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queen--kenobi · 6 months ago

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Wheel of Fortune: Prologue

Story summary: Elayna Reyne often imagines herself being someone and making a name for herself but only in the way young girls do. Unfortunately, when Elayna makes her way to King's Landing as one of Cerelle Lannister's ladies-in-waiting, Elayna finds dreams come with a price.

Pairings: Cerelle Lannister x OFC (Elayna Reyne), OC (Tymon Lannister) x OFC (Elayna Reyne), eventual Tyland Lannister x OC

Chapter summary: News finds its way to Elayna. Some of it is good but most of it is bad. Elayna learns when it rains, it pours.

Chapter warnings: implied NSFT (wlw action, BDSM themes, D/s dynamics), discussions of domestic violence, some suicidal ideation, and sexual harassment. Also Tymon. Yeah, a lot for a prologue I know.

Author's note: Hi hello it's finally here! I know it's taken 5ever and a day, but it's here! I'm so excited to introduce everyone to Elayna in canon and Tymon as well. I want to thank @writingbylee for being my cheerleader and helping me since day one with Elayna you have no idea how much that means to me. I also want to thank @baba-fett and @emilykaldwen for being willing to listen to me try and figure all this out

Waves crash against the unyielding cliffside.

Elayna sighs. She looks down to the waters below. Jagged rocks stick up from the ocean, the edges sharp and dangerous despite the weathering. Elayna tilts her head. In the dying light, the areas where the rocks cluster almost look like teeth to her, the giant gaping maw of an unknown beast.

What would it be like to die upon those rocks?

What would it be like to kill someone upon the rocks? How long would someone suffer in the blistering sun and salty air? Would they die upon impact, or would it break their back and render them immobile, unable to stop the slow creeping of the Stranger?

She bites the inside of her lip. The pain stops the morbid thoughts, she finds. More and more as of late, her brain keeps coming back to them. They circle her brain like vultures awaiting the dying. Elayna closes her eyes and inhales slowly. Some days, she cannot tell if she wishes to kill or be killed. She thinks it is the latter of the two. She has no true wish to die, only to escape her suffering. Her life has become a prison she cannot escape from no matter how much she tries.

Then again. Is it truly a prison when she has willingly given her captor the keys? When the prison is of her own making?

She exhales. She pauses and rubs her face.

If only she could talk to Cerelle. If only she could make her see...

“Elayna!”

The familiar voice makes Elayna's hairs stand on end. Elayna wants to ignore him. Maybe he'll go away if she pretends he isn't there. Of course, it has never stopped him before, so why would it now? Slowly, Elayna lifts her head.

Tymon walks towards her. He seems to be in a good mood. A smile graces his features. The wind blows his hair gently. Elayna looks at his eyes. His eyes turn first when he's angry; he can keep the smile up and make it seem genuine even when his eyes make it clear he wants nothing more than to commit an act of unspeakable violence just by looking him in the eye. His jaw betrays him next.

His smile is always the last thing to go.

“Tymon.” Elayna tries her best to answer his smile. She tries to force it to reach her eyes. It feels too tight, too fake. A surge of panic overtakes her. What if he sees it's fake? Will he ignore it? Will he pretend to not see it until he can use her lack of enthusiasm against her? What if it provokes his ire? She blinks. Her eyes must show her fear, she can't have that.

Tymon laughs. When Elayna opens her eyes, she sees him holding his hands up.

“Woah.” He sounds as if he is calming down a spooked horse, not a human being. She can hear the clear amusement in his tone. Elayna bites down on the inside of her cheek. She cannot sneer at him; no one else is around, and she is too close to the edge of the parapet. Despite her early thoughts, Elayna has no desire to be pushed off the castle.

“I did not mean to startle you. My sincerest apologies.”

“Think nothing of it. I was just under the impression I was alone.”

“One might begin to think you want to be alone.” Tymon stops right beside her. The sleeve of his doublet almost brushes against the sleeve of her dress. Elayna's skin crawls. “I noticed you left particularly early.”

“I needed some fresh air is all.” Elayna looks out towards the sea. “I spoke with Jeyne Marbrand. The incense they use in their Sept must be quite... strong.”

Elayna sniffs delicately as if to prove her point. Tymon lets out a small chuckle. He places his forearms on the low wall.

“Yes, I have noticed that as well.” Tymon turns his head to the side. His green eyes inspect her. “Where is Cerelle? I thought if I found you, I might find her.”

Elayna swallows.

“Cerelle is talking with one of the Tarbeck daughters, I believe.” Gods above, she hates she knows this. “There's talk of one of them being brought in as one of Tyshara's ladies.”

Tymon hums. He looks back out to the ocean once more. He inches his forearm towards her. Elayna tries to subtly move her arm away. She reaches up and adjusts her necklace before placing her arm down.

“Mother spoke to me today.”

“Oh?” Elayna arches an eyebrow. “What did the two of you speak about?”

“Many things.” Tymon fidgets with one of the many rings on his fingers. “Mostly of the future.”

Elayna nods. Within a fortnight, Cerelle and Tymon would be celebrating their eight and tenth name day. The feast tonight kicks off the events to follow. The future looms large over everything now; all the politics and planning finally moving into action. A bitter, acrid taste surges into Elayna’s mouth. For all that Johanna cares about Cerelle, she will also use her, as is the way. A son ensures the line while a daughter ensures treaties and potential comfort in old age.

She knows what will most likely become of Cerelle, but she has no idea what awaits her. For years, she and Cerelle would joke about having to find two brothers to marry. Naturally, Cerelle would marry the eldest and Elayna the younger. Elayna presses her lips together. She gazes at the far away horizon, feeling as if she herself is as much of a distance away from her own body as the horizon. Those plans... Well. They were no more.

She hears shifting, the rustle of clothes against the stone wall. Elayna forces herself back into her body. She turns her head. Tymon now stands with his back to the wall, facing away from the sea and into the courtyard. He crosses his arms.

“The plan is for you to accompany Cerelle to King's Landing when we leave.”

“I'm aware.” Elayna tries to keep her tone pleasant. “I'm looking forward to it.”

Tymon turns his head to look at her. He evaluates her for a long moment.

“Did you hear that from my mother or sister?”

“Cerelle told me. Why?”

Tymon smirks. “Then you don't know the good news yet.”

“Good news?” Elayna huffs a laugh. “Let me guess. Your father found an uninhabited island and named it after Cerelle?”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“You're right, that is ridiculous. He named it after Tyshara.”

Tymon rolls his eyes. “I am the first born son.”

“Yes, but I've been under the impression islands are she's. On account of them being pretty to look at.” Elayna sees a brief flash of irritation on Tymon's face. “So the good news is not an island.”

“No, it isn't an island. That would be excellent news, but this is better.”

“Better than an island? Hmm. Dalton Greyjoy dying. Ideally a slow and incredibly painful death.”

“Alas. One can only wish.”

“Cerelle is betrothed to a Hightower? Is that it?”

Tymon scoffs. Elayna bites the inside of her lip to keep from giggling. As dangerous as it can be, she does enjoy annoying Tymon. He thinks himself to be so smart, to the point he corrects anyone he deems lower than himself. Yet, somehow, he falls into every single conversational trap she creates. It's almost as if he can't help it; he has to try to make someone else look like an idiot, even at the expense of making a fool of himself.

The apple never falls far from the tree.

“No. It is not Cerelle marrying a Hightower.” Tymon sniffs almost delicately. Annoyance laces every word. Elayna has no doubt in her mind if she pushes more, she will push too far. Normally, she might relish in the chance to pick a fight. Instead, she decides to play nice. “I'm sure mother has higher ambitions for her.”

“What is the good news, then?”

Tymon looks at Elayna. His gaze feels intense. Elayna looks back at him.

“Once Cerelle is settled and has found a husband, mother suggested you might come back. With us.”

Elayna's heart doesn't just sink; it plummets. It drops from her chest to her stomach the same way a boulder falls from a cliff.

“I'm... I'm afraid I don't follow.”

“Don't play dumb with me, Elayna.” Tymon smiles, and for the first time, his smile itself scares her. “Isn't this what you wanted? I would think so, given all the times you have tormented and teased me. Finally, Mother has come to her senses about everything as well.”

“Tymon, I genuinely do not know what you're talking about.”

Tymon sighs. It's one of the most patronizing sounds Elayna has heard. It makes her skin crawl and jaw tighten.

“Mother wants to ensure you and Cerelle have ample time together before Cerelle is married. Once Cerelle is settled, our betrothal will be made official and announced.”

Elayna instantly regrets not jumping off the castle and onto the rocks below. A sour, bitter taste floods her mouth. She stares at him.

“We're...?”

“To be married. Do keep up, Elayna. I cannot have a wife who is slow on the upkeep.”

Elayna's years of practice prevent her from snarling at him. Her upper lip still twitches. Her jaw clenches. She glares daggers at him.

“I'm not slow!” She pauses. Tymon gives her a look as if he might hit her should she say more. “I am merely... surprised. I wouldn't have thought I would have been a contender.”

“I thought my fondness for you was evident.” Tymon tilts his head. He almost seems genuinely confused as to why Elayna doesn't understand. “ ‘Tis a good match.”

“Surely there are better matches. One of the Lefford's daughters per-”

Elayna's next words are muffled. Tymon surges forward and kisses her. The beginnings of his beard feel rough and unpleasant against her skin, as do his lips. He takes advantage of her parted lips to try and slip his tongue into her mouth. It feels wet and gross against hers, almost slimy. An unpleasant shiver runs up her spine. Elayna clamps her teeth down on his tongue. She means it as a warning bite.

It works.

Tymon pulls away, fury blazing in his eyes. His smile drops.

“Tymon. I don't... this isn't appropriate!” Elayna hisses. “Nothing has even been announced or made official, you cannot just kiss me like that.”

“I don't care.”

“Well I do. Your reputation may not be at stake but mine is.”

Tymon stares at her, his expression unreadable. Elayna's chest heaves.

“Why would your reputation be ruined? Everyone knows you are mine and mine alone.” He reaches forward and attempts to touch her face. Elayna jerks backwards and away from him.

“Tymon.”

Both Elayna and Tymon turn towards the sound of the voice. Tymon scowls. Cerelle stands on the parapet as well. She looks radiant, the setting sun lighting her in beautiful hues. Cerelle has her father's hair and eyes but everything else about her comes from her mother, down to the cold expression she wears.

“Cerelle.” Tymon greets. His tone matches the coolness of Cerelle's face. “I was wondering where you were.”

“So you thought to seek Elayna out?” She steps forward. Tymon’s upper lip twitches, but he manages to wrangle it under control at the last second. Elayna takes the welcome distraction and begins to put some distance between herself and Tymon.

“Yes, well. The two of you are close.”

He makes it sound almost disgusting. Elayna glares at him. Still, she doesn't say anything, not wishing to draw his attention to her. Cerelle tilts her head. A perfectly curled ringlet of blonde hair falls into her face.

“Elayna is not my keeper.” She sounds as if she wants to laugh.

“No, but you are Elayna's.”

Cerelle raises an eyebrow. “Speak plainly. If you have an issue with my relationship with my ladies-in-waiting, say so and be done with it."

Tymon lifts both his hands in the air. He chuckles softly, a sly smirk making its way onto his face.

“I meant no offense, dearest sister.” He lowers his hands.

“I take offense to your actions, not your words.” Cerelle steps forward. Her gait remains surprisingly steady. Elayna knows, though. She sees the barely repressed anger and tense jaw, the way Cerelle clenches both her hands into fists for the briefest of seconds before clasping her hands in front of her, the flare of Cerelle's nostrils as she nearly stalks towards her brother.

“My actions?”

“Yes. Your actions. Mother has made it explicitly clear you are not to be alone with Elayna. Yet you openly defy her and seek out Elayna when I am busy.”

Tymon swallows. Elayna sees his Adam's apple bob. She takes advantage of his surprise and almost scurries over to Cerelle. Cerelle seemingly doesn't react to her presence.

Tymon stares at his sister for a long moment. Cerelle stares evenly back at him, her steely gaze not dissimilar to Johanna’s. Tymon must make some sort of expression because after a long minute, Cerelle's brow furrows. She raises one eyebrow. The left side of her mouth lifts slightly, not quite into a sneer but certainly a scoff. Annoyance rolls off of Tymon. His hands clench into fists for a second before he thinks better of it.

“Very well.” Tymon tries to sound pleasant, as if he's truly deferring to his sister. The blazing storm in his eyes says otherwise. He bows his head. “I shall do as instructed. Do try to not hog all of my future wife's time.”

He turns on his heel and heads towards the other set of stairs. Elayna watches him from her place behind Cerelle. She waits until he disappears from sight to speak.

“Thank you.” Elayna murmurs. She tries to effuse her gratitude into every word. Cerelle tries to keep her steady gaze. Despite her efforts, her expression softens, the hard edges of her jaw easing and forehead relaxing.

“I cannot rescue you all the time.”

“I know. I don't expect you too.”

Elayna steps forward. Cerelle does as well.

“Mother wants to see us as well. After she talks to Tymon.”

Cerelle stands torn. Elayna sees it clear as day. Cerelle refuses to close the distance, but with each passing moment, her posture relaxes some.

Elayna moves first. She steps closer to Cerelle, stopping two paces away.

“I'm still mad at you.” Cerelle looks away as she speaks.

“I know. I made a mess of things.”

“I'm not going to forgive you easily.”

Elayna steps closer. She could reach out and touch Cerelle if she wants to but opts not to do so.

“How would you like me to apologize?” Elayna looks around for a second. The two of them are alone. “I've been told I have a silvertongue when it comes to apologies.”

Cerelle's stern exterior fully breaks. She blushes. Red rises from her neck to her cheeks.

“Elayna!” She hisses. “Not here.”

“Oh, I wouldn't dream of doing that here.”

Cerelle finally closes the distance between them. She reaches out and loops her arm through Elayna's.

“We should get back to the feast.” Cerelle lightly traces a finger down Elayna's forearm. “If we don't, they'll come looking.”

“Whatever my Lady desires.”

The look on Cerelle's face sends a pleasant tingle along Elayna's spine. Cerelle hums. Elayna bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling victorious. Cerelle's expression no doubt means a delightful night lies ahead of them, one Elayna imagines many women only dream of happening to them. Her own eight and ten name day is still several moons away yet many ladies have taken to giving her womanly advice. She cannot bite or scratch for too much passion may scare her husband, and it is unseemly to mark him with her nails and teeth. He may mark her as he wishes, though. His pleasure must occur; some women say she can experience it while others say she must not. Do not get on top for he will get sick since to do so is an abomination and sin. He must never look at her nether region except for when he slides into her.

All the rules make her want to laugh. While she cannot say she has experience with men beyond a kiss, she doubts the rules. If they are true, men have weak constitutions.

