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elronds-meleth-nin · 6 months

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I Could Love You With My Eyes Closed

I heard a song and one of the lines got stuck in my head, so here's a fic. (If you're curious, it was "Figure You Out" by VOILÀ.) No idea why, but Thranduil just felt perfect for this.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Thranduil x Reader

[A/N: This is mostly just fluff, but there's some innuendo, so... 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Fluff, angst, Elf x Human romance, mutual pining, idiots in love, Thranduil being dramatic, fake betrothal speedrun, Thranduil being soft for one (1) person only, protective Thranduil, Human!Reader has been adopted by elf who had no idea what he was getting into and Thranduil thinks he's an idiot, mild innuendo.

~*~

My mind wandered during my guard shift. Given that nothing ever penetrated this deep into the realm without the king's consent, the risk of allowing my focus to roam among my busy thoughts was minimal. The night air was brisk as I sat on one corner of the king's balcony with my bow laid across my lap.

Normally, the night air was soothing, but at that moment, all I could think about was how different everything would be soon. There would be no more extravagant views of the stars framed by elaborately gilded windows, no more training with my bow, no more front row seats to royal audiences, and - the worst of all - no more late night conversations when King Thranduil grew weary of his work.

I'd taken those things for granted. Oh, I hadn't squandered my time once I'd become one of his guards, by any means, but now that I might be forced to give up that position sooner than I'd anticipated, a list of regrets seemed to be cycling endlessly in my mind's eye. One that caused me the most pain was that I would very soon no longer be the recipient of his majesty's secret smirks when something we'd discussed privately occurred in his court.

The sound of a quill scratching away on parchment within the king's study ceased abruptly, but not even the anticipation of a quiet, intimate talk with him could lift my spirits. Not after the news I'd had that morning.

The swish of a cloak being removed was followed by unhurried footsteps toward the balcony, and then he was there beside me. The King of the Woodland Realm stood less than a few feet from me in all his finery, save the little circlet that usually rested upon his brow. He tended not to wear it when he retired to his chambers for the evening, choosing instead to lay it atop a book of poetry which resided permanently on his desk.

"On a lovely, cloudless night such as this, what cause would a newly-engaged lady have to look so forlorn?" The smooth, regal voice of my liege met my ears, and under any other circumstances, I might have scrambled to my feet to bow before him, as was his due. All I could muster, however, was a quiet, sincere apology over my shoulder as I remained seated on the balcony. I could feel his keen, pale blue eyes on me as I set my bow aside and let out a heavy sigh. "Oh, dear. Is he that repulsive?"

"Not physically, but...all he seems to see is himself. I am perfectly aware that the betrothal wasn't either of our choices, but he could at least pretend that he's interested when our parents are nowhere to be seen." I was aware that I sounded ungrateful, but just because I was a mortal woman in a realm of Elves didn't mean that I had to like it when I was constantly looked down upon by others.

One of the few people who never gave me the impression that he thought less of me took a seat beside me in robes much too elegant for anything less than a perfectly padded chair to touch.

"Have you spoken with your guardian - apologies, your father - about your fears?" Instead of sounding judgmental, Thranduil's voice held only softness - a rarity, to be sure, but such a tone was more common when he conversed with me than with anyone else. I nodded my head as I recalled the cold aloofness in my adoptive father's voice as he'd dismissed both me and my protests.

"He seemed more concerned with maintaining the status associated with his name than with some silly little mortal's concerns." I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, I really did, but the sharp edge that crept in made me cringe a bit. "After all, who am I to complain when he took me in? My life could have been over before it had even truly begun. He could just as easily have left me to die in the ruins of our burning village and adopted an Elfling instead. I...owe him for all that he has done."

One of Thranduil's hands rested lightly on my shoulder, coaxing me to face him. My eyes met his, and his free hand laid over my wrist. The warm weight of his palm covering my pulse made my heart flutter in my chest.

"Is that what he told you?" When I stammered about it being nothing more than the truth, he shook his head while stormclouds gathered in his expression. "What foul words of comfort from one who claims to care for you."

To that, I had no response. Naturally, several statements sprung to the tip of my tongue - defenses for my father's actions - but I swallowed them all down when my king's gaze warned me that he would tolerate no such excuses.

"Remind me, mellon-nin, how long have you served in my guard?"

"Twelve years and a few months, sire."

"And in all of our many conversations, have I ever given you any reason to doubt that I value you as highly as any other in my kingdom? After that first fortnight, when you were terrified of making a mistake, have you ever felt out of place because of your mortality?"

The memory of that fateful night drew a smile to my lips.

"No, mellon-nin. That rather thorough tongue-lashing you meted out made your stance quite clear to all in the palace," I murmured allowing myself the small liberty of turning my hand beneath his and threading our fingers together.

The guards he'd berated for their rudeness and bigotry had practically fled the throne room when he was finished with them. After that night, he'd ordered that whenever I was on duty, I would be assigned to his personal detail.

"Then, what cause have you to believe that I would tolerate anyone treating you so poorly anywhere else in my domain?"

"This is different–"

"How? Enlighten me," the king ordered giving my fingers a gentle squeeze.

"Father has the right to demand that I repay him for the time he has spent on me," I hedged, but Thranduil shook his head.

"Just because he raised you, that does not mean that he was unaware of what he was choosing. He may not have known the full extent of the demands made of a parent, but that was not the fault of the innocent babe he rescued." He sounded so calm, so casual about his assertions that I could do no more than blink as he spoke. "I do not expect Legolas to sacrifice his happiness to satisfy some imagined debt incurred at his birth, nor should your guardian make such ludicrous demands of you."

We sat quietly for a moment, side-by-side and hand-in-hand beneath the moonlight before words began flowing from my mouth almost without my consent.

"He's an ass, you know, the man to whom I have been promised. Nothing brings him greater pleasure than a mirror, and nothing strains him more than remembering a preference held by someone other than himself," I murmured feeling as though this confession of my unkind thoughts about the Ellon would give me some measure of comfort beyond another's commiseration. "Six different times he has insisted that he knows my favorite flower, and six times have I received something completely different. He claims that I keep changing my answer, but, truly, I have given the same response every time."

"He chooses not to listen," Thranduil muttered almost to himself.

"Quite correct, aran-nin. He is dismissive...practically ignores me when we are in the same room..."

"Had he been listening, he undoubtedly would have heard your scathingly pointed sighs, not unlike those which you direct toward any who insult your king in the throne room," he teased, and a huff of laughter bubbled out of me. "I shall have you know that I enjoy those little sighs. They convey a great deal about the receiver's lack of intelligence and manners, whilst simultaneously broadcasting that you would like nothing more than to drag them from the gates by the scruff of their neck. Quite effective, do you not agree?"

"Oh, yes, mellon. As I recall, you've allowed me to do just that on several occasions," I said glancing over at him. The answering sparkle in his eyes coupled with the wicked little smirk adorning his lips made my heart thud faster in my chest.

"And I reveled in every second of their humiliation at your beautiful hands," Thranduil practically purred in satisfaction at the memories, but I sobered rather quickly as I recalled the reason I was so down in the first place. He must've seen my smile slip. "Forgive me, I was certain that you enjoyed dragging witless rats from my sight...?"

"I do...rather, I did." The correction was small, but he pounced upon it immediately. The hand that had been on my shoulder grasped my chin and forced me to look back up at him. He didn't need to say a word. The question floated between us unasked, yet requiring an answer. "My betrothed made it clear that he believed a guard was no proper wife. He has demanded that I resign my position here."

More seriously than he had all night, Thranduil gazed into my eyes.

"Is that what you want? Do you wish to give up the station you fought so hard to attain for a man who cannot remember even the simplest of things about you?" I shook my head as hot, desperate tears filled my eyes. "Then tell me, what do you want? What desires fill your mind when you allow yourself to dream under cover of darkness?"

I most certainly could not give him the whole truth. I couldn't tell him that over the course of our acquaintance and friendship I had fallen in love with him. Nothing could ever come of my pathetic heartache. I was only a guard. A peasant. Peasants might fall in love with royalty, but they did not end up with them. That was not the way of the world.

"Love," I breathed instead. "I want to be loved for myself, not my father's position. I wish to be cared for and to care for another. I wish to remain a guard, a warrior for the Woodland Realm, and to be accepted as I am, not swept aside. Obviously, I am not without fault, but while I attempt to grow wiser and gain experience, I do not wish to be impeded or judged by someone who could never remember even the most basic facts about me. I...What I want is impossible."

A small, gentle smile crossed the king's lips, and an intense, burning desire to kiss him fought a war within me against my common sense. Thranduil could forgive much, but a lapse in judgment as severe as throwing myself at him? Never.

"Your presence here is proof that nothing is impossible. You are much easier to love than you have allowed yourself to believe." His deep, rumbling voice sounded at once comforting and sensual, which proved quite effective at helping me blink back my tears before they could even begin to fall. "When are you next due to meet with this unworthy cad?"

"Tomorrow. My father has invited both he and his parents to our home for the evening meal as it is my day without a shift." I was surprised at how steady my voice sounded after how vulnerable I'd just been. Strangely, though, I felt no shame in having allowed my friend to see my pain.

King Thranduil nodded his head pensively, brushing his thumb over my chin as he did so - why had he not yet released his grip? Not that I was going to complain, of course. Being this close to him, touching him, speaking with him in confidence...that was as close as I was ever going to get to him, and even that might soon be pulled from my grasp, so I savored every moment that I was afforded.

Neither of us had much more to say. Instead, the Elvenking slipped an arm around my waist and tugged me close enough to his side for me to lay my head on his shoulder. We sat in companionable silence until the time came for the guard change. Bidding me sweet dreams and a safe trip home, Thranduil dropped a soft kiss onto my hand and retreated back inside his rooms.

As usual, the guard who was to replace me gave me a raised eyebrow at my familiarity with someone so far above my station, and, as usual, I ignored him.

Sneaking to the stables on my way out, I plucked an apple from my coat pocket and headed to the gilded gates of the stall holding the king's mount. Slicing the fruit quickly in half with my dagger to delay my return home by a few extra seconds, I cooed gently to the large elk, stroking the soft fur on his muzzle as I offered him the treat.

"Who's a good boy? Hm? You are! Yes, you are," I praised as he gingerly bit into the first half of the bright red fruit, then the second. He was a gentle giant, in truth. Much of the kingdom supposed that he would be as prickly as his rider, but nothing could be further from reality. Firstly, the king was only short with those who deserved his ire. Secondly, the admittedly imposing elk upon which he rode hadn't a mean bone in his very large body. "Aww, you're never grumpy with me, are you, mellon-nin?"

He chuffed and snuffled, nuzzling gratefully into my caressing fingers as a 'thank you' for his treat. Even he would be a far superior companion for life than the idiot with whom I'd be forced to spend yet another pointless evening the next day...and perhaps the rest of my life.

"Don't worry, mellon, even if he makes me resign, I'll still find a way to sneak in and bring you extra apples." The pleased little snort he gave me drew a giggle from my lips, but I knew that soon the guard patrolling this section of the grounds would be here. I bid goodnight to my tall, fur-covered friend and set off on the path toward home with our secret intact.

Had I so much as bothered to glance back, I would've seen a familiar head of bright blond hair watching as I tugged the hood of my cloak over my head.

When I awoke the next day, it was still early morning. The lateness of my shift usually tired me out well enough that I slept for at least another hour or two, but after a few bleary blinks, I realized that I'd been awakened by voices.

Odd. My adoptive father did not usually entertain guests at this hour. Either something had happened, or today was destined to turn out rather strangely. As he hadn't bothered to come wake me, I gathered that there was no urgency in whatever had transpired. What was not in question, however, was the way my stomach growled as I tried to roll over and go back to sleep.

With a sigh of defeat, I climbed out of bed and dressed, even going so far as to tie my hair back in a quick braid since it looked as though it might rain. Thus, clothed and presentable, I cleaned my teeth and ventured from my bedroom in search of food.

The voices seemed to be coming from my destination, so it seemed as though I would get both sustenance and an answer to my curiosity all at the same time. A fortuitous turn for such a gray morning.

"...ere she is now." I was able to make out my father's voice as I intentionally stepped on the creaky board in the hallway. I wasn't as quiet as an Elf when I walked, but I still didn't like to appear as though I was eavesdropping or sneaking where I shouldn't be. When I stepped into the kitchen, I froze.

There in all his regal, perfectly-groomed glory was King Thranduil, sitting at our tiny wooden table.

What in the name of the Valar was the king doing in our kitchen?

"Aran-nin," I greeted him, bowing slightly less steadily than I might have if I'd been awake for more than a few minutes. A low, velvety chuckle floated around the space.

"Come now, meleth, you know there is no need for such formality," Thranduil crooned giving me a charming, mischievous smile as I straightened again, but that statement alone nearly shattered my poor tired mind.

He'd said 'meleth,' but...that meant 'love.' He'd never called me that before. And I still didn't know why he was in our kitchen.

Glancing between my king and my father, I tried silently to piece together what the hell was going on here. Thranduil must have seen my lack of progress in my eyes, because he continued as if this was all completely normal.

"Come, break your fast. Your guardian has been kind enough to make tea and lay out some provisions for us," he said standing and pulling out the chair directly beside him.

Almost without thinking, I did as he asked, and my heart thudded rapidly in my chest when he seated me as if we were at some lavish feast instead of around our small, wooden table. He acknowledged my hastily-murmured gratitude, then resumed his own seat with his usual flourish. The three of us ate quietly for a few moments, staunchly ignoring the fact that the king was in our tiny kitchen eating with us as casually as if he had always done so.

It was...pleasant. Strange, obviously, but much more enjoyable than my usual solitary morning meal.

"So, meleth-nin, would you like to tell him the good news, or should I?" Thranduil asked, and I looked up at him. Slightly more cognizant than before, I recognized the glint in his eyes that usually accompanied a desire for me to play along with whatever he said next. I could do that.

"I'm quite certain that it would be much more eloquent coming from you," I demurred, and I very pointedly avoided looking across the table at my father's reaction to whatever bit of theater my king had orchestrated. Less than a heartbeat later, I found my free hand firmly in Thranduil's grasp as he looked at my father.

"The betrothal you arranged for your ward is hereby declared invalid by order of the king," he said, and the stunned expression on my father's face was worth every moment of confusion I'd experienced that morning. He took a moment to gather himself before clearing his throat and looking between us in askance.

"If it is not too presumptuous, sire, may I ask why you have done this? Her betrothal to–"

"That engagement was no more than a farce. We meant to announce it earlier, but with how busy I've been attending to my royal duties, I fear I have been remiss." The king cut him off, and the indignation in my father's eyes gave me a sick sort of pleasure. "You see, your ward is not available for the suitor you preferred, because she has already accepted my own marriage proposal."

Oh. So, that was what he had in mind. A faux betrothal. Somehow, that was both intensely flattering and a knife to my chest.

The announcement worked to perfection, though. My father looked as though he'd been punched soundly in the face.

"You...?" He blinked and made a second attempt at speech. "Why would a king want her?"

Thranduil's head tilted in a manner I recognized as indicative of the imminent rise of his temper.

"Why does a king desire anything? Tell me, why should a king not desire a worthy queen for his realm?" He asked, and my father caught up rather rapidly with the realization that he'd said the wrong thing. Thranduil looked back over at me as he lifted my hand to his lips. "Why should an Ellon not marry the one whom he loves?"

Ow. Those were the exact words I'd longed to hear from him for so many years, but to hear them now knowing that they were all an act...

"And why should I not wish to marry the Elf with whom I have grown so close over my many years of guard duty?" How far he intended to carry this fiction, I didn't know, but I could play along for now. I could hide the pain.

"I...Congratulations," my father stammered hesitantly, but he was no longer relevant. Not now.

"Thank you," the king said without taking his eyes off of me. "Meleth, I believe it is time for you to live in the palace. It will be your home once we are married, and if you are prepared, I can take you back with me. My mount is outside."

"Of course, but I shall need a few moments to pack–"

"Nonsense. You needn't do such menial work. You are to be my queen. I have already arranged for your belongings to be brought to you this evening. For now, you need only bring yourself and a riding cloak," he insisted with a warm smile.

"Might it not be simpler, my king, if I were to save you the trouble of taking her with you? I could escort her to the palace myself this evening so that you needn't be burdened by sharing your mount," my father said, and the blush that sent my cheeks burning at the thought of the pair of us riding together atop his elk was automatic. No acting required.

