#it's all chaos and madness generally speaking

[idkyetxoxo]

Daemon Targaryen - Him and I

Summary - Bound by a passion that thrives on violence and chaos, they eliminate anyone who dares to cross them. Their love becomes both their greatest strength and their most dangerous weapon, a perfect match in their shared madness.

Pairing - Daemon Targaryen x Arryn reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!), violence (mentions)

Word count - 2044

Masterlist for Daemon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

He's out his head, I'm out my mind we got that love, the crazy kind.

"He can keep his tongue," Daemon declared, his voice laced with smug satisfaction. 

The expression settled on his face as he rested his hands on the hilt of his sword, slick with blood, which seemed to meld with his hand as though it were an extension of his very being, a dark instrument of his will.

The man's life had drained away at his feet, but Daemon seemed untroubled, as if violence was as natural to him as breathing. A crimson pool spread slowly beneath his boots, the thick blood glistening under the flickering torchlight like a river of molten rubies, each drop a silent witness to the carnage.

I flinched, a fleeting reaction to the brutality that had just unfolded before me but then, a slow smile crept across my lips. My gaze found Daemon's, his eyes already locked onto mine. 

There was no need for words between us. We understood each other in ways that transcended language, our bond forged in the crucible of blood and sharpened by the steel we wielded.

I licked my lips, savouring the metallic tang of blood, his blood. The fool had dared to speak ill of me, and now his life was nothing more than a bitter taste on my tongue, a reminder of the sweet vengeance.

I raised my thumb to wipe away a crimson smear, aware that the rest of my face was likely speckled with droplets, but I found I couldn't care less. 

This was the price of our love, a love that thrived in the shadows of violence, a love as dangerous as it was intoxicating.

The King had decreed that anyone who questioned me, the sister of his late wife, regarding the mysterious death of one of Alicent's ladies-in-waiting would lose their tongue. Daemon, ever the enforcer of our twisted justice, decided that wasn't enough. 

He wanted blood, and he had taken it without hesitation.

"Your Grace," Otto Hightower's voice cut through the tension, thick with anger as he turned to face the King. 

The man's indignation was palpable, his eyes flickering between the lifeless body on the floor and the King who had allowed this to happen but even Otto, with all his political manoeuvring and cold calculation, knew better than to challenge Daemon directly. 

Not when the bond between us was so absolute, so terrifyingly complete.

He saw the madness in our eyes, a madness that could not be swayed by reason or threats, and I could sense his hesitation, a fear born not of cowardice, but of knowing he was outmatched by a love that defied logic and thrived on chaos.

Daemon kills for me, I kill for him. We're both out of our minds, lost in a love so consuming it leaves no room for fear, no space for mercy. 

We've got the kind of love people whisper about in dark corners, the kind that burns too brightly, too fiercely, and leaves only ashes in its wake.

"This matter cannot be ignored," Otto declared, his voice edged with disgust as he turned his gaze toward me. His eyes bore into mine, seething with contempt, but I simply bit my lip to keep from laughing. 

He was so predictable in his self-righteous indignation, so easy to provoke.

"What would you have me do?" Viserys snapped, his frustration bleeding through every word. 

The burden of the crown weighed heavily on him, and Otto's relentless prying was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

"It is common knowledge that Prince Daemon's wife was present when the body of Lady Elia was discovered," Otto pressed on, his tone growing more insistent. "Merely a day after the lady had slandered Prince Daemon's name."

Viserys ran a weary hand over his face, his patience thinning, frayed by the constant tension between loyalty and fear, between the brother he loved and the monster that Daemon had become. 

I clenched my teeth to keep from lashing out. The accusations were nothing new, just more whispers and rumours in a court that thrived on such poison.

"Prince Daemon's wife has a name," I spat, crossing my arms over my chest. 

Otto turned to me, throwing his hands up in exasperation, clearly irked that this was the only part of his condemnation I had chosen to acknowledge.

"There is no proof that my sister-in-law killed Lady Elia. These are merely rumours," Viserys said, his voice calm but resolute as he met my gaze. I offered him a small, knowing smile, and he continued, "She would do no such thing."

"You say this only because she is your late wife's sister," Otto retorted, his voice sharp with accusation.

"Precisely," Viserys replied, his tone softening as he spoke of my sister. "Aemma would never have let it get this far... my Aemma."

Otto turned back to me, his eyes narrowing in disdain, but this time I didn't hold back. I allowed a proud smirk to spread across my face, mouthing a single word "Oops." His jaw clenched in response, but he had nothing left to say.

"Your Grace, I do not wish to continue this conversation," I said, feigning an upset tone as I glanced at Viserys with wide, innocent eyes.

"Of course, my dear," he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. His affection for me, the last living reminder of his beloved Aemma, was a powerful shield against Otto's accusations.

"There will be no further discussions regarding Lady Elia's death," Viserys declared, his voice carrying a finality that brooked no argument. His gaze shifted to the lifeless body at Daemon's feet, the head severed cleanly from the shoulders. "Let Lord Tarly be an example."

With those words, the matter was settled. Daemon, with a flicker of something dark and satisfied in his eyes, turned to me. 

Without a word, he took my hand, pulling me from the throne room and through the winding corridors of the Keep. His grip was firm, and possessive, as if he needed to feel my presence.

We moved in silence until we reached our chambers. The door closed with a solid thud, sealing us in our private world, away from the prying eyes and judgmental stares of others. 

The moment the latch clicked, Daemon pulled me to him, our bodies colliding with a desperate intensity. My chest pressed against his, the heat of his skin seeping through his clothes as he held me close.

"The blood of my enemies looks absolutely beautiful on you," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. His thumb brushed across my bottom lip, smearing a trace of dried blood. 

The touch was possessive, reverent as if he were admiring a work of art.

"Your enemies?" I asked, tilting my head slightly, a teasing smile playing on my lips.

"Any man who speaks ill of my wife is my enemy," he replied, his tone firm and unwavering. His fingers threaded through my hair, pulling gently as he rested his hand on the nape of my neck, holding me in place.

"That's exactly what I like to hear," I whispered, my fingers slipping beneath his tunic, desperate to feel the heat of his skin.

I began tracing the contours of his muscles with a feather-light touch. Feeling him shudder beneath my fingertips, the tension in his body turning to something darker, more primal.

In truth, those words were my lifeline, the assurance that no matter how deep we descended into darkness, he would always be there with me.

"Lady Elia?" he questioned, his voice a low rumble. There was no fear in his eyes, only a dark curiosity.

I smirked, looking away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. Rising onto my tiptoes, I leaned in close to his ear, my breath hot against his skin. 

"She insinuated that you were aggressive and unpredictable," I whispered, biting gently on his earlobe before pulling back to my given height. "I don't like it when people talk ill of my husband, so I killed her."

The admission hung in the air between us, heavy with the weight of our shared madness. Daemon's eyes darkened, his lips curling into a wicked smile. 

Without another word, he crushed his lips against mine in a kiss that was hungry, fierce, and unyielding. It wasn't a kiss of tenderness but one of raw passion, a fire that consumed us both. 

We stumbled backwards, our bodies entwined as we lost ourselves in the moment, in the shared understanding that we were unstoppable together. 

"Tell me what you want, darling," I murmured against his lips, already knowing the answer but craving the sound of his voice. 

His hands were impatient, already tugging at the fabric between us, desperate to feel skin against skin.

"You," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. His lips moved to my neck, trailing sloppy, heated kisses down my body, each one sending shivers of anticipation through me.

"Then have me," I whispered, my fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as I surrendered to the inevitable. "Take me."

His hands parted my legs, spreading them wide as he positioned himself. When he began to push inside me, the sudden intrusion made me gasp, my body reacting instinctively. My walls clenched around him, drawing him deeper, as that familiar, aching need built in my core.

He moved with a rhythm that was both demanding and intoxicating, each thrust driving me closer to the edge. I arched against him, meeting his movements with my own, our hips colliding in a primal dance that spoke of love, possession, and the insatiable hunger we had for one another.

"Yes, just like that," I murmured, my voice breathy with pleasure as he adjusted his angle, the tip of his length grazing a spot deep within me that made my entire body shudder.

His eyes locked onto mine, dark and intense.

"You feel so perfect," he growled, his voice thick with the kind of desire that bordered on obsession. "I could stay buried inside you forever."

It wasn't just lust, it was a desperate need, a hunger that could only be sated by knowing that in this moment, I was his and his alone.

A shiver ran through me at his words, my heart pounding in sync with the fierce rhythm of our bodies. 

"Then don't stop," I breathed, my nails raking across his back, leaving red marks in their wake. "I need you, all of you."

Each movement was precise, as though he were playing me like an instrument, drawing out the sweetest music with every thrust, every deep connection between us.

"You have all of me," he rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, of prolonging the pleasure for both of us. "I'm yours, always."

I could feel the climax building, an unstoppable wave that threatened to crash over me, to pull me under and drown me in its depths. My grip on him tightened, nails biting into his flesh as I rode the edge of oblivion, his name spilling from my lips in a fervent chant.

"Let go," he urged, his voice rough, his breath hot against my ear. "Let me feel you come apart for me."

His words were my undoing. With one final, deep thrust, he pushed me over the brink, and I shattered. Pleasure exploded within me, a white-hot blaze that consumed every inch of my being. 

My body convulsed around him, my voice breaking into a cry of ecstasy as the world shattered into a million dazzling pieces. He followed me into that abyss, his own release crashing over him as he buried himself deep inside me, our bodies locked together in the throes of passion.

As the waves of pleasure slowly ebbed, we clung to each other, our breaths mingling, hearts pounding in unison. He pressed a tender kiss to my forehead, a contrast to the wild passion that had consumed us just moments before.

"You're mine," he whispered, his voice a vow in the quiet aftermath.

"And you're mine," I replied, my voice full of contentment as I nestled closer to him, our bodies still intimately connected.

In that moment, we knew that this was where we belonged—in each other's arms, bound by a love that was as dangerous as it was beautiful.

I am his, and he is mine. In the end, it's him and I.

A/n - Is somebody gonna match my freak (listen to Him and I by Halsey and G-eazy)

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hii! Could you write something about reader being JJ’s teenage daughter and is in a school shooting. Just for some dramatics and more hurt, she gets shot in the shoulder when she tries to help her friend who’s already shot. (Lots and lots of hurt and then comfort pretty pleeeease <3)

Hey, anon! This is my first time writing something like this, so I hope it's what you're looking for! 💖 –illdowhatiwantthanks

Fight or Flight

Jennifer Jareau x daughter!reader Warnings: HUGE BIG WARNINGS for gun violence, school/active shooter situation, descriptions of injuries/blood, general anxiety/trauma/fear, hurt/comfort (please let me know if I've left something out!) Word count: 2.1k

Summary: You're in the cafeteria, when another student opens fire. When your friend is injured, you have to decide whether to take your mom's advice–"GET OUT"–or stay to keep your friend safe.

You didn’t know it could be so quiet and so loud at the same time. The blood pounding in your ears drowning out everything else so that each scream, each squeak of a tennis shoe against the cafeteria tile, each gunshot, is muffled.

You can’t tell who has the gun, can’t tell where the shots are coming from. The moment you heard the first shot, you were scrambling under the table, so fast, so frantic that you slammed your head on the seat going down and felt blood start to drip down past your brow bone.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t settle your eyes anywhere–the whole room just a blur of sound and color. Shaking, you turned to your right to squeeze further under the table and noticed your best friend, Colin, gasping beside you, blood spurting from his lower leg.

He was crying–that was all you could focus on at first. Not the blood, not the sound, not the chaos around you. It was Colin, crying.

You crawled over to him, pressing your hands against the wound and pushing down the bile that rose in your throat at how warm it was. You wanted to say something, wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, or that you were there for him, but you couldn’t manage anything at all. Couldn’t cry or scream or speak or anything. But you met his teary eyes and knew that he knew you weren’t going to leave him.

Your hands weren’t doing much to stop the blood, and the growing pool scared you. You wanted your mom and dad, you needed your mom and dad. Surely, they would have been contacted by now? Surely, the BAU was on their way? This was the kind of thing your mom would get called in for.

The sounds of the bullets grew fainter–the shooter was moving away from the cafeteria. Leaving one hand pressed against Colin’s leg and using the other to pull your phone from your back pocket, you tried to text your mom:

There’s a shooter. Colin shot in leg. So much blood. What to do? I love you

Your mom texted back immediately, and you’d never been more relieved that your go-to was to have your phone on silent for texting during class. Your mom got so mad at you for it. Wanted you to keep it in your locker. Maybe not anymore.

CAN YOU GET OUT??

You sighed, blood seeping through your fingers as tears streamed down Colin’s cheeks.

No bc Colin.

He will be ok. If you can run, RUN. Local police is there. BAU on the way. 

You stared at the text, trying to ignore the pained screams of other students around you, the frantic footsteps of those trying to flee the building. It could be you. You could flee the building. But Colin couldn’t. And you couldn’t leave him, you just couldn’t. It wasn’t who you were. So even though you knew your mom would kill you later, you sent the text anyway:

No. Staying with Colin. He’s bleeding bad. What do I do?

The three dots seemed to last forever. You were sure she was going to yell at you, berate you, order you out of the building. Instead:

Take your hoodie off and wrap it around his leg. 2-3 inches above the wound. Tight as you can.

Then play dead. DO NOT MOVE until police say so. And follow their directions exactly.

You did as she said, using your body weight to pull the hoodie tight around Colin’s leg. You shoved his sleeve into his mouth when he screamed, but it was too late.

Lost in the texts, lost in taking care of Colin, you hadn’t noticed the students running back this way, the gunshots growing louder again. And all of a sudden, a searing, tearing pain shot through your shoulder, and it exploded into a bloody mess. When you saw bone, you thought you might vomit, but every other thought in your head disappeared as a pair of tattered Converse stopped in front of you and Colin. You could see the long end of the rifle trailing at his shins.

You jumped a little when he bent down to look at you, and in that moment you were sure you were going to die. And you wished you’d texted your dad, too, wondered if it would haunt him that you hadn’t. You wished you’d listened a little closer this morning when Henry told you about his latest comic book. Wished that you hadn’t been so quick to wipe the spittle from Michael’s sloppy kiss off your cheek. Wished that you hadn’t gotten on the bus this morning pissed at your mom because she wouldn’t let you go to the beach with your friends this summer. You almost wished you’d done what she said–that’d you’d run–but you’d never have been able to forgive yourself for leaving Colin.

The biggest surprise of all: you recognized the shooter’s face. It was Daniel. From band. Seventh chair trombone. Greasy hair. Pimply face. Even quieter than you. He always wore AC/DC t-shirts. You weren’t friends exactly, but you said hi to him when it was appropriate. You knew he didn’t really have any friends, tried to be nice to him, but you didn’t have much in common, didn’t know what to talk to him about.

“Ugh. Jareau,” he said, as if he was disappointed to see you. “You could’ve left, you know?”

You were shaking so bad your vision was nearly blurry, and your voice felt thick in your throat, like syrup.

“H-hey, Daniel,” you whispered, trembling.

You watched him pull a box of bullets out of his sweatshirt pocket, and open up the gun to reload it. You could run. You could run now. But if you did… well, you couldn’t leave Colin. And you could try to get the gun away from him, but he seemed too alert right now. And the fact of the matter was, Daniel was bigger and stronger than you.

“Honestly, Y/N? Kind of wish you weren’t here. You were kind of nice sometimes.”

“Y-you don’t have to do this,” you told him, inching forward a bit, trying to get close enough to the gun that you could wrest it from his grasp.

“Well, I mean, there’s not really any going back at this point, you know?” he said, clicking the gun back into place and cocking it.

You were frantic now, head spinning. “Wait!” you stuttered. “My m-mom. She’s an FBI agent. She can get you out of here. A-alive.”

You were so close. So close to being able to grab the gun. You turned slightly so that your good arm was closest to Daniel and thanked the universe it was your non-dominant arm that had been hit.

“Hmm,” Daniel said, and you could tell he was faking it. That he was being sarcastic. “Yeah, somehow, I don’t believe you.”

And it was then, as he moved to put the extra ammunition back in his pocket, when his grip would be the least firm, that you lunged forward to grab the gun. You tried your best to keep it pointed to the floor, so that if he pulled the trigger, it’d hit your lower extremities or, better yet, nothing at all. You were scared. You were so, so scared. You didn’t think you’d ever been so scared. Daniel was bigger than you. He was stronger.

But he didn’t have two law enforcement agents as parents. Parents that had put you in self-defense and martial arts classes from the time you could walk. Parents that had taught you how to handle a gun by your tenth birthday.

You kneed Daniel in the groin as hard as you could then, hands shaking, wrestled the gun out of his grip, holding it with ease–or as much ease as you could manage given the circumstances and the searing, throbbing pain in your shoulder–and turning it on Daniel.

You scrambled to your feet, chest heaving, and tried to channel your mom. What would she do? How would she make sure she didn’t lose control of the situation?

Your voice shook, even as you tried to be forceful, assured.

“Get on your knees!” you yelled, pointing the gun at him. “Put your hands behind your head!”

Daniel laughed, and it unnerved you. It scared you.

