#they were becoming a worse person through her influence

[avpd-queer]

I’m still so fucked up by everything that went down with my former best friend, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it. They really set me back. They proved to me that my only value to people is as a doormat.

[bluesidez]

The Love Lab presents:

Boyfriend is to Husband

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!Reader

summary: How would Miguel react if you did the “calling my bf my husband” trend? 🤔

content warning: It gets a little suggestive, but other than that, it’s fluff fluff fluff. There are short mentions of food, but nothing too crazy. The Miguel in here is also not Spiderman. Just a little guy.

credit for art and dividers: Me! and @kimjiho1 (plus another person for the gif divider, if this is yours, lmk!)

a/n: This will be apart of a series called The Trendy Couple! This is the first installment ☝🏾😌. I’m not sure how long the series will be, but right now it’s just based off of cute couple's trends. My fyp has suffered trying to do research for this…

word count: 2.2k

I use the word "buggy" in here. Buggy = shopping cart or trolley. I'm southern so buggy just rolls off the tongue. ❤︎ Plus, it sounds cute!

You and Miguel have been out since 8 am running errands and grabbing supplies to fill up the new apartment. 

After a year of your dresser being full of his sweatpants and hoodies and his furniture hosting several of your blankets, his fridge being stocked of your favorite fruits and your shower caddy holding his body care, you both decided it was best to live together. 

Towel sets, bed sheets, comforters, silverware, curtains. This was only the tip of what you and Miguel had managed to stuff inside the car.

After hitting five shops just that morning, you opted to stay in the car while Miguel went and handled a pickup order from the hardware store. It was getting closer to lunchtime and you didn’t want to become irritable because of the long lines. 

To pass the time, you decided to scroll on TikTok, watching video after video, reacting to each accordingly. 

First, it was chatty kitties begging for food. Then, it was edits of hot wrestlers. Next, it was ramen recipes to cook at 2am. There were even a couple of NPC lives even though the trend was nearly dying at this point. 

Finally, you scrolled to a video hosting a girl and her boyfriend huddled together in a car over the console.

She’s leaned up against him, her smile beaming, “Today I’m going to be guessing my husband’s favorite things!”

“I’m not your husband,” are the words that shoot from her boyfriend’s mouth, fast as lightning. Cold. Unkind. Callous. 

You watch as the girl’s smile drops and the video cuts, her laughing out of shock beforehand, evidence of her trying to stamp out her embarrassment. 

You watch more as his grin widens and she gives him this awkward glance. 

“Not yet,” he adds, seeing how quiet she was. 

The video ends with her jumping at him playfully, trying to play the situation of. 

“Jesus,” you sigh, mouth turned sideways as you pause the video and open up the comments. Thousands of people were telling her to dump him, others questioning why he would say what he said in the way that he did. 

Your heart went out to the girl who clearly wanted to do a harmless joke that completely backfired. 

You liked a comment about this being a possible red flag. Although he could have responded that way because he wasn’t ready for marriage, his response was so quick and distant that it was like he was disgusted at the possibility of being with her that long. 

After working yourself up by scrolling through the comments, you decide to go even further by pressing the “calling my boyfriend ‘husband’” search at the top. 

There were so many stitches to the original video with people giving their own thoughts about the situation. Some people were proclaimed dating coaches, others psychologists, and a few influencers. 

You even see a follow up video from the original couple with the guy giving a shitty excuse as to why he was so quick in his response. 

“Yeah right,” you mumble, watching the girl snicker at her boyfriend’s pouts. You agree with the comments that his response makes the original video even worse. 

Still scrolling down, you find another video featuring a new couple. 

They’re at a table eating donut holes out of a hat, and when the girl calls her boyfriend “husband”, the guy’s entire body lights up. He’s grinning, cheeks rosy, and can’t stop staring back at his girlfriend. 

From there, you were able to see countless other couples with cute videos, all of the guys radiating at the word “husband.”

Biting your lip, you wondered how Miguel would react if you called him your husband. 

You loved him with all of your heart and you were sure that he loved you. You guys are literally moving into an apartment together. But the thought of him being unsettled by you calling him your husband weighed on you. 

Just as you were deep in your thoughts, you heard a knock near the trunk of the car startling you. Looking up in the rearview mirror, you see Miguel standing with a few bags and wood planks in his hands. You reach over and press a button to pop open the trunk. 

“Got everything?” you ask, turning to watch as he drops items in the back. 

“Yeah, I think so. Although there was almost a brawl over some potted plants,” he said. “Some older lady just came up to this guy and snatched his monsteras.” 

“What?” you respond, watching as he closed the trunk and walked around to the driver's seat. “Out of his hands or the buggy?”

Miguel laughed, both recalling the scene and finding your terms adorable. “She just came up and snatched it out of the cart while he was waiting at the end of the line. She swore that she saw it first.”

You listened to him retell the story, hand under your chin as you leaned closer. He was cute, lilt in his voice to make an impression of the plant thief. Thinking to yourself that you liked this little moment of playfulness, you take your phone out to record. 

Placing your phone in a case attached to the dashboard, you smile at the camera while Miguel’s still going. 

“‘You youngins think the world owes you everything, and that’s just not the case!’ And the poor guy is standing there going ‘ma’am, I just want my plant back.’ He looked so distressed.”

“I would be too! A random lady just shopped from my buggy. It’s like, why are you this close to me to see what I’m trying to buy?”

Miguel turns the car on and buckles up. “It started to escalate when the lady’s friend came over. Then there were two shrill voices fussing at this guy.”

He started to back the car out of the parking spot, hand behind your seat and head turned towards the back window. 

You slowly glanced at his arm, eyes tracing a vein up his shirt. 

Too bad you were in a car right now or else you’d let his arm wrap around you elsewhere. 

You tune back into his words, silently scolding yourself for letting something so simple get you to fold. 

“Luckily, I was able to calm them both down. All it took was me showing them some dasheen leaves,” he said, driving the car closer to the exit of the parking lot. 

You came to a conclusion. There was no better time than the present. 

“Aw, look at my husband. Saving the day with his genius,” you say, hand reaching out to pat his chest. 

Then you feel your body jerk to the right. The seat belt tightens as the car jerkingly swerves in between two parking spaces. 

You stare in a panic at Miguel who puts the car in park and turns his entire body towards you. 

“What did you just call me?” he asks, eyes searching yours, a little startled but mostly hopeful. 

You decide to keep the charades going, “I was just praising my husband for stopping the creation of another Karen video. Why did you turn the car like that?” You’re still looking at him as if he has two heads. 

“You just-!” Miguel takes your hands into his and places his forehead on his fists. “Baby, you know what you just said.” 

You laugh, a little giddy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Miguel leans back against his seat and closes his eyes, reaching down to take his seatbelt off. His eyebrows scrunch up as he brings your hand to his chest, “Feel my heartbeat.”

Your mouth drops as you feel his heart rattling against his chest. He really wasn’t being dramatic. 

“Baby look at me,” you grab his hands and hold them tight. “You did a good job today.”

His breath stopped, as he looked at you. His face was tinted from the whole fiasco. 

“Husband.”

Miguel’s entire body slumped as he grinned wide. He nearly jumped over the console to sag his body onto yours. 

His shoulders were shaking and you heard his laugh muffled by your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him and make a face at the camera. 

“What’s up, Mig?” you say, trying to get him to talk. 

He mumbled into your clothes, shoulders still shaking. 

“I can’t hear you, you gotta sit up.”

He sits up and sniffles, turning his head toward the backseat. 

Looking at his profile you can see a few streaks down his face. 

“Are you crying?” you ask, turning his face towards yours. 

Miguel swipes his wrist across his cheeks, “Stop, this is extremely embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not! I promise it’s not,” you say, rubbing your thumb across his ear. “Talk to me.”

He chuckled, eyes looking down, “It just feels really good to know that you think of me that way. We don’t have to ever cross that line, but one day, if you would like, we can make that title true.”

“Is this a pre-proposal?” you ask, heartbeat in your ears. You went out on a limb to follow a trend, not knowing how it would end. Now you’re staring at Miguel’s flushed face with his heart pouring out into your lap. 

“Maybe,” he whispered, grabbing your hands. “Possibly a promise for what could be.”

You bite your lip to hold back a grin, “Can I know what could be right now?”

“And expose my plans? Not a chance,” Miguel smirked. “Besides, a husband knows what’s best for his partner, right?”

“He does,” you quip, rubbing your hand in a circle on his chest. “He also apparently forgets that SUVs can flip very easily.”

“Lo siento, mi amor,” he says, looking sheepishly at the placement of the car. “Did I startle you?”

You just giggle at his concern and give him a quick peck on the mouth. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that big of a reaction.”

“How would you react if I casually called you forever mine? While driving!”

“Go 90 in a 70,” you joke. “Maybe pull over and do a little more than make out.” You rub your hand down his chest, and squeeze playfully at his pec. 

Miguel stared back at you, body instantly reacting to the shift in conversation. “We can actually do that right now.”

He leaned forward and brought your lips to his. You could taste the mint from the gum he had earlier, humming when he pushed further into your mouth. 

He started to reach for your hips, ready to pull you over onto his lap. 

Your stomach let out a loud grumble, making you jump. 

“Ok, let’s try this again after we get you some food,” Miguel says, plastering kisses on your face. 

The day moves on smoothly with Miguel not letting you out of his sight, hands itching to hold you in some way. 

He also never lets the husband thing go. 

As you’re ordering lunch, “One lemonade for my baby. And a water with lemon for me, the husband.”

As you stop in a clothing store at the mall for a small break, “These say boyfriend jeans. Do they have any husband jeans?”

As you’re trying to reach the top shelf to grab the last of your favorite detergent, “No, cariño. Let your husband get it for you.”

As you’re looking for throw pillows and towel sets for the apartment, “You think they have a couple’s set? I want something that says ‘Mr.’ on it.”

As you stop at a gift store, looking for something extra to give to the movers, “Look, this shirt says it’s made of ‘hubby material.’ Should I get it?”

This feeling is only amplified when you post his initial reaction online. The comments were full of people yearning to be in your predicament. 

“If my boyfriend doesn’t crash the car when I call him husband, THROW HIM AWAY. 😒”

“Does he have a brother….asking for a friend”

“I needed this after the “I’m not your husband” he in LOVE”

“If your bf doesn’t cry at the thought of you, what are you doing”

“He was blushing HARRRRD 😭😭😭”

“So when’s the wedding? 🤨”

“He was literally cheesing and crying omg”

“Get you a man that stops the car to declare his love”

“What if I did a five mile marathon on i-55”

“He’s so in love with you that it’s palpable”

“He was ready do a lot more than make out 😭”

Miguel saw most things, a little embarrassed but mostly happy that so many people found him to be genuine. 

You laid on his shoulder as he checked the comments, liking the funny ones as they passed by.

“Do you want to make a response video?” you say, liking a comment going ‘he’s a good man, Savannah.’

“No, I think this is enough,” he replies, handing the phone back to you. “Let me keep a little mystery. At least until I actually propose, of course.”

You looked at him with stars in your eyes.

“A mysterious husband. I kind of like the sound of that,” you say, wrapping your body around his side. “Maybe I can be nosy, find out his secrets.”

“I bet you would, cariño,” he voiced, nuzzling his chin on top of your head. “After, everything is planned and done.”

You laughed and snuggled closer, happy to be with him.

Once again, I hope you enjoyed reading! ❣️

Any likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated and welcomed.

I'm excited for the future of this series and I hope you guys are too. When I finish the series masterlist, I'll link it here. If you guys have any trends that you want me to include, then just let me know and I'll see what I can do!

- Lauro ♡

[jaehaeryshater]

“Near the end, [King Jaehaerys] grew certain [Alicent] was his daughter Saera, returned to him from beyond the narrow sea.”

artist: @riotarttherite

I had the great pleasure of commissioning, in my opinion, one of ASOIAF fandom’s greatest artists on this gorgeous piece. I had never commissioned any artwork before and didn’t know what to expect, and this far exceeded my expectations. The attention to detail is beautiful and the overall piece conveys exactly what I was envisioning in my head, so I wanted to start off with a big thank you.

The idea for this art piece was originally a “what if” or AU where Saera either didn’t get caught at the brothel or was brought back from the Silent Sisters as was allegedly Jaehaerys’s plan (or if she had bonded with Balerion and gotten to stay! Would have loved that for her) so she stays in King’s Landing and becomes his caretaker in his old age instead of Alicent Hightower. As his daughter, she would have significantly more influence in being able to “speak for him” instead of a caretaker for another House, so although I do not take Saera as someone particularly obsessed with power, I do find it very interesting to imagine her deciding to cause chaos as the Old King’s mouthpiece. The streets of King’s Landing are burning as we speak! Even before Jaehaerys seemed to succumb to dementia, Saera did appear to have a strange influence over him, so once Alysanne passed away, it only makes sense that Saera would become the person in his ear. Not all that great for the smallfolk or even Lords of the realm, but great for drama and storylines. And Saera, of course! I’m sure she would have paraded everywhere, weighed down by jewelry and the finest wines. Perhaps she would have had a full menagerie, as she appeared to love animals. Definitely an elephant there somewhere.

As this piece was being worked on, however, I did think of a second meaning to the art that I also think is really neat. You could also view this as what Jaehaerys is seeing as Alicent is caring for him. He did believe her to be Saera in the end, as his mind was being lost. His Saera had come back to him, and although I do not like Jaehaerys and think he probably deserved worse, he most likely died happy at that thought, believing Saera was reading to him. So if you prefer to interpret this as viewing things through Jaehaerys’s mind, I welcome you because I love it at least equally to the first idea.