I prayed that Thranduil was unaware of how drastically he affected me, even within my own imagination.

"Bringing my queen to the palace is my responsibility and privilege. And, if you shall forgive me for saying so aloud outside of the solitude of our marital chambers, meleth-nin, I view the opportunity to feel you in my arms with great anticipation," the king said turning my hand over gently and placing a slow, sensual kiss right over my racing pulse. My breath caught in my throat at the hunger in his eyes. His lips lingered a few beats longer than I expected, only pulling away when my father cleared his throat pointedly. "My apologies. In the presence of such beauty, I find that I am transported into the realm of fantasy."

Thranduil's words did not match his expression. He was an Ellon who found vast satisfaction in playing those around him like an orchestra. He wasn't sorry at all.

"As much as I adore seeing you like this, my darling king, I do hope you will be more discreet while holding court," I teased, but his smirk only grew.

"When my queen is so breathtaking? Never." If it wasn't for the disgustingly sexy wink he tossed me, I'd have thought he was laying his act on a bit thick. As it was, though, he seemed to be staying in character quite effortlessly. For my part, I was one shaky breath away from giggling like a brainless idiot, or bursting out in tears because of the simple fact that this was all an act.

Ducking my head in what I hoped was a passable semblance of bashfulness, I tried to steady my breathing.

"I...trust that you still plan to give up your position in the guard?" My eyes flicked up and met my father's. There was something in his expression - disbelief, confusion, suspicion - that I couldn't quite place.

His obvious lack of trust after all these years angered me.

With the sweetest smile that I could muster, I tilted my head curiously.

"Not at all. A queen must be willing to fight for - and alongside - her people if she expects them to fight for her in return. Loyalty must be earned; it is not a gift to which one is entitled." Thranduil gave my fingers a gentle, supportive squeeze. "Surely, after your many years as a warrior, you of all people understand how crucial it is to inspire loyalty in those whom you command?"

He couldn't protest. When Thranduil said nothing, giving him neither a change of subject nor an opportunity to dodge the question, my father stammered about his question being a foolish one and about the change in suitors being so sudden.

Almost as soon as we stepped outside, the king's elk snuffled happily. He walked over to us, but to my surprise, instead of vying for Thranduil's attention, he made a beeline for me. Without thought, I patted his muzzle and ran my fingers down his neck. Snuffling lower, as if he knew I usually kept his apples in my pockets, he looked at me expectantly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, mellon, I don't hav–" I was silenced by a large, gentle hand landing on my shoulder.

In my king's grasp was a bright, ripe, red apple. The same kind I usually smuggled out of the larder as a treat for my furry friend. He'd already sliced it in half - when had he even found the time?

"Thank you, but how did you...?"

"Nothing happens in my realm but I know of it," he whispered, the warmth of his breath ghosting over my scalp.

Choosing to temporarily ignore the implications of his statement, I accepted the apple and fed it to his elk. After a moment, Thranduil moved nearly soundlessly back toward my father.

"Ah, before I forget, this is for your ward's former suitor," he said pulling an envelope with the royal seal from his pocket. "Please convey to him that if the contents raise more questions than answers, he is most welcome to see the palace healers about his obviously failing memory."

With his cloak swishing behind him, Thranduil swept back over to me and helped me onto his mount's back. Once he was seated behind me with an arm wrapped firmly around my middle, it all sank in.

This might be an act for my father, but this was happening. I was really riding toward the palace with my king's chest pressing against my back. The guards who manned the gate would see us. Any who encountered us would bear witness to the king's act. How far did he mean to take this?

Surely, he wouldn't actually marry me just to get me away from one unsuitable Ellon? And when he did eventually end this ruse, what then? Would I be forced to go home with my tail tucked between my legs?

When we were around the halfway point in our journey - far enough from both my home and the palace that I was certain we wouldn't be observed - I asked if we could stop for a moment. Despite his confusion, Thranduil gave the command, and his elk trotted to a graceful stop. Without waiting for assistance, I slid off the saddle and landed rather hard on my feet.

Ignoring the new pain in my ankles and the ache that the loss of Thranduil's steadying grip left in my chest, I took a few steps and tried to slow my breathing. The sound of my traveling companion landing infinitely more gently than I had met my ears along with a concerned call of my name, but I just shook my head.

"Are you hurt, meleth?" He asked, and I swallowed heavily.

"No, but...my king–"

"You are perfectly allowed to call me by my name. After all, we are betrothed. It would not do for our subjects to see us behaving as if no love exists between us," he said as he patted his elk's neck, and a pang of hurt wound through my heart. Thranduil was saying all the right words, but it was an act. There were no longer any witnesses. There was no longer anyone to watch as my heart broke.

"Why are you doing this?" At the pain in my voice, confusion and concern washed over his features.

"Whatever do you mean?" The Elvenking asked stepping away from his elk's side. His cloak billowed around him, and it was all I could do not to drop to my knees at the sheer majesty of the figure he presented. All it did, though, was reinforce what I already knew: Thranduil was not for me.

"Please, do not misunderstand, I am grateful that you have saved me from such an unfortunate match. However, you needn't spare my feelings by pretending to love me. There is no need to waste your precious time playacting, mellon-nin."

"'Pretending'?" The word escaped him as a harsh, dangerous whisper. Oh dear. I'd seen the king's rage before, but never had his icy fury been turned upon me. Despite the outrage in his tone, his next words were at the same hushed volume as before. "'Playacting'? What do you take me for?"

I could see why Prince Legolas had insisted that raised voices were preferable to the fear that his father's cool, piercing anger inspired. I wasn't afraid, but I was acutely aware of the severity of his emotions. I wasn't intentionally trying to anger him, but I needed him to know how close he'd come to breaking me beyond repair. Before I could answer, he advanced another step and continued.

"And, pray tell, what am I, in your estimation? Cruel? Unforgiving? Demanding? Judgmental?" His eyes flashed with something akin to pain. "Perhaps your censure is not based upon personality, but upon appearance."

The glamour he kept constantly in place over his scar melted away.

"Is this the source of your misgivings? Am I too ugly for you to accept, even as a king?"

"You know that's not true," I snapped, with an edge of warning in my voice, recalling the first time I'd seen him without the glamour.

A few months after my appointment to the king's guard, I was given a jar of pain-dulling ointment by one of the healers to pass on to the king. I'd delivered it, of course, but when I'd been hesitant to leave him, going so far as to ask if he was injured, he'd locked the door and showed me what the great serpents of the north had done to him. Thranduil admitted later that he'd intended to frighten me that night, but all I'd done was ask if he needed help applying the medicine. Once he realized I thought no less of him for his injury, he'd let me.

Yet he had the gall to stand before me and accuse me of being shallow? Had he learned nothing about me over the years?

"Then answer the question," Thranduil bit out quietly. "What exactly do you take me for?"

"A king," I breathed looking up into his eyes. Confusion mingled with his anger. "Peasants may fall in love with royalty, but they are not offered the luxury of marrying them. Kings do not give lowly guards a second thought, even if they afford them the title of 'friend,' so I will ask you again, sire: Why are you doing this? Why are you acting as though hope abounds for my doomed heart where none has ever existed?"

His brow smoothed, his lips parted a fraction, and his glamour slipped silently back into place as he processed what I'd said. Oh, Valar, what I'd said! I'd confessed to loving the king!

Comprehension melted his anger away into nothingness. Instead, he moved within a single step of me, lifting one of his large, graceful hands to caress my cheek.

"You truly do not know?" I couldn't even bring myself to answer as I leaned into Thranduil's touch. This might be the last chance to do so after what I'd just admitted. He'd dismissed guards in the past for much less severe transgressions. "When we spoke last night, you told me that you desired to be loved - not by the whole of the Woodland Realm as I believe you deserve, but by one person. The Ellon your father chose for you certainly could not do that when remembering something as small as your favorite flower caused him such strain."

Low and gentle, his voice trickled over my ears as smoothly as honey. He...He didn't sound angry, anymore. Why wasn't he enraged that someone like me had dared to cross the more-than-generous boundary of friendship that he'd allowed me?

"My king–"

"Thandruil," he corrected, but there was no real bite to his words despite having to repeat himself again. He never repeated himself, yet this morning alone he'd done so twice. "You adore the blue wildflowers that grow along our western borders, but if you smell them for too long, they make you sneeze. During the summer, you set them on the sill in your room and keep the window open so that you might enjoy them without discomfort."

I blinked in surprise. I could vaguely remember a conversation years ago where I'd mentioned the flowers, but it was such a trivial thing that I was quite certain it would've been forgotten by morning. After all, what I did with flowers had no bearing on the fate of the kingdom.

"You prefer your tea sweet but not overly so. When you believe it might rain, you take the precaution of braiding your hair so that the humidity will not render it impossible to untangle when you return home."

The Elvenking began slowly, allowing each small fact that he'd observed about me to sink in along with the realization that he'd favored me with his attention frequently enough to accrue them.

"Your confidence with daggers is low, but with a bow, you are as bold and graceful as any skilled Elleth warrior. When I express my anger at some wretched fool in my court, you often struggle to suppress your laughter at how close they come to wetting themselves in the throne room - do not deny it. Your body gives you away each and every time."

Had he truly seen so much of me during my service to him?

"When your temper is tested, there is a small line that appears just here," he touched a spot between my brows, "that brings me great consternation. On the one hand, I wish to give you my sword so that you may more easily remove the head of whomever has dared incur your wrath, but on the other, I wish to soothe your frustrations with my words, my lips, my body, whatever you will allow–"

"Thranduil–" His name fell from me as no more than a whisper. The leaves on the trees surrounding the path rustled in the breeze, but the Elvenking could not be stopped.

"Your free time is often spent reading. Once a week before you return home, you sneak out to the stables and feed my elk an extra apple, because you find him sweet-tempered. When you laugh, your eyes sparkle brighter than any star ever could, and you steal the breath from my chest each time you look at me."

My vision blurred, and only when my king's thumbs brushed tears from my cheeks did I realize that I was crying. I'd loved him for so long that this felt as surreal as a dream.

"You said that you wish to be loved, meleth-nin. To answer your question, I am doing this because I can give you exactly what you desire. I could love you with my eyes closed, because I have done so with them open since the day you were assigned to my guard."

Thranduil leaned closer, freezing but a hair's breadth from my lips.

"If you do not feel the same, we can remain friends, but if there is the slightest chance that you could find happiness by my side, then marry me. Be my queen. I am yours." His whispered promise was filled with so much tenderness and hope that my restraint snapped, and I closed the distance between our mouths.

My fingers gripped his robes in an attempt to ground myself, but this heady feeling of being wanted - being loved - robbed me of all coherent thought. There was only the feeling of gentle hands drawing me close by my waist and the nape of my neck. Only soft lips kissing me with the skill of thousands of years' worth of experience. Only a king claiming his queen's heart.

There was only love.

~*~

mellon-nin = my friend

aran-nin = my king

meleth-nin = my love

#elronds-meleth-nin fic #Thranduil x Reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

AITA for not putting a bell on my cat?

Cw for discussion of animal death and injury in vague terms.

So I live in a neighborhood with a lot of stray/outdoor cats. In fact, it's sorta that way all over the city. A few weeks ago as of writing this, I picked up a stray because I saw that it had an open wound on its neck; since it was amicable to being handled I decided to take it to the vet to be treated (and neutered, since I'd already gotten hold of it and obviously we don't need more strays.)

Recently, my cat of 15 years (we had him for 15 years, he was about 17-18 though) passed of old age, so I wasn't expecting my family to be willing to take a new cat in so soon. We even still have most of his stuff, so I figured it would be a matter of keeping the stray indoors until it was healed, then letting him go about his business. We all ended up getting attached over his two weeks of recovery though (if anyone is curious, it was a burst absess. While he was there we got him vaccinated and checked for other problems. Aside from ear mites, he was fine) so we got him a microchip, named him, and that was that.

My previous cat was also a rescue, though we picked him up from a shelter. At the time we also had a dog and a dog door, so keeping him inside would have been a logistical struggle we just... didn't care to bother with. By the time the dog passed, he'd had access to the outside for years and we saw no reason to suddenly cut him off from that. We obviously had to keep this new cat completely inside while his staples were in, but the plan was always to open up the dog door once he was healed and let him decide where he wanted to be. I don't like taking care of a litter box, my dad doesn't like the smell of cat, 3/4ths of the house is allergic (though that didn't stop us before), and this cat is much younger than our previous was, and has much more energy (vet estimated him at 6mo-1yr). At the beginning of last week (again, as of writing this) I got the go-ahead from the vet to let him outside and gladly did so. He hasn't gotten the hang of the dog door yet (our previous had the advantage of watching the dog go through to learn how to do it) but will go through open doors/windows and will return to the door or enter through the window if it's still open.

With context out of the way here comes the trouble: our neighbors. Our house is on the corner of the block and to our left is a house that takes tenants every so often. They've been here for as long as I (22m) have been alive and have been a nucance for probably longer than that. Their yard is atrocious, they planted bamboo that grew under the fence and into our property, and the woman who owns the house (presumably. Her husband might but I've never spoken to him) apparently has some moral issue with outdoor cats.

Sometime into owning our previous cat, she suddenly became very concerned with the bird population and insisted that we collar our cat and get him a bell so that he wouldn't catch birds. I'd like to point three things out: 1) our previous cat only had one eye, 2) we had tried to collar him before and he lost every single one so we gave up (breakaway collars so he didn't choke, 3) he caught birds despite both of these facts. Needless to say, I was not fucking thrilled about unsolicited advice from a woman I'd never spoken to, who let her unmitigated mess of invasive plants invade my garden, but whatever. She spoke to my little (10yro) sister about it at the time, only once, and never to me, so it wasn't an issue.

So I let this new cat out, right? I opened the dog door for him and he waltzed right on out, but I wasn't convinced he really knew how to operate it. About an hour or so without hearing him come in, I head through the back door to look for him. I got him from a different neighborhood, across town, while visiting a friend, so I figured I was allowed to be a little worried about him getting lost or overwhelmed. As soon as I step out onto the porch, the neighbor-lady calls over and asks me if my cat got out or I let it out.

I tell her I let him out. She asks me to put a bell on him. In an attempt to remain civil I ask her why. She says something about it being stupid, I ask her why it's stupid, she says cats eat birds and the bird populations are declining. I instantly want to call bull on cats being a leading reason of bird population decline, but I just tell her that I'll have to look that up, and ask her if she saw which way he went. (I'd like my restraint during this interaction noted, thanks.)

Anyway I don't find the cat but I get a good few patrols around the block, and eventually he comes back to the house sometime in the late-night early-morning. He does not use the dog door and waits for me to open the door instead (back door is on the way to the bathroom, I saw his stupid little face pressed against the glass when i went to piss).

I look up bird population decline articles. Most of them mention cats as a factor, along with clear windows. Primary factors are listed as deforestation and invasive species, pesticides, etc. I don't consider getting my cat a collar because I don't appreciate my neighbors input, especially when she's going to be hypocritical and ignore that planting native species may help bird population more than putting out fifty fucking feeders and complaining that the stray cats see her yard as a buffet. Anyway.

I let him out again yesterday, this time through the window in my room, which leads to the back porch. I felt comfortable leaving it open since I work at my desk and would hear if anything not-cat came inside. (Allergies were a problem, but I'd really rather he have a way to get inside if he wanted/needed, and he STILL will not open the dog door on his own. Obviously I'm not helping by continuing to give him alternatives but I am soft-hearted.) Sometime in the evening my dad comes in and tells me that when the cat next comes back, I should keep him inside because "The neighbor lady is being a bitch and I don't want to deal with it." I assume she said something to him, so I agree and when the cat comes in for the night I close the window.

This morning I saw what had ACTUALLY got him.in a twist, because not only did she say something but she printed out and taped a note to our door. Oh, how I would love to send a picture of it here, but I don't know how to embed photos in asks so you'll just have to deal with my transcription:

CAT FACTS

Cats kill birds. Cars kill cats.

Here's some links to look up.

[I won't type the links out. First one is an article titled "how long do outdoor cats live indoor vs outdoor cats" and the second is "faq cats and their effects on birds". I have not read either of these.]

Ask Kelly about Dixie. Ask Jean about Madeline - wait don't - she ran over her with her own car and broke her pelvis because the cat was older and couldn't hear well.

