#❛ into the fire feeling higher than the truth. ❜ — music.

[mcrveilles]

just this once // ln4

word count: 1.1k warnings: casual intimacy themes, secrecy, conflicts of loyalty, romantic tension and suggestive content, clubbing, alcohol includes: friends to lovers, fluff, best friends little sister, brothers best friend summary: the group goes clubbing, things turn heated

PART TWO previous part - next part

tag list: sltwins

You're sprawled across your bed, staring at the ceiling as your phone buzzes beside you. Given your last message to your brother, you already know who it is before even picking it up.

Your cheeks flush at the nickname. He only calls you that to get under your skin, and he loves how much it annoys you. But after what happened between you two, it carries a different meaning to you.

You hesitate, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. The truth is, you are thinking about it. Thinking about him, specifically. How his hands had felt on your waist the last time you'd been together. How his lips had lingered on yours. How much you wanted—Your phone buzzes again.

Your heart skips a beat at that, but you choose to ignore it, tossing your phone onto the bed as you head to your closet.

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yourusername Monaco

liked by user01 and others

yourusername If life gives you lemons, add some vodka and hit the club. 🪩

maxfewtrell stop posting on instagram and get downstairs landonorris squad goaaaaaaaaaaaals 💅🏼 landonorris also🤤 ↳ carlando4ever LANDO WHAT ARE YOU DOING user02 wooooooooooooooow slay user03 mother is mothering

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The music pulses through the club, the bass thumping in your chest, the club now filled with people. You lean against the edge of the booth, sipping your drink, and watch the crowd sway under the neon lights. Then your eyes wander over Max and the others dancing and jumping around like idiots. Their unsynchronized moving makes you laugh and shake your head. 

Lando had disappeared somewhere in the crowd, and you’re torn between relief and annoyance at his absence. You sip your drink again, your gaze now wandering away from your group of people, and then you spot those familiar curls. Standing near the DJ booth, chatting with a girl—tall, blonde, and dressed to turn heads. Insanely beautiful. You can feel your stomach twist, but then you remember that you have no right. There are no promises between you and Lando, no agreements. Just one (or well, more) kiss. 

Still, when the blonde leans in, you swear you can hear her laughter ringing over the music. Why did you come again? You could’ve stayed cozy at home. You grit your teeth and down the rest of your drink. Being around Lando, especially in a setting like this, feels like playing with fire. It’s setting everything within her in flames. But well, here you are, trying not to let your gaze linger too long on the man who’s occupying your every thought since that night.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Max says, sliding into the booth next to you. His words pull your attention away from the scene across the room, “You jealous?”

“What? No,” you answer quickly, forcing a laugh and sitting up straight. “Why would I be jealous?”

Max, clearly unconvinced, raises an eyebrow, “You’ve been staring at Lando like you’re about to murder him or the girl he’s talking to. What’s up with you two lately? You’ve been weird.”

“Weird?” you repeat, your voice pitching slightly higher. “No, everything’s fine. I’m just tired and Lando talked me into coming.” Max narrows his eyes at that but shrugs. “Alright, whatever, but I’m not carrying you back like last time.” He stands back up, offering you his hand, “Maybe you should join us on the dance floor,” Max suggests, “It’s better than brooding over here.”

“I’m not brooding.” You let out a breath and wave his hand away.

Max raises an eyebrow and mutters out a ‘right’ before joining your friends again. Before you get the chance to react, Lando reappears, sliding into the booth on your other side, draping his arm casually over the back of the seat, his hand brushing against your shoulder as he settles in.

“You look like you’re having fun,” he teases, his voice low enough that only you can hear. You shoot him a look, which makes his silly grin even wider. “I was until I saw your fan club growing,” you reply dryly, swirling the ice in your glass.

Lando’s lips twitch into a smirk. “You’re not jealous, are you?” In return, you scoff, trying to mask the warmth rising to your cheeks. “Please. I couldn’t care less who you flirt with.” To which Lando chuckles and leans closer so that his breath tickles your ear. “Jealousy looks good on you, baby Fewtrell.”

