#witty street name tag

[crisis-on-infinite-batblogs]

DC vs. Vampires #3

"You were supposed to be East of Moldoff Street."

I will always always always be a sucker for naming streets in Gotham City after past artists and writers. It's such a perfect way to memorialize these legendary creators who contributed so many iconic characters and stories that we all know and love.

These are more than just easter eggs. Giordano Avenue and Moldoff Street are just little lines on a fictional map, but these eponymous streets quite literally make up the fabric of Gotham City. They are dedicated in honor, and in loving memory to all the comic book greats who have worked to bring this city to life.

Dick Giordano worked as an editor and inker for many years, eventually serving as the executive editor of DC comics for much of the 1980's. His name appeared on countless titles and his impact on the industry cannot be overstated. Everyone loves Dick Giordano.

A name you might be less familiar with is Sheldon "Shelly" Moldoff. During the Golden Age of comics Moldoff was a prolific cover artists for titles like All-American, Action, and All Star Comics. Beginning in 1940, he became the regular artist for Hawkman and designed the costume for Shiera Sanders aka Hawkgirl.

After being drafted into World War II, Moldoff became an early pioneer in horror comics, but it wasn't until 1953 that he began drawing for Batman and Detective Comics.

When Moldoff finally arrived in Gotham City, he was working as a ghost artist, drawing stories that would be credited to Bob Kane. At the time, DC employed plenty of these artists and it was a very common practice. The only difference with Shelly Moldoff was this: DC had no idea that he was working for them.

For nearly 15 years, Shelly Moldoff drew Batman on the down low, taking money under the table from Bob Kane. In a 1994 interview he had this to say of the experience:

"DC didn't know that I was involved; that was the handshake agreement I had with Bob: 'You do the work. You don't say anything.' No, he didn't pay great, but it was steady work, it was security... which is the compensation I got for being Bob's ghost– for keeping myself anonymous."

With little pay and zero recognition, you might expect an artist to put forth a subpar effort, or at least phone it in on occasion, but that's kind of the opposite of what happened. Shelly Moldoff and an anonymous army of other ghost artists churned out tons of new characters during this period that have stood the test of time: Calendar Man, Bat-Mite, Mr. Freeze, Ace the Bat-Hound!!!

Shelly Moldoff revived the Riddler. Shelly Moldoff gave us Poison Ivy!

During the Great DC Writers Purge of 1968, many veteran writers and artists lost their jobs after demanding fair pay, pensions, and health insurance. Shelly Moldoff was among them. His final ghost-drawn story was published in Batman #199, and it would be 30 years before he worked for DC again. Moldoff passed away in 2012. He was the last surviving contriubtor of Action Comics #1.

I don't even know how to end this. Before today I had never even heard of Sheldon Moldoff. After toiling in obscurity and keeping himself anonymous for so many years, I guess I'm just glad to know that Gotham City remembers him.

[chronic-escapixt]

A Deal with the Devil

witch!Kai x Bennett!reader

content warnings/tags ~ Minors DNI, 18+ ONLY, Dark fiction, smut, dubcon, cnc kidnapping, choking, rough sex, corruption, p in v, forced orgasm, unprotected sex, degradation, Kai is mean af..

word count: 2.4k

summary: you have to make a deal with Kai to save Elena after he kidnaps her

You’re speeding down the street to your old high school, praying that the fire burning in your gut would sustain you when you finally confront Kai Parker. When you overheard Damon and Bonnie discussing Elena’s disappearance in hushed voices, you immediately knew this had Kai’s name written all over it. Though unsure of how kidnapping Elena fit into his master plan, you knew the outcome could be catastrophic if someone didn’t intervene soon and it would be your fault.

While the others waited on Jo to concoct a proper plan, you slipped quietly out the front door. Sneaking around wasn’t your norm, but you couldn’t risk Damon or Bonnie trying to stop you. Your circle of friends couldn’t seem to wrap their heads around your being anything other than Bonnie’s useless little sister, often sheltering you from the dangers of the supernatural world. You knew they meant well but you couldn’t shake the feeling that they underestimated you and the constant need to prove yourself loomed over as you didn’t want to be the weakest link and a burden.

Still, if you had run your “plan” by them, they’d be right in telling you it was a suicide mission. Even as a Bennett witch, you’re no match for Kai, especially after he sucked up all the magic from the boundary spell on the town. His body’s teeming with it all the way down to his fingertips and paired with his moral depravity, he’s scarier than the devil. Even Damon, who was known to act on impulse- especially when it came to Elena- opted to come up with a plan instead.

Your doubt doesn't hit you until you enter the school. The low lights and empty halls, save for a few crumpled papers on the floor, creates an ominous ambience that sets you on edge. You turn your head and jump from every noise or movement you see from the corner of your eye. You’re unsure if he knew you were here and was just toying with you. It was always a game with Kai, like he got some sick amusement from stalking his prey before putting them out of their misery.

So what’s your plan when you did finally find him? Surely he’d torture you right along side Elena if not kill you dead on the spot for wasting his time. He’d already made it abundantly clear that you meant nothing to him- even after all you’d gone through together.

You met him in the 1994 prison world and naively believed every lie he told. You chose to not only help him but befriend him. That quickly turned into something much more- or at least it was for you- falling victim to his witty charm and seductive eyes. Early on, it was long conversations they had you feeling like you’d known him forever soon devolving into him eyefucking you over dinner before placing you on the table and feasting on your gooey center for dessert. He took pleasure in corrupting your innocent mind with his intoxicating advances until you were addicted to him, taking advantage of your fogged up instincts so that you never realized he was just using you.

That is, until you did the spell. When you both crossed the threshold between worlds it was like a switch went off in his head. He changed, becoming cruel and sardonic, no sign of the thoughtful guy you cared for behind those empty eyes. You were just a means to an end who had served her purpose.

Nonetheless you continue on, though warily. Part of you refuses to believe he’s just a heartless sociopath, that maybe there’s a shred of the guy you met weeks ago still inside him that you could reason with.

You hear the rumbling of the vending machine around the corner. Peaking your head out, you see him bending over to lift a can of soda before cracking it open and taking a casual sip like he didn’t have a hostage he was torturing somewhere in the school. You can’t help but notice the way the gray MFHS tee was tight along his back, hugging his biceps as they flexed, each rope along his defined arms you had memorized by touch. He’s already distracting you and he isn’t even trying.

He suddenly glances back and you duck behind the wall, hoping he didn’t see you. Your heart knocks around against your ribs as a fear takes root like the anticipation of certain death mixed with the self consciousness of bumping into an ex. You want to run but you thought of Elena and your guilt turns your stomach sour. You take a sharp breath and turn, stopping abruptly before your nose collides with the middle of his chest.

“Hey, Rosy. This is a surprise..” Kai scrutinizes you under his hardened gaze, openly raking his eyes down your body.

He sips at his drink while you gather at your words, only a timid “hi…” squeaking past your lips.

Kai lowers his soda once he drains it and tosses the husk into the nearby recycling before crossing his arms, head cocked in amusement with a crooked smile playing on his lips. “What are you doing here? No wait- let me guess, you couldn’t get enough of me, huh?”

Your throat goes dry and you shake your head, “NO- no… it’s not like that- I-”

He waves his hand flippantly, “Relax.. I’m just fucking with you, so what can I do you for?”

“I know you have Elena, and I want you to let her go.”

“And why would I do that?” He sneers.

You avert your eyes, shifting your weight between each foot hesitantly. “..because it's the right thing to do…”

Kai pauses before breaking into a brief yet boisterous fit of laughter, clutching his chest while your face burns in humiliation. He continues in a condescending tone, “God, you're cute, but if that’s really all you’ve got, let me give you some advice: go home before things get ugly.” He turns his back to you and starts walking away.

“If you let her go.. you can have me instead!” you blurt out.

Kai stops in his tracks and looks over his shoulder. The glint in his wicked eyes making you swallow the lump growing in your throat. “Let me get this straight, you want to trade places with Elena? But why? You don’t even like her that much… oh-ohhh i get it..” he scoffs.

“What?” you stare back in confusion.

“This is all one big ploy you came up with to get my attention. You really can’t get me out of your system, can you? Not that I blame you..” He’s far too cocky for his own good but your bewildered expression isn’t doing you any favors.

Heat rises to your face as you ignore his comments, “the magic you siphoned will only last so long before you need to replenish and I offer myself as a renewable source.”

He let out a sigh, tapping his chin as if he were really mulling this idea over when in reality, he already made up his mind. In fact, the moment he sensed your presence, he’d decided you weren’t leaving.

“Deal.”

Kai drags you to the cafeteria where you find Elena. Her eyes light up when she sees you, arms tied behind her back with tightly wound vervain ropes.

You watch him, praying he’ll keep up his end of the bargain. He lifts his hand and utters a short spell until the ropes withered away. “You’re free to go. Little Bennett just bailed you out.”

Elena’s speechless, staring between the two of you while all you could offer was a smile that you hope comes off as more reassuring than apologetic. She knew Bonnie would absolutely freak if she left her little sister with the murderous sociopath, but before she can open her mouth to argue, Kai grows impatient and chants the motus incantation while swinging his arm back. Elena’s body is propelled out the doors, leaving the two of you. alone.

He rubs his palms as he returns to you. “There. a deal’s a deal.”

You peer up at him through thick eyelashes, just waiting, unsure what for. Typically when he looked down at you like this, your next move would be to sink to your knees and it seemed that old habits die hard as you struggle to resist the wayward urge.

He raises an eyebrow with a smirk, “aren’t you at least gonna try to run?”

You lift your chin with a defiant air. “I'm not scared of you.”

Kai reaches out and snatches your forearm, siphoning your magic so fast that it burns up through your skin, the pain makes you cry out. You wrench yourself free as he lets go, sending you stumbling slightly before you regain yourself and dart out the room.

Kai calmly begins his pursuit. “Things just got a lot more interesting.”

The classrooms go by in a blur, you're hoping Elena was long gone by this point as you aren’t sure if running away breaks the guidelines of your deal, though you wouldn’t put anything past Kai. Your heart steadies once you dip into the library, hoping to hide within the maze of book shelves. When you hear his low footsteps approaching, your stomach drops. His lackadaisical humming fills the space. This is a game to him. Your breathing slows as you silently plan your next move.

“They always try to hide…” he tsks. “C’mon dollface, I know you're in here…” he taunts. You watch his shadow move closer and slide out from behind the shelf, making a beeline for the fire extinguisher you noticed on the far wall.

Before you make it halfway across the aisle, screens of fire emerging on either side of your body intersect, making you reel back before the scorching flame. You're trapped.

“Okay, enough running. I'm bored now.”

You panic as he blocks the only path out of the circle with his body.

“I just want you to stop hurting my friends and Jo and the twins-“

His hand flies out and closes around your windpipe, trapping your words in your throat and all you can do is claw helplessly at his forearm.

“I’m sorry but you know my family’s a soft spot for me. Perhaps we should talk about us instead.. or better yet, not talk at all..”

Your body goes taut when you feel his hand snake up your thigh, fingers stopping to toy with the waistband of your panties, reveling in how he silently riles you up by snapping it against your skin.

You meet his dark cerulean eyes as he slackens his hold on your neck, allowing you to finally suck in a full breath as he tilts your head back and drags his thumb across your lower lip, he’s so close you can feel the heat of his breath ghosting across your face but you're still too stubborn to give in to the desire to taste him.

“That’s not why I came,” you rasp out, looking away.

You whimper when he closes his palm over your sex. “Sometimes plans change. frankly, I can think of a way better use of your time than trying to appeal to my humanity ‘cause listen baby, it’s never gonna’ happen.”

You don’t even notice the fire go out around you while your body still burns under his touch. He slots your panties aside and strokes your bare slit up to your bud, it’s pulsing and touch-starved. his mouth captures yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue invading every area of your mouth as your arousal pools in his hand.

“I thought you were gonna’ make this difficult for me,” he husks, making you pout, shake your head, wanting to push him away just so he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of making you cum but he plays your body expertly, melting your resolve until you’re sent into a full blown relapse of need. You abandon your pride and pull him closer, carding your fingers through his dark locks.

His feral touch consumes you, the outline of his cock brushes your inner thigh with every impatient rut of his hips. You let out a whine of surprise when he lifts you and pins you back into the nearest shelf. He flips up your skirt and makes quick work of his belt while dropping your panties around your ankles.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips while dragging you down into each thrust, your pussy gushing obscenely while you weep softly into the crook of his neck. Even with your ample arousal, the sting of his intrusion takes a moment to give way to that familiar pressure that makes heat pool in your abdomen as your pussy hungrily swallows each thrust.