You have a very beautiful young cat. He deserves a safe loving home. Act like you care for your cat or give him to a home that will. I have four indoor cats - three are orange boys. I have a soft spot for orange boy cats. They are very happy as inside cats.

Be responsible.

[Handwritten at the bottom:]

Your cat is sleeping in my backyard. Why are you forcing him to be an outdoor cat!?

[End]

The amount of violent rage this fills me with is unreal. Kelly is our across-the-road neighbor, I assume Jean is another neighbor (I'm bad with names) and I CANNOT imagine that either of them appreciate being. Used like this. Also, I'm very glad her cats are happy indoors but this cat is not, he wants to go outside, he has been crowding the window all morning waiting for me to open it. (I respect me father so I won't, but I disrespect my neighbor so I really, REALLY fucking want to.)

So AITA for disregarding the safety/happiness of my cat and the decline of the bird population by not putting a collar on him and heartlessly forcing him outside? I'm no further inclined to force him indoors or get a collar, especially with her continued insistence, and in fact I'm so far making an active effort to restrain myself from going over and talking to her because I just want to turn it into an argument.

#aita #am i the asshole #pet death cw

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utilitycaster · 13 days

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You've mentioned a few times about Matt making this the Moon Plot Campaign and the cast not realizing it was the Moon Plot Campaign and how the characters aren't necessarily the best for a Moon Plot Campaign and I'm just curious: if you could pick what type of character build the cast played to best fit a Moon Plot how might that look?

Oh man I think I've answered this before but I will always answer it again because my answer is evolving.

The first two things are just general advice:

In retrospect I think Matt should have treated this campaign as sort of a semi-module format. If you will be playing a module (eg: Curse of Strahd, Call of the Netherdeep, etc), your DM should tell you this and essentially say "you can have your own character struggles - in fact you should - but they should be largely internal/things that can be addressed without you going on an extended quest." For example, you can (and should) play a character in Curse of Strahd who is struggling with self-esteem, or religious faith, or cowardice; but you can't have a character who, to address these things, must confront their father, because they're going to be in Barovia and he's not going to be there. I recommend checking out the rivals in Call of the Netherdeep, because their throughlines are great examples - they' develop and engage with the story, but it's very much driven by the plot of the story and not a delving into their backstory. So essentially, have simpler backstories or backstories that inherently tie into the quest, and let the players come up with that by giving them the most spoiler free outline. I think Matt tried to do all that tying up himself, and at times it made things a little too pat; or those characters who had elements that couldn't be woven in as gracefully (Chetney and the Gorgynei; Laudna with Delilah; some of Ashton's stuff) got very brief arcs so we could get back to the main moon plot.

Do not dump intelligence. DO NOT DUMP INTELLIGENCE. Have at least one PC in your party who is not just intelligent but like, educated. Percy, Beau, and Caleb all fit this. Chetney's pretty smart but not terribly educated so he's great at investigation but he's not going to do very well on religion checks. This party should have had a fucking wizard or artificer or cobalt soul monk or knowledge cleric, but also every party should unless you're going full murder hobo. I think it's valid to be into actual play (or d&d itself) for the character moments and the romance but you know what makes that possible? FIGURING OUT WHAT'S FUCKING HAPPENING INSTEAD OF DICKING AROUND CLUELESSLY. My one true house rule for myself as a DM is that one person in the party has to have high intelligence (or like, be a bard or rogue with decent intelligence but expertise/jack of all trades in everything). Play a high int character for the sake of your DM, PLEASE.

On a more specific note:

would have been good to have more Marquesian characters, but also someone from the Empire would have added a significant dimension. I do love Chetney, and I think Travis is the player who pivoted fastest to fit better within this campaign and has a good understanding of what it could have been with a bit more commitment, but yeah I think if Matt had told them a bit more of what was going on he'd have made like, a more serious werewolf member of the Gorgynei who had noticed lycanthropes becoming susceptible to Ruidus and decided to investigate, for example.

I think having more divinely aligned characters would have just made for much more fun interactions. The issue with the god debates wasn't that they were having them, for all I think that anyone who wants to kill the gods is a fucking idiot. It was that none of them knew jack shit about what they were talking about so it turned into an unending Emperor's Nose discussion. Having either someone who was actually trained (a la Braius, who is a welcome addition for this reason, among others) or again just. a person with religion proficiency and a decent INT score would have made it an actual compelling argument of different perspectives, and not a bunch of idiots yelling out nonsense.

It honestly wouldn't have looked much different. In fact, I think you could have kept the bottom table mostly as is with just tiny alterations, and done the following:

Make Chetney a Marquesian member of the Gorgynei with a mission tied to investigating what's going on with Ruidus. He could still be a weird woodworker.

Entirely rework Laudna's premise. You could have kept her creepy and undead, even, but get rid of Delilah and make her a wizard instead. Make her tied to the Grim Verity or an archaeologist who got kicked off the Tishtan site. You could even keep her aligned with Imogen although I'd have made it a more recent meet up of her being on the run and having gone through Gelvaan in trying to avoid the Grey Assassins

I like what happened with FCG ultimately but I think a different subclass would have still helped; make them a knowledge cleric and more intelligent.

Make Imogen and Ashton much more aware of the Apex War and Otohan's history from the get go. Also give Laura a heads up that her character's going to be super central and she will be in the hot seat for much of the campaign.

#answered #Anonymous #cr tag #oh i thought i was ready to do things today and. i'm not. time to lie down until i have to dm at 4. but this was a good question #i'm just still in the post-vaccine fatigue zone

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cod-fishing · 10 months

Text

(Continuation of this post with vampire soap human ghost)

The second time Johnny feeds on Simon, they still stumble into it.

After that first time, in the bunker, they don’t really bring it up again. It’s not some elephant in the room, it doesn’t feel awkward per se, just not something that needs to be discussed.

And just as Ghost doesn’t bring it up with Johnny, he very purposefully locks his own thoughts on the interaction behind a very thick blast door in his own head. No no, it didn’t make him feel mind-blowingly relaxed and at ease for the first time in who knows how long. No, it absolutely did NOT make him content and settled in his own bones and feeling like Johnny hung the god damn moon. Nope.

And so it goes on for a few weeks. Everything back to normal. They go on a few more missions with far less problems than the one that got ghost and soap locked in that bunker in the first place, and slowly ghost isn’t even drifting off to the thought of Soap’s weight on him every night. The end of the next mission finds the team celebrating a tidy hit on their most recent target, smoke and whiskey filling them up in ghost’s office.

Eventually, laughter and traded stories slow. The captain heads off, begging the need for sleep. Gaz heads out to go call that girl he’s been seeing back in London. And his loyal sergeant is the only one left.

A comfortable silence drapes around them. It feels good, to just be with Johnny like this. His mask is off, but in the low light of his office, whiskey warming his belly, and nobody with Johnny around, it almost feels good.

“You know, I knew you were tough, but I’m still impressed with how you took my bite, Ghost.”

Glass at his lips, Ghost almost chokes at Johnny’s sudden interjection. His chest tightens at the thought of that moment, of Soaps steady weight on him, his teeth at his jugular -

Ghost shakes his head.

“Really didn’t feel like much. Not bad at least. Just made me kinda loopy.”

Soap looked at him thoughtfully. “Well, loopy makes sense, with the blood loss. But usually it hurts a lot, even when someone consents. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”

Ghost clenches his jaw, and realizes an embarrassing moment later that he might genuinely be jealous of the idea of anyone underneath Soap like that.

Purposefully relaxing, he shrugs, hoping the topic will die out.

“You were really loopy. If anything,” Soap looks over at him, eyes hooded and head tilted back against the couch. Suddenly, ghost is nervous. “If anything, I would say you were enjoying yourself.”

Ghost can’t help the way he tenses, god damn it, and he can see the second soap narrows in on the movement, just like the predator he is.

He leans forward, his half empty glass balanced between strong fingers. “I mean you said it yourself, L.T.”

“Johnny,” Ghost interrupts, but it’s never stopped Soap before.

“You said it was good,” a smirk creeps onto his face, but there’s still that bit of wonder in his eyes.

“Johnny.”

“I mean that’s just curious to me. Why is that?”

“Johnny.”

He finally stops talking, but Ghost knows it doesn’t matter. He’s shown his fucking cards. Silence hangs between them, far less comfortable. Ghost glares at the stupid, beautiful cunt sitting across his desk from him, and Soap stares back with that same bloody smile in place.

Johnny knocks back the rest of his drink, and stands. His thighs flex under his jeans, and he moves towards Ghost, gracefully stepping around his desk. Ghost clenches his hands into fists as soap steps neatly in between his spread legs, and relaxes against his desk.

Ghost very purposefully doesn’t look up at him for a long, long moment. He keeps his eyes trained on the mug of pencils he keeps on his desk. Suddenly the bland mug stollen from the chow hall is the most interesting thing ghost has ever seen. Maybe he’ll just look at that for the rest of eternity.

But all too soon, his eyes flit up at his sergeant, completely against his wishes. Because he’s weak, he’s always been weak when it comes to Johnny, and god, he feels weak as he looks at him.

The barest hint of soap’s canines are peaking out between his teeth.

Ghost inhales sharply, feeling frozen in place at the intensity of soap’s stare. Soap’s eyes flick down, past Ghost’s chin to his bare neck, and then back up.

“Do you mind being a guinea pig, L.T.? I just want to understand why it doesn’t seem to hurt you.”

Ghost swallows, Soap watching the bob of his throat. “How, uh. How would you do that?”

“By feeding on you again,” he says it so calm, almost casually, even as tension is so thick Ghost can almost taste it. He can’t seem to find a response to that, so Soap continues.

“Now that I’m not starving, I can actually pay attention to what I’m doing, how you’re reacting.”

Ghost swallows again, and fuck it’s so embarrassing to know that soap can hear his heart rate slowly ticking up, racing like a rabbit in his chest. He still can’t force his mouth to move, and he wouldn’t even know what to say if he could.

Something changes in soap’s face, and he shifts, turning away from ghost.

“Sorry L.T., silly thing to ask. Didn’t mean to push you.”

Without thinking, ghost is snatching soaps wrist to hold him in place, suddenly desperate. And god, desperate for what? If he can’t even say it in his own head, how on earth is he gonna ask for it?

Soap looks back at him, surprise in his expression, lips parted just so. His fangs are gone, and Ghost wants them back. Doesn’t ever want Johnny to hide himself like that.

“No, uh. You can. You can do it,” he manages to choke out. And god, it’s worth it to see the way Johnny’s face lights up with hunger.

“Right now?” Soap asks.

“Uh..” ghost searches soap’s face, and there, there, he can see his fangs again, deadly sharp, and that expression- “yes.”

Soap is on him before he can blink, bullying his way into his lap, strong legs boxing him in. One strong hand runs up his shoulder, gripping the back of his head and gently tilting it to the side, opening ghosts neck up to Johnny. Ghosts hands are fisted in soap’s shirt, and he finds himself almost panting at the anticipation, at Johnny just sitting on him, breathing against his throat.

“Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”

He jerks his head in a nod, and sucks in a sharp breath.

Johnny’s teeth meet his skin.

Again, there’s the pain, but already, Ghost feels heat flood his body, turning his limbs to jelly, turning the pain sweet. Almost instantly, Johnny is moaning against his neck, tongue lapping at his pulse, and Ghost has to stop himself from moaning back.

“Fuck,” soap slurs against his throat, “I thought you tasted this good just because I was starving.”

Ghost’s hands clench around Soap’s hips. He can feel the beating of his heart everywhere, in every poor of his body. Somewhere, far in the back of his brain, Ghost is fixated on soap’s fingers on his scalp. The grip isn’t forceful, it’s light. But ghost has seen the way soap can hold down a meal, the strength in his fingers as he forces meat to comply, to stay in place until he can devour it.

God, he must be fucked in the head, because he only goes more boneless at the thought. It feels like the whole universe has been shrunk, nothing outside of this room, hell nothing outside the circle of their bodies, exists.

Johnny pulls back just a bit, and curses.

“Fuck, just a little more, okay? You just-“ he sounds desperate, and cuts himself off by plunging his fangs back in Ghost’s throat.

It’s much less gentle than Soap had been before, and Ghost does moan at that, which Soap answer back with a growl. Ghost feels it in his throat, his chest, everywhere. He feels…he feels fucking claimed.

It’s a miracle he doesn’t cum on the spot.

By the time Soap eases his teeth out of Ghost’s wounds, he’s started to see black spots at the corner of his vision. He probably should have told Soap to stop, but god, he didn’t want to. He wanted to be here forever.

Soap gets one look at him, and his face drops.

“Shit, L.T., why didn’t you tell me? Fuck, I know you keep snacks in here somewhere,” he turns, angling away from Ghost to rustle around in his desk, looking for his stash of granola bars. Finding it, he tears one open and breaks off a chunk, feeding it directly to Ghost like some sort of sad baby bird.

Ghost chews mechanically, barely even conscious of what he’s doing. When Soap offers him water, he swallows that too, and then more of the granola bar. The whole time, all he can focus on is a tiny smear of blood - his blood - on Johnny’s mouth.

Slowly, Ghost starts to feel like he’s a few steps from unconsciousness, instead of hovering on the edge. He realizes that he’s still hard as a rock, and takes a second to marvel at his own body. So little blood he’s about to keel over, but he’s got enough for a raging boner.

Soap must be able to smell his return to earth or something, because he stops looking so worried, and starts looking smug.

Fuck.

“So I see you do in fact enjoy that.”

“Shut it, Sergeant,” Ghost manages to croak out, and Johnny grins.

“I’ll leave the scientific survey of your experience for tomorrow, for now I’m thinking I’ll help you to bed.”

And he looks smug, so goddamn smug, and Ghost knows he will in fact need help getting to his room on the other side of the base. He can’t let it end this way, so unbalanced.

“Johnny, you’ve got-“ he lets his eyes go soft, lets his lips part, and reaches out his thumb, gently swiping the bit of blood from the corner of Soap’s mouth. Johnny’s eyes widen at the motion, and when Ghost brings his thumb back to his own mouth, sucking the blood off of it, that hunger is back.

“Oh you wanker,” Soap curses at him.

Ghost grins.

There’s no going back from there.

#I just like it when ghost is whimpering and limp underneath Johnny #sue me!#soapghost #ghostsoap #cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghoap #tf141 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #codmw2 #mywriting #cod mw3 #cod mwiii #vampire soap

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ladyofnegativity · 2 months

Text

Heeeeey Tiny-! Okay so...

AHHDLRGSKSVDKVXSKSBRKRB. BITCH. WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT ACTUAL THE FUCK?!

How the hell did you make something so... SO-! ARGHHHHHH-! I CANT FIND THE WORDS-!!!

I'm blessed. SO FUCKING BLESSED.

THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU-!

Okay okay okay. So! I'll try to do a deepdive on the newest installment of Human Effects.

BigBotNoStop: Alright mechs, I come bearing an inquiry. As you may have heard from some of my last posts, the newest additions to our crew are a thriving colony of soft, squishy humans. Word in the taproom is some have taken quite an interest in... extending cultural exchanges, if you catch my drift. Not really my field of experience and was hoping some of Xeno's here might have some input.

Posted to Sublink: Human and cybertronian relationships?

But I'm curious, are interspecies acts even possible without harm? Their frames seem so fragile. One wrong motion and SPLAT! No more humans. quite a few members of our crew have shown interest in flirting... Thoughts? Suggestions for how to proceed with care- help a mech out!

(I don't know why, but this bot reminds me of Skids. I've been reading the other installments, and so far, my hunch on this is Skids.)

Blazemech: Yo! You got fleshies on your ship! Fragging jealousy!. Your ship is looking for any dock workers?

(Okay! So, from the context of what Blazemech wrote, I can tell that they aren't from the Lost Light. Perhaps a crew member from the Vis Vitalis, or some other ship? I don't know, but the name 'Blazemech' reminds me of FireStar(?), but judging from context, I don't think she'll want to work as a dock worker when she's second in command in the Vis Vitalis.)

TailOrTrails: Oh Primus, are we really having this discussion?? Look, I get the appeal of those soft little flesh bags. Really, I do - different wiring can be so freakin' hot. But there's no way a romp with one of those puny things ends well for them! Even accidentally bumping into a table puts them in the medbay. Think of the mess, One wrong thrust and you've got squish all over your plating.

