#you are allowed to find things personally distasteful

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

Sorry if you've already covered this, but I was scrolling socials and saw that the San Antonio zoo got a large donation to expand their savanna habitat. The only thing that jarred me as I read through their expansion plans was apparently they're going to be outfitting some 'safari' vehicles so guests can be taken into the habitat to feed and interact with the animals (from within the vehicle). I was always under the impression that this kind of interaction wasn't necessarily good for either the humans or the animals-- is there a way it can be done ethically?? Anyway, I just thought it was interesting!

Ooo, okay, your question aligned with a thing I've been chewing on for a while, so let's talk ~ethics~ and ~philosophy~ aka this is gonna be a bit long. I do promise I'll answer your question, though!

The first thing I want to note is that you're really asking about two different things, which are almost always conflated these days when it comes to talking about animals: welfare (is the animal happy / healthy / safe) and ethics (is what's happening good / moral / acceptable). It's really important that we distinguish between the two, because welfare is an objective measure of physical and mental wellbeing, and ethics are a human construct that involves subjective interpretation.

A useful but highly oversimplified example of this is the bothering of cats for online videos. Pestering a cat to get a funny reaction once in a while may not impact their overall welfare. Welfare is the cumulative impact of an animal's experiences, which means that single acute moments may not weight heavily on the entire balance. If the cat is healthy, fed well, enriched, and has a good and positive bond with their humans, those momentary irritations for videos might not matter much. That doesn't mean that you or I, as viewers, might not still find bothering an animal for internet clout ethical. We can believe that humans shouldn't ever unnecessarily put their pet through negative experiences, and we can think that doing so just because it brings the human money or fame is distasteful. But! We have to recognize that as used in this example, those ethical stances aren't inherently tied to the animal's welfare state. Many people I know who dislike cat-bothering don't care if the animal has good welfare outside of that situation - they don't like that the situation occurs at all, ever.

So, back to your question. You're wanting to know if it's okay for a zoo to have a drive-through aspect of an exhibit where people get to feed the animals. You're asking if it's safe for the humans and for the animals (which is a welfare question) and if that type of interaction is ethical. I could just tell you that of course it's fine, San Antonio is an AZA zoo and their accreditation only allows them to do "good things" but that's now how it works here (nor is it the reality of accreditation).

The safety aspect is one I'm not worried about. It's actually a pretty common thing for reputable facilities to do some sort of vehicle tour in savanna habitats, whether in the guest's vehicle (safari parks) or on a hay-ride type vehicle (zoos). Many of those allow guests to feed out specific parts of their animals' diets. Offhand, I know Tampa and Fossil Rim both have feeding tours like this in a staff-driven vehicle. It's not specified from the zoo's press release, but I can guarantee you that guests will not be driving those vehicles - which means the interactions will be proctored by staff and what people are feeding out will be carefully regulated. The habitat is going to have rhino, giraffe, zebra, ostrich, and antelope/gazelle, and I'd guess that the drive-through is going to stick to those latter two and maybe additional species. Those are animals where a car is an appropriate safety barrier.

As to if it's ethical to do? It's spiny question, because it depends very directly on the ethical perspectives of the person you're asking. I think it's fine - you may not. Let's break down the different things that come into consideration on the ethical side, and my responses:

"The zoo is commercially exploiting animals by letting people pay to get closer." If the issue is that people paying to get closer to animals is using them for money, well, that's the business model of a zoo (non-profit or not, they still need revenue to operate). So IMHO it's not like it's "less ethical" than anything else the zoo is doing, using that framing.

"Zoo animals should be allowed to be wild and undisturbed by guests driving in their habitats." Zoo animals aren't wild, and their entire lives revolve around humans and the human work schedule. As long as a vehicle entering the habitat doesn't have a negative welfare impact (e.g. they're not scared of it), it's not very different from the rest of the routine of managed care.

"Feeding zoo animals will encourage people to try to feed wild animals." Thanks to obnoxiously viral content creators, people are going to try to feed wild animals no matter what. Doing it in a proctored situation where a staff member can try to do some education at the same time is probably the best possible scenario.

"People just do those tours to get close to cool animals." People are always going to want to touch the animals. If being able to pay for a tour keeps them from jumping the fence to try to pet a rhino, great.

There's one more that I want to talk about separately, because I think it's where a lot of confusion gets generated. It's this idea that "Humans shouldn't be interacting with animals at all, any interaction is unethical and bad for the animals." This is a welfare crossover, but not one actually informed by welfare science in a captive situation. And I think it's because the internet lacks nuance. Yes, it is absolutely correct to say that with wild animals, you should never ever try to feed a deer out of your car (or similar). It is incredibly harmful to those animals on both an acute and chronic timeline. But thanks to the rage-bait algorithms on social media and people endlessly justifying doing stupid, dangerous, bad things (and getting pushback for it), there's been a lot of bleed between the public's understanding of what wild animal welfare is and what captive animal welfare is. Combine that with the reality that captive animal welfare cannot be assessed or diagnosed from a single context-less clip, and that people with strong beliefs and no practical experience with the field/species/individual will pass judgement loudly to their audiences...

The result is almost a reflexive believe in many sectors of the internet that any human-animal interaction that isn't couched as a "rescue" is inherently unethical, for reasons people often can't articulate. Which is why, I think, so often people want to support certain aspects of captive animal management but feel guilty for doing so. I see this a lot in the questions the blogs gets, and I'm glad people feel comfortable asking, because it's important to think through not just the individual instances but the patterns leading us to question them.

So yes, I'd say that a staff-led experience in a vehicle chosen for safety is an ethical way to proctor an interaction between guests and certain savanna species. It will vary by facility - I'm always more wary about guests driving, although many drive-through safaris are fine - and by setup. I think what San Antonio is doing will be fine, though, and will be interested to see / hear about the setup when they start up.

If you've got a question about ethical captive management, I'm always happy to talk about it - but I'd invite you to poke around in your head a little and send me not just your question in the ask, but your thinking about why or why not something might be concerning. It's great practice for understanding why you relate to animal ethics the way you do, and where those beliefs come from.

[drinksglue]

A thing that bothers me is that a lot of pro-ship people are not pro-fiction, and a lot of people who call themselves pro-fiction are not actually pro-fiction.

Without getting into the hypocrisy of people who are pro-ship but not pro-fiction, there's a need to engage in a little bit of healthy gatekeeping here.

I've seen "pro-fiction" folks who understand that sexual topics in fiction are fine, even defending the especially gratuitous stuff as you'd expect, but then they still have their hang-ups about the use of non-sexual tropes that they find distasteful, and I've seen "pro-fiction" people call others "braindead" for being in fandoms they dislike.

So let's set the story straight.

Pro-fiction means all fiction. If you, at any point, claim a certain trope or theme shouldn't ever be used in fiction because it "might offend someone", then you are not pro-fiction. If you insult people for liking a piece of media or being in a fandom that you don't like, then you are not pro-fiction. You are only using the label because it makes you look good.

And for anyone who might be considering replying to this post with anything along the lines of "Yes, except---" then instead consider not doing that. There are no exceptions. Fiction is fiction. I will block you. Have a great day.

[dahliakbs]

Retired Villain

(⁠ ๑Batfam X Reader - Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne and Tim Drakeﾉ⁠♡ ⁠)

Masterlist

╠You'd put your reckless lifestyle behind in favor of living a boring civilian life, knowing that you wouldn't get anywhere in life if you kept getting beaten up and sent to jail over and over like it was the only thing life had to offer.

You thought that putting your past behind you and creating yourself a fresh start would finally put the bats off your trail...

But sadly for you, it had only taken your cities vigilantes about two weeks to find out where you lived.

Even though they'd found out where you lived and how you'd decided to turn your life around they didn't believe it.

And instead of taking the information at face value they'd decided to check up on you in person.

And that they did.

Now you would've thought that they'd leave you alone after just the first few times but no, they'd started popping up everywhere. Using the excuse of your old atrocities to monitor you almost every waking moment of the day.

And when I say every I mean every.

Your at the supermarket, buying food like everyone else and Nightwing just randomly shows up out of nowhere. Bugging you and using the excuse of monitoring you to justify his presence.

"I know times are dire but stealing milk from the supermart?" you could see his outline in your peripheral, propping himself up against the fridge next to you.

He's shaking his head playfully before moving to take your cart away from you. You knew he was aware that you weren't gonna steal anything but apparently teasing you was his new favorite hobby.

"For the last time, I'm not stealing anything from this store" you huffed before dumping the carton of milk into the cart he'd taken from you.

"This store, so how about the next one?"

You could already feel the gray hairs sprouting, it was like he was sucking all the energy out of you and you could do nothing about it.

Well, at least he helped you with the shopping right?

While your on your way making your way to work one of the Robins will just mysteriously appear next to you, specifically the youngest one. Always giving off a clear air of distaste towards your entire being but still accompanying you on your way to work.

"Don't you have school kid?" you ask, it was like nine in the morning and he was casually walking next to you as if he didn't have somewhere to be right now.

"I don't need to go to school, besides I'm stuck monitoring criminals like you" he stated and you could already feel him drilling holes into the side of your head.

This kid really has no chill...

"Well if it makes you feel any better I also don't like having people watch me 24/7" you could feel your shoulders sag at the thought of having to put up with the bat and his tiny army of children.

Even when you were simply relaxing in your humble abode they'd still had the audacity come ruin your little alone time.

You were just relaxing in your pyjamas, munching on some popcorn and enjoying the fact that for once you were finally all by yourself when suddenly a figure hauls themselves over the edge of your window sill and crashes onto the floor of your apartment.

Of course your quick to push yourself off your couch and grab a weapon from the hidden compartment in your chair only to realize that your intruder was just another one of batman's minions.

"Red, you can't be serious" you immediately drop you weapon and walk over to his crumpled form.

He looked like he just went through hell, which was pretty sad since you knew he was just a kid on the inside but batman's sidekicks always seemed a little on the younger side.

"Are you crashing for the night?" He'd already done this before, always denying the fact that he was staying the night but always ends up staying anyway.

"No, I'm not" he muttered to himself, crumpling even more into himself but flinching when one of his wounds comes into contact with his detached gear.

"Right, your monitoring me" you played along, allowing him to believe that he was leaving anytime soon but you could already see his body relaxing it self.

"By the way, your crashing on the couch Tonight" you'd at least allow him to stay somewhere in your house, knowing that the supposed 'Batcave' that they always spoke about was somewhere on the other side of Gotham.

He should be lucky that he's your favorite, because ain't no way were you allowing any of the other bats anywhere near your house. Let alone inside of it.╣

[unconventional-lawnchair]

" But daddy, I love him "

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Potter!Reader

Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: Harry finds out his sister is dating Mattheo Riddle Ft. James, Lily, Remus, Sirius - No war au }

Wc- 5178

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, a lot of people saying a lot of mean things, sexual themes cussing}

A/n: Possible part 2 later

Mattheo Riddle had a reputation for himself. Everyone knew him bloodied before they'd seen him presentable. A Hotwire, fizzling and popping, just waiting for the next person to cross him in a way he deemed punishable, ‘the muggle way.’

He never truly had a distaste for muggles or muggleborns, but they stayed clear of him regardless. Voldemort's son was like a cautionary tale told through the halls, of just how ruthless and unhinged death eaters could be. His mother, Beatrix Lestrange, in Azkaban for life for such cruelties, his father had a name no one dared to say. That left very little to the imagination, or maybe just too much? 

Another thing about Mattheo Riddle, he never said what he was thinking, he only acted. So no one knew the true boy outside of his blinding rage, insatiable flirting and the horrid legacy his parents so carefully wove for him. No one, aside from you.

It wasn't supposed to be this way, truly, it was just an assignment.

“I have a student, he is failing in my class, but I know he has so much potential to do better.” McGonagall began. “If you tutor him, I will give you credits towards one of your less favorable classes.”

Was it bribery? Yes, was it technically against school policy? Most definitely. Were you going to say no to free credits for the history of magic? Absolutely not.

You should have been clued in, when she didn't tell you who you were tutoring, but like your father and brother, your eye was on the prize. Instead of a snitch, however, yours were the new napping opportunities in your least favorite subject. 

You were told by the professor that the study sessions would take place during dinner, and you were allowed to request food from the house elves before or after the meetings. You had to wonder; why was this student getting all these special treatments? And what did you have to do with it?  Imagine your surprise when you walked into the library when dinner was taking place, only for your eyes to land on the candle lit silhouette of Mattheo Riddle himself.

You knew him, of course you did, his father had tried to kill your entire family, while you didn't endure the worst of it, Merlin, you were still in your mothers stomach at the time, your fathers horror stories of the DeathEaters and the recounting of the night was so etched into your brain you could likely recall it as if you stood in that room. The day your father saved the wizarding world, by simply, picking up his wand from the couch when he opened the door. 

Despite it all, you tried not to judge him by the actions of his father, so that the only thing you had left were the numerous bloodied fights he'd been a part of since he walked through the doors of Hogwarts. Not to mention the amount of broken hearted witches that clung to his heels.

Though, now, as you stared at him across the empty Library, he seemed so… peaceful. Calm and reserved, maybe it was the yellow light, or maybe it was the way he seemed to be genuinely enraptured by whatever he was reading. Sitting patiently, just waiting. Waiting for you. You quickly snapped out of your daze, walking forward to stand in front of him.

Mattheo lazily glanced up before his eyes widened slightly and his mouth opened a bit in slack shock. “Potter.”

“Riddle.” You acknowledged him. He didn't seem offended or bothered by your presence, more, confused. There was an easy silence between you two before you gestured to the seat beside him. “May I?”

“... be my guest.” 

That's where it all started. Mattheo was nothing like who you thought he'd be. He was respectful, kind, studious and incredibly clever. You had to admit, Minerva was right, he had incredible potential beyond what he seemed to think of himself. He just needed time to sit down and work, instead of his usual activities, and whatever impression he was trying to make for himself.

Your meetings were frequent, and his grades started to improve. As you got closer, the change in his behavior in class was the first thing you noticed. He began to actually work in potions, probably the only class you shared being a year younger and a Griffondor. You heard from Harry that he had actually scored higher than most of their shared class in Transfiguration. Though, it was a comment out of malice, you couldn't deny how it made you preen with pride.

In the halls you were strangers, but in your personal nook of the library, you were a deadly dynamic. He was a flirt, you knew that before, but he never said the raunchy things he'd say to the girls in the halls he'd flirt with, to you. The occasional comment on your eyes or your calligraphy, maybe some that toed the line of platonic study buddies. You figured that was how he showed affection, but you had no real reference point for it. 

If it was another thing that you knew about Mattheo that not many others knew, it was that he adored praise. All forms of it. He would get bashful and try to hide away from it, but you would see how much harder he tried to impress you everytime. You found it amusing, you would hear the teachers praise him and he'd simply shrug it off, trying to play it cool. But in those private moments between.. friends, when you were revising his essay, with mutters of, “That's a spectacular way to look at it, Riddle.”

And 

“That's brilliant. You're brilliant.”

He would turn as red as a tomato. It made you smile. This was the version of him no one else could or ever would have. It made you cocky, it made you want more of the secret Mattheo, the one he only showed to the closest people.

~~

You had gotten so used to Mattheo’s presence. He had stayed out of trouble, been doing wonderfully in his classes, and he still insisted on your study dates. Said they were the only thing keeping him interested in the classes he took. Ever the flirt.

You guessed being used to Mattheo Riddle of all people was the first part to an awful downward spiral. You had fallen for him. Hard. 

You first noticed when he had to cancel one of your meetings. He was passing you in the hall, two Prefects had him by his forearms, and Snape was rattling on about a proper punishment for him. He had a cut lip and a gnarly battered nose. You were on your way to the library to meet, but when you made eye contact with him you visibly deflated. He had that stupid cocky look on his face, teeth stained red as he winked at a few girls he passed, focusing on anything but Snape’s words.

When his eyes met yours, however, his lips twitched and his eyes lost their twinkle. Like a puppy being told no. Or properly, a boy ashamed. And he should feel ashamed.

You had forgotten who he was when you weren't buried in your books. So for the first time in weeks, you were at the Gryffindor dining table, across from Ginny and Seamus, poking at your food in disinterest. Surrounded by friends and family, and yet so incredibly lonely. Ginny eventually caved to your moping, looking over with a loud click of her tongue. 

“{Y/N}?” She called over and your eyes flicked up and an easy smile took over your face. “Ginny?”

“It's good to see you, you've been avoiding the dining hall for a while now.” She teased and leaned her legs forward to lock her ankles around one of yours to keep you in place. You couldn't help but give a cheeky grin at this.

“Well, I would argue anything is better than being forced to watch you make heart eyes at my brother.” You shot back and Harry looked up from his plate curious, met with the view of you being smacked in the face with a bun. 

“Hey!” You challenged and grabbed your own bun before you heard your head of house clear her throat behind you. Slowly, you set down the bread and looked back at her as she gave you a quizzing look. Clearly confused by you being there, asking with her eyes. Not even having noticed the gluten assault.

“Rain check.” You remarked and shrugged before she let out a simple ‘ah’ and walked off. This just set off Ginny’s and now Harry’s curiosity. 

“What was all that? Thought you were meeting a boy, if I'm honest, now I'm not sure.” Ron mumbled and Harry tilted his head at you. 