The feeling intoxicates you like an electrifying high that was all consuming, overriding any sense of self-preservation. “I love you,” you let slip in a small breathy voice.

He stiffens but doesn’t dare stop. “Shut up,” he grunts while driving his cock so hard the shelf rattles. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

You let out a choked sob, tears spilling down as you anchor yourself to him.

“Shh.. don’t cry.. Look, I’ve been really generous. I didn’t have to let Elena go. I could’ve fucked you right in front of her, let her go back and tell everyone what a slut I made of you.”

He aims deliberately at your g-spot, watching your face for every reaction as he edges you closer to your release.

“Cum on my cock, baby… that’s it.. atta’ girl,” he coaxes you gently, cooing in your ear. You ignite, scratching down his biceps as you let go, tremoring from the inside out in sharp waves until he slows and finally let’s you come down.

Shame instantly fills your veins, becoming deeply aware of your sticky thighs and mascara stained cheeks. But he wasn’t done. He grabs your leg and hikes your knee up to your chest before angling his hips and burying himself deep.

“Fucking hell, Kai! Ah- It’s too much…” you bite out as your puffy overstimulated walls clench down.

He reaches up to choke you, laughs and mocks your pathetic whimpers. “Isn’t this what you wanted, baby... my undivided attention? N-no? You little liar…”

His pelvic bone stims your swollen clit and that was enough to send you into another spiral. His forehead pressed to yours as he moans softly and grows sloppy. Your pulsing walls cause him to twitch inside you with a groan, his cum spilling into you before giving a few light thrusts and pulling out. You feel his spend dribble down your inner thighs, falling in droplets to the carpet.

He kneels down and pulls your panties up over your hips, ruining the garment.

“I sshould go home,” you say when you finally catch your breath.

You wait, but he doesn’t move to let you go. Then his mouth forms a domineering smile that shows each of his sharp teeth.

“No chance dollface. We had a deal.”

[kckt88]

In The Night.

Summary:

Aemond struggles to cope in the aftermath of killing Lucerys and seeks comfort from an unlikely source.

Warnings - Brothel Visit, Guilt, Remorse, Language, Violence, Angst Uncle/Neice Incest, Kissing, Oral Sex, Vaginal/Anal Fingering, P in V, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Positions.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C - JACAELLA VELARYON

Word Count: 6065

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8

Aemond wandered the bustling streets of King's Landing, his mind a tempest of recent events and decisions. The cobblestones under his boots seemed to echo the turmoil within him.

His grandsire Otto Hightower's plot to usurp the throne from Rhaenyra had set everything in motion, pushing Aemond into a whirlwind of political machinations and betrayals.

Otto's insistence on crowning Aegon as King, and the measures taken to ensure their success, had left a bitter taste in Aemond's mouth. He remembered the cold determination in Otto's eyes as he had insisted that his wife, Jacaella, and their son, Rhaegar be locked in their chambers, preventing any chance of escape or interference.

Jacaella's pleas still haunted him. Her voice, filled with desperation and fear, echoed in his mind. “Don't do this, Aemond. Please, I’m begging you-”

But he had steeled his heart then, convinced that the end justified the means, his brother Aegon was Viserys first born son, he was the rightful ruler of the seven kingdoms, not his oldest child and named heir Rhaenyra.

His journey to Storm's End played out in his thoughts like a twisted saga. He had gone there to secure Baratheon's support, promising a marriage pact between one of Lord Borros Baratheon's daughters and his younger brother, Daeron.

But it was his encounter with Lucerys that stood out the most. The memory of their confrontation. The chase through the skies on the backs of their dragons was a blur of adrenaline and fear. And then, the final, horrific moment when Vhagar had torn Lucerys and Arrax to shreds.

The streets of King's Landing blurred around him as Aemond thought of Jacaella, her grief-stricken face burned into his memory, she had wept for hours upon hearing of her brother's death.

Since then, she had withdrawn from him completely, refusing to be near him, to see him, or even to touch him, even in the presence of their son. The distance she placed between them felt like a physical wound, deep and unhealing.

His heart ached with a profound sorrow. He loved Jacaella more than he had ever thought possible, at first, she was the wife he never wanted, but their fates were sealed that night in Driftmark, after he lost his eye, it was his father’s last desperate attempt to bridge the ever expanding chasm that had formed within the family.

He had lost an eye but gained two dragons that night, and he had loathed his father for it, forcing a the twin sister of Jacaerys Velaryon upon him, but when she arrived in Kings Landing at the age of four and ten, he tried his best to avoid being around her, but everywhere he went there she was, he tried to pretend he was unbothered by her amethyst eyes and flowing dark curls but eventually he succumbed.

She wormed her way into his heart and from their first kiss, he was hooked. She was intelligent, witty and a fantastic artist. His chamber walls were quickly decorated with her sketches, and his most treasured possession was the drawing of Vhagar.

Their wedding night would be ingrained within his memory forever, the sounds she had made as she peaked on his tongue, fingers and then his cock were like song notes on the wind. The marks he had left upon her skin were proof of their love.

He insisted on shared chambers, so they could enjoy one another as often as they wished too, which admittedly was every night and sometimes more than once, there were even occasions when he would find her during the day, and they would sneak off with one another.

It was no surprise when it was announced that she was with child, given how often he gave her his seed. The day she birthed his son Rhaegar was one of the proudest moments of his life, his precious boy, his little silver haired dragon.

Gods how he vowed to always make sure that his son knew of his love, and that Rhaegar would always know he was wanted, that his wife would always know of his devotion.

But now his actions had driven a wedge between them. She was angry and frightened of him, and he was desperate to bridge the chasm that had formed.

But how could he? How could he make her understand that everything he did was for their family's future? How could he win back her trust when his hands were stained with her brother's blood?

As he walked, the weight of his choices pressed heavily on him. The people around him went about their lives, unaware of the storm raging within their Prince. The street vendors called out, children laughed and played, and the city thrived. But Aemond felt like an outsider, disconnected from the world around him.

Aemond stood outside the brothel, his heart pounding in his chest. The sounds of the city seemed distant, muffled by the roaring turmoil within him. He didn't mean to be here, didn't want to be here, but he couldn't help himself.

Desperation and confusion had led him to this place, a refuge of sorts where he hoped to find some semblance of solace or escape from his tormented thoughts.

The sign above the door swayed gently in the evening breeze, and the soft, inviting light spilling from within contrasted sharply with the darkness that shrouded his heart. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and pushed open the door.

The noise and spectacle inside assaulted his senses: laughter, music, and the murmur of illicit activities. He ignored it all, his eye scanning the room.

And then he saw her. Sylvi. The older woman Aegon had brought him to see when he was just three and ten. His stomach churned as their eyes met, a mix of shame and a strange, unsettling familiarity washing over him.

Sylvi's gaze held recognition, and a slow smile spread across her lips as she approached him, her movements graceful and predatory.

"How you've grown," she said, her voice a sultry purr.

Aemond lowered his head, unable to meet her eyes. He didn't know what to say, the words sticking in his throat like shards of glass.

He felt like a boy again, lost and uncertain, standing in a place he didn't belong.

Sylvi reached out and took his trembling hand in hers, her touch sending a jolt through him. She led him through the room, past the leering patrons and the spectacle he was trying so hard to ignore.

They ascended a narrow staircase, the noise fading into a dull hum as they reached the upper floors.

She opened the door to a private room and gently guided him inside, shutting the door behind them with a soft click. The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of incense and something else he couldn't quite place.

Aemond stood there, feeling more vulnerable than he had in years.

Sylvi turned to face him, her expression a mixture of curiosity and something deeper, perhaps a flicker of compassion. "Why are you here, my Prince?" she asked softly, stepping closer to him.

He shook his head, his emotions a tangled mess. "I-I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "You're carrying a heavy burden," she observed. "It's written all over you."

Aemond closed his eyes, the weight of her words pressing down on him. "I just-I don't know what to do," he confessed, his voice breaking.

Sylvi's gaze softened, and she took his hands in hers, guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I can offer you something, someone, to help you forget, if only for a moment. Sometimes, that’s all we need."

Aemond hesitated, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. But in his desperation, he nodded silently.

Sylvi gave him a sad smile, squeezing his hands once more before slipping out of the room. He sat there, staring at the flickering candlelight, feeling the oppressive silence close in around him.

Minutes later, the door opened again, and a young blonde woman entered. She moved with a practiced grace, her smile polite and professional. "I'm Copper Penny," she introduced herself, her voice soft and inviting.

Aemond said nothing, his throat tight.

Copper Penny approached him, taking his hand and gently pulling him to his feet. He stood there, watching her silently as she untied his cloak and began to undo the clasps of his leather tunic. Her fingers were deft and quick, but as she worked, he caught sight of her eyes—green and bright. Panic surged through him.

His mind was flooded with images of Jacaella, her amethyst eyes filled with hurt and anger. The memory of her face, her voice, her touch, crashed over him like a tidal wave.

It was wrong, all wrong. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be doing this. He had a wife; they had a son, he couldn’t dishonour them like this.

"N-No," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Copper Penny paused, looking up at him with a mixture of surprise and concern. He could see the questions in her eyes, the silent query of what she had done wrong.

Aemond's panic turned to anger, a desperate, flailing anger born from his own self-loathing.

He pushed Copper Penny away from him, his movements abrupt and forceful. "Leave," he demanded, his voice harsh and unsteady. "Get out!"

Her eyes widened in shock, but she didn't argue. She nodded quickly, gathering her composure before retreating from the room, the door closing softly behind her.

Aemond stood there, his chest heaving, his hands trembling with the intensity of his emotions. The room felt stifling, the walls closing in around him.

The weight of his actions, his decisions, and the consequences they had wrought pressed down on him, threatening to crush him completely.

He thought of Jacaella, of their son, of the life he had shattered with his choices. The woman he loved was pulling away from him, and he was powerless to stop it. The realization cutting deeper than any blade.

Aemond collapsed onto the bed, the softness beneath him barely registering as he fought to contain the flood of emotions.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, the room spinning around him as he struggled to keep his composure.

The sound of the door opening was a distant murmur, but he didn't have the strength to lift his head or see who had entered.

Sylvi's presence beside him was a gentle intrusion into his storm of despair. She sat beside him, her weight sinking into the mattress, and he felt her hand on his shoulder, a warm, comforting touch.

He turned his head, resting it in her lap, his tears soaking into the fabric of her dress. She stroked his long silver hair with slow, soothing motions, her fingers gentle and patient.

"I never meant for any of this to happen," Aemond sobbed, his voice muffled and broken. "I didn't mean to kill him. It was an accident-all I wanted was his eye as payment for the one he took from me”.

Sylvi's hand continued its rhythmic stroking, her silence an invitation for him to unburden himself.

"He never said sorry," Aemond continued, his words pouring out in a torrent of grief and anger. "He was never punished for what he did, and I suffered for years. The pain, the infections, the endless procedures to try and fix the damage. He lived without consequence while I bore the scar. My father choosing her-we meant nothing to him, I was nothing"

His sobs intensified, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. "And Jacaella," he choked out. "My sweet wife, I've broken her heart. She was the one good thing I had in my life, my light in the darkness-and now she's gone. I've driven her away."

Sylvi's touch remained steady, her presence a steady anchor in the maelstrom of his guilt and sorrow. She listened without interruption, allowing him to pour out the anguish that had been festering inside him.

"I don't know how to fix this," Aemond whispered, his voice hoarse and raw. "I don't know how to make her see that I'm still the man she loved that I never wanted to hurt her. I just wanted justice, for what was taken from me."

Sylvi continued to stroke his hair, her silence a balm to his wounded soul.

In her lap, Aemond wept for all that he had lost, the tears cleansing in their own way.

As the minutes passed, the intensity of his sobs gradually subsided, leaving him exhausted and hollow.

"I don't know what to do," he confessed in a whisper, his voice trembling. "I don't know how to make things right."

Aemond's breathing began to steady, the storm of his emotions gradually subsiding. But as the silence stretched, a new feeling took hold—a creeping, insidious fear.

His confession, the vulnerability he had shown, it was dangerous. If anyone knew, if word got out, it could unravel everything.

