep his voice even:

“Merlin is... The King’s manservant? Tall, with dark hair?”

Another knight pushes forward, he looks to be the oldest, with dark hair falling in an almost deliberately tousled way around his bearded jawline. His charming grin seems just a little too wide to be genuine, but Tristan isn’t quite sure if that’s because he’s about to take pleasure in punishing someone, or if he’s just being polite to a stranger:

“Yeah, yeah that’s him, seen him? Arsehole turned our shirts pink in the wash, and something tells me it was deliberate.”

Tristan gulps at the accusation and he takes a shaky step back, but before he can even think of defending the stranger that he now thinks must’ve been crying, the last of the three knights, a giant, if Tristan believed in such things, steps forward:

“Don’t worry, we won’t beat him too much.” 

He says it with a grin and a quirk of his eyebrows, but once again the kitchen-hand can’t tell if it was cruel or genuine, if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Uh... yeah, he turned left at the end of this corridor, but I didn’t see where he went after that, I apologise.”

Sir Leon waves away his apology with a smile, looking to the long-haired knight with a raised eyebrow:

“The stables?”

The man grins widely, nodding his agreement as he turns his grin to the giant. Sir Leon offers Tristan another soft smile, murmuring his thanks before moving past him, elbowing the other two to prompt them in to thanking him as well. The three of them march down the corridor with almost vindictive smiles on their faces, and Tristan prepares himself to see a vacancy note, or possibly a funeral invite, posted on the notice board by the next morning.

When he passes a window that evening to see the King’s manservant being carried on the giant’s shoulders as five other knights pelt them with gloves, a grin on every face, he decides that... well... it’s probably best to just not to ask.

~

The next time he sees Merlin, a few days later, The King is also there.

This is the first time Tristan has been in Arthur Pendragon’s presence, and though the other servant’s all rave on about how awkwardly kind he is, he’s a bundle of nerves. Not even Cook’s stories about how often she whacks The King’s knuckles with a wooden spoon when she catches him about to pilfer something stops Tristan’s heart from racing. 

The King was overseeing a few of the servants decorate the main hall for a feast, and whilst Tristan is certain that that’s not something The King normally does, he doesn’t question it, just thinks that maybe the other servants had been telling the truth, and he was a genuinely nice, but normal man. 

Merlin stands at his side, and though Tristan can’t hear their conversation, the two of them are clearly bickering over something. The servant can’t help his curiosity, wanting desperately to move closer to find out what sort of things The King allows his servant to bicker with him about; luckily, the table right next to them has yet to be laid, so he moves towards it quickly. He doesn’t even glance at them, terrified of being caught out, but perhaps Merlin surviving the knights non-wrath the other day is encouraging him, and his steps don’t falter. Their words come in to focus, and he has to stop the confused, and slightly horrified, frown from spreading across his face:

“Arthur, I swear to the Gods, if you make me wear that hat again, I’ll piss in your wine and serve it to you in front of a crowd.”

The King scoffs just as Tristan shakily begins laying down the cutlery:

“That’s treason, Merlin.”

“Do I look like I care? Not only will I piss in your wine, I will not hesitate to push you over a balcony at the first opportunity. This hall is high up and it’s a long way down to the gardens. He drank toxic wine and turned loopy and tipped himself off a balcony and went splat! That’s what people will say. I’m not wearing the Godamn hat.”

Tristan has to focus extra carefully to stop himself from gasping; Merlin just threatened to kill The King... that’s got to be a death sentence. Pissing off some knights that he’s obviously friendly with is one thing, but threatening to kill The-

“Ha ha. Very funny. If you can’t tell, Merlin, I’m being sarcastic, I know you struggle with complex concepts like that.”

Merlin just rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he says with no hesitation:

“My mind is more than capable of coping, My Lord, it’s your belt I worry about being able to cope nowadays.”

Tristan bites his tongue to stop himself from yelping and turns away so neither of them can see his horrified face. The King just makes an outraged noise in the back of his throat, and Tristan can hear Merlin snort in laughter at whatever expression Arthur was wearing to match such a noise:

“Go to the stocks. I want you there for three hours.”