Lastly, the detailings are beautiful so I wanted to touch on them and give them the attention they deserve for the moment. I asked Riot to have a caring but sinister vibe, that she is caring for him for a plethora of reasons but certainly that includes self-serving reasons. I believe this was captured really well! I wanted it to be illustrated that Jaehaerys had lost his wits a while beforehand, so he has a vacant look, and Saera has the keys, showing that she is the real power behind the Crown. She has several expensive jewelry pieces (she has many from her lovers, but she doesn’t bother with them, leaving them to collect dust, only thinking gifts from the King are worthy to wear), but my favorite was one I specifically requested. Her jeweled bodice, which contains replicas of the King’s jewels that are present on his crown. Dare I say, she had her mother’s crown repurposed for herself? The intention is clear, Saera is effectively the Queen now, not in name, but Queen nonetheless. As for the general fashion, I told Riot that my favorite era of fashion was the Tudor era, more broadly 1300s- 1550s. As you can see, this was more than delivered and extremely beautifully inspired by historical fashion. GRRM doesn’t always describe his character’s outfits, and the GOT and HOTD outfits were often lackluster. This was exactly the type of beauty I was looking for. The dragon embroidery on Saera’s sleeves? Mwah!

Anyway, thank you so much for geeking out with me! The Saera/Jaehaerys dynamic is one of the most interesting dynamics to me. There’s simultaneously so little and so much there. It’s complex and layered, I can’t stop thinking about it. If you have been on my tiktok, you may have heard about my extensive theory regarding that dynamic, iykyk. If you ever want to talk about them, absolutely feel free to inbox me. More commission ideas coming this year definitely, at least a couple more of this dynamic, but I don’t know how a piece could be any more perfect <3

[theprettynosferatu]

CW: covert hypno, misogyny, step-sibling stuff.

I

Claire was in a foul mood, stomping like a toddler through the hallway of her childhood home. Ah yes, coming back home from College was always a mixed bag. On the one hand, she loved spending time with (and being pampered by) her mom and Rick, her step-dad. But on the other hand, it meant dealing with The Asshole.

He hadn’t always been The Asshole, and that just hurt even more. Somewhere beneath his alpha male bullshit were the remains of her step-brother John. Surely that sweet, shy boy had to be inside this new, incredibly annoying person… but no matter how hard she tried, Claire couldn’t make the person she had loved as a brother emerge from the armor of pick-up artistry and right-wing bastardry John had built around himself. 

It had started during his senior year of high-school, her first one away in college. Maybe he got bullied too much, maybe he listened to too many podcasts and influencers… who knew? The point was that John started hitting the gym, spouting sexist bullshit, bragging about his sexual conquests. And little by little, in her mind, John started to disappear. Now, three years later, she could only think of him as The Asshole. And so, she tried to avoid him as much as humanly possible when she was back home.

It soured the experience for her. It seemed impossible that The Asshole was Rick’s son- after all, Rick was a good man. He had treated Claire like a daughter, with a respect and kindness her biological father had never shown; that was, when that deadbeat had even been around. Claire never called Rick “dad”, but she did feel him as a dad in her heart, and the memories of her “real” father were hazy and growing more and more faint with the years. With horror she realized her memories of John were fading as well, devoured by The Asshole. She fought to remember that The Asshole had once been a decent kid.

The Asshole, for his part, made that task incredibly hard. His off-hand comment that she’d be happier dropping out of college and being a “proper wife” had made her storm off the dinner table. Hence her stomping in that hallway, going to her room. She slammed the door. It would be a long summer. 

II

Pathetic. She couldn’t think of a better word for it. She should feel violated, perhaps- after all, she had caught The Asshole using her laptop- but she found it hard to even muster up anger. She felt disgusted, and also a bit sorry for him. His explanation was as ridiculous as she could have expected from him.

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t being a low value whore, chatting with a bunch of dudes.”

Sure, Asshole. That’s what I need: you as the guardian of my virtue, she thought. Still, it was an excuse, and she would hold on to it. The alternative explanation was worse and even contemplating it felt abominable. And yet a little part of her, a voice deep inside her head couldn’t help but feel relief.

I’m glad my nudes are on my phone.

No. Better to not go there. John was her step-brother. Even after becoming the prick he had turned into, he wouldn’t see her… like that.

Would he?

She knew he saw her friends like sex toys, given that two of them had confessed to being somehow persuaded by his alleged charms. Needless to say, those girls were now former friends- not so much because they slept with The Asshole and more because they had given him ammo: it made it harder to argue that his toxic manosphere crap was repulsive when he could throw such conquests in Claire’s face. But not even the world’s biggest douchebag would cross the line that separated family and attraction. And they had been family, once. God, it hurt to remember.

She had screamed at him like a fucking teenager, but what was she expected to do? And he had walked away like nothing had happened, like she didn’t catch him red handed. Claire took a deep breath. Fuck it. Let it go. Don’t let him ruin your break. She sat down for an evening of happy, mindless Youtube binging.

Huh. Was the screen acting up? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but every now and then something felt… off. Well, it was no big deal; certainly not annoying enough to warrant an expensive trip to get the laptop checked out.

Shit. She figured the fight had left her more upset than she had thought: she had watched a two hour video essay on feminism and media representation and she couldn’t remember a second of it. A wave of fear came over her. Spacing out for two hours wasn’t normal. Maybe she was just tired. Yeah, that seemed right. Dealing with The Asshole was exhausting. She needed to sleep.

III

Relaxing ended up being easier than she had expected. She spent long hours in front of her laptop, whiling the time away, floating in a blissful state of pure peace. So what if she couldn’t always remember what she had watched? The effect was soothing, like soaking her brain in a nice hot tub. And she had at long last found a way to deal with The Asshole.

The key was so simple she felt dumb as a rock for not figuring out sooner. The way to avoid a fight was, simply, to avoid the fight. Why spend precious energy fighting a man who was incapable of changing his mind? So she didn’t. Whatever inane bullshit came out of his mouth, she let slide. Maybe give him a polite smile and nod so he would think she was actually paying attention, and daydream about her next laptop session. This was exactly what she needed: a full vacation for her overworked brain.

Around the end of the first week the benefits of Claire’s new regiment became evident. She felt less irritable, giddier, somehow… lighter. And even her libido, long buried under a pile of stress was coming back with a vengeance. Why else would she emerge from her laptop dives soaking wet, needing to pleasure herself as intensely as she needed to breathe? And the way her body felt! Before, her… playing was quick, almost as if doing maintenance on some needed but almost forgotten piece of machinery. Now every time she played with herself was a celebration. She caressed her breasts, took her time, toyed with herself… it was no longer a race to orgasm. Her own body was the greatest show on Earth.

The effects of regular self-pleasuring, long documented in scientific literature, hit her like a train. She was relaxed, energetic- and hell, even The Asshole didn’t seem so annoying anymore. Just smile and nod at him and ignore his misogynistic ramblings. And, if she was being honest, even The Asshole was right, every now and then. Broken clocks and all that. 

You really should show off your legs more. Advertise your sexual value to high-status males.

Okay, so half of that was idiotic. But the legs thing? Right on the money. Claire twirled, letting her new, short sundress flutter and fly, and giggled. It felt light. She felt light. Radiant.

Every now and then her mind went back to the laptop. The screen was acting funny. Maybe she should do something about it, but it seemed like work, and she was home to relax. The laptop thing could wait.

Do you think men would be so nice to you if you didn’t have great tits?

Those words struck a chord inside her. She pondered them after a few hours of mindless laptop time. Sure, she knew she had large-ish breasts, and she wasn’t a complete idiot: men had been extremely fucking obvious about them since she had been a teen. But were tits -breasts- that important? Surely not. Her professors valued her for her intellect.

Didn’t they?

Then why had every professor that had mentored her and helped her out been a man? 

My big tits.

No, that was ridiculous. Silly. And yet, she barely noticed her hand sliding between her legs as she thought about it. My tits matter. My tits are what’s important.

She came almost instantly, and a wave of shame washed over her. She needed to escape it. Dodge it somehow. Laptop. Watch something on the laptop. Let it relax her.

Claire’s low-cut top didn’t go unnoticed at dinner. She wasn’t really sure why she had put it on. It just felt right. Rick obviously kept quiet, but The Asshole made no effort to hide his glances and his smug smile. She should be angry, something inside her told her; but it was a distant voice, faint and growing smaller. If anything she felt… valued. Desired. Worthy. Fuck it, even if it was The Asshole, she had to admit a bit of male attention now and then wasn’t so bad. She found herself blushing at first. Eventually, it was all too much. Claire excused herself and dashed to the bathroom. She fell on her knees, rubbing her pussy -vagina- with a desperation she had never felt before. She needed to cum. The Asshole’s eyes, and his sneer of superiority, and his hateful words… she had to bite her hand to stop herself from screaming.

Claire came back to the table, flustered but okay. Or so she thought.

“Pour me a Coke”, The Asshole said. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t a request. He had just treated her like a fucking servant.

And yet, she walked to the kitchen and made sure she poured the most perfect glass of Coke possible. She leaned in a bit while she placed it by his plate, giving him a beautiful view of her big, dumb tits. Breasts! Her breasts! What the fuck was wrong with her?

“Thank you, cunt”, The Asshole whispered.

Claire froze. She should… what? Slap him? Scream at him? Lecture him? What would be the point? No, it was better to let it slide. Smile and nod.

Smile? Smile after that? What the fuck was she thinking? Claire was mortified. Turning in bed, she wished she could take that stupid smile back and… fucking punch The Asshole for calling her a…

Why? Why, why, why? Why was she so fucking wet? It was disgusting! He was disgusting! 

…She was disgusting, getting soaked at being called a…

It was too strong. She tried to fight it, she truly did, but her pussy, her traitorous fucking pussy refused to give up, driving her insane. A cunt. He had called her a cunt. Her fingers went into her body. She wasn’t gentle with herself. No, she fucked herself without mercy, like she imagined he would use her if he had a chance. Her mind was a vortex, a mess of words and images and shame and pleasure.

Cunt. Cunt. Big-titty cunt. I’m just a stupid cunt. My tits are all that matters. I’m just a cunt. I’m just holes and tits. I don’t need to make choices. I need to do as men tell me. Men know best. Men are superior. I’m just holes…

She woke up covered in sweat. Fuck. Had she passed out? What… what was wrong with her? She was an excellent college student…

She wanted to throw up. College. All that work. Thinking. And then what? A job? Stress? She couldn’t do it. No way. She was…

I’m too stupid and weak.

It felt so fucking good to think it. It was liberating. Relaxing. It felt like the universe was simple, and she was simple, and now her place in the world was simple. It was light and fresh and it made her want to burst out in giggles. 

A shower of images and words flooded her mind. Women on their knees. Women cooking in traditional aprons while wearing chokers. Women kissing, putting on shows for men. She had no idea when she had seen all that, and suddenly she couldn’t even care enough to fight the feeling. It all just felt… right. Sexy. Natural. It was her place. It was her purpose as a woman. As a cunt. As an inferior fleshlight. She moaned at the idea of sharing this new wonderful bliss with her stuck-up college friends, and making them see the light…

She didn’t even get mad when The Asshole got into her room without knocking. She didn’t even consider covering up. In fact, she felt happy when his eyes focused on her body.

I’m useful. My body makes me useful.

“What are you doing?”, He asked. Suddenly He wasn’t The Asshole anymore. He was a He, and He was always right, and she was meant to do as He said. Simple. Sexy. Fun.

“I just rubbed my dumb pussy until I passed out”, she blurted out before exploding in a symphony of delighted giggling. 

“You know, I know how you call me. Your cunt friends told me. So I’m The Asshole, huh?”

Claire looked at him with fuzzy, unfocused eyes. She’d never think that of a Man!

“What are you?” He asked.

“Holes!”, she replied excitedly. “And tits! And porn!”

“And what do you serve?”

She blanked for a moment. Serve? She did what Men told her, but that wasn’t serving, that was just… being herself. Being a good little cunt. It was natural. Then, as if to help her out, he let his trousers fall.

“Cock!” she yelped. “I serve cock!”

“Then serve”

Duh. Of course she served cock. How could she have forgotten? As she licked and wonderful, conquering cock in front of her, she realized how silly she had been. That was why Men did the thinking. She took in its smell, its smooth texture on her tongue, the way He looked down at her and she looked up at Him. It was just natural.

She was happy, she thought as she relaxed her throat and let that cock slide deeper and deeper inside her.

In the end, she never found out what, exactly, had happened with her laptop. 

Did you enjoy the story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu !

[chaedomi]

Hi I just found your blog and you are so talented, your writing is so immersive you really have a gift, I was wondering if you could write for some yandere oshi no ko? Maybe with the mc being a very famous model, platonic or romantic is fine

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐋 ✦ onk

fem!reader x aqua, ruby, kana, minami, frill, akane (yandere / separate), can be read as platonic or romantic, hints toward spoilers in manga (and anime for those who have reached a certain point), implied stalking, unhealthy relationships. ꨄ — masterlist

YOU WERE pretty and sensational. You had a diverse career that allowed you to explore different types of styling, keeping the job interesting. You were also a huge influence and an inspiration to many, encouraging them to pursue a career in modeling and to experience various brands of fashion and cosmetics.

However, what attracted people to you the most was not your career, but rather your unique personality and your unparalleled charisma. It was one-of-a-kind, something that would leave people aching for more… similar to a former starry-eyed idol. It's no surprise that you have a ton of admirers, and that includes the odd ones as well.

AQUAMARINE HOSHINO

Let's be real. Model or not, unless you were of use to him or acquainted with his sister, AQUAMARINE would see no necessary need to interact nor get to know you. Why should he care about someone who will eventually fall from stardom?

But, in this case, it was different. Very much so. It was as though time stopped for a split moment when you both passed each other in the school hallways. Faster than his mind could process, his hand was already reaching out to grasp your arm as if he were to let you go, you would disappear for an eternity. Unusual of him. After you overcame your brief surprise from the sudden contact, you offered him a polite smile, eyes twinkling with unspoken mischief… to which he gawked at like an idiot.

