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aemondapologistfrfr · 2 months

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How to Become No One

aegon x witch!fem!reader

Summary: The Dowager Queen calls upon you to try and heal her son. You never expected to find such a bond with another’s magic. This story of healings takes them across two continents and through many trials.

Warnings: 18+ hurt comfort fr, swearing, mentions of injury not too detailed but kind of, blood, pain, medicine, hurt sunfyre but he gets healed fr, threats, mentions of murder, murder, different kind of magic system, a healing journey fr, faceless men moment, house of the undying, oral(f receiving), p in v after he’s healed bffr

Authors Note: my friend begged me to write this but i clearly didn’t need that much persuading 🫣, i had no idea where i was going with this although it’s giving tower of dawn vibes iykyk, i’ve skewed a lot of things to fit my narrative, not sorry x

Word Count: 6.8k idek what to say!!

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My days in this dark city never seem to have an end or a beginning. I wait at a booth in the back of a tavern waiting for paying customers. Usually they come and ask me to place blood curses or cause immeasurable pain. The man before me is begging for something that’s never been asked of me before which has piqued my curiosity.

“The Dowager Queen is seeking your talents and discretion.” A man with a thick westerosi accent pleads to me.

“She is no Queen to me.” I look over him.

“Surely the payment she’s offering can sway you?” he pulls out a well filled sack. “This is just for the trip there. There is more waiting for you in Kings Landing.” the money he’s speaking of could allow me to leave these lands for good.

“What is the extent of his injury?” I lean back and look at him contemplatively.

“He has sustained burns to half of his body. He fell a great distance off his dragon. He has regained consciousness, but remains in great pain. The Grand Maester believes there are injuries within that are out of his expertise.” his voice wavers as he pushes the gold to me.

I sit back and wonder how the Dowager Queen of Westeros heard of me all the way in Asshai. Sending one of her men to this city to seek me out is madness and I can appreciate her desperation. I could probably get them to pay me even more than they’re planning. It’s been some time since I’ve used my powers to help someone. I grab the bag of coins and the man looks to me hopeful.

“I will come with and do what I can.” I nod to him.

“Pack your bags and we will leave at once. I have a ship at the ready in the harbor.” he rises quickly.

“I have nothing of value worth bringing. We can leave now.” I rise with him as he furrows a brow to me.

“No one to say goodbye to?” he asks overstepping.

“Lead the way to your ship.” I nod my head at him hoping he gets the hint.

We shuffle through the city quickly avoiding the dark streets and ominous folk. As we approach the dock I can see the ridiculously large boat this man no doubt came on. I shake my head to myself as I board and the men begin preparing for us to leave. I look back at the city finally ready to leave it behind me.

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The week on the boat was less than desirable, but I was finally able to find sleep. I was able to try and prepare a plan to help the fallen King. I couldn’t make too many decisions until I’m able to assess him myself in person. As we dock my blood thrums at the magic that is flowing out of this city. It slips around the streets and seems to pour from the other end of the city in form of living animals. Dragons. I didn’t think they would have them so close to their home and within the city walls.

Once we’re docked I’m whisked into a carriage and brought directly to the castle. The man escorts me directly in and up the stairs. We stop in front of a large set of double doors which he knocks on quickly.

“You’re back. Did she come?” a woman looks past the man I’ve been traveling with. “Thank the Gods.”

“I choose to come here. Not the Gods.” I brush past her into the room where I can feel the pain and hear the groans.

My eyes widen as I see the King being forced to walk around the room. There’s a man who is panicked and wants him back in bed and there’s a man with a club foot fighting against the Kings rest. I flare my nostrils that they would even entertain the thought of having him out of bed.

“Get him back in the bed. Now.” I say through my teeth. “Are you fucking daft? How long has it been since the injury?” I walk to the bed as they lay him back down as his watery eye looks to me.

“Hello? Can anyone speak?” I snap as I look around the room.

“Just over a week.” the man in a white robe says.

“And you’re the maester I presume?” I raise my eyebrow to him.

“I am.” he nods looking at me nervously.

“Mm, and this was your idea? To have your King up and walking about while he’s clearly in pain?” my voice starting to rise. Who knows what extra damage they’ve caused.

“It was my plan, my Lady.” the clubfoot speaks.

“I am no Lady.” I look at him with disgust. “And why would you have say over what is best for his health? You seem to only have one leg yourself? Shall I ruin your other and make you walk about the halls?” I walk towards him with darkening eyes.

“No, I-“ he stutters stumbling back.

“Leave this room. You’re not to enter again.” my eyes flash to the door and he’s quickly hobbling out.

“What should we call you?” the woman asks.

“Y/n. You are the Queen I assume?” my eyes look to her grateful ones.

“Yes, Alicent. You don’t know how much it means to me that you came.” her voice cracks as she looks to her son.

“I’ll see what I can do. Leave me with the Maester.” I wave them off and they quickly leave the room. “Tell me his external injuries.” I look to him as I walk to the Kings side.

“As you can see he has burns.” he murmurs

“Indeed, I can heal some of this but he will remained scarred.” I hum ghosting my fingers across the edge of the bed.

“He has a broken leg that we’ve set and try to keep elevated.” he adds.

“Unless you’re having him walk on said broken bone. How is that productive Grand Maester?” my eyes shoot to his.

“Lord Larys demanded, I-“

“You let the clubfoot boss you around? Interesting.” I shake my head. “What else of your King?” I sigh.

“Obviously he’s thoroughly bruised and beaten. I fear there’s more going on internally. His pain is immense.” he looks down folding his hands.

“What is his name?” I hum trailing my fingers down his unscathed side.

“Aegon.” the Grand Maester looks to my hand.

“Where is his dragon?” I ask softly as I can feel the fire within his veins.

“He’s been incapacitated and left at Rooks Rest.” his voice soft.

“Bring the dragon here. They need each other, especially now. I’ll help them both.” I decide and look up to the Maester.

“I will talk to the Prince Regent.” he avoids my eyes.

“You’re scared of him. I am not. I would like to have an audience with him.” Aegon groans below me at my words. “I will meet him alone and not here.” I nod my head to the Maester dismissing him.

I look down to the broken King below me and let out a soft exhale. This will be a challenge but I know I can fix this man below me. God knows why they left his dragon. I thought these dragonlords thought them Gods. I bring a stool to the side of Aegons bed and look to him.

“Can you speak, Aegon?” I ask softly.

“I can.” his voice rough. His lungs are still clouded with smoke and he’ll need a mixture to help begin to clear them and loosen what remains.

“I will make something to help with your throat and chest so it’s easier to talk. I am here help.” the words taste weird on my tongue but I can see the relief he feels at them.

“Thank you,” he starts to cough and I feel the rumble in his chest and the expanse of pain.

I lay my hand on the smooth side of his chest and release tendrils of magic into him to help alleviate some of the pain. His breathing settles as his watery eye looks to me. The tears that slide down his cheek crack something in me and I pull away.

“Are you a God?” his voice shattered.

“I’m far from a God.” I let out a small chuckle as I rise.

“Please don’t leave me,” his unmarred hand reaches for me.

For a reason I don’t understand, or refuse to understand, I sit back down on the stool and place his hand in mine. My other hand reaches up and wipes away his flowing tears and he leans into my hand. Healing this man below me is going to take more than I anticipated.

“Y/n,” the Maester walks through the door. “The Prince Regent will see you in the council chambers.” I nod my head as I walk to the table and begin writing down a list of herbs and tinctures.

“I would like these brought to me. He is not to get out of that bed. If I come back and find him to be standing the person responsible will find themselves indisposed.” the Maester looks at me with wide eyes and nods.

I follow a guard down the hall and stairs. This castle is massive and much brighter than I’m used to. We walk quickly down the halls avoiding anyone. We stop in front of yet another set of double doors which the guard groans open. I step in and the guard leaves me alone with the Prince Regent.

“Who are you to summon me?” his voice carries across the chambers.

“See to it that the Kings dragon is brought here with haste.” I look him over as I feel the rage pouring off of him.

“You do not command me.” he says lowly rising from his chair.

“No, the King does. You are simply a second son.” I hum walking to the table further assessing him.

“You will not speak to me like that.” he grabs his dagger.

“Have the dragon brought back alive or I will take your other eye before you can even get within range of me.” I say simply and he fumes stepping towards me.

I blink and when I open my eyes I’m back in Aegons chambers. He’s asleep and I can hear the backup in his lungs. I softly place a hand on his shoulder and send out my magic into his blood stream. The magic in his entangles with mine and it seems to be begging for help. Mine continues on the search for other injuries that will need my assistance.

My magic trails over his ribs and shutters. They’re bruised roughly and cracked in some spots. It continues to flow down his body and it reaches his broken leg and begins to stich some of itself into the marrow to help assist with mending it back together. He will still need rest and casting to keep it set but it will heal and hopefully quickly.

The Maester walks in with a basket and places it on the table. I walk to the basket and dismiss him. I begin to prepare the mixture and sigh knowing it’ll taste terrible going down. Once I finish I walk back over to the bed and smooth Aegons hair until he slowly starts to stir. He jumps and I feel his anxiety spike as I continue to comfortingly pet his hair.

“This is going to taste terrible. After a few days of this your voice will be back to normal and your lungs will be cleared.” he nods and lifts his head as I bring the cup to his lips. He gags as he swallows down the mixture and I help him lay back once he’s settled.

“I’m having your dragon brought back.” I hum looking down to him.

“My perfect Sunfyre.” he sighs as his eye starts to water again.

“I will help heal him as well. Until he gets here I will focus on your internal injuries first.” I hum sitting back on the stool.

The dragon magic is evident in his veins but he needs a dragon connection to help make it stronger and allow me to begin healing his fire related injuries. Those injuries won’t be easy for him to heal and I won’t be able to reverse everything but I will be able to help lessen it.

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Over the past week I have been able to heal his lungs and ribs. He has been talking to me and remaining silent around others. He’s pleaded with me to not share his progress with anyone. I can tell it’s from fear of someone I’m just not sure of who yet. I’ve been slowly trying to figure it out but he shuts down when I pry.

“Is there any word on Sunfyre?” he asks me this everyday and today I can finally say that I do.

“He shall be within the Red Keep gates within the hour.” I smile to him as his eye lights up.

“Will you take me to see him?” he asks sitting up.

“I need to assess him first and start his healing too. Your leg still needs to be in a cast and elevated. I don’t want the progress we’ve made to be for naught.” I pat his hand.

“You’re not frightened by dragons?” he tilts his head.

“Do I seem like the kind of person who has fears, Aegon?” I smile down to him.

“Please help him if you can.” his voice soft as his eye pleads.

“I will do everything I can.” I nod my head to him before I start towards the doors.

“Please come back when you’re done,” his voice a whisper as his magic pulls out to mine.

“You know I will.” I reply without turning around to him before shutting the doors behind me.

I know the dragonlords know nothing of the extent of their magic. His calls to mine so loudly it’s been deafening over the past couple of days. Even now as I exit the main doors of the Keep I can feel it lingering after me. I feel another influx of magic as the gates groan open in front of me as they cart in a golden dragon.

“Sunfyre.” I breathe out and his eye opens and looks directly to me.

The gates shut and the men pulling the cart quickly disperse. I slowly walk up to the dragon and feel the absolute agony this great being is in. I look at his festering wounds and steady my feet. His breathing is labored as he tries to crane his neck.

“Calm, Sunfyre. I will need to clean your wounds. I fear they’ve become infected and I will need to deeply inspect them.” I speak softly to the dragon as I approach with outstretched hands.

I place my hand on his ripped stomach and almost double over at the pain that’s overwhelming my magic. I steel my feet beneath me and bring my other hand to join. The wounds begin seeping again as the infection is slowly being pushed out of his body. I remove my hands and stand back to catch my breath.

I call for the guards to bring me fresh water basins and cloths. I take a seat on the stone and rest my back against the cart. Sunfyre grumbles from above me and pushes his snout into my shoulder.

“Aegon lives. Though I’m sure you can feel that.” I sigh leaning back watching the guards bring me my supplies.

I stand and begin to work on cleaning the wounds. The gouges are deep and I’m surprised that Sunfyre lasted as long as he did. The dragon groans and snaps its jaws as I clean for hours. Once I’m satisfied the wounds are truly clean I look up and notice it’s not the sun lighting my work but torches as the moon is high in the sky.

“Bring live feed for him. Along with water.” I instruct and turn on my heel to return to Aegons chambers.

“Where have you been? How is Sunfyre?” his eyes go wide as he looks at the blood on my hands and dress.

“His wounds are cleaned and disinfected. I’m having food and water brought to him now. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how long I was gone or I would’ve sent word.” I sigh as I walk to his bathing chambers in hopes of finding something to wash my hands with.

“Call for a servant to make you a bath.” he sits up looking to me with furrowed brows.

“I should’ve washed before I came here. I was just in a rush,” I shake my head at my rambling.

