#it only took like 12 years of people pleasing to decide to do it for myself and fuck everyone else JYHDUJJGF

[bcneheaded]

HeLLOOO <3 I just wanted to pop on here and let yall know that I might be quiet for a few days to a week, depending on how things go - but primarily because I was caught out in the rain on friday and caught something jgfdjdfg so !! I don't have much energy to expend both ooc or ic atm, i apologize; I'll try n do some things here and there but don't be too surprised if I dip for awhile or like, randomly while we're talking (im so sorry LOL)

[cheriladycl01]

Could you do SMAU for Toto Wolff with wife fashion designer!reader? He always goes to her events even though he's busy and she vice versa. Bonus : appearance by their son, Jack Wolff. Just something fluff and romantic. Add something else to it if you want to. Thanks!! :))

Dolce and Gabana vs Wolff vs Versace - Toto Wolff x FashionDesignerWife! Reader

Plot: It's coming to the annual Met Gala and you've got a list of celebrities you are set to dress in your brand, however there's one celebrity your all fighting for. Things are getting busy with that and being not even halfway through the F1 season!

Credit to 44lh for the GIF

"Baby? Can you ask Lewis round for dinner!" you call and he comes trotting round the stairs your son in his arms.

“Mumma” your son cries opening his arms up for you to take him and you frown not being able to hold him anymore so you walk over to the sofa so he can lay down with you.

“Hello baby” you grin nuzzling his nose with yours making him burst out laughing and hold both sides of your cheeks.

“So, Lewis for dinner?” You grin.

“Yes let me message him darling” he says pulling you in for a kiss before tapping away at his phone.

iMessage:

Toto: Hello Lewis, Y/N wants you to come over for dinner. I suspect it’s to ask you about the Met Gala.

Lewis: Ah, yes when should I come over?

Toto: Anytime that pleases you!

“Lewis!” You squeal in excitement as he walks through the door to your home. You pull him in for a hug. You were currently very pregnant with yours and Totos second child, only a few weeks away from your due date. But you never stopped working as, to you it wasn’t really work, it was a hobby that you got payed very kindly to do.

“Hello beautiful” Lewis smiles kissing your cheek before looking you over.

“God look how big she’s getting!” He smiles looking at your stomach making you smile at hold it happily.

“She’s been kicking a lot, she’s ready to come out and meet her uncle” you grin elbowing him a little before your son comes running in.

“LEW LEW” he screams wrapping himself around his uncles leg. Lewis laughs before picking him up.

“So, will you let me style you for the met gala?” You ask, and he laughs a little.

“Mmm I’ve already had a few people reach out to me…” he says cheekily and you gasp in mock horror.

“WHO! Tell me now!” You demand and he laughs.

“Dolce and Gabana and Donatella Versace” he admits and you gasp even more.

“Oh Lord, I can’t fight for you when I’m pregnant” you sigh knowing it would be hard work considering that Lewis had a brand deal with Dolce and Gabana.

“Y/N, chill i was always going to go with you anyway. I trust no one more than i trust you” he grins and you pull him into a bigger hug, regardless of the struggle.

“I promise your going to look amazing!” You grin and he nods knowing you’d keep that up!

y/user

Liked by themetgalaofficial zendaya and others

y/user: preparing for the met gala. Such an exciting theme for 2024! Got some of my faves on board already…

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fan1: she’s tagged Lewis, does that mean he’s attending and she’s styling him?

-> fan2: I’m sure of it! She’s married to his team principle so she has those connections!

toto.wolff: I’m so proud of everything you’ve done this year!

-> y/user: thank you my love!

fan3: shes such an icon, everyone and their mum is wearing her right now

lewishamilton: I’m excited to work with you again!

You’d worked hard for the last few months, after you’d given birth you got straight to working on your new summer line of clothing which you decided on two different themes.

You’d been a little more stressed, trying to keep up with work while looking after both the kids. But it was getting too much with Toto often away. You’d asked him many times to come home and help but he was so busy with Mercedes and how rubbish their car was this year.

It took a whole breakdown of you sobbing to Lewis on the phone saying you were thinking you’d have to stop out of the Met Gala because of the stress to get Toto’s attention.

He came home straight away, pulling you into a hug and giving you the time off you needed. You spent time at a spa, relaxing and spending evenings with your husband which you felt like you hadn’t done for months now.

Of course you didn’t end up dropping out of the Gala, and you’d turned down all the rumours that you were. The rumours being that Versase and Dolce and Gabana were going to take on all your celebrity clients.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you more” Toto sighs and he cuddles into you and kisses all over your face and down your jaw and onto your neck.

“It’s okay, I love you so much baby” you sigh into him and the feeling of him being present.

y/userfanpage

Liked by y/user and others

y/userfanpage: some of Y/N Y/L/N most iconic met gala styles. I saw a thread that was similar on Twitter and thought I’d share my opinion!

Tagged 4 People

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fan1: she is the icon, she is the moment

fan2: we gonna get loads of cool stuff this year, I can feel it!

“Can I have some design input” Toto says as he feeds your son while you feed your daughter.

“What do you mean design input?” You ask suspiciously.

Every time that he’d asked for this it had somehow been a ploy to incorpórate the Mercedes logo into something.

“Well I was thinking if you were styling Lewis you could …” he starts but you immediately shake your head and glare.

“No, no toto I - im not putting a Mercedes Logo on Lewis suit!” You cry with a laugh looking at him.

But Toto knew he had a few months to convince you.

iMessage

Lewis: Is Mercedes plan a go?

Toto: I’m working in it, I’ll get her to cave in soon.

Lewis: it’s gotta look slick okay?

y/user

Liked by lewishamilton and zendaya

y/user: I loved this years theme! Made some beautiful pieces on some beautiful people!

Tagged 12 People

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lewishamilton: thank you for putting the merc symbols on the white lace, it made myself and toto very happy! ❤️

-> y/user: it took lots of convincing but I’m happy with the results! You looked fab Lewis!

fan1: y/n slayed

zendaya: my beauty, it will never get old getting styled by you - a true legend 🫶🏼❤️

-> y/user: STOP! You rocked it! 🍒

You walked along the red carpet Toto on your arm as you smiled for the cameras.

“Y/N who are you wearing tonight?” One of the paps cheekily calls making you grin in their direction as they snap a picture.

“Myself of course!” You shot back with a massive smile on your face that had Toto’s heart soaring. It was a rare day in which you and Toto were free of the little monsters you guys called your children and you were both lapping up the time with one another.

“Looking fabulous Y/N” another shouts and you are walking down the carpet, greeting everyone who you had dressed before you meet up with Lewis.

“Hello” you smile and he pulls you into a hug.

“Looking radiant as ever” he says spinning you round making you chuckle. Lewis was quite literally a part of yours and Toto’s family at this point and so you always were acting like this.

“Now it’s time to face the crowd!” You smile before entering in for a night at the mets.

y/user

Liked by toto.wolff and themetgalaofficial

y/user: never felt so close to my family than designing this one of a kind suit for my husband… and having my dress represent me as a person. What a wonderful night!

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fan1: the fact she literally made his a suit to wear … I’m crying 😢

fan2: they are my fav couple fr

toto.wolff: it was an honour to wear you my love ❤️

-> y/user: I love you so much! ❤️

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul l @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

[itsabardknocklife]

Things the Baldur's Gate Fandom Needs To Know About Mystra

The current Mystra is the third Mother of Magic and she was originally a mortal human woman named Ariel Manx.

Ariel was the second daughter of a wealthy merchant and she liked to sneak out at night to go partying in the clubs.

While out clubbing one night, Ariel - known as Midnight among her friends - met a conjurer named Tad who introduced her to magic and brought her to Mystra's temples.

When Ariel was 21, she attracted Mystra's attention and began to feel as though she were being watched. Whenever this happened, she found that her ability to cast spells increased and that spells that she once found difficult were much easier.

In 1358, when Ariel was 26, the ALL gods were cast out onto the Material Plane by Ao because Bane and Myrkul were being little shits and making yet another power grab, like they do.

The Original Mystra was extremely Unhappy about being thrown out of the heavens and tried to march back up the Celestial Stairway to reclaim her place of power.

Ao did not take kindly to this, and promptly had Helm kick her ass.

Unfortunately, Mystra dying is Bad For The Weave, and Ao had to replace her.

He picked Ariel.

When she was 26.

Immediately after she kicked Myrkul's bony ass in a duel that took place in the sky over Waterdeep.

In order to make the transition easier, Ariel took up the name of Mystra so that

27 years later, Cyric and Shar conspired to kill her so that Shar could take over as the Mother of Magic and spread her Shadow Weave over the land.

Instead of granting Shar control of the Weave the way she hoped, the new Mystra's death/disappearance caused the Weave to collapse, taking the Shadow Weave with it and kicking off what is known as the Spellplague.

Unlike the last two times Mystra was killed, everything went kind of nuts. Magic faded, blue fire raged across the land, killing everything it touched and then raising them into ghouls, the landscape became warped, it was Bad.

The only good thing to come out of the Spellplague was the Dragonborn, who were released from thousands of years of enslavement as a result of the blue fire blowing everything to shit. Hooray for the dragonborn!

Anyway.

Over the next hundred years, things calmed down and the magic… sort of returned, but there were a lot of changes to how magic worked. The Mother of Magic was a non-entity, her presence unfelt even by the famed Elminster of Shadowdale.

At least, not until 1479, when he found her possessing a bear and guarding a hoard of magic items she'd stashed while mortal.

She sent him out to go find new candidates to become her Chosen, and he came back a few weeks later after gorging on the magic of a few of Mystra's other Chosen and gave her enough juice to "return."

Three years later, the Second Sundering started when Bhaal's last two descendants fight to the death and resurrect him as a result.

At this point, ALL the gods are out there recruiting people to become their Chosen right, left, and center. It's a race to become the strongest god in the pantheon, with the winners being decided based on who has the most followers.

This goes on for five years, with the Second Sundering coming to a close in 1487. This was when Mystra became fully restored as a Goddess, with the Weave returning to its original strength.

Over the next two years, MOST of the gods drop their Chosen like they're hot and go quiet, resulting in the rise of clerics as mortals struggled to understand why the gods' behaviors changed so drastically from before.

Mystra was actually one of the few who kept in contact with her Chosen while a few others (such as Ellistraee and the Dead Three) chose to remain on Toril in Avatar form.

In the year 1491, Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep finds the Netherese Orb and has his silver flame (the mark of Mystra's chosen) consumed by it.

12 years after Mystra - once the mortal woman known as Ariel Manx - recovered from her near-death experience.

Please, I am begging you. Stop portraying Mystra the Ultimate Evil and Gale as her Innocent Victim. Their whole relationship is so much more complex than that. Mystra put so much trust in Gale and simply asked that he not cross her boundaries in return, and Gale, in his own words, "sought to cross [those] boundaries." He's a man who heard no and decided that he wasn't going to stop trying until that no became a yes.

I'm not saying Gale is the villain in this, but I am saying that both Gale and Mystra are complex individuals who are both flawed in different ways, and reducing them down to Good and Bad is doing them a disservice.

[yummyuta]

four sides to every heart | n.y, j.j, l.m

♡ genre: polyamory | smut - mndi! fluff | word count: 2,333 words

♡ warnings: multiple sex scenes, oral (male & female receiving), semi-public sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampies, overstimulation, petnames (princess, angel, kitten)

♡ summary: you had always considered yourself to be a rational and organized person, meticulously planning every detail of your life. that was until your emotions had become a tangled mess, involving four crucial people - your boyfriend yuta, your roommate jaehyun, and your childhood best friend mark.

♡ authors note: this is the final part of the series! read the preview, part 1, and part 2 here. i am very pleased with how this all turned out. i have never written before, so i really challenged myself, and i hope you all enjoyed this series!

♡ song recommendation:

the smell of saltwater, the chill breeze, the flowy silk sheets under you, and the sound of jaehyun breathing were all you could focus on when you woke up. it had been a year since you went from one lover to three, and you all decided that a vacation was needed. the boys wanted to celebrate in their own ways and found that scheduling separate time with you would be the best ways to express their love and gratitude for all the memories shared over the past 12 months.

the recollection of the previous events from the night before with jaehyun flooded back to you as you hid your now blushing face underneath the blankets. his strong arm found its way draped across your bare chest, as he nuzzled into your neck. "good morning love" he murmured, placing a chaste kiss there. you turned around in his embrace, wanting to face the handsome man before you. he traced soothing patterns along your spine, his lips finding yours in a sentimental kiss. jaehyun's kisses were one of the many ways you knew he deeply cared for you. he spared no effort in slipping his tongue past, leaving you breathless almost instantly. you recalled the first time he touched you like this, how nervous and unsure those feelings were. you can't believe you made it here now, so self-assured and courageous. if it wasn't for you developing those feelings and going through that door, you dont think you would have made it here now.

your touch became more daring as you slipped your hands from his chiseled chest to his defined stomach and lower. jaehyun always was pleasing you first, knowing your body like the back of his hand. he deserved to be taken care of, too. "what are you doing" he groaned in your mouth when you started pumping his length. "just trust me, and lay back. you took more than enough care of me last night. let me do the same for you." you said sweetly, placing your other hand back on his chest to push him on his back. you started slowly, placing your lips softly around his pink tip, kitten licking before taking more of him in your mouth. you felt him flexing around you, trying to contain his excitement. he was big, but you wanted to prove yourself. you had only ever done this a few times with him and were determined to make this a moment to remember. he hit the back of your throat, you lightly gagged, eyes welling up with tears, but you bobbed your head, moving steadily. hearing jaehyuns deep moans made it all worth it to you, he didnt make sounds all the often so whenever you got the chance to hear it, it was like listening to your favorite song over and over again.

he was getting close, one hand gripping the headboard above him, the other found a hold in your hair. the second you looked up at him with your doe eyes, lashes fluttering, he could have lost it all on the spot. he fought his urges, pulling you off him and placing his thumb on your pouted lips. you held eye contact, parting your lips, sucking lightly. "god, you are perfect," he groaned before taking a grasp of your hips and placing you into his lap. "i need to cum inside of you princess." he pleaded with you, he sounded so needy, something new to the both of you. you nodded, putting your arms around his strong shoulders, lifting your knees that straddled him and lowering yourself inch by inch on his cock. he threw his head back, whimpering "baby relax, im not going to last long if you keep clenching around me like that". you tried your best, but every time he filled you up, it was like that first time all over again. you began rocking back and forth at first, grinding in his lap before you gathered enough strength to start riding him properly.

you were so lost in the feeling of him, your eyes closed and moans slipping past your lips, with every thrust. when you went down, he moved up, setting a lovely pace that worked harmoniously. jaehyun was mesmerized by you, the way your features were highlighted by the morning glow shining through the windows. in that moment, he realized he was irrevocably in love with you. from the time you agreed to live with him, he knew his life had changed in an instant. you not only walked into the door of the apartment you now shared, but into his heart as well. from that point, onwards he began to effortlessly imagine a future with you. he could see you both slow dancing in the living room, whiskey glasses half-drank on the coffee table as his favorite jazz record you bought him for his birthday played in the background. he thought of walking through the door after a long day of work and seeing you playing the piano, your child giggling and smiling on your lap.

the more he thought of how beautiful you would look with a baby bump and the pregnancy glow the closer he got to releasing his seed inside of you. "you are my one and only forever love" he declared, sealing his lips with yours in a passionate promise. his hips stuttered, painting your walls white and securing his fate that he had been manifesting with you this entire time. you were meant to live your lives, building a happy home together.

-------------------------------------------------------

the following day, you felt refreshed, and mark picked you up for a romantic adventure. you took a private yacht to a secluded cove, where the water was clear you could admire the sealife from below. there was a picnic already set up for you, as mark put his hand on the small of your back leading you to it. he was affectionate as ever, feeding you chocolate covered strawberries, and making sure your glass of champagne was never left empty. there was something about mark that was extremely captivating. his graceful composure, humble mind, and compassionate heart made him all the more attractive to you. he was a kindhearted friend and an even more dedicated lover.

as you lay together on the blanket, watching the sun dip low into the sky, painting the horizon shades of pink and orange, mark decided to softly sing in your ear as he held you. "a million different stars but you're the one," you blushed at the line from the song he wrote as you gift he prepared for your anniversary. he dipped his head into your neck, leaving wet traces behind as he shifted his body to hover above you, his elbows on either side of your head, staring into your eyes. "i hope i find you in every universe," he announced as he brushed stray hairs out of your face.

the following hours were spent with him proclimating his everlasting love for you over and over again, with the moon and stars as your witness. he lowered his head between your thighs as he drank up every drop of your sweet nectar. your hands grabbing a fistful of his hair, forcing him to disappear further into you, the hem of your dress covering his face. he looked up at you with his puppy dog eyes, and you saw the entire world in them. your vision became blurry, as your mind further slipped as you thought back to how you have grown up with this man alongside you. you had always loved mark, but falling in love with him was a completely different chapter. tears springing in your eyes as your emotions and upcoming orgasm washed over you.

you moaned his name like a mantra, as you released on his face, but that didn't stop him. his hands wrapped around your legs, holding you closer to him as he continued his menstruations, alternating from sucking your bundle of nerves to laying his tongue flat between your folds licking up and down. "its...too...much" you sighed, becoming overstimulated, your entire body vibrating. "give me one more angel, you can do it" he encouraged against your core, nose bumping into your clit.

when mark was in the zone, there was no stopping him, he could go rounds. the man's biggest vice was you. he went to sleep constantly dreaming about moments like the one you are currently in. waking up sweaty and his hand wrapped tightly around his cock. he was happy to share you, most of the time but there was a part of him that was underlyingingly possessive. after your first time together, he became obsessed with the way you said his name, with how you reacted to him. when he had you to himself is when his true nature could come forward.

you needed something to ground you, grabbing his hands that were forcing your legs apart, interlocking them with yours as your body thrashed with the waves crashing into the rocks surrounding you. it was like you and nature were synced. you had never felt so connected to the world around you, reaching a higher plane as you climaxed. you fell into a trancelike state from the immense pleasure you had succumbed to.

mark finally revealed his face to you, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt before taking both sides of his shirt and throwing it up and over his head. you knew then as you layed in the sand, and he continued to undress himself that your evening with mark as well as your story with him was far from over. you thought of the two of you growing old together, reminiscing on the love that kept you young, carefree, and alive all of these years. after all, it was like time didn't exist when you were around each other. even though you have known him your entire life, you still felt like you had an infinite amount of memories to make with the man you wholeheartedly loved.