“Ew, don't say that, that's my baby sister.” Harry huffed and looked over at you. His expression said it all. “What have you been getting up to?”

You stared at him before slowly smirking, leaning your chin on your palm. “Huh, well, me and Ginny are the same age-”

Then, another bun, to your face, courtesy of your brother. “That's enough out of you.” He huffed.

~~

That's how you got here. Sitting in the forbidden woods, trying to demonstrate to Mattheo how to use a patronus, something your parents showed you when you were younger. Your study rendezvous has long since become time to study more than just your core classes. No one else was around, just you two, while everyone else was hidden away in the grand hall eating. 

“So, firstly, this is a spell that most wizards and witches cannot use. So don't be afraid if you never come to pass.” You explained and he rolled his eyes playfully.

“Right, if I'm not past the level you were at as a toddler, end my misery early.” He teased and you gave a playful scoff and crossed your arms. “Not a toddler, just 12.”

He rolled his eyes with his own smirk playing on his lips. You found yourself staring at the peak of his teeth, threw his lips, you felt your entire body respond in kind. “To be fair, you don't need to feel self conscious, I mean, I am leagues above you, even now.”

He gave an offended gasp and put his hand on his chest. His smirk turned wolfish as he walked up to your side. “Is that a challenge, Potter?”

“Define a challenge, I usually just call it confidence.” You quipped and he gave you a once over, you rolled your eyes fondly. 

“Okay, minx, I get three tries. If I summon my patronus, you have to go to Hogsmeade with me this Sunday.” He mused and leaned into your space. You smirked and stood taller, wetting your lips before you glanced from his eyes to his lips then back. “Let's hope you prove me wrong then, Riddle.”

He did not. Prove you wrong, that is. 

Once you told Riddle about the happy memory clause, he seemed less confident. He wasn't even able to produce sparks, and got increasingly agitated with each failure. Usually, he would pull out a smoke and take a break, and you were curious as to why he didn't.

Every other day before you grew close, you would spy him smoking with his friends in the courtyard, but when you mentioned you hated the smell in the library, he started to hold off until after to smoke.

At least, that's what he told you. He would not tell you the truth, that the moment you told him you hated the smell he chucked the last box he had into the black lake.

Mattheo went through his life without any real care. He only ever experienced fear, anger, and disappointment directed at him. He had his friends, Draco, Theodore, Pansy, even Blaise but none of them were particularly affectionate. Past his playful flirting with Pansy, that he now used as a reference for your friendship, he didn't truly have positive influences on his emotions.

Usually, that would result in him using a poor girl or two to get over whatever he was hung up on. Then, he met you. 

Out of everyone, he figured you had reason to hate him most. His father tried to kill your family, his mother killed your parents' friends, his current friends bullied your brother, and he was assumed a death eater before proven one. But that night, he was proven wrong for the first time, when you sat down next to him and smiled. He had never seen something so breathtaking, something that was meant for him.

He had felt for women before, physical and emotional, but never had he experienced you. In all honesty, he never truly looked at you before. You were Harry Potter’s sister, that was enough reason to stay away. Merlin, did he fuck up.

Being friends with you was hardly acceptable, but falling for you? It made him feel all the more pathetic. Knowing he was falling for someone who would never think of dating him. Here he was, making the worst mistakes of his life over and over again.

“Don't get in your head about it.” Your voice called him from his thoughts. He snapped out of it and looked at you. You tilted your head and smiled, hands on your hips in determination. You had taken off your robe, as if to say you meant business. Sleeves rolled up to your elbows and wand brandished. “Just think about something that makes you happy. Happy enough to smile at nothing.” 

“Smile at nothing?” He muttered in an amused tone. Breathing you in like fresh air.

“At. Nothing.” You insisted and waved your wand. “My memory is when my dad took me to visit my grandparents' graves.” You hummed and he gave a startled laugh. 

“Morbid, darling.”

“Oh, not like that.” You laughed. “I listened to my dad talk about them, like, all the time. Mum too.”

You gestured to the pond and his eyes followed yours. “My dad made it easy, it felt like I was really meeting them, ya know? He talked about me and Harry like we were the most important things in his life. I think I felt his love for them in me too, but towards him. I just felt so lucky.” 

Mattheo stared at your awe filled eyes and he gave a small sigh through his nose. It was out of fondness, of course, but he couldn't deny the bit of jealousy that perked up in his chest when she said that. “Yeah.. lucky.” He mumbled.

You looked back at him and your face fell a bit. You had just spent the last two minutes rubbing your fathers love in his face- Merlin. You slowly gave a cautious smile, considering he was still staring at you like you hung the stars. It maked your ears grow hot and your nerves light up.

You reached over to graze his hand, and he seemed to snap out of his trance, slowly, he wrapped his hand around yours, his calloused fingers covering your hand fully. You guys sat like that for a moment, before you raised your wand higher and stepped closer. Leaning your head against his chest and waving it. 

Your patronus whipped out of your wand, the fox wiggling its nose in greeting before she ran around you two in circles. You began to laugh at her enthusiasm, and Mattheo even gave a chuckle. Your eyes on your patronus, his eyes on you. How was he going to win anyway? He was making his happiest memories now.

“I think I can try again.” He whispered and you looked up at him, your patronus vanishing behind you as you lost your focus. He was giving you a look you had never seen before, it was almost dangerous, how easy it was for him to make a mess of you. 

“You think?” You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything above a whisper. He pulled you flush against him, taking the dazed look you were giving him as confirmation. You wanted him too. He could have fainted. 

“Want to help me?”

“How?” 

You got your answer, in the form of his lips pressing so gently against yours. It was electric, your entire face grew hot and you forgot how to breathe for a moment. His hands found a firmer grip on your waist and you slowly wrapped your arms around his neck. You lost yourself in the kiss, letting him lead as he clearly had more experience.

Mattheo couldn't help it, maybe this wouldn't be a mistake. Maybe it was only fair. Being with you made him feel human, like just another boy falling for just another girl. He wanted to feel like this forever. Normal, with you.

He did not try again that night, far too distracted.

~~ 

You met him like that several more times, dinner study bled into evenings, innocent touches became intimate, and bold teases became hushed whispers in his dorm room. The very dorm room you were coming back from now. Walking back just after curfew. 

When you made it back to the common room the first thing you noticed was your own reflection, your hair was frazzled and your uniform was creased. You found yourself wondering how all of that could happen from just a kiss. Followed by a few more. And then some more,, you could completely understand how it happened, actually. You’ll remember it forever.

Once you fixed your appearance, the second thing  you noticed was Harry sitting on the couch with a parchment on his lap, next to him was a nervous Ron and a shockingly ridgid Hermione. Harry’s eyes were on you, Ron’s was on his hands, and Hermione was faking reading a book. You pause before you made it to the stairs, slowly walking over to the three. “Hey you guys! What are we up to?”

“Nothing, just been waiting a few hours.” Harry snarked and you narrowed your eyes in confusion. Suddenly you remembered, you had agreed to meet the trio out for Quidditch practice, they had managed to just get enough people for two full teams, guilt filled your chest. 

“Shoot, Harry I am so-” Before you could even start to grovel he stood up and Hermione sighed, Ron quickly speaking up.

“Where were you?” Harry demanded.

“Come on, Harry.” Ron tried to interrupt. “At least not in the common room.”

“What?” You whispered and Harry shoved the parchment in your hands. It wasn't just any piece of paper, it was the map. Your fathers map. 

Your jaw went slack and you looked up at Harry, Your guilt was quickly overturned by anger. “Were you stalking me!?” You exclaimed and thanked Merlin the common room was empty this late.

“I thought something had happened! Don't deflect! Where were you?!”

“None of your business you slime!”

“You come out of the Slytherin dorms with Voldemort’s son and it's none of my business?” He whisper hissed, You scoffed. 

“Yes, none of your business!” You snapped back and threw the map on the ground. “I don't have to answer to you! And his name is Mattheo!” You hissed back and stepped on the charmed paper, dragging it under your heel. “You’d do best to remember that. I'm not a bloody kid, Harry!”

“You're my sister!” He challenged and you scoffed.

“He's a monster! A Slytherin, his parents are horrid, and our-”

“Do not say another word, Harry.” You threatened as you began to stomp off to your dorm and he huffed. Kneeling down to pick up the parchment and dust it off. 

“I’ll make it easy for you.” He called over and you turned to face him with a glare. “You break up with him, or I’ll tell father over the summer.”

Your face fell and your heart stopped. Harry had this look about him, like he didn't want to be doing this, but yet, he was. 

“You wouldn’t-” You spoke slowly and Harry sighed. 

“Two days.”

~~ 

Those two days were blissful hell. You weren't going to break up with Mattheo, there was no way in muggle hell you were going to willingly give him up.

You did try to talk to him about it, however, several times. At least to warn him why he may have a war hero Auror setting a bounty on his head soon. Your father was protective, far more than you thought was necessary, but he treated everyone as black or white. Usually, everyone was allowed his love and care, that being said, Voldemort was a sore subject.

You would say you were trying your best, but Mattheo was so… Mattheo. He was hard to talk to. A very… physical person? He would complain about how you would be leaving the school in mere days for summer, followed by you being drowned in kisses and wandering hands.

Merlin two days was not enough. Next thing you knew, you were home, in your room, counting the minutes until your mother called you down for dinner.

You began to bite your nails, scrunching up your face when you bit down too far. You sighed as you heard Lily call you and Harry down.

You walked into the hall to see Harry waiting at the top of the staircase for you. He looked regretful, but stern. “Harry-”

“I’ll give you the chance. To tell them yourself.” He mumbled before he walked down the stairs. You mentally prepared yourself and walked as slow as you could down the stairs. Not noticing as Harry glanced at your neck.  

When you walked into the dinning room, your heart dropped. Your mother, father, Uncle Moony, and Uncle Padfoot were all at the table. You cursed and clenched your jaw, Harry stared down at his plate and you sat beside him by Remus. You gave your mom a small thank you as she served you. Sirius and your father were making jokes about their Quidditch days after Harry bragged about their most recent win. You relished in the moment, before all hell broke loose.

You asked your father a question about the story, just trying to seem engaged. He lit up at your interest, turning to face you fully. “Well! When you're a beater, there is this unspoken rule that everyone follows and.. what the bloody hell is that?” 

You narrowed your eyes at his sudden tone change. “What?” You whispered as you looked around the table, all eyes were on you. You took a shaken breath and bit your cheek. “I-”

“That's a hickey, dad.” Harry muttered and took a bite of his food. Your face fell and all the blood left it.

“A what!?” He exclaimed and fixed his glasses on his face, you quickly covered your collarbone. Sirius gripped his silverware, hard, taking a steady breath. “How old are ya, hun?” He asked and you snapped your attention to him. Stuttering and stammering for a moment.

“I think the better question is, who did that? It's bloody horrific.” Remus muttered and you stared up at him with wide, horrified eyes. “U-uncle Moony!”

“Boys, calm down. She's 16, and James, we talked about this. Our kids will be dating soon, I mean, Harry has that Ginny girl and you never fuss at him.” Lily tried to defend and James scoffed. 

“This is hardly the same! I raised him! I don't know a thing about this boy!”

“Or girl.” Remus smirked and James felt his face fall in shock and you groaned, slowly covering your face.

“Remus.” Lily hissed out. “James.” She warned before Sirius spoke up. 

“Fine, fine, it's all fine. I mean, what harm could he do? We've taught her everything she needs to know about the world. Probably some Hufflepuff boy.” He tried to dismiss, and Remus, ever the instigator tonight, spoke up again.

“I'd be shocked if a Hufflepuff did that to my nieces neck.” He mumbled and James began to breathe quicker and heavier.

“Right, right, fine. You're being safe, right?” He asked bluntly and you groaned, melting into your seat. “Please, anything but this conversation right now.”

Lily gave a small fond smile and tutted at the boys. “Well honey, you should invite him over this summer break. I'd love to meet him.” She offered and then Harry gave a laugh. You shot him a look. “Don't you dare.”

“Dare. Very much dare, Harry.” Sirius quipped and Harry looked at you with a pursed lip before he sighed and spoke up. “Don't think you'd want him here is all.”

“Harry.” You warned, Lily sighing. “Harry, you stop that right now.” 

“What? I'm just being honest, dad and padfoot hate Slytherins.” He mused plainly, and James dropped his silverware. 

Sirius gave a laugh, throwing his head back before it slowly died out as he saw your red face. “No-”

“Why does his house matter?” You scoffed. “Not all Slytherins are the same.”

“Yeah, just so happens that he's just the type dad hates.” Harry muttered before he took a sip of water. “Happens to be one he particularly-”

“Harry James Potter!” Lily shouted at him and he had enough sense to seem guilty. He looked down as you tried to sink deeper into your seat. 

“I had a feeling.” Remus spoke up and you looked at him in shock. He gave you a side eyed glance. “You had a quidditch jersey in your bag. You don't play and certainly not for Slytherin.”

You looked down at your hands on your lap as your father shouted. “Why didn't you tell us, Remus!”

“This,” He gestured with his fork towards his husband and best friend. “You're terrifying the poor girl. I saw the name, I have to agree with Harry, you'd lose it.”

“What?” James snapped and Lily slammed her hands on the table. “Will you cut it out? All three of you! Do you want her to hide things from us forever? She'll tell us in her own time.”

Sirius groaned and began to pick at his food. “Whatever. As long as it isn't Malfoy.” He huffed and you shyly shook your head. Sirius gave an exaggerated groan of relief. “Thank Merlin.” 

“Who did that, sweetheart?” James prodded with a warning glare from Lily. “James.” She whispered and they locked eyes. They held that look before he clicked his tongue. 

“I asked you a question, niffler.” James prodded, and Lily slowly closed her eyes, covering her face.

“Dad, I really think-”

“Your dad asked you something.” Remus suddenly spoke up and you looked over at him to meet his eyes. Then it hit you. What he had said moments ago. He knew. 

“I-”

“Y/N.” Sirius prodded and Lily gave you a sympathetic look. She could command your father on a lot of things. But never about you and Harry.

“Mattheo. Mattheo Riddle.” Harry suddenly spoke up, and your blood ran cold. You sunk as deep as you could into your seat and Lily gave a squeak of surprise, before covering her mouth. Remus thinned his lips and clenched his jaw. 

“No you aren't.” James said simply and you covered your face.

“{Y/N}. No you aren't.”

“Dad, please.” You sniffed, overwhelmed. You sat up and straightened yourself. “He isn't some, bad guy-”

Remus scoffed and Sirius slammed his fist on the table. “His father-!”

“He isn't his father!” You challenged, shooting up from your seat and glaring at your uncle. “You of all people should understand that!”

“Watch your mouth.” James hissed and stood up as well. You scoffed and threw your hands up. “I don't understand! He's done nothing wrong! Nothing to any of us! I get that he's not this image you had in your head of what you wanted for me-”

“Dorcas.. Marlene.” Your mother whispered and your body stiffened. You looked over at your mother and your heart broke at her distress. You reached out and she sniffled, dismissing herself. Your shoulders fell and you looked back to your father. 

He was staring at you with a look you've never seen.

“Dad-”

“Your room. Now.”

“Dad! That's not fair in the slightest I-”

“Room!” He boomed and you sniffled before running off. Slamming the dining room door behind you as you walked upstairs. 

