#they will be on theme plaza eventually | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prismaticpichu · 2 months

Note

Hey uhh… could I maybe suggest some ZackSeph fluff in the Gold Saucer? Like helping him win little plushies and stuff? 🥺👉👈💞

Heck yeah you can, my friend!!!!! That is TOO cute!!!! 😭😭😭❤️💕

ZackSeph, Gold Saucer Floof: Rigged Toss!

When Zack came bounding into his office that Friday afternoon, asking him with a luminous smile if he would like to take a trip to the Gold Saucer once off-duty, Sephiroth thought the answer would be obvious. What a ludicrous question… bubbled the reflexive response in his throat. Do you have any idea as to what kind of people spend their time and money at such a nauseating establishment? Do you really think you’ll be entertained by ferris wheels and video games of lower quality than the ones you own now? Do you truly think that is an appropriate place for SOLDI…

Somehow, the question had ended up dying on Sephiroth’s tongue, dissolving away into nothingness as he stared at those jubilant blue eyes gazing sunrays into his own. Maybe it was magic; a spell, some kind hypnosis, some kind of hidden mana of Zack’s to manipulate and change his mind.

Or maybe it was just that Angeal would say the same things he so desperately wanted to.

Regardless, as they stood within the bustling prism that was the Gold Saucer, bathed in all its blinding lights and golden roars, Sephiroth couldn’t help but spare a glance at Zack; smiling, a bag of caramel popcorn in his hands, his eyes wide and glistening and full of untainted youth that stood strong even after bracing the horrors of this world…

And Sephiroth knew he made the right decision.

“Having fun?” the warrior asked sincerely, veiled in a rich black cloak both he and Zack had suggested would be best to wear, granting them a private and un-swarmed experience at the theme park.

Zack turned to him with a grin of lightning. “Heck yeah I am! It’s everything a guy could ever dream of!”

“Heh.” Sephiroth chuckled. “You have quite the dreams then, my friend.”

Zack melted a little at the comment, beaming. “Yeah? And you helped them come true! One-hundred and ten percent attained!”

“Well… I don’t know about that.” Sephiroth crossed his arms, idly wondering what the other ten percent of that achievement was going toward. “You could have always come with your other companions. People who you wouldn’t have to persuade.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Zack laughed, then adding with a playful elbow, “Besides! Need someone to make sure I’m being responsible. Keep me in-check.”

“Oh? Is that what I’ve been doing?”

“Sure!”

Sephiroth eyed the bagged snack in his friend’s hand—also known as his “double dessert” after a funnel cake, cheeseburger, macaroni bites, a whole other plethora of fried food wherein Sephiroth couldn’t even remember their contents, an ice cream cone, lemonade, cotton candy, and a Mako Monster energy drink.

…Hmm.

“Well.” Sephiroth gave way to another chuckle, his eyes softening to something warm and genuine as he reached out to fondly ruffle his lieutenant’s nest of spikes. He couldn’t help it. “You know I said I’d look out for you.

Zack’s expression melted even further under the gesture, words and names unspoken tying them together, a touched and loving countenance brightening the prismatic night

Sephiroth couldn’t help but mirror it.

He was about to say something further when, suddenly, Zack pulled away, blue eyes widening to gaping oceanic caverns as his arm flew up like a bullet.

“Holy herring… look at that!”

Blinking, it took a Sephiroth a few moments to figure out exactly where Zack was pointing, peering through the starry clusters of tourists and decorations to eventually find he was directing toward none other than one of those classic carnival stands across the plaza.

Or, more specially, pointing at the gargantuan stuffed prizes flaunted above it.

…

Oh no.

Ohhh n—

“C’mon, bud…!”

And he was being yanked across the square, the hood of his nunnish cloak bobbing with the motion as they raced toward the stand, two chains linked, only coming to a stop once they were directly in front of the semi-startled employee.

“Whatcha gotta do to win one of those guys?!” Zack chirped, bullet-hand shooting toward the jumbo Elfadunk, Behemoth, Mu, Tonberry, Chocobo, Moogle, Cactuar, and—

Oh.

OH.

Oh you gotta be be kidding him—

Why was there was a jumbo Sephiroth plushie?

He pulled the cloak over him further.

“S’Real simple!” the employee drawled, then gestured to the game behind him—a phalanx of colorful bottles and a load of plastic rings stacked beside them. “Just gotta land every ring you got. Don’t miss a single one; our biggest prize is yours!”

“Sweeet!” Zack chirped. “Whad’ya say, bud? Should I try it?”

“Mmm?” Sephiroth blinked, snapping away from the exaggerated feline bowling balls that were the plushies eyes. “Oh—yes. Of course.” He withdrew the Game Pass from his pocket, having bought it upon Zack’s request that he wanted the full experience, then showing it to the employee like an ID for the Honeybee Inn. A nod and hum of approval later, and Zack was being a hand an arsenal of elliptical projectiles.

“Alright…” Zack took a couple steps back, steadying himself as if ready to pitch a fastball. “Let’s do this!”

“Take your time,” Sephiroth advised, watching Zack’s eyes crackle. “Concentr—“

And he was flinging the rings, one after another, thrusting them over the bottled terrain in rapid succession—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

Miss.

Hi—no, miss.

Miss.

“Aww, darn.” Zack signed once he was out of projectiles. “Was close.”

Sephiroth shook his head.

“Good shot,” came his (rather pitying) response, the man tossing him a smile as he reached over to collect all the ricocheted rings. “Sorry, kid. But good news! You do get one prize for skimming one of the bottles.”

“I do?” Zack’s eyes lit up. “What is it?”

“This here!” the employee chirped, bending down retrieve something from behind the stand, then straightening back up to reveal a—

Oh.

Oh for the LOVE OF—

“A Sephiroth duckie!” Zack burst into spirited laughter, happily accepting the small rubber toy offered to him. “Thank you!”

Sephiroth studied the cursed toy, a plastic cascade of silver hair racing down its coated back and slitted green orbs staring death in the eye over a cheddar-orange beak.

“That is…” Sephiroth cleared his throat. “Interesting.”

As if remembering who he was with—or not, and just finding the situation amusing—Zack turned to him with a playful smirk. “Here! You can have this one, pal. Sephiroth’s an awesome guy, y’know.”

He plopped the toy in his hand before Sephiroth could protest.

“Can I try again?” Zack chirped, his eyes gravitating back toward the highest prizes like a magnet. “I really want one of those big guys…” And then, as if really remembering who he was with—or not, and just realizing he probably didn’t have a shot—Zack turned to him with a pleading smile. “You wanna give it a go, old pal? I’d bet my bottom Gil you can get all of them blindfolded.”

The employee let out a chortle before Sephiroth could even respond.

“No offense, SOLDIER kid; I like your spirit. But I’ve worked here for four years, y’see, and never has anyone actually gotten all seven rings.”

“…Why’s that?” Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, a ghost of suspicion rising. “It’s ring toss.“

“Yeah!” Zack agreed. “I mean… it’s skill, right?”

The man rested his elbow on the counter, leaning in closer. “Look. You seem like a respectable duo, right, and I don’t want you wasting your time here. So just believe me when I say it ain’t gonna happen.

“But—“

“It’s intentional, kid. Trust me.”

By now, Sephiroth’s eyes had narrowed to slits, his suspicion all but confirmed in a matter of seconds. What was this now? The game was rigged? Yes, he expected a claw machine to have such cruelty… But a ring toss game? An activity meant to test and reward one’s patience and concentration? An activity that was luring innocent hearts—his best friend—in with their wondrous, tantalizing prizes…? And his face was representing this treason?!

He squeezed the ducky so hard that it squeaked.

“Aww… Well, I guess we can always—“

“Let me try,” Sephiroth said suddenly; hard, focused, indisputable.

The man’s eyes widened. “Pal. Did you not just hear me…—?”

“Oh, I heard you.” The velvet voice had grown cold, almost cunning. “And I would like to test your little game.”

“Seph..?” Zack blinked, almost in awe. “What are you…?”

“Well, ‘suppose I can’t stop ya,” the employee (gladly) shrugged, gladly reaching behind his back to hand him the stack of rings. “Got plenty of rubber duckies in the stash.”

…

Alright.

That. Was. It.

Feline eyes constricted to needles as Sephiroth accepted the projectiles, taking several steps back, feeling the cheap plastic (wider than the necks, easily bounced), the man’s lips pulling back into a vague sheer and snarl.

“You see…” he said slowly, purposefully. “My friend here wanted one of your plushies. Very badly. And i made a vow very long ago to protect him—from monsters. From the evils of this world. And I do not appreciate him being manipulated in such a manner.”

Neither the employee or Zack had a chance to respond before the first ring had been thrown.

…

One.

Narrowing his eyes, focusing, Sephiroth threw the next projectile.

Two.

And again, and again, and again.

Three; four; five; six—

And he threw the last ring, calculated and perfect.

…

Seven.

The emplyee’s eyes blew to saucers.

Hit.

…

And, yes.

Hit.

A perfect score; all seven landed; flawlessly rung the necks of seven bottles, all in a neat duck row. Sephiroth relaxed from his concentrated state as Zack let out a cheer, rushing over to his side and squeezing him with all the love and strength that a caffeinated, sugar-fueled SOLDIER could give.

“Yes..! Yes! That’s my bud! That’s my bud!!!” he cheered. “Woooooooooooooooooo! Woooooooooooooo! You’re the best you’re the best you’re the BEST! I love you I love I love you, man!!” And he pulled back, smiling sunbeams at his friend, his eyes wide and glistening and youthful…

And Sephiroth was smiling right back at him.

He was happy, after all.

Because Zack was too.

“Now…” Sephiroth said warmly, unable to mask the satisfaction in his voice. “Which one would you like?”

His smile blinding, Zack turned around, blue eyes tracing all the options once more.

“Hmmm… I’ll take the Behemoth!”

Meanwhile, the employee had become almost completely paralyzed; mouth ajar, eyes cavernous, skin slightly discolored. And it was in that moment when he turned around, his expression unchanging, reaching up to grab the jumbo Behemoth from above, that Sephiroth felt a sense of victory and justice unlike anything he had ever felt before.

He never smirked so hard as when the man relinquished Zack’s selected prize to its new and rightful owner.

“Yessss! Thank you…!” Zack took the plushie into his arms, its beastly frame nearly grazing the ground. “He’s so cute! Wait ‘till Aer sees this…”

It was only moments later that they were leaving that devilish stand behind, one plushie and one rubber duck less, off into the blinding wilderness that was the rest of the night to come. More food was consumed; arcade games were played; a ferris wheel was ridden up into the starlit sky, both SOLDIERs smushed to the corner in favor of their monstrous companion.

And when they returned home that night, Zack having fallen asleep on the train, Sephiroth carried his friend all the way back from the station.

It’s alright, Angeal… the warrior mumbled as he set Zack down on his couch, reaching to drape a blanket over his cherished companion. I think he had a good day.

#ffvii #sephiroth #zack fair #crisis core #ff7 #floof #asks #ty!!#pichu writing #ff7 fanfic #fanfic #angeal hewley #final fantasy vii #yes that little plushie is a BIG plushie heheheheheh

22 notes · View notes

tsunael · 3 months

Text

(Count)down to Dawntrail. 6/27

You've ruined peaches for me.