(Riptide. Definitely Riptide. 'TailOrTrails' reminds me of a mech who has an aquatic themed alt mode, and we, Riptide turns into a boat. And from reading the other installments, Riptide acts hesitant yet intrigued.)

ISOCLEAN: Just download some holofacing and use your imagination if you're that jonesing for an organic interface. Trust me, it's not worth the risk - or hassle of cleaning up after. sure you can find something from the Human sites on Mechanophilia, slutty Show and shine or Car Washes. Stay shiny and keep those servos to yourself, mechs! Some curiosities are better left to fantasies.

(Honestly, I'm stumped with this one. I can't seem to find or remember someone who's a clean freak. Aside from Ultra Magnus, but then he wouldn't fit the mannerisms of ISOCLEAN. Fuck.)

Flyboi69: Don't leave a mech hanging, I want deets!, has anybot here actually gotten friendly with a fleshie before? I'm talking about hands-on experience. We've all gotten curious watching, but has the real thing lived up to the fantasy?

(Tailgate??? I'm sorry, I REALLY don't know who this guy is. Could be Starscream, but it would fit with they way the text was worded.

I think it's Skywarp??? But then why would he be interested in humans???)

Pimptheride: Any tips for coaxing one into the berth, or does their tiny size mean you've got to take it slow and gentle? And most importantly... any videos out there of the deed? A mech's gotta do some, ah, research before taking the plunge. Hook a brother up if you've found any good amateur organic-on-mech action out there in the 'net. Gotta see it to believe it.

(Haha! I read the name, and immediately thought of Knockout. Not because of the text or anything, but I just remembered that in Transformers: Prime, the animators decided to pimp out Knockout, hence the 'Pimptheride')

ScienceSorcerer: For reasons. Does anyone know if humans have both Spikes and Valves? Or if they have any human anatomy holos or books and such from Earth they are willing to sell for some decent Shanix.

(Brainstorm. The mech that started it all. I'm betting everything that this is Brainstorm.)

T-Wrexz: Primus, you mechs are hungrier than fragging scraplets. As far as I know, relations between our kinds are still uncharted territory. Could be amazing, could end badly - who's to say until we try? Personally I'm keeping an optic out, just curious to see what new experiences those squishy aliens can offer us tough metal mechs.

(Definitely Grimlock. The name gave it away.

I mean, do you know any other mech who has a T-Rex alt mode??? Yeeeeeah.

But what business does Grimlock have with humans??? To think that he'd be interested in humans in really funny to me.)

Bar-rizzla: Oho, look who's swapping tall tales. I've been keeping a close optic on our ships squishy company since they came aboard. And between you and me... I may have an in with their ambassador that could lead to some juicy first-hand intel. Just trying to track down the bot we think they are berthing with. Crews got bets out. Turns out they get just as curious about us big metal hunks as we are them!. The other night, their chat got particularly saucy after a few drinks. Lots of gossip and speculation about which lucky bot one of them might take for a private ride.

(Easy pickings. This is Swerve. I know it is.)

WPHAS-Violation: I may have a certain special "human entertainment" vid I could share. Let's just say the organic in question got quite... friendly with an eager mini-con. You know where to find me if you're brave enough to watch!

(I'm torn between giving this to Rewind or to Tapemix54. From context, I'd say WPHAS-Violation is from the Lost Light, but then what about Tapemix54??? Is Tapemix54 Soundwave???

👀 Who was this Minicon that got lucky... Hmmmmmm.)

Tapemix54: Oho, mechs - think you've got it bad now? You should've seen some of the real deviants back before the war. When I was still stationed on Petrex, I knew this one smuggler - went by the name Rattler. Sneaky little scraplet, but Primus if he didn't have the wildest stories. Rattler used to run goods across time and space, dodging security at every turn. He'd pop up out of nowhere selling the rarest exotic "pets" to rich senators and other high caste mechs looking for a thrill. I'm talking aliens so bizarre even our data banks had never heard of their kind. But the highest bidder always walked away with a new "plaything" to break in, if you catch my drift. Word was Rattler even had a collection of sentient organics that he'd let special clients "test drive" between runs. Humans were apparently a favourite - their smaller frames could take all sorts of creative handling. Rattler had vids, too, of course, to entice buyers. I saw one once, let's just say "versatile" doesn't begin to cover it. Naturally the vids have all been scrubbed by now. But I bet if you knew where to dig in the deep web or some easily swayable Archivist, you might find traces of Rattler's stash still floating around out there.

(Fuck. FUUUUUUCK. Now I'm thinking that this is Chromedome because he was stationed in Pretrex with Prowl when they were sent to investigate the assassination of Senator Sherma.

For all I care, Rattler could have been Swindle since... Y'know, he was trafficking humans. Though, now that I think about it, would Swindle even be old enough to do that??? FUUUUUUUUCK.)

"Old records saved of the Senator and his human Conjunx”

It's a file collection of holotapes and pictures: "Enjoy these are pre war photos of Senator Shockwave and his Human holding their sparkling"

There are many holos and videos of the long gone senator smiling with his human perched on his shoulder, in the crystal garden with a young sparkling held in the human's arms. Videos of the sparkling playing with the two but the last The last holo looks like a family portrait with Shockwave’s frame in a lime green blue white paint with gold accessories, his human lover is dressed in elegant robes and the small blue praxian sparkling held in their arms. Each holo is dated with the Iacon records seal of authentication.

(Okay. Okay okay okay. I LOVE the fact that you decided to incorporate Laboratory Logs to Human Effects. Admittedly, I did not see that coming when I sent that ask. Smart move.

And uhhh... Now that a few mechs have seen the photos, wouldn't that mean that if they ever recognized a mech that looked a lot like Senator Shockwave's long lost sparkling, It'll further cement the fact that uhhhh.... Fuck. I think I lost the path.

Uhmmm... Think about it like this, when Ratchet sees the family photo and sees the little sparkling, wouldn't he recognize that it's Traxies?)

FlyBoi69: NO FREAKIN' WAY. Is this real?! *downloads files faster than Blurr* FRAG ME SIDEWAYS, I think I just popped a gasket! How in the PIT did you manage to dig up the holos of senator Shockwave, most of his speeches, debates and lectures were wiped. Where did you find this!

(Honestly though, I'm still not sure who this guy is. Could this be Misfire??? AHHHHHHH.

Who are you FlyBoi69?!)

Jackin0: of all mechs, with an actual human back in the Golden Age?!. I'm calling scrap on this being real. It's gotta be a flawless deepfake. By PRIMUS if true - to think ol' Shockers was living it up with a squishy. Maybe there's more to those Senatorial types than meets the optic...

(Jackie. Definitely Jackie. Ah! Sorry, I meant Wheeljack.

It's just cool to call him Jackie. ☺️)

T-Wrexz: Okay, I'll bite... but someone better explain to me RIGHT NOW how any of this computes! Last I checked, time travel and inter-species relationships were the stuff of erotic imagination, not legitimate pre-war archives. Tapemix, you better start talking. Where in the PIT did you source these files? How do we know they're authentic and not just an incredibly convincing parlour trick? Because if I'm gonna let these images ruin me, I wanna be ruined by the real deal! Spill it, mech.

(I REALLY think this is Rewind. Cause Rewind likes to collect rare footage.)

Iacon-Records: Tapemix54 could i please request where you discovered these as i work with Iacon records and this here is history that needs to be preserved. I'm willing to talk with you through a contractor if you would be willing for us to add these back into the new hall of records. Cybertron has lost so much and to find something like this I ask that we find a way to preserve it.

(Optimus. THIS IS OPTIMUS PRIME.

You can't get more Optimus than Iacon-Records.)

BigBotNoStop: Pit take me now... I think I may have to reassess everything I thought I knew about interface and partnerships. That human is holding a sparkling curled around them - frag if it isn't the most beautiful thing I've ever seen! If anything could make me believe in miracles, it's this! Tapemix, you glorious glitch - how can I ever repay such an enlightening gift?

(Okay. I'm getting more and more convinced that this is Skids.

On that note, I like to think that whoever managed to see the photos are going to think, 'I can have a sparkling with a human'.

Which is cool, but then a bummer if they found out that Tiny didn't actually carry Traxies but was instead adopted from a hotspot when he imprinted on Tiny.)

Tapemix54: These were filed only cycles after Shockwaves Emputra; they were added to the Iacon records by some Archivist under the title. 'I will Remember you for who you were'. This was right when the senate fell apart on the brink of the war. From my knowledge of information on Rattler he apparently had an outlier who he got to take them to different times since he was a shuttle made it easier to transport. That's from the records that still exist at least. I'll take you up on that offer Iacon-records.

(Okay. That mysterious archivist? Definitely Optimus.

...

But wasn't Optimus a police officer during that era??? Wasn't he working with Sentinel at that time???

And who's this mysterious shuttle??? Omega Supreme??? JDDKSJDLDHDKGKSGS.

And who's RATTLER?! So many questions and so little answers.)

Oh, and Tiny? I really want to thank you for humoring me. You have no idea how much help you've given.

And uhhh.... Yeah....

ACCEPT MY LOVE AND APPRECIATION.

꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡ TINY ♡⁠˖⁠꒰⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠⑅⁠꒱

#tiny defector #miyi magines #transformers #maccadam #human effects

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elialys · 5 months

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Per your lovely, lovely flawed show tag, I am curious what you think the flaws of Fringe are?

I’m sorry it took me so long to answer, I got distracted!

Fringe definitely had its share of flaws. I won’t even address the ones that can “be excused” by the fact that it was a show made before/early 2010s in terms of representations/inclusions, because you know, it is what it is.

I think my biggest ‘regret’/annoyance has always been the writers’ tendency to…shove traumas under a rug, or to not properly (if at all) talk about the consequences of some events that happened. I get that they had to make the characters go through a lot of drama because that’s the point of stories, especially on TV shows that have over 20 episodes per season, but the characters suffered through some terrible stuff time and time again, and they were just FINE. And it’s not like they didn’t know how to do it!

I’ve always loved the first few episodes of season 2 because they showed recovery. Olivia had a bad car accident, then she had to kill “Charlie”, and it took her time to get better from all of that, not just physically but emotionally, too. And yet, over and over again after that, she goes through horrible things and there’s…almost nothing? Like, I adore Marionette, I think it’s a brilliant episode through & through, but I still can’t believe Olivia went through all the shit she went through Over There (and coming back) and didn’t have some serious PTSD, on top of EVERYTHING ELSE she’d already gone through (aka why I wrote Shivered Bones). Peter too was barely allowed to mention what Walter did to him after he came back at the end of season 2, barely ever allowed to mention what Altlivia did to him either, except in some awkward bits of dialogue (I will discuss Peter’s character a bit more later).

Also, the whole REWRITING THE TIMELINE at the end of season 3?? Biggest cop-out. I mean, I’ve never hid the fact that any kind of ‘amnesia’ plot is honestly one of my LEAST favorite tropes, in anything. From the moment that season started airing and Peter reappeared being a complete stranger, I just disliked that so much on principle. But what will always pain me is how by doing so, the writers completely erased not just Peter but THE FIRST THREE SEASONS.

Like, poof, gone.

(adding a 'keep reading' because this is long 😂)

Conveniently, it erased Baby!Henry in the process, which the writers might have felt would be too much of an issue? Personally I would have loved to see that unfold. I know I’ve discussed this before on this blog, probably more than once, but they could have kept SO MUCH of season 4 the way it was, as far as the Bridge was concerned, could have come up with a brand new Vilain to do all the “NEW UNIVERSE” stuff Bell/Jones tried to do, while our core characters had to deal with the consequences of everything that happened in season 3 (including Peter being a dad, WITHOUT trying to force a stupid ‘love triangle’ down our throats, thank you). It would have made for great, impactful family drama, because who are we kidding. Anyone who loves Fringe typically loves it because it is such an emotional, family drama. So yes, I will forever mourn the universe(s) we had season 1-3, and endlessly daydream about what could have been.

Now let me talk about Peter Bishop, it’s been a hot minute. Peter Bishop, who was hated basically the entire time the show was airing, and still now is strongly disliked by a lot of viewers, and honestly, I can’t blame them? I’ve had over a decade to analyze his character, have spent hundreds of hours writing stories from his POV, explaining his traumas & mistakes, have written giant meta posts about him back in the days to explain his behavior, so I’m not exactly objective, but I’m also very honest about how flawed his character is. Not (just) as a human being, which is normal because humans are flawed. I mean, he’s flawed in the way the writers used him/wrote him.

He’s probably the most inconsistent of all the characters. He’s the character who suffered the most from the ‘let’s make this person act out a certain way to make sure it fits our plot’ syndrome. I will never forgive the writers for how…clueless (for lack of a better word), they wrote Peter in early season 3 during the Switch. Yes, Peter was traumatized as a kid, yes he was in love, yes yes, I know all of that, I’ve written endlessly about it to explain his cluelessness so I know.

Still, Peter should have figured it out. Peter as we saw him in season 1 and 2, especially second half of season 2, would have figured out. He figured out BY HIMSELF that he was from another universe, ‘just’ from his dad and Olivia’s weird behaviors and the fact that he didn’t go ‘POOF’ on that bridge in 2x18. Peter went to another universe, he met Olivia’s alternate. He’d just spent weeks running from his life, trying to accept the fact that he was lied to all of his life. At best, he was suspicious, at worst, he was paranoid (as was mentioned in 2x20 in Northwest Passage). Literally 3 days after he gets to THAT OTHER UNIVERSE, and 3 hours after meeting Olivia’s doppelganger, Olivia ‘I hide from my own emotions’ Dunham comes tell him he belongs with her and smooches him, so he goes home. Yet the writers want me to believe Peter would not have still been reeling from EVERYTHING that just happened in his life, and not be a bit on edge?

Like, ‘damn, the woman I love and have come to know quite well these past 2 years is suddenly SO DIFFERENT? ALMOST LIKE SHE’S ANOTHER PERSON? A BIT LIKE THAT ALTERNATE VERSION OF HER I MET 48H AGO, THAT’S NOT A COINCIDENCE AT ALL’. But nope, Peter just accepts it, EVERY CHARACTER on that side just accepts it, when Lincoln and Charlie keep on looking at our Olivia like “Is this chick for real? WHAT IF THEY SWITCHED THEM?”

I’m forever frustrated. It just doesn’t feel believable to me, never has. It feels like the writers went “we want everyone, and especially Peter, to be clueless the entire time so we can write our drama the way we planned it.” And that’s a shame, honestly, because that whole damn arc is already so good as it is. But it would been even better if Peter HAD figured it out, if he’d kept on pretending for a bit, if HE’D conned Altlivia the way she conned him. Like I mentioned before, Olivia already went through so much trauma during the Switch, they could have found ways to make her miserable upon coming back, without Peter having slept with her alternate for a few weeks—and the knowledge that he didn’t realize what was going on. More daydreaming on my part about what could have been.

I could go on when it comes to the way they wrote Peter honestly. The whole “maybe Peter has feelings for the other Olivia” crap in the second half of s3, and “the universe that will survive depends on which Olivia Peter chooses”, excuse me??? Altlivia basically abused him??? She used him in so many ways, including sexually. She wasn’t even herself, she was pretending, playing him the whole time. HOW IS HE SUPPOSED TO HAVE FEELINGS EXCEPT A LOT OF SELF-LOATHING AND MORE UNRESOLVED TRAUMA?

Anyway, I think you get my vibe and why I’ll forever be sad/mad about this. As a writer & storyteller myself, one of my strengths and favorite aspects of writing is figuring out the characters’ motivations, what drives them, and how it makes them behave. Peter’s character is just…wobbly, during those arcs. He’s inconsistent from plotline to plotline, and it feels off to me. He’s a lot more true and consistent to how I understand him in season 4, but in season 3, he’s a hot mess, meant as a plot device more than anything else, and that makes me sad. Characters are what drive stories and shape the plot, not the other way around. So yeah, I don’t blame people for always having such strong opinions/dislikes where Peter is concerned.

I could come up with more things, but this is already long enough 😂 In case that wasn’t clear, those flaws don’t stop me from having the deepest love for this show. What it did well, it did extremely well, and even all those years later, I still cry rewatching it, because the emotions were real. They're still real.

Plus it gave me Olivia Dunham, so really, it wins just for that.