“Damn, Jareau,” he chuckled. “Didn’t see this coming.”

But you were both caught off-guard by the cafeteria doors slamming open and a flood of armed and armored officers storming through the doors. But their guns weren’t trained on Daniel. They were pointing at you.

“FBI!” they shouted. “On the ground! On the ground!”

You weren’t sure how to put your hands up without moving the gun, and you were afraid if you moved the gun, they’d shoot you. Your knees shook, and you were terrified you were going to fall down.

“Hold your fire!” And this time, your knees really did buckle. You knew that voice.

Your mom shot through the line of arm red officers, sprinting toward you and shoving her gun back into its holster.

“She’s not the shooter!” your mom yelled.

“It’s him,” you called weakly, pointing at Daniel who sat slumped next to you.

“She’s my daughter!” And this time, her voice broke. She collided with you, wrapping you so tightly in her arms, holding you up as all the tears you hadn’t been able to cry came pouring out of you. She had never felt so solid, so warm, so safe. Your mom. You wanted your mom, you needed your mom, and she was here.

“Take it,” you sobbed, shoving the gun away from you toward the other officers, who cuffed Daniel. “Please, take it.”

Your mom ripped off her bulletproof vest to hold you closer to her chest, rocking you on her lap. And she smelled like home. She smelled like the lavender shampoo that you both used, like baby food, like mom.

“I’m here, honey,” she said, pressing kisses into your head and examining your body. “I’m right here. You’re safe. You did so good.”

As paramedics moved in, you waved one down and pointed to Colin, who shook on the floor next to you. “Please!” you cried, sucking in shaky breaths. “My friend needs help!”

“You need help, too, honey,” your mom said, gently, brushing hair off your shoulder to examine the bullet wound. “You think you can stand and walk?”

You nodded, thankful for your mom’s steadiness, her strength, and she wrapped her arms around your body and heaved you to your feet. The rest of her team–your BAU family–stood at a distance, watching, and you knew you’d thank them later, that they’d hug you. Bring you food. Make sure you felt safe again. But you didn’t know how you’d ever feel safe again.

In the ambulance (they let you and your mom ride to the hospital with Colin), you leaned against your mom and she held you tight, so tight, as if she’d never let you go again.

You’d stopped crying for a bit, but the tears started streaming all over again a few minutes later.

“Hey,” your mom cooed, rubbing your good shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” you cried, shaking.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She turned your head toward her, so that you had to look her in the eye. “Sorry for what?”

“You told me to run, and I didn’t. And–and I was mad at you this morning! I’m so sorry. I was so scared and I thought… I thought I might not get to tell you I love you.”

If you’d looked up, you would have seen your mom blink away tears. You would have seen her struggle to keep her composure, seen her face scrunch up as she pressed her lips to the top of your head.

“Y/N,” she said. “You don’t need to be sorry. Honey, I’m so proud of you. What you did today? Baby, that was brave. You were so, so brave. You saved Colin’s life. I never thought I could be angry and proud at the same time, but here we are.”

You both laughed a little and sniffed.

“I love you, Mom,” you whispered, burying your face in her.

She pulled you even closer into her, wrapping you in her arms, and you knew that no matter what–no matter what happened, no matter how scary things got–she would keep you safe. She would never let you go again.

“I love you too, honey. I love you so much.” And you could feel her tears drip down onto your head, feel them washing away the blood.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Coworker (Part 16)

Thank you @i---believe---in---pink for commissioning this chapter.

(3443 words)

tw: afab reader, infantilization, nonconsensual touches from Cyprus, butchered Spanish, slight injury, violence, cyprus got pretty mad

Masterlists (+commission info), part 1, part 17

You twisted the knob and let the door creak open, the foreign noise made all parties quiet. From the gap, you peek out and see Cyprus, his mother, and another person standing by the doorframe, it seems like the stranger has tried to push their way in but couldn't succeed, thanks to Cyprus's hulking figure serving as an immovable gate.

Cyprus shot you a glare as he gestured for you to go back into the bathroom and close the door, he did so by jerking his head in the general direction of your original hiding place.

"Who's there?" The third voice was deceptively soft and kind, it couldn't be one of the voices shouting so fervently. It is feminine, and you immediately assume the worst; one of his insane exes is here. You made the smart move to retreat back and shut the door behind you, but you still pressed your ear against the barrier. It allowed you to listen to their muffled voices.

"Get the fuck out of my sight or we're calling the cops." Cyprus sounded aggressive with his guttural growl, which made you appreciate the way he speaks to you these days with the sweetest coos and murmurs.

"Who was that, Cyprus!?" You winced when the stranger let out a shrill shout. It is followed by the sound of struggling and yelling from Cyprus and his mother. It sounded violent, there was clattering of furniture and vague thudding, to which you can only deduce that the stranger is destroying the place and Cyprus is trying to stop it from happening.

There were panicked exclamations from Cyprus's mother amongst the chaos. In the end, you heard a slam so loud that it echoed throughout the apartment and caused the bathroom walls to reverberate. There was muffled screaming, but it was much softer than before; you assumed that Cyprus successfully shut the door on her. Aside from her deranged shouting, the living room was mostly quiet, and you deemed it safe enough to leave your safe refuge.

You cautiously opened the door and slipped out of the bathroom once more. The front door is locked, latched, and barricaded by a sofa. Cyprus is staying clear of the door, you could hear manic banging on it.

His mother is nowhere to be seen, but you hear her voice talking on the phone from her room. It sounds like she's talking to an emergency line operator.

Ignoring the frightening sounds of insanity outside, Cyprus calmly walked to you and firmly wrapped his arm around your waist. He pressed an assuring kiss on your head as he led you into his mother's bedroom. You asked him what was going on, and to that, he merely flashed you a smile. "Don't worry about it," Cyprus said as he shared a look with his mother before shutting the door behind him.

You saw his mother hastily walk to the door, blocking it with her body as if guarding it. All this while, she was still on the phone with the operator. You think that she's trying to stop you from getting out.

You took a few steps and decided to sit on a chair, it's probably not very safe to be outside anyway. You nervously wring your hands as your ears continued to pick up on the shouting and hitting. All you could do was pray that the police would be here soon, even if Cyprus is a professional boxer, his fists are no match with a bullet if she happens to be armed and dangerous.

You waited and waited. Somewhat grateful for the older woman's presence in the room. Even if she doesn't look like she could physically do much to protect you, the idea that she's willing to be a barrier between danger and yourself is heartwarming. Yet pitiful, she is only doing this because she perceived you to be the best option yet; she is paying for her son's atrocious taste in women.

The two of you waited, the operator stayed on the phone with her. You were sure that the stranger's havoc was audible enough for the microphone in her device to pick up.

It felt like eons before it slowly became softer and softer, you deduced the deranged woman somewhat lost interest and walked away. You sighed in relief but tensed up when you noticed Cyprus's mother was still not as calm as you like. She widened her eyes when she realized where you were sitting.

You let out a surprised exclamation when she suddenly grabbed you by the arm and pulled you away from your resting place.

Your questions are shortly answered with a deafening crash and tiny stings as shards of glass give you small, but painful cuts on your skin. His mother rushed to open the door, dragging you out of the room and pushing you into Cyprus's protective arms. He was eerily silent, staring at the cause of his mother's glass window shattering. You adjusted your head, so you could see past his muscular structure.

A rock. Not particularly large, it's smaller than the size of your palm, resting on the floor with glistening specks of broken glass illuminated by the lights above. Other than that, nothing seems to be amiss, except unintelligible, distressed yelling coming from outside.

The implications sent shivers down your spine, the three of you aren't on the ground floor. That means whoever Cyprus invoked the wrath of, was powerful enough to hurl a rock to break a window at this height. The fear subconsciously made you sink deeper into Cyprus for comfort, so he wrapped his arms around you tighter. He pressed numerous kisses on the crown of your head as he whispered words of assurance, but you were too occupied to register what he said.

After that, you heard a car alarm go off along with disordered metallic whacking and banging. You think she's in the process of destroying Cyprus's car; he, his mother, and you were hoping that the police would be here sooner. He sighed softly, you knew that he was angry and despondent, who wouldn't be, knowing that the vehicle that you bought with your hard-earned money was being eviscerated? However, Cyprus is clearly trying to control his temper around you, so as to not make any brash decisions to put you in harm's way. As shown by his enraged shaking. The idea of compromising your safety was the only thing stopping him from rushing down the fire stairs and beating her half to death.

His mother rubbed his arm to calm him further. She shared a sympathetic look with you.

-

The woman was long gone when the police arrived. It took almost all evening for them to gather evidence and everyone's statements. Dinner was long forgotten, the beer was at room temperature and his car was totaled; the offender managed to mar it so badly, it couldn't even start anymore. There were fluids of different colors and viscosity leaking out of his once functional vehicle, and Cyprus had to arrange for a flatbed tow truck.

You were treated for the minor cuts you sustained by the paramedics, Cyprus refused to leave you alone with them. Almost raising hell when one of them politely asked him to give you a bit of privacy, luckily you were there to tell them that you're fine with him being around to supervise.

His mother drove the two of you back to his apartment, Cyprus held the sourest look on his handsome face as he was in the foulest mood. It was so bad, that he didn't even care to touch you in any way nor did a sound leave his lips. His eyes are perpetually trained forward on the windshield, you don't think he blinked once; even if the headlights of another car were shining directly into his eyes.

You couldn't help but feel somewhat guilty, feeling like you caused all of this just because you're nosy. Maybe if you stayed still in the bathroom, his Ex wouldn't have done this much damage.

Luckily the drive wasn't that long. Before you felt too compelled to say something, his mother announced that she had reached your destination.

Cyprus gave her a curt goodbye before storming out of the car. But he didn't ascend the stairs yet, he merely loitered nearby to wait for you. His fingers are twitching, itching for a cigarette or ten. To quell his urges, he leaned against a wall and crossed his arms, letting himself steam in his fury. His steely eyes never left you, though.

You excused yourself and got out of the car too, in a much calmer way.

"Mija." She had her window rolled down. She gestured for you to come closer.

You did, and you received a maternal kiss on the cheek, a solemn goodbye for now.

You were about to pull away and return to Cyprus, but she held you by the wrist. You turned your head back to her, it appears that she has something more to say.

"He is not angry at you." She gave you a kind smile. "Please don't worry, my son loves you very much."

Was it obvious on your face? Either that, or she's a mind reader.

You dismissed yourself and walked up to him. His mother drove away and you hope that she gets home safely. No doubt, she's still shaken by that.

He uncrossed his arms and approached you too in large strides, spooking you. But he didn't do anything other than to tuck his arm under your knees, to carry your bridal style. This, of course, embarrassed you. So you protested, but it was quickly shut down when he shot you a threatening glare and barred his teeth, like a dog. You shrunk back and let him carry you up the stairs like this; perhaps this is his way of cooling off now, seeing that he doesn't want to break his smoke-free streak.

He unlocked the door, opened it, and immediately locked it behind him. Cyprus, despite all his anger, sets you down on the couch extremely gently. He marched off into the bathroom but he didn't close the door behind him as he merely washed his hands with soap. It didn't take long before he returned with clean, dry hands, You didn't even notice that he had set your medicated drops on your lap.

"Look up." You didn't dare to make a fuss, his tone was already strongly suggesting that he was not playing with you. He swiftly applied your eye drops before recapping them and putting them away.

You were rewarded a kiss on the forehead and a praise, "Good girl." He whispered softly as you squeezed your eyes shut. You wonder if he's just going to do this each time he administers your drug until you're cured.

Cyprus shot up and spent no time going to the kitchenette. You watched him prepare the utensils and ingredients he needed for tonight's dinner. You were curious why he would rather go through the trouble of doing so instead of ordering food delivery. But you weren't comfortable asking him that, so silence hung heavy in the air.

He looked exhausted, and you knew that there were an impossible number of thoughts behind those grey eyes that were concealed by the glare of his glasses. You felt some sympathy for him, after knowing a bit more about his history earlier.

As it turns out, the offender was indeed, an Ex of his. Cyprus has moved many times due to constant harassment from his previous lovers and the police's incompetence. She is one of them, but not the sole terror. She had found his mother first, and she was stalking her for months; around the time you and Cyprus became an item.

The woman tried to gain his mother's favor, leaving gifts, running errands for her, and trying to talk to her every chance she got, all to his mother's approval for their relationship and to know where his son was. It was completely inappropriate, that she would pretend to be incredibly close to his mother, following her to church gatherings and introducing everyone around as Cyprus's mother's daughter-in-law. This terrified his mother, but she was sadly used to it, as this wasn't the first or even the fifth Ex to do this.

She tried alerting Cyprus through texts or by calling him, but he has the bad habit of brushing her concerns off. His exes would usually lose interest in her over time and leave her alone without Cyprus's intervention. After you started "dating" him, she couldn't get a hold of him, as he was constantly too busy enjoying the healthiest love life he ever had. Cyprus knew if he had told her about you too soon, they would get into a fight; his mother would always assume the worst in his girlfriends no matter what he says now. That's why, he decided to surprise her with your existence earlier today.

As it turns out, the conversation that he had with her all afternoon was about you, gushing about how amazing of a person you are, telling her how happy you made him; and as his mother, she could see it. She could see that you are actually a positive force for her son. Someone entirely different from the types of monsters he would always attract. You're so lovely, so kind, so docile. She only wished that Cyprus would shut up for a while so she could tell him about the looming threat of one of his stalkers. But every time she tried to change the subject, Cyprus would cut her off and talk about you instead, too blinded by his infatuation with you to realize that he was foolish.

Alas, she could also see that her son loves you much, much more than you love him. Maybe that was the missing piece after all, that Cyprus is a giver, not a receiver. There is always a downside to everything, and in this case, it was the fact that you don't seem to want this relationship. But she thinks that can be worked around, she just needs to convince you to stay and she will try her damned hardest to do so. A mother wants nothing but to see her son happy and thriving.

In a sense, this was his fault. This is entirely his fault, you should be absolved of all blame. He should feel like crap, not you. Cyprus deserved this, if only he listened to his mother, if only he picked up his mother's phone call from time to time if only he hadn't stopped by at her apartment... if only he hadn't met you--

Your train of thought was broken by Cyprus nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, greedily inhaling your scent as he trapped you in his arms. You made no move to stop him, to stop his fondling or kisses.

"Stop blaming yourself." He mumbled against your skin as he rubbed his hands over your thighs. You didn't deny it, because you knew that you did, no matter how much you tried to squash the guilt.

"It wasn't your fault." He continued, pulling you into his lap and resting his chin on your head. "And I'm not mad at you, so stop the pouting... even though you look so fucking cute doing that, I don't want my baby feeling bad about something she didn't do, or caused." His fingers were stroking your bandages covering the cuts from the glass shards, it was feathery and uncharacteristically gentle.

Just with that, you broke down into tears. Sobbing and gasping for air, it felt like your mind was acting separate from your body; as you told yourself to stop whatever it was you were doing, but your mouth kept spewing quivery apologies to Cyprus. You gripped hard onto his shirt and cried, wetting the fabric and making it cling to his chiseled chest.

You felt vibrations as he chuckled at your involuntary reaction. "Aw, come on, doll. I already said I wasn't mad at you." You felt his lips curl up into a smile.

You hid your face and whimpered, embarrassed and still guilty over what had happened. Cyprus coaxed your arm away from your face, and you saw him smirking down at you with such amusement.

"Is my baby still guilty?" He cooed, "Oh, you're such a sweet, selfless, kind girl. You're paying a price that wasn't meant for you... what can I do to take your pretty little mind off what happened, mi cielo?" He teasingly pinched your cheek. You wanted to slap his hand away, but you're still quite upset.

"¿Quieres un beso, hm?" His Spanish rolled effortlessly from his tongue, perhaps it was too fast for you to catch, so you were momentarily distracted from your despair. "No, ¿quieres muchos besos, mi corazón?"

He grinned widely when he saw that you were slowly coming off that loop of self-pity.

You stared at him dumbfoundedly. "Say 'Sí'."

You entertained his request, only to be attacked by a flurry of kisses on your face. You kicked your legs in the air, but it was futile. It's not slowing him down.

Cyprus ended it with a long, passionate press on your lips. He has his eyes closed and you close yours too, as you allow the bliss of the moment to wash the unease away. He slipped his hand under your shirt, caressing your bare flesh as he enjoyed the warmth you shared with him.

However, he pulled away. Earlier than usual, but he cupped your cheeks and pressed his forehead against yours. "Don't you ever feel bad for that bitch. I don't want you to feel any of this was your fault. I don't want you to feel pity for her and I don't want you to feel pity for me." He murmured.

"I can take care of myself, and I sure as hell can take care of you." He paused momentarily to give you a quick and playful peck on the lips. "I love you, baby. I'm never letting you go, no matter what. I don't fucking care what I have to do, I'm never leaving you and I'll go through hell to keep you if I have to." Cyprus gave the shell of your ear a sensual nibble, sending jolts down your spine.

You stayed still as he showered you in love for a minute, slowly recovering from earlier events and absorbing his words.

"Te amo." He whispered before mischievously blowing hot air into your ear, making you jerk away and whine. This merely made him laugh at your flustered face. "There's my girl, my whiny, weepy, baby doll."