-------------------------------------------------------

on the final evening of your vacation, you walked into yuta's private villa that he transformed into a sanctuary. as you walked in, you stumbled across a path of rose petals leading to the bedroom. you continued tiptoeing, making your way to the window, you saw that he had prepared a candle-lit dinner just outside on the terrace. he stood there dressed in an all black suit and boquet in hand, looking as dashing as ever.

you enjoyed a delictable meal together, always enjoying the warmth of his company and the love that he shows you through his acts of service. once you had finished your meal, he cleared the table as you stared out into the abyss of the night. yuta came back out, "wow look at this view" he said behind you, and he raked his eyes over your figure. "i know right, its beautiful out," you responded in awe. "not as beautiful as you...kitten" he whispered in your ear, as he began to undress you slowly, wanting to take his time and savor the moment with the women that he loves and cherishes the most. although he never imagined your relationship coming to these heights, he wouldn't turn back the clock for anything. making you happy was his main goal in life, he realized that the day he met you.

as your dress dropped to the floor, you stepped out of it, turning around and meeting his lustful gaze. you never shyed away from him. the man in front of you seeing you at the most vulnerable and transformitive stages in your life, accepting you with arms wide open. his hands and lips began exploring your body in a way they have countless moments before, with a sense of reverence and desire. the air became filled with soft moans and whispers of undying love. you were standing, pressed up against the cold metal of the balcony. your knees buckling as your hands fumbled around yuta's neck. he showed no mercy, pounding into you with such intensity you swear you thought the ground was shaking. very little words needed to be exchanged, as his actions proved his devotion to you.

your entire sense of self was a torch that only yuta could light. you owed him your life. he was the first real boyfriend you ever had, the first man to show you what real love and intimacy was. if it wasn't for him, you wouldn't have found the other pieces that completed you. while mark and jaehyun were equally as important to you, yuta was the first man you ever bared your soul to. thats a love that nobody comes back from, the type of love that you find once in a great lifetime, that you would be willing to go through the pits of hell for. you had met your match and yuta was it.

you clawed your nails, down his backside, as you stood on your tiptoes, one leg wrapped around his waist and he showed no mercy, hitting that spot that made you explode like gold dust. you opened your mouth to speak but couldn't form any thoughts, not when yuta was making love to you like the sky was about to start falling around you. you wanted to tell him you loved him, to thank him for giving you life and meaning to the world you existed in.

in that instant, it was like he knew exactly what you were thinking. he brushed his lips against yours, hips begining to falter, as he lost any ounce of power he had over himself. "i know everything... I love you too," he said breathlessly with his lips curled up into a smile. the one that made everything peaceful around you. lost in the aftermath of the passion, your breathing mingled into the hue of the rising sun, bringing in the dawn of a new day and the continuation of your everlasting love.

♡ ending authors note: for this part, i wanted to do something a bit different and focus on the feeling of each relationship more than the acts themselves as a way to wrap everything up. i enjoyed diving into each individual scene, and i hope you enjoyed this series!

[flowerandblood]

The Man with the Deep Scar

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: mention and description of the murder of multiple people, descriptions of wounds, virgnity loss, smut, angst, violence, suicide attempt, trauma, mourning ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

Part 1 - The Man with the Black Mask | Part 2 - The Man with the Empty Heart | Part 3 - The Man with the Lost Soul | Part 4 - The Man with the Cold Mouth | Part 6 - The Man with the One Eye | Part 7 - The Man with the Golden Gift | Part 8 - The Man in the Black Crown | Part 9 - The Man with the Bloody Sword | Part 10 - The Man in the Black Gloves | Part 11 - The Man in the Death Cloak | Part 12 - The Man with the Pearly Hair | Part 13 - The Man with the Fiery Gaze

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

For as long as he could remember, their father had taken no interest in them, preferring his first-born daughter to his second wife's children. He hated her with all his heart, jealous that although he read extensively and was so skilled in hand-to-hand combat, the King only focused his attention on her.

He lived in a constant conviction of defeat − his grandfather incited his mother against his father by saying that if it went on like this it would be Rheanyra who would be chosen by him as heir to the throne, not Aegon, her first-born son.

The tension inside the fortress and their internal strife meant that they failed to see the threat that lurked outside. Discontent among their people was growing due to poor crops and famine − although the King showed concern about the whole situation, his grandfather, Otto reassured him that he had everything under control.

He only recognised how serious the situation was when it became apparent that an army was gathering near the city walls − the lords on whom gigantic taxes had been imposed demanded that the King abdicate and a new ruler be chosen from among the nobles.

House Targaryen had ruled the kingdom for centuries and his father had no intention of giving up the crown to anyone just because they willed it; he called all the lords rising against him traitors, demanding their heads.

However, when it became apparent that the most powerful of the lords, his father's former ally and friend, Lord Walford had risen against them at the head of a rebellion, taking their stronghold by storm, all was lost.

Hearing the sounds of battle and screams he ran to his mother's chamber wanting to make sure she was safe − she was packing up in a hurry and when she saw him she grabbed him by his arms and shook him.

"There is a passage under my bed to an underground shelter. You must press with your little finger the mechanism which is hidden in a small hole under the wooden panels. You and Daeron are to hide there, go get him at once." She ordered in a trembling voice, sweat droplets on her face.

He wanted to defy her, horrified by her condition, feeling that even though he was only twelve years old he was already a man, that he would not hide like a coward but would fight to defend her.

However, he decided that it was indeed necessary to hide Daeron somewhere and was already about to leave her chamber when Lord Walfrod's soldiers suddenly rushed in, their armour and swords all filthy with blood.

He only had time to scream when the blade of one of them swung and drove into his face − he fell to the floor with a loud whine, catching himself on his cheek, completely losing sight of his left eye.

He began to waddle across the floor in front of him towards the bed − he heard his mother screaming but didn't turn to look at her, terrified, thinking only of the fact that he didn't want to die, that he was scared, that he wanted to hide, his heart pounding like mad.

He managed with a shaking hand to find the hole she was saying about − when he slipped his little finger into it something clicked and the flap lifted. He crawled quickly down and closed it behind him, breathing loudly, panting all over, the voices above him muffled and indistinct.

The corridor he was in was very cramped, consisting only of a steep staircase leading down and walls all around him − with one hand he clutched at the painfully burning wound, feeling the warm blood run down his fingers, and with his other hand he began to slide down into complete darkness. He finally reached a sort of enclosed, stone-cold room.

He fell to his knees and wept loudly, his nose all stuffed up from tears − he felt sticky from his own wetness and blood. He was terrified, but most of all he could not forgive himself for running away like a coward, for leaving his beloved mother to die, Daeron and everyone else, for hiding instead of dying with them with honour.

He lay down on the stone floor and stayed like that, listening to the sounds of battle and screams, until there was complete, empty silence. The pain he felt on his left cheek was unbearable and he thought that although he had avoided a quick death, he would die here slowly, forgotten and abandoned.

He decided that he would rather bleed out or die of thirst and hunger than go out and give himself up to these traitors.

Staying in that dark, cold pit, he lost track of time − he didn't know if days or hours had passed. All he could think about was that the ache in his skull was unbearable, his wound oozed and smelled bad, his stomach twisted with pain, his lips dried with thirst.

He felt that he had fallen asleep only to wake up and cry loudly, wishing for nothing more than to find that his mother had survived, to return with his father and brother at the head of a great army and come to his aid.

He imagined that the wooden flap opened and his queen-mother appeared in it like an angel in a pillar of blinding light, that he threw himself into her arms with relief, hearing her tender reassurances that all was well now.

He shuddered when he heard the screech of wood and the sound of a trapdoor opening, the pillar of light coming from the side of the room almost blinding him and he had to take a few steps backwards, pushing against the wall, his heart pounding like mad.

"Is someone there? I can hear you crying. Let me help you, please, speak up." He heard a soft, feminine whisper echoing through the room − he felt a tightness in his throat recognising instantly that it wasn't his mother's voice.

What if it was a trick?

If there were guards with her, if they were about to come down and kill him?

"I will spend tonight with the King in his chamber. I will order my guards to rest and not watch over my rooms. I will leave the flap open for you to leave, on my bed you will find a hooded cloak, a sack of food and coins. Leave the keep through the kitchen rooms in the cellars. My servant will be waiting for you and lead you out. She will hand you over to your mother's friend, Ser Criston."

She said quickly and closed the trapdoor with a quiet creak of wood, the room again surrounded by complete darkness. He breathed loudly, hearing only the rapid beating of his own heart.

Should he believe her or not?

What if she was lying?

What if they were going to torture him?

He clamped his eyelids shut, feeling a terrible pain in his skull and decided that he couldn't take it any longer, that he wanted it all to be over.

He walked back and forth across the dark room, feeling a sudden rush of energy and adrenaline, the blood bubbling strongly in his veins. He jumped back when he heard the creak of wood, followed by someone's footsteps and the sound of a door closing.

There was complete silence.

He swallowed loudly; over these few days his eyesight had completely adapted to the darkness, so he confidently found the steps of the stairs with his hands and slowly began to climb up. He slid out from under the bed and listened for any sounds, however, there seemed to be no one in the room.

He crawled out from under the bed and stood up on trembling legs, looking around quickly but saw no one − on the bedding in fact lay a small cloak, a pouch of coins and a little bag of apples and bread. He took it all, quickly putting the cloak on, pulling the hood over his head and left the chamber, looking around in a panic, his wound hurt more than usual, all swollen and throbbing.

He knew the map of the fortress by heart and indeed had not encountered any guards on his way, so he ran towards the kitchen rooms and stopped, frightened, when he came across a woman. She looked at him horrified and almost screamed seeing his face, turning her head quickly, disgust and disbelief in her gaze − he stood in front of her wondering if she was going to start shouting.

"− gods, so it's true − poor child − come, we don't have much time −" She whispered looking around and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the servants' passage − they walked through the cramped, dark corridors, he could hear rats running past them, his heart pounding like mad.

After a while they reached a small wooden door, apparently intended for deliveries from merchants − the woman opened it and waved to a man dressed in a cloak, a hood over his head, he was standing next to a large cart harnessed to two horses, covered with a large sheet.

"− I got him − quickly −" She whispered to him, the man stepped forward to meet her, a sigh of disbelief escaping his lips when he recognised in him Ser Criston Cole, her mother's sworn protector.

"− thanks be to the gods − your merits will not be forgotten, woman − come, my Prince, we have no time −" He said impatiently, and he moved swiftly after him, jumping on the cart. Criston covered him with a sheet and after a moment he felt a tug − they moved off and he drew a loud breath, laying down on the wood beneath his feet.

He had escaped.

This woman had really helped him.

When his emotions wore off he immediately devoured the piece of bread and apple that the woman had bagged for him, feeling immensely relieved, no longer even thinking about the pain, just that he had survived.

He hoped Criston would take him back to his family, to those who had survived the massacre, that he would see his mother again soon.

As they stopped he heard Criston's voice speaking to someone, and then the sheet lifted, Cole and a man who looked like a monk stared at him in disbelief.

"− good gods −" Muttered a plump priest in a grey habit girded with a simple rope. "− what have they done to him? −"

First they bathed him and changed him into new robes, and then they took him to the medic despite his pleas that he wanted to see his mother and siblings first. Cole stood over him as they waited for the monk to attend to his wound, his face pale.

"− I'm so sorry, my Prince −" He said low, his voice trembling slightly, but he didn't need to say anything more. He felt a squeeze in his stomach, a burning wetness gathered under the eyelid of his healthy eye. He wept like a child even though he wanted to act like a man.

He thought that he had only survived because he was a coward.

When the medic arrived and saw the state he was in, he prayed first and said that it was a miracle that the infection had not killed him, that the wound needed to be decontaminated immediately and the eye had to be taken out.

A stick was placed in his mouth on which he was told to bite his teeth, having previously been given a huge amount of poppy milk and spirit to ease the pain, however, what he felt when his blade penetrated his skin and began to burn and cut away the dead, rotting tissue seemed like pure hell to him.

He fainted after a few minutes of writhing like an animal and muffled screaming, Criston was unable to look at it and walked out. He was left alone and thought that this was his punishment that was waiting for him from now on, punishment for his cowardice, punishment for not being able to behave like a man.

Darkness and loneliness.

He would not allow anyone to light the candles in his cell, which had previously belonged to some other monk, feeling wonderfully invisible there.

When he covered the small window at night with a thick black cloth he was once again in complete darkness, just as he had been when he had spent those few days that seemed to last indefinitely under his mother's chamber.

Criston had told him that his mother had died after several swords had repeatedly pierced her body, his father old and infirm to the point that he, like Aegon, Helaena and Daeron, had had their throats cut in their beds.

The whole attack had been premeditated − Lord Walford had pretended to be a friend of his father-king to the end, and now, from what he understood, he had been chosen from among these fucking traitors to be King and take his place on the throne.

Cole assured him that there were still individuals in the realm and lords who remained loyal to him, who wanted justice and the return of House Targaryen to the throne, who would support him if he wished to regain the crown.

He practised hand-to-hand combat with him every day in the great vaults of the men's monastery. Even though the new king's soldiers repeatedly searched the entire building, thinking rightly that they might have been hiding the prince out of sheer compassion, each time the monks warned them off and gave them time to find another refuge quickly.

He lived only for the thought of doing to the family of the new king what he had done to him.

He knew that he had time, that he could not rush, that this matter had to be carefully considered.

They met in secret in one of the strongholds of his father's former vassal, Lord Malet, who received him with great honours, gathering all his supporters there.

They discussed what to do, having an army smaller and less well supplied than the royal one, unable to act openly, treating the news that the prince was alive as something that could not come to light.

"I have my man in the King's closest guard; he is one of his ghosts. I pay him fairly for any information, he could bring someone else in there. Some spy. We would set up an ambush on one of the already existing ones, similar in size and weight − they wear the same clothes, if his behaviour did not arouse anyone's suspicion, no one would know." He said with conviction, and he licked his lower lip at the thought that popped into his head.

"I'll take his place." He said coolly, looking at the map of the fortress spread out before him on the large table, the lords looked at each other in surprise.

"What do you mean, my Prince? It's dangerous, it puts our whole plan in danger!" Exclaimed one of them, clearly horrified by his proposal − he chuckled under his breath, several of the men swallowing loudly, apparently wondering if he was still remaining in his senses.

"I am very familiar with this fortress and its customs, I will be able to keep up with what is going on there. When what we're speaking about becomes a reality, I need to be on the ground, taking charge and the throne right away." Said matter-of-factly, Criston grunted, looking at him uncertainly.

"This plan has some chance of success, but it would be best if you were not in front of the King himself, as he might order you to remove your mask in his presence. We cannot allow that to happen. It would be best if you served his son or daughter." He said looking around at the assembled crowd, the men looked at each other.

"We can arrange to ambush her at the fair. My ghost told me that she often sneaks past her guards without their knowledge. If someone attacks her, the King will reinforce her guard, perhaps appointing one of his ghosts to the task. When we find out whom, my man will kill him, and you, my Prince, will take his place."

He recognised that, although it was madness, it had a chance of success, and nothing pleased his heart more than the thought that he would be able to take the life of the man who had destroyed his family with his own hands when the time was right.

To his delight, it turned out that the lord's plan had worked and he had indeed appointed one of his closest guards as her protector. The man was killed later that evening, and he and Criston, under cover of darkness, made their way to the fortress from the side of a forgotten passageway that led out into the woods which had once been used to return from hunting.

One of the ghosts, with the help of a servant who was also involved in their conspiracy, dragged the murdered man out of the castle, and he immediately changed into his clothes.

Although they were a tad too tight, when he put on his mask he felt wonderfully peaceful − the darkness and silence that enveloped him made him feel again as he did when only blackness surrounded him.

Solitude.

The ghost explained the exact rules to him again and informed him where there was a place where he could sleep and rest, although, he said, he didn't think he would ever have the opportunity to use it − they only ate at night and usually slept standing or sitting up.

They parted in one of the passageways, and he moved with a confident stride down the corridor he knew well towards the chamber that had once belonged to his sister, and in which now slept this little whore. He saw the disturbed looks of the guards from afar and smiled at the thought that he would soon kill them all.

They needed to smuggle as many of their men and as many weapons into the fortress as possible.

"You may leave. From now on, the Princess is under my protection." He said coldly, one of the men snorted loudly, angry, he could smell the strong odour of alcohol from him.

"You are not a King, by what right do you command us?" He asked resentfully and he chuckled with amusement − he saw that the man looked at him uncertainly, with fear from which he felt pleasure and heat in his chest.

"Shall I inform the King that not only are you incapable of guarding his daughter, but you refuse to obey his orders?"

The man growled something under his breath, speaking of his insolence, walking away with his companion with a loud clang of their armour.

He hummed under his breath as he stepped against the wall facing her door, the door to his sister's chamber, and thought of Helaena, of how gentle and sensitive a person she was, of how she despaired even when one of them accidentally trampled a spider or a slug.

He thought of how she lay alone, terrified, dying slowly, coughing up her own blood, and felt a pain in his heart, swallowing loudly, his heart pounding hard.

He was comforted when the torches around him burned out and he was left at last in complete darkness − he closed his eyes and decided to rest, work out his plan in his head and wait patiently.

He shuddered and opened his eyelids, startled when he heard the loud creak of a door − a figure appeared in it illuminated only by the soft light of a candle, her large eyes looking at him with uncertainty and terror.

His jaw clenched in rage when he involuntarily thought she was beautiful, though he wished she would turn out to be a disgusting, ugly girl that no one would ever want.

However, he could not say anything about her appearance other than that her face was pleasantly fair, smooth and slender, her nose shapely and slightly rounded, her eyes sparkling, surrounded by a veil of long lashes, her long, slightly wavy hair and eyebrows seemed to him as dark as the night itself.

They stared at each other for a long moment without speaking.

"What's your name?" She asked suddenly, uncertainly, softly, with a kind of innocent curiosity from which he felt like laughing.

He didn't answer.

You are a mere whore, he thought with amusement, who wallows in riches filthy from my sister's blood.

"How am I supposed to address you if I don't know what your name is?" She asked, surprised by his lack of answer, but he just looked at her, wondering how she was going to force him to speak to her at all.

Ghosts could only speak with the King.

"Should I complain to the King about you not answering my questions?" She asked with a note of threat in her voice from which he clenched his teeth, letting the air out loudly through his nose, trying to calm himself, thinking only of the fact that meeting the King was the last thing he wanted.

He couldn't allow himself to order him to take off his mask.

"Call me any name you see fit." He answered her coolly, tired of her refusing to leave him alone. She shook her head as if she didn't understand the meaning of the words he spoke to her.

"Shall I name you?" She muttered in disbelief and he turned his head to the side, rolling his eyes, feeling that he was losing patience.