Panic seized him. He bolted upright, gripping Sylvi's arms with a strength that belied his earlier exhaustion. His eye, wild and desperate, bored into hers. "No one can know," he hissed, his voice low and trembling with intensity. "You are never to repeat what I just told you-If you do, I will feed you to Vhagar."

Sylvi's eyes widened, but she nodded quietly, understanding the gravity of his threat.

She had seen many men in states of distress, but the ferocity in Aemond's gaze was something else entirely. "I won't tell anyone," she promised, her voice steady despite the fear creeping into her heart.

Aemond's grip loosened, and he exhaled shakily, his panic slowly ebbing away. He reached into his belt pouch, retrieving a hefty purse of gold coins, and handed it to her.

Without another word, Aemond picked up his discarded leather tunic and cloak, his movements sharp and hurried. He threw them over his shoulder, his eyes avoiding hers as he made his way to the door. He paused briefly, his hand on the doorframe, as if weighing his next words.

But none came. Instead, he pushed the door open and left the room, the echo of his footsteps fading down the corridor.

Sylvi remained where she was, the purse of gold heavy in her hands. She watched the door close behind him, her mind a swirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions.

She knew better than to betray the secrets of powerful men, especially one as volatile as Aemond Targaryen.

Aemond walked through the halls of the Red Keep, his mind still reeling from the night's events. He moved quickly, his steps echoing in the empty corridors, until he reached his chambers.

Pushing open the door, he was surprised to find Jacaella there.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" she spat, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.

Aemond stiffened, confusion and defensiveness flashing across his face. "What do you mean?"

"I know where you've been," she snapped, her eyes blazing with anger. "You've been on the Street of Silk. To a brothel."

Aemond's heart sank. He opened his mouth to respond, but Jacaella's words came in a torrent, cutting him off.

"Wasn't stealing my mother's throne and killing my brother enough for you? Now you have to sully our marriage by laying with whores?" Her voice rose, trembling with emotion. "You have made a mockery of me, of us. You have dishonoured me."

Aemond's face twisted with a mixture of guilt and anger. "Is it any wonder I found myself seeking comfort elsewhere when my own wife will not even look at me?" he retorted, his voice sharp.

The slap came swiftly and without warning. Jacaella's palm struck his cheek with a resounding crack, the force of it snapping his head to the side.

He stared at her, stunned, as she continued to rage, lurching forward pounding her fists against his chest.

"KINSLAYER” she screamed. "I hate you-I hate you-I hate you!"

Aemond stood there, enduring her blows, the words cutting deeper than any physical pain. Each accusation, each strike, drove home the depth of her betrayal and heartbreak.

"I didn't touch another woman," he began, his voice raw with emotion. "I almost did, but I couldn't-"

Jacaella paused, but he could see the slight tremor in her shoulders.

"I just felt so lonely," Aemond continued, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I know you hate me for what I've done, and I hate myself too. Every day, I live with the regret, the guilt-I know I destroyed what we had. But you mean everything to me, Jacaella."

“Aemond-”

"I hurt you so badly. I took away your brother, your trust, your peace. And I can't forgive myself for that." whispered Aemond as he took another step closer, reaching out to her.

Jacaella turned slowly to face him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Aemond felt a lump in his throat, his own tears threatening to spill over. He took her face gently in his hands, his touch trembling.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Tears streamed down his face as he repeated the words over and over, his thumbs brushing away the tears that fell from Jacaella's eyes.

He sobbed openly, the weight of his remorse and sorrow overwhelming him. "I don't want to lose you. I never wanted to hurt you."

Jacaella stood there, her heart pounding, torn between the remnants of her anger and the glimmer of hope Aemond's words had kindled.

The pain was still raw, the betrayal fresh, but his anguish and sincerity had touched something deep within her. Without warning, she lunged forward, closing the distance between them, and kissed him.

For a moment, Aemond was stunned, his mind struggling to process the sudden, intense contact. This was the most she had touched him in what felt like an eternity.

Her lips were urgent, demanding, and filled with a mix of pain and longing. He hesitated only for a heartbeat before his instincts took over, and he kissed her back, his arms wrapping around her body and pulling her close.

The kiss was a tumultuous blend of emotions—grief, anger, love, and desperation. Aemond held her tightly, afraid to let go, afraid that this moment would slip away like so many others.

He could feel the tremble in her body, the soft hitch of her breath as their kiss deepened. His hands roamed her back, clutching at her as if she were a lifeline.

Jacaella's fingers tangled in his long hair, pulling him even closer, her tears mingling with his. The kiss was a catharsis, a way to pour out all the emotions that words could never fully express.

Aemond's mind swirled with the intensity of it, the world outside their embrace fading into insignificance.

Aemond looked into Jacaella's eyes, the intensity of their shared moment still coursing through him.

He could feel the fragile connection they had just begun to rebuild, and he didn't want to let it slip away. With a deep, shuddering breath, he whispered, "Please, Jacaella-let me take you to bed."

Jacaella looked up at him, her eyes searching his. She could see the raw need in his gaze, the sincere plea for a chance to show her how much she meant to him. Her own heart ached with the desire to find solace in his arms, to escape the pain that had haunted them both.

"Yes," she breathed, her voice breaking. "Please, Aemond, make me forget. Let me feel your love for me."

Aemond's heart soared with a mixture of relief and yearning. He gently cupped her face in his hands, pressing a tender kiss to her lips before leading her to their bed.

Aemond hooked his arms around her thighs, quickly pulling her to the edge of the bed.

Jacaella watched as Aemond opened his mouth spat on her cunny.

His singular eye quickly looking at her before he lowered his head and pressed into her core with his tongue.

Jacaella clutched the bedspread above her head, her fingers digging into the fabric.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core, licking at her pearl with his tongue. He was hard, fast and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunt.

Jacaella ground down on Aemond, hard; his tongue speared deeper inside her, and she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

“That’s it come for me baby-” urged Aemond, his fingers reaching forward to caress her pearl.

“AEMOND” screamed Jacaella arching off the bed as she peaked.

“Hmm” muttered Aemond as he pressed a series of kisses to her inner thighs, his teeth nipping at her skin.

“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you” begged Jacaella.

Aemond rose from the floor, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth savouring the delicious taste of his wife.

Aemond moved up Jacaella’s body pausing to grasp hold of her left breast as he ran his tongue over the rosy nipple, his teeth grazing the stiffened peak.

“Oh-yes“ gasped Jacaella, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

“Issa jorrāelagon-Issa glaeson-ñuhon” growled Aemond as he seized his wife’s lips in a ferocious kiss, his hard cock throbbing against her thigh (My love-my life-mine).

Aemond wrapped a hand around his cock and slowly ran it over Jacaella’s wet entrance, she began squirming impatiently against him as he continued to tease her.

Gods he was so desperate for her, his wife. His treasure.

“P-Please, I want you” exclaimed Jacaella desperately.

“Hmm” rasped Aemond as he slid inside her with a singular thrust. His hips coming to a stop against hers.

Aemond started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of his wife squeezing his cock.

"Faster, Aemond" begged Jacaella.

"Patience, issa dōna" chided Aemond as he ran his nose up his wife’s neck (My sweet).

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Jacaella.

Her hands ran over his arms, over his shoulders. Her fingernails raking down his back.

“Fucking mark me harder-“ growled Aemond.

Jacaella dug her nails into his skin and clawed at his back deep enough to draw blood.

 “Gods, Ella" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly, revelling in the pain.

"Fuck me, Aemond. Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me”.

Aemond groaned loudly, knew exactly what his wife was doing, but he couldn’t help himself. She wanted faster, he was going much faster now.

His pace had increased with every filthy word that dropped from his wife’s luscious lips. Now he was quickly thrusting in and out, shaking the bed, the headboard banging loudly against the wall.

Aemond lifted Jacaella’s legs onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock into her soaking wet cunny.

His wife folded her arms above her head as she moved her hips, meeting Aemond thrust for thrust.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Jacaella.

“That’s it baby-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

Aemond could feel the tension  building in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.

Not even waiting for her orgasm to fully subside, Aemond moved Jacaella’s legs off his shoulders and quickly manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his large hands kneading the soft pale flesh.

“P-Please Aemond” whispered Jacaella, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.

Aemond stuck his finger in his mouth before he ran it over her puckered hole.

“Is this alight?” breathed Aemond.

“Y-Yes. Put it inside me. I can take it” whimpered Jacaella.

“Tell me-Tell me if it’s too much” replied Aemond as he slowly pressed his finger inside her.

“Ooh Aemond, yes. Please. More” babbled Jacaella as he moved his finger in and out before adding a second.

“Your doing so well-my darling” moaned Aemond as he moved his fingers inside his wife, his other hand slowly stroking his cock.

“I want you-please Aemond”

Aemond moved into position and sheathed himself inside Jacaella once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

“FUCK-” groaned Aemond,

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Jacaella, his fingers in her arse and his cock deep in her cunt was so good.

Aemond began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts, his fingers moving in rhythm with his cock.

“Harder-more-please raqiarzy” wailed Jacaella (Beloved).

“Issa vaogenka hāedar” growled Aemond, his fingers moving faster (My dirty girl).

“Valzȳrys-” whimpered Jacaella (Husband).

“That’s it-take it-take all of me” muttered Aemond as he removed his fingers, and grabbed hold of Jacaella’s hips and increased the pace of his thrusts.

Jacaella took one of Aemonds hands that was on her hip and brought it to the back of her head.

Knowing what his wife wanted, Aemond placed his hand on the back of her head and pushed her face into the mattress, her back arching.

His cock reaching deep inside her as he moved with such ferocity it could rival an animal, his long silver hair unbound and sticking to his sweaty back.

Aemond then grasped both of Jacaella’s arms and held them behind her back as he pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed around the room.

Her screams of pleasure muffled by the mattress.

 “Fuck. Ella-that’s it” moaned Aemond.

He released Jacaella’s arms and then took hold of her long hair, twisting his fingers into the dark messy braid before he pulled her backwards, her sweaty back colliding with his chest.

Aemond held his wife tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

One hand grasped her hip, his blunt fingers digging into her flesh. Whilst his other released her hair and moved to her throat, squeezing gently.

“Give it to me please” pleaded Jacaella her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside Jacaella.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from his wife’s wet heat and propped himself up against the headboard.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Jacaella breathlessly.

 “Ride me-” replied Aemond as he pulled her on top of him. His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

 “Ooooh” gasped Jacaella as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on her hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Jacaella dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Jacaella as he suddenly sat up, moving his hand to her breast again and taking her nipple into his mouth, his teeth biting down on the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

“AEMOND” screamed Jacaella her vision going white as she came around his cock.

 Her husband pulled her too him and then rolled her back onto the bed his cock never leaving her warmth as he pounded into her, her legs wrapped around his waist, trapping his body against hers as he chased his own end.

“Gods Ella-my Ella” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed, collapsing on top of his wife, breathing hard.

It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses.

Meanwhile his wife was laid underneath him completely blissed out. Her heart pounding in her chest.

“I love you ābrazȳrys-never forget that” (Wife).

Afterwards, as they lay together in the quiet of their chambers, the air heavy with the aftermath of their shared intimacy.

Aemond held Jacaella close, his arms wrapped around her as if he could protect her from the world outside.

"What are we going to do now?" Jacaella whispered, her voice trembling with fear and uncertainty. "I'm scared, Aemond. Scared of the war that's coming, of the losses we will no doubt endure."

Aemond pressed a kiss to her forehead, his heart aching with the weight of her words. He held her tighter, as if trying to shield her from the harsh realities they faced.

"We will leave," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "We will take Rhaegar, and we will fly across the Narrow Sea. Far away from this war."

Jacaella lifted her head to look at him, her eyes searching his face for any hint of doubt or hesitation. "But your duty-”she began, her voice faltering.

Aemond shook his head, his gaze unwavering. "I made a mistake before," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "I put my duty ahead of what was truly important— you and Rhaegar. But not anymore. You are all that matters to me, Jacaella. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

Tears welled up in Jacaella's eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of his love and his determination to protect their family. She buried her face in his chest, clinging to him as if he were her anchor in a storm-tossed sea.

"Can we truly leave everything behind?" she asked softly, her voice muffled against his chest.

Aemond held her close, his fingers gently stroking her hair. "We can," he reassured her, his voice filled with quiet conviction. "We will find a place where we can start anew, away from the shadows of our past. I promise you”

"What will our absence mean for the war?" she asked quietly, her voice tinged with concern.

Aemond sighed heavily, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him once more. He held Jacaella closer, as if drawing strength from her presence.