- Circa after 'Endwalker' but before 6.1.

- cw: for (ahem) suggestive themes.

-> Forever inspired by this. <-

"If you could have anything at this very moment... what would it be?"

She paused, and he could sense her rifling through the many possibilities this life had to offer. Finally, she looked up from her bandaged hands. "... A peach tart."

He had to laugh. "You're not serious."

But she was-- though she wore a sheepish pout. She was a woman grown, still she loved her girlish treats. "Alisaie told me about the peaches in the market when last she was there. Beautiful, pink peaches... Yanxian imports, I imagine. They would be in season..."

Her voice trailed off as her mind wandered home-- far, far away from from her quaint hospital room and the bitter cold of The Northern Empty.

"I had hoped you would ask for something a bit more... substantial," he could not help but tease. "I’m afraid of the look your nursemaid might give me."

She tittered behind her hand. "You would simply come through the window again regardless."

"-- And you would do well to keep it locked, else a thief in the night may just steal you away."

He brought out her smile, though it fell rueful as her voice drew soft, marred by a cynical edge that did not suit her. "After all that has happened..." She drew out a deep sigh before craning up to look him, her eyes, searching. "... I would welcome it."

It was there at the apothecary where he espied the peaches Tsuna had spoke of. An imported bushel brought welcome color to the otherwise drab, frozen plaza. He took one in hand to turn it over, and caught himself admiring the soft, ripe weight of it.

He dropped coin for two of their best. Its twin sat alongside the boxed piece of tart he picked up at The Last Stand– two treats among the other foodstuffs in his satchel. Depending on who he asked, he either carried with him an odd lunch, or a meagre supper.

In his eagerness to move onto the next errand, he wasted little time in the partaking of his impromptu purchase. It barely fit in his hand, with blushed, taut skin that had been thoroughly loved by the Eastern sun. So ripe was it that its sweet scent availed him before he could even drag lips over the velvet cleft of it.

As soon as he felt the soft plunge of his teeth into flesh he understood why it was that she desired it so. The sweetness was immediate, overwhelming– the resulting tartness was a stimulating chase. There was nothing quite like it. How long had it been since he sought out such sweetness for the pleasure of it? Too long, he surmised. His jaw ached from the nectar.

Still, he savoured the bite. And the next, and the next.

His thoughts fell to her doing the same: her lips wrapping around the gentle curve of it. He imagined her mouth dripping, teeth skimming across skin, her tongue lapping at the excess…

Before he knew it, his heart began to race as if he were a thief at market. Before he knew it, he had hit stone.

His tongue still sang from the taste, but he found himself wanting more. Chasing the taste on his fingers wasn't enough, though he ended at the base of his thumb to thoughtfully chase the remnants that had dripped. Every drop was swallowed with a greed he hardly knew.

He took a step back and thought of his poor, jogging heart, and of the treat purchased a bell ago. Why had he come here? Gone through this trouble? She was still on his mind– and more, he wanted her on his lips.

Ridiculous, he grimaced, inwardly chiding himself. Arousal was gripping the back of his neck in the middle of the Sharlayan markets.

At some point he would have to admit to himself that he wanted her; wanted her near him, beside him, beneath him. Eventually he would need to come to terms with the fact that he loved that woman in every conceivable way a man could.

#ffxiv screenshots #cw: suggestive #gpose #wolcred #my writing (derogatory)#I'm invoking the tag uhoh #hey have you ever wanted 400 words of a rat eating a piece of fruit fucknasty waxing poetic style? no? well...#'Why peaches?' asked no one. Tsuna's name can be written as peach (and it's a double entendre guhHUH)#this looks like it gives a twinge of jealousy but the first shot is just after she is released from the hospital #I'm allowed (1) last spicy wolcred before the end #this is so embarrassing to post lmao but i will force myself to do it #(count)down to dawntrail

19 notes · View notes

nat-the-octo · 2 months

Text

so uh

final fest huh

rant below

Past v. Present v. Future is a great theme for Splatoon 3 because the game itself encapsulates all of these things. The gameplay and story obviously pull from 1 and 2, requiring some knowledge of the past game’s plots to understand what’s happening. However, 3 also made some of its own changes to differentiate itself from its predecessors (i.e. the present), such as a significantly different main setting in the Splatlands and a willingness to shake up the usual “Zapfish is missing” main story mode in favor of a larger scale narrative and a new villain. The future is a lot harder to pinpoint, but I think it can be seen in the large open zones of Alterna, possibly teasing larger scale levels to explore ( or open world), as well as the new movement options and special weapon variety.

Overall, this fest is a dissection of all of the Splatoon franchise and eventually future games as well.

In terms of sequel theorizing, I think that Past would lead us to a more rustic village setting (think Legends: Arceus or Monster Hunter), possibly in Calamari County, or maybe a prequel set in the Grest Turf War. Present would likely keep us in Inkopolis with the same current cast of characters and gameplay. ( I’m hoping for Greater Inkopolis as a hub, with the Plaza and Square being connected by a bunch of explorable streets and alleys in between.) Lastly, Future would probably send us to some cyberpunk high tech city with crazy new weapons and movement options. (Halo or COD: Infinite Warfare vibes)

#honesty I would be fine with all of these #splatoon #splatoon3 #splatfest #splatoon 3 #final fest

14 notes · View notes

xoxo-surfergirl · 2 months

Text

wash my sins away

V. The awful spirits of the deep,

aemond targaryen x fem!lucerys velaryon

abstract: lucera and aemond awake on a beach in storm's end, with no recollection of how they got there. they sense the brewing war, but amnesia has ripped away the memory of visery's passing.

themes: amnesia, dark aemond (he's a dark character so he's gonna come off as dark in this fic), all of rhaenyra's children are girls, enemies to enemies to lovers, eventual smut, medium burn

lucy's notes (lucy as in me, not lucera, lmao): the scene from this chapter is what inspired me to write this fic :)) this is cross-posted on ao3, where I currently have 8 out of about 13-14 chapters posted. Here's the link for the rest of the chapters.

word count: 6.2k

Lucera awoke with her neck cradled in Aemond’s arm, the warmth of his body stretching across hers. She felt the dead weight of him, and could feel his deep breathing navigating sleep. Part of his presence was still anxiety inducing, but her peace in his company grew with each passing day. She liked how she felt in his thick arms and how their bodies slid together effortlessly. She wondered if he noticed too.

He almost looks harmless when he’s sleeping.

Her eyes closed shut at the thought, content on the pure feeling of him, grasping this moment so that she may live in it for eternity. It felt good to be at peace in his arms. Lucera thought of their kiss, the way their lips and tongue harmonized so perfectly. His hands pulling her down and into him in what felt like an attempt to consume her.

His arms shifted, squeezing her tighter and closer. Aemond was awake now, and his normal self pursued.

It was a quiet morning, the townspeople subdued in their sleep depravity and ale sickness from the festivities the night before. The lanterns hanging above the square swayed lazily, only a few still lit. Papers and flowers were strewn in the now empty plaza, and the large bonfire had been sunken to ashes.

Aemond and Lucera lugged themselves out of bed in search of breakfast, the late night and ale making their heads spin. Through tired eyes they made their way to a tavern on the edge of the treeline, the soft glow of a cloud-covered sky and fresh air easing their aches on the short walk.

Aemond sat across from her, his cloak covering his hair. Lucera noticed that even through the shadow of the hood, she could still see the platinum hanging down his shoulder. He was carefully examining the dining room, quite empty at the moment since it was still relatively early. He had lowered his eye to look more directly just to the left of her.

He turned his gaze to Lucera. “I’ve seen those two everywhere as of late.”

“Which two?” Lucera quietly asked, noting their proximity.

Aemond lowered his voice. “The man with his hair pinned back, and the woman with the red cloak.”

Lucera attempted to subtly avert her gaze towards the pair. She noticed them immediately—it was hard to ignore his long, dark hair pulled carefully halfway up, leaving the rest to hang down. The woman was equally as striking, with a deep red cloak bordering on a neutral tone, but with just enough brightness to catch the eye.

“Do you believe them to be following us?” Lucera inquired, still unsure if she’d ever seen them before.

“They could be. It’s possible they know who we are. Maybe they even know why we’re here.” Aemond lifted his cup, pausing to take a drink. “But they can not be trusted. No one but us can be trusted.”

Lucera nodded uncomfortably.

Aemond didn’t wait for her to respond to his theories, and instead brought forward the one conversation they had been avoiding. “We can’t stay here forever.”

“I know.” Lucera looked down, unsure of how she felt. Truthfully, she knew nothing, and this fact was becoming increasingly frustrating. Her head warped around the potentialities for awaking drenched on Shipwreck beach, and none came to mind. There was nothing she could think of. “But we also don’t know what has occurred in our absence. It is wise for us to be cautious.”

What was he going to do now? Was there something blooming between them? Was it just her? Did she mean anything to him?

She knew of his darkness, and wanted to curse herself for developing any sort of feeling for him, but she couldn’t help herself. He was enigmatic, and it fascinated her. Aemond felt so far away and yet so close. He was the essence of Valyria: deadly and beautiful, haunting and irresistible.

Lucera tried to ignore her thoughts as the man in question was seated directly across from her. They waited in silence as the barmaid settled steaming bowls of porridge in front of them. It hardly looked appetizing, but it would fill their hunger.

Once the barmaid had run back to the kitchen, Aemond spoke. “What is your most recent memory?”

Lucera knew the answer immediately. She had sifted through her brain, each day attempting to find something hidden that wasn’t there the day before but to no avail. But she did remember one thing.

“I was in my mother’s solar, after dinner with King Viserys.” The dinner where you called my sisters and I bastards. It hung silently between them, but neither addressed it. “We were speaking about how we were to return to Dragonstone once we gathered our things. I do not remember a moment later.”

What Lucera didn’t add was how Daemon had thrown his rage into the room, claiming he would teach Aemond a lesson . How her mother had been distressed, feeling pregnancy aches and wailing about how she desired her turmoil with Alicent to be put to rest. How Jacaera and her had held each other’s hand watching and listening as their parents expressed their discontent.

Jacaera . She was certain Jacaera was terribly worried. As was her mother. As was Daemon. How long had she been away? Were they looking for her?

Lucera’s heart ached at the thought of their concern for her. She wanted to ease it.

Aemond interrupted her thoughts with his own. “I remember walking to my chambers after dinner. The last thing I recall is the sound of my door slamming shut. It seems our memory ends at the same moment.”

“Do you think anyone is looking for us?”

“If our absence is not intentional, I’m sure they are searching.” Aemond had a far off look in his eye. “At least I’m sure your mother would be.”

“And why not yours?” Lucera asked, already knowing his answer.

“Because I am the strongest out of all my siblings. If I am gone, they won’t question it too closely. They know I can survive on my own, and would assume that I have my reasons.” Aemond’s voice was void of doubt. They both knew that if his family had not known of his whereabouts, they would not jump to go looking for him, anticipating his eventual return.

“I would have imagined my mother and Daemon to rain hellfire upon my disappearance.” Lucera pondered curiously. “If we truly are missing, perhaps they have, or they will.”

“We can’t wait for half the realm to burn to figure it out.” She could see Aemond’s thoughts process on his face as he paused. “At the very least, we need to leave this village.”