It would be a long summer.

~~~

Mattheo was missing you. He had been missing you for days now. You said you would write to him, but he didn't get a single letter. He figured it was likely you were busy, you did have a family to distract you after all. 

So, he wrote you a letter instead. He didn't want to think about how desperate it sounded, how desperate he was for you. He didn't look over it more than once before he sent it.

Little did he know, the second James heard an owl outside, he shot to his feet and hurried to intercept it. You were ever oblivious, in your parents room as you and Lily shared one of many heartfelt conversations over the brief summer. Your mother was doing her best to understand, but it was trouble, trying to believe he wasn't doing this for some master plan down the line. You both went quiet when you heard your father call you both.

When you walked into the parlor room, you sat down on the couch, You looked at the table in front of you and grimaced, You'd know that parchment anywhere. 

There was a long pause, before James spoke up. “The last time I saw this parchment, it was a letter Beatrix Lestrange sent us in our third safe house. Telling us she knew where we were, and that she was coming. Coming to kill your family, {Y/N}.” He leaned forward and picked up the letter and you refused to look him in the eyes.

“It’s nostalgic, really. But these words? ‘I yearn for you. I look at my textbooks from over the years and I wonder what it would be like to have you read them to me’.” He declared. “ ‘You made even the most complex of spells doable. You made things doable’.”

Your mother couldnt help but smile a bit at his words. You grimaced.

“Charming, isnt it? If only the rest of the letter wasnt riddled with innuendo of what this fuck wants to do to my daughter.”

You winced and sighed, the grimace not leaving your face. Mattheo that.. Idiot.

Then,, your mother began to laugh, and James looked at her from the corner of his eyes. “What? Is this funny?”

“Quite.” She smirked. “Sounds like the letters you would send me in school. I used to burn them.” 

He scoffed and leaned back in his seat. “That makes me feel fantastic. He’s a bastard like I was in school.”

“Well.” Lily spoke slowly. “Look at us now.” 

Lily looked over at you just in time for you to glance up and meet her eyes. She smiled sweetly before she continued. “I think its sweet.”

[theowritesstuff]

Everything

Kaz Brekker x gn!healer!reader

Requests: “Don’t make me say it. I can’t say the words.” & “You are everything. Everything.” Although I did change it to “You are everything to me. Everything.”

Warnings: bruises, knives, guns, stabbing, blood, murder (feral Kaz)

A/N: Yeah, this is pretty dark guys. If you’ve watched the show/read the books you’ll be fine, but the crows plotlines are usually dark. I actually really like this one though! Italics are Kaz’s thoughts.

Request a prompt with one of my characters!

Kaz Brekker was methodical. He planned everything he could down to the very minute. It was how he was able to become the leader of the Dregs, the Bastard of the Barrel. No one dared cross Kaz, in fear of losing their life.

His crew were nearly as untouchable as he was. Jesper, the sharpshooter. Inej, the wraith. Wylan, the demolitions expert. Nina, the heartrender. And Matthias, the druskelle. They, along with their leader, made up one of the most prominent gangs in Ketterdam.

Then there was you. You were the crow that Kaz kept tucked away from the rest of Ketterdam.

Nina had brought you to Kaz after finding you help a small child with a nasty scrape on his knee. She watched as you guided your hand over the scrape, and the cuts disappeared. She hadn’t seen another Corporalnik in Ketterdam before, and knew that having a healer would help immensely when it came to heists.

Kaz was reluctant to take you in, only agreeing once he’d seen you heal a black eye Jesper had been sporting for a few days. He gave you a room at the Slat, gave you a few kruge, and introduced you to the other crows.

They were all easy to get along with. Nina helped you ease into this new life, often times joining you for meals, or taking walks through the markets with you. You had an obvious initial distaste for Mathias, often times choosing to stay away from the druskelle, but seeing him with Nina quickly put you at ease. Inej was incredibly kind to you, and graciously thanked you whenever you healed her. Wylan and Jesper were easy to get along with, often times too absorbed in each other to be aware of other things going on around them.

Then there was Kaz. It was more difficult to have a working relationship with Kaz, anyone could tell you he usually kept to himself unless he was giving orders or collecting kruge. You tried not to take his indifference to you personally.

You do remember the day things changed between you and Kaz though. The group had all come back from a heist exhausted, some injured, some just tired, but you could see Kaz out of the corner of your eye walking to his room quicker than he usually does. You followed him upstairs, and softly knocked on the door.

“Come in.” He grunted.

You’d never been in Kaz’s room before, you don’t think anyone other than Kaz actually has. It’s dark, and honestly exactly what you’d expected. A bed in the corner, a desk against the wall cluttered with paper, and a wardrobe that he was currently riffing through.

“Is there a reason you’ve decided to grace me with your presence Y/n?” He asks, his tone sharp.

“How did you know it was me?” You shuffle forward, and close his door behind you.

“Everyone else knows not to bother me after a job.” He turned his head towards you slightly, allowing you to catch a glimpse of red on his cheek.

“You’re hurt.” You take a step towards him. He steps back from you instantaneously.

“I’m fine.” He turns back to his wardrobe.

“Saints, why must you be so stubborn?” You sigh. He doesn’t answer you. “I thought you hired me to heal you, so let me do my job.”

It’s his turn to sigh this time. It would be nice to stop the stinging sensation on his face. He glances at you, then gestures you towards him. “Fine.” He sits down in the chair at his desk, and watches you slowly step towards him.

You slowly move towards him, aware of the way his shoulder tense with every step you take. You don’t know exactly what’s happened to him, but you can easily tell he’s got some sort of touch aversion after watching him for a while. The black gloves that never come off his hands are used as another layer to keep others away.

Once you’re standing in front of him you take a look at the thin cut across his cheek. “I didn’t know the bastard of the barrel could bleed.” You murmur.

You don’t fail to miss the slight upward quirk of his lips at your comment. He holds his breath as your fingertips hover over him. He expected to feel the waters rise up in his chest, drowning him, instead he’s surprised to feel warmth from your hand. You’re careful not to actually touch him, pulling away once he’s been healed.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” You ask, stepping away from him.

That was the moment you became more than just the Dregs’ healer. Whenever you went out anywhere Kaz would send Inej with you for protection. He knew how valuable a grisha was in Ketterdam, and he was not going to let someone else take you away. He called you into his office in the Crow Club or his room in the Slat more often. Sometimes he’d need you to heal a paper cut, other times he’d just want your company while he planned out heists. On nights where he came back banged up more than usual he’d bare more skin to you, allowing you to heal him and provide him the comfort a part of him so desperately needed.

He’d never let it be known he was growing some kind of attachment to you. You were a weakness to him, and Kaz Brekker didn’t have any weaknesses.

It didn’t take long for the other crows to figure out something was different between the two of you. Kaz was a cold, corrupt gang leader, but they could see a shift in him when you were near.

He’d give you his coat if you felt cold on the walk from the club back to the Slat. He kept your favorite drink in stock at the Crow Club. He’d look to you for your opinion on plans for heists. He whispered comments to you while he thought the others weren’t paying attention, a smug grin growing on his face as you laughed at what he’d said. Soft isn’t the right word for what Kaz had become when you were near. He was gentle with you.

Jesper caught you sneaking out of Kaz’s room early one morning still in the clothes you’d worn the previous day. He smirked at Kaz as he ate his breakfast for the day.

“Have a pleasant night boss?” He asked over his cup of coffee.

Kaz raises a brow at him, silently asking what he meant.

Jesper simply looks over at you, who is currently in conversation with Nina and Mathias on the other side of the room. His eyes travel back to Kaz, gleaming with mischief.

Kaz looks like he’s about to hit Jesper over the head with the crow’s head of his cane. He gets a stern talking to in Kaz’s office later that day, and is informed that if anyone finds out about his meetings with you, his precious revolvers might end up on someone’s table in the market.

No one mentions any changes they’ve seen in Kaz after that. Everything goes smoothly from then on, until one particular heist.

It was a lot like any other heist, sneak into a place, steal something that costs an exorbitant amount of money, then sell it for twice the price. The problem was Kaz needed someone to sneak into a crowded party, and at that point most of the barrel could pick out any of the crows in a crowd. They needed someone that could be inconspicuous.

It was the perfect job for you. You’d always wanted to go on the crazy adventures your friend went on so often, and this was finally something you could swing.

When you volunteered to step in, Kaz immediately refused. There was a reason he kept you locked away in the Slat during jobs.

No amount of kruge is worth putting your life on the line.

He gives excuse after excuse as to why you can’t be used. You haven’t done this before. You don’t know your way around the building. They need their healer ready to treat them afterwards.

I can’t bear the thought of losing you.

“You don’t even know how to use a weapon.” Kaz sighed, barely looking up at you from the blueprints on his desk.

“Inej can teach me, right?” You turn to the wraith with pleading eyes.

Inej stutters as she looks between you, and the icy stare coming from Kaz.

“Besides, you said that you wanted me to learn how to fight.”

No, I said you should learn to use a weapon. I figured Jesper would let you shoot a few bottles behind the Slat.

“We need them boss. Y/n is our best bet.” Jesper shrugs as he becomes the receiving end of Kaz’s glare.

Kaz looks back down at his blueprints. He knows it’s going to be a busy event, and the others will be spotted on sight. He briefly wonders if he can hire someone else to do the job, but then he looks back up at you. He trusts you, more than he’s trusted anyone in a long time. He knows this is something you’re perfectly capable of, but is it something he’s willing to risk?

“Fine.” He grunts. “But Jesper and Inej will teach you to use their weapons first.”

Your hearts swells up with pride. If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thrown yourself over his desk to hug him. “Thank you Kaz. I promise you won’t regret this.”

If only you knew how wrong you had been.

You did train with Inej and Jesper prior to the heist. You even practiced fighting with Mathias a little bit, who was significantly holding back his punches in fear of actually hurting you.

Kaz had made sure to drill his instructions into everyone’s heads, until they could repeat their schedules without thinking about it. Everything had gone to according to plan on the night of, until things took a drastic turn.

He kept an eye on you for as long as he could, until he was needed somewhere else, leaving you in the crowd of the large hall completely isolated from the rest of the group.

You were doing well on your own, slowly becoming more confident as you strolled around and made conversation. You managed to distract all of the merchants with conversation long enough for the crew to get what they needed. It was nearing the time Kaz told you to meet him outside when you were spotted by someone. You vaguely recognized the face, it was a man you’d seen in the Crow Club a few times.

He must’ve known about your affiliation with the crows, because next thing you know you’re being escorted the opposite direction you need to go. You try to stay calm, and remember what Jesper and Inej taught you about fighting, but you know with them holding onto your arms it’ll be near impossible to reach for the knife you have hidden away.

You end up in a courtyard behind the building when they start to question you. Simple things like “why are you here?” and “where are your friends?”. They quickly become aggravated with your innocent act, and become more incessant.

All it took was for one of the men holding you to loosen his grip for you to swing your arm away, and hit him on the side of his face with your elbow. Chaos ensued immediately. You were able to grab your knife, and used it as best you could against the three men fighting you. You had taken a few hits, but were able to stand your ground fairly well, until you felt a sharp pain in your side.

You froze, partially from shock, but mostly from the searing pain you felt. You looked down to see a dagger lodged in your side, being held onto by one of the men. He had a wicked grin on his face as he twisted the knife inside of you. You wailed out as he pulled the knife from your body, and watched as you collapsed to the ground.

“Brekker won’t be able to save you from that, little bird.” He snikered, then ran back inside with the others.

You could feel the blood pooling at your side. You tried to press a hand to the now sticky fabric of your shirt, and put pressure on the wound. You were far too hurt to be able to concentrate your powers to one spot. Your vision started to get spotty when you heard voices above you. A girl’s voice, clearly in distress, and a boy’s voice, sharp and stern.

More hands pressed to your side, then something was wrapped tightly around your waist.

You couldn’t hear what they were actually saying before you felt yourself being picked up, and held in someone’s arms. You looked up to see the figure that was holding you. A bigger build, wide shoulders, blonde hair? Mathias. Had you been conscious enough to speak you would’ve made a joke. Something about a druskelle carrying a grisha to safety. He’d laugh, but retort, telling you about how many times he’s had to save Nina.

You let yourself fall into the darkness after a while, your head lolling against Mathias’ chest. It’s okay, you thought, you knew you weren’t going to make it as soon as he pulled that knife out of you. You just wish you were able to see your friends one last time, to see Kaz one last time.

Kaz could feel his heart thundering in his chest. He tried to keep a calm composure, but anyone of the crows could see the anxiety building up in him. He was barking orders as soon as he saw you laying on the ground, a puddle of your own blood surrounding you. The waves start to build in his chest. He wants to reach out and touch you, to give you any semblance of comfort, because you’re not dead, there’s no way he’s letting you die. He’ll destroy all of Kerch before he lets that happen.

He notices when your head lolls. “Quickly.” He urges the group, speeding his own pace back to the Slat.

Once everyones regrouped they all gather in your room, where Mathias has lain you down on your bed.

Kaz tosses a pouch of coins to Jesper. “Go get some medicine. I don’t care how much it costs. Get the best you can find.”

Inej kneels down next to you, whispering prayers to her saints. Mathias leaves to gather supplies to help you. Nina keeps your heartbeat steady, her hands hovering above your chest.

The waters have reached his lungs now, pulling him down deeper into the ocean. Your blood coats the scarf Inej tied around you earlier, staining the blue material a dark, deep red.

“Saints! Kaz, your heartbeat is obscenely loud! Could you please go anywhere else?” Nina snaps at him.

Kaz doesn’t move for a moment, then quickly leaves your room to go to his own. He attempts to slow his breathing, to calm himself down, but anytime he closes his eyes he sees you again. You and Jordie.

It’s days before he talks to anyone. He only ever leaves his room to step into yours. Nina occupies a chair near your bed, dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep.

“Still alive.” Is all she says to him. He nods, then retreats back to his room.

He scours any and all information he has about the party, until he finds what might give him some relief. He leaves the Slat early one morning, and doesn’t return until late that evening. The gold crow’s head of his cane is now a bright crimson color. Blood is splattered on his neck, and one can assume his clothes as well, though the black hides it well from anyone giving him a second glance.

Jesper is surprised to see Kaz in such a state, knowing that he liked to keep up appearances.

“Hey boss, you’ve got a little…” he trails off, gesturing to his neck.

“It’s not mine.” He rushes passed Jesper, back to his room to start scrubbing the blood away.

You wake up about a week after the heist. Your throat is dry, and you feel incredibly hungry. Your limbs feel weak when move to sit up.

Nina sits next to you on a chair. She’s slouched over, soft snores falling from her lips. You softly nudge her, and let out a hoarse “Nina.”

She grumbles to herself as she wakes up. “Kaz, they’re fine.” She slowly opens her eyes to see you staring back at her, and she gasps. “Saints! You’re awake!”

You point to the cup that sits next to her, and gulp down the water when she hands it to you.

She stands up and looks towards the door to your room. “I’m going to go get Kaz.”

You grab her wrist before she can leave you. “Please don’t. I don’t think I can deal with incessant “I told you so”s right now.”

Nina scoffs. “Oh please, he’s been worried sick about you. I had to kick him out of here because his heartbeat was distracting me from yours.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He even paid for some pretty pricey medicine for you. Speaking of which, here, take these.” She holds out a few pills. “Now, I’m going to go get Kaz, and maybe after this near-death experience you two will finally just tell each other that you love one another.”

“What? I don’t-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You shake your head.

“It’s okay, he’s not very good at hiding it either.” She smirks at you before she leaves.

She’s only gone a few minutes before your door swings open with Kaz in your doorway.

“You’re awake.” He says.

You shift so that you’re sitting up on your bed. Kaz closes your door behind him, then sits down in the chair Nina had been using, his eyes trained on the floor ahead.

“I’m sorry about the heist Kaz. But I promise I didn’t tell them anything-”

“I know.”

You furrow your brows. “You know?”

He looks up at you. When he does this, you realize just how close you are to him. You can see every detail in his face. The way his blue eyes sparkled in the dim candlelight of your room. You could brush your leg against his if you shifted. You start to move away from him, afraid of touching him, but stop when what sounds like a plea escapes him.

“Stay.”

You let out the breath you’d been holding, and relax beside him.

“Nina said you were worried about me.” You say softly.

He laughs a little, shaking his head. It’s a sight he’s reserved for just you. “Of course she did.”

“Were you?”

He looks into your eyes as if he’s searching for something. “I was.” He takes a breath, then turns his body so he’s facing you. “You scared me Y/n. I thought you had died, or were close to it. And I…” His admission is quiet. “Don’t make me say it. I can’t say the words.” He hangs his head in shame. The bastard of the barrel can’t admit how he feels.

“I understand.” You nod. “I feel so much love for you Kaz, you consume my every thought. You don’t need to say anything. I understand.”

He looks up at you, surprised. Surprised that someone as pure as you, someone who was literally made to heal, could ever love someone who’s caused so much pain as he has. He slowly removes his right glove, and drops the leather to the ground. He lifts his hand to your face, hovering near your cheek.

“You don’t have to.” You whisper, body frozen.

“I want to.” He takes a deep breath in an attempt to push the waves down, and slowly caresses your cheek. His throat tightens up, and for a moment it feels like he’s drowning again. But he focuses on your warmth, and his breathing slows down again. “You are everything to me. Everything.”

-

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Lord Husband (Chapter 1)

Cregan x reader

A/N: this is just gonna be a miniseries methinks

word count: 1,171

Next chapter

Series Masterlist

“You look like an angel, my love.” Rhaenyra says as the handmaidens pin back your hair but you don’t feel like an angel; you feel like a pawn.

You have been meeting with suitors for nearly four moons and none have seemed to be good enough for you. Lannisters are too proud, Tullys bore you, and you can’t stand a single person with the name Baratheon. Your mother said that she was showing you a great kindness in allowing you to choose, a kindness that she didn’t appreciate enough when the young queen had the chance. You don’t care. You know you are just like she was when she was younger. You often wear that with pride but you know what it means in this scenario. You’re ‘too stubborn to appreciate what has been given to you’. Rhaenyra gave you the opportunity but she was no longer patient. A husband had to be chosen.