#fringe #fringe meta #kinda 😂#also called 'ambre is ranting at 13 year old plotlines that made no sense'#meta

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electricbluebutterflies · 2 months

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Bertha x George ~ “I might not look like much”

PG-ish and also on ao3.

How easy it is to realign her plans.

Bertha had looked at the world and decided what to make of it, and most of her desires remain the same, but the details of how she might get them are-

She is going to make that young man fall in love with her if it’s the last thing she does.

The late-summer heat is uncomfortable, too warm for her prettier dresses and she feels so self-conscious, so aware of how out of fashion she is and she is trying and-

Every voice in her head whispers that this won’t last, that she’ll get ruined and hurt and she must be perfectly careful. Even being looked at the wrong way could be damning, let alone-

“Does something trouble you?”

She would like him to worry about her forever, she’s decided. She could say something about any of her fears and it would be resolved; she’s already gotten a nice pair of gloves out of this courtship, but anything more would carry-

“Why me?”

“Excuse me?”

“You could have any girl you wanted, and-“

She’s voiced these worries before, but it feels different now, slightly longer into what she wants to be the beginning of the rest of her life but she isn’t sure-

“What could ever make you think I don’t want you?”

Oh, where to even start. Her faded summer dress, her lack of appropriate socialization, everything she knows about the life she wants is either from people-watching or books she’s read and she’s not sure which of those is worse and-

“You’ve done nothing, but-“

He gives her a look that she’s starting to think means he’d kiss her if it was acceptable, if he thought she’d let him. She won’t – that way lies ruination and she will not throw herself away over butterflies – but it’s nice to feel like-

“If this isn’t what you want…”

This is why she likes him, she’s decided. No one else she’s ever known has been anywhere near so interested in her happiness, and if she can have this then she will get everything else along the way, and-

“Why might you think that?”

“You’re not the easiest person to read.”

She makes a face she can’t quite control, and this is another thing she likes, how amused he is by things she would hold back with anyone else and-

“I might not look like much, but I want… so much more than-“

“I’m surprised you even looked twice at me.”

“Why would I not-“

“How ambitious you are…”

She’s been described as such before, but always as a caution, something to sand off because it’ll be the end of her. Not with him. Not the absolute light of understanding and-

“I’d run circles around anyone else,” she says after a few moments, and there’s a playfulness in her voice that she doesn’t think she’s ever felt before, and-

“I’d like to think I can keep up.”

She wants to kiss him. She wants to do a great many things that nice girls who are desperately trying to marry well are not supposed to do. She will do… a few of them earlier than she should, perhaps, but not now, not-

“Do you actually want that?”

“You could just say what you’re actually bothered about instead of-“

“It would sound vain, but-“

“Now I’m even more curious.”

“I look dreadfully unfashionable right now, and on your arm-“

“You can have all the pretty dresses you like when we’re married.”

That too has already been discussed, but the reminders are pleasant, a few more weeks until he will slip a ring on her hand and at least the engagement will be an appropriate length of time and-

“You mean that?”

“I do like looking at you. And I imagine that will be… even more delightful when…”

Bertha glances around, making sure no one she can recognize is looking in her direction, and darts in to kiss the side of his face for a heartbeat. Still more than she ought to do, and yet-

“Someday I’ll get used to you and I’ll be absolutely terrifying.”

“I’ll like that version of you too. Maybe even more.”

#bertha x george #ebf writes fic

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randomshyperson · 2 years

Text

Yellow Curtains - Chapter Two - Wanda Maximoff Series

Summary: Wanda Maximoff's senior year at Novi Grad School is duly planned for her. She has good friends, good grades, and a good system to hide who she really is. Or, the one based on Evak from the Norway Skam series, where Wanda is queer and tries to survive the last year without anyone knowing about it.

Warnings: (+18), general warnings about language and violence, legal drug use, mentions of underage drinking, high school, internalized homophobia and discovery of sexuality, explicit mentions of mental disorders (bipolarity and depression), dysfunctional family, making out, and eventual smut.

Skamverse | Series | General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

Chapter Two - The Cabin

Ponedeljek 7:30 (Monday 7:30 am)

"Who can dissertate on the Sokovian Revolution of '74?"

The history teacher's question echoed in the classroom, but all he got in response were crestfallen students and soft giggles. T'Challa sighed, a small smile on his lips. "Come on guys, pay attention." He asked, nodding to the digital board where some information from the day's subject matter read. "We discussed last class how the labor revolution allowed Sokovia to become a first-world country in less than fifty years and about how that..."

Wanda's attention fell on the outside, birds flying in the sky above the main courtyard. She watched a few students walk by, and monitors asking what they were doing outside the room, before trying to force her attention back to the matter.

The minutes dragged on as Professor T'Challa explained about Sokovian independence. Wanda didn't usually have trouble with humanities subjects, but lately, she had been so distracted.

Suddenly, the professor's talk was interrupted by the arrival of Vice Principal Harkness at the door. And she was not alone.

"Hi, T'Challa, good morning. We have a new student; She is late but is my fault, we had a problem with the paperwork. Is it okay if she watches the class?" Asked the woman - practically pushing the new student inside.

The teacher agreed, of course, smiling gently, and the whole room looked at the student.

Wanda held her breath, those eyes were so familiar...

"Shit, it's her!" Natasha whispered beside her with some indignation, and Wanda blinked away the new student to her best friend.

"Sorry, what?" the girl asks confused. Natasha nods to the new student's chair.

"It's the girl Carol brought to Tony's party." Nat explains in a low tone so the teacher won't hear. "Shit, I can't believe she's going to study right in our class. I am so unlucky."

T'Challa called for silence from the excited students, and Wanda tried to pay attention to the subject, not understanding why it bothered her that a stranger might be taken.

She was curious about the new student, but everyone else was. And when the class was over, and the table was filled with several other students greeting them and asking where they were from, Wanda gave up trying to find out too.

Natasha seemed willing to run away and practically dragged Wanda out into the courtyard.

They sat down at one of the outside tables, and it wasn't long before Pietro and Clint joined them.

"Maximoff, you have something of mine." Barton declared as soon as he sat down, and Wanda sighed in defeat.

"I don't." She retorted. "I probably lost it at the party."

"What? Damn it, Wanda, it was three hundred euros!"

"I know, sorry." She asks immediately. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

Clint raises an eyebrow. "Well..."

"Dude!" Pietro interrupts with an angry grimace, giving his friend a hard shove. "It's my sister!" He recalls, but Clint laughs, raising his hands as a sign of peace.

"I'm joking, relax!" He assures between laughs. He then slips an arm around Wanda's shoulders, hugging her for a moment. "You don't worry either. It was because of the police at Tony's apartment, right? You were quick to think of getting out of there, he would have gotten in trouble."

Wanda forces a smile. "Yeah, but now I owe you 300 euros."

Clint shrugs. "Pay me back when you can." He says pushing her shoulder against his lightly. "You can do my homework too."

Wanda rolls her eyes, laughing weakly. "I'll think about it."

They fall into casual conversation after that. Clint comments about the party, and the boys on the team, and Pietro talk about his date with Crystal going well. Natasha is distracted, her gaze keeps going to the other side of the yard, and Wanda sighs slightly when she realizes who her friend is staring at.

"Have you talked to Carol yet?" The younger Maximoff asks, receiving a deep sigh in return.

"Not really, but I don't need to right?" Nat retorts looking at Wanda. " She clearly moved on."

Wanda frowns slightly, looking at the small group. The new student seems close to Carol, and they're all laughing, but she's not as sure about it as Natasha is.

"I don't know, Nat, maybe they're just friends." She tries, and Natasha gives a sad laugh.

"Whatever, Wands. It's not like we have anything official."

"I think you should talk to her." Wanda insists, and Pietro and Clint join the conversation as well.

"Me too." Barton says. "Make things clear."

"I don't think so." Pietro comments shrugging. "Avoid her, make her anxious. She'll get the message."

Wanda rolls her eyes. "Don't listen to him."

Nat laughs lightly, and when he sees Tony's group entering the courtyard he lets out an exclamation. "Shit, speaking of crushes, I'll be right back." And walks off towards Tony Stark the next moment.

Wanda feels her blood run cold. From her friend's excitement and the giggles of the boys and glances Tony steals in her direction, she knows exactly what they are talking about.

Natasha runs back to them with a proud smile on her lips.

"Great news, Maximoff." She declares. "Tony told me he's taking his brother for the cabin on the holiday, so we'll all be together and you'll get a chance to get to know him better."

The boys make teasing sounds, and Wanda can only force a laugh.

When the bell rings, announcing the next class, and her gaze meets the new student's on the other side, she wants to believe she is imagining the way her heart speeds up.

The Independence holiday means four days off, and since eighth grade, Wanda's friends organize some trips, mainly to Stark’s winter cabin, even though it's not really cold.

The weeks go by quickly - which is great. Wanda's attention span at school doesn't improve, and she grows irritated at her brain's insistence on stealing glances at the new student, with whom she shares a single history class a week.

She learns a few things about the new student. Their first name, the taste for rock bands that she notices due to the black T-shirts, the skateboarding skills from the item they use to leave school. She learns that they are from New York and that they are not Carol's partner.

It is Natasha who is investigating, of course. And Wanda was in the middle of reading an article when her best friend addresses the whole thing.

"You won't believe it, Maximoff! I'm so stupid!"

Wanda frowns. "What? What are you-"

"Y/N is not Carol's girlfriend! They are sisters!" She declares, holding out her cell phone at the brunette's eye level. "She just posted this."

It is open on Instagram, a photo of Carol with the new student riding her skateboard in the city park. In the caption 'I missed you, little sister! Glad you're here now!" Wanda feels a wave of relief fill her body and doesn't know why.

Natasha exclaims excitedly, "You know what that means, right?"

"Žal ne (No, sorry)." Wanda mutters uncertainly, but Nat chuckles.

"Silly girl, it means I'm back in the game!" Declares the redhead. "I'll like her last few stories and put her back in the best friends. She'll get the message."

"Or you could just talk to her..."

Nat laughs through her nose. "You're funny, Wanda." Says the girl, turning her attention back to her cell phone.

Wanda doesn't want to think too much about the whole matter. She doesn't really know you, and it seems ridiculous that you don't leave her thoughts. She is sure that it is Nat's fault and her momentary obsession with Carol.

When the Independence holiday arrives, and she finds herself in a crowded car heading for Tony Stark's cabin, her anxiety returns. She remembers that there, it would be Vision, and that everyone expected her to leave the cabin with a new boyfriend. Would it be too late to give up the trip?

"I'll take the window bed!" Clint and Pietro got into a pushing fight over the largest room as soon as they arrived. Wanda just wanted to sit down, because Tony's group was finishing checking out the entrance to the cabin's compound - Rich people's stuff - and they were all stealing glances at her.

By the time Carol's car arrived, Wanda was dressed more comfortably and smelled of soap. She had taken advantage of the fight for rooms to use the shower before everyone else, and although she only got one bunk, she was satisfied with the impossibility of sleeping with someone else next to her. It read Vision.

"I swear to god this girl is trying to kill me." Natasha gasps low from the balcony next to Wanda, watching Carol get out of the car in short shorts and a button-down shirt practically all open, showing off a sports top underneath. Wanda laughs at her friend's reaction, but when you get down from the back of the truck, she shallows dry.

You are busy pulling a motorcycle out of the back, and Wanda's brain clicks.

She recognizes the vehicle, and the helmet, and her heart speed up so much that it's the only thing she hears in her ears for a moment.

"Her sister's hot too, huh?" Natasha comments half-impressed, and Wanda immediately looks away.

"I don't know, I don't like girls." She retorts, surprising Nat with her aggressiveness. The redhead gives a confused laugh.

"Okay? But you can tell a girl is pretty without being attracted to her." The redhead says, but Wanda clears her throat and hugs her own body.

"Sure, whatever." She murmurs. "I'm gonna take a nap, I'm tired from the trip." She says, practically running inside.

She doesn't notice your gaze searching for her.

–//–

Petek, 20:40 (Friday, 8:40am)

Wanda awoke in a very quiet cabin.

She wasn't surprised that everyone went to bed early, after all the trip had been equally tiring for everyone, yet it bothered her a little to be the first to wake up.

She left her bunk as quietly as she could, watching her brother in the bottom bed snore lightly as he slept on his stomach.

After going to the bathroom, she was disappointed to find a completely empty kitchen and thought about waking Nat or Tony for a company to the market when she heard footsteps in the living room.

You opened the door making some noise, because the key got stuck in the doorknob.

"Shit." You muttered to yourself, struggling a bit to unhook the item. Wanda stepped into the kitchen doorway, hands in front of her body, and you jumped slightly when she wished you good morning half uncertainly. But your surprise gave way to a smile the next second. "Zdravo! (Hello) Sorry about the noise!"

Wanda shook her head, smiling as well. "Don't worry, you're Y/N, right? Carol's sister."

You raise an eyebrow at her, a charming smile playing on your lips. Wanda hates it. Hates how gorgeous you look right now, the twist in her stomach. She swallows dryly, and you lean on the door.

"She mentioned me, huh?" you ask. "Or maybe you asked."

Wanda's cheeks flush, and she grimaces to disguise it. "She mentioned it." She assures you with a half-trembling voice, which seems to amuse you. "Anyway, do you know where I can find food in this place? I'm starving."

You chuckle lightly, tossing the door key on the small table next to you and reaching out to grab your wallet from there and another set of keys from the support, which has a keychain that Wanda recognizes as belonging to Carol.

"Of course, princess, we'll find food for you." You say, and Wanda knows she is blushing at the nickname, but follows you anyway, just like the first night. And outside, walking side by side toward Carol's truck, you extend your hand to her. "I'm Y/N Danvers, by the way. We haven't officially introduced ourselves."

Wanda shakes your hand. "I'm-"

"Wanda Maximoff." You complete with a small smile, still holding her hand. "And I asked about it."

Wanda pulls her hand away before you realize that she is shaking.

You get in the car first, whistling lightly as you start the truck. Wanda tries to play it cool, keeping her arms crossed the whole way to the market. It's not far, but it seems like every minute drags.

"Did you get home safely after that day?" Your sudden question surprises her a little. Wanda frowns until she remembers what you are talking about.

"Hmm, yeah." She answers. "Someone else gave me a ride home." She says with a small smile.

You don't take your eyes off the road. "You lied to me, Maximoff." You comment then, to which Wanda looks at you with confusion. A small smile plays on her lips. "You are not part of the Avengers. You snuck into an event of ours, I could have ended up in trouble..."

"Hey, you're the one who practically kidnapped me from Tony's party!" Wanda defends herself. "And you asked if I was his friend, which I am, not if I was part of his group of protesters!"

You laugh, shaking your head. "Relax, I'm just messing with you." You comment, but Wanda can only give a nervous laugh because you give her thigh a gentle squeeze and she forgets how to breathe. The touch fades away at the same speed as it happened, your hands returning to the steering wheel, but Wanda's skin is still prickling. "I asked Carol about the mystery girl and she told me you weren't part of the group, but you were trustworthy and welcome in everything. So relax."

Wanda smiles half proudly, glad that Carol trusts her so much even though they are not so close. You cross a green light, and at the next turn, you find the supermarket parking lot.

Whatever this conversation means, it completely improves the atmosphere between you, making the interaction very light and fun. Wanda is unfamiliar at first - Pietro would recognize that Wanda had a shy and alert nature even better than she did. He would constantly tease her about being too self-conscious, and in need of relaxing, and would surely be surprised to see her laugh as easily as she is doing now.

You picked up a shopping cart and seemed to have made it your morning mission to make her laugh as you sort through the groceries. You did little dances with the objects, threw bad jokes and flirtations at her, and even told loose facts as if you were close friends.

Wanda now knew that you lived in a shared apartment with Carol and two other girls and that you could speak Sokovian fluently. You were not a vegetarian even though you tried about three times, and you couldn't have pets even though you really wanted a cat because your roommates were allergic. And you could sing Lorde.

"She's so dramatic, I love it." You declare as the music starts on the speakers in the marketplace. You and Wanda are in the pasta aisle, and she giggles softly. "She's like a Taylor Swift of lesbians, but more alternative."

Wanda chuckles, soft anxiety rising in her stomach. She follows you down the hallway. "But there's a theory that Taylor Swift likes girls too, you know?"

You chuckle, shrugging. "Yeah, I've heard of it. But I think I prefer the ones who actually came out. Nothing against Taylor, of course, she's a great artist. I just won't refer to her as a queer icon when she's never really taken her place in the community."

