#my precious traumatised children

[181patheticpaperclips]

Andromache and Hector… Odysseus and Penelope… something something narrative parallels… they’re giving me Feelings again.

[the-travelling-witch]

i really need to play fe3h again once i have the time…

[scaly-freaks]

a cage she'd live in forever

ignore me just randomly re-posting stuff into the vacuum i guess (i'll probably repost my rhaenicent fic next)

Aemond’s stoic manner doesn’t last.

Alicent took one look at her son during the confrontation with Rhaenyra, and understood he was pretending to be a man. He was forcing himself to grow up faster in the face of a cold, callous court, just as she once had. It broke her heart.

Now he’s back in King’s Landing, in the safety of his own chambers, and his voice cracks when he asks his mother to help apply salve to his eye. He doesn’t like the servants touching it.

Each crack in Aemond’s young voice drives her further into madness.

Madness to Alicent was never a legible concept.

It’s tucked away into the neat folds of her green sleeves, a problem for later.

She’s no Targaryen. There is no fire and blood to reckon with here.

And yet she sees her child suffer and she wants to burn down this cursed castle with herself in it.

You let this happen to him. You should have been more vigilant. You knew how obsessed he was with those beasts. YOU DID THIS.

Viserys plays no part in her judgements. The old man gave his seed and withered into the peripheral. These are her children. Alicent has the right to be possessive over them at least. Nothing else in her life has ever truly been hers.

Her title of ‘queen’ belonged to a woman more well-loved by her husband. Her name of ‘Hightower’ belongs to the men in her family. Her regal status could be snatched at any moment should the king die.

But her children she bore and birthed, they are hers.

Even so, they still ask for their father. They haven’t yet learned.

“Why does he like them more than he likes us?” Aegon mumbled to her when she can get a sober word out of him. “I thought he wanted us. I thought he wanted me.”

In a rare moment of affection – slapping Aegon was the worst thing she could have done in that room, she sees that now – she stroked the back of his silver head and made a soft, comforting sound.

“He does want you. He always wanted you.” She lies to her children with ease, just like she lies to everyone else.

When Aegon was born, no matter how it traumatised her to give birth so young, she had celebrated, thinking life would be better now that she was the queen who had managed to birth a male heir for the king.

It changed nothing.

Helaena was born and her depression grew worse.

She tries to forget what she’d done days after the birth, as if it were nothing more than a horrible nightmare. But she can’t forget the screams of her ladies-in-waiting, how they’d dragged her off the ledge. Helaena had been in her arms, shrieking miserably.

Alicent had begged her and begged her to stop crying, that she could do no more for her, that they were both helpless.

At some point, the crying faded into nothing, and the next thing she knew, she was standing on the window ledge, staring down at Maegor’s Holdfast, with her baby girl clutched to her chest.

There’s no doubt in her mind now that she would have jumped if they hadn’t found her.

She was dragged back to her cage, and her father came to rebuke her for her ungratefulness. She didn’t know how to tell him what was wrong. She didn’t know when everything went so perfectly wrong.

Aemond was born when she was happiest. She had grown a little older, become more well-adjusted. And a second son was further proof of her fertility, as well as another pillar to hold up both House Targaryen and Hightower. He was a beautiful baby, wide-eyed and gurgling. He was the happiest baby she’d ever had.

The happiness wears away the older he grows, but sometimes, when she cups his chin in her palm and makes a kissy sound, he beams, and she sees the precious infant again.

He isn’t smiling now. His shoulders are hunched, and he won’t look up, not even when she speaks to him.

Helaena sits on the corner of his bed, glancing up from time to time as she mumbles under her breath.

Alicent looks at her and doesn’t understand her, but there’s something about the girl no one can help but love. And Alicent does, painfully. The guilt of that window ledge will never leave her.

Helaena worries more than she lets on and will often wander into a room and sit in the corner like a watchful ghost when someone in her family is hurting. Alicent can’t count the nights she’s cried into her hands only to look up and see Helaena’s large eyes peering at her from the shadows. It never fails to make her laugh through the tears.

“Is Vhagar fed?” She coaxes Aemond on his favourite subject. She has no love for the dragon, but she uses her to get her son to speak.

He grunts, fiddling with his fingers. She wonders what confusion is now curdling in his young head. All her children are sad in their own ways, as sad as their mother, and she doesn’t know what to do. Leave well enough alone, Otto tells her, and Alicent can’t help thinking he might be right. He did the same with her after all.

“You were brave, Aemond. Your nephews would never have held their own the way you did.” Alicent wipes her fingers clean of salve and lifts his face up. He stares at her with his one, pale violet eye and she feels a burst of rage upon seeing the wound. It’s so strong it makes her nauseous.

“Even our uncle noticed,” Helaena hums. She looks up when she realises her mother and brother are staring at her. Then, she shrugs, stroking the dead centipede in her hand. It died this morning on her pillow. “I think he liked your bravery. But he would never say it.”

Daemon’s baleful, amused eyes flash across Alicent’s vision and she recalls her childhood infatuation with him. She grew out of it and happily so. It does not surprise her that Daemon would look at his brother’s children and see himself in them. He’s always boasted of himself as stronger than Viserys. It would entertain him to see a boy so like himself come from a woman he deems strait-laced and dull and a brother he considers weak.

“Our uncle,” Aemond scoffs. “He slept with her.”

“With whom?” Alicent’s head snaps around.

“Our father’s only child,” he spits out, venom in the words.

Rhaenyra.

“How do you know this?” Her eyes are wide and terrified, picturing a scenario where Aemond bursts out with this information at the wrong moment and gets punished.

“I was waiting to slip out and go to the beach, but I couldn’t find a good time. I saw them leave together. I know what they went to do. I’m not a child, mother.”

“Aemond, you must never speak of this again.”

“Why not?” He gets to his feet, all Targaryen rage and impulsivity. “Why must we always keep our mouths shut while she gets to do whatever she wants?”

Alicent breathes in, willing herself to stay calm.

Taking both his hands in hers, she kisses them and holds them against her cheek, reminding herself that all her children are still here. Daeron is safe in Oldtown. Her eldest three are here with her. They’re not gone yet. Daemon can’t do a thing to them. Daemon, not Rhaenyra, because even she knows her childhood friend would not willingly cut the throats of her own siblings.

“There will come a time when we will no longer live in fear of what Rhaenyra and her brood do or say to us,” she tells him. “But it is not that time yet.”

“Do you mean when father dies?” Helaena pipes up.

Alicent hushes her. “Don’t say such things out loud.” Her eyes dart to the door. Larys has spies everywhere, and though he might act innocuous with his crooked smile and haunted eyes, she knows him too well to think he’s loyal to her. He’s loyal to himself alone, as proven by the deaths of his kin. “But I assure you, Aemond, your patience will be rewarded, not just with a dragon, but by the respect of the entire realm. You are my warrior, my boy, my prince. Nothing will ever change that. Understand?”

Aemond grinds his teeth – it’s a habit she’s trying to help him out of – but he nods, slow at first, but then, with a greater degree of certainty. He believes her.

She glances at Helaena, a wordless signal that they should leave Aemond alone for a while.

At the door, she turns to look at him one last time, and smiles.

He brings peace to her heart, not because she loves him more than the other children, but because she knows he sees outside of himself, just like she was trained to. He will protect his siblings if Alicent is no longer there to do so.

Aemond is her favourite because he is exactly what she pictured when she imagined what it would be like to have a son.

Now they see you as you are.

Alicent wakes in a cold sweat, Rhaenyra’s vicious violet eyes burned into the backs of her eyelids. Her dreams are cruel to her. One moment Nyra’s head is in her lap, her young face alight with pleasure at the thought of flying away with Alicent and finding places no one else will ever reach. And then there’s a knife in her hand and Rhaenyra is bleeding out all over her green dress.

She can never control her dreams. Either she hurts Rhaenyra by the end, or Rhaenyra rips off her mask and shows her what she is.

A frightened young girl turned into a cold, enraged woman.

Her brother Gwayne used to reassure her she would be an excellent wife and mother to some very lucky minor lord. They were children of a second son, it was the most they could expect, even if their father was the Hand. And Alicent had revelled in the imagery. Gwayne was always kind to her, loving her the way younger brothers do, without question and without strife.

She never felt worthy of his simple love. She never believed she would be as good a woman as he believed she would. But often, on nights she can’t sleep, she thinks of all Gwayne told her and measures herself against it.

If she measures herself against what Rhaenyra promised she would grow to become, she’ll cry herself to death.

You are the sweetest person I’ve ever known. Everyone in this court looks at me and they see a princess, not a prince. They see what I am not, what I should have been. But you look at me and I feel strong, as if even I could bear the weight of my father’s crown. Do you know the worth of such a quality, Alice? You give strength to those who feel forsaken.

That last sentence was what echoed in Alicent’s mind the night she rushed out of the Great Hall, away from Rhaenyra’s bloodstained wedding, to find Criston Cole kneeling in the godswood, with a knife angled towards himself.

She wonders what Rhaenyra would feel knowing she herself is the reason Criston still lives.

A shadow stirs under her door and she hears the familiar clink of armour.

The guards change at midnight, and he comes to stand by her door, ever unable to sleep when the night is darkest. Alicent has memorised the sound.

Some nights, she can’t sleep until she hears the clink. Her heart doesn’t settle in the right place until Criston moves in front of her rooms, as if he’ll protect her from the hurricane waiting outside.

But no matter how she tries, tonight, sleep evades her.

She gets up and summons one of her maidservants, asking for a cup of mulled wine.

When the door opens, Criston moves an inch to the left, as if expecting trouble. Their eyes lock.

Alicent clutches her robe tighter around herself, suddenly aware of how little she’s wearing in comparison to her daytime garb. Her hair is loose from its coif, and falls in unruly curls down her back, large eyes betraying an age that is still not old enough for the troubles she bears.

“Ser Criston,” she calls, before he can close the door.

He walks into the doorway. “My Queen.”

She inclines her head to indicate he enter. He does so without a flicker in his expression, ever prepared to serve.

“Are you well, my Queen?”

Her palms are sweaty. She’s never been more aware of anything in her life. Whether it’s his presence or the lingering aftermath of her dream, she does not know.

“I could not sleep.”

His brown eyes peer at her through his lashes. They’re so large, they appear wholly sincere, but she’s seen them turn cruel at the mention of Rhaenyra. Never has a man confused her as much as Criston Cole.

Daemon, enigma as he seeks to appear, is fairly predictable within his impulsivity. If one wants trouble, look to the Targaryen prince with not a chip, but a giant oak tree on his shoulder. He’s always certain trouble.

But Criston can pass for serene and dutiful and be something totally different underneath.

Yet with her, Alicent believes he is at her service. She just often has doubts as to the precise reasons why. It can’t all be because she saved him from killing himself.

“The maid – “ he begins.

“Yes, she’s gone to fetch me a jug of mulled wine. I was hoping you would partake of it with me, Ser Criston.”

He bows his head in agreement.

Alicent’s mouth twitches in a sad smile.

He never suspects she may have ulterior motives.

Even to a man as guarded as this, she is laced so tightly, he would never suspect otherwise.

She’s never wanted to be like Rhaenyra – at least not to be in her situation – but now she does. To be able to say something charming, quick-witted, and break the ice, it would be a relief.

The maid returns with the wine and Alicent pours for the knight, setting the cup beside him.

“I appreciate how much you do for my children, Ser Criston.” She gestures for him to sit, and when he does, carefully seats herself beside him.

He keeps his eyes on the ground when he nods. “It is my duty, Your Grace. I will always work in the favour of the princes and the princess.”

“You go above and beyond.”

Now he looks at her and she sees a spark of surprise. “Have I overstepped, Your Grace?”

Alicent’s face softens, and she reaches to rest her hand on his gauntlet. “No. No, you have not. I am commending you, Criston. Not everything is a question of your ability. I will never doubt that.”

She hears him breathe out, but he still appears discomfited. She takes a sip from her own cup, hoping to encourage him to drink from his. A few seconds pass, and he mirrors her action. They smile at each other. Hers is wider, and his is small, but grows the longer he lets himself gaze into her eyes.

“May I ask what troubles you, my Queen?”

He knows. He must.

He was there in the room after the fight between Rhaenyra and Alicent was broken up. He’d watched her cry with Aemond’s bloodied face tucked against her neck. He was the one who had guided them both out, away from the court’s judgemental eyes, somewhere safe to grieve alone.