“Winterfell is very far.” Is all you say in response.

“Lord Stark is a good man. I would not have chosen him for you if I wasn’t sure of it.” She presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Just walk through the gardens with him. Get to know the man who will be your husband.” She pets your hair in a loving manner. You can’t seem to understand that she would only have the best for you, her only daughter.

You have yet to meet Cregan Stark but you already hate him, your betrothed, the man who will whisk you away from your family to the cold North. You resent the freedoms he is taking from you. You resent being separated from your family. You resent everything about him.

“He will treat you well, sweet girl. I know it.” You stand up now, wrapped in a silk gown and decorated with jewellery like a lovely little present for him. When you get to the gardens, he is already waiting for you with a blinding smile on his face. You have to admit that he is incredibly handsome. He is tall and his physique looks strong from years of training with the sword. A real Northern man.

“Princess, it is my pleasure to meet you. Our engagement brings great honour to my house.” He walks over to stand in front of you and you let him take your hand up for a kiss, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Lord Stark.” Your voice is cold which seems to surprise him ever so slightly. You don’t give him a chance to say much else as you begin to walk through the gardens, leaving him in your dust. He looks at you in a bit of a stupor before quickly following after his pretty betrothed. 

“Would you like to take my arm, princess?” He politely offers his right arm to you. How proper.

“No.” You say simply as he speeds up a bit to stay in step with you.

“No?” He looks a little confused but chalks it up to teenage girls being a little strange. You give him no other response so he makes another attempt at conversation. “Have you ever visited Winterfell?”

“No.” He awaits to hear a sentiment of your excitement to see it soon but is disappointed when none comes.

“I am sure you will love it. It’s beautiful when there's a fresh dusting of snow on the ground. I’d say it’s the greatest place in all of Westeros but I suppose i’m biased.” He grins, mostly to himself, and then looks at you, hopeful for more of a response.

“Hmm.”  Is all you offer as a reply. Cregan finds himself dejected at his future wife’s lack of interest and he tries his best to shake it off.

“It does get cold of course but you’ll be more than warm enough in the castle. Most actually find it very cozy.” He gives you another smile that likely has most women melting in a puddle at his feet. For some reason it just irritates you more.

“Dragons don’t do well in the cold.” Your curt reply makes him cringe. He can’t understand what has given you such a sense of distaste towards him. Things are silent for a moment. He has no idea how to respond directly to your comment.

“Do you have any hobbies?” Another attempt it seems. The question makes you sigh. What a boring change of subject. 

“We don’t really need to speak.” You shock him with your words, with your bratty attitude. He’d expected you to be entitled but he didn’t expect you to be outright rude. He is a lord after all, the Warden of the North. He deserves some sense of courtesy from you.

“That is going to be difficult seeing as how we are to be wed.” He scoffs and you begin to fiddle with the rings that decorate your fingers.

“The only thing you need from me in this marriage is to fill my belly with your heirs.” You say. You know it’s harsh but it isn’t necessarily untrue. He seems to be taken aback slightly by your words.

“You don’t wish to get to know the man you’re going to marry?” He asks in disbelief. He seems like a romantic. You didn’t think people of nobility were allowed to be romantics. Though, simply knowing your husband better is a sad definition of romanticism.

“You ask many questions.” You roll your eyes and he does his best to hold his tongue and not say something stupid.

“And you answer practically none, princess.” There was a bit of bite in his words. He clearly believes that you’re acting like a spoilt child. 

Awkward silence fills the space between you both. You wonder if he may apologise to you and he earns a bit more of your respect because he doesn’t. It’s quiet for quite some time and you try to walk faster so that you may get to the end of the gardens before he tries to make conversation again. He never does and it isn’t long before the promenade comes to an untimely finish.

“Good day to you, my lord.” Poor Lord Stark looks like he’s rethinking all of his life choices when you say the words to him. What an ill fate for the man, marrying a cold Targaryen princess.

“To you as well, princess.” You don’t lift your hand up for him to kiss again and based on the fact that he looks like a kicked puppy, you know that he wanted to.

You leave quickly. You did your duty… technically. Your mother asked you to walk through the gardens with him and you did. Mayhaps you simply forgot about the getting to know him part. You wonder if he will retract his proposal, but who would ever retract a proposal to a princess? Maybe you’re delaying the inevitable, maybe you’re just full of old fashioned Targaryen spite but you have no wish to create a relationship with the man you’re meant to marry.

taglist(comment to be added): @valeskafics @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies

[cantsayidont]

When attempting to critique the values of a long-running franchise like STAR TREK, it's important to draw a distinction between superficial issues and structural ones.

"Superficial" in this sense doesn't mean "minor" or "unimportant"; it simply means that an issue is not so intrinsic to the premise that the franchise would collapse (or would be radically different) were it changed or removed. For example, misogyny has been a pervasive problem across many generations of STAR TREK media, which have often been characterized by a particular type of leering-creep sexism that was distasteful at the time and has not improved with age. However, sexism and misogyny are not structural elements of the TREK premise; one can do a STAR TREK story where the female characters have agency and even pants without it becoming something fundamentally different from other TREK iterations (even TOS, although there are certainly specific TOS episodes that would collapse if you excised the sexism).

By contrast, the colonialism and imperialism are structural elements — STAR TREK is explicitly about colonizing "the final frontier" and about defending the borders, however defined, of an interstellar colonial power. Different iterations of STAR TREK may approach that premise in slightly different ways, emphasizing or deemphasizing certain specific aspects of it, but that is literally and specifically what the franchise is about. Moreover, because STAR TREK has always been heavily focused on Starfleet and has tended to shy away from depicting life outside of that regimented environment, there are definite limits to how far the series is able to depart from the basic narrative structure of TOS and TNG (a captain and crew on a Starfleet ship) without collapsing in on itself, as PICARD ended up demonstrating rather painfully.

This means that some of the things baked into the formula of STAR TREK are obviously in conflict with the franchise's self-image of progressive utopianism, but cannot really be removed or significantly altered, even if the writers were inclined to try (which they generally are not).

What I find intensely frustrating about most modern STAR TREK media, including TNG and its various successors, is not that it can't magically break its own formula, but that writer and fan attachment to the idea of TREK as the epitome of progressive science fiction has become a more and more intractable barrier to any kind of meaningful self-critique. It's a problem that's become increasingly acute with the recent batch of live-action shows, which routinely depict the Federation or Starfleet doing awful things (like the recent SNW storyline about Una being prosecuted for being a genetically engineered person in violation of Federation law) and then insist, often in the same breath, that it's a progressive utopia, best of all possible worlds.

This is one area where TOS (and to some extent the TOS cast movies) has a significant advantage over its successors. TOS professes to be a better world than ours, but it doesn't claim to be a perfect world (and indeed is very suspicious of any kind of purported utopia). The value TOS most consistently emphasizes is striving: working to be better, and making constructive choices. Although this can sometimes get very sticky and uncomfortable in its own right (for instance, Kirk often rails against what he sees as "stagnant" cultures), it doesn't presuppose the moral infallibility of the Federation, of Starfleet, or of the characters themselves. There's room for them to be wrong, so long as they're still willing to learn and grow.

The newer shows are less and less willing to allow for that, and, even more troublingly, sometimes take pains to undermine their predecessors' attempts along those lines. One appalling recent example is SNW's treatment of the Gorn, which presents the Gorn as intrinsically evil (and quite horrifying) in a way they're not in "Arena," the TOS episode where they were first introduced. The whole point of "Arena" is that while Kirk responds to the Gorn with outrage and anger, he eventually concedes that he may be wrong: There's a good chance that the Gorn are really the injured party, responding to what they reasonably see as an alien invasion, and while that may be an arguable point, sorting it out further should be the purview of diplomats rather than warships. By contrast, SNW presents the Gorn as so irredeemably awful as to make Kirk's (chronologically later) epiphany at best misguided: The SNW Gorn are brutal conquerors who lay eggs in their captives (a gruesome rape metaphor, and in presentation obviously inspired by ALIENS) when they aren't killing each other for sport, and even Gorn newborns are monsters to be feared. Not a lot of nuance there, and no space at all for the kind of detente found in TOS episodes like "The Devil in the Dark."

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XVII

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI

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

“If I asked for advice, would you give me some?”

“Only because I have a feeling you wouldn’t leave me alone until I did,” was what Shoko replied to the man in front of her. “As long as it's not love advice, I guess.”

Satoru’s smile seemed to falter, and when he forced a laugh out, Ieiri’s eyebrow quirked. “It’s just advice to… “

How could he frame it without giving himself away? It was not that Satoru wanted to keep his feelings a secret, and he knew Shoko would probably roll her eyes but would not judge him. Still, he did not want to put her in an awkward situation with you if ultimately, nothing came out of this.

“Advice to understand someone,” Satoru said, thinking that should suffice. What he needed at the end was to understand how you were feeling now, was it not?

Shoko blinked slowly and gave Gojo a long, thoughtful look.

“Advice to understand someone,” she repeated. “What would you need that for?”

What is he up to now?

Gojo had never given her the impression of being particularly good at understanding people, that much was true. Of course, he could find his way around them, rather smartly if she dared add, and she knew he could charm people in to take advantage of their strengths, but that did not mean he always understood their feelings, not that he had ever shown much interest in doing it in the first place.

He had always stricken her as the kind of person that cared about people but could not always care for them.

Satoru leaned back in his chair. “If someone told you you are selfish, wouldn’t you like to know why?”

I would, she thought, but it is not like you to mind what people say.

“If it were someone whose opinion matters…” he added, crossing his arms.

He’s not saying any names, but there aren’t many people that could make him care.

“And you don’t want them to think of you like that,” she completed.

He smiled in her direction, but Shoko had the feeling he was avoiding her gaze.

So that’s it.

“So, someone called you selfish, and you want to understand why they did it?” Shoko asked him, sounding as disinterested as ever, but he knew her; the wheels in her head were turning. “I guess it depends on the circumstances.” She leaned back in his chair imitating Satoru’s posture. “If they had a reason for it, something you said or did...”

Gojo seemed to ponder her words for a moment. Was that not the quid of the question?

Satoru himself knew he had done countless things that could be considered selfish. From taking your share of dessert when you were kids to sometimes taking your bed whenever he stayed at your place, to even influencing your decision to stay in Tokyo when you could have left to teach at the school in Kyoto; but not even once had you called him out on it, not seriously at least.

“It might have been something I did,” he admitted.

Ieiri was about to asked what it had been when he spoke again.

“I think… I took something from them.”

Stole… Yeah, I stole that kiss from them.

Is that why you were upset after, because he got carried away and kissed you?

Your hurt and distasteful expression flashed before his eyes.

No, there was more to it.

“You took something? Without permission, I assume.” Ieiri was looking at him.

She knew Gojo had a habit of following that saying: 'Better ask for forgiveness than permission'.

The thing was that even if he did not ask for permission, he rarely asked for forgiveness.

“Can’t you just return it?” she questioned, referring to the ‘something’ Satoru said he had taken.

“No.”

Gojo allowed himself to smile a little as he remembered how you had kissed him back. As bitter as the aftermath had been, for a fleeting moment when your lips moved with his, he thought all pieces were falling into place.

Shoko looked at him suspiciously and sighed. “I guess if you can’t return it, apologize and pay up.”

He hummed.

If only it were that easy.

“And just maybe give it some more thought,” Ieiri continued. “If someone calls you selfish, I think it’s more about your feelings than theirs…. Or to how they think you feel.” She gestured vaguely with her hand. “I guess one or the other.”

“My feelings?” Gojo felt confused by his friend’s words. He knew Shoko was not great at explaining stuff, but what did his feelings have to do with anything? You had not even wanted to hear them.

Ieiri was already standing up and had to looked down at him when she asked him “What you did, did you really do it out of selfishness?”

Satoru knew he could be a selfish man sometimes if the situation called for it, but that night he had just been… impatient. He did not want to spend one more second without knowing how you felt now, without you knowing how he felt.

Was that what you were thinking when you confessed? Had been your heart burning like his?

“No, not really,” he answered honestly.

“Then tell them that,” she said. “People don’t know how you truly feel about whatever you do until you tell them.”

He stood up. “That’s not a bad piece of advice.”

Shoko shrugged. “Whatever helps.” She turned around on her heels but stopped to look back at Gojo. “I guess it is also a piece of love advice.”

He looked at her, but she could not tell his eyes reflected surprise.

“Whatever you have to say, you don’t want to wait until it’s too late.” The closed lip smile she gave him, made Satoru think she was talking from experience, but her demeanor changed in a second. “It’s just a thought. What do I know anyway?” and she left.

Satoru smiled for himself.

Thanks, Shoko.

***

“Under what motive?” the oldest of the three men in the dimly light room asked the other two. “Seems to be a personal revenge. If they want to kill them, let them settle it themselves. Why meddle?”

“They probably do not want to become a target to the Gojo clan,” the man on his left replied.

He had referred to them as the Gojo clan, but they all knew they were thinking of one man in particular.

“Is the [your family name] that strongly connected to the Gojo clan? Is there some kind of contract between families?”

“None there are records of, but there are rumors they are...”

“That would explain it,” the third man, who had been silent all along, finally intervened. “Their attitude about the incident with Geto Suguru; their reluctance to reason with Gojo Satoru when he proclaimed himself the tutor of that kid of the Zenin, and now this; it is obvious where their loyalty lies.”

“A most uncooperative attitude, indeed, but is it necessary to do anything about it?” the first man asked.

“Weeds must be pulled out on time. We learned that the hard way” the second man finished.

***

'I’m alive. Can we meet when you have time?'

That had been Satoru’s message to you.

You had told him you were getting back to work today, and you could meet there. If you had told him he could come to your place yesterday, he would have known at first sight that you had gotten hurt in your last mission.

He does not need to know I got beaten up like that.

And now you were resting your back against a tree despite the cold weather around you. That was yours and Satoru’s usual reunion spot most mornings before work. It was not official, but you always stood there for a few minutes before walking the rest of the pathway and clocking in. At first, it had just been a good spot to finish your morning coffee, but at some point, it became the spot where you waited for Satoru.

Right, it was also not far from here.

You looked around for the spot where you had confessed. Unsurprisingly, you did not feel like having any morning coffee for a few days after that.

Maybe it’s not as bad as I remember it. Maybe I could ask Satoru if it was.

You closed your eyes and sighed.

No, I can’t do that. I’m not even sure of how I’m going to face him today.

When Satoru saw you, a smiled formed on his lips, but it quickly faltered when he realized he was not sure of how to approach you.

You two had gone back to texting each other just the day before, after a long period of complete silence, and furthermore, after that fight, or miscommunication, or “biggest screw-up so far”, as Satoru had been referring to the incident of that day in his head. What should be the first thing he tells you now?

He did not regret kissing you, but after giving it more thought, he had reached the conclusion that Ieiri was right, he should have made his feelings clearer.

He needed to be direct now, but what if you did not take it kindly if he just spitted that he was in love with you on your face? Jeez, he should have at least brought flowers or candy. Would that not have been more romantic?

“Satoru?”

Or coffee, he should have at least brought you something to drink.

“Satoru?”

You had opened your eyes and were looking at him.

I love you.

He wanted to just say it, but what came out instead was “Coffee.”

“Coffee?” you asked.

Idiot, Satoru told himself.

“No! I mean, I should have brought you coffee.” Why was he so nervous?

“Okay? We can have some in the teachers’ room,” you told him. You straighten up and looked ahead; you were technically in the school grounds, but you still had to walk some more before making it to the main building. “Shall we?”

Satoru gave you a silent nod and you both started walking.

You had asked him how his mission had been, and he said it went all right, but he had forgotten your souvenir at home. Then he asked how you had been, and you told him you were fine. Then you were out of subjects to discuss, and the silence felt uncomfortable. Had this path always been this long?

Suddenly, Satoru touched your arm and both of you halted.

When you turned your head to him, it seemed he had his eyes on the spot where his hand was touching you, right above your elbow.

You could feel the wam of his hand even through your clothes.

“About the other night…”

So he was going to address the elephant in the room.

You bit your tongue. Whatever he had to say, you had to hear it.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to…” he was still not meeting your gaze, but his hand was sliding down to yours. “I did not mean to upset you.”

“I’m sorry too, for kicking you out and...”

“I like you.” His hand squeezed yours as he pronounced those words.

“As in…”

What did he mean? You knew he liked you as a person and as his friend, but if he was saying what you were thinking…

His free hand removed a loose stand of hair off your face. “As in I like you.”

If anyone looked at you two, there would be no more mistaking it; all rumors would automatically be considered true: the strongest sorcerer had a thing for his childhood friend.

“You don’t need to say anything now,” he continued when he saw a hint of hesitation on your face. “Just say you will think about it, okay?”

When had he started liking you? If he rejected you months ago, was it not kind of recent?

When he kissed you, was it because he liked you or because he believed you were leaving him alone?

