#like i would pay for him to *redacted* my *redacted* until i *redacted*.

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price

The Red Skelton Hour; The Agony and the Nag-ony (1966)

[evilminji]

So I was rewatching suicide squad hell to pay and this idea smacked me in the face so hard I had to share it: when Danny finds out Jazz wants to go to GothamU he does a bunch of research and finds that the joker has the highest death tolls and property damage but also when he’s not in Arkham (even when he’s not actively committing a crime) the crime rate skyrockets, so he needs to at the very least remove the joker from the equation. But he can’t personally do it because of school/king stuff/reasons so he sends out a message to any & all takers “make the joker disappear” the prize… One Get Out of Hell Free Card: It Won’t Get You Into Heaven, But At Least You Won’t Be In Hell…. Needless to say a greater part of the underworld descends upon Gotham.

Oh my god? It's probably delivered be a dead info broker who was THE SHIT until he went out in a blaze of glory? Dude rocks up into [REDACTED] looking not a day over 20, in the suit he was killed in, bullet holes and all, Glowing... like?

Boys, do I have a DEAL for you! Straight from the king of Limbo!

Like? Sold! Limited power boost in life? AND I get to avoid hell? Plus?? A valid reason to do the world a FAVOR and put down that MONSTER of a clown? They would have done far worse for less. But this? This is just Christmas.

You'd probably get tons of "hey, what if me an my boo do it TOGETHER?" Too which Danny is like "gonna say it counts, happy hunting!" And just? You thought Ivy wanted him dead BEFORE?

The underworld is ON FIRE. The clown is GOING to die.

Morningstar is laughing himself sick from the other side of this booth at the night club. Is a TERRIBLE influence. But honestly? Danny DID need the advice. And hey, if things continue to be a mess when it's time for Jazz's classes to start? She can do remote learning! From NOT gotham! Literally ANY CITY but Gotham!

Everybody wins!

[14dayswithyou]

💖 Slight 14DWY + Blog Changes! 💖

(16/12/23)

Leon will now move away from Corland Bay when he’s 10 years old. Originally, I never really put that much thought into it because it won't be explicitly mentioned in the game, but I figured I might as well make it more accurate now ^^;

Teo is now 26 (instead of 27). Again, zero thought went into this aside from wanting a wider range of ages for the cast — but now I want him to be closer to Jae and Violet’s age — especially considering they were all childhood friends and Violet was in the grade below them.

Elanor is now 30 and Kiara is 29. In the 2017 version, Elanor was originally the eldest sister, but it just didn't feel right to change it in the 2020 version. Day 3 will still be lore accurate, but everything on this blog will need to be retconned.

14DWY Purple (unofficial) will now be changing from #A14BF4 to #9D64FD.

Not a change, but adding more clarification: Angel will still attend university (and Jae and Teo will still be their university friend), but whether or not they enrolled will remain ambiguous! Day 1/2 kinda insinuates that they studied something ("Teo attended some of their classes"), but I wanted it to imply that they could've attended orientation and/or took "mock classes" after high school to see what it's like as well. I may change a few lines in the demo (in the future) to reflect that.

Egg

I'd like to (hopefully) try to remind everyone that whenever I write about Angel on this blog, they are gender neutral. Because if my ass had a dollar for every time someone assumed they were female because of the cutesy/pink themes or how "soft" I made the MC, I'd have enough money to fund voice actors, translators, custom soundtrack, and pay the $100 Steam fee /hj

Changed the crackpot theory tag into an actual tag!! About time sdghjdg

(07/01/24)

Also not a change, but to solidify Haruko's appearance + Ren's likeness a bit more... Haruko is supposed to be an anime character with pink/blue hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. He's a modern day "sorcerer" (a reference to JJK, not a literal fantasy wizard lmao) from an anime called "Attack on Giants" (another reference to "Attack on Titan"); and is very kind, ditzy, and empathetic. All Ren has copied is his hairstyle, vibe, and demeanour. Ren isn't outright cosplaying Haruko, and it'd take an avid anime enjoyer to notice that Ren is attempting to mimic Haruko.

I'll make a poll one day, but I might change Ren's left sleeve tattoo to the spoiler-free placeholder I used in this artwork. A lot of people seem to prefer it, but I'll wait until the poll to make any final decisions.

I might also make another poll to see if perhaps a new BGM theme would better suit the demo. Because in my mind, the "summer/beach location" = acoustic guitar (rather than piano) — and for some reason I get lo-fi vibes from 14DWY??

I don't think anyone has picked up on this subtle shift yet, but Ren will mainly use "he/him" over "he/they" now (since Haruko is a he/him enjoyer 👍). [REDACTED], however, will still greatly prefer "they/he", and will continue to use them interchangeably.

21/02/24 — or search through Obsidian. (Future Sai here.... I have no clue what this means???? What??? T_T)

I'm gonna cut down on the Teo and Ren bullying on this blog (and in general). I don't find it fun anymore, and it genuinely upsets me when people put down certain characters to make others look better (i.e. "Ren has no ass which makes Leon superior >:)" Just say you like Leon... I beg T_T). It also makes me doubt whether Ren is genuinely a good character or not, and it's gross seeing y'all tear down people who genuinely enjoy Teo. Be kind.

(11/01/24)

Eventually, I'd like to turn this meme into an event in the 14DWY Discord to help create an actual landlord for Day 3. The current landlord has always been a meme-y placeholder (I thought the idea would be funny), but looking at how the game is currently, I want 14DWY to be more "serious". The current landlord will eventually be turned into an easter egg!!

Whether or not Jae had bottom surgery will now remain ambiguous. Everyone is now free to headcanon whatever they'd like, so long as it's not offensive or too OOC.

From now on, I'll also try my best to remind everyone that Jae is gay and Kiara is lesbian. I tried not to bring it up frequently because I was afraid it'd come across like "being gay" was their only defining personality trait, but I'm tired of people sending in asks that don't apply to these characters ^^;

I might move all of the curiouscat questions to this blog and archive the account. It's becoming too much of a hassle for me to manage 3+ social media accounts sgkshjj

[apocalypse-shuffle]

BLACK NOIR | EARVING (the boys)

────────────────────

────────────────────

“Promotion” (Black Noir x Fem!Reader)

| Being Black Noir’s new handler and him becoming obsessed with you since Mr. Edgar himself assigned you to him.

| SFW, vought employee!reader, (TW: Noir is kind of stalking the Reader, who’s uncomfortable but adapting mostly)

| 1k+ words

“You want me to…what?”

“Be Noir’s new personal handler.” He fans his hands out on the table with a shrug and gives you a disarming smile. “You’ll be expected to parlay direct mission instructions from me, accompany him to said missions and stay with the deployment team. I expect you to give written reports on his performance at the end of every day, active mission or not…”

Your eyes continue to widen as his barrage keeps going. This job would require you to be present for everything short of Noir wiping his ass and even then you’ll be outside the restroom.

Mr. Edgar finishes, gives you an expectant look, and you clear your throat.

“And, what if I don’t want the new position?”

“I don’t see why not.” He shrugs, “I mean unless you don’t think you’re good enough for the promotion. Then I suppose I’ll just have to tell Ashley her recommendation was for naught.”

You laugh.

“No no, that’s fine. There’s no need to tell her anything…” you gulp, watching the man just look back at you before taking a second more to inhale, “…ex-cept that her recommendation payed off.”

He tilts his head and it feels like his eyes are boring through your own, boiling your brain to mush. Your voice is small as you push the rest of your words out in one exhale.

“And that I’ll be starting my new position tomorrow. Sir.”

You stretch a smile across your face and hiss out a sigh of relief as that finally gets the man to respond.

He instantly reanimates, reaching atop his desk to hand you a secure black portfolio made from hard plastic.

“That’s great. I’m glad you decided to take on this new journey, Ms. L/n. May it serve you well. Have a good day.”

You don’t dare drop your smile as you take the offered portfolio and shove it under your arm.

“Right.” You take a moment to mourn the loss of your old job before nodding, “Thank you for the opportunity, Sir. You have a good day as well.”

The older man nods back at you, attention immediately gone back to his computer monitor afterward. You blow out air from your nose and then turn on your heels.

It’s not until you’ve left the board room that it hits you.

“Shit.”

The man had just played you. Goddamn Edgar and his resoluteness. Once he’d decided to “ask” you about the upgrade in position he never intended for it to be an actual request.

You rub your temple and head to the restroom. At least you had the rest of the hours in the day before tackling your new job.

You hunker down in the stall after peeing to look over the papers Mr. Edgar gave you. As you're skimming through a whole lot of shit marked “classified” or “redacted” you have the stray thought to be glad that Translucent’s creep ass wasn’t here to ogle you and be all in your business anymore.

Thank the higher power for small mercies, you suppose.

All the snippets of information you're gathering are kind of baffling. Legal name: Earving (of all things), biological male, six foot two, African-American (that’s fun; may be the reason he took such a liking to you too, not many black people made it to the top floors of Vought after all). You dog-ear a packet about some sort of imaginary animals he sees in his mind before looking over a page about a severe peanut allergy. Hmm.

By the end of the day you’ve nearly gotten all the way through Noir’s portfolio, and you’ve also worked up an itch to get out of your skin that means you’re not working overtime worth a goddamn.

At six o’clock on the dot all of your crap is already quite thoroughly packed, your former workspace - barren thing that it already was due to regulations - was cleaned out and ready for the next poor soul, and you’re in the elevator heading for the sub-level garage.

Dead stare locked onto the floor numbers you become acutely aware of the bags weighing your eyes down.

“Fuck,” you sigh.

Black Noir's Personal Handler.