"Yes. My Princess." He said roughly and coolly, adding the last two words quickly, reminding himself that he had to title her in that disgusting way.

For now.

She stared at him for a long moment with those big eyes of hers and swallowed loudly, something on her face that looked like she had made her decision.

"Vhagar."

He felt a shudder when she said this − he remembered a book he had read when he was a small child about a great, terrible dragon that devoured people and burned entire cities.

Could it be that she had read it too?

"I will always treat you with respect and I will never make you do anything to humiliate you or offend your good name." She said with some kind of pain and regret, as if she sympathised with him − he felt his jaw clench tightly, felt for some reason a tightness in his throat at her words.

After a moment, the door closed behind her and he let out a loud breath, swallowing hard, wondering how he was going to stand it all.

However, it turned out that his suffering was rewarded, because already at supper the next day he heard some interesting information about where they were looking for his body, that the case had still not been abandoned.

He wrote a letter to Criston later that night informing him to leave some false trail in the city's vaults, his old child's robes or anything that would help them think they were on the right trail, which he passed on to a trusted servant aware of everything.

Everything was going according to plan until that little whore took him to see her mother.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of her chamber and heard her voice he recognised her and felt a squeeze in his throat, standing at the door, not knowing where to look, his heart pounding like mad.

The new King had locked his wife in the tower like some kind of animal.

He shuddered when he felt her gaze on him, her lips slightly parted, as if she really had seen a ghost.

"The gods are gracious." She whispered in a trembling voice − he felt a sting in his heart at the thought that he was only alive because of her.

"What?" Her daughter asked quietly, as if she didn't understand what her mother had just said, but she wasn't listening, staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and relief.

"You came for me like a death? Have you come to relieve my suffering at last?" She asked in a trembling voice shivering all over, pale and thin − he felt his lips involuntarily clench, his eyebrows twisted in pain, his heart pounding like mad.

"Mother, he is a guardian, he will not hurt you. He will protect us."

"Don't take her away. Have mercy on her and my son, they didn't know." She whispered pleadingly and he clenched his eyelids, thinking with rage and despair that Daeron and Helaena were innocent too.

"Stop, please. Please. You need to rest, mother. You need to eat and rest. I'll bring you some new books next time, all right?"

As they walked back downstairs he was completely immersed in his thoughts and wondered how it was possible that she recognised him. He shuddered, coming back down to earth when he heard her daughter's voice − she was leaning against a pillar with no strength, as if she was about to collapse to the ground.

"Kill me."

His healthy eye looked at her open wide in complete shock, he couldn't believe she had said that out loud.

Did she really mean it?

Involuntarily, his hand slid down to the dagger he had hidden under his cloak, he tightened his fingers on its hilt.

"Please, kill me." She whispered − he could feel his hand clamped on the weapon trembling all over, his jaw clenched so tight he thought his bones would break, his heart pounding like mad.

Don't take her away.

Have mercy on her and my son.

He swallowed loudly, thinking with pain that he would be just.

One mercy for one mercy.

His hand let go of the hilt, and she moved abruptly ahead, as if awakened from sleep, and spoke no more to him.

As soon as the door to his sister's chamber closed behind her, one of the ghosts came up to him and told him that he would replace him because the King wanted to speak to him. He nodded his head, tense, praying to the gods not to make him take off his mask.

He would have to kill him then, and he wanted to wait a little while, until they were better prepared.

He repeated to himself that he had to be patient.

That since he had endured so many years, he would endure a few more weeks as well.

He entered the chamber that had belonged to his father, originally in Targaryen red, now all in shades of blue − Lord Walford looked up at him from the book he had just read.

"Come closer." He said coldly, and he wordlessly obeyed his order, looking ahead indifferently with his hands clasped behind him.

"Did my daughter visit her mother today?" He asked, flipping the page with an aggressive, quick gesture that he noticed out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes."

The king hummed under his breath, stretching out comfortably in his richly decorated wooden chair.

"What did they discuss?" She asked lowly, and he licked his lips, wondering what he should say.

There were guards all around them, they could overhear their conversation, he couldn't come off as a liar in front of him.

He had to stick to his role.

"The Queen expressed disappointment that the young Prince was not visiting her. She also raised concerns that I was the personification of death, had come to bring her relief and take her life. She told me to spare her daughter and son because they did not know anything." He recited in a cold, dispassionate tone − the King sighed heavily, running his hand over his face.

"She has completely lost her mind. She keeps poisoning my poor daughter's head." He muttered, looking ahead with indifferent, enraged gaze.

"Take care of her."

He looked at him in disbelief, unsure if he had understood correctly what he expected of him.

"What do you mean, my King?" He asked lowly, uttering the last words with great difficulty. The man looked at him and licked his lower lip with impatience.

"It should look like she took her own life. Preferably a hanging. That will look the most natural. As long as she lives, our family will never move on."

Walking down the corridor towards the staircase to the chamber in which the Queen was being held, he took two vessels from his pocket, which he had kept for himself in case of need.

He walked all the way up, noticing that there were no guards or servants around, the door to her chamber open − she was sitting on her bed with her hands in her lap and looking towards him smiling, as if waiting for him.

"At last." She said softly, her skinny face as if it had taken on a flush. "I was hoping to see you one day. Believe me, there has not been a day in which I have not prayed for you."

He looked at her impassively feeling a tightness in his gut, playing between his fingers with the glass little bottle he held in his hand.

"You know what I came for." He said matter-of-factly, and she nodded and laughed lightly.

"I've waited a long time for this. For freedom." She replied − suddenly it seemed to him that she was completely sober and awake, that she had known perfectly well all this time what was happening to her.

She was waiting for him to come back and kill her.

He thought with surprise that something moved him at that thought.

"I have a proposition for you, my Lady." He said finally − she looked at him sleepily, wrinkling her brows.

"I will spare your daughter and your son if I gain your family's support in taking the throne." He said lowly, raising a hand with a small vial in front of him, waving it in front of her.

"Black Tears. That is the name of what I now hold in my hands. A few drops are enough to fall into a deep sleep − a person's heart beats slower, their pulse cannot be felt. However, if one drinks too much, one may not wake up again. Do you understand?" He asked coldly − she looked at the liquid and then at him, disbelief in her gaze.

"I'll help you escape."

When it was all over he informed the King that according to his will his spouse was dead. He came to her in his own person and sat down beside her on the bed, touching her cheek.

"Did she suffer?" He asked as if in pain, thought for a moment that he regretted his decision.

"No. She just fell asleep."

The King ordered that her body be prepared respectfully for burial and that he contact the prior of the monastery on his behalf to conduct the ceremony.

This is what he had been waiting for.

"She is alive. Move her to the monastery and inform her family what her king-husband wanted to do. Criston will give her an infusion that will wake her up. It is best if she vomits a few times, she may also have a fever and be weakened." He said to the man who had been like a second father to him during his years of solitude.

The monk looked at him in horror, both of them standing over her body in the small castle chapel that had once belonged to his mother.

"− you risk a lot −" He said, afraid to use his title aloud − he hummed under his breath, looking at her indifferently.

"− I am paying my debt − you always told me that a just King must be merciful − did you not? −" He asked coldly, the man swallowed loudly and looked again at the body of the sleeping Queen.

"We must change the body and put it in the coffin at once. Tell the King that there are nasty marks on the Queen's body, probably indicative of the injection of poison. He will then not allow the lid to be opened and will order a burial as soon as possible." He said indifferently and walked away, leaving the monk with his words.

When he returned he headed for the King's chamber and announced to him that everything was ready for a quick, trouble-free burial. The King showed satisfaction at the speed of his work and praised his organisational skills, glad that his face was obscured by a mask so that he could not see how wide his smile was.

Your end is coming, he thought with amusement.

"Summon my daughter." He said, putting a bite of roast into his mouth.

He wasn't surprised by the Princess's reaction to what her father had said, he wasn't surprised that she didn't believe it, that she ran towards the chamber where she had spoken to her mother only hours before.

He moved quickly after her, seeing that she was in complete hysterics, and thought that she looked just like he had when her father's soldiers had entered his mother's chamber.

"You fucking bastard!" She shouted wrestling with him desperately, trying to hit him with a candlestick, but he caught her easily, her wrists slender and petite − he thought if he put any more strength into his grip he would break her bones.

"− tell me where she is − please −" She mumbled looking at him pleadingly, the candlestick fell out of her hand with a loud clink of steel against the stone floor.

She was despairing, her face all red from tears, her lips puffed up and glistening − he thought there was something beautiful, noble in her suffering.

"− please − please, Vhagar, I don't want her to be alone −" She whined, and he swallowed loudly at the thought that her father hadn't told her everything, that she thought her mother was still alive.

"It's too late. She didn’t suffer."

She spilled into his hands, what he had told her was too much for her mind and heart − she fainted from grief and pain and he caught her in his arms at the last moment.

He picked her up and started down the stairs with her, her head resting against his chest − he thought she was incredibly light and soft, her pleasant scent filling his entire lungs.

He carried her to her chamber and laid her limp body on her bed. He sat down in the chair beside her, spreading himself out comfortably, taking satisfaction for some reason that he could shamelessly look at her from so close.

Her shoulders were bare − the sleeve of her gown slipped off one of them, exposing her naked skin in a way that was inappropriate to say the least.

He had spent eight years of his life within the walls of a men's monastery, devoting himself to training, reading and prayer − the last thing he thought about when dreaming of reclaiming his rightful throne were women and the frailties of the human body.

He shuddered when her body moved − her eyelids parted suddenly, her vision hazy and dreamy, the darkness clearly startling her and it took her a moment to realise where she was and what had happened.

Her face finally turned towards him and she froze, her eyes opened wide in horror, her lips began to tremble − he felt like he saw a flash of a tear run down her cheeks.

"You were supposed to protect her." She uttered in pain. He looked at her with an indifferent expression on his face wondering if she would have thrown herself at his neck if she had found out he had helped her mother escape.

"I did." He saw that she furrowed her brow, furious, so he continued, wanting her to understand exactly what order her father had given him.

"I showed her mercy. Your father the king wanted me to make it look like she took her own life. I gave her poison, after which she just fell asleep, although he suggested hanging. He thought it would look more...natural."

He saw that her eyebrows arched in pain and regret − she pressed her lips together and closed her eyelids, turning on her side, curling up like a small child and huddling in her furs, seeking refuge in the warm fabric.

"When will it be made official?" She asked trying to feign calm, her voice trembling however, betraying her pain and suffering.

"Tomorrow morning the kKng will convene a gathering and announce the sorrowful news."

She raised her gaze to him, he felt something change in the expression on her face − she was thinking hard about something.

"Do you still have that poison?" She whispered and he felt his heart begin to pump the blood faster through his veins − he pressed his lips together and swallowed loudly, wondering if she was really planning to do what he suspected her of doing.

"…yes."

He looked at her in disbelief as she held out her slim, smooth hand to him, trembling slightly, hanging in the air.

"Have mercy on me too." She said softly, pleadingly, warmly − he hesitated, unsure of what he should do.

He had promised her mother he wouldn't kill her with his own hands, but he hadn't said he would stop her from committing suicide.

He got up slowly from his seat with a loud creak of the old wood and pulled out a small vial of leftover poison, enough to kill her. He walked over to her and handed it to her, looking at her with some kind of wide-eyed excitement, wondering what she would do.

He thought she was only pretending, that she wanted to arouse his pity, that she hoped he would stop her at the last moment.

"Is it going to be painful?" She asked in a trembling voice, looking at him helplessly, his heart pounding like mad − he could feel the cold sweat running down the back of his neck.

"No. You'll just fall asleep." He replied softly, and she sighed quietly, as if relieved, startling him when she opened the vial in a perfectly confident motion and immediately tilted its entire contents down her throat.

She swallowed loudly and looked at him with big eyes, horrified as he was by what she had done, by the knowledge that she was going to die, and lay back, tears of sadness, grief and fear running down the sides of her face.

She looked like a small child.

"Will you stay with me?" She asked in a trembling voice filled with despair and sorrow − he felt his heart sting, only realising a moment later that he was breathing heavily through his mouth.

"Yes." He whispered, noticed how involuntarily her head slowly slid to the side, her eyelids closed, her lips slightly parted.

She did it.

She couldn't take it and took her own life.

He went to her, pulling the black leather glove from his hand and touched her neck. He pressed his lips together, still sensing her pulse, wondering strenuously whether to let her die.

If it turned out that the King's daughter on his watch had died, he would have to kill him outright.

They weren't ready yet, they needed the support of her mother's family.

He clamped his eyelids shut and sighed heavily, taking her hair from her face with his fingers and swallowed loudly at the thought that her skin was incredibly warm and soft − he ran his fingertips over it for a moment as if it were a sheet of water before he reached into his coat pocket and took out a second vial.

He took the cork out of it, caught her cheeks in his hand and poured its contents down her throat, lifting her so that she didn't suffocate, her body began to shake.

She snorted loudly and squeezed him tightly − he reached quickly for the bowl of fruit standing next to her bed and dumped it on the stone floor, placing it under her mouth before her body shook with convulsions.

"Come on, you have to get it out of your body. Yes, there we go." He whispered as she began to vomit − he looked at her and thought with surprise that for some reason he felt relieved.

She was merely a tool in her father's hands, just like him, surrounded only by a terrifying, cruel, cold darkness.

He thought with some kind of pain, watching her as she fell asleep, shivering with fever and fatigue, that she was as alone as he was. He covered her with thick furs and lasted by her side all night without a wink, wanting to be sure she was still alive.

He was shocked to see that the next day, despite her fever, she got up as if nothing had happened, ordered her servants to help her dress in a black gown even though her father had not yet declared mourning.

Her expression of defiance, her expression of strength.

She was so pale that when he saw her walking in a small procession behind the coffin, he thought she really did look like a ghost − he had the feeling she was about to collapse, yet she walked ahead, her gaze distant, cool and empty.

He watched as she smiled at her father, as she pretended in front of him only to see complete emptiness appear on her face when he disappeared from her sight, a coldness in her gaze from which for some reason he felt a pleasant tickle in his fingertips.

"It's time to go back." He said finally snapping her out of her lethargy. She walked over to the grave where she believed her mother rested and placed her hand on it, tired and filled with pain.

"No. I won't leave her alone this time."

He looked at her impassively, for some reason feeling that he understood her, that like him she blamed herself for not protecting her mother.

They had both lost them at the hands of the same man.

"She's free now." He said calmly.

It wasn't a lie.

He had never lied to her.

She looked at him in a way that made him lift his chin higher, challenging her. She approached him slowly, her face enveloped in a black veil seemed even more mysterious and disturbingly beautiful to him, as if she were not human, her shape seemed slightly blurred to him, as if she did not really exist.

He drew in a loud breath when he felt her hand on his chest, her lips placing a kiss on the cold mask that covered his face in the place below where his cheek had been. He looked at her in disbelief as her hand stroked his mask, smelling the pleasant scent of her skin, a mixture of lavender and chamomile.

"This is my expression of gratitude for your dedication to the affairs of our family." She said with feigned tenderness, her puffy lips slightly parted, her gaze indifferent, sharp, dark. He felt a throbbing inside his breeches and swallowed loudly, embarrassed and horrified by his body's reaction.

He thought, following her back towards the keep, that they were the same.

That as King he would need a Queen, a woman who would give him offspring and extend his line.

What would unite the realm more than the marriage of two conflicted sides, bringing peace and order at last?

He thought about it watching her while she was bathing, when she let him stay, saying he could watch − he was completely hard at the thought that when it was all over he would take her for himself, that this warm, soft body with pleasant, girlish shapes that peered through from under her wet chemise would be his alone.

He thought of this only to clench his hands around her neck a moment later, watching her terrified face trying helplessly to catch its breath after thinking horrified that she had ruined everything.

She had found the passage.

Why, why couldn't she just leave it all?

Why was she forcing him to do this when only he could give her freedom of life or death?

He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against hers − he let out a growl of rage and let her go, heard her draw in the air loudly as she looked at him with a gaze full of terror and disbelief, her lips swollen and red from the blood that, through the adrenaline, flowed quickly through her veins.

She was beautiful.

He sighed heavily, involuntarily clinging to her − she trembled all over trying to push him away, but he was stronger than her. He began to rub against her body with his swollen cock and parted his lips, feeling his manhood respond with a strong pulsing, wave after wave of hot, tickling pleasure flowed through his lower abdomen.

"You are my curse. My ruin." He exhaled, looking closely at her face, her dark, wonderfully long eyelashes surrounded her eyes, staring at him with disbelief, fear and something that made him hot, her eyebrows arched in indecision, her full, moist lips parted slightly − he thought he would have killed for the chance to taste them. "My doom."

He shuddered and lost his breath for a moment when he felt her hands let go of his chest and slide down to his hips, her thighs spread out in front of him, her fingers tightening on his flesh, pressing him tighter against her − she sighed quietly beneath him, breathing louder and louder.

"− destroy me − leave me with nothing −" She whispered; he felt a powerful shudder run through him and he thought it was over, that he had to do it, that he had to feel her.

He didn't believe it when he felt her own hands help him untie and slide down his breeches, he didn't care if she changed her mind − he wanted her and took her. He forced his way inside her with difficulty, her fleshy walls clenching against him, resisting him, a whimper of discomfort escaping her lips.

He was panting and moaning along with her, sliding into her with effort all the way in, with a natural, subconscious movement beginning to root into her, delighted at how tight and warm she was, how with each thrust of his hips he slid into her with increasing ease, his movements accompanied by the loud click of her moisture.

She was wet.

"− good gods, you are fucking enjoying this −" He muttered with a sneer and groaned low, feeling her clench tightly around his manhood − he began to slam into her harder and faster, feeling that something was happening to him, some kind of tension was rising and rising, he felt like his cock was about to explode.

And then it happened.

He came inside her, for the first time in his life he experienced fulfilment and it was so stupefying and pleasurable that for a moment he was just panting with his eyes closed, rooting into her again and again, trying to prolong it, listening to her mewling of pleasure, her cheeks wonderfully pink, her gaze misty, her lips parted sweetly.

He stared at her thinking about the fact that he had filled her to the brim with his seed, that he felt fulfilled as a man, as a lover, as a husband, as a King, as anyone he wanted to be.

He had taken for himself the woman he desired and filled her with himself.

Was there anything more natural?

However, he quickly regained his sobriety of mind as did she − they pulled away from each other, terrified. He slid out of her and she moved away quickly, covering her thighs, panting loudly, looking at him in horror, clearly thinking he was still going to try to kill her.

He reached up quickly and tied his breeches, looking at her in disbelief, his manhood still all wet from her juices, from what had flowed out of her after she had reached her peak with him deep inside her.