It makes your cheeks burn, but you refuse to let him win. “I’m not jealous.” 

“Hmm,” he murmurs, leaning closer so his lips brush your ear now. “You sure about that?”

Your breath hitches, but before you can respond, Max reappears, slinging an arm around Lando’s shoulders. “What’s going on here?” You look up, “Nothing,” Lando and you say in unison, far too quickly.

“Stop sitting around and come dance,” Max says, already dragging Lando toward the dance floor. Lando shoots a look over his shoulder into your direction—half amused, half frustrated—as Max pulls him away. You roll your eyes, trying to focus on anything other than the way his shirt clings to his back or the memory of his lips on your ear.

When he turns around again and catches you watching, his grin widens, and he crooks a finger, beckoning you to join. “No way,” you mouth, shaking your head. He raises an eyebrow and steps closer until he’s standing right in front of you again. “Come on, baby,” he says, his voice once more, low enough that Max wouldn’t be able to hear over the music. “One dance won’t kill you.”

You look up at him, sizing him up, clearly thinking about your options. Reluctantly, you let him pull you onto the dance floor—close enough to your group of friends, but far away enough. The crowd presses in around you, and it’s impossible to ignore the way his hands find your hips immediately, guiding your movements to the beat.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” you mutter, voice barely audible over the music. “I’m not the only one,” Lando replies, coming close enough to let his lips brush your ear. And he stays close, his hands becoming more and more daring as you dance within the crowd. At one point, his hand finds the small of your back, guiding you closer to him as the music pulses around you. Even you dare to be a little bolder and wrap your arms around his shoulders loosely. “Baby,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

You look up at him, your breath hitching at the intensity in his gaze. But before he can say anything else, Max appears again, squeezing in between you with a grin, “Alright, break it up, you two. Sis, what’s with the face? You look like you’re being tortured.”

Tortured is one way to put it, you think, as Lando steps back smoothly, his expression unreadable. “She’s just not used to fun, Max.” You shoot him a glare, but Max continues to be as oblivious as before, too drunk and too busy scanning the crowd for their other friends.

[harmoonix]

I N S P I R A D O R A

☀️ (Astrology Observations) ☀️

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

☀️~ Ray of Light ~ ☀️

☀️ - Sun conjunct Venus/Neptune natives really share a very beautiful personality, they're very positive and full of life

☀️ - Mars aspecting Lilith (h12) or (h13) = Bad bitch vibes, you do you and you don't accept nobody's disrespect

☀️ - Mercury - Moon aspects may really enjoy music like a LOT, and especially if you have one of these in air signs 100%%%%%%%

☀️ - Saturn aspecting Pluto can really have an overwhelming life, things can sometimes get down and you can feel hopeless at times. But you don't have to forget that you are strong and don't let their things put you down

☀️ - Sun at 6°. 18° degrees natives analyze everything they see. They can read people on their face, idk is like these natives have the power to see what's behind someone's emotions

☀️ - Neptune aspecting the ascendant natives sometimes have a hard time thinking about themselves, because they tend to prioritize others more than themselves

☀️ - Moon in Libra often gives the native fox face/ fox eye figure. for example watch out Madison Bee, Ariana Grande and Alexa Demie have Libra moons and their eyes are close to fox eyes

☀️ - Sagittarius Sun natives will be the people to call out all the lies, they can't accept to be lied on. I know numerous Sagittarius Suns who rather prefer to hear the truth than to be lied on

☀️ - If your boyfriend has an Fire Venus, be sure he'll be very passionate in everything he does. Venus in Fire Signs usually has a spark in their eyes when they do something with passion

☀️ - Mars square Moon/Sun has very strong emotions when they're getting angry, they will probably need some time alone because their personality can be destructive at times

☀️ - Erato (62) - aspecting Juno (3) = Very erotic relationship, and you can seek for eroticism in your life. Very erotic spouse aswell and I feel the tension already...