Wanda bites her tongue, the question about your sexuality on the tip. Would it be weird to question whether you liked girls in the middle of pasta hall? And why would that make a difference to her?

Your cell phone vibrates, and as soon as you read the notification, you huff softly. Wanda is curious to know what it is, but you put the device away and hurry up the pace. "Come on, Maximoff, our friends are hungry too."

You are distant on the way back, and Wanda twists the fabric of her shorts in curiosity as to why.

Luckily, you accompany her to the kitchen with the groceries.

The guys in the cabin are waking up a bit, but the space is small enough that no one will bother you two with breakfast, even if the living room fills up with teenagers.

"Can you make the coffee while I prepare sandwiches for us?" You ask so gently that Wanda doesn't even hear the question properly, and only nods in agreement. She moves around, trying not to touch you - which is practically impossible in that small space - but you don't seem to notice much, busy with bread and cheese. "You're not a vegetarian, are you Maximoff? I was going to put some ham on this."

"I'm not, you can follow your recipe." Wanda retorts with a small smile, a curious look at the double sandwiches you are preparing. She bites her lip when you catch her looking and offers her a wink before returning to the task.

Carol appears in the kitchen doorway next.

"Good morning, cuties. Got any coffee?" She asks. Wanda denies it with her head.

"It's not ready yet."

Carol yawns, moving closer to look at the market bags you have brought. She chuckles then. "Jesus, Y/N, did you buy anything healthy?" You shrug, indifferent to the question. Carol sighs. "You know you have half the soccer team here, right?"

"If they're bothered they buy their own food." You retort impolitely. Carol rolls her eyes.

"Don't be rude; you know you should eat better too-"

"Sure, Mom." You cut her off, turning your back on her to hand Wanda her sandwich. "Here you go, princess."

The brunette smiles half-heartedly at the nickname in Carol's presence, but the blonde only sighs in defeat at the argument and doesn't even seem to notice. She leaves the kitchen, and you stare at Wanda expectantly. She smiles shyly before taking a bite of the sandwich and is surprised at how good it tastes.

"Wow, what did you put in here?"

You chuckle. "Chef's secret." You joke, wrinkling your nose in an adorable way as you pick up your sandwich. You eat together for a moment until the kettle beeps and Wanda leaves the rest of the sandwich on the countertop to finish the coffee.

"Did you like it?" you ask as she pours the drink. Wanda smiles.

"Yeah, quite a bit." She assures you. "Too bad it's a chef's secret, I'd love to learn how to make it."

You chuckle, finishing chewing your piece before clarifying:

"Well, it's a family recipe. That's why it's a secret. You'd have to be part Danvers to earn the legal right to know the ingredients." You joke, getting a soft chuckle from Wanda. You stare at her, almost fascinated. "What about you? Don't you have any family traditions?"

Wanda is thoughtful for a moment, an expression on her face that you would describe as adorable to say the least. And then she gives a small laugh.

"I think so." She says, pouring a mug. "Mom always prepares Šišky on birthdays. I think it looks like American doughnuts."

"Yummy." You murmur causing me to smile in agreement. "And when is your birthday?"

Wanda is surprised but smiles, "February 10th." She answers and watches you pull your cell phone out of your pocket at the same minute.

"Well, let me save the date then." You comment, putting her birth date into the calendar app with the greatest tranquility in the world. Wanda thinks she is blushing.

"What about your...?"

But her question goes unanswered because a tall boy appears in the kitchen doorway. It's Peter Parker, another of Tony's classmates who is on the soccer team. He stretches out gently and you put your cell phone away, placing your snack away on the counter to greet him.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." You say, and it is so affectionate that Wanda swallows dry. He chuckles sleepily, moving closer. Wanda's heart stops when he kisses you on the mouth. "Did you sleep well?"

He mumbles in agreement, shrugging before looking at Wanda and wishing her good morning.

"What's for breakfast?" He asks.

"Food." You retort amusedly, making him chuckle and roll his eyes.

"Okay, smarty pants." He grumbles, yawning a little. "Clearly you didn't buy anything healthy, you know Steve's gonna give you a hard time for that, right?"

You shrug, letting him hug your waist. "I'm terrified." You comment wryly, making Peter laugh.

Wanda feels sick. He kisses your cheek again, and she clears her throat. She grabs the coffee mug, and barely manages to force a smile before practically running out of the kitchen.

The rest of the folks are gradually waking up, and when Wanda is on the porch drinking coffee, Vision comes over to greet her.

"You're Wanda, right? Tony told me about you."

He is gentle, and he is good-looking. And Wanda remembers Peter Parker kissing you in the kitchen, so she smiles and asks Vision to sit with her. It's exactly as it should be, she convinces herself.

–//–

Ponedeljek, 14:30 (Monday, 2.40 am)

Whatever Wanda expected from this holiday, she was not prepared for anything that actually happened.

On Saturday, everyone played paintball between the cabins. Vision was her partner. He was a good player, but you hit him on the top of his helmet two minutes into the game.

You looked Wanda in the eye but didn't shoot her, disappearing between the cabins the next minute. She kept thinking about this interaction all day.

On Sunday, the gang went outside to play soccer and it was a real mess. Wanda was discreetly watching you play, annoyed at the line her thoughts took with the image of you sweating and panting, but she had no choice but to stay outside because Carol and Natasha were making out in her bedroom. She wasn't sure when they happened again, but she wasn't surprised that she missed it, having been too busy the whole holiday trying not to pay attention to you.

When it was finally time to leave, and everyone was finishing cleaning the cabin in pairs, Wanda caught you and Peter fighting outside when she went to put some bottles out for recycling.

"I don't need a babysitter, Parker!" You angrily declared, gesturing a little.

"I'm just taking care of you-"

"I'm not a fucking child!"

Peter rolls his eyes. "No, but you act like one." He accuses annoyed, and you chuckle humorlessly, crossing your arms. He sighs in defeat, raising a hand to your arm but you pull away from the touch. "Okay, whatever. Go chill out, then we'll talk."

He walks off angrily into the cabin through the kitchen entrance, and Wanda makes a noise so as not to startle you.

You run a hand across your face, forcing a smile before approaching her, "Let me help you with this." You say, taking the case of beers from her hand without waiting for a response. Wanda swallows dryly, but decides to follow your cue, and picks up another box further away before following you to the recyclable trash cans.

You place one box next to the other on top of Carol's open truck, in the intention of separating the bottles and cans. Wanda takes a risk:

"Is everything okay between you and Peter?"

You chuckle weakly, grabbing two bottles from the pile.

"Sure, just a silly argument." You mutter moving away to put the bottles in the correct garbage can. "He's sweet, but he's still a man."

Wanda frowns. "What do you mean?"

You short, shrugging; "You've never had a boyfriend?" You ask, and Wanda denies it with her head. You sigh, searching for the right words. "Well, boys can be... obnoxious." You comment with a short laugh. "It's just, they're different. How they treat us, how they act with us and with other people. Peter is really sweet when he's with me, but when he's around his friends he's a jerk and kind of controlling. And by god, don't even get me started when it's around my father... Fucking treating me like I'm something he owns just to please the old man."

Wanda separates a few bottles, thoughtful towards your statements. "I'm sorry."

You hum, shrugging. "Okay, it's not really our fault that society is patriarchal and sexist. It's going to take Peter some time to break the norms and act decently, but I'm under no obligation whatsoever to deal with it."

Wanda swallows dryly. "D-did you broke up with him?"

You look at her with surprise. "No? I meant that I don't have to take pity on him. If he acts like an idiot, we'll fight. And if he doesn't change, then we'll break up."

The brunette tries to hide her disappointment with a hum of understanding. You look at her curiously.

"You and Vision seem to be getting along well."

She forces a chuckle, nodding. She grabs more bottles and runs away from your gaze as she replies, "I guess so."

"Is he your boyfriend now or what?"

Wanda laughs nervously, shaking her head. "No, not really."

"He seems interested in changing that." You insist, studying her reactions. Wanda swallows dryly, putting away other bottles.

"I think so." She murmurs. You hum almost angry all of a sudden - Wanda jumps when you mash a can with a hard punch - and she swallows dryly before raising her gaze to you again. "Do you think...I should accept? If he asks."

You stare at her with an indecipherable expression, biting the inside of your cheek. Wanda almost takes back the question, but you sigh and look away.

"I don't know, you're the one who has to know." You retort with forced casualness. "If you like him, say yes. You were together the whole holiday, I don't see what the problem is."

Wanda stares at the bottles in her hands, her heart racing in her chest.

"Maybe... I was just scared." She murmurs, surprising you. You stare at her expectantly, but Wanda doesn't meet your gaze, her fingers on the bottles. "Maybe I think Vision is likely my only option."

You grimace softly. "What are you talking about?"

Wanda laughs sadly, looking at you. "Like... I don't think there's anyone else to love me. Maybe Vision is my only option, and I just... I'm tired of being alone."

The heartfelt confession takes her by surprise as well. But at this point, Wanda shouldn't be impressed that your presence in her life has come to turn everything upside down at once.

And when you simply step forward, and bring a hand to her face, pulling a lock of hair out of front of her eyes, Wanda thinks you are doing it on purpose.

"Don't you think it's selfish to stick by someone just for convenience, Wanda? Vis has feelings too." The seriousness of your words doesn't do justice to the gentle touch on her face, and Wanda feels a mix of conflicting emotions in her chest.

"Maybe I'm just a bad person." She declares with a sad laugh, but you don't smile.

"I don't think so." You whisper, your thumb caressing her cheek. "I think you are very sweet. And maybe you just need to understand that lots of people love you. And you won't be alone if you say no to a boy you don't like."

Wanda lets out a shuddering breath. "Who says I don't like him?" She teases, her knees going weak as you firm your grip on her cheek and lean in all at once.

Your breath hits her lips, and Wanda closes her eyes, waiting for the impact that doesn't come. You gasp softly, your breath heavy against her cheek.

Your hand leaves her cheek and goes down to a bottle beside you.

You step back a half second before Carol appears in the area where you are standing. Wanda didn't even hear her coming, in fact, she doesn't think she heard much beyond her own heart beating in her ears.

"Aren't you guys done with that yet? Come on people, we have to get on the road soon." Carol repressed, but you forced a laugh at her, muttering something about her being a pain in the ass.

If you noticed how Wanda's hands were shaking as she held the next bottles, you didn't say.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #skamverse collection #alt er love series #yellow curtains #wanda maximoff imagines

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seungxstar · 8 months

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para about my thoughts regarding the nim situation under the cut, bare with me.

once again, another well known bada writer deactivates after getting exposed for being a minor. thank you Eli, (@badasgirlfriend), for bringing this to light.

"coming onto tumblr as a minor is not a crime. it starts to become an issue when you flirt with adults who are multiple years older than you and are under the impression that you are also an adult. not only are you lying to their face, but you are violating their trust, and ultimately leaving them with a feeling of guilt, disgust, and self-hatred. what you do is harmful, end of discussion." — from melody, @allur1ngs.

adding on to melody's paragraph, i feel so so sick and disgusted from what has happened, this is definitely not okay and i do not condone it. what nim did was unacceptable. ignoring her smut writings and requests left and right, she was also publicly as well as privately flirting with people over 18, legal adults. i myself have been interacting with her for a bit, hence why I'm writing this at the moment.

though it's been a few hours since this whole thing unfolded, i still find myself in disbelief.

Nim, i don't even care if you're seeing this. but how could you do this to us? especially with your hate blog. we were all defending you and trying to protect you, only for it to turn out to be nothing more than a hoax? do you know how many people's trusts have been broken? we were all worried for you, only for you to be nothing more than a liar. i was thought that the blog sending my mutuals and I hate might be the same as yours. but now i know, whoever that hated on us was different. they were actual haters. yours was just a spare blog and an idea in your head that you thought would be funny. i hope you know the extent of what you've done, not to mention the smut reading and writing, the mountain of lies you said to cover one after another, being over 18 here while being an 08 there, how do you juggle with all your lies, I'm curious. intrigued, even.

"it was nice while it lasted"

i hope you had fun then.

on my own note, i am currently on a posting hiatus still as i am currently overseas, and i might extend my hiatus because this whole 'saga' has really brought me down way more than i thought it would. my writings will still come by, but on a later date. thank you for the sweet asks as well as care and concern for me, i appreciate it a lot. i also got quite a bit of asks regarding nim, and the best I'll do, no promises, is to answer a few asks that are genuine questions, but other than that, please do not send me or anyone else really asks about nim anymore.

also, learn your lesson nim.

#seungxstar

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lady-phasma · 4 months

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Hi, what I’ve noticed particularly about the house of the dragon fandom is that unless you’re a good fic writer or are friends with a good fic writer the fandom ignores you . I’ve seen people on here and TikTok make friends online that become friends irl . I know that’s not always the case but it seems to me that unless your s good fic writer here or a good editor on TikTok the fandom ignores you . I don’t get it . As if people who don’t write fics don’t have opinions or can discuss things . It’s really upsetting to

Hi nonnie. I'm so sorry you're upset. 💕 First, hugs.

Second, full disclosure, Tumblr is my only "social media" aside from a Facebook account I use to mostly stay in touch with family and friends from college. So I can't speak about TikTok creators. I would very much like for you to reply to this if you feel like it. I'm going to tag you as 💝 but please let me know if you want a different one.

The reason I hope you'll respond is so you know that your opinion matters. If you want to share your opinions with me I will listen and usually respond pretty quickly. Also, I would like to know your thoughts on "good fic writer" - I'm just going to say creator as a general term in this answer but I don't think the qualifier "good" matters and here's why...

If that is your perception and, perhaps the perception of other non-creators, it might be a little skewed because creators on all platforms tend to connect with one another for advice, criticism, tips, or help (like beta reading). That's why I'm not going to qualify someone's creativity with good/bad.

I truly do not want anyone in the fandom to feel this way. At all. Not ever. You do not deserve to be ignored. You have thoughts and opinions and they are interesting. Finding the niche group we fit in with is as difficult online as it is in real life.

I can't speak about TikTok, but for Tumblr, I think writers might appear to be the "loudest" because this is a platform that people use to read fanfiction. Does that mean that I think only fic writers should have the bullhorn? Of course not, and there are a few blogs who aren't fic writers, mostly nonfiction or opinions, and they get seen. So I would like to ask you this:

Do you not feel heard because a specific person or group belittled your thoughts? Or do you not feel heard because you don't feel like you are having the amount of personal interactions in the HotD fandom that you expect?

Lastly, I don't know about making friends irl from Tumblr. I have made friends who I chat with off Tumblr and have known for ages it seems and we still haven't shared our real names! (And I love them so much!) Tumblr is a bizarre and lovely place. "Social media" has really only been applied to Tumblr retroactively. Sure, we come here to socialize, but I don't assume that I will meet any of my lovely friends in real life. There's absolutely no pressure.

I don't want to take up too much more of your time but I would be honored if you would be my friend. I don't mean you have to out yourself in my DMs or come off anon. I want to know that you're okay, I don't want to worry about you. I want you to not feel ignored. As unhinged, insane, toxic, and exciting as the HotD fandom is, it's got some amazing people in it, just like any fandom. I found that I had to reach out to some people first and that's hard for a lot of folks. I have made other friends because they reached out to me first. If you do come back to my inbox (I sincerely hope you do), I'm curious how long you've been in the fandom/on tumblr, but only tell me what you're comfortable with. And if you just want to fill my inbox with fandom thoughts, that's okay too! I'm here for you.

#asked and answered #love my anons #fandom stuff #💝 anon #hotd #hotd fandom #house of the dragon

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gardensprout · 2 years

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Can we talk about Wren?

Okay, so this question has been plaguing me ever since I finished If We Were Villains and I want to know if anyone else has any opinions.

How much does Wren really know about what happened that night?

We obviously know the basic facts about the night of Richard’s death, but I want to focus in on when James, Filippa, and Wren are all huddled up in Wren’s room, trying to comfort her.

This heart of absolute gold literally begs James to go out into the woods to find Richard so he doesn’t do something stupid. Now, from Wren’s perspective, we see James leave the room with the intention of finding Richard. He’s gone for maybe an hour or two, long enough for Pip to get worried and go out to look for him, so now Wren is alone in her room. She knows James (and now Filippa) are both in the woods, looking for Richard.