He looked at her and thought only of the fact that he had never experienced something so pleasurable before in his life.

That through his seed she could soon carry his child in her womb.

That she would become his Queen.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[asklilmissrarity]

The Future of Lil Miss Rarity

Hello everyone, this is Jay Tonique (formerly known as Lil Miss Jay), the writer, artist, everything other than the music in the Lil Miss Rarity animation for the blog "Lil Miss Rarity."

As some of you know, Lil Miss Rarity was an ongoing outlet for my physical, verbal and emotional abuse I was suffering prior to and leading up to Lil Miss Rarity's release, October 11th 2011.

The blog took off so heavily that my entire artistic career became a viable future for me, allowing me to profit from my art, build a huge loving fanbase, and even allowing me to become something of a celebrity in the Brony community (even very much hated by a large portion of the community).

It's needless for me to say that Lil Miss Rarity not only changed but saved my life. I was on the verge of taking my own life around the time the blog was started, due to the abuse I was going through, and if it weren't for the success of the blog that fateful October week, I would certainly not be here, typing this right now. I owe my life to you all, and the support you've given me for this blog.

However, it's time for the news I know very few people want to hear. In fact, I'm sure just reading this line right here has people's hearts sinking, but please, don't be anxious, please read the full post.

I would like to say: Please read the full post, I am going to be very clear about the future.

Moving forward, Lil Miss Rarity will no longer be updated, and the blog is officially entirely over, as of this post.

I am still looking for a musician to commission a new song for the remake of the Lil Miss Rarity animation on YouTube, which will be my final major update involving the blog, and then I will be putting the blog entirely to rest. The animation will serve as a fond emotional farewell to Lil Miss Rarity.

However, that's not the end of the twisted grimdark storytelling. I have decided to make a spiritual successor, a new IP, entirely my own and not using My Little Pony as a crutch.

I won't get too into it, but I left the Brony fandom long ago. It was both the greatest thing to ever happen in my life, and the absolute worst thing to ever happen in my life. I met great friends, but also met unbelievably horrible sick people, many of which I literally got FBI involvement to deal with and many of which are literally in prison now.

Due to this, and many many more reasons I'm leaving out, I cannot and will not continue to be a part of the fandom. This is just a few reasons, as well, that continuing to have Lil Miss Rarity exist as a My Little Pony blog just doesn't make any sense to me.

So what am I doing moving forward?

A brand new IP called "Melodi." It's about a magic school student who is part of a wealthy family who goes on a magical twisted adventure in a horrifying grimdark world.

It will have characters either very slightly or very heavily inspired by the characters of Lil Miss Rarity, with Melodi of course being inspired by Rarity.

It will also be an ongoing web comic, similar to LMR, and will encourage fan feedback just as much as LMR did, but will not be an Ask Blog like LMR.

I plan to release character concepts for the cast of Melodi soon.

Now, there's probably a lot of questions moving forward, so I'll try to answer them now, as well as in asks on this blog, though I'd prefer you send the asks about Melodi to my main blog at http://www.jayisbutts.com/ask

Here's some questions I think will be asked, and I'll answer them here:

"Will this blog be on Tumblr?" - Yes, and on Patreon. Each update will be on Patreon first. When an update comes out on Patreon, the previous update will go public at the same time on Tumblr.

"Don't you think the LMR fanbase you've garnered for 12 years are gonna be upset about this?" - I'm 100% certain they will be, yes. However, I hope that most people who hear this news are excited to see Melodi in the future. I'm very proud of what I've created with LMR, and happy about how many lives I've changed and how many people have told me how much they love LMR. People with the heart-brand tattoo, people with LMR tattoos, people who cosplay as LMR, LMR fanart still being made regularly to this date, real-life Opal dolls, fan-dubs of the comic, fan animations, Anime Music Videos, etc etc etc. I love each and every one of you and I hope that I can one day garner the same amount of love for Melodi as I received for LMR. Thank you all so much for your support.

"What if someone else wants to carry on the LMR blog or use the characters to make their own?" - Please, do. LMR is officially Public Domain as of this post, and I strongly encourage LMR fan-fiction, fan-blogs, etc. I would love if someone could do LMR better than I did. I will very happily use this blog going forward to showcase new LMR blogs and fan-content that I like, and I will very gladly be a guest artist from time to time on an update or two to those blogs. You all have my blessing to take LMR and do with her whatever you want.

"Are you still remaking the LMR animation?" - Yes, I'm still actively seeking a musician to make an official LMR theme that will play in the background of it. It will be a glorious farewell to LMR.

"Is the heart-brand still a thing in Melodi?" - Absolutely, yes. The one incredibly major staple being carried over to Melodi is the heart brand. That symbol has become synonymous with LMR.

"What about the eye scars?" - Probably not. There will be facial scarring of some kind, yes, but considering the new story will not involve killing a cat (not yet anyway), she probably won't have the eye scars.

"Black eye with white pupil?" - We'll see! (It is a sign of Malice's corruption to have a black left eye, so almost certainly yes, but we'll see!)

"Ponies? Humans? Furries?" - I haven't fully decided. In my head, Melodi is a human, but I could also see her being a cat. I'm not sure what I wanna do just yet. However, she will not be a pony. She's gonna be far more human shaped. With boobies.

"Is this one gonna have porn?" - Nope! Not directly as part of the blog, no. Sexual encounters are going to happen in a very fade-to-black way, or a cropped-off-screen sort of way, yes. And there will be sexy characters, like monster girls or demon girls, and I'm sure people will find Melodi herself sexy, too. However, the blog is not going to contain actual porn. No full nudity. It will have what some would refer to as "fetish content," as with LMR, but it's not porn.

"Final question, so... LMR is just... dead? As of now?" - In terms of receiving updates from me, all that will be made is the LMR animation. But no, I certainly hope LMR is not dead. I would love to see the blog live on through other artists I've inspired. You all have my blessing to keep her alive forever.

Thank you all so much for your support.

More news involving Melodi and her twisted adventures coming soon.

I love you all, and I want you all to know how much your support of Lil Miss Rarity has changed my life.

I know it's cringe to type this, but, "I'm literally crying right now."

Mommy will always be pretty.

~Jay Tonique (Formerly Lil Miss Jay)

[fluentmoviequoter]

I just found out you write for Deacon 😍

I have a request for you: being in a relationship with Deacon but you guys have an age gap and because David is older he sometimes he has doubts if he his the right person for her. The reader shows him in many different ways that he is more than enough for her

Such a good idea!! I took some creative liberties and it became more of a discussion about Deacon's doubts and how reader proves her love, so I hope that's okay. If you'd like me to redo it with more focus on Deacon's emotions or anything, I can! Either way, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Warnings: discussions of doubt and insecurity, age gap (I pictured early seasons Deacon, so he'd be mid-40s, and reader in her 20s but it's up to you!), tons of fluff.

Word Count: 1.7k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

A/N: I proofread and fixed some errors on 12/27/23, but let me know if I missed anything! (And, yes, the title is an Enchanted reference.)

How Does He Know that You Love Him?

The age gap between you and Deacon has never bothered you; if anything, it’s part of why you love him so much. Deacon has doubts occasionally, but you never fail to prove that he’s the one for you and that you love him. More than you should sometimes, he thinks.

✯One Year Ago✯

You and Deacon keep running into each other. Living in the same neighborhood as each other meant that it was bound to happen, but it is occurring too often to be a coincidence. So, you decide to introduce yourself to him at the park. When you sit beside him on the park bench to continue your conversation, he points out that you could probably find someone younger than him to hang out with.

“I don’t want to sit with someone younger. I want to sit with you,” you say, smiling. “If that’s okay, of course.”

“It’s perfectly fine with me,” Deacon responds.

A few weeks later, he asks you out on the first date, and he makes it very clear that if he is reading it wrong and you want to be friends, that is okay. He mentions the age gap, and you have to interrupt him.

“Deacon, wait. I don’t care how old you are. You know that, right?” you ask, laying a hand on his forearm.

Deacon nods, but you look at him, unconvinced, and he sighs before continuing. “I’m sure it seems okay now, but what if in a few months or a year you realize you want someone younger? Then we just wasted time.”

You raise your hand off his arm to cup his jaw. Smiling up at him, you promise, “I want you, Deacon. No matter how old you are or how amazing your salt and pepper looks.”

Since then, you’ve made sure to not only tell Deacon that he’s the one for you and the age gap doesn’t bother you, but to show him. You love spending time with his friends, glad to be around a group of men rather than boys. You’ll happily decline an invitation to go to a midnight horror movie or clubbing in exchange for game nights at Hondo’s house. Deacon soon realizes that you mean what you say and what you do, and the age gap doesn’t affect him as much. He still gets insecure at times; when he sees you with a group of people your age or a young man stares at you in public, but when he remembers who you’re with and everything you’ve said you love about him, the thought returns to the back of his mind.

✯Present Day✯

“Who’s that?” you ask as you walk into the station, hugging Deacon as he walks up to you.

“Oh, that’s Jim Street. Buck’s choice of replacement,” Deacon answers, watching you look at Jim.

You nod once and look back to Deacon, smiling as you lean up to kiss him quickly. “He any good?”

“He’s got potential, just needs a little help.”

“Which is exactly what you guys do, right?”

“Right.”

You pull your hand from him to visit Luca and Chris, but Deacon can only focus on you and Jim. You’re closer in age, and Street looks over at you every few minutes. Even if it’s not Jim, you will meet other men: better options than Deacon. He knows that if this happens, you’ll both get hurt in the fallout, so he buries his doubts. Or tries to.

“Deacon,” you call, your brows furrowed as you tilt your head to the side, asking to talk to him privately.

He follows you to an empty hallway, standing before you as you lean against a wall. Your arms are crossed across your chest as you look up at him.

“What’s wrong? And don’t say nothing.”

“Just…” Deacon sighs as he rakes his fingers through his hair.

“Is it happening again?”

Deacon’s eyes drop to your shoes, focusing on you but not your face.

“Deacon, you can talk to me about it. You know I get insecure, too, right? It’s normal, but it’s not something you have to endure alone.”

“I don’t want our relationship to be you trying to make me feel better,” Deacon admits.

“You know what I like? I like talking to you, no matter what it’s about. I like spending time with you, no matter what we’re doing. You’re it for me, Deacon, and I will tell you and show you until I can’t anymore. Okay? But I need you to start talking to me about this stuff.”

Deacon nods, grabbing your elbows and pulling you up against him. “You show me a lot.”

“Really? Have any examples?” you ask playfully, blinking up at him.

“Later. I have a whole list,” Deacon answers.

He directs you back to the common area where his team is.

“We’re gonna head out, guys,” Deacon announces. “See you Friday?” he asks Hondo.

“Come prepared to lose!” Tan taunts as he waves.

You hold Deacon’s arm against your chest as you walk out, eager to stay close to him and remind him that you’re always close. Sometimes too close, maybe.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Now, the list?” you ask as Deacon passes you a steaming mug.

You pull your legs up as Deacon sits down, then drop them into his lap.

“Yes, well, it’s not just a list of things you do. There’s also specific memories and how you make me feel,” Deacon says quietly.

“Okay. How do I make you feel?”

“That’s at the end,” Deacon teases as he places his hand on your legs.

He begins telling you about the ten things that stand out as evidence of how you prove your love for him and your lack of care for the age gap.

“First, you watch for me when you’re out,” Deacon begins.

“Meaning?”

“When you go out with your friends and I come pick you up, they always have their noses in their phones. They don’t talk to each other or look around, but the second I walk in, your eyes light up and you run to meet me. Like you’ve been watching for me.”

“You’re worth watching for,” you point out, sipping your drink.

“No flirting right now, I’m trying to tell a story. Second, when you asked me to teach you how to tie a tie and started doing it for me every time I needed to wear a tie.”

You smile as you remember the memory. Deacon happily took your hands in his and walked you through the process several times before letting you try without his help. It took some practice, but soon, you could tie it perfectly and offer to do so whenever he has to wear a tie somewhere. He always accepts, of course.

“Third?” you inquire.

“You dance with me. I can turn on music and grab you, anywhere, anytime, and you’ll dance with me. Not everyone is willing to slow down and just be with someone else like that.”

“You’re my dance partner, forever, Deac.” He looks at you, and you smile into your cup as you say, “Sorry, I’ll stop flirting.”

“Four. You turn guys down with a grace I’ve never seen. When we’re out and a guy comes up to you…” Deacon trails off when he sees the look in your eyes. “It happens a lot. When they do, and they flirt with you, you make it clear that you’re not interested but you do it with a grace beyond anyone’s years.”

“Does it bother you? That guys come up to me like that, I mean. Because I can get a face tattoo or something, or a big necklace that says, ‘stay back.”

Deacon laughs, pulling you closer after you set your mug down. “Five is pretty easy. You bring me treats, and you involve my coworkers somehow when you visit me at the station. You get along with my friends and you know what everyone likes and needs. Which goes with number six, which is that you don’t rely on me for everything, but you make me a part of everything.”

“Deacon has someone said something about me using you for your money or your age?” you ask, leaning toward him as you hope the answer is negative.

“No, but I’m sure some people would expect it. And I would help you with anything in a heartbeat, but even then, on the rare occasion you do ask for help, you make me part of it, not just a means to the end.”

“I think your list of things you love about me is making me fall more in love with you,” you say.

Deacon smiles and tugs your legs once more, pulling your thighs into his lap so you’re close enough to kiss when he’s ready. You raise a hand and run your fingers through his hair, disturbing the gel he used this morning and gently scratching his scalp. He wraps his arms around you as his eyes close involuntarily.

“This is seven. When you touch my hair everything else slips away.”

“Well, you know how I feel about your hair,” you tease.

“You warned me at the beginning,” Deacon recalls. “But it’s gotten better with time.”

“What’s eight?” you whisper, stilling your hand against his cheek.

“That you stay close to me when we’re together. Even if you’re across the room, you stay in sight. When you’re right beside me is my favorite, though. It’s a reminder that you not only want to be there, but you want to be there with me.”

“Forever.”

“This one’s big. You approach my doubts so maturely, ready to explain and show me why they’re unfounded and wrong. When I get insecure or doubtful about your place with me, you find a way to show me that you want to be with me.”

“It doesn’t happen as much anymore,” you point out.

 “I guess I finally caught on,” Deacon jokes. “Old dogs, new tricks, perhaps.”

“If nine was that big, I’m not sure I’m emotionally prepared for the last one.”

“It’s that you make me feel like I’m in love. You make me feel alive and young. I feel like you’re the breath that my lungs have been waiting for my whole life and you let me live and experience life in a whole new way. I love you with everything I am, no matter our ages.”

“I love you, now and forever, Deacon,” you say before kissing him.

“What do you think you’ll look like with gray hair?” Deacon mumbles against your lips.

“Not as good as you.”

[maxislvt]

Could I request a dark fic where Vampire!Wanda and Mortal!Reader fall in love, and after getting married, Wanda offers to turn Reader into a vampire but Reader says no. However, years go by and Reader is on their deathbed, about to succumb to old age, when Wanda decides she must turn Reader whether they like it or not.

Thank you!

p.s. i am a simp for Vampire Mommy Wanda

warnings: angst, mention of terminal illness, arguin

I didn't realize the old age part so this is just kinda sadder than need be

Death was the price that came with loving a mortal.

As a vampire, Wanda was cursed to live forever. An eternity filled with nothing but quick flings that would amount to nothing in the end. It was a rather sad love life, but Wanda had convinced herself she was okay with it. With a legacy to keep secret and company to run — her schedule was pretty tight. A relationship would just add more stress. That's what she told herself. Then you came along and ruined a near two hundred year streak of being single.

You were everything Wanda wanted in a lover. Someone gentle and kind to cut down the bitterness she'd collected over the years. It didn't take long for her to realize how much she needed you. Wanda clung to you for dear life. The mere thought of you leaving her sent her into a spiral. You were always quick to put out her fears. You never even considered leaving Wanda. She gave you her everything — you had no reason to.

Wanda wasn't entirely sure what she'd done to make you change your mind.

"You said—" Wanda took a deep breath. She'd never been so upset with you before. "You said you'd never leave me! We were supposed to be together forever." You always had a way of making Wanda feel things that had laid dormant for years. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this upset. Her cheeks burned with hot tears. After everything she had done for you, you were still so comfortable just leaving her? It wasn't fair. "I won't be able to love anyone else."

You flinch at the harsh reality in Wanda's words. "I'm not leaving you. It's just my time to go." You had come to terms with the fact you'd die months ago. The doctors handed you a diagnosis and said you only had so long. Fighting it was futile. You didn't expect Wanda to be okay with it. Finding love after decades of loneliness only to have it ripped away was a pain beyond your imagination. But you only had about two weeks left and you didn't want that dread hanging over your head the entire time. "Just love me as much as you can, while you still can." You spoke as softly as you could. "Come here, I want to cuddle."

Wanda took a deep breath before laying down next to you. Fear still ran hot through her vines. It was making her irrational. "I could do it forever if you'd just let me-"

"I don't want to be turned into a vampire. You have to respect that. "

"I don't want to be alone forever, can't you respect that?"

You sighed and rubbed your temples. "Wanda, you're being selfish. Think about all the people I care about and would have to watch die. I can't do that." Your arms wrapped around Wanda's body and pulled her close. "I don't really want to talk about this anymore. Let's just call it a night. Please?"

Wanda pulled away and looked down at you. She could see life fading from your body. You were paler and the bags under your eyes were getting darker. Even the light in your eyes was starting to fade. It was like looking at a doomsday clock meant specifically just for you. Wanda would do anything to keep that clock from sticking 12. She wasn't going to let you die. Your approval was going to have to take the backseat for her to do that. "Okay, I won't bring it up anymore." She placed a gentle kiss on your lips before laying back down and holding you close.

She wasn't foolish enough to do it while you were awake. Once Wanda was sure you'd fallen asleep, her fangs buried themselves into your lower back. Sickness had tainted the taste of your blood forever ago. The sugary sweetness had now faded into something bitter and medicinal. She sucked until she had taken just enough to turn you. Her tongue licked at the wound so it'd be healed by the morning.

You'd hate her for it. Maybe you'd argue again or run off screaming with the hopes of finding a cure. You would come back eventually. Eventually, Wanda would be the only one you'd have left to run to. It appeared you had figured that out faster than Wanda expected.

Wanda expected nothing less from someone as smart as you.

"Wanda," You whispered from the bathroom. Despite calling for her, you didn't even spare your partner a glance. Your eyes focused on the cut quickly healing on your finger. You wipe away the blood slowly. Focusing on the task to avoid blowing up at the woman standing in the door frame. A heavy sigh fell from your lips as you turned to face her. "Why'd you do it?" The look in your eyes was cold and almost uncaring.