“I do think that is wise.” Lucera nodded her head, taking in her first spoonfuls of porridge.

The rest of the meal was taken in silence, each of them lost in their heads. Aemond set another ring of his on the table in exchange for the meal—a severe overpayment at that. He thought of the suitress at court who had gifted it to him. He couldn’t care less for it, but it had suited his other rings quite well. Regardless, it would not be missed. The suspicious pair eyed him as he followed Lucera out the tavern, and he subtly caught their gaze in warning.

They had since returned to the Inn, gathering what little they had. The royal attire they arrived in had since dried, but was too revealing of their status to leave behind and it didn’t make sense to carry it along the length of their journey. They decided that the garments must be burned when they got the chance.

What little belongings they had were gathered and tucked away in satchels. Lucera looked at him, emotion filling her. She couldn’t quite figure him out, and it bothered her. Why had he kissed her yesterday? There were so many uncertainties, so many unknowns. She was tired of feeding into the confusion. They had been there for days . Had a sennight passed?

On her bedpost hung his cloak, which he had not yet thrown back over his shoulders. She wrapped it into her hands, unwilling to hand it over before she discussed the loudest thought on her mind. “When we go back to our keeps, are you going to continue hating me?”

With a solemn look on his face, Aemond exhaled. “I don’t hate you Lucera.”

She held a lengthy pause, unsure of what she was asking for. Lucera held his cloak tighter to her chest. The concentrated smell of him whirled through her nose as it puffed up by her face. Without his cloak, he would be too recognizable to leave. He had to answer her if he wanted to walk away.

“But you do. You treat me terribly Aemond, I won’t have any more of it.”

“Lucera. Give me my cloak.” He dismissed, not wanting to talk further on the subject. It wasn’t something Aemond felt like he could get into right now—his complicated feelings for her, their history, it all was too large of a subject to face. He needed more time to process it.

He wasn’t trying to treat her terribly. He didn’t have to call her a bastard anymore, that much was true.

But she wouldn’t relent, tucking the fabric deeper into her arms. “You offered me glimpses of vulnerability. I was naive to believe you were truly capable of it. Aren’t we at least friends now?”

Aemond scowled at her, his voice hardening as he stepped closer to her, power behind each of his strides. She couldn’t understand why he didn’t want to talk about it, or what made him so cold.

But to Aemond, now didn’t feel like the right time. Sure, in some ways it was—they had spent a quarter or two of a moon’s turn in each other’s ceaseless company, which in many cases would have been an adequate amount of time to confess or discuss complex emotions with someone. Not for Aemond, though. He had never approached this subject before, let alone with someone he’d loathed with his entire being all his life.

He kept his voice even, but there was a lowly threat in his words. “Lucera. Give it to me.”

“Why do you have to do this? Can’t you just answer the question Aemond?” She exasperated.

His patience slipped, and he lunged for her.

“Give me my cloak or I will take it.” There was a certain assuredness in his voice, accompanied by a venom that she couldn’t quite describe as he grabbed for the thick wool woven into her chest, wrenching it with force.

The air hung empty in the seconds that followed, as both of them sunk into the depths of their subconscious.

A spark was lit, and it traced the dry rope with its light, illuminating the rocky ground of their minds beneath it.

Give me my…

The silence stung between them, eyes searching one another, limbs frozen in place. It was close. Something was about to burst, and they looked at each other to try and find it.

Give me your….Give me your eye or….

Give me your eye or I will take it,

The explosion of the revelation was blinding. The lightning of revelation those words had illuminated flashed a series of more words, each echoed in the same timbre which they were delivered.

Give me your eye or I will take it, bastard.

The thunder was not far behind. Just like it was that night.

The wild expression in both of their eyes let each other know that they remembered everything .

The nonchalance in his stance, the way every pound of his being spat supremacy over her bastard existence. The echoes of light and growls of thunder outside. Vhagar’s shadow in the moonlight. Arrax and his beautiful scales. His plume of fire beaming against Vhagar’s head in the dark night. The sky-wide wet maw looming above her and Arrax.

Silent breaths hung in the room and they held each other’s gaze, unsure of everything.

It was heavy, deeply strung, and painful. Both had a hard time grasping the reality of it. Standing in the room. Images, sounds, and smells burning their way into their minds.

Thunder. Urgency. Desperation. Aemond’s laughter.

Ilībōños! Jemēla gēlȳni enkā, rina! Bastard! You owe me a debt, girl!

The cloak slipped from Lucera’s fingers, falling onto the floor. Her feet took her scrambling down the steps, a rapid clobbering gaining the attention of the patrons inside the tavern below. The stones on the village streets were uneven but she paid little mind.

She didn’t care if she fell and collapsed if her ankle slipped. The cobbles deteriorated to dirt and she sank into the anonymity of the forest of which there was no trail. She watched from a place inside her head as her feet took her far, far away from her existence. Where she belonged, she was not certain. A world without Arrax, and a world where her life could be ripped from her with nothing but a laugh, a world where she could never rest from fear of Aemond, was not one she could bear right now.

Her tears endlessly fell from her cheeks, and her breathing deepend until she reached a full sob.

Her vision became clouded and she slowed down a few paces, grabbing for a young birch, but running had been the only thing to prevent her from fully breaking down. She slid unceremoniously down the tree, her forehead in the trunk.

She crawled slightly away from it, breath heavy and painful in her chest. Hysteria took over, and the forest soaked in her wails, held her while she shook, and gave her its humble peace.

Time doesn’t exist when you’re grieving.

Lucera had reduced herself to a carcass, the soft moss offering the little comfort it could to her.

Aemond had run after her, but upon getting closer slowed to cautiously approach her, and observed her from a slight distance. His heart ached for her, and if he thought guilt and shame had overtaken him before, he had been oblivious to its potential.

He didn’t like seeing her this way. It was alarming.

He walked over to her, taking gentleness in every step. He put time into his approach so that she would know he was coming. He thought it best to not say anything out loud. He softly laid his hand over her upper arm, and slid it down to her hand.

Aemond sat there with her as the sun and clouds shifted, listening to her breathing. At least she was breathing .

“I get it. You’re stronger, you’re better, and you always will be.” Her voice was choked, lacking in spirit.

“I never wanted things to go that far.” Aemond was still processing his memory. He had tried to use that time to find the words to say to her, but hearing her voice made his mind fade.

“You’ve taken him. He’s gone. An-and you almost killed me too.” she rasped. “I’ve always been afraid of you, Aemond. I’ve hardly ever felt like I shouldn’t be. And now…I just can’t do it anymore. I give up. You’ve taken so much away from me. If you want to finish the job, then do it. I..I can’t live in this fear anymore”.

Part of him couldn’t believe he’d almost killed her. The other part of him…understood to some level. Aemond struggled to control his emotions, and the anger he had carried from childhood was some of the deepest and most rotten of all. He had let it fester into something much greater than it had to be. Every time he felt not good enough, every time he had felt the need to try harder and to be better, he pinned on her.

“I never wanted you to die.” He took a deep breath, hoping that he wasn’t making her heartache any worse by speaking. “I held onto so much resentment. You…you were just a child. And I was too, but sometimes life is cruel, and I should have handled the situation differently now that I’m older. I unleashed all of it that night, and I went too far.”

His tone had softened, but he steeled himself once more. “I should have never chased you through the storm. Vhagar, she could feel my anger.”

Lucera inhaled deeply, unsure on whether or not she should focus on his words or the emotions she was moving through.

“When I saw you falling, I commanded her downwards and tried to catch you but I was worried that you’d hit her wings too hard. I let you hit the water first and then untangled my saddle to jump in after you, but there was no way for me to get us back on her, so I had to pull us to shore.” While retelling the facts, his tone had once again slipped into something with less emotion, but looking at Lucera crumpled his heart again. He let the silence embrace her.

He got closer to her, reaching out his hand to cup her cheeks, swiping away her tears with his thumb. What had happened almost didn’t make sense because the implications were so grave, and yet it made perfect sense. He had almost killed her. Took her life from her.

Watching Lucera laying in front of him in the depths of her mourning, he didn’t want to admit that it made him feel powerful. Free. Released from the past, their past.

Their confrontation in Storm’s End was inevitable. There had been too much tension between them at the Red Keep when she had arrived—they both felt it. Aemond had not known what to do with the few words they had spoken to each other, while feeling so much within him. Anger, frustration, and other things he could not name at the time. All of it had only grown in their time together.

Every time she walked into a room, he couldn’t focus. Her blue gowns hanging over her skin were distracting. Her skin was perfect. Her hair was neatly done. She was the perfect image of a princess, and he would never be a charming prince. Not that he had wanted to be one for a very, very long time. But that was the point. She had robbed him of that. She had hurt him.

But now he hurt her. Was losing a dragon worse? Probably. But that didn’t matter. He understood it clearly now. They would be forever tied together, no matter their futures. Aemond needed to have her, to hold her, for her to be forever his. Her body, her mind, and her spirit were already tied to him so permanently, and it was time they stopped denying it.

“I understand now. You and I are tied together by blood. You have been indebted to me for years, and for years I have debated what I shall take from you” He reasoned, his demeanor now perfectly calm, sending her into a spiral of unease. She had thought he was apologetic just moments before, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“But on Driftmark you said that your eye was payment for a dragon. I thought there was no debt to be paid, only remorse to express” Lucera choked on her tears.

“Yes, my sweet niece, your dragon,” he trailed his fingers through her hair, calming her despite his words. “I should have never attempted to take your life, and for that I am sorry. But your debt is paid. Don’t you see? You no longer have to worry about payment for my eye.” His voice slipped into something deceivingly sweet, no longer in the same state of shock as she was. Lucera felt her stomach sink at his words.

He was just as dangerous as Lucera had assumed him to be. All of these soft moments, all of these little kindnesses that they had shared, did not show a different man hidden underneath. He was a monster, through and through.

“We are tied together by fire and blood. There may be no debt to repay anymore, but we are never escaping the inevitability of us.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear as tilted her chin to the side. “We burn together Lucie. We always have and we always will.”

She wanted to laugh, and she wanted to cry. Lucera had spent almost all her life incredibly concerned with what her uncle thought of her. She had tried to convince herself for years that she simply didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his hatred, but had recently discovered that she did want to be on the receiving end of his affections. How mad was she? Why was it him of all people? He was wild, untamed, driven to darkness by a myriad of unfortunate events. She was to blame, partially, and in realizing this, she realized what he meant.

In some twisted, fucked up way, she deserved this.

He pulled her up by her arms, away from the moss that had cradled her. The shock tracing through her system helped her reach her feet.

Aemond’s voice had an unnatural, sinister calmness to it. “It’s time we go, Lucie”

Another wave of realization came flooding through the gates of Lucera’s mind. Home. Dragonstone, where her mother had been crowned Queen . Where she had given Lucera orders from the seat of the Seven Kingdoms. Aemond’s idea of home was the Red Keep, where his brother had usurped her mother’s throne.

Lucera withdrew. “I’m going to my mother , to my Queen. ”

She saw the understanding flicker in Aemond’s eye. There had been so much focus on their confrontation in the skies, and none on what had been happening within their families. Both of them had hardly thought about it.