“I dreamt of Rhaenyra. Of our younger days.”

He keeps his face carefully smooth. “I remember that you were good friends. She always spoke highly of you.”

At least he’s not calling her a spoiled cunt anymore.

“She spoke well of you too,” Alicent admits. “Though I never saw when it was that she grew a particular affection for you. I was adept at reading those signs in her. With Daemon it was youthful infatuation. I was guilty of it too for a while. But you, I had no idea.”

A muscle in his jaw pulses. He’s staring into the cup of wine as if it will tell him what to say next, or what to do.

Alicent waits.

“I don’t think she held an affection for me the way I did for her,” he says at length. “I misread her cues. Had I known, I would never have offered what I did on our way to Driftmark. And she’d never had had the chance to prove just how little I meant in her world.”

“Did you – “ Alicent pauses, clears her throat, as if this isn’t something she should ask. Criston glances at her, expectant. “Did you like her a lot?”

His mouth tugs upwards with a tinge of bitterness. “It was my first time at court, away from war. And I was in the service of a princess. I’d heard one too many ballads, and she had a sweet smile. I saw everyone underestimate her. I saw her father harangue her to accept marriage proposals she didn’t want. It tangled up my views on love and duty, and my protectiveness grew into something more. It was youth’s folly on my part. It wasn’t until later that I learned she came to me after her uncle left her stranded in a brothel down in the city.”

Alicent nods, a knot stuck in her throat. She still remembers the pain in her stomach when her father first told her of the news, and that he was being banished from court for it. She remembers the way Rhaenyra’s voice trembled when she dubbed it a “vile accusation.” And yet it was never far from the truth.

Now Alicent understood exactly why Rhaenyra went to Ser Criston afterwards.

She knows this man has failed to forgive Rhaenyra’s youthful indiscretions, just as much as he refuses to forgive his own, but she feels pity for him regardless.

There’s no sense of betrayal towards the princess. Rhaenyra stopped feeling pity for Alicent the moment she was coerced into becoming her new stepmother. Alicent has ceased feeling that stab of guilt whenever she spoke against the princess in her absence. Life goes on.

“Everyone commits folly in their youth. It is of no consequence.” She says the words but doesn’t truly feel them. Her own youth was wasted in biting her cuticles till they bled and praying she did no wrong in her father’s eyes. Hardly a youth at all.

“Not you, my Queen.”

Alicent almost flinches in surprise. Criston has a look of amusement on his face. It takes her a moment to process, and then she laughs, uncertain. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t believe you’ve ever committed a folly as a child.”

“I have. Plenty of them. My father was always admonishing me for them.”

“What your father deems follies, aren’t really follies. He watches Aegon with the same focus he once used on you.” Criston’s implication is clear.

Just like Aegon, Alicent was once a pawn to move around as Otto saw fit. It doesn’t feel right to allow a member of the Kingsguard to absolve her of her perceived sins, but she leans into the feeling, letting it envelop her in comfort.

“I regret one thing in regard to you,” she mutters, looking away before the heat of the wine reaches her cheeks.

“What’s that?”

“The way I referred to you when you took of your helmet during your first tourney here.”

“’Gods, he’s Dornish’?”

Alicent’s eyes widen. Criston’s voice ripples with laughter. “Rhaenyra told me. I found it amusing.”

“I did not mean it to denigrate you,” Alicent says quickly. “I swear. I just meant – I hadn’t seen many Dornish folk growing up, and I wasn’t expecting – “

“It’s alright, Your Grace,” Criston cuts her off, eyes crinkled at the corners.

He looks young again, the way she remembers.

Alicent heaves a sigh, and then laughs, embarrassed.

They both drift into a comfortable silence, each glancing up while the other isn’t looking. It happens three times before their gazes finally meet and then suddenly, neither can look away.

She tries, but the urge to drown in the dark chasm of his eyes is more enticing than anything her husband has ever said or done to her.

Criston looks away first, but it’s to reach under his gauntlet. “I brought something. I thought the young prince might like it. Losing an eye at such an age is a great blow. I know he wishes to become a better warrior, and I fear it may create problems.”

Alicent’s face falls at the mention of Aemond’s injury. “Yes, well, there’s nothing to be done. His eye is gone.” Her voice cracks, just like her son’s had.

Criston stops fiddling with the gauntlet and stares at her. It’s as if he wants to reach across and comfort her with something more tangible than words.

But instead, he removes what he was looking for and holds it out.

It’s a leather eyepatch.

“I had it made. It’s well-padded and it will fit the circumference of his head. I know he is self-conscious about the scar, but once the wound heals, he can cover most of it.”

Alicent doesn’t speak. Her eyes glimmer with an emotion she can’t put a name to and her fingers tremble as they take the patch from Criston’s palm. Her bottom lip quivers, and she sniffs, trying not to give into the weight of grief upon her chest.

“Your Grace,” Criston murmurs, troubled at her reaction.

“Don’t – “ she seals her lips, and squeezes her eyes shut, letting the tears fall free. “Don’t call me that. Call me Alicent for once. I hear the name my mother gave me so little these days.”

He swallows, something unreadable flickering across his face. “Alicent.”

She inhales, a shivering breath, and clutches the eyepatch to her chest. “He’s going to look like a Braavosi ruffian,” she laughs, but it sounds more like a sob. “It would be highly improper.”

Criston shrugs and grins. “The boy deserves to go around however he wants after the trouble he’s had, no?”

She can already picture the scowl on her father’s face when he sees the patch.

It’s what convinces her to set aside her qualms.

Aemond will adore it. He has a knack for going straight for the thing he’s not supposed to, and just as with Vhagar, he’ll continue to make those decisions well into the future. At least Alicent can give him her blessing on this one.

“Thank you,” she says, and her voice barely breaks above a whisper. “You are good to me. To us.”

They smile at each other, and a picture of utter serenity invades her mind’s eye.

In it, her children don’t have silver hair, but red locks like her own, and deep, beautiful brown eyes like his. Their home is small, but happy, and each night when he returns, all four of them run to him, trying to tell him about their day at the same time. Alicent lingers in the back, waiting for her turn, knowing it will always come.

“Your Grace?”

The formal address shatters her vision like an arrow through glass.

She blinks, bringing herself to reality, to the quiet, dark room, so spacious and luxurious.

And him.

He’s closer now, and his hand is halfway up, as if he’s unsure whether he’s allowed to touch her.

Alicent takes it without thinking and kisses the back before pressing it to her cheek.

He doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t say a word. His fingers tighten around hers and his armour shifts as he leans in.

Alicent doesn’t lift her head. She’s afraid of what she might see in the reflection of his eyes. She’s afraid she’ll see herself, yearning, something she’s long forced herself never to do.

“Alicent.”

“I won’t,” she whispers. “I won’t make you break your oath a second time. I’m not like her. I’m not her.”

“I know. I know.” He sets his other hand beneath hers, supporting it. “You’re not Rhaenyra. You are yourself. And I chose to serve you for that, not because I owe you my life and my dignity.”

“Rhaenyra made her choices out of youthful folly, and I am a grown woman. This is wrong.” She lets go of his hand, but he tightens his grip before she can take hers back. It’s not an aggressive hold, but it’s enough to keep her reined in close to him.

“I would never encourage you to do anything you did not want to, my Queen,” he says, and she now sees what Rhaenyra saw in him.

That wide-eyed devotion, the darkness stirring just underneath, as if he would do anything Alicent asked, no matter how cruel.

How could anyone say no to such intensity? Except Rhaenyra used him as a replacement, and Alicent has nothing to replace. She is a grown woman, but in this aspect, her experience is lacklustre.

“I don’t know what I want,” she chokes out, biting her lip to keep it from trembling.

“That’s not quite true, is it?” he says kindly.

She shakes her head. “I want a great many things, most of them to do with my children. But for myself, I don’t know what I want. Perhaps I want to sleep. Or to be at peace. Or maybe I want never to worry about another thing as long as I live.”

Her voice breaks as she remembers Aemond wiping his tears with haste so she won’t see them, and Aegon turning away to hide how her words trouble him, and Helaena – sweet Helaena – hoping her mother will understand what she means without having to try and explain it all the time.

And then she looks up at Criston and he is looking at her, only her.

Not Alicent the queen, nor Alicent the mother, nor Alicent the daughter.

Just Alicent.

She leans in for the space of a long sigh, and kisses his lips, seeking a taste of what it is that makes him see her that way.

Criston doesn’t let her pull back. His hand is behind her head – gentle, as if she were made of crystal – and his lips move like warm silk, pressed over her mouth. He kisses each corner, and then the bow of her upper lip, his breath soaked into hers. The scent of mulled wine is strong, but underneath, she tastes something sweeter. She wonders if she’s imagining it.

He manoeuvres her with an ease that steals her breath away.

One moment she’s on the seat, the next she’s half on his lap and his arm is braced around her slender waist.

She’s never been kissed like this before, like the centre of the universe is hidden between her lips and he means to steal it.

“Criston – “

His name is muffled in the wet slide of his tongue over hers, and she isn’t sure what she means to say next. He doesn’t give her the chance to think about it. His hand braces against the side of her neck, pulling her closer, until she’s caged.

This is a cage I would live in forever.

It takes the will of the gods to end the kiss.

The second she does, his mouth grasps at her chin, her cheek, her jaw, her throat, reaching for anything she’ll give him. And for a few heartbeats, she lets him have it all. She pretends her body is his to do with as he pleases, and that no one will ever come through that door to break them up.

She pretends she is his, and he is hers.

And then her body strains back, breaking the restraint of his arm.

Criston releases her immediately, breath coming short, eyes glittering with arousal.

Her own face is no better. Soft steps retreat, taking her back until she finds the bedpost. It’s the only thing keeping her knees from giving out.

Criston stands, and she’s suddenly aware of how much larger he is. It doesn’t help the heat spreading across her body, or the heartbeat pulsing in her throat. Her cheeks are still wet with tears.

“We can’t,” is all she manages to breathe out.

He nods, a sincere gesture. He understands.

Alicent thinks then that she might die to be understood like this always, that she’d die for him.

His white cloak whispers across the floor when he approaches.

A coarse hand rests ever so soft against the petal-skin of her cheek. It brushes down towards her chin, tilting it up. He studies her face as if she were a finely woven tapestry, each thread made of precious gold and silver.

“Your tears are as beautiful as the rest of you,” he murmurs. “But would that I could, I’d banish them from your eyes forever.”

Alicent trembles, trying not to let out the sob building up in her chest.

He presses a kiss to her forehead, chaste, and his hand drops away her face.

He leaves and behind him, lingers a poignant scent she’s only ever breathed in the godswood.

It’s holy.

“What’s this?”

Aemond looks confused at the velvet pouch she dangles before him.

Aegon is sitting on a nearby chair, sober for once, and Helaena is curled up by the fireplace, making swirling patterns with the corpses of dead bugs. Aegon keeps cringing and telling her not to bring them too close to his feet. She threatens to throw one in his open mouth when he’s asleep.

Their bickering continues in the background as Alicent pulls Aemond close. “Open it.”

He does, and removes the patch with a blithely confused face. “What is it?”

“It’s a patch for your eye, you dolt,” Aegon calls.

“Aegon, don’t be mean to your brother.”

“Why not? He told father I knew about the bastards. I got barked at.”  

“I was protecting mother,” Aemond snaps.

“Yes,” Alicent says quickly, before it can get out of hand. “And I know you were as well, Aegon. Thank you.”

Aegon opens his mouth to say something, frowns, and then grunts. Alicent gaze lingers on him for a moment, feeling that familiar sadness, but then she’s distracted by Aemond putting on the patch. He laughs in delight as he darts towards the mirror.

“I look like a Braavosi sea lord!” he exclaims.

“This is what he’s giggling over!” Aegon laughs. “No more ‘I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon?’ Pretentious twat.”

Helaena chooses that precise moment to throw a dead bug at Aegon’s head, and the room erupts into chaos.

Alicent’s first instinct is to shout and stop them, order them to behave like the royalty they are.

But then she notices the maidservants giggling, and she lets it carry on. Helaena, emboldened by her initial attack, chases her older brother with a whole tray of bugs, and Aemond stands at the centre of it all, doing his best impression of a Braavosi water dancer.

Alicent smiles so wide her face hurts.

They look like children.

It won’t last, but they look like children again.