"The only thing keeping Rhaenyra and Daemon at bay is you and Vhagar," he admitted, his voice low and resigned. "Once we are no longer here, they will likely seize their chance to take King's Landing."

Jacaella's eyes widened with realization, the gravity of their departure sinking in. "And what about your mother, Aegon, Helaena, and their children?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond hesitated, his jaw tightening with a mixture of hope and fear. "With any luck," he murmured, "Your mother will be merciful and spare them-”

He brushed a strand of hair away from Jacaella's face, his touch gentle despite the turmoil within him. "But those who committed treason, my grandsire, Tyland, Jasper, Larys-" he continued, his voice hardening slightly, "They will not be spared. I know that-”

Jacaella's voice quivered as she voiced her deepest fear. "What if my mother seizes the throne and sends people after us demanding your head in retribution for what happened with Luke?"

Aemond's heart sank at the thought, but he met her gaze with unwavering determination. "If it comes to that, if giving my life ensures your safety and Rhaegar's future, then I will gladly meet the Stranger," he replied solemnly. "I have made many mistakes, but I will not shy away from the consequences."

Tears welled in Jacaella's eyes as she shook her head, her hands clutching at his shoulders. "No, Aemond," she pleaded, her voice breaking with emotion. "I won't allow your death. Leaving isn't just about keeping me and Rhaegar safe. It's about protecting you too."

Aemond's brow furrowed with concern. "Jacaella, if it means sparing you and our son from harm—"

"No," she interrupted firmly, her voice trembling with resolve. "I cannot lose you. Not like this."

They held each other tightly, the weight of their conversation hanging heavy between them. Aemond's heart ached with the knowledge of the pain he had caused her, the wounds he had inflicted upon their family. He buried his face in her hair, his voice muffled but earnest. "I am so sorry, Jacaella. For everything."

She held him close, her fingers running through his hair as she struggled to find the right words. "I know," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "And maybe, in time, I will forgive you for what happened. But I will never forget."

Aemond nodded, his throat tight with unshed tears. He kissed her forehead gently, a silent promise to do everything in his power to make amends. "I will spend the rest of my life trying to make things right," he vowed quietly. "For you, for Rhaegar, for our family."

Aemond stood at the edge of King's Landing with Jacaella and Rhaegar beside him, Vhagar and Cannibal looming large behind them. His gaze swept over the city one last time, a mixture of nostalgia and resolve tightening his jaw.

He slowly lifted Rhaegar into his arms, the weight of his son grounding him amidst the tumultuous emotion swirling within him.

Rhaegar looked up at him with wide eyes, sensing the gravity of their departure. Aemond kissed his forehead gently before ascending the rope ladder attached to Vhagar's saddle.

As he settled into the saddle, securing the riding chains around himself and Rhaegar, Aemond glanced over at Jacaella. She was already mounted on Cannibal, her posture proud yet tinged with sadness. For a fleeting moment, a pang of regret over leaving their home behind tugged at Aemond's heart. But he pushed it aside with conviction.

This was the right thing to do. For Jacaella, for Rhaegar, for their family's safety and future.

He met Jacaella's gaze across the space between their dragons, offering her a reassuring nod. She returned it with a determined look of her own, her resolve mirroring his.

Together, they were embarking on a journey into the unknown, but they were united in purpose.

Aemond took a deep breath, his hands steady on the reins of Vhagar. With a spoken command, the great dragon spread her wings, lifting them into the sky, with Cannibal following suit, their powerful wings beating rhythmically against the air.

As Vhagar soared through the skies away from King's Landing, Aemond felt the wind rush past him, carrying with it a sense of both relief and uncertainty.

Then, amidst the sound of the wind and the beating of dragon wings, another roar echoed through the air—a familiar, unexpected sound. Aemond's eye widened in surprise as he turned to see Dreamfyre approaching, her majestic form cutting through the clouds.

Strapped into Dreamfyre's saddle was his sister Helaena, and in front of her, squashed together but laughing, were her three children.

"Helaena-what?" Aemond called out, a mixture of shock and concern in his voice.

Helaena looked over at him with a serene smile, her eyes reflecting a newfound sense of freedom. "Jacaella" she replied simply, her voice carrying over the rush of the wind.

Aemond's heart swelled with gratitude and admiration for his wife. In that moment, he realized that Jacaella had not only secured their own escape but had also ensured Helaena's happiness and the safety of her children.

Aside from Jacaella and Rhaegar, Helaena and her little ones were the only other truly innocent souls in their Targaryen family.

A sense of peace settled over Aemond as he looked at Helaena and her children, their laughter ringing out in the sky. He had always felt a protective instinct towards his sweet sister, knowing the hardships she had endured within the confines of the Red Keep.

Now, she was finally free to live a life away from the politics and dangers that had plagued their family.

With a nod of gratitude towards Jacaella, Aemond turned his focus back to the horizon ahead. They were embarking on a journey into the unknown, but they were united, bound by love and a shared desire for a new beginning.

As the dragons continued to carry them away from the troubles of Westeros, Aemond felt a glimmer of hope that they might find a place where they could all truly belong, where their dragons could roam freely and their family could finally thrive in peace.

The End.

[whatwouldsylwrite]

At least I got you in my head (prologue)

Summary: Abby is straight. And then you move in with her.

Tags: modern au, fem!reader, straight!abby (she is doing some comphet bullshit), pining, idiot in love and it's abby, reader is gay and tired.

A/N: The title is from Sleepover by Hayley Kiyoko, because my motto is if I had to suffer Abby has to suffer too. I also have literally no idea where this is going, but the idea got stuck and I needed to write something. 🙃

Jessica here is Jessica from Jessica Jones. (actually all characters here are fictional women I have a crush on, no name is random)

"Listen, I have a friend, she is looking for a roommate right now." Nora said as she drank her sweet coffee you really wanted to steal after she listened to your complaining. "It's super close to the campus."

"I've seen a porn starting exactly like this."

"I wouldn't call Sherlock Holmes porn." Nora shot back and you rolled your eyes. "Do you want her number or not?"

"Is she, you know?.."

"Painfully straight. Don't worry, you won't end up looking for a place because you decided to date your roommate."

"Okay, yeah, give me her number." 

Okay, Jessica wasn't.. that bad. It was cute in the beginning, you two hit it off immediately, her sarcasm bounced off your wittiness perfectly. You liked how cool and un-fucking-bothered she was, she liked you because you were a little shit. You two had so much tension it was bound to explode one day, and it did: you got drunk at home, played some have i never and then fucked for two days straight. Jess was cool, and Jess really didn't like to give any kind of clarity on where you stood even when you asked her to her face. She'd just say she liked you and that was it, and even though it really pissed you off, you didn't press further - Jess was cool, but she wasn't sweet enough to fall in love with. It was getting annoying as she grew more territorial about you, always putting her arms around you in public, which was cute until she started asking about Nora and getting angry when you were with her. 

That was when you decided to tap out and move out - the red flag was fucking screaming in your face. You quickly informed Jessica about it, to which she just flipped you, and you left, not dealing with her shit. And now you were homeless, and the term was starting and you really didn't want any drama. 

So a painfully straight girl would be fucking perfect for a roommate.

to: potential roommate

Hi! I'm (y/n), Nora gave me your number

She said you're looking for a roommate?

from: potential roommate

Hi! I am

Do you smoke?

to: potential roommate

No

from: potential roommate

That's the address

If you can, come tomorrow after six

to: potential roommate

Ok

The place was actually close to the campus and not "beautiful place to have peaceful study sessions. 20 minutes by public transport". You weren't sure if you'd be able to afford it, but it was worth a try anyway, you were tired of sleeping on your friends' couches. The apartment building was on a quiet street, but you knew that this street had a bunch of bars where students spent their time.

It was another win, and it made you want to afford this place even more. You reread the message and got up to apartment 42. 

You rang the bell and waited for the girl to open the door. 

And then she did.

And then you died. 

Tall, muscular, shoulders and arms so defined you felt your mouth going slack. She had freckles on her face, pretty blue eyes with long lashes, stubborn mouth and a long braid. 

Oh no fucking way this absolute lesbian wet dream was straight. Nora set you the fuck up here, you were sure of it. 

"Hi, I'm Abby. You're (y/n)?" She said in a nice melodic voice that had just an edge of something dark and warm, and you woke up.

"Yeah." You squealed, still so shocked and so attracted to her it was getting painful. 

She was painfully straight? Well, you were painfully gay for her right now. 

"Cool, come in."

Oh god. 

Oh god.

She had the ass. Oh what a good day to be a lesbian, you thought, but you politely looked away, feeling like a creep for staring at her. 

It gave you time to look around: the place wasn't too big, but it was cosy and clean, clearly looked after. That was a good sign - Jess was tidy, but she smoked and the whole place just stank of it, her cigarette buds were everywhere. Abby seemed sporty, probably obsessed with her food, but you didn't mind. 

"Do you play sports?"

"MMA." 

Oh for fuck's sake, you groaned inside. How could she be so stereotypically gay and be straight? Well, of course she could, looks and hobbies weren't indicators of someone's sexuality, but it was pretty fucking ironic to you. 

The kitchen was small and tidy, everything in its place and a cute towel hanging from the oven handle. It gave you a 1950s housewife vibe, but it was cute. The living room was more chaotic, pillows and blankets everywhere: on the couch, on the floor, behind the couch (???), big tv and playstation next to the wall with a bunch of games next to them. Likes games, you noted, really feeling like a Sherlock Holmes and laughing at yourself for comparing your basic observation to the fictional genius. 

"Sorry, I didn't have time to figure out this mess." Abby said and rubbed her neck and you had to clench your fists to stop feeling so attracted to her. 

"It's cosy, not a mess." You chuckled. "My previous roommate left bottles instead of pillows."

"God." Abby scrunched her nose in disgust. "Okay, so there's two bedrooms, one is mine and the other one can be yours and if you promise to pay rent on time and not leave your laundry in the washing machine."

"Yeah, that won't be a problem.” You hesitated before speaking up, but you needed her to know you weren’t straight. “I'm a lesbian, by the way. Just in case you have a problem with it."  

"Oh, I don't, it's totally cool." Abby smiled and you smiled back, relieved. Sometimes straight girls got wrong ideas and you wanted to get it out of the way now. You could deal with how attractive Abby was, but could she deal with you finding her attractive - that was a different question. 

You talked about the price for the place, which wasn't too high, but you might want to find more students to tutor if you wanted to not worry about splitting your budget too much. 

You left Abby’s place feeling relieved - you got a place to live in a good location and a roommate who, yeah, was super attractive, but she was straight, and that meant no relationship drama. 

Fuck you, Jess - you thought as you made your way to Cait’s place - I won’t fall for the girl this time.

[daisyblog]

Back To You

When We Were Young Masterlist Summary: YN and Louis admit they want each other back.

Since their reconciliation a few months ago, Louis and YN had become practically attached to the hip. When they weren't together, grabbing a cuppa at the coffee shop or walking the streets of London together, they were texting, calling, or facetiming each other.

YN wasn't sure if this was just them being friends or if it would turn into something more, but she was happy again. It was easier to get up in the morning, she found herself smiling a lot more and she would find herself checking to see if that one name would appear when she checked her phone. Who are you, a teenage girl? She thought to herself but still continued with the behaviour.

She was currently at his home, sitting opposite him and she blushed as she caught herself admiring him from afar. Something she had found herself doing a lot of lately, she'd noticed how he changed from that teenage boy she met years ago, to a man with stubble, but was still that funny, witty and beautiful boy she fell in love with.

YN had been thinking about it for a while, she'd even written a song about it, but it never seemed like the right time. She wanted to give her and Louis another try, but the fear of rejection scared her so she pushed the idea to the back of her mind.

Louis coughed into his hand, breaking her from her thoughts "I..uh..I've written a song"

"Can I hear it or-"

Louis nodded, but he was nervous, YN could tell by the way his body and shoulders were stiff.

I know my friends they give me bad advice Like move on, get you out my mind But don't you think I haven't even tried? You got me cornered and my hands are tied

You got me so addicted to the drama I tell myself I'm done with wicked games But then I get so numb with all the laughter That I forget about the pain

Whoa, you stress me out, you kill me You drag me down, you fuck me up We're on the ground, we're screaming I don't know how to make it stop I love it, I hate it, and I can't take it But I keep on coming back to you 

YN didn't want to make an assumption that he was referring to her in the song but was this him saying he felt the same as her. When did this become so complicated?