You complained, telling him not to do that. He ignored it and smiled wider.

"Te amo." Said Cyprus.

You asked what that meant.

"Hm? You have to be specific, Cariño." He brought your hand to his lips, grazing them against your knuckles. "I said many things in Spanish, I won't know which one you're referring to unless you specify."

Te amo, you wanted to know what that meant. So you repeated it in front of him. And at that moment, you felt a sense of deja vu, but you pushed it away.

He chuckled and ruffled your hair. "Ya sé que sí." Cyprus suddenly tickled you on your sides, making you involuntarily show him a smile and letting him hear the peal of laughter he had been craving all day.

Suddenly, he firmly but lovingly pushed you off his lap, onto the couch and got up, because the pot containing tonight's dinner was bubbling over. Cyprus left the stove on for too long, too busy consoling you in his own bastard way to realize that it's making a mess.

"Shit!" He cussed, the dish was ruined. Unsalvageable from its mangled corpse, there is no way he's going to eat it, let alone feed you.

Usually, something like this would stress him out to the point he would have a whole pack of cigarettes for dinner instead. But ever since he had you, Cyprus has learned to laugh it off. Because you just had that effect on him, that calming effect that no nicotine or drug could give. It's quite literally, addicting.

He dumps the pot into the sink with a face that's visibly uplifted, a major improvement from before. Cyprus turned around and opened a cabinet, he stared at the contents for a while before looking back at you.

"Shrimp, chicken, or beef?" He asked while presenting three packages of instant noodles with three different flavors.

[muwapsturniolo]

✯RowdyRuff Sturniolos✯

Summary: Basically I’m matching the triplets to one of the rowdyruff boys

warnings: I DO TALK ABOUT CHRIS AND NICK GANGING UP ON MATT BUT IT'S NOT HATE!! IT'S SIMPLY AN OBSERVATION!!!

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Nick would be Brick.

Brick is the leader of the rowdyruff boys as well as the oldest. He started off very evil and still had respect for his brothers, but eventually changed. When HIM brought them back to life, he was very cocky, arrogant, and devious. I don't think Nick is evil but, we know how he can get depending on the situation. I mean Nick said it himself when he gets angry he is scared of himself, so i feel like it adds up. Both Nick and Brick have a tendency to pick on their brothers so it adds up. In the show, Brick and Butch tended to gang up on Boomer so it makes sense for Nick to be Brick considering Nick does team up with Chris on Matt. I also think red compliments Nick very well, especially when he has the red-brown hair thing going on. Brick's main ingredient is puppy dog tail, now we aren't harming any animals so I feel like Nick's ingredient would be a beat up pair of shoes. super dirty from running around and doing who knows what.

Matt would be Boomer

Boomer is the middle child of the rowdyruff boys, categorized as the dumb blonde with blue eyes. Matt isn't dumb though, he just doesn't have a chance to speak because his brothers gang up on him and interrupt him, much like Boomer. After Boomer's resurrection from HIM, he became a loudmouth and fought back. I see that in Matt. Nick and Chris joke about him trying to be tough, but I see it as him standing up for himself, and making his voice heard. Even though Boomer is considered evil, he is still polite. I see that in Matt, he can be mean/aggressive when need be, but for the most part, he is polite. blue looks so damn good on Matt, it's my fav color on him (besides pink.) Boomer's main ingredient is armpit hair. Ion know about yall but I'm not snipping any armpit hair so I feel like Matt's main ingredient would be a hockey stick and a blue slurpee.

Chris would be Butch

Butch is the youngest of the rowdyruff boys, categorized as the chaotic, havoc-reaping, little brother. idk about yall but that is Chris to a T!!! He is so mf chaotic it's mindblowing. There was an episode where Butch poured Gatorade on Mojo Jojo and all I can think about is Chris pouring drinks on Nick in the car. At first when Butch was introduced he was more calm and collected, agreeing with what his brothers wanted to do. When HIM resurrected the boys, that's when Butch became a little chaos gremlin. I feel like that works with Chris because he is calm and collected for the most part and then suddenly he's jumping around and making the most noise. Very hyperactive, jolly, and likes causing chaos. Both Butch and Chris have a tendency to twitch when they get excited, making crazy noises, grinning like a mad man, and flailing their arms. Typical little brother energy. Butch's color is green and I think Chris needs to wear it more. It really makes his eyes pop and the way it matches his hair just does sum to me. Butch's main ingredient is snail, it's so obvious and has been done but I just now his main ingredient would be a Pepsi...just to be original I feel like his other ingredient would be a burp or cough😭

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

do yall like these? i want to do more but i can't think of any characters lmao. If y'all like these you can send me trios and I'll do more comparisons/character analysis.

TAGLIST🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @mattslolita

[rayshippouuchiha]

I remembered your idea about Grimmjow mentoring Izuku and I have world building/background.

Grimm got to the bnha universe because some idiots were trying to summon a demon to kill some heroes and since there aren't any in universe the magic spell outsourced. The idiots did not survive their stupidity. Grimm is really annoying because he's pretty sure it's going to take at least a year to get home.

Finding and starting to teach Izuku delayed his plans, but not by too much. Grim figures he'll just wait for the kid to die and bring Izuku's soul back with him. Classic Arrancar adoption tactics.

Inko is a little uncomfortable with a demon adopting her son with a plan of making him another demon, but honestly Izuku's just so happy these days that she's cool with it. She does the paperwork to make Grim a distant relative.

People in the bnha universe don't really have reiatsu but they still have souls. Grim just has to teach izuku to reform his soul so it's bleach style instead. He's pretty sure that any of the many mad scientists he knows would tell him it's impossible, but izuka did it anyways so there.

For paperwork they claim that it's a family inherited work that is super finicky and requires a lot of control and often doesn't activate without life or death danger or knowing how to activate it beforehand. Which it is true, using reiatsu for stuff more complicated than "be stronger and hardier," let alone kidou, takes decades of learning. Even if hollow style kidou is easier to learn, it's not by that much. Grim mostly focuses Izuku on learning the basics of combat and maybe sonido.

Izuku ends up good at kicking people in the face like canon, but he also has throwing knives and a tanto to complete the danger gremlin evolution.

He kicks Bakugou in the face and breaks his nose. Their relationship isn't great but it's not as awful as in cannon.

Grimmjow is setting up connections with the villain community one day when he hears about some mysterious, powerful fucker called All For One. He hasn't eaten in a while, and that seems like someone no one will miss so he eats out for the day. The villain underground immediately falls into chaos but that isn't his problem.

Coincidentally, Inko's deadbeat husband finally stopped sending money. (Whether he's AfO or just some asshole who died in the chaos is up to you.) She shrugs and moves on. She saved and invested most money he gave them anyways.

Grim ends up running a dojo. First he just needs space to teach Izuku but I firmly believe that despite his general misanthropic tendencies he actually likes kids, so the whole thing balloons pretty fast. He ends up with this weird teenager who calls himself Dabi as an assistant, since the kid already knew how to fight pretty well.

With an actual support system Dabi ends up significantly less burned and significantly more sane. He works as a vigilante, killing marital and child abusers. He's really uncertain about what to do about Endeavor, because he wants to kill him but the man also scares the shit out of him, and he doesn't want to free his siblings just to put them in the spotlight. Grimmjow is less than zero help, but Inko gives him a big hug and helps him start to set up a legal case if that's what he decides to do. He's like Izuku's weird, obnoxious older cousin.

Speaking of the lov, Kurogiri got out and took Shigaraki with him when AfO died. They end up picking up the rest of the league overtime. All the kids try to convince Kurogiri to reach back out to his friends from when he was Oboro. They might or might not be vigilantes.

What are you talking about, this isn't a fix it fic.

The UA staff are deeply baffled when they meet Izuku's guardians: the sweetest little lady you ever did meet and what Aizawa is pretty sure is an actual, literal demon from hell. In hindsight, though, it makes sense.

Thank you for the idea! Sorry for shoving this thing in your inbox.

Never apologize because this is fantastic.

[absolutebl]

There was a surprising amount of sex in Be Mine Superstar! I really wasn’t expecting it…. Similarly, Love Syndrome had a LOT less sex than I was promised by the trailer…

Are there any BLs that had either many more or many less NC scenes than you were expecting before you started watching them?

BLs that exceeded (or underperformed) sexy expectations

Interesting question. So far, not that many Thai BLs. But I think that's just because I pay attention to the pairs and the actors in Thai stuff, and you sort of get a feel for what they will (and won't) take on. So in your examples: I know JaFirst did high heat so I expected the producers to lean into that advantage as part of BMSS because, frankly, it didn't have much else going for it.

I haven't watched Love Syndrome III yet but knowing Frank I wouldn't expect it to go super high heat in terms of actual physical contact.

I guess the ones that have surprised me are mostly out of Thailand are pulps that I knew nothing about going in. Let me see...

Thai BL that ended up being way hornier/better than I expected

Secret Crush On You - such a weird show but BillySeng brought IT, whatever IT is, they got it.

Love in Translation - yeah, what happened in that sauce isle boys? Very saucy. Whatever pun, more please.

2 Moons 3 - about on par with ForthBeam from 2 Moons 2 but nothing else in the previous 2 series would lead one to expect the horny we got in this show on the main.

Second Chance - yeah it was a throw away pulp and this studio is hit or miss on chemistry but it had one of the best kisses of its year.

Big Dragon - I don't know what I expected form the trailers, but it wasn't as good as it turned out to be. Don't get me wrong, the rest of the show is naff, but the chemistry/heat levels are scorching.

Ghost Host, Ghost House - generally the horror stuff doesn't do chemistry well, but these two have some of the best chemistry EVER put into a pulp. I really hope we see more of them.

KinnPorsche - It's no secret I'm not as wild about this show as most, but I did think the VegasPete stuff was unexpectedly killer in all ways.

Oh My Sunshine Night - yeah it was exactly what one expects from OhmFluke but THE SIDES!!!! I mean... WHAT? I'm not mad, just pleasantly surprised.

TharnType - Okay but remember at the time what we'd had from Mame was LBC (relatively low heat) and other Thai stuff I was familiar with at the time was Make It Right, Love Sick, SOTUS, and UWMA. TT was way higher heat that I'd seen from Thailand before. And then...

Why R U? - ZeeSaint's "away trip to the beach" full on sex scenes plus repping for verse was just crazy at the time. Especially since Saint played Pete in LBC before this and Zee was new to BL. Add that to the very odd and disjointed (and miss-matched) SaifahZon counter story and WRU? was this insane all over the place viewing experience, including the heat levels. There was this "what will they do next?" kind of tension over the production. Not the story (because who was following that?) but the PRODUCTION. At the time, it was welcome, but truly bonkers. What a way to drive narrative tension... pure high heat chaos.

Thai BLs where chemistry failed meet my (relatively low) expectations

My Ride - honestly, if they had just gotten the kiss right this might even have earned a 10/10 from me

Unforgotten Night - ugh

Bite Me - double ugh

Friend Forever - I know I'm the only person who watched this but why could we not have gotten ONE kiss from the leads?

Nitman - studies have since shown us it is entirely not Noh's fault... see Oh My Sunshine Night

Wedding Plan - the leads were fine, but Mame usually fails me in every way except chemistry, so "fine" is not up to her usual standards. Those standards being predominantly "they hawt together" and nothing else. There wasn't even a side dish couple to pick up the slack noodle... so to speak.

Korean BL

For most of 2022 I was consistently getting surprised by Korean BL's chemsitry when it was good but now I've settled into half expecting it yet still being delighted when it happens and is well done.

I do think Semantic Error was a bit of a seed change for them.

The problem is, now we know they can do it, we are starting to get pissed when it's bad or entirely absent.

Taiwanese BL

Taiwan is the opposite of Korea.

I expect good chemistry and almost always always get it. I struggle to think of a time when they've disappointed me (in this arena). Maybe a few? But I tend to cut Taiwan more slack than other countries because they have so few BLs and they are generally so consistent. If they falter at all, at least the side couple will pick up the slack.

Japanese BL

I have no expectations of Japan. Life as a BL fan is a lot easier that way.

(source)

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to Young Master Shield's Chapter 212

TL;DR - Alberu and Cale talks about the miscommunication. Alberu scolds Cale. The two plan to rip off other kingdoms again. GoD approves of Cale's request. GoD's bishop meets Cale at the black castle. Violan sees Cale off. Cale arrives in the world of a RoFan (romance-fantasy) and becomes a ML???

The Two Brothers The scenes between the two today was so funny. Alberu scolded Cale for misinterpreting his nod back then, and increasing his workload now. 😂

Alberu: That's why I told you to just go quietly. Cale: I thought I had to explain and then go! Alberu: ...Are you mad at me now? Cale: ... Alberu: Tsk. Why did you have to say that you were saving the world? Cale: (I mean, how will I explain it then?) Alberu: You could've said it was related to Arm. Because it's true, right? Then people will be less anxious and won't worry as much, right? Cale: ... Alberu: Even if you cannot lie, you should speak in moderation. Why are you increasing my workload? The background: *constant ringing noises from the video comm devices connected to other countries* Alberu: *glares at Cale* Cale: Ahem. *avoids the gaze* Alberu: This is driving me crazy.

And then the two laughed as they thought of ripping off the other countries again... 😂

"I plan to gather representatives from each kingdom soon and share some of the truth." "…" "It means we need to hold a general meeting. You know what I mean, right? Huh?" Alberu asked with a bright smile. Cale responded quickly. "Yep." It wasn't 'yes,' but 'yep.' Alberu's bright smile deepened, and Cale smiled back. "Hahahaha!" "Hahaha!" Munch, munch. Raon, who was eating cookies, turned away from the two. "Both of you are acting strange!" The two felt a strange sense of futility in the 7 year old dragon's words and stopped laughing.

Of course, Cale also kept teasing Alberu. Like when Cale brightly smiled at Alberu for thinking the same thing as him. 😂

Alberu: *planning to take advantage of the situation to gain something* Cale: *brightly smiling as if he knew what Alberu was thinking* Alberu: !!! Alberu: Don't look at me like that. Cale: How am I looking at you? I'm just looking at you with great respect right now, okay? Alberu: Haa… (I shouldn't talk to you.)

And one more... 🤣🤣🤣

Alberu: No need to send you off? Cale: *grins* Yes. You must be so busy to even play games. I wish you luck! Alberu: … *smiling brightly* Raon: Oh! I think my human won against the crown prince this time!

Aipotu Plans So Cale's request to increase the number of people to a hundred got approved... sort of. GoD said that Cale was allowed to bring 99 people, and the last 100th spot was reserved for someone who might "descend" to that world.

Cale was surprised at the word "descend", and wondered if a god was going. Woah... Is the situation that serious then? GoD did say that if Cale's guess about the Five-Colored Bloods being wanderers was true, it would cause chaos in the divine realm. So who would descend? GoD himself? GoP? GoFP? Angelina?

GoD wouldn't give Cale an answer on who, but told him to bring Cage with him in case communication through the divine mirror fails.

As for the enemy wanderer, we did get one clue about them. Sui and CJS reported that the enemy was wearing a cow-shaped mask, and that was it.

The Send-Off Because the entire black castle would be going, Cale did not head to the temple of GoD this time. Instead, it was the bishop of GoD who came to the black castle. Cale warned the bishop to keep everything a secret, and they agreed, feeling intimidated by everything he had seen here.

We had some touching scene of Violan sending off Cale, telling him to take care of himself. She handed him a blueprint of the castle's new stuff, and told him to make use of it if an enemy attacked.

Cale, the Grand Duke of the North? And finally, Cale's group arrived at the world of Aipotu. They were all tense and prepared to go to battle, but what did they see upon arrival? A snow-filled landscape and cold winds. Apparently, GoD sent them there because this was where CJG last sent a message to GoD, so GoD thought this place was safe.

The group was then greeted by an old man and his entourage in winter clothes, and the old man mistook Cale for... the Grand Duke! 🤣🤣🤣 Cale was shocked, and the confused old man corrected himself, saying that he (Cale) must be the descendant of the Grand Duke who came to save the fief!

Cale, with his extensive knowledge of novels he had read as KRS, then blurted out, "Grand Duke of the North?" At those words, the old man exclaimed that the revelation in his dream was indeed correct. 😂

But wait, Cale... Grand Duke of the North is a cliche in romance-fantasy (rofan) novels... So you also read rofan?! 🤣🤣🤣 And Cale is that Grand Duke's descendant?! 😂

Okay, on a more serious note, does that mean the Thames household was originally from Aipotu? Because Cale's red hair was inherited from them, and the old man even mistook Cale for the grand duke himself. Or is this another case like how WS's appearance was a red-haired KRS lookalike?

Ending Remarks Today's chapter had a lot of funny moments, though I was surprised that they're suddenly in Aipotu by the end of the chapter. Oh yeah, Cale's talk with the Molans got postponed again, but Cale was now seriously thinking of making time to talk with them.