How was it possible for you to possess the same charm as 'she' did…? He’s so stunned and in disbelief that he’s incapable of constructing a coherent sentence for some time. No investigations were made to confirm his assumptions… he was THAT convinced. You best believe he made the effort to become associated with you. It wasn’t as though he was desperate to attach himself to you, you noticed, but somehow, he always found a way to be around you, and if on the correct setting, it was beyond unnerving. You shrugged your shoulders at his abnormal behavior, justifying it with a “you’ve handled worse.” By the time it is finally drilled through your thick skull that hey, ‘something is wrong,’ Aqua would have fully wedged himself into your life. Good luck trying to avoid him…

There is an annoying obstacle in the way… namely your career as a model. Not to mention, the large fanbase you have gained over the years. So much as it was very tempting to find shady methods to force you to void your career entirely, the problems that can arise afterward will be more than problematic.

As said, because you remind him of a certain individual, his extreme tendencies will begin to lay on you. Just because he cannot end your career does not mean he cannot become overbearing. The fear of seeing you injured or harmed in any way replays a very unpleasant memory in his head…

He constantly monitors what you do, and whom you choose to interact with, and makes decisions that seem appropriate for you. It's as though you’ve lost your right to free will…

He's aware of how wrong it is. But, to him, it feels like a second chance, to lift some of the burden that he has carried on his shoulders for a while, to rid of the guilt that was slowly destroying him mentally and emotionally. Well, at the very least, he didn't convince himself you were 'her'. Even though there were some strong resemblances in characteristics, it was still easy to nitpick many differences (to him).

RUBY HOSHINO

There's without a doubt, Aqua was only familiar with your existence due to RUBY. A walking and living example of a true stan and diehard fan; god, she was obsessed with you. Magazines, products, advertisements, brands, merch, anything that has your face plastered on it, she’s out to grab it all… what she can afford, by the way. Your hair! Your lips! Your EYES! How can someone be this attractive!? Forget Model… someone put you in a museum for you to be admired by millions, quick!

As you can tell, Ruby has quite an attachment to you. And this is her without the yandere tendencies included. It was terrifying and had the potential to creep out anyone unfortunate enough to listen to one of her passionate rants. Other than her fawning over you for your glorious visage, there was another reason as to why she acted the way she did. You were just like 'her', the way you spoke, the way you moved, everything was down to par. It filled her mind with memories of 'her' helping her cope through dark times, and you were too doing the same, distracting her from the negativity that threatened to cloud her mind. At some point… she fully believed that you were 'her' in another body. You just had to be! Explain the similarities! It took thorough reasoning for her to understand that the possibilities were low. You were around her age, so by the time 'she' passed away, it would have been too late for that to happen.

On the day of school, it came as a big shock to her seeing so many famous faces inside the premises. But the biggest one of them all was when you walked inside her classroom all smiles, apologizing to the teacher for your tardiness. Shit… was she actually inside a dream right now!? She pinched and twisted her skin for good measure. Nope! She was alive and conscious! There’s no room for argument, she most definitely did snap a couple of pictures from where she seated, behind you. Somehow, she mustered up the courage to converse with you after class, falling deeper into her admiration for you.

Unlike her brother who saw your career as a nuisance, she fully supports you to continue all the way! In addition to that, it's a massive stroke to the ego that she had the privilege to bask in your presence while the majority had limitations. Do you know how many people would kill just to breathe the same air as you, The Loveable Model?

Turns out, Ruby can make for a dangerous yandere. Once Ruby puts her mind into something, the results made afterward are so impressive that it’s scary… But, it’s not like she’ll ever need that to happen, as long as you vow to stay by her side, she’ll make no drastic attempts to prevent herself from losing something as she previously did.

KANA ARIMA

For KANA, at first, it was an in-between… Although it was not to the extent of Ruby, she was a fan of yours… you were just too entrancing! You’re the reason why she went through many style phases, buying useless shit she didn’t need, wearing expensive brand clothing that you featured in… you get the main idea. Sooner or later she had to stop as she noticed the money she made from her child career quickly diminishing the more she allowed herself to indulge in her fan side for you. Begrudgingly she put a halt to it, still buying your magazines every now and then.

The other half is completely sour when she sees how whipped Aqua is for you. (she totally doesn’t question if Aqua’s attachment to you was romantic or not…) She kind of gets it; your personality, your looks, and your status as a famous model, you were a ten. But, there was a difference between love and admiration, so you were some sort of rival to her.

Fear not, Kana gets past that, clinging onto you instead as she got to know you in person. It was bound to happen. Kana was already ‘under your charm’, so it was only a matter of time before that admiration morphed into an obsession. Kana can be very clingy and manipulative. Manipulative in the sense that she uses her sad-sob backstory to ground you by her side. The majority of her supporters are now her anti-fans, she doesn’t have her parents around, and now you, the idol she looks up to, want to leave her too!? You wouldn’t do that to your lovely supporter, right?

Kana wouldn’t care about your career too much, she understands what it’s like to really love your job, so she doesn’t complain a lot. As long as you treat her kindly and remember her, she is content. Please.

MINAMI KOTOBUKI

It's like, the calmer the individual is, the uglier their hidden side will be. And MINAMI will not be excluded from that logic. There is no doubt that Minami was affiliated with you due to her status as a pin-up model. On some weird, rare occasions, you would find yourself as her partner for a certain aesthetic for a photoshoot. So, yes… you knew each other to an extent.

What you couldn't wrap your head around was the fact you always felt a sense of unease around her. She out of all people. Why? She's an absolute sweetie, gentle and pure at heart. She always compliments you on how you look and praises you for the work you put in toward modeling. She goes on further to say she can see why people adore you so much.

There's nothing for you to worry about… except for the glaringly obvious issue that her eyes seem to follow whatever movement you make. It could be the twitch of a finger or any minority; glance to the side and there are pink doe eyes already staring holes into your face. Or when you're seated in the courtyard and just so happen to look at the corner nearby and see Minami there, who smoothly brushes it off with a friendly wave.

It was fine to you, till you began to see those pink doe eyes in the more uncanny places, namely restaurants you're in, or your job… you could swear you saw those pink eyes somewhere inside your house one time. But as you blinked, they vanished. As you take a peek at Minami who catches your gaze and laughs brightly, you can't help but wonder if it was just your imagination and you were overreacting…

FRILL SHIRANUI

Hmm… This one is a bit tricky. You see, FRILL doesn't tend to expose much of an expression or a reaction. You never know what's going through her head or how she feels about something till she bluntly puts it into words.

She's also affiliated with you because of your careers, (the magazines of hers and you are always trendy and are the most popular) so you weren't awkward or tense around her. It's just… Why is she looking at you like that? It's similar to Minami in the sense her eyes never leave you, but there is a layer of coldness in her gaze, in addition to the slight furrow of her eyebrows.

You thought she hated you. For what? You didn't know. It couldn't be career-wise, she had a great number of followers and need not be concerned about you overthrowing her. She didn't come across as the petty type either.

What did you choose to do about the matter? Simple. You approached her with a blinding smile, getting straight to the point. That day you got to witness a sight you'd never think you'd receive an opportunity to.

Embarrassment. She got embarrassed and the light blush that crept its way to her cheeks had you staring in astonishment. It was out of character for her, much more the difficulty she had to fumble out a proper sentence.

You just left for your next class as the bell rang because wow, that was unexpected. It was cute to watch, seeing Frill become so soft-spoken around you. Who knew that a high-ranked celeb like her looked up to and admired you too!?

You're so amused by her change of personality that you don't notice the icy glares she shoots toward people daring enough to take another step closer to you…

AKANE KUROKAWA

Another person who viewed you as a rival due to how whipped Aqua was for you. It didn’t matter whether Aqua’s attachment to you was platonic or romantic, the undivided attention Aqua gave you was something AKANE dreamed of having. So, when the chance arrived for her to develop a new character for the reality show she was featuring, she jumped at the opportunity to become what Aqua desired in a person. Spending hours studying your character, she aspired to impersonate you. Sadly, it didn’t work as well as she thought it would. Of course, she could never compare to you and your charisma. You were beautiful, very famous… there are just some things you cannot copy.

Initially, it was disappointment over Aqua’s lackluster reaction to her change, after all, she thought this a good way to pay him in return for what he did for her. Later, as she began to develop romantic feelings for him, the disappointment morphed into frustration. She felt like a loser all over again… No effort will make him adore her as she wants him to… So, she gave up.

Strangely enough, you managed to weasel your way into her heart in place of Aqua. She didn’t know what to make of it at first, frozen with a pale blush on her face when you praised her for her work. The way her heart thudded against her chest… she didn’t even react like that to the boy she so claimed to like. Perhaps he wasn’t the one she should waste her time on…

Even though Akane is considered one of the more ‘dangerous’ yanderes with her high intellect and analyzing skills, she’s pretty much harmless. In the nicest way I can say it, Akane is akin to a loyal devotee of some sort… As in whatever you desire, Akane will try her best to provide it, impersonation or not.

Akane is familiar with your works (god, BLESS the photographers for capturing your elegant essence in the most perfect angles), and is amazed, but she's not that into it??? Maybe if you were to branch out into her area of acting, the hype would be stronger… That doesn't mean you should stop in any way though! Continue to pose and look pretty while she appreciates (read as obsesses over) the sight. However, if your career were to ever… become an obstacle between you both, THAT will get her FULL attention.

BONUS: AI HOSHINO

In this scenario, let's pretend you were around the age when AI was still alive. Let's think about this. Suppose you had a terrible childhood without correct familial guidance, or experienced situations that resulted in you being unable to feel and express love properly.

Now, imagine you came across a person who made you feel the very emotions that you desperately sought out. Would you want to distance yourself from that person, especially when they granted you something you've been seeking for so long?

The answer is no, and that's exactly what Ai did. By far, the worst one out there. She isolates you, she breaks your bonds with other people, and when you try to voice your complaints about her actions, she has the audacity to play innocent, baffled by your accusations.

A master with her words too, you would point fingers at her, the bad guy, and somehow, the argument would end with you apologizing and her rubbing your back gently as a large smile spreads on her face.

Surprisingly, she was the one who encouraged you to pursue a career in the entertainment industry. You agreed, thinking she was being normal for a change, but then later found out it was for her to spend time with you without consequences… Who would complain about two famous celebs hanging out with each other!? Not that she had a problem maintaining a lie, she just wanted the easier route.

It was very shameful that you felt a sense of satisfaction over the announcement of her funeral. Too bothered by the things she did while she was alive to you, the news deserved a celebration instead.

You lived a few more years of your life in peace. However, the day both of her children arrived on your front doorstep, it made you realize that Ai had no intentions of leaving you alone, allowing her children to replace the role she owned in your life. Even in death she still found a way to trouble you…

©chaedomi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

[percervall]

all I've learnt has been overturned

pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader words: 958 warnings: fluff

In which Agnes has learnt from the best

You’d think that with four parents involved, it would be easy enough to look after three children, but nothing could be further from the truth. Your youngest was easy enough, at five months the little boy was either in a stroller or a baby carrier, but with all four of you working this weekend, it becomes difficult to divide and conquer for your two oldest children. Mark is looking after Agnes who, at four years old, is fluent in three languages: English, Danish, and sass –thanks to your genes and the influence of her uncle Nano. Your middle child, Margot, is a spritely 2-year-old and the spitting image of her dad, Lewis, and currently hanging out with her godfather Sebastian, while Lewis and Kevin get ready for the race. Which leaves you with your 5-month-old son, Luke. Just like his sisters, he will sleep peacefully through the hustle and bustle of the paddock while you get ready to go on air. When Lewis joined Ferrari, you stayed at Mercedes, but it became increasingly more difficult to balance your career and motherhood. And then Jenson approached you with an opportunity to go into commentary for Sky Sports. At first you weren’t sure whether you’d be the right person for the job, but Jenson and your husbands were quick to dispel that concern. The biggest selling point was the flexibility; you could pick which races you’d attend as part of the media team meaning you and Mark had an easier time splitting the main responsibilities during race weekends. And now that the lead producer for the F1 broadcast is a woman, it was even easier to be a working mum because it was no problem to bring your baby and be on air with them in a baby wrap strapped to your chest. Although you have a feeling that being the wife of also helped in getting this privilege written into your contract. 

You’re in the middle of analysing the interesting pit strategy from Alpine post race when you spot your oldest running towards you. Mark shoots you an apologetic look from where he’s on air with Channel 4, but all you can do is shrug. It’s the Monaco Grand Prix and having grown up here, Agnes feels more than comfortable in the paddock. Jenson is quick to scoop her up, hoisting her up on his hip while you finish.

“What was your favourite part today, princess?” he asks her, moving the microphone in front of her.

“The ice cream at Ferrari. Mr Fred always has sprinkles. Oh, and when daddy got wet!” Agnes replies, clearly prioritising the treats over Lewis’ podium finish, much to the amusement of your colleagues. Jenson segues easily into discussing his thoughts on the race while Agnes waves at some of the drivers passing by. You’re slightly on edge having her on air. Last year during the Monza GP, the little girl was caught on camera telling Nico Hulkenberg suck my balls when she and Kevin walked past him. Of course the clip went viral; how could it not with the girl repeating her father’s comments to his teammate. You can’t lie, it was very funny to hear those words come out of your then 3-year-old’s mouth. 

You’re nearing the end of the broadcast and you relax slightly until your daughter spots one of her uncles and brother’s godfathers. 

“Oh no,” you mutter, but there’s nothing you can do now Agnes sees Fernando. 

“Cabrón!” Agnes shouts, and makes a little heart sign with her hands. You cover your eyes, groaning while Jenson laughs. To make matters worse, Fernando jogs over.

“Are you causing chaos again, preciosa?” he asks her while Simon hands him a microphone. 