"Uh..I..um" YN was taken back slightly, not expecting the lyrics to be so open and direct "That was amazing Lou..I really think you've got something there..I think it could even be made into a pop beat..if you-"

Louis chuckling interrupted her rambling "You've always rambled when you're nervous"

"It's funny how you still know me so well"

Louis hesitated slightly, not wanting to move too fast but he'd waited two years for this moment and he wasn't going to waste it "I want you back"

Louis didn't know what he expected her to do at his words, but roar with laughter was not it "W-why are you fookin' laughing..I'm being serious darlin'"

"You're not the only one who's written a song" YN began to explain "It's like you already knew the title of it"

"You can't tease me like..c'mon show me your magic" Louis moved closer to her side.

Why do I only remember the good? I tell myself we were just misunderstood When you never did a thing you know you should If I could just kiss you, I know that I would

I'll say it Yeah, I want you, I want you, I want you back Like, baby How can you be the worst and the best l've had? I need it I could tell you a lie, so I don't seem sad But it drives me mad 'Cause I want you, I want you, I want you back

YN didn't have a chance to sing any more of the song before fingers on the back of her neck pulled her forward and her lips met Louis's, his stubble tickling her lip. Two years of missing his touch, two years of wanting his love, two years and she was home.

Tag List: (let me know if you would like to be added) @peterholland04 @werewolfbansheelove

[loki-is-my-kink-awakening]

WIP Wednesday

Brad x Pres Loki. Brad is playing with fire. Minor swearing.

“Look, you wanna get out of here, yeah? I could arrange that. Just let me go and I’ll call my guys, they can get you back onto your timeline, away from this shithole.” “Ah, ah, ah; this place is my domain,” Loki said, hand suddenly gripping tight onto Brad’s jaw and giving a warning squeeze. “You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.” “Is that a pro-mise?” Brad choked out each syllable, and Loki squeezed a little harder, those eyes hardening further somehow, and then he laughed, letting go and stepping back. “Maybe you’ll find out.” He walked over to the bed at the far end of the narrow space and knelt down on the floor. “Praying to someone? Maybe for your dad or brother to come and save you?” Brad knew he was playing with fire but he didn’t care. There was something about Loki in any of his variations that rubbed him up the wrong way. Those know-it-all looks and that rod stuck up his ass. He wanted to be treated with respect but that was a two-way street. This fiend could torture him, he’d been through that before with the other Loki. He’d never felt truly threatened by him. Mobius wouldn’t have been so stupid to have let his pet variant get away with murdering a fellow hunter. The old man might have a weak heart and want to fix things, fool that he was, but he wouldn’t have stood by giving weak knocks at the door. This Loki was probably the same. Still, when Loki pulled open a drawer and took out a hefty black box and dumped it on the bed, making the mattress bounce down and up for a second, a little part of Brad was willing to admit he might be wrong in this situation.

Part 1: Brad arrives in the Void

Part 2: Brad being mouthy

Tags below the cut

Tagged by @elodiah @kcscribbler @thosegayoldmen @insert-witty-user-name-here 💚💚💚💚

Passing the tag onto @cha-melodius @starport-seven-five @dewdropreader @lgwilt @dreamycloud

@mirilyawrites @chaos-monkeyy @lokimobius @mystic-voyager

@impulsemuppet @peppermintkamz @in-my-loki-feels @stillwanderingflame @kusakichan15

@boredintjqueen @silentxsymphony @rin-love-is-green @doomed-spectacles @devilbearingtrouble

@andthekitchensinkao3 @loki-tree-of-life @sparrow-the-tired-lesbian @starrose17 @blackbirdofasgard

@illiasha @primewritessmut @ceeceetv @voulezvulcan @lettingtimepass

@typewriterwolf @fibvlaa @lumintsu @raynecreates @wolfpup026

@mobius-m-mobius @asoeiki @natendo-art

[asherloki]

My tiny

Sherlock x petite!reader

Request:- Hello! Fellow writer here :) 8 and 9 on the smutty one liners for sherlock x reader? Maybe he was thinking about her in his head (mind palace, whatever lol) and he called her to baker street and deducted she wanted him back? :) take this as far as you want or don't do it at all. Nothing but love <3 ~ @run-clever-boy

Smut

Word count:- 4144

A/n:- I'm not good at smut, I hope you still like it.

Prompt lists!

I walked upstairs almost as fast as I can and stood infront of Sherlock's door. As I came home after office I recieved a text from him "come at once, case ... Mostly - SH". Sherlock Holmes is the one who discovered my talent which I never knew I had. Solving mysteries. I was never into detective fiction either, until one day I met him he immediately asked me a few questions. He says he deduced I have an analytical brain, a brain to form thousands of theories, imageries which often are the reason for my distress, so he wanted to use my brain for something good. I started to tag along with him and John Watson. He took me to the cases which weren't dangerous for a woman. To him I'm rather a tiny woman, he even calls me tiny sometimes, which I first showed irritation to, but in my heart I know how much I like when he calls me that. So, the cases which are dangerous for a tiny woman like me he makes sure I solve, or help in solving them from their flat. As much as possible. He even let me talk to clients. I don't know what is the name of this relationship of ours, is he a guide, shaping me into a better person or ... I don't know but I actually like the fact that he doesn't care about women. Except for some, Molly Hooper his friend, Mrs Hudson his landlady, eurus his sister but it's complicated, and there's been someone else who intrigued this poor detective with her wit. He talks rather highly of Miss Irene Adler. His respect towards her makes me like her too, even though she's a criminal. Also that compliment, well I hope he meant it as a compliment when he said, "you're witty, like the woman". He likes my wit, intellectual debate. He sometimes brings up such topics of which I can speak of passionately, passion, he likes it. He also -

"Why didn't you knock?" The detective came opening the door, reminding me I've been standing there like a fool without knocking.

"Oh ... Sorry, I just-" I ran out of excuses, "let me in detective" I entered, his tall body couldn't stop my 5ft tall one to pass through the door.

"Welcome I guess" he said closing the door, "well it's my chair" he pointed towards his chair which I occupied.

"So? There's still alot of space there" apparently Sherlock himself is a lean man and I am petite as well, "anyway you said there's a case for me".

"Oh yes wait" he nodded and recalled about it, he went straight to his mantle piece and pulled out a letter which he handed me saying "here".

"From Mr Laurent" I read, "isn't he a detective too?"

Sherlock nodded in response.

"To miss... Wait it's for me?" I was stunned, a detective needed help but from me and not from.., "I don't understand".

"Seems like Mr Laurent has a crush on you" he said anything, I rolled my eyes and opened the letter,

"Let's read it" I said and read the letter contained the case Mr Laurent needed my help with, an old man was murdered in Venice, his four sons and their wives were in the house with three strangers, he's known for his reckless lifestyle when he was young, Mr Laurent also sent me a ticket to Venice. I read the whole thing out loud and Mr Holmes, my friend, I hope I can call him so, listened attentively, "he needs my help? But it's rather clear, who did it."

"Who did it?" No comment was made on his part to the request of help instead he asked about my theory for the case.

"Isn't it obvious, three strangers at his house exactly at the time of his murder? I mean, look he was known for his reckless lifestyle when he was young, which I'd like to believe involved women, who knows, how many enemies he harboured for himself and who knows how many illegitimate children, atleast one wouldn't surprise me, we need to check on the strangers, if the family members were to do it they would've done it anyday, won't even make a fuss about it, even though it's possible they chose this time to put the blame on the strangers but I believe the wealth of this old man would go to them anyway, they're the legal family but these strangers." I looked at Sherlock, he stood at where he was, staring at me, I know these eyes, he only stares like that when I'm making a point, a theory, a solution to the mystery, "we can check on these strangers I guess ".

He came closer to me, slowly, I didn't know why but the air was... Sultry, I didn't feel such things for him, never ever, he's not really... My type.

"Yeah" he said clearing his throat "are you going then?"

I shook my head "no, I don't know this person " I stood up, "I can't spent time with someone I barely know."

"I'd suggest the same" he said taking that ticket away from me, "he just wants to get into your..." He stopped.

"Into my?" I asked..

"Nothing " he said and put that letter away.

"Into my bed, I know" I answered making him chock, "was it vulgar?"

He glanced at me, it's not that vulgar, I said many vulgar things intellectually that just made everything less awkward for John, Sherlock and I never had an awkward moment, we have same vibe, same mentality, same everything.

"No it wasn't " he said coming closer, it's bizarre, he's like everyday, clad in his black trousers, white shirt, his same dressing gown, something hot surrounded us. I've barely felt any such tension after my fling with Thomas ended. It was all about Sex and Sherlock hated it, he never objected but he hated how we just banged wherever we got the chance, we didn't spare his bathroom. He doesn't know about it.

"What's in the corner of your lips?" He asked touching the corner of my lips, almost, I didn't move, consenting him silently to touch them.

"What's there?" I enquired, to my own surprise my voice came out as a sultry whisper, never happened with him.

"May I check?"

I nodded and I wasn't aware of what I was going to experience. His lips touched mine, the first time ever, we kissed? I couldn't believe my own senses we actually kissed.

He pulled away, smirking as he replied, "there was nothing".

Can you believe it?

"Very funny" I replied sultrily and walked towards the kitchen, "what was that supposed to mean ? Jealousy?"

He furrowed his brows as I said something impossible, "jealous of what?"

"Mr Laurent?" I replied.

"Why would I be?"

"I don't know, perhaps the fact that he asked me to come with him and if he's handsome then we might.."

I didn't have to complete my sentence when my detective came almost running saying,

"Don't you dare bang him all over Venice".

"I'm not a whore"

"I know you aren't, but Thomas"

"He was my fling so..."

"Shut up you're my tiny detective" he literally called me tiny and didn't let me act offended, rather crashed his lips on mine, bless Thomas for teaching me everything I needed to be good at this. I let our tongues dance as we parted lips to let them enter.

"I've been thinking of this, and more everytime you formed theories of a case, solved them, did some analytical research or simply said something intellectual with.." he said pulling away, "with passion, so much passion, you're a spark, a fire and I would be cold without you" my ears as if I couldn't believe what I was hearing, he was vulnerable, expressing himself however he could, "make me warm Sunshine, tiny little detective".

"I'm not.." I couldn't even object, he interrupted.

"Miss 5ft."

I'm tiny, his tiny... I did say his didn't I?

"Tiny one, hated when you banged Thomas" Sherlock said booping my nose lightly.

"Could see it in your eyes" I replied letting his fingers trace the features of my face.

"Pretty Little face, cute little exterior" he said out loud then leaning to my ears he whispered "only I know how much thirst is in there".

Yes, the thirst. Never thought I'd actually do it with him but..

"Guess we're gonna..." I stared.

"Do something else " he picked me up and I wrapped my legs round him as he carried me to his bedroom. I'm so petite that I fit perfectly in his arms. He has comforted me many times when some violent case triggered me, I love his embrace and I am loving whatever we're upto. He dropped me on his bed, and he climbed on top of me.

"So, what's your plan?" I asked confidently knowing he has little to no experience in bed.

"You'll see tiny" this time it hit a nerve.

"If I'm petite then why do you wanna fuck me" I said a little agitated. He smirked knowing he's successful in driving me up the wall.

"Because, your anger and passion turns me on" he said as his hands fumbled with my shirt button, "and your intellect is my porn".

Now that was a big sixer by Mr Holmes. Making a woman like me whimper. And that made him raise a brow.

"I see your body reacting to my comment." That was sultry just like his voice. No wonder I've always admitted one thing about him, he has a sexy voice.

"Because words are our thing detective" I played my turn as well.

"I see, tiny detective" we both are detectives. And we both get a bit excited by intellectual word play. He and I know how to trun people's heads with words. He did it Jeanine and I, too with some men to get information.

"What if we actually..." I began to touch his buttons, "do the action this time, without all the talk?"

"I like that idea" he said, he and I both unbuttoned our shirts. Tossing them to some corner of his room. As soon as we both sat half naked his lips attacked my neck. Leaving prominent marks, for people to know to whom I belong, for now or... Forever Mr Sherlock Holmes.

I brought him even closer as the sensation was different, special, we've solved many cases together and this does feel special. Alot special. His hand roamed to my back and unclasped my bra. My nails dug into his skin. I wasn't ready for him to see me like this. His tiny detective at his mercy, does sound sexy doesn't it?

"May I?" He whispered in my ear, asking for permission if he could see my breasts.