[sofasoap]

Malen`kaya printsessa (Маленькая принцесса)

Pairing: Nikolai x F!Reader ( aka Mini ) + OC ( Anya MacTavish). hints of other pairings too. Warning: M Theme. Set in the future , spoiler for " Lastochka - raging waves". talk of children, pregnancy, violence. Author note: really writing this as a comfort fic for myself and @nrdmssgs wanting a comfort Nikolai fic :) this is for you.

The OC's belongs to my fellow Moots: Olga 'Zhar' Samoilova - @nrdmssgs Christine 'Riot' Vega - @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot Mylène "petra" scholten de ridder - @siilvan

“Papa! Papa!!”  

Nikolai turned his head as he heard his little precious princess running up towards him with a little paper plane in her hand. ”Look what дядя Krueger made for me!!” she jumped up and down excitedly.

“Krueger.” Nikolai raised his eyebrow,amused at the news of his daughter's unlikely playmate. 

“дядя Krueger, he’s really good!! He said he’s going to fold more for me!” 

“Is he now?” Nikolai jumped down from the top of the helicopter, wiping his hand with a rag before sitting down and waving his daughter over, taking a break from fixing his trusty flying machine.

Anya happily blabbering about what other activities her Tetya and Dyadya had been doing with her. Zhar always lets her sit beside her in the office and draws on scrap pieces of paper, Yuri always follows Anya as she goes around the base,keeping an eye on her in case she runs into trouble. Now Krueger seems to take a liking to the little girl. 

His little Princess really has the Chimera wrapped around her little fingers. 

Just like how her Ma had him. 

His two beloved birds. 

The two treasures nearly got stolen from him. 

Devastating mistakes he vow not to ever happen again. 

Nikolai still has nightmares of the day he found the house full of dead bodies and trails of blood. 

Anya’s trembling and traumatised face. 

His Lastochka’s tortured body.

The day he felt everything was taken away from him. 

For the sins he had committed. 

“...And тётя Olga was yelling at дядя Krueger for being a bampot!!” Anya giggled. 

“mmm, did she now?” Nikolai replied absentmindedly, patting his daughter’s head. 

“… Papa, you are not listening!” Anya pouted as she poked Nikolai, annoyed at her Papa. She adjusted herself to finding a more comfortable position before continuing her report on what she had been up to.

“Oh Papa! can you please take me for a ride in your new plane next time?” Anya begged. “дядя Krueger said you are getting new gears for the team! I want to go for a ride too!” 

Nikolai looked down at her daughter. This girl has a strange fixation on flying machines from the time she was born, and it doesn’t help that her uncle and aunties have been giving her toys that are related to helicopters and aeroplanes and everything military like. 

Without doubt Anya IS his daughter. 

“Now Anya, just remember, don’t throw your Uncle Gaz out of the helicopter like your Papa did –” Gaz warned the little three month old baby as he put more of his newly crocheted dolls and planes into her cot. 

“Gaz,I seriously don’t think you need to worry about that…” 

“Just yet. Who knows. Not saying this cute little bub will do it but.. If he is indeed her father’s daughter….”

“Gaz…”

“But…”

“Please Papa….” Anya battered her round puppy like eyes, tears gathering. He sighed. He just couldn’t say no to her. “Alright. Remember you have to…”

“Listen to everything Papa tells me to do. I know.” Anya jumped up and gave her father a big hug and a kiss. “Thank you papa. Oh There’s Ma!” Anya turned her head and ran across the room as she spotted you slowly waddling into the hanger.  

“Ma! Papa said he will take me for a ride next time in the new plane!!” Anya announced the news excitedly to you as she took your hand and carefully led you to sit down beside Nikolai.

You look at your husband, silently asking the question. He just laughed and shook his head. 

“You really can’t say no to her, can you?” You chuckled as you lean against your husband, swatting his creeping hand away from your ass. “You dote on her too much.”

“How can you say no to that sweet little face?” Nikolai replied innocently, settling his hand around your waist instead, and gently running his hand on your raised bump. “I would give everything to keep that sweet smile on her face.” and to keep the happiness on YOUR face.

“Everything?” 

“Everything.” Except for letting her take over Chimera. She deserves a world without violence from what she has seen from a young age.

Nikolai watches as Anya spotted another Chimera soldier walking into the hangar and ran towards them to show off her paper planes.

“Well, even if Vitaly says he wants to marry Anya?” you joked. 

Nikolai’s face dropped as soon as he heard the name. “Well DID HE NOW.” he growled. 

“Nik. he’s only four years old. I don’t think you need to worry about your daughter being taken away by the boy so soon.” you try to sooth your husband’s sour mood. “Besides, are you sure you want to take a toddler’s word so seriously?” 

“I don’t like the boy.”

“Just because who his father is?” you frowned. “Nik. We’ve been over this. He is in good hands now. He isn’t going to cause any more harm to anyone else. You know Mylène will make sure of it.”

Nikolai stayed silent.

“Besides, You know Chris will be the first one to go after him and the boy if anything happens.” you spoke up again as you patted your husband’s chest. 

“Maybe I should train my son to ward off anyone who comes near his sister..”

“Nik. I haven’t even given birth yet.” You deadpanned. 

“Forward planning.”

“Can you please not.” you sighed. “Maybe you should use your time to plan for more useful things…” 

“It is useful. Planning for the well-being of my daughter’s future.” Nikolai snorted. 

“Or spend a bit more time thinking about your wife’s happiness too.” you cock an eyebrow, toying with his gold chain.

Nikolai immediately took the hint.

“Anya!” He yelled across the room. Anya turned around, halting her conversation with the soldier. “Go to your тётя Olga’s office, Papa and Ma will be a bit busy until dinner time…”

Zhar ended up babysitting Anya until the next morning. 

дядя - Uncle тётя - Aunty

@homicidal-slvt @nrdmssgs @siilvan @roosterr @preciouslittlecreature @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot @whydoilikewhump @alypink @ashwasherelol @okayyadriana @liyanahelena @miyabilicious @celshideout  @abbeyrjm-blog @shyravenns @okamimarta @gazs-blue-hat @merkitty49 @cumikering

[perplexingluciddreams]

Update on seating for downstairs!:

I have had a lot of trouble with sitting up and supporting my floppy hypotonic body, for a long time (really my whole life, but worse now with overlap with other conditions like ME/CFS). And I say repeatedly to Mum, "I am wasting precious energy just trying to hold my body up and together". And since blue chair doesn't work for me;

Mum did some research and found the Recliner Support System (RSS) from Special Tomato. I actually already knew this existed, but from weird ways brain works and puts up barriers for what is "possible" and "allowed" - and how it doesn't occur to me to communicate things to other people, or I assume they know what is inside my brain... - I never showed to Mum before.

But now we will actually get it! (I try not to to get too excited this time, because I don't cope well with disappointment. But I do hope hope that this will work for me).

Here is pictures:

[Image description: two images of the Recliner Support System by the brand Special Tomato. It is a special highly supportive seating system for disabilities. It is in shades of dark grey, and is several pieces of fabric that drapes over any recliner chair. The first image has included molded seat and backrest, the second image is without that. It has a head support and calf supports in light grey padding. It has a five point chest harness and a three point pelvic strap. End ID.]

It looks very good and like it will support my floppy body properly. I will get it with the optional seat and backrest. Like I said, don't want to get too high hopes, but I do have a good feeling for this.

I want to be able to cope with being downstairs for longer periods (although, my physical body is not the only barrier to this for me. Also is autism, and suspected autistic catatonia, and weird traumatised brain with its rules about where is "allowed" to go).

Mum and Dad measured me for the seat today. I will fit the biggest size. I am lucky to be not very tall or big, in this case! It is mostly meant to fit children, but fits small adults (like me!) too.

For trying at first, we will just put it on top of my blue chair (the one that doesn't work for me and is very bad and uncomfortable). I am worried about that because I have bad brain associations with that chair. And worried it will make the new thing feel bad/uncomfortable, or have bad associations too. But Mum says we can always get a different recliner chair for it, after I try (if it works for me).

This is very positive. It is now ordered. I have lots of feelings about it, though. New things is hard. I have a lot of worry and anxiety.

I will try my best 🤷🏻‍♂️🤞🏻

[keef-a-corn]

I’ve just hc Tech as an absolute menace at this rate

My boy is disrespectful and steals from any and everyone (not kidding either. Bro has stolen a lightsaber before, I’m not hearing otherwise.)

TBF though- Chaos Tech is an absolute delight

Also gotta get this out there- I simply adore the idea that the batch are actually still kiddos. The amount of AUs I have where they’re just traumatised little gremlins trying to live.

Only time they aren’t children is when Tech has a relationship with Phee

But every other time?

Kiddos. 100%.

Works hand in hand with my Chaos Tech

He’s tiny, he’s Chaos, and if he gets caught, he’s the precious darling in tears.

[hornblowershitposts]

BURGER BABY 2/3 - SHE WAKES

(transcript under the cut)

The Week I Grew Up

I Grew Up dying…”

reborn Badly

Unconscious and severely malnourished,

Completely traumatised, couldn’t eat or sleep, and

HIDING IN THE 

Darkness

I cried

HUNGRY Lonely

“Mama,” I wept

“Mama!” It seemed like a dream to me.

There’s a SPECIAL LITTLE GIRL

CRAWLING

To the ends of the earth

BEWARE OF… Burger baby

cry (cries / cried / crying)

Children cry when they get hurt.

The baby is crying because [___] is hungry.

Are Your Children a Curse?

my toddler loves to

BITE ME…

‘SHE MADE ME CRY’

Don’t let the small size and compact design lead you to any false conclusions

FURY OVER MATERIAL NEEDS

spurred me into action

What a bite! SEVERS ALL FAMILIAL TIES FOR GOOD

’This baby is a precious gift’

requires the following care: THE BODY

your body

YOUR HEART

MINCE

Meat

BRAINS? BLOODY MEAT OF THE BODY

BONES & MUSCLES

skin

Cindy likes her dinner.

THIS WAS MY FUTURE AND I’D MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE”

[ohsayit]

A little thought about AA and how he uses his own body

Not everyone the spawn brought back to Caz was a love/sex victim. Can't remember the name but one of the ladies took children in.

So here is how I think Astarion started his conquest.

Caz, an acquaintance from his business dealings, appeared at a very convenient timing (beaten to near death by the Gurs) to offer help. At the time, Astarion wanted revenge and probably thought he would stay as Caz's "acquaintance" of some sort.

How wrong was he.

Astarion is a very self centered character and values himself a lot. He wouldn't take orders just because Caz gave it. Hence the "education"/torture/break in from Caz.

When Astarion was finally out and about to start doing his job, whatever connection and influence he had in his mortal days were probably weakened or vanished. Also he would be freshly traumatised. All he had was himself.

To bring people back without raising questions, he would have to go with people who wouldn't be missed and seemingly had it coming. He was not there to have a real relationship. To snatch people, the promise of a night of passion or fun would be the most efficient and straight forward.

Consider all the stats a character can have in the game. The poor thing only has 8 STR. And with his beauty at his disposal, that's the quickest and easiest.

With legs open, his or others, his job got done. Not that he absolutely can't lure people in other ways, but when he was given the absolute advantage of his looks, why choose the difficult and non fail proof way?

And my guess would also be, at the start, he also wanted some comfort in the flesh, distraction, or a moment of escape. However, not every mark is to his liking. Caz's command stood and so as his job. At the end, he just didn't care. He didn't have the luxury to.

Finally, this takes me to why I write this post. Lollllll

Question I saw was: would AA be open to carnal pleasure with people/bodies other than player?

I think my answer is: this is again, ironically, up to the player. Just like if he gets to ascend or not.

It is down to how the player would deal with such history.

Personally, I don't think he would. He had had more than enough of flesh before. IIRC, he doesn't need to do any checks in the Haarlep sex scene, that says to me he is on that level of sexy things lolll. When he had no need for that, it's a leisure, even luxury thing to do. While he could perform perfectly, he said it in Act 2 that it felt tainted. To actually enjoy it takes time and effort. It's luxury.

He values himself so much. I can't imagine him throwing his precious ass at random people. Also, my posessive Tav wouldn't help with that either lol cuck is just not my thing.

On the other hand, becoming hypersexual (sorry I am not certain about the word but I presume you know what I mean) as a response is also common. In that case, he is free to do that on one condition: bodies he sampled on doesn't get to see the sun next day. He is so going to enjoy my Tav's jealousy and tolerance (albeit reluctant and dismay), as his bastard self. He may even occasionally do that just to feel Tav spoiling him in her own way: let him enjoy himself or do as he pleased because she wants to let him. Carnal pleasure comes second. We all know he loves it when Tav cares for him.