☀️ - Be careful at natives with Sun - Jupiter aspects in harsh aspects because their pride and ego sometimes it can be bigger than everything, I know someone with those aspects and omg she always thinks she's better than others (I need Maddie from Euphoria to slap her to reality)

☀️ - Neptune in the 12th house can often experience deja vu, they are spiritual and connected to their higher self

☀️ - Mercury at 10°, 22° degrees can be really into singing/ Capricorn degrees can influence and grant you success if you try your best

☀️ - Moon/Sun in the 9th house can be into occult/religion/witchcraft and they can share a communal love for Gods (if they believe in a God/source/universe etc)

☀️ - Sun/Venus/Moon in the 11th house make the best friendships, they connect with people so easily and they're so nice with people, is very hard to not be friends with them

☀️ - Mars conjunct/square/opposite Midheaven (MC) can cause others to see you as a competition and mostly jealousy. So most times is just better to mind your business and to not enter in a contact with people who can seem envy from the first sight

☀️ - Natives with Sagittarius Venus/Venus in the 9th have chances to be in a relationship with someone foreign/ far from home/ your spouse can be from another country/culture and honestly is so cute

☀️ - Saturn aspecting Venus can worry so much in relationships, some of these natives can even be over thinkers for their own reasons, I think another great lesson of theirs is to learn how to love without having difficulties

☀️ - If you want to have very chatty people in your life find someone with Gemini/Aquarius Moons because they are the most communicative out here,you can really talk about everything with them

☀️ - Capricorn Mars/Venus Men are really the gentleman of the zodiac, like the damn sir you really are a king (My Venus doesn't match with this one sadly but I met so many men with those placements and they were really amazing people! sorry my Venus doesn't match with it)

☀️ - Virgo Risings can attract really lovely people in their lives because of their 7H in Pisces, I love these placements so much, because your 7H is also ruled Jupiter who gives you so much luck

☀️ - 1st house ruller in the 6th house can be a big indicator that, these natives need to focus on themselves pretty much in their lives. You'll experience a lot of things that's for sure

☀️ - 1st house ruler in the 10th house on the other side, will mostly prioritize their job/career and that can grant them success in their lives

☀️ - 1st house ruler in the 7th house can prioritize relationships pretty much in this life, like they'll be always searching for that type of person who can be theirs forever, and be careful at enemies too most times they can be hidden

☀️ - Mercury at 3°, 15°, 27° degrees can indicate someone who likes to talk a lot, or just someone who needs to talk more

☀️ - Mars at 8°, 20° degrees makes the person attractive to the opposite sex (even if sometimes they don't want that) it's just attraction

☀️ - Natives with Midheaven (MC) at 2°, 7°, 14°, 19°, 26° degrees can make a good a first impression to the people who approach them

☀️ - Cancer Placements/4th house placements can be the best emotional supporters or the best emotional manipulators, it really depends on these placements and how act towards people

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☀️ Sun is such a very beautiful planet, Leo Risings are so lucky for having this gorgeous planet as their ruler 😭☀️💞

☀️ Have a very beautiful day full of light and full of love, let the Sun ☀️ rise on your street to make you feel better and to bless you ☀️

☀️°☀️°☀️°☀️°☀️°☀️°☀️°☀️°☀️°☀️°☀️°☀️°☀️°

- Harmoonix ☀️💞

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Backburner 5

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss is easy going until he’s not. 

Characters: Sam Wilson, this reader is known as Dizzie.

Author’s Note:Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

You sit in the passenger seat, legs locked, spine rigid, head straight. Sam drives without a care, singing along the Motown tune buzzing from the speakers. You stare at the traffic in dread, wincing each time he reaches to shift gears. 

As you get past the urban core, a sudden realisation dawns on you like a sheet of ice cocooning your body. You blink and take in the unfamiliar street. This isn’t the way to your place. You’ve been too stunned to even offer your address, or maybe you just assumed Sam knew it. 

“Diz, you’re not usually this quiet,” he turns down the music then moves his hand to the back of your seat, steering with one hand. “Whatsa matter, baby?” 

“Sam... sir,” you cross your legs. He quickly reacts and slaps his hand onto your knee. “I don’t live down here.” 