You liked him as much as ever, and more than once you had wished his answer had been different months ago when your feelings came out of the bag, but those awkward days after, and the turbulence that followed had taught you that you did not want him out of your life. What would happen if things did not work out? None of you could probably revert to how they had been before. Was it worth risking your friendship after all?

You nodded to Satoru's question, and he gently pulled you to resume your walk.

You eyed your hand enclosed in his. “Shouldn’t we…?”

He kept looking ahead with a light smile. “Just a little longer, can we?”

Satoru rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb and finally let go of it when you reached your destination and parted ways to go to your respective students.

He felt satisfied believing he had made his feelings clear this time, while you could only think of how cold your hand had felt without his, and how if you broke each other’s hearts, he might never want to hold your hand again.

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

Note: I'm alive!

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part XVIII

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh @stellasloth @bloopsstuff @cheesemachine44 @tetsuski

[danganronpadespairtime]

Chapter 2 part 1 asks

All responses are in this post for organization. There may be chapter 2 spoilers.

(space to prevent misclick)

xmicrophonyx asked: How long did it take you to make the Insane Literature Girl MV? It looked like you spent a lot of time on it!

Making the drawing and video itself took a little over a month. But I had been planning out the text portions (translation, text excerpts, ideas for puzzles) of it for a little over a year (my planning document dates back to May of last year and somehow amassed 12K words..?).

I wasn't working on it continuously for a year, though; it was just an on-off project that I was lazily thinking about for a while.

Anonymous asked: Hi this is a random question but I was wondering if I was just seeing things or not. Does Xander have a tongue piercing? I think in some sprites it looks like he has one and others where it looks like he doesn't. He is totally my favorite character and I love his design by the way!

It's not visible in all of his sprites, but he does indeed have a tongue piercing.

He thought if he had one there he could slip it under his old school's strict "no piercings allowed" policy by just closing his mouth every time a teacher walked by.

Anonymous asked: one genuine question, was there anything specific you were considering when coming up with the cast’s birthdates? or were they pretty much random

Some of the birthdays are specific dates with meaning, then the rest were filled in throughout the remaining months of the year in a somewhat even temporal spread.

xmicrophonyx asked: For this chapter's BDA and fake-out BDA, were they made with 3D assets, just 2D art, or a mix of both? What was the process in making them?

It's a 2D image with a depth map.

Anonymous asked: Is the Hope's Peak the DRDT class went to a high school or something more like a 4-year university for young adults? (Sorry if this has already been addressed somewhere, if the information exists I couldn't find it.)

The second thing. The US's Hope's Peak Academy is post-secondary education. It is equivalent to an American college.

Anonymous asked: I really love the character Fan-Made MVs you do, like for Min and David! Do you plan on making one for every character?

No. I only make MVs for songs that I think fit a character, that I like, and that I have a good MV idea for, which is not something I can control.

Anonymous asked: Does David's new design have a default sprite?

This one is his default sprite.

Anonymous asked: Hi DRDT Dev! This is more of just a simple question and not so much a chapter specific question. We know David like to eat simple foods like ready oat meal. But can he cook small meals like scrambled eggs, omelets or things like that? Oh and how does David normally manage his feelings? I like to think that he journals but this is just a head canon of mine. I'm curious if you could share anything like that about him for us!

He can cook a decent meal, he just prefers not to.

Badly

Anonymous asked: Do the cast have exact ages or are they just deemed “colleges aged adults”?

They all do have exact ages, down to the day, but that's a spoiler. For now, just know that they're over 18.

Anonymous asked: Something I'd been wondering since Rose had talked about her secret with Teruko: She mentions that she was bailed out and came to work under the Spurling Foundation by Richard Spurling. In Bonus Episode #2 with Xander, he mentions the name Duke Spurling with distaste in regards to the Chariton incident. Are Richard Spurling and Duke Spurling the same person? Or separate people? If they're the same person, is Duke a nickname or a title?

Duke Spurling and Richard Spurling are different people, but they are brothers. Duke is (was?) a politician. Richard is a billionaire philanthropist who founded the Spurling Foundation. Duke is not officially affiliated with the Spurling Foundation, but he did receive sizable political donations from that foundation while he was still active in politics.

Duke is a first name, by the way, and not a title. Also, Duke is quite old, in the 80-something-ish age range. Basically, old enough to have been alive during the Tragedy.

Anonymous asked: I was wondering if there are any other characters with canon sexualities?

I said before that I would only confirm sexualities in the story itself, but I changed my mind.

Whit - bisexual Eden - lesbian Ace - gay Veronika - pansexual David - bisexual with a strong female lean. but he describes himself as "straight but also not opposed to any random impulses that may arise" Teruko - unlabeled/explicitly ambiguous

Everyone else is subject to interpretation for now.

citrusircus asked: You've stated before that you don't want any of your assets used with AI, but I'd still like to ask whether or not this extends to the character.ai site (considering no intellectual properly is actually used to make these). Completely understandable if you'd rather people not touch it! Just wanted to clarify.

I don't like character.ai.

tophats-tea asked: Was there a particular incident that caused the scar on Charles’ arm, or was it just a usual chemical spill from working as a chemist?

It's a dog bite scar.

Charles is under the impression that it's a birthmark.

Anonymous asked: why does hu have claws on her hand?

Those are not claws. They are plectra for guzheng.

shi-daisy asked: For my question, I'd like to ask is there anything random you can tell us about Levi? He's my favorite character and I'd love to know any miscellaneous details about him be it preferences or silly info you may have of him or how you came up with his character. Thanks in advance!

He has an almost unruly sweet tooth and will consume an entire bowl of lollipops (his favorite candy) in an hour if he doesn't watch himself.

If you see him in future art with a white stick of some sort in his mouth it's almost certainly a lollipop.

murderacademia asked: Ooh, do you have a random fun fact about Charles as well? :) he’s a big fave of mine! Thank u!

He's secretly very attached to his hair length, and doesn't like the idea of cutting it short.

welpuu asked: do the cast all have favourite colours? if so which ones? (also sorry if this was already asked 😭)

Teruko: red (reasoning: association) Charles: "Why would I assign emotional value to colors? That's a ridiculous waste of energy." (cerulean) Whit: neon pink (reasoning: "Pink!!") Rose: lilac (reasoning: likes subdued colors for their subtlety) Arturo: blueish white (reasoning: sterile) Levi: cerise pink (reasoning: feminine) Eden: daffodil yellow (reasoning: happy) J: black (reasoning: cool) Hu: emerald green (reasoning: elegant) Nico: none (reasoning: no interest) Ace: dark blue/purple (reasoning: refuses to provide reasoning) Arei: azure (reasoning: "I'm blue, so clearly it's the best color!") Min: taupe (reasoning: comforting) Xander: bright red (reasoning: passionate color) Veronika: white in conjunction with other colors (reasoning: brings out other colors well) David: gamboge (reasoning: inspiring)

Since I'm on the topic, here are least favorite colors as well.

Teruko: pitch black (reasoning: unsettling) Charles: dark red (reasoning: looks like blood) Whit: gray (reasoning: boring) Rose: none (reasoning: all colors have their value in the right situations) Arturo: neon colors (reasoning: tasteless) Levi: neon yellow (reasoning: a little hard to style) Eden: blue (reasoning: "Kind of a downer color...") J: pink (reasoning: obvious) Hu: blueish white (reasoning: sterile) Nico: white (reasoning: unsettling) Ace: titian (reasoning: doesn't like himself) Arei: green (reasoning: looks like puke) Min: white and pink together (reasoning: annoying) Xander: dark red (reasoning: looks like blood) Veronika: white in the absence of other colors (reasoning: soulless) David: gray (reasoning: depressing)

cuckaracha asked: but also for a real cool and sexy question. Can we have a totally normal and not fucked up fact about Ace?

When I designed Ace from the start, I wanted him to wear heels (because he is short), but I thought that it was inaccurate for a jockey's outfit, and I didn't do it. But then later I remembered that he isn't jockeying at the moment, so it would have been fine if he wore heels. In any case I decided it'd be okay to add them back in his new design.

When it comes to jockeying, Ace wishes he was shorter (he is on the tall side for a male jockey), but for all other aspects of life he might find it bothersome to be shorter than everyone else. So he might have a tendency to wear shoes that enhance his height. Subtly of course.

Also, he has 9 siblings.

Anonymous asked: taking a note from the levi asker, are there any random fun facts about nico or veronika that you have? those two are my favorites!

Nico cuts their own hair. Veronika's single green earring is a 'good luck charm' given to her by her dearest friend.

welpuu asked: another simple question sorry...im curious about if any of them have favourite ice cream flavours...or like maybe flavours in general? unless thats too broad then the ice cream flavours is fine 😭

Teruko - red bean Charles - coffee Whit - vanilla Rose - red velvet Arturo - chocolate mint Levi - caramel Eden - honeycomb J - black sesame Hu - rose Nico - "the flavor" (doesn't elaborate further) Arei - birthday cake Min - lemon Xander - sauerkraut??? Veronika - funfetti David - pistachio Ace - frozen bananas (actual frozen bananas, not ice cream)

sunriseindigo asked: does rose have a favorite art medium (acrylics, colored pencils, graphite, etc)? also, does she do digital art or is she strictly traditional?

Paints are her specialty, particularly oil, and she rarely uses any other medium. She does not do digital art.

Anonymous asked: would you be willing to spare any fun information about Rose?

Her whole family has plant-themed naming.

Daisy (older sister)

Saffron (younger brother)

Holly (mom)

Iris (mom)

xmicrophonyx asked: Is there any concept art of the DRDT cast?

There is, but it's so embarrassingly awful that I don't think it will see the light of day any time soon.

Other than this.

I'm certain is the first ever drawing of DT. I guess Arei used to have black hair.

Anonymous asked: what does the cast smell like :)

Teruko - Dirt, sawdust, burnt smell Charles - Laundry detergent Rose - Paint and chemicals Arturo - Antiseptic Hu - Womanly perfume (light) Veronika - Womanly perfume (heavy) David - Men's cologne (light) Levi - Men's cologne (heavy). Also, somewhat faintly, leather Nico - Cat Ace - Sweat and menthol Min - Lavender/eucalyptus/lemons/whatever essential oil she decided to use that day Whit - Fruity fun shampoo (for kids) Xander - Men's 3 In One Body Wash (for men). Also, somewhat faintly, gunpowder MonoTV - metal and burning rubber

Anonymous asked: Is the Spurling Foundation and XF-Ture Tech the same thing?

They are totally unrelated institutions. The former is a philanthropic organization, the latter is a for-profit tech company (that also seems to do a lot of other things).

spyrkle4 asked: Question! Will sometime in the future will we know a little more about the sibling characters of some of the cast members? I honestly am just curious about J's brother and wanna know more about him

It’s good to have names to refer to characters, so here are the names of some characters who have been referred to in the story (and additional information about other characters as well)

Fuyuko + Natsuko Nageishi (Arei’s older sisters, by around 2-5 years): They are identical twins, in both appearance and persona. Actually, their appearances are mirrored. The two of them are always seen together and share everything with each other. They are best friends and very close.

Ryan Rosales (J’s younger brother, by about 1-2 years): He likes playing video games, and the two of them play games often. He also loves annoying J. One of his hobbies is cross-dressing.

Elliot “Ellie” Cuevas (Charles’ older brother, by about 11-13 years): Although he has not had an appearance yet, he looks shockingly similar to how Charles looks now. His favorite food is pancakes and his favorite animal is dogs.

Felicity Giles (Arturo's younger sister, by about 3-4 years): She also has not made an appearance yet. She has low self-esteem and admires Arturo a lot.

These characters (and others) have reference sheets, but those are meant for internal use only, so maybe later I will draw reference of their designs to show you all.

zamazencian asked: Is there a fun fact about Xander you could share? He's my favorite guy :D

He has a very weak sense of taste, and most normal foods taste bland to him. As a result, anything he cooks has an overwhelmingly strong flavor that makes it almost inedible to other people. He seems unaware of this.

sourapplecake asked: what kind of accent does xander have? i can’t tell if it’s british or australian or what 😭🙏 <- a little slow

British.

Anonymous asked: Do you ever have any plans of making promotional splash art in the future? I apologize if this has already been asked!!

Not really.

Anonymous asked: Is Min, like... truly really into essential oils and healing stuff?

She is aware that essential oils don't have any scientifically proven meaningfully significant benefits, but finds them relaxing nonetheless.

Anonymous asked: Does David wear hairclips because he likes them or is there some other reason?

It's his manager's idea for "branding." But David thinks they're embarrassingly stupid looking and doesn't like wearing them.

saraanzu asked: do you have the death order for the rest of the show decided in your head already, or are you figuring it out as you go along?

Decided from the start.

xmicrophonyx asked: Any fun facts about Whit?

He's the best cook in the cast. His specialty is French.

Anonymous asked: where did David's hairclip's go after he had his little transformation in chap2? cuz it looked like he ate them lol

www.google.com/search?q=pants+pocket&tbm=isch

Anonymous asked: hi, sorry if this is a silly question but how do you pronounce davids surname? ive seen it pronounced "chee - em" or "keem" but i just wanted to know if there's an official way to say it teehee

CHEE-em

chee as in cheese

em as in seem

0-kaiya-0 asked: Will there be more FTEs?

Maybe, but I'm not sure I want to put out any more polls.

Anonymous asked: will there be any canon couples?

I'm not one to write romance, so don't count on it.

Anonymous asked: Are people allowed to make nsfw content of your characters?

Sure.

Anonymous asked: How is Veronikas last name pronounced?

GRE-ben-SHI-ko-va

Gre as in regret

ben as in the name Ben

shi as in shiba inu

ko as in cold

By the way, here's a tip for (approximate) name pronunciation. If you can identify the origin of the name, go to Google Translate, type it in the left box, set the left language to the appropriate language, and hit the speaker/play button to have it read out-loud.

[yanderes-galore]

I would like to see what a human romantic Yandere Mewtwo would be like! :3

Honestly, I like this idea. Keep in mind this is a HUMAN POKEMON story, which means Mewtwo is a human with some Pokemon-like characteristics and powers.

Yandere! Human! Mewtwo Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Dark themes such as the following; Human experimentation, Neglect, Telepathy/Telekinesis, Violence, Mass Murder, Blood, Clingy behavior, Delusional behavior, Kidnapping, Forced relationship implied.

In this story, Mewtwo would be more of a chimera than anything.

He's mostly human but has been spliced with Mew's DNA.

As a result, he is a human with a purple tail, white nubs near the top of his head like horns or ears, and extreme psychic abilities.

He has white/silver hair, purple eyes. and a lean but strong build.

He is the first attempt at a living weapon, a human spliced with the raw power of a Pokemon.

Naturally, due to his upbringing, he comes across as volatile.

You meet the chimera hybrid as a scientist/caretaker.

You were hired to research the new experiment as he learns and is trained.

Obviously, Mewtwo feels less than human.

All the other scientists treat him like he is below them.

But he knows the truth... he is easily better than all of them with his power.

The one person he does not feel this way with is you.

Similar to how Mewtwo in canon has never felt proper compassion, you give said compassion to him.

You're the only one who gives such a thing to him.

You can't see this experiment as a Pokemon.

You feel Mewtwo is too intelligent and human-like to be treated as anything less than that.

Really, what makes him different other than some characteristics and powers?

You pity that he only gets to wear loose experiment clothes or some sort of tight skin-tight suit for training.

You wish he could live a normal life...

In secret you try to give him that, even if he's behind some glass.

You talk with the hybrid in private and even teach him some things.

You answer any questions he seems to have.

He often asks why the other scientists aren't as nice as you... to which you say you aren't sure.

If he wants to speak to you in private he trains his telepathy to continue to read your thoughts and converse with you.

Naturally, if you're the only one he feels is safe to be around, he gets attached to you.

When he sees you he acts very cat-like, purple eyes dilating with his tail swaying when he sees you behind the glass.

He may look very cold but his telepathy says otherwise when he appears to be ecstatic when projecting his thoughts.

You are never allowed to touch or hold the experiment and can only interact behind the glass.

You slide food into his enclosure and provide him stimulation through speech and tests.

Yet Mewtwo always voices his distaste to you for this arrangement.

Mewtwo probably feels a connection with you to the point he wonders about romantic attraction.

Granted, he still is new to such a thought.

He's a genetically altered human and can read the thoughts of others.

Eventually, he interprets his feelings for you as romantic due to the thoughts he's picked up.

I imagine Mewtwo's mental state drops as the transition to making him a weapon begins.

When they put him in a tight battle suit and all that heavy armor... he's frightened.

Even more so when he sees you're no longer in his sight.

After all, by this point, he no longer needs to be watched.

He's a weapon... almost able to be put to the test once his mask slips on.

It all becomes too much.

Mewtwo makes his big escape... a massacre left behind him.

The facility collapses, his psychic power causing tech to fail as he lays waste to the scientists who have created yet imprisoned him.

He cares for none here... none but you.

Blood covers the heavy armor he wears as he searches for you.

Even if you weren't in the facility at the time, he doesn't stop his search.

The faster the hybrid finds you... the faster his carnage ends.

By the time he finds you, he sees you cowering.

You stare at him like he's a monster, a weapon...

Perhaps that is what he is in the end.

But he doesn't care now.

He pulls off the mask they gave him and drops it to the floor, you can see the pale purple tint on his skin as he stares at you.

All you smell is metal and gore.

He would try to comfort you... yet now he and you will be on the run.

He proposes the idea of you both becoming a "couple" like humans usually do.

But you don't answer him.

Oh well... maybe you'll come around?

It's then that Mewtwo decides to take you to Cerulean Cave, a cave out of the way for the two of you in Kanto.

You can live there with him...

Maybe even teach him how normal humans live life now that the facility is in ruins.

[pockyteau]

JUST LIKE ICARUS

✩ a chishiya x reader where the sun is a lot closer to him than he realised.

"Do you know the story of Icarus?"

The question catches Chishiya off guard. He turns to you inquisitively, but you are already looking elsewhere; you stretch your arms out behind your head lazily, leaning back against the side of your bed. The sunlight that filled the room was enough to make one drowsy with all its warmth, little specks of light scuttling across the ground like golden ants.

It's always weirdly sunny, when you're around.