And both responses are rooted in a conversation I had before: the poor thing only had Caz for so long. Without Caz, he really doesn't know what to do with himself. Part of the obsession for Tav is built on that. Tav is a Caz replacement or place filler to an extent. The poor thing really needs a Tav that is his and for him alone. 💔 my heart aches so bad.

[unwelcome-ozian]

heyo, a while ago I found a huge long list in I think a pdf or on a webpage of a really large collection of types of programming but I can't find it again no matter how hard I search, I was wondering if you might have a link to something like that? I distinctly remember there being a good chunk about gemstone programming/hierarchy which given some of my triggers and memories I'm heavily beginning to suspect may be key to my system programming so would like to find it again or any resources about it if possible :o Thank you ever so much!!

Here’s what I have for Jewel programming.

Jewels Programming- Children of programmers will go through either metals or jewels programming. Jewels are considered higher than metals. Which program is put in and when, is dependent on the subject’s status, their parent’s status, the location of birth, the group the subject is born into, and the programmers that work with them. Jewel programming is used to reinforce cult or abuse - group commands such as recall Rubies, emeralds and diamonds are considered powerful alters inside and are in leadership roles, both internally and externally. The subject’s sense of identity, and status may be held in these alters. The jewels are used as reward based programming. Training for this program often begins between ages two and three. Each step of obedience is linked to receiving a jewel. To earn the designated jewel the subject must: a.) show sexual adeptness b.) Pass programming tests c.) Be rewarded for special achievement (fighting, survival) d.) be adept at games e.) show heightened intelligence f.) attributes of trauma bonding g.) Show betrayal skills.

Amethyst is usually the first jewel earned, and is linked to keeping secrets, never telling, and passing the first step of obedience.

Ruby sexual alters inside. As the subject is sexually traumatised and survives, or creates sexual alters to please adults, they are rewarded by being allowed to become a ruby.

Moon Stone given to subjects who achieve rank in ritual setting.

Emerald will often come later (ages 12 to 15). This is considered very precious, and is linked to family loyalty, witchcraft, and spiritual achievement.

Morganite Given to child alters who are skilled at their assigned job and hold the body well through training.

Sapphire- Given to subjects when they have mastered not wanting anything, remain quiet when their needs are not met and when they are left alone for extended periods of time. Paraiba

Tourmaline-subject has mastered photographic response and memory.

Blood Stone Given when the subject has terminated another subject, participated in a ritual sacrifice without fear, remorse, or other negative emotions.

 Melanite- given to the subject when they have survived a hunt, and found the hunted.

Hackmanite-Subject shows ability to re-enact programming scenarios with minor subjects. 

Cat's Eye Aquamarine- Subject completes assigned task and responds to call back.

Diamond is the highest gemstone, and not all children will earn it. It is considered a high achievement that may not be earned until adulthood, after passing rigorous tasks. It will be the controlling alters in a gemstone system. A diamond has passed all twelve steps of discipline, plus passed unusual tests and will have highest family loyalty.

Here’s the Link to this information.

I don’t know where a list of gems could be found on the internet. 

Take care,

Oz

[annarellix]

The Altar Girls by Patricia Gibney (Detective Lottie Parker #13)

The little girl looked like an angel in her thin white robe, her long black hair spread around her head like a dark halo on the snow. Her hands rested on her chest, fingers interlaced as if she had fallen asleep while praying. But she would never wake up again…

When Detective Lottie Parker receives news that a child’s body has been found in the frozen grounds of the cathedral, a shiver runs down her spine. She’s terrified it will be eight-year-old Willow Devine, reported missing that morning. But when she arrives at the cathedral, holding a photo of Willow with her blonde ponytail and gap-toothed smile, she gets a terrible shock. The body is a young girl, wrapped in a white shroud, a rosary clutched in her frozen fingers. But her hair is dark, not fair. This girl isn’t Willow but another eight-year-old, Naomi. Desperate to find a connection between the two girls and to find Willow before it is too late, Lottie speaks to the girls’ families and discovers that both girls were altar servers at the cathedral. The charismatic priest Father Maguire has a watertight alibi for the time the girls went missing, but Lottie suspects the confused old lady traumatised by the discovery of Naomi’s body is hiding something… A day later, Willow’s little body is found wrapped in a white robe in the snowy grounds of a church across town. Lottie is devastated, convinced now that she can’t trust anyone, least of all the girls’ parents. Why did Willow’s mother claim the girls didn’t know each other? And why are there no photos of Naomi in her mother’s shabby house? But when a little boy from the choir goes missing too, Lottie realises she must spread her net wider. Can she stop this twisted killer before another precious life is stolen?

Buy Link: Amazon: https://geni.us/B0CDC4V8W7social

My Review: This novel grabbed me at the first page and let me go when I reached the end. It moved, made me feel for all the victims root for Lottie, her family, and hope that Sergio could be back to a loving home. Sometimes I felt the cold, the chilly atmosphere and how the characters were damaged and hurt. It’s a tense and fast paced story, a story that moved me and I felt a lot of rage as there’s a lot of victims but some are more hurt by the adults’ choices The excellent storytelling and the short chapter made me turn pages and it was a bad case of just-another-chapter as there was a new surprising twist any time I wanted to stop reading Patricia Gibney delivers another story that keeps hooked. Moving, heartbreaking and entertaining. Highly recommended. Many thanks to the publisher for this ARC, all opinions are mine

The Author Patricia is the million-copy bestselling author of the DI Lottie Parker series. She yearned to be a writer after reading Enid Blyton and Carolyn Keene and even wanted to be Nancy Drew when she grew up. She has now grown up (she thinks) but the closest she’s come to Nancy Drew is writing crime! In 2009, after her husband died, she retired from her job and started writing seriously. Fascinated by people and their quirky characteristics, she always carries a notebook to scribble down observations. Patricia also loves to paint in watercolour and lives in the Irish midlands with her children.

https://patriciagibney.com/ https://www.facebook.com/trisha460/ https://twitter.com/trisha460 https://www.instagram.com/patricia_gibney_author/

Sign up to be the first to hear about new releases from Patricia Gibney here: https://www.bookouture.com/patricia-gibney

You can sign up for all the best Bookouture deals you'll love at: http://ow.ly/Fkiz30lnzdo

[imlyfie]

Reread  @rosetintednerdglasses’s Greek Mythology Hades/Persephone AU Don’t Bite for the nth time and being the PJO fangirl I got absorbed into Uncle Rick’s Riordanverse again. 

Now I’m thinking how the Characters of Vincenzo would be as Demigods. More specifically Who would be the godly parent of the Vincenzo Cast. Here’s my take on our protagonists.

Vincenzo Cassano / Park Joo hyung

Son of Hades (obviously)

- Lmao, you saw that coming from a mile away didn't you?

- Tbh we all did. 

- His personality trait just fits the traits of a demigod of cabin 13 (ngl as a fellow Scorpio like Vinny I agree with this)

- The entire premise of the story is calling Vincenzo a ‘Monster’ associating him with death so this was a no brainer

- But actually, I had some after thoughts about him being the son of Hephaestus due to his affinity for fire but I personally just took this as a side aspect of Vincenzo with his preferences for destruction.

- His powers would be like Nico Di Angelo’s but also being able to control hellfire and metals. Basically a bit of everything because why not?

POWERS:

The ability to control Hellfire hence his affinity to regular fire which is a mild comparison of his powers and keeps him in check calms him down.

His ability of precious metal manipulation resonates with his desire for gold (let's be real who doesn't want to be rich) but imo in this AU, this greed for money is a partial excuse because gold is his main dealings (just like how he sent like 80 million euro which I can assume to be the value of the gold traded to the Luciano for Cha Young) I think his main dealing with bribery is his domain when it comes to material affinities. And since he can conjure precious metals out of thin air he is never out of money or else how do you explain him getting enough Booralro suits to change here and there every episode when he got robbed in his first five minutes in Korea? Also side headcanon that his lighters are made of gold and platinum, the ones he conjured on his own.

he also can control the undead like Nico, but i think it would bee more watered down, occadionally summoning a kitten skeleton to keep him company in his private office or something.

Umbrakinesis (ability to control the shadows) cool ability I don't think he uses it much unless he is preparing for a combat attack but the side effect is since he does not use it much, this ability of his is only able to be harnessed in darkness. Any flick of light as bright as the billboards in Seoul city or bright street lights can cause him to strain. He can also hence shadow travel but becomes really exhausted.

And just like all children of Hades, he can control the walls of the underworld.

Preferred choice of weapon: Stygian sword and gun

-Vincenzo is more accustomed to death and is both known as the Gatto Sazio and Reaper of Scum in the mafia, the latter name mainly for his affinity of eliminating the betrayers of the Cassanos. 

As the saying goes, “you either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become a villain.” This designation might also give some insight on how Vincenzo is emotionless to killing (since in most cases, rather than death, the killing is what traumatises you) yet Vincenzo Cassano is very mechanical when it comes to his kills, going the extra mile to toy with them. Maybe being the son of the God of Death might be one of the reasons he is so unaffected, though he has trauma through nightmares, it is safe to  say that for the most part he doesn't mind if he has to kill someone, he’ll carry out the order without a second thought if he deems the victim of his kill worthy of death as a consequence for their actions  as if he is almost reaping them. Yes his actions have caused unresolved trauma to him, but he has accepted it, made peace with it. 

Imagine a young 9 year old korean boy who has just assimilated into his new italian life, name and language only to realise that he was emitting strange powers, he could bend shadows and had an affinity for metals (which were not cursed). He would hear stories about the demigods who once roamed the earth and his own family’s ancestry which travelled back to one of the children of the big three. After his parents Matteo and Fiorella Di Angelo were murdered by a freak robbery incident Vincenzo Di Angelo found himself at the Cassano estate holding his family’s only heirloom of their ancestor, the Diary of Nico Di Angelo which contains tips of how to survive as a demigod of the King of the Underworld and a black Stygian sword . Imagine his mentor was a fellow demigod of Nyx, and taught him the ways to defeat monsters if he came across some, imagine him killing enough monsters both magical and mortal that he looks at himself and realises he is still alive, he has lived long enough and killed enough to become a villain forging his own path away from the gods.

Should I write this? Please someone write this so I can die happily.

Hong Cha Young 

Daughter of Eris (goddess of chaos/ mischief and strife)

Another close call but this time with the goddess Nike goddess of victory (because my girl does not like losing). But the more I think about it, our resident crackhead lawyer and her infamous theatrics are the main reason I chose her to be the offspring of this powerful goddess.

Headcanons borrowed and inspired by @pjoheadcanonsbyid65

“Usually very intelligent, able to properly assess any situation. Very good at finding weak spots in defences, in people or armies. those kids who can ask a question at the start of class and send the teacher on a spiral, making them completely forget about their lesson plan. Can send any room into chaos with two words. Make excellent lawyers. Will literally fight over anything”

This has Cha Young’s name written all over it. Though she loves her drama in life by creating it, she has the emotional maturity and can assess situations, has background knowledge and she is willing to create chaos for the fun of it. Just look at ep 6, 15 and 16 for her strong points in relating to this theory. She is a ball of chaos and though more toned down than the riordanverse wiki claims how Eris’ children usually are, Cha Young is pretty spot on with chaos surrounding her.

 Hong Cha Young thrives in the commotion and adrenaline caused by arguments, she is an ace in court because of it. She bribed her witnesses, but in ep one where she decimates her father’s case? All by herself, she wins over her father who has 22 more years of experience than her. She even enjoyed and wanted Pig's blood on Jang Han Seok and when the ensemble screams in shock and disgust she grins and giggles giddily on adrenaline. Want more proof? Look at ep 6 where the tenants cause a scene in court at the gallery, she smirks, she glows in the chaos and she wins. When confronted with Choi Myung Hee she is practically giddy over the accomplishment, mainly fed by the chaos. Hours later she doesn't let go of the scene and laughs about the chaos executed and how the judge gets stung by the Hornets. 

Since being the daughter of Eris means inadvertently she is a granddaughter of goddess Nyx the goddess of Night, she can also to some degree shadow travel and has the constant pull towards Vincenzo for no reason. Though the attraction is one, their magnetic pull is another that can vaguely be traced to their shared power of darkness. Cha Young has never harnessed this, and mainly uses chaos, but I figured Vin teaches her this as well as becoming a villain.