“Guards,” he shouts for the first time all week.

“My King,” the guard bursts in the door not having heard his kings voice in well over a week.

“Have a servant come and make Y/n a bath.” he nods to the guard.

“At once.” the guard nods and shuts the door behind him.

“Aegon,” I start.

“A bath is the least I can offer.” he cuts me off shaking his head.

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Sunfyre is restored save for scars. Him and his rider will have that in common. I collect small vials of blood from Sunfyre throughout the week to mix into a poultice for Aegons burns. Sunfyre surprisingly cooperates and has no issues with my poking and prodding.

“What is this now?” Aegons voice weary as I approach with the blood mixture.

“The most painful part I’m afraid.” I murmur as I sit on the bed next to him.

“What does it do?” he eyes the bowl in my hand.

“Help with the burns. It will help heal and lessen them, at the cost of reliving the initial trauma.” I look to him as his eye goes wide.

“Y/n,” his voice trembles as his unscarred hand reaches for mine. “I’m scared.” a tear slips down his face.

“I’m here. You will be safe.” I murmur wiping away his tears.

“Please not all at once.” his voice broken and pleading.

“Of course not,” I shake my head. “I want to see if I can at least heal your eye first.” I bring my hand up to cup his scarred cheek.

“Do you think you can?” his voice full of hope.

“We shall find out.” I hum.

His unscarred hand holds onto mine tightly. I take my free hand and dip my fingers into the blood mixture and hoover it over his closed eye. I softly spread it over the burnt skin and I begin to see it sizzle. His hand squeezes mine and I feel as if my hand is going to break.

“It hurts, it hurts.” Aegon sobs and my heart cracks.

“I’m sorry, I’m here, you’re safe.” I try to push my magic into his but his dragon magic is linking with Sunfyres blood blocking out any relief.

I slide into the bed next to him and begin to smooth his hair as he continues to squeeze my hand. His sobs are slowly tearing into my soul and I feel absolutely helpless. His breathing starts to slow and his tears stop. I hover above him and look upon his eye. I get off the bed and retrieve a clean cloth and dip it into water. I wipe off his eye and relief washes over me. I push my magic into him and send it straight to his eye. The nerves are starting to repair themselves and I sigh as I feel the last connection.

“Open your eyes Aegon.” I whisper down to him.

He blinks his eyes open and a smile spreads across my face. I’ve done it. He has his other eye open and it appears to be moving in sync with the other as if there’s no issue. He scans the room and his violet eyes land on me.

“You’ve done it.” Aegon starts crying. I smile down to him and cup his face.

“You’ve done it. It takes a lot of strength to go through that again. You are very strong and brave.” I offer him praise and he begins crying even harder.

“Can that heal my entire body?” he looks up to me with watery eyes.

“It could but it would take many moons. It took me a whole week to collect this blood just for your eye.” I look to him biting my lip.

“And whose blood is that?” he looks to me blinking rapidly still getting used to having both eyes once more.

“Sunfyres.” I look to the now empty bowl.

“He allowed you to take his blood?” he looks at me quizzically.

“Indeed, I have a way with words.” I hum smiling down to him. “Although, I do have another way to help you, but me suggesting this may be overstepping and possibly a little insane.” I say hushed biting my lip.

“What is it?” he hangs on to my every word.

I’ve been mulling over this idea since I first saw the broken King. I have heard of many different magics and Gods throughout my years and this is the first time I’ve ever considered seeking them out. Running away with the King of Westeros is absolutely mad but I’m hoping he’ll come with me. I’m reluctant to admit that I’ve become quite fond of him and wish to take him away from his family.

“We will reside in Bravos as you work to become a part of the Faceless Men Guild. There they will train you on how to become no one. After you succeed, I know of sorcerers in Essos who can conjure a doppelgänger or a clone of sorts that would almost directly resemble you, save for a few features. From here we bring him back to Bravos where essentially you would kill him and take his face and in turn kill your old self.” Aegon blinks at me as he takes in this information and plan.

“You said we? You would stay with me?” he looks up to me as if this is the only factor that matters to him.

“I would, if you want me to.” I chew on the inside of my cheek.

“For how long?” he sits up.

“As long as you’d like me to.” I murmur looking to him.

“Why?” he squints his eyes assessing me.

“I’ve become quite attached to you.” I look to him with raw eyes. “My magic seems to hum and mold with yours.” I whisper.

“My magic?” he raises an eyebrow.

“We can explore it later once we’re safe.” I nod to him hoping he’ll come with me.

He starts to rise from his bed and I go to his side. He brushes me off as he stands and strides across the room and I’m left speechless. He opens his wardrobe and pulls out a bag and begins to stuff clothes and coin into it. He grabs a cloak and pulls it over his shoulders before turning back to me.

“Let’s go tonight.” I look at him in shock as he stands before me. “Oh, I’ve been practicing at night. I wanted to surprise you.” a small half smile spreads across his face.

“You amaze me.” I shake my head in awe of him.

“Come, I know a way where we won’t be seen.” he pulls me to the wall before opening a door to the internal tunnels.

“Put both of your hands in mine and close your eyes.” I hum and he grabs my hands quickly.

I look to make sure his eyes are closed and I slowly shut mine and picture us on a boat that is to arrive in Bravos within the day. I breathe out and open my eyes as I hear the sea crash onto the wooden ship. Aegons hands clench mine as his eyes open. His eyes go wide as his hands fall from mine as he looks out at the sea.

“Are you sure you’re not a God?” he whispers as he turns back to me.

“I’m sure.” I smile as I pull him to an empty bench as we watch the sea sway.

“What of Sunfyre?” he turns to me with worry in his voice.

“He’ll most likely follow our magic here and reside in the countryside. He’ll be safe regardless of his decision.” I nod my head assuring him.

We sit in silence as the ship hands begin preparing for us to reach the docks. We keep to ourselves so we don’t call any attention to ourselves. Once the boat docks we slip off the boat and go into the city to seek shelter for the upcoming moons.

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We’ve been residing a couple blocks from the guild and they were respectful enough of me and my magic to allow Aegon to reside with me and not within the walls. If they wouldn’t have allowed it I know he would not have stayed, he is attached to my hip when he’s not training with them. I don’t much mind because I enjoy feeling wanted for once.

He comes through the door and up the stairs into our main room and pulls me into a hug. He has begun to pick apart my walls and is the first person I’ve allowed to hug me in years, if not decades. I hold him against me and whisper words of praise to him. Everyday we have a routine of me peppering him with compliments and encouragement to get him out of our small apartment and then words of praise and adoration when he comes home.

We’ve become very domestic over the past two moons. We started sharing a bed instead of taking turns on the lumpy couch. I cook us dinner while he talks of his training and tasks and I listen dutifully. While he’s gone during the day I venture into the city and make coin by doing easy healing. If I want a little extra coin to buy Aegon his favorite food I’ll cast a couple curses and then make my way to the meat market.

“I have my final test tomorrow.” his eyes slide to mine.

“Already?” I look up to him.

“I have no issue being no one because I’ve spent my whole life as no one.” he says softly as I feel his sadness.

“Then you shall be mine.” the words fall from my lips before I can stop them.

“Y/n,” he whispers looking to me with glassy eyes.

“Aegon,” I walk to him and cup his face.

“I wish I wasn’t so hideous,” he looks up to me as his eyes become red as his tears fall.

“I don’t think you’re hideous.” I say hushed as I kiss his forehead. I slowly offer him kisses around his face and make sure to pay extra attention to his scarred side.

“I don’t deserve you.” he shakes his head as tears cascade down his cheeks. “I just want to kiss you and walk around the city with you without everyone feeling bad for you. I want you to see me as the man I can truly be.” his voice cracking as he continues to cry burying himself in my arms.

“I see you as the man you wish to be. Your scars have never made me feel any different about you.” I smile smoothing his hair. “If you truly wish to kiss me, then kiss me.” my words barely audible.

He pulls back from me and looks to me. He looks to my lips but shakes his head and looks away. I know he’s fighting an internal battle that I can’t help with. He lets out a deep breath and shakes his head and looks to me again.

“Fuck it,” he shrugs and pulls my lips to his.

My magic seeps into his mouth and caresses his. His tongue pushes into my mouth and slides against mine as I sigh. His hand travels to the back of my neck keeping me tightly against him as if I’ll slip away. His other hand wraps tightly around my back and I wrap my arms around him clinging to him. We slowly pull back breathing heavily and he places one last kiss on lips before stepping back and looking me over.

“Thank you for seeing me as I am.” he smiles to me.

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After Aegon returns the next day he’s beaming at passing. I hug him tightly as I feel his excitement as our next step is approaching. I’ve been storing my magic for us to make this journey to Qarth and have enough for us to make the return back to Bravos. We pack a small bag which is mostly filled with coins should they decide to be greedy. I hold my palms out to Aegon and he places his hands in mine and closes his eyes as he knows what’s coming.

We blink open our eyes in the morning sun as we stand in front of the House of the Undying. A gray man exits the single door and looks directly through me to my magic. Aegons hand is still in mine as he looks on at the strange man.

“Y/n, it’s been quite awhile.” his voice speaks directly in my mind.

“I require a favor.” I ask my voice strong and unwavering.

“A new face for your lover?” he looks to Aegon and smiles.

“What is your price?” I ask aloud.

“Come inside, we can discuss this with my counterparts.” we waves us in after him.

“Do not accept anything. Let me do the talking.” I whisper lowly pulling him inside with me.

As we enter the stone building it completely warps until we’re sanding in front of multiple seated gray men. Their magic is similar to mine but theirs always seems to leave my head reeling. I ground myself and look over them before me.

“How lovely it is to see you again, Y/n.” one of them purrs across the hall.

“I’m absolutely delighted to be here.” I look up to them with dead eyes.

“Come now, last time wasn’t so bad.” the leader of them walks down to stand in front of Aegon and me.

“Interesting that you couldn’t care less if he’s handsome or not. You’re doing this for him.” his voice slithers around my ears.

“What is your price?” I look to him expectantly, unfazed by his words.

“Why can’t we talk first? It’s been so long. Let us have some tea.” he hums as the room warps once more and we’re sitting at a table with a kettle and three cups around us.

“Do not drink the tea.” I push Aegons cup away from him.

“I hope Asshai and the shadow lands treated you well.” the man smiles with rotted teeth.

“It was a very eye opening experience. I learned many things that only the shadows whisper.” I return his predatory smile.

“Enlighten me,” he drawls.

My magic slinks out of me and pierces into his corpse of a body. He chuckles lowly as it circles around his heart but it disappears quickly as I delve deeper to constrict around his remaining life force.

“You know what I seek and I shall have it or your eternity will be cut short.” I nod my head to him as my magic begins to encapsulate his magic.

“You have gone where we won’t even tread.” his voice a whisper as his eyes cloud over with blackness.

“Do you wish for me to take you there?” I tilt my head.

The scene warps around us and we’re back in the hall with the rest of the Undying. They look on as their leader is crumbling to the floor and they all shoot to their feet. Aegon is ever silently sitting next to me watching me in silent awe.

“Enough!” they shout and I slowly begin to pull my magic back.

“Bring him out.” the leader coughs as his breathing simmers.

The only features that I see are different about the man walking into the room in front of me is shorter hair and blue eyes. Aegon stands as he approaches and looks to him shaking his head. He turns to me with tears in his eyes and I rise to his side. The three of us link hands and shut our eyes and when we open them we are back in our small apartment in Bravos.

“Can I do it now?” he releases my hands as the man with us looks blankly ahead.

“Before you do,” I pull him to me and place my lips on his. “I would be content to spend the rest of my days with you as you are now, Aegon.” I pull back look to him and nod my head.

He turns to the man and pulls a knife from his waist. He brings it up and quickly slips it across the man’s neck and helps him ease to the ground. As he rises I look to the scarred man on the ground and begin to trail my eyes up to the man before me. As my eyes travel up to his face I see he’s still focused on his former self on the ground.

“How strange.” Aegon says tilting his head at the body. “I feel so free.” his eyes make their way to mine as I take in his now stormy blue eyes.

“Your magic is the same. You are the same Aegon to me.” I wave my hand at the body and it disappears into a black cloud of shadow.

He pulls me to the bath room and he stares in the mirror. He’s touching his face and running his fingers through his hair. For the first time I truly feel his magic settled and content. It rests against mine lulling it. Our eyes lock in the mirror and he turns to me.

“Do you like the way I look?” he asks me nervously.

“I do.” I reassure him pulling him into a hug.

“I can kiss you properly now.” he murmurs into my neck. “My face won’t feel so rough. Both of my hands will be smooth as they explore every inch of you. I have a full head of hair you can pull on when I’m buried between your thighs. Men won’t think they can so easily steal you from me.” his words are laced with promises that tear through me.

“You know I didn’t care what you looked like before.” I whisper holding him tighter to me.

“But I did. So thank you for helping me.” he kisses my neck softly as I shutter. “I never expected you to do this for me when you walked into my chambers all those moons ago.” he holds me tighter still peppering kisses along my pulse.