Cerelle never complains about her being on top or whose pleasure comes before the others. Cerelle never cares if Elayna’s mouth finds its way to Cerelle's lips or clit. Truth be told, she seems to enjoy the act quite a lot. Cerelle does prefer Elayna not mark her; Elayna has no qualms about being marked so long as it isn't visible.

Despite her gender, Elayna finds herself performing more husbandly duties than most men. The only rule existing between them is they must not break their maidenheads. It is the only thing their husbands may have before them.

Elayna's greed knows no bounds; everything a husband could take is hers except for that one thing. The same goes for Cerelle. She owns everything except Elayna's maidenhead. Elayna can only dream of that happening.

“Perhaps I will need you tonight. I would like to spend time with my boon companion.”

“I am always at your service.”

They begin to walk towards the stairs. Cerelle's grip keeps Elayna close, as if she thinks Elayna would go far. Elayna would never. If she could, Elayna would chain herself to Cerelle. She would put a collar around her neck like a hound and hand Cerelle the lead. She wonders if it would surprise Cerelle but doubts it would; Elayna often kneels at Cerelle's feet and whines like a bitch in heat.

“Behave.” Cerelle squeezes Elayna's arm. Elayna starts. She gazes at Cerelle with wide eyes.

“I am!”

“Physically? Yes. Mentally?” Cerelle clicks her tongue.

“Oh?” Elayna arches an eyebrow. “And where exactly did you learn to read minds?”

“I didn't. I just know yours well.”

The two of them finally enter the turret. Elayna listens in case someone is coming up the stairs. She sees and hears no one. Before Cerelle can lead them down the stairs, Elayna maneuvers them towards the wall. As soon as Cerelle's back is against the stones, Elayna pounces.

Cerelle's lips slot against hers perfectly. Cerelle squeaks in surprise, which makes Elayna grin into the kiss. Cerelle quickly recovers. Elayna groans when Cerelle digs her fingers into Elayna’s hair. She avoids Elayna's intricate braids, instead opting for the thick, brown curly hair at the base of Elayna’s skull. Those strands of hair being messy can be explained away; her braids falling out of place can't be. Elayna braces herself. She places one forearm on the wall by Cerelle's head. Her other hand rests on the bodice of Cerelle's gown. She wants nothing more than to ruck up Cerelle's skirts and trace the creamy expanse of skin she knows lies under the red silk. Caution makes her stop. Fabrics wrinkle all too easily.

Still, Elayna can only be cautious for so long. She inches her hand upward, fingers grazing the underside of Cerelle's breasts. The motion makes Cerelle stop. She digs her fingers hard into Elayna’s hair, her nails nearly digging into Elayna’s scalp. She pulls Elayna's head back. Elayna isn't sure if the sound escaping her mouth is from pleasure or pain.

“No.” Cerelle's chest heaves. She doesn't look angry, despite her tone. “You aren't forgiven yet.”

Elayna pouts.

“How am I to be forgiven if you won't give me a chance?”

“You have to earn forgiveness. Me giving you what you want will only reinforce your terrible behavior.”

“You speak of me as a dog.”

“Perhaps if you behaved, I wouldn't have to treat you like one.”

“I am not a dog.” Elayna huffs. Cerelle arches a perfect eyebrow. She lets go of Elayna’s hair.

“Oh? What are you then?”

“Is not a dog not enough?”

Cerelle snorts. Despite her derision, Elayna sees the fondness in Cerelle's expression.

“No. You are not a dog. They can be taught manners.” Cerelle hums. A devious smirk appears on her lips. “You're a kitten. You refuse to listen and learn, you act as if you're above the rules, and you believe if you want it, it is yours. However, you don't have the claws nor teeth to back your attitude up.”

Elayna stares at Cerelle, wide eyed. She opens her mouth in an attempt to respond, but no sound comes out. She feels hot, not just her face but her entire body. Her breath comes in short bursts.

“I...”

“Yes?” Cerelle tilts her head. “You what?”

“You... you...”

“Is my kitten having trouble finding her words?” Cerelle grabs Elayna's chin and forces Elayna to look at her. “Answer me.”

“You're so... so mean.” Elayna whines. She tries to bury her face in the crook of Cerelle's neck to hide her embarrassment. Cerelle's grip on her chin prevents her from doing so. Cerelle clicks her tongue in mock sympathy, a direct contrast to the delight dancing in her blue eyes.

“Behave tonight, and I might just let you find out how mean I can really be.”

She lets go of Elayna’s chin. Her blue eyes meet Elayna’s hazel ones. Cerelle seeks reassurance, from the way she looks over Elayna to make sure what transpired is truly alright to the way she frowns when she sees the small red indentations from her nails on Elayna’s chin. Elayna smiles. She presses her forehead to Cerelle's. Both of them close their eyes. They stay still for a moment, breath falling into line with the other's.

“You promise?”

Elayna opens her eyes and grins. Cerelle's eyes fly open. She stares coolly at Elayna. Elayna tries her best not to laugh.

“I would be careful if I were you.”

“But what if I want you to make me regret it?”

“Then you cannot complain later.”

The sound of footsteps makes both girls back away from each other. Cerelle smooths out the wrinkles in her dress with one hand while Elayna checks her hair. None of her braids appear to be loose. She tucks the small amount of hair Cerelle accidentally removed from the carefully done hairstyle and stuffs the ends as best she can into her braids and held up hair. The two look at each other. Elayna scans Cerelle and nods. Cerelle does the same for Elayna.

“Shall we join the others?” Elayna offers her arm to Cerelle.

“I think it best.”

In the whirlwind of the feast, Elayna forgets about having to speak with Johanna. She spends most of the night dancing and laughing. No one yet knows of her creeping fate; Elayna takes advantage of this fact. Truth be told, she refuses to imagine what her future looks like. Instead, she decides to enjoy the moment.

The moment includes Elayna staying with Cerelle as the first night of festivities begin to wind down. They don't even bother to come up with an excuse if they're questioned; it's happened a million times before after a feast and will no doubt happen again. Everyone knows the two are inseparable.

“Elayna.” Cerelle murmurs from the dark. They lay in bed together, Cerelle pressing up against Elayna from behind. One of her arms lightly rests over Elayna's hips.

“Yes?”

“You have yet to make good on your promise and apologize to me. Properly.”

Elayna hums. She rolls over to face Cerelle. They both wait for a second.

“I suppose I can.”

*****************

“I don't want to marry Tymon.”

Elayna knows not the hour. She assumes early since the darkness seems almost oppressive. Elayna rests her head just underneath Cerelle's bare breasts. Cerelle sits mostly upright, lounging on some pillows. One of her hands rests on Elayna’s head, fingers gently intertwining into Elayna’s dark curls.

“You must.” Cerelle gently scratches Elayna's scalp in a comforting gesture. A tinge of sadness colors Cerelle's tone, though. Elayna buries her face into Cerelle's soft curves. She takes a moment to find her words, tasting each one on her tongue.

“He scares me, Cerelle. He scares me so much. I... I worry he means to harm me.”

Cerelle sighs. The bed creaks. Cerelle brings one hand down and places her fingers underneath Elayna's chin. She tilts Elayna's head up so she can look at her.

“He would harm you if you were betrothed to another.” Cerelle speaks bluntly. She never minces words when it comes to important things. “I hope Mother and Father realize this. Perhaps this is their way of mitigating damage. If you don't marry, violence is inevitable. If you do marry, mayhaps it will be... limited.”

“I doubt it.” Elayna frowns. She looks away into the darkness. Cerelle gives her that luxury. “He doesn't love me. He doesn't even like me. He just sees me as an object to own.”

“Most men see their wives like that.”

“I know that! But... I sometimes...”

“You sometimes what?” Impatience bleeds into Cerelle's tone.

“It feels as if he sees me as little more than a broodmare for prized horses.”

Cerelle doesn't say anything. She neither confirms nor denies Elayna's accusations. Instead, she takes a strand of Elayna’s hair between her fingers and gently plays with it. Elayna lowers her head. She shuffles up the bed some, intent on placing her head on Cerelle's chest to hear her heart beat.

“I can't save you all the time.”

“I'm not asking that of you.” Elayna huffs. “I can rescue myself if need be. I'm just... I'm frightened, Cerelle.”

Elayna's whole body trembles. Cerelle shushes her. She places her hand back on Elayna’s head. Elayna tries to relax into Cerelle's embrace; her body refuses to obey her commands. Every part of her tenses. Cerelle sighs. The sheets shift, a whisper of silk, as Cerelle reaches down with her free hand and takes Elayna's hand in her own.

Elayna waits for Cerelle to say something, anything. She waits for words of comfort. Cerelle stays silent for an uncomfortably long time. Eventually, Cerelle sits up some and presses a kiss to the top of Elayna’s head.

“Go to sleep, Elayna. We can talk about these matters in the morning.”

****************

Johanna calls for them after breakfast.

Thankfully, the two of them were already decent. Three years of practice means their timing is down to an art. No one ever expresses any suspicion.

“Cerelle. Elayna.” Johanna looks between the two of them. The pair sit opposite Johanna. Elayna’s back stands ramrod straight while Cerelle almost leans back in her chair. “ ‘Tis time to begin looking at the future. The Lord Lannister and I have discussed this, and we have come up with a plan.”

Elayna and Cerelle exchange a look. Elayna raises an eyebrow to which Cerelle blinks. Johanna watches them.

“One of Princess Helaena's ladies-in-waiting injured herself badly, to the point she must retire and go back to her family. Truly a shame what happened to her. Rumors are she is now a cripple. Despite how unfortunate this is, a princess should never be without.” Johanna meets Cerelle's eyes. “I have arranged for you to be one of Princess Helaena's ladies-in-waiting. She needs someone more confident than she, and I know you will serve her faithfully. Elayna, of course, will follow as one of your ladies.”

“We're going to King's Landing?” Cerelle grins. She looks to Elayna, eyes glittering with hope. Elayna grins softly in return.

“Yes.” Johanna nods. “Even though you are one of the Princess's ladies, I do expect you to spend time with your uncle. He will be able to provide valuable instruction. Your father would have sent you earlier, but now I believe you will be able to fully grasp any advice given to you.” Johanna turns her attention to Elayna. Elayna almost wants to shrink back. “You, of course, will ensure Cerelle's comfort and safety. I also think it would behoove you to accompany her when she visits with Tyland. You may learn things as well.”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Johanna places her hands in her lap. “Cerelle. You're dismissed. I wish Elayna to sit with me a while.”

Cerelle and Elayna exchange looks. Elayna doesn't move, even as Cerelle does.

“Mother.”

“Cerelle.”

Cerelle takes her leave then. Elayna adjusts her position in her chair.

“Tymon spoke with me.” Elayna watches Johanna. Before she takes a sip, Johanna indicates with a gesture for Elayna to be poured a goblet.

“Did he?”

“He said you spoke to him about a betrothal. Of him and me.” Elayna tries her best not to pout or look too sullen.

“Your father will accompany us when we go to King's Landing. Jason or I will suggest the idea then.”

Elayna frowns. She leans back in her seat. Johanna sets her goblet down.

“Elinor. If you would leave us.”

The servant curtsies before leaving. Elayna waits to hear the soft close of the doorway to the servant's quarters. Johanna eyes Elayna. Her hands rest in her lap.

“Do you not wish to marry Tymon?”

“ ‘Tis not that! I'm just... I don't mean to question you, but I do not see how I am the appropriate choice.”

“Tymon will need someone who can reign him in once he is in charge. Someone practical who knows the ins and outs of this place.” Johanna takes a drink from her goblet. Elayna tries not to fidget and keep her hands still. “Even if he were not set on you, you are the best choice. Whether you recognize it or not, you are everything but a Lannister in name. ‘Tis time that changes.”

Elayna purses her lips. She bites down on her tongue to keep herself from saying the immediate thought in her mind. Truthfully, she does not want this marriage; she wants no marriage as of now. It is inevitable, she knows. Elayna is acutely aware of this fact. It doesn't ease her mind on the topic.

Johanna stares Elayna down once more. Eventually, she places her goblet down with a sigh.

“ ‘Tis time for you to grow up.” Elayna nearly flinches at Johanna’s steely tone. “I know of you and my daughter. I have... indulged you both and kept your secret, but it cannot go on any longer. You both have your duties. I will not let our reputation be tarnished because you refuse to give up antics more suited to young girls. Indiscretions like this do not go on for several years nor do they go as far as it has. The time for that is over.”

Elayna trembles. Fear courses through her body.

“I understand, my Lady. Forgive me.”

“I keep this quiet not for you but for Cerelle.” Johanna’s nostrils flare. “I do not agree with what the two of you have done in the slightest. I recognize the impulse, but it cannot continue.”

Elayna dips her head. She feels frozen, stuck to her chair even though she wants nothing more than to run. Johanna clearly sees it. She leans forward and places a hand on Elayna’s knee.

“If you were a man, it would be done. Cerelle deserves a loyal husband. I meant it when I said you were one of us.” Johanna’s voice softens for the briefest of moments. When she pushes back to her full height, the harshness returns. “But you are not a man. It can't continue.”

“It can't. It won't continue.” The words taste bitter.

Johanna leans back in her seat. She picks up her goblet again.

“Good. To prove your commitment and to show you keep your word, you have a task. You are to target Prince Aemond. Find out what he likes, what he dislikes. Learn everything you can about him. Then, you will feed this information to Cerelle. I can't ask for a betrothal outright. The future is too uncertain. I can, however, obtain it other ways. When you come back, you will be betrothed to Tymon and marry him.”

Elayna nods.

“Are we in agreement?”

“Yes.”

“Look me in the eyes when you say it.”

Elayna blinks back tears. She clears her throat and poorly suppresses a sniffle. She inhales.

Lifting her head is the hardest thing she's ever done.

“We are in agreement.”

Johanna smiles. It doesn't meet her eyes; it's a socially expected smile. Her lips stay too close together, and her eyes blaze.

“Excellent. You are dismissed.”