“I know, baby, I do,” he snickers and pulls your leg back down. “You roll up that skirt for me and let me have a peek.” He shifts and kneads along your thigh, “it’s been a long day.” 

“Sam,” you whimper, “please, this isn’t... you’re my boss.” 

“That’s right, Dizzie, that means you do what I say,” he tickles along the bottom of your skirt. 

You squeak and catch his hand before it can go higher, “I’m scared.” 

He chortles again. “Why’s that? Don’t tell me a girl like you’s a virgin. I just can’t believe that. Not wearing what you were on Friday.” 

“Sir!” 

“You keep calling me sir and I’ll just have to pull over,” he threatens. “Mmm, you make all those little noise when you’re on a man?” 

“Huh?” You gulp. 

“You know, when you’re thinking, you squeak and all that. You gonna do that on my dick?” 

You flinch and shove his hand off your lap. You look around desperately as the car keeps moving. What do you do? 

“If you were gonna run, you woulda done it back at the office so let’s stop play, honey bun,” he swerves the wheel to drive up a long drive. 

You press yourself to your seat and peer up at the large modern facade. It’s a nice house. That’s such a stupid thing to thin about in that moment but it’s easier than reality. You well cling to that cracked shield of denial until it’s in splinters. 

He jabs the button to flip the engine and the car quiets. He taps the button on his seat belt and it repels over his shoulder. He gets out as you remain strapped in the passengers’ side. 

He rounds the hood as you stay where you are. He opens the door and stares down at you. You can’t look at him. That will make it real. You don’t understand how he can do this. 

“Sam,” you say to the windshield, “you’re a nice guy. A good boss... why?” 

“Diz, I’m getting real tired of talking,” he huffs as his fingers tap above you on the car roof. “I just want you to think about something. When I tell HR you slipped your panties into my bag, do you think they’ll give you warning or fire you?” 

You hug yourself and peel your eyes away from the scenery. You pout up at him, “It was an accident.” 

“Was it? And now you’ve followed me home. When they check your phone tracking, oh, baby, they would put two and two together, wouldn’t they?” 

“But I wouldn’t-- why would I?” 

“It’s not about the truth, Diz.” He bends down to eye level, gripping the door as he does. “You don’t get this far in business being honest. You just gotta make people believe in you. You believe me, don’t you Diz?” 

Your lip quivers and his dark eyes fall onto the tremble. He pokes his tongue out and hums. You seal your mouth and swallow. Tears prick hotly as the heat flows through your body. 

“I’ve always been nice to you, Diz, even when everyone said you were stupid, huh?” He reaches to caress your cheek. “Because I know you’re not stupid.” He smirks, “you’re smart enough to get your ass up and walk into that house. Right now. Aren’t you?” 

You stare at him as the timber in his voice sinks like iron. You’ve never heard him like this. He’s never looked at you like that. 

You reach for the buckle and press down. The belt recoils and you focus on your body. Your insides are jittering. You turn your legs out and grasp onto the door as you stand. He stays close, crowding you. He puts his hand on your hip and guides you, closing the door with a snap. 

He turns you to walk towards the house. Your legs are jelly. You trip and he catches you before you can fall. You squeal as he spins you and scoops you up in his arms. Your skirt flips up and the air grazes your ass. You wriggle in his hold as he doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I got you,” he purrs as his dark eyes blaze ahead. “You’re always taking care of me, let me take care of you.” He looks down as you try to pull your skirt down your thighs. He bites his lip and growls, “bet you taste sweet like those smoothies, huh?” 