That wasn't the first time you looked at her like that. It certainly wouldn't be the last now that you two had an eternity together.

"I did what I thought was best." Wanda stretched out her arms. "I know it's going to be scary at first, but I'm going to be here with you every step of the-"

You quickly pushed past Wanda. You grabbed a bag and began stuffing your clothes in it. "I can't be around you right now." Every word Wanda said fell on deaf ears as you continued packing. There was nothing she could say that would make you feel better. Just as you tried to zip up the bag, Wanda tried to snatch away. "Wanda, I don't want to hear it!" You shouted before snatching the bag away from her. It felt good to be strong enough to stand up for yourself. You turned and walked away.

"Stop walking away from me and listen!"

Your body stopped dead in its tracks. How could you have forgotten? Turned vampires were nothing to someone from a bloodline as powerful as Wanda's. That was just another way you'd be inferior to her.

Wanda turned your body so you were forced to look at her. "I did what I had to do to keep us happy. I will not sit here and let you make me a villain for putting you first!" She could see the anger burning bright behind your eyes "I gave you my whole heart and I'm not going to let you run off and break it!" It didn't feel right yelling at you. It wasn't your fault you were born a mortal or her a vampire. But something had to be done in order for you two to stay together. Wanda needed reassurance but all you were showing her was animosity. "Say something damn it! I need you!"

For a moment you just stared at Wanda. Fighting the urge to obey her wasn't easy, but you weren't going to let her win.

"I hate you more than anything right now."

[beautiful-basque-country]

On October 23, 1980, Alex N. was 12 years old when the tragedy [an accidental gas explosion] occurred at the Marcelino Ugalde school in Ortuella (Bizkaia): 51 people died, mostly boys and girls who were studying at the public center, including his 6yo sister Paloma. A preteen who had to live a traumatic experience that still remains vividly in his memory today. “I took her in my arms to my parents' car, but there was nothing to do,” painfully recalls this native of Ortuella, who like many of his neighbors does not understand why the digital platform Netflix has announced the intention to bring to the big screen the adaptation of Fernando Aramburu's novel The Child, based on the testimonies of some of the survivors of the Ortuella catastrophe.

“The book, based on a personal story, does not seem bad to me since it collects a personal experience, but trying to put the pain of so many families who still cry and suffer the loss into motion is different to me," says another neighbor who considers the commercialization of their pain "miserable."

On the other side of the story, the author of the book maintains that the platform project to adapt his text “pleases me greatly and at the same time strengthens my conviction that the children who died in that 1980 tragedy deserve a worthy place in our memory.”

However the intention announced by Netflix has caused deep discomfort in this mining municipality of barely 8,500 inhabitants, whose municipal representatives approved yesterday at a meeting a unanimous declaration in which they request “in a respectful and emphatic manner, that no film or audiovisual production that deals with the drama that our people experienced in the past is made. This decision has been adopted unanimously by our community, reflecting our collective desire to safeguard our history and privacy.”

They expect the American platform “respects this request and refrain from making any production based on the events that affected our people. We urge you to consider the sensitivity of our situation and the importance of our right to decide about the public dissemination of our history.”

---

This does open an interesting debate about audiovisual creation and consent. If the town doesn't want to reopen a not fully-closed wound that only interests Netflix as a mean to have a profit, I guess they should be respected.

What do you think?

[thirdtidemouse]

i have to do more bc she isnt rly brought to life yet.. she will change a LOT... but this is dylan :-] (hammarlund? underhill?) i couldn't not do a hilda oc and i couldnt not make it a nervous werewolf. she stresses herself out but is surprisingly organised about cooking, one of the famously stressful activities. she spends a full day planning out a meal, cooking for herself and kaisa (thank god. that nerd cannot cook) and then asks for detailed reviews.

she is very stressed out about being a werewolf though. she has just finished being a teenager and this is kind of that all over again. she does not want ANYONE to find out and confides reluctantly only in kaisa. what she fears is people fearing her, and she feels like the moment her life has been pieced back together again, she's losing grip, again. it's almost a black hound situation when the people of trolberg hear about a werewolf sneaking around. some episode centred around the mystery ensues.

she likes food + music! although she's more of an amateur at music, she owns + plays a guitar, a mandolin, a banjo, and a harmonica. very folksy. she has a swedish-welsh accent. try and imagine it please.

the default sister dynamic is kaisa getting home from work late (she probably lives in a flat in/around the library), and dylan being in the midst of homemade ravioli or something with a sauce that took 6 hours. kaisa asks about her day to be polite. dylan tells her about the sauce that took 6 hours, a long hike, 3 different invasive plant species, a lot of butter, and the use of powertools. kaisa has been re-shelving niche history of magic books but got so caught up re-reading them that it also took up 6 hours. when they have eaten dylan asks for her opinion and scribes the whole thing down in her notebook as kaisa voices her 5 star yelp review. they do not ask anything else about each others days and interact mainly through dylan slow-motion fake-punching kaisa while she is trying to just hang out in the living room or do her work and is ignored. only when she is in a very good mood will kaisa fake-punch back. dylan has a lethal case of younger-sister-that-is-taller syndrome.

sorry for my handwriting but the vague outline of her backstory WHICH MAY PROBABLY CHANGE is:

from the time she was 8 and kaisa was 21, they lived alone together. kaisa became a full-fledged witch between then and age 25, when suspicion against witches was on the rise for a short while - dylan never became a witch, but the only trusted adults in her life (basically kaisa and tildy) were, and they decided it would be best for her to grow up somewhere less troublesome. they were both pretty messed up about her having to move away, dylan holding some kind of spite toward her sister for a while, and kaisa feeling incapable, guilty and ill-equipped to take care of her.

she went to school in wales at 12, living with as-yet-unspecified family members/friends, and while kaisa almost immediately regretted sending her away, dylan adjusted quickly and spent the rest of her school career there. after a few years she forgave kaisa, because she ultimately enjoys her life, but she is stilll missed at home. at 17 going on 18 she became a werewolf (whether she was bitten or it was always in her somewhere?) and four months later she finished sixth form and called kaisa out of the blue asking if she could come and move in. since they didn't live in trolberg before, she's new to the city.

i will write more cohesively about her relationships to other characters/flesh her out more later, ESPECIALLY the werewolf stuff, but now i have to go to bed. thank you for reading :-] feel free to ask/suggest anything about her!! i love discussing hilda ocs

by the way this is i think my first ever actual OC? i've made up others before but they've just been single designs i've never really thought much about their actual selves because i suck at writing. dylan is the first one thats really stuck. part of her is based off myself and people i know, most of her is not. the main similarity between us is double-denim.

this is fun though. critique is welcome

(obviously her werewolf self is a swedish elkhound. i know the design kind of just looks like a furry im working on it)

[wifeofsnowbaird]

You Can't, You Can't Catch me Now I'm coming like storm into your town

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/rest on Masterlist

[Mentor!Coriolanus Snow x time-travel, thg-era, tribute!reader x toxic!Finnick Odair (in the Peacekeeper era)]

Warning: gore, blood, gun and knife violence, serious injury, death, physical assult, possibly non-con...as I said, maybe...

Summary: You are a rebel, the last chance of the rebellion against President Snow. You're told to go on one last mission to kill the man who massacred Panem. It took you years to understand your mission when you became [name] Lily Baird, starting from the age of five till before the reaping day of the 10th Hunger Games.

The day you began your plan to destroy President Snow before he became the villain he was meant to become.

'Both sisters, Lucy Gray and [Name] Lily Baird are a part of the Covey, and though they have been chosen as tribute for both District 12 and 9 because of our own mistakes, we hope they will stay safe.'

You knew about [Name] Lily Baird, named after her because your mother was inspired by her fiery personality and strength, but now you realize that you were transported to a time before the Baird sisters died, one of sickness and one because of Coriolanus Snow himself.

'I will kill you, President Coriolanus Snow.'

‘Coryo, how exactly are you supposed to cheat if you have no one on your side other than me?’ He shrugged, glancing towards the sunset past the arena they were standing in. 

 ‘I'm not sure but I will figure out a…’ 

Coriolanus noticed a boy walking towards [Name].

 Felix Ravinstill. 

He dared to try and help Coriolanus’ tribute practice when he noticed she was distracted. Coriolanus frowned, rage getting the best of him.  

But he couldn't do it now. 

Not in front of her.

‘Felix Ravinstill,’ the boy looked up, slightly startled by the hate in Sejanus’ voice. Felix had tried to seduce both of their women and they wouldn’t take that lightly.

‘How dare you try and woo our tributes? You have your own, go mess with her but stay away from our things.’ Coriolanus snarled, glaring sharply toward the cowering black-haired boy. 

‘Clearly, they don’t like either of you.’ The coward tried to smirk but he failed tremendously.

That was when Sejanus saw nothing but red.

‘Die, motherfucker!’ Blood pooled through a jagged bruise tearing through Felix’s skin before he ran away from the two vicious boys willing to do anything for their loves as long as they stayed with them.

It was now days before the Games but even then, early on a mentor and tribute died because of a simple tease toward a starving child.

Arachne Crane and her District 10 tribute.

While Coriolanus hadn’t known Arachne much besides being his childhood friend they had recommended him to sing Panem’s National Anthem. He had only decided to agree because he realized that if [Name] heard it she might finally compliment him.

‘Please, I want you to smile for me…[Name]...’

Living in the time of the 10th Hunger Games, you tended to notice the difference between the Capital from the place you called home. You tried to see the better in most people, expecting a kind person like Effie Trinket to appear amid rich, classy citizens, but it was hard when they just wanted to tease you with something you will never gain because you’re poor .

Sure, the District 1 and 2 tributes were treated much better but still, they were tortured by the feeling of inferiority coming from the people they depended on. 

 Now, you were accompanied by your mentor, Coriolanus Snow, on a walk into the Arena following the other tributes. It was a silent exchange when he secretly placed a napkin of food in your chained hands. You palmed them before slightly nudging Lucy Gray, she was behind you and you could hear her conversation with Sejanus as he quietly gave her a pouch of food to stuff into the pockets of her rainbow ruffles. 

You turned your head as if you were conversing with Coriolanus but let your eyes drift to your sister as she winked and nodded. That nudge was something you both had practiced years ago to signal if you guys were able to steal a piece of food or jewelry from the rich Peacekeepers in other districts before you two traveled with the Covey. Once you got that signal, you calmed down and began to whisper to your mentor. 

‘Coriolanus,’ you began before he interrupted you.

‘ Coryo . You can call me Coryo, I won’t mind.’

You grimaced before clearing your throat and faking a small smile, his piercing blue eyes lighting up.

‘Coryo, I, uh, I liked your singing.’

To be honest, you did. He sounded full and his voice echoed around the arena perfectly. 

‘You sounded like a man with great authority, my daddy wouldn’t have noticed much but he would’ve noticed that.’

[Name] Lily Baird was an orphan found by Lucy Gray’s parents at the age of four so you considered her parents as your own like every other child in that type of situation, and in return, they loved you like you were their child. 

Coriolanus smiled at your wistful expression before glancing toward the identical dresses the Baird sisters had on.

‘That means a lot considering that I thought that you hated me.’ He stared back at you with a cheeky smile on his face.

You rolled your eyes before a smile blossomed through the irritation. Maybe Coriolanus Snow wasn’t as bad right now…Maybe there’s a possibility to change him.

‘Well, I think that most Capital people would like that better than us being friends, right? It’s like we’re rats in a snake's nest.’

He glanced back at you before holding a hand up to his face to stop the laughter about to spill from his mouth. It might not have worked but seeing his red face from the joy in his eyes made you feel as if this Coriolanus Snow, this Coryo, was a completely different person.

Someone you would be great friends with.

But then the world exploded into fits of fire.

wow, i wish

[punkette1026]

Mistaken Identity

Summary:

Joel goes to pick up his son from school only to be mistaken for someone else and makes him question his future.

Had a dream about this the other night. It was way steamer but decided to make it a cute fluff.

Please let me know what you think!

Warnings: Fluff, pregnancy, family

Baby Moon Series

----------------------------------

Joel sighed, tapping his steering wheel impatiently as he waited for the school bell to ring. Today was a special day as he got to pick up his five-year-old son from kindergarten. Normally you were in charge of the school pick up and drop offs, but you were feeling under the weather today and had called your husband who was out running errands to see if he could swing by the school and pick up Benny on his way home.

It’s not that Joel never wanted to pick him up or neglected to help out with the kids and school, but ever since his contracting company got asked to help with a major project in town, Joel had been extremely busy especially during the school week. He was always gone by the time Benny and Sarah had gotten up for school and ended getting home way past dinner time. Luckily for him, Sarah, who was now finishing middle school, was still up either getting ready for bed or finishing up her homework, so he got to spend some time catching up with her. However, with Benny, all Joel was able to do was kiss the little boy’s head and sit there on his bed and watch him sleep for a while. Which always led Joel to feel guilty about neglecting his son and threaten to quit the project so he could be home with him more. Per usual, you would talk Joel off the ledge and remind him that there was always the weekend, and that Benny would understand as he got older, that Joel was doing what he had to do in order to give him the best life possible. So needless to say, when Joel had moments like this to spend time with him, he took every opportunity he could.

It was now 12:30pm and like clockwork, teachers began to walk the younger kids out of the school to their designated pick-up spots. Quickly getting out of his truck, Joel made his way to the tree where Benny’s class usually gathered. He felt awkward standing there with a bunch of parents that he may have only met a time or two when he took Benny to birthday parties. However, as his eyes scanned the sea of kids, he spotted the dark bouncing curls of his son. It amazed him how much his son looked like him. Benny was practically his clone and he loved it. What he didn’t like though was how Benny was currently holding a little girl’s hand as the teacher lined them up. His son was too young to be holding a girl’s hands and he made a note to ask you about that later.

One by one each student was released to their respective parents until it was Joel’s turn. As school protocol, Joel took out his ID and handed it to a teacher that he hadn’t met before. He assumed that she was new, “Hi, I’m here for Benny Miller.”

“Benny Miller huh? Normally his mom picks him up. Are you his grandpa or something?” the red head asked him as she read over his ID.

Joel stood there stunned. That was a new one for him. Normally his age would come into play when he was around you as he was fifteen years older than you and people tend to not mind their own business and would ask you questions, but never had anyone mistaken him for anyone other than Benny’s father. “No, I ain’t his grandfather. “I’m his father,” Joel snapped and swiped his ID back.

“Oh Mr. Miller, I’m so sorry. I just…I didn’t mean it. I didn’t know Benny’s father was around. We…we never see you at school functions,” she stuttered. “B-Benny c’mon, your father’s here.”

Benny heard his name and his eyes lit up as he saw his father standing there waiting for him. “Daddy!” he screamed as he grabbed his Paw Patrol backpack and ran into his father’s arms. “Where’s mommy? Did she come too?”

“No buddy, mommy ain’t feeling well so she asked me to pick you up today. Are you ready to go?” Joel asked squeezing his son tight.

“Yes daddy. Can we get chicken nuggets, I’m hungry.”

Joel laughed as that was another trait that Benny picked up from him, “Yeah bubba we can get some. Now say goodbye to your teacher, so we can go.”

“Bye Miss Tina!” Benny said waving his chubby hand at her.

The red head who was still trying to recover gave him a wave back, “Bye Benny have a good weekend and you too Mr. Miller. I-I’m so sorry again.” Joel said nothing and just walked away shaking his head with Benny still in his arms.

By the time they got to the car and Joel started to strap Benny in his car seat, the five-year-old was able to pick up that something was wrong. “Are you mad at me daddy?” he asked with his brown eyes starting to swell up with tears, “Am I in trouble?”

Joel felt his stomach drop. He didn’t mean to let his attitude upset his son. Not after seeing him so excited. “No bubba I’m not mad at you at all and you certainly aren’t in trouble. Someone said somethin mean to daddy and daddy didn’t like it. You have nothing to worry about, okay. How bout we go get those chicken nuggets you wanted and play in the play place before we go home to see mommy?”

“And then can we play trucks before nap time?”

“Yes, buddy we can play trucks all you want. Now let’s go.”

-----------------------------------

By the time the Miller boys got home, it looked like nap time was going to be a lot sooner than planned. Joel pulled into the driveway and when he opened Benny’s door, the poor boy was dozing off with his new happy meal toy in his hand. Gently getting the boy out of the truck and grabbing everything else that he needed out, Joel made his way to the door where you were already waiting for them. “Oh, my sweet boy. Go put him down and I’ll put the stuff away,” you told him as you took the bags from Joel’s hand.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you doin anythin if you still aren’t feelin good,” he asked you with concern in his voice. He hated it when you didn’t feel well.

“Joel it’s just a bout of morning sickness that’s all. Baby girl and I feel way better now,” you caressed his cheek. “Now go and then you can tell me all about what little man and you got up to today that wore him out so much.”

Joel nodded and walked off in the direction of Benny’s room. After taking off his shoes and jacket, he then placed the small boy underneath the covers of his Paw Patrol bed before placing a kiss on his head. “Love you buddy.”

By the time he had returned to the living room, you were already back on the couch with everything put away in record time. You watched as he took off his own shoes and jacket, placing them by the door, before he made his way over to you on the couch. He sat down with a big heavy sigh and leaned back against the cushion with his eyes closed still without saying a word.

“Alright Miller spill. I know when the wheels are turning in your head. You were only gone for a few hours. Did something happen with work?” you asked concerned as you ran your hand through his graying hair.

He sat there for a while longer not saying anything. It was like he was trying to work it out in his mind. He then opened his eyes and turned to look at you and with the smallest voice asked, “Does my age ever bother you?”

“What, no why?” You looked at him in confusion and moved the blanket out of the way to get closer to him. You had this conversation a thousand times before and usually you would tell whoever it was that brought the topic up to fuck off and move on. You never let the comments get to you and never did Joel, until now. You could see the pain in his eyes as he rubbed the growing bump of your stomach.

“When I went to pick Benny up, there was this red headed teacher there that I ain’t seen before. She asked if I was Benny’s grandfather cause she didn’t know if he had a dad since I haven’t been around much. I don’t know which comment hurt more, bein mistaken for his grandfather or not being present in his life that much. I…I guess both since I sat there at the play place today watchin all the other kids play with their parent’s, but Benny had to go in by himself cause my back wouldn’t let me. Then watchin him run around made me realize how big he got in the last month. I just can’t help but feel guilty.”