“Uhu!” Agnes replies, looking very pleased with herself.

“How about we go find your dad before you cause any more, hm?” Fernando says and lifts her onto his shoulders. The girl holds on to his head as she chatters away about how she got ice cream with sprinkles, and did you know that orange sprinkles don’t taste like oranges? Isn’t that so silly uncle Nano?

“I swear we raised her better than that,” you manage to utter as they walk away.

“Fernando’s teaching her all the important things,” Jenson chuckles, “She’ll be able to hold her own once she gets to F1 if she chooses to follow her dads’ footsteps.” 

“And on that note,” Simon says, “here’s what’s coming up today on SkySports.” 

“It could’ve been worse,” Kevin says while giving Luke his bottle. You’re all sat at the Ferrari hospitality before he and Lewis are needed for the debrief. You look to where Agnes is playing football with Charles and sigh.

“True, she could’ve flipped him off,” Lewis adds, handing Margot a couple of crayons and her colouring book.

“Don’t remind me,” you groan. It had taken the four of you weeks to get her to stop doing that.

“As if Fernando would’ve complained, he’s the one that taught her in the first place,” Mark chuckles. 

“Will you please ask him to stop teaching our children all the naughty words? And I mean that for any and all languages,” you ask him. Mark presses a kiss against your temple.

“Of course. He’s coming to dinner tonight and I’ll speak to him about it.” Every year since the four of you moved to Monaco, Mark organises a BBQ after the Monaco Grand Prix. It’s a large undertaking, feeding most of the grid plus a couple of the former drivers, but it’s nice to see everyone relax. It always serves as a reminder that family is made and chosen. You know your children will grow up surrounded by so much love, and that alone is worth the stack of dishes afterwards.

I was meant to be writing a Carlos smut fic. Oh well 🙈

Agnes' personality was inspired by this TikTok. Like, she is her father's daughter. Oh, and because I have a feeling people will ask:

Agnes - 4, Kevin's biological child Margot - 2, Lewis' biological child Luke - 5 months, Mark's biological child

Please let me know what you think! Your comments, tags, and likes mean the world to me 💜

[sleeplesssmoll]

Fic idea: Vertin & Sonetto's internal conflicts create tension in their relationship.

I usually talk about their influence on each other but this is more about how their environments effected their internal thoughts, which therefore manifests outwardly in their dynamic with one another. Note: this is after their relationship is well-established. I need to get this fic idea off my chest so I can focus on my studies.

Sonetto

She's used to being a "martyr" where she works hard and expects nothing in return. Sometimes, this results in guilt when Vertin gives her "too much". While she's comfortable asking for little affections like a kisses and such, she isn't sure how to respond to grandiose gestures.

She is an absolute puppy BUT there comes a point where the Foundation's teachings make her feel worried and embarrassed. She has these big, strong emotions and the Foundation always told her they were dangerous. She starts making "rules" to keep herself in check. She doesn't want to get carried away by her emotions out of fear she might do something she'll regret. This results in her holding back instead of smothering Vertin with her usual puppy behavior. She tries to to use work and professionalism as an excuse, and while those are important to her, the hard truth is...she's afraid. She's afraid to be the emotional and impulsive arcanist that the Foundation demonized. She also experiences emotions she considers "ugly" like jealousy, possessiveness, and lust. She's changing and she isn't sure if she likes the person she's becoming, or worse, if this is her "true self" emerging.

Shame. She has a lot of it because she's very curious but her "prurient" thoughts make her feel like she's "wicked" or shameful. She does her best to keep it a secret from Vertin. Another issue she has is how and why Vertin knows things. Things she had to research. She doesn't want to think about Vertin's possible past relationships, but she can't help it.

When she's confused or doesn't know what to do, she falls back on the teachings she was raised with. She finds guidance and comfort in the lessons drilled into her head. It's familiar, where as these big emotions are not. The Foundation is still an important part of her life.

Sonetto fails to see how much she does for the Suitcase. She helps with paperwork, sorts through missions, and volunteers to do chores to keep the Suitcase running smoothly.

Sonetto tries to create "balance" and distance in their relationship even though she wants to get lost in Vertin too. She can't resist Vertin because in her heart she doesn't want to. She's still affectionate of course, but she's set up specific times for when she's allowed to be.

Once the body is trained, the mind will follow. This is the mantra the Foundation taught her to use to instill discipline in herself and overcome her arcanist blood. At least, that's what she hopes. So far it's backfiring and she wants more from Vertin instead of what she (really the Foundation) deemed "appropriate" .

Vertin

Sometimes when Vertin looks at Sonetto, she sees everything she has left to lose. This is one of the reasons she likes doing grandiose things for her. She also appreciates Sonetto's efforts in the Suitcase and her devotion. Vertin doesn't see her once in a while gestures on the same level as Sonetto's daily dedication and care.

She blames the Foundation for Sonetto's mindset. She appears neutral on the outside, but she's bitter that she can't be the true safe space Sonetto needs. She hates the Foundation, but she also needs their support in order to reach her true goals and stop the Storm. Sometimes she wonders about the day the Storm is finally stopped. She'll lose her purpose in the Foundation. Will Sonetto follow her if she leaves? If they kick her onto the street? The Foundation's presence looms over their relationship constantly. If the Storm doesn't take Sonetto away, the Foundation still might.

I may lose some people here, but hear me out. Vertin is very direct and open with affection in the late stages of their relationship. At first she was reserved, but as said before, she could lose Sonetto like she's lost others. Since she embraced her feelings for Sonetto, she'll never miss a chance to kiss her and hug her. She'll randomly say "I love you" just in case there's a chance she doesn't get to later. That being said, she HATES the new rules and distance Sonetto tries to create, especially because she senses bullshit. She doesn't understand why they can't be happy. Why is it wrong to be passionate? Why can't they be in love and get lost in one another? Why is there always another obstacle? Since she and Sonetto grew closer, she's been more expressive, dare say, vulnerable, with her feelings. She openly expresses her disdain for the rules. However, it's also hard for her to talk about her fear of losing Sonetto and the trauma. Also, she doesn't think it's a big deal so it's not worth mentioning. It's not Sonetto's problem, or at least so she thinks.

We know Vertin is a tactile person, but I'll take this one step further. Vertin hears people that no longer exist. She sees them in shadows. They haunt her dreams. But Sonetto is real. She's warm, soft, and very much alive. Vertin needs to touch her. It's stupid (according to her) but having her clingy puppy suddenly withdraw from her hurt a lot. She doesn't know how to put it into words without sounding pathetic but there's a comfort in physical touch. She's had no idea she could long for skinship like this until it was abruptly taken away.

Aside from the Storm, Vertin has other things she doesn't like to address. For example, lots of people grab her by the wrist and drag her around: the crew, the kids, even Sonetto. There's no malice, only excitement or urgency. Vertin reminds herself everytime. However, it triggers a sense of "restraint" in her. Vertin remembers the instructors hauling her to the guardhouse by her wrist. She remembers bullies holding her down because they couldn't win in a fair fight. She remembers being "assissted" into Artificial Somnambulism and having her legs broken afterwards. She remembers being trapped in Druvis’s cage with Schneider. Everytime she's been held down, bad things follow. But she knows her friends and allies don't mean her harm. It's her fault for being like this, so she tells herself to get over it. She doesn't. No matter how many times it happens, she still has that same reaction. She's good at hiding it though so no one notices. There are other small things about herself that she neglects. By the way, holding her hand is different. It makes her think of people like her friends who placed their hand over her's on the doorknob during the breakaway event. She thinks of Tooth Fairy, Madam Z, and their gentle grasps. She associates hand holding with love, instead of it triggering her flight it fight.

Vertin likes to blame herself for issues that may not be her fault either. She assumes she did something to make Sonetto upset, which is the real reason she's putting space between them. Eventually, she does try to behave, not because she agrees but because she wants to make Sonetto happy. She also feels guilty because she thinks about their childhood days where her pushy ways annoyed Sonetto. She mistakenly assumes she must have done something similar again. Vertin has a habit of trying to tempt Sonetto with a good time. A sneaky kiss, hugging her from behind while she works. Things like that to try and coax her puppy in for a cuddle, professionalism be damned. It's similar to how she used to try and lure Sonetto outside with frogs and pebbles when they were kids.

Despite these hardships and misunderstandings, there's never a point where one think the other is falling out of love. Their is a deep sense of loyalty and care for each other but once again they're missing the mark.

It's their childhood all over again!

[happeehippie]

instagram j.b.

summary: follow along with joe and his fiancé evie as the go through his football career.

*face claim is Yasmin Quintana*

series masterlist.

breezyevie

liked by nfl, bengals, joeyb_9, and 927,028 others

breezyevie: i’m proud of my joey, win or lose you’re my guy forever. until next season. ✌🏼

view all 7,359 comments…

user: those penalties at the end were BS!!

> breezyevie: you said it !!

user: you are cringe garbage

user: not you dyeing your hair before the biggest game of the year.

> breezyevie: maybe it was bad luck.

user: thank you for bringing such positivity to fan base

user: i love you and the bengies so much

> breezyevie: i love you!

joeyb_9: special season. thank you for being there, you rock ev. ❤️

> breezyevie: special guy. 🤍

user: i can’t believe that you’re joe b girlfriend

millyg: you’re cincy’s hero.

> breezyevie: you’re my hero.

joeyb_9

liked by nfl, bengals, and 1,739,927 others

joeyb_9: Back to work.

view all 98,626 comments…

user: keep shining joey, you’ll be back next year

user: now i can block evie till next season, i only follow for you.

breezyevie: you are the most inspiring and dedicated person i know. i’m obsessed with you.

> user: girl we know. get a life.

user: i’m calling it now they go undefeated next season

user: we will be back. WHO DEY!!!

user: this had me tearing up

> breezyevie: i’ve cried so much. just let it out.

user: does this mean that ur cringy gf won’t be posting you anymore?

> user: y’all love to hate on a girl for living her life.

breezyevie

liked by joeyb_9, millyg, and 920,736 others

breezyevie: life update for you stalkers. 🤪

view all 9,826 comments…

user: gross

user: that drink looks so good

> breezyevie: it was amazing!!

millyg: i still can believe i wasn’t invited

> breezyevie: don’t hate me. 😅

user: clout chaser

user: you’re my idol

> breezyevie: stop, my heart will explode. 🤍🤍🤍

user: imagine joe b is ur man?

> user: and she’s so average..

user: i already can’t wait to see your game day fits. is it september yet?

user: please quit posting with joe, i’m trying to forget you’re the one who has him tied down.

joeyb_9

liked by breezyevie, ufc, lahjay10_, and 612,597 others

joeyb_9: preciate all of the fighters that didn’t beat me up this weekend. @ufc

view all 817 comments…

breezyevie: it’s the bucket hat for me

> joeyb_9: just call me joe buckets

> breezyevie: gtfo. 🤣

user: coldest qb

user: stupid pic

user: didn’t know joey b was chill like that

user: why didn’t ev go to the fight?

> user: no one wants to see him with his busted gf

> user: they’re engaged now

> user: that’s even worse

lahjay10_: no ev slander around here

> breezyevie: you’re my favorite. 🤍

breezyevie

liked by joeyb_9, eviesmomma, nascar, and 659,269 others

breezyevie: is she a nascar girly now?

view all 5,272 comments…

user: i hate when ur posts come up on my page

user: a post that isn’t about joe? *gasp*

joeyb_9: you’re just the coolest person i know.

> breezyevie: it’s natural swag

user: iconic look

user: fine i’ll watch @nascar now

lahjay10_: she drive that fast car

user: is this why you weren’t at ufc with joe

user: are you going to become an influencer now

user: omg look at you!

user: i wanna be you when i grow up

> breezyevie: be better than me! be YOU!!

user: what a sellout. quit piggy backing off of your bf and get a real job

joeyb_9

liked by breezyevie, millyg, and 936,937 others

joeyb_9: Today and always… Happy Anniversary Ev, your gift is this pic on my feed.

view all 89,625 comments…

breezyevie: thanks for being you and for being mine.

> user: all of the “joe never post her” commenters, refer to the above photo.

> user: i liked it better that way

user: he deserves so much better

lahjay10_: there’s no joey b without ev! happy anniversary.

user: no way he’s got a gf!!!

> user: they have been together for like six years? like how did you miss that?

user: that should be me

user: when he didn’t post her i could pretend she didn’t exist

user: happy anniversary to my mom and dad!

bengals: Happy Anniversary to Jovie!

user: break up with her, i’m hotter.

breezyevie

liked by joeyb_9, millyg, and 973,026 others

breezyevie: some randoms of my jb. im so lucky that i fell in love with someone who became hot and famous. my life is brighter with you in it, happy anniversary baby.

view all 200 comments…

*comments on this post are limited*

user: i can’t wait for this wedding

user: ev is always clutch with the unseens

joeyb_9: hot, famous, and taken. it’s you and me baby.

user: mother has fed us today

user: it’s sad that she limited comments

> user: i never thought id see the day that comments would bother her, she’s got thick skin.

> millyg: sometimes it doesn’t matter how thick your skin is when the whole internet is shitting on you just bc they want your man.

breezyevies ig stories:

[seireitonin]

Can you make Toby headcanons

I can’t believe I haven’t already done this?? He’s literally all I think about lately. Also sorry for the lack of posts life is busy. Anyway! (Some of this will be canon)

“Ticci” Toby Head Canons

Toby was in and out of the hospital all his life

CIPA will do that for you

He constantly had to lie about the bruises he got from his dad while he was in the hospital

He didn’t want to be separated from his sister in foster care

Toby got bullied and outcasted at school

But he also was a bully kinda

The violence he was experiencing at home made him violent at school

He would beat people who teased him bloody

He’s impulsive and cynical but also empathic

He would use his body as a shield against his father to protect his sister and mother

Purposely behaving bad so he would get it the worst, sparing his sister and mother

Slenderman was trying to get both Lyra and Toby to become proxies and Lyra had been experiencing the slender sickness and seeing Slenderman

So she purposely crashed the car so her and Toby would both die, but he was none the wiser

Only Lyra died and Toby has survivors guilt

Not only because he’s alive but because Lyra was a better person in his eyes

She took care of him, she was sweet, she was gentle

Toby was rough, standoff ish, and rude

Toby thinks he deserved to die, not her

Wishes he died instead of her

Slenderman only targeted Toby after that

The hallucinations getting stronger and worse

Him seeing his dead sister

Constantly feeling sick

Toby looked at all his neighbors with jealousy

Why did they get the perfect suburban life?