Despite Mr. Edgar’s clear efforts it was more than a little known open secret that personal handlers rarely got to retire. Madelyn Stillwell’s death might’ve been something none of you dared discuss for fear of either Edgar or - heaven forbid - Homelander catching wind and putting you back in your place, but it was a pattern of the job that you all were well aware of.

Though you’d take Mr. Edgar’s culling over whatever Homelander could possibly come up with.

Something about his blonde, blue-eyed, ass didn’t sit right with your spirit.

Far as PR and wrangling went though, short of maybe Starlight, any wrinkles Black Noir managed to make would be the easiest to smooth out.

Plus, even with you and Noir having some form of a pre-established relationship it was in no way dependent or built upon you being Noir’s emotional epicenter like Madelyn and Homelander’s weird…dynamic was.

You had seen and heard far too much in your years working for Vought to think for a second that there wasn’t something dark and twisted going on with The Seven, but Noir still seemed mellow in comparison to the rest and their constant ego trips and dick measuring.

You had zero clue how letting the fully covered man teach you a few notes to a song at the Christmas party when everyone was drunk off eggnog and watered down booze and sitting with him when he was crying on the floor once led you to this.

Sure the silent man and you had somewhat hit it off - so far as you were one of the few non-supers he didn’t intimidate or just flat out ignore - but to be made so intimately in charge of him seemed like a bit much.

Noir had seemed endlessly patient with you as he played for you and then eventually decided he’d teach you how to play the piano yourself, the sides of your bodies’ shifting incrementally until you were pressed flush to one another in both of yous concentration, so you could really only hope he kept that same levelness with you as his handler.

You bank the corner, work bag and portfolio on the same arm, and fish out your keys so you can unlock your trunk and shove your shit inside.

Hope truly was the name of the game here unfortunately. You could only hope Noir kept up his “good” streak, and that that streak wasn’t just a farce that you were now in charge of covering up. Hope that he didn’t end up getting angry or reckless and making you one of those *redacted* cases with a ‘cause of death, unknown’ attached to your name, because you could do nothing to stop him if he wanted to kill you.

Shiver racking up your spine and turning your blood to static, you snap your trunk closed, turning to leave when—

“—Fucking Christ!”

Eyes gone wide and spit having nearly choked you from your sharp inhalation before your exclamation, you do your best to appear composed as Black Noir himself steps out from a conclave of shadows to stand in front of you.

The Devil, you find yourself thinking. Had he been following you this whole time?

For his part Noir doesn’t move aside from cocking his head to the side.

Steadily, you force calmness onto yourself. Ignoring that your voice is too high when you call his name.

“Black Noir,” you say, trying to seep the professionalism back into your tone while smoothing down the creases in your pantsuit, “surprised to see you here. What can I do for you?”

The smile you offer him feels wonky even as you command the muscles up, but it’s the best you can do with your heart hammering against your chest as if it wants to run off and leave you behind.

For a couple more beats the man doesn’t do more than size you up presumably before finally - as you were weighing the pros and cons of just getting in your car despite his presence - raising a hand to point at your trunk.

You catch on to his meaning fairly quickly, your smile dropping to something more natural whilst you huff a tiny laugh.

“Oh yeah, guess Mr. Edgar must’ve told you. I’m your new handler - you know, if you had one before that is. I don’t…actually know…” you trail off, shifting on your heels when Noir only continues to keep his stillness.

“Mhm,” you mutter, rocking backwards, just staring until finally Noir shifts and there’s suddenly a pad and pen in his hand.

He flips casually to a clear page before starting to write and you’re fairly sure this is the first time he’s ever actually ‘talked’ to you.

Huh.

Not long after does the pad get flipped over and brandished to you. You click your teeth together.

‘Edgar says you’ll do good,’ he scribbles, writing absolute chicken scratch and letters far too large on the medium sized pages, before flipping the pad back to himself and writing some more.

‘Believe in you!’ and a whole bunch of smiley faces is what meets you once he lets you see.

You blink. Noir puts the pad back wherever he had it initially to give you two thumbs up.

You muster a slightly bigger half smile for his efforts.

“Thanks Noir,” you say, words more sincere than you’d been expecting.

A nod and an eternity more of silence and staring is what he gives you in response.

You’re getting ready to shift, to awkwardly relay that you’d like to be getting home soon, when Noir stiffens suddenly - and isn’t that startling, a man so tall and so strapped with sharp explosive deadly things going so alert like that - head tilting like he’s listening for something.

A few seconds go by like that where he doesn’t do anything else and you fight to keep yourself still, smile gone and part of your lip caught firmly between your teeth.

Then Noir’s giving you a nod and leaving just as silently and unseenly as he had come.

You wait another two-three beats before scrambling into your car. The sound of your lock engaging sounds like salvation and the steering wheel feels like a lifeline as you grip it with stiff nearly foreign fingers.

God.

You force a deep breath into your lungs, make sure it comes out more steadily than it came in.

At least Mr. Edgar didn’t dump you onto Homelander’s lap. Something in you shrivels up and dies at the mere prospect. You nod, your hands flexing on the steering wheel.

This was definitely better.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

This is a semi companion story to “Pandora’s Melody” if you’d like to check that one out as well.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[thebibliosphere]

Joy! I've officially jumped on the Phangs bandwagon, so I can finally send coherent questions about it—how did you come up with the political landscape? I imagine it's at least partially inspired by true events, but how do you keep straight the political compasses of each character?

Eeey! Welcome aboard!

And yeah, a lot of it's based on history, but also a lot of current events if you squint. (Or maybe you don't need to squint.)

As for how I keep the characters straight (ha!) I had definite ideas about them while forming their personalities and history.

Nathan is the youngest and only starting to question the political landscape around him. He's not politically unaware but perhaps a little naive and unwilling to see how corrupt everything is.

He's been conditioned from a young age not to question authority. Military indoctrination will do that to you. Only when he finds himself on the frontline of an unjust and hopeless war does he realize things aren't what they seem. He still toes the line... until he gets injured, and the true depths of how little the military or government cares for people like him gives him a nasty jolt. Even in the first book, he's still somewhat in denial because part of him doesn't want to admit that he's been complacent. You can see what in the conversation with his brother Miles. His realization that he's spent his whole life following orders doesn't sit well with him, and that's a theme that will continue for his character in all future books.

It's only when he meets Vlad that he genuinely starts to question things, and that's because Vlad is the walking embodiment of a homemade Molotov cocktail wrapped up in a silk suit and a fierce, unshakeable sense of justice.

Vlad was created as a challenge to the bored, misanthropic vampire stereotype who doesn't give a shit about humanity because they've been around for hundreds of years and lost all faith in humanity. If anything, the longer Vlad is around humanity, the more fiercely he loves it and wants to do everything he can to help them. He grew up under the bloody iron fist of his grandfather's regime and saw firsthand what happens in a world devoid of democracy, and he's been running from it ever since.

He can only do a little under his father's thumb. But what he can do, Vlad does with all of his being. He's found ways to enable free schooling and medical care on the island, and if you give him a few more decades, he'll find a way to make housing accessible, too. (It's a numbers game, and he's very good with numbers. And honestly, his father doesn't pay too much attention to what he's doing. Not if he's careful about it...) He's also a staunch believer in the power of worker's unions, and despite technically being the person the unions would fight against, he is trying to help the workers of his island unionize because he believes it is the just and right thing to do.

Ultimately, Vlad is my firebrand catalyst for change, and I am really looking forward to exploring his arcs in future books.

Ursula is... tricky. She's in a precarious situation where she can't afford to draw attention to herself and, at times, has been forced to side with people she'd otherwise cheerfully drown because they could offer her the best protection. It's exhausting and soul-destroying, and it leaves her feeling powerless. Which is laughable when considering who she is. What she is.

She hates it. She wants it to be different. She doesn't like feeling so hopeless. Defeated. But she's tried to change things in the past, and it almost destroyed everything. So now she just keeps her head down and works from the shadows. It's safest that way. Not to mention quicker. After all, what's one more human war to an immortal [REDACTED]? If she ignores it, it'll go away. Eventually. Right? Right? (This may or may not be the denial talking.) (It is absolutely the denial talking.)

The fact that human politics are about to severely and unavoidably affect her will not go down well. Ursula is, in fact, going to be bloody livid about it. Not to mention guilt-riddled for burying her head in the sand and letting the humans go unchecked for so long.

Fortunately, she's got some new allies in her corner. A fiercely protective werewolf with a newfound sense of political rage and a vampire who's been spoiling for a fight of this magnitude for over four hundred years. Maybe, just maybe, this time, things will be different...

[lovelyiida]

bakugou and reader being seen as a power couple by the media!

you're my favorite writer here btw

☔

❥: omg I’m your favorite? GUEHEHUEHE

bakugo x (gn) reader, swearing, mentions of suggestive content, protective partner, mentions of arguing

At first, it was mutual trust between the two of you that propelled you to where you are today. Bakugo knew you were a hard worker; you took your title seriously, and most importantly—you kicked ass.

Both of you were paired at Best Jeanist Agency back in high school and only spoke here and there. However, when you both made it to the big leagues, you saw each other more often. Due to the familiarity of being around each other years ago, you began to form a strong bond.

And some strong unknown sexual tension...

When you fought side by side, you were an invincible duo, your quirks complementing each other seamlessly. With your somewhat "healthy" communication (besides a snide comment here and there) skills, you both maintained a very business-friendly relationship.

But the both of you easily saw through that.

Of course, both of you noticed the drawn-out gazes, protective hand placements, and the subtle brush of hands during patrols. It wasn't until sooner or later that the media would catch both of you in a rather steamy slip-up.

A star duo was born!

The relationship was embraced positively by both the media and the general public, particularly during interviews.