Next chapter

#oc: elayna reyne #oc: tymon lannister #persephone writes #fic: wheel of fortune (the fool)#aemond targaryen x OFC #Cerelle Lannister x OFC #Aemond Targaryen x OC #Elaemond #OC x OFC #HotD OC #House of the Dragon OC

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ravewing · 1 year ago

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Could you talk about your infection au? I'm invested in it and I've been thinking about it all day

YES HULLO !! i dont want to spoil anything too much and im also working on a field guide sort of thing for the different stages of infection so im gonna try not to talk about those rite neow BUT im so glad that people r enjoying it! so id been seeing these scary mlp infection things ALLL over my tik tok feed for weeks and i was like .. yanno .. itd be really silly if i made this wof .. so i spent like 3 days mulling over what i could make the infection actually BE and i almost made it like the icewing plague but like it went scary but i didnt really know how to keep going with that so then i came up with a super smart idea which turned into this😋i dont wanna say where it started yet cuz ermm lore stuff but i will say that liek in the story the infection doesnt officially have a name yet so everyones just calling it like. the sickness at jade mountain. most of the infected originated IN jade mountain with the first symptoms being noticed in moon and turtle respectively, and then with the icewing students. i cant tell you guys how they got sick bc again . lore ..... but i think that its like kinda possible to find out. but i dunno. vulture and fierceteeth are also sick. there is ONE singular factor that unites these 4 + icewings, which miight b the reason WHY they got sick.kinkajou technically SHOULD be sick but she isnt for another reason that i cant say but if you really look into wof lore then i think u can figure it out idk. the infections transmitted via saliva/blood transmission, so mainly bites. tail barbs of infected sandwings are capable of spreading the sickness. there are 4 stages (5 if you count death) and it takes around 3 to 3.5 weeks for all stages to finish,, by ep3 the sickness has been around for ~2.5 weeks. the only KNOWN cure is amputation of wherever the infected area is,, so MUCH easier in early stages, unfortunate if its on an inconvenient spot, and impossible after hives start spreading. obvi flame had to be important bc i heart flame and i was like .. wait .. hes a healer in canon ...... so that worked out perfectly !! ik that in canon liana is like one of glorys MANY bodyguards but idc shes a healer here bc ermm i said so . also liana and mango r dating but i dont think that its relevant to the plot theyre just girlfriends in my head . as of right now kinkajou and peril are the only known immune dragons, with kinkajou for reasons currently unknown and peril bc . yknow . shes on fire . glory is in close contact with ruby and both kingdoms have taken measures to notify their kingdoms; the rainforest is under a sort of lockdown with rainwings on constant patrol/lookout for outsiders entering, they accept anyone who isnt infected to stay there for refuge while the skywing kingdom is in basically total lockdown other than ruby's messengers. ruby and glory also exchange their respective kingdoms medical knowledge, with the skywings having very good technology and rainwings having an expansive knowledge on medical herbs. nobody has heard from coral- the last thing she did was call for anemone's return back to the kingdom, and once she arrived, they all went underwater and have since then cut all outside contact. the mudwings are aware of the sickness but have so far done nothing about it; moorhen has warned her subjects but thats really it. i havent really decided what the sandwings or the icewings are up to but let me tell you guys its looking really rough for the icewings . so far it looks as though royal icewings are more resilient- tundras currently sick, but the sickness seems to be progressing much slower. this was initially believed to be because of the cold, but then other icewings started getting sick, and so its believed to just be a royal thing- likely something in their genetics. icicle is also sick but shes in stage 4 .. pray for my girl guys. lynx is helping snowfall out the best she can, but with the population getting increasingly sick seemingly spontaneously, its extremely difficult and stressful. the talons have quarantined sanctuary too. ok im outta characters but ya ty 4 the support!!

#wof #wings of fire #wof au #infection au #infection #fragariapathosis #yap session #idk if any of this makes sense its 2am and i did NOT proofread #fragariapathosis explained

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loquaciousquark · 10 months ago

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okay but pls to tell me about the horror of hunger

BOY WOULD I LOVE TO okay so, first, it is imperative to understand that it's Tavish's canon that Astarion kills her the first time he feeds. This is because in playing the scene the first time ever, I was in MP with @mystery-moose & @eponymous-rose, and it so happened that the scene triggered on Tav & it so happened that she rolled TWO NATURAL ONES on both those checks & outright died, and it was so hilarious and unexpected that it simply had to become an integral part of her story.

Except of course as I got to know the character over several playthroughs, I was presented with a couple of questions! Why in the world would Tavish (selfish, self-centered, uniquely concerned with her own survival early in the game) firstly allow Astarion to feed on her at all, and secondly, fail so fatally to stop him before he killed her? How can I reconcile the dice with the narrative?

What I realized on the second run, though, was that Tav was a street kid from the age of 14. She had to fend for herself completely, unable to even scrounge up protection from the Thieves' Guild, and I think there were a lot (a lot) of nights where she went to bed hungry, especially the first few years. I think she developed a bone-deep fear of that hunger, and I think recognizing that same hunger in Astarion's eyes on bite night is what pushes her over the edge to allow the feed, even though it's not something she would have ever agreed to in a million years otherwise.

She likes Astarion by now, even if she doesn't like like him, and along with her realization that she doesn't mind helping others altruistically (some of the early tief stuff) comes the same realization about her companions. (It helps that Tav has additional hangups about her worth as a person being tied to her utility, especially surrounded by people she sees as much more competent than herself; if she can make Astarion dependent on her in this way, she can cement her place in the gang and they won't leave her behind. This is why she fails to stop him when she should, and then can't stop him when she must.) (This entire relationship is initially founded on bilateral manipulation and I love it.)

Anyway, the fic will start with an exploration of those events, then hopefully will move into other expressions of hunger & its dangers for both Tav & Astarion. She sees his ostensible hunger for power & recognizes his true hunger for safety & freedom, both from Cazador & the sun; he sees her hunger for gold and understands she's actually after the security of a warm place to sleep with food in her belly & someone who'll notice if she dies.

I have strong ideas for the first half of this fic & more nebulous vibes for the second half, but I think it'd be a really fun investigation of the way their characters mirror each other, & I like the idea of examining what they think "help" looks like, ahaha.

Thank you for asking! <3<3<3

#quark replies #blackestnight #wip name meme #tavish gale #astarion #quark plays bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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anincompletelist · 1 year ago

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wip wednesday :D

THANK YOU @daisymae-12 I was so happy to see you in my notifs today and get to read more of your lovely work <333

I've had a terrible day so I worked on my angstiest wip - that's up for debate, but - and it started out as a drabble inspired by jamie ( @affectionatelyrs )'s fic but has kind of taken on a mind of its own at this point and will hopefully be part of a series. it's my first canon divergent-ish work so! exciting!

anyway, enjoy!

“I’m not even sure if she’d talk to me right now.” Alex picks at a corner of his quesadilla, offering an explanation when Henry glances curiously at him. “She kicked me out of the briefing today. She let June and Nora and everyone else stay, but I had to leave.”

“Oh, love,” Henry squeezes his ankle, and the muscle goes lax under his touch. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. You’ve done so much to help. I know they’re stressed about trying to tie up all the loose ends before the end of the term, but they shouldn’t be treating you like this all the time.”

Alex shrugs again, jerkier this time. “S’fine.”

“It’s not,” Henry amends. “But you’re too good to say anything about it.”

The world shifts again, the haziness budging in a little further. Good? Alex hasn’t done anything good. If he had, he would be up there with them now, making plans and running numbers and doing something useful instead of packed up and sent home like a kid in timeout.

It feels like the accumulation of the past six months of work is hitting him at once. Every sleepless night, every early morning, every ounce of time he’d spent working on projects that no one ever even bothered to take a second glance at. It’s all blurring together, settling over his shoulders like a weighted blanket and Alex is already so fucking tired. He feels like he wants to crawl out of his own skin and just float for a bit, curl up somewhere where he can manage to get a fucking breath in.

He grapples for the last of his quesadilla but, like everything else in his life apparently, it doesn’t quite go as planned. He means to lift it to his mouth, to take a bite, to chew it up and swallow it and behave like a normal fucking human being but instead his hand clatters to the plate and it wobbles underneath the weight of his fingers, lopsided, his quesadilla sliding toward the table as Alex watches it go.

Just before it reaches the wood, a hand appears to move it away, lifting Alex’s leaden wrist like a feather and moving further into his space. Henry, Alex reminds himself blearily. Henry is here.

“Do you want my help, Alex?”

FINALLY I'm early enough to tag y'all FIRST (thanks @daisymae-12 ;))

no pressure, but if you have anything to share! @kiwiana-writes @inexplicablymine @affectionatelyrs @firstsprinces @littlemisskittentoes @getmehighonmagic @wordsofhoneydew @magicandarchery @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @luainthewild @england-would-fall @read-and-write- @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heybuddy-drabbles !!!

hope you're all doing well and can't wait to hear from you! <3

#my fic #wips #wip wednesday #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince

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hannah-heartstrings · 11 months ago

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Sweet Surprise

During a trip to Skingrad, Lecrinn and Garrus decide to surprise each other. Early in the timeline, though I'm not actually sure how canon it is.

The lost sweetroll prompt fic. I spent half a month writing this, finished it, and went "meh." By then I'd worked on it to the point of not being able to tell if it was good or not, and I still can't tell.

So I'll just release it into the wild and you can tell me. (I do know some things I do and don't like but I decided to keep them to the tags.) From October 2022 but I'm still accepting concrit on it.

@druidx @babyblueetbaemonster @inkysqueed

---------

Cradling two sweet rolls in one hand Lecrinn held them close as she pushed the heavy door with the other. She opened it just enough to slip out, leaving the chatter and warmth of the busy inn for the street outside. It was also busy and warm but more tolerably so.

She squinted against the afternoon sun. Now that she had the sweet rolls it was time to find Garrus, after she dragged him all the way from Cheydinhal to Skingrad it was only right he get something out of it.

The roads were narrow between the tall stone buildings that arched above them. She weaved through their hustle and bustle. The street widened out into a fork, forward continued to more buildings and to the left, a statue of a horseman. There gazing up at the statue she found Garrus.

Catching her from the corner of his eye he turned and beamed at her.

She couldn’t help but smile back.

“I have a surprise for you,” he said as she walked up.

“So do I!” She stopped, both their smiles falling at the sweet rolls in the other’s hands. Looking back up at the other’s face they gave laughing smiles.

“I suppose we had the same idea,” he shifted.

She shrugged. “It’s a good idea.” His smile looked forced, he seemed to feel awkward, she didn’t know why and it was making her feel awkward too. “Well… this one’s yours,” she held one out and they swapped, both laughing a little. She noticed he only held one. “Did you already eat yours?”

“I uh,” he glanced down, “I don’t know how much money this trip will end up costing so I only bought one for you.”

“Oh…” she looked to her second one.

“You can keep it.”

“Nah, lets split it later.”

“No, you bought it for yourself, you can have it.”

She walked passed him. “One and a half sweet rolls is still more than I planned on getting.”

He tilted his head, he supposed that was true. Turning he saw her sitting on the round base of the statue. He looked startled. “Are you allowed to sit there?”

“I don’t see anyone guarding it.” Pulling the pack off her shoulders and beside her she rifled through it.

“What if you get in trouble?”

“Then you can just arrest me.”

He looked around before going over to sit beside her.

Finding a small cloth she wrapped up one of the rolls and put it in her pack. She then turned all her attention to the one in her hand, closing her eyes as she took a bite, savoring its sweet spice.

“Mmm!”

She looked to Garrus who was looking at his sweet roll surprised.

“They really are better in Skingrad.”

“Salmo’s sweet rolls are famous for a reason.”

“Perhaps we should get more of these before we leave.”

Her smile widened. “Does Cheydinhal have its own desserts?” She took another bite.

“There’s the thirty layer cake.”

She had to quickly swallow the bite. “Thirty layers?”

“They’re thin.”

“Why would you ever need thirty layers?!”

“No, they’re very thin, it isn’t much taller than a regular cake.”

“Oh… I’m having a hard time picturing it,” she gave a smirk, “I think I’ll have to see it for myself.” The smile turned more genuine. “Is it good?” She took a smaller bite.

“I haven’t got to try one, they’re expensive.”

The smile fell. “Oh.”

“I like the spiced root cake the Dunmer make, and there’s one made from something called marshmerrow, it’s a little too sweet for me but I think you’d like it.”

“I’ll have to try them next time I’m in town.”

“I’m also quite fond of the bread they make out of yams, though,” he lowered his voice, “I’ve been afraid to try it with scrib jelly.”

“What’s that?”

“…Maybe when you’re done with your sweet roll.”

Her brows rose.

As they continued eating she looked around, gaze catching on the red leaves of a nearby tree, its branches bobbing slightly.

He stared out at the street. “I have been trying to learn more about Dunmer culture, and not judge things that are different too quickly.”

She smirked to him. “Except for scrib jelly?”

“Well some things are easier to respect from afar.”

“Ah.”

“It is admirable though, because not much grows in the ashlands they have to find food elsewhere and they managed to get multiple food types out of something others wouldn’t see as such, they’re survivors, no matter the situation you put them in.”

She furrowed her brows. “I really don’t want to know what a scrib is, do I?”

“No.” Tearing a piece off his sweet roll he rolled it between his fingers. “I hope that learning more about them will help me be a better guard to them, like you said, at the very least, perhaps I’ll be a better man.”

Her smile lessened but turned more genuine. “You are a good guard.”

“I hope so, protecting everyone is why I became a guard in the first place.” Eating the bite his eyes lit up. He turned to her. “Does the Merchant Inn still make those blackberry tarts?”

“What?” She blinked, brain taking a second to keep up with the sudden topic change.

“I use to get them sometimes when I was training in the Imperial City.”

“Um…” she glanced off, thinking, before turning back to him. “I don’t know, I’ll check. If they do I’ll bring you some, unless they wouldn’t stay good… Maybe I’ll just have to bring you there,” she smirked.

“Hopefully that can be soon,” he turned back to his sweet roll.

She looked surprised. Did he mean he wanted the tarts soon or did he like her dragging him places? She looked away as she couldn’t contain the grin spreading across her face.

Turning back to him she saw he was staring at his dessert, the same awkward look as when she gave it to him. Seemed whatever had been bothering him never really went away. “What’s wrong?”

“I am grateful, truly, but since I wanted to surprise you didn’t know what I was doing and bought some too.”

“So now we have three sweet rolls,” she was confused as to how this was a problem.

“I just feel bad you had to pay for two.”

“Oh…” she glanced off with a smirk, “don’t worry about that.”

#tes oc #oblivion fanfiction #oblivion #the elder scrolls #tes #hero of kvatch #garrus darelliun #fanfiction #my writing #lecrinn #thiefguard #i don't think i like how they're talking about dunmer culture #it feels off to me #i do like the last line though #and though this scene might not be canon garrus liking ash yams is because it keeps cropping up in fics that don't get finished 😅#also when she says he's a good guard i thought it also said she looked sad because he didn't know how much that meant coming from her #but it's not there? or in my cut file? so apparently i didn't write it?#i think it would've been better with it #also their reactions to the thirty layer cake came from me reading about it on uesp and thinking the rich of cheydinhal had gone too far #and my mom pulling up a picture to show me that the layers are paper thin XD

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jessenitrogen · 2 years ago

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cybertronian anatomy ?? (headcanons)

FAIR WARNING, I STILL DONT KNOW THE MOST ABT TRANSFORMERS, I KNOW THERES A TCOG AND A SPARK BUT THATS IT AND ALSO WHILE I DID TAKE ANATOMY CLASS I FORGOT A BIT OF IT BUT and doesnt help I know next to nothing abt mechanics stuff

and another fair warning, the headcanons are canon to ME when I put them in the context of my continuity and exist bcuz I thought of it to fit in my continuity/my designs bcuz fuck it we ball

DENTA/TEETH/DIGESTIVE SYSTEM?