TCF's genre keeps increasing. First it was a transmigration into a western fantasy world. Then we had the modern fantasy and apocalyptic monsters. Next was the world-hopping. Xiaolen was a fantasy world with necromancy theme and throne succession battle. Central Plains was a typical murim world with Eastern zombies. Earth 3 was said to have hunters and dungeons. And now, Aipotu is... a romance fantasy world with dragons? 🤣🤣🤣

If it's rofan, will we have another crown prince here who's going to be the rival of the grand duke of the north? Who's going to be the FL? A commoner turned noble? Or will we have a villainess? Or maybe a saintess? 😂 All this thinking has me excited for the chapter on Friday!

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Nineteen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

No tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen

AO3 LINK

Author's Note: It's been a really hard month, ya'll, but here we are! We made it. Agonizing over this chapter positively drove me mad, but so many thanks to @vampire-exgirlfriend and @darkwolf76 for their love, support, and eyes on this to help me feel a little less insane. Go give them both some love!

CHAPTER NINETEEN - When It's Pulling Me Under

Alicent breaks and tries to mend. Jace tries to find Helaena. A twist within the thread.

“Cassandra Baratheon has bled.”

The queen’s rooms were quiet. Rich green and black drapes hung open as wide as they could to allow the light in, but the panes were closed to the cool fall breeze. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, dancing along the decorative stone swirls along the mantle. The usual gaggle of women that occupied the room had been absent these past few days - her court having dispersed to deal with multiple assignments for the daily running of the castle and the wedding. Alicent looked up from the parchment before her, releasing her lower lip from the intensity of her gnawing teeth. Her gaze met Lady Lysa’s from where the elder woman looked up from her own sheaf of parchment.

“I will go and speak with Lord Beesbury on these matters, Your Grace,” she said softly, rising in a whisper of apple red silk, her usual caul replaced by a barbette and veil given the cooler weather. The way the woman turned her head, reaching for her papers, reminded Alicent of her own mother in such a swift and sharply unexpected moment, that Alicent’s chest clenched and stole her breath. Lysa Fossoway was her beacon of normalcy over the past years, but she was not her mother.

How desperately she wished her mother was here. How keenly that feeling sharpened as the other woman left and Alicent remained here, alone, with Lord Larys Strong.

His firefly-handled cane thumped softly against the rich rugs scattered about her solar and he took a seat on the chaise, settling himself down like a vulture, waiting to feast. On her secrets, on her thoughts, on wherever his tightly guarded whims struck him. Yet, she had few that she could call confidant, even if she dare not call him friend.

“Good.” The snap of the wooden pen box punctuated the single word as Alicent put away her ink and tucked away the parchments that Larys so curiously watched. “Lord Borros insisted that we have this engagement sealed before the new year and the wedding.”

It felt like when Viserys dragged himself to High Tide to present himself to Lord Corlys to beg his heir’s hand in marriage for a sullied Rhaenyra . It was beneath him, it was unbecoming, and it was exactly why, Alicent felt, Lord Borros felt he could demand the way he did.

‘I am not beholden to my father’s oaths, but I will not be taken for a fool’, the man had said. No sons of his own yet, Alicent knew that it was not his fear of being taken for a fool that had brought him blustering and demanding, but the fact that his sister, his only sibling, had sons. Both, to Alicent’s knowledge, were unwed. There existed a possibility for Helaena, one she would have to revisit later.

For now, her attention focused on the fact that it appeared Borros Baratheon thought that Vhagar would be enough of a deterrent for his sister’s sons to claim the Storm Throne from his own children.

“So that is what is to be then? Aemond to the storm, to match the tempest inside of him.” Larys tilted his head in the thoughtful way he had, his hands folded along the top of his cane. “Better, maybe, than risk quenching his fire in the snows perhaps.”

Alicent furrowed her brow. “Snows?”

“Only a turn of phrase, Your Grace. There are many eligible women in the realm to tie our Prince to. The Stormlands keep him close, rather than the cliffs of Casterly Rock or even the isolated northern houses. Northern houses, such as House Karstark offer little, while Storm’s End grants you a realm. Better than his sister as well, although I have not heard Prince Aemond express those wishes in some time.”

Alicent rolled her eyes and went to pour herself some of the mulled wine from the carafe by her window. “House Karstark, or any of the other Northern Houses, would do little for Aemond.” As for Helaena, she too had noticed her son’s waning insistence over the past few months in regards to such a betrothal. She hoped that he too realized the futility of such an endeavor.

“And it isn’t as if Lord Borros could not take another wife should-”

The clatter of her goblet on the table cut off the direction of Larys’ ponderings, and she turned on him, a sick and ugly feeling in his chest. “It is unseemly to speculate or wish for such things, my Lord Confessor,” she said tightly. “My son will marry Lady Floris. Aemond will have a position and income here at court, regardless of what the future holds,” she whispered. “He will make a fine Hand.” When her father could no longer be Hand to Aegon, Aemond would be an ideal successor.

“And Daeron could serve the crown much like Ser Criston. Now everyone is taken care of.” A soft chuckle filtered into the room and sent a shiver up Alicent’s spine. “You have done well for your children, Your Grace. It is good that they at least have a mother who cares for them so.”

“Someone has to. If my son is not his father’s heir, then he should be taken care of. The realm knows too well the idleness of second sons and unhappy brothers.” She shook her head, unflinchingly meeting Larys’ disquieting gaze and the amused curl of his mouth. “If the king would not even be amenable to the idea of Aegon being his sister’s heir, then something must be done.”

A pulse of a headache thrummed behind her eye. Aemond chafed already beneath his brother, beneath the duty that had spurred him to his lessons, to his training, but she knew Aemond would want more. He hungered for more and she could not give it to him. Would her ambitious boy be content with his child married to Cassandra’s heir? ‘He would have to,’ she thought, though her fear persisted. This was the cost of duty.

“Have you only come to speak of Lady Cassandra’s state of non-pregnancy, or have you come to drop news that Helaena is with child.” The pointed non-question was sharper than she might have normally intended but the onset of having to tell Aemond, her angry, precious son, would give her a fit the way anything difficult aggravated her husband and king.

“All goes accordingly, my Queen,” Larys said, nonplussed, and if anything, the amusement was lingering there. Alicent hated the small feeling it gave her. No, not small, she realized; not small as how her father or even Viserys made her feel.

Larys made her feel trapped.

“Very good then. If there’s nothing else, Lord Larys-” The sharp, heavy knock on the door mercifully broke into the tension and Alicent could barely contain her desperate tone. “Enter!”

Gwayne was the most welcome sight behind the door, his doublet so deep green as to be almost black, the fabric of his gray shirt poking between the ties of his sleeves. The silver buttons were stamped with the High Tower and the flames atop it. The angles of his face reminded her so much of Aemond, but she could see all of her boys in that face. The sharpening of Aegon’s jaw, Daeron’s nose. Warm, brown eyes took her in before looking over her shoulder as Larys scraped his way to standing.

“Ser Gwayne,” the lord greeted and she felt, more than saw, her brother stiffen slightly. Gwayne had not been here long, but his dislike of the Master of Whispers had been a decisive one. Her brother was firm in his manner, much like their father; once lost, no good favor could be regained.

“Lord Larys. I’ve come to pull our Queen from these shady interiors to take a turn in the fresh air. I’m sure you also have much to attend to.” Not that the solar itself wasn’t brightly illuminated, stained glass windows sending streaks of colored light about the room, and Theraxis, Abby’s cat, was sprawled in a patch of warm light that the stained glass windows turned his gray fur purple and orange.

“Who would I be if I kept her Grace from spending time with her much missed brother,” Larys said, inclined slightly to Alicent. “I shall take my leave then. Good day to you both.”

As soon as the door shut, Gwayne’s blue eyes, their mother’s eyes, pinned her.

“I mislike you having private conference with that man. Where is Lady Lysa? Or Cole?”

Alicent raised an eyebrow. “You mislike.”

“I do.” He seized an apple from the basket on the table. Brown hair, once sandy blonde as Daeron’s in youth, fell into his eyes. He kept it short, as Aegon, and the sight of him had her wonder if things would be easier had her eldest looked more like her. “He is a foul man, and I do not like the way he watches you.”

She rolled her eyes at her brother’s protestation. Touched as she was by his protectiveness, it was too many years too late. “Well, Lord Larys is the Master of Whispers for a reason. There is a certain unsettling that comes with the position.”

Gwayne rolled his eyes this time and bit into the apple, the fruit crunching loudly. “I still do not like it.”

“You do not have permission to pass judgment and disapproval as you made the choice to leave.” Resentment rose ugly in her throat, her voice not her own; a fragile thing, a girlish cry. Her nails scraped along her wrist as she turned away from him to her desk, eyes unseeing as she reached for the first paper. “I had to make my own protection.”

“Ali-”

“No,” she snapped, shaking her head. “You left.” Then I lost Rhaenyra. “And do not claim it was your injury. You couldn’t wait to flee back to Uncle Rodrik. How sad it must have been for you to instead be sent back to the Tower.” Instead of staying there, with her, so she would not be alone, so their father would not be so bold as to push and press and bear down upon her. Bitterness dripped from her voice and the sound of tearing filled her ears. Alicent looked down to see how she’d torn the acceptance from Dragonstone for their presence at the wedding.

She felt like she would be sick.

A strange sound escaped her throat. It sounded like a growl or a wounded whine. Alicent could not be certain. What she was certain of was Gwayne’s arms wrapping around her from behind, holding her bones together as she felt like she would shatter. Her brother said nothing and for that she was grateful.

Fear tangled between her ribs, pulling them apart and compressing them just as tightly so she felt like she couldn’t breathe no matter what. Gwayne held her tightly, held her bones together, kept her body from bursting into a thousand shards. She gasped for air, tears hot in her eyes but refusing to fall. At some point, they ended up on the floor, the deep green of her skirts pooled around them as she leaned into her brother and he rocked her much as he did when she was young, when they would play knights and dragonriders in the gardens, when mother was there, and she’d fall and scrape her knee, or he had whacked her too hard with the stick, or Rhaenyra was angry when her moods got the better of her.

“I’m sorry,” Gwayne said softly, so softly she could barely hear it and her nails bit into the thick fabric of his doublet.

“You could have stayed,” she cried, her fist hitting his bicep. “You could have stayed, I needed you!” Her brother had nothing to say to that, he only squeezed her tighter as she finally wept, her fears tumbling out of her. “Why did he do this to me if they do not matter to him? They’re his blood too and he never cared, he never cared. He begged for sons! He begged for them and I gave him sons and it didn’t matter so what was it for?”

Alicent wept bitter tears, pushing and biting her fingers into her brother, who sat there, quiet and unmoving as she tore into him. The months, the years bubbled up in her, all the shattered dreams and the fear and the confusion, the immeasurable pain that had stripped away everything inside of her until she was whatever she was now, a stranger to herself. “They’ll kill them, Daemon or whomever seeks to curry favor with Rhaneyra, and he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care and they treat me as if I’m mad.”

She wasn’t mad. She knew that she wasn’t, everyone knew that she wasn’t, but much like the king never put Lord Corlys in his place all the times the man stormed out of the Small Council, Daemon perched as a vulture on Dragonstone for months without recourse until he stole an egg, Rhaenyra escaping recourse and being covered for her indiscretions. Had Alicent’s own children be fathered by Ser Criston, to pass off as trueborn children, her own fate would not be so kind.

Why had no one sought to protect her, the way the king, mercurial in his affections towards his eldest child to begin with, still protected Rhaenyra?

Alicent did not know how long they sat there, the gasping and the tears, the undulating pressure around her middle ebbing and increasing until it finally started to fade. Gwayne’s hand slowly stroked her back in soothing motions, his cheek resting upon her head. As the silence grew and her sobbing eased, her brother finally spoke.

“I’m here now,” he said. “And if you wish me to stay with you instead of accompanying the boys to Harrenhal, I will.”

She shook her head. “Aegon will need you. Guide him, help him. He’s doing so well, I’m so afraid that he will slip…”

“You are afraid of everything, aren’t you?”

Alicent scoffed, wet and stuffy nosed. “I am being realistic. I need someone there who will tell me if I need to intervene-”

“Alicent.” Gwayne shifted, his voice sharp enough to draw her attention and she looked up at her brother, meeting his blue eyes with her own brown. Gwayne had their mother’s eyes, the Reyne eyes. Would her grandchildren hold those eyes as well? Or would Aegon’s Valryian gaze overpower them? “Let him grow. Let him have a chance away from here.”

“And if something happens to him?” Her lower lip trembled and she bit down on it so hard it hurt. Her brother’s mouth twitched in a smile. Sad, fond.

“He cannot thrive if you are tangled around him like a choke vine.”

“And what of father?” she whispered, harsh and unnerved.

“I’ll handle father,” Gwayne reassured, or attempted to do so, but Alicent felt the fear pulse inside of her, the uncertainty at what felt like a foolish promise. His eyes searched her face for several moments and Alicent, unnerved, reached up to wipe her eyes with her handkerchief and tried to gather her wits. “Alicent? Do… do you want your son to be king?”

Alicent’s heartbeat thundered in her ears and she pulled back from her brother to stare at him. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out and she shut it with a click of her teeth that longed to nash and rend those around her. A fresh wave of tears burned in her eyes but did not fall this time. She pressed her handkerchief into her eyes, took a deep breath, and felt in her bones.

“Aegon may not want it, but it is the only way to protect us. Viserys will not. Rhaenyra will not. I tried. I did, and I never thought she would hurt the children but…” Alicent shook her head, the fear still there, still acrid and painful. “Her callous disregard of my son, her brother’s maiming. And what they did to Laenor?” Her voice was a whisper, the fear, the shock of it that still stuck with her. “It was Daemon, to be sure, but Rhaenyra knew. And it’s that which terrifies me. Rhaenyra doesn’t have to give the command, or even raise the blade or-or bring Syrax to exact her justice. Daemon and whatever other lords seek to curry her favor will do what they think needs to be done, and that is to keep my children from being a threat, from being beacons of rebellion regardless of them being part of it or not. And if none do it for her, she will be forced to do it.”

Aegon may not want his sister’s throne, but Aemond? Her precious boy had received a grievous injury, but his sire, his father and king meant to protect him, had not cared. That night on Driftmark showed the court how utterly vulnerable Alicent and her children were, and her father had been right. She had to fight for them in a way she never had before. Aemond had risen to the challenge beside his mother, a protector, but also quiet and feral in ways that frightened her, in ways that sometimes reminded her of the way Daemon Targaryen used to stride about - a siren song of strength compared to his elder brother.

If to truly protect them meant putting her first boy, precious in his own ways, her little Aegon who was finally smiling again, on the throne? To protect them? Then so be it.

Let all they’d been through, let all she had been through, be worth it, let it mean something. Mother and Father above, please just let it have been for something.

“They speak of the great insults done to our House,” Gwayne said softly, leaning against the foot of her bed, one long leg sprawled out before him, the other bent to lean his arm on. “To not name your son heir, then why take his Hightower bride?”

“I wonder, had he married Laena Velaryon, if he would have named her son heir,” Alicent said, frustration edging into her voice. “Corlys Velaryon would not tolerate his grandson not on the Iron Throne-”

“Which is why House Velaryon has not broken with Rhaenyra,” Gwayne finished with a snort, but there was no amusement in it. “The Sea Snake wants to make a name for his house. These Valyrian politics - but what man doesn’t?”

“Viserys doesn’t,” Alicent rolled her eyes and Gwayne met her gaze, the pair of them snickering like children. She felt the tension in her chest ease with the laughter, better than tears, and pushed at her brother’s knee. “It’s guilt over Aemma Arryn’s death and the king is a stubborn man. He is easily run roughshod but when his mind is made…” She shook her head. “Had father not pushed, maybe it would have changed. But father made him feel like a fool, and Viserys cannot abide that.”

“It was not just father, though,” Gwayne pointed out. “Our house pushed for it, yes, but whispers and confusion have run rampant through this realm since Aegon was born. Women do not sit the Iron Throne. Seven Hells, Jaehaerys held a council because he could not decide between a granddaughter or grandson. What power does House Targaryen truly have if they must beg the lords of the realm to decide their succession when it should be clear, the way the rest of the realm does?”

“Dragons,” Alicent pointed out softly. There were so many dragons now, many from Vhagar, a few from eggs that Meraxes had laid - she recalled from Aemond’s excited speeches, a thick tome of dragon lineages clutched in his arms. “They have dragons.”

Gwayne’s hand reached up, fingers warm against her forehead as he pushed away a loose curl. “You are just as fierce,” he told her. “If not more.”

“Stop,” she muttered and pushed at his knee before they rose and she smoothed the wrinkles of her skirt.

The children were scattered that morning. Helaena was in the gardens with little Floris and likely Jacaerys skulking after her as he’d taken to doing when council meetings weren’t in session. He had behaved well enough, from what she had seen and what had been reported to her. Bastard born he may truly be, Jacaerys had always treated her daughter kindly. There was frustratingly little she could do with the boy now, for word would trickle back to Viserys, who would feel like he needed to roar to make himself feel in control before retreating back to his lair.

She knew that Aemond kept watch, although her boy as of late had been distracted. When not in his studies or the training yard, he was hardly to be found. Which left Aegon and Abrogail, and at least she knew precisely where they would be then.