He kisses up my jaw until he locks our lips together. His hand buries itself in my hair molding me to him. I moan into his mouth and pull him closer to me. My hands trail up to his now short hair and pull it as he groans into my mouth.

“I want you, I need you. Please,” he pulls back from my lips and looks to me desperately as I feel his need pulsing around the room.

“You have me.” I nod to him as he attaches his lips back to mine.

He walks us out of the bathroom and into our bedroom. He starts to pull off my dress quickly and groans when he takes in my body. His hands immediately roam over my skin as I shiver at his soft touch. His fingertips are hot with his magic thrumming through him.

“I just want to touch you.” he says softly as he lays me back on the bed.

His hands glide along my curves and he settles above me. He kisses me once more as his fingers dip between my legs. I shutter at his light teasing touches as he chuckles against my lips.

“Why are you still wearing clothes?” I whine as his fingers travel around my core avoiding where I want him.

He kisses down my throat and licks across my chest. He sucks a nipple into his mouth as a gasp falls from my mouth. His other hand goes to my other to flick against it until I’m pushing my chest up into his face. His short hair tickles across my stomach as he dips between my thighs. He kisses my thighs as I try to control my breathing as I watch him.

He licks slowly up my slit and my head falls back to the pillow. His tongue spreads my wetness before licking up to my clit swirling around it. He closes his lips around me and begins a rhythm that has me bucking into his mouth.

“Aegon,” his name falls from my lips repeatedly as my hand snakes into his hair.

He groans against me and continues to lick against me. I come on his mouth as he continues at a faster speed before slamming his fingers into me. My legs try to shut around his head and he just chuckles into my core as my legs capture him. His fingers quicken and I’m moaning like I belong in a pleasure house and he tears more pleasure from me.

“I’d be happy to spend the rest of my days here.” he kisses my sensitive bud causing me to shutter.

He rises off the bed and I look at him with heavy eyes. He slowly removes his clothes as if he’s taunting me and I sit there and lick my lips patiently. He looks to me with darkened eyes as he strokes himself.

“I was worried my cock would be smaller.” he chuckles lowly as I squirm watching him touch himself.

He crawls over me and takes my lips for his own. I feel the confidence of his movements and he becomes more sure of himself. He grinds his hips against mine as he slides through my wetness. He lines himself up and pushes into me groaning loudly.

I whimper as he starts to move his hips. At first it’s slow and then it turns into the fiery passion like his magic. His hips pound into mine as I cling to him. His lips swallow my moans as kisses me full of teeth and tongue. His hips start to falter as I grind my hips against his.

“I’m sorry I’m not gunna last much longer,” he grunts against my mouth as he chases his pleasure.

His magic caresses against mine and I feel hot pleasure wash over me as his warmth begins to fill me. I clench around him while his hips continue to slowly grind into me. He kisses me slowly as he allows us to continue to feel our pleasure. He releases me and lays next to me but pulls me close against him.

“I never would’ve thought I could do that again. I was scared I would have to fantasize about you forever.” he giggles as he starts to pepper kisses across my chest.

“Aegon,” I whimper as my hand flies to his hair.

“Do you want me to grow it out again?” he looks up to me.

“Whatever makes you happy,” I hum down at him.

“What about my eyes? Are you sad they aren’t violet anymore?” he searches my eyes.

“I love your blue eyes as much as I did your violet ones.” I hum cupping the side of his face.

“Do you want to stay in Bravos or should we go somewhere else?” he looks to me.

“Let’s decide that in the morning.” I bring his lips to mine once more.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌

#aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second #aegon ii targaryen #hotd smut #hotd fic #hotd x reader #aegon smut #x reader #x reader smut #got smut #reader smut #hotd fanfic

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official-linguistics-post · 2 months

Note

i keep reading conflicting info about this so i figured i’d ask someone who definitely knows more than me about linguistics— is vocal fry actually bad for your health? if i understand correctly, it’s a characteristic of some accents, and i hear it pretty often in the pacific northwestern united states (where i live), so i’m curious if it can actually damage your voice.

oh wow, i'd forgotten about this part of the 2010s vocal fry fixation. it looks like yeah, vocal fry can result in damage to the vocal folds (be warned for images of actual vocal folds at that link and a prolonged sound of vocal fry in the video). it's an overuse injury from moving the vocal folds in a way they're not designed to sustain for long periods. i can't find anything on whether typical vocal fry use in daily speech is likely to result in that kind of damage, though.

#(the sound warning is for those blessed with misophonia) (idgaf about people speaking with vocal fry but the long sound messes with me)

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snaileer · 6 months

Text

Time Unsolved

Dp Unsolved

“Today on Buzzfeed unsolved we cover the Timely Disappearance of Charles T. Williamsworth.”

Danny slurped loudly on his drink as the intro played. Was he maybe crazy for watching a Buzzfeed Unsolved True Crime alone, at night? Maybe.

But Danny had been attacked by ghosts. What was a human gonna do that Skulker couldn’t?

“What a name!” Shane cut in immediately, the video showing him seated at their table holding a cup of coffee. Ryan laughed.

“‘Ello, yes, my name is Sir Charles T. Williamsworth, how art thou? Ah yes, jolly good!” Shane mimicked with a horrifically bad posh British accent.

Ryan laughed harder, “We’ve been to London, they don’t sound like that!” He said between laughs.

“Uh, he does! There’s no way a man with a name like that is not ‘mm yes I will take a spot of tea with my biscuit thank you.’ I’m calling it, he definitely talked like that!”

Danny smiled at the antics as Ryan wheezed, “Well it’s too bad we’ll never know for sure then isn’t it, what with his disappearance, y’know what we’re actually here to talk about.”

“That’s okay. I’ll know. I know my buddy Charles.”

“Alright then.”

Ryan flicked his file open as Shane took a sip from his coffee.

The screen lit up with an image of a man on a black backdrop.

“The Williamsworths were a French-German family who moved to Biel, Switzerland in early 1914, just months before the largest war in European history kicked off.

They were one of the lucky few families to have left France before the war broke out…”

“Oh a family moving, that’s suspicious now?”Shane cut in, yellow words typing themself across the screen.

“Well, it was right before World War 1, I mean the timing is kind of suspicious.” Ryan replied in blue.

-People move, Ryan.-

-Okay, okay, it’s just the facts of the case,.-

Danny rolled his eyes, ready for the story to continue.

The images came back.

“This move would evidently prove to be quite fortunate for the family for obvious reasons. However, it also led Charles to find his true passion: … Watchmaking.”

There was a pause as a map of Switzerland came on screen. “Biel, the town that Charles would live in for the majority of his recorded younger life, was known for watchmaking, being one of several in the heart of an area named ‘Watch Valley.’ “

-You ever own a Swiss watch?-

-Nope-

-Heard they’re good. Reeeal good.-

-Yep.-

-…-

“Charles would reportedly develop a passion for clocks, watches, and timepieces in general, only getting more entrenched in his obsession over time.”

The image of the man now shifted to be overlaid on a map.

“By the time the First World War was over, Charles had gained an ostentatious apprenticeship under one of the premiere watchmakers of the time, Max Stührling. This lasted until Stührling’s death in 1938, after which Charles vanished from any records for two years.”

-Well y’know, his mentor had just died. -Maybe he wanted to grieve. Y’know curl up in his room and not see anybody for a bit.-

Ryan laughed, -2 years, he was crying in his room for 2 years and nobody found him?-

-Well, it’s not like records were great back then, I mean what are you gonna write on the census… just.. like..-

-Loud weeping heard from inside. One resident. Unnamed.-

-Yeah!-

“The next time Charles T. Williamsworth appears on record, it is in the back of a photo from France in 1940. Showing Williamsworth standing in front of a watch shop wearing dark clothes, a distinct pocket watch, and looking into the camera.”

The black and white image appears on screen, zooming in on the background figure. Danny tilts his head at it, something about it niggling at him.

“The shop and its owner would go on to be infamous within the French town for the duration of the Second World War. Charles was unwillingly drafted in the summer of 1941, serving on the front lines for no more than 3 months before sustaining a wound to his face, leaving him with damaged eyesight, facial scarring, and a medical discharge.

He returned to his shop soon after.”

Danny frowned at the mention of what the man had probably gone through.

“Later evidence statements regarding Charles stated that he was: ‘an odd man. He never mentioned the war, leaving it behind once he was not forced to be a part of it. He seemed to be separate from it all, he only cared for his watches.’

This sense of separation would extend to his shop, as when the town was bombed in 1944 leading up to D-day, his shop was left miraculously unharmed. It was reportedly open the very next day.”

-I can appreciate the dedication- Shane says in yellow.

-Yeah, I mean, the morning after is a bit soon, but he did really love watches. If he didn’t have to, I guess he wasn’t gonna close his shop.-

-His advertising: ‘Sure you were almost killed in a fiery explosion, but look! I’ve got new watches!’ Jazz hands.-

Ryan laughs.

“Over the next 50 years, Charles T. Williamsworth would disappear from records repeatedly, sometimes for months, only present on seven censuses between 1952 and 1979. Despite this, the clock shop was never sold, remaining in wait for its master’s return.”

Multiple pictures of pocket watches came onscreen. “It became known in the surrounding area for especially good pocket watches and grandfather clocks. Each personally made using Swiss essemblage practices, often engraved.

While it was a place of prestige, some described the shop as having ‘an unbearably loud sound of ticking, as if a thousand clocks were set to the same second.’

Apparently, Charles ‘seemed to enjoy the sound, often standing in the front room when no one was present. He was able to pick out one clock if it was off time.’ Witnesses stated.”

It cut to showing Shane and Ryan at their table.

“God, I can’t imagine. That’d drive me crazy.” Shane said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I don’t know, a thousand clocks at the same time? Just..” Ryan looked back and forth frantically, as if there were sounds from every direction, “I’d go nuts pretty fast, I can’t even handle one sometimes.”

“I’d just go off and punch one of the clocks, just- RAAAH and -oh my god is that where that comes from?! I’m gonna punch your clock? Or like you clock somebody!?! Oh my god I never realized that!”

Danny’s jaw drops at the realization as Ryan laughs. Shane looks to be losing his mind as well.

“However, Charles’ most notable disappearance was his last.”

Dramatic music played as Danny zoned back in.

“Due to his frequency of vanishing for extended periods of time, it is unknown when exactly Charles disappeared. The last definite sighting of Charles T. Williamsworth was late at night on April 23rd, 1999, when neighborhood patrolman, Elliot Dubois, noticed him locking the door to his shop with its lights still on. Elliot, concerned for the safety of the elderly man, questioned him but eventually allowed Charles to leave, noting that he turned down a road that only led into the woods outside of town.

Two weeks later, 12 year old James Chappellè, a mailboy in the area, noted during his morning run on May 7 that mail had begun to pile up in front of the shop’s door.

Something that had never happened before.”

The word ‘before’ faded into red.

“It reached such a point that the mail system declared they would no longer deliver, as they couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t be stolen.

At this point, the police got involved and the case was assigned to Detective Jacob Laurent.

It turned out to be a more difficult case than first expected, as when they looked into Charles’ past, they were unable to turn up any such notable documents as a birth certificate nor any document containing a birthdate.

But when police entered the shop on May 10th, they found it largely empty, with only the shelves, register, and equipment left remaining between the front and back room. There were no clocks of any kind.

It should be noted that there was still money in the register, and a light on in the back though the other bulbs for the front seemed to have been burnt out.

Upon entering the living space above the shop, it was found to be covered in dust, and all of Charles’ clothes and belongings still present.

Rather, there was evidence that Charles largely slept in his shop, with a cot beside his workbench.

A workbench that, upon police entry, only held one gold pocketwatch, personally engraved with the initials ‘C. W.’ As it was known for Charles to always carry the pocketwatch, he was officially declared missing and possibly presumed dead.

The watch’s presence also led detective Laurent to suspect foul play.

Despite the declaration of foul play, the police did not extensively search the town woods, citing the size and density of the forest.”

The video cut to Shane staring at Ryan, face deadpan. Ryan was clearly trying to hold back laughs.

“So… let me get this straight… an old man who’s… how old at this point exactly?”

Ryan laughs, “Nobody knows, there’s no known birthday-“

“That’s weird too, but okay, let’s say he’s like what, at least 95? I mean… there’s a certain age that like if you disappear… ..eh.” Shane shrugged.

Ryan looked at him incredulously, “Eh??”

“Yeah,” Shane shrugged again, “Eh.”

“What???”

“I mean… y’know… old people wander into the woods sometimes, maybe he just went for a walk and got lost. At that age… death has gotta be around every corner, I mean come on!”

Ryan wheezed into his elbow.

Danny laughed quietly.

Once Ryan calmed down, he organized the file, clipping it down on the table, “So! With the story finished, let’s get into the theories,”

Shane rolled his eyes, “Oh god this is gonna be one of yours isn’t it? What ghosts are abducting people now?”