I think the purpose of their denta would not to chew but to bite into energon. Theyre metal beings, that are BIG in most cases, I believe they have a bite force strong enough enough to bite into energon in its mineral state.

For denta appearance, (while I dont know the best shape there is to cut into rock) would be sharp teeth, yknow pointed teeth. Some cybertronians have sharp pointed teeth and then there are some who dont. Well heres the kicker since these guys can also transform, I feel like they can alter their denta shape as well. highly compacted plates that can loosen and move when need be or something. Their sharp teeth can pop out like that HTTYD scene with Toothless popping out his teeth

They dont have tongues, cuz they dont taste, or use it to swallow, or use it to talk. They just kinda. Lean their helms back to get energon into their throats, like birds!!

And they dont need a tongue to formulate their speech, for their voice box is like, a literal box that generates sound waves that is the cybertronians voice. A cybertronian moves their mouth as to not muffle their voice.

While their denta is not designed to chew, in order to get energon into a shape/size that can get to their version of stomachs, their throats grind the energon into smaller bits so it can travel easier through their esophagus. or whatever the cybertronian equivalent is.

Once the energon gets to their stomachs, its melted down into a liquid state so it can flow to the spark where it is essentially "charged" and then can flow throughout tubes and circuits and power their bodies/frames and systems. And I believe, the cybertronians were created in such a way that they can utilize every component of energon so nothing goes to waste.

Cybertronians were created before the technology was made that could convert energon into a liquid state. That tech was made as to cut down digestive time and save energy that could be used for other things.

SKIN/INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM

idk what cybertronian skin is called and I barely remember what the integumentary system is other than its skin it helps regulate body temp and helps fight infection?

ANYWAYS their skin is like a very flexible metal, its thinner in parts where the frame has more armor, but thicker in places that dont have armor to compensate for the lack of armor.

Here in this thin layer of metal are receptors that can sense touch and pain, and like idk abt this part but wanna say there is a thin layer of wire net/mesh that can either warm up or cool down as a way to assist the cybertronians ventilation system (ventilation system does most of the work when cooling down the frame)

This layer can repair itself over time. It can also be replaced with external metal if the layer is too damaged. During the early times of the War for Cybertron injuries were repaired with external metal. This external metal did not include touch/pain receptors or the wire net/mesh that assists with temp regulation. Those who were frequently repaired with this external metal have some resistance to pain but have the tendency to overheat, in severe cases need an external source to cool down their frames. ie, dipping in water

Cybertronians need to stay at a constant temp, normally a LOT warmer than we do, in order to keep the energon in a liquid state and stay warm during the nights on Cybertron. If they get too cold the energon can solidify again and cause blockage in circuits and tubing. But if their frames get too hot, the processor can fry, circuits can melt, etc

EXTRA/HALFBAKED HEADCANONS

these I dont have detailed thought on atleast yet, but

They wouldnt have noses. they dont breathe, or smell, so.

They dont have ANY reproductive organs, internal or external. They cannot reproduce with eachother or by themselves. their numbers only increase bcuz of the Allspark

AND THATS ALL I HAVE rn I'd like to state here and now that these headcanons definitely apply to all of my characters and my continuity versions of canon characters. and like, no one has to agree with them or use them but it's also cool if someone does

#transformers #maccadam #tf #tf mythos #fan continuity #headcanon #speculative anatomy #anatomy #cybertronian anatomy #transformers oc #tf ocs #transformers prime #tfp #au #transformers au #rambling

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c9kefestation · 8 months ago

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Heyo!! :3!

Heard you had some Penguin Band hcs, care to share what they are? The Penguin Band is so coolness

OMG I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS QUESTION THIS EARLY AAAAAAAAAAA /POS

even though im very happy to be sharing them im also very nervous aswell. i was rlly overthinking my hcs how to word them, which ones to add cuz there are a lot of micro ones, throughout my time writing this, hence why it took me so long to respond. however i think its just best to kinda bite the bullet cuz youll never know how ppl will feel ab them if u dont talk ab them.

tried to keep these hcs more generalized and keep some of the more basic ones, alongside throwing in some more fun ones. any details or other hcs that arent here will prob show up in future content

with all that being said, pls let me know if any of these hcs stray way too far from the canon or come off as wrong or offensive

LETS START!

Franky:

Trans! (love how this is a universal hc in the fandom lmao) he/him

Dyslexic, Stompin' Bob is mainly the one who lends him a helping hand when he's having a hard time

When he's stressed or nervous he'll pick at the feathers on his flippers (kinda like picking at nails/skin)

He can be very self conscious about his appearance/body (this was especially heavy during his first years in the band). Ofc his bandmates and Cadence are always there to reassure him and comfort him whenever it bothers him

His main love language/way of showing affection is words of affection, correlating to the previous hc

He's a big mamas boy TEEHEE

He loves snacks (especially limited edition ones) and freshly cut fruit

Petey K:

Trans aswell! he/they

ADHD

When in thought, heavily stressed or nervous, he'll bite his flipper(s) or the inside of his mouth.

His love language is gift giving and physical affection (cuddles and such)!

When they stick with their band, he'll usually stand pretty close behind one of them or hold onto their shoulder so as to kinda ground himself.

He REALLY hates seaweed, he finds it overstimulating and disgusting

He usually has a sensitive stomach, although he can be a bit careless with this at times, he tries his best to be wary of what he eats and drinks

They're very crafty and artsy. A lot of their gifts are handmade!

Although this kinda doesnt match up with his outfit, he likes to wear long sleeved shirts

He's near-sighted. Even though they have myopia glasses they always stick to using contact lenses

G Billy:

Gay and/or MLM, he/him

Neurodivergent

When he's very stressed or overstimulated, he'll hit his head or squint his eyes heavily

His love language is acts of service, he's more of a man of action, mainly he cooks for his friends, memorizes their favorite meals, or brings them stuff when they need them

He and Cadence are step siblings! Him being the oldest (his dad and her mom being their parents)

Unlike Petey, he really likes seaweed! So if Petey ever has seaweed on their plate, they throw it over to him

He's camera shy! He's more comfortable in photos when he's with his friends or family, but paparazzi type situations can really stress him out

Although he does like to party, he tends to stay a bit reserved and cautious

and finally...Stompin' Bob:

Either Bisexual or a Straight Ally, he/him

He has two moms and 3 siblings

When in thought,anxious,stressed he'll twirl his hair or pull it

His love languages are words of affection and gift giving? he basically writes poems and cards and gives them as gifts or he sends articles to his friends abt smth he overheard them saying they liked

He has the biggest passion for music and can get very serious with it, often overworking himself and staying up to make songs

He's the most hot-headed and defensive, either over his passions, friends and family, it's not that he's mean, it's just that he cares a lot

He's far-sighted so he uses reading glasses.

And i think ill end it here for now, ik theyre kinda messy but i tried my best to give a fulfilling answer. Hope you like 'em! And ty for asking op!

Edit: ALMOST FORGOT 2 HCS FOR SB AND PK </3 they're there now

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 1 year ago

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batman recommendation anon!

i've been looking to get back into comics lately so i'd be up for a bigger series

i prefer a more serious tone but typically try to avoid gore simply for the sake of it

i don't know if this is canon to the comic books, but i like the kind of partnership between catwoman and batman in some of the movies

oh, ideal! this is such helpful information, thank you!

bearing in mind that these are some personal preferences, my taste is what it is, more recs are welcome but nobody give me shit about my shit:

Batman: Year One (Frank Miller and Mazzuchelli, 1987) - this is a short, 4-part series that locked down the new official origin story for Batman after Crisis on Infinite Earths. it's pretty serious but not gory, following Bruce and Gordon as joint protagonists as they each struggle through their first year protecting Gotham. Selina is also present whooping Bruce's ass before they ever become Batman or Catwoman, and if you want to see more of her side of things there's a Catwoman mini-series (Mindy Newell, J.J. Birch, and Michael Blair, 1989) that takes place alongside the events of Year One (warning for that one dealing much more heavily with the violence Selina was facing as a sex worker!). also I don't know how important the art is to you but I LOVE the art in year one, it's so moody and evocative and really makes the most of an extremely minimalist palette.

for serious, self-contained stories you really can't do better that Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale's triptych of the Long Halloween (1996), Dark Victory (2000), and When in Rome (2004). the Long Halloween is iconic for a reason, taking you on a tour through Gotham's rogues gallery early in Batman's career when costumed villains are just starting to overtake the old mob families with a newer, much more unpredictable breed of crime. the story is fairly simple - an unknown killer strikes each month on a holiday, and Batman, Gordon, and Harvey Dent are on the case - but sweeping and atmospheric. the sequel, Dark Victory, sees young Dick Grayson added to the Bat-family, and When in Rome follows Selina on a solo adventure to Italy seeking out information about Carmine Falcone. you only need a broad strokes understanding of Batman lore to follow along with the plots here, and Bruce and Selina's relationship in here is interesting and tense because they only know each other as Bruce and Selina, while Batman and Catwoman are still unsure how much they're on the same side. also I just really like how Loeb writes Selina, especially when she gets to be the star in When in Rome.

for a story that is part of the larger Batman narrative at the time but can be read as a standalone, I like Heat (Doug Moench and Russ Heath, 1993)! It's a 4-part story from Legends of the Dark Knight, a series whose rotating cast of writers and artists could introduce a brand new Batman story every few months. Heat is a pretty grounded crime story, featuring Batman, Catwoman, and Gordon all chasing a cat-themed serial killer while Gotham is in the grip of a crushing heatwave. aside from the costumed vigilantism of it all it's a relatively grounded story, with Catwoman dealing with the fallout of being a suspected murderer and Gordon having to quell racial tensions that arise in the city when the serial killer is suspected of being a Black man.

skipping WAY ahead in time, can I tell you about Their Dark Designs (James Tynion IV, Tony S. Daniel, Danny Miki, and Tomeu Morey, 2020). TDD runs from Batman vol. 3 issue #86-94 and is SUCH a fun story, centering on old plans that the Batman's fab four - Catwoman, Joker, Riddler, and Penguin - made in the early days of their crime careers coming back to bite everyone in the ass and rock Gotham to its fucking core. Bruce and Selina's relationship is very central, as she's officially made the leap to be more hero than anti-hero as she works alongside him, and it's very grounded in well-known characters while still serving up just a heap of premium bananagrams comic book bullshit. the plot is convoluted but a lot of fun, I had a great time with it and I infamously don't care for modern comics. this is important: you will be tempted to read what comes immediately after this. it's Joker War, and it's very bad. do not say you weren't warned.

lastly, if you want to get Catwoman-heavy I cannot recommend Catwoman: Lonely City (Cliff Chiang, 2022) nearly enough. although it takes place in a Gotham 20 years after Batman's death, Selina is still heavily influenced by her relationship with him and spends much of the series trying to puzzle out the legacy he left behind. it follows her fresh out of prison in a Gotham where Mayor Harvey Dent has outlawed costumed vigilantes and criminals alike, and you get to see Selina fighting to rebuild her life when the entire world around her has changed. you get middle-aged versions of classic characters - Selina, Dent, Barbara Gordon, Killer Croc, the Riddler - and some sparkling original characters - Edie Nygma, my beloved!!! - taking on a world after Batman, once again requiring very minimal knowledge on behalf of the reader to just sit back and enjoy the world. also, I'd be remiss if I didn't point out that Cliff Chiang's art if fucking gorgeous.

#batblogging #bruce wayne #selina kyle

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keepsdeathhiscourt · 8 months ago

Text

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature (18+ Only)

Story Summary: It's been ten years since Lucie LeMarche last set foot in New Orleans. But when she's forced to return to bury the woman who raised her, she finds herself pulled into the midst of rising supernatural tensions in the city. Entangled in a web of intrigue and seeking answers, Lucie must learn to navigate a powder keg of warring factions, family secrets, and old wounds if she hopes to survive.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Language, Death, Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Family Drama, Gore, Depictions of Violence, Death

Series Masterlist

Read on AO3

Chapter 14: Reunions

Dirt skitters across the pavement as the last weed comes free. Her nails are edged in soil, a pile of discarded overgrowth at her side. The sky, though clear and cloudless, does little to allay the bite of early winter that permeates between the stone structures.

She pulls her jacket closer and leans back on her heels to admire her handy work. Though the LeMarche burial vault is weather-worn, the oldest names fading from centuries of hurricanes and scorching summers, the aura of neglect lessens with her efforts.

She isn’t sure why she does it — the dead don’t care about patches of dandelion and clover. But gazing upon the names past from her ancestress Melodia to her own parents, she’s struck by a sudden weight—the kind that comes from being one of the last of something.

No birds chirp. The high walls drown out the sounds of life beyond. All is quiet, as she runs a hand over the freshly chiseled plaque for Violette, leaving a smudge of dirt in its wake .

Gravel crunches, but she doesn’t turn when she hears the footsteps behind her.

“Why are you here, Agnes?” she asks. “Going to finish me off?”

Agnes lets out a sigh like rustling leaves.

“This cemetery is sacred ground, Lucie. You’re not the only one here to pay their respects to the dead,” she explains, with the forbearance of someone talking to a child. “We’ve had to bury too many of our own.”

She steps into her peripheral, brushing her fingers over Monique Deveraux’s grave marker. Lucie watches the breeze bat at a curl that’s come loose from her head wrap and can’t help but notice how grief-stricken she looks.

It makes her angrier.

“Too many that you put here, you mean.”|

Agnes turns her head, dark eyes locking on Lucie with a sudden intensity.

“Spoken like a naive girl,” she says. “One day you’ll learn that responsibility is being tasked with things that make your stomach turn and doing them, anyway. It’s the way of the Ancestors.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what, Lucie?”

She pushes herself to her feet, brushing her hands off on her jeans. “Act like this was all unavoidable. That what you did to Violette—to those little girls—was justified.”

“I only did what was asked of me—”

“Oh, please,” Lucie scoffs. “You’re not a martyr, Agnes. You’re a monster—”

She sees the flash in Agnes’ eyes too late.

Pain explodes in her right cheek, her head snapping to the side as she strikes her.

Cradling the tender spot, she finds Agnes looking nothing less than rattled, eyes wide. She takes a step back, distancing herself from Lucie.

“You don’t get to lay your judgment on me, Lucretia LeMarche,” she says, clasping her fingers together to stop her trembling hands. “You know nothing of the demands of the Ancestors, of what we stand to lose.”

Lucie inspects her stinging cheek. The abject fear on Agnes’ face cools the brunt of her anger. For once, she holds her tongue.