"Ofcourse, it's not like your tiny has the biggest set of boobs" I joked to which he raised his face and looked into my eyes,

"Good, then they'll fit perfectly in my palm" he said, still not for once looking down at me. As I nodded and gave my consent then only he looked down and took no time into brushing his fingers against my hardened nipples, sending shivers, a touch from a man I trust, the hands which keeps me safe, the safest touch.

"You've never been into bodies did you?" I couldn't help but ask. He kept marking my neck and in between pinching my tits as he replied,

"A good body will lose it's charm with time, but a charming personality as yours, a passionate mind as you, an intellect like yours will never."

He does have a point, we'll still be eachother's favourite even after we're old as a goose.

"Also.." he continued, "your eyes will also remain beautiful, bright, reflecting your charming personality, a mystery I'll spend my life solving".

I allowed myself to bring him even closer and kiss him more lovingly this time, as his hands started to undo my belt and then pulling my jeans away. If I knew something like this would happen I would've come prepared, but... Guess he doesn't really care about all that.

"Don't overthink it" he said, "you look fine, I..."

He trailed off, wonder what he wanted to say but yes, I won't be a spoil sport with my overthinking. I got up and treated his trousers the same way he treated mine. And the twitching member of him was making sure to make his presence prominent.

"Should I do something about it?" I asked kissing his neck, feeling his body reacting to it under my fingers. I made him pull his pants down leaving him in his boxers, preparing myself to finally be the person to see Mr Holmes's thing. Wonder if anyone else got a glimpse... Oh right, Jeanine.

I kissed his chest as I put his boxers down, his twitching member finally got a bit of freedom. He let out a soft whimper, his cheeks turned pink, so he's shy? It didn't seem so the way he kissed me. I looked his member, wrapping my hands around it making him let out a whimper again,

"May I?" I also should take permission if he did. He nodded and I brought my mouth to his tip, leaving a light smooch on it. I knew what I was doing, Thomas was a good practice. He stared at me, breathing heavily. I guess I smirked when I licked his length, then wrapping my mouth on it I started to work on it, with both my mouth and my hand. He controlled for sometimes but he moaned, finally he let himself be vulnerable, he liked what I did.

"I never kn..." He tried to speak as I made it incredibly impossible for him to do so, "never knew... You...ah" see? Incredibly difficult as I fastened my pace, "you could do ... It so... Ah... You're great".

That lifted my confidence and I...

"What the?" As I planned to make him cum in my mouth, I see he has something else in mind, he pushed me down and pinned me to bed.

"Let me return this favour tiny" his heavy voice whispered in my ear. I knew what he meant, I squeezed my thighs together, knowing there's a wet spot in my panties. His voice wasn't helping, rather was making it worse. Thomas was good, but I never knew he, Sherlock Holmes knows how to do to a woman. He got down and almost ripped my panties away. I really don't know whether I'd be able to wear them again after we... It's okay, I sometimes forget my pants at home. I still squeezed my thighs, keeping him from seeing what he wanted to.

"Are you eager?" I teased, I told you, I'm well trained by my fling. He smirked, but his smirk was innocent. My teasing was gone, I felt... I... With Thomas it was just good sex, but I... Felt safe with Sherlock. Never happened before, no one cared for me like he does, no one values my wishes like he does. He gives me more than I ask. And I'm not even talking about material stuffs, he... "My my". He forced my thighs to spread to give him a good view. He looked down and then at me,

"Tiny" he said seductively, "just like you" I was thinking of something sexy to say until he said, "I like it".

And then? He dived like a starved man would for food. His tongue touched my clit giving me shivers, making me moan loudly, thank goodness doctor Watson is married and out of this flat. Otherwise he'd have heard me moaning, as his tongue played with my clit. He didn't stop there, he let his tongue run through my slit, I tried to move upwards in his bed, his big hands grabbed my waist and pinned me in my place. I put a finger between my teeth to keep me from screaming. His tongue felt good, even better and I know now why. He kept on eating me out as I put a hand on his head, grabbing his curls and pulling it slightly. That's how horny I can get, don't go on my looks. He finally pulled away from my pussy, staring right into my eyes,

"Few more licks would've painted your face white Mr Holmes" I said panting.

"Guess you can paint my dick all white" he said stroking his dick. That's a sight I liked, the posh detective and his tiny childish assistant, newspapers called us "the detective and his sunshine", "posh detective and the tiny woman", "detective's childish assistant". Only if they knew, posh detective, cold detective and his childish, innocent, tiny, intelligent girl is doing dirty on his bed. He positioned his tip to my entrance, gave me a look, I nodded, ready to have him in me. And he did push himself into me,

"Ah fuck you're big" the only thing I could scream as his big cock entered me. But that's it, he's in me, I realised something I never did, now I want him, him.. I stretched my arms out, asking him to come to me. He wasted no time and leaned on me, giving me a kiss he stared to rock his hips, slowly and sensually. It felt good, my tall man, his face burried in my neck, his thrusts hitting perfectly. He protected me from bullies, showed me I'm extraordinary to worry about those ordinary people, made me realise he and I are worth better things and ... Now that I know all these, I'm not ever going to stray again... I hope. I'm staying Sherlock Holmes. He took his pace and fuck it felt nice, it felt perfect,

"My go- oh yes" I moaned, he raised his face to see mine,

"Oh, little miss tiny is about to beg" he said to tease me, I remember he told me about Irene Adler wanting him to beg, and ended up begging for protection from him, twice.

"I don't beg, men gives me anyway" I didn't wanted to be a self absorbed person, especially not now, it's just ... Came out. He replied with a sudden thrust that found the spot,

"Ah yes right there" I screamed, arching my back. He stopped, his cock in me.

"What if I don't fullfill your desire?" He does that to people, being rude but never to me. I showed my puppy eyes (which I always do and it works on him)but eventually my mouth spoke,

"Pretty please?" Which apparently means I begged for more.

“I told you, you would eventually start begging.” he said with a smirk and resumed his thrusts at my g spot. I brought him closer and wrapped my hands around him. The most intimate, he and I. I could stay like this forever, but he eventually got up and fucked me faster, the roomed filled with him painting, my moaning and our skin slapping. His cock worked fine in me. And we both knew I was close.

"So am I" he said between his pants. With some more thrusts I let out a scream, eyes closed, I painted his dick white. He pulled out of me immediately, shooting white strings to my belly.

-------

We got up, we cleaned ourselves and sat on his bed with a chessboard.

"Oops got your bishop" I mocked as I replaced his bishop with my pawn.

"Aww poor your queen" eventually he trapped me and got my queen that made me gasp,

"You did not" I, surely am offended by Sherlock's intelligent move, "not my queen, I can never win without it".

"Oh I'm sorry tiny" he didn't seem sorry at all, "be careful next time" his voice was gentle, soft as he explained how I should play and be careful next time, "you got it?"

"Sherlock?" I called him, not answering his question, I can play chess well, now if you play with Sherlock Holmes you're never good enough, but I wanted to ask him something else, "how was it?" He blushed, I'm too bold, I can ask anything without thinking twice, "anything you imagined?"

He nodded fumbling with my queen, "the world is filled with ordinary and notoriety you know tiny" he said looking into my eyes, "reality is often cruel, I... I saw your innocence and potentials in your eyes. You were wasting your time with Thomas, fling is useless, I hoped you'd find something better, worthy of your time, all I could give you is my adventures. You.. you're very intelligent, emotionally. You're an unique, creative thinker as well, you're hard to describe just like me. Can't let those ordinary people bully you, can't let those ordinary men lay finger on you, I couldn't stop Thomas since you consented but I want you to understand, you're here for something better." I just listened to his words, made sense why I always felt no one understood me, sitting here on his bed, wrapped in his white bedsheet with a chess board. If feels safe, he makes me feel... Understood.

"What I mean to say is I'm terrible at expressing emotions, yet I feel them just like you do, I saw you couldn't fit in with your dull boring, bimbo classmates who ultimately back stabbed you. But I see you here, with me, smiling, laughing, feeling safe I hope. This world is dull for people like you and me tiny, these people are cruel, boring for us, you and I couldn't settle down with any ordinary profession or people. We're too similar. The only thing though I believe you have extra is, your innocence. With you, reality is better than my dreams, my imagination. Because my imagination came with the reality of the world that I faced, but with you I saw a different side of it. You're different, innocent, you think differently, you're kind and you don't do things to please people. You don't want to be ordinary, you hate being boring, you're far more me than I am, you're far better me I must say, you're a better Sherlock Holmes, you bring out the better Sherlock Holmes in me, my tiny. This reality is better, and I am not just talking about sex."

Can you believe? His puzzled words did make sense, it's better here just him and me.

"I realised today that you love me" I spoke as a tear fell from my eyes, remembering how everyone treated me and how he does, I'm his better world.

"Glad you know" he said looking down at the board. I didn't know where we were at the game but I moved another pawn of mine.

"Sherlock..." I spoke, "if you wanted someone good, I believe there are many people who are... Good. You know I can't control my temper, I have no filter, I am also pretty childish and-"

"If by good you mean ordinary people, who doesn't have personality, who copies others, brags to you, lies to you, use you" he knows everything I've been through, he knows how people treated me, "ordinary people often thinks they're extraordinary, especially to those who actually are... Rare. You know my university life". I nodded, he was a lonely kid,

"So was my school life" I certainly was a lonely kid in my school, we're both eccentrics.

"We can live in our safe bubble, here, with our stupid adventures if you'd like" he proposed and I loved it, guess my grin proved so,

"And I" I got up and threw my arms around him, "love it".

He hugged me tightly, the sorrow we experienced, all was transformed into a certain joy, he always felt relaxed holding my head to his chest,

"But detective?" I had to be myself and make a proposal of mine, "I like your handcuffs." He looked suspiciously at me,

"Fine, my tiny's wish is my command".

[strljaem]

inspired by “YOU” series on netflix.

It was a cold, drizzly day in the city, and the streets were glistening with rainwater. I had an important deadline looming, and my assignment required specific books. I walked into a small, charming bookstore tucked between two larger buildings. The bell above the door chimed softly, announcing my arrival, and I felt the warmth of the store envelop me, a welcome contrast to the dreary weather outside.

The store was quaint, with dark wooden shelves reaching from floor to ceiling, filled with books of every kind. As I stepped inside, the bookstore keeper, Jaemin, looked up from behind the counter. He had a cunning smile that made my heart skip a beat. His dark hair fell over his eyes in a way that suggested he didn't care much about appearances, yet his demeanor was intriguing. He wore a plain black shirt with a simple name tag that read "Jaemin."

"Welcome," he said, his voice smooth and melodic. "Can I help you find something?"

"I'm looking for some books on folklore and mythology," I replied, glancing around at the rows of books. "I'm working on a new book, and I need some inspiration."

Jaemin's eyes lit up with interest, and he stepped out from behind the counter. "I know just the section," he said, motioning for me to follow. "Right this way."

As we walked through the bookstore, he pointed out various books that might suit my needs. His knowledge of the inventory was impressive, and he had a way of talking that made even the dullest topics sound fascinating. I found myself enjoying his company, and he seemed equally interested in me.

"What kind of book are you working on?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as he looked at me.

"A novel about ancient myths and their impact on modern culture," I explained. "It's a bit of a departure from my usual work, but I'm excited about it."

"That's really interesting," he said, nodding. "I didn't realize you were a writer. What have you written so far?"

I mentioned a few of my published works, and his eyes widened with surprise. "Wow, I've read some of those!" he exclaimed. "You're quite famous, aren't you?"

I laughed at his reaction, feeling a sense of pride in my achievements. "I wouldn't say I'm famous, but I've had some success."

Jaemin led me to the cashier, and I paid for the books he recommended. He made a few jokes about writers and deadlines, and I couldn't help but laugh at his witty humor. He seemed satisfied with my responses, his smile growing wider each time I chuckled.

I noticed his name tag and asked, "You're Jaemin, right?"

He nodded. "And you are?"

I told him my name, and we shook hands. His grip was warm and firm, and I felt a connection that seemed deeper than our brief conversation should allow. "Thanks for your help, Jaemin," I said with a smile. "I'll be sure to come back if I need more books."

"Anytime," he replied, his voice low and smooth.

As I walked out of the bookstore, I glanced back to see him standing behind the counter, watching me with an intense gaze. I thought nothing of it at the time, assuming he was just being friendly. I gave him a small wave and left, my mind already focused on the work ahead.