"I'm familiar with it, yes." Chishiya says mildly. He briefly wonders whether he should've admitted to it - while it was true he had read the book, it had been completely unintentional. He'd picked up an old paperback of the book in a library once, under the impression that the gold lettering on the cover meant the book held a multitude of literary treasures. On that day, Chishiya learnt two things: that Icarus was an idiot, and that he should never trust the gold lettering on books.

He had come to dislike the story since.

"Really? You know it?" You look at him with wide eyes, your earlier drowsiness thrown off. The expression you are making is glowing with excitement, and he feels as if he should de-escalate the situation before you get any ideas. 

"I didn't like it much," he warns. Much to Chishiya's distaste, he had come to know that you were a lover of storybooks, of which he never had much patience for. You blink, falling back against your bed with an audible thump. 

"But why not?" You ask, tilting your head to the side. From your lips the question sounds incredulous; it's almost as if you had, in fact, greatly enjoyed the story of Icarus.

Chishiya frowns. He had initially expected you to dislike it too, since the story ended in Icarus' death and you were the greatest lover of happy endings he'd ever met. After tuning many of them out, he had come to know that your personal favourite tales were the ones about love - sappy ones of sweetness and longing that spanned over many lifetimes. He didn't care much for them either, though they wouldn't have bothered him nearly as much if you didn't insist on telling him every single one. So, with that in mind, what reason could you have for liking this tale? 

"Icarus dug his own grave," Chishiya shrugs. "If he'd just been careful, he would've lived. He should've listened to the advice he was given."

You snort. "That's why you don't like it? You and Icarus are one in the same, then," you point out. "You never listen either."

It appears you've noticed him tuning you out. 

"Well," Chishiya muses, "I can afford not to." He turns his head to shoot you a lazy grin. "The same cannot be said for Icarus."

You press your lips together. "Wow, you are awful," you comment, though Chishiya can tell by the way your shoulders shake gently that you are trying not to laugh. Your attempt to stifle your laughter ends up in vain when your voice disappears towards the end of your statement, dipping your head forward to conceal the grin adorning your face. 

Chishiya finds he is smiling before he can stop himself - it's easy to make you laugh. He knows that if you lifted your head, he would see the crinkles under your eyes.

He allows you a moment to compose yourself before asking a question of his own. "But why do you like it?" he says, careful to keep the curiosity out of his voice. You raise your head when he speaks, traces of laughter still painting your lips. "The Icarus story, I mean. Since he dies in the end, I would've thought you'd hate it."

The question seems to surprise you. You frown, your brows drawing together. "Well, I wouldn't say that I like it, exactly," you say thoughtfully. "But it does have its charm. Icarus was happy for a little while." You muse. "Maybe being careless was worth it for him." 

"That's ridiculous," Chishiya snorts. Icarus was happy for no less than what, five seconds? No form of death could be worth that. Now he doesn't know why he asked in the first place, because of course you would supply him with an answer like that. "He still died."

"Hey, what've you got against Icarus?" You tease, arms folded as you lean back against the side of your bed. "To be honest, I think his story is a little sad. He was just glad to be in the sun."

"Mm," Chishiya makes a noncommittal noise in response, knowing that if he were to give a full answer it would probably be rather scathing. You smile at this, giving him a little nudge. 

"Okay, not a fan of Icarus," you say. Your voice is soft, tinted with amusement. Huh. Chishiya feels a small ache hatch in the centre of his chest - it pricked him in a strange way to see your smile as you spoke. You carry on, unaware of the sudden pain in his chest, that same smile still on your face. "Got it. Ah! Do you know Psyche and Eros? You have to have heard of them! Their love story is unrivaled." 

Chishiya is vaguely aware of how he shakes his head, which causes you to clutch at your chest in mock horror. You then launch into your rendition of Psyche and Eros' romance, eyes shining. It seemed that unlike Icarus, Psyche and Eros got their happy ever after; their love was free to last forever, unbound by the constraints of mortal life once Psyche was immortalised. 

Of course, this was the ringer for you -  a love that lasted forever. Chishiya doesn't believe in forever; he knows everything must eventually come to an end. Perhaps that was where the two of you differed the most; you firmly believed in forever, simply because you insisted that things such as love could transcend all boundaries, resist the tests of time. 

He supposes this should only be expected from someone who pitied Icarus, for whom Chishiya has no sympathy for. Despite how careless he may seem to you, him and the boy with the wax wings are nothing alike, because Chishiya is careful. He takes care not to let his mind wander when he sets his gaze on the sparkle in your eyes, the curve of your lips. He takes care not to let the sunlit vision of you sink too deep beneath the surface of his mind. Chishiya is careful, always careful. He knows that the repercussions of getting comfortable with you could cost him everything.

Even without you telling him, he knows the story of Icarus, who flew too close to the sun. 

-

Today you are telling him about something new - probably another love story, judging by the delight in your voice. 

It's sunny again. Chishiya is sitting with his back against the wall of your room, basking in the golden sunlight that streams through your window. The atmosphere is peaceful, calm. The way Chishiya likes it. 

He leans his head forward slightly to stretch the stiffness out of it; he had long since stopped listening to you, and was now trying to figure out how to a rig a flamethrower. And every other step to making a flamethrower, really. It would be a lot easier to dance that risky line between life and death with one, and Chishiya intends to use it as his ticket out of this poolside hotel. He dreams of somewhere he doesn't have to attend meetings on the whim of an obnoxious man in sunglasses.

But where would he get the materials? If he were to ask someone like Ann for spare flamethrowing parts, he would most likely be bombarded with questions. Ann was terrifying in her own right, with her ability to speak so fast. It's a dilemma, certainly. Perhaps he could ask the handyman, Tatta, instead.

He doesn't seem like the type to ask what Chishiya would use them for, and Chishiya believes that is a quality more people should have. 

"Chishiya?"

He lifts his head at your mention of his name. "Hm?"

You grin. Chishiya feels that little ache between his ribs again, filling in the empty space between his heart and his bones. It seems to be spreading, which he tries not to find concerning. 

It's probably nothing. 

"You weren't listening again, were you?" you chide, but you don't seem to mind. The teasing look on your face makes that plain enough.  

Chishiya sees no need to lie. "I was not."

"Of course not," you sigh dramatically, flopping down to sit next to him. He smirks at you, knowing that you would roll your eyes in response. He knows you, predicting the way your head tilts away from him slightly, covering a quiet laugh. "Actually, I don't know why I'm surprised. Do you even listen to all those executive meetings you go to?"  

Chishiya grins, which means the obvious answer is no - it's a close call between who he respects less, the Hatter or the mournful looking worm he'd spotted on his way back from a game. In fact, he might've even lent the worm an ear if it had deigned to speak - it probably had more worthwhile things to say than the Beach's number one.   

You seem to be able to follow his train of thought. "I guess not," you say, a small laugh escaping your lips. 

He finds himself thinking that the sound of it is rather nice.

Without warning you lean in closer to Chishiya and for a moment his mind goes blank, but all you do is reach out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. "Here," your fingers brush lightly against the side of his face as you do so, the warmth of your skin lingering on his jaw even though the touch was only a brief one. "Now you'll be able to hear me better, hm?"

Chishiya snorts. His eyes flick over to you, that smile he wished wouldn't affect him so much dancing on your lips. Perhaps he should untuck the strand of hair from behind his ear again, just to annoy you. "There's a difference between wanting to listen and being able to listen."

"Hey-" you open your mouth to protest, but close it just as quickly. Chishiya is all but ready to give you a smug look, anticipating the way you would groan and pretend not to laugh - but then you lean in even closer, inspecting his face with curious eyes. He raises his brows in question. He doesn't like how your eyes have widened, mystified, as they rest just below his own eye level.

"What is it?" He frowns.

"You have a beauty mark!" You say, a delighted smile spreading across your lips. "I never noticed! Why didn't you tell me?"

Chishiya's brow furrows. He has to stifle the sudden urge to reach up and cover the little mark below his left eye. Why would he tell you? Perhaps he had fallen into the fool's trap of assuming you had working eyes, since the mark was, you know, on his face. "It must have slipped my mind," he says dryly. 

Unfortunately, you take no notice of his wry tone. "It's so cute!" you exclaim. You look dangerously close to clapping your hands in joy, and you are still much too close to Chishiya. He feels the warmth on his skin beginning to burn as you reach out a finger to lightly tap the mark under his eye. "Oh! that reminds me - did I ever tell you the story? Beauty marks are where you were kissed the most in your past life."

Chishiya brushes your hand away from his face. "I can't say I've heard that one before," he says, keeping his tone even. He hopes it will be enough to stop the liquid gold in his chest from spreading.

"I thought as much," you hum, reaching out to poke the mark under his eye again, grinning when he swats you away. "Hey, that means you were kissed there a lot. Isn't that so sweet? You must have been really loved in your past life."

Chishiya's frown deepens. Here is your precious everlasting love again. 

It's no secret that he doesn't believe in things like this; he knew better than most that human hearts were feeble things, easily stopped. As the vessel of love, didn't that show how not even the greatest love could last longer than the average human lifespan? 

"Is that so." He says flatly. The mark below his eye was merely a fixation of his face, nothing more. 

Your eyes dart over his unsmiling expression, the corners of your lips still turned up. "It's okay, I know you don't believe in things like that," you say mildly, eyes sparkling. Chishiya's gaze flickers; he didn't realise you had become so apt at predicting his thoughts. 

"You're right. I don't."

You merely hum again in response before falling silent, as if in thought. In the hush Chishiya allows his gaze to wander to you momentarily; it comes to rest on the pensive crease in your forehead, angling lower to where golden shapes are being cast over your face by the sunlight coming through the window. 

He's not sure if he can remember a time where you haven't been touched by light. 

"Ah!" You do clap your hands now, and Chishiya eyes you in apprehension. That can't mean anything good. "Alright. Why don't we test something out?" 

"Test?" Chishiya squints at you for a moment to accentuate his reluctance. "And what would that be?" 

"Well...why don't we give you a new beauty mark?" You smile. "You don't believe me, so I'll prove you wrong." 

Chishiya has to bite back his immediate scorn. What purpose would that serve? It's not as if you would be able to check if your theory worked, anyway. Even if you were right, neither of you would know what had conspired in this room, dappled in sunlight, in your next life.

He's already forming the word "no" in his throat, well aware that he shouldn't indulge you - but there are little crinkles under your eyes, the look of pure joy you usually wear when telling him your precious stories. Why were you so happy about his beauty mark, he wonders, and why hasn't the ache stopped by now? He should shut you down now, before this gets out of hand.

It is with these resolute thoughts that for some unfathomable, fanatical reason, Chishiya opens his mouth to find the words "do whatever you want," escaping off the tip of his tongue.

Just like that, the precarious nature he had built up around you is dealt its first blow when your face lights up with a pleasant surprise. 

"Really?" you say, so tentatively that the pull in his chest becomes so strong it almost hurts. Chishiya has to pull himself together to shrug in indifference. But it's fine. This is but a small allowance, one he will only let slide once. 

He still has to be careful. 

You delicately put both hands on either side of the blonde's face, turning it this way and that as if inspecting it. He looks at you, unimpressed, as you gently poke his right cheek, designating it as the spot for his next beauty mark. "Is here okay?"

Chishiya shrugs again with his face still in your hands, your hold on him causing a slight difficulty for him to do so properly. "It's your test, isn't it?"

"Okayy, here it is, then."

You lean in and place a gentle kiss on his cheek, then another, and another. The touch of your lips is sweet and light - Chishiya's soft chuckle is audible when you kiss him a fourth time, and he loses count of the ones that follow after you can't seem to help but kiss him once on the lips. 

-

Chishiya knows he shouldn't. He is aware that the wax wings fixed to his back are loosening by the day. 

But no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, he is compelled to push open the door to your room in his free time, the daylight hours before he leaves for a game. Where he is enveloped by golden sunlight the second he steps in, the way your face brightens like heaven is on earth there with him etching itself into the very corners of his mind. He listens silently to your stories, the lull of your voice. You've begun to kiss him on his right cheek regularly, like a habit, and he can't bring himself to stop you. 

He does his best to ignore the thought that perhaps he doesn't even want to stop you.

Chishiya knows that this is temporary. He has to be careful, make sure he doesn't forget. That no matter how many times you kiss him, he cannot stay. He is already flying much to close to the sun - the sudden warmth that consumes him as he does so is so immense that it scares him. Because every time you kiss him like that, he wonders what it would be like to sit there and listen to you tell stories forever.

And Chishiya knows forever doesn't exist. 

-

Chishiya declines citizenship in the Borderlands.

Even after playing Kuzuryuu, he had honestly considered staying. No matter where he was, forever still would not exist; he would eventually die in either world. It would be interesting to see what the future held for him here, in any case. Perhaps he could run the Diamond games - there's no question of him being able to take the crown of the King of Diamonds with his intellect. And after all, if he stayed, he wouldn't have to return to the tedious problems of the real world.

But in the end, he finds that something inside him has changed.

Maybe it's because he's slowly bleeding out, which probably doesn't bode well for him. Maybe it's because he's slumped against a car and it's less than comfortable. Maybe Kuzuryuu got through to him after all.

But maybe it's also how you find him there, hidden behind the car, worry painting your usually so sunny face as you rush over to kneel beside him.

"Chishiya?" you whisper urgently. "Are you okay?" 

He feels a gentle weight on his shoulder where you hand has immediately come to rest, like it's the most natural thing in the world. You don't even think twice about it; it surprises Chishiya that such a simple movement could feel so comforting, safe. He's gotten used to your touch, no matter how hard he'd tried not to. You're checking his wounds, eyes widening when you realise his hoodie is soaked in blood. "What happened to you? Oh my god, have you been shot? How bad is it?"

Chishiya manages a weak chuckle, even as you begin desperately searching for the bullet wound. You're worried, really worried, whispering something about putting pressure on the wound. Should he tell you he's been shot more than once? 

His eyes roam over your face, cast in deep shadow by the darkening sky. Where are the crinkles in your eyes? The look of unobtainable joy that never left your face? It's so strange - ridiculous, even - that all he can think of is that stupid story you'd told him so long ago, the one about the beauty marks. He aches to see you smile again, like you did then, and the all-consuming feeling almost outweighs the blood seeping from his wounds.

"Are you laughing?" you say tearfully. Another laugh forces itself out of Chishiya's chest even as he winces slightly, although whether he laughs out of amusement or exasperation he can't really tell. You give him an incredulous stare, eyes shining with perspiration, before you finally crack a small smile of your own.

That's all it takes for the dam to break and you exhale in relief, the panic leaving your body in the form of a heavy breath. Your whole body relaxes and your hand slips a bit on his shoulder as you slump down beside him. "Chishiya," you breathe his name like it's the only thing keeping you alive, burying your face in your hands. "I was so worried about you." 

Chishiya's broken laughter subsides into a grin. He leans back against the car, closing his eyes for a moment, although his look of amusement still lingers over his features. It's almost ironic - you seem more concerned about his own life than he is. And while Chishiya's concern usually reaches the brilliant heights of almost zero, he suddenly thinks that surviving his multiple bullet wounds wouldn't be so bad. 

"Why?" he says, opening his eyes slightly to peer at you through half-lids. "If I died, we could test out your beauty mark theory."

You groan, but the sound is half-laugh-half-exasperation. "I can't believe you." Your head falls forward to rest on his shoulder, the fabric of his hoodie muffling your voice. You sound weak, as if you had spent some time calling out his name, trying to find him. He exhales a soft laugh. it was always your voice that gave you away, but now Chishiya only finds it endearing rather than a weakness. Despite the situation he finds himself relaxing. 

He could get used to this. 

And that's when it hits him. 

That Chishiya has already become Icarus, the fool. 

He breathes out. No, he's been a fool from the very start. He wants your head on his shoulder, just like it is now. He wants the warmth of your touch. He wants forever, full of your dancing eyes and your buoyant smile. He wants too much, has flown right against the sun so that his wax wings have melted away and he's plummeted into the ocean. Look at where being careful had gotten him; everything he's ever believed to be true is lost in the deep water. 

But then you raise your head to graze a kiss on his right cheek between murmurs, your own cheeks slightly wet with tears, and Chishiya finds he doesn't care. He's willing to indulge in the idea of forever, no matter how unlikely it might be that it actually exists. He'll sink deeper into the ocean as long as you're holding on to him.

Fireworks explode around the two of you, marking the end of the world he'd met you in, and Chishiya makes his choice.

"I don't want citizenship," he says, and his eyes slide over to you as the words leave his mouth. He can admit, if only to himself, that he's looking forward to your reaction. "I think."

Your astonished face is illuminated in the light before it splits into that beaming smile. 

"I thought you would stay," you whisper, but you're smiling so hard even as glittering tears are sliding down your cheeks again that Chishiya can't help but laugh once more. You reach for his hand and clasp it tightly, intertwining your fingers and his in a way that can only be described as tender and sweet, and he knows he's made the right choice. 

"Let's go home," you say, eyes shining, and Chishiya is falling, falling. He wants to go back and live in a world with you, where a love that outlasts even the two of your beating hearts is more likely to be possible. Because even though he doesn't believe in forever, you do.

And Chishiya has never wanted so badly, with all of the heart he thought he didn't have, for it to be true. 

-

Chishiya couldn't shake the feeling that something was strange.

He knew exactly where he was before he even fully woke up - the beep of the heart monitor, the sharp scent of sterilisation, the coolness of the pillow behind his head. From all the time he'd spent in residency, the atmosphere of the hospital was unmistakable. 

He opens his eyes slowly to ease his transition into the waking world. His body aches with injury, and there is a stinging pain in his abdomen. The thoughts in his head are sluggish, bleary. He's still gaining his bearings, trying to figure out what happened. 