You were taken back by Joel’s confession. Normally it took a damn near FBI interrogation to get him to open up to you, so seeing him open up so easily led you to believe this weighed heavily on his mind. “Oh, Joel baby, c’mere,” you called to him pulling him into your arms. You then wrapped your arms around him so he could rest his head on your chest. “I’m sorry that happened today baby, but you have nothing to worry about. That dumbass Tina should have known better to ask you that because I have told her countless of times and even this morning when I dropped Benny off that his father was going to be picking him up today. Even for the last school party I made sure to include you in the conversation with her when you couldn’t be there, so there isn’t an excuse for her not to think that you are in his life. I wear my wedding ring when I go pick up him for crying out loud. As for your age, I’m so tired of everyone bringing that up. Who cares if you are 35, 50 or even 80 for that matter. Your age means nothing to me. You are just as capable, if not more, of doing things guys younger could ever dream of. You have your own company which gives us a very comfortable life, you have two going three wonderful kids, and a wife that is very proud to call you, her husband. I don’t know any guy my age that can say they have all three of those things.”

“But…”

“But what Joel?”

Joel paused for a second and moved so he could look at you in the eyes, “I guess I’m just having a hard time realizing that I’m going to be 50 and have another baby on the way. I already have a hard time keeping up with Benny some days, how am I going to keep up with our little girl as gets older. Shit I’ll be nearing 70 by the time she is graduating high school and I may not even be around to see her get married or have children. What if… what if…”

“Joel breathe baby, breathe,” you encouraged him feeling that he had an anxiety attack coming. “Everything is going to be okay. We have plenty of time to think about that in the future. Our little girl isn’t even here yet. Let’s just try to focus on that before we get ahead of ourselves. Besides you are going to be just as capable of raising our little girl just as you are still capable of running around and playing with Benny.”

You watched as your husband try to process what you were saying. It took a minute or two, but it looked like your words sunk in because his breathing returned to normal, and he looked at you with clarity in his eyes. “Yeah, I guess you're right as usual darling,” he chuckled a little. “I guess I just let my mind wander a little too much. Today just made me realize how much I missed being around Benny and I know we've already talked about it, but I am going to cut back at the site a little more and work not so many long hours. Tommy and the guys are more than capable of handling things when I’m not there. Maybe we can even do that baby moon thing you wanted to do before Benny, but we never got the chance to.”

“Baby moon huh?”

“Yes, a weekend getaway away from the kids, with zero interruptions, so I can relax and spend time with my ridiculously hot wife before our new bundle of joy gets here,” Joel then gently pushed you down on the couch and began to pepper you with kisses. “How does that sound?”

You couldn’t even form a response. His hands and kisses were touching spots that rendered your brain useless and all you could do was moan. However, before you could do or say anything else, you felt Joel freeze in place and groan. You were going to ask him why he stopped, but someone answered you.

“Whatcha doing?” a little voice came out from the hallway.

You turned and saw Benny standing there with some toy trucks in his hand. “Hey buddy, what are you doing awake?” You asked as you pushed Joel off of you.

“Daddy promised me that were going to play trucks. Can we still play daddy?”

Joel smiled and got onto the floor with a groan knowing his back and knees were going to be screaming later, but he didn’t care, “Yeah bubba we can still play. Come on over here. We have time before we have to pick up your sister.”

Benny ran over to his father and was about to hand Joel a bulldozer but stopped dead in his tracks. “What is it, Ben?” you asked.

“Where you and daddy about to wrestle like the other night?”

Your face grew red, and Joel let out the biggest laugh you had ever heard him make. That baby moon started to sound better and better.

[acciopietro]

doctor pt. 3

pairing: namor x fem! reader

summary: you take an opportunity despite the repercussions. namor’s determination to protect his people blinds him.

part one part two part four

word count: 6,939

tw: lots and lots of death. forced suicide (because of the talokanil sirens). the typically stuff. lots of angsty and sadness

a/n: i was listening to happiness is a butterfly while writing so this took a turn for sure... it took a hot minute but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!! i’m nervous ab this so pls let me know your honest opinions...it kind of took a turn 

part one part two

IT REALLY ONLY TOOK ONE email to make your heart drop. It was a phone call and a series of texts, too, but it was the email that did it for you. Arial, Size 12 font, formal greeting, body paragraph, half-hearted thank you, polite goodbye. Signed Doctor Reynolds, Ph.D., with the name of your team and company. Message subject: Wakanda.

You read it with vigilant eyes, still hands resting on the metal of your laptop, blue light from the screen casting a cool glow onto your tired skin. The music in your earbuds continued to play, but the sound of The Weeknd wasn’t helping calm the way your heart’s steady beat began to pick up. The words on the email flashed out at you as if they were bolded: Wakanda, harvesting, vibranium, testing, trip. Trip?

“Hi, Doctor Reynolds,” you spoke casually into your telephone, despite your palms sweating around the handle of it. Twisting the coiled cord of it with your index finger, you said, “Yeah, I just got the email. I just had some questions...”

Long story short, a team of marine scientists had ventured into the pacific, delving into the deep seas in search of the vibranium you had found a little over a year ago. You had abandoned that research per Namor’s (tacit) request (more like demand), however, you had known that it was bound to be looked at at some point. The issue was that ships were now apparently being hijacked, their tracking machines being destroyed under water as well as large groups of scientists somehow falling off ship and into the waters to their tragic death. No one knew why.

Reynolds believed Wakanda had something to do with it. He believed that since they were well known for being the sole producers and protectors of all the Earth’s vibranium, he was under the impression that they were trying to stop the United States scientists from harvesting it. Which, you had thought to yourself, would be plausible considering the United States was notorious for taking things that weren’t necessarily theirs.

“Why are we getting involved?” you asked Reynold, gripping your scalp anxiously as you listened to Reynolds explain the situation. “It’s not like if we take a boat out there, we, somehow, will miraculously end up okay. If boats are being hijacked, then... oh, I don’t know...”

Reynold went on and on.

“Wait... you mean to tell me that you already booked it?” you shrilled. “Please excuse me if I’m stepping out of line here, but it’s very likely that our boat will just get hijacked, too. And besides, why do we care so much about vibranium, again? It doesn’t harm any marine life or ecosystems...”

Reynolds spewed a bunch of nonsensical answers, beating around the bush and never quite landing on the reason you know was true: getting money and getting power. Often the root of many of Reynolds’s aspirations.

“You’re more than welcome to deny the job,” Reynold says. “But I’ve decided that I want you on that boat. You’re a useful member of this team. Whether you like it or not, this could be very big.”

You clenched your jaw. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’ve got a week.”

You had only been home from Yucatán for one month. You had a wonderful four months of being with your sister and her family in the days and sneaking off with your man from the sea at night. You couldn’t have gotten closer to Namor; well, unless he took off his shorts and... well, you wouldn’t let him do it, anyways. He had asked. A few times. More than a few times. But for some reason, you just couldn’t do it. For starters, you weren’t on the pill and you were sure there wasn’t contraception under the sea (you asked if he had a condom one time, and he asked you what language that word was in. For someone who is immortal, he sure didn’t know a lot). 

You felt like sleeping with him for real for real would make things realer. It made him more of a commitment, gave him more power. And you told yourself you wouldn’t let it happen unless you were absolutely sure that he deserved it. It was really hard to say no sometimes, though. He sure knew how to persuade you.

Accepting the job and getting on the damn boat would for sure cause an issue if Namor found out. You didn’t want to search for vibranium, especially knowing the damage it would do to Wakanda if the United States got access to such a resource, and to Talokan if the States got knowledge of their existence. But... Reynolds personally invited you, and it could do wonders for your career if it went well. 

“I don’t see why not,” your sister said when you told her of your predicament the next day. “I mean, I understand the hesitation, especially if boats are being hijacked. But who knows, maybe they’ll get an Avenger and put them on board with you to keep you safe. Hopefully it’s Captain America.”

“As much as I’d love to have Sam Wilson on a boat with me for two weeks, I’m still not sure,” you groaned, plopping down onto your couch and opening up your laptop, the blue light hitting your face as you held your phone against your ear with your shoulder. Scrolling through the news, you said, “It just feels like a thing just for money. And, like, yeah, it is, but I... wait a second...”

You stopped scrolling, eyes casting across the headline of the latest CNN article, your lips falling apart. Wakanda’s King T’Challah dead at 41.

“Oh my gosh,” you breathed. Your sister asked you what it was on the other side of the phone, and you hastily forwarded the article to hear. She cursed, and both of you fell silent as you read. “Jesus Christ. I can’t go on that boat.”

---

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU won’t get on the boat?” asked Reynolds the followed week when you went into office. You shook your head, clenching your jaw.

“King T’Challah just died,” you told him matter-of-factly. “And if there really is more vibranium out there, and the States gets access to it, that’ll do a lot of damage to Wakanda.”

“We are not giving the States access to it,” Reynolds furrowed his brow, the hair of his grey mustache fluttering as he spoke. “We’re just figuring out how much of its in the water. It’s not our job to start harvesting it, that’s up to Archeology.”

“It doesn’t matter who does what,” you said feverishly. “We’re still helping do something that will eventually lead to bad things for Wakanda. And I don’t feel comfortable doing that, especially after their king just passed away.”

Reynolds narrowed his eyes at you, and said nothing before circling around to his desk and clicking the mouse of his computer. You blinked, watching him search around for something with a stern face. You waited a minute for him to speak, and when he didn’t, you cleared your throat.

“Sir..?”

“Look, L/N,” Reynolds looked at you from over his bifocals. “I understand where you stand on these more... well, political aspects of the job. But this is a big opportunity I’m offering you. If you decline, fine, but I’ll know that you’re not up to the task. I’ll give the job to Quade.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling something bubble in your stomach. Ugh, you thought. Quade. He was the worst. You knew it was wrong to take this job. Morally, it was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Okay,” you sighed defeatedly. “I’ll... I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Reynolds gave you a nod and stopped typing. He pressed the delete button and held it down. “I can get rid of this email to Quade then. We leave Friday. Back your bags and tell your family you love ‘em.”

---

UNDER THE THRASHING WAVES OF the Gulf of Mexico sat a king on his throne, his forearms resting on his strong, tensed thighs as he read a piece of torn paper. He had to put the paper under pieces of surface-dweller plastic so the pages didn’t fall apart under the water, but even still, the ink had smeared a bit. Nonetheless, Namor sat, his jaw clenched, and he read.

Namor, the letter read. 

Hopefully this letter got to you all right-- my niece isn’t always too reliable. I’m writing to you in an attempt to explain myself so you don’t find out from other sources. Some people from my team will be sailing out into the Gulf with another team that’s mining for vibranium. I wanted to deny the job, but I need to take whatever opportunities they throw my way if I want to keep my head above water. I’m going to do my best to protect you and your people, but there’s only so much I can do. I’m sorry. Really, I am. If there’s anything I can do that you can think of (without totally tarnishing my reputation and/or getting fired), find a way to let me know, and I’ll do it. Again, I’m really sorry. I hope you can forgive me. Hopefully I’ll see you soon.

Sincerely Apologetically Love

From, Y/N

Namor gripped the paper tight between his calloused, jewelry covered hands. Lifting his head, he glanced up at his people, the civilization they had built together, the vibranium everyone wore. He glanced at the chest plate he wore, the cuffs around his arms, at the vibranium he wore. It was everything.

He clenched his jaw, bowing his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. He laid the paper down on his lap, squeezing his eyes shut to think. 

“Namora!” he called out hastily, and after a little over a minute, the woman emerged into the space and walked up to him, standing before his throne. She knelt, opening up her palms to him in a greeting before standing up. “K'abéet in actualizaciones yóok'ol le láak' rastreador. Yaan in biin ta wéetel (I need updates on the next tracker. I’ll be going with you).”

---

THE DRIVE TO THE PORT was peaceful, palm trees swaying in the breeze and reminding you that, although it wasn’t Mexico, you were appreciative for the beauty and pleasantries of the place you lived in. Florida, with all of its ups and downs-- and you meant all of them-- was nice. The giant boat was astonishing once your Uber pulled up. People were hustling and bustling about the port, and you simply stared up at the giant ship, clutching the strap of your bag and admiring its beauty.

“Ah, Doctor L/N, good to see you. All packed?” asked Doctor Mishra, one of the men of the group who you actually liked to be around. You were thankful he was on the trip. “Boat’s giant, no?”

“Oh, yeah,” you whistled. “Y’know, I’ve never been on a boat like this.”

“I’ve been on a couple of cruises,” Doctor Mishra told you. “Wonderful vacations. However, we will not be waited on on this boat.”

“Fine with me,” you shrugged. “Do we just... go inside, or what?”

“Not sure,” he said. Smiling, he heaved his duffel bag over his shoulder and said, “Let’s find out!

Everything went smoothly for the first week and three days. All the men had to share rooms with at least one other person, and you were lucky enough that everyone agreed that you should have the single room. Your research seemed to be going fairly, however, you never caught a glimpse of the research of the others aside from Doctor Mishra, who you were doing a lot of your work with these days.

One evening, after a nice warm shower, you ventured out onto the deck of the ship, letting the ocean breeze cool your warm cheeks. You caught a glimpse, however, of Dr. Reynolds and Bernstein exchanging words on the deck, standing quite close and speaking under their breaths. You crept closer around the corner, trying to eavesdrop. 

“We found it around thirty-five miles from the west tip of Cuba, so we’re thinking if we move closer towards Cancún and Yucatán and all that, we’ll find more,” Bernstein said quietly but firmly. Reynolds nodded his head in understanding.

“But what of the machines?” he asked. “The last one was destroyed, you said, signal lost?”

“Something’s hungry down there,” Bernstein shrugged. “Or however far down the vibranium is, it’s too deep for our computers. We need higher tech to harvest it.”

Your stomach turned. The team wasn’t supposed to be thinking about harvesting vibranium. Reynolds had told you that was up to Archaeology. You gulped and kept listening, fighting the urge to jump out and ask a million questions.

"I’m in contact with some people up north who’ve got new stuff that could work,” Reynolds scratched his white beard pensively. “They’ve had limited success too, but it could be helpful.”

“Us getting this vibranium could change the game,” Bernstein said emphatically. “I mean, can you imagine if the government realized we had this stuff? They’d pay us a lot of money to take it off our hands.”

“This is more than just money, Bernstein,” Reynolds said lowly. “If Wakanda found out that the States got hold of the one thing they’ve got on us? We’re back on top.”

“Holy shit,” Bernstein ran a hand through his oily blonde hair and grinned. “I went into the right profession, that’s for damn sure!”

“Yes, well, let’s just see what the other men have gathered in the past week and compare,” Reynolds told him. “Maybe there’s something right under our noses that we haven’t noticed.”

You clenched your jaw and stepped out from behind the corner. You squeezed a fist in one hand to prevent yourself from lashing out, and it wasn’t until you cleared your throat that the two men noticed you.

“Oh, L/N!” Reynolds gave a gasp of surprise and then a chuckle. “Wasn’t expecting you to be out so late. Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“I don’t have a bedtime, sir, I’m a grown woman,” you said firmly. “But you’ve got about twenty years on me, so I’m confused as to why you’re not in bed either.”

Bernstein and Reynolds shared a glance.

“I’m also confused about all this I’m hearing about harvesting vibranium,” you said, not saying anything for a heartbeat to give them room to defend themselves. “I didn’t think that was what we were doing here. I also thought that as a team we were supposed to be, I don’t know, working together?”

“Look, L/N, you’ve got your own research, and so do we. We chose not to include you because you, for some reason, seemed very against delving deeper into this vibranium business,” Reynolds explained in a slow and calm voice as if he were speaking to a child. “This could be very lucrative for us and helpful for American forces.”

“You’re hiding shit from everyone,” you spat.

“No, I’m not,” Reynolds sneered. “Just from you.”

As if someone had pressed a button, all of a sudden Reynolds and Bernstein stood upright, their faces blank, eyes fogged over. You furrowed your brow and snapped in front of the former's face. A song began to echo the ship, as if someone was playing it on the loudspeakers, and you glanced around as if to see if someone else noticed it. 

You glanced up to the top deck, where a man stood next to a large scope. He was walking very uniformly, his face blank as well, and you watched as he continued to walk and walk and walk until--

You screamed bloody murder. The man walked until he reached the railing, where he hopped over it and simply threw himself off the ledge and into the depths of the ocean below. Breathing heavily, you whipped yourself around and watched as Reynolds, mesmerized by the song, began to walk towards the railing, Bernstein at his heels.

“No!” you cried, grabbing ahold of Reynolds’s arm to hold him back; he thrashed himself out of your grasp and climbed over the railing. You grappled at the back of his shirt, trying to tug him back, but he too, like a rag doll, plummeted into the crashing waves below. Bernstein was looming closer to the railing, and you wrapped your arms around his torso to hold him back.

You kept seeing men out of the corner of your eyes walk over the edge and throw themselves into the sea. You hadn’t realized it, but tears were pricking out of the corners of your eyes as you mustered up all your strength to try and hold Bernstein back from the edge.

“Snap-- out-- of-- it!” you cried, and brought one of your hands to slap him clean across the face. To no avail. Balling up a fist, you let go of him and stood between him and the railing; you wound up your arm and socked him clean across the face, to which he toppled onto his back. Blood was now seeping from his nose, but at least he wasn’t walking to his death. 

You squinted out into the sea, to try and figure out the source of the sound, but all you saw was the water and the midnight blue horizon. A groan from behind you alerted your attention; you dropped to your knees, shaking Bernstein awake.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you cried. He wiped his nose, the blood staining the sleeve of his white shirt.

“You fuckin’ punched me!” Bernstein muffled, sitting upright and punching you straight across the face, hard enough for you to topple back onto the deck. He got to his feet, and as if nothing had happened, his face became blank again. You groaned, sitting upright and clutching your bleeding nose as he walked towards the railing again. 

“No, no-- stop!” you called out, getting to your feet, but it was too late; Bernstein climbed over the railing and fell face first into the ocean. You saw the tail of a dolphin in the distance as his body disappeared, and you squeezed your eyes shut, covering your face with your hands, blood from your nose seeping through your fingers. “Jesus christ, what the fuck? What the actual fuck? What the fuck is happening?”

SPLASH! You drew your hands away from your face, and to your horror, saw the fins of sharks circling around the boat, the occasional tale of a dolphin, or the splashes of other marine life you couldn’t identify from so far away. The beating of your heart was so fast that at this rate you were sure you could die of a heart attack. Unable to take your eyes away from the sea of troubles below you, you were terrified to see the body of a whale rise close enough to the surface for you to see, and what shocked you the most was the outline of a person riding on its back. Your jaw dropped.

Without a second thought, you sprinted towards the hatch that led to the inside of the ship. You ran at top speed across the creaky wooden floor until you reached your room, grabbing your bag that held your journal, your phone, your laptop, and your camera. A knock at your door made you jump and almost yelp.