But as I walked down the street, I didn't realize that Jaemin's gaze followed me, his eyes lingering on every detail—the way I walked, the way I brushed my hair behind my ear, the way the corner of my lips smile before I talk. He thought, "The way you smile... the way you stare deeply into my soul during our conversation.... and the way you laughed at my jokes… oh y/n,….”

Later that night, as I was preparing for bed, I received a notification on my phone. A new follower on social media. It was Jaemin. At first, I thought it was just a coincidence, perhaps a customer who enjoyed our brief conversation. I welcomed him to my network, not knowing the true intentions behind his seemingly innocent interest.

Jaemin began liking my posts, commenting on my photos, and sending me messages. I thought he was just being friendly, curious about my work, and I welcomed the interaction. Little did I know that behind his charming smile and polite conversation, there was an obsession growing, an infatuation that would soon cross the boundaries of mere friendship.

“How about we meet again tomorrow for a cup of coffee?”

“Sure.”

[ghculism]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE. repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. if you fail to achieve some of the facts, add some other of your own!

name: sayuri doverham (born tamashiro)

nickname/s: gut eater, sylvia plath

age: 25

species: ghoul

sex: cis female

nationality: japanese

parents: rai tamashiro (mother, deceased) & asahi tamashiro (father, deceased)

siblings: none

interests: fashion & beauty, making the ccg pay, jewellery

profession: thief & serial killer

body type: rather small and petite

eyes: dark brown, almond-shaped

hair: long and dark brown, almost black

face: a rather round shape, a mesorrhine nose, almond-shaped eyes and full lips; wearing make-up to every occasion

skin: usually rather fair-skinned, slightly tanned in summer; scars are scattered across her body, especially on her torso, but usually hidden away

posture: confident, upright posture

height: 5'3" (160 cm)

voice: rather calm and soft-spoken with a slightly arrogant undertone (especially around strangers) & a thick japanese accent

signature outfit: a mini skirt or tight, figure accentuating dress, high heels and expensive jewellery (all of it being designer and stolen, of course)

significant other: the hubby @inscmnis

companions:: her best friends @alescurw & @seraphic-crimes (honorary mention: @t-hevessel)

strengths:: confident, witty, street smart, charming

weaknesses: impatient, revengeful, cynical, distrusting

colors: red (burgundy & maroon), black, gold & silver

drinks: coffee and water only

smokes: yes

drivers license: no, definitely born to be a passenger princess

tagged by @theallegedsourwolf, @pistolmadeofroses & @shadowpunk

tagging @inscmnis, @seraphic-crimes & @ghcstwired

[coarsely]

in-character OC interview!

I'm jumping on from @noblebs because it looks really fun! I'm doing this for Saccade, because she's a good mix of blunt and having fairly distinct speech patterns.

Are you named after anyone?

"Naw. I don't like anybody enough t' name myself after them."

(In Nod, most people choose their own name, typically around 10 but can be done from whenever a child chooses. There are no legal records since the collapse of organised society, so.)

When was the last time you cried?

"Hrmph. Cryin' cryin' or pain cryin'? Latter, yesterday, but former... well I don't got time to cry about my feelings."

Do you have kids?

Her expression contorts, a glimpse of brief mournfulness before smoothing back into blank stoicness. "... No."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

"Nah. Sometimes, but shit, I'm busy. Not enough time to fuckin' think up witty remarks or be smart about shit. I'm on a schedule."

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

"What they're wearin'. Tells you a lot out here. Mr Vítor fuckin' Cadogan, for example, in his nice fucking pressed coat, sticks out like a sore thumb. Shit looks ridiculous, I don't know how he got so far without gettin' robbed. I might've done, if I saw him walkin' down the street. Other folks, you can tell if they're likely to take a shot at ya from how many spikes they've welded to their masks, how stained their rags are. Folks dress the way they are out here."

What’s your eye colour?

"Uh..." She drifts off for a moment, concentrating. "Brown, I think?"

(They're dark grey)

Scary movies or happy endings?

"Neither. Don't got time to be watching shit."

Any special talents?

"Sure. Shutting up smart motherfuckers." She looks to the side, then sounding almost embarrassed, hastily adds "Dancin', too, before my little mishap."

Where were you born?

"Old Rhapsody. Before Eden dropped a fuckin' nuke on us, obviously."

Do you have any pets?

"Naw. Hard enough lookin' after yourself out here, no need to add a fuckin' animal into the mix."

What sort of sports do you play?

She gestures to her leg, in it's large but sleekly designed knee brace, and to the slightly dented cane with it's chipped red paint and barbed wire wrapped around it and offset handle that rests beside her. "Do I look like I'm in sportin' form? Don't be ridiculous."

How tall are you?

"Tall. Somewhere around 180cm, but you ain't getting me up to check."

What was your favourite subject in school?

"History. 'S interestin', learning how stuff was made, or why somethin' looks a certain way, or why things are the way they are. Apparently, before things got ugly, before they were buildin' nukes to 'baptise' us with, Eden n' Nod used to trade with each other on old, old train tracks. Some of 'em are still there, if you look, but out of service n' out of functionality. Ain't that wild?"

What is your dream job?

"Nobody dreams about workin'."

I'm gonna tag @ashfordlabs, @spideronthesun, @author-a-holmes, @revenantlore, @sparrow-orion-writes and @albatris, but naturally anyone interested in this is welcome to consider themselves tagged! Questions under the cut for easy access!

Are you named after anyone?

When was the last time you cried?

Do you have kids?

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

What’s your eye colour?

Scary movies or happy endings?

Any special talents?

Where were you born?

Do you have any pets?

What sort of sports do you play?

How tall are you?

What was your favourite subject in school?

What is your dream job?

[daughter-of-melpomene]

𝐑𝐄-𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐂 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐒 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐙𝐎𝐕𝐀

❝ There may have been a number of people who knew about the existence of the League of Assassins, but only a very small circle knew that the seemingly all-powerful league had an enemy. An extremely shadowed organization, run out of Moscow by an incredibly skilled former employee of the League, which plucked abandoned and orphaned children off the streets and out of the foster system and trained them to become the most skilled, ruthless killers imaginable. That was the only information known about this organization, aside from its name, which was often whispered among League members with barely-disguised nerves: Logovo L'vov.

Translation? "The Den of Lions".

Ivana Morozova was one of the many neglected children who had been stolen and trained by the Den. Taken at only two years old, she had grown to become the Den of Lions' proudest achievement, earning the codename Vdovets ("widower") because of the amount of married, powerful men she had killed over the years. But unlike her fellow assassins and the trainers who had raised her, Ivana was not proud of anything she had done. She despised what she was expected to do, she despised what the Den had forced her to become, and she wanted nothing more than to escape.

Then one day, finally, she seems to get her chance. Den agents are rarely given assignments outside of Russia, but it seems the heads of the organization want to ramp up their war against the League of Assassins. As such, Ivana is given what is undoubtedly her most difficult mission yet:

Go to Gotham City, find Damian Wayne, current Robin to his father's Batman and heir to the League of Assassins, and kill him.

Seeing her chance of escape, Ivana heads to Gotham, fully intending to start a new life for herself and hoping to never participate in violence again. But after seeing the amount of crime and violence in this city, her conscience will not let her rest, and she quickly becomes Gotham's newest vigilante. She becomes the Whisper, an angel of justice clad in all white who completely hides her face and never utters a sound, simply giving criminals a sound beating and dumping them on the GCPD's doorstep.

Ivana now lives her life with two simple goals: protect Gotham City as the Whisper without letting anybody know her identity, and never let Logovo L'vov find her. But her former handlers are determined to find the girl who betrayed them, and Nightwing, with his charming smiles and quips that isn't nearly as witty as he thinks, can't seem to leave her alone, whether she talks or not. And even worse, Ivana isn't entirely sure she wants him to.

Ivana had promised herself that she would stay away from the Wayne family, lest anyone ever figure out she's been tasked with killing one of them. But she, like everyone else in the Den of Lions, knows Dick Grayson's true identity - and with every late-night meeting in costume, she comes closer and closer to wanting to reveal hers.

As the Americans like to say: out of the frying pan, into the fire. ❞

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations, @stanshollaand, @ginnystilinski-reblogs, @luucypevensie, @ginger-grimm, @arrthurpendragon, @fakedatings, @impales, @claryxjackson, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @eddysocs, @lucys-chen, @ocappreciationtag. (Also tagging @xoteajays.)

[crisis-on-infinite-batblogs]

I’m reading a novel right now about a Cuban American woman named Carmen who’s trying to become a comics writer in 1975 New York City. It’s a fantastic book with tons of cool art and twists and turns, and I will do a little write up when I finish it, but two of the characters just went on a date to an Italian restaurant named Giordano’s and now i SCREAM. The easter eggs are too good. They’re too powerful.

The book is Secret Identity by Alex Segura btw! (The link is to bookshop.org so you can support your local independent bookstores OR you could look at your local public library!)

[kazoosandfannypacks]

"Open to Interpretation" by kazoosandfannypacks

Chapter 11/16: The Graduation Pairing: CaptainSwan Rating: General Word Count: (1.5K/24K) Summary: Emma Swan is appalled at works by modern artist Killian Jones- until a handsome stranger convinces her otherwise- and after introducing himself as the artist in question, he invites her out on a date. As their relationship develops, they find that they might not be as different from each other as originally though. Chapter Summary: Emma thinks about Killian as they attend the graduation together. Tags: au, fluff, captain swan, modern au Author's notes: n/a Taglist: @zahara @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv @jrob64 @tiganasummertree @anmylica @teamhook @undercaffinatednightmare @gingerchangeling @lonelyspectator @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart  [if you'd like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

Also on Ao3!

 Three weeks ago, Emma's plans for this evening would've been some big anniversary dinner with her ex. Two weeks ago, today's plans would've been ramen and eating ice cream from the carton as she made fun of some cheesy hallmark movie. A week ago, it would've been seeing if this cute guy from the museum would take her out on another date. Tonight, though, it turned out to be going to a graduation with him, after taking a bit of a road trip together and meeting his family.

 Emma noticed something off about Killian ever since they'd met up with his dad. He seemed more nervous than he had been when he was giving his speech at the benefit dinner, and more restrained than when he'd been entertaining guests at it.

 She'd almost been afraid to try to see what was wrong, in case it was too personal for him to bring up, but when he put his arm around her and pulled her a touch closer- almost as though he needed her, needed her comfort and support- she decided to try and soften his mood a little. After all, that was why he brought her along, wasn't it? To make this weekend bearable?

 "So let's see," Emma asked Killian, "if when we met, you didn't tell me you were the artist who painted the paintings we were discussing, and last week you didn't tell me you were hosting the benefit dinner you took me to, what does that mean for tonight?"

 "What do you mean by that, love?"

 "Am I gonna find out halfway through the ceremony that you're valedictorian or something like that?" Emma teased, "Or the keynote speaker, or school principal or something?"

 He smiled, her humor evidently softening him up well.

 "Don't worry, Swan," he said, "whatever happens this time, I'm just as much a victim as you are."

 "It's more exciting that way anyways," Emma said.

 "And I want to savor every exciting moment with you, Swan."

 She'd've given him a witty response, but then the lights dimmed, and the ceremony began.

 Emma had once read that a graduation ceremony is like the end credits of a movie you've never seen before, and, in this case, it was one where none of the actors were even familiar to her, though she'd heard one of their names before. As such, she found her mind wandering as she sat through the ceremony- and the street her mind chose to wander was "Killian Jones Avenue."

 Even something as small as the way his hand rested on her shoulder was notable- with a grip both strong and gentle- firm enough for her to believe he was strong, but soft enough for her to believe he'd never use that strength against her.

 "It must be the artist's touch," Emma thought, "as intentional with every move towards me as with his paintbrush on any other masterpiece."

 A masterpiece. She hadn't thought of herself as a "masterpiece" for quite a while- since well before her last relationship officially crashed and burned. Maybe that's why the breakup hadn't really come as much of a shock to her as it could've- because, no matter what she tried, he'd stopped looking at her long before then.

 Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Killian looking at her, his eyes fixed on her instead of on whatever was going on onstage, smiling at her as if maybe she truly was, as he kept saying, a masterpiece.

 "I was a fool for saying no to him earlier," Emma thought, "he's gorgeous, talented, sensitive, sincere, successful enough to make money off his mere existence- he's got 'boyfriend material' written all over him. But that's what I thought about the last one, and the one before that- and all the ones before that, really. I'm just not ready to go through all that again."