Danny smiled, briefly considering how much effort it would take to go haunt Shane all the way in LA.

“The first theory is that Charles T. Williamsworth was involved with the mafia at the time and was a long standing or high ranking member that had crossed the wrong people.

Some reasons for this theory is the lack of early documents, suggesting a fake identity or forgery.

This case is especially supported by the long absences, where his shop remained closed and yet still remained in his possession.

In fact, the deed for the shop was not listed under Charles’ name, instead Iisted as owned under a private organization.

This theory explains his disappearance and possible subsequent death as an act of revenge from an enemy made from illicit activities. Leaving no body behind, there would be no evidence to prosecute the acting party.

Within this, there are also some who believe that if Charles was engaged in the mafia and lived under a false identity, that his disappearance was him returning to his actual identity, possibly due to being caught.

Prison records indicate 6 Swiss-German inmates arrested at the approximate time of his disappearance, roughly matching the age and appearance of Charles. Notably, none of them had a distinct facial scar and no identification was ever confirmed.”

The screen switched.

Shane smiled at Ryan, “Oh Ho Ho, my boy Charles is getting into some funky stuff, huh? Workin’ for the Mob, breaking knees, chopping fingers?”

Ryan laughed, “Yeah maybe, it definitely lends credit to him being a part of something. Maybe he was out in the woods breaking knees y’know. Or burying something.”

“Someone,…”Shane said ominously, then burst out laughing, “What if he buried himself! Just-“Shane mimed digging, clapping his hands like he was wiping off dust, “Alright, thats a good illegal grave right there, just a good hole for a dead- woaaah!” He pretended to fall, “Boom, stuck in his own grave.”

“Really, this old man dug a 6 foot deep grave? On his own?”

“Hey you don’t know his strength, maybe he lifts.”

“Alright.” Ryan shook his head, still grinning.

Danny smiled, considering it, it did kind of make sense.

“The second theory is that Charles T. Williamsworth did indeed just walk into the woods and never come out. If this is the case, what happened in the woods is widely speculated on. Some saying that animals may have attacked him, or that he simply fell or was injured and could not get up due to his age.

This theory loses support due to the fact that no body was ever found. Though some say that if the woods were too big for the police to search, there may be a den or that his body was covered naturally.”

“Or in a grave.”

“You really think he was mafia?”

“I mean, who could tell?” Shane shrugged.

“The third theory, much like the first, is that Charles was a federal agent for one of the Allied Powers.

This theory is also supported by the significant periods of absence and lack of documents to indicate a forged identity, meant to fool the German government and allow him to work behind the lines. However, unlike the first, there is also evidence of a man with the same distinct scar on his eye, showing up in the background of photos at the British Intelligence Office, the Eiffel Tower during Germany’s occupancy, and behind closed Swiss borders.

None of which would be possible without the unique skills and permissions of a government agent.”

Silence reigned as Shane and Ryan stared each other down, Shane clearly ramping up for something.

“The name’s Williamsworth. Charles Williamsworth.” He said dramatically.

Ryan burst out laughing. “You support this one more then?”

“Yeah, I’ve changed my mind, he’s not in the mafia. His suspicious activities were in the name of secrecy, national secrets, confidential war trades. Espionage…”

“Well I guess, nobody’s gonna suspect the 95 year old man to be up to anything. I mean, if I saw an old man somewhere I’d just be like, huh I wonder who lost their grandpa, not ‘I bet he’s secretly working to take down Hitler.’ Y’know.”

“Charles gets caught: just ‘Whaa-at me~e? I’m just a gentle~e o~ ol~ld ma~an, I can’t harm nobody~y.” Shane mimed leaning over a cane.

“He gets caught and just pretends he has dementia, ‘Who am I? Who are you? Why am I here? Where’s my breakfast?”

Shane cackled as Ryan laughed.

Danny considered it more, this one seemed the most likely, though… he’d definitely be the oldest agent.

“Another theory is that the shop was robbed and Charles returned while or before it was happening, catching the criminals off guard and leading them to react rashly, injuring or killing Charles. They then would have hidden his body and cleaned out the shop to hide any other evidence.

This theory however is disproven by the lack of money taken from the register.

Despite this, it is the official claimed circumstance by the police at the time.”

“Fucking police, always with the boring one.” Shane said ruefully.

“Our last theory, and my personal favorite,-“

Shane groaned. Danny smiled, this was gonna be good.

“-is that Charles T Williamsworth was a time traveler. And that all of his disappearances were when he was traveling through time.

This theory supports his families early move to Switzerland under odd timing, his appearance in so many photos and even his obsession with clocks. As well as why he seemed unbothered by the tumultuous times.”

“I can… accept it.” Shane said, hesitant.

Ryan laughed, “I’ll take it.”

“Despite all of these theories, there is still significant information missing from the case.

And so, like clockwork this case shall remain:

Unsolved.”

Danny’s mouth dropped as the screen went dark.

No way.

No freaking way.

He lurched upwards, eyes wide.

Obsessed with clocks, scar on his eye, fricking weird and talks in riddles.

Oh mygod!

Danny threw himself out of bed, “I’ve connected the dots!” He rushed to untangle himself from his sheets, transforming immediately, “I’ve connected them!”

He dove for the ghost portal.

Holy frick!

Charles T. Williamsworth was Clockwork!

#dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc #danny phantom crossover #buzzfeed unsolved #shane madej #ryan bergara #clockwork #clockwork dp #Jazz Fenton #Tucker foley #cryptid ghosts #ghosts #cryptid danny fenton #except it’s clockwork

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literaryvein-reblogs · 30 days

Note

Hello! I absolutely love your blog, it has saved my ass from looking like a fool nine times out of ten. I was wondering if you have any tips for describing voices? Like the tone or even how someone's accent sounds, things of the sort. Thank you :)

Haha, I'm so glad to hear this. Thanks for telling me :)

Abrasive - causing irritation; rude and unfriendly

Acidic - marked by the use of wit that is intended to cause hurt feelings

Adenoidal - exhibiting the characteristics (such as snoring, mouth breathing, and voice nasality) of one affected with abnormally enlarged adenoids

Airy - exceptionally light, delicate, or refined

Animated - full of vigor and spirit; lively

Anxious - characterized by extreme uneasiness of mind or brooding fear about some contingency; worried; ardently or earnestly wishing

Authoritative - recognized authority; clearly accurate or knowledgeable

Barbed - characterized by pointed and biting criticism or sarcasm

Baritone - a male singing voice of medium compass between bass and tenor, also: a person having this voice

Barking - to speak in a curt loud and usually angry tone; snapping

Bass - deep or grave in tone; of low pitch

Big - expressed in an enthusiastic or unrestrained way; hearty; of great force; in a loud or declamatory manner

Bitter - caused by or expressive of severe pain, grief, or regret

Bland - not irritating, stimulating, or invigorating; soothing; dull, insipid

Blasé - apathetic to pleasure or excitement as a result of excessive indulgence or enjoyment; world-weary; sophisticated, worldly-wise; unconcerned

Bleak - lacking in warmth, life, or kindliness; grim; severely simple or austere

Blunt - abrupt in speech or manner; slow or deficient in feeling; insensitive

Bombastic - marked by or given to speech or writing that is given exaggerated importance by artificial or empty means; marked by or given to bombast; pompous, overblown

Booming - making a loud deep sound

Bored - having one's patience, interest, or pleasure exhausted; monotonous

Brash - lacking restraint and discernment; tactless; piercingly sharp; harsh

Braying - to utter the characteristic loud harsh cry of a donkey

Breathy - characterized by or as if by the audible passage of breath

Breezy - airy, nonchalant

Bright - lively, cheerful; intelligent, clever

Brisk - sharp in tone or manner; energetic, quick

Brittle - easily hurt or offended; lacking warmth, depth, or generosity of spirit

Broken - discontinuous, interrupted; imperfectly spoken or written; subdued completely; crushed, sorrowful

Bubbly - cheerful and high-spirited; lively, vivacious

Burbling - babbling, prattling

Calm - free from agitation, excitement, or disturbance

Casual - feeling or showing little concern; nonchalant; informal, natural

Caustic - marked by incisive sarcasm

Childish - marked by or suggestive of immaturity and lack of poise; simple

Chirping - to utter (something) with a cheerful liveliness

Choked - to become choked in breathing; to lose one's composure and fail to perform effectively in a critical situation

Clear - easily heard

Cloying - excessively sweet or sentimental

Coarse - crude or unrefined; harsh, raucous, or rough in tone

Complacent - unconcerned; self-satisfied

Conflicted - to be out of harmony or agreement usually noticeably

Contralto - a singing voice having a range between tenor and mezzo-soprano

Cracked- marked by harshness, dissonance, or failure to sustain a tone

Creaky - marked by creaking; squeaky

Croaking - to utter in a hoarse raucous voice

Crisp - notably sharp, clean-cut, and clear

Crooning - to sing or speak in a gentle murmuring manner

Curt - sparing of words; terse

Discordant - shrill; marked by or producing a harsh combination of sounds

Drawling - to speak slowly with vowel sounds that are longer than usual

Dreamy - quiet and soothing; delightful, ideal

Dry - reserved, aloof; lacking smooth sound qualities

Dulcet - pleasing to the ear; generally pleasing or agreeable

Earnest - characterized by an intense and serious state of mind

Ethereal - marked by unusual delicacy or refinement

Falsetto - an artificially high voice

Faint - lacking strength or vigor; performed weakly or languidly

Feathery - extremely light

Feeble - indicating weakness

Firm - not weak or uncertain; vigorous

Flat - lower than the proper pitch; lacking in animation, zest, or vigor; dull

Fierce - marked by unrestrained zeal or vehemence

Fretful - disposed to fret; irritable, restless

Gentle - soft, delicate

Goofy - being ridiculous or mildly ludicrous; silly

Grating - having a harsh or unpleasant sound

Guttural - articulated in the throat; velar (i.e., formed with the back of the tongue touching or near the soft palate)

Hesitant - slow to act or proceed (as from fear, indecision, or unwillingness); showing or feeling reluctance or hesitation

Hissing - to make a sharp sibilant sound; to utter or whisper angrily or threateningly and with a hiss

Honeyed - pleasingly sweet

Husky - hoarse with or as if with emotion

Hypnotic - readily holding the attention; soothing; tending to cause sleep

Indifferent - marked by a lack of interest, enthusiasm, or concern; apathetic

Insinuating - tending gradually to cause doubt, distrust, or change of outlook often in a slyly subtle manner

Jubilant - feeling or expressing great joy; exultant

Lifeless - lacking qualities expressive of life and vigor; insipid

Lilting - characterized by a rhythmical swing or cadence

Lush - sensual; pleasing to the physical senses

Mellifluous - having a smooth rich flow

Melodious - having a pleasing melody

Monotonous - tediously uniform or unvarying in tone

Nasal - characterized by resonance produced through the nose

Neutral - produced with the tongue in the position it has when at rest

Obsequious - marked by or exhibiting a fawning attentiveness

Piercing - loud, shrill

Piping - shrill

Polished - characterized by a high degree of development or refinement

Punchy - vivid, vibrant

Querulous - habitually complaining; fretful, whining

Raucous - disagreeably harsh or strident; hoarse

Reedy - having the tone quality of a reed instrument

Resonant - continuing to sound; echoing

Ribald - marked by coarseness or lewdness; crude, offensive

Robust - having or showing vigor, strength, or firmness

Saccharine - ingratiatingly agreeable or friendly; overly sentimental; mawkish

Scornful - full of scorn; contemptuous

Sibilant - having, containing, or producing the sound of or a sound resembling that of the s or the sh in sash

Silken - agreeably smooth; harmonious

Silvery - having a soft high clear musical tone

Sleek - smooth in speech or manner

Sluggish - markedly slow in movement, flow, or growth

Slurring - to utter with such reduction, substitution, or omission of sounds

Sly - lightly mischievous; roguish

Smarmy - revealing or marked by a smug, ingratiating, or false earnestness

Smoky - having a low throaty quality

Snide - slyly disparaging; insinuating

Somber - of a serious mien; grave

Sonorous - full or loud in sound

Soprano - the highest singing voice of women or boys and formerly of castrati, also: a person having this voice

Sour - unpleasant, distasteful

Staccato - marked by short clear-cut singing of tones or chords; disjointed

Steely - resembling or suggesting steel (as in hardness, strength, or coldness)

Strained - done or produced with excessive effort

Strident - characterized by harsh, insistent, and discordant sound

Stony - manifesting no movement or reaction; dumb, expressionless

Suave - smooth in texture, performance, or style

Surly - irritably sullen and churlish in mood or manner; crabbed

Tart - marked by a biting, acrimonious, or cutting quality

Teasing - to disturb or annoy by persistent irritating or provoking especially in a petty or mischievous way

Tender - delicate or soft in quality or tone

Throaty - heavy, thick, and deep as if from the throat

Thunderous - marked by a high volume of sound

Tremulous - such as is or might be caused by nervousness or shakiness

Unctuous - having, revealing, or marked by a smug, ingratiating, and false earnestness or spirituality

Undulating - to rise and fall in volume, pitch, or cadence

Velvety - having the character of velvet as in being soft, smooth, or thick

Wheezy - wheezing (i.e., breathe with difficulty usually with a whistling sound)

Whiny - having a high-pitched, shrill or plaintive quality

Wistful - full of yearning or desire tinged with melancholy

Effectively describing a voice requires encapsulating the volume, pitch, tone, style, and feeling evoked by the character. Choose specific adjectives to capture your character's voice.