Facts from the Riordan wiki page

Children of Eris can be very unpredictable and persuasive

The children of Eris can shadow travel due to the fact that Eris' mother is Nyx.

13. Children of Eris don't fear the Underworld.

Children of Eris are able to make a room darker due to Nyx being Eris' mother and have the ability of Umbrakinesis.

7. Children of Eris tend to have a rebellious nature because they are fond of chaos and anarchy

Peferred weapon of choice: Most of the time are her pointed high heels which can cause severe damage if struck  by her kick in the place where the sun doesn't shine or a dagger knife or celestial bronze and cursed gold given to her by Eris the gold causes sharp prickling pain that intensifies for an hour before the victim gets treated, however the gold only works on deities and/or non-mortals (though she prefers to stab them in the arms and legs before running away, she doesn't like bloodshed and kept it locked up once she left camp)

Side headcanon: that Cha Young went to camp when young but since Eris’ cabin was not widely recognised she was embarrassed by her godly mother since she was the only Eris kid there, she preferred the woman her father married when she was three, to be her actual mother. Her father was a mess not knowing how to handle her hence he sent her to camp at the age of 10 causing her to bear a grudge against him. She went to camp until 18 where she was studious, even rivalling Athena’s kids in her pursuit to become a lawyer out of spite to beat her father in his own game since she knew very well the topic of law was the only thing that sparked a decent conversation between them, and even that soon spiralled into a fierce argument, and the louder they both got, the more the temper and emotional whirlwinds flared, the stronger she became, she emitted a sheen of confidence, the aura that spells: ‘You fell into my trap, it's too late for you' which she discovered in one of their many arguments being the observant girl she is, and it enhanced her willingness to unleash her dramatic flare.

Vincenzo teaches her to embrace the powers she is born with and the skills she has developed. She learns through this journey with him that your powers are best when put to use for benefit of others doc not define who you are, and if the actions are taken to achieve your goal, and your powers mean the world calls you a villain, then fuck their opinions because you live your life to win it.

[ewan-mo]

More meetings and a happy reunion

28th February 2023

Entrance to Uganda Martyr's Hospital, Ibanda (see URL at bottom)

Leaving the guesthouse at 7.45 we headed down to Uganda Martyrs Hospital, for the 8am meeting. This turned out to be the weekly Continuing Medical Education and we were the main item this morning! All the student nurses and their tutors were there plus many of the trained staff, about 100 maybe? We told them our story and the history of Jamie’s Fund, conveying, I hope, some of the fascination, satisfaction and importance of working in mental health. 

It was lovely to hear from one or two real enthusiasts, and to learn about the local situation. Very similar to elsewhere, so many local  people still don’t know that epilepsy and mental illness can be treated with modern medicine, counselling and therapy.

We moved on to the actual meeting with the hospital’s management team. Although the team understand the importance of mental health very well, we felt that the relatively new medical director didn’t share the huge enthusiasm of Sister Flora, for example, who is a dedicated psychologist and has a Master’s in Public Health, or Sister Fiona, who loves to work with the poorest in the community, and who has a charity distributing used clothing to families who have no money to buy clothes or shoes. Because of the lack of resources, mental health service development can be hard work.

Carrying cooking bananas to market : the staple carb here!

During lunch in Mbarara we were watched from across the road by a marabou stork on its messy nest.

In complete contrast our next meeting was at Ruharo Hospital. Our warm welcome from the medical superintendent left me with a slight lingering doubt – had I seen him before, somewhere? The name, Bekson, was also familiar – email correspondence, perhaps? 

We were joined by a power-packed executive team – the hospital accountant, essential to have a good one of those when resources are few and very precious; the head of nursing services, Sister Moreen (pronounced Maureen!); Dr Joel who looks after HIV, with its psychological impact, amongst all his other medical skills, and Gilbert the hospital administrator - intelligent, energetic, forthcoming and not only very interested in mental health but definitely convinced of the value of mhGAP  from having seen it in action. “It makes so much difference.” We think he’s a real ally.

Finally, a late entrant to the party, in came the Reverend Zipporah, striking in her black surplice. She is the hospital chaplain. She proved to be another mental health ambassador, with a special concern for children in troubled and traumatised families. Wow.

What a team! We had such a good time talking with them about their plans, hopes and dreams for the future. Jamie’s Fund is sponsoring Miria, who will qualify as a Psychiatric Clinical Officer at the end of the year and will return to Ruharo to lead the mental health team.

During our conversation we discussed some vulnerable groups within the population. I mentioned maternal mental health, and suddenly, almost out of nowhere, Dr Bekson suddenly asked “Did you ever teach psychiatry in Gulu?”

The answer is that I did and it turns out that ten years ago I taught him his community mental health at the medical school in northern Uganda. We had a fine reunion. I reminded him that one of his colleagues, Simon Peter, who was the lead student, gently chastised me for my rather inept technological skills. As I recall, that was during my presentation on maternal mental health. The mention of this subject must have been what reminded Bekson that indeed we had met!

The church at Ruharo mission, Mbarara.

Simon Peter, his fellow student, who we will meet next week, also graduated in 2015. These two former students of mine are now in important and influential positions in two church hospitals, and can have such a beneficial impact for patients and colleagues.They are certainly beginning to improve mental health services. My young men are doing well, and confirm our view that good leadership really matters for effective service development.

We drove on about 20 miles to stay in a pleasant guesthouse off the main road. When we arrived we realised we had enjoyed a break here six years ago.

View from our room. Note the approaching rain sweeping over the hills.

[firebirdsdaughter]

Okay, so…

… Options.

Will I forever feel like Horobi was jipped character development and a character arc that was owed to him? Hell yes. Will I always disagree w/ certain choices made? Also hell yes.

But there are things they can do that they are maybe doing that could make this work to the degree that it can work. Horobi reaching the conclusion that humans are the root of the problem and therefore HumaGear (and esp Jin, I would love love love if they lean into the family angle on this, the tragedy of a parent willing to do anything for their child to the extreme is a pain I like), bc even if there are a few generally okay humans, their collective malice (bc it’s not like the data the Ark was incorrect) will always lead to something like the Ark, and the Ark is also a threat to HumaGear (and Jin, and specifically caused Horobi to hurt Jin), makes sense, given his experiences, the way his mind works, esp w/ being an AI, and, again, his position as a father (come on guys, lean into the family angle, you know it’ll hurt more!). So him resolving that humans still have to go to make the world safe for his son and for HumaGear at large is in character.

What I’m anxious about as far as that goes is mainly them leaning on the ‘humans are the source of all good’ thing a little to hard and treating Horobi like he’s supposed to be some sort of evil strawman when he… Has a point. Part of this is why I really hope it’s Ark One who blows up Izu or whatever in the upcoming ep bc I feel like ‘Horobi kills Izu’ would just be more fuel on that fire (esp after he very obviously established a position against harming another HumaGear, even the ones still serving humans, in this ep when the Ark pushed him too far). It goes too far to paint him as some ‘awful villain’ esp when the Ark is… Standing right there and has no qualms about killing HumaGear who interfere w/ its interests. So basically, my main fear is Horobi getting reduced to a ‘mere evil villain’ rather than a tragedy of awful circumstances beyond his control that drove him to this point. If that makes sense. The latter is really poetic and tragic and honestly, suits him and his… ‘Style,’ really, while the other is just… Shallow. So I’m hoping they lean on the whole ‘noble goals’/‘the tragedy of a parent who will do anything for their child’ angle rather than ‘he’s bad bc he doesn’t like humans’ or whatever, if that makes sense.

And, honestly, I am prepared for him to die over this. My one conditions are that Jin… Actually reacts (my biggest gripe w/ Graphite’s death was how little reaction it got even when it happened). Like, Horobi dying for this, esp if they lean into the him doing this for HumaGear/Jin thing… I want Jin to actually mourn him. Like. I want him to recognise the tragedy and situations that lead to this, and grieve over the fact that if things had gone differently, Horobi might have been able to make it work (esp if my theory comes true!). I want that to be a lesson he takes w/ him, I want it to be shown Horobi mattered to him. I want him to grieve his father, and be angry about the scenarios that lead to his death. In the preview, he sounds upset that the Ark might kill Horobi (notably playing right after apparently being ordered to kill Horobi himself). I will go wild if it goes something like Horobi protects Jin from Ark One and then dies in his arms and Jin is enraged at the Ark and ultimately resolves to find a way to make a better world for HumaGear and fulfil Horobi’s true ultimate dream of living free. Jin caring. That’s all I’m asking at this point. I would fucking die if they let Fuwa react, but I’ve accepted that suffering. Face still hurts from having a door slammed in it, but as you do. But they feel like they’re building it up far too much for just one deadpan line and then never mentioning it again (then again, I had similar thoughts about Graphite…).

Basically… The poetic, self-sacrifice, noble goals, almost… Kinda samurai ending works for Horobi. But only if they really treat it as such. Additionally… I really want it to impact Jin. I’d love for the personal, core aspect to be that Horobi wants a better world for his son, though he might struggle w/ that personal desire bc he’s been brainwashed out of wanting things for himself for so long, he might see that specific feeling as selfish. It feels like a last words thing, where he dies in Jin’s arms confessing that in the end, what he wanted was a world where Jin could live freely, no matter the cost (again, the tragedy of a parent willing to do anything to secure what they have come to believe is best for their child). For extra angst, maybe him having a last moment where he confesses that, despite that, he also wanted to be part of that world. Starts out just being like ‘I wanted a world where you could smile freely,’ but comes to realise too late that he actually wanted to be part of that world. Wanted to see Jin’s smile (oh my gods, Horobi doing the Snape ‘look at me’ thing only it’s him asking to see Jin smile one more time… TT^TT).

And that’s not even touching on the possibility of leaving it open for resurrecting him. I mean, obviously, there’s fic, but there’s still the chance of the show leaving it open—or, Takahashi does have precedent for last minute rises from the dead.

If… Any of that made any sense?

[urlkssknt]

last piece (5)

pairing - nanami kento x fem!gojou!reader x fushiguro toji

genre - parent!au, 6.8k

warnings - mature content mdni!! 18+ unprotected s3x daddy kink mention of plan b bullying!!! people just being really rude!

a/n - finally finished in time! i’m going to be really busy this week so the new chapter might be really delayed because of it

masterlist

now playing - die for you, the weeknd

Never in your life did you expect to get a call from Megumi’s primary school teacher, asking you to come to the office to deal with an unexpected ‘issue’ involving your blue-eyed baby, two pink haired twins, and some child in a different class. You figured the world would have to end before a teacher would call you to talk to you about your precious son’s behaviour, even then it would never be about anything bad, just showers of compliments over how amazingly well he is performing at school.

Oh how you were wrong.

You rushed to the primary school as quickly as you could, today is a busy day. You have to go pick up your nieces, Maki and Mai, from their secondary school, collect your dress from the designer boutique in the centre of the city which is owned by a friend, and have to find time to make Megumi dinner! It was all too much for just one person to deal with. At times like this you secretly wished for a nanny or personal assistant to help deal with the workload. The call from the school created a massive disruption in your tight schedule, Megumi and the girls would just have to order themselves food as a last resort. It definitely saves you from having to spend hours on deciding a dish all three of them would like and eat, being picky eaters seems to run in the Zen’in family.

“Sorry I’m late,” you apologised as soon as you entered the classroom after being guided by the receptionist in the office, hoping the teacher would hear the tone of sincerity in your voice. The classroom was filled with eight other mothers, probably parents of children in the same class or year group as your son, you weren’t too sure since you never got the time to get to know any of the other ladies. That being said, you did know of them. Although what you did know was that none of them liked you and harbour some negative feelings towards you for whatever petty reason. You gave them a shy smile as you neared the primary school teacher standing at his desk who held a worried look. Instantly, you thought something bad had happened to Megumi or the twins. “Did something happen?”

The brown haired man tried to give you an explanation, parting his mouth in a genuine attempt to voice the situation, only to end up closing it. He was simply too afraid. He didn’t want to lose the job he loved so much, it was rare nowadays to find teachers who actually cared for their students. All the women in the room wouldn’t listen to his explanation of how the situation occurred, they all just took his words and twisted them like they were trying to juice oranges. The explanation was a simple one too. It didn’t need to be taken this far, and it wouldn’t have been if the other class teacher didn’t accept the bribe from one of the complaining mothers.