A few (probably) hours pass when suddenly, I’m assuming, Filippa comes into Wren’s room to tell her something bad has just happened and she needs to get to the lake asap. I’m assuming Pip is the one who tells her because by the time Oliver and Meredith get down there, everyone else is standing around and Pip was the one who summoned those two.

So, in Wren’s mind, the course of actions were: James leaves to find Richard, Filippa leaves to find James (and Richard), time passes, Filippa retrieves Wren from her room, and they all find Richard dead dying in the lake.

Now, when they all agree to let Richard die, they start discussing their separate stories. Where they were at the time of the murder. And Wren makes the statement:

“They’re going to want to know why one of us didn’t go after him.”

- If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio (Act III, Scene 1)

...What’s that supposed to mean, Wren? Weren’t you the one who begged James to go find Richard? And didn’t he leave with the sole intention of doing that? What do you mean no one went to go look for him when you know full well that James did?

My theory: Wren knew the whole time. Maybe not everything, but she’s not stupid. It’s too much of a coincidence. And I don’t know what story James and Filippa would have told her to make her think they were innocent, so I’m thinking Wren, like Pip, wanted to protect James.

“She didn’t speak, didn’t even open her mouth--just nodded, slowly. Yes.”

- If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio (Act III, Scene 1)

I don’t think she knew the full story, but there is no way she didn’t think James and/or Filippa were hiding more than they were letting on.

This also might be part of the reason why Richard’s death was having such an effect on her. Obviously, losing a family member would be hard on anyone, but the fact that only Wren and James were diagnosed with PTSD and went through the most changes after the death seems very telling.

Not to mention Walton’s later suspicions about Wren:

“My money’s on the cousin,”

- If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio (Act III, Scene 11)

Which, like, come on, man. She’s been through enough!

So, if she knew, to some degree, who was really guilty, I’m curious about her reaction to Oliver getting arrested.

“Alexander’s face was so full of sadness that there was no room left for surprise. In Filippa’s expression there was only a desperate kind of confusion. In Wren’s, emptiness. In Meredith’s, something violent I couldn’t find a word to describe. And on James’s face, despair.”

- If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio (Act V, Scene 7)

I think the fact that Wren never came to visit Oliver is telling, at least. Was she too guilty, like James, for letting Oliver take the fall? Did she think the whole time James was covering for Oliver? What does she really think happened that night and when does she confront James about it?

She has to have found out the actual truth at some point because, come on, who really wants to hide something like that from the victims family forever?

I just want to know how much she knew and for how long because I think seeing this story from Wren’s POV would be so interesting. At least these scenes.

#wren protection squad #wren deserved better #if we were villains #iwwv #m.l. rio #wren stirling #james farrow #filippa kosta #oliver marks #richard stirling #alexander vass

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urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites · 4 months

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Hey! This is for the ship thing. My pronouns are she/her and I am a bi demiromantic and demisexual. I am 5'4 and have kind of a chubby body. My hair just goes past my chin and I have brown hair and brown almond shaped eyes. I also have an oval shaped face and wear glasses. I am an ambivert who is very passionate about what she does. I am also very ambitious and cunning to get what I want. I also bottle up many of my feelings. I want leadership positions because I want to help people. With people I don't know, I can be formal and friendly but with people I know and don't like, I can be very cold and formal. As a friend I can be very childish and make many dirty jokes and. I also am the mom friend and I am pretty loyal to the people I love and care about. I am also very argumentative and firm in my actions and beliefs (but am open to change). I can be pretty lazy and am usually a night owl and can stay up pretty late without coffee. I also am bit of a nerd for things that I like (Greek Mythology for example). My hobbies include: writing poetry, writing stories, reading, knitting and drawing mandalas. A few fun facts about me are: I know taekwondo (green one belt) and my moto in life is, 'What is the worst thing that can happen?'

I would prefer to get characters from PJO, Cruel Prince and Batman.

Thank you!

Ah, a slytherin I see. Well I am too! But fr why are you literally so much like me and I do aikido!!!!

Your Fandom Ship: Cardan Greenbriar (TFOTA, The Cruel Prince)

Explanation: starting off with physical appearance, I think he would find you very attractive from your brown hair to your brown eyes and I think that your glasses wouldn’t intrigue him and he would ask a lot of questions about them at first because they don’t really have things like that and he’s genuinely curious about what they do and they make you look very cute (hot) He kind of likes how short you are and I think he would just find your entire existence to just be very adorable not in a condescending way (well at least later on into the relationship, he might be a bit condescending and think that you’re a cute little mortal at first, but then you quickly managed to flip that) he gets bottling up his feelings and I feel like that is something that you guys would kind of need to break down together and help each other communicate in a much clear way because he’s also so used to hiding his feelings for saving face and not letting anyone hurt him as much as life has. He admires your ambition and while he’s not as ambitious as you, he will help you to achieve his goals in anyway that he can and he thinks that you’re coming this is a quite attractive feature of your personality. he’s not always been the type of person to immediately help people so he very much admires your leadership skills and the fact that you want to take a step up just out of the kindness of your heart. He doesn’t necessarily get it at first, but he thinks it’s a truly admirable trait that’s rare to find in these days. after you guys get past the cold stage where you’re both kind of enemies and because y’all do have enemies to lovers tension I will say that once you guys kind of get past that stage, and you guys get to the more friendly versions of yourself or you guys can goof off and joke around a lot. I think that he would love that and you guys a sense of humor is surprisingly similar so I think that to make very flirty or dirty and would definitely goof off with you while still maintaining a serious relationship whenever you guys rule over Elfhame. He’s never had any particularly strong beliefs because I think a lot of being a royal child is being told what you shouldn’t shouldn’t believe and he’s kind of a rebellious so I feel like he’s a bit wishy and it blends well with your strong beliefs because you can kind of help him advocate for his self and his own things. He thinks your interests are fascinating and I feel like you guys would spend long hours discussing them with each other and he would love just seeing you rant about your passions and thinks it’s one of the most attractive things ever he just loves the way that you get so into detail and he can see the sparkle that lights in your eyes as you talk about whatever you’re currently interested in and he would engage in the conversation with you as well and say productive things too. You guys could just be putting in a room talk about your interests and you would never ever get bored. Incredibly hot martial arts and if you ever did anything like beating his ass or demonstrating a move on him or some shit like that, he would love it. He would think it’s so hot like I will tell you this man loves dominant people like I just feel like he loves people who can fight dominant people that that is that is his type right there and I feel like that is you with martial arts and he would find it so hot whenever you did demonstrated on him or anyone else. He also likes writing and reading so I feel like that’s something fun you guys can do together just like sit down and a beautiful location and read a book together and then talk about it afterwards like your own little mini book club or you guys would totally write stories together poetry I feel like that’s one of the ways that you guys would learn how to express your emotions to each other is through your poems so if you can’t quite say clearly, you guys can make poems and trade and that that’s one of your coping mechanisms and you guys can maintain a healthy relationship when you both struggle with expressing your emotions. Anyway yall cute 💚

#urlocalnonbinarybastardwritesanswers #the cruel prince #tcp #tc post #tcptqontwk #cardan tfota #tfota #the cruel prince Cardan #Cardan Greenbriar #Cardan Greenbriar x reader #Cardan x reader #cardan x you #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #jude duarte

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saltymongoose · 2 years

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hey i know most if not all of these have the player be human but i was wondering about maybe having the player as something close to human but not? yeah i’m going with it how would they (Hank, Deimos, Sanford, 2B) react to a vampire Player (specifically one doesn’t die to sunlight in Nevada only because it’s not technically their sun) who maybe might or might not have a pleasant (as in it feels almost as good as sex kinda pleasant if that’s ok) bite to them when they drink blood from the grunts?

Ahhh I love this so so much, you have no idea! :D I like anything having to do with vampires, and this is the perfect time to be doing spooky requests, so thank you for sending this to me! We’re going with a bit of VTM/WoD and (mainly) Hellsing logic for vampires here, just in case anyone is curious, but you don’t need any experience with either of them to read this. [Also, given the more suggestive nature of the biting that you asked for, I've relegated that to a shorter second part for safety. ;)]

[WORLD WITHOUT LOGOS] - How They React to a Vampire!Player ft. The Main 4

(Warnings: Yandere, Obsessive Behavior, Violence, Brief Mentions of Blood and Gore, Mentions of Biting, Reader is a bit of a sadist.)

It had been very easy for you to hide your vampirism from the humans back in your world. Sure, technology and medicine had come a long way over time, but there were always ways to avoid detection. Being mysteriously vague about your person and what you do outside of streaming, taking jobs that require work at night and/or inside, and keeping just enough distance from humans to stop from being found out or suspected. Playing with the minds of those you drained to ensure they wouldn’t be able to get you caught. (It took some practice, but you had more than a few decades to perfect it.)

Besides, no rational human would ever believe that vampires were actually real (something your kind used quite often for your benefit).

However, keeping it from your vessels in Nevada was far more difficult - impossible, even, given your circumstances. The first time you met them, you were required to touch Sanford because he helpfully picked you up to help bring you back. He expected you to be hot to the touch; it made sense that you’d radiate immense heat, considering the beacon of warmth you appeared to be with the cozy aura you had. However, he was shocked when instead of this he was met with your freezing skin. You were worryingly cold, but the lack of any viewable cuts or bruises showed that it wasn’t from any large injury.

You noticed his worry, and at the mounting discussion of what could possibly be wrong with you, you saw fit to just reveal it right away. It was unprecedented, but secrecy wouldn’t work here, especially not when you had to feed once a day (and with how much they seemed to care, they probably wouldn’t let any unexplained disappearance go).

Given the many differences between regular humans and grunts, and how open your vessels already were to your strange appearance, they accepted the news of your undeath rather easily. You being a literal supernatural creature wasn’t met with any recoil (as to them you kind of already were).

It wasn’t something you expected, but you welcomed it nonetheless. However, some of the more unique features of your vampirism made them very curious, and their fascination with a part of you that you kept hidden from most in your world, one that was so integral to who you were as a person, only brought you closer to them.

- [HANK J. WIMBLETON] -

Hank had little to no interest in the supernatural before you met, and as such, he never bothered to learn the intricacies behind folklore or media regarding vampires. Nevada has enough weirdness already without that. This gap in knowledge bothered him for the first time when you finally revealed what you were, but he couldn’t figure out what exactly to ask you. Fortunately enough, you were more than happy to demonstrate what you could.

You know that one of the things Hank understands best is destruction, and considering that you aren’t restricted by the rules that your kind has to adhere to any longer, there’s no need to keep yourself and your abilities hidden. As such, you had no issue with fighting at Hank’s side instead of merely controlling him. It honestly scared him at first, seeing you come up close to the battlefield when he had already engaged the enemies in front of you. However, you had never steered him wrong before, and he loved you, so he trusted you wholeheartedly. He knew from the confident look in your eyes that whatever you planned wouldn’t end badly.

He immediately noticed the dark, inky blotches beginning to form on your shoulders over your clothes, shadows pulling from your surroundings as the unstable mass grew larger. It was disturbing, especially when eyes started to open within its depths, only for it to spill over the rest of your torso, obscuring your body in a flowing mess of crimson irises and indescribable darkness, lit only by the pulsing glow of souls trapped within. (It was at this moment that he realized how little he actually knew of your true nature.)

“Alright, big guy,“ you said, flashing him a too-wide grin, sharp teeth glinting in the light. "Let’s see how my powers match up against grunts, shall we?”

It had admittedly been a very long time since you were able to show off any of your more flashy abilities, and you might go a bit (very) overboard when you have the opportunity to join the fight. Summoning some familiars who you’ve consumed in the past, physically changing the form of your own body in seconds, even using your own immense strength and speed to tear your poor enemies apart whenever one got too close for your liking. It was more energy than you’d used in centuries, and you were reveling in it. And so was Hank.

He knew there had to be a reason why your strategies were so sound, and why every battle you got involved in went their way, and it was exemplified by your stunning proficiency in battle. You had several years to perfect your techniques, and seeing them awed him more than anything else.

Hank can only watch adoringly as you spear, slice, and tear your enemies to pieces, internally gushing when you shoot him a wink or a self-satisfied grin after another gory kill. You destroy your enemies in a way that’s horrifying and brutal, but Hank thinks you never look more beautiful than when you’re covered in the viscera and gore of your enemies, mouth stained with blood and a cruel look of victory on your face. Those poor grunts never stood a chance - and neither did his heart if the way it palpitated almost worryingly at the mesmerizing sight of you was any sign. His hands shake as he reaches up to place them on his cheeks, lost in openly fawning over you until he is reminded that he can also assist you in taking them out.

This admiration didn’t stop the flare of jealousy that would happen when he saw you use your teeth on one of them though. Seeing you hurriedly drain someone of their life, watching them weakly cling to you as their putrid blood poured into your maw only reminded him that it was his blood you were supposed to be drinking. (He was, of course, ignoring the fact that you only did it to kill the other grunt, but death by your hands wasn’t the worst that could happen, especially when Doc could just bring him back.)

One of the only other specific things that Hank showed open interest in was “blood bonds”, as he heard you discussing them with 2BDamned. You were confused about him bringing it up, since it was such a random thing to pinpoint, but tried to explain it in the simplest way possible nonetheless.

It was certainly an interesting idea to him. The notion that each drink of your blood would bring you deeper into a bond with each other. Sure, there was the fact that it made the thrall have little to no free will unless you allowed it, would make him adore you beyond any logical reason, and make it excruciating to be apart from you for long periods of time, but who’s to say that wasn’t the case already? (Free will was overrated in his opinion if it meant he couldn’t be wholly yours.)

He even asked if you’d be willing to do this to him, which earned a dumbfounded look from you. (You know he liked you well enough, but no one ever just wants to be in a blood bond with your kind. Perhaps you underestimated just how much he enjoyed your presence. He thought that you’d have some idea of that, after all this time.)

“Hank- I already drink your blood a lot,” you said, gesturing to his neck. “If you have mine right now, you’ll just become a vampire along with the whole thrall thing. So no, I can’t do that.” You paused upon seeing his shoulders slump slightly in disappointment. If you weren’t so taken off guard, you’d have found it comical. “…Plus, you are already one of my prized vessels, and I like you too much to want to be apart from you for long anyway. We don’t really need a blood bond to be close if you think about it.” (Was it maybe a little manipulative to steer the conversation in that direction just to stop him from fretting about it? Yes. But it was for his own good, you don’t want him to be an unthinking immortal servant. Besides, everything you said was true anyway.)

He perked up at that and nodded quickly, seemingly appeased by your words, but still pulled his mask down to give you a little affectionate nip when he hugged your cold form (one that didn’t draw blood, thankfully). You welcomed it well enough, even if the irony brought an amused grin to your face.

(What, you think that just because he couldn’t drink your blood (right now), he wasn’t gonna put his teeth on you? Consider it payback for all those marks you give him. Besides, grunts have their own behaviors regarding biting, and even if he didn’t tell you that this was a claim, what matters is that the others knew just how much you belonged to each other. You were right; it didn’t matter that you didn’t have a true blood bond with each other, not when his complete devotion and love for you was so great that it could surpass that.)

- [2BDAMNED] -

The only “Vampires” that 2BDamned knew a lot about were the grunts who made up the gang that shared the name. He’s aware they shared some traits with your kind, however, he was far more curious about the vampires from your world.

He's the first to ask you deeper questions regarding your abilities and what limitations vampires had, mainly so he can find ways to circumvent them. He knows you are incredibly resilient, and nearly immortal, but he isn’t willing to risk any injury to you. (What kind of vessel, no, partner would he be if he lets such a thing happen?)

This includes discussing everything about what could possibly harm you, which you were understandably hesitant to divulge (because it’s something your kind makes a huge point to not ever do). However, Doc doesn't push you to share information, unlike the mortals in your realm that knew of your affliction. It was comforting. (Really, he wants to know more everything about you, but he won’t do it in a way that pushes too far. He has too much respect for you to do that, and that’s not how you treat someone you love.)

His patience makes it almost easy to tell him about how a stake through the heart can actually kill you if used properly, how hunger could drive you mad, and how holy water burns through your skin if you’re in a state of weakness. It was simple to talk about how unfavorable contracts could be formed if you were in a weak enough state to be forced into such a thing.