“So, Mr. Dynamite…how did you know (hero name) was the one for you?” the bright and bubbly interviewer asked.

Harsh florescent lighting, tight hero suits, a raging headache, 3 hours of sleep, and a single cup of coffee was all it took for Bakugo to snap. Which was impressive because the interview passed the five minute mark.

“Look at them and tell me you wouldn’t wanna [REDACTED] them? That’s why, nothing else, nothing more,” the blonde stated matter-of-factly.

A beat of silence washed over the room, the interviewer left speechless, gazing back at the camera with pleading eyes for a live cut.

Turning towards the interviewer with a smile, you shrug your shoulders with a quick motion and nod.

“Yep, I’d agree with him.”

Boom, 10 million views, an increased paycheck, a higher position on the hero chart, and a multitude of sponsors to choose from.

The people loved both of you.

You were raw, unscripted, intense, and caring. What more did the people not want to see?

Your profound connection was evident to everyone. From the way you seamlessly covered each other on missions to the tender hand squeezes and kisses on the cheek, such as when Bakugo accepted an award at the hero gala.

Publicly and privately, the two of you were a power couple, a dynamic force that some found almost too good to be true. Certain individuals, often claiming to be fans, went to great lengths, attempting to psychoanalyze every move in an effort to discredit your relationship as a mere PR stunt.

These obsessive "fans" even went as far as paying a multitude of hidden paparazzi to spy on both of you, desperately trying to unearth a flaw, a hiccup, or a mistake to exploit. However, whenever it seemed like they might succeed, both of you swiftly shut down any rumors with quickness.

[BREAKING] PRO-HERO COUPLE found arguing at MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR HOME

Yikes, the header photo did appear somewhat convincing.

Bakugo was pictured bellowing at the top of his lungs, and the expression you pulled back wasn’t the sweetest. But, of course, context is key.

Soon, you were sat in front of a camera to do an embarrassing PR apology...

“Just making it clear for all you weirdos out there, Dynamite and I were indeed having an argument... and I apologize that you had to witness a grown man getting worked up over discovering that Iceland is, in fact, not a land covered in ice. It's quite the opposite.”

Later transitioning smoothly into another interview, both of you now share a laugh about it. “I had to explain it to him for almost 20 minutes, and he was genuinely upset. Yelling at me like I'm the crazy one!” You chuckled.

Glancing over, you see Bakugo rest his hand on your thigh and let out a chuckle. “Yeah, and I still think you're [REDACTED] wrong.”

“Language!”

Oh, the power couple you were…

YAY IM FINALLY BACK!

❥: @xo-evangeline , @nar00 , @king-dynamight , @gold24fish , @lovra974 , @bakugospartner , @gaby-11 , @akqsa-xxi , @jolynegf , @goldenglow149 , @aliruuiz , @zukowantshishonourback , @ilovedenk-i , @atsushiki , @smolbeanzzz , @lem-hhn , @stevenknightmarc , @ryumiii , @idontevenknowlolls , @lyn07 , @kennshifts , @ackerman-suck-3-r , @elegantvoids , @thecurlyhairedgoddess , @sunyrose , @thisbicc , @thekookiecorner , @snxwycloud , @skylardarling

[handweavers]

good news: my cousins trust me to be the caretaker of our grandparents home/the family home which is one of the oldest buildings in [town name redacted] and lovingly repair & renovate as a historical building keeping as much of the original features and furniture as possible & maintain the family's photos and books and archive everything and ensure the house is stable and family can come stay and visit whenever etc. and it's in the hills where the air is several degrees cooler & cleaner than the rest of the area which has always been a blessing but will become especially important in the coming years, decades... there is no mortgage or bills to pay other than utilities bc my grandparents have owned it since the 50s. it's my favourite place and the home i spent the first few years of my life in and i love the town and it's not far from the rest of my family in kl and the idea of having my textile studio there and having a dye garden and teaching classes on-site there feels so right and i know in my gut it's something our grandparents would appreciate being the future of their home (they're both gone)

bad news: we all have to wait for my abusive asshole father to die before that can happen bc he currently lives there and we can't kick him out & i would rather eat glass than live there with him or deal with him regularly and so would everyone else bc nobody likes him so we are stuck until then lol. so in the meantime i have to find other ways of keeping a roof over my head and paying bills and having purpose

[neighborhoodcrybaby]

Charlie and Casper watching a horror movie? Say less 😈

• Charlie and Casper watchin a movie is like two kids watchin a movie. Constantly talking and commenting, hitting eachother and laughing, replaying the movie because neither of them were paying attention, shit like that.

•Charlie was in charge of drinks and snacks and Cas was in charge of the scenery. Got all the fluffy blankets, big pillows, and stuffed animals. Charlie got their favorite pizza, favorite candy, and some good drinks. The perfect movie night.

•Until Cas turned on a horror movie, not just any horror movie though, C and C's (Charlie and Casper) childhood horror movie. The movie that scared the shit out of both of them when they were kids. Made Charlie have nightmares and Casper be extremely paranoid for the next month.

• "Oh shit Cas,, This movie? Are you sure?" Charlie asked, a little hesitant. Maybe even a little scared. "Yeah! I thought because we watched it when we were kids and it scared the shit out of us, it would be fun to watch it again to see if it still does! What are you scared Charlie?" Cas cooed, leaning in to look at Charlie up close, taunting him. "No! I'm not scared.. Its fine! Yep,, fine, no problem." Charlie said.

Casper hit the start button and the movie started, Charlie slips his hand on Casper’s and they intertwine. “Charlie,, your hand is so sweaty.. “ They spoke as they snapped their head toward Charlie. “You are scared!” Casper exclaimed, a big cheesy smile forming onto their face. Charlie blushed so much his face turned completely red. “Yea! I am scared, this movie almost made me shit my pants when we were kids!” He responded. Casper’s smile faded a bit, “It’s fine Charlie, we don’t have to watch it.” Charlie smiled and grabbed the remote, turning the movie up. “It’s okay, Im ready to be scared, and I have you with me.” Cas gave Charlie a short kiss and turned to watch the movie.

Was it as scary as it was when they were kids? Absolutely. Did it scare them the say way is did before? Of course it did. Did they scream at every jump-scare? Charlie did. Did Casper laugh at Charlie when he screamed? Yep. Did they had a great time watching the movie? They had a great time.

I’m sorry if this wasnt really what you wanted- I didn’t have a real good idea for this one.

Requested by @everything-redacted-and-others

[pinkandpurple360]

Was watching Oops and it finally hit me when Blitz called Fizz out on being a “spoiled attention whore” who gets everything he wants without effort and … Blitz is kinda right? 🤔 Like not to say Fizz didn’t work hard and had to put up with Mammon, but Fizz is basically now living it up on top, with his sugar daddy there to give him everything he needs, only has to interact with Mammon once a year, and he really doesn’t do anything to address the “purse dog” accusations. And then the way Fizz responds it by looking at the leash Ozz gave him which I guess is supposed to be heartwarming, but to me plays more like the literal pet imagery …🤢 (I don’t think Fizz is literally Ozzie’s pet but I wonder how Fizz feels about it. It probably won’t be explored)

Pampered* is what he said and yes I see why he’d think that? Though he doesn’t have the full story on that front and I’m sure he doesn’t fully believe it because he does think he ruined fizz’s life. Then again even as a kid he always got the nicer clothes and the better attention.

But yeah…the other 364 days of the year fizz says “my life has been pretty great” so him being abused ?? Contradicts that. Unless he’s being dishonest and secretive. And his critic says “all you do is work at that (redacted) sleaze joint” “you aren’t even a clown anymore” and clown and jester are used interchangeably. This hurts him as if it’s true. He’s quick to believe what others say.

Viv said he was being fake at the show and that he prefers love to lust, but is also liking tweets saying he loves it at Ozzies..??? I cant follow. And how is fizz being overly sexual and preyed on by creepy fans Mammons fault when it’s at Ozzies where all of this happens? Asmodeus doesn’t like when Fizz is sexualised and when fans ogle at him so…why does he pay fizz to do it in “the house of Asmodeus” even when fizz is branded to all ages.

Up until now the fizzbot said “shipped from big Ozzies factory” fizz says “designed by the big man himself” and Asmodeus talks about the fact he doesn’t like designing these things “for him” so I just can’t follow on who’s responsible.

I’m so confused by this narrative. It would make so much more sense if Ozzie said he regrets having a part to play rather than saying it’s all mammons fault cause he’s shitty.

Oh the leash imagery and later the fact Striker says the term ‘purse dog’, when the quivies are representative of chihuahua, is 100% on purpose. What are they doing with it? I don’t know.

Even calling Fizz a pillow princess ties into it. There’s references to ropes and handcuffs multiple times and I guess im supposed to see that as a kink joke maybe? Or literally? I’m not sure. Kinda like when Blitz is cuffed and collared in truth seekers. Mam puts cuffs on him too but those aren’t the soft fluffy kind. Idk the imagery and what I’m supposed to conclude from it is iffy, but there’s definitely a clear pattern.

Fizz’s profile on Ozzies phone, the fluffy cuffs and the imp—offensive animal nickname, whether I’m supposed to see it as cute or as something a bit symbolically darker? I dont know. When it comes to sexuality in this hellaverse anything goes. Even the imagery of Blitz and Fizz in a cage talking about Asmodeus and Stolas is interesting imagery to say the least. Striker is at least somewhat right but then blitz calls him a reverse racist or something …

What is this shows commentary on class ???? aaaaaaa

Unless Viv doesn’t…know what a pillow princess actually is, and thinks it just sounds pretty cause it has princess in it. that’s a possibility. She basically called him a selfish lover? Like Blitz to Verosika?