“Your son is going to be suspended,” a high-pitched voice from behind you screeches loud and clear, making you cringe on the inside, thank goodness the woman couldn’t see you visibly wincing at her shrill. “He pushed my sweet Daichi over and now he’s traumatised!” She continues with the melodramatic theatrics.

When you turn around to face who spoke in such an annoying voice, your sight lands on the only woman standing up amongst the seated group of mothers. No matter how hard you try to run from them, there will always be one woman in the room who tries her absolute best to rip you to pieces. In this room of women who blindly follow a bitch, it’s Shin Junko, a loud mouthed has-been who was a child actress.

“All the mother’s here agree that your son and his gang of friends are having a negative effect on our children,” Junko crosses her arms over her chest as she explains her exaggerated point whilst scrutinising you with her dark eyes, completely failing to realise that she was villainizing four year olds who don’t completely understand the world yet. “Course, we can only blame the parents.” If she hadn’t pissed you off before, she has now by attacking your parenting skills, not just yours but Nanami’s too. You’re 70% sure that Nanami spent more time and care with his twins than the husbands of the women in the room, especially more than Junko’s husband.

Junko takes a step closer to you so she is towering over you in her unnecessarily high 10-inch heels. You weren’t one to judge especially when it comes to the height of a heel but this is a primary school not a red carpet, there’s a time and place for everything. It’s tacky. “There must have been a reason your husband left you.” Junko smirks as she thinks she’s won the snarky battle, which was only occurring in her mind because she wouldn’t let you get a single word in, as you simply stand in your spot with no reaction to her words. Truthfully, you wanted to punch her and hope for a tooth or two to be knocked out.

Take the high road, you remind yourself, and you’re sure if Yuuji was here he’d pester you about never following your own advice. So you decided to not give Junko anymore of your attention, who easily became agitated from the lack of reaction. You were here for your boys, not some lonely housewife who wanted to be a bully.

“Mr Kwon, are my kids really going to be suspended?” You ask the teacher in a short whisper. There was no way a primary school would suspend their students, you wouldn’t allow it to happen, especially to your children who you knew did nothing to instigate the whole ordeal. You had to hand it to Junko, she was an amazing actress, your favourite role of hers is this one: a bitter and insecure woman who picks on children.

The teacher let out a defeated sigh, he wasn’t too sure himself about what would happen, especially since no one was willing to listen to the other side of the story. “I don’t know, they created a petition and all of them have signed it.”

“Can I go talk to them myself?” Mr Kwon nods his head in reply and leads you to the hallway where only one of the three accused boys sits by himself with a dark expression casting his soft features, giving off a sense of anger.

“Kuna,” you call out to the hurt boy in a soft tone before crouching down in front of him as he sat on the bench with his honey eyes trained to the floor. He didn’t bother to look up at you as you held his hands to inspect the redness of his small palms, the pale skin was grazed from where he had been pushed to the ground forcefully. “Bubs, what happened?” You could see how reluctant Sukuna was to reply to you, it was fairly obvious he didn’t want to talk to anyone. You couldn’t blame him, if no one was going to listen to how someone else hurt you, there would be no point in talking at all.

So you continue to stay in the crouched position, softly thumbing over the rough skin, just as a means of letting Sukuna know that you were there for him.

“He called me names,” the young boy explained in a lone tone with a scowl on his face, the anger from the situation earlier came back as he thought about it again. “Said I had no mummy to love me.” The small gasp you let out from horror is quiet, nearly almost inaudible if it wasn’t for how silent the corridor is.

Sukuna meets your eyes finally. Easily, you could see how shaken up he was after dealing with such terrible treatments from boys who were supposed to be his peers. “Megs pushed him.”

“They always say it,” Sukuna tried his hardest to not cry, strong boys don’t cry, he reminds himself but having your presence set off the waterworks he desperately tried so hard to keep in. Sukuna was more than fed up of coming to school only to have the same boy tell him a fact he already knows - he doesn’t have a mum. At times, Sukuna feels a tightness in his chest when he watches you kiss Megumi’s two cheeks and forehead. Why didn’t he have a mum to do that? Why couldn’t you do that to him too? “Said Megs has no daddy too,” the pink haired boy adds, knowing that Megumi would never have the guts to tell you the truth about what actually happened.

The three boys would only play with each other because it seemed everyone else thought they were troublemakers. They even thought Yuuji was a bad kid, which couldn’t be humanly possible because the eccentric boy’s body didn’t hold a single bad bone. It wasn’t fair, Sukuna thought, why did no one want to play with them? They were fun and cool like everyone else. But when Shin Daichi announces that his mummy doesn’t want him hanging around a ‘whore’s son,’ no one wanted to be friends with them.

Sukuna hates school but he hates Shin Daichi more.

Slowly, the tears were coming to a stop and Sukuna would hiccup every few seconds as he tried to catch his breath. Digging through your purse, you pull out the small packet of tissues to wipe at the snot running from Sukuna’s nose. You sat next to him on the wooden bench, one arm wrapped around his smaller frame to keep him in your hold and protection. You didn’t miss the way Sukuna nuzzled up into your side.

“Thank you for telling me the truth bubs,” Sukuna liked it when you called him that, it was the allocated affectionate term you reserved for only him, not for Yuuji or even Megumi. Only for him. “I’m really proud of you.” Your hands were warm around his cheeks, soft thumbs brushing the tears away as gently as possible.

When you walk back into the children’s classroom, you can’t stop the anger running through your veins making you want to commit acts of violence for multiple different reasons.

1. It was your kids who were hurt, they shouldn’t be considered for suspension for something they didn’t do.

2. Shin Junko called you a ‘whore.’ To her son! And even taught it to him! Did the woman hate you so much that she decided to interfere with her only son’s school life?

3. Did no one realise who truly deserved the special treatment?

Normally, you would never agree to using your familial backing to intimidate others and more importantly to get what you want. However in this case, you were more than willing to make an exception for your morals. You despised bully’s more than anything, especially when they were going to get away with their actions.

“Mrs Shin,” you approach the sitting woman, “I want to remind you of who helped your husband’s family stay employed, without the Gojou’s you wouldn’t be wearing all those clothes on your back,” referring to the ill-fitting branded outfit she donned, “just because you choose to stay in a loveless marriage with an adulterous husband, doesn’t make you better than me.” A row of loud gasps sounded from each of the women like they had never heard of such an accusation only they all knew it to be true, none of them had the courage or power to challenge Shin Junko.

You don’t stop there. Seeing the blood run cold in Shin Junko’s face was priceless, she looked like she had seen a ghost.

“I wonder how the head governors of the school board will react when they find out how upset the Gojou matriarch is about his only grandson being bullied, especially after the hefty donation which, if I remember correctly, was used to build the new music building, right?” Your grandfather would never care that you used his name in order to get what you desired, if anything he encourages you to, so for today, you’ll play the role of an heiress that can have anything she desires.

“So unless you want all of your husband’s businesses to fail, I’d redact that signature.”

All the women look at each other, trying to make sense of the situation. They all came into the classroom thinking they would leave victorious yet you had stunned them all to silence. Anything they do, you would use against them. Your family didn’t need others' help, they all needed yours. “This is abuse of power!” One woman stands up for herself, pointing a shaky finger in your direction.

Your gaze shifts onto her as you take a few steps forward to stand in front of the accusing woman. There was a sweet but cynical smile on your face, it was frightening. “I have power to abuse,” with a gentle touch, you push her hand down, “this is my final and only warning, don’t fuck with my kids.”

After the incident that had occurred earlier at the school, you felt a sharp consistent pain stabbing at a corner in your brain, no medicine you took would ease the pressure at all so you were stuck at your parents anniversary party with a piercing headache. It didn’t get better when you were stood with your older brother, who was apologising profusely about his idiotic friend for not turning up to the date last night. Apparently, according to Satoru, his friend never spotted you and decided to leave by himself. What an utter asshole! You thought to yourself, you should have known better than to trust your brother to play matchmaker. But it doesn’t end there, Satoru was sure about the two of you meeting for some bizarre reason, he made sure his friend was also going to attend the party. You gave Satoru a hard glare. It only eased when the white haired idiot gifts you a silver chain adorning a beautiful sparkly diamond. Normally, you would never accept bribery but nowadays you are getting a lot of gifts from Saturo. Little did you know that the precious red stone sitting comfortably around your neck matched a certain individual’s cuff links.

“Oh there they are!” Saturo’s eyes light up in excitement as he recognises the two tall figures walking through the large decorated hall your parents have rented out for their large party. Out of curiosity for wanting to see who dared stand you up, your eyes follow the direction your brother is looking in.

The crowd of influential people part to make way for the two figures walking over to your brother, being able to make him out from his unique platinum hair colour. Your heart stops and your stomach falls to the ground as a certain blond man comes into your view.

In a harsh tone, you drag your brother by his tie down to your height to whisper, “is that the guy you tried setting me up with?”

Before you could Satoru with all your strength for being the biggest idiot in the world, his best and oldest friend, Getou Suguru pulls you into his own arms for a bone crushing hug. “I missed you, Y/n!” Suguru is a familiar male figure in your life, something short of a brother to you. The raven haired lawyer pulls his face back just enough to place a soft kiss against your cheek, not caring for his pristine public image or any lingering eyes judging the action. “You’re still single, right?” Suguru jokes with you before kissing the skin of the other cheek, “don’t want to miss my chance.”

“She has a man.”

Everyone’s heads snap towards the man who uttered those words with such confidence, you swore you almost passed out from simply the words alone. You weren’t too sure if you were overjoyed or just purely shocked into stillness. Suguru’s arms fall from your body to make way for Kento to replace them with his familiar touch, Kento peers down at you with a cheeky smile spreading across his lips from amusement as mischief glistens in his beautiful eyes. The look of disbelief on your face morphs into one full of glee at the realisation.

“I’m sorry I stood you up last night,” Kento apologises, being short of a breath away from you, cool breath falling against your skin. “Another woman had bewitched me.”

The beaming smile on your face wouldn’t leave your face no matter how hard you tried to contain yourself from the happiness and joy bubbling in your stomach. Kento was wearing a blue suit, you remember correctly, the realisation made you want to kick yourself from how oblivious you had been. The noise of a loud awkward cough breaks you out of your blissful moment. Satoru giggles at the display of limited affection from you, his uptight and controlling little sister, and his stone-cold, rigid Nanami. It was so ridiculous to him.

“Gojou Satoru,” the tone of your voice was enough to make the man freeze and send a chill running up along his spine, “I’m going to kill you.”

“No, spare me! You wouldn’t have met without me!”

Suguru couldn’t contain his laughter as you lunge to grasp onto your brother, who yelps when you tug at the white strands on his head harshly. No one dared to comment on the childish behaviour the Gojou children display but chose to ignore it completely, apart from Nanami and Getou. Only a small handful of people were blessed with the knowledge of understanding the dynamics between the members of the Gojou family. Even though you and Satoru were childish and bratty at times, even in your mid thirties, no one could say anything to challenge the two of you because they still fear what you could do to them.

For the whole night, you meet with people you knew of or decided to introduce yourself out of politeness, exchanging kind words to one another or discussing your brother’s future plans for the company. Most of the conversations were boring, your replies were literally scripted. This is why you hated parties. At least you look stunning. Not once does Kento leave your side as if the pair of you were joined at the hip, especially when he could see men you converse with ogle at the display of your breast, bursting from the design of the dress. Did these men have no shame? He was standing right next to you! How much more of a hint did some of them need? One of his large hands rested along the curve of your waist out of possession, you could feel the blazing heat through the smooth material of your dress.

There were many eyes lingering on you, their stares itching your skin. You had a strong suspicion that you knew who a few of them were but you wouldn’t let the fact your parents invited your ex-husband sour your mood. Luckily the food would be coming out soon and then you’d finally be able to calm your rumbling stomach.

“I heard about what you did at school,” Kento says when the couple you were talking to dismiss themselves because they’ve spotted your brother. You almost forgot about the whole ordeal until Kento mentioned it again. The skin of your cheeks darken in embarrassment under your makeup.

“Don’t talk to me about that, I still need to get a teacher fired,” your words come out close to a small roar, if it weren’t for Kento’s hands running up and down your arms you’re sure you would’ve screamed at someone.

Kento chuckles at the cute scowl forming on your pouty lips, making them so inviting to kiss but he knew better than to act on his impulses, especially when he didn’t want you to get caught up in some sort of ‘scandal.’ It was far too obvious that your parents love and favour Toji. Hell he was invited to the anniversary party when he technically isn’t a family member anymore. To make it worse, Toji was hanging around your parents the whole night with the same receptionist. Your parents knew about Toji’s adultery; it just seems like they don’t care.