A sudden jolt of urgency shoots through him and he almost bolts upright; he is met with the resistance of the tightly tucked in hospital bedsheets, and has to slowly push himself up instead. He looks around, scanning the other beds in the room. There is a strange new ache blooming rapidly in his chest, but he doesn't think it's related to his injuries. Where is...

He blinks. Where is what? 

He frowns, freeing one of his arms from the linen sheets to rub his forehead. He tries to summon the thought up again, but it's like grasping at sand. Where is...? He attempts to close his fist over the question, but it slips through his fingers like the grains of an hourglass. What was he so desperate to find just now?

He just can't seem to recall. 

The curtain around his bed is drawn with the slight scrape of metal, revealing a nurse with a clipboard. Chishiya is momentarily distracted from his thoughts when the nurse looks surprised to see him awake, her mouth forming a little 'o' of astonishment.

"Oh! you're awake," her expression quickly eases into a professional smile. Chishiya dips his head slightly in acknowledgement, but he is still unsettled. It's the strangest thing. It feels he's missing something, but he just can't figure out what.

The nurse begins to check his vitals, scribbling something down on a clipboard with a ballpoint pen. To Chishiya's newly awoken mind, the scratch of pen against paper is louder than it should be. As she writes she tells Chishiya what happened - the tragedy of the meteorite, how he was one of many victims of the crash. 

"Your heart stopped for a full minute," she says, "you went into cardiac arrest. The same thing actually happened to a lot of the other patients here who were injured by the meteorite crash..."

Chishiya stops listening there. The nurse continues to talk, but his mind is already is elsewhere. His heart stopped for a full minute. He wonders, briefly, why it even bothered starting back up again. Perhaps he had some underlying will to live that even he didn't know about. 

Human hearts were strange things. 

It turns out that Chishiya has to stay at the hospital for a while before he can be discharged. He's familiar with the procedures - although his injuries aren't as severe as the man in the bed next to him, who is bandaged from head to toe, it'll still take a while before he makes a full recovery. Though Chishiya isn't too happy about this, he supposes there's nothing much he can do about it. And while the man stationed beside him is rather boisterous at times he does talk to Chishiya on the occasion, and it's not too irritating. In fact, he thinks they might even be a little bit alike in some ways.   

But even as his injuries slowly heal, the ache he'd woken up with still lingers. It's such a strange, implacable feeling. Something inside him yearns for a specific kind warmth, the gold of sunlight that filters through windows. The hospital wards are too silent, too dull. Since when did he begin to long for company? But it's not even that - the room he's been staying in is full of people, yet he still feels as if someone is missing from his side. It's endlessly frustrating. 

If his heart was going to torture him like this for surviving, maybe it shouldn't have yanked him back from cardiac arrest after all.

Chishiya's hospital days blur together with the utter sameness of them all. He goes through the motions, the scans, the checkups, all without a second thought. 

Until, that is, he catches a proper glimpse of his reflection in the chipped bathroom mirror. 

He stops in his tracks, leaning in closer to check whether it was just a speck of dust on the mirror, but no - it's really there. He frowns. That's weird. 

He has a new beauty mark.

Has it always been there? There had always been one, just below his left eye. He had never paid it any heed. It was simply there, an affixation of his face. But he finds that there is now another mark, sitting on his right cheek. If it had been there all his life, he certainly didn't remember it. How had he never noticed it before?

He raises a hand to brush the new mark in confusion, his fingertips grazing the skin. As he does this, he recalls something odd - in the very back of his mind, it's almost as if he can feel the gentle press of someone's lips against his cheek. 

-

Chishiya is finally going to be discharged from the hospital today.

He will not miss this place. In fact, his parting from the bed he'd known for the last month or so was joyful, to say the least. The ache he had woken up with still hasn't disappeared, but maybe the unsettling feeling that he'd forgotten something would fade once he left.

The sooner, the better.

He is just making his way to reception, having bid an amused farewell to the boisterous man in the bed beside him. Unlike the others in his room, neither of them had had any visitors, so he supposed the least he could do was be civil to the guy.

For once, there is silence in the hospital's white-walled corridors; visiting hours had not yet begun, and while Chishiya had grown to find complete silence somewhat unnerving he welcomes the change. There are no families weeping in the grey couches, no nervous chatter as they waited to be given updates on their loved ones' condition. There is even an abundance of sunlight, drifting in through the windows. It's peaceful, calm. The way Chishiya likes it.

Except when the receptionist's desk is finally in sight he finds someone else is already there, talking to the receptionist. By the looks of it, it's another patient - probably another crash victim, like him. Chishiya slows down, not particularly wanting to wait around for the conversation to finish. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, turning to look at the grey visitor's couches and then back at the receptionist. The patient is filling out forms now, blue ballpoint pen in hand. He spots the receptionist holding a rather thick stack of papers in her hand and frowns.

This may take a while.

Chishiya resigns himself to the grey couches, sinking into the soft fabric of the furniture. At least there's plenty of sunlight, streaming in through the rectangular glass pane overhead. He shoots another glance over at the counter, where the receptionist's stack of paper has diminished by about two sheets. He wonders if he would be chased if he just walked out of the hospital without signing the discharge documents.

With a sigh he leans back into the couch, turning his head to the side. With a note of surprise, he realises that there is a book lying open-faced a few inches away from him - judging by how it's been left open, someone must have left it there in the middle of reading it. With nothing else to do he lets curiosity take over, reaching over to pick the book up by its spine.

The book is a thin copy of an old story, battered and clearly well-read. He frowns slightly when he reads the title, bringing it closer to him to make out the words - gold lettering, the font of deceit. It's the story of Icarus; who wanted too much, giddy upon his taste of the heavens, and paid the price for it. Chishiya had always held contempt for that particular tale. If the fool had just been a little more careful, perhaps he would've lived.

"Oh! You know the story of Icarus?"

The question catches Chishiya off guard. He looks up from the book to see someone standing in front of him, smiling. It's that patient, the one who had been talking to the receptionist, silhouette dappled golden in the sunlight trickling into the room. That must mean the receptionist's desk is free now - but for some reason, he can't seem to tear his eyes away from the patient's expression; sparkling eyes, lips curved sweetly. Those bright eyes study him as he feels a familiar pull in his chest, the ache growing stronger by the second. And then, he hears the soft words:

"You have lovely beauty marks."

And it's so strange, because suddenly he feels a tug at the back of his mind. He feels as if he's heard something like that before, in another room dappled in sunlight. Where he felt warmer, safer than anywhere he had ever known.

Chishiya feels the smile come to his lips before he can stop himself. Perhaps his admin papers could wait a little longer. "Is that so."

[madebycloud]

Soft Spot for Soft Paws

wednesday addams x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: little did you know, your girlfriend, had a soft spot for your feline friend. who knew her gruffness could melt into a gentle cuddle with a purrball? warnings/themes: FLUFF, soft!wednesday, cuddles and cats words: 2.0k

You can't believe your luck. Principal Weems has allowed you to adopt a cat for your dorm, and what's more, you've found the perfect companion. It's a gorgeous black cat that reminds you of your girlfriend, dark and mysterious.

"Oh, she's just like you!" you exclaim, picking up the cat and showing it to Wednesday. "Look at those eyes, so mysterious and enchanting. And that sleek black fur, like a shadow in the night. She's perfect for Nevermore."

Wednesday simply tilts her head, her face a blank slate. Your gushing must be annoying her, but you don't mind. You're too excited about your new companion to care. You continue to rave about her beauty, her grace, and her dark mystery while Wednesday rolls her eyes at you.

After you've finally run out of things to say, Wednesday speaks up. "What's her name?" she asks, sounding indifferent. 

"How about Wendy? Wendy, like Wednesday! Get it?" you suggest, putting your arms on your hips thoughtfully.

Wednesday gives you a look that says, 'are you serious?' and you try to explain your logic, while holding Wendy up as if she were your newborn baby. Wednesday rolls her eyes so hard, they might fall out of her head. 

"Alright, fine, Wendy it is," she says, turning the name into a statement rather than a question. You smile up at her, completely oblivious to her obvious distaste for both the cat and its name.

Wednesday can't help but roll her eyes again, but she can't stay mad at your sheer enthusiasm. You remind her of her own love for the macabre, even if yours is less refined than hers. 

And the cat, well, she could never admit this to you, but she does find the cat's beauty mesmerizing. She's not going to spoil your joy this time, but she does make a promise to herself: next time you do something this annoying, she's going to make it clear that you're overstepping bounds. 

But for now, let the dark and mysterious Wendy be the star of the show.

—

Just after you adopted the cat, you proudly brought it over to Nevermore to show off. Of course, you didn't bring it out in your dorm, but your friends came to see it. Like Yoko, Ajax, Enid, and even Principal Weems herself, just to check up on the cat.

You cradle Wendy in your arms, purring with contentment as she curls up against your chest.

"She's such a cutie pie! What's her name?" Enid asks, cooing over your new cat.

Without hesitation, you answered, "Wendy." Your friends, with the exception of you, side-eyed Wednesday.

Enid asked, "Wendy like...?" but everyone avoided pushing further, knowing what Wednesday might do if they continued.

Once everyone left, you closed the door, holding the cat once again like a baby and turning to Wednesday. "Do you want to hold her?" you ask, cocking your head to the side. 

"No." Wednesday answers immediately, crossing her arms over her chest. "She's yours, not mine." She rolls her eyes, clearly not a cat person.

"Come on, everyone's held her except you. Will you hold her, please?" You insisted with a slight tease in your voice.

 "Fine. Just one time. But that's it," Wednesday responds, standing up from where she was sitting on your bed. She hesitates for a moment before taking Wendy from you.

You carefully handed Wendy to her. The cat immediately hisses and snarls at Wednesday, clearly not liking the idea of being held by someone other than you.

Wednesday looks up to you for help, with confusion etched all over her face. "What's wrong?" she asks, with a hint of panic in her voice.

"I don't know. Maybe try some baby talk with her?" you suggested, scratching the back of your neck and snickering to yourself. You couldn't believe that you were actually encouraging her to talk to the cat in a soft, cooing voice.

"No," Wednesday answered, turning her nose up in disgust. But when Wendy continued to hiss, she reluctantly obliged, saying, "Fine, how do you baby talk?"

"Like this," you say, showing her how to do it. You baby talk to Wendy, calling her a "cute little kitty" and a "sweet baby." Wednesday looked at you in disgust, her eyes rolling, but she did her best to copy your baby talk.

The idea must have been torture for Wednesday, but she tried it anyway. "You're so cute and beautiful, aren't you, Wendy?" Wednesday said, not using much of a baby voice but sounding like a doll with murderous intentions. The cat calms down slightly, no longer meowing but instead purring softly.

She continues to speak softly to the cat, you can't help but break out into a fit of laughter, not expecting her to actually participate in this absurdity. 

Wednesday turns to you, glaring at you through her dark, gloomy eyes. "Stop laughing," she says, her lip trembling with anger.

"I'm sorry," you say, quickly wiping the tears of laughter that have formed in your eyes and biting your lip to keep yourself from falling into another fit of laughter. Wednesday, still cradling Wendy in her arms, said, "And don't you go telling anyone about this. Or I'll make sure that will be your last laugh."

While Wednesday continued to babytalk Wendy, you stepped closer to her and leaned in to kiss her cheek. She didn't react, but you could tell by the way her lips curled into a small smile that she didn't mind your closeness.

—

The day's responsibilities have left you exhausted as you make your way back to your dorm room in Nevermore. 

When you returned to your dorm room at Nevermore, you were surprised to find your feline companion, Wendy, missing. Immediately, your heart began to pound as you frantically searched under the desk, in the closet, and every nook and cranny of your dorm room, but it was futile.

Wendy was nowhere to be found.

Your mind was racing, what if she had wandered out of the room, or worse, gotten lost? Panic-stricken, you quickly put on your shoes and raced to Wednesday's dorm room as fast as you could, knocking rapidly on her door.

Wednesday's footsteps grew louder, and your heart skipped a beat as she opened the door.

Before she could even ask what you were doing outside her room, you blurted out, "Have you seen Wendy?" There was a desperate panic in your voice, and you knew it. Wednesday raised an eyebrow, and you hastily explained that your cat had vanished into thin air.

Without another word, Wednesday took your hand and led you on a search throughout the school: the principal's office, the greenhouse, the fencing class, the classrooms, the quad, and finally, the surrounding area outside Nevermore.

Wednesday realizes that you both need to return to the dorm before it gets too dark as the sun begins to set. With tears in your eyes, Wednesday consoles you, squeezing your hand.

You curled up on your bed, burying your face in the pillows as you let the tears fall. While tears continued to stream down your face, Wednesday sat with you, offering comfort and support.

Suddenly, you heard a soft meow underneath your bed, and Wendy, your beloved cat, emerged from beneath the bed. 

You realized then that Wendy had been hiding under your bed the whole time. You couldn't believe you had searched so far and wide when she had been right under your nose.

Wednesday, never one to let a mischievous cat off the hook, immediately picks Wendy up and scolds her, "Don't do that again, understand?" Wednesday's stern tone seems to have an effect on Wendy, who meows in response, as if to confirm that she's gotten the message and won't repeat her mischievous behavior. 

After that incident, you made sure to always check under the bed for Wendy before sleeping.

—

It's already Sunday evening, and your brain feels like it's about to burst from all the cramming you've done for your assignments. Your desk is covered in piles of papers and notes, and you've been sitting in the same chair for hours without moving.

Meanwhile, Wednesday is lying on your bed, unbothered and focused on her book. She's already done with her own assignments and is now just chilling out, away from the noise of her own dorm. 

You wish you could have that kind of relaxation, but instead, you're stuck trying to finish your last-minute homework.

Wendy jumps up on Wednesday's lap, looking up at her expectantly. Wednesday looks down at the cat, annoyance clear on her face. "What do you want?" she asks, trying to keep her concentration on her book.

Minutes pass, and the cat doesn't get up from Wednesday's lap. Instead, it curls up beside her, seeming to enjoy the warmth of her body. 

She finally gives in and closes her book, leaning back on the pillow and closing her eyes. It's not long before she falls asleep, with the cat's purring acting as a soothing song to lull her to sleep.

Wednesday starts to nod off, but you don't notice due to your all-night studying spree. You finally finish your homework, exhausted but relieved to be done. "Whew, that was a tough one," you say to yourself. You stretch your arms above your head and rub your eyes, feeling tired after hours of working.

You stumble toward the bed, only to see Wednesday curled up with your cat, sound asleep. 

"Just one time, my ass," you mutter to yourself, making fun of her own comment from last week.

"I can feel your eyes burning a hole through my head," she says, her sleepy voice sounding almost angelic in the quiet night. "What?" she asks as she notices how intensely you're gawking at her.

When her eyes meet yours, though, you're struck by how beautiful she looks, even with her eyes half-closed and her hair framing her face. All your words slip away, and instead, you lean forward, pull her into your arms, and kiss her passionately.

Wednesday's eyes widen with surprise, but she doesn't push you away. 

You pull away, and she glares at you, annoyed. "What are you doing?" she growls low. You lean in again, kissing her more deeply. The kiss lasts longer this time, and as it ends, Wednesday's body language changes, relaxation spreading over her face.

You kiss her again and again and again until Wendy wakes up and jumps off the bed, prompting both of you to release each other.

Wednesday rolls her eyes and says, "Wendy is asleep," as if it's your fault that your cat has woken up.

With a laugh, you get out of bed, your cat following close behind you, eager for her nightly snack. You grab a can of cat food and a bowl, pouring the food into the bowl and setting it on the floor for your cat. She eagerly laps it up, as if she were starving, even though she had been fed an hour earlier. 

You climb back into bed with Wednesday curled up next to you while your cat begins to eat her meal.

You snuggle close to Wednesday, feeling her warm body against yours. She nuzzles her head against your chest, her breathing slowing and becoming more rhythmic as she falls back to sleep. 

Satisfied with her meal, Wendy jumps onto the bed and curls up between you two, purring contentedly.

You lean in to kiss her, but she stops you. "Wendy's sleeping. Be quiet," she whispers, placing a finger to your lips to shush you. 

You nod in understanding, and she lets you lean in to give her a chaste kiss on the forehead.

The last thing you see before drifting off is your beloved cat, curled up between you and Wednesday, purring contentedly. The sound of her purrs fills the quiet room as you finally fall asleep, happy to be with the person you love and your adorable cat by your side.

[bonniebird]

Aegon x Fem!Reader

Requested by Anon

Masterpost

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Request: Anonymous asked: "I ran too fast and now I can’t breathe. It’s the first time I’ve exercised in four years." Ageon Targaryen and Fem!Reader please.

Shuffling your feet you sighed and wished for something interesting to happen. You were appreciative that you were one of the queen's favourites and that, for today, delivering a carriage full of supplies would be the hardest job you had that day, perhaps for the week. It didn’t make the waiting around any less boring though. You turned curiously as the door to the sept opened. 

It was the smaller door built into the giant doors at the front of the sept. It was disguised with ornate woodwork so that unless you inspected it closely you wouldn’t be able to tell that it was there.

“(Y/N).” Aemond said as he came into view. He was followed by the twins Erryk and Arryk. Aemond said your name as if he had hoped to find someone else.

“Aemond.” You smiled cheerfully and you could see the irritation at your cheerful disposition clear on his face. It did bring a spark of dreadful joy to rile him up. Though he never said anything, only giving you a distasteful look as if your bubbling character exhausted him beyond reason. You always got the sense that after spending any length of time with you the prince took a long lay down afterwards to recover.

“The royal carriage outside. That would be yours?” He asked in the same tone. He came across as rather bored and as if he would rather be anywhere else but he was also stern and impatient, his foot tapping as he waited for your reply.