Fizz also makes animal noises like “meow” and “ribbit” which is basically an imp slur “fire toad” that was not played for laughs. It’s played like it’s an in universe offensive term. Ozzie doesn’t respect imps, just fizz. He calls moxie “a limp dick imp” and blitz a “feisty imp” and threatens to harm his employees who did nothing but look surprised at them both.

And the fact Fizz hurts several imps succubi and other hellborn in his tirade shows how much he has lost touch with people of his own class. Then being caught up in that fight noise gave him agency back, he was an equal teaming up with Blitzø and fighting his own fight. He fucking knocked out Striker, that’s insane change from “i just wanna go home”

As for right now I’m doubtful they’ll address issues with Ozzie because the ship is marketable and popular. They seemed to have transferred strikers commentary on royals from Asmodeus to mammon. Insisting that Asmodeus and stolas are “the good nice monarchs who do nothing wrong ever” but, who knows.

I feel like Fizz only gets to take a break when he’s with Oz, “money can’t buy happiness but it can rent you paradise” feels like this is a hint towards fizz and Ozzies tender but tumultuous, secret relationship. Because he’s been so mistreated before, he’s fine with submitting to some pampering and infantilisation but can’t fully trust it, he doesn’t fully like it, he has to lie, minimise situations, overstate his capabilities, and even beg, for some agency back. Because he’s vulnerable as a disabled imp with fame. Oz would rather Fizz not be famous anymore so people leave him alone, so he can have fizz to himself, even though it’s important to fizz. So he’s conflicted. And very happy when he quits performing. He’s definitely not the one with the agency around mammon or around Asmodeus, and his status as an imp, feeling inferior, and them as kings of sin, whom he feels unworthy of, is exactly why. When he says he doesn’t care what mammon thinks anymore….he turns back to Asmodeus for a thumbs up of approval. And relaxes when he gets it.

[messenger-of-stupidity]

Unique and Powerful

It's here. It's done. I forced my mother to help me proofread it. (I'm trying to get her to simp for Vega. Idk if it's working.)

CW: Light angst, semi comfort, Vega being protective of Warden, Warden being stubborn, GN listener character, Actually proofread for once (thank my mother)

Redacted Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: Someone hurt his Warden, and Vega would be damned if he didn't find out who and make them pay for the sin they had just committed

Word Count: 2054 Words

Taglist: @angel-shaw @itsyourstarboy @puffin-smoke @pinksparkl @duskdusk05 @mar-the-magician @redactedbloop @teafairywithabook @clover-46 @soup-scope @genderfluid-bastard

Vega looked at the clock, his aura pressing against the ward that held him in place. He couldn’t be sure that the clock was actually accurate. For all he knew it was another childish ploy by the Department to try to drive him into confessing or whatever they wanted from him. He doubted not knowing the time would help with rehabilitation. 

It was funny that he never really cared about human time until now. He only paid attention for the small details of his projects or when to go out to feed. People thought that the cover of night helped obscure their sins and the more violent tendencies. (Spoiler, it didn’t.) And yet here he was, staring at the clock. He tried to tell himself that it was all because he had no other entertainment. When he wasn’t allowed to feed (by the Department. Everyday whenever an enforcer came close enough was feeding time.) and when he wasn’t talking to the little inchoate who had been tasked with him… he had nothing else to do. 

The lock beeped and his eyes slid towards the door, a lazy smile curling his lips as he sat in the chair they had oh so graciously provided him. A familiar head poked itself inside the cell, eyes meeting his own. He leaned forward, leaning his arms on his knees as his hands clasped together in front of him.

Oh, do come in Darling. He said. He watched them take a deep breath (An unnecessary behavior they had adopted.) and enter the room. The door closed behind them and they held the clipboard close to their chest. His little inchoate, always self conscious about how much space they took up. He waited for them to take their usual seat, but they remained standing, teeth chewing on their lip. Careful Warden. You might split your lip open. 

“Right. Sorry.” They were always so quick to apologize. He shrugged, leaning back in his seat as his legs crossed. He could feel their anxiety radiate from their aura, strong enough to break past the shimmery material of the ward. Something had ticked them off, he was sure. What he was less sure of was whether or not they were planning on sharing. Although knowing his Warden, they would be happy to keep it close to the vest and pretend it had never happened. For someone so curious and detail-seeking, they were a very private demon. 

He inhaled deeply, filling his useless lungs with unneeded air. The inchoate’s gaze was pulled towards him. Good. He liked having their focus on him. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for them to say something other than an apology. They stayed quiet, just staring at him in a manner humans might dub as awkward. He waved a hand, dexterous fingers summoning a thread of magic that had a spark of light kissing his fingertips.

What’s wrong darling? Have you grown weary of behaving creaturely for the Department? A well worn path of a topic, but one that often had the inchoate quickly denying the claim. They sat down - on the floor - and set their clipboard in their lap. 

“Can we discuss something else besides your dislike of my profession, Vega?” They asked, voice tired. He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward once more, hand dropping from the air and letting go of the thread of magic he had been playing with. Something was wrong, he already knew that. But what he was trying to find out was what. Usually Warden entertained his theatrics and musings, believing they would lead somewhere useful for their rehabilitation practices and studies (It wouldn’t. He made sure of that.) but now they were barren of that determined curiosity.

Fine. Let’s discuss what’s going on with you then. You’re my entertainment as of late, and yet something is acting as a barrier. And I’m not speaking of the ward, before you attempt to use that as a deflection. He said, watching as the other demon frowned a little at the serious flatness his tone provided. He didn’t often defer to a more serious tone (He favored teasing tones with Warden. Or threatening ones, watching weak hypocritical humans shiver as their fear brushed against his skin like a lover’s caress), but for now he was willing to. They shook their head, a smile grasping their lips to expose their teeth. He grimaced in return. How very insincere of you. Their smile dropped.

“It’s not important to your treatment, Vega. We’re here to focus on you. I thought you liked being the center of attention.” They snapped. His grimace turned into a smile and he stood up, moving closer to the edge of the ward that separated him from his Warden. 

Ah. So I do. He hummed, mocking hurt. Regret and guilt made a lovely combination on their face and they sighed, hanging their head. He watched as they buried their face in their hands, any words he might have said going silent. His smile faltered at the way their shoulders started shaking and their despair pressed against his aura. Darling. Tell me what’s troubling you. You don’t need to be so stubborn. 

“You were right earlier.” They said, their voice muffled through their hands. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing that the ward would just fall. Just for a split second. He stayed quiet, waiting for them. “I am tired of it. I’m tired of the long hours. I’m tired of the hostile work environment. I’m tired of the pressure, of the social obligations that no matter what I do, never seem to perfectly fit. I’m tired of the looks that they don’t think I notice. I’m tired of everything.” The words started to spill from their lips, much like how he suspected tears spilled down their face. “I’m just trying to do my job, but it never seems to be good enough for them.” He sat down on the floor across from them, expression blank.

Someone was harming his Warden. More than just someone. And he was stuck behind a ward and staring at a clock while they were trying to shoulder every expectation and every word of criticism against their behavior. Behavior they tried to emulate for the humans. Ungrateful little pests.

What would you have me do? He asked. Comfort wasn’t his expertise, so guidance was required. The inchoate lifted their head, eyes reflective with their tears from the overhead fluorescents. He felt his jaw clench as… some kind of emotion moved through him. He had been walking through this plane longer than many, experiencing the darkest of human emotions and sensing the others. And yet he wasn’t sure what emotion was causing his anger. 

If anyone was allowed to make his Warden cry, it was him. 

“You can’t do anything.” They whispered. He frowned and leaned forward, placing his palms flat on the floor of his cell. He stared intently as they wiped away the tears on their face, hardly being gentle with themself. That irritated him further.

You know I can do many things, Darling. I can be a weapon for you, but I need you to point me in the direction to those who must be punished for making you feel like this. He wasn’t going to drop this. Warden stared at him, hands now gripping the clipboard in their lap. He could easily read the surprised shock on their face, he didn’t need their emotions brushing against his aura. His expression fell into a more grim one. I know no one else has offered this to you. But I am now. Let me help you, Darling. 

“You’re just trying to corrupt me again.” They whispered, even as they tried to hide and mask their hesitance from him. He moved closer to the ward, feeling the sizzling as his aura almost brushed against it. He ignored the sensation, eyes locked on the inchoate in front of him.

I’m trying to help you, Warden. Contrary to what you might believe, I don’t enjoy you suffering at the hands of others. Especially since you throw away so much, give up so much of yourself, simply to please those who will never properly appreciate the sacrifice you give them. I want to make wherever you are a place that actually is grateful you deign to show yourself before them. He watched their eyes grow wide and a smirk tugged at his lips. He continued. I want to make your walking places have humans recognizing the power and threat you hide so well under a meek exterior. Tell me how I can do that for you, Darling. 

They shook their head, and Vega wished he could feed on the doubt that rolled off of them like an overspilling sink. His smirk tugged wider into a smile. “You don’t need to do that. I don’t need that, Vega.” They tried to insist. Unfortunately for them, he was more stubborn. But it was clear they were insistent on not telling him. Which left the two demons at an impasse. He stood up and returned to his seat. His Warden stayed where they were sitting on the floor. The sadism demon stared down at them, his expression masked into abstract interest. 

The body they had chosen for themself upon arriving to Elegy was strong. He knew that. But in that moment, sitting on the floor and staring down at the clipboard in their lap that only held empty papers, they appeared so small and strained. Prone to break at the lightest touch.

I decided what I wish to discuss. He said finally, giving the inchoate something that could ground them. If they refused to outright tell him who had been the final straw that broke the camel’s back, he would play this game. He would gently pry the information out while offering truths and lies about himself. A game he had been playing from the first moment he had met the other demon. They lifted their head, and he almost licked his lips at the desperation - to cling to the lifeline he had thrown - clear in their eyes.