“There’s so much you don’t understand. So much Violette spared you.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t. Everything is in motion. All I can hope is that I can get that last little girl away from Marcel before the vampires do something I can’t take back.”

“Marcel? The vampires? What are you talking about?”

“You really don’t know,” Agnes says. Lucie hates the pity she sees in her eyes. “Marcel Girard has Davina. She’s been with him since the Harvest. That’s how he keeps us from using magic. I would have thought your vampire friends would have told you.”

So the girl they were trying to lure out, the one that has Elijah, is Davina?

The implications are too much for her to tease apart right now. So instead, she asks, “And what about Hayley and her baby?”

A shadow passes over Agnes’ face, her eyes downcast. “Another regrettable casualty. But a mercy, so she doesn’t have to see what her child will become.”

“What—”

Lucie cries out in pain, clutching her head. Her temples throb, the space behind her eyelids screams as if every blood vessel contracts at once. It’s a wonder she keeps on her feet.

Agnes rushes to her side. By the time she puts an arm around her, the white heat is subsiding into a more bearable thrum.

“What’s wrong?”

She shrugs her off and staggers back, chest heaving.

Sweat prickles her brow. She wipes it away. “I’m fine. Just a headache.”

“Does this happen often?”

There’s an edge to her question that gives Lucie pause. “Sometimes, but never like this.”

A glance upward reveals Agnes’ knit brows, her taut mouth. Carefully, she asks, “And these headaches, do they come with nightmares?... Maybe seeing things that aren’t there?”

That sends Lucie’s racing heart to a standstill, her blood turning to ice.

“Why?”

With every moment that Agnes doesn’t respond, just stares at her with that frightened, pitying look, her own fear only grows. “Agnes?”

“I’m so sorry, Lucie.” Her voice is barely more than a whisper. “I never wanted this for you.”

“Never wanted what?” she fires back, demand belied by the tremor in her voice.

Agnes closes the gap, sweeping Lucie’s hands between her own. They’re soft and warm.

“A storm is coming,” she says, holding her stare. “One that I’ve done my best to shield us all from. But soon there’s going to be no place to hide, even for the likes of the Originals…. I only hope you remember where you belong before it’s too late.”

She squeezes her hand before leaving Lucie alone amongst the dead.

____

The violin is impeccably crafted with its fine rosewood body and balanced weight. Even with a splintered neck and the snapped, coiled strings, Elijah can tell it’s priceless. And likely an heirloom, if the wear marks are anything to go on.

“Do you play?” he asks the girl, turning the instrument over to inspect the back.

She stops her drawing, turning in her chair to look back at him. When her eyes land on the broken violin, she frowns.

“It’s…not mine,” she says, eyes misty.

Elijah settles into a spindly, slatted chair. He occupies his hands, tinkering with the bridge, keeping Davina in his periphery all the while.

She’s a fascinating girl, extraordinary power aside. He’s spent most of his time since awakening watching her and has to concede to being impressed. Willful, brave, and wise beyond her fifteen years, he cannot deny a burgeoning respect. But she’s also guarded in a way befitting someone who has seen more than their fair share of hardship. It is a strange characteristic in one so young.

The sound of approaching footsteps breaks his concentration. Abandoning the violin on a nearby table, Elijah takes cover behind a dressing screen.

“Good news, Little D,” Marcel’s voice booms from the doorway. “I’m moving you out of this pile of dust.”

“Are you serious? When?”

“Tonight.” He can hear the strain in Marcel’s voice beyond the jovial timbre. “I just need to lock in the arrangements. How’s our Original?”

Elijah tenses, ready for whatever reaction Marcel might have when he finds the coffin empty.

“Uh, don’t disturb the body!” Davina cries. “I have a spell in progress.”

“Bet you do. Pack up, okay? Only what you want to take. I’ll buy you anything else you need.”

“Okay.”

Elijah waits until the footsteps have retreated beyond the staircase before leaving his hiding place. “You didn’t reveal I was awake.”

She gives him a small, shy smile. “We’re not done talking yet.”

He crosses the room, picking up the violin before returning to his seat to continue his inspection. Despite the damaged neck, the body remains unmarred. It would be a simple thing to repair it.

“You and Marcel seem very close,” he says, nudging her towards the matter at hand.

“Marcel’s my family.”

He does not doubt for a moment that she means it and knows that she is the sort to defend her loved ones with ruthless ferocity. It is a trait they have in common, which is why he needs to approach his next words with tact.

“And yet Marcel is someone who delights in harming the witches. Those people, I would think, you would consider family. This doesn’t trouble you?”

The answer is immediate, ringing with all-consuming conviction. “No. They deserve it.”

He pauses, violin resting in his lap.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because they’re liars.” Her lips curl into a snarl. “All of them.”

“You are referring to the Harvest?”

Her eyes flash at the mention, her posture rigid. Disgust and indignation roll off her in waves, not unlike Lucie when she’d first told him the story.

“What do you know about the Harvest?” she asks, suddenly wary.

“I have had the benefit of learning many things in my centuries of life, the Harvest Ritual among them,” he says evenly, careful not to reveal too much of his involvement. “It is a passing knowledge, at best. I would not turn down the opportunity to hear about it from one who experienced it firsthand.”

Blue eyes level him with a hard stare, assessing him for any signs of deception. Then, she eases, sitting on the bed across from him.

“We were led out like princesses. My mother was so proud,” she starts, somewhat wistfully. “Bastiana, one of the elders, called upon the four elements to bind our past and future magic together. Earth, to connect us to our ancestors. Water to heal the community. Wind, to carry us to our ancestors and back. Fire to purify. After all our preparation, we knew exactly what to expect. For weeks, they told us that the magic in the knife they used to cut our palms would put us to sleep and that later, at the Reaping, we would all be resurrected. They said we’d awaken, and all be together and more powerful than ever. And it was just like we rehearsed it. All that was left was a little cut on our palms for the blood sacrifice.”

He holds still, knowing what comes next and dreading it all the same.

“That isn’t what happened. They only said it to lure us out. It wasn’t until Bastiana cut Abby’s throat we knew the truth.”

The image is clear. In his mind’s eye, he pictures the innocent girls, their smiles and pride fading to horror at the sight of blood.

“Everyone involved in the ritual knew that this would happen?”

She nods. “Except the four of us. They weren’t putting us to sleep, they were slaughtering us!"

He hums in sympathy, eyes softening as he watches her curl in on herself. Gently, he prompts, “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here with Marcel.”

She sighs, arms encircling her knees. “Every girl who died released her power onto the next. When I was the last one, I suddenly had all of it — all the power that was supposed to be released back into the earth to appease our ancestors.”

His breath catches. “So... the Harvest was actually working?”

Davina straightens up, jaw clenched. “Something was working. And I knew I was supposed to be killed so the Harvest could be completed and we would all be resurrected. But they lied to us about how they were killing us. How do I know they weren’t lying to us about coming back?” she pauses, reining herself back in. “But mostly, I just didn’t want to die. So, I let him save me. Marcel saved my life.”

It makes sense. The tenderness Marcel exhibited towards the girl when he’d entered, the affection and trust that she holds for him. Only one question remains. Elijah has the sense it will be the most important. “Marcel is very determined to keep you hidden. Is it because of the witches?”

“Yes,” she says with a trembling breath. “They want to find the Harvest.”

He sits up straighter, leaning towards her. “And to finish the Harvest-”

“I have to die.”

____

The house is far from empty when she returns. Lucie follows the sound of voices to the parlor, where she finds Sophie Deveraux on the couch. Flanked on either side by Klaus and Rebekah, standing, she seems to be on the receiving end of an interrogation.

Positioned near the fireplace, Hayley leans against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. When Lucie gives her a small wave, she turns away.

She ignores the snub, assuming a position on a far wall to watch. It only takes a minute to pick up on the topic of the heated discussion—the Harvest.

“So not only is there a price on my child’s head, but the witches are maneuvering to increase their power tenfold.”

Sophie chimes up, indignant, “This isn’t a power play—”

“And you,” Klaus pays her no heed, rounding on Lucie. “Where have you been?”

“I—”

“No matter. Sophie here has just told us the most enlightening story about the Harvest.” His expression blackens in an instant, voice low and deadly. “Did you know about it?”

Lucie takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“And you didn’t feel the need to share that information?”

The veiled accusation smarts. Lucie stiffens. “About a ritual that happened before I came to town that I thought had nothing to do with anyone outside the witches? No, I didn’t.”

Klaus’ veneer of calm shatters, along with a priceless bottle of bourbon. She watches the amber liquid seep into the floorboards.

“I give you shelter, protection and you repay me with secrets!” he roars. Behind the murderous expression, she can see the flickering embers of hurt.

She pushes it down and, hackles raised, says, “Thank you, Klaus, for kidnapping me and holding me captive in the middle of nowhere. I’m so grateful.”

“Lucie—” Rebekah warns, eyeing her brother uneasily.

She charges on, “Speaking of secrets. Were you ever going to tell me about Davina Claire?”

“What do you know of Davina?”

“Enough to know she’s in the city and under Marcel’s thumb,” she says. “And that you let Katie die, so he might let you close to her.”

“How dare you accuse me in my home?!” He takes a menacing step towards her. Though it takes everything she has, Lucie doesn’t flinch.

“Well, that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Taking her for yourself so you regain control of the city.”

“My plan is none of your business, witch.”

“Of course not.” She scoffs. Then, turning to Sophie, asks, “And you’re just okay with all of this?”

“No, not really.” she says, leaning against her knees to cradle her head in her hands. “But I’m still linked to Hayley, remember? I’d like to get the witches off my back, and this seems like the best way to do it. Now, if we’re done here, the bodies of those witches are still out there and time is running out.”

“You can’t tell me you’re going out there to consecrate them.”

“Their magic needs to be returned to the earth. I can’t just let them sit out there and rot. We look after each other.”

“Like they looked after you?” It’s a low blow, Lucie knows it. “Or Jane-Anne?”

“Don’t play high and mighty with me, Lucie,” she says, rising to her feet. “You only reject the old ways because they rejected you first.”

“Lucie, what is she talking about?”

“You didn’t tell them?”

Rebekah rolls her eyes. “Yes, yes, we all know Lucie is on the outs with your coven.”

“But did she tell you why? Did she tell you she—”

“Don’t you dare.”

Lucie is in front of her in an instant. Barely two paces separate them, just enough for the ghosts of their dead to squeeze between. The windows rattle, and though she can’t be sure which of them is responsible, the air sizzles with the promise of more magic.

“ENOUGH!” Niklaus roars, stepping between them.

The curtains settle, the atmosphere settles, and Lucie and Sophie continue to glare daggers at each other.

“I don’t claim to be perfect, Lucie,” Sophie says, backing down. “But at least I’m trying to make things right.”

All eyes turn to the source of a shrill, repetitive melody. The tense moment is fully punctuated when Klaus picks up his ringing phone. “Marcel. Bit early in the day for you, isn’t it?”

Lucie takes a step back but monitors Sophie. It seems the caution is mutual.

“Rather you than me. All that responsibility seems like such a bore,” Klaus pauses, smiling at something on the other end. “Dead witches in the Bayou. Sounds like less of a problem, and more like a cause for celebration.”

That earns him a glare from both Sophie and Lucie. He continues, unbothered, “Oh, why not? Haven’t been to the Bayou in ages. I’m on my way.”

He hangs up the phone, turning to address no one in particular. “Duty calls. I’m needed with Marcel out in the Bayou. So I suppose this will have to wait.”

Rebekah walks out, signaling a mass exodus out of the room. Sophie’s on her heels. When Hayley heads for the door, Lucie follows, desperate to understand whatever is going on with her. She’s stopped by a firm hand on her chest, the weight just below her clavicle shoving her into the wall beside the door frame. The wood molding bites into her lower back as she looks up in Klaus’ ice chip stare.

“If I find out you’re keeping anything from me again,” he jabs a finger in her face, “I’ll rip out your heart and feed it to you. Understood?”

Lucie squirms in the hold, only to find she can’t budge an inch. Before she can reply, Hayley passes by the entry again, bag in hand and heading for the front door.

Still holding Lucie in place, he snaps, “And just where do you think you’re going?”

“Rebekah’s taking me into town,” she says without slowing.

In his distraction, Klaus’ grip loosens. Lucie seizes the opportunity to break free, slipping under his arm to trail after her.

“Hayley!” she calls, but Hayley wrenches open the door, not stopping until Lucie adds, “Wait!”

She turns around, arms crossed over her chest. “What do you want?”

She glances over her shoulder, only to find Klaus already gone.

“Where are you really going?” When Hayley doesn’t answer: “Just please, please tell me you’re not following Sophie back out to the bayou.”

“And if I am?”

“You saw what happened at the clinic. You can’t trust them.”

“Well, it must be a witch thing,” she says, voice clipped and eyes blazing. “Because apparently I can’t trust you either.”

Before Lucie can utter a word, she’s gone, the door slamming shut behind her.

____

I have to die.

The simplicity is jarring, even to Elijah. “That’s what the Harvest was. They said they’d put us four girls in a state of, like, peaceful limbo as part of the offering. And then later, at the Reaping, we’d awaken and be reborn. I never got as far as the limbo part, which means the Harvest isn’t complete. That’s why the witches are so freaked out. The Reaping is just around the corner, and if they don’t finish it before then, it’s over. All I have to do is wait it out.”

“And then what?”

“They’re punished, and I’m free.”

“From Marcel or from the witches?”

She shakes her head, smiling. “Of magic. All our power will drain away. I’ll be normal.”

“Is that what you want?” he asks, stunned. “To be normal?”

She shifts, tucking her legs under her. “I just don’t wanna be what I am. I can’t control it sometimes. Magic. I…”, her eyes well with tears,”... hurt people. Even when I don’t mean to.”

Elijah rests his arms on his thighs, clasping his hands together in a show of patience.

“Why don’t you tell me about your friends? You must miss them.”

It works. The tears abate, chased away by a melancholy smile. “There’s Tim. He doesn’t know about any of this witch stuff. He’s normal. My best friend, Monique. She was a part of the Harvest too.” She pauses, something bitter creeping into her expression. “She’s lucky. No one ever fought for me, but someone fought for her. The only one who ever spoke out against the Harvest was Monique’s aunt."

“You’re speaking of Sophie Deveraux.”

She confirms with a nod and they fall into silence, each lost in thought.

He’d known from Lucie about Sophie’s involvement in the mess they’ve all become mired in. Yet he had been so focused on her connection to Hayley and her baby that he had overlooked her true driving force. All the while unaware of Davina’s presence in the city, or how her involvement lays bare the true motivations of the witches.

When he rises, his mind is still a churning eddy. He hands the repaired violin to Davina.