“My brother was crowned in front of the masses.” He droned, as if detached from any meaning that the sentence held, as if finally recalling the scene of the coronation play in his head. “I will not betray him.”

At his words, Lucera’s heart squeezed tight in her chest. She couldn’t tell what emotion it was. Grief, heartache, longing, sadness, anger. All of them.

Damn him. Damn their divided families. Damn her for cutting out his eye in the first place. Damn each and every complication.

“You—you always win. You always get what you want in the end. You humiliate me. You wanted your debt paid and you took it. And you get to return to Aegon and support him, with your new betrothal and slaying of my dragon.” Lucera said fiercely.

She was breathing hard, the frustration boiling. She didn’t want to elaborate on what she meant by feeling humiliated, but Lucera hoped he would understand her meaning. That she had feelings for him, that his long hair and carved face was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. That she saw him as a god she wanted to pray to. She wanted him to know, but her judgment declared against it, given their circumstances.

The brewing civil war hung thick between them. They both had flown to Storm’s End for the same purposes, to recruit a crucial paramount lord to their respective causes. Even through their childhood, through Driftmark, through years of separation, through Arrax, she had never felt more divided from him.

“I don’t win Lucera. I don’t see slaying Arrax as a trophy of conquest. It was an accident . One that I understand now, but it was unintentional nonetheless.” He paused. “We are forever intertwined, nothing will change that.”

Lucera read between the lines.

No war. No division between their families could change their bond, however complicated their dynamic was .

“But what do you mean? For all we know, we might meet again on the battlefield, Aemond. That could change that.”

“I won’t deny our fire any longer. You mustn’t either.”

When it came to threats to her mother’s side, there was only one true thing to be feared, and he was sitting across from her now. There was no one as cruel, no one as willing to do what it takes to succeed, and no one else who rode Vhagar. The other dragons would be a nuisance, but could be taken care of.

Should she just kill him now? End the war before it began?

As convenient as that might be, she knew she wouldn’t actually follow through with it.

Aemond reached for her hands. He looked at her as if he was being physically pulled away from her. Aemond didn’t say anything, he simply studied her face with longing. He looked pulled open and raw, his eye wider than usual. Perhaps he did truly care about her. Aemond smoothed his thumbs over top of each hand he held.

“Can I just hold you for a moment?”

Lucera was angry, but she didn’t have time to be angry. She wanted to shun him away for what he did.

But she couldn’t knowing that all of this, all of their time together was wretchedly temporary.

He felt it too.

“Yes.”

Blackwater Bay

Lazily removing the rag to cover his eyes, Aegon was greeted by a golden sunset. It was one of the less comfortable places he had slept—although in his youth he had spent his fair share of nights strewn in an alley on the Street of Silk.

It would have been impossible to fall asleep in the hull of the skiff with the sun beating upon him had he not paddled with vigor the entire previous night. He had succeeded in making it far enough away from King’s Landing to rest, setting out his anchor hours after dawn had broken.

Everything ached—his back, his arms, his hips, even his legs. He supposed it was a mixture of the most enduring physical activity he had ever done in his life and sleeping in a disagreeable place. That would do it.

But it would be worth it.

The pain was temporary, and no matter how much it burned him, it wouldn’t last. As he resumed his paddling through the night, the aches he acquired the day before were set alight with his renewed activity. In his most agonizing moments, he imagined the luxury of a large estate in Pentos, Volantis, or Myr. He had the connections, and the gold, and he planned on using it. It pushed him forward. It prevented him from stalling.

He was hoping to make it to the southernmost stretch of Massey’s Hook sometime in the night. The stars lit up the sky into something quite beautiful. He found himself missing Sunfyre. He found himself thinking about many things. The abyssal darkness of the water added to his thoughts.

After many hours of paddling, he noticed in the cloak of the night where the land began to creep upwards. The base of the Hook.

It’s about time . He thought to himself, wiping the sweat off his brow. But no time to rest, of course.

His limbs had reached a state of numbness, like gears in a machine that turn ceaselessly through the morning and night. Even after he lodged the skiff into the rocks on the shore, gathered his few belongings, and set out to find a village, his legs carried him. His hips were especially tight from sitting in such an uncomfortable position, and the lack of sleep in his body echoed through each fiber in his body.

Aegon figured that if he found a village and arrived in the early morning, he could escape some suspicion—as opposed to arriving midday, when everyone was teetering about.

The adrenaline from being a runaway king led his charge through the forested seaside, the acorns freckling the ground, the exhaustion, the aches. The sky was lifting from a deep night to a dark blue, and he knew that first light was approaching.

As anticipated, he spotted a shack in the distance—and then another one as he drew closer. And another. And, horses in the field beyond. Perfect.

He trudged harder.

There was a man, already preparing for his day’s work in the fields. Aegon straightened himself, pulled his cloak over his hair, and walked towards him.

“‘Scuse me good sir?” Aegon hardly recognized his own voice, it had been so long since he last spoke.

The man was scruff, with arms and a back that knew a hard day’s work—many of them. He looked up, curious about the disruption, and scowled.

“Whaddya want, boy” The man said, bored.

Aegon knew any lick of a royal accent would give him away.

“I want a mare o’ yours.” Luckily, Aegon also knew his way around the smallfolk, and knew how they wove their tongue around words. “I got plenty to pay you” he said, as he shook the bag of gold dragons at his hip.

The man, now much more intrigued than he was before, leaned in. “Now what kinda work has you getting paid like that?”

Aegon was ready for these questions, but he couldn’t over explain right away. He had to be clever. “Nothing that concerns you. But the money is clean, I promise.”

The man’s brows drove inwards. He eyed the satchel at Aegon’s hip—and it twinkled when he shifted his weight to his other leg. Only gold dragons sound like bells when they clink together.

“You have the balls to show up at my door, asking for one of my horses, the sun hasn’t even rose yet, and you won’t say a word about where the money’s coming from”

The man, though clearly intrigued by the payout, was skeptical. For that, Aegon thought he was wise.

They were standing near enough to each other now, eyeing each other carefully.

Aegon decided it was time to deepen his ruse. “I’m a mercenary. I do the dirty deeds so others don’t have to.” He strategically placed a hand on his other hip, which had a sheathed sword. “I’m quite good at it.”

The subtle threat was understood.

The man threw his hands up, lightening his attitude. “Ah ah, I want no trouble. 6 gold dragons for the brown one. She rides good, fast too.” His voice caught when asking for the price. Aegon knew he had probably never touched a single gold dragon in his life.

It was a steep price for a horse, but Aegon was feeling generous that day. The man needed the money more than him, anyways.

“Let me look at her first. If she’s sound, we’ve got a deal.”

The man led Aegon over to the fields across from them, where the warm brown coated mare stood grazing. She had a white diamond on her forehead that reminded Aegon of the southern star.

Her legs looked sturdy, she was well fed, and she was tempered. Aegon dropped the coins in the man’s hand, and the man guided the horse to a shack, where he fit the horse with a saddle and reins.

Aegon reached over and shook the man’s hand. “I’ll be on my way. My business will stay out of yours, I swear it.”

It wasn’t a lie, and it would soothe the man. Aegon slung his leg over the horse’s back, and pulled the reins to guide her west.

The sun was rising now, as he trotted through the countryside. He had never ventured into this part of Westeros on foot, but had seen it plenty of times on dragonback. From above he could see the tops of trees, with whistling streams and rocks peeking through. He thought it was beautiful, but that it would perhaps be more enjoyable in different circumstances.

As the hours wore on, Aegon felt like a half-dead man tied to his horse—slumped and barely hanging on. Somehow his head was still attached to his shoulders. If his estimation were correct, he was somewhere near the base of the finger peninsula of Massey’s Hook. On horseback, he should be able to reach Stonedance in a few days if he was quick about it. Stonedance was sure to have a village looking to sail towards the Narrow Sea—there was certain to be a proper boat from all the trade. If he had to hide himself in a cask of brandywine, then so be it. Pain was temporary. Uncomfortableness was temporary. He would survive.

A small town was taking shape through the hills and trees, and Aegon was thankful for it. He needed food. Perhaps he could rest too—but he’d need to contemplate more on that idea. It was most likely not the smartest move in the moment, but it was possible he’d be able to spare a few candle marks.

Would he hear the news of his absence? No—most likely he wouldn’t. It would be a secret for as long as his mother and a select few could manage it, even when the search party eventually reaches the realm. With Rhaenyra crowned as the Black Queen, there was no chance those in the Red Keep—the ones that had fought so hard to arrange his ascension—would let his sister and his uncle know of his absence. It would have to be kept so deeply under wraps, lest Rhaenyra use it to her advantage.

Aegon couldn’t deny his curiosity. He was interested to know what exactly would happen in his absence. He had never been above wanting to hear the latest whispers in the castle, the city, or the realm. Aegon knew everyone in the castle and had numerous friends within and without it. His wide web was something he was proud of, and he wanted to know all of the happenings tied up in it.

The throne would be an empty seat. Aemond was god knows where, so he was out of the question for ascending it in his absence. Would he come out of hiding if he knew Aegon was gone and there was an open seat looking to be taken? Of course he would. Aegon had no doubt of that. Even still, Aemond would also probably go searching for him. But if Aemond was still missing, that left Daeron, who was still so young. It most likely wouldn’t deter the green council from pushing him up there, but it would be a weak stance to hold against Rhaenyra.

Especially since without him and Aemond, there were two less adult dragons—which is really all that ultimately held significance, anyways. He prayed no open act of war could cause such things to matter, but it was hard to push away such thoughts in dark times. His stomach curled at the notion.

However Rhaenyra planned to win over the throne, he wished it to be peaceful. Aegon had wished that his initial runaway attempt had been successful. Maybe then, Rhaenyra might be sitting on the throne now, his brother wouldn’t have gone missing, and the whole mess could have been avoided. It was more complicated than that, but he had always been a wishful thinker. He’d known that Rhaenyra was considering terms for peace at this very moment, but rumor had it that Lucera had not returned from Storm’s End either.

Aegon’s head was starting to hurt. He hadn’t fully thought any of this through as he’d been so wrapped up in his own plans for escape that he hadn’t thought about Lucera and Aemond. It was so obvious, wasn’t it? How had he missed that connection?

There were now cobbles underneath the mare’s hooves. This town was laid in gray bricks. Aegon noticed it made the whole place look quite drab. He led his horse straight to where he could see people gathered outside with horns of ale in their hands. It had to be the tavern. He sluggishly slid off of her back and onto the ground, ignoring the attention his arrival was attracting. His aching bones wouldn’t allow for him to do much else. Making sure the cloak was fastened around his head, he opened the weather worn door and made his way to the closest table through the shoulders cloaked in wool.

Aegon had a pit of dread creeping through him. He knew Aemond. He was unrelenting, driven. And nothing drove him to madness the way Lucera did. It was plain—Aegon knew Aemond blamed every hardship in his life on the Velaryons, especially Lucera. If Viserys had shown the same amount of affection for them, Aemond’s life path would have started off differently. Perhaps he would have more forgiveness and openness in his heart. But then of course there was the eye conundrum, and it had solidified Aemond’s belief of the world’s detestation of him forever, and Lucera was at the heart of it. There was something behind his eye when he looked at her. It was narrow, focused, and deep.