The weeks following the festivities had seen a change in her son, and one that Alicent wasn’t sure how to feel. The dalliance with the Lefford girl aside (no bastard had taken root, and the girl had been given a place in her household until such a time a match could be made), as well as whatever foolishness he’d engaged in with Cassandra Baratheon, Aegon had performed admirably. His spectacle making tried her patience, but won admiration through the court. No longer her little boy, her first son, Aegon had come into himself in a way that Alicent had not thought him capable of, and feared that it would not last.

For all the pain that ached and clawed inside her ribs at the sight of them, the displays of affection between her son and Abrogail had also proven fruitful, and she did not sense any facet of artifice between them. When her son smiled down at his betrothed, an easing sensation coursed through her, as if the tightly spooled coil inside of her was able to release gently.

Relief. Relief that this might, in fact, work out better than she hoped.

Perhaps the girl had been right in defending Aegon, yet Alicent still held her breath, did not let her relief grow unbound. Aegon often threw himself into new pursuits, at least once upon a time. He’d let it consume him and just as she thought she found what he needed to truly take responsibility, the novelty wore off and then there they were, back where things began, her son drunk and dunked in a horse trough to sober him up.

They found the children in the small, family dining hall. Abrogail’s ladies were clustered on a set of low chairs and chaises that had been brought in. Lady Desmara Crane and Lady Merei Thorne sat on either side of Lady Wylla, silk and lace across all their laps as they worked on Abrogail’s trousseau. The Riverlands girls that Abby had taken for ladies had returned home in order to get their own things and order, and would meet the wedding party at Harrenhal. Alicent regarded their dresses - all different, and made a mental note to ensure that uniforms denoting their statuses as ladies-in-waiting were taken care of when the seamstress came for the next wedding gown fitting.

The dancing master stood at the edge of the parquet floor where her son and cousin stood, the minstrels in the corner with the Targaryen drum and other instruments. The room was cool in the early afternoon, the torches out, the curtains fluttering gently in the fall breeze. Samwell was sweet voiced, and had been in court since her wedding a score ago. He was not a particularly tall man, still plump, but the years had sharpened the roundness of his face. He still composed, but now served as a dance master, leading the court in new dances. Samwell had taught the children as well, and as Alicent watched him, his feathered cap of red and black striping bobbing in time with the music, it felt as if she were transported to a godswood and a song she never wanted to hear again.

Samwell’s exasperation was palpable, and Alicent could see the pink flushed along Abrogail’s face all the way up to her hairline.

“You go left,” he instructed her sharply, the cane he held to keep the tempo cracking loud enough to cause the children and herself to jump. “The prince turns right, as the flow of air. You are receiving him, my lady.”

“Left,” Abrogail repeated, fingers twitching in the pale blue damask of her gown. Aegon gestured in the direction she was meant to go in and the music resumed. Aegon had the steps down, but Abrogail struggled to follow the beat that was so different to the normal court dances. Alicent wondered if it was some memory of Old Valyria that thumped through her son’s veins, for she recalled that Rhaenyra and Laenor’s rehearsals had gone quickly. Alicent had mercifully been saved from such a dance, for the king had not wanted to perform it again.

A short ‘Ow!’ escaped Aegon and he jumped away as Abby apologized for stepping on his feet. Alicent sucked in her lips to hold in a laugh as Abby glared at him, snipping at him, “You are ridiculous.” Alicent clapped her hands and the music stopped, bows and curtsies from those gathered before her.

“Thank you, Master Samwell. I think that’s enough for today,” she said, watching Abrogail’s shoulders sag in relief. “You may resume on the morrow. No progress can be made when one is so frustrated.” She watched the girl open her mouth and then shut it quickly, eyes downcast. As the minstrels gathered their instruments, Alicent released her brother and approached the pair. Aegon had moved closer to Abrogail, curling a long, red curl around his finger.

Whatever her son was saying to her, Alicent could not hear, but she took the time to appreciate their closeness in a way she had not allowed herself to before. They had behaved themselves admirably in the weeks of festivities. Even as jealousy curled in her gut from the shattered dreams of her girlhood, the worries that had plagued Alicent’s days had eased as she saw how well they had gotten on, how favorably many in the realm looked upon them. Many had come to her, speaking highly of the match, how clear the pair were fond of one another.

How rare that very thing was in so many unions across the realm.

Alicent feared. She feared from the moment her eyes opened to past the time her eyes closed, feared for the safety of her children, and their happiness, unfairly, she knew, was not at the top of her concerns. To know that this might keep her son safe, to know that for the first time in years too many to count on her own hands, her son looked happy…

“I am half convinced the dance only makes sense to those with Valyrian blood,” Alicent said, a small smile crossing her face as she attempted to reassure her cousin. Abrogail’s features scrunched up uncertainty.

“Should we also not do a Riverlands dance as well?” The uncertainty left her, a small curl of a mischievous smile crossed the girl’s face as she eyed Aegon. “I’d like to see how well you perform that.”

Alicent pursed her lips at her son’s indignant look. Abrogail was not pregnant, there had been no scandals, no whispers. Whatever the girl had done to influence her son appeared to be working, the words she had said in such anger had taken root as Alicent had hoped. Aegon had thrown himself into good presentation, regardless of whatever dalliances her son had engaged in with Lady Cassandra.

“You are marrying a Targaryen, and with that comes certain expectations and obligations,” Alicent said carefully, her fingers running along the deep sleeves of her deep green gown, fingers tracing along the golden embroidery of the cuffs. “The might of the Targaryen House will be on display.” The girl nodded, eyes averted respectfully and Alicent watched her son continue to wind one of the long, red curls around his finger. He tugged on it, drawing her attention.

Alicent looked away to watch the minstrels leave the hall, the door closing with a soft thud behind them, the ladies continuing to work on their sewing. “Your brother is not here? Nor Helaena?”

“Daeron is with Helaena in the gardens. He has no interest in dancing,” Aegon rolled his eyes as Gwayne did. “He’s twelve.”

“Aemond is in the training yard with Ser Criston,” came Abrogail’s soft addition, reaching up to bat Aegon’s hand away from her hair. “He’s training for the wedding tourney.”

Aegon snorted. “Even though he complains how tourneys are nothing to real war.”

“Do not think you’ll escape the training yard with me,” Gwayne teased him. “Just be grateful I won’t have you out at sunup, given your newlywed status.”

Abrogail flushed. “Is-is everything alright, your Grace? Did something happen?” Aegon’s eyes swiveled curiously from the girl to her and Alicent smoothed her hands over her skirt.

“We would announce it at dinner, but I had hoped to speak to Floris.” she shook her head. “Lord Borros has agreed to the betrothal between Aemond and her. Obviously not for a few years - she is only a girl, but it will at least give time for her and Aemond to get to know one another.”

‘You had been only a girl’, Alicent thought. It was why she had fought so hard against her father to wait just a little longer before betrothing Aegon and Abrogail. To give the girl more time, the way her mother would have wanted, the way that it had not been afforded to her. She would do what she could for Floris.

And hopefully give Aemond time to come around to the idea.

Alicent sighed. Hopefully, her second son would be in a more receptive mood after hours having Ser Criston exhaust him with drills. “I shall go find your brother and hopefully catch him before he flees for Vhagar. Floris will be easy enough to speak to, if her sister hasn’t found her already.” She reached out, stroking Aegon’s hair, pushing the silver strands out of his eyes. The way he stiffened did not go unnoticed, and her heart ached with guilt. Her hand dropped, her smile tight and Aegon gave her a slight bow, Abrogail bobbing her own curtsy, a murmured ‘Your Grace’ whisper soft.

The moment Jace saw Aemond dominating the training yard, he felt his stomach drop and promptly went right and through the tunnel towards the gardens. While things with his uncle had been only filled with tension, Jace knew when to pick his battles and that was one he did not need to dive into.

The terraced gardens of King’s Landing featured in some of his earliest memories, when things were simpler, when the animosity and the tension hadn’t suffocated them all. In the gardens, the rest of the world fell away, much like how he felt when he rode Vermax, his jade wings skimming the waves of the sea, the salt wind in his face. The suffocating stench of King’s Landing was not so bad here, and while one was never alone - too many servants, too many lingering lords and ladies, all to ever truly be hidden - it was still a reprieve and Jace made his way down to the third terrace where the fountains were. With the fountains were mud, and he knew that Helaena would be there with her jar to dig up little things to feed her collection.

The first thing Jace heard was the laughter of children, and he spied Floris Baratheon swinging a stick rather aggressively at Daeron, whose eyes were wide in shock at the battle cry she let out. A grin broke out across his face as he gathered himself, and swung his stick back with equal fervor. Baela’s ladies - minus his step-sister who was still at High Tide - were gathered on the stone terrace along with Helaena’s new lady, eating cakes and gossiping.

Helaena herself crouched beside some of the large stones, a jar beside her as she rolled over one of the stones. Her hair was bound in a simple silver braid hung over one shoulder, her deep green gown embroidered with silver moths turned muddy and damp from the wet ground. Jace watched her pick a worm from where it clung to the stone and set it carefully away.

“Fish with feathered fins,” she said as Jace approached and he noticed her gaze was focused on her work, fingers twitching, the words nonsensical. He had not seen the expression on her face in years, had thought, mayhaps, her moments had abated over time as she grew older.

It was not the case. It was not something the princess had grown out of, and he remembered with clarity of a frantic, sobbing fit she’d had when they were children. Helaena was meant to be handled gently - Jace remembered his mother saying as much when they were young, not long after Daeron had been born. He should treat Helaena kindly, and respect when she did not want to be touched, and be mindful of loud noises. And so he did, stern with Luke when he would screech in excitement or indignation, snap at Aegon when he raised his voice. It had been the two of them playing in the halls of the Red Keep, playing a game of hide and seek, and he’d found Helaena, frozen in the hallway to his mother’s room, tears streaking down her face, clutching something to her. It had been nothing, but she would not drop her arms, and not knowing what to do, Jace had gotten his mother. Belly round with Joffrey, she’d come out, concern etched on her features and together they sat on the ground with Helaena, his mother not touching her but speaking to her in calm tones.

“The rats, the rats, the rats are coming,” Helaena had whispered in a frantic mantra.

“The rats will not hurt you, hāedus. I will go to Lord Lyonel and we will ensure there are more ratcatchers employed. I promise.” His mother said firmly and clearly, not dismissing the concern, her gaze towards him.

“And if we find a rat, we will get Abby’s cat to help catch them,” Jace had promised with a nod.

She was not crying here. She was distant from the world around them, and focused on something that wasn’t the little bugs she was dropping into the jar. Helaena was so far away and Jace kneeled beside her. The ground was wet and cold and promptly began soaking into the wool of his trousers. He ignored the uncomfortable sensation and remained beside her, curls in his eyes and reached for the scurrying little bugs to drop in the jar.

“Fish with feathered fins and storms of ivy,” she whispered. “Not that one. The red ones get ignored.”

Jace started when he realized she had addressed him in the middle of her whispers and dropped the red pill bug back onto the soft earth. It eagerly burrowed back into the soil, vanishing without a trace.

“Shall we find you a fish with feathered fins?” he asked her softly, a slight jest in his voice as he attempted to draw her back into the present moment. Helaena did not reply to him but shifted the jar better between them and he went about pulling up the next large stone to pull the bugs from beneath it.

“Promises shatter in ice,” Helaena said.

“What?”

Heleana drew back to sit on her heels, the rock falling back in place and her hands covered in mud. Her gaze appeared to fix on them and Jace watched her quietly, the sounds of Daeron and Floris’ laughter filling the garden. It felt ominous to him, the feeling rushing in like water behind a broken dam.

Tentatively, Jace lifted a hand to rest on her shoulder. “Helaena, come back to me,” he urged gently, thumb stroking against the soft wool. “You’re going somewhere and I haven’t any idea how to follow you.” He would if he could, for he knew that whatever plagued Helaea was a frightening place that she should not traverse alone, even tethered to Dreamfyre as she was.

All he could do was reach for her, and hope that she heard him.

Helaena slowly blinked, as if the act itself was something she had to remind herself or force herself to do. Jace swallowed and chanced a glance over his shoulder. Daeron and Floris were still chasing one another with their sticks, and the ladies were occupied with their chatting. He frowned with an uncertain feeling. Should her ladies not be attending her? Or did they think it best to leave her be? A sharp inhale of breath drew his focus back to Helaena. She pulled away awkwardly, hands fluttering and fingers flexing.

“I…” Helaena looked lost, confused, and she stared at him but did not meet his eyes, mouth opening and closing, words unable to escape her. Jace shook his head and kept his hand to himself in her clarity of not wanting the touch.

“You’re alright. You’re safe here.”

“Helaena?”

Abrogail’s voice carried past the hedge and she came around the bed, mouth tight, gripping tightly to Wylla Karstark’s hand. The dark haired woman looked pale, face tense as she followed.

“See?” Jace said, hoping it would comfort the princess. “Abrogail’s here.” Would that help? He felt impotent, helpless, useless in the worst possible way.

Abrogail and Wylla dropped to the other side of Helaena, the mud and damp soaking into the hems of their skirts. “How long has she been like this?” Abrogail asked, voice quiet but firm, blue eyes searching the princess’ face before looking at him.

“Since before I came.” Abrogail reached for one of Helaena’s hands, spreading her fingers out and gently stroking each of them to keep them from bending back into the anxious claws they had been. The ease of the motion spoke to how often they’d done it, Abrogail pressing her thumb gently into Helaena’s palm to ease the rigidity.

“Helaena? What is the matter?” Abrogail leaned in and Helaena did not meet her gaze but drew back, pulling her hand away and clutching both to her chest. A sound escaped her throat, small, a growl perhaps? Or a whimper? Helaena’s silver braid swung and she sharply changed direction, shifting to her knees to grab Wylla’s hand.

“Silence doesn’t mean the grave,” Helaena hissed. Wylla’s gray eyes were wide, brow furrowed in confusion as Helaena leaned in, pinning Wylla in place like a moth on one of her boards. Jace could see how tightly she gripped the other’s hand.

“Your Grace?” Wylla whispered and Helaena grabbed her now with both hands, shaking her head. Abrogail met Jace’s eyes, confused, before her gaze went to the ladies sitting on the terrace. The confusion turned to incredulity.

“Have they been sitting here this whole time?” she asked him in a calm voice, and the familiarity of it hit him in the chest. Her voice was calm, but there was nothing calm in the words. There was a quiet anger simmering beneath those words, brightening her gaze, and it reminded him so much of Ser Harwin that it took his breath away. Gentle and fierce.

Jace knew immediately that she meant, and he felt his own jaw tick as his understanding of the situation shifted. He nodded, holding her gaze, feeling a tempest inside of his chest. “I’ll stay here,” he promised and Abrogail’s gaze softened along the edges, her hand reaching out as if she meant to cup his cheek before she stopped herself. Hand still in the air, her fingers curled and with another nod, she gathered herself up to do whatever it was she meant to do.

“Don’t.”

Abrogail stilled, awkwardly half standing, Helaena’s fingers gripping her wrist. “What?”

The princess dropped a hand from Wylla to reach for Abrogail’s wrist. “Don’t,” she repeated, her head tilting, her mouth pursed in annoyance. “Don’t do that.”

“But, Helaena-”

Helaena yanked Abrogail’s arm hard enough that the unbalanced girl toppled over with a wet slap and Abrogail grimaced as the mud and wet soaked into her more uncomfortably. “They are supposed to be tending you.”

“And they are. I sent Margaery away before Jace came by.” Helaena sounded more exasperated than the annoyance that filled her actions and she gestured for Jace to hand her the jar of bugs. “You mustn’t lecture them.”

“I-” Helaena gave her a look and Abrogail shut her mouth, chastened. “I’m sorry.” In the quiet after the words, Daeron gave a shout and Jace saw him hit the ground hard, his stick sword flung out of his hand as Floris Baratheon stood over him, her own sword pointing right into his face. The ladies cheered and clapped for Floris, and offered their sympathies to Daeron. Helaena huffed and let go of Abrogail’s wrist.

“Jace was here and I was fine. Thank you, Jacaerys.” His cheeks flushed beneath her unblinking gaze, chest warm, even as the confusion of what had all happened still stormed inside of him. “He came exactly when I needed. Not too early, nor too late. I am capable of expressing my own needs.” Abrogail flushed for different reasons, fingers twisting. “What is it?”

Abrogail looked to Wylla. “The queen came to our dancing lessons-”

“Was it about how you keep stepping on Aegon’s feet?”

“I didn’t step - No!” Abrogail’s nose wrinkled with annoyance. “‘Tis not my fault dances are so complicated and that my feet do not behave. No.” A deep breath, another look, this time in the direction of Floris and Daeron. “She said that Aemond and Floris are now betrothed, she was going to find Aemond and then you.”

The silence held. Then, “Even though Wylla and Aemond have been kissing everywhere?” Helaena asked.

“But she’s eleven,” Jace protested.

The words hung in the air while it was Wylla’s turns for her cheeks to flush and Abrogail to stare at her. Jace also looked at her, surprised that Lady Wylla would even want to voluntarily get that close to Aemond, let alone kiss him.

“You’ve been kissing Aemond? And you didn’t tell me?” Abrogail’s incredulous voice was hushed so as not to pull the attention of the others.