“It’s just me,” it was Doctor Mishra, his hair disheveled and his eyes wild. He had on a large pair of earmuffs. “Are you okay? Your nose is bleeding!”

“No!” you practically screeched. “I just fucking watched the entire crew kill themselves!”

“Everyone?”

“Well, I don’t know about everyone,” you stammered, shoving anything and everything important to you into your bag. You grabbed the printed map of the gulf, with annotations and drawings and other kinds of markings, and rolled it quickly before shoving it into your bag. Picking up your taser, you blinked at it before shoving it into your bag, too. “Bernstein and Reynolds are gone, same with the rest of the crew on the deck, and the man from the mast, and the--”

“Slow down,” Mishra said to you, squatting down next to you and handing you his handkerchief for your nose. “There’s almost no signal, and the only ways we can send out an S.O.S. are either from the red flare device on the mast, or by the radio in the control room.”

“Okay,” you breathed, putting the straps of your bag over your shoulders and tightening it so it wouldn’t fall off, wiping your nose despite it continuing to bleed. “But... what if we get all weird too and try and walk off?”

“Here,” Mishra fumbled with something in his pocket: wired earbuds. “Plug them into your phone and blast some music. Should do the trick. My earmuffs worked pretty well.”

You grabbed the earbuds from him, untangling them before plugging them into your ears. Grabbing your phone, you shuffled a playlist and turned up the volume. Mishra beckoned you to follow him out the door, to which you complied, Tyler, the Creator’s “ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?” blaring from the earbuds. Not the time, you thought, but you couldn’t afford to stand there a pick a good song for the occasion.

“I’ll head up to the mast,” you offered. “The control room is safer for you since it’s pretty contained.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “The mast is insanely high, you could get hurt.”

You clenched your jaw. “It’s fine. I’ll send out the flares. Good luck, okay?”

“Take care of yourself,” Mishra told you firmly. “Meet back on the deck in ten minutes or so.”

You nodded and turned, sprinting back up onto the deck and opening the hatch. There were people on the deck, with beautiful feathered headdresses and jaded armor. You stared at them for a moment, but before they could see you, you ran behind one of the poles, trying to focus on getting up to the mast. The ladder was on the other side of the deck, leading you to inch your way around the center portion until you could find the ladder with your eyes.

There were tons of the soldiers across the deck, running around, whispering to one another. They all held massive, sharp spears, the jade and gold glinting under the pale moonlight. It reminded you of Namor, you thought, until you realized it was possible they were his people. As much as you trusted him, you didn’t trust the spears; you weren’t about to risk your life, and even Doctor Mishra’s life, just to reunite with the man from the sea. 

You bolted towards the ladder, grabbing the bars and climbing up it with no hesitation. Someone from below shouted something. You didn’t look down, moving at a speed you were sure you had never moved at before, until you reached the top level where the light machine and the red flare device were located. You practically threw yourself onto the bright red button, pressing it over and over again so tens of red flares shot up into the night sky.

Your earbuds were playing Childish Gambino, now, and despite it being one of your favorite songs of all time, you couldn’t find it in you to enjoy it. You kept pressing the button, red flare after red flare firing into the sky. People were shouting from below you, in a language you couldn’t decipher, especially with “Me and Your Mama” blasting into your ears.

You took a brief moment to glance at the deck, peering over the railing. Someone was climbing up the mast, the gold of their armor glinting under the light of the mast. You panicked, unzipped your bag and grabbed your taser. You ran to the other side of the table-like desk in the center of the platform and crouched behind it.

Feet adorned in golden-plated sandals planted onto the platform. You swallowed your breath, holding out your taser for when they rounded the desk. You cursed your earbuds; you were sure they could hear the Childish Gambino blasting from them. When they rounded the corner, you shot up and stuck out the taster onto their stomach, to which they convulsed and stumbled backwards. You pressed the red button a handful more times, but before you could act again, you felt a hand grab you by the neck and heard the cling of a blade being unsheathed.

“Suelta a arma (Drop your weapon),” the person holding you said firmly, to which you shakily dropped your taster. It clattered onto the wooden platform. The soldier let you go, your back towards the ladder, and with the shear pointed right at you, commanded, “Péeksik (Move).”

You couldn’t understand them, but you had enough context clues to understand what the soldier wanted. You caught a long enough glimpse at them to see a strange mask over their mouth and nose, water splashing around inside of it. You wanted to look for longer, but they nudged you with the butt of their spear, so without protest, you climbed down the ladder.

By the time you reached the floor of the deck, you barely had a moment of freedom before the soldier grabbed you again, holding you by the shoulders with their spear at your neck. They spoke to another soldier, the blade of the spear dangerously close to your skin. 

One of the soldiers wore a tall, orange-feathered headdress, with the same feathers donned around the necklace she wore that looked like it was made out of something woven. The soldier holding you shoved you forward, hard enough that you stumbled over your feet and almost fell flat on your face. As soon as you were released, the other soldiers circled you, spears pointed.

“Vacíe u póoj (Empty your bag),” she commanded. You blinked, not understand. At your silence, one of the soldiers poked your bag with their spear, nudging it off. You reluctantly shook it off of your shoulders, letting it fall onto the deck. “Je'e le! (Open it!)”

Another soldier poked it with your spear before another nudged you forwards. Lowering to your knees, you grabbed the back and opened the zipper pocket so the contents of your bag was visible. One of the soldiers snatched it from you, turning it upside down and shaking it so everything fell out; your map tumbled to the ground, along with your computer, camera, and journal. Cringing at the sound of your computer and camera dropping onto the deck, you made a move to stand, but the feeling of a spear pressed against the back of your neck kept you down.

The woman in the headdress, who you assumed was in charge, bent down and picked up the map, unrolling it. She ran her finger where you had outlined the hypoxic zone in red pen, the notes near the southern border of the United States, as well as the circle around your sister’s town in Yucatán.

“Talokan ma' u dibujado (Talokan is not drawn),” she said. In broken English, she read the notes and pronounced. “Hi-gh con-cen-tra-ti-on.”

You gulped, watching them interact with one another. The one behind you holding the spear to your neck said, “Ba'ax le kíins wa ma'? (Do we kill her, or not?)”

“Le ajawo' tu ya'alaj ma' u testigos (The king said no witnesses),” another soldier proclaimed. “Kíisa (Kill her).”

“Pa'atik! (Wait!)” one exclaimed, leaning down and grabbing your wrist. “Ilawil u x-oron (Look at her wrist).”

“Lelo' u Talokan (That is from Talokan),” another said, to which gasps and murmurs spun around the circle of soldiers. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment; the word Talokan was circling your brain. Namor. These were his people. Where was he? Why were they on your ship, killing your team? About to kill you?

“K'aaba' ti' le ajawo' (Call the king),” the woman said, to which one of the soldiers held up a large conch shell. After a beat of silence, the soldier brought it up to their lips and blew through it, a loud clarion call resounding through the air. After the call ended, the woman announced to the soldiers, “Leti' jach le ts'ook viva (She is the last alive).”

“Le ajawo' yéetel complacido (The king will be pleased),” a soldier said. 

“Y/N!” came someone's voice from above. Your heart lurched when you saw Doctor Mishra from atop one of the platforms where the radio room was. You internally cursed him for revealing his presence to the soldiers. The soldiers shouted something, and one moved to go after Mishra, but before he could, a figure shot through the air towards where the doctor was.

The figure landed on the platform next to Mishra, who, before he could run away, was struck in the head with the butt of a spear; Mishra fell to the floor, alive, but unconscious. The figure flew up into the air, circled the mast, before soaring towards where you and the soldiers were, landing with a hand on the deck.

The soldiers knelt, joining their hands at the wrists and opening their palms to him. The figure moved, the wings at his angles fluttering as he stood up. Your breath caught in your throat when he set eyes on you, breaking through the circle of soldiers to stand before your kneeling figure.

“You,” was all you could breathe when Namor stared down at you, his spear gripped in his hand. His hair was slicked back with the water of the ocean, his eyes narrowed in one of the deadliest glares you had ever witnessed. A chill went up your spine.

“I gave you that because I trusted you,” Namor poked the bracelet on your wrist with the tip of his spear. Your hands were shaking now, tears pearling at the corners of your eyes. “And here you are... harvesting vibranium. Just as you promised me you would not do.”

“I... you didn’t read my letter?” you stammered out. He was scaring you. There were drops of saltwater on his eyelashes, those ebony eyes of his making you simultaneously melt with adoration and freeze with fear. “I thought... they... they lied to me, they said we were just finding the concentration, I didn’t know they were harvesting it here--”

“You lied to me,” Namor said slowly with composure. His jaw clenched. Something in his eyes changed. “You tricked me.”

“I didn’t,” you were crying now. “I didn’t. I promise, K’uk’ulkan--”

“You do not deserve to call me that,” he gave a dry scoff. He gulped. He wasn’t just angry, you saw; he was upset. Devastated. “You are now an enemy.”

“Look at the map!” you urged him, scrambling to find it. “Look at my notes! I didn’t-- it’s not even near Yucatán, it’s-- it’s just where the concentration was higher, I swear--”

“High Concentration,” the woman from before said, handing the map to Namor. He took it, unrolling it and eyeing the area you had outlined.

“What is this?” Namor asked you, not meeting your eyes. You sniffed, swallowing the frog in your throat.

“It’s-- it’s just where I found the high concentration of vibranium in the first place. I thought we were just supposed to go back to that area, in the northern Gulf, to test the concentration, and that’s what I thought we were researching! That’s what my-- that’s my project. My work.”

“Your project,” Namor repeated. 

“Remember?” you practically begged. “Remember how I spent all that time working and you stopped me from getting data? That’s what I was researching! That’s what I’m doing here! I didn’t know that fucking Bernstein and Reynolds were trying to harvest vibranium! I had no idea!”

“How am I supposed to believe you?”

You could barely catch your breath. “I-- I don’t know. My map, my computer, my journal, my goddamn phone, everything’s in there. Take it all, I don’t care. Read everything I’ve ever written, you’ll see!”

Namor bent down and picked up your journal, flipping open to the first page and starting to read. Your knees were starting to hurt from how long you’ve been sitting on them. The silence was deafening, watching him flip through the journal. He read every single word, and you tried to calm your breathing as you watched his face change as he continued to flip.

When he reached the last page, he closed the journal and held it by his side. His glare was gone; he was frowning now, refusing to look at your face. Glancing up at the soldiers, he lifted a hand, to which they lowered their spears away from you and backed up. Namor extended a hand to you as if to help you to your feet. You eyed it hesitantly, but seeing the grimace on his face, you took it and stood.

He didn’t say anything. It was like he couldn’t. He avoided your eyes, and without a word, he turned around towards the railing, resting his forearms on it with a sigh. You were still shaking, but as your fear subsided, you felt the anger bubbling up in your stomach. A drop of blood fell from your nose, touching your top lip.

“You killed everyone,” you muttered, wiping the blood off of your lip. He turned his head and said nothing. “Your people almost killed me.”

“I will do anything for my people,” he told you carefully. His voice was wavering. “If they are threatened, I do not care what it takes. I will protect them.”

You weren’t sure what to say. You walked up beside him, resting your arms on the railing, too. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his chest rising and falling with a quick cadence, and despite not being able to hear his fast breathing, you could see he was becoming flustered.

“I pray you can find it in you to understand my motives,” he continued. You, again, said nothing. You could barely form words, your mouth dry. There was something warm on the back of your neck; you brought your hand up to touch it, only to find fresh blood on the pads of your fingers. The spears had cut you. Namor glanced over at your bloodied hand, brows twitching. He reached towards you, “Allow me to--”

You flinched back. You couldn’t look at him. He dropped his hands and bowed his head, staring at the waters below. They were calm, now, the sharks and dolphins no longer splashing about. That whale you had seen had gone, too. You willed your rapid beating heart to cease, wishing your chest would stop twisting and turning.

“I get it,” you murmured, using the collar of your shirt to wipe the last bit of blood from your nose. Namor’s head twitched up, eyes on you in less than a second. “Gotta protect your people, just like you were when you wouldn’t let me take those samples. But this... this is... what I saw...”

“If I had known you weren’t apart of it, I would never have let--”

“I wish you had trusted me,” you sniffled, finally looking at him. His ebony eyes were wider than you had ever seen them, brown brows tilted upwards in a form of desperation you would have never picture them having. He was beautiful. “My letter, I thought... I thought I explained it.”

“You did,” Now that Namor had caught your eyes, he didn’t dare look away in fear of losing them again. “You did, I... jumped to conclusions.”

“You jumped to conclusions,” you repeated, breaking the eye contact. You clenched your jaw. “So you killed my entire team.”

Namor’s mouth opened and closed like a fish for a second, unable to find proper words. “You have to understand where I’m coming from, here. These ships harvesting our vibranium-- Talokan’s vibranium-- would put us at risk. It could lead to the end of my people.”

“I know,” you sighed, closing your eyes and putting your head on your hands where they rested against the railing. The ocean’s breeze struck at your forehead, cooling your skin and blowing your hair off your face. Namor didn’t say anything, but you could feel him looming closer. You hid your face from him.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him over the breeze. “Please look at me.”

After a prolonged second, you lifted your head from your arms, the breeze chilling the tears that had rolled down your cheeks. You couldn’t meet his eyes. You couldn’t bear it.

“Take me home,” you said quietly. He blinked. “Please.”

“To... to Yucatán?” he inquired, a layer of hope underneath his words.

“No,” something was twisting in your chest. “To Miami.”

“...right now?”

“Yes.”

Namor didn’t move, just staring at you with those puppy dog eyes that made you want to wrap your arms around him and pull him into you. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Please, Y/N, we have to--”

“Yes, I am sure,” you said pointedly, despite the wobbling of your voice. “It’s not like there’s anything for me to do here, anyways. Everyone’s dead.”

Namor raised an arm, and the female Talokanil soldier from earlier came to his side. He muttered something to her in his native language; you hadn’t bothered to listen, for one because you didn’t speak a word, but for two because for some reason, hearing his voice was making it difficult to hold your ground.

“Come,” he said to you, holding his hand out. You glanced over at him; he began to rise from the ground, wings on his ankles keeping him suspended in the air. You glanced at his hand. “Do you trust me?”

You felt your lower lip tremble. 

“I don’t know,” you said, grabbing his hand anyways. He frowned, his eyes more glassy than ever. You wondered if he would cry. He pulled you up, gently wrapping an arm around your waist and holding you tight on his side, his other arm holding his spear.

In a flash, you were soaring towards the horizon, the cold, salty air whipping you in the face as he flew. His skin was cold against yours, and despite your anger, you pushed yourself against him, wondering when the next time you’d feel him would be.

The gold of his jewelry pressed against your skin, and you stared at the way in glinted under the pale moonlight. You stared at him, the jade in his septum, the point of his ears, the bronze of his skin. There were tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, prevented from rolling down his face and simply flying away from the force of the wind.

You hadn’t realized how quickly you were flying. The shore was near, you could see the lights of the city as you approached it. You slowed, your hair relaxing from the absence of the harsh wind. Scrunching your nose to get some feeling back in it, your feet skimmed the top layer of the ocean as he brought you to the sand and let you go.

You dusted your self off, fixing your head and allowing yourself to adjust to being back on the ground. You had gotten dizzy from the flight, but came to it in less than a minute. You glanced at where his hand still held his spear. When he saw you look at it, he lowered it without hesitation. You finally laid eyes on Namor. The tears from earlier had fallen onto his cheek. 

“Do you fear me?” he asked.

“I fear what you’re capable of,” you muttered. “Because I don’t think you’ll ever trust me.”

“I trust you,” he breathed. You frowned. “I trust you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do,” he insisted, falling to his knees in front of you. His ebony hair was partially covering his eyes, but the wind suddenly pushed it back so you could see his face. Your eyes widened, gaze lowering to where he sat. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I trust you. Fully.”

You could barely believe the sight before you; Namor, on his knees. You were cruel, you thought. You were still crying. 

“I just need some time,” you said, feeling your heart change at the sight of him. His eyes kept flickered around your face, to one eye, to your nose, to your lips, to the other eye, back to your lips. “Okay?”

“Time?” he repeated, nodding, knees digging into the sand, wings on his ankles fluttering a bit. “Yes, that’s-- as much time as you want.”

“Okay,” you sighed. Namor slowly rose to his feet, reminding you of the way he towered over you. He didn’t let his eyes leave yours, as if he were trying to tell you something tacitly. He looked at your lips. 

He lifted his hands towards your face, and when you didn’t flinch away, he cupped both of your cheeks with his palms. You closed your eyes, heart thumping. 

“Whenever you are ready,” he began, his thumb rubbing over your cheekbone. “I’ll be here. All right?”

“Mm-hm,” you said, letting yourself look at him. He nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“Good-bye,” he said. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your hairline so tenderly you thought you might start sobbing right then and there. Before you could say anything more, he soared up into the air, flying away and disappearing into the midnight sky. You wiped at your cheeks, ridding the tears, and with a sigh, you turned around and made for your apartment.

---

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[yall-hate-kids-tourney]

Round 5 (main finals): Chara Dreemurr (Undertale) vs. Amane Momose (MILGRAM)

Propaganda below the cut

Chara Dreemurr (?):

They were constantly blamed for killing all of monster kind in the no mercy route, despite players choosing to go that route. People ignored that they sacrificed themselves to attempt to free the monsters from the underground.

----

everyone wants to blame their own actions (genocide route) on chara, who is a literal child. i don’t know how to tell you this but you are the one playing the game. it’s about YOUR CHOICES. chara is there is punish you for that, you killed the only family that ever loved them! how could they not be upset at that! also if you don’t mind, here’s a good video essay on the subject 

Amane Momose (12):

Amane was voted guilty in the first trial so that she would acknowledge her guilt. It backfired, and now she’s considered a threat. Well, everyone is a threat, but nobody’s threat level has been as heavily discussed and debated as hers. Consider the next prisoner in line, Mikoto. He’s objectively more dangerous and cannot be restrained. He beat up the guard in trial 1, and he was able to hold his own when the other guilty prisoners were attacked. But a good incentive to forgive him is so that he will calm down. You know what? That’s a good incentive to forgive Amane too! But she *can* be restrained, so a good portion of the discussion went into how she should be voted guilty so she *will* be restrained and not a threat. Since her vote was a near 50/50, of course a good chunk of the voters expressed dissatisfaction with her forgiven verdict. Some are already planning to vote her guilty for trial 3, calling her a “lost cause”. She hasn’t even done any concrete harm yet. Hold the pitchforks until she actually causes harm, please? And what if she *was* voted guilty in trial 2? We’ve been warned that she will continue to deny our judgement. A second guilty verdict won’t make her better either, and then what? She’d be called a “lost cause” as well. There is no winning with her.