“It is. Your queen mother has asked me to take this to the Septas to be given out to the needy.” You held up your large woven basket that hung from one arm and several more that were lined up on the worn wooden benches near the front of the sept. It was lined with green cloth and filled with food left over from a feast that had been thrown by King Viserys in Princess Rhaenyra’s honour two days prior.

“And you are alone?” He pressed. His foot tapping out an echoed song on the cold stone floor, his fingers matched the sound as they tapped silently on the hilt of the sword on his waist. 

“Yes. That is why I was sent with the royal carriage your mother prefers.” You said as if that answer was obvious. You turned your attention away from the three men and towards the two septas that hurried towards you. The youngest gave you an appropriate greeting for your rank while the elder lady bowed her head quickly, thanked you and assured you the queen's gift would be greatly appreciated. There was a loud rustling and scuffling which drew all your attention towards a stone table with candles set heavily into the floor towards the back corner of the room. The younger septa, newly joined from a sept outside the city and not as used to the chaos of the royal house as the elder, jumped as Aegon leapt up from the shadows under the table. He darted off with a determination, not unlike the rat cats from the Red Keep, when the cook would chase them from the kitchen when she received dairy goods. While the twins chased him Aemond followed calmly. He stopped to bow to the three of you before following. There was peace again as the door closed, promptly broken by Aemond’s barked cry of “BROTHER!”

Once you had completed your task for the queen, you took the time to light a candle and knelt to pray. You lit another candle for the queen as well. It seemed the right thing to do when she hadn’t been able to make the trip to the sept as she wished. Once you were done you dusted yourself off and headed to the carriage. 

The silver carriage you had been allowed to take today was the queen’s personal carriage, not the usual one that you and her ladies or the ladies that waited on Princess Helena would ride in. It was pleasantly upholstered and the wheels rolled smoothly even over the roads that had become uneven during the weather over the last few months. 

“Are you ready to return home, my lady?” One of the queen's guards who travelled with the carriage asked. You nodded as he opened the door and helped you up the wooden steps into the carriage.

“Yes. That is all the queen wished for us to do today.” You said and smiled at him. 

All of a sudden something large struck your side and you yelped as you plummeted painfully into the carriage and something large, heavy and smelling of stale alcohol landed on you. 

“Unhand me!” Aegon snapped at the guard who was quick to follow your fall into the carriage and jump to your aid realising that the attacker was in fact Aegon and finding himself unsure if he should let him loose or not. “I said unhand me!”

“Aegon!” You snapped once the poor guard, pail-faced and clearly panicked, had helped you to one of the seats, seeming to decide it was best to let the flailing dragon go rather than try to heave him out of the carriage. Ageon had already taken up one of the bench seats and did not look willing to move again, so you sat on the other. “You’ve ruined my dress!” You complained as you saw the mud and dirt he’d gotten all over your clothes. Ageon did not respond, instead, he gasped a few times and waved a hand at the guard, who was still lingering in the doorway of the carriage, indicating that he would like to be taken home. You glared at him, fixing him with as hard a look as you could manage.

 "I ran too fast and now I can’t breathe. It’s the first time I’ve exercised in four years." He gasped out after a long pause. You tried not to giggle but the sound broke out on its own and made him smile as you put a hand up to your mouth as if to try and catch the sound.

“Why are you running from Aemond?” You asked to distract from your amusement and he sighed.

“Because he’s a frightful bore and I wanted to have some fun.” Aegon sprawled out across the seat he was occupying and closed his eyes.

“You shouldn’t hide in the sept. It's rude. Not to mention you always hide there so you're easier to find.” You said quickly. He opened one eye and groaned a little.

“Are you going to scold me all the way back to the keep?” He asked lazily. You sighed and leaned into the comfortable seat a little more.

“I would much rather not have to talk to you at all.” You said quickly. He chuckled and shrugged.

“Very well.” He spoke with sharp amusement that made you frown.

“I mean that.” You said stubbornly. He smiled again and basked in the sun that burst through the carriage windows as the long stretch of road opened up and the carriage turned down the road that exited the main heart of the city and headed to the front courtyard of the keep. 

“And I agreed.” He was starting to smile, amusement playing at the corner of his mouth as you fidgeted in your seat, running your tongue over your front teeth and smacking your lips quietly with frustration. “But you do insist on it ever so much.” He said after a pause.

“Because you do not speak as if you believe me.” You answered matter of factly. He nodded and made a noise as if he agreed.

“It is true I do speak in such a manner. Mostly because I don’t believe you. You like me more than my brother at least.” He said softly and grinned as he looked over at you, his feet kicked up against the wall of the carriage at the end of the seat, crossed over each other at the ankle as his hands rested on his chest.

“Not true at all. I find Daeron much more enjoyable to spend time with than you.” Your answer made him laugh.

“Everyone likes him. But you like me more than Aemond.” He sat up and leaned towards you as the carriage came to a stop. The small space seemed to become smaller still under his gaze, watching you as if he wanted you to confess that he was right but the door was yanked open and Aemond appeared as he stepped into the light that burst through the opening, yanking Aegon out of his seat and through the carriage door out of sight. Sir Cole stepped into view shortly after and gently helped you from the carriage. 

“Thank you for finding him.” A stiff voice came from behind you. Turning you found Otto Hightower over seeing Aegon being swept out of sight into the depths of the keep.

“Well, really he found me.” You confessed and smiled. Your smile fell awkwardly when Otto’s face remained stern. 

“The queen will see you in her chambers for an update on your trip to the Sept.” Otto said and nodded to Cole. Though he was gentle as he guided you inside, Sir Cole’s grip on your arm was unyielding and you had the good sense to suspect that Aegon had gotten you into some kind of trouble.

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[lunarw0rks]

Hi! I was wondering if you’d be open to writing a Ghost x Reader fic where the reader is relatively new to the 141. The team has seen her work but still doesn’t trust her fully. Ghost and her seem to have a magnetic pull to one another with both trying to avoid their attraction. One day while sparring the reader ends up straddling him with a training knife pressed to his throat. Both stare at one another, realizing. (NSFW or SFW whichever!) Feel free to change whatever or not write it if it’s not your vibe!

A/N: Ghost has a knife kink, confirmed ;) Not explicitly NSFW, but it's hinted. Part two w smut??

Summary: During a sparring session with Ghost, you end up on top of him, and he struggles to hide his amusement.

Warning(s): knives, canon-typical violence, suggestive content, sexual tension | Word Count: 1k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ PART TWO | ao3 ver. // have a request?

Sparring

From the minute you set foot on the base, you felt like you didn’t belong there. Based on your records, training, and skills? You were a perfect fit. Personally? Not so much.

Of course, some welcomed you, putting on their fake smiles and at least attempting to include you in things.

Captain Price, who was under obligation to be civil because he was your boss. Gaz, who was closer in age, usually followed behind the Captain’s decisions. The Scot or “Soap”, as they called him? Indifferent to you. His usual humorous demeanor would diminish the second you entered a space.

Then, there was Ghost, who perhaps had the most intimidation about him. Though he didn’t trust you, or anyone either, his distaste wasn’t as potent as the other soldiers. Sure, he could be harsh and cold when he wanted to be, but that was the way he approached conflicts.

You learned to expect it, to work around it. You didn’t have a choice. Go AWOL over some social rejection? Not in the cards for you.

—

You’re set to deploy with them, take down some figure named “Hassan”, or so the folder you read stated. To prepare, you need to get yourself physically prepared. These new operations were no joke, undoubtedly worse than months of boot camp.

You’re panting, and feel like your legs are going to crumble from their overuse. He won’t let up on you, not that quickly.

“Are you even trying, Sergeant?” Ghost heckles you, dripping in self-confidence, as he dodges your slices with ease. He always seems double the speed you are, even before you were winded and dissatisfied with your performance.

You grit your teeth in response, remaining determined that you’ll get one good jab at him. In your wild imagination, the foam knife you’re holding would somehow turn real when it slices him — cut the arrogance right out of him.

Realistically, however? Not a chance, unless you can find a way to slow him down.

“You’d be dead ten times, ‘you keep stabbing like that.” He puts his defensive arms down, allowing you to rest for a few seconds.

Or so you thought.

Suddenly, he grappled you to the foam mat beneath you, knocking the small amount of air you had left straight out. You struggled against his pin, but he was much too strong.

He squints down at you, as he maintains his solid grip. “You only have about ten seconds to win a knife fight, before you’re dead, or pinned just like this, with nowhere to go.” He motions to the predicament you’re in currently.

Your thighs were pinned against the floor with his knee, and wrists contained on each side of your head. You’re tempted to give him his victory, so he’ll leave it at your metaphorical death.

“Maybe what you need,” his eyes drill into you, as he begins his theory, “is a raise of the stakes.” He reaches into his holster and pulls out his very real knife. He holds it up, examining the way it glimmers against the fluorescents.

If he was anyone else, you probably would’ve tapped out or insisted on using the fake one. But based on the way he was caging you, he wasn’t asking. It was an order.

As if to prove the danger, he holds the blade to your cheek—not letting it cut you, but applying just enough pressure for you to understand the lesson of it.

Never let the enemy pin you, chances are you’re dead in seconds. He’d lectured you with that statement before when you sparred with him.

With his right arm occupied, there was a rapidly closing window for you to find a way out of this. You swung your arm, smacking the blade out of his fist.

You ended up straddling him and clambered for the knife. If this were his full potential, he would’ve already retrieved his knife and cut your throat. But he was allowing you to overtake him this time as if he was amused by it.

You pressed the blade to his throat, which was protected by the fabric of his balaclava. Thighs to thighs, stomach to stomach. His stare didn’t change once, remaining stoic even when held at knifepoint, with his own weapon nonetheless.

“That’ll suffice.” His voice weathered a bit, like it was hard for him to choke out something professional, given the fact that you could feel every bit of him at the moment.

You couldn’t lie, the position was questionable. But you’d proved your point.

Even though he knew there were dozens of countermoves he could use, and basically decimate you in the process, he doesn’t. He’d never admit how much he liked being under you, letting you threaten him with his own Army knife.

You felt a heat rise to your cheeks as you loosened up a bit, flipping the knife around so you could pass it back to him, handle first.

No matter how hard he tried to hide it, you had noticed the way his eyes softened when you flipped the power. 

Though your maneuvers needed work, he hadn’t expected the sudden burst of aggression—something you definitely needed when in the thick of battle. At least that’s what he’d tell himself to rationalize the feelings he was experiencing.

He returns his knife to the holster but doesn’t shove you off him like he thought he would. He instead places his hands on each hip, moving you to the side like your weight was nothing.

He moves to kneel beside you, meeting your eye level again. “Tomorrow, after hours. We’ll work at that aggression, yeah?”

You could hear the smirk on his face as he spoke, returning to his feet. He’s now standing above you briefly, looking down at you.

He straightens his balaclava, admiring the powerful stance he had over you as you knelt below him.

“Don’t be late.” He spits it out, then leaves the training room without another word. He smirks to himself as he strolls down the halls, thinking about the picture of you on your knees for the rest of his night.

Inside his head, he knew another sparring session was guaranteed to end up with you on top of him again. He was looking forward to it, no doubt.

[55sturn]

obviously improved content would be better but not giving a fuck about anything other than getting to see the triplets and watch a video has made being in this fandom a lot easier, over analyzing and making everything deeper than it needs to be genuinely ruins any interest you can have in something or someone.

of course you can want them to do better and strive for better content and better interactions, but also not caring and being content with just seeing them is a lot easier. it doesn’t need to be personal. if you don’t want to watch because one of them is in a bad mood, don’t watch it. no one is holding you hostage and forcing you to watch, there is a little x in the corner of your screen that turns red when you hover your cursor over it, just click it and then poof, the video is gone! you don’t have to like them or continue liking them and their content, no one said you have to, but shitting on people for liking them is plain childish. people can find comfort in the things that you find distaste in.

as for their merch and money, no one is forcing you to spend money on them. if you don’t like it, don’t fucking buy it. you don’t even have to look at it if you hate it that much but keep in mind there are people out there who do want it, so if you’re not spending your own money on it, why the actual fuck do you care so much? you can have your opinions, no one is taking them away, but trying to police or judge what other people do with their own money or their parents’ money is ridiculous, it shouldn’t fucking bother you.

allowing your hate for something or someone to consume you to the point where you feel the need to make others feel bad for enjoying the very things and people you hate, you’ve made it personal and unnecessary, you can share your opinions all you want, but don’t try to force that shit on others. you can easily move on and let other do as they please, because at the end of the day, minding your own makes shit a lot easier.

[wyyvernn]

SFW Headcanons - Haytham Kenway & Shay Patrick Cormac

A/n: Little Haytham and Shay things and mannerisms that they do with or without their S/O. Sfw but there is a soft mention of Shay being naughty HAHAHA

Haytham

- Gives no reaction to distaste or disgust except the slight wrinkle of his nose or creasing of his brows to something that displeases him.

- Often clasps his hands behind his back, it is one of his most signature mannerisms. Others include standing tall with his back as straight as a board, and you can see the pride and arrogance dripping off his form. Coughs into his fist after winning an argument.

- Haytham has only a few he cares about or becomes interested in, and in truth those who don't come under that list, he barely notices, maybe even shrugs them off.

- If his S/O has poor posture or slouches a lot, then he lightly scolds them, tells them that it's not good for their back, and he will promptly give them lessons on how to stand straighter, walk with confidence, walk with purpose etc. And he will smile just the slightest when progress has been made.

- On the topic of love languages, Haytham believes that actions do more than words. So little acts of service like opening the door for you and allowing you to pass through first, or actively seeking out an item that you lost some time ago becomes somewhat of a thing for him to do in his free time. (Yes, I'm referencing that one time when he hunted all throughout Boston to find Benjamin Franklin's missing almanac pages.) Quality time is something he seeks out with his S/O too, the fact that he can be around you brings him silent joy. He doesn't even need to be touching you, you could be in the same room together and reading book on opposite sides and he's content.

- Carries a handkerchief to wipe the blood off his sword after impaling an enemy. And he cleans it off with elegance like he didn't just slaughter the fuck out of a man.

- Flashes his enemies a smile but it's more taunting and filled with condescension than the ones he sends his S/O, which are warm and kind. Either contain some kind of purpose, mostly his face is unreadable and lacking in emotion.

- Tips his hat like a gentleman to any lady he passes, and his lips curl up just a tad when he watches them blush and walk by him. He knows that he has that effect on women.

- Will not tolerate disrespect towards him or his S/O and it's one of the few things that triggers a physical reaction from him. Although, the most he will do is shove the offending person against a wall with an iron grip, his piercing eyes darkening as he lectures their ears off. Makes sure you're alright afterwards.

- His scent is like smoky wood fire combined with the hidden notes of something that's quite difficult to place but it's a charming smell, and very distinctive. So distinctive, in fact, that you would know when he turns a corner just by catching a small whiff of him.

Shay

- Lets his S/O take the helm of the Morrigan sometimes, especially when he sees them so excited. He'll step away and allow them to grip the wheel before coming up from behind and placing his hands over theirs, guiding you to steer the ship.

- Yes, that funny little bed in his cabin does get used and not just for sleeping. On more than one occasion has Shay dragged you by your arm to his cabin when his crew were too occupied in a tavern.

- Has a habit of showing off, particularly when he was an Assassin. Now he's less boisterous, less boyish but he maintains some of those traits and it really is quite charming, if a little laughable when he flexes his muscles at you after hunting a shark.

- More perceptive than others give him credit for, I think he pays attention to many things in the environment, might smile at a bird's nest or grin when he notices a whale.

- A passionate man, will absolutely ruin the person who insults him or his S/O. He's quicker to anger than Haytham, more reckless but it's something endearing even if gets a bit too much. Shay means well.

- Loves languages of his include physical touch. He cannot keep his hands off his S/O and they often find his palm wandering down from their waist to grip their rear, which earns him a light smack on his chest but he grins and shrugs it off. Sometimes he pulls them in his lap when he's going over plans for the Morrigan. I think he's very fond of quality time as well to the point that he's ecstatic that his S/O is by his side on his ship always. Oddly enough, there are many things to do on the open sea that don't involve just steering a wheel and looking at all the pretty little fish.

- Strangely, he wears a frown in public. It could just be his resting face but it's hard to tell. You like to bring your thumb up to his brows when he's unsuspecting and massage the crease away until he realises what's happening and he lets out a small chuckle, gently batting your hands away.

- Fights many men at once and at no point does his grin ever drop. Whether it's a bar fight or when he's juggling through his weapons, he will show his enjoyment and it's really quite menacing and ridiculous at the same time.

Bonus - Poly

- Together, both men work very well. Both are deadly on their own but with Haytham's intellect and Shay's efficiency, they become their own army side by side.

- Both are considerate of their S/O, Haytham is more calm and gentle towards you and Shay, rough and energetic. They balance each other out when one becomes too much, but you enjoy their company regardless.

- It's never a tug of war between them, every thing between each of you is carefully calculated to be equal per Haytham's request. Shay might become more wanting of your company but even he knows the line not to cross.

- Come night, and the three of you are snuggled closely together. Admittedly, Haytham prefers to sleep beside only one of you but even he can't refuse having both. Shay doesn't care at all and will happily join you both together.

- Quiet kisses and hushed words of affection become a daily thing when no one is around but the three of you.

- Random little thing to point out but Haytham's ponytail is lower and Shay's is a bit higher.