“You may return this now to its rightful owner. It’s restored.“

She takes it from his hands with a sad reverence and mutters, “I don’t even know if I’ll see him again. “

A tear rolls down her cheek and then another just as the room quakes. Candles topple from their holders, breaking into slivers of wax when they hit the ground. The mirror and the chandelier rattle, as they exchange worried looks about the room before locking on each other.

The window shutters burst open. And then, all at once, the shaking subsides.

Once settled on solid ground, he closes the distance.

“Davina, this power that you contain, drawn from your fallen friends—- it’s too much for you. You need control, which requires study, practice, and guidance,” he says, wheels turning. “Now, my mother was a very powerful witch. She left behind her grimoires, a legacy of books filled with spells. These books contain all the tools that you might need to control your magic. If you free me from here, I can share them with you. However, if you leave now with Marcel, we’ll never see each other again, and I cannot find you, and I can’t help you.”

“You mentioned guidance,” she replies. “But you can’t do magic.”

“No, but I do know someone who may be able to help you.”

Her eyes narrow. “The witches manipulated me. You know how that ended.”

The threat is implicit, but even knowing she could tear him into a million pieces with her borrowed magic, Elijah is undeterred.

“This is not manipulation. This is one thing in exchange for another. I’m offering you a deal.”

____

Lucie is still reeling from her conversation with Hayley when she arrives in front of Cami’s apartment an hour later. The words bounce around on an endless loop, stinging all the more for the truth in them. If she hadn’t been so guarded or even thought to tell them what she knew, she could have avoided much of this unpleasantness. She hopes there will be time to clear the air later and some space might make it more productive when she tries.

The sound of hollow rapping bounces off the sun-bleached walls of the narrow hall as Lucie knocks a second time. There’s shuffling on the other side, a muffled ‘just a minute,’ and then the bolt slides, the door opening to a crack.

“Lucie, what are you doing here?” Cami pokes her nose out of the gap, her messy bun balancing precariously on top of her head. She steps back, pulling the door open wide to reveal the rest of her, clad in a zip-up and sweatpants. “Come on in.”

Lucie steps through the threshold into Cami’s apartment. The walls are a pale blue, accented with houseplants on white shelves, and the window is framed in gauzy curtains, giving the place a peaceful, airy feel. She thinks it suits the inhabitant very well.

“I dropped by the bar, but Toby told me you called out,” she says, holding up a container of soup from her favorite spot. “You feeling alright?”

“You shouldn’t have.” Cami takes the container from her hands, heading into the kitchen with Lucie behind. “I’m not sick-sick. Just… needed some time away from the bar.”

She pulls two bowls from a cupboard, portioning the steaming soup out between them, and handing one to Lucie before slipping into a seat at the compact dining table.

“Thank you.” Lucie joins her, eyeing the bouquet of lilies in between them. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you okay?”

Cami pulls at the edges of the floral tablecloth, twisting the fabric between her fingers. “I never told you, did I? The reason I came back here?”

When Lucie shakes her head, Cami rises, soup forgotten, as she heads a modest bookcase. She returns to her seat with a faded frame.

“My brother, Sean,” she says, handing her the frame.

Lucie takes it, inspecting the image of a teenage Cami next to a boy of roughly the same age with sandy hair. The pair sport identical smiles.

“I had no idea you were a twin.”

“He was older than me by a whopping two minutes and never let me forget it. I don’t think anyone else in the world was sweeter or more gentle. He was my other half.”

Lucie can’t help but notice the past tense, shifting a fraction closer to her while she waits for her to continue.

“I moved away for grad school, but Sean stayed to join the seminary at St. Anne’s. My uncle is a priest, and he wanted to study under him, and maybe take over someday. I talked to him a week before. He seemed fine, thriving even. That’s why it was even more shocking when he…when he,” she struggles through, swallowing hard. “He killed the other students and then himself." She takes a deep breath. “Today would have been the day he finished seminary.”

“Cami, I’m so sorry.”

“I just can’t stop thinking; if only I’d asked the right questions or listened better, done something, I would have known how much he was struggling. Then I could have—”

She’s cut off by the dry sob that wracks her body.

Lucie snatches her hand, wrapping it between her own. “Cami, look at me. You did nothing wrong.”

Cami’s eyes well with tears. “And I’m so scared that it’s going to happen to me. I’m missing chunks of time, leaving things out I don’t remember using, blacking out, and coming to hours later. What if I’m losing it? What if one day I snap too? I don’t want to hurt anyone, Lucie.”

“You won't, Cami." Her sudden conviction seems to offer some comfort, and it steels her resolve for what she came here to do.

“I brought you something,” she says, retrieving the small box from her purse and sliding it to her.

“What’s the occasion?” Cami eyes her with suspicion but pulls it closer all the same. “I don’t do pity gifts.”

Lucie snorts. “Good, because I don’t give them. Just open it.”

Cami pries the lid open, her mouth agape, when she pulls out a delicate bracelet. The intricate sun and moon charms jingle as she holds it up for inspection.

Lucie smiles. It was always a favorite piece, one that she would fish out of Violette’s jewelry box often as a girl to fawn over and admire.

“It’s beautiful, and it looks antique!” she gushes, turning the piece over in her hands. Then, looking up at Lucie with wide eyes, says, “Seriously, this is too much—”

“It’s been collecting dust for way too long,” Lucie shrugs. “It doesn’t fit me and I figured it deserves some miles. Consider it a thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being my friend,” she says, eyes glued to the tablecloth.

Laughing, Cami crosses to the other side of the table and throws her arms around her. It’s like the sun coming out from behind the clouds and though the angle of the hug is awkward, Lucie eagerly accepts the embrace.

“Here,” she says when she pulls away, “let me help you put it on.”

____

Lucie returns home moments after Rebekah and Hayley and finds them in the front room.

“I don’t care if we have to get you a leash. That was your last trip to the Bayou. What is it with you and those wolves, anyway?” Rebekah asks, pouring bourbon into two glasses from a crystal decanter.

“I feel like we’re connected somehow. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just some pipe dream I have of finding any real family out there. But sometimes, when I feel like it’s me against the world, it keeps me going.”

Rebekah hums in sympathy, handing a full tumbler to her when she stops short. “Oh, right. Here, Lucie, take this and stop lurking in the doorway.” She presses the drink into Lucie’s hands, ignoring the sudden tension as Hayley catches sight of her. “Well, if you ask me, family is a pain in the behind.”

Hayley only rolls her eyes, taking her leave. As she goes, Rebekah calls after her,“And as for being in it alone, how dare you? I don’t ruin a perfectly fabulous pair of boots traipsing through the Bayou for just anyone.”

As soon as her tall frame vanishes around the corner, Rebekah turns to Lucie. Eyebrows raised meaningfully, she levels her with a loaded stare. When she refuses to acknowledge it, she nods towards the direction Hayley has gone.

Incredulous, Lucie stares back.

They stay locked in a silent battle of wills until—

“Fine.” Lucie sets her bourbon on the nearest end table and follows the sound of Hayley’s retreating footsteps into the study, where she finds her in a seat by the window, staring out at the vestiges of sunlight.

“What do you want, Lucie?”

“For you to tell me what the fuck is going on between us. You haven’t said more than two words to me, let alone look me in the eye.” She takes a steadying breath. “Is this about the Harvest?”

Hayley’s silence is the loudest of confirmations.

She takes a few tentative steps forward. The floorboards groan. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the Harvest. If I had known it would come up, I would have told you, I swear.”

“I know.” The words sink like lead. Hayley’s eyes glass over, the hurt in them morphing into something more guarded. “And if it were just that, I could understand, but it’s not. You’re supposed to be my friend, but everything I know about you I’ve found out secondhand.” She folds her legs under herself, using the momentum to turn and face her. “Everyone else keeps me in the dark like I’m just a mindless vessel for this hybrid miracle baby. Don’t do that to me too.”

She hates the pain she sees in Hayley’s eyes, hates the way life has taught her to shoulder everything alone. There’s truth to her words too, and it stings like salt in a festering wound. When she prods it, she finds that she’s angry. Angry at Agnes for luring Hayley out into the woods, for speaking in riddles instead of giving her the truth. She’s angry at Klaus for his harsh treatment of the mother of his child. And she’s angry at Hayley too, for refusing help and not seeing her rescue as the act of care that it was—for both her and Rebekah.

Lucie’s expression hardens, her defenses rising alongside the anger. “Trust works both ways, Hayley.”

Hayley’s eyebrows knit together. “What’s that supposed to mean? ”

“What do you want—the lone wolf act or support?” Lucie erupts, throwing her hands up, surprised by the depth of her hurt as the dam she’s been holding back bursts. “It doesn’t work both ways. You almost died going to that clinic!”

“Are you saying the witches that attacked me were my fault?” Her brow quirks, her voice dangerously calm.

“Of course not, but you could have asked me! You could have done literally anything else besides traipsing blindly into the middle of fucking nowhere with Agnes! You don’t have to do everything alone.”

Hayley shifts, turning to face her, her expression a mixture of surprise and indignation. “I thought I was doing what was best for my baby. I didn’t know who else to trust.”

“You can trust Rebekah! You can trust me…”

“Can I?” Hayley’s eyes soften, but the hurt is still evident. “Because it feels like you’re keeping secrets and I’ve had more than enough of them to last me a lifetime.”

Lucie steps closer, prompted by the stirrings of regret.

Hayley’s expression shifts, a mix of calm and resolve. “I need to know what’s going on, Lucie. I can’t be left in the dark anymore.”

“I understand.”

They each hold their ground, still some distance apart, but Lucie can feel a trembling in the wall between them.

Until Hayley says, “About what Sophie said earlier…”

Suddenly, the room feels too hot, the air too thin.

“I promise I’ll tell you anything else,” she says, an edge of pleading creeping in. “Just not that.”

Hayley meets her eyes. Beyond the anger, she can sense disappointment and suddenly she misses the fire.

“You know what, fine.” Hayley’s voice is tired. “If you feel like talking, you know where to find me.”

And just like that, she’s gone.

Lucie stays there until the room is doused in darkness, save the faint light of a lamp in the corner, undisturbed until the sun fades and the shadows grow long. She isn’t sure how much time has passed, settled on a cushion near the fire, only that when she hears footsteps behind her, it does not catch her off guard.

“If you’re here to gloat, Klaus, I’m really not in the mood.”

“It’s a good thing I’ve always found gloating to be in poor taste,” says a familiar voice that sets Lucie’s heart thundering.

Her head whips around so fast, it’s a wonder she doesn’t give herself whiplash. But it’s worth it, any discomfort forgotten because there, in the doorway, is—

“Elijah!” she exclaims, dropping the book in her hand scramble to get to her feet.

“Hello, Lucretia,” he says. Though his expression is placid and his hands are tucked into his pockets, his eyes are warm when they meet hers. When they finally sweep over the rest of the study, he adds, “My, I do love what you’ve done with the place.”

Her face flushes at the mess of books, papers, and cushions behind her. Feeling sheepish, she considers an apology but instead asks, “How are you here?”

“A rather long story, one that will have to wait for another time. For now, I want to talk about you." His lips quirk in response to her perplexed look and he says, “Imagine my surprise to find that not only have you taken up residence in my family’s home, but endeared yourself to its inhabitants.”

“I don’t know if that’s what I’d call it.”

“Then we might have to agree to disagree. My sister may be obstinate and guarded in her affections, but she’s never been inclined to dishonesty unless she deems it necessary.” When she quirks an eyebrow, he explains, “She told me about everything you’ve done, for her and Hayley.”

She sees herself through his eyes, imagining her red-rimmed eyes, her mussed hair, and the exhausted slump of her shoulders.

“You’ve been alright?” he asks, so gently that all her anger is replaced with an unexpected lump in her throat.

Unable to summon any words, she nods.

He searches her face, following up with a scan of her from head to toe as if to confirm. A hand settles on her upper arm, his eyes lingering on her neck and she swears she sees something like fear flash in his dark eyes.

The twin puncture scars on her neck that throb from time to time with phantom pain are too far away from his gaze, the marks nearly faded to white.

His grip on her arm tightens a fraction and when she looks up in question, he’s a million miles away.

“Elijah?” she asks, slipping out of his grip to wrap her fingers around his forearms to get his attention.

The faraway look vanishes, replaced with his usual alertness. Their eyes lock, and they stand there for a half-second too long.

A thud overhead breaks the spell.

Suddenly all too aware of the taut muscles of his forearms beneath her hands, she drops them. Face hot, Lucie pulls away.

“You must have missed them,” she clears her throat, inclining her head towards the sounds of muffled conversation. “Go on, catch up. I’ll be here.”

“I can’t help but feel like much has passed in my absence. Will you tell me? When matters are not so dire?”

She smiles, “Only if you tell me about how you got out of that attic.”

“It’s a deal.”

He’s turning to leave when Lucie summons up her courage. “Oh, and Elijah?”

He casts an inquisitive look over his shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re back.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners. “So am I. Goodnight, Lucretia.”

#elijah mikaelson fic #elijah mikaelson x oc #elijah mikaelson x ofc #elijah x oc #elijah x ofc #the originals fic #original female character #elijah mikaelson #originals fic

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distortedclouds · 2 years ago

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Hey!!

Hey, @moonspirit !

Wanna guess?

Wordcount: 1290~

Tags: Armin's PoV, Smut, Fingering, Post-canon, VOICE KINK, PRAISE KINK

Crime Motive: This post

Special Thanks: The Ultimate Guide to Writing Smut Fic on AO3 and the Smut Thesaurus on Tumblr

Bon appétit I threw this up in a couple of hours or something. Also it's like super vulgar so...

Armin’s become a bit of an asshole, he’s aware.

Not to the public: ‘they adore you!’ he’s been told, and that’s great! It’s all he could’ve hoped for and more when deciding to carry the weight of the new world on his shoulders, but… he did become a bit of an asshole. To Annie.

It’s been far too many rescheduled promises, early mornings, and late nights that left their bed deprived of the shared weight of their bodies. Today, Armin hoped would be an exception to the rule. Alas, it wasn’t. The clock’s longer hand had quietly ticked just past the swirling eight figure engraved on its face when he first caught Annie’s gaze in the mirror, wandering with great disinterest around the far-too-fancy bathroom. A couple more minutes had gone before he’d caught her drawn-out sigh of boredom, except it never is just that.

People often say that if you cared enough about something, you’d make time for it. Well… they might’ve been right.

“I’m sorry we don’t have time, Annie,” he says, keeping his voice low because he’s truly remorseful.

“Quit apologizing already!” Annie bites back a moan with her teeth dug into her lower lip. He doesn’t see it, from where she turns her back to him, but he knows that tone of voice. He’d pulled it out of her dozens upon dozens of times by now.

“But I really am~” he purrs against her shoulder. Armin breathes in the smell of the long day clinging to her clothes. How it now merges wonderfully with her own unique scent from where her thighs flex and rub against one another beneath the constricting material of her pencil skirt.