Aegon saw where a confrontation of the two could lead them, especially after the tension that was present the last time he saw them together. It was nowhere good. He didn’t want to think too hard about it.

He needed a drink.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x female lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen x original female character #aegon ii targaryen x female jacaerys velaryon #aemond targaryen x lucerys velaryon

7 notes · View notes

on-stolen-sunbeams · 5 months

Text

There was a donut shop I used to pass on my walk to school senior year. I remember those pastel mornings well; the soft clouds of steam rising gently from outside vents, the way the world stood quiet, only interrupted by occasional puttering of an old pickup turning into the parking lot. It was in an old plaza, with flat, squat buildings and slightly garish, brightly colored signage. Every so often, if the breeze blew right, you could smell the faint aroma of coffee wafting your way. If you walked past early enough, sometimes you'd catch the glow of twinkle lights adorning the fence, still on from the night before and not yet washed out by sunlight. It was softer, somehow, a gentler, simpler place than the tall corporate-sleek tech companies, all silver and chrome, that came before. A kinder, more subdued plane of existence a few hundred feet down the road cloaked in goldenhour magic.

I once promised myself I'd stop by sometime, walk to school with a maple-glazed pastry in hand or curl up in the outdoor seating area and watch the sunrise. The shop opened early enough, after all. But I never did keep that promise. I regret it now.

It might just be the heartsick for yesteryear part of me, wedged somewhere beneath my ribcage like a particularly uncooperative splinter. But there's something pinprick painful about those unfulfilled promises. Not just about a warm donut, but penciled lists in childish handwriting with big dreams, so full of heart, leaving no room for much else. the complete and utter conviction in a happy ending. now I swirl bittersweet. Kids have the kind of faith that could take them to the stars should they only wish to glance a meteor. I know my younger self would lend me grace and sweet forgiveness that I can no longer afford, but I refuse to make a habit of accepting the priceless for free.

I'm not where I wanted to be. I didn't dream of dinner conversations under a veneer of disappointment and gray days, or pray to spend my days desperately clutching at mediocrity, of blending into wallpaper and counting down days torn between relief and dread.

It's easy to twist words into a new genre, a new form, cut sentences at the root and move them somewhere better. It's much harder to replant ampersand ambitions. I can't explain how things warped until they splintered. There's no clearcut reason for the way things are opposed to how they should've been. I don't want to look back and gloss over the regret, but averting my eyes is the least painful option, because it hurts, the twin desires to patch up youthful hopes and grind them to dust beneath my heel.

I don't know how this one ends. There's no moral, no central thesis I can cling to. I should've woven some kind of unifying theme, embedded details like a trail of breadcrumbs to an inevitable conclusion instead of throwing darts in the direction of a last page. The ending is still vague and uncertain. The story's not over yet.

Maybe I'll close with a zoomed in shot of a plane ticket, then a morning treat, some lesson in how it's never too late. The credits will roll into a lovely dawn sky, the focus will drag across a half-full coffee cup and evoke some sense of closure and peace. Onwards and upwards, it gets better. Maybe the shop's closed now, and the story ends with a solitary figure walking away, head heavy. the scene closes and you exit with a sour aftertaste and a wasted journey. I'm not cruel enough to spread regret like poisoned dandelion seeds in spring but sometimes it bleeds into the syllables. Maybe it fades off. I never visit, never wonder, slam the door shut and pretend today is day one and everything that came before never existed. Nostalgia sucks, but every open wound eventually scars over and flattens if you leave it be. Perhaps this one will too.

It's still too early to tell.

Some seven-year old part of me promises it will be alright. My seventeen year-old shade looks on with distrustful desperation.

(I hope I do right by her.)

#tis the season of cathartic self-reflection but also disappointment #this felt like the written equivalent of sweeping broken heirlooms out from under the bed after they've gathered dust #and hoping that the cracks are superficial in the more intact pieces.#something about how every end is a beginning and every beginning is an end #I'm a lot better now than I used to be I think.#but it's hard not to feel bitter looking back. nostalgia's quite a drug.#anyways to quote Palahniuk: I'll shut up now.#spilled ink #writing #writeblr #os2.txt

11 notes · View notes

agentrouka-blog · 1 year

Note

I think this an interesting take i rarely see people bring up and its when dani leaves essos she’s essentially leaving it to ruin. Once the dragons are gone whats gonna stop the slavers from going back to use slavery again. Dani never created a stable system for the former slaves to remain free and the fact she’s using slavery to make her conquer of westeros possible

GRRM certainly showed us exactly that in Astapor. Slavery was reinstated almost immediately. Alongside the squalor and civil war and disease.

But that doesn't have to be the only story.

My suspicion is that when Dany fails to be the savior that the slaves of, say, Volantis long for, they will eventually take matters into their own hands.

"In Volantis, thousands of slaves and freedmen crowd the temple plaza every night to hear Benerro shriek of bleeding stars and a sword of fire that will cleanse the world. He has been preaching that Volantis will surely burn if the triarchs take up arms against the silver queen." (ADWD, Tyrion VI)

It is emphasized how the slaves outnumber the free five to one. And previously, GRRM phrased it a different way with regard to Craster.

"The wide world is full of people wanting help, Jon. Would that some could find the courage to help themselves. Craster sprawls in his loft even now, stinking of wine and lost to sense. On his board below lies a sharp new axe. Were it me, I'd name it "Answered Prayer' and make an end." Yes. Jon thought of Gilly. She and her sisters. They were nineteen, and Craster was one, but . . . (ACOK, Jon III)

Not that I support Mormont's victim blaming here. We know that Craster's daughters had reasons for staying trapped with him, and kinslaying is a major taboo beyond the Wall too.

But the inspiration taken from the story spun around Dany's actions in Slaver's Bay may well outweigh the reality of what happened, which would fit GRRM's theme on the power of storytelling beyond historical truth. And it may be we'll see a true revolution happen that is actually instigated at the bottom, not by an invader with their own selfish agenda.

#anti daenerys targaryen #slavery #asoiaf speculation

56 notes · View notes

ticklish-touch · 2 years

Text

Trapped in the Backrooms Ch2: Persuasion

(Ragaeli x lee!Y/N - Consensual chasing & tickling, non-romance CW: Strong language, Liminal spaces, hypnosis, elevatophobia) Shenanigans continue while you and Ragaeli continue to search for a means of escaping the world of the Backrooms. The elaborate hotel you’ve found yourself in has a surprisingly relaxing - albeit eerie - atmosphere. But something else here wants you to check in as an esteemed guest... Forever.

( Chapter theme(s): Jazz playing in another room: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=go358GrFqa “Trust in Me” - Scarlett Johansson: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEgkBetZY-M “Catgroove” - Parov Stelar: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXrdYwG17PE )

It was a nice change of scenery, going from dingy yellow wallpaper to a fancy vintage 1940's hotel plaza. The lobby itself was enormous. You got up from the comfy loveseat to take a look around, spotting a reception desk all the way across the room. Heading up to it, there were no signs of any staff; just rows of small lockers on the back wall, and a couple desk lamps. Well... Time to look around and see what other craziness the Backrooms had in store for you and your Nightmare buddy.

Heading down the hallway to the first floor, you admired the various decor. Fancy floral carpets, cushioned mahogany chairs placed just outside glass doors that led to... Well, nowhere. Peeking in, the hallways stretched on infinitely, leading to pitch blackness. You considered braving one of them, but... Maybe not yet. It sounded like others were here: there were distinct sounds of whispers, distant conversations, jovial laughter, and... was that smooth Jazz? But any attempts to call out with “Hello? Is someone else here?” fell on deaf ears.

You eventually came to a stairwell leading up to the next floor, the wood creaking below you while you made your way upstairs. There were no signs anywhere indicating how many stories or rooms there were, but you wanted to at least investigate. Most doors to the guest rooms were closed, but were almost always unlocked. Peering inside some of them, you noticed the same recurring vintage aesthetic. It almost felt homey. ...If not for the layers of dust coating almost every piece of furniture.

You wandered into one, curiously peeking through some of the dressers and closets. The light leaking in through the windows made you feel... Uncomfortable. You weren't sure why. Maybe it was because you couldn't actually see anything outside of them; just a wall of grey, like a foggy overcast sky. You decided to close some of the curtains; it helped ease your mind a little. You poked around in some of the dresser and closet doors, not finding anything except old, eroding photos of people in 1940′s-era clothing. And missing faces.

Aside from the isolated halls, it didn't feel as unsettling here as your previous escapade. Still eerie, but oddly welcoming. You somewhat wanted to try and find the voices that were always just out of reach, seeming to come from nonexistant rooms, to join them in their conversations and dance along to the music. The only thing making you genuinely nervous were the occasional elevators you passed by, lit by a similar sickly yellow light as the first environment. Those old-timey metal cages always seemed like death traps... But otherwise, it was actually quite peaceful here. There seemed to be no sign of any dangerous entities. Until something caught the corner of your eye, making you freeze up.

A door to a nearby open room was half-opened, the space filled by a pitch pitch-black wall blocking the entrance, with a pair of eyes and a wide smile peeking out at you. You would've assumed it was Rags, but it looked different; the teeth were those of an omnivore, and the eyes were white and reflective, like the eyes of a cat or raccoon at nighttime. "Uh...Hi..?" You waved over to it. You had a gut feeling that you shouldn't get too close. So you crept by on tiptoe, not tearing your gaze away from the face until you were safely around another corner.

"Smart move." A strange voice whispered, sounding like it was coming from inside the nearest wall and making you jump. What the hell?? It was almost a whisper, a double-voice that was neither feminine nor masculine... Was that the shadow creature speaking? You didn't stick around long enough to identify it, quickly making your way to the end of a hall and ducking into a room with an open door.

Now might be a good chance to take a breather... At least until something stared out at you from the darkness again. Plopping down on one of the beds brought you a sigh of relief; It was actually very comfortable. The musty smell wasn't too great, but nothing too distracting. You let your eyes droop shut; Not to nap, just to rest. You had a gut feeling that you should not fall asleep here.

Without the constant flood of adrenaline and anticipation, you had the chance to think a bit more about what Ragdoll had said when you first got here: The only way out of here was a rift in space-time. You didn't imagine there were many of those to come by. Though you had faith that, if anyone could find one, it'd be the Nightmare. He was beyond powerful enough, practically all-seeing.

But what if he couldn't?

No, you couldn't fall to doubt just yet. Maybe there was some way you could help your monster buddy. You could keep looking out for clues, or maybe there was someone somewhere in this realm you could try to talk to or reason with.

The moment of peace was short-lived. The sound of nails dragging across a nearby wall immediately made you open your eyes and jump upright, your eyes darting around to find the source. It crept closer and closer to the open door; you realized it was coming from the outside hallway. “Oh shit oh shit--” You hopped off the bed and backed up. “Ragman..?” No answer. If it was him, he'd at least respond with that gremlin giggle. So you weren't sure what to expect. Maybe you could lure it to the other side of the room... After a few more moments of silence, you decided to chance it and hurry out of the door, making it out unscathed.