They were so expressive, wearing their fragile heart on their sleeve. He was going to help them protect that heart, whether they wanted him to or not. And he was far more willing to get his hands dirty for that task.

“What is it?” They coaxed, wiping their face with the edge of their uniform sleeve. He felt pity for them. They ran away from solutions to their more negative-thinking emotions to bury themselves in a work that didn’t appreciate them and treated them like they were replaceable. They weren’t.

I want to talk about the treatment from the enforcers here at this prison. He said, reading for any reaction. Had an enforcer put that crack in the inchoate? He had a few guesses of who could have had the gall. But they didn’t show any reaction that answered his question. So it must have happened outside this containment facility. That certainly made it more difficult to find the specific person and cause.

“Has it not gotten any better? I’ve put in several reports to have the enforcers under review.” They said. Sweet, naive little inchoate. Those reports were probably sitting in a pocket veto on some higher-ups desk as they pretended to deal with issues they deemed more important than the care and living conditions of Department-dubbed criminals. Only the bleeding hearts of this government actually cared.

They’re feeding me more, which is appreciated. Unnecessary, but still appreciated. But that doesn’t mean they’re kind. Or even decent. Surely, you’ve seen it. A nudge, but not playing his full hand. 

Unfortunately, it seemed his Warden was more perceptive than usual. They looked up from their clipboard where they had begun taking notes.

“I’m fine, Vega.” They insisted again. He nodded, summoning that ball of light again. He stared at it, putting on a nonchalant air.

I never said you weren’t, Darling. That didn’t mean he would give up. And it didn’t mean that he was going to let go of the transgression of hurting his Warden. It was just another wound that would need to be returned to the Department tenfold. Tell me, is that clock in the corner accurate?

[purpleajisai]

"Promise"

Chapter 2: Hatachi

> Chapter 1

Madara Monday!

Notes: This chapter is centred in the brotherhood dynamic of Madara (20 years old) and Izuna (17 years old). You may notice several references to being 20 years old (hatachi / 二十歳), which had been considered the age of maturity for centuries, both culturally and legally in Japan. Here you have two links on the subject if you’re interested: link 1 link 2

Hatachi

A cold breeze entered from the half-shut windows of a simple room, furnished by a desk and many shelves stacked to the top with documents. Two men were working together, opening the fancy seals of delicately crafted scrolls. Madara, who had just become an adult according to his clan’s custom, was scowling at the workload. Even more than usual. His eye bags were nearly the colour of his navy blue robe as it was clear he hadn’t been sleeping well for several days. As the sound of another seal being opened by his brother snapped him out of his choleric state of mind, he turned his head and read the message.

“If I get another damn marriage arrangement proposal from that daimyo once again, I will burn his lands to a crisp!”, he exclaimed as soon as he saw the title of the message. This particular daimyo had already sent him five requests. One for each daughter he had, trying to blindly guess what sort of woman Madara would like.

“Well, this guy is determined to get one of his daughters into this clan one way or another. Goodness, let’s hope I don’t have to deal with him once I’m 20!”, Izuna replied. The younger Uchiha shook his head and handed his brother a blank scroll for him to write a rejection letter once again.

“I will be blatant with him this time. I’ll make it clear that if I get another proposal from him, we will never provide services to his lands ever again.”

Madara submerged his brush on the suzuri, letting the black ink be soaked into the bristles and then he started writing with a frown. Izuna peeked at the contents of the reply and was quick to interrupt, slamming his palm onto the table.

“No, elder brother! Not like that! You can’t be so rude, he pays well for our services! Just say something like… um, you’re not looking for a wife? That you don’t want to rush it?”

“I’m done with this crap. You write the rejection letter and I’ll drink some of the tea before it gets cold.”

Izuna simply rolled his eyes and smiled a little. He knew that his brother was stressed and that it was best to let him relax before he got back to the many duties of a clan leader. After redacting a polite rejection letter explaining that Madara had too much on his plate to go and tie the knot, Izuna closed the scroll and closed it with a ribbon. Madara was finishing his mug of tea while gazing into the horizon through the window, so Izuna decided to snap him off of his trance by patting his shoulder.

“You should cheer up a bit, elder brother. Take the constant requests from many daimyo as a flattery or something. You think any sane, rich man would want his daughter to marry a bad catch? We’re a powerful clan, we have lands and prestige! I would safely bet a nice barrel of umeshu that the daimyo were counting the days until you turned 20 to start sending these.” 

Madara, now more present in the moment, put down his mug and sighed as soon as he glanced at the mountain of similar messages on the desk. Sure, he had a big ego but this wasn’t the way in which he wanted to be appreciated. He lowered his head and ran a hand through his pitch black hair before speaking in a rather quiet voice.

“If Father was here, I wouldn’t have to deal with all of this nonsense. Instead of writing the same rejection letter over and over again, I could actually have time to find a partner for life and read my books. I don’t think I’m doing a good job at this clan leader thing, Izuna.”

“Oh come on, you’re doing amazing! You’ve been the youngest leader this clan has ever seen and we’re seeing an improvement in many areas. When was the last time we had more than ten  trained doctors, hm? Or the last time we got over 30 customers?”, the younger man replied with a comforting voice to cheer the worn down leader while quickly skimming through another message. The mention of their father was a sensitive topic, as both men missed him dearly. 

“Being the youngest clan leader ever comes with a downside. I don’t remember the end of my teens and the start of my adulthood. It suddenly came to an end as soon as I swore in that ceremony and renounced part of my independence. Would Father be proud of the way I’m handling things? Maybe I’m too immature and selfish for this.”

“Of course he would be proud. Don’t you remember what he used to say every single time he took us to battle with him?”

“You’d have to narrow it down. He was always saying that you tied your sash the wrong way, hah!”, he joked. Izuna grinned slightly as his attempt to lighten the mood was working. Then, the younger brother cleared his throat and made his best imitation of their late father’s voice.

“This clan crest entails the great honour of a caste of mighty warriors. It is a symbol of strength and duty”. Madara laughed as Izuna made a small parody of their father. When they were boys, they’d dislike having their father constantly saying such things. But now it was a fond memory.

Madara didn’t reply to that, he simply pondered silently about what it meant to be… himself. The prodigy, the wielder of a mangekyou sharingan, the clan leader, the son, the older brother. That was until he spotted something from the corner of his peripheral vision just seconds later. What caught his eye was the sight of his beloved younger brother piling up all of the leftover messages from daimyo who were in a haste to get their daughters married. 

“Hey, what are you doing? Leaving those for later?”

“Um, technically I am. Or I am not.”

Izuna then held all the scrolls in both hands and channelled his chakra through his fingers, causing the paper to burst into flames and burn down into mere seconds. Madara was impressed, that was a dangerous move! 

“No! We have to reply or we could lose the good relationships with those lands! You were the one suggesting that we reply politely!”, he cried out, using his hands and another piece of paper to try and make the fire die down.

“We can’t keep wasting time! These people know that you’re not interested and yet keep sending requests! I am indeed an advocate for harmonious diplomacy but this is getting repetitive and useless! I’ve read through them all and it’s the exact same daimyo as always!”

Izuna exclaimed with a hint of anger while throwing the remains of the burnt paper to a bucket that served as a trash can and shaking the ash off his fingers. While Izuna was the one who always helped Madara avoid unnecessary problems caused by the shinobi’s sharp tongue and disdain for weaker ninja, he drew the line at wasting his time with menial tasks. That was the only case in which Izuna would allow himself to have a more aggressive approach.

Madara simply sighed and looked at the pile of ash in the trash can. That must have been at least 50 scrolls, all of which were marriage arrangement proposals. He couldn’t understand why so many adult men, most of which were well educated, would be so eager to have their daughters marry a complete stranger only because of his power and status. It made the idea of marriage become shallow, as if it were only a tool. There were a series of important doubts clouding his mind: would he ever find someone that saw beyond the outside? Someone who saw his heart below the many layers of duty? What people would call a “soulmate”?

After two long hours of working side by side, the brothers called it a day and began to classify the scrolls into the many shelves of the room. One shelf contained the scrolls to be sent with a messenger hawk in the morning, another one served as an archive for the clan’s accounting, a third one was a record of the daimyo who had requested their service as mercenaries and so on. Madara arched his eyebrows at the many service requests that Izuna had handled, then looking at the much smaller amount of accounting and negotiating he had done that was now piled in the shelves.

“You’re quite the productive man, eh?”

“Oh please elder brother, taking care of the requests is simply saying yes or no. You have to do maths, economics and those things. You’re the clan leader, you deal with the main stuff.”

“I wouldn’t have the time to do this if you didn’t help me with those boring service requests. Don’t put yourself down, Izuna.”

“Hm. May I ask something, elder brother?”

“Shoot.”

“Was any of those proposals from… Fuyumi~?”, he said in a mocking tone to his brother. Izuna knew that Madara was slowly catching feelings for that young woman. And in fact, he would be glad if the two ended up together. They were a good duo in the battlefield and knew each other even before they learned how to speak. But Izuna was still in his late teens, so he would never treat the subject seriously at this point. What kind of younger brother misses the chance to annoy his older brother?

Madara had somehow sensed that Izuna would find a way to involve his crush on Fuyumi. So instead of saying a comeback, he jokingly slapped his brother’s nape and laughed.

“Shut up, you little rascal! Finish that so we can go greet Father!”

“Haha! Fine, fine, I’m almost done. But you can’t deny that you wish one of those proposals was from Fuyumi~”

“Hmph! I said shut up!”