Why was he given a life of suffering?

Slenderman was breaking him down day after day

On top of all that the abuse didn’t stop

Slenderman was able to take his mind over easily with all that Toby was going through

Toby’s grief, anger, sadness, pain and suffering making him unable to fight off Slendermans influence

The night he killed his father he was under Slendermans control completely

Only snapping out of his trance for a few seconds before being taken over again

He didn’t really want to kill his father but his body wasn’t his

Luckily he was able to snap out of the trance before he hurt his mom

But he still burned the neighborhood down, ready to accept death

Then Slenderman took him in

When he was 19 he acted a bit like the teen he never got to be

Not super upbeat but he was more playful and free

Masky and Hoodie do care about him, just in a rough love kind of way because they didn’t want to see him die

Also he was so young, they know what it’s like to loose your life and mind to Slenderman at a fairly young age

So they trained him hard and kept reminding him that he’s disposable so be careful and not so reckless with his body

Toby’s not only good with hatchets but knives as well

Also good at hand to hand combat and dodging

Has infinite stamina and is really strong and fast

Dated Clockwork from ages 19-24

He died at 25 but was resurrected by Slenderman and became possessed fully (which is another reason why he’s so sickly pale)

Slenderman attempted to make him kill Clockwork, but luckily some of Toby was still in there and he was able to hold back from killing her

She was able to fight him off easily after that but couldn’t bring herself to kill him

But she doesn’t want to see him ever again

The one man she trusted tried to kill her and it was too much for her to handle

Toby was heartbroken for months and killed a lot of people, letting himself become a puppet for Slenderman completely

Toby came to the realization that his body was never his to own

His body belonged to the doctors when he was a kid to experiment on, the shield to protect his family, a puppet for Slenderman to use, even his Tourette’s controlled him sometimes

Toby is bi but leans towards women because women were kind to him all his life

Total horndog

He can be manipulative but honestly it’s not on purpose he’s just scared to loose people

“You shouldn’t leave. You’re all I have. My family is gone. Please. You’re the only thing I love.”

Very clingy with people he cares about

Especially because he knows he’s a lot to handle

His emotions can change very quickly

Since his mind has gotten used to Slendermans influence, his memories come back in full force

He vividly remembers everything that happened to him and will sometimes have breakdowns

The memories come at random times too

He’s full of himself and not insecure at all

Blunt, rude, will say what he wants whenever he wants with no filter but is nice to people he likes

Constantly has bloody and bruised knuckles

Smells like the woods/ outdoors and campfires

Made a promise to his sister when they were young to never be like his dad. So he’ll never hit a woman he loves

Belive she’s not meant to be loved. Everyone who’s loved him has either died or left one way or another

Wears neutral colors to blend in with the forest

Touched starved, due to not getting much gentle touch and affection in his life

Wants a normal life so bad but knows that will never happen

Wants to have kids. He wants to be the man his father never was

Hides his face gash with bandages and gauze when he goes out in public

He’s handsome and he knows it. He uses that charm to lure in/ manipulate his victims

Dark brown eyes and hair and pale pink lips

29 years old

Started dating Nina at 27

Toby is 6’0 flat

Very lanky but his back and arms are toned because of constant axe throwing and swinging

Toby is much more mature now that he’s 29 but can still joke around and stuff

Has scars all over his body not only from his father, but fighting since he was 17

He’s so full of himself and cocky especially when he’s manic

He’s an extremely jealous person and can be very possessive especially over the person he’s dating

He’s just scared to loose anyone

Hes violent as hell when it comes to killing

Very very messy because he’s impulsive and reckless and doesn’t care about getting hurt because he doesn’t feel it

Sometimes will target abusive men and will beat them to death with his fists while looking them in the eyes, smiling

Just because he was manipulated into killing at first doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy it now

Because he really enjoys it

Especially when he’s angry or emotional

Still needs constant check ups and has to check for injuries on his body because he can’t feel them

Eats people on occasion. Since he chewed on his hands a lot he likes the taste of flesh

Likes fucking with his victims before he kills them sometimes. He learned that from Masky.

Has nightmares but doesn’t tell anyone about them

Doesn’t drink alcohol often because he really doesn’t wanna be like his dad

Midwestern emo

Looks like his mom. It makes him sad. He misses her.

When he’s by himself he wears grandpa sweaters and loose jeans

Nina is the only other person who can wear his clothes

Anyone else? No way.

Is close with EJ because of the constant medical checkups

Close with Jane too since Nina became friends with her

Actually can cook pretty well since he had to survive on his own a lot

His hair is mid neck and curly because he doesn’t bother to cut it

His beard is prickly and it started growing at 23

Has a bunch of piercings because he can’t feel pain (eyebrows, snakebites, tounge, septum, a bunch of ear ones) he also did it to match with Nina

His favorite food is ramen

His ADHD can make him upbeat and happy sometimes but it doesn’t last long

He likes to sit in the woods by himself sometimes and just enjoy his own company

He has quite the reputation working for Slenderman and all

Masky, Hoodie and Toby are called the triple threat

Hoodie handles ranged combat like guns. Masky is a hard hitting melee fighter, using crowbars, bats etc. Toby can do both by throwing hatches and using them in hand to hand combat. But he can also use his fists.

That’s all I got 4 now I’ll make a part 2 when I can remember more. Also this isn’t proof read sorry :3

[livesworthlivingau]

Lives Worth Living Chapter 2

Spoilers for ISAT, Two Hats specifically

"So that's why you ran off so suddenly." (Odile acknowledges, the only one of your family who seems more suspicious than excited to see Loop once more.) "You had me worried there Sif, but I guess it makes sense you'd be in such a rush. Glad to see you again Loop!" (Isa remarks, just happy to see you were fine.) "Yes! We never got to tell you thanks for helping us out yesterday!" (Mira cheers, eager to get to know this new friend.) "... So why do you look like that?" "BONNIE!" (Everyone shouts in unison, you and Loop can't help but laugh at their blunt remark.) "No no, it's quite alright, it's a fair question. It's because I'm part star my dear little culinary one~." "Woah... Part star?! Really?!" (They stare up at Loop in bewilderment.)

"I'd say that must be impossible, but I have trouble believing that about anything after our most recent adventure." (Odile sighs through the hand in front of her face, pinching her temple as just pondering all of this seemed to give her a headache.) "Well whatever you are, it's great to have you around! Did you wanna join us for our travels? It sounded like you and Sif went through a lot together, so we'd love to get to know you as well!" (Oh Isa, always so kind and generous... You find yourself staring and quickly try to snap back to reality, you're not there just yet, you have to build back up to that...) "O-Oh no, I couldn't possibly impos-" "Nonsense! Any friend of Sif's is a friend of ours!" "Yes, it's the least we could do to repay you for helping us out so much!" "Yeah! And you can try out my cooking! What's your favorite food?!" "Oh yeah, you HAVE to try Bonnie's food, Sif said it almost made the time loops tolerable all on it's own!" (Isa laughed. You forgot you made that joke, but it was at least a little bit true.) (Loop just turned to look at you, their eyes filled with a reluctant worry, still unsure of this plan, still so unsure of allowing themself a second chance... You just smile back at them and nod, trying to reassure them and gesturing them towards the rest of the group.) "... Well then splendid~! If you're all so eager to have me along, how could I refuse~?" (There it is, the mask back up within moments... you forgot how easy it was back then... you wonder how long until you might be right back there with them, before shaking those thoughts away. That's the old you, and you never want to go back, you're better now.) ---------------------------------------------------- (Loop finds themself settling into the group with ease, becoming a cheerleader for Mirabelle, a research assistant for Odile, just the worst of influences for Bonnie, and joining you as another model/assistant for Isa's clothing craft. They were much more eager and flashy when it came to showing off the outfits, the part of the job you were always worse at.) (The 3 of you were tucked away in your room at the Inn you all were currently staying at, while the rest went on a little excursion to the library. Isa was working hard on a new outfit for Loop. Apparently walking around as a star person was noticeable enough, and adding on the whole 'nudity' factor only made it worse. As usual you find yourself just staring at Isa with a dumb little smile on your face, always loving to watch him work, the way he scrunches his face and sticks his tongue out as he does. Your eye following along as he took measurements across Loop's body, before your vision drifts to Loop's face... recognizing the same stare you were giving for Isa... Oh... OH!... Oooooooooooooh.....) (Loop feels you staring, turning to see your shocked, blushing face. Their expression falls, looking away as the realization takes hold in both of you... You both have a lot to figure out now.) ------------------------------------------------------ "Do you get it now Stardust?! Do you see why this was a bad idea?!" (Loop is upset, but you can tell they're almost satisfied. You're reminded of a very grim scene you've tried to block out for a very long time. Flashes of it in your mind still pop up now and again, and this time it's followed up by Loop shouting "I TOLD YOU SO!".) "I mean, it's... complicated, there's just a lot to consi-" "What is there to consider?! What are you going to just back off and throw your Fighter into my arms so he can swoon over me instead?!" "..." "... Are... You're not being serious right now." "I mean... I had 30 years wit-" "STARDUST! WE ARE NOT HAVING THIS CONVERSATION!"

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

i miss who i used to be

Summary: In the aftermath of Ultron, two Sokovians find themselves contemplating their pasts and their loneliness in the present. When their paths cross again, they might just find comfort in one another's company.

Word Count: 1379 Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader Warnings: grief/loneliness/a lot of reflection on topics of that nature A/N: First part of a short series of sorts? Childhood friends to lovers kinda vibe which maybe could have been a one shot but I wanted to try something different! I have the next part written but after that, let me know what you'd like to see happen between Wanda and R (any interactions/conversations to be had/etc.) and it might influence where this story goes 👀

Part 1 of 'half of my hometown' series masterlist next part ->

»»————-　★　————-««

If there’s one thing she knows, it’s grief.

Wanda Maximoff was born and raised in a war-torn country; she’s borne witness to a lifetime of destruction, endured suffering, and experienced the slow death of dreams. It seemed like there could be no worse feeling since she’d already experienced it all, but life seemed determined to prove her wrong.

After all that, it took her brother.

If her life were to be likened to the myth of Pandora’s Box, then Pietro Maximoff would have been her hope – the one bright light in her life that she believed could never fade, that would never leave her. From the second she was born, and for 26 years thereafter, Pietro had always been by her side; no matter what happened, they went through it together, reacted together, and emerged alive on the other side together. For all their disagreements, Wanda couldn’t think of a single experience she hadn’t shared with Pietro. Which makes this new feeling – the painful, unenviable knot of loneliness in her heart – all the more terrifying.

Pietro will never share it.

Months continue to pass, with Wanda taking notice of nothing but herself becoming more withdrawn, avoiding Stark's parties and spending more time in her room, where she can let the loneliness consume her. She really did try when the Avengers first brought her to America, but Pietro had always been the social twin, and the conversations only made his absence more pronounced.

Wanda's mood worsens as her loneliness grows, but only she can see the change in herself. The team hardly noticed the difference -- they hadn't even known her before her grief, so how could they see what it had caused in her?

Lingering on the thought, Wanda realises there is no one left who remembers the girl she used to be before the pain and grief and suffering. She used to believe that her childhood friendships would last forever, but those friends are likely gone, she thinks, lost to the rubble just as her family were. Wanda Maximoff is the last person alive who could ever remember her true personality, but now, even she isn’t so sure.

»»————-　★　————-««

On that same night, in that same building, you suffer from the same line of thought. Brought from Sokovia to America in your early teens, joining SHIELD was your way of doing good in a world you knew firsthand needed help. You hadn’t expected it to be your own teammates and colleagues who had been causing the troubles in the first place; some went under with HYDRA’s exposition, but many remained, passing test after test because, despite the presence of their names on documents approving the bombing of your birth city, they truly had no allegiance to HYDRA. They are SHIELD agents throughout, but that doesn’t make them ‘good’.

Your sense of hope is naive, really. It’s a remnant of the lingering childhood sentiment that you would make the most of your escape to America, to make real change and bring peace to the friends you left behind. By now, you’ve seen the worst of SHIELD, endured mockery for your opinions, watched the organisation fall and then rise again only somewhat cleansed to assist the Avengers, yet you still work for them. Perhaps it’s fear that keeps you here, perhaps it’s delusion, but either way, you find your workarounds and do your best to progress.

That’s the situation that leads you to now, patrolling the halls of the Avengers Compound at 2am, pondering what you are even working for now that the only evidence left of your country’s capital city is a crater full of rubble. 

Loneliness takes centre stage when you work night shifts – an unfortunate coincidence considering loneliness is what caused you to take the time slot in the first place. You don’t want to work with your colleagues, always feeling like you’re on the sidelines of the group, never quite as close to them as they are to each other – now exacerbated by the seed of doubt that any one of them may have seen your country as a necessary sacrifice, an inevitable fatality in a world of war. 

It’s easier to work alone, you tell yourself again, but you begin to doubt it.

With no country to return to, no relatives, and no friends at work, you wonder how else you can change yourself before you finally fit in. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to be alone.