It must’ve been a good twenty minutes since you arrived. More wandering through guest rooms and around zigzagging corners, more climbing stairs. More silence. Man, Ragioli was sure being quiet. Maybe he was busy doing his own bit of exploring. Every now and then, you could hear unintelligible whispering nearby, sounding like that strange double-voice you'd heard before. At first, you didn't dare turn around to look in its direction. But curiosity got the better of you, looking over to an open section of the wall... For a brief moment, you could swear you saw something move near it. Or inside of it. It almost looked like something invisible rippling in the air. A ghost, maybe...? Were there ghosts in this world? Maybe it was one of the 'guests' here.

You were getting real tired of stairs after the fifth floor, pausing in front of one of the elevators to consider your options. Do you dare chance it...? Something seemed to answer your thoughts; the elevator doors opened on their own. Gee, that wasn't ominous at all. Totally not a death trap. But you stepped inside anyways; It might be helpful to check out a few higher floors.

The number panel was almost incomprehensible. They weren't in any sort of order, some of them were blank, others had Greek and Unicode numbers. “Uhhh... Eeny, meeny, miney...” You pressed one of the Greek symbols at random. The elevator creaked and clattered on its way up. It was a slow, daunting ascent. You watched each passing floor through the cage; they all looked more or less the same; like that repeating illusion hallway back in the first location. Maybe Rags’ theory about this place being a simulation wasn’t too far off. You leaned against the back wall of the elevator, sighing and watching the dial climb higher. You bopped along to a song that was stuck in your head. It made up for the lack of elevator music and distracted from the creepy rattling.

The elevator continued to climb up, and up, and up. It also began to speed up its pace. Jesus, just how far did this thing go? Did you press the button to take you to the top? Was there even a top floor?? You started to get nervous when there just didn't seem to be any sign of stopping. Or slowing down. The floor dial was acting erratic, like a compass on the fritz. Your heart rate started increasing along with the elevator's speed. You started pressing other buttons, hoping to make it navigate you to a different floor. "Raaags, I could use your help stopping this thing!!" You shouted up to the ceiling.

After your comment, the elevator creaked and slowed down, finally coming to a stop. But the door didn't open. "Ugh, come on!!” You shook the cage doors and tried fiddling with the handle. Your heart caught in your throat at the loud THUNK of metal just below you. The lights flickered and burnt out. "Oh, no..." There was a jolt and a tremor...

And the elevator plummeted straight down at breakneck speed.

You screamed bloody murder, feeling your stomach drop and your legs practically disappear under you. You clung to the railings for dear life and felt your breath sucked right out of you. "FUCKFUCKFUCK!!! RAAAAGS!! HEEEELP!!"

It screeched to a halt about five seconds later. Thankfully your momentum didn't send you smacking into the ceiling. You hyperventilated heavily, heart hammering in your chest, your hair and clothes totally disheveled, legs splayed out, your knuckles white from gripping the railing so hard. That. Was. Horrifying. And you were mad at yourself that your inner adrenaline junkie also found it exhilarating.

The Nightmare's wild cackling erupted overhead outside the elevator. "I GOTCHAAHAHAHA!!" He hooted and hollered. You gasped in utter betrayal. "RAGS!!! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!" You tried to leap up and grab at the ceiling. "GET DOWN HERE SO I CAN KICK YOUR ASS!!!" He phased down from the top of the elevator, collapsing in a heap of hysterics, pounding the floor with his fist. "AAAHAHAHAHA YOU SHOHOHOULD'VE SEEHEEHEEN YOUR FAHAHAHACE!!" “I can’t FUCKING believe you!!” You stomped and paced, exasperated. “Here I am trying find a way OUT of here and you’re trynna give me a heart attack!!” But the longer you ranted at him, the more he cracked up in hysterics, hints of his grape-colored tears leaking from his eyes.

"WHY YOU-!!" You could absolutely strangle him. But instead... “Yeah, you wanna laugh at me?? Laugh it up!!” You took the opportunity to lunge down at him and quickly sit on his legs, promptly burying your fingers into his lower midriff and hips, tickling viciously, giving rapid-fire pokes everywhere. "Yeah, VERY funny!!" His laughter just went up an octave and he flailed around. "YEEEE-HEHEHEHE C-COME OHOHON!! Y-YOHOHOU'RE the one who's into thrihihihill rihihides~!!!!" He kicked and shimmied his legs under you, making it difficult to stay in place. “That's different!!" You growled, moving up further to attack his bare midriff, “Save it for when we're not in a different dimension!!” He cackled and shrieked, wiggling under you, still pounding his fists on the floor. Not making an effort to push you off. As pissed as you were, you smiled at the sight. Damn he was handsome, squirming and laughing like this. It was short-lived though; he quickly retaliated, his massive hands clamping onto your sides and spidering their dexterous fingers over your ribs like a piano, giving a shitty smirk the moment you shrieked and recoiled. “Hehehe, you were sayiiing~?” He flipped your positions and shoved you down to the floor. “WAHH-HAHAH S-Staaahahahap alreheheheadyyy-heehee!!” Your face flushed and you flailed underneath him for a few more moments, trying to defend yourself by pinching under his arm with one hand and attacking his belly with quick scribbles and pokes with the other hand. “GYEE-HEHEHE!!” He giggled wildly, growling playfully and doubling his efforts, sending ticklish jolts through your torso and hips. “Heheheh, awww, is the little morsel all maaaad at me for pranking ‘em~?” He cooed and taunted. “Come onnn, I know ya can’t stay mad at me~! Just look at that smiiile~!” You kept up the tickle-fight for a good few minutes, holding your own pretty well against the relentless tickle monster; though no matter how strong you were, he’d always manage to wrestle you right back down into a position that left your most ticklish spots vulnerable, locking onto them and barraging them with tickles until you were shrieking and barking out profanities between bouts of laughter. He eventually relented, sitting back on his arms and splaying his long legs out. He took up the whole elevator floor. Whoo, that was a tasty energy boost~” he licked his lips. “There’s all kinds of different screams I can get out of ya~!” “Y-Yeah, so glad I could be your personal buffet,” you gave him a shove. "So, did you find any clues or not?"

He shook his head. "No rifts anywhere. And those hallways out past the glass doors are totally blocked from my sight. Going through them just leads right back out to the main hallways, like a fricken’ Pac-Man maze!” He scratched his chin. “And something else is definitely sneakin' around in here... I can't detect it for some reason." He shrugged and jumped up to his feet. With a snap of his fingers, his outfit poofed from his emo-punk getup to... a Bellboy uniform. Complete with hat, but still barefoot. “Sir Reginald at your service,” he put on a cockney accent and took a bow. ”Pfff-! Wow, don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear something so fancy.” He giggled. “Much as I don’t give a shit bout blending in, maybe it’ll help lure that sneaky creeper outta the shadows. It can't hide from me foreverr~” he snickered and pressed the button to open the elevator door, gesturing to it with a bow. "After you~ I’ll catch up with ya later. I'll make sure these pesky elevators don’t go haywire on you again, trust me~” he winked.

“Yeah, they’d better not,” You gave him a shove and stuck your tongue out at him as you headed onto what appeared to be floor 666. Okay, edgelord.

You considered his comment about heading into the abyss of one of those branching hallways. You made your way toward the nearest set of glass doors, tentatively pushing past it, walking out into the pitch-black hall ahead... Only to end up coming right back through another set of glass double-doors. Out of curiosity, you tried looking behind yourself as you pushed the glass door open.. From the glass doors on the adjacent wall, you could see yourself. Like a reflection or a Portal illusion. “Whoa.” “You will not make any progress through those doors.” The double-voice spoke casually, sounding as if it was just a few feet away. You jumped and spun around to try and find the source. You saw that illusion out of the corner of your eye again: The wallpaper rippling and bowing outward. There was definitely something, or someone, invisible inside of it. You tried to follow it with your eyes, but it was difficult. It was like your eyes didn't want to comprehend it. it kept fading out of your sight, like one of those bizarre 3D ‘Magic Eye’ images in books. “Hello??” This must've been what the Nightmare was talking about, right? How come he couldn't detect it, but you kept noticing it?

It only took a few more minutes of following the invisible shape until you got your answer. Tracking it to the wall dead ahead, you gasped: The pattern of the wallpaper was broken up by two glowing, opalescent orbs: A pair of eyes with squiggly horizontal pupils. You stepped closer. “I can see you, y'know,” you spoke up sternly. “You've been following me around, haven't you?”

Now that you'd noticed its presence, it made itself visible, phasing into existence in front of you. It had a very tall, masculine human body, dressed in a formal suit, with the head of a... Cuttlefish? For a moment they just stood motionless, arms folded behind their back, staring at you.

“Uh... Hi,” you gave them a cautious wave. “Is this your hotel?” The entity nodded. “Oh, well it's very nice!” "Thank you,” they responded. They took a few steps forward, tilting their head. "You seem different than others that have been here." You stood your ground. "Really? How so...?" "You run away, yet you're curious. You aren't deterred by what your species may deem 'monstrous'.”

"Oh, well..." You weren't sure how to explain that monsters and the like were very much up your alley. "I mean, it doesn't really do any good being afraid of everything 'different'," you shrugged. "Just because something may look monstrous doesn't necessarily mean that it's evil. Sure, people should be cautious, but people can’t learn anything about the world if they just decide they’re not going to try to understand it.”

Their tentacles twitched a bit. “How interesting.” They took a couple steps forward. “There is a point where curiosity becomes naivety. Keeping one's heart open, keeping one’s mind hungry for knowledge, can inevitably lead them right into the jaws of danger. Monsters care not for the childish optimism of their prey.” "Well, sure, but..." You wanted to explain that it was, in fact, a monster keeping you safe from the dangers.

“You should stay here.”

"...Huh?"

“You should stay here,” they repeated. “With the rest of us.” It wasn't a question, or a suggestion. It was a command. "Uhhh I can't really do that," you took a step back. "I'm trying to get home." “This can be your home.” Another step forward. “It's peaceful. Free from judgment and ignorance. Free from dangers. As long as you don't disturb the Smilers.” You sighed a little. So much for finding someone to reason with. “Look, I appreciate it, but I have friends and family that'll miss me. I have a whole life back in my world.” “Friends that abandoned you? Left you to rot away in a world you know nothing about?” “What?? No!! They had nothing to do with-”

The entity's head and tentacles suddenly started to light up in a dazzling, rippling display of colorful stripes, two of their tentacles splaying out to the sides. Their unblinking gaze drilled into you, glowing more vibrantly, their squiggly horizontal pupils shrinking to slits. "Wha-"

“You can trust me,” their tone became lighter, and friendlier; quite the contrast from their intense, borderline hostile gaze. “You'll like it here. You'll be well provided for. Room service, complimentary meals, comfortable beds. Jazz nights every week.” Their mesmerizing facial patterns were difficult for you to tear your gaze away from. For a brief moment, you actually considered their offer. Soon, they were little more than a foot away from you, looming over you, facial patterns still swirling and rippling. You swallowed back the lump in your throat, tried to turn your head or even close your eyes, but it felt like a static washing over your senses. Maybe I can stay here...

You didn't notice the entity slowly raise their arms up, outside of your peripheral vision. You didn't see their clawed fingers morph into tentacle-like appendages, starting to drip with a narcotic neurotoxin.

You also barely noticed the lights in the hallway going out, one by one.