“You know how I’d love nothing more than to unzip your skirt,” he trails a palm down, slowly from her waist to her hip, his fingernail repeatedly catching on the ridges of the zipper.

She gasps and jerks in his arms where he holds her to him with a forearm around her middle, and fuck because he’ll never be over how easy it is to get her to this point. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was faking this whole thing. Luckily, Armin does; the long whines adorning her voice and the quiet moans held deep in her chest carry out an image of herself that's dangerously vulnerable and open and needy that he can’t help but always push her for just a tiny bit more.

“Just a tiny bit,” he breathes right next to her ear, but her harsh bite into her lower lip is successful. What a shame. “I wouldn’t need to get it all the way off. Just low enough so I can bend you over that sink over there,” he taunts and the incoherent sputter of syllables to leave her mouth is probably his name, “right against the mirror.”

“F-Fuck!” her voice beautifully shatters in the low echo in the small room, her body squirming where he continues to grip her tightly to him as her fingers attempt—and fail—to grasp at the glossy tiles lining the wall.

“But I can’t, unfortunately.” Armin glances at the clock, where the pendulum dances back and forth with audacious tick-tocks that personally challenge him. “So, how about you take care of it for me, sweetheart?”

The stubborn ‘fuck you!’ that Armin expects doesn’t come. Instead, one of her hands leaves the wall the little vanity they sit on is pressed against and replaces his hand on the zipper. For Annie to comply this easily… he must’ve been pushing her for quite a while now, huh?

He really has become an asshole.

Armin watches over her shoulder as her shaky fingers drive the pull down the metallic teeth, allowing the skirt to sag around her hips. Just enough room for her to slip her hand down the waistband and for her legs to spread a couple of inches wider. “I’m really sorry, Annie,” he groans and the only reason she doesn’t elbow him right in the liver is because she doesn’t hesitate before pressing her fingers against her core, making herself cry and plead for everything he can’t offer her at this very moment.

“As much as I like having you like this,” his voice strains in his throat in accordance with the suffocating fabric around his crotch. “You know I’d much rather us be in our bed.”

She nods, her hair bobbing into a mess around her head and falling over her flushed face. With the movement of her hand bulging at the front of her skirt, heavy pants begin to carry more of her voice, little whimpers and mewls that he knows are nothing but seedlings for much, much more.

“Maybe with your legs over my shoulders, so I can fuck you as deep as you like it,” he says, getting enough satisfaction when Annie, with all her soft moans and sweet scent and silky hair, melts back against him and her knees buckle even with her seated.

There’s a short pause in her rapid breathing, but it doesn’t last long, concluded in a long groan that dissolves into a low and desperate—and absolutely shameless—whine that Armin believes he should be punished for not swallowing whole—fuck he’d reeeaally pushed her far.

When her thighs struggle against the restraint of the skirt, Armin deduces that she must’ve already slipped a couple of her fingers into her cunt, and from what he can see from her wrist, she’s straining to push them further in.

“Armin!” she begs, breathless and hot, and ah, he must’ve been quiet for too long.

Choosing to loosen the arm around her torso, now that he no longer needs to actually hold her to him, he drags his palm to her lower stomach, just above the junction of her hips, and presses. “It’s because you like having me right here, don’t you? You like feeling full?”

This time, her only response is a low sob as her hips begin to buck and push forward and against her fingers. She’s close. So close. Armin urges her into leaning her head back on his shoulder, he kisses her cheek and the corner of her jaw before moving down her neck.

“You’re doing great, Annie,” he rasps, voice raw where it scratches deep in his throat. “Just a bit more. Come on.” He continues with a trail of all the absolute nonsense words and phrases he’d come to accumulate over the years. Everything that she loves to hear: from little encouragements that appear vulgar the more Armin considers them, to pet names and her name, which make the tips of her fingers tremble and her gaze completely unfocused. All things that had never failed him in getting Annie to slur her words and abandon all pride for the sake of a release between his arms.

“Armin!” she hisses, urgently.

“Yeah, I know,” he reassures her, freeing one of his hands from around her and shooting to press it hard against her mouth right as she pushes herself over the edge. Armin takes a moment to mourn all the cries and shattered moans that meet their demise as quiet vibrations against his palm. It’s good motivation, really. If he wants to hear them in full, then he better stop fucking around and make time!

Armin waits for her hand stops working under her skirt before he lowers his own from her mouth, leaving her to catch up on her breathing. Her body is still a puddle against his, with him supporting the majority of her weight against his chest. It’s not until he hears one particularly satisfied sigh that he kisses her cheek with a comically loud smack of the lips, “That’s my girl!”

“Oh, fuck you!”

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aruani #aruannie #not sfw #my fic #oh nothing just an asshole assholing :)

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gontagokuhara · 1 year ago

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OKAY I FORGOR💀 TO MENTION THIS actually idk if I already said this but I LOVE the way you write kokichi? Like kokichi's jesterism clowncore energy is not talked about enough in this fandom, he's not just a lying troll, he can also be a corny little canned-bit filled jokester! He can be your angle! Or yuor devil! But he and Kaede give off such an "annoying little brother"/"exhausted oldest sister" vibe in pointy objects it never fails to make me laugh and also feel feelings!

Also ngl writing my lil (literally >2k) review gave me the energy to do my writing assignment so thank you for indirectly but also directly contributing to me not failing my class LMFAO

hi hello!! first of all thank u again for ur very sweet comments i keep rereading them . actively working on the next chapter and i reread them like an hour ago <3 also you are so me re: the writing thing literally i am writing this long ass response out as a warm up to getting started on the chapter again I SEE U. solidarity u got this class

as always below the cut because i like to yap (no spoilers butttttttt call it a small hint of what's to come next chapter)

ANYWAY !!! im glad people like that choice <3 his general silliness tends to get lost in canon in the midst of such a heavy fraught situation (where his dumbass is instigating fights constantly......) and so i feel it more natural to have it bleed into him in pointy objects you know? his backpack also offers just unreal opportunities for clownery and i can't help myself. i have issues with a lot of canon/fanon portrayals of kokichi so with him (as i do miu, and kiyo, and kaito, etc) i like to do the classic mogul move yoink & twist. i take character that needs fixer-uppering, mash 'em around like playdoh, and make them mostly the same but......better in my humble opinion. i feel like i do that pretty well with kokichi, and hearing those choices are appreciated makes me very happy <3

in that vein the kaede/kokichi dynamic is SOOOO important its one of my favorites ive worked into pointy objects i think. justice for my real protag kaede BUT her biting the dust so early both robbed canon content of what a friendship between them could look like. but it also gives me LOTS of room to pick up their barbie dolls and make them have good moments together. speaking of pointy objects canon, they arrived at camp within about a year of each other, before a lot of the other mainstay demigods began living there full time. gonta, miu, kaede, maki, and kokichi spent a lot of time as the only ones at camp; kids like kirumi/tenko/himiko/angie/kiyo are all summer-only, and full-timers ryoma, kaito, and kiibo came later (ages 14, 16, and within a few months of sonia giving them a soul [roughly the same stretch of time as ryoma's arrival], respectively).

all that lore TO say: kaede and kokichi grew up together in a lot of really important ways, and the dynamic that developed over the years very much is that exhausted older sister/exhausting little brother who are fiercely and kind of unexpectedly protective over one another. i could go on about all of the early full-time campers' dynamics because there's a lot within those five especially that i've like. developed in my brain? but havent fit into the 170k words 💀 the mind palace of spiderwebbing character relationships is very vast for how much has actually made it into the fic.....but wink wonk we WILL see a taste of it this next chapter

and finally, re edits: i did my one BIG edit fest back in may, and since then there haven't been any major changes. that said, i do reread the prior chapters quite often (checking details to make sure new writing doesn't have any discrepancies, getting myself back in the headspace to write shuuichi's voice, etc) and do occasionally find typos or phrasing or sentence flow i like changed, so i do fix those as i see them. that said, i DO know what you're talking about with chapter 3; that was a chapter i did pretty majorly redo in may, and there was definitely some redundant word use and odd sentence structure i went back and corrected. but i haven't made any changes that drastically alter the contents of the story; not more so than i did back in may, at least!

ok this as always got very long but it was as always very fun to answer!!!! thank you again for all your support MWAH MWAH and im sure we'll make contact again soon enough!!

#ask #bittercideristaken #pointy objects #ALSO.......when i think about you in my brain im split between calling you 'bitter' or 'cider' DO u have a preference <3

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visualjyushi · 2 years ago

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body mods list: mika + the oddballs edition!

* reference for my shu/mika-focused tattoo artist/piercer enstars au

i have terrible memory so this list is for my reference, but i figured i'd post it w/ some notes if anyone was interested in my thought processes <3 feel free to ask me abt any of them bc i am very (coughs) passionate abt body mods if it wasn't obvious. if ppl like this, i may make other posts for other characters that appear in the au.

Mika

he has 13 piercings and rei did most of them! shu has obviously done most of his tattoos but he has some done by the other members of the shop!

piercings: paired nostrils, septum, right eyebrow, navel, snake bites, tongue, two sets on his earlobes, and a secret 13th piercing (will be revealed at some point in the fic hehe)

note on paired nostrils: they were his first facial piercings! when he first got these done, he got an amber gem in one and a lapis in the other to help him feel better abt his eyes

note on snake bites: he always wears rings in his lip piercings bc studs feel weird in his mouth (me when I’m projecting)

butterfly tattoo on the left of his neck - done by leo!

butterfly on his abdomen; placed so his navel piercing looks like the body of the butterfly! - also done by leo!

tattoo over his top surgery scars: monster-like mouth with spiky teeth across his chest - bc he so would have a creepy tattoo, this was also his first tattoo by shu!

acanthe-inspired half sleeve of flowers on his right arm

shu’s flash designs sprinkled across his arms: winged votive monument, antique teddy bear, porcelain marionette doll

pink/purple gummy bear tattoo - by chiaki! in a blank spot on his arm in between shu's works

Shu

she has a lot of ear piercings! she was wataru’s first client when they were under their piercing apprenticeship and many of their first attempts at ear piercings were done on her! she also has many tattoos, almost completely covered in them, but she is careful abt preserving the life of them on her skin, usually always keeping them hidden from the sun.

20 piercings across both ears: 8 starting from her lobes up to her helix (cartilage) on each ear, a rook on both sides, daith on left side, and tragus on the right!

she also gets another piercing that is revealed later on in the fic...

sternum tattoo of roses - done by kuro!

mademoiselle tattoo on her upper right arm - bc I must always reference madonee somewhere in my aus hehe

big back piece of a biblically accurate angel - done by leo!

valkyrie (as in the figures in norse mythology!) piece on her left thigh - she tattooed this on herself! since shu is trans fem in this au, I thought it would be perfect for her to have a powerful feminine symbol tattooed on her, and what better choice than to also reference her unit name!

silly little minimalistic croissant on her inner right ankle - a tattoo she got when she was out drunk with the oddballs one night in her early 20s

two sleeves of ornamental designs that include hearts, flowers, and lacey details - this style of tattoo gives off a more feminine vibe due to its intricacy, which i felt was perfect for trans fem shu. the decorative style also reminds me of the architecture in old churches and museums so it felt very shu-like to me! also blends into a frame around her madonee tattoo

Rei

i wanted to give him some more intense mods, like *scarification, since he is one of the characters that has been in the industry the longest! and i think rei has a complicated relationship with gender in like a neurodivergent way, feeling very masc but more like a creature rather than a human (me wanting to keep the vampire thing he got going on in canon), so i wanted his mods to convey this! i also hc he's had many piercings in the past but he's retired a lot of them, so he doesn't have too many anymore.

*note: since this can look pretty gnarly when initially done, i do not recommend looking up images if ur squeamish! so quick crash course for those who don't know: it is basically the removal or branding of skin into a pattern or design. it's like the cousin of the tattoo! the skin is typically raised in these places once healed over, thus creating a scarred design on the body!

stretched labret - he has a 0 gauge black stone in the middle of his bottom lip!! (roughly the size of a dime)

stretched ears - decently big at about 1 inch or 25mm

also a couple helix piercings on both ears

little bat tattoo over his heart - meant to symbolize ritsu since he cares for his little bro so much!

both arms mostly covered up in black ink - cover up for some terrible tattoos he got/was forced to get when he was younger

dark lettering that wraps around the sides and front of his neck - a tattoo font that looks like intricate black ink line work at first glance but actually says "demon king"

tattoos outlining the skeleton of his hands

maybe some other tattoos but i haven't decided 100% yet

scarification: a cross on the right side of his face - bc rei's old hairstyle revealed this part of his face more, he wanted to get smth there, but now it often hides behind his bangs

split tongue - one of my personal faves for rei

Kanata

he hears a piercing being named after a seashell and is like "wataru i have to get that!!!" wataru also did his ear piercings while under their apprenticeship with rei :) bc of sensory issues, i hc kanata would not want a lot of piercings. since he's very laid back, i do think he's the type to get piercings/tattoos just bc he thinks they're cool!

basic lobe piercings and conch piercings on both ears - w/ jewelry that look like sea shells!!

tokusatsu themed tattoo sleeve on his left arm - chiaki did this sleeve!!

fish gill rib tattoos - similarly to rei, i think kanata doesn't Really see himself as completely human either due to a complicated view of his own gender!

marine life themed tattoo sleeve on his right arm - just several colorful fishies and other creatures he likes!

little chibi cthulhu on his ankle - by izumi!

big octopus tattoo on his left hip - wraps around his thigh and torso bc it's so large

Wataru

they love being symmetrical, so a lot of their piercings are in pairs! all in shiny white gold and/or blue-hued gems. rei also did a lot of their piercings which is how they met!! they're not as big on tattoos, bc they can't sit still for too long!!

piercings: angel bites, cheek piercings, surface anchors beside the eye on both sides (ref), basic lobe piercings, two helix piercings on each ear, navel, paired & centered eyebrow piercings

note on eyebrow piercings: i love the placement for these (i actually have these piercings) as they sort of resemble a clown look and wataru is my silly little clown!!

tattoo sleeve on left arm of flowers and doves - by shu ofc! and she complained every single time wataru moved even a single inch lol

Natsume

he likes meaningful piercings! i write him as trans masc in this fic, so most of them are gender affirming in some way. also put a lot of magic theming into his tattoos!

piercings: stretched septum, septril, navel, tongue, nipples, small stretched earlobes, industrial on left ear, helix piercing on right ear

note on stretched septum: usually only wears a plug in this one, so it's not noticeable from the outside! this piercing symbolizes his journey being on hrt bc he got his septum pierced the day he started hormones <3

note on septril piercing: his jewelry top is a pentagram (ref) since this one can look a little confusing, here's a great vid by a very knowledgeable piercer explaining how it works!

nipple piercings - i hc that hrt made natsume a lot more comfortable in his body, so he decided to pierce his nipples instead of get top surgery! we love trans ppl reclaiming their comfort in their bodies in this house

font tattoo that says "sweet magic" below his navel

crescent moon tattoo behind right ear & star tattoo behind his left

trail of black sparkles and lime green smoke twisting around his right arm - this tattoo goes all the way down to his hands and some of his fingers

death tarot card tattoo on upper right arm - shu did this one :) ! this is also symbolic of his transition!

love potion tattoo on lower right arm

cyber sigil heart tattoo on lower back - I guess this is what the style is called, it looks kinda y2k inspired. sorry, I really wanted natsume to have a tramp stamp leave me alone.

also cyber sigil heart tattoos framing his knees - probably his most painful tattoos!