----

Where do I even start? So first of all she’s an cult child who was physically and mentally abused and tortured by her parents and then (presumably) murdered her mother after her mother killed a cat that she took care of.

Now everyone in Milgram is a murderer but when Amane came and her MV showed her murder and circumstance in an admittedly highly fictionalized depiction of it the audience decided to…repeat the cycle of abuse!

She was voted guilty for the main reason of “teaching her” and helping her “realize that she was abused.” I would like to note that this tough love approach is something her parents utilized against her. “We are only doing this to help you.”

So the audience replicates Amane’s abusers and repeats the cycle of abuse and that’s pretty shitty but it isn’t exactly “Fuck Em Kids” level.

And then Trial 2 happened. Cause Amane is bitter and angry and horrifically traumatized so she acts aggressive and hostile. Especially towards another prisoner.

Now, again, everyone here is a fucking murderer (of atleast could be constructed as one) These people being able to Harm is a core concept of this series.

Yet for some reason it feels like people treat Amane as a “delusional creepy kid who wants to kill people” which completly takes away the nuance of her character. She does have the capacity to harm! Everyone here does! She’s not Uniquly Dangerous! She just has a Reason to be Dangerous. A Reason we GAVE HER by REPEATING THE CYCLE OF ABUSE.

In short: In a series full of Murderers I’m honestly a bit pissed that the 12 year old abuse victim is the one who’s treated like the guy from American Pyscho.

----

TL;DR: "We metavoted this abused, indoctrinated child guilty in trial 1, but it didn't work. Now she is a threat to three grown adults: one who is fully free and two whom she has been shown to get along with. Please metavote her guilty again so she will be restrained and unable to attack them, even though that means subjecting her to further psychological torture." Amane Momose is the youngest of ten murderers, prisoners of Milgram who are to be judged innocent (forgiven) or guilty (unforgiven). In the first interrogation (voice drama), she said that what she did was in line with her religion's doctrines. If we judged her the "wrong way", she said she will just deny the verdict. Combining the voice drama and music video, you could piece together that she was raised in a cult and abused, even though she is cheerful and downplays her pain. She never shows *who* she killed, only *why* she did. After the first day of her vote, she was 81% innocent, but this wouldn't last the whole three months. Many people voted her guilty so she would "see her sins", part of the practice commonly known as "metavoting". Her innocent percentage rapidly decreased, and she hit guilty in the last 15 days, finishing at 51% guilty. At the end of the first trial, Jackalope (who is something like a host) went over all the prisoners' verdicts and commented on the general reasoning. When he got to Amane, he *laughed* at the audience for voting that way to make her realize her sins. Trial 2 rolled around, and it was revealed that Amane's victim was her abuser. On day one, she was at 74% innocent. Seems like a cut-and-dry case now, right? Well... in the intermission, two of the prisoners (Fuuta and Mahiru) were badly beaten up and became reliant on the care of Shidou, a doctor. Amane became hostile to Shidou because what he was doing was against her beliefs. She visited all three of them on their birthdays to convince them to change their ways. She seems to be especially close to Fuuta, who is now murmuring about salvation. Guilty prisoners are psychologically tortured, forced to listen to voices that reject their beliefs. Fuuta and Mahiru both say that the mental strain is worse than their physical injuries. But Amane, who also looks worse for wear, was thrown under the bus because she isn't injured and is considered a physical threat to them (never mind that she gets along with them). She's considered a threat to Shidou, a grown man who is twice her size and fully free, while she is partially restricted by the long sleeves in her trial 2 uniform. She might indoctrinate Fuuta even though, in a prison of ten people and one guard, she's the only voice of her cult. Fortunately, she got a break. Her vote was falling at a similar rate to the first trial. But this time, it stabilized at 51% innocent, 12 days before the end of her vote. But there's no way this is over.

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 19

Hey, guys. Sorry it took so long to get this out. The chapter was fighting me and I have had the absolutely worst week. However in slightly happier news, my partner got a new job and that means I should be able to quit mine and go back to writing full time. I'll let you know more when I do, but it's looking more and more likely.

I realized it had been a while since we had an Eddie centric chapter and decided this would be the one. And I left it on a cliffhanger again. But don't worry next chapter will see more than one villain vanquished.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

***

Eddie was seething. He hadn’t been this mad since he learned Max was moving to New York. Actually. No. He was madder then that. He was pissed.

Gareth grimaced. “They won’t do anything?”

“No,” Eddie growled. “Because he technically hasn’t violated the protection order, according to them.”

“If he can’t get with in five hundred feet,” Brian said, “then how did he find out about Steve.”

Eddie threw up his arms into the air. “That’s what I asked.”

“I’m betting,” Mandy said, “that they didn’t have a good answer?”

“Apparently since Seth showed up at Hopper’s,” Eddie snarled, “and not Steve’s shop, that he was just going around to all the tattoo parlors and threatening everyone.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “I bet they didn’t even check with other tattoo shops and just made that shit up.”

“I even talked to Officer Callahan who was in charge of the original case file because he’s not supposed to be out of jail yet,” Eddie said, beginning to pace. “He never went.”

“What?!” came the shocked cry of outrage from everyone.

“Yeah,” Eddie continued. “Apparently he made a deal with the DA and they didn’t tell me. He got two years probation.”

“That’s bullshit!” Mandy hissed. “He was going to kill you.”

“Criminal mischief,” Eddie said. “Domestic abuse down to criminal mischief. $300 fine, two year probation, and forced to take a class about how not to be a violent offender.”

“It’s because you’re a man, isn’t it?” Gareth asked, licking his lips slowly. “These fuckers don’t think a man can be abused.”

Eddie pursed his lips into a line and nodded.

“Hop’s calling in a couple of favors to keep Steve safe,” he said. “But that does jack shit about me. And this isn’t me calling out that shit. That’s Hop’s prerogative but he’s my dumb ass ex, who’s protecting me?”

“We are,” Jeff said. “You don’t go anywhere without one of us. Garth, since you’re the only one without a roommate at the moment, Eddie’s going to stay with you. Brian, talk to Cecil, he’s studying law. See what he can recommend.”

Gareth and Brian both nodded.

Eddie buried his head into his hands. “This is such bullshit.”

Mandy came up and gave him a hug. “We’ll get through this. We did before and we will again. And this time we have more people that would be willing to help. Steve, Robin, Chrissy, hell the whole of the Royal Pain would throw hands for you.”

Eddie chuckled. He knew that too. “Well, maybe not Erica.”

Brian snorted. “That girl would sell her own mother for a cookie.”

“Not even a Girl Scout cookie,” Jeff agreed. “That girl is bound for world domination.”

“No doubt.”

*

“You tell me right now,” Wayne said when Eddie had called that night, “do you need me up there? Because work be damned, boy, I’ll be up there in two shakes of lamb’s tail.”

Eddie chewed on his nail. He felt like that little boy all over again. Being given the choice between being with his uncle or being put in a foster home. He didn’t want to be a bother to anyone, but he knew. He knew that Wayne was someone that wouldn’t care. That he could be as big a bother as he wanted, he would still be loved.

He let out a shuddering breath and like that little boy all those years ago said, “Yes. Please.”

“I’ve got some vacation time coming,” Wayne said as if he didn’t have weeks and weeks of it stored up because he was never sick a day in his life. “I cane be up there for as long as you need me, you hear?”

“I’m staying with Gareth for the time being,” Eddie said solemnly, “because Jeff is worried that Seth will follow me home.”

“Smart man, your Jeff,” Wayne agreed. “I have a friend in Indy I can crash on the sofa of for a couple of days until I can find something a little more permanent.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Let me know when you get into town and we’ll meet up for lunch.”

“You can finally take me to that pizza place you’ve been going on about for months.”

Eddie laughed, a knot loosening in his chest. “You’ve got it, old man.”

*

A few days later Steve was waiting for the pizza he had ordered for the shop, playing silly games on his phone when the bell announced new arrivals. He looked up instinctively and grinned.

He waved. “Eddie!”

Eddie lit up with a big smile. “Stevie?” He hopped over, an older man following a little slower behind.

“Hey!” Steve greeted. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Eddie’s smile turned into a grin. “DiMaggio’s is the best pizza place in Indy, not coming here is a crime.”

“If it’s not it certainly should be,” Steve agreed with his own answering grin.

“Steve,” Eddie said, “this is my uncle, Wayne. He’s staying in town for a few days.”

Steve’s mood was dampened a bit, knowing why he was in town. “Nice to meet you. I was planning a trip back down Hawkins at the end of the summer so that Eddie could introduce us, sorry we had meet under lesser than ideal circumstances.”

Wayne blinked at him for a moment before turning to Eddie. “This one is a keeper.”

Eddie blushed, shoving his hair in front of his face, ducking his head to hide his embarrassment.

Steve just smiled fondly at him. “I think that’s up to him.”

Wayne’s eyebrows shot up. “I like him.”

That surprised a laugh out of Eddie causing him to drop the hair. “Me too.”

“Let me just go order our pizzas,” Eddie murmured and darted for the front counter.

“He’s cute,” Steve said, waving his hand to the chair in front of him for Wayne to sit.

Wayne took the seat and smiled. “He certainly is. I’m glad the world didn’t beat the silliness out of him.”

“Me too,” Steve agreed. “I love how earnest and outgoing he is.”

Wayne hummed. “He tell what was going on?”

Steve nodded. “I’m afraid it’s my fault. Seth came after me at a friend’s shop, tried to threaten me into leaving Eddie alone.”

“I don’t think being threatened is the fault of the victim,” he said, his voice a deep comforting rumble.

Steve blushed. “That’s what Jeff and Robin said.”

“Jeff I know,” Wayne said, “Robin I don’t, but it sounds to me like they both have their heads on straight and you should be listening to them and not that voice in the back of your head.” He tapped Steve forehead for emphasis.

The bell above the door rang again and Mike and Will walked in. Steve raised a eyebrow when he spotted them.

“DiMaggio’s is certainly hopping for a random Thursday,” he commented dryly to Will when he lead a slightly reluctant Mike over to their table. Eddie arrived at the table just moments later and there are hugs and greetings all around.

“You caused quite a stir at the latest family dinner,” Will said with a huge grin to Steve.

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, how did that happen?”

“Jonathan is back on Mom’s couch,” he said with a smirk.

Steve reared his head back. “And how did that involve me?”

“Argyle kicked him out of the apartment because him and Nancy lied to him about who’s fault your and her relationship ended.”

“Nancy is furious at them both,” Mike said with a half shrug. “I’m not sure their relationship is going to survive that little revelation.”

Steve winced. “Yeah...that’s on them though. How was I to know that Jonathan hadn’t been honest to Argyle about that.”

Eddie bumped his shoulder. “You weren’t.”

“Oh we are totally on your side,” Will said.

Mike nodded. “Yeah, man. It was straight up bullshit all the lying they did.”

“Mom’s pissed because she really liked you,” Will continued, “and believed Jonathan about how things went down. Like of course she did. He’s her son, but she should have tried to get your side of it.”

“Those eight years are totally on her,” Steve said, holding his hands up in surrender. “You’ve been trying to tell her for years to at least talk to me about it.”

Will and Mike nodded.

Mike chewed on his lip as he played with the loose string on the hem of his t-shirt. “Is it bad I hope Nancy and Jonathan break up?”

The table got silence for a moment.

Wayne lifted his chin. “Why’s that, son?”

“Because I don’t think she wants a relationship. I think she was only with Jonathan and Steve,” he said waving at him with his left hand, “is because that’s what you’re ‘supposed’ to do.”

“Steve!” the counter called.

Steve got up to get his pizza order, he stopped back at the table. “I don’t think it’s a bad you want your sister to learn how to be herself without a partner. I think it shows that you’re more mature then she is. You’re a good man, Mike.”

He clapped Mike’s shoulder and then waved goodbye to everyone. He pulled out his keys and walked out to his car, flipping the key ring around as he thought.

He never intended this to happen when he saw his ex at the grocery store, but honestly? Maybe it was a good thing to get all those wounds brought to light so that they could heal properly.

For all their sakes.

*

Steve was ready for the weekend. His week had been a literal hell. But Eddie had promised that he would have fun. The band had been practicing a couple of new songs and were debuting them Saturday night.

He sat at the curve of the table, sandwiched between Robin, who wouldn’t care, only to tease him mercilessly later, and Mandy who got it, how fucking sexy Eddie and the band was when they were on stage.

Steve wished he could say he was better prepared every time Eddie got on stage, but every week Eddie went out of his way to drive Steve absolutely wild.

“He does this on purpose doesn’t he?” Steve asked after a particularly hot number where Eddie fell to his knees grinding on his guitar.

Mandy laughed. “I would like to put you out of your misery and say yes, but no. When Eddie gets on stage he loses all connection to the audience and just rocks out. His fans love it.”

Steve looked around the dingy bar and had to agree. They were just as turned on as he was. He shifted uncomfortably in his jeans, clearing his throat. “If we...” he cleared his throat again. “I mean if Eddie were to–if we were–”

Mandy took pity on him. “If you two were going out would the fans tear you to pieces for touching what they can’t?”

Steve bit his lip and nodded, looking at his hands that were twisted in lap.

She gave his knee a squeeze. “I honestly don’t know what the fans would do. But Eddie wouldn’t give a damn what they think. He’s been booed before for a song that they didn’t think was metal enough and he didn’t let that stop him. Not once.”

Steve let out a breath. It was always something that worried him. He knew he went against the grain in everything he did, but he didn’t want that with Eddie. He didn’t want to be with Eddie just because it went against the norm of what was expected of either of them.

They arrived at the club and already Robin was on the dance floor. She loved dancing and soon Mandy, Chrissy, Jeff, and Brian were out there with her. Gareth, Eddie, and Steve watched in amusement as their friends let loose on the dance floor, living it up under the rainbow lights and the thumping beat of the music.

Steve turned around and Eddie wasn’t there.

“You seen Eddie?” he shouted at Gareth.

Gareth shot up and looked around. “Shit.”

Somehow during their watching of their friends cutting it up, Eddie had slipped away.

“You check out back to see if he’s gone for a smoke,” Steve said.

Gareth nodded.

“I’m going to check the bar.”

Gareth nodded again.

Across the crowded room, a man in a tailored white suit grinned as he moved to the back of the club where the restrooms were, eyes glittering with want and rage as he scented his prey.

***

Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

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[khaleesiofalicante]

hi dani <3

please tell us another childhood story

Okay, this is one is basically dani lore.

They still bring this up every time my family gathers together and I'm sick of it. It's called "The Child Who Ran Away" (yes the story has a name and they tell it to our little cousins to scare them lmao).

It happened in 2005, April 26th. Yes, I remember the specific date. I was in fourth grade and I was 9 years old.

It was the first day of school after the New Year holidays (our new year is in April). In SL, when school closes before the break, we get our report cards with all the exam marks and when we come back, we have to bring it signed by our parents and present it to our class teacher.

Now leaving your report card at home is not a big deal, right? Surely, you can bring it to school and show it to your class teacher the next day? WRONG.

My class teacher (who was a nun btw) was the absolute worst person. She literally physically and verbally abused us (once banged my head with another student's head until I felt dizzy!) and one pushed a kid down the stairs...So, anyway, I was TERRIFIED that she was going to punish me so I made a plan to get my report card back

Instead of asking someone to call my parents and ask them to bring the report to school...I decided to walk home by myself...grab the report card...walk back to school. My house is around 12 kilometers away from my school and it takes about 2.5 hours to walk to my home. It would've taken me close to 5 hours to walk to and back from home - by which time everyone would've noticed that I was missing.

I go ahead with my plan and I walk out of the front gate (the security didn't notice because the kids and coming and going out at the time since school was just about to start). I walk from my school for about 3 kms - following the path we drive up to school every morning (impressive right?) and then I come across a junction and kinda get confused about which side to go. Remember, I am nine.

By this time, everyone is giving me weird looks. Because it's a very small kid in a school uniform walking around the main roads with no adult company and I am not carrying any bags with me. People on the road kept asking me if I was lost.

I ended up near a hospital and I found a pay phone there. I decided to call my dad. But I had no money to call him. There was a man trying to make a call on the payphone but whoever he was calling wasn't picking up, so his 5 rupee coin kept bouncing back. I walked to the man and I was like

He gave me some odd looks but gave me the 5 rupee coin anyway. I call my dad (I only knew his number) and he picked up! He was like 'omg where are you?' and I said 'how do I get home I need to get my report card' and he was like 'where the fuck are you' and I said 'hospital' and he was like 'what hospital???' I didn't know the name, so I put the phone down for a bit and ran far away so I could read the name on top of the hospital (I was small so I had to run far away to read it) and when I came back the call was already disconnected because my one-minute duration had passed. All my dad knew was I was not in school and I was stranded in some hospital

Now I walk up to another man, this taxi driver by the hospital, to ask him for another 5 rupees so I can continue my conversation with my dad. This man, very old btw, starts asking me all kinds of questions. He eventually asked me where I lived and I told him my lane name (because I only know my lane name not the full address) and he was like 'omg I live near that lane??' and I was like ' wow really???' and he said 'yes i'll take you home' and I was like 'yay okay!'

But it turns out, this old man actually did live next to my lane and he took me home! When I went home to grab my report card, my mom was in the garden and she went 'wtf are you doing here?' because my dad didn't inform her about my shenanigans.

I told her I needed my report card and I asked her to sign it and then I climbed back on the same taxi and asked the guy to take me back to school (my mom just let me go for some reason???). But when I go to school, my dad is already there...with the police.

Basically, I left my school bag when I went home so they knew I came to school (Also my sisters knew I came to school) so everyone was looking for me and then my dad (after I called him and freaked him out) went to my school with the police and yelled my principal (amongst others) for letting a child escape...

I don't remember a lot of what happened after that, I think everyone laughed about it and decided not to make it a big deal, and I am forgiven (I think?) and then then they let me go back to class. Now I am terrified that my scary class teacher is going to actually kill me after she found out I caused all this chaos but guess what I found out when I went to my class...She was absent on that day.

Ever since that day, they kept calling me 'girl who ran away' and it kind of became a joke as well as a cautionary tale. Mostly people were just impressed that I didn't get kidnapped.

But no one realized (to this day) how scared I must have been of my teacher to literally run away from school, also when my teacher came back the day after she found the whole thing hilarious...

The end.

PS - What is crazier than the random taxi driver living next to my home (my mom said it was my guardian angel in his form...) is the fact that the hospital I was stranded in is the hospital where I was born...