It was the time of the night where someone gave a speech. Normally it would be your grandfather but due to his age, he rarely attends crass events that people simply put on for a show. It was his own son’s wedding anniversary party and he still couldn’t be bothered to show up. Your dad stood front and centre under a shining light, giving a thanks to everyone who attended, then he began to speak some bullshit about how your mother is the love of his life. If only that were true. Still, people clap in between pauses of accomplishments that Satoru has acquired. Nothing about you though, you just got an invite out of a formality. Your parents only cared about you when you were married to Toji.

You knew they never cared about you when they decided to pester you into taking him back, forgiving his mistakes, saying that ‘it happens to every couple.’ God your parents made you hate the idea of marriage, there was no meaning to it unless it was a business deal.

The biggest shock of the night wouldn’t be your father hugging Toji when he walks out of the spotlight but when the dark haired man takes your dad’s spot. Everyone in the room knew who Toji was, the disgraced Zen’in who lost it all because he slept with the maid. That was the story everyone was familiar with but they’d never know the real truth like you did, only after secretly meeting with Toji’s mum for months on end in the hospital to make sure she wasn’t lonely during her treatment.

The marriage announcement catches you completely off guard, it feels like someone has thrown you into the deep end of a pool and you didn't know how to swim, drowning slowly in the snarky whispers from the attendants of the party that reach your ear - wasn't he married to Y/n? Poor girl, I wouldn't be able to show my face if I was her. Many eyes around the room turned towards you in anticipation, waiting for some display of anger or a rage-induced outburst. Much to their disappointment, you stand strong in your ground. You wouldn’t let the perfectly crafted mask made for times like this to fall from your face, especially not now, you couldn’t let the woman, who held a leash over your ex, know she caused an effect on you. What you would give to wipe the smirk off her face.

From a distance over, Satoru watches you closely through the peripheral of his sharp vision, you lean further into the dark long haired man standing beside you to whisper something into his ear. Suguru hands you a small rectangular box discreetly. He was equally as shocked as you. Satoru expected Toji to pull a stunt like this, maybe another pregnancy announcement or a business merger. He never expected it to be announced publicly, in a Gojou family setting. Whilst claps of congratulations sounded around the hall, Gojou's cold gaze threw daggers towards your ex-husband, standing beside your parents with a hand on the waist of his fiancée. The sight of gleaming smiles across your parent’s faces makes Satoru feel sick to his stomach. The white haired man also took a mental note of the people who seemed genuinely happy for the wretched couple. Those people didn't realise that they had gotten onto Gojou Satoru's bad side and ruined any promising positive relationship with the businessman.

There was a chill in the evening air as you stood on the balcony, you were grateful no one else was outside to witness the devastation on your face, only the night sky being witness to the single teardrop that fell along the expanse of your cheek. The cold air nipped at the bare skin of your arms and neck, raising the fine hairs running all along your skin. As a thought of regret for not bringing a jacket along with you popped into your mind, you opened the cigarette packet that Suguru handed to you, bringing one up to your lips to rest as you fish for a lighter in your purse, praying that you had one despite having quit the disgusting habit years ago.

The temperature of the chilling air around you rises as a warming presence presses against your back, you only relax when the familiar scent of rich cologne mixed with cinnamon infiltrates your senses, allowing yourself to melt into the heated hands that run along your naked arms.

"Do you even have a lighter?" Kento questions as you continue to search through your bag, which was so small, the blond was sceptical about it being big enough to fit any necessities.

Peering up through your lashes, your azure eyes narrowed at him as your lips formed into a deep scowl. Kento was right, you didn’t have a lighter, specifically for scenarios like this, where your fingers are itching to grab at the first intoxicant to cloud your mind. Smoking would help calm the stress that scratches the walls of your brain as the tobacco fills your bloodstream.

“Suguru probably has one-“ you mutter under your breath, speaking with the white stick sitting comfortably between your lips before a hand quickly reaches for it and throws the small object off the balcony, out of sight and out of reach. “What the hell-“ there was little time to process the sudden action as your words are cut short with Kento’s palms encasing your face to tilt your head slightly and allow him to lower his lips onto yours in a short kiss. The anger rushing through your veins quickly dissolves and melts away into nothing but a buzz, leaving as fast as it was produced.

A small smile creeps along your lips when Kento’s lips are no longer on yours, “maybe I should take up smoking again.”

Kento couldn’t help the chuckle that let up his throat, his eyes crinkling in the same way that the twin’s did. His hands dropped from your face to hold your hips over the silk material, pulling you closer towards him, your breasts pressing against his chest.

“Let's get out of here.”

Earlier, before he followed your footsteps to check on you, Kento felt a strong grip latch on his arm to prevent him from moving further. The culprit was your brother. Satoru held an intimidating aura, his sapphire eyes bearing a look cold enough to pierce skin. The older man whispered short words to Nanami, advising him to take you away from the party, in order to protect you.

As Kento was texting the babysitter he had hired for the night, making sure his kids were safely sleeping in their beds, you were checking in with the two Zen’in girls that were looking after Megumi for the night. Maki and Mai loved spending time with you, when you announced the divorce with their cousin, they were undeniably upset, not because Toji’s heart was broken but it meant they wouldn’t be able to see you as often.

It wasn't as difficult as you thought it might be to locate the hotel room. Thankfully, both of you were in a conscious state of mind, avoiding the sparkling alcoholic beverages being served in crystal glass flutes. The hand on the curve of your waist held you close to Kento’s embrace. Just from a short glance, any onlooker would be able to know you were his, there was a loving atmosphere surrounding you two which was hard to miss, from the pearly smile painting along your glossy lips to the radiant sparkling of gold among the hues of brown in Kento’s eyes. The booked room was found quickly. Anticipation began to bubble in your stomach, you felt excited to spend the night with such a handsome man, again.

All of your hair was pushed to one side on your shoulder when you came to a stop at the end of the hallway, exposing the tender flesh of your neck. A beautiful and plain canvas just waiting to be painted with deep and dark shades of pinks and purples. The plain sight caused a stir in Kento’s mind, he desired to mark you, in a way he knew no one ever would. Acting on impulse, the father of two kissed a spot where your neck met your shoulder so lightly it felt like petals brushing against your skin. A smirk found its home along Kento’s lips when you craned your head to the side, offering more of yourself to him. The innocent kisses progressed into deep bites, a sudden sharp nip against your pulse point causing a gasp to slip into the air. You couldn’t care less if a horrible bruise formed from Kento's lustful ministrations, his scent clouded your mind like a drug, your thoughts swirling into nothing. Your attention was fixated on the hands wandering from their place on your hips to groping your breasts through the silken material of your dress, sending arsoul to pool in your panties.

A deep timbre tone filled your ears, you turned to face the man speaking. “Would you like to know my new favourite colour?” Kento doesn’t wait for your answer, his hands squeeze at your chest again with more pressure, sadly eliciting another gasp from your lips. The corners of Kento's lips turn downwards ever so slightly, he had hoped that his ears would have been graced with a moan. “Sage green.”

The blond guides you to the queen-sized bed by the hand, lined with the finest material he had ever seen, Kento didn’t expect anything less from your brother, who handed him the key card. The hotel room was grand, almost as big as his own apartment, which was quite large.

Kento sits himself against the headboard with his suit jacket and tie discarded somewhere on the floor, falling victim to your travelling hands, eager to undress him. The clothing was no longer his concern as you situated yourself in his lap, thick thighs straddling his waist the best you could in the confinement of your dress. “Tonight,” Kento's eyes move from the swells of your breasts, your cleavage in his direct eye line, to meet your gleaming eyes. He was surprised to find his own reflection in them. “I'm yours.” The words felt heavy on his tongue and heart, it felt like he was confessing to you again, proving to himself that it was you that his heart yearns for.

Slowly, you clamber off of the blond man’s lap without voicing your intentions, not missing how his hands reach out to hold onto you for a moment longer, you giggle lightly at the display of clinginess, never expecting such a stoic man to behave like that. It was refreshing. It reassured the persistent whispers in the back of your mind that Kento desired you with the same intensity you felt. As you stood at the foot of the bed, you kicked off your nude heels, dropping your height by a few inches. A laugh fell upon your ears, Kento was amused, his smile hidden from your eyes behind his palm. However, the light atmosphere shifted when the sound of a zipper filled the room. Swiftly, the dress dropped to the floor from the pull of gravity, leaving you exposed except for the black lace thong, which barely hid anything from his eyes. Kento wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse.

Finally, it was your turn to smirk when your sharp eyes caught the growing tent of Kento's trousers.

Slowly, you crawled along the bedsheets at an agonising pace, it felt like hours before you finally reached your destination. Within an instant, you felt two large palms squeeze at the pudgy skin of your hips. You couldn’t help but press your hands against Kento's chest, fingers running aimlessly as you met his lips, kissing him with such desire, as if you had planned to devour him.

“Do you know what good boys get, Mr Nanami?” you say in a sultry tone, the touches of the small pads of your fingertips tracing unrecognisable shapes along his chest becoming distractive.

The words registered into the blond’s mind, you had previously asked the same question to the three toddlers, in hopes of containing their erratic behaviour in the kitchen. This should have been degrading, yet, despite using the childish question, a rational voice in Kento’s mind screamed at him to just give in for once. “Rewards,” it was the same answer Sukuna gave you, it was the correct answer. However, Kento's voice only managed to speak just above a breath, finding himself unable to trust his own voice.

“Well done daddy,” you praised him with a sweet kiss, a shiver running up his neck, before making an effort to unbutton the shirt, “treat me nicely and I’ll reward you.”

All the remaining pieces of clothing were thrown off hurriedly, desperate to feel the pure heat of Kento's unbelievably hot body. It stunned you how he was constantly warm, maybe you could make him your personal heater.

Kento couldn’t help but groan loudly as your hips grinded against his dick, coating him with your wetness, he felt himself throbbing against your folds, ever so desperate to fill you to the brim. As if reading his mind, the teasing touches paused as you lined your entrance up with his cock, only after giving the hard member a few pumps with your hand. The broad shoulders of the businessman were used as an anchor, you cling onto him desperately as you sink onto his dick. In the span of a few hours, you had completely forgotten the thickness of Kento’s sex, surprising yourself as you struggle to relax yourself to take him in. Wanton moans fell from both parties as you stayed still for a few seconds to get used to the burn from his fat cock stretching you. The hands on your waist squeeze tightly to help Kento ground himself from rutting up into you. Being enveloped with your warm cunt felt too good, especially when the gummy walls clamped around him, you were all he could think about.

Just from the position alone, the soft tissue of nerves which caused you to see stars were grazed upon, you couldn’t stop the moan escaping from your lips. “I could cum like this,” you relish in the feeling of the palms coaxing the movement of your hips and the mouth that latches onto your mound. A sharp nip against your peak leads to you arching into Kento's mouth, desperate for more of his touches. Despite spending the night before together, the pair of you couldn’t get enough of each other. Not when your tits would bounce as you raised your hips and begin a steady rhythm of grinding against Kento’s lap, each slam against his hips hitting a spot that causes your head to spin. The vision of you on top of him, riding his cock like your life depended on it, spurred the coil tightening in the pit of his stomach. The wetness that pooled between your thighs now began to drip down onto the pelvis of the man below you. A mixture of juices squelching and low moans sounded throughout the room. You had no time to feel embarrassed by the pornographic noises as you desperately chased your high.

“You’re making me feel so good angel,” a sense of pride blooms in Kento's chest as he feels you clenching around him from his praise. His hands stretched lower to graze his fingers over your ass, they latched onto you, his nails creating deep crevices in the area that would still be there in the morning.

You could no longer think straight, completely drunk off of Kento's cock, filling you up so well you wished he’d never leave. A numbness started to form in your thighs, creating a painful burn as you continued to move up and down, pushing through the pain and reaching for your high. From the hand gripping his hair and the way your walls were spasming, Kento knew you were so close to cumming, you just needed a little push. The brush of his thumb circling your clit leans you over the edge and causes your orgasm to hit you like a wave. Kento groaned loudly as you creamed his cock and gripped onto him like a vice. The man felt kind enough to let you catch your breath, he was still painfully hard and so close to his own high.