Wylla shrugged helplessly. “It hasn’t been everywhere,” she muttered beneath the attention. “And this isn’t the point. I…” Wylla shook her head. “Prince Jacaerys is right, Floris is a little girl, does she mean to send them both to Storm’s End?”

“At least it isn’t Cassandra,” Helaena said with a frown. “No, they will not be sent to Storm’s End. Floris is my ward. She will stay with me for as long as I can keep her.” A sigh. “Floris has many years before she is to be married. Who's to say the betrothal will even last?”

Wylla looked uncertain. “You sound sure of yourself.”

Helaena looked at her. “I’m not. But Lord Borros is feckless and mercurial, he may change his mind if it means he cannot betroth Cassandra, or if he has a son.” Jace did not know if those were truly Helaena’s opinions on the matter, or if she was mimicking what her mother had said.

“Can you not break it as you did yours?” Abrogail asked. Helaena shook her head.

“Breaking my betrothal to Aegon should never have worked, and it was because our grandfather already found it distasteful that he convinced our father to break it on the eventual promise that Aemond and I might marry, and that also isn’t happening. Obviously.”

The look on Wylla’s face was one of confused near-disgust, one that Jace had seen in many outside of their family. Most found it objectionable to imagine kissing their own siblings, and Jace himself could not imagine kissing Luke if his brother had been born a girl, so he perhaps understood that.

Besides, none would find it strange if Helaena was only his cousin, for the blood they shared was the same in that regard.

“Floris will not mind if you keep kissing Aemond, Wylla, do not fear that,” Helaena continued, tightening the lid on her jar.

Wylla sputtered, glaring at Helaena. “Respectfully, Helaena,” she said, not even giving her the proper title, and Helaena looked up from her jar. “I do mind. I will not be some paramour, or continue some ill-fated dalliance with your brother just because Floris doesn’t mind. Floris is eleven and she deserves to be treated respectfully, not to mention I deserve it. I will not be shamed, or the newest subject for court gossip.” She sniffed, and Jace could not tell if she was trying not to cry, or if she was so angry she could spit. Abrogail rested a hand on Wylla’s back, lower lip caught between her teeth. Helaena shut her mouth, brow furrowed, and looked at her jar of bugs. “If Aemond suggests such a thing, I will cease everything. I will not allow him to do that to me, nor anyone else. I will push him out of a window for such a thing.”

Jace smothered his laugh into a cough at the imagery of such a threat, and had to keep from offering to assist the lady.

Helaena pressed her lips together, a little snort escaping her. “I would like to see that. He does need it sometimes,” she allowed. “I will see what mother says when she comes.” Her fingers drummed against the jar, and still, Helaena did not meet anyone’s eyes, still caught in whatever in between space that plagued her, but her words were more present, and that was truly what mattered.

Sitting there on the cold, wet ground, Jace wondered what his mother would say about all this. He had been sent to King’s Landing not just to serve on grandfather’s small council, but to be her eyes and ears amongst the viper’s nest. Any piece of information, no matter how small, could possibly become crucial to her cause. But as he sat there, Helaena’s hand drifting to rest near him, it felt like a further betrayal to reveal the conversation, even though he had, more or less, been a part of this. It wasn’t as if it had been overheard and none of the women knew he was there. They had none, and spoken openly regardless.

He could put off writing. At least for now.

AND WITH THAT! We are on our way to Harrenhal! I'd love to know what you loved about this chapter, and what you're looking forward to! Any questions or curiosities? ALSO! WE are sooooo taking bets on what (if anything?) is going to go wrong at this epic Westerosi Royal Wedding. And if you aren't sure what to say, drop a dragon emoji in the comments so I know you were here <3 and as always, thank you for being here. I appreciate each and every one of you.

[Next Chapter]

[revserrayyu]

2.5 Xianzhou continuance thoughts [part 4]

**SPOILER warning** for the end of the mission, covering the conversations between the Yaoqing trio, the Generals and everything else. If you haven’t cleared the story yet then go do so. Or go farm some relics. Do a ten pull. Go frolic outside. Do whatever you wish except ruin your own story experience with spoilers by reading ahead.

The way my heart sank thinking that Jiaoqiu truly didn’t survive his injuries..

..only for us to see Trailblazer and Bailu messing around, weeping at a hastily put together grave for March because she disappeared out for their sight for two minutes. Hoyo must take great pride in successfully giving me a heart attack.

Pfftt, I’ll enjoy the lighthearted conversation while I can though I guess. We truly didn’t do much during this mission with all the POV switch ups that happened, though I still love that they’re allowing us to speak more. All the Trailblazer voice actors are great and I hope we continue to hear them more often in the future.

Annndd that the panic settles back in. Jiaoqiu’s injuries were no doubt the worst, while Feixiao probably faced some drawbacks from all the fighting and madness she endured, but Moze too? I guess he did get attacked by Hoolay and his followers once the warhead realized he was spying on them, but then Moze was seen later on the Skysplitter when Feixiao at the bloody heart and he did eventually find Jiaoqiu somewhere with the help of the Trailblazer, so surely he couldn’t have been that hurt if he was running around everywhere, yeah? Perhaps exhaustion caught up with him after all the chaos, or he knows how to deal with pain rather well. Possibly both.

Why am I not surprised to hear that Feixiao is the kind of person who can’t be confined to a hospital bed. Even if she left in plain sight, I’m sure she would’ve quick enough that no one could even catch her to bring her back.

Seems the whole Yaoqing trio shares this mindset too. Moze could easily sneak out in the shadows whereas Jiaoqiu probably just walked himself out with an excuse like “I’m a healer, trust me when I say I’m fine” or something.

Oohhh buddy.. I love it when characters have different roles in status or have to act a certain way around each other but one of them tells the other to forget the formalities and just be truthful because their relationship is worth so much more than that, like yes she’s his general and he’s her healer, but I have no doubt they’ve become such close friends over the years too. Also, the way the scene doesn’t show his entire face.. god, what nice foreshadowing.

Aww sweetie nooo! Please don’t blame yourself! If anything, blame the plot. It’s like the four stars had a rough time in Penacony and now it’s the five star’s turn on the Xianzhou. And I’m sure I mentioned it before but the trio’s voice actors are all so talented and completely nailed these two story patches. The emotions are perfect.

WHAT IF I CRIED HUH?? Is that what Hoyo wants? For me to become a sobbing mess after thinking Jiaoqiu healed perfectly fine?? AAAaahh.. I’m not entirely sure if the blindness is a result of Hoolay’s attack or a side effect of the poison Jiaoqiu drank, but either way I’m so incredibly sad. Our handsome foxian has already been through hell from being Hoolay’s hostage, did we really need to take away his eyesight too?? Man.. if anything, I will say it was clever of Hoyo to make the one character who always has his eyes closed end up blind because then they wouldn’t have to change up his model at all. It might seem off-putting whenever people use his ultimate and see his eyes now though. Aah, his pretty golden eyes.. I’ll admit that they did seem a bit dull during that one scene of him all slashed up and bloody on the floor, but I didn’t think it was anything serious. More like it was an art style choice and he was so worn out from the attack and knocking at death’s door.

Tell me why I don’t believe his smile and that’s he’s only saying such a thing so Feixiao doesn’t bury herself under all the guilt she feels. Looking back now though, I can appreciate the subtle hints about his condition before Feixiao revealed it. I remember Jiaoqiu mentioning how he recognized the sound of Feixiao’s footsteps when she approached him, so pair that with how the game framed his face before in the previous shots where his eyes weren’t visible and yeah.. smart moves. Sigh.. he once left his role as a military healer to prevent himself from watching more people rush towards their death and now he’s not gonna see much of anything.

Bruh.. he faced the foxian’s worst enemy, got taken hostage by them, watched people die in front of him, got seriously attacked and purposefully drank poison at some point, yet despite all that trauma, he solely cares about how Feixiao is feeling? GOD HELP ME he’s too precious and sweet! I adore him so much and his devotion to her has me so giddy and weak. In a shipping context or not I fucking I love the bond these two have y’all.

I mean.. I guess? In exchange for losing his sight, Hoolay was definitely defeated, which grants all the foxians a big sigh of relief to finally be rid of the monster that haunted them and treated them as slaves for centuries.

More importantly than that (to me at least) is knowing that Feixiao’s moon rage was actually taken care of. Part of his ‘About Feixiao’ voice line is “I cannot leave this world before she's cured” and our man really kept his promise. I wish he didn’t have to go through such extremes to achieve one of his biggest goals in life but hey, if Jiaoqiu says he’s fine, I’ll choose to believe him. Just a little bit.

The way Moze was here the entire time and he didn’t even know… aaahh. Considering Moze was here way before Feixiao first showed up, he probably moves too quietly for Jiaoqiu to even hear him. I wanna bet that Moze left the Alchemy Commission after Jiaoqiu did just to make sure the guy didn’t get himself lost or walk into any danger.

I fucking hope they can find someone to help him! Also, I absolutely LOVE that it’s her now making a promise to find a way to heal him! All those years of Jiaoqiu stressing about finding a cure for her moon rage and Feixiao gets the chance to pay back all his efforts. Kinda surprised that Bailu couldn’t do anything about Jiaoqiu’s sight, but perhaps she doesn’t know how to or isn’t strong enough for such a thing yet? Not even Lingsha could’ve helped I guess. Who knows.

Ma’am.. I love each and every little thing about you, but can you relax? Please?? You just snuck out of the Alchemy Commission, which means you probably aren’t even full healed yet, and we’re already chatting about rushing into more battles? How about we take a break for a little bit and go enjoy the real Wardance. Sound good?

Me and Jiaoqiu sharing exactly one brain cell.

Just hearing her say “wildfire” made me miss our favorite Underworlders even more. At least we’ll get to see a whole bunch of Luka during the Wardance event.

Ah, even more name drops to taunt my hopes with. I’m still bitter we were teased with Jingliu’s return. Speaking of a certain blonde man though, can we ask him to cure Jiaoqiu’s eyes? We don’t exactly how skilled Luocha is with healing since everything about him is a giant mystery, but I think it would be a nice reason to bring him back, if only for a moment. I know he’s still locked up but whomever does eventually heal Jiaoqiu will be put on my good side.

Well, at least we finally get an idea of what our “traveling merchant” has been carrying in that coffin of his.

Having the Swarm be mentioned right before Ruan Mei.. oh dear. What kind of chaos are we in for next time there’s a mission on these ships.

Now then, I know our mad scientist was mentioned at the very beginning of the quest by Himeko regarding some fossils, then again once more towards the middle by Feixiao when she was chatting with Yukong about how the Verdant Knights found the wreckage of Whistling Flames ship, so that of course got my hopes up that we might finally learn more about Tingyun.. but I wasn’t expecting to hear her speak!! Thank heavens she’s actually alive! Whether by chance or because Ruan Mei has already.. you know, used her as a test subject, who knows. I’m leaning towards the latter option personally but regardless! I’m so thrilled for her! I’m not even that big of a Tingyun fan but my mouth was literally hung open in a huge grin when I heard her voice again. I can’t imagine how her voice actors must’ve felt being called back after so long in to give just a single line for this character again after what happened during the main story.

Speaking of powerful one liners, Feixiao receives a second one about Jiaoqiu after you complete the entire mission. Ain’t that grand.

Behold! I’m finally done with all this rambling and I can finally start the Wardance event! I’ve already seen some characters and cutscenes that I’m excited to learn more about. I do enjoy Luka but hopefully I can just breeze through it and not take an abundant amount of screenshots this time.

[chiropter36]

Uuuurgh okay so I’m working on a follow-up to “three or more foxes form a skulk” and it’s slow-going but it IS going… and then a few nights ago as I’m laying in bed, an entire freakin’ scene forms in my head, and it’s NOT a part of what I’m working on and CAN’T be because it involves both Nine and Knucks being at a point character-development-wise that they won’t be at until AFTER that… but the scene won’t get out of my head so I’ve decided to write down a bare-bones version and hopefully this’ll satisfy my brain and I can get back to the fic I’ve actually committed to finishing.

So yada yada sometime after “three or more foxes”, something something the chaos council returns/some other threat happens, something something Nine and Knucks get split off from the others and have to take shelter somewhere, they’re out of immediate danger but are going to have to stay put for a while, whatever structure they’re hiding in gives a view of the night sky, blah blah they’ve settled in and taken care of all the practical stuff and are now sitting in half-awkward half-comfortable silence, ’cause like they’re basically friends by this point but obviously haven’t done anything silly like say that to the other’s face, then…

Knucks, staring at the night sky: “Y’know, there was a time I doubted I’d ever get to see the stars again.”

Nine is surprised and not sure how/if to respond to that, so just quietly listens as Knucks continues talking, in a tone like he’s only half-aware he’s speaking out loud, reminiscing about how his mother used to tell him old echidna stories about warriors and adventurers and beasts that were immortalized in the stars; and how even after she died when he was still young, he kept the habit most nights of picking out all the constellations she had shown him and reciting her stories in his head.

He’s quiet for a bit after this, and the Nine of only a few months previous would have easily just left it at that, but now surprises himself when he suddenly finds himself whispering:

Nine: “’Least you knew yours.”

Knucks starts, as though just remembering Nine was there, and frowns. Even though Nine has become MUCH more open with him and Rebel and the others in the months since their return to the city, it’s still very unlike him to volunteer information about his past unprompted, and this is uncharted territory for both of them.

Nine doesn’t elaborate, so after a moment Knucks tentatively decides to test the waters.

Knucks: “You ever… have anyone else? A dad, or grandparent or somethin’?”

Silence, then a single quick headshake, the minimal amount of movement to convey the answer. No elaboration seems forthcoming, and Knucks assumes the conversation is over, but then a quiet sigh reaches his ears, and:

Nine: “All I know is at least one of them was around long enough to give me a name – which I don’t use anymore, so don’t ask – then at some point left me at a group home and never came back.”

Slight pause, then he continues:

Nine: “I assume it was ‘cause of... well, the obvious…” – he parts his mechanical tails and gives the two furry ones a little wave – “But I don’t actually know for sure. The caretakers always got annoyed at me when I asked about them. Well, when I asked questions in general, but they seemed to get especially snippy on that subject. Probably mad that my parents saddled them with me, whatever their reasons. Anyway, I learned pretty quick to stop caring.”

He shrugs, trying to affect an unconcerned vibe.

Another stretch of silence as Knucks digests this information. Before he can figure out a response, Nine speaks up again:

Nine: “So… did you have a dad around? You mentioned your mom, but…”

So Knucks thinks, well, apparently we’re doing this now, and tells him that yeah, he has some memories of his father, playing with him as a puggle or smiling down at him in his mother’s pouch… but the pleasant memories are few and too soon he reaches the point where he either stops talking or delves into why all this is in past tense.

For some reason, he feels like he has to push forward in this right now.

Knucks: “I was about four or so… some bandit crew attacked the village we were stayin’ at. Pop went out to fight ’em, but they were apparently pretty tough an’ outnumbered him, so Ma left me with some friends and went to help. In the end, they fought ’em off an’ saved the village, but… Ma was the only one who came back.

“An’ she didn’t get out unscathed. One of the bandits was a platypus, see, an’ during the fight he got her with his spurs. Didn’t kill her – there were some other platypuses in the village who had some antivenom on hand – but… it did some lasting damage. So a year or so later, when she got sick...”

A brief glance at Nine tells him he doesn’t have to finish.

Another stretch of silence. Then, Nine’s voice, barely a whisper:

Nine: “Sorry.”

Knucks stares for a moment at the fox kid he once saw as nothing more than a villain to be taken down. He looks back up at the stars, his reply gruff but just as quiet.

Knucks: “Is what it is.”

Pause.

Knucks: “But for the record… same.”

Nine stares for a moment at the echidna he once saw as nothing but an aggravating foe trying to stop him from making his perfect world.

He mulls things over for another stretch of silence.

Nine: “So, I only really know about constellations in concept… What are some of them? The ones your mom told you.”

Knucks: *quiet, sad sigh* “That’s the thing… I don’t remember ’em anymore.”

He goes on to explain that when he and Rebel were trying to get the rebellion off the ground, he’d used to look up at the ceiling of whatever place they were hiding out in that night, and imagine the night sky and try to keep doing what he’d always done, pick out the constellations and tell himself his mother’s stories… but the day to day grind of life under the Chaos Council’s regime got harder, and he had more important responsibilities than making sure he kept up a childhood habit…

Knucks: “Didn’t even realize I’d fallen outta the habit, until the skies finally cleared up – thanks to your tech an’ all – and I looked up, and… I still couldn’t see any of ’em.”

And he’s sad, but also apparently just resigned to the notion that the last of his people’s stories have been lost forever because he couldn’t keep them in his head. The conversation appears to end on that depressing note…

Nine: “I think I… kinda see some kind of warrior-type figure there?” He points at a group of stars. “See, those four stars in a line, could kind of be a sword, then… I mean, if we’re being extremely generous, that cluster there could be a person wielding it or something…”

And Nine’s fumbling but genuine attempts to invent new constellations brings a small smile to Knucks’s face, and he starts joining in, and lightheartedly ribbing Nine’s ideas which gets him snarking back, and shooting ideas back and forth for stories behind the new constellations, and the scene ends with Nine sleeping comfortably with a slight smile on his face, as Knucks keeps watch, looking up at the stars with a less somber feeling in his heart than had been there since the sky had cleared.