Ragaeli faded in from a dark haze, right behind the entity, arms outstretched, and fingers wiggling, mirroring the actions of the other. Just as the entity sensed him and ceased their attempts to put you in a trance, the Nightmare clamped his hands around their sides, his hands buzzing with his crackling red magic. He wasn't taking any chances. But there was no reaction. No laughter or startled yells, no wriggling around. They looked outright offended when they whipped around, their hands morphing back to normal as they folded their arms. “You've some nerve, laying a hand on me.”

Rags blinked hard, before snorting. “Pfff- Damn, nothing, huh? Lame,” He put his hands on his hips. “That's some pretty clever magic of yours though~! Perception camouflage. Kinda similar to mine, actually!” He poofed out of sight in a puff of smoke, his uniform hat getting left behind and dropping to the floor. “Fool your friends! Fun at parties!!” His voice darted around the air around both of you. With another poof, he reappeared, giggling. The entity didn't seem phased, or amused. They tilted their head. “You’re the other presence I felt stalking about. Following this Wanderer, toying with them as if they are your prey.” Rags scoffed. "Oh, and you're not doing the same? At least I have something way more fun in mind than trynna drug 'em up and hold them hostage in some hoity-toity, dusty old-”

In a flash, the entity jutted out an arm to hold their tentacle fingers right up to the Nightmare's neck; and the other arm out in front of you, their fingers stretching out to splay its tentacles inches away from your face. You inhaled sharply and froze in place, not sure whether you should try to run. But Rags wasn't deterred by the threat. “Heh, struck a nerve, did I~?” With a flick of his wrist, he used his magic to tug their hand back away from your face. As if to answer, the creature's head started to flash and ripple in angry hues of yellow and orange, its tentacles wrapping around Rags' throat, seeping with toxins. “You'd do well not to defy me-” they started to growl sternly; But was interrupted by Rags jabbing the sides of their squishy head with his index and middle fingers, giving off a bright red spark. They jolted sharply, before their head and arms slumped over. They remained standing in place, unresponsive.

"Whoa; what did you just do?? You didn't kill them...?" He quickly shook his head. "You'll seeee~" He cooed.

The entity stirred. They let out a low, raspy chuckle. "Ohh... I see. That is a fun idea..." Slowly, they lifted their head and peeked over their shoulder at you. For a brief moment, their head and tentacles shifted to black and pale red stripes.

"R..Rags?? What did you do?" You repeated. He gave a giddy little snicker. "Weeelll, they tried to put you in a trance, I just decided to give 'em a taste of their own medicine~"

You gawked. "You're mind-controlling them?!" Ragaeli quickly shook his head. "Not mind control. Subconscious suggestion," he tapped a finger to his temple. "I just zapped 'em with a few of your memories, that's all. I suggested a different game to play with us. What they do after that is their decision~" “I never knew Wanderers could be so weak to touch...” The hotel manager chuckled, taking a step closer to you. “That’s really quite endearing...”

You swallowed. “H-Hey now-” Without giving you more time to react, they flung their arms and tentacles out to wrap around you, pulling you close. You yelped and instinctively tried pulling away, but were met with the feeling of the slippery appendages writhing and kneading over your armpits and ribs, immediately loosing a shriek of laughter from you. "YIEE-HAHAHA N-NOOHOHOHO!!" Your face flared up, shuddering from the sensations, wriggling back and forth and tried to tug their arms free.

Rags snapped his fingers, and the entity's arms were held up by magic, giving you a moment to catch your breath. Both he and the cuttlefish letting out wicked laughter. “How cute...” “Riiight~?” Rags giggled, patting your head. “Totally worth not knocking them out just yet, right? You wanna hear more of that cute laughter, see more of that helpless desperation, draw a feeling of glee out of them without havin’ to trance them first~!” The cuttlefish nodded. “I suppose I’ll humor you for now and play along with this little game...” And both of them, leaning in on either side of your ears: "You should run~"

The moment they released their hold, your adrenaline kicked in again and you bolted.

You could swear you heard the Nightmare and the camouflaged entity snickering evilly at every turn. When you thought you could see the air in front of the wallpaper ripple, you’d turn the other way. When Ragdoll’s stomping or giggling echoed from one of the nearby stairwells, you booked it up or down the next flight. Every now and then, the Nightmare would phase into the room from inside one of the many paintings decorating the walls, sending you booking it in the other direction. Even taking a moment of reprieve near the elevators wasn’t safe. The metal death cage stopped at your floor and with a ding of a bell, opened to Reggie - still in his Bellboy uniform - flashing you a shitty grin with his arms behind his back. “Next stop, our Diamond Suites~! Comfiest beds in the Backrooms, complete with bed straps and drawers and drawers full of the most torturous tickly instruments in this or any dimension, hehehehe~!” He tried to usher you into the elevator. “Yeahh nice try, I’m not gonna let you wreck my shit and pull a Tower of Terror on me again,” you stuck your tongue out. “C’monnn, I know you wannaaa~” His grin became more devilish and he gave you a wink. Before you could make another snarky comment, you were scooped up from behind, the manager fading into view again, opal eyes glaring at ‘Reginald’. “You will not misuse my elevators again,” they huffed, casually letting their clawed digits scritch and knead over your ribs, sneaking in toward your belly. “YyYYEE-HEHEH!! Y-Yeheheheah, what thehehey sahahahaid!!” You shook your fist at Rags, feeling your face quickly heat up. You were glad to be on playful terms with this entity now. Ragdoll rolled his eyes. “Well I’m just doing my job, but fine, I’ll meet up with you again after you give my buddy the answer they need~!” He pressed a button and rode the elevator down out of sight. The cuttlefish let out a low, clicky purring by your ear. “You seek answers, hmm? Then find your way to the Ballroom, and I may just give you a clue~” They released their hold on you and faded out of sight again. You took a moment to compose yourself before continuing onward. Where the hell were you supposed to find a ballroom in this place?? You kept an eye out for signs; there weren’t many to go off of. Reception, boiler room, outdoor gardens... You were so busy focusing on finding signage that you nearly ran smack-dab into a pitch-black wall with another one of those smiling faces staring out at you. “AGH-!” You gasped and jumped back when you saw it from your peripherals. It hissed through its teeth, just about to strike at you with two shadowy claws... Then Ragdoll came flying through a nearby painting, jabbing a couple fingers into the dark mass, just above the creature's eyes, giving off another bright red spark of magic - before promptly launching himself into a painting on the opposite side of the wall, his gremlin giggling still echoing overhead.

The creature gave off a startled screech, the entire mass trembling. Its eyes briefly flashed yellow, its Cheshire smile spreading even wider. "Ohh fuck no-" was all you managed to comment, before two dark limbs lashed out and pulled you inside. Your body was flooded with the feeling of a hundred gentle pokes, strokes and scritches. In the pitch-blackness, you had no way of knowing where it would come from next, or when it would end. The smiling face now peered down at you from above, snickering wickedly. “AaaAAH-Hehehehe!! D-Dahahammihihit!! N-Not you toohoohoo!!” You wriggled and tugged in its gentle, but surprisingly strong shadowy grip, yelping and whining and feeling goosebumps crawl up your skin from the feather-light touches teasing your hips, navel and ribs. You practically yelled when more of them slipped straight down into your shoes to flurry and vibrate, making you kick your legs around. “GAAH-HAHAHA!!”

But then... Something in your talisman must've sensed a shift in the entity's intentions. The moment before the creature turned its shadowy hands into daggers and thorns to impale you with, your charm gave off a sudden blinding red spark of magic, making you both shriek from the ticklish shock. You knew that was a sign that the game was over; you managed to pull away from the dark mass, coming out on the other side and booking it right as the creature let out an angry hiss.

After continuing to search, you were guided to the hotel Restaurant. Making your way inside, it was just as overly-exuberant as the rest of the place, with smooth Jazz playing from the nearby stage - despite the fact that no-one was playing the instruments that stood stationary.

You ducked down to hide underneath one of the nearby dining tables, just in time to hear Reggie's big ol stompers follow behind you. He snickered and started to walk slow, deliberate circles around the table. "Gee, I wonder where they went..." You heard his claws tapping, slowly and repeatedly, on the surface just above you. The sound gave you goosebumps. "They'd better not keep themselves tucked away too long, they're gonna get found eventually~!" He teased in a singsong voice, giggling wildly. “A shame we can't stay here for too long, I'd check us into one of the rooms and keep you in there with me to Netflix-and-Giggle! Not sure the TVs here have Netflix though... or if there even are TVEEEEE-HAHA!!" You took your chance to lunge from under the table and latch onto one of his feet, scritching and prodding over his arches and toes. He yelped with giggles, stumbling and falling back against the chairs for a moment and you started ducking and weaving around the tables in an attempt to shake him off. As you did, he put on his Bellhop act again, complete with accent. “Come now, this is no way for an esteemed guest to behave! I’m going to have to put you under house arrest at this point!!” He made grabs for you, and you practically climbed over table booths. “Yeah, well suck it!! This place is three stars at best!!” A loud hiss answered from a wall just behind you, the manager’s vivid glowing eyes and splayed writhing tentacles appearing in the air. “AAHH I’m kidding I’m kidding!!” You laughed and scurried out of the restaurant area. Unfortunately your comment seemed to have ticked them off; you could now hear them following very closely behind. You hardly had the chance to try climbing a flight of stairs before you were yanked by an invisible force into a nearby suite, the door slamming behind you. The cuttlefish glared down at you, arms folded across their chest. They didn’t look angry anymore, just unamused. “H-hey now, I was just joking earlier, this is a great hotel,” you smiled nervously up at them. “Very homey, great atmosphere...” They simply walked forward, making you back up further and further, until the backs of your knees pressed against the bed and you stumbled onto the mattress. They leapt forward and straddled either side of you, and as you scrambled back against the pillows, they outstretched their hands; one morphed its fingers into tentacles, the other remained clawed. “I believe you. But a comment like that still deserves to be... reprimanded~” They curled and scrunched their digits, wriggling them closer and closer to you... Until, without warning, they slipped their claws under your top, giving your belly a squeeze.