Here is a category system that is fairly standard:

Soprano: C4 to A5 vocal range

Mezzo-soprano: A3 to F5 vocal range

Alto: F3 to D5 vocal range

Tenor: B2 to G4 vocal range

Baritone: G2 to E4 vocal range

Bass: E2 to C4 vocal range

Basically: if it’s a descriptive adjective, it can probably be used to describe the voice of a character. You want whomever is reading the description to immediately “hear” what makes the character unique.

5 Tips for Writing Character Accents

Accents give us information about where a character is from, and the use of distinct speech patterns can give your story a rich texture and flavor.

Here are some tips to consider when giving your characters accents:

1. Make sure your character’s speech isn’t distracting

When writing dialect or a particular accent, it can be tempting to write a character’s dialogue using phonetic spellings.

However, this use of dialect can distract your reader.

If your character is French and is constantly saying “ze” instead of “the,” the reader will be focusing more on decoding the line of dialogue than they will on plot or character development.

When writing fiction, your reader’s attention should always be on the story, and anything that distracts from that probably isn’t worth including.

2. Research slang and colloquialisms

Each region of the world has its own standard pronunciation, sentence structure, and slang.

If your main character has an Australian, Jamaican, Spanish, or Scottish accent, their word choice will likely be different than if they grew up speaking American English.

Research commonly used foreign words, slang phrases, and colloquialisms from your character's part of the world.

Listen to podcasts that feature speakers from your desired region.

Be as specific as possible. Example:

If your character is from New York, their word choice might be different depending on if they’re from the Bronx or Staten Island.

3. Use pieces of other languages

If you’re writing a character who speaks a foreign language, one way to communicate their accent is to simply include snippets of their native tongue in their lines of dialogue.

This will demonstrate the character’s native language and implied accent without resorting to the distracting eyesore of phonetic spelling.

When writing words from languages besides English, you may need to include accented letters.

Writing accented characters is simple to do on a common keyboard; you can apply accent marks and special characters by using keyboard shortcuts.

You can also change your keyboard settings to an international keyboard, which will make it easier to type accents that use accent graves or other accent marks.

4. Don’t stereotype

Writing different dialects indelicately can make you appear condescending towards non-native English speakers or people who use the English language differently than you do.

One of the most common offenders is the use of “eye dialect,” which refers to using misspellings or nonstandard spellings in order to depict a character’s accent (for instance, writing “fixin’” with an apostrophe instead of “fixing” in order to demonstrate Appalachian or Southern accents).

By focusing on the “otherness” of regional dialects and non-native speakers, a writer may give the impression that they are making fun of the way people speak.

When writing different accents, keep eye dialect to a minimum.

5. Recognize that character speech is determined by context

Accents aren’t always determined by region or nationality.

Sometimes, our own accents change depending on who we’re speaking to or our emotional or physical state.

We may slur our speech when we’re drunk, or we may attempt to use complex English words when we’re speaking with someone we perceive to be of a higher status.

Seeing a character change their accents in different contexts can serve as a clever way of revealing the emotional condition of a character.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Writing Notes: Tone

Hope this helps! If it does, do tag me or send me a link to your writing. I'd love to read your work.

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faeriekit · 1 year

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I’m writing this only to excise this from my body.

TIM (& DICK) ACCIDENTALLY START THE BATFAM AU!!!

So. Recently dropped out from college, kicked out of Wayne Manor, and fast tracked through police training Officer Grayson is having a real fucking shit time at the precinct. No one respects him or his deductions or his opinions. Everything sucks ass. His most familiar and longest-living support structure was ripped out from underneath him, he’s broken up and no-contact with anyone he’s ever dated, his Blüdhaven apartment is awful and full of black mold and there’s never enough food to sustain him, his creation of his Nightwing persona is slow-going and the public is reluctant to catch on, there’s a kid hiding under his bed, his partner thinks he’s a total nepo baby even though he has no money and no contacts, and—

There’s a what.

Dick double checks under his bed. Yerp. Sure enough, just hanging out, is a black-haired kid with a raggedy coat and a backpack, just peering back out at him with his big ‘ol eyes.

“What the fuck,” says Dick, before remembering not to swear in front of kids. “...freak.”

The kid scrunches his nose.

Dick doesn’t kick the kid out because, fuck, it’s cold out in November and at least his shitty apartment has heating, but he does tell the kid that this ain’t cool and that if he wasn’t literally in the cops to take most of them down, he wouldn’t let this fly at all. In the morning, the kid skedaddles, and Dick assumes that is that.

Except he’s here the next day.

“What the fuck,” Dick repeats, and commits to the swearing this time.

In the mean time, Tim already knows what swearing is and Is On The Fucking Lamb.

His parents were murdered in their bed on their one week in Gotham for the season, and escaping the same fate had been a lot of sneaking out of the house and hitching a ride on the Gotham city bus and laying low on the streets for the week, keeping only his most important photos, his camera, and a spare set of clothes on him at all times. There had been warnings of upset in the company that Tim had overheard, but he hadn’t expected this. With no safety in Gotham, no money, no food, and no one he knew personally, Tim was Very content with his plan of hiding out under Robin’s (ex-Robin’s?) bed until the murderers are appropriately found. The company can’t be bought, traded, or sold until Tim’s found dead, after all.

So. With a motivation to avoid getting murdered, Tim very rudely ignores Dick Grayson’s attempts to keep him out of his apartment with strategic uses of puppy eyes, lockpicks, and general knowledge of exploits in electronic locks.

“Little monster,” Dick warns, even as he has a plate for Tim in the hand opposite his own, “You can’t hide under my bed forever.”

Tim ducks back further under the frame. Yes he can!!!

It devolves into day-to-day shenanigans from there. Tim never speaks since he knows his Bristol accent is recognizable. Dick suddenly has to juggle his day job, Nightwing, and stopping this little kid with a camera from crawling around this crusty and crime-riddled city all night, just so the squirt can dart into the precinct in the morning with entirely inadmissible evidence of wrongdoing?? JUST managing the baby is part-time job. Fuck. Dick is buying double groceries now. He might actually learn how to cook more than ramen-with-egg.

It’s good that Dick has mastered some kind of weird almost-parent bullshit with the little monster, because overnight one kid under his bed turns into two.

“What the fuck,” says Dick. He tries to reach under his bed, and the new kid tries to get him with a knife. “What?? The fuck??”

“Back off! The shrimp was here first!!” the new kid growls, his street accent thickly prominent.

“This is literally my apartment?!”

“So what? What’re you going to do, call the cops to this shithole?”

“…I’m a cop?!”

Anyway. This new kid is deeply protective of the little monster, and his name is Jay something-something, mind your own fucking business, and Dick’s a little bit grateful because now at least the ten-year-old-monster has backup when he starts darting around town and also is wondering why it’s suddenly his fucking problem that he has to feed two kids he is not related to, and also apparently bailing them out at work when two not-even-pubescent kids get caught breaking and entering at seemingly random places in Bludhaven.

“Fuck off,” says Jay, to a cop, while the more silent kid is busy trying to get a look at evidence on cop desks. Dick watches from his own desk in silent horror.

“Is this yours?” asks Dick’s haggard partner.

“…Sure,” says Dick, to Jay’s clear surprise and suspicion. The monster beams with all of his adorable and also entirely fake innocence, the little shit. Dick bails them out, and then they all have lima beans for dinner as punishment for getting caught. I mean doing illegal things. (I mean getting caught.)

And then Bruce asks if Dick is coming home for Hanukkah.

Dick does not want to come back for Hanukkah.

…But the leftovers would feed the kids, actually. And it’s good food. And free. Maybe he can go for one night and not kill Bruce.

Spoiler: Dick cannot go for one night and not kill Bruce. Dick stomps to the other end of the house, texts Alfred an apology, and makes it all the way back to his car in order to drive home. Dick is on the parkway and on his way back to Bludhaven by the time that the tiny assassin in his car tries to Get Him.

They tussle. Dick only wins because he is An Adult and the assassin is, like, four foot nine.

Anyway. Cass is driven home in an improvised belt-and-dress-shirt restraint and cannot live under the bed, as she has to receive lice treatment. She stays because there is food and also other kids her age.

“Where are you getting all these kids?” Dick’s work partner asks, which is a fair question.

“…Cousins,” Dick lies.

“They live at your place.”

“Until their moms get sober again, yeah, probably,” Dick says, banking on the fact that he looks ethnic enough that no one will question the blatant reference to substance abuse or the basically-still-a-kid raising kids.

No one questions him.

He’s kind of disappointed in them about that.

Jay drops a reference to Crime Alley about this point. “You’re from Gotham?” Dick asks, perplexed. “Then why are you here?? This place sucks ass.”

“I’m in hiding. Duh.”

“From who??” Dick is fully prepared to go Nightwing on someone’s ass.

“Batman,” Jay says, severely. “I stole his tires. And then I hit him with a tire iron.”

Dick gapes. Monster gasps. Cass doesn’t get it, and takes a good heaping of spaghetti off the monster’s plate while he freaks out.

Much cute domestic shenanigans, and then it all goes to shit when the party is crashed by an assassin, who has been paid reasonable amounts of money to kill Timothy Jackson Drake.

Fighting ensues. Jay, who had known everything But the fact that Dick was Nightwing, freaks the fuck out.

"YOU?!"

"Yeah," Dick says, sheepishly, putting the escrima stick back in his pocket. "Uh. Whoops?"

"BUT YOU'RE A COP?!"

"I'm harboring you all, aren't I?" Dick points out, and rightfully so. "Cops do illegal stuff all the time. I literally got you out of trouble for your little B&E adventure in the inner city warehouses last week. If you weren’t fake related to a cop, you’d be in juvie right now for repeat offenses."

Jay, who was pretending that didn't happen and whose face is a bright scarlet, changes the topic. "Why didn't you tell us you were a fucking vigilante, then?? You should have said something?"

Dick points to the under-the-bed monster who has been squatting in his apartment since last year for that exact reason and the mostly mute mini assassin, both of whom had already known this information and said nothing. “I assumed they told you tbh.”

Jay stomps away.

Unfortunately, Tim's plan of hiding in Dick's apartment is no longer safe, and now everyone has to haul ass to move somewhere more secure.

This means needing more money.

This means needing somewhere to hide until a new place can be secured.

…Shit. This means playing nice with Bruce and asking for favors.

Dick does not want to play nice and ask for favors.

…Dick looks at the kid who’s depending on him to protect him from assassination, another orphan with nowhere else to go, and a girl who underwent abusive training and who’s never known a safe space apart from them.

Dick is going to have to get his shit together.

And he will hate it the whole fucking time.

Everyone piles into his early 2000s toyota something and off they drive, one bag each, to the house with the guy who never quite adopted Dick into his family and probably never wants to see him again, based on how literally every time Dick tries to spend time with him, Bruce can’t help but push on every one of his fucking buttons.

From there it’s a slow-churning reconciliation arc, baby! Bruce learns how to actually communicate with his kid, finds out that having the kids around improves his quality of life by 200%, and Alfred gets an early plural grandkid arc. Dick struggles not to take shit personally while they solve the deaths of the Drakes, Tim breaks his leg falling off of a place he Should Not have been, and Jason continues to learn that protecting others isn’t the same as genuine vulnerability and intimacy, and that he has value, and Cass learns that although she hates killing, she loves fighting, and using that for good isn’t bad.

Reasons I will never write this fic:

Too long!! I would never get it done in a reasonable time frame, and I can’t commit right now.

I actually…writing mysteries bores me. Sometimes actual mysteries bore me. I couldn’t execute this the way I would want it to be read. I’d give up. (Or, you know, I technically already have?)

In-betweens between the action scenes are too vague. They’re not solid in my head in the way I would want them to be if I was writing this.

This entire fic was premised under the basis of Dick looking under his bed and finding a twelve year old Tim Drake. I wanted some good old fashioned Tim & Dick bonding that wasn’t Red Hood based, since it’s still one of the most prominent tropes in their ‘&’ relationship tag.

Want to use any of this…? Go nuts. Or don’t. This has been exorcised from my body. I am now free.