Tristan lets out a confused breath; Merlin threatens to kill The King, and gets playful sarcasm, but he implies The King might be a tad overweight, and gets sent to the stocks for three hours? How is that-

“Yeah... no. Not happening. The feast starts in less than two hours and I still have to help Guinevere organise some stuff in the courtyard, do Gaius’ rounds for him, then put an extra hole in your belt and help you get dressed because, despite being a grown man, you’re still an idiot who’s incapable of putting clothes on in any sort of decent manner.”

Tristan finds himself relaxing a little. This seems to be the norm for them, but surely... surely The King had a line somewhere, and a servant just flat out refusing to be disciplined must be where it lies?

Arthur just scoffs, and Tristan angles his head in such a way that he can see him roll his eyes:

“Fuck off.”

Merlin grins, seeming to cast a suspicious gaze over the room to make sure no one was watching and somehow completely missing Tristan stood just there, before saying quietly:

“You love me really, you prat.”

With that, Merlin reaches up to yank at a lock of The King’s hair before hurrying off in the direction of the courtyard before Arthur can react. The King jumps slightly, clearly caught by surprise as an annoyed flush rises on his face, but Tristan just frowns in confusion when his shock gives way to a softly amused smile.

Huh.

~

The next few times Tristan saw Merlin made him fear for the servant’s safety. He was being taken on hunts by The King and his knights, that’s meant to be for squires, to learn the ropes and gain experience in tracking and riding. 

He supposes it isn’t entirely unheard of for a servant to follow their master on a hunt, but with the way Merlin complains without pause, and The King in turn complains about his complaining, he thinks it would better for everyone if Merlin just... didn’t go. When he brings it up to another servant, a lovely woman named Guinevere who had helped him get unlost at least three times in his first week, she just laughs and smiles at him pityingly:

“I wouldn’t worry, those two have been like that forever, they’re practically inseparable.”

Tristan responds with a rather intelligent sounding:

“...What?”

Gwen laughs softly again, shaking her head and patting his shoulder consolingly:

“You’ll get used to it, they’re just... like that.”

She gives him one more smile before turning to wave the boys out of the gates and walking back to the castle as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Tristan supposes that it probably is.

The next time Tristan sees Merlin leave the city gates with the knights, Sir Elyan, Sir Mordred, and Sir Lancelot this time, it’s distinctly worse. Because he’d caught sight of the patrol rota last time he ran food down to the training ground, and he was certain that those three had a city patrol right about now.

Before he even has time to gape in shock, he hears Merlin’s pleading voice as he trails Sir Elyan like a lost puppy:

“Please, El, I promise to stay out of the way, I will do anything, but I swear to the Gods if I have to spend one more minute around that prat, I’ll hurl myself from the battlements.”

Swearing to the Gods and threating to hurl various people, including himself, from significant heights seems to be some sort of theme for The King’s manservant. Before Tristan can consider the implications of that, Sir Elyan turns to Merlin with a wide, teasing grin on his face:

“You know, I would’ve let you tag along for free, Merlin, but now that you’ve promised me something I feel the need to take advantage.”

Tristan tenses at that, a shot of ice spiking down his spine. He has keen eyes and sharp ears, he knows that Sir Elyan is the lovely Gwen’s brother, Sir Mordred seems to have an... odd worship for the servant, and he’s definitely picked up on the close bond between Merlin and Sir Lancelot, but is this where Camelot’s image comes crashing down in Tristan’s head? He knew that it was better here for servant’s than other Kingdoms, but there are always people who’ll take advantage of their position, no matter where you are. Merlin’s shoulders just drop and he asks in a sulking voice:

“What do you want?”

Tristan grits his teeth, moving his gaze so no one would catch him glaring at the knight as he tries to figure out a way to help, a way to get this virtual stranger out of being... abused, in such a manner. If he’d carried on glaring, he would’ve noticed Elyan’s soft smile and amused raised eyebrow:

“Next time you gather herbs for Gaius, bring back some more of those flowers that you got for Gwen. She said they added vibrancy to the house, whatever that means, but they make her happy, so...-”

Merlin just giggles and nods and Tristan relaxes, looking back to them with a confused smile on his face. That was... actually kind of sweet, he can definitely see the resemblance between the knight and his sister:

“-AND I want whatever Arthur’s having for dinner tonight, his food always looks way nicer than ours.”

Merlin lets out a faux annoyed groan, but then rolls his eyes and grins, nodding:

“Consider it done. Can we go now? I really don’t want to risk him seeing me and giving me some stupid chore to do.”