---

Okay that’s all I got. Go, plot bunny, be free! I love you but I just need you to leave me alone for a bit.

[bewareofraiju]

The main reason I want Cal and Merrin to have a bio child is to add fuel to my theoretical Kata and Ezra's rivalry. And both ship crews' dynamic in general.

Imagine the Ghost crew and the Mantis crew meet each other in the future: the two Padawans, first start making snide remarks to the other and then show off their force abilities. Sabine, being the Gadfly of the situation, constantly comes up with new challenges to fuel their antagonism.

Meanwhile, Jacen and the Merrical child REALLY don't like each other and they are viciously fighting because "my parent/big sibling is better than yours!" and they need to be separated by Zeb and Greez. Yes, a 6′8″ feet tall Lasat and a four-armed Latero are struggling to hold back two little kids when they are about to get physical while criticizing the other for failing to keep their kid in check.

In the meantime Chopper and BD-1 have basically developed a relationship akin to Tom & Jerry. As meaning that they are always on the verge of killing each other in a battle of violent slapstick and 50s cartoon hijikins.

Hera and Merrin are watching all the chaos unfold in the background. Hera is drinking caf, she's too tired to intervene because being a General of the New Republic takes its toll and at the end of the working day she does not have the energy to stop the madness. However, a silent and seemingly stoic Merrin is greatly enjoying the ongoing havoc.

And in all this chaos, where are their husbands? Cal and Kanan (yes, Kanan is alive, what is this 'Jedi Night' you speak of?) are passed out piss drunk in the floor after a night of catching up with their old friend and remembering the good ol' days at the Jedi Temple.

[horsesource]

"A rather superficial thought has been going round my head for some time: no one listened to Antonin Artaud, but he was right. We have to get out of the insanity our civilization is creating. But drugs, alcohol, and in fine madness and/or death are no solution; we must find something else.

Meaning is withering…The forms I've known as mine are falling away. My writing is foundering, I’ve nothing interesting to say anymore, nothing worth trying to say…How many psychologists would call me insane if I told them that it feels as though I’ve lost my grip on everything? So that’s what’s driving you to hole up in the mountains!

Yes indeed, and now you’re really losing the plot, because even the mountains are coming apart. Losing cohesion because of melting ice, because of these heatwaves. The handholds are crumbling rocks are falling, this is how it is. And friends are crashing at the foot of the sheer rock face…something inside me is ringing in response, something that hurts and unbalances me.

It’s would have been so easy if my personal unhappiness could be summed up by an unresolved family issue…But no. My problem is that my problem isn’t mine alone. The misery my body is expressing comes from the world.”

Nastassja Martin In the Eye of the Wild

“We live, like all other life forms – animal, plant, fungal, bacterial – in the midst of enormously complex networks of semiotic life…A brain in a vat could never generate meaning. What is needed for mind is a living body in a lived world. Place, or umwelt, isn’t incidental. Places, and the tongues that ‘speak’ there, are a central aspect of what makes us. Human linguistic meaning-making in metaphor does not spring brand new and unbidden from the cosmos. It has evolved from natural metaphors and meanings which are gathered in evolutionary layers in all the life forms of this planet. The evolving organism draws on these hidden and nonconscious layers of meaning-making, and so do the poet, the artist and the scientist as they discover new forms of living knowledge. [..]

When meanings become unstable, inventiveness through exchange may be possible, and new habits may be made and laid down. But when reciprocity is refused or absent, then we are nothing but a chaos of broken relations. With that, we are in the presence of what the Estonian semiotician Ivar Puura called semiocide. Carelessness over meanings – in nature and in culture – is a symptom of relational sickness.”

Wendy Wheeler “In Other Tongues: Ecologies of Meaning and Loss”

[turtletimewriting]

2012 meets 2018

Summary: Mikey through a portal mishap is stuck in the 2012 series. Not a big deal, but he’s noticed that they’re all so serious. Not nearly as huggy and close as him and his brothers. Welp, time to fix that!

_._._

Things were so different here. Which makes sense. Like duh, it was his brothers from another universe. But it was weird. It was weird to see a Leo who spent all his time hidden away in the dojo meditating. Raph who spent all his free time reading comics and judging his brothers. Donnie... well actually Donnie was largely the same as his Donnie, spending a lot of time being the mad scientist he is. This version of himself was always doing his own thing. 

The only times they were together were when they were patrolling or when they were watching tv in the night. But otherwise, everyone was busy doing their own thing. Being serious and nothing like his own touchy feely family.

And of course, he was going to fix this!

Somehow...

Admittedly, he had no idea how he was going to. But he was taking it one step at a time. First he had been trying to get involved in all their hobbies. Right now he was sitting with Leo watching some show he liked called Space Heroes. It was... alright? Probably didn’t help that he was in the middle of a later season and Leo had gotten too lost in the sauce to remember to speak at a normal pace when recapping the show.

He was still rambling furiously, his hands vibrating violently in front of him. His Leo didn’t do any of this but he recognised all of this from Donnie so he found himself smiling so wide at how obviously happy Leo was. The happiness radiating from him. Sitting crossed legged together enjoying a show.

He so badly wished he could see them all this aggressively cheerful and happy. Leo burst into a huge smile as the Space Captain slapped his... co-captain? Okay a little weird but whatever makes him happy. Mikey wanted so badly to see this Leo finally let go and be fully silly and happy. 

His own Leo was so much more laidback and always willing to dive head first into the chaos. 

At that thought, a lightbulb went off in his head. 

His bent knee was pointed straight at him and that was his Leo’s like ultimate weakness. Leo’s legs were his worst spot, although he was definitely a walking tickle spot to be fair. Every part of his leg were very ticklish, his calves, the back of his knees, knees in general and don’t even think about his thighs or he’ll explode.

While he was distracted, he placed his scrunched up fingers right on his knee and then slowly drew his hands out in a slow crawling tickle across his bent knee.

“This is like their thing. So typi-AAAH!” Leo leapt like three feet in the air. He looked at him with sheer bewilderment and betrayal. “What was that!”

“Uhh... me tickling you?”

“No, I know that. Like... what kind of technique was that?” Leo laughed.

“Oh that!” Mikey spread out his fingers again on his kneecap to demonstrate, sending a violent jolt and slapping a hand over his giggles, “This drives my Leonardo insane! We have to pin his leg down so we can do it over and over again.”

He didn’t realise he was demonstrating over and over again until Leo was slapping the sofa arm. “Pfftahaha HAH! Hehe, o-okay. Okay okay okay! Hah! I get it!” He wiggled his knee but never withdrew his leg.

“Haha, no! C’mon! We can consider it a science experiment!” Mikey clapped his hands as he inched forward into his space, his plan all coming together. “Let’s see if you have the same tickle spots as my Leo!”

He pushed him down to lay on the sofa, had to make him comfortable before wrecking him to tears! Jumping up to his stomach to pin him down, he faced his legs. Obviously any Leonardo must have the most ticklish legs in existence, right?

“Wait! What! No, we don’t have to do this!”

“Oh yes we do!” Mikey cracked his fingers before he immediately grabbed his knees and started squeezing. 

Leo jolted up but his own weight kept him pinned. “HAH! Wahait! WAHAIT! HA! Ahahahaha!” He drummed his feet violently.

“Aww, that’s not as much laughter as I was expecting,” Mikey whined. His Leo would already be driven to tears by this. Yet this Leo was just laughing. Not even that hard! Huh, that’s... weird. Ugh, he was just being stupid. Of course this Leo was different, he was different in a million ways from his Leo. They weren’t even the same species! He needed to get over himself. Try to enjoy the silly moment. He spidered his fingers over his knees again. 

“Ihi Ah! Ah! Wait! Hahaha! Ah! I didn’t even know my knees were ticklish!” Leo gasped.

That made him stop. “What!” Mikey gasped himself.

“Who goes for the knees when tickling someone!” Leo gasped amongst his giggles.

“Uh me!” Mikey gasped as he squeezed his knee again, sending Leo tumbling back down from his sass, “I can go for the knees. Since I have a brother who dies if you go for the knees!”

“Hahahaha! Wehell that’s hahaha dumb!” Leo snarked, bucking up to try and kick him off. Which almost worked. Mikey had to put an end to that. 

But now he felt like he was in uncharted territory. It makes sense, he thought. This Leo did act entirely differently so of course he’d have different spots. He looked him over passively at where to go next. 

Suddenly he snapped forward and started scribbling over his plastron. His scutes lay in a different layout than Leo’s, and also unlike his Leo, he immediately burst into frantic bright laughter. “WAHAHAHAIT! WAIT WAIT HAHAHAHAHAHA!” 

Mikey smiled manically. “Now there’s some good laughter! Is that a good spot, huh? Is that an extra ticklish spot? Does it tickle tickle tickle you!” 

Mikey felt all his weirdness completely disappear though as Leo slapped a hand over his face as he slowly turned bright red. 

“You can blush! That’s amazing! Look at how red you are!” Mikey cooed. 

“HAHA SHUUHUUHU SHUSH! HAHAHHAHAHAAHAA! STAHAP TALKING!” Leo kicked out frantically as he slowly turned more and more red. 

“Aww you’re so adorable!” Mikey exclaimed as he traced around his scutes which sent Leo tumbling down even more frantic laughter. His head tipped back as he was lost to the sensation. “But is this where you’re most ticklish? Oooor is there another spot?”

The way he reacted clearly meant he was close though. Mikey used the tracing to explore his whole torso.

“NO! NO! HAHAHAHAA! HA! HA! HA! NO!” Leo suddenly gasped as he fingers trailed from his stomach to his sides. 

Mikey grinned evilly. “Oh you shouldn’t have said that!” 

Not one to waste time, he immediately started pinching and scribbling over his sides. It was really fun to tickle actually! The smooth shell of his sides was fun to slide his fingers against and the polished smooth texture made him want to keep tickling and tickling. 

“Oh this is too much fun! I’ve gotta keep tickling you! I can’t stop tickling you!” 

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!” Leo was totally lost to the sensation and Mikey knew it was time to let up. He really didn’t want to kill him or something. 

Well okay, maybe one last tickle.

As he harshly scrubbed against his sides and Leo jolted up, he met him halfway with a raspberry pressed in the middle of his plastron. 

Leo’s laughter went silent until Mikey sat back up and gentle climbed off of him. 

“Huh, you and my Leo have completely different tickle spots,” He grinned but that smile kept growing when Leo kept laughing. 

“Hahahaa... ha... heh... whaht was thahaha hahaha... about!” Leo exclaimed. Setting off more of his laughter as he remembered and brought up the tickling.

“Dunno!” He chirped back, giggling himself too, “For the funsies.” 

“Nahat fun! Ha! Hahahahaa!”

“You can stop laughing,” Mikey giggled. The laughter catching on. Leo had yet to even sit up yet and seemed totally lost in his own unending giggles.

A snort ripped through the room and properly set off Mikey’s laughter. 

“Dude, stop laughing! I’m not tickling you!”

“Dohon’t SAY THE WORD! Hahahaha! HAH! Heheheee...”

Wholeheartedly, Mikey thought that would be stuck in the cycle of making each other laugh if it wasn’t for this world’s Raph walking in. 

“Okay, who got Leo tickle drunk?”

“Tickle drunk?” Mikey asked incredulously. 

“STAHAP SAHAYING THE WORD HEHEHEEEE!” Leo kicked out his feet again from the tiny ball he was curling into.

Raph sauntered over with such a fond smile and casually leaned an arm on the back of the sofa. “Yeah, if anyone... uh t-words Leo then he can’t stop thinking about it which means he can picture the sensation. Meaning! He can’t stop giggling or feeling like he still being attacked.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Mikey lit up like christmas had come early, “Can you not say the word tickle?”

The instant he said it, Leo snorted as he frantically tried rubbing away at his sides. Raph looked on with a mischevious smirk. “Oh I can definitely say the word tickle,” He deliberately spoke clearly and sounded out each syllable in the word, much to Leo’s giggly dismay, “it’s just that it takes a while for Leo to stop being tickle drunk, especially if everyone keeps mentioning it.”

Mikey finally made eye contact with Leo as he peered up at him through the tiny ball he curled into. And as subtle as a ninja, he flicked his eyes back to Raph quickly. Thankfully, Leo seemed to grasp his message. “Well, you know what would probably help?” Mikey cued up.

“What?” Raph asked genuinely.

“To tickle someone else!” He roared before grabbing Raph and somersaulting him on to the sofa, where Leo immediately grabbed hold oh him and dug away at his pits.

Well it wouldn’t be fair to just test the tickle spots of one of their alternative universe selves.

[selineram3421]

hiii may I request alastor w a super cheery and sweet s/o? Basically everyone is terrified of him but then there’s reader who they think is the sweetest angel who somehow got sent to hell. Even alastor has never seen reader mad, but then an incident happens (you can decide what!) and reader loses it, later they’re covered in blood but they still have a cute lil smile even though there is a dead body underneath them. Alastor is watching respectfully. He’s stunned but is incredibly entertained. Def wants to see it happen again.

Oh I love this! Sweet sweet sweet.

Sweet Dangerous Thing

Romantic: Alastor X Sweet Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ descriptive injuries, blood, fluff, soft Alastor ⚠

~

Alastor was always unpredictable, chaos wise and just in general. Everyone around him would always be on edge. Waiting for his next plan of attack.

This time however, the hotel crew (who all knew of the Radio Demon's shenanigans) were surprised by the soft looking demon he brought over one day.

"This is the establishment I'm working with my dear.", he says softly.

Mouths hit the floor at the way he looked at the demon on his arm. It was like the way Gomez would gaze at Morticia, but ace.

"Oh its absolutely lovely!", they say with glittering eyes, looking around the lobby. "How does the kitchen look? Is it big?", they asked looking at him with a head tilt.

"That's what she said-", Angel coughed.

Vaggie whacks the spider quickly and Charlie shushes him.

"It's a chef's dream!", he says, walking them over to the kitchen. "A baker's too!"

The crew follows, peeking through the kitchen door windows to see the two demons interact.

"Who is that?", Charlie asks. "Hun, do you know?", the blonde looks to her girlfriend.

"Nuh-uh. Deadbeat?", Vaggie looks to Husk.

"Hell, I'm surprised that they ain't dead yet. Niffty?", the cat demon looks up at the little cyclops sitting on his shoulders.

"Nope! Not a clue!", Niffty says, face pressed against the glass. "Sparkle?", she says, not taking her eyes off of the two.

"How the fuck would I know?", Angel says.

Meanwhile, the two in the kitchen are looking at the oven.

"So much space! I could make pie, cake, bread, cookies!", they list off, opening the oven door.

"I assume its to your liking?", he asks with a smile.

"You bet'cha! And there's a sink in the island counter! It really is a baker's dream!", they gush.

The others just outside the door began arguing about who it could be.

"Must be another poor fool who made a deal.", Husk says.

"No way! Have you seen that smile! Its totally different.", Charlie shakes her head.

"What if he's just playing nice until he kills them?", Vaggie shrugs.

"Maybe a friend?", Niffty guesses.

"Nah. That's his fuck buddy.", Angel smirks, crossing his arms.

Everyone looks at the spider demon with a grossed out face. Vaggie literally kicks his ass and he hits the doors, falling face first onto the kitchen tiles.

It's quiet.

Charlie steps over Angel, watching out for his hands and looks up with a smile. "Hi! I'm Charlie and welcome to the Happy Hotel!", she says clasping her hands together.

"That's nice but are they ok?", they ask, pointing at the fluffy demon.

"I'm-", Angel is cut off by Vaggie.

"He's fine, just an idiot."

"Um-", they go to speak but the other two also enter the kitchen.

"Who the fuck are you?", Husk bluntly asks.

Alastor's smile twitches. "That's quite rude Husker, ask properly."

The cat demon quickly changes his tone after clearing his throat. "We don't know who you are, can you tell us?"

Everyone is shocked at the answer they give.

"I'm Alastor's significant other!"

.

After introductions, you all sat in the lobby.

The group asked for details, so you settled with telling them about the day that you and Alastor had met.

"I was trying to order something at a café and some brute of a demon tried to lay a hand on me.", you explain.

"Of course being the gentleman that I am, I couldn't let such a thing happen!", Alastor says proudly.

Most of them want to say bullshit but kept quiet.

You smile at your darling and place a hand on his. "He defused the situation and offered to pay for my things.", then you look back to the others. "Its quite the café cliché but we've kept in touch since and one thing led to another. Now we're here!"

They sat in front of you both, a bit shocked at you holding hands with the red dressed demon.

"I'm very glad that I took care of it. I got to meet such a lovely being worthy of my attention.", Alastor lifts up your hand and kisses the back of it.

.

That was nearly two weeks ago. The shocked look on their faces made you laugh.

And you being so kind, gentle, and naturally sweet. They wondered how exactly you ended up in Hell, deeming it a mistake.

(Also wondering how the hell Alastor got you. Especially with him being...well, him.)

You were at the hotel today, helping Niffty with making and setting up baked goods for guests to take. She would ask a lot of questions, but you surprised her by keeping up with things you could answer.