#dc #batfam #dick grayson #tim drake #cass cain #dcu #Bruce Wayne (derogatory)#free to a good home

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that-one-gay-aew-enthusiast · 4 months

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𝚁𝚎𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 - 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚜 "𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛" 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚢

＿＿＿＿＿＿｡o*★*o｡＿＿＿＿＿＿

Warnings: None Word count: 1.4k Genre: fluff Summary: After being seperated for 10 years, a certain lizard brings you and trapper back together, leading to quite the reunion Pairings: kaiju trainer!reader x kaiju vet!trapper A/n: In this story the reader is someone who works in hollow earth to maintain the kaijus and ensure they all "play nice" ,it sounds weird, but just go with it pls ( Also decided to start my dan fics with Trapper since I think there is practically no apprication of him on here so here we are)

＿＿＿＿＿＿｡o*★*o｡＿＿＿＿＿＿

For 5 years now, you had been working down in beautiful hollow earth. After Dr. Andrews discovered that you were somehow able to tame any animal, including ones that are 100 ft tall, she hired you immediately. You grew a close bond with a lot of the animals in hollow earth, but your favourites had always been kong and godzilla. After coming together and being rid of skar king, the two became like playful children. They often play fought with each other, never intentionally hurting each other ,but accidents did occasionally happen of course. Normally you would have a vet called Jack come down to tend to them. However, after discovering he wasn't giving the kaijus the right treatment, Illene fired him.

It had been 7 months since jack got fired ,none of the animals had sustained injury thankfully, that was until kong and godzilla were playing, and kong managed to puncture zilla's arm with his reinforced tooth. You reported the injury uo to the lab on the surface, and were ensured the vet would be sent down as soon as possible. You still hadn't met, or even been told anything about this newly hired vet, all you knew was that he had been the one that fitted kongs tooth. For whatever reason, Illene always insisted that "You wouldn't know him." You left it at that and accpeted you would just meet him when the time arrived.

You were sat on a ledge with the large lizard sat in front of you whimpering and growling occasionally. You rubbed the top of his head. "It's gonna be alright buddy, Im sure this vet will be just lovely." You smiled as he looked up at you and gave a dismissive huff. You chuckled, before watching a yellow air craft fly round the corner and land behind you on the ledge. You patted zilla's head and got up, jogging over to the door waiting for it to open. Once it did, you watch Illene and Jia step out, followed by a man in a green flying suit and sunglasses. Jia hugged you as you stared at the man, there was something about him, you could of sworn you knew this man.

"Y/n? y/n are you ok?" You broke out of your trance, stopped staring at the man before turning to Illene who was now looking at you concerned. "Yes yes, I'm fine Dr Andrews." She nodded still looking slightly concerned as you looked at the ground. "Right then, where's this big lizard." He had an austrailian accent, another thing you reconised. You led the man over to where godzilla was sat, and let him start working as you sat with Illene and Jia. "Dr Andrews I swear I reconise him, what's his name?" Illene watched him work. "He's called Travis Beasley." You froze. "W-what did you just say?" Illene showed you his work profile."Travis Beasly, he's certainly an odd one, you wouldn't believe how much he changed from high school." Oh but you would.

*Flashback*

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Trapper was being sent to another university. You had known Trapper since the two of you were 5 years old. The both of you had just confessed deeper feelings for each other. But now you being forced apart because his father was directing him into a new career path. You sunk to your knees, feeling tears fill your eyes. "N-no you can't leave Trapper, I love you, I might never see you again, I can't live with that, I can't!" He came down to your level, his eyes as wet as yours. "I know sweetheart I know It's not fair, but I don't have a choice." He pulled you into his chest, rubbing your back ,trying to not get any more emotional. You cried into his chest before he pulled you back gently and planted his lips on yours. You tangled your fingers into his chocolate brown hair, holding his face against ,not wanting the kiss to end, you knew what happened when it did.

*End of Flashback*

Trapper had about finished on godzilla for the moment and walked back over. "Well providing he doesn't get into any more biting matches with kong, he should be fine." Trapper removed his glasses to clean them and looked up, seeing you stood up now, tears brimming your eyes with the setting sun framing you. He tilted his head slightly confused, before your broken voice spoke. "Trapper?" His face quickly melt from one of confusion to one of captivation. Slowly he walked towards you, taking in your details as you did the same to him. Only one person in the world had that nickname for him. As the two of you came to be inches apart, you looked into his eyes. "I-i thought I'd never see you again trapper-" Before you could even finish your sentence, Trapper held your face between his hands and kissed you deeply.

You didn't hesitate to kiss back, as the both of you slowly sank to your knees, never breaking the kiss. Your hands found their way into his dirty blonde waves as tears spilled from both yours and his eyes. Eventually you pulled out of the kiss for a breath, smiling through the tears as Trapper pushed your hair out of your face. "I can't believe it's really you sweetheart, you look so different." You gave a small broken chuckle as you sniffled back tears. It was true, both of you looked practically unreconisable to each other. You had gone from a quiet nerdy girl that wore 2 buns, to keep her curly blonde hair out of the way, to a woman with tattoos, black and purple hair and glasses. Trapper however had gone from a short ,skinny boy with ratty brown hair, to a tall, muscular man with his sandy blonde waves. His personality hadn't changed of course, he had always been the loveable ,music-loving and laid back australian you'd always known.

Illene informed you both that she was taking Jia back up to the surface. You nodded ensuring Trapper could stay in your home in hollow earth for a while. You both watched as the air craft flew away, before slowly starting to make your way through the trees, to your penthouse type home. All whilst chatting to each other and catching up on your differing paths, after being seperated. Once you got home, You offered Trapper a coffee. He nodded sitting down and you made his coffee, remembering every little detal his had for coffee.

You sat down with him and set the drink down. "I just can't believe it's actually you." He smiled pulling you onto his lap and resting his forehead agaisnt yours. "Then it's a good thing I'm here to make you believe isn't it sweetheart." You held back tears and kissed him again. The kiss was full of passion, not in a sexy way, more in an extreme display of affection way. Trapper held your sides, gently squeezing them. You pulled back. "How about you sleep here tonight, I must say, the views from the bedroom are a sight to behold." He grinned at you and stood up, throwing you over his shoulder. You giggled as he headed to the open bedroom door and placed you down on the bed, before taking a seat behind you, shoes off of course.

Trapper wrapped his arms round you and rested his chin on your shoulder. "Y/n?" You hummed in reposnse, watching the sun settting over hollow earth through the glass doors at the other end of the bedroom. "Can I stay here with you permenantly?" You turned and looked at him. "Trapper being down here is a full time gig y'know? Not to mention sometimes dangerous, I couldn't forgive myself if something happend to you." He smiled holding your face. "And I couldnt forgive myself if we got seperated again sweetheart. Besides if you can be down here all by yourself, Im sure I'll be able to live down here with you." You gave him a sweet smile, before smacking his chest playfully. "You dork!" He chuckled holding you. "You mean, Your dork?" You giggled as the two of you layed down to cuddle, the sun setting fully over hollow earth for the day.

#writerscommunity #fluff #angst #dan stevens #travis “trapper” beasley #trapper #godzilla x kong #trapper x reader #fluff fic

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vladdyissues · 8 months

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We Have A Problem

Danny could scarcely contain his excitement. After eight long months, the wait was finally over: Tonight was the premiere of the hotly-anticipated new television docuseries, Knowing Universe.

The product of decades of research and collaborative efforts from the world’s greatest minds—astronomers, physicists, astronauts, engineers—Knowing Universe was rumored to have had a production budget somewhere in the hundreds of millions and boasted the latest advancements in computer graphics and long-range photography. New lenses had to be fitted to NASA’s telescopes to provide viewers with high-resolution images. Helmed by a famous Hollywood director and scored by Hans Zimmer, Knowing Universe was expected to go down in history as the most pivotal science documentary ever created, eclipsing even Carl Sagan’s beloved Cosmos.

A year ago Danny would have eschewed such blasphemy, but the litany of promos and sneak peeks on The Science Channel had finally won him over. It was all he had talked about for the past month.

Every member of the Fenton family knew what a monumental occasion this was to Danny, and had marked their calendars accordingly. With the big day finally here, a festive atmosphere descended upon Fenton Works. Pizza was ordered. Living room furniture was rearranged around the TV, the windows blacked out with construction paper. Glittery blue streamers festooned the ceiling. Glow-in-the-dark stars and meteors spackled the wall. Jack made three enormous batches of “galaxy brownies”, a regular brownie recipe but studded with white chocolate morsels and multicolored candy sprinkles. Maddie and Jazz took care of the music, arranging a playlist consisting of space-themed songs that featured such hits as David Bowie’s Space Oddity and anything by Daft Punk. Sam brought over a tray of veggies that had been cut into star shapes, and Tucker had printed out cards for an astronomy-themed parlor game to play while they waited.

At eight o’clock the lights were dimmed. Everyone gathered in front of the TV. Danny, hyped out on too much sugar, grinned like a maniac, practically vibrating with anticipation.

Sam passed a smirk to Tucker. “I think we know what to get him for his birthday this year.”

“Yeah,” Tucker laughed. “Posters, t-shirts, the DVD set—”

“Shh, shh,” Danny hissed. “It’s starting!”

Six pairs of eyes glued themselves to the opening sequence: a panning, high-definition shot of Earth, complemented by a gentle, sustained note on flute. Then, a voice:

“For as long as humanity has existed, we have looked to the stars…”

The ecstatic grin slid off Danny’s face.

It wasn’t David Attenborough’s educated gravel, or Neil deGrasse Tyson’s friendly, conversational baritone. No, this voice was intimately familiar, lightly accented, arrogant, with phlegmy fricatives and a rolling, almost musical modulation.

Tucker clapped his hand over his mouth. Sam goggled at the screen.

“Oh, my God, no,” Danny murmured.

Jack Fenton popped to attention. “Hey! That’s Vladdie!”

“No.”

“Vlad’s narrating the show!”

“No.”

“Hey, Danny, isn’t this—”

Outside Fenton Works, a howl rose over the rooftops, and every dog in the neighborhood took up the call:

“NOOOOO!”

Read on AO3

#danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #hjbwrites #dp fanfiction #humor #this is a long way to go for a joke but

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loominaire · 3 days

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gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan · 4 months

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Waltzing Waves

Author’s note: This is the song this is based off of. More Mermay, with dear Reader. It's a lovely bop.

Warnings: gender neutral reader, threats, allusions to death, and murder, drowning, let me knows if I need to add more.

Summary: Reader barely survived encountering a wave-soaked mer-astartes. Reader hadn’t realized they were real and not folk tales, or legends told by the sailors to frighten and impressive those who are land dwelling.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams, @sleepyfan-blog

Tagged Again: @kit-williams, @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

You were on your fishing boat, it had been in your family for years, patched and faded in some places, but well loved and cared for so that it would take care of you. The sea gives and takes, is one of the lessons that your parents had taught you. Memories of your father’s calloused hands gently guiding yours in how to cast the nets from the boat. How to be patient, quiet and watch the sea and skies for the changing, dangerous nature of the weather in the area where you lived out amongst the waves.

You felt the tugs and carefully grabbed up the net, and groan a little, both with effort and hope, it had been a week with very little to show for fishing, so to have the net so heavy was a boon and a blessing, even if it was really heaving and struggling against you with the weight of the fish that you caught. You almost dropped the net back into the water and lost the catch but with a heavy and a curse you pull the catch inside the boat and look to see what’s in your net. What would have to be tossed back, after all, sustainable fishing practices, as well as being concerned about the planet, despite the fact that it meant less money in your coffers, the fish would replenish in the seas better that way.

Your heart drops when you notice something tangled up amongst the fish is something that glints like metal. It was massive and large, with scales that you trace from an aquatic life form to something that looks far more human and your stomach clenches and you gulp in air as you realize what, it was that you caught. He had fins where his feet should be, and his eyes were red as blood, hair as gold as the sun, his features, were hauntingly beautiful, and his angry hissing sound, and the growls as she skitters back a bit. Oh no. You’d accidentally caught an Astartes, this was a very dangerous situation and not dying or being brutally maimed was now your goal. Hopefully he might forgive you if you are very careful.

“Come closer, Human,” The Astartes croons at her in heavily accented language of the locals. “And I’ll eat you alive, like you would have done to me.”

“Please don’t feast upon my flesh,” Your lips tremble and your legs buckle as they gaze upon his massive irate form and you plead, “If I return you to the sea, please let me live?”

The Astartes glares down at you impassively with a sneer, his teeth look terribly sharp. The Astartes glares down at you haughtily from where he’s been tangled in the net, likely still only in it for… some reason. You know that they can, or at least so you heard, can swim through the seas and air.

“I will let you go, but quickly leave these waters,” The Astartes hisses out you with a vicious glare. “If you drop your nets amongst these waves, then my brother’s and I will take you down with us.”

You gulp and nod, quickly and as carefully as you can dump the net, fish and Astartes both back in, barely reeling the net back in to your boat. Before you can start to roar, a massive, clawed hand, from the Astartes you’d accidentally caught. You yelped as he tugged you close with a sharp glare.