“As much as I’d like to be rewarded,” a cheeky smile spread through Kento’s lips, chocolate eyes sparkling at you with excitement. His playful and cheery expression leaves as quick as it comes, you almost whine in protest as he uses his strength to pull you off of his lap, and gently lays you down against the bed. The giddy look in Kento's eyes darkens to a lustful stare as your blown out eyes meet his. “Daddy wants to cum, so be a good girl and help me out.”

It hadn’t been longer than a few moments since your climax, you had barely calmed down. Without a second thought, Kento thrusts into your sopping entrance, your cum still coating his dick which makes it easier for him to slide back into your cavernous walls. A cry emmits from you due to the overstimulation. The feeling of being filled up again overtook the discomfort you experienced, it felt so good that you could cry from it, it was as if kento was made to fit inside your cunt so deliciously. The hands on your hips migrate to your thighs, pushing them up so that your knees are almost next to your head. Somehow, the angle of the position allows Kento to hit deeper into you.

“Fu- fuck,” your mind is lost for words as it completely blanks, no longer have the ability to form a coherent sentence.

A layer of sweat covers the blond’s body. The slapping sound returns as Kento's heavy balls hit against you with every rut. It was astonishing that the bed frame didn’t move with his frantic movements. Each thrust of his hips were more calculated than the next, earning a cry from you each time as his cockhead continuously came into contact with your g-spot. Kento knew he’d only be able to last through a few more thrusts. From the way your thighs quivered, your second orgasm was closer than he thought.

“Cum with me angel,” Kento's lips found yours in a haste of teeth clashing against each other, desperate to feel closer to you. As soon as the coaxing words fall on your ear, your walls clench around him as another climax ripples through you, this one hitting you much harder. The tension finally snapped, a growl ripped through his throat, no longer being able to hold back, as ropes of his cum shot inside your pussy, hips faltering slightly.

Your eyes flutter shut from exhaustion, trying your best to catch your breath and calm your erratic heart. Gentle hands help drop your legs so they could wrap around Kento’s waist instead of being folded in the air. Kento noticed the drowsy haze you were in. He took it upon himself to find a towel in the bathroom to clean up the mess between your thighs and himself quickly. Exerting his strength, the stoic man helps you to move into the soft sheets, the cold air no longer able to nip at your naked body anymore when you were safely tucked in.

Shifting around, you move yourself closer to Kento in hopes of stealing the warmth radiating his body. You were still in a deep blissful haze as you lifted your finger to trace along the horizontal wrinkles across Kento’s forehead. Working for your brother and raising two kids simultaneously must have put him in so much stress, your heart ached for him for having to carry all that baggage on his shoulders alone.

“We need to buy plan b in the morning,” you whisper quietly as if the walls of the hotel room were thin enough for the person next door to hear your breathing.

Kento raises his head upwards tiredly, to press a kiss against your finger before caging you into your arms. You shriek at the sudden pull, changing your positions so that you were led on top of him.

“Don’t you want my babies, angel?” Kento hums with mischief, now you know where his twins got their playfulness from, “I think we’d have cute kids.”

You roll your eyes as you roll your body over onto the bed so you can rest against the plush pillow. “Take me out on a date first.”

🏷 @irreverent-dream @mystic-poteto @the-amaranthine @ys2800 @aphrodani @thoreeo @bryandechartisasmolbean @nanaminswaifu @youraggedybitch

➳ next

[struggling-with-time]

Could I ask for c!Wilbur being a gn reader's father figure? Can be either a one shot or headcanons, whichever you prefer. ^_^

Paring: c!Wilbur Soot x Gender Neutral!reader

Summary: Your life as raised by Wilbur Soot.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, betrayal, hurt.

Words: 1.7k

A/N: I'm not sorry for this, however, I am sorry for if you wanted something different, then you are welcome to request again and I will write another dadbur fic. REQUESTS ARE OPEN. Request here.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Wilbur Soot

He finds you lurking around the outer skirts of the newly established country of L’Manberg. The country that has yet to declare full independence.

“Hey there, what are you doing around these parts?”

From that day on he took you, the bewildered child from nowhere, under his wing. Letting you into the drug van.

You grow up with Fundy being your older sibling. Wilbur in the first years being there for the two of you.

He teaches you how to play the guitar.

And while you don’t become the best player at it, you can play a couple of camp songs.

Then the independence declaration comes.

And everything changes.

Nice nights with Wilbur, Fundy and Tommy turn into war planning sessions you aren’t allowed into.

You are the youngest citizen of L’Manberg, leading to everyone trying to keep your innocence

Especially Wilbur after he drags Fundy in as a child soldier in his war.

But you are there, right on the battlefield amongst everyone, and you are there afterwards as you help patch up the hurt.

Eret is the one who teaches you how to treat a wound after Wilbur gets an arrow in his shoulder after a tough battle.

Leading to you keeping to Eret whenever Wilbur is planning. And Fundy seems to be running off with Tubbo and Tommy.

On the day of the betrayal, Eret and Wilbur make you stay back in the van, Eret hoping to shield you from what’s gonna go down. And Wilbur hoping to keep you away from the battle on the horizon.

You are there to patch up the wounds from everyone as they respawn.

Wilbur is now more determined to keep you sheltered.

However, this made you more determined to stand on the battlefield fighting for your country.

You are there in the middle of the explosions when they go off. Losing your first life. Fighting for freedom. Fighting for your pseudo father.

Wilbur holds you for hours afterwards.

As you cry into his shoulder.

Wilbur makes you stay back when Tommy is meant to dual Dream, leading to you being the first to see him when he respawns.

Ah, two of the four children traumatised by a war they didn’t ask for.

You are there when the declaration of independence gets signed.

Getting credited as the 2nd little champion.

And everything is good for a while.

Wilbur helps you through your nightmares whenever you wake up thinking there is TNT blowing you up. Or you remember the day everyone respawned. Or remember how hurt and wounded everyone was doing the battles.

You watch as your father drowns himself in government work to not process what happened himself.

You try your best to help him out, but there is only so much you can do.

Then the election gets called, and you are there supporting him, while also helping your big brother Fundy with his campaign.

Wilbur didn’t take lightly to both of his children running a campaign against him. But he lived with it and respected it.

Then Schlatt won.

And you watched as your father and Tommy was chased out of the city.

Fundy holding you back as you break down crying over the sight.

Fundy keeps you from joining Pogtopia, stating it is no place for a child, despite him working as a spy for them and Tommy living there.

So you stay put in the now Manberg.

You are there to pick up the pieces of your older brother falls apart after your father calls him a traitor and states he’s no son of his.

So you venture out through the big forest. Barely stumbling into Pogtopia as nightfall has come.

And you get to see with your own eyes as the man you regards as your father yells at Tommy, Wilbur looks deranged and nothing like the man who raised you.

He never spots you that day, but Tommy does as you head back out again. Through the night filled with horrors beyond your imagination, and you barely make it back to Manberg in one piece.

You aren’t there the day Schlatt gets murdered, having retreated into isolation after having your worldview shattered. A child of war, now a child of trauma.

But you are there, right in the centre cheering on Tubbo as he’s granted the title of L’Manbergs president.

Your own fathers’ actions taking your second life too. You die in the explosion.

From that day on your anxiety worsen, loud noises bringing you to your knees in panic attacks. It had been bad after the war, but now it was unbearably bad.

Fundy started talking with Eret about potential adoption, but he only ends up adopting you, stating Fundy is too old.

And that’s how you deal with your father’s death. Living with the traitor of his country.

And you keep living. Denouncing him as your father, returning to your title of the bewildered child of nowhere.

You keep living in spite. In spite of the man who took two of your lives and made you grow up in a war you never wanted to fight in. And there, while looking over the railing of L’Manberg, is where you spot him.

Ghostbur

You watch as a tinted floating version of your former father wanders around the mostly rebuild crater.

“…Dad?”

“Y/N! My child!”

You can’t believe your own eyes, it’s actually him, it’s actually the man who found you wandering the skirts of the nation you now reside nearby.

And you turn your back to him.

You walk home, to your place in the castle, outside the nation that has caused you so much hurt.

Fundy is the one to make you talk to Ghostbur the second time, telling you about what seems to be going on.

“Would you like some blue Y/n? You’re crying.”

You refuse, wiping your tears away because he doesn’t deserve that from you. He doesn’t deserve the tears he caused himself.

You never call him dad again after the day you spot him. Because your dad died a traitor of the country he made. Leaving you at 14 to deal with the damages he had done.

But now you are 16, with Eret in your back, and your big brother Fundy helping you in any way or form he can. This includes, even more, sheltering, keeping you as far away from the Tubbo administration as he can.

Because you are all children of war, and they never seem to make the right decisions.

His heart breaks every time you remind him that he isn’t your father anymore and that you aren’t his child.

You don’t ever really hang around Ghostbur.

The few times you do, he tells you of stories of you growing up, teaching you guitar, finding you walking around the walls of the country. And he introduces you to your Grandpa Philza. A calm and relatively collected man.

A murder.

Whom took your father away from you all to early.

You like Friend, the blue sheep is a nice distraction to have nearby whenever your deceased father tries to be near you.

You appreciate the effort he makes, wishing he would have made the same efforts when Schlatt helps you within the walls of Manberg.

So when Tommy gets exiled and Ghostbur goes along with him, you aren’t surprised.

It’s always Tommy. And you are alright with that. Both you and Fundy knew from the start, it was always Tommy over the two of you. And you’ve had years to come to terms with that.

You keep yourself neutral in the affairs of the SMP.

Although you do visit Tommy twice, trying to get Fundy with you, but your older brother has a small distaste for the exiled ex-vice president, although he claims to have nothings against the blonde.

You keep out of the city as Tommy gets imprisoned, but you are there to greet him when he gains his freedom. Ghostbur beside you. Offering Tommy blue, and empty promises it of everything being okay now.

So when Tommy tells you he’s gonna smuggle himself into the prison with the help of the ghost, you are there handing him the potions.

When he returns only baring Friend on her leash, you break down. You lost your father once more.

Revivebur

You get an eerily sense of déjà vu over seeing him, standing over the now L’Manberg doomsday crater.

And you speak the word you had sworn to never say to him again.

“Dad?”

And he looks back, taking in the sight of you, Tommy, Tubbo & Ranboo together.

And he smiles.

And you leave.

You don’t end up talking to him again until Tommy seeks you out asking for you to talk to him, and for Fundy to do the same. You don’t know why, but you do it.

So you and Fundy meet him.

“Ah! My children!”

Fundy frowns, and you for the first time stand up to him.

“I am not your child. I am not yours!”

“What?”

“You haven’t been around for a really long time, a lot of things have changed, and so have I.”

You are seething, and for once Fundy doesn’t hold you back, or shelters you. He stands beside you.

“We had to raise ourselves! We had to keep on living after you decided to go blow your precious nation.”

“But you turned out fine! You are all grown up now, and you still have two lives each.”

Fundy pulls you into him, realising Wilbur doesn’t know.

“Y/n is on their last life. You took their second one too. You blew them up yourself. We are done here we are leaving.”

Wilbur calls out to you and Fundy, but neither of you turn around. He might have taken you in, but in the end, the two of you only ever had each other.

Children of war, never get to be children after all.

[viatorix]

because now I’ve given myself brain rot, I’m thinking more about a Kakashi protag fic but like also a dual Obito and Kakashi POV? That’s ultimately not canon compliant because fuck aliens. When the story starts, it’s your usual Nart fic with yeah ninjas!! Yeah ninja villages so cool!! But something seems... off, but the narrative tone is light and upbeat despite things being kinda brutal. 

Then as the story progresses post-Kannabi you’re narratively supposed to support Kakashi/Konoha, and being hit over the head with ‘the village is important, will of fire, protect precious people etc’ propaganda, especially as the flipside of that is Obito, a fourteen year old traumatised boy who is filled with rage, and being played to commit atrocious shit in the name of an end goal he barely understands. 

And then as the story progresses more that narrative tone changes to mirror what its like to grow up and realise some truths about the world you live in -- especially the Nart world, which is horrifying if critically thought about for more than a second. Obito grows up, gets more of a control of himself and regrets some of his actions but ultimately is somewhat justified in wanting to destroy the shinobi villages and change what is a brutal cycle of violence that affects everyone from children to the elderly. On the flipside again, Kakashi, who is also deeply traumatised from being a child soldier is stuck participating in the cycle as a tool of violence, and you’re rooting for him to realise this and get out. 

Because really, the ultimate villain of Nart is the rulership of totalitarian military states and the propaganda they perpetuate to support their continued existence. 

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.