Izuna continued to make jabs at his brother until they finally finished stacking the scrolls in their respective places. When the two men in charge of running the Uchiha clan stepped out of the office towards the little graveyard beside the house, the position of the moon indicated it was midnight. Both of them sat down before a long tombstone and placed incense in front of it, perhaps even praying for the soul whose name was engraved in the rock. Izuna broke the silence and nudged Madara with his elbow.

“Elder brother…”

“What is it?”

“Don’t put yourself down. I’m proud of you. And I’m sure Father’s proud of you, wherever he may be now.”

Madara smiled softly at his brother and put an arm over his shoulder. Izuna had been much too young when they lost their father, so the least an older brother could do was comfort a hurt and grieving young man. A single tear rolled down the clan leader’s cheek as many thoughts filled his mind. He remembered his father, all of his advice and what he should do once he grew up. One particular piece of advice resonated within his memories.

“Find yourself a good woman just like I found your mother. Someone whom you will love, protect and cherish. And help your brother find one as well when the time comes, after you both turn 20. You two are meant to stick together and watch each other’s backs.”

Being 20 years old and a clan leader surely did entail a lot of responsibilities, but at least his little brother was proud of him.

[lu-sn]

thank you @veliseraptor for tagging me ❤️ i had a lot of fun with this one

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason.

--

first fic ever published: prickly hearts

my beloved!!! this story is extra funny to me because before this i was all "it would be hubris to try to write vp they're too NUANCED i'll mess them up" and then the ghost of khun spikes whacked me on the head with a crackfic idea and the rest is history

last fic published: warm-blooded

cue me from almost exactly a year ago telling my roommate i could "never write porn" skjdfksadfkjhdsfjkhf where's my clown nose

any fic i wrote for a ship only once: press F to pay respects

my one and only kinn/porsche fic. but the real crime here is that it's my one and only macau & chay fic 😭 I'LL GET TO IT ONE DAY

favorite fic for ship with most works: you can't make me choose

i love so many of them! and i'm fond of them for different reasons, so it's really hard to pick one over the rest. breathtaking might be some of my best writing. vivace has characterization i'm very happy with, and i'm proud that i managed to do that while keeping it lighthearted. but if we're talking favorite fic for me to read... god this is hard!!!!! i love reading my funnier stuff. so maybe it really still is prickly hearts

fic i wish more people read: have u heard of the f/f vp agenda–

here is my running theory: if more people read f/f vp then more people will write it and then there will be more of it for ME to read. this is a flawless plan. i will take no criticism

fic i agonized over the most: [redacted]

i could pick a published fic for this but i don't tend to agonize too much over oneshots when i'm writing them and anyway you could add up all of the agony over all of my published fics and it would not even be 1/100th of the agonizing i am doing over my current wip. longfics SUCK. "it'll just be 3 chapters that's not so bad" "ah shit this wasn't in the outline" "why does the halfway mark keep getting FURTHER away" 0/10 would not recommend i am blinking twice please airlift me out of here

fic that sprang fully formed from my mind: blindside

this is kind of a stretch in that i had had a couple of stray macau thoughts hanging around my head for months. things like "macau goes off at korn and it's heartwrenching and futile and pete has to drag him away" or "pete and macau have a days-long staring match over vegas's comatose body" but let's be real it was mostly a giant metaphorical whiteboard in my brain with the words "PETE AND MACAU????!!!" written on it and underlined six times. it didn't coalesce into "pete holds a gun to macau's head and it somehow ruins all of korn's plans" until i was standing in the middle of a crosswalk on my way home going oh my GOD THAT WOULD BE INSANE PETE WOULD BE THAT INSANE!!!! then i blacked out and it was written

work i am proud of: reignite

i reread this recently and it reads like it was written by someone who was not me. i would not in a million years have imagined i was capable of writing like that. so i love it very much, and i feel like i did namphueng justice, and she fucking deserves it.

--

hmmm tagging @ghost--houses and @fanonplussed and @magicaldreamfox1 if you're feeling it!

[14dayswithyou]

DISCLAIMER: This is for all my 14DWY Fans who are sleeping on just how dangerous Ren is. LOL

I think it’s so funny how we all simp and are COMPLETELY whipped by ren.

He’a so cute, hot and has the sexiest habits. We’re in love right? We know he’d never hurt us and he’ll go to different lengths to please us.

He would steal thousands of dollars and give it to us, buy us whatever we wanted.

But then BOOM. It clicks for me that after seeing Sigh talk about how that’s the point and how he’s actually like dark web red room murder bad—it dawns on me that yeah…that IS the point.

 I love to pick apart character studies and try to really understand the character. And Ren is just a great case.

We are literally getting PLAYED. He calculated every last little detail. He knows the type of men we like, and literally altered his personality to be like that. We joke about his Haruko personality and how submissive and cute it is but I don’t think we realize enough that he did that JUST so we would feel easy around him and fall in love. And we did. We literally played right into his hand.

Some of us know, some of us don’t care and some of us don’t REALLY understand just how far ren has Gone.

He’s dedicated his ENTIRE life to you (since elementary) just because you made a promise to marry him when you were like 9. Then here we are 20 or older and he’s still infatuated.

He has mentally diluted hisself into thinking that you are the only person that he could possibly fall in love with. He has been obsessed you for over a decade ( or decades).

Another thing people aren’t really paying attention to is that Ren, can—will and most likely HAS murdered. we can’t forget this. Ren doesn’t mentally have the capacity to care about anyone except for the MC. If he needed to kill a homeless man, skin him alive and sell him for cash or something he would do it.

Ren is so cute and a pink sub hottie ➡️ Ren is an darker styled man who is a murderer and will dominate you.

Ren loves and cherishes MC ➡️ Ren is probably clinically delusional and has fantasized taking you all for himself because of a promise you made as a child.

Ren is so Strong ➡️ Ren has worked out solely to make sure he’d win and successfully murder his opponent in an altercation should the time come. He’s not necessarily muscularly sound for you.

Ren is so protective and always worried about MC ➡️ Ren is stalking you in the comfort of your own home. He is constantly watching you and sneaking in your apartment. You have zero privacy 24/7. He will kill anyone that finds out or is potentially romantically attracted to you. (I.e your childhood best friend or your mother that you love could all be brutally murdered if they were in Rens way.)

He’s hot and you’d love a man that’d “kill for you” until you realize that he’d kill your family, friends and anyone who even gets in his way. (What about their kids? Brothers? Or sisters? Someone is probably grieving over that person that Ren killed.)

Is it sinking in now? How are you going to feel when you cant have a life and have to tip toe around your lover because he will murder anyone that isn’t him or you. Ren is a psychotic, depressed, sociopath who is obsessed with you. He’s not just a Yandere. He’s…. a threat.

Don’t sleep on ren. 👁👁

✦゜ANSWERED: *louder than everyone else* THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The way you perceive Ren is so hot!!!! *chefs kiss*!!!!!! Shiro I love your mind!!!!!!!! This is literally how I've wanted Ren to be perceived as a yandere, and I'm honestly amazed at how spot on you got! >.< Like? [REDACTED] puts in all this effort to seem like your dream guy/ideal boyfriend — when in reality — he's hiding things that are far too sinister and disturbing to be described.

He has zero apathy for anyone other than the subject of his obsession, and he's not averse to doing unspeakably morbid and/or morally dubious things in order to get what he wants. And if he wants you, then there's nothing that can stand in his way.

He's desperate and willing enough to alter everything about himself in order to gain your affections, and he's more than capable of keeping up the facade if it means having you all to himself. He's been doing it for ten years already, so what's ten more?

He feels nothing when he murders and tortures people, nor does he cringe at the sight of blood and gore. At most, he might find it troublesome with how long it takes to drain the life out of someone, or if the blood gets all over his clothes — but when it comes to the wellbeing of his victims, nothing matters to him.

He knows his way around a fight and can deal devastating blows with a sledgehammer — but he can deal just as much damage from the comfort of his own home so long as he has a phone or a laptop at hand. Nothing is safe from his keen eyes, and it'd be a mistake to brush aside his hacking abilities.

Ren/[REDACTED] not some timid, pushover yandere who "probably doesn't know how to defend himself"; he's a deeply disturbed individual with an innate desire to get what he wants — no matter how gruesome or time-consuming it may be.

[grapenehifics]

WIP Wednesday

I realize 'be your own biggest fan' is a nice sentiment but usually easier said than done...except in this particular case, wherein I have to admit, I am so excited about what I have planned for the future of this series. If it turns out even half as good on paper as it is in my head, it's going to be such a ride - although it is a little difficult to pick out parts for WIP Wednesday to share that don't contain major spoilers. So, here is a, only slightly redacted, scene of Anakin admiring Obi-Wan's butt.

“What do you think?” Obi-Wan asked, holding out his arms and spinning in a slow circle, letting Anakin take a good look at maybe the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

Obi-Wan made a full rotation and stopped spinning, biting his lip and nervously looking to Anakin for approval, and Anakin wanted to reassure him – reassure him by kissing him until they both couldn’t breathe, ideally – but what came out of his mouth was, “Dank farrik, Obi-Wan; your ass looks amazing.”

Ahsoka laughed out loud, then tried to quickly stifle the sound by pressing her fist against her mouth. Anakin, though, only had eyes for Obi-Wan, who was rolling his and pretending to be annoyed. “Be serious.”

“I am being serious!” Anakin yelped. “You look fantastic. You look…” He tried to come up with vocabulary that would come close to describing how good Obi-Wan looked and came up short.

“Like a smuggler, hopefully?” Obi-Wan guessed.

That wasn’t nearly comprehensive enough, but it wasn’t wrong, per se. “Well, yeah,” Anakin admitted. He reached out and put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Turn again?”

“He just wants to look at your ass some more,” Ahsoka snorted.