»»————-　★　————-««

Those thoughts are interrupted by whirring machinery, and you suddenly snap to attention and creep towards the Avengers’ gym. An intruder wouldn’t settle down for a quick training session, you imagine, and lower your guard marginally, but still ready yourself for a confrontation – there shouldn’t be anyone around at 2 am.

You walk in, only to stall immediately when you see a familiar brunette on the treadmill. She’s not one of the Avengers you’ve met before, nor one of the ones you’ve only seen on TV despite living in the same building – she’s new then, you conclude, or an intruder, but that doesn’t explain why you feel like you’ve seen her face before. 

She looks up and her eyes widen when she sees you, before she shuts the treadmill off and quickly ducks her head. You don’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters while she hurriedly gathers her things, “I didn’t think anyone would come in here.”

You know why you recognise her now, the accent giving it all away.

“You’re Sokovian.” The woman clearly wants to leave; her belongings are bundled in her arm and she’s taken several quick paces aiming to pass you to get to the door, but she pauses at your statement and finally raises her head to meet your gaze.

“You’re not.”

“I am,” you reply, somewhat indignantly.

“You don’t sound it.”

Your natural accent had slipped over the years, it was true, a mix of natural evolution and forced acclimatisation on your behalf as an attempt to better fit in had led to the accent you now had. Not good enough to fool your American-born colleagues, but enough, it seems, to fool your fellow Sokovian. You think carefully, the new accent is so well practised that you struggle to separate what comes naturally and which parts you condition yourself to speak with. Eventually though, you speak and let the traces of your Sokovian past shine through.

“It’s been a while,” you tell her, “13 years since I last saw Novi Grad. I thought I’d return one day but… I guess not.”

Her eyes narrow as she tilts her head ever so slightly, the action once again striking you with a sense of familiarity. She seems to shake herself out of it eventually. She tightens her grip on her belongings and finally inches past you, not speaking again until her hand is on the door handle. 

“I suppose neither of us can ever return home… your accent is rusty, Y/N, but it’s nice to see someone else survived.”

You jolt suddenly at her use of your name, but she’s gone before you can even turn around and acknowledge that she recognises you too; all that remains of her is the door slamming shut in her wake. 

Memories crash back to you of the first half of your life, it's enough that you need to take a seat before allowing yourself to reminisce. It's been thirteen years since you last saw Wanda, but you'd never forgotten the shy brunette you used to run to and from school with; the girl whose apartment you would visit whenever the power went out, to huddle together and make up stories to entertain yourselves.

You wonder briefly why she left the gym so suddenly, rather than staying and catching up, but you realise that even you need a moment to process the fact that one of your friends, a memory from your past, is not only still alive, but also living in the same building as you. It seems likely that you'll see her again, and you hope it's something that she wants too.

You're already planning to give her time, but no matter how the night started, the encounter plants a seed of hope in you that the future might just be a little less lonely.

next part ->

»»————-　★　————-««

General Taglist: @canvascoloredin @fxckmiup @wizardofstories

(Might do a series taglist for this too - let me know if you'd like to be added! @family-house-of-m you have no choice but to be tagged)

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Persephone's Devotee (Hello, Mr. Monster AU, I)

Master List

Summary: In the age of Spiritualists and magicians, wyrds winds in different ways to link Dream of the Endless and Aisling Hunt. AU of Hello, Mr. Monster beginning in the 1920s. (Alternatively titled 'We All Hate Roderick Burgess')

Warnings: Implied child abuse/neglect, child left to travel solo, manipulating children for profit (non-sexual trafficking)

A/N: Your bird just got diagnosed with a life changing chronic condition (in addition to being put back on depression meds). We'll see how this post does. Have four chapters planned. The last scene is based on personal experiences with heat exhaustion/borderline heat stroke.

Dream’s tools brought many things to Fawney Rig. Wealth and prestige. Admiration, gifts, and influence. Nearly everything the magus wanted and only a fraction of what he thought he deserved. Roderick’s dreams of power and riches drew another tool to his hand, or perhaps Destiny drew the magus to her. The girl who saw strange things in the dark and found answers to strange riddles in her cards. But her wyrd would always draw her to old house and its shrouded dungeon, in any world or time. All because of what the Burgesses kept there.

In the eight years since the fateful evening he summoned and caught one of the Endless, Roderick had become a man much desired. He found himself with an invitation to Lord and Lady Werthrope’s party, a guest of honor at a soiree at their country estate. They promised a night of occult mysteries and foreign prizes. Bits of people and places from across the empire and beyond. Mummies from Egypt and fragments of Greek antiquities to gasp and shriek over with glasses of champagne and brandy.

Roderick carried himself as Lord Werthrope’s equal, and at least for that night, surrounded by ancient mysteries of all kinds, he was seen as such. He was an expert, a guide, someone to hold in reverence rather than an oddity to gawk over. He told them with his bearing, his dignity, and the ruby he wore on a golden chain around his neck. His wishes became dreams and so became real. He stood like a stronger god beside the broken figure of Apollo and scoffed at the mistranslations of texts he’d only ever read secondhand.

Beside the wonders kept under guard at home, what were these paltry things? He could have any of them he desired, and he’d already claimed better.

His sense of superiority carried him through the party’s early hours, moving from acrobats in elaborate costumes, to fire eaters, to ghost stories and flights of fancy spun by swindlers far below his consideration. He had an answer or alternative for everything. And then he met the girl.

She sat at a bare table with no long cloth to hide rolling ankles, clever fishing lines, or knocking accomplices. Only a candle and a deck of cards separated her from the guests, and she’d drawn quite a queue. Her feet didn’t even reach the floor, swinging idly between the legs of the chair as she read the cards of a distraught-looking dandy.

Taking his arm, Lady Werthrope said, “This one you really must see, Magus. She’s made quite the splash in New York and London.”

The Magus offered a tolerant smile. “And what is the trick? Does she blow out the candle? Bend spoons?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that.” The lady practically vibrated, eager to impress as she led them to the table, scattering the line. “She sees things, and she reads fortunes like no one I’ve ever seen, and I’ve had more than a few pet psychics in my time. This one’s a bit of a sad story.”

The magus clenched his jaw until the muscle in his cheek twitched. He could make whatever sob story the girl shilled much worse. Of all the frauds and liars who feigned knowledge of the occult, Roderick Burgess hated mediums and ghost whisperers the most. The tantalizing promise of connection with Randal – always waved in his face, always ultimately denied – it clawed open the rotting wound in his heart, and he let the poison drip back on any fools who tried his patience.

Let this one try to pull the wool over his eyes, and he’d unmask her in front of this glittering audience. She’d be a penniless sad story when he was through.

“Those people,” the lady said, nodding to a couple flanking the child, “are just the adoptive parents. Saw her family murdered, poor thing. They say that’s what cracked her open to the other world.”

“Do they indeed.” He kept his smile, showing his teeth as his grip flexed over the cane in his free hand. “Then I look forward to her performance.”

The Magus and the lady sat across from the faux family, and the girl looked at them. The people who weren’t her parents did not manage her well, Burgess couldn’t help noting. They’d painted her up with rogue and kohl that made her look even more like a child playing grownup games, and the feather in her headband hung limp and lifeless. She barely managed to grimace through a smile, and she spoke with all the enthusiasm of a student reporting on Ovid to the class.

“What are you asking?” A child’s voice really shouldn’t be so dull. Now that he was nearer, the Magus couldn’t help wondering if she was even younger than he’d first assumed. Not even ten, he thought, and already so exhausted.

It wasn’t what he’d expected. He kept his guard, but curiosity stirred beneath. She was no great performer.

Lady Werthrope leaned forward, eager to take the first reading as the girl shuffled her cards. They were nearly too big for her to manage, but in this at least she clearly had much practice. Her handling of the tarot was the most natural element of her demeanor he’d yet to see.

The lady talked about her dog Moxy, a cocker spaniel much loved and terribly spoiled. It was getting on in years, and, well, ought she prepare for anything dreadful? Only, her friend had just lost her terrier, and she couldn’t chase it from her thoughts…

The cards appeared on the table. One by one. The Six of Cups. The Two of Swords. And, lastly, the Nine of Swords reversed.

“Moxy is well-loved.” The child pointed to the first card. “That’s the foundation. But she’s getting older, and she may go blind eventually. She’s accepted it, though, and you will, too.” She smiled a little, hesitantly, like a pet used to getting kicked when she barked at company. The Magus noted how her gaze flicked to her pseudo-father.

Lady Werthrope clucked and reached over to squeeze the child’s hand. “You’re very honest. And very sweet. Now, won’t you show the Magus what you can do?”

Obediently, she gathered the cards and folded the deck, shuffling them with the fresh energy of her next customer. “What do you want to know?”

Roderick considered. It was a little below him to ask anything specific of a child spiritualist, and he still meant to test her. Hate stirred the old thorn in his heart, and although she didn’t speak with ghosts to earn her bread, he didn’t need to justify himself.

“I’ll leave the question to you.” He squinted in a way that may seem affectionate, but it was only sharp, a predator focusing on little fawn to see how quickly it might run. “What do you see?”

She flinched, lifting her eyes from the cards to meet his in a fleeting, startled glance. Like he’d come near to guessing something she didn’t say out loud. But then she bent over the deck, back to her work as the woman behind her set a hand on her shoulder.

“Be good, Aisling,” the adoptive mother said. “Show the Magus your skills. Don’t embarrass us.”

The child rolled her lip between her teeth, sorting the task quickly. One card. Two cards. Three cards. Tap, tap, tap on the bare table. The Magician’s face glowed in the candle light, and Roderick blinked. A good tarot reader must have good luck in order to draw the appropriate cards – or a marked deck. But he’d watched those little hands like a hawk, and he’d seen nothing. It wasn’t definitive proof by any means, but Roderick Burgess knew himself to be cleverer than a child.

Pointing to the first card, the Magician, the girl said, “You’re the Magus. The Magician is your creation of yourself.” The second card was the Nine of Cups. “Your cups all overflow, and you enjoy the plenty you already have.” And then there was the Ace of Pentacles. Roderick wondered for a moment if she’d laid the cards out of the intended order, but she simply said, “There is new wealth coming. You’ve just found something that will bring you more good fortune. The benefits will grow in the months and years to come.”

“You’re very sure of yourself.” He looked for cracks, and there were many. Fatigue clouded her eyes and weighted the end of every sentence. Not a sign of a lie, though. She couldn’t even pretend to be happy for the audience.

He turned the interaction over in his mind through the rest of the night, wearing away the questions and presumptions like the rough edges of a stone, and by the later hours, he thought he might hold a jewel.

The adoptive parents made themselves easy to find. They hadn’t left the table. Neither had the girl. The lord and lady hired them to entertain, and they stayed at their posts. They’d gathered refreshments, but no cup or plate sat on the table, and he wondered if they had any idea children needed things like water after a long night of speaking with strangers.

Really. The scheme was too transparent. The only lies hid in any manner of affection the parents pretended for the child they claimed.

The Magus marched up to the table, rapping the top with his cane to seize the drowsy girl’s attention. She blinked, started licking her dry lips, caught herself, and pinched her mouth closed with her teeth.

“Aisling, wasn’t it?” He nodded to her, encouraging her to echo the motion. “I would like a word with you. No cards. No reading. Just a conversation. Alone.”

The father stepped forward, ready to defend his meal ticket. “Sir, I’m afraid we can’t just –”

“The girl and I will sit here, at this table,” he tapped it again to make his point, “and you will both stand over there.” The cane swung to point towards the bar, which was well within sight but well out of earshot.

When the man moved to protest again, Roderick pulled out his wallet, and the father’s mouth snapped shut. A few pounds bought the adults’ willing compliance, and they went off in search of drinks with barely a backwards glance. Roderick settled into the seat he claimed earlier, watching the girl squirm. Her hands fluttered restlessly between her lap and the table, clearly used to the cards, uneasy without the form and ritual of a reading to guide the conversation.

That was well enough. Roderick had his own plans.

He signaled one of the roving staff, and as the waiter approached, he ordered, “A lemonade for the young lady.”

With a bow, the server hurried off, and the Magus smiled, lips closed, tilting his head as his legs crossed under the table. He was not a client. He was an adult who noticed, who might be moved to care, and in the few hours of their acquaintance, he was already offering more than anyone else.

“So, you see things?”

Her eyes snapped from him to the people who managed her. Then back again, and down to her lap.

“I’m not supposed to upset people.” She picked at the fringe on the garish frock she wore – entirely unsuited to her age and clearly uncomfortable. “It upsets Mr. and Mrs. Foster when I see things. Or when I talk about them.”

The Magus nodded, unsurprised. He wondered if the people who adopted her even realized her talents were genuine when they snatched her up. They had too many connections and too much showmanship to be anything other than experienced con artists. This little Aisling must be very sensitive, and the truly sensitive didn’t see strictly good, kind, or encouraging things. How she must terrify the fools.

The server returned with a cut crystal glass rattling with ice. The girl thanked the server, then thanked her benefactor, and wrapped her hands around the condensation-slicked sides. She sipped carefully, and Roderick could see the tension ease from her posture as she drank. Desperate as she was, she didn’t gulp, and with clear regret, she set the drink on the table still two-thirds full. But she kept her hands on the glass, lest some waiter assume she was finished and spirit it away.

“I won’t be upset, and I’d like to believe you.” Angling his head down to peer at her meaningfully, employing a look he’d once used when his son misbehaved, he asked, “What have you seen tonight that would upset people?”

The girl looked around, shifting so her chair creaked. This time, it wasn’t her adoptive parents she feared. Any ears may be a threat. When she leaned in, the Magus copied her, silently assuring her the secret would be safe with him.

“There’s a guest who’s not a guest, and he isn’t a man, either.”

The Magus hummed. “Say I believe you. Could you prove it?”

Seduced into the invitation of an adult confidant, and revived by the lemonade, she rushed to answer. She wanted to prove herself. She wanted to be believed and heard. The Magus was listening, and he was beginning to believe as well.