The doors open and a demon rushes in. "I need help!", they gasp out.

"Is everything alright?", you ask confused, stepping out from behind the check-in counter.

Husk's ear twitches and moves it to the side to listen in from the bar.

"Please! I n-need somewhere to hide!", the demoness says and looks back towards the doors.

"Calm down now, I'll help but I need you to explain at the counter.", you usher them over to hide under the counter and give a pen and paper. "Niffty, would you be so kind to finish up?"

The little demon nods and speeds her way into the kitchen to get the rest of the sweets.

Getting more check-in papers, you gently whisper to the scared demon. "Stay quiet and write down what's-"

The doors are kicked open by someone with a loud bang.

"WHERE ARE YOU!? YOU FUCKING BITCH!", a bull demon shouts.

The noise gains the attention of the others in the vicinity. Including Alastor.

"Hello sir! Would you like to check into the Happy Ho-", you don't get to finish as they stomp over, grabbing your face and pulling you forward.

"Where. Are. They.", he demands.

Before Alastor can take a step, there's a loud snap.

"AAAAARGH!", the bull shouts out in pain, his wrist twisted all the way around and to the point of muscles ripping and blood spilling out.

Your mouth split open with a sharp row of teeth, your smile is wide as you laugh in such a disturbing tone it sends shivers down everyone's spine.

"ꁸꐇꂑꍟ꓅! Quiet~", you shout and then repeat softly, tapping the demon on his nose.

He hisses as you pull at his hand, making the skin stretch at the wrist, the pain getting worse.

"I ought to teach you a lesson on proper manners! You just stormed through here as if you were the ruler of Hell! Tsk tsk.", you shake your head in disappointment. "And to treat staff so poorly. How awful."

The demon before you scowls. "I'm here looking for a bitch-"

Another twist of his wrist and he shuts up after letting out another shout in pain.

"Disrespectful too!", you say, ripping off his hand completely and tossing it to the side.

He screams in pain, moving away from you and holding his bleeding arm. "YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!", the bull shouts.

Then he makes the mistake of trying to hit you.

Most of the bystanders watch with fear or disgust. However, Alastor watches with fascination and awe. His heart skipping a beat as you tear the demons neck open with your teeth.

You drop the body of the now double dead demon and sigh when looking down at the messy floor. "Oh jeez, Niffty is not going to like this.", you say with a frown, blood stains covering your form.

Alastor goes up to you and holds you close. "That was magnificent my darling!", he says, picking you up with a spin. "You had my heart racing! You sweet, dangerous thing!"

You just giggle and wrap your arms around him.

The others just stand there stunted by how you both just ignore the body. Even the girl you helped looks weirded out. They watch as you both leave, Alastor still carrying you and not minding the blood at all.

Niffty quickly goes to work, disposing the body and cleaning the floors.

"So..that happened.", Angel says with a shake of his head. "Who knew Sweet-cheeks was crazy like Smiles."

Charlie walks over to the new demon behind the counter. "Hey.. Would you like to stay at the Happy Hotel?"

~

"It was like the way Gomez would gaze at Morticia, but ace."- I want this.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @ducky-is-dead-inside @stolas-thebirb

I'm going to connect this to another work.

This one➡ Here!~✨

ML for Alastor🎙

[chrismcleaneatspants]

General season 2 opinions. MASSIVE TDI 2023 season 2 spoilers ahead (as well as a huge wall of text.) You've been warned.

Ok, so here's everything I like about the season (I can count them on my fingers)

-There were some funny jokes

-MKulia was entertaining and it's now in my top 5 favorite ships, but it's not perfect, as I'll explain later

-Hockey dudes were a joy to watch I suppose

-Bowie stole the show as usual

-There are a lot of neat challenges (The canoe, slide, and dog challenges was a particular stand outs to me)

-MK herself was really funny

-MacArthur's cameo was a surprise to be sure, but a welcome one, and she bounces off of Chris really well

-Duncney is still broken up lol

Honestly that's about it in terms of positives, cuz I have a million other negatives for this supposed sequel to (imo) the best written season of the show.

-The Relationships were the single worst aspect about this season full stop. Ripaxel and Praleb are probably the worst couples the show has ever subjected me to. For Ripaxel, they basically removed anything interesting Ripper had going on and Axel wasn't allowed to live up to any kind of hype she created because one lame ass poem turned her into Ripper's girlfriend for the remaining duration of her run, only for the both of them to be tossed aside in episode 7 in perhaps the worst double elimination in the entire show.

-Praleb started off ok. I thought it was gonna be a one-sided crush plot initially before Episode 6. They had a couple cute moments before episode 8, of which their screentime became suffocating because afterwards is was this painful back and forth where Caleb tried explaining himself and Priya would be mad at him, then ally with him, then be mad at him again like it was so tiresome. By the time they got together in the finale again, I was wishing they had just followed up on Pramien instead. Caleb by himself was funny in the first half of season 2 and Priya was great in season 1, but the two of them together were insufferable

-Speaking of Priya, she went from one of the best characters in season 1 to one of the worst in season 2. Why did she have to make it all the way to episode fucking 12 after winning season 1?? Just for some generic heterosexual romance? They also made her so dumb with shit like knowing Julia is manipulating her but then getting a surprise Pikachu face when Julia manipulated her??? You spent your entire life preparing for this show, how the fuck did you not see this coming???

-Segwayying into Julia, she's the worst antagonist full stop. I've never seen such an absolute downgrade of a character. She was a goat in season 1 who was aware of her situation and acted accordingly because the stakes were real. Here? Reality basically warps around her just to keep her in the game. She does things characters would never fall for in season 1 and they just go with it?? They insist on keeping her in the finale and do basically nothing interesting with her. She's not even as funny as Island Heather at the end of the day.

-I mentioned MKulia earlier, so I'll just get to it here: I like it in concept. Two evil sapphics causing chaos together is really fun. My main issue is that it was very sudden. They both were not fans of each other at the end of season 1 and now I'm supposed to just believe they became friends off screen? I mean, I guess, but it's kinda cheap. I would have really liked it if it was straight up enemies to lovers ngl. Also the fact MK had very little agency outside of being Julia's lackey doesn't help either. I want to point to the fake contract thing, for instance. Why did Julia do that? That sounds like an MK thing to do.

-Time to dive into other characters: Damien is an absolute fucking tragedy. At the end of season 1, Damien had one ambition: win next season. They kinda did that, sure, but they regressed Damien into being a complete coward to do so, not to mention he didn't even go all the way either. Damien didn't get a W until episode 6 and tbh that was his only W. By the end of his tenure, I was left confused on what the point of his run was. (I'll come back to this later.)

-What was the point of Nichelle? Like seriously, what did she contribute to the season at all? They didn't do the ironic underdog story with her, and considering she was getting all egotistical and aggressive, i thought she was gonna be the antagonist for sure...until Julia got rid of her in episode 5 in a way that really shouldn't make sense cuz like Nichelle is an actual celebrity that stars in blockbuster movies, I'm pretty sure she could sniff a fake contract a mile away, right?

-Hockey dudes were great, but I felt like they were very dumbed down at times? Like they were just generic dumb dudes that just meandered around a lot of the time (Wayne in particular just straight up floated away from a challenge at one point)

-Bowie was alright too. His line delivery is great as usual, but let's not kid ourselves: In a well written season, he'd be going straight for Julia the next time his team lost. Bowraj was nice to see even if the season didn't really do a whole lot with it

-Am I the only one who thinks this season is a tad bit misogynistic? Like this is the shortest them phase the show as ever had (to the point where i'd argue teams don't really matter) and 4 of the 5 team phase boots were girls. Millie and Emma in particular were really bad. Like, you could make Millie a team phase boot without like shitting on her that hard. And Emma got like fuck all closure outside of breaking up with Chase off screen like wow, way to utilize such a high potential character, Fresh. And this is saying nothing about how the girls that did make it to the merge had plots basically dominated by romance and like nothing else. And then there's MKulia which is apparently intended to be a friendship but like is written like a romantic one at times. It gives me all-stars gwourtney vibes and (as a fan of gwourtney myself) not in a good way. At least MK and Julia were somewhat in character I guess, but they had their edges really sanded off and honestly as a friendship (situationship?) it's a complete downgrade from Millie and Priya in so many ways

-And another thing: who's the protagonist this season? Outside of Praleb, who am I supposed to care for? Who am I supposed to root for? By the halfway mark, the show doesn't really make any convincing arguments to root for like anyone there outside of maybe Damien? And he went gone in episode 10, so like, hockey dudes? No one has an interesting enough narrative for me to care.

-The immunity idol stinks as usual. Like, why did Damien do THE SAME FUCKING THING HEATHER DID IN ALL-STARS?? That actually pissed me off so much holy shit. The immunity idol as it stands in the show is basically a shitty plot device made to keep characters in as there's no real strategy revolved around it.

-Oh and another minor thing: Owen's cameo sucks, and that's entirely due to him not being physically aged up at all and just being a vehicle for the same dumb jokes they always make with him. so stupid

-Anyways, I spend an entire season with two shitass straight relationships taking up screentime, a whole multiude of potential plotlines from last season (pramien) and this season (scary girl's revenge, millie being the new ripper, damien's comeback, julia having internal conflict over her friendship (feelings?) for MK) being set up and just nothing being done with them, and characters in general just being nerfed or borderline out of character (Ripper) and what am I rewarded with?

-Soar Losers. The most boring nothing finale in the entire show. The choices for finalists suck, Wayne, while being the least bad option for a winner (and i do still like him a lot), is still a mid ass winner in the grand scheme of the entire show. And more praleb drama? fuck off I hate them so much. The challenge did not feel finale worthy at all, and honestly it was the worst challenge in the whole season. On top of being a bunch of nothing, the show decides to bring back the worst trope it ever had: losing hair as karma. I almost ragequit the episode on the spot that shit makes me so irrationally mad. I think it's even worse here because Julia still had hair after the fact, which makes it seem like they were aware it's not a popular TD trope but wanted to half commit to it anyways for the sake of tradition or something. Terrible finale to an already decently sized letdown of a season, but it has some ok MKulia moments I guess. The finale was just emblematic of the entire season, where things just happen and you're just expected to go along with everything. (Also side note how come Chase wasn't the one to jump off of the cart for pizza immediately?)

TL;DR reboot season 2 imo was a step down in every conceivable way from season 1 apart of i guess comedy and it's left a very sour taste in my mouth. I'm probably missing a few points that I'll add onto later but man it feels nice putting my opinion out there.

[mrs-monaghan]

Hey, since you often catch details and seem like an open-minded person, I want to share what I observed in the last few days. So, I definitely believe in Jikook but that was not always the case. My bias is Jimin and I always mostly focused on him, but once I observed Jungkook more carefully, the truth revealed itself step by step. Now something similar happened since I focused on Taehyung. And it seems crazy, to me as well, but please give it a chance! Watch "Nippon TV BUZZ RHYTHM 02 - BTS Cut" timestamp: 13:55, and watch (and listen to) all of their expressions closely, especially Jikook and Taehyung. Keep an eye on Namjoon, too. Then please look at the lyrics of Sweet Night and really reflect on them. Just as a reminder, there is Taehyung calling Jimin his "one and only best friend" in "Let's BTS" and similarly in Festa 2019, for example. I also am stuck on Jin calling Taehyung very generous and big-hearted in "Special Movie BTS MUSIC JOURNEY" (after the release of Sweet Night) and the others agreeing, their expressions speaking once again. Then finally those compilations where Taekook is apparently jealous of each other. Or Vmin. And now you just have to connect the dots but I did not see any other person who has done so. All those moments, all those compilations make so much more sense to me. All in all, it seems that Taehyung has or had feelings for Jimin. Sounds crazy! Of course we should not assume too much but the connections are there and in hindsight, they seem obvious. You just have to put the puzzle pieces together. I really hope that Taehyung is over it, because unrequited love hurts badly. Taehyung as a person makes so much more sense to me. His actions, his depression, his pain... Well, I guess Jimin did not call himself "Tailor of Chaos" without reason. That situation must have been difficult for him, too. Maybe (just maybe) that is an indicator regarding his state in 2020... And of course on Jungkook. But maybe that is the actual reason why Jungkook and Taehyung seem to be closer now, maybe mending their friendship! Especially, since Taehyung found a partner. And maybe Jikook feel some kind of guilt for causing Taehyung pain... who knows. There is much to think about and honestly, it sounds like pure fanfiction but if I learned something in life, it is that nothing is impossible. Hope you give it a chance, I really would like your opinion on all that. I certainly am feeling very surprised. Have a nice day :)

Yes anon, it takes very little for me to judge people seeing as I'm a lunatic myself 🤭🤭 if I had a shilling for everytime someone called me crazy I would have attended all of Suga's concerts and then some 😂 so u get no judgement from me my lovely 🙌🏽

Except insecure Jikookers, of course. Fuck you! I judge you everyday! 🤨🤨🤨

So! Umm yes. I've seen this theory being thrown around. I have friends who think this might be the case. And one of them is actually really good at analysing and picking up cues and she believes V may have had feelings for Jimin at some point and her arguments make sense.

But for me... idk. Idk anon. 🤔 I have a hard time picturing this. I will share a clip that will be hard for some of you to watch. So brace yourselves

Oh boy. Glad I have my anons off because u guys are already kinda mad at V atm 😂😂

Things to note about the first clip: (I know... I know. It's bad. I recently just discovered it and it doesn't look good, I agree)

a) Point to note number one is that, that is how most people in SK feel about homosexuality. As u can hear V is basically telling Jimin something is wrong with him mentally for liking men. And when u grow up with everyone around u telling u this, of course u will believe it. It also explains why he would keep the company he keeps. (Go Google Bogum and his cult scandal) People in SK don't believe men can be with other men. And those who have seen it happen, think its a mental illness. This was obviously embedded in V for him to have done this not once, but twice. And this is only what we saw on camera.

b) 2nd point to note; Taekook just cannot be real. It's just, impossible. Yes, V has changed, obviously. Hanging out with Jimin will do that to you. He obviously doesn't feel as strongly about homosexuality like he used to. And he loves Jimin and JK which means he has adjusted his mentality. But, this is a guy who used to say basically homophobic stuff to his friend. And as u can see, that clip is from around May 2015 So at what point would V have started dating JK as early as 2013 when this is how he felt about his friend a boy, liking boys?

c) 3rd point to note; Jimin doesn't deny it. I hate how he's just defending himself there repeating over and over; I don't like you that way, so what's your issue? I dont behave that way towards you, why you mad? Anyway, Jimin doesn't once say "no i don't like men." Or "stop lying" he just says "I don't feel that way about you."

d) Last point to note, Jikook is real. Why? Because what triggered V, was Jimin telling JK to sit next to him. And immediately V goes off about how something is wrong with Jimin in the head because these days he likes men. Likes JK.

Now anon, let's go back to point number 2. I know internalised homophobia is a thing. (Thank you Shameless! You taught me sm!) But it stems from someone hating that they like someone of the same sex and they don't want to be that way, but they are. So saying V used to have a crush on Jimin insinuates he would have had to get over his homophobia and start seeing Jimin in a new light. I mean, it's Jimin and the Jimin effect is a thing that exists. But, still. Idk. I just don't know. Watching that clip tells me that his parents are like this. Him being so close with the WS, tells me he wouldn't have kept them as friends if at any one point he started liking someone of the same sex. Knowing how they feel about it.

V is more accepting now, of course. But Jikook are in the closet and only close knit people know about it. And V definitely isn't divulging that to the WS. Again, knowing how they feel about this topic.

What am I saying anon? I think those V jealous Vmin moments that exist are because he "lost" his bestfiend when Jikook became a thing. He had to share Jimin with JK. And I imagine Jimin tried to be there for both of them but sometimes JK took priority and maybe V didn't like that. They used to be bestfriends. Super close. V even looked after Jimin in school. Asked some people he knew to look after the new kid because that was his friend. They were close. Really close. Then satellite Jeon comes and changes everything.

Now to the assignment you gave me. The question was who's the most romantic

Suga (what?) And RM say JK. Guess they've seen it first hand. 🤭 Also Jikook both point at Jin

V on the other hand says Jikook but then changes it to just Jimin

I also looked at the lyrics of sweet night (he sounds so good) and I'm guessing you're talking about this part;

Anon, if you ship Vmin, or are suspicious of Vmin, it would be easy to conclude this song is about Jimin. Easy. But if you're like me who believes V is as straight as a ruler, then the first thing I think of when I hear that, is some girl he liked at the time that he was really close to. Someone he dated in the past, maybe. To me V is as straight as they come and I could try, but I cannot see where you're coming from.

But if you listen to sweet night and then watch V jealous compilations, you're gonna be influenced. Because you're going in already thinking the best friend he's talking about is Jimin! But, remember, you don't have to have romantic feelings for someone to be jealous. You can be jealous that your sister is spending too much time with someone else. You can be jealous your bestfriend doesn't make time for you anymore ever since they started dating. You know what I mean?

That's what I think you saw. In my opinion, of course. I could be wrong and way off base but...yeah.

In Conclusion: Vmin isn't real and there was never potential for it to be so.

I appreciate u trusting me with this ask, anon 😘