“AH! W-Wahahahaitt!!” You yelped all the more when their tentacle-hand also started exploring. They were more gentle with their methods than their initial spring-attack; They took their time scritching, poking, dancing their dexterous claws over your torso. Their tentacle suckers gave little ‘kisses’ over your belly. “MmMMF-Hehehehe!!” You tried, and quickly failed, to hold back your snickering, wriggling back and forth, trying to suck in your gut. Although they couldn't smile or change the expression in their glassy opal eyes, you could still see a mischievous twinkle behind them, their squiggly pupils dilated and the patterns on their head flowing in a soft ripple. "Those memories of yours told me something interesting... They showed me how easily you are persuaded by verbalization." "Wh-what do you mehehean?" They leaned down closer to your ear, their double-voice speaking in a low whisper. "You're ever so tiickliiish, aren't you~?" You let out a startled yelp, not at all expecting a tease out of an otherworldly entity like this. "AH-!! N-Noohoho!!" They tilted their head. "No? But clearly you are. Perhaps I will just have to convince you further." They un-straddled their leg from around you and reached up above you to grab one of the pillows; in just a few swift movements, they pulled the pillowcase off, grabbed your wrists, and tied them above your head. You gasped and felt your blush deepen, knowing your sides and armpits were even more vulnerable now. The entity flurried their claws up and down one armpit, and had their tentacles slip down your sleeve of the other arm, slithering around. “YIEE-HEHEHEHE!!” You whined and shimmied side to side like a fish. "It's such a curious thing, this 'ticklishness'...It's almost cute how easily a Wanderer can succumb to their own nervous systems being turned against them. Becoming helpless, giggling little fools, flooded by sensations their minds and bodies cannot fight against, let alone fully comprehend..." You whined, feeling the entity's explanations getting to you all the more. Their sly chuckle told you they were totally doing it on purpose. After the cuttlefish felt satisfied with their efforts on your upper half, they slid themselves off of the bed; not before grabbing another pillowcase. They casually walked over and took your ankles, ignoring your kicking and fidgeting, tying them together too. "A-Aahhaha, wahahait..." You giggled nervously. "Ah, yes, this is a particularly sensitive spot of yours, isn't it?" They wriggled their tentacles and fingers in front of your soles, keeping their eyes locked on you to watch your reactions. Their claws began to scritch, pinch and poke the ball of your foot and between your toes, dragging their nails slooowly down your sole. The tentacles on their other hand slithered over every crevice, between each toe, their suckers sticking and unsticking in rapid succession to cause a sort of ticklish ‘vibration. And it all drove you crazy. “ShitshiTSHIT-HAAHAHAHA NOOOHOHOHOO!!” Your body twisted, bucked and flailed on the bed, the entity’s skilled hands causing unbearable ticklish jolts coursing through your feet. “NAAHAHAHAHA!! P-PLEHEHEHEASE~!” Their hands switched places; their tentacles morphed into claws, and their other claws stretched into tentacles, keeping up their cruelly delicate methods for a few more minutes. Only when you were a whining, gasping mess did they relent and pull their hands away, folding them behind their back. They folded their arms behind their back and slowly walked up to the side of the bed to glance down at you. “I wonder...” “W-Wonder what?” You smiled anxiously up at them. “How mean would it be... if I convinced you that you’re even more ticklish?” Their head and face bloomed into rippling waves and patterns again. You gasped. “Ohh no, don’t you dare...” But you already felt it taking effect. From head to toe, your body tingled and erupted in goosebumps. The slightest graze of their claws against your ribs sent an electric ticklish jolt through you. “YYEEHEHEHE NOOOHOHAHAHA!!” You bucked a foot in the air. The cuttlefish chuckled. “The sensitivity of your nerves continues to climb higher and higher... You’re almost more ticklish than what you can bear...” They idly traced their claws in circles around and around your belly and ribs. You yelled. “P-PLEHEHEHEASE!! Thahahahat’s high enohohohough!!” You whined, trying desperately to hide your bright blushing face against your arm. You could feel every brush of fabric from your clothes, you could feel the soft mattress against any bare skin, you continued to be gently, methodically poked and stroked by the entity’s claws. And it tickled like hell. The next few minutes felt twice as long once they went in on you and started swiftly, rapidly tickling over every single weak spot they could find; up and down your torso, squeezing your legs and knees, walking down to slither their tentacles against your soles and toes, and along the sides of your feet. And you could only answer with loud shrieks of laughter, trying desperately to twist your body on the bed - which inadvertently opened up even more ticklish targets on your back. You weren’t unused to having your ticklishness tampered with like this; you knew damn well how the Nightmare could ramp up your sensations to unbearable degrees... And then drive you into utter madness by wreaking havoc with his hands and tendrils. Thankfully - or maybe unfortunately - the cuttlefish was a bit more gentle with their methods, and pulled their hands away again once you were left totally breathless. "You've grown very tired. And quite content. My offer still stands, you know... You can stay here." Once again, their head-stripes began to ripple and flare in a kaleidoscopic pattern, leaning in close to you. “I could tickle and toy with you, day in and day out~ You will not know any fear, or weariness... Only laughter~” The thought send shudders through you. But once again, before you could seriously consider their offer, Ragdoll's vivid orange eyes phased into view from inside the wallpaper above the bed, followed by his smile; a very irritated smile. "We had a deeeaaal," he growled. The manager sighed, rolling their eyes - you had no idea a cephalopod could roll their eyes - and ceased their hypnotic attempts again. "Very well. We will meet in the ballroom, then, as I stated. But it will be your last chance to prove your resolve." They untied you, before turning invisible again. Ragdoll’s gremlin giggling hovered in the air. "Better make a run for it while you can~" You groaned. For once, you didn't want to take off. You’d just managed to get settled in. "Can it be a casual walk instead? I've been running a lot as it is, and this bed is pretty cozy..." In a red flash, Rags pounced out of the wall and landed above you, crouched on all fours. "We're on a tight schedule, remember??" His hand lit up in sparks and he placed his large hand to your belly, giving off a shockwave. "WAAGH-HAHAHA!!" You leapt in place on the bed. "There, that oughta replenish you for a little while~" You realized that it wasn't just ticklish retaliation - your body felt revitalized. Your muscles weren't sore, your eyelids weren't droopy; and your body was no longer sensitive to an unbearable degree. "Heh, thanks. Well on that note..." You tuck-and-rolled off of the bed, quickly ducking out of the doorway. Once Ragman had chased you through a couple more hallways, he stopped, presumably to keep looking around the dimension. You used the chance to walk the halls and more carefully look around for a sign to the Ballroom. Finally, you saw a sign for it just ahead. Stepping inside, your eyes and mouth went wide. It was huge. And... totally empty. But the sounds of Jazz music, laughter and idle chatter lingered in the air; this place seemed to be the source of all the voices from before. After taking a few more steps forward, you began to see flashes and ripples in the air: Visions of people, dressed in Victorian-era clothing; some looked human, some didn’t. All of them were lacking faces. They looked a lot like some of the photos you had found in the guest rooms’ dresser drawers. These visions only lasted for a second or two before they faded out of view again. The manager stood in the middle of the dance floor, arms folded behind their back, patiently watching you approach. “Looks like I made it here,” You grinned smugly at them. “So are you gonna give me a clue or-” They instead took you by the hands, and started to do a waltz with you. They didn’t seem to mind your awkward steps, making sure to keep pace with you. “It’s nice seeing you enjoying yourself here, you know. So many Wanderers pass through here, frightened, starving, injured, trying so hard to escape... But doing so only brings them more strife.” Despite their unchanging gaze, they sounded disheartened. “I wish only to keep people safe. Once they sleep in one of my guest beds, they will leave their physical shells behind. No more hunger, or pain, or weariness.” They gestured to the flickering hologram-like visions of the other guests. “Only peace, and jovial celebration.” So... you were right. It would have been a bad idea to fall asleep. You didn’t really want to argue the morality of the entity’s methods, though. Especially since, all things considered, this very well might have been a better outcome for some poor soul that didn’t have a Nightmare god at their aid. "However,” they spoke up, interrupting your silent contemplation. “If you truly wish to leave, then I will give you a clue... Look for something out-of-place."

You raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, out of place?" "Exactly as I said. Something that does not fit into the hotel's aesthetic. Find it, and you may just escape. It’s not far from here. But find yourself trapped again, and I may just keep you here forever..." They snapped their fingers. Immediately, some of the specters responded to the sound, hovering over to where you stood, enclosing you as they circled around, giggling. “But perhaps I should make you persuade them as well... Give them a reason as to why I should let you leave~” You gave an exasperated sigh. “Oh come on...” The manager was definitely just fucking with you at this point. “HeeeEEYYY EVERYBODY~!” The air was suddenly booming with the sound of the Nightmare’s voice, and the lights turned dim. The flickering specters gasped and ceased their dancing and efforts to keep you boxed in, looking around for the source. Poofing into view on top of one of the tables, Ragdoll struck a pose, having switched out his Bellboy outfit for a very handsome old-timey suit and derby hat. He flashed the “crowd” a charismatic smile, and with a flick of the wrist, a microphone stand appeared in his hand. “Well now, ladies and gents, quite a lively, lovely bunch we’ve got here tonight! But how ‘bout we really get this place bumping??” He tossed away his hat and snapped his fingers; the soft Jazz was replaced by louder, energetic Swing. He hopped off and started to dance around the room, able to take the hands of the ‘invisible’ guests and twirl them around, switching between doing the Rumba and the Foxtrot. It didn’t take long for the guests to get riled up and join the party; despite their lack of faces, their excitement could be heard. The cuttlefish, on the other hand, was very irritated. “Who does your friend think he is, hosting Swing night a week early and stealing the thunder from my Jazz band??” Their face flared with angry orange hues. Better take your chance while you can!! You heard Rags’ voice in your head. You jumped and gasped, and quickly heeded his advice while the entity and their guests were distracted by his antics, slipping past them and sneaking out of the door on the farthest wall. You’d made a fair amount of distance before the sound of Swing music finally faded into the background. It was time to wrap up this Scooby-Doo escapade. You examined everything more intently than ever, trying to find anything that looked out of place.

Then, you spotted it: A large painting out of the corner of your eye, making you stop in your tracks to take a closer look. It was low to the floor and had a black minimalist frame, with a photograph of what appeared to be the inside of a modern warehouse or massive hardware store. You walked up and placed your hand against it... And gasped when it rippled and let your hand slip right in, like the surface of a pond. “Well bravo... You’ve found it.” The cuttlefish phased themselves out of the wall next to the painting, slowly applauding you. “I’ll admit, your determination is commendable. You’re certain you don’t wish to stay here?” They tilted their head. This time, the question felt less demanding, and more... Wistful. You felt a little sorry for them. All of your interactions made you realize that maybe they were just a little lonely. Well-intentioned, with questionable methods. You sighed. “Yes, I’m sure,” you stood firmly in place. “My friend can’t stay here any more than I can. He’s going to disappear if he can’t find a way back to his own world. Well, temporarily, anyways. He always comes back, but he may not be able to find his way back here. It’d break our heart if we couldn’t ever see each other again.” The entity nodded. “Very well, then... As utterly irritating as this friend of yours may be, it brings peace of mind knowing you have an entity like him keeping watch over you.” They chuckled. “Perhaps putting your trust in some monsters isn’t such a bad idea. “And... perhaps I could entertain my other guests with the games we’ve played~” They extended their tentacle-digits to slither up against your ribs one last time, before taking a bow and gesturing to the painting. “After you, then. Please, stay safe.”

You heard the faint echo of Swing music and a guest’s distant “Farewell!” as you stepped into the painting.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter One Chapter Two (current) Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six

Footnotes: "Terror Hotel": https://backrooms.fandom.com/wiki/Level_5 Smilers: http://backrooms-wiki.wikidot.com/entity-3 Jesus, I finally finished this chapter. I’d meant to get it posted before Halloween, but I just got too swamped with work and with con crunch (just got back fromt he con a couple days ago). Also, this chapter was actually going to be combined with the next chapter, but I realized it was getting too long and I was condensing it more than I would’ve liked instead of taking my time to flesh it out.

Even though the entity was only briefly mentioned in the Wiki, I’ve grown more attached to my interpretation of them than I realized I would, oops

#backrooms #backrooms hotel #hypnosis #tickling #tickle fic #monster #monster boy #tickle monster

59 notes · View notes