“The man paid the footman with holly leaves,” she hissed in a loud whisper. “The footman folded them like bank notes, and the spines stabbed his palms, but he didn’t notice. Look for the one with blood on his gloves.”

“And the man who isn’t a man?”

Shrinking back, the girl shook her head until the headband went crooked. Her hand pressed over her heart, rubbing hard circles as her face creased.

“He’d know I saw him,” she said. “I don’t let them know I see them anymore.”

Now there was a tale and no mistake. A child with enough power to annoy things beyond the veil – one that survived an encounter – was rare indeed.

“What happened?” He lent his tone a shade of concern. Facts, he found, traveled swiftest to a sympathetic ear, and he needed to know everything. Curiosity was growing into practical fervor as the first dreams of a plan grew into place. “Are you ill?”

She crumbled just a little bit more, folding into herself to protect the place she rubbed from some invisible threat. “Sometimes I see things that don’t want to be seen. One of them – hurt me. There’s no scar, but it hurt me, and now it aches.”

The Magus donned a solemn expression, though he felt a thrill at the prospect sitting before him. The little girl had unusual skills, and though she wasn’t handled well by the adults governing her, they must still turn a pretty penny showing her in salons and private homes. He’d confirm what she’d said, of course, validate her little proof, but she was either a better liar than he’d ever met or she was childishly honest. He knew where he’d put his money.

Where he might very well invest it, actually.

He didn’t say goodbye, only nodding as he rose and went in search of the servant with bloody gloves.

Of course, he found him. When he demanded to see what the footman had in his pockets, the boy paled, stammering excuses, only to pull out a handful of forest detritus. As the young man fell into a whirl of confusion and disappointment, the Magus truly smiled. The first real smile since Lady Werthrope brought him to the child’s table.

He must have a proper conversation with the girl’s current guardians.

Aisling clung to her bag, drowning in the heat as the train pulled away from the Wych Cross platform. Men and women fanned themselves with hats and newspapers, desperate for a breeze in the dead summer stillness. Ladies shed their gloves. Men loosened their ties. Propriety mattered less when the air was trying to suffocate them, a crushing, inescapable oven scalding the usually damp countryside.

A miserable day to travel.

Sweat dripped down her back, soaking the neck of her dress, gluing her hair to her skin. But she didn’t have a free hand to stir a breeze. Her bag was too heavy, full of everything she would need in her new home, or at least everything the Fosters thought they couldn’t sell for a profit. Mrs. Foster took her to the train station and dropped her at the door.

“Here’s your ticket. You’re heading to Wych Cross, and then to Fawney Rig. Don’t forget, and don’t miss your train,” she’d said. Then she climbed back into the cab beside Mr. Foster and disappeared into the flow of London traffic.

They’d sold her on to someone else, and now they were free of her.

She peered around the station, but it was really just a platform. In London, there were helpful adults in uniforms and suits who pointed out the right train and the right stairs to reach it. Nothing here told her how to find Fawney Rig, though, and the only adult in a uniform seemed to be the man in the ticket booth.

She’d find her way. She wasn’t a baby after all. She was eight. And she could read very well, and no one was coming to help her, so she better figure it out.

She stood in line for the ticket man’s attention. Surely, he could give her directions. The Magus was rich, and a little famous, she thought, so his neighbors must know where he lived. If the man in the booth didn’t know, she’d keep asking until she found someone who did. While she waited her turn, she set down her suitcase and sat on it, taking deep breaths that tasted like salt. It could be worse. What if it rained instead? Well. Actually. Rain sounded very nice.

Soon enough, she took her place in front of the booth, and the man frowned under his mustache like she’d arrived with a bill or a letter from someone nasty. She smiled prettily, the way the Fosters told her to, and tried to make herself look like less of a problem as she clutched her case again.

“Excuse me,” she said, “but do you know the way to Fawney Rig?”

He physically recoiled, and his frown hooked deeper with glowering doubt as he scanned her. “Fawney Rig? That devil worshiper’s house? Why do you want to know?”

“I’ve been sent to live there, sir. I’m expected, but I don’t think they’ve sent anyone for me.” Manners made things easier with adults. Good manners and clear words – the fewer the better.

But the man wasn’t swayed. He looked thunderous. Like she’d broken something valuable and ought to pay for it with a lashing.

“Do you have money for a cab?”

The Fosters didn’t own her anymore, and they’d given her nothing but cards, and costumes, and a hairbrush. All the cash stayed warm and safe in their pockets.

“No, sir.”

“Then walk down the main road. Go east from the village, and keep going until there are no more houses you can see from the street. There’ll be a path on the left with a big iron gate. Follow that and you’ll find your devil worshipers.” He waved her off like he’d slap her if not for the glass. “Next!”

Manners got her what she needed, at least. “Thank you.”

The other adults all moved aside as she trundled through with her case. It made it easier to avoid clipping ankles and shins with her luggage, but she wondered if they hated her the way the ticket man hated her – because of Fawney Rig – or if she simply smelled after the long, stuffy ride in third class. Not that adults needed an excuse to dislike her. The nice ones called her uncanny and gifted. The mean ones called her a witch, and a bastard devil-spawn, and other names a mother should wash out of their mouths with soap.

She wasn’t sure which ones were telling the truth.

She knew the way forward, though. To Fawney Rig. That was good, even if the other adults didn’t think so. The Magus may not be a nice person, she hadn’t known him long enough for the usual adult lies to wear thin enough to see through, but he was smarter than the Fosters, and he’d given her a lemonade, so maybe she wouldn’t be as hungry or thirsty under his guardianship. She’d still have to work. Adults only wanted her if they thought she could give them something. But everything was more bearable with a good dinner and cold drinks.

She hoped he’d give her another cold drink, even water with some ice, when she reached his home. The train ride left her terribly thirsty.

Leaving the shaded platform, she bowed away from the sun’s violent touch and started on her journey. The village only kept a cobbled road in the center of town. It led up to the train station, linking it to a clutch of shops and offices. A parish church sat a little way back from the road, separated from the secular world by a field of tidy tombstones in heat-bleached grass. People noticed her. They looked. They whispered to each other. But no one waved or offered a hand. Gossip didn’t move fast enough to beat her here from the train, and she wondered how people could tell she was odd. Society had so many rules beyond manners, but no one would tell her what they were, and she never guessed right.

By the time the cobblestones ended, she was struggling to hold onto her suitcase. The handle kept trying to slip from her fingers, even when she held it with both hands, and she had to work harder and harder to keep it out of the dirt. If she knew anything about the world, it was that good children didn’t drag their luggage, and bad things happened to those that did. She’d travelled enough to learn, and she wanted to make a good impression on her new keeper and his household.

The road outside of town went a very, very long way. The ticket seller’s instructions made each step sound the same length: go through town, pass the houses, go down the long drive past the gates. Her imagination had lied to her, though. Every time she thought she’d passed the last house, there came another. Each handed her down the chain of cottage gardens and small homes full of families who pretended not to see. They all knew she’d done something, like she had a brand on her forehead, and she wasn’t allowed to stop. She didn’t try to.

Everything looked sickly yellow in the midday glare. Dust hung in the air, stirred by passing cars, lingering without a breath of wind to dispel the choking clouds. Everything looked flat and dead, so much so she almost missed the gate. Another leg of her trek done. Still too far to go, and the private road leading to the Magus’ home was longer than it had any right to be.

She didn’t feel well. The trees gave her a little protection, but her stomach and lungs felt hard, strained, the way her arms ached with carrying her suitcase. Only they were parts that shouldn’t feel that way, and she thought maybe she should sit down.

But she was almost there.

Even if she walked slowly, and her feet didn’t land quite where she told them to.

She just wouldn’t think about those things. Complaining was just making excuses, and she was expected.

The house appeared out of nowhere, or she was too dizzy to see it through the leaves before the last turn in the drive. It loomed, a very final-looking destination, and her suitcase escaped her grasp. The case was slippery, and her fingers didn’t curl the way they should. She bent to pick it up, and when she straightened, the whole world spun.

She stood very still until it stopped, and she found herself shivering as she approached the front door. Very strange. Was she afraid? No. That didn’t sound right. She felt terrible, too terrible to worry, and none of it made sense.

But she’d nearly made it. She had made it. Almost.

Knocking summoned a young man, and the door creaked open as he glanced down with a quizzical expression. “Hello? Can I help you?”

She tried holding her suitcase with just one hand, but it slipped away again, barely missing her foot. Maybe a handshake was a bad idea. The stranger hadn’t held his hand out for a shake, after all. She was just confused. He might not want to touch her. And she must look a picture after her walk.

She should’ve done something differently. If she were smarter, or taller, or…

“I’m Aisling Hunt, sir. The Magus sent for me.”

“Oh.” The young man’s eyes popped wider, and she wondered if he was younger than she thought at first. Stepping back, he pulled open the door to usher her inside. “I’m sorry. I’d heard someone was coming, but I’d thought you’d be… well, older. And I’m just Alex.”

“Nice to meet you, Alex. I’m Aisling.”

He nodded and plucked her bag from where she’d dropped it. “Yes. You said. Are you feeling alright?”

She didn’t know. And grownups didn’t really like it when she was unwell anyway. Before she could come up with a suitable lie that would get her what she needed without stepping on any toes, a familiar face appeared at the end of the hall.

“Ah! You made it.” Out of formal dress, the Magus still brimmed with authority. Aisling had met many adults who wore costumes and pretended to be something they weren’t, but the Magus seemed like he’d somehow stitched his chosen persona into his skin. “Welcome to Fawney Rig.”

She wobbled. “Thank you, sir.”

“Magus,” he corrected.

“Thank you, Magus, sir.”

At last, what he was seeing overshadowed his enthusiasm, and the old man frowned. “Did you walk here? From the station?”

“Yes, Magus.”

“The Fosters didn’t even give you money for a fucking cab?”

“Just the train ticket, sir. Magus.”

She blinked, and the whole room turned blue, like peering at the world through stained glass. It looked so pretty she didn’t realize the Magus was asking her another question until his hand settled on her shoulder.

His voice came from far away. “Can you hear me?”

Yes, she wanted to say. Yes, Magus, I walked, and I found Fawney Rig all on my own, and I’m not useless, please don’t throw me away yet.

But everything looked cool, and blue, and lovely. She was floating in it. Floating and so awfully heavy at the same time. The color slipped in with her breath, eroding her control until it slipped from her grasp like the suitcase had.

The world went dark, and she didn’t see, hear, or say anything more.

And deep below, in the belly of the house, Dream of the Endless waited in his cage, as senseless to the world above as she.

[supernovasilence]

"I have heard of such things"

“Please, your Majesty, I came in through a wardrobe.” “A wardrobe? What do you mean?” “I—I opened a door and just found myself here, your Majesty,” said Edmund. “Ha!” said the Queen, speaking more to herself than to him. “A door. A door from the world of men! I have heard of such things."

Thinking about this line from LWW (chapter 4). Jadis reacts to hearing Edmund came from another world by musing about rumors, even though she's from another world herself, and has in fact been to London (albeit briefly). Obviously the reason is because C. S. Lewis wrote LWW before MN and didn't care about super tight continuity, but that's no fun, so here are some in-universe possibilities:

it's been centuries since Jadis came to Narnia, and she's the type who ignores anything that isn't useful to her (e.g. ignoring Polly because Digory was the one that woke her, and then acting like neither child exists once they've brought her to Uncle Andrew). Charn is dead and she can't get back to Earth so she just…didn't bother to think about them ever again. By the time of LWW she can barely remember other worlds exist

Jadis barely knows other worlds exist, not because she didn't bother to remember, but because of some magical/physical reaction. Jadis has no memory of the Wood Between the Worlds once she's out of it, even though Polly and Digory do. Maybe Charnians just react that way to interdimensional travel, or maybe it's something specific to Jadis herself due to magic she's done. But whyever, Jadis forgets any world but the one she's in. The Wood fades almost instantly because she was there so briefly and has no personal connection to it. Earth would last a little longer, and Charn longer still, long enough that she can remember them during the end of MN. But by the time of LWW, she doesn't remember how she came to Narnia.

or she doesn't remember due to eating the silver apple? immortality comes with a price, and for better or worse Jadis is now bound to Narnia; she cannot go back

Telmar was founded by humans who stumbled through from Earth, and perhaps other places were as well (we don't know the histories of Galma etc). Or maybe solitary travelers find their way in sometimes, not enough to found nations or influence history but enough to leave rumors, rumors that Jadis is listening for very carefully because she knows four humans are prophesized to destroy her

Jadis doesn't mean a door as in "portal to another world" but door as in "hole in the magical barrier I've put up around Narnia", and thinks Edmund slipped in from another country. This would mean she doesn't understand the word "wardrobe" though. Then again Mr. Tumnus didn't know it either, so maybe they just don't have wardrobes in Narnia. (There's no absolutely no evidence in the books that Jadis made a barrier around Narnia, but there must be some sort of outer limit to her powers, or Archenland, Calormen, etc would also have been under her control, and they don't seem to have been. She was "Queen of Narnia", not "Queen of the World", and the countries mentioned in HHB all seem to be running normally without the sort of chaos caused by setting up governments again after a dictator's death. I can imagine Jadis making a magical line around Narnia's borders (with plans to expand, ofc) so her magic has a set space to focus on; maybe she can even sense when someone crosses it, which is why Edmund's arrival surprised her—he didn't trip any alarms.)

my favorite: Narnia herself is doing her best to fight Jadis. While the Pevensies are ruling Narnia, their lives on Earth become like a dream, and there are hints the reverse happens when they go back. But when they return to Narnia, "the air of Narnia [works] on" them to make them who Narnia needs them to be: the Kings and Queens of Old. Maybe it's working on Jadis, as best it can. It smoothes away her memories of other worlds, making her content to stay here, like it did the Pevensies. But for the Pevensies, it was a way to ease the pain of suddenly losing their old lives, whereas for Jadis, it's trying to keep her complacent. Because if she remembers there are other worlds, she'll try to find doors to them, and conquer kingdoms, and find more magic, and raise armies, and be that much harder to free Narnia from. Narnia is in pain and fighting Jadis the only way it can till Aslan and the Pevensies come to save it

[scarstothepast]

In(human) - Prologue: In the Underdark

Pairing: spawn!Astarion x fem!named!tav

Tags: angst, post-game events, unsolved feelings, mentions of Cazador, canon violence, isekai

Summary: Six months ago, Astarion saw with his own eyes what he would have become if Tav hadn't stopped him. Just when he thought all was lost, his old group of adventurers knocked on the door of his tailor shop, underground, when the world was under threat again. To Astarion's surprise, Tav was there too. But she looked nothing like the person he remembered.