“I want something in return for not harming you human,” He hisses.

“W-what?” You ask nervously, he’s so handsome and terrifying at the same time.

“A kiss,” He says, he’d noticed the mixture of terror and attraction in your scent with a slight smirk.

You blush and nod and he press a swift, hard kiss to your lips and then lets you go as fast as he had grabbed you. Your cheeks are pink as you start to head back to the dock as fast as you could safely. Occasionally glancing back at where the Astartes was, or possible still is lurking under the waves. You unintentionally like your lips, they taste of salt and iron as you rub your face and hook your boat up to the dock and stagger down the docks, perhaps, you should let your younger brother take over the family business- and have him go to a different fishing spot while you took over more of the administrative duties.

Sleep is hard to come by that night, and the next several weeks you are haunted by the Astartes in the water that you had accidentally caught. His red eyes and golden hair. His large, long, muscular form. He’d look like a gorgeous statue glittering in the sun, as much as he’d terrified you. And that kiss it haunted you, his lips had been softer than you’d expected, and of that salt and iron. You groan and rub your face, unable to sleep as you stagger to the shore and stare into the water, your joints had been aching something fiercely recently, and the water looked so inviting right now.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #adeptus astartes #warhammer #mermay #mermay 40k #mermay 2024 #Poor Unfortunate Souls AU #OC: Zadakael #reader insert

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no0t2 · 7 months

Text

guard oc momence...

his name is rogers ! :) (i redesigned him. idk if i posted his previous design i forgot) ; he is both half life and hlvrai oc!! for rp purposes.

he is mixed with mexican heritage (his abuela is mexican) his mom was mixed and his dad is from georgia (USA) .. he has uhh a slight southern accent bcs he predominantly lived with his dad while his mom was off working with her side of family

she would often be working with her family bcs of the business her family had. rogers grew up working in the ranch with his dad and aunt (his dad's sister) ,,, they'd give horse lessons to locals sometimes. when rogers was old enough he started hrt alongside trying to get a proper education for a veterinary degree. but because of the treatment he was going through he couldn't financially sustain his degree and at age 21 he quit then worked in his ranch for a bit to help his aunt n dad.

till his colleage (of different degree) told him about black mesa and how he should try working there since they(his friend) began working there too as security. he was a bit reluctant because. why would he wanna work in an underground facility. but because it wasn't far and his dad was pretty excited by the prospect of his son working at a COOL. SECRET facility. so he encouraged him..

#my art #digital art #hlvrai #half life #half life oc #hlvrai oc

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fangirlingfromdownunder · 2 months

Text

A Sweet Mishap - Chapter 12

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader

A/N: I just want to start by thanking everyone for all the love on this story so far. Here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

A Sweet Mishap Masterlist | Main Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Grumbling, I get out of bed at 6:30am, after shutting off my alarm. I have a brisk shower to wake myself up, get dressed in leggings, a sports bra and an old oversized hoodie, and have a quick breakfast; water and an over-ripe banana. I tie up the most comfortable running shoes I have, put my dollar store wired earphones in, turn on a lively pop playlist and jog down the stairs, instead of waiting for the elevator.

Part of being realistic, I decided, is accepting that my loathing of gyms and exercise has left me out of shape and is a likely main contributor as to why my exes have all ended up in bed with other women. I accept that unless I get in shape, I’ll never be able to attract and satisfy anyone long-term. I also assume that it’s part of why I can’t secure any auditions, not that I’m allowing myself to consider that career path anymore.

Knowing I can’t afford to splurge on a gym membership until I get a more sustainable income I opt to just run. My mind keeps running in time with my legs (or maybe even faster). I try to remember when I first became so inactive. As a child and teenager I was always outside moving around, whether it was tending to or riding my horse, or hiking, I was always doing something active. I figure it was probably London that did it. I’d sold my horse to pay for the plane tickets and to help us get set up with an apartment. That had left me depressed for a while, in truth I still miss that beautiful snow-white mare even now. Then, there hadn’t been many opportunities to hike and none to ride in London, so I entered a state of stasis. I walked when and where I could, but the gloomy weather made even that difficult.

Then after the shit hit the fan the first time and I moved home, I was so depressed I barely left my parent’s house for months. That resulted in evenmore stasis, until they forced me to get a job. My dad had a friend that owned a bar and he'd managed to talk my way into a job there working the quieter weeknights. That had gotten me back on my feet, but it wasn’t quite the activity I was used to. Ten months later I moved to New York with a Wednesday regular that talked his way into my pants and subsequently my heart.

A fresh start, so I thought, but it ended up being evenmore stasis. New York wasn’t much different to London; a bustling city with no hiking trails or decent outdoor spaces aside from Central Park. By the time that relationship faced an all too familiar demise I was left well and truly broken. Any hobbies I had were long forgotten. Though, I did have the pipe dream that Tyler had helped sprout after taking me to numerous broadway shows. So, not wanting to go back home to my parents again, I clung to that, even after countless rejections.

Now, left with nothing but regrets and no clear path forward, I know I’m a hopeless mess. So, I do the only thing I can think of: run.

When I finally collapse on the couch, massaging my aching muscles, after another long closing shift, I force myself to continue browsing the local job boards. But as I’m scrolling, my phone rings and I accidentally answer too quickly before I can process who it is. But I recognise the deep, Texan accent immediately. “Hey Darlin’, you ok? I’ve left you like a hundred messages. I was about to book a flight to New York to do a wellness check,” he says with a dry chuckle.

Trying to act indifferent and uninterested – more to fool myself than him – I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “I’m fine. Just busy.” As I twist around on the couch trying to stretch out my tense muscles my eyes land on the box that I still haven’t sent back. I sigh. “Jensen, listen…”

His tone is more somber when he speaks again, cutting me off, “You changed your mind about us? I know it’s a lot, but I warned you that they would likely come out eventually. I tried to get my agent to get ahead of it, but the paparazzi are relentless. I’m so sorry. I get it if-”

I sit up straighter, paying more attention. I cut him off, “Wait! What are you talking about?”

“The photos from the cafe…the day we met. You didn’t know? Wait, but if that’s not why you’ve been avoiding me then what’s going on?”

Still in shock, I search his name on my laptop. My jaw drops along with my phone as the photos from that day pop up.

“Y/N? Y/N, please talk to me. I know it’s a lot, but please…I’m right here.”

I pick my phone back off my lap and bring it back up to my ear. In that moment I realise I have the perfect excuse, he’s giving me an out. I know this won’t go away and it could leave a blemish on both of our reputations, but if I break it off now it will just be a single meeting in a coffee shop. The whole thing would fade eventually, when they realise it’s nothing the paparazzi will move onto the piece of celeb gossip as would Jensen to the next female.

I put on my best facade and lean on my acting skills, despite promising I’d never use them on him. But again, this will be the last time I’ll ever speak to him, so what’s the harm. “I’m sorry, Jens, it’s just…it’s all too much. You might be used to this, but for me…this could be my career. I’ll never get a role without being labeled as sleeping my way into the business. Not to mention the hate from your fans. I just…I can’t.” He sighs and I could swear I heard him let out a sniffle as if he’s crying and my heart breaks. I almost take it all back, but I tell myself this is for the best. He’ll be better off without me; it never would’ve worked anyway.

“I understand…” he says before going silent as if hiding his sniffles. After a few minutes he says, “I’m so sorry, Darlin’. You really are special, I did everything I could. I know it’s a big risk for you…”

“It was a risk for you too. But if we end it here no one has to know. I was just your barista…They’ll forget and so will you. It will be better this way.” I wipe away a tear as I hang up. I know I wouldn’t be able to stay strong if he tried to fight for me or comfort me, or take anymore blame, so I had to break free. With tears now streaming down my face I finally allow myself to read through all the messages he’d left over the past 48 hours. They start out normal and light hearted, wishing a good day and good night but they quickly take a serious turn. Since about 9am every message is a form of an apology or a beg for me to call him.

I then notice a message from Stella from the same time. Hers has a very different tone. There’s still the begs for me to call her, but her messages are all layered with excitement about how cute me and Jensen look together and how she can’t wait to meet him at the wedding. I want nothing more than to call her and let her tell me how much of an idiot I am and to let her convince me to call him back, apologise and work it out. But I don’t. I promised I wouldn’t be a distraction; wedding conversations only. As Nick pointed out, she has enough on her plate right now. She doesn’t need to fix my messes too. I’m an adult, it’s time to grow up.

As I stare at the photo the tears fall heavier. Feeling utterly heartbroken, and pathetic for feeling this way after such a short time I need comfort. I know it’s so much more than just the issue with Jensen; it’s Nick’s criticism, it’s not being able to call my best friend, it’s how little I’ve achieved so far, it’s the loneliness of my apartment, it’s the memories, it’s everything. Feeling the worst I’ve felt in years I do what may seem like the most childish thing – because I feel like a failed adult – and call my mother.

“Hi Mom,” I say through tears.

And like a true mother, she instantly knows something’s wrong. “Hey Sweetie, you want to talk about it?”

“Can I come home?”

“Oh, Sweetie. You know you’re always welcome to come home, but why don’t we talk about this first?”

“I’m a mess, and I’m so alone and I don’t know what to do. My life is going nowhere. I’m a failure.”

“You feel like…”

“What?”

“You feel like all those things. But in reality you’re far from any of that.”

“No, it’s true. I’m all alone. My best friend’s fiance doesn’t want me hanging around them anymore because I’m an unwelcome distraction. My job is going nowhere and I barely get paid enough to pay my bills, I’ve been turned down from every audition I’ve done all year, I flunked most of my classes…I got my picture all over the internet with a guy I like and then I pushed him away…I’m such a failure. And I miss Snowball…and you and dad. I need a hug.”

“Oh, Honey…you’re still so young, it will all work out. You’ve had a bad run is all. But you truly have done so much. You’ve lived overseas, you’re living all alone in New York and you’re paying your bills, you’re eating, you’re working and you’re helping plan a wedding. You really have done so much. You’re the furthest thing from a failure. Your father and I are so proud of you. As for Snowball, your father still goes down and tends for and exercises her a few days a week. He wouldn’t let that horse go so easy, she’s over on Uncle Liam’s ranch. He just didn’t want you to know because he wanted to see you work for what you wanted and maybe pay a little price…learn a lesson. You know how he is…”

“Snowy’s ok?”

“I’ll get him to send you some photos next time he visits the ranch. So, tell me about these photos and this boy? They’re not nudes are they?”

“No, God, no. I would never! He’s famous and came into Mamma Jo’s. I was serving him and the paparazzi took a photo of us. But since then we became close, talking almost daily. But, I’m such a mess, how could I date again? He’ll probably just cheat on me anyway…I’m not good enough for long-term relationships.”

“Those boys still in your head? Not all men will be like that, and again, that wasn’t your fault.”

“It happened twice, with two different guys…how could I possibly believe it wasn’t because of me?”

“Because it just wasn’t. They didn’t know the gem they pushed away. You didn’t deserve what they did, but they never deserved you. But you and Trent were so young, not that I’m defending him, and then I never liked that Tyler kid. For better or worse, you know the signs now. Hindsight is 20/20, my dear. So, if you like this new guy, famous or not, just watch for the red flags you missed last time. If he doesn’t love you like you deserve, that’s his loss. Don’t settle for less than you deserve, but don’t shut yourself off either,” she says, and then as if trying to lighten the mood and make me laugh she adds, “Your father and I would like grandchildren one day. But only if you have them with a man who treats you and them right.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I say, tears finally easing off.

“That’s what I’m here for, Dear. No matter how old you get or how much you grow, you’ll always be my little girl. And no matter how lonely you feel, you’re never alone. And as much as we would love to see you, I know your life is where you are, right now. Don’t come home just yet. When the time is right we’ll even book your flights, but right now you need to stay where you are.”

“Ok…I’ll stay…”

“You’ll get through this, Sweetie. You always do. But until you do, I’m only ever a phone call away.”

“I know…Thanks, Mom. By the way, Mom, this guy…He’s from Texas…”

“That’s great, Dear, but I care much more about how he treats you.”

“I know…He treats me right, I think I hurt him more than he hurt me tonight. I need to call him back and explain.”

“Alright, Sweetie. I love you.”

“I love you, Mom. Good night.”

I hang up and go to the kitchen to clean my face. If I’m going to attempt to fix things with Jensen, I need to compose myself. Though, I wouldn’t blame him if he doesn’t pick up. After filling a glass with water I take it back to the couch, but before I sit down you stare at the box in the corner by the door. Still feeling unsure, despite my mother’s encouragement, and not knowing what I could even say to Jensen to begin to explain myself, I opt to start with a promise I made days ago instead. I bring the box back to the couch, rip off the tape and pull out the envelope. I start to read through the paperwork, determined to finally sign it.