The words are spoken quietly, ensuring that only he’d be able to hear them from where you were sitting, comfortably pressed to his side in his office. You’re still closed off about yourself, but you know that Doc won’t use your weaknesses against you. He swore it to you, after all; made a promise and even offered to bind himself into a contract with you over it, no matter the terms or the price. His devotion to you was blinding, you had to admit. It made you realize you felt something akin to actual affection and fondness for him (which you didn’t even know you could still do.)

One subject you can discuss openly without fear, on the other hand, is your anatomy. You’ve touched upon what your body was weak to, but he was still extremely curious about how you worked. Luckily for him, you’re willing to entertain all his questions and prodding.

He’s quick to take your tentative offer of a hands-on examination. You weren’t open to people in your world inspecting you, but you trust Doc despite your underlying reservations, so you allow him to manipulate your body to get a better look at your limbs and torso with little resistance. His touch is painfully soft when he moves you, gloved hands soothing over your fingers and arms as he turns them to check your non-existent pulse. Perhaps it was an excuse to feel the contrast of your icy skin with the odd, comfortable warmth you exuded. Or maybe he just liked touching you.

You raise a brow at the tender way he runs his hands over you, unused to being treated with such gentleness, but lean in when he gently grasps your jaw to look at your face. (Even after looking you over so many times, he never skipped it.) He hums when you helpfully open your mouth for him to inspect your sharp teeth. (And with your superhuman hearing it’s to miss the hitch in his breath when you open your maw a bit further, “accidentally” brushing one of your long, pointed fangs against his fingers. The corner of your mouth twitches when his heart rate picks up drastically. Mortals could be so amusing sometimes.)

Being in any physical contact with you was something 2BDamned needed getting used to, mainly because he had the tendency to hyper-fixate on everything about the feel of your skin and the way you looked. You look perfectly “human” and personable, but he knows from the dark look of your eyes and the unnatural coldness that something otherworldly and sinister lurks beneath your visage. To anyone else, it might be unsettling, but it only makes you more alluring to him. (He wants to spend every waking minute of his life around you if only so he can take in everything about your unique form.)

Verbal questions, however, are another matter. They leave Doc feeling unfulfilled more than anything, no matter how simple he thought the answer might’ve been. Case in point, that one time he asked you a simple question about your regenerative abilities. He wanted to know about how you were completely unscathed, clothes and all, even after the others had reported you got injured.

“Ah, that’s thanks to my regeneration. Getting shot doesn’t have much of an effect besides the obvious, so healing isn’t an issue. For clothes, I guess you can say my abilities extend to mending cloth as well as flesh.” That had been your answer, and while Doc was thankful for your clarification, it certainly didn’t help him figure out how you could do that to begin with.

2BDamned is very intelligent, which is a given; he wouldn’t have his current position if he wasn’t. However, the fact that he can’t fully understand your complex biology, as magically influenced as it is, bothers him to an unreasonable degree. He supposes it’s because he’s always operated from a position of power when it came to knowledge, but now he’s in one where he simply can’t get you completely. It makes him feel…inadequate, in a way. What help is he to you if he can’t employ his smarts? He’s not a combat-oriented vessel like the others, so how could he possibly assist you enough to be entirely useful (and irreplaceable) like he wants?

You knew about this worry he had the moment he first thought of it around you (mind reading was one of the many effects of drinking blood from someone), and sought to persuade him otherwise. The fact that he thought it was even possible to understand everything about how your kind worked was naive, but you could get it. For someone who knew so much about his own world, it would make sense that your natural ambiguity would be a point of irritation for him. However, that didn’t mean it was actually worth that level of annoyance.

“Hey, Doc.” you got his attention at the tail-end of one of your explanations, and he looked up from the tablet he was recording your answers on. “I should probably tell you: not every ability I have can be logically explained, and even I don’t know everything about them. So don’t worry if you can’t find an answer; I’ve lived like this for hundreds of years and I know what I can do. If anything, you’re helping by ironing out what I’m weak to and making sure we avoid it.”

He didn’t respond for a moment, too busy processing your words. They certainly put things into perspective for him; if you yourself didn’t know the reason why everything about you was that way, how could he? No, it made perfect sense, and he wasn’t so foolish as to believe he could understand you better than you yourself could.

Instead, this gave him a different objective to focus on. He knew that he had to use any option necessary to prove himself worthy of your attention, even if it didn’t rely on figuring out how you worked. A large part of him yearned to be useful to you in every way possible, and he swore to himself that he would. As his Player (and future romantic partner), you deserve nothing less.

- [SANFORD] -

Sanford is concerned about you more than anything. He knows that the sun can’t hurt you here, but there might be other things that can, and as a result, he’s always on the lookout for anything regarding silver (or enemies that might use it) so he can warn you. His main concern has always been your safety and well-being, and that’s not going to change just because you’re a vampire. Plus, it’s how he shows his love.

He also worries about your mental health as well. He can’t begin to imagine the toll that immortality could have on your psyche, so he lets you know very early on that if you need somebody to vent to, he’s there. You’re comforted by this, even though you don’t exactly come to him for this specific purpose. (You were hesitant to talk about anything personal, centuries worth of careful secrecy had that effect on you. Sanford makes it hard to keep this up, though.)

When you do have your discussions, they’re at the times when you’re alone together, and when you’re feeling particularly vulnerable. Sanford will always remember the first time you opened up to him about yourself, even if it was small. He had woken up at dawn, deciding to do a quick patrol around the perimeter to check for any encroaching enemies (especially AAHW), only to open the door and see you sitting on the steps outside. You were looking upward, watching Nevada’s sky begin to color its usual crimson as the broken sun rose. You had a wistful expression on your face, one that conveyed a wordless longing and deep appreciation. He shifted from behind you, weighing whether or not he should interrupt your peaceful isolation before you spoke to him.

“I once knew a vampire who became so transfixed by the beauty of the sunrise that they stood in its rays just to see it for longer, only to turn to stone and crumble to dust.” It was said as a near whisper, and Sanford was struck by how open and vulnerable you sounded. You didn’t turn your head to see him, keeping your gaze on the changing shades of red and pink. “It has been a long time since I’ve seen it myself.”

You didn’t move when he stepped closer, something he took as an invitation to sit down beside you, moving his gun to his lap when he did. He didn’t know what to say, afraid of speaking out of line and making you close in on yourself. He settled for a simple question (small talk, really): “What do you think of it?”

“…It is different from how I remember mine being. But I suppose I can understand where my kindred was coming from,” you responded. The words of how much you missed seeing the sun went unspoken, yet Sanford understood the sentiment all the same. How hard it must’ve been, to go so long without seeing the light of day. “It is beautiful, and the warmth is something to be missed.” You kept your eyes trained on the red sky for a moment longer before turning to face him. He had already been staring at you, and shyly averted his gaze, his visual-cross evading your sight before returning (even if he was a tad embarrassed at the blush he could feel heating his face, you still deserved his full attention). He found that your crimson eyes were more radiant than Nevada’s scarlet heavens could ever be. You smiled at him softly. “But the company makes it better.” (He hoped you couldn’t hear how his heart stuttered at your words. You could.)

Most of your discussions about how you actually are go similarly. He lets you instigate them, wanting you to be in full control of your vulnerability so you feel safe letting him in on such things. Surprisingly, it’s something you actually engage in, even if you’re never that direct about your feelings. It also becomes customary to have these in talks in the morning when you watch the sunrise together. (Truthfully, the first time it happened had been a fluke: it was Deimos’ turn to take first watch that day, and half an hour after Sanford had awoken. He never thought he’d have a reason to thank his finicky biological clock, but he’d never been happier than when he was spending time with you, alone and uninterrupted by the others in your group.)

Sanford is also the main one out of the four who asks about your history. It first came from wanting to understand you more, as a person’s background could tell a lot about them and their way of thinking. While you don’t see much of an appeal in discussing clan politics, it does let you unload on all sorts of gossip and weird things you’ve seen and done. (Deimos also joins you occasionally for these talks, mainly because hearing you talk about the outlandish acts you’ve witnessed with such a straight face is hilarious to him.)

(“Wait, so the Camarilla is your main governing organization, right?” Sanford asked, and you nodded with a noise of confirmation. “So why aren’t you a part of them, then? You’re smart enough to be, in my opinion.” (It was with this that Deimos added on a “And powerful enough”, to which Sanford nodded in agreement.)

“Hah, flattery will get you everywhere, you know,” you responded with a sly grin (one that made pink dust his cheeks, and had Deimos aim a pointed glare at him, even if he couldn’t hide his own reaction to your expression). “But no, not at all. The Camarilla doesn't like me because I’m old.” Deimos snorted loudly and Sanford furrowed his brow (because they supposedly knew you were immortal, what the hell-), looking so innocently confused you couldn’t help but laugh.

“In Vamp society, people of 150 years are considered Elders - and there are very few of them. I am over 700 and older than their entire organization. I don’t like toddlers telling me what to do, and they’re threatened by the fact that I’m so powerful that nobody’s managed to kill me yet. I think they’re annoying and they don’t trust me.” (‘Oh, that makes sense,’ he thought. ‘But how powerful are you then, anyway?’)

Honestly, Sanford finds great enjoyment in listening to you discuss what you’ve done for the past centuries, but even better, you had also told him that he had been the first to ask about your past and get an actual answer from you (which made him feel weirdly giddy). He was the first person you opened up to in this way, and he took it as both a privilege and a sign that you two were closer, perhaps even more than the others were with you. It was him who’d managed to break your carefully-crafted shell, after all.

He’s extremely curious about your abilities too, but he doesn’t ask very much about them compared to your past, preferring to just observe when you’re willing to show them off. He thinks it would be overstepping; he loves finding out more about you, but he doesn’t want to get too greedy with it. (You might even be uncomfortable with that, and the last thing Sanford wants is for you to feel that way around him.)

This doesn’t stop him from openly staring when you use them, however, attention completely focused on you when your form shifts, warping into something objectively horrifying, yet captivating at the same time. He knows that he should probably feel terrified by the sadistic look on your face and the almost feral glint in your eyes, and the oppressive aura you have when you unleash your true power, but he isn’t. How could he be, when it was you who he saw creating such carnage? You, whom he loved and revered above all else, who had worked to protect him and keep him from harm? If anything, your power was a testament to how worthy you were of being their Player. He couldn’t help but feel safe around you, knowing that the overwhelming might you had would only be used to harm your mutual enemies.

Now, what remained was the need to grow more skilled himself to show you that he was deserving to be at your side (where he belonged). So you’d accept him and his limitless affection, so you’d never part, for the rest of your eternal life and his finite one.

- [DEIMOS] -

Deimos handles your vampirism a lot more casually than you’d first expect. He asks a bunch of questions, of course, but they’re not really related to specific things like how your clan works, or the history of vampiric society and how it runs. (Something you’re grateful for at this point; it’s not like it was very easy to present common things that had centuries of complex history behind them time and time again.)

Instead, he asks about pop culture and how accurate it is, and he’s immensely surprised by what actually is true. This includes your weird inability to cross large bodies of water without help and how garlic can actually hurt weaker vampires, for instance. They’re all things you’ve seen in the media again and again, and it would be tiresome to discuss them if it were with anyone else. However, there’s just something about the childish excitement Deimos has about you that endears you to it enough to make the discussions fun.

He also jokes about it a lot too, making a show of welcoming you into a room like you need verbal permission to enter it, and asking whether they should get you a coffin to sleep in. He even puts on a gaudy Romanian accent sometimes when imitating a stereotypical vampire, and refers to you as “Count.” (Which makes you raise a brow. You knew Dracula.) You try to act above it, stoic even if you play along a little sometimes (like when you outright refuse to enter the room until he invites you). This just makes the feeling of victory all the sweeter for him when he manages to break you, making you crack a genuine smile and laugh.

You return the favor though, teasing him back whenever he says something flirty to you by innocently asking him if he’s always been into older people or if it’s just you. He’s always taken aback by it, which makes it amusing enough. Sometimes you also flirt back, in your own way. (You shot him a charming smile, leaning in close enough to earn a blush from him. “Careful, Deimos; if you tempt me enough, I might turn you just so I can hear that voice of yours forever.” You meant it as a bit of a tease since he had taken to saying things right in your ear because he knew he could get a reaction out of you that way. You failed to recognize that he doesn’t see spending eternity with you as a vampire to be anything close to a bad thing.)

It becomes a frequent thing for you to watch horror movies together too, as well as any film that has supernatural elements. Every so often, Deimos will lean a bit closer to whisper a question about whatever creature is on screen, to which you’ll give an answer. (Turns out werewolves were real in your world, and they did actually have a feud with vampires if the grimace on your face when speaking about them said anything.)

(Soon enough, you might find yourself near to being completely in his lap, since while he does move closer, he won’t actually go back to where he’s sitting. (Prolonged contact with you was too tempting for him to do so.) It’s not like you mind though; his body heat is very cozy, and you savor the new experience of having him so close.)

Like Hank, Deimos is also really excitable about your abilities, except he’s far more direct with it. He’ll openly cheer and praise you when you tear people apart, becoming more animated as you get more and more over the top with your kills. (You also might show off a bit, not gonna lie. It’s nice to have someone praise you instead of screaming or going still from pure fear; it makes your cold, undead heart feel warm for once.)

He also will ask you to try doing specific things with them, just to see if you’re able to. You humor him most of the time; it’s not like there’s any harm in taking down enemies in a fashion he recommends (or shouts out in the middle of the fight, like it’s some kind of special move), and the way his face looks when you decide to show him how you can walk up walls if you want is honestly really funny.

In fact, since you willingly let him see nearly all your “magic” up close, he’s the first to see your more complex shape-shifting too (mainly because you suddenly remember that you can do it, and you know he’d like to see it). Anything from transforming yourself into a swarm of bats (at his request - you just watched another film about Dracula), or a writhing mass of centipedes and other bugs (absolutely disgusting, but fascinating) to even making yourself into a single animal, like a dog. Sometimes you even disappear into his shadow, hiding in plain sight.

He occasionally uses this to sneak you somewhere more private so you can hang out without the others. (They try to do the same, so it’s not like there’s anything wrong with having you all to himself for a while.) You’re fully aware of why he does it, but you go along with it anyway. It’s new to have someone like you so much they don’t want to share you with anyone else, or at least, new to people you didn’t have a blood bond with.

While it was a relatively small effect, something you also showed him was how you could make all of your teeth sharp - exactly like his. (For a moment, when he peered into your mouth to see the sharp points, he wondered whether any kids you might have would inherit his grin or yours. He quickly snapped himself out of this intrusive thought the moment he became aware of it - it’s not like he knew if such a thing was even possible, and he didn’t even think he wanted children, to begin with. But it didn’t stop the red from suddenly painting his face, earning a look of interest from you. You blinked, lips curving in an amused grin. Oh, that’s right. He didn’t know you could read minds yet.)

Although, sometimes you regret telling him about your more nonlethal abilities, because he frequently asks you if you'll try them on him. It honestly makes you wonder if grunts just have the lowest levels of self preservation possible, because no one concerned about their own safety would just ask a vampire to control their mind or envelop them in the unstable mass of souls they had “just to see what it it’s like” (his actual words). Then again, Deimos was actually the first to ask about your rather strict diet, and the first to openly offer himself to you if you wanted to feed on him, so perhaps there was some merit to this theory.

However, he never gets annoyed with you for any rejections over his ideas, which (given how egotistical vampires are) is a breath of fresh air. Plus, keeping you happy was always his main priority anyway. You never feel any pressure to do anything from him, which makes you more at ease. (It's odd; a few months ago, you never imagined yourself being so comfortable with anyone like this - especially not a mortal.)

Deimos is honestly overjoyed at how you willingly show him nearly everything you can do. Being the first to know so much about your abilities (even over Hank) is a huge deal for him, and with how much he mentions it (brags), it's clear just how much he values it. It makes him feel a lot closer to you; the time spent with you going over Nevada's movies and shows combined with the late-night talks about your abilities, the inside jokes you develop, and how close you get when you let him touch you as you change forms, allowing his clawed hands to touch nothing yet everything within the mass of tortured souls you hold. You've let him really see you, more-so than anyone else, at least. Which is exactly what he wants.

He longs to know every side of you, from the human appearance you wear to the horrid beasts you contain. And maybe, with enough time bonding with each other, he'll get the thing he wants most of all: for you to want him too.

He already knows you've got part of his soul, with those drinks you took of his blood. Now all that remained was to become yours in every other way possible.

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