"I hope you die screaming."

It had been a hundred years since Astarion had thrown those words at Tav.

A hundred years he spent cursing her name.

When he felt the anger begin to cool, he would revisit the memories to remind himself why he had left her.

She betrayed him. She betrayed him. She denied him a power that would allow him to be free forever.

It denied him the possibility not only of walking in the sun without any fear, without depending on a tadpole, but of never fearing anything again.

Then the day came when revisiting that moment wasn't enough, and Astarion found himself visiting a sorcerer capable of glimpsing alternative destinations.

The hatred and boiling sorrow that he had so carefully nurtured for a century turned to stone and crumbled between his fingers.

He watched himself ascend and take Tav as spawn, with only a small portion of his own blood running through her system. The only thing that differentiated her from the other spawns he transformed.

Because it wasn't long before he started treating her just a little better than Cazador treated him.

"You would turn into something you despise."

Those were her words.

And she was right.

He became... a new Cazador, as a vampire ascendant.

Maybe even worse.

While he knew exactly what to expect from his late master, neither Tav nor the other spawns knew what to expect from him.

A constant caress from a velvet whip.

Sometimes an executioner, sometimes a lover.

All the anger, all the hurt, all the words and curses came back to bite him.

Most of his old group of disorganized adventurers should still be alive, but not their fearless and impetuous leader.

Tav was human.

And careless.

Which meant that she had probably been dead for decades.

Which meant it was too late for regrets.

Tav saved the world. Saved Faerun. Saved seven thousand souls from Cazador and Astarion. And saved Astarion.

She became one of the great heroes of Baldur's Gate.

She received several proposals.

Many wanted to become her lover.

Few out of true affection. A substantial and obscene number motivated simply by the nobles' game of power and influence.

She turned them all down.

Never married.

She never had children.

Until she disappeared into history.

Astarion felt even more miserable when the trance, in mockery of his staunch desire to hate her for a whole century, brought back memories of her delicacy, her affection and her love.

From the time when he had been her lover. The object of her affection and care.

That he held her in his arms. At the time he had everything.

Freedom. Security. Love.

It was a new kind of torture.

Astarion cursed himself a few times.

A century of hatred was good enough, but, gods, he needed more. Another time.Whereas the first time he abandoned the first person in two centuries of torture who cared about him, now he brought torment for himself.

"Astarion." He shivered like a skittish cat at the sound of his own name.

Dalyria stood there in the doorway of the tailor's shop with a small but hopeful smile.

How she didn't come to hate him was still a mystery to him.

The others certainly did.

"What now?" He muttered, turning again to the intricate embroidery pattern on the red silk.

Another piece he would never sell. Designed to be worn exclusively by a person who should already be dust in a forgotten grave.

"Well, your mood hasn't improved, even after a century, I see." Astarion froze at the voice. He turns slowly to see Halsin smiling gently at him.

As if he hadn't abandoned them in battle.

Behind him stood Lae'zel, with her characteristic scowl and a clear judgment in her eyes, and Shadowheart, a little older, but apparently in top form despite everything.

He was completely speechless.

"It's a beautiful piece of work." Said the druid after taking a look at the embroidery Astarion was working on. "Do you have time to save the world, in the midst of all this?"

Too shocked by everything, Astarion didn't answer. It was his chance to redeem himself, even if she was no longer there.

But the very fact that she was no longer there was a discouraging factor.

"I told you it was a waste of time. Besides, he..." Lae'zel was quick to attack him, clearly resentful of his defection.

A childish voice, however, interrupted the tense moment behind the three of them.

"Are you the heroine my mother talks about?" It was Dalyria's son, Thorin. Astarion hesitated, almost resentful at the thought that they had recruited someone to replace Tav.

"It depends on who's asking." A cadenced, elegant voice replied.

A voice that had haunted Astarion for the last six months in the same way that his former master had haunted him in the first years of his freedom.

Impossible.

Astarion got to his feet immediately.

He made his way through his former companions to see Dalyria's son standing before a slender, elegant figure, dressed in black tanned leather pants and an equally black linen tunic, embroidered with gold threads.

Her dark hair fell in wavy cascades over her shoulders. It framed her oval face, with well-groomed eyebrows, lips painted a soft red and eyes as black as the darkness that surrounded them.

"Uncle, it's the great heroine!" The stoic face turned to where Thorin was looking. At him.

Tav.

An elegant, cordial nod. Fluid, ethereal movements.

She was nothing like the impetuous, clumsy adventurer he remembered.

"Do you already know your answer?" She asked in a calm tone. Clean of any emotion, just like her eyes.

There was nothing reflected in them. The sorrow that haunted him during the trance was no longer there. Neither was the young, cheerful face during the moments when he was forced to face what he had left behind while blinded by rage.

"I-I..." Astarion stammered, fighting against his own conflicting emotions which were about to drive him mad.

"Astarion, we don't have time for winding things up, nor is it difficult to say a word with three or two letters. Yes or no?"

It wasn't an impatient tone, but it did inspire urgency.

Astarion was about to open his mouth when an assassin glided out of the shadows, attacking Tav.

Only to turn into red mist and black dust. A distinct metallic smell floated in the air.

Blood and metal. The metal of the weapons he carried.

As if nothing had happened. Tav turned to him again.

"Well?"

Astarion studied the face, the same face he had enjoyed, admired and kissed for many nights a hundred years ago.

It was the same face, although it looked completely different.

"Yes." Astarion finally replied.

Tav was no longer human.

[lorei-writes]

Character Thoughts: Chevalier #1

Contents:

The Queen -- reasons for motherhood,

How did the beast come to be internalised,

Importance of Clavis,

Wish to be seen as human.

Vaguely non-descriptive spoilers for Chevalier's route and event stories may be present.

Do you know how the way one was raised influences their perception of themselves? I think that shows quite profoundly in Chevalier... and that it is possible to theorise about the Queen's intentions based on it as well.

So, Chevalier is born. The Queen's marriage is loveless, but she did bear a heir and that clearly is something the King wanted. He should be happy with her now, no? She has fulfilled her duty. She has done well. Maybe now, now that they have a proper family, he will forget about the Belle and will love her instead.

But this doesn't happen.

It may just take time. Maybe she is not good enough. Maybe just any heir is not good enough. So, Chevalier is taught -- and surely, now the King must be satisfied. His son is a genius, after all.

The King, however, remains different towards Queen's affection. Worse yet, he hurts Leticia. One question opens up: why?

Now, from the Queen's perspective, she has done everything right -- their child was conceived within the boundaries of a legitimate union; she gave birth to a son; her son was bright; her son was talented; her son was dedicated. All of those can be seen as crucial only in regards to earning the King's love.

Affection was mentioned nowhere on the list. Chevalier was means to an end -- and what does a child do under such circumstances? They try their best. Conditional love is still love, and he is more than capable of living up to her expectations. He is more than capable of becoming all that a perfect king should be.

So he does. And he takes it to the extreme. Killing that assassin? It only aligns with what he was supposed to be. And yet, the King still does not love the Queen. She has only one nugget of hope -- it is not her. It is him. It is Chevalier who is at fault. She has not done a single incorrect thing, so her failure -- through her faulty logic -- is not hers. She couldn't have succeeded with such a son. It's him. It's all him. It's his fault.

Chevalier does everything right. However, the outcomes of his actions only ever earn him fright. In fact, the more correct he is, the more everybody is terrified. His efforts? They are good. His results? They are good. Therefore, it can only be that he is the element that is faulty. That he, inherently, is a fearsome beast.

The belief sits at his core. It isn't a point of pride, however, but of disdain.

---

There were times I was tempted to say that "Chevalier is terrifying" is what every person thinks and acts upon. However, there is one consistent exception we know of -- Clavis.

Clavis' role in preventing Chevalier from fully embracing his status of a beast is immeasurable. As troublesome as he may be, for the longest time, he is the only one to make an effort to actually engage Chevalier on an equal ground. He does not cry when merely in his presence -- he challenges him, regardless of any failures he may suffer in the process.

Clavis nags Chevalier to be more social. He tells him to smile more. He argues with him. Clavis never gives up, and he surely never gives up on Chevalier. What is more, when he sees Chevalier give up on love after obtaining it in his Romantic end? Clavis does not give up on Chevalier's behalf.

Clavis sees Chevalier's emotion. He acknowledges it. He may be getting some enjoyment out of teasing his brother, however, as Chevalier himself says -- Clavis may not have the best logic, but his intentions are always good ones.

--

And lastly, there is one more thing. As I've said, "I am not a person; I am a beast" is one of Chevalier's core beliefs. It is not a neutral one, and as much as he might have buried this desire, all along Chevalier wants to be seen as a person. He just does not allow himself to even hope for it.

It is Emma's insistence that breaks through to him eventually. Her being scared of him after seeing him on the battlefield? It hurts. He'd rather never be considered a person to begin with.

I dare say Emma changing her mind about him is not a concern that disappears entirely. We can see it in True Love & Beauty and the Knight stories. After hurting people, regardless of whether it was justified or not, Chevalier instinctively puts distance between them. He reverts to referring to himself per "beast". He is worried.

This one thing is terribly hard to unlearn. It takes time, effort and tremendous amounts of trust... And trust he does, one awkwardly loving gesture at a time.

[inkyarcturus]

hii can you write part two of snape hcs 🙏💗

Of course here you go :D

Hogwarts Pre-Prank

So of course Lily and Sev end up getting their letter of acceptance. This leads to the rift between Lily and Petunia, as petunia becomes jealous over lily’s ability to do magic, getting the iconic scene of her sending a letter to Dumbledore asking to attend Hogwarts.

This is the first big fight Sev and Lily have. The first sign of troubles to come in later years.

Unfortunately, Sev doesn’t understand why this is such a big deal to Lily as Sev didn’t like Petunia in the first place. Besides the fact that Petunia mutually hates Sev for his “strangeness”, Severus dislikes her general personality and likely, for her muggleness. At this point in time, Sev has had no friends besides Lily, someone who is magical. All the muggles in the neighborhood dislike him for his lack of money and strangeness, his father despises him for his magical heritage, he has had no good experience with people who are not magical, except for Mr and Mrs Evans.

I believe the kindness of Mr and Mrs Evans is the main reason Sev doesn’t immediately fall into the blood supremacy pipeline. I do not think that Sev, at this point, was fully prejudiced against muggles, but there was definitely a small voice in his head saying, “we’ll show them one day, we’re better.” Sev is a boy quick to anger and someone who fights back in whatever way he can. This gets worse with age, inspired by people who laughs at his tears.

At this age, Sev still has a strong sense of empathy, while he may not like Petunia, he understands Lily is upset and tries to comfort her in whatever way he can. Lily doesn’t fight for long with Sev because of this.

They both get sorted in rival houses, something Sev was expecting and yet not expecting at the same time. While he hoped Lily would end up in Slytherin, I think he believed she could have ended up in any of the other three houses. Lily was quite smart and curious, was fiercely loyal and hardworking, and could be brave when it came to fighting for what she believed in.

This separation was terrifying for Sev. His first friend in a rival house, a house he was expected to hate, horrifying. Eileen likely told stories of the ruthless nature of slytherin house and the blood supremacy that plagued it, not helping his fears over the new environment.

The first person he talks to in slytherin is Lucius. He meets Avery, Mulciber, Evan, Wilhem, all his year mates, all bad influences. And so the downfall begins.

I think he spends the first three years relatively alone, going through his life being bullied by the marauders, bullied by the slytherins, and ignored by the teachers.

That doesn’t mean he does nothing of course. He’s learning during that time, learning and planning. He goes through potions text books like they’re water, he asks for as many books from his mom as physically possible.

Eileen absolutely snuck some of the books from the Princes with her when she was kicked out for marrying Tobias, quite a few of them were dark as well.

He starts experimenting, starting off small simply improving potions and then, 4th year he starts trying to make new spells.

As this happens the slytherin learn of his intelligence. Soon there’s whispers of the uses of an intelligent halfblood whose capable of brewing potions better than Slughorn or the seventh years.

Lucius has stuck to him since the beginning. As a prefect he’s able to have a good reason to know every new student, see if they would be a good fit for his lord. Therefore, he makes sure to keep a good report with everyone even if he finds them less than desirable. He’s more cunning in his youth than Draco, less spoiled and more raised for politics.

I think Narcissa is in a similar situation to Lucius. She’s prefect and watches Severus come into this new world, already thinking about how he could be. She is kinder to him than Lucius, she corrects his “mugglish” or “poor” behavior softly, unlike Lucius who thinks embarrassment is the best solution.

I think seeing Lucius and Narcissa interact with Sev while he was head boy is really the thing that slowly convinced the slytherins of his use.

God this is getting long- anyways, Lily and Sev stay close despite everything for the first three to four years. There are some highlights in those years that don’t include Lily. They come in the form of Charity, Aurora, and Remus when he’s not with the Marauders.

Severus has a track record of feeling more comfortable and safe with girls.

Ill break here and do a lil part just about those three later :,D