Anakin nudged Obi-Wan into walking in a half-circle. “I’m checking out how many pockets these pants have, thank you,” he sniffed, purposefully not mentioning that he also was absolutely checking out Obi-Wan’s ass. “Hmm.” He let go of Obi-Wan’s shoulder, not wanting to push his luck. “What’s your plan for concealing your weapons?”

“There appear to be some other shops nearby that specialize in leather goods,” Obi-Wan said, gesturing. “I thought perhaps there might be some sort of…holster, that would fit my lightsaber?”

Anakin nodded. Obi-Wan just so clearly wanted his approval, and that was an uncommon, but endearing, situation for Anakin to be in. “That’s a good idea. We’ll go there next. But first you need to buy…all of this.” He waved his hand up and down in the air, gesturing to Obi-Wan’s body.

“Well the boots were already mine,” Obi-Wan corrected, and when Anakin looked down he realized that was true; Obi-Wan was still wearing his standard-issue brown knee-high leather boots. “I am trying to be…cost-conscious. So all I really need to purchase is the shirt and pants.”

Anakin was going to spontaneously combust out of his body if Obi-Wan did not buy the shirt and pants. The shirt was a fairly standard design, with sleeves that came about halfway up his forearms and a short, soft collar. Anakin was torn on whether his favorite aspect of the shirt was its deep purple color, which was by far the most interesting color available in the shop and really brought out the dark auburn of Obi-Wan’s hair, or the open placket, which went far enough down Obi-Wan’s chest that he was constantly flashing a peek of reddish-blond chest hair no matter how he moved.

That somehow still didn’t compare to the trousers, though, which despite being made of a thick protective material were so tight on Obi-Wan, and hugged the curves of his ass and his thick thighs so well, that it looked like they’d been tailored for him specifically to Anakin’s personal taste.

“You should definitely get the shirt and pants,” Anakin repeated, his mouth suddenly dry.

“So whenever you’re done gawking at General Tight Pants over there,” Ahsoka called loudly from the dressing room, “and are ready to pay attention me” –

“Are they too tight?” Obi-Wan asked nervously, craning his neck around behind him to look at his own ass.

“No!” Anakin said quickly, almost shouting.

“Ahsoka, you’d tell me if they were too tight, yes? I don’t want to be…”

“Ogled?” Ahsoka guessed.

Obi-Wan frowned. “I was going to say ‘constricted’.”

“Well, no, they’re not too tight. I picked them out for you, didn’t I? You definitely look the part.” As she spoke, Ahsoka held her hand out in Anakin’s direction, and Anakin pretended it was a very great hardship to reach into the pocket of his own robes, pull out one single credit, and slap it into Ahsoka’s waiting palm. Honestly it was one of the least-onerous bribes he’d ever paid to his Padawan.

(Well done to anyone who caught the Firefly reference in here.)

[xentari94]

Okay so I’m going to put in my 2 cents on the matter of the mwiii ending. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t write some semblance of a theory post. Maybe I’m in denial. If so I don’t. fucking. care. Soap may not be my personal comfort character in the same sense like he is to so many others, but finding out about the campaign today has left me depressed as fuck over this ngl. I love Simon and Johnny so much 💀 🧼 ❤️ And quite frankly this was some steaming FUCKING bullshittery that I will never accept. So… without further a-due

SPOILERS!!!!

SPOILERS!!!!

SPOILERS!!!!

SPOILERS!!!!

———————————

Now I haven’t watched all of the campaign yet, so I can’t get a solid feel of how rushed it is like people are saying. I started watching the first mission before I got distracted with the comment section on YouTube, and that’s when I found out what happens and the whole damn thing snowballed from there. Might go back and watch it later for the boys sake mainly, and to gather more accurate information. But I’ve seen enough to form a theory that Soap may not actually be dead.

Again… I know I’m probably just denial typing but if it helps then it helps ya know? And I like to put a bit of faith behind these, else there would be no point in making them.

So to start, we see Soap get shot and fall but to me personally our view of him was never close enough to determine if he was actually breathing or not. Man just got shot twice, at least once critical, any breathing gonna be labored as fuck I’d take it. Our only thing to go by is Price saying k.i.a out loud which- later I thought- Makarov may have been injured and ran, but he could still have men in the area watching the boys, reporting back to him anything that could have occurred after his bitchass self made his little bitchass exit. Soap could still have been alive, but in the moment the need to announce aloud that Makarov did him in was needed to keep his true status unknown to any potential unnecessary ears or planted bugs to help keep Soap that way until the rest of the boys could get him to medical.

The whole scene with Laswell redacting reports? At least I’m assuming that’s what that was, keeping information about the mission secure because the enemy is still out there. I tried reading it as it went, I’ll have to go back later and really pay attention to what was typed before it was marked out. Labeling Soap k.i.a again as possible cover up to keep him safe.

The ashes scene, while heart wrenching, is such an odd thing to jump to imo. Did Soap not have a family waiting for him? Never known otherwise unless I missed something along the way. I mean being realistic here the bodies of soldiers are usually sent back to the families if able. And Soap was still intact. So the team scattering ashes really doesn’t make sense if you really think about it, if Soap was actually dead. Just automatically cremating him would be cruel. Yes Soap was a part of their team family … but not letting a possible blood family get their son back… unless there was a time skip and they were allowed some of Soaps ashes… idk.

On the other hand perhaps a possible family couldn’t be notified of their son’s condition due to their safety potentially being in jeopardy. Now there is the matter of Soaps dog tags of course, who has those? Soaps family? Or maybe Ghost? I didn’t see them nor hear mention of them so it’s still too soon to say what happened with them. And if the boys needed a way to make soaps death look real. Needed to really send it and make it seem untraceable well… tossing what looks to be ashes would be the best choice. While Soap is kept hidden away under constant surveillance as he hopefully recovers. Makarov could have eyes always on them. I wouldn’t doubt that he did.

Just too many plotholes. Too many what ifs. Too soon to tell. Am I mad? Upset? Pissed? You betcha ass I am. I let my hopes get too high in believing the 141 would get some strong plot armor this go around. Ghost survived, can you blame me? A part of me just refuses to accept and believe Soap is gone. That my favorite duo is done. Big chance I’m wrong I know. But always a chance I could be right. A chance I’m willing to take.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

I got inspired by both @esmeray-greenleaf and @jamespotterismydaddy (Dark Aemond x handmaiden reader (Es) and Lessons in the garden (James) respectively and I was very caught between:

Do not let them know you exist. Do you want them to suffer that fate. Do you. DO YOU

And do let them know because they inspired you and you do not want to be named a thief now do you. Do you? do you?! (I might be insane) ((our fics are very different as well I don't know why I even bother you!!!) ((Sucks being insecure (that's me I am the insecure one lol)

Anyway yeah I had this idea a while now and I changed it up a lot and never got quite happy with it as I am never truly happy with anything I write but here it is enjoy♡

Snippet

Very short.

Reader x Aemond and Aegon

Plot: Redacted handmaid mc to aegon.

(I do not want to ruin the surprise.

Warnings dementia killing my horrible writing and more shit and also like awkward mc and murder dark aegon and powerabuse and me sucking at writing and warning making in general its very bad do not read

Gifs not mine

Your new employer walks you through the halls of the red keep. You listen to a very boring monologue about the first Targaryen king. You do not remember his name. Something with an A. Apparently, this castle was not even made when his ass sat the throne. You do not understand how he is even relevant to this day. The woman introducing you to your life in the castle is named Blaer and has an impressive stamina as she walks hours in the castle at a terrifying speed for a woman that small. You realise she does not only care for the job because she is paid, but when she tells you who the royal family members are, her eyes sparkle. She cares very much about them as well.

A woman with a stunning green expensive gown interrupts your conversation. Blaer bows for her, and you do the same. You realise who this woman is. The Queen herself. You smile at her. She waits for something. You realise she wants you to curtsy. So you do so, quickly muttering an apology. 'Is the new girl for Aegon?' Ah. That was that name. You remember thinking it sounded a lot like the word egg. So silly.

Blaer nods. 'Yes, your grace. This is the girl. She is here from the reach. Her former employer had died.' She says it like it's some sort of scandalous secret. It is if they realised it all. But they do not. Not until it's too late.

There is a small brief silence between the three of you as the Queen looks you up and down, and you see her worry increase. 'I will walk her to his chambers myself. Go do something else.' She tells no commands the maid that helped you. Blaer curtsys before leaving her queen with a respectful your grace.

You follow the Queen, adjusting your tall legs to match her pace.

She pays it no mind and walks you to her son's chambers. 'You'll see that my son has a... horrible habit. He likes to touch things that aren't his.' She tells you. You blink. Touch things that aren't his?

She continues as you realise you are with the big fishes now. 'If he ever lays a hand on you, you'll come to me. Not to the guards, not to any servant, me directly. I am his mother and he will answer to me. Am I clear?' You want to ask her more. Did he do this before? Is this custom? What is implied with touching, and what will happen if you are touched by him?

Yet you fake a smile hiding your worries. 'As crystal, your grace.'

She seems pleased with that.

'Good.'

'Now, your former employer wrote a stunning recommendation. May I ask what your tasks were at her house?' You halt and think of the day your parents were murdered. Tears sting your eyes.

You make your eyes soft and kind, and your voice breaks nearly on its own. 'O, my ladyship was a kind but an old lady. It was quite sad, my Queen. She would want me to host balls for her family members that are no longer...here, your grace.' You say as respectful as possible.

'Did they move?' Bless this women's innocent mind. You shake your head.

'They are deceased, my queen. Several wars claimed all her sons. Her husband ended his own life when he found out. He tried to kill her as well, but she fought back. She doesn't remember that. She would ask me daily when he would return.'