#moon.txt #fic rambles #mika kagehira #shu itsuki #rei sakuma #wataru hibiki #kanata shinkai #natsume sakasaki #enstars

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reapcrbunny · 2 years ago

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( 🐇 ) HANDS WRING AS SHE chewed her lower lip at first, the relatively new dubbed warrior of light not at all sure how to go about any of this. she was thrilled to know that her friends were safe but . . she still held guilt over being so easily framed for a crime she DID NOT COMMIT.

< I AM SORRY. that you and everyone had to go in hiding. >

@glorytomankind liked for a starter for papalymo !

#glorytomankind #{ help i know its early canonically but canon can bite me }#( HEAVENSWARD V )ㅤ ㅤ ( ㅤ 🐇ㅤ )ㅤ ㅤ — ㅤ WITH THUNDEROUS CHORUS THE VAULT CHANGES ALL

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smallestapplin · 3 years ago

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• Bitty

(*Cries in corner and refuses to look anyone in the face*, okaaaay this went through like several rewrites, I still can’t write dialog or canon characters for the life of me and with the constant running to your blog and onestepbackwards for inspiration… and just like figuring out what and how to write smut it probably is gonna feel very same-y to what you’ve already written BUT-! Here’s my first attempt at smut, be honest but go easy I will cry T^T)

(Context, this takes place before Reader knows about Emmet and still early in the relationship, Reader uses they/them but is AFAB.

Warnings/triggers: Smut so 18+only, size play/size kink, animalistic traits/features on humans, biting, mild sexual aggression.)

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Life was… odd and yet comfortable after pair bonding with the Alpha hybrid Zoroark of the area, Ingo. An incredibly large and intimidating fellow but with the kindest heart you’d ever had the fortune of meeting in person let alone having him choose you as his mate.

There was still an adjustment period right now, he’d helped you move from your burrow and into one of the nearby caves so the two of you could better cohabitate but that seemed to come with its own issues, mostly it was needing a stool to get at anything. Ingo did his best to help you but with the size of his territory he was gone most days, admittedly behind his back you were using your burrow more often or not still but like Today you returned to live with him when his rounds brought him back and the two of you could spend the next two days and the night together.

He was actually running a bit late today which had you slightly worried, you’d keep yourself busy though preparing dinner for later; the two of you might not eat the same things but it didn’t take you much more effort to just make meals more catered to omnivores, it didn’t hurt either of you so long as you only ate such things a few times a week… which given his absence most of the time is what it figured out to about.

A sigh as you finished and he still wasn’t home you stepped down from the kitchenette area and dragged your stool so you could hop up onto the couch, it was pretty minimalistic, more a wooden bench with furs thrown on it but it was comfortable all the same as you sprawled out with a contented sigh and closed your eyes to rest.

It’s well you are resting Ingo returns, silent as the late night as he steps soundlessly through the thin hidden entrance to your shared den and he finds you napping, pink fur making you stand out like a beacon against the dark furs of the couch. He smiles softly thinking of not disturbing you but all the same he pads over so he can softly cup the side of you face in a single large hand, stroking your cheek before leaning down to kiss your temple in a loving manner.

You groaned and eyes fluttered open only half lidded with a tired look before you saw him and gasped, despite the large Alphas attempt to pull back your hands fling out to grab his shirt and tug for him to come back, which he obediently does a love struck look on his face as you demand to know what took him so long! Where had he been! And you missed him dearly.

He could barely get a word out between but was smiling despite the scolding tone as you lead him up and onto the couch, resting his body over yours like a weighted blanket, his arms propping himself up slightly on his elbows making his mass comfortable instead of crushing and leaving you feeling secure as you so easily fit under him wholly and truly hidden beneath his bulk.

In the excitement of your tender yet quick kisses he moved his arms allowing him to cradle the back of your head with large palms well his fingers curled able to stroke your long ears base well his thumbs moved under your chin to tilt back so he could kiss you proper.

It was supposed to be short and sweet, yet he found himself dragging it out he’d missed you so much and the sweet taste of your lips was swiftly becoming deeper as he kissed harder threatening a bruise from the passion, you hummed; back arching as a move to be closer your chests pressed tight you snug and pinned between his bulk and the unmoving frame of the couch.

You moaned softly and he shifted to suck on your lower lip before he took advantage of your gasp to move back and slip his tongue in you mouth lengthening the session until you were forced to break it for air.

Cheat lightly heaving you shift to wrap your arms around his neck nuzzling into his shoulder as you teasingly joke he must have really missed you to greet you like that~

He blushed the beginnings of a muffled apology cut off as you locked lips with him and ground your hips against him drawing a deeper blush and a moan out of him.

Oh you were not letting him back outta this, well you two hadn’t done the deed yet you wanted to fix that, now.

But you could already see him getting nervous of going much further then your usual make out sessions, you were so much smaller and he’d voiced before a fear of getting to worked up and hurting you in the act.

But you remain soft spoken and confident, it’s okay, everything will be okay, the two of you can go slow and if he gets too anxious you can stop.

He’s the one to come up with a safe word, you both agree to teacup and with a little bit of gentle coaxing he hesitantly leans back down to kiss you.

He starts at your lips before trailing down your jaw, at your neck he starts sucking lightly and nipping the skin, he shifts on arm wrapping under your back to hold you closer despite still being pinned before he simply runs his tongue over your neck in full causing you to moan and squirm softly before he continues down to your shoulder, kissing and nipping and likely leaving more then a few spots that would become hickies later.

He started to trail down to your collarbone and gave a soft growl when he was interrupted by the fabric of your dress. A soft giggle from yourself and he had slipped his hands under the skirt before lifting and taking the whole thing off you in one swoop leaving you in nothing but what you were born with.

He’d paused just staring over you making you just a bit self conscious and worried as you attempted to start covering yourself with your hands, faintly blushing and looking away before he was quick to grab your hands to expose you chest again and after licking his lips started on your collarbone again between each kiss and nip reminding you how beautiful you were, how perfect you were to him and how he was going to treasure every inch of you.

It made you shiver in a good way but squirm all the same under the praise and affection earning you a harsher nip and him tighten his hold on your wrists with another hefty growl that lingered at the back of his throat.

He paused seeming to gage your reaction, those piercing silver white eyes staring at you for any signal but you not telling him to stop or using your safe word seemed to spur him on as he started down your chest, he had to pull you out from under him a bit to get at your breasts, removing his hands as restraints to instead hold your torso, mouth at work on a nipple, sucking and nipping and teasing with his tongue before switching to the other. He couldn’t get over the taste of you and opened his mouth able to take your whole left breast in sucking on it as his tongue still worked and teased the bud at its tip.

You squirmed and moaned until he let go and nipped at your skin again before moving his hands to squish the flesh orbs together and then run his tongue between with a low rumble of blissed out glee.

Having his fill he started down your stomach hands sliding down to grip you hips as you’re pushed you up and out from under him and into a seated position as he starts on you thighs, you’re squirming, despite for him to get on with it with soft pleas but a sharper nip to your inner thigh makes you yelp before you feel him kissing and licking the spot to sooth it quick enough.

He’s so close though you can feel your core and clit throbbing for attention and whimper and call his name.

Seeming to acknowledge your pleas he holds you hips spreading them as wide as he comfortably can kissing along an inner thigh until he works his way to your heat.

Then, from hole to clit he runs his tongue making your back arch and head throw back as you moan grinding you hips against his face well your hands move up in an attempt to muffle yourself.

Not that it was all that necessary or long lasting as Ingo’s loud grumbling moan fueled growls you were practically drowned you out noise wise. His hands slip up, moving from your thighs to cup your ass and force your hips up as exploratory licks turned to full on tongue fucking as he nuzzled in and reached his tongue as far into your core as he could manage.

It was so much very quickly and you couldn’t help but squirm and buck against his face as the wave of pleasure hit and you’d find your hand gripping his hair tight trying to force his head down more leaving him moaning against your clit.

Your breath quickened, your chest started to rise and fall heavily and your vision blurred before calling out to your mate you were about to go over the edge.

His response was to throw your legs over his shoulders and sink his tongue in deep before you clenched down and came.

He slowed as you came down, lapping up your slick in a way that made your over stimulated body shutter but get a few moments of rest. Chest still heaving a bit you even out your breathing loosening your grip to gently stroke his hair instead causing your mate to give an odd growl of a purr that made you smile.

It was fine until you tried to wiggle loose foolishly thinking the event was over and instead finding his growl a lot less of a purr as he stopped his clean up to go at your sensitive clit again making you gasp and then moan as the over sensitivity causes you to arch backwards, toes stretching out before curling as you weakly called Ingo’s name.

No call to stop however and he brought a hand to you folds, lathering up two fingers until they were good and coated before slipping in one before the other allowing for time to adjust before slowly beginning to stretch you open proper.

The fingering fucking was even more intense then his tongue they wouldn’t stop hitting or curling just so against your sweet spot, needless to say you were loud between the none stop attention to your clit and core, you felt tears sting the corner of your eyes and you moans turn a more simple short cry between each adjustment or harder thrust and stretch, he was really over working you and it wasn’t long before you rolled your hips against his fingers to push them in deeper before clenching down again.

This time the pleasure so rich his hand came up coated and soaked from your excitement.

He pulled back, sitting up and taking the moment to lick his hand and then face clean, slowly and never breaking eye contact as you blushed a deep red and had to fight yourself not to cover your face in embarrassment.

Seeing you breathing heavily, flushed and eyes sparkling with lust tainted tears Ingo couldn’t get enough of you, he finally shrugged off his shirt and started to undo his pants sighing in relief as he was freed from the constructive hold they’d had on him.

He wanted you so badly, but even in his own state he know to take things slowly, this was your first time with him after all, he was going to make sure every part of it was pleasurable for you even if he did want to stuff you fast and full.

He’d slowly pull you by your ankles back onto your back, leaning over you in a guarded admittedly slightly possessive manner as he nuzzled into you neck inhaling deeply before beginning to kiss and lick across your skin again, attempting to get you to relax without completely winding back down.

It worked as your tired body started to ease up, but the teasing of his kisses and the following of wandering hands across and over your body before finding your chest and being to play with your nipples; well the teasing certainly kept you in the mood.

Kissing back up to your lips Ingo pressed deep causing you to gasp and then moan as he let his tongue in exploring your mouth with it before rolling over your tongue with his own causing a tangled mess between pressed lips and clicking teeth.

You’d have to turn your head to break away for air, a strange of saliva connecting you two like a spiders silk not getting a chance to break as Ingo chased you down after deciding you’d gotten enough air.

It was during the second sloppy make out his hands would slide down your sides resting on your hips again as he slowly moved and adjusted you to were he needed but could still each.

Then he rutted against your folds, his large cock slipping between the folds following the natural line up until the blunt tip of his member hit your clit and rubbed past.

You moaned loudly muffled both by the kiss and his own chest vibrating response as you felt claws start to dig into your thighs leader to a louder response of pleasure to the stimulants mixing

He starts slowly rolling his hips repeating the previous action again and again each hit to your clit making you whine and squirm all the while he growls deeper into the kiss holding you in place as he works to coat his dick to make actual penetration go smoothly.

With a huff however he quickly lifts off you, the sudden lack of his weight and heat, the feel of his hand or member on you makes you shiver from sudden chill and a desperate neediness for him to finish what he started.

You didn’t get the opportunity to vocally complain past a soft whine however, the larger hybrid easily picking you up with one arm as he changed positions.

You were placed just slightly above his lap, on his stomach as he shifted his elbows to the backs of your knees to pull up and back before open exposing your wet hole and well putting everything else o display too. He rested his chin on the top of your head the incline letting you know he was looking down to get a good view as he lined himself up and slowly started to ease the head in.

You gasped, he gave a grumbling moan before through gritted teeth he asked you to ease up, he was barely in and he thought you were clenching. You weren’t though! He was just so big and as you whimpered your reply he huffed giving a short thrust to help him pull inside you as he had too seemingly fight for each inch in.

You were seeing stars, the alpha Zoroark hybrid however, your loving mate Ingo was going absolutely feral of the feeling of you around him, you moans and whimper not helping him keep his head about this as you felt like you were made for him and he worried he might just lose his loud as soon as you bottomed out.

He gets you down to his lap though, knees almost to your ears as he otherwise forces you hips down and just shutters at the sensation of being in able to feel every internal twitch and pulse your body gives at accepting him.

You whimper and move enough to pull him out a tiny bit before back in and he doesn’t need the message repeated as he pulls out almost completely leaving only the tip before slamming back in causing you to shriek, head lulling back onto his shoulder as your body went limp and you couldn’t do much more the kiss or nip back at his neck as he had a his way with your hole.

He wasn’t letting up again reducing you to little more then a sex toy and he let his arms untwine from your legs just so he could grab you hips and lift you before shoving you back down on his lap forcing himself in as deep as he could.

At some point he shifted again, beyond words and dizzy from the never ending bliss you could only mewl and claw at the furs you were placed chest down on as he made sure you hips stayed up well his chest pressed hard against your back pinning you down.

He kept thrusting deeper and harder until you couldn’t take it anymore and bit down hard onto the armrest of the couch, wood cracking from the pressure as you finally did clench around him making the alpha gasp and freeze as you milked him for his worth.

It took him a moment but he’d give three more good thrusts against the clenching of your orgasm before locking himself in place as he reached his own and coated your insides, his teeth sinking deep into your bond mark to finalize the moment.

Both gasping and overheat, he adjusts so you both lay on your sides, chest to chest now him, you felt stretched and empty without him but the break was needed as you nuzzled against his chest. He rumbled a purr keeping you pressed between himself and the back of the couch leaving you warm and guarded until you felt really to move in your own time~

THIS WAS AMAZING FOR YOUR FIRST SHOT AT THIS WOOOOBOOOAH!

OH THIS IS GREAT I AM IN LOVE.

You did great!

This is great!

Im losing it and it’s only 8am, thank you for the foooood.

#smut #spicy #🔞🔞🔞#bitty anon #pokemon hybrid au #ingo.thirst

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