Elyan laughs and nods, and the four of them begin making their way out of the courtyard and into the city. Sir Lancelot finally joins the conversation, clearly amused as he says:

“You know it’s literally your job to do chores, right?”

Merlin turns to glare at him as Sir Mordred and Sir Elyan laugh, and Tristan only just hears his reply as the castle gates shut behind them:

“Fuck off.”

Tristan decides it would be pointless to bring this up to anyone again, he figures he’ll probably just get the same answer as last time.

~

The next confusing incident happens only a few days later. But Tristan supposes that at this point... it really shouldn’t be confusing. Gwen was right, he did just... get used to it.

He heard the steps pounding down the corridor before he saw him, but they were coming fast and hard, so he presses himself against the wall, holding the tray to his side to protect it as best he could as Merlin comes skidding round the corner. 

He stops just long enough for Tristan to calm himself by spying the wide grin on his face, but he’s quickly sprinting down the hall again, laughing as he waves whatever it is he’s got clutched in his hands. The second set of loud, rapid footsteps stops Tristan from stepping away from the wall quite yet. Just a moment later, Sir Gwaine follows Merlin’s skidded path around the corner, though the heavier man overshoots slightly and he runs into the wall opposite Tristan with a crash and a deep groan.

The rebellious knight gives a wide-eyed Tristan an awkward nod before pushing himself off the wall and following Merlin’s blazing trail, screaming down the corridor:

“I warned you Merlin!! Don’t come between a man and his ale, now give that back you bastard!”

Tristan hears Merlin’s laughter grow louder, even from the two corridors away that the other servant had managed to race to.

He shrugs to himself, waiting for a moment to see if anyone else was going to come barrelling around the corner before sighing, and continuing his journey up to the visiting Lord’s chambers.

It was unusual, he thought, how quickly he’d come to terms with the fact that a servant was sassing The King and pranking the knights and inviting himself on various hunts and patrols that he really had no business on. Unusual indeed.

~

He’d learnt to ignore it. Or at least brush it off.

In the two weeks since Merlin had (presumably) stolen Sir Gwaine’s skin of ale, he’d seen the servant call The King a long list of imaginative insults (what the hell is a dollop head?), walk around with Sir Leon’s cloak on because he was a little chilly, accuse someone of treason (and somehow been right about it), and threaten to kill at least seven people; including, but not limited to: The King himself, The King’s already dead father, some stuck up Noble (though that was under his breath, Tristan just happened to be stood next to him), and Sir Percival.

And Gwen was... absolutely right. He's just... like that. He's Merlin, and that’s what Merlin does.

So when he turns a corner in a rarely used to corridor to see him pressing The King against a wall, snogging the life out of him, Tristan simply turns around and walks back the other way. Both of them look fairly happy with the arrangement, and they’d probably chosen this corridor for the exact same reason Tristan had: it was out of everyone’s way, and was unlikely to be inhabited.

He thinks it’s odd, how... un-odd he finds it. He absent-mindedly thinks that, with the way they acted around each other, he really should’ve seen this coming. A sudden thought occurs to him, and he ducks into a storage cupboard, laying his tray down carefully as he rummages through the boxes. He lets out a quiet “Yay” when he finds what he’s looking for, carefully picking up his tray with only one hand and nudging the door open again with his hip. 

He walks back towards the corner he had just turned (and turned again) making a conscious effort to keep his steps quiet; he places the danger sign, usually used where walls had collapsed or windows had been smashed, in the middle of the corridor, a clear indication of “Do Not Enter”.

He nods smugly at his quick thinking and easy handy work before mentally planning the quickest route to the kitchens and following it hurriedly.

He casually wonders if he has time to circle around to the other end of the corridor so he could put another sign down before Cook gets angry at him for being late. Probably not. At least, not before they... finish up and move on. Hmm. He suddenly panics about the thought of them seeing the sign and knowing that someone had spotted them but... well. Hopefully they would just appreciate it and move on.

Yet again, he decides not to bring this up to anyone. He may or may not have overheard a few of the knights making some sort of bet, and he may or may not want to watch on with amusement as they fail to realise that all of them have already lost.

Tristan smiles to himself; working here had turned out to be rather entertaining, in the end.

~

THE END

I know it’s short, but I really didn’t know what else to add without it sounding like I was just repeating myself over and over😅

I hope y’all enjoyed it!!