I get through about a page and a half before the technical, legal jargon starts to jumble together. I find it harder to focus or keep my eyes open. I lie down to get into a more comfortable reading position, but it doesn’t take long for my eyes to droop closed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Taglist: @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27, @n-o-p-e-never, @deansimpalababy

#jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #supernatural imagine #supernatural fic

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courtforshort15 · 2 years

Text

Not the Same

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GNReader

Word Count: 2900ish

Summary: You don't like her, this woman who enters his life just as suddenly, just as savagely as she leaves it. You know Matt is deserving of so much more than she gives him, and it breaks your heart.

Warnings: none really. Slight angst with a happy ending.

Masterlist

You don't like her.

In fact, you hate her.

You know hate is a strong word; one reserved for the most vile of people, the ones who hurt and maim and destroy innocent, unsuspecting lives. Ones who take take take, without giving anything in return.

But honestly, hate is exactly what you feel for her, and it takes years for the feeling to go away.

It takes years for the curse she leaves behind to slowly begin healing. She is a glacier; cold and stubborn and incapable of sustaining life in the cracks and crevices between sheets of ice. Years go by before things unfreeze, though the process is slow even then.

It's not the fact that she makes Matt happy, or the fact that Matt is so clearly in love with her, as much as it pains you to admit, loathing the way it's her and not you tucked into his side and under his arm. It's the fact that she hones in on every one of his vulnerabilities, every one of his insecurities, and exploits them. You struggle watching the two of them together, aching with the thought that Matt deserves love and happiness and good things.

Because Elektra, despite her designer clothes and polished accent and sharp, all-knowing smile, isn't a good thing.

You don't hate her in the beginning. You certainly aren't a fan, but given that you've never seen Matt smile so much, you force yourself to at least give her a half-hearted chance. You give her several chances, if you're being honest. Several chances to prove she's not as awful as she seems to be at first sight, several chances to prove how much she loves him, several chances to be a positive thing in his life.

But she's doesn't take those chances, doesn't even acknowledge them, and you hate her for it.

You find yourself wishing, praying for her to be better than she is. You need her to be better than she is. At least then Matt would be with someone who almost deserves him, someone who is almost as good as him. Loving this man from afar rips your heart to shreds, nothing but blood and scraps of muscle held loosely in your hand, but at least you would be able to rest easier if you knew that someone was taking care of and loving him the way that he needs.

Instead, you are left with the knowledge that she is not worthy of him, and you hate her for taking this man's heart, knowing he could have the world if he asked for it. You don't know Elektra well, but you've observed her enough that you know she would never be willing to give it to him.

But you would.

You’d give him every damn corner of the universe, every strategically arranged atom that could make up anything he could ever want, and you’d kneel at his feet while placing it into his gentle hands.

She is selfish, and she yanks him along for this ride of hers, uncaring of any sort of trouble she could lead him into as she amuses herself. He follows her so willingly, to your ever-present misery, ready to do her bidding for whatever she needs. He hardly lets her lift a finger, carrying all the weight of the relationship on his shoulders, even while he refuses to acknowledge how she so clearly dances ahead of him, as if she’s already aware that she’s going to leave him behind.

You watch in confusion as Matt changes almost immediately, almost overnight, and he doesn't change for the better. The man sitting next to you in class is someone you don’t recognize, someone who is distant and so wrapped up in this woman that he becomes unaware of everyone else who considers him one of their own. He’s a far cry from the man who holds your hand through panic attacks or shares his french fries with you after you swear you aren’t hungry.

Matt has always been effortlessly charming, wide smile beautiful and enticing, dark eyes lit up in humor when you make a stipid comment or when you trip over your own two feet. But now he has shifted into something aloof and disinterested, and the flicker of annoyance that crosses over his face when you ask if he wants to grab coffee between classes absolutely cuts you to the bone.

The people in his life are so suddenly forced to go on without him, absolutely reeling with the realization that Matt could just drop them so easily, so unconcernedly.

(“Don’t push us out. That’s not fair.”

“But she loves me.”

“We love you, too, Matt.”

“It’s not the same.”)

It…kills you. It’s like you’re a used toy placed in a box and shoved away, something meant to provide vague memories years down the line.

You've been in relationships before, so you understand the giddiness of new love. You understand how exciting and how breathtaking and how wonderful it is to find someone who might fit into your life so perfectly. You understand how focus shifts to this new person as you devote yourself to learning as much about them as possible, focusing in awe and wonder as you soak up every single cell that makes up this person you’ve fallen in love with.

But this isn't that.

Years of friendship has given you insight to the inner workings of one Matthew Murdock, so you can see that he is completely, all caution to the wind, in love with her. And you can grudgingly admit that you see slivers of affection on Elektra's face when she looks at him. But it's more than that.

It's obsession.

Matt spends all of his time with her now, every spare moment, and she acts if she is the sole gate-keeper of his time. She is vicious, territorial, and uneasy to work with, demanding that every little second he has to be spent in her presence. He starts missing classes, starts skipping your weekly study dates, stops showing up at his part-time job at the disabilities resource center.

If it was just those things that had changed, you'd probably just call him out on his shit, knowing how much school has always meant to him and not wanting to see him quit. But ultimately you know it's his choice, and if he wants to ruin his grades and chances of success, that's on him.

And if it was just his friendship with you that was affected, you might have let it go. He’s still your friend, even if it doesn’t feel like right now, and you’re acutely aware of the fact that you'd forgive this man for anything and everything. It might break your heart in the process, but you know that you'll spend the rest of your life trying to make him happy, even if it's from the sidelines as he loves and promises himself to someone else.

You somehow manage to scramble your broken pieces into your clumsy hands from where they currently sit at his doorstep, desparate to get to a place where your hatred for this woman does not batter against all the corners in your mind. And even as you mourn for the man that had once been so kind and soft with you, your heart breaks further, sadly aware that he's hurting Foggy, too, and that it's not something you can easily push aside.

Foggy is the kindest person you've ever met. Made of glee and dad jokes and sunshine in a bottle, and he definitely doesn't deserve the way he's being treated. Your fingers twitch at your sides, wanting nothing more than to hit him with one of his heavy textbooks and tell him to snap out of it, and you're absolutely positive that Foggy would be second in line.

You hate Elektra. Not because Matt loves her, but because she's pushed aside everyone else Matt loves...and he's let her.

When she abruptly leaves, cutting herself so completely out of Matt's life with rusty shears meant to hurt and maim and destroy, it's you and Foggy who help put him back together. Even with as much pain as he's caused, as many tears you’ve shed, you fight tooth and nail for him in his depression, even while he fails to fight for himself.

(“She left me.”

“We’re still here, Matt.”

“It’s not the same.”)

It's years before you learn how Elektra had managed to get her claws into him so deeply, cutting down to the bone and staying there, regardless of any pain it may have caused him on their way down underneath his skin. She had loved him in her own way, not because of all the good she was able to see in him, but because she had seen and welcomed and matched the darkness in him.

Matt is the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, he reveals to you one day. And even while you seethe and scream and cry at him, you get it now. He is a man that you know has so much light in him, the kind of light that is white and blinding and warm, yet he sees himself as a man doomed to only live in a world as black as the nothingness that is his lack of sight.

He doesn't need to tell you in order for you to understand the appeal of Elektra and the way she had captivated him, though now he admits that he hadn’t been drawn to her like a moth to a flame, but rather like a stray cat to a wealthy home. He doesn't need to tell you how desperate he'd been for someone to see the darker side of him, how desperate he'd been for someone to see that side of him and love him for it.

At some point he begins to understand how toxic she was for him, how manipulative, and you’re there by his side as the realization finally sets in, the trauma of it burning him so harshly it causes blisters and leaves behind missing patches of skin and muscle. You do your best to hold him together through it, because as awful as the scar she's left behind is, a piece of him mourns her when she's laid to rest for the first time, and then the second.

The true horror of the situation comes from the fact that you know there’s a tiny part of him that wishes he had been laid to rest, too. You know there’s a tiny part of him that will always be buried with the dust and rock and ash that lays underneath the new building on 44th and 11th.

It takes time for him to heal. Years and years of abandonment trauma is difficult to break down, difficult to break through, and you make sure you prove day in and day out that you're not going anywhere, despite how much he may throw at you, despite how much he tries to test you and shove you away with hands bloodied by the gashes gaping open in his heart. But all of his efforts to keep you away are futile, because staying by his side is still the easiest thing you've ever done.

(“Aren’t you tired of having to pick me up off the ground, over and over and over?”

“That’s what friends are for, Matt. To help when needed.”

“Yeah, when someone is having a rough time at their job, or fighting with a partner. Not cleaning up after a vigilante who can’t get their shit together. It’s not the same.”)

You help guide him into a new chapter in his life, though sometimes he remains frozen in the one behind him, feet glued to the ground even while he tries to force them forward. Gradually, though, he begins to spend less and less time focused on the past, more on the present, and eventually, more on the future. He finally reaches a point where he achieves balance, in a way you've never seen him existing and thriving in before.

Nelson, Murdock and Page flourishes, he begins to trust in the way law enforcement has been flushed of any crooked officers, and at last he allows himself to rest here and there, at last he gives himself permission to slow down, if only for a moment. Peace is all you have ever wanted for him, this beautiful man who has always struggled to find harmony within himself.

Peace changes him.

And in changing him, it changes you, and changes the way you fall into each other. It alters the way he begins to orbit around you, finally, finally, echoing the way you've always orbited him. He becomes the force holding you up after you’ve spent years doing the same for him.

It takes a good long while for him to understand the love you've always felt for him, initially puzzled that someone could accept him so completely and ardently, without question and without asking for anything in return. And it takes even longer for him to realize that this love is for both sides of him, not just the side that exists between sun-up and sun-down.

Once the full weight of your love for him is at his feet, once he feels it settle in his chest, it's as if a dam bursts, and he suddenly finds himself willing and able and hungry to grasp it and return it in its entirety, and then some.

Your first kiss is as turbulent as he is, reflecting both his desire to be gentle and savor the moment, and his need to take what he wants, consequences be damned.

This unconditional love is something he never thought he'd have, he says. Something that he had known, deep down, was missing with Elektra. It's an idea that has unexpectedly moved from nonexistent to abstract to tangible, and he tells you he's in awe of it, in awe of you.

He’s had your heart in his hands for over a decade, and you cry when he finally hands you his.

He has always loved you, he mumbles into your ear one night, legs tangled together on his soft silk sheets. But he doesn't lie to you and tell you that his love for you has always been there in the same capacity as yours has been for him. You both know that he had only ever seen you as a friend until recently, and even though you tell him not to, he regrets all the time he spent looking for something that was right in front of him the whole time.

Elektra had come along and understood him in a way he'd never dreamed of, and she had been willing, and selfishly eager, to accept the pieces of him that he'd always felt he had to hide. Though he sees now how his love for her had almost damaged him to a point of no return, he is grateful, he says, believing she had freed him from a life that wanted to chain him into inaction.

Day after day, night after night, he tells you that he loves every piece of you; he loves you for your laughter, he loves you for your willingness to help others with no thought of yourself, and he loves you for your ability to think first and act later. It's something he has never quite managed, he admits with a quiet laugh.

He loves you for the pieces of you that never give up on him, the pieces that never let him push you away, the pieces that love him, even while he can't always love himself.

But your favorite part is when he tells you that he loves the way you accept every piece of him without thought, without fear, without judgment, and that he vows to love and accept every piece of you the same way.

(“I love you.”

“You loved her once upon a time, too, Matt.”

“But not like this, sweetheart. Never like this. It’s not the same.”)

And it's enough. It's more than enough.

You find yourself struggling to move past the hatred you feel for her, the hatred for what she did to him. But eventually, you accept the truth that she freed a part of this wonderful man; this man who is so good that it breaks your heart to know he doesn't see it in himself. She freed the part of Matt who, without it, might have been shackled to a world in which he would never have felt complete. She was the one who gave him the encouragement he needed to embrace this side of him, embrace the Devil, embrace the part of him that could do more.

He doesn't use that freedom and darkness in a way Elektra would have anticipated, or in a way that she would have felt matched her own dark desires and intensity. Instead, he chooses to channel his anger and skill into a way that helps people just as much as his hard-earned law degree does. He fights with both his fists and his words, and you love him all the more for it.

You remind yourself, every day, that Elektra once upon a time had been the one to give him what he needed, though she had ripped it away brutally when she realized she wasn't going to get out of it what she wanted. But you are what both Matt and the Devil need now, what he will always need, as the pair of you move forward together. You both know it, both revel in it, and are now unable to pick apart the pieces that are you, and the pieces that are him.

You've taken years to get here. It may have been bittersweet and painful and full of truths that went unspoken, but he is the love of your life, and you believe him when he swears to you that you are his.

Hell's Kitchen doesn't deserve him. The neighborhood doesn't deserve the blood, sweat, and tears he willingly sacrifices for it, but you know he will never give up on it and the people who call it home. You aren't quite sure if you will ever deserve him, either, but you know you will spend the rest of your life trying.

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