You wonder if it's all a bit too much, but she buys it, and she buys the entire store. 'Gods...' she mutters to herself, clutching her necklace of a seven pointed star.

'And you?' She asks.

You tell her what you did around your former employer. 'I hosted the balls. I invited trustworthy people to pretend to be her relatives. She was so happy and I knew if I told her it would be only a matter of time before she forgot again.' You say. 'The people were starving, so they behaved.' You do not tell her of the thief.

There is something with his foot. You quickly fake a smile and curtsy to him as well. 'This is our new worker. She is Aegon's new maid.' She says.

'This is my closest friend and advisor, Larys Strong.' You understand he holds a position at court as well.

'It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Strong.' It is not. He gives you the creeps.

'Likewise, my lady. I hope you stick around longer than our former maid.' He smiles when leaning on his cane. You eye the Queen.

'Why what happened to her?' The Queen glares at you. She does not answer. You already know.

---

The prince's chambers are a mess to clean. There are clothes everywhere, along with several cups of wine all half full and spoiled. You also notice ants marching around an abandoned plate of pancakes and decide to delicately, murder them all.

A voice suddenly shrieks behind you and rushes to the killed ants before bursting into tears. 'No, my ant friends! What did you do?!' A silver haired girl yells at you. Like some thieves learn to fear the colour gold because of the Cloaks, you fear the colour silver because of the insane family that runs this castle. You realise you are in trouble. You killed her pet friends.

You feel bad and quickly drop the plate breaking it as well. You quickly kneel and start collecting the pieces. 'I am so sorry, your highness. I thought they were enemies, not friends.' You say.

She ignores your apology. 'You are Aegon's new maid.' She says. You nod. 'You poor thing. Kill as many things as you like. I know I would. If I could. But I can't.' She sighs and rubs her arms.

You feel horrible. The girl lives miserable and alone, and you killed her only friends and joy. 'Your Highness, again, I am so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?' You ask.

The princess instantly stops crying and you realise it was a trap all along. 'You can help me find new friends.' Oh no. You do not like bugs. You do not like the outdoors, and you are here for Aegon.

'Of course, your highness-' you are interrupted.

There is a beautiful smile on her lips. 'I despise that word. Call me Helaena.' You tell her your name but you do not expect her to remember it to be honest. You are just a maid.

By the time you and Helaena are done, night has fallen. She clinges to you, her ankle swollen and at the very least bruised. You are still dripping with the disgusting swamp water that you jumped into. It was an eventful day.

A guard on the walls watches you two approach the castle and nearly drops his spywatch. You both must look like wild rats.

The gates are opened, and the guards are all relieved that their princsss has returned. You are barely glanced at. 'Did you really have to jump in after me? I was handling myself fine.' Helaena takes your hand into her own.

'To be fair, I did not know you could swim. I thought you would drown.' You tell her. 'I suppose I owned you from saving me from that snake.' You jest with a little smirk.

Helaena chuckles, remembering how hard you screamed. 'For the last time, that was a worm. He has name, he is called Hendrix, and he is harmless.' She even takes Hendrix out of the box and pushes him in your face so you can see him again. She puts him back in his box.

You suppose he is, quite harmless. You still do not like bugs, but you do not hate the bug as much as you did. You pass multiple guards and have no idea where you are going, but luckily, Helaena knows the way quite well.

The door of a room is opened, and Helaena goes in. A moment later, she comes back out and drags you with her. She proudly takes out Hendrix and Calypso, another bug she caught. Calypose is the bitch that you are just convinced that laughed when you both tumbled into the swamp to capture it.

The Queen directly stands up and rushes over to her daughter. 'Did you go into the swamp again? How many times must I tell you?' She shakes her daughter, not caring how dirty her hands get.

There are four men with her, and three of them have silver hair. Great. The first one is an old man who has seen better days. He wears a crown, and you gulp. Helaena takes out Hendrix eagerly and shows him off to everyone but him.

Another man with an eyepatch takes interest in the bug and smiles. 'a new one. Did you name this one already?' He asks.

'Yes! He is named Hendrix. Me and my friend found her in the swamp. She did, actually.' She smiles at you, full of pride. You beam.

Until you see the man shoot you a very subtle but hate filled glare. Even the Queen gives you one. Only the king seems to be happy. 'Well, that's lovely, darling. I am glad you found a friend.'

The other final man also speaks.

'I suppose this is why I had to fend for myself? You were out bug hunting?' That's Aegon, you realise. Aegon has short silver hair and looks as if he has not bathed in three days.

You open your mouth to defend yourself, but Helaena is faster. 'She killed my friends and she felt bad so she went with me.' You sigh and can already hear the axe swing as your head leaves your body. Now they all think you killed her friends. Great.

Alicent raises from her chair.

'You killed someone on your first day working here?!' She screams at you.

You scream back, panicked as a grumpy guard takes you away from the princess. 'Ants! Ants!' What is even happening?

The oldest prince finds this all very amusing and laughs. You wish you could slap him. You calm down. 'There was a pancake on a plate with ants, and I killed the ants. That is all there is to it!'

'You are in trouble on your very first day. You have endangered my daughter, neglected your duties, and you are also now have risen your voice against me, the Queen of the seven kingdoms.' Shit.

'B-but...' it came from your good heart. But that does not matter. Your intentions were pure, but you understand that this could have ended with Helaena dead or worse. You understand that yelling at your queen is a crime. 'I know, your grace. I am sorry. I lost control of myself for a moment there. I thought you might have me killed if I didn't explain that it was about ants.' You don't think you ever said that word as much as today.

She sighs and accepts your apology. 'I see.'

Helaena comes to your rescue once more. 'She saved me. I nearly drowned. She jumped in and helped me. We bonded. Please. I like her mother. Can she stay with us?'

'She has one final chance to prove herself. If she fails, we'll send her away.' The Queen sighs before she is hugged by her daughter, and her dress is ruined.

You and Helaena grin before hugging each other, not caring about your dirty clothes and swamp hair. 'It is best if you both take a bath.' The Queen adds with a sigh.

After your bath you take care of the bugs of the princess. You feed them a bit of leaves she keeps in a jar and make sure to wish all of them goodnight.

You leave the rooms. Helaena is asleep. As you leave her chambers, you bump into her other brother. The one-eyed one. He had a funny name too, but you can't remember. You only remember his hateful glare at you and his displeasure when they announced you would stay.

'You,' you say like an idiot.

He raises a brow at that unforgiven and horrible greeting.

'I mean, hello. I mean, my Prince. Hello. My prince.' You curtsy, but you still haven't gotten the hang of It. It's not elegant or ladylike. You instead bow.

He scoffs. You quickly walk away from him. 'Did I say you could leave?' You shake your head.

He grabs your arm and pins you against the wall. You make a soft whimper. He leans in close and his hot breath tickles your skin. 'Eh-'

You gather your courage.

'Do you need something, or can I leave?' You glare at him. He seems surprised by that. He lets go of you.

He pushes you away suddenly, scowling. 'Go keep yourself busy with Aegon. He is bathing, and he needs a hand.'

---

You enter the room where the prince is bathing. You knock on the door, and he turns around. You see, he is enjoying himself and has a few bottles of wine next to him. He grins at you like a predator. You smile back. 'I am here. Your brother told me you needed me?'

'O, Aemond is such a considerate fool.' You aren't sure to agree with that. He is his brother, but he called him the fool first. Do you need to agree with him, or do you need to ignore that?

You smile instead. 'What does my prince need help with?' You ignore the Queen's warning when he touches your hands.

He leans back and smirks when drinking the wine.

'Bathe me.' He says it as if he is challenging you. You never backed down from a challenge before.

You are used to washing pigs anyway. 'Of course.' You reach over to grab the soap bar from him, but he drops it on purpose in the hot water.

'Oops, how clumsy of me.' He says his voice dripping with sarcasm. You smile, but your eyes glare at him. 'You need to work on your face if you want to stay here. I can just tell you plan on murdering me.' He chuckles.

You roll your eyes and go with your hand in the bath, searching for the damn soap bar. Your legs are tall, as are your arms and fingers. You touch something, but by judging his smirk, it's part of his body and not a soapbar. You let go of it, hiding your blush and discomfort as you try to find the soapbar.

You get annoyed and lean over, trying to find the bar. The prince has played this trick before. You are helpless as he kisses you full on your mouth with a smirk. 'I hope you do not mind. You are my little toy, and I should get to know you better.'

'The bar, wench.' He will suffer for that.

You finally spot it and take it out of the water. You grab hold of Aegon and start washing his face roughly scrubbing as you take out your aggression on him. He chuckles before grabbing both your arms. You easily free yourself. 'Do you need help with bathing or do you just want to touch me?' You Growl at him. He sighs.

'Leave. I grew bored of you already.' Hopefully that's not a bad thing.

----

You roll your hips against Aegons and moan in his ear when softly nibbling on his neck. He groans when thrusting himself deep inside of you. You sigh delighted when he finishes way too early.

The next day, you are brushing Helaena's hair for her. Aegon is still asleep after what you did with him. Good. His wife tells you more about her ant friends, and you both make plans to catch more bugs, but this time closer to home. Helaena stops your brushing suddenly and takes your hand. 'Can you tell me one more time what your name is? I won't forget, I promise.'

You nod. You lay down the brush and tell her one last time how your parents named you. 'Daemyra.'

'Do you know what happened to the maid that attended Aegon before?' You ask casually. She shakes her head. You sigh but accept that she does not know either. The Queen does know.

And she is going to tell you what happened to your sister, Dyana. You already won the trust of one child of hers. It will be a matter of time before the other two eat out of your hand as well.

//a/n

Thats gotta be the worst spy I ever heard of.

Ever.