 When he'd asked her to pursue something more serious, she'd prided herself on keeping her guard up, on protecting herself from the inevitable betrayal, on coming up with a response in advance for when he, as they all do, protested her "unfairness" in rejecting him.

 But his protest never came. When she said she wasn't ready, he didn't tell her to take a chance on him, or try to sell her on all his remarkable qualities, or tell her she was a fool for turning him down and that she can't find a catch like him just anywhere- though it would've been true. Instead, he told her it was alright, that he just wanted her to know he had no intentions yet to leave her, and practically apologized for coming on so strong before reassuring her in her decision to keep things as they were.

 That was when it clicked for Emma. The fact that he didn't try to change her mind, that he respected her decision to guard her heart, that he was so willing to accept Emma exactly as she already was- it was enough to almost make her wish that she had changed her mind, that she had let her guard down, that she'd let herself become more for him.

 But that's how she got herself into these messes in the first place- a guy would seem like he wasn't gonna hurt her, she'd let him into her walls, and he'd tear them down from the inside out, leaving her vulnerable to whatever betrayal he had in store once he was bored of her. Maybe Killian wasn't like that. Maybe Killian Jones was exactly who he said he was, and maybe he wasn't going to hurt her, and maybe this relationship would be the one- but maybe this was all an act he'd only keep up for so long- his time with the museum would end eventually anyways, and he'd move onto some other exciting place and meet some new masterpiece at one of his other galleries.

 So for now, it was probably for the better that they left things open to interpretation.

 Once the ceremony was over, Emma waited with Killian's family to congratulate Liam on his achievement.

 "It was a lovely ceremony," Emma said, trying to make small talk despite barely having paid attention to it anyways.

 "Yeah," Fiona said, "they always do such a nice job with it here."

 "Indeed," Killian began, "why, I remember my graduation like it was yesterday. They had…."

 "Oh, look," Brennan said, interrupting Killian to wave across the room, "there's the man of the hour himself."

 They turned to see that it was Liam he was waving to, quite a few yards away. Brennan and Fiona headed towards him, walking past a disappointed Killian.

 Emma took Killian's hand, a smile momentarily  crossing his face as she did.

 "I'd still like to hear the rest of what you had to say," Emma said.

 Killian shook his head as they walked through the crowd back to the others, "it wasn't important."

 "If it's important to you, it is to me," Emma said.

 "I appreciate that, love," he planted a quick kiss on her forehead.

 When they rejoined with his family, Killian let go of Emma's hand so he could give his step brother a hug. Then, he let go and held his shoulders at arm's length, smiling proudly.

 "Congratulations, Liam," Killian said.

 "And congrats on the exhibit at the museum," Liam said, "I saw the pictures online, you must be…."

 "Now, now," Killian said, "there'll be plenty of time to talk about that later. Today we're celebrating you."

 "Yeah, congratulations," Emma interjected.

 Liam smiled at her. "I don't believe we've met."

 "I'm Emma," she held out her hand to him, "Killian…."

 "I do believe my brother's mentioned you," Liam shook her hand, "wasn't exaggerating in the slightest when he spoke of your beauty."

 Emma smiled a little, "I see you've been taking lessons in charm from your brother."

 "It's a family trait," Brennan interrupted, "and Liam has picked up on it as well. We Jones men always were a charming lot."

 "You all certainly are," Emma smiled as Killian's hand found its way to hers once again.

 Fiona pulled out her cellphone and took a picture of Liam.

 "Do you want me to get a picture of you guys all together?" Emma asked.

 "That would be lovely," Brennan said.

 "Oh, yes," Fiona said, "It's so lovely having the whole family together again."

 The Jones family all stood next to each other for the picture, with Liam in the front, his parents behind him, and Killian standing next to them, slightly off to the side, almost as though he didn't fully believe he belonged in the picture.

 Still, as Emma handed back the camera, she felt something, not quite jealousy, but something like it. Liam had grown up in the foster system, just like Emma had- but he had so much she'd never dreamed of. Emma'd never had a high school graduation, or a family photo she actually felt worth keeping- she was pretty sure she'd never truly even had a family.

 "Some people are just born lucky," Emma thought, "and I've never been one of them."

 But she hid her feelings like she always did, faking her best smiles, not about to play the pity-the-orphan card and spoil Killian's family's weekend.

[dmagedgoods]

OC tag game

I was tagged by @galfrey and @turbulentpumpkin43. Aaaa thank you both so much. 💕 Favorite OC: I can’t possibly pick among my main 3. Salvadore (nobleman, strategist, and politician with high ambitions and a god-complex), Eneas (manipulative sorcerer, street musician, and schemer with the ability to control emotions), and Rowley (assassin, troublemaker, and solution finder who loves to provoke and to leave a mess). Newest OC: That’s Adrial, my dandy illusion wizard. But! I currently managed to get one of the funky creatures in my original universe to tell me more about their personality. Laral is their name and they gonna fuck up Rowley specifically. Oldest OC: Still in active use? This would be Rowley then. If this includes not in use anymore …, omg don’t look at me. Mafasy, a character in my very first fanfiction I wrote when I was 12 for the musical Cats. Meanest OC: So many of my OCs have the potential to be very mean. 😂 Rowley and Salvadore are relatively far up the ladder. Softest OC: Rowley’s twin brother James perhaps.   Most aloof/standoffish OC: Gabriel probably, leader of a militant anti-magic institution. Dumbest (affectionate) OC: There are no truly dumb characters among my collection. Smartest OC: They all have varying fields where they excel and their intelligence manifests differently. Salvadore is a great strategist and rhetorician with high knowledge in the areas interesting to him, Rowley is witty, attentive, fast with funny answers, and street-smart, Eneas easily sees through people, is great at planning, has high arcane and secret knowledge and a dangerous manipulator, Gabriel is talented with numbers, higher math and organization, Talis brilliant with technology, programming, and hacking, Raven an ambitious historian with amazing memory. Horniest OC: Oh that’s Salvadore. Followed by Rowley. OC you’d be best friends with irl: I have a tight relationship with my OCs so I want to answer all of them. But if I’d meet them without any former connection … Eneas probably.

[mumms-the-word]

OC Meme

I got tagged by @elspethdekarios to do this meme and I desperate need something other than a deep dive to distract me so ima do it :')

Free tag! Snag this meme and do it for yourself!

B A S I C S

Full name: Meridan Zavrai (but she prefers Dani, and also now she's a Dekarios )

Gender: Female

Sexuality: bi as hell but as a weakness specifically for witty/silly men

Pronouns: she/her

O T H E R

Birthplace: Baldur's Gate, Outer City, Stonyeyes district

Job: Bard stuff, you know, roving, playing, acting, stealing, singing

Phobias: giant spiders, losing her loved ones (is that a phobia)

Guilty pleasures: sweet snacks and smutty books

Hobbies: learning new music, playing her fiddle, singing, reading (not just smutty books but mostly smutty books)

M O R A L S

Alignment: chaotic good

Sins: greed

Virtues: humility (no, really, but perhaps not in the way you'd think)

T H I S O R T H A T

Introvert / Extrovert

Organized / Disorganized / In between

Close-minded / Open-minded

Calm / Anxious / Restless

Disagreeable / Agreeable / In between

Cautious / Reckless / In between (she likes a good heist)

Patient / Impatient / In between

Outspoken / Reserved / In between

Leader / Follower / Flexible

Empathetic / Unempathetic / In between

Optimist / Pessimist / Realist (maybe a little optimistic too?)

Traditional / Modern / In between

Hard-working / Lazy (yes, both, depends lol)

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

OTP: Gale and Dani! ship name is...uh...bardweave?? idk

Acceptable Ships: She's DTF Karlach and Astarion but Gale captured her heart first. Karlach would have been her second choice, if Gale had turned her down.

OT3: Um, Gale, her, and Tara, obviously (that's a joke, the real answer is she would respect Gale's desire to be exclusive because she loves him and she's a bit of a romantic at heart)

Brotp: Karlach 100000% but Astarion is also a very good buddy and I feel like she's have a fun brotp dynamic with Wyll too

Notp: Dani and Halsin. Halsin's love of nature is VERY at odds with Dani's obsession with her chaotic crazy city home. She appreciates his insight and thinks he gives A+ hugs, but she could never be romantic with him when their dreams are so far apart

B A C K S T O R Y

Dani is the daughter of a single mother (Maeva) in the Outer City and some deadbeat bard dad who she's never met and doesn't care to meet. Her mother works as a seamtress and laundress now, but she was a barmaid at a tavern when she met Dani's father. Maeva was still working as a barmaid (this time with a very young infant daughter) when she crossed paths with Brannon Rufford, the human leader of a small band called the Merry Rovers.

Brann's wife, also a Rover, went into labor while they were performing at Maeva's tavern. Maeva helped a little with the birth, but Brann's wife died. She agreed to look after the baby, named Liara, while Brann worked to get enough money to support and feed her. Ever since then, Brann and Liara have considered themselves family with Maeva and Dani.

Though Brann eventually took to roving and barding again once Liara was old enough to join him, he and Liara continued to return again and again to drop in on Maeva and Dani. When Dani was 10, she met her new best friend, a dragonborn bard named Paraxxel who was performing as a street drummer when he got jumped by a small gang. (I have a fic about this lol) She convinced him to join up with Brann and Liara as part of their band. Later, a half-elf named Kellen joined up too (and Liara instantly fell in love with him and swore she'd marry him).

When Dani was around 15, her mother took seriously ill and was bed-ridden for weeks. She worked as best she could to afford healing costs for her mother, but it wasn't enough. Her mother's legs are now permanently weakened and she requires a healer to help restore some vitality to them about once a month.

Because of this, Dani begged to join the Merry Rovers, as they would make more money than she could alone or working as a laundress. Maeva reluctantly agreed, and for the last ten years Dani has been wandering with the Merry Rovers as their main fiddle player, sending money back to her mother as often as she can and thoroughly enjoying the rover's life. To her, the Rovers are as much her family as her own flesh-and-blood mother.

She was out roving and performing with them the day she was taken by the nautiloid. Paraxxel was snatched too. If Dani were a companion and not the player character, part of her questline would be trying to find Paraxxel and rescue him from being a slave of the Absolute.

[phoenixculpa]

15 Degrees

tagged by the wonderful @strikezilla01 (thank you, sir burl 💪🏻)

1. Are you named after anyone?

Yes, my great aunt on my mother’s side.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Two or three weeks ago.

3. Do you have kids?

No, but I’ve always considered someday having one or two.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Yes, sometimes to the point a close one will tell me I’m an ass, lol. I’ve learned to be more witty about it and come off less biting, since it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. It’s an acquired art / a natural symptom of having sardonic humor, alike.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Their eyes, tone and pitch of voice, affect.

6. What’s your eye color?

Sort of hazel. Brown in dim light, golden/green in the sun.

7. Scary movie or happy ending?

Happy ending after a lot of angst, please.

8. Any special talents?

Somewhat photographic memory. Strongly hyper aware and detail oriented. Can whistle and do some gymnastics/am highly athletic, if those count. 😂 Somewhat (very rustily, atm) bilingual. Huge empath + highly intuitive.

9. Where were you born?

Illinois

10. What are your hobbies?

Writing, working out, watching comedy skits, reading about true crime, reading in general to consistently learn (facts, new words, different studies), hiking, swimming, appreciating art. I would like to get back into recording freestyle raps. Sometimes I rap to a beat while cruising somewhere far with the windows rolled down. I’ve also always enjoyed biking, and tutoring.

11. Do you have any pets?

Yes, a darling cat named Patches. I adopted her off the street in October (she meowed at me and approached me affectionately in the back yard 💜), and she’s been the sweetest, most divinely timed blessing. I estimate she is about one year old.

12. What sports/activities have/do you play or participate in?

I do full body work outs regularly (running and working on arms are my favorite, and feeling my core strength increase abdominally). I played outfield in softball for a number of years and was a midfield in soccer for many more. I would be open to playing soccer again, or casually playing ball. I dance a lot in my free time, whether it’s any good or I don’t look ridiculous is a different story. When it’s nice out, I swim.

13. How tall are you?

short* 5’2

14. Favorite subject(s) in school?

Literature, critical thinking, social studies, anthropology, philosophy, and psychology. I deeply enjoyed mock debates, especially alternating between defense attorney and prosecutor during mock trials.

15. Dream job?

Film director, or widely published author that inspires and/or takes part in film adaptations (I’d be cool writing under an alias, and would specialize in suspense thrillers or romantic dramas).