[theboytatu]

can you rank sm debuts from worst to best me and oomf were doing this but we had vastly different rankings and i’d love to know where u stand lol

LOVEEEEEE the question. thank you so much. for practical reasons i'm only doing group debuts from 2nd gen onwards because i feel like both sm and kpop at large were vastly different during 1st gen. so from WORST to best it goes:

riize get a guitar - i'm not kidding when i say they should be jailed for giving them this as their debut song. JAILED. fuck this disney ass song!!!

nct wish wish - i don't even know or care enough to listen to this song i just know it belongs here

nct dream chewing gum - boring. mid. and honestly creepy now that we know how weird min heejin is with minors

tvxq hug - i am a notorious ballad hater. this is a good and nice song and i can recognize that but this cannot go any higher than this in the ranking because we would be lying to ourselves

f(x) la cha ta - sadly it's not among their best songs and their sound evolved so much more after this so this is the fair ranking for it

got the beat step back - yes this a debut song and it slaps. misogyny is okay sometimes!

nct 127 fire truck - sm is so bold for making this their debut song... and it paid off. HANDS UP IF YOU FEELIN THE VIBE!!!!

super junior twins (knockout) - i already know some people are gonna wanna stone me for placing suju above tvxq but it's the truth. sorry this song is good and one of the first songs where sm developed the quintessential sm sound

red velvet happiness - the bridge is crazyyy it carried this whole song tbh. this is a good and solid debut song

superm jopping - sorry but name something half as impactful as this song in kpop in the past 5 years. i really don't care if you like it ironically or hate it earnestly the song is objectively good.

wayv take off - hashtag the #REAL WAYV DEBUT!!! this song is insaneeee it's so good. please let's bring back this sound for wayv

aespa black mamba - again i don't care if you disagree cause this is objectively correct. not a single debut song in this list so far perfectly captures the musical identity and vision of a group like black mamba. the production is crazy

exo mama - impact. brilliance. drama. creativity. boldness. innovation. boundary pushing. outstanding.

nct the 7th sense - AGAIN sm making a big gamble for a debut song and it paid off. there's not a single other song like this in kpop and the ones that sound like it just try to replicate it poorly

shinee replay - a classic. this song unites fandoms. everybody knows the words to it. definition of a generational HIT

snsd into the new world - hands down the single BEST debut not only in SM it might actually be the best debut in kpop PERIOD.

[paisholotus]

ᑕᕼᗩᑭTEᖇ FOUR

༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ Capture The Flag Buddy۪۪۫۫? ༄ؘ

Percy's Pov

Once I got over the fact that my Latin teacher was a horse, we had a nice tour, though I was careful not to walk behind him. I’d done pooper-scooper patrol in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade a few times, and, I’m sorry, I did not trust Chiron’s back end the way I trusted his front. We passed the volleyball pit.

Several of the campers nudged each other. One pointed to the minotaur horn I was carrying. Another said, “That’s him.” Most of the campers were older than me. Their satyr friends were bigger than Grover, all of them trotting around in orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirts, with nothing else to cover their bare shaggy hindquarters.

I wasn’t normally shy, but the way they stared at me made me uncomfortable. I felt like they were expecting me to do a flip or something. I looked back at the farmhouse. It was a lot bigger than I’d realized—four stories tall, sky blue with white trim, like an upscale seaside resort.

I was checking out the brass eagle weather vane on top when something caught my eye, a shadow in the uppermost window of the attic gable. Something had moved the curtain, just for a second, and I got the distinct impression I was being watched.

“What’s up there?” I asked Chiron. He looked where I was pointing, and his smile faded. “Just the attic.” he mumbled. “Somebody lives there?" I asked, looking up at him.

No,” he said with finality. “Not a single living thing.” I got the feeling he was being truthful. But I was also sure something had moved that curtain. “Come along, Percy,” Chiron said, his lighthearted tone now a little forced. “Lots to see.” We walked through the strawberry fields, where campers were picking bushels of berries while a satyr played a tune on a reed pipe.

"Where's Selene? I haven't seen her today." I asked, him, but mostly mumbling to myself. The brown skin girl stayed on my mind, the fact that she was a full Goddess and chose to be here, confused me. I know some of the campers had to not like her, because she's a Goddess. But, she told me she wanted to be here because she wanted friends. But, she couldn't seem to make any real ones, due to everyone treating her as something higher than them, as then their equal. But, to be honest, it's probably not easy being friends with a Goddess.

"She's in Olympus with her parents. But, your little girlfriend will be back later on today." He mocked, as he walked forward, not looking back. I glared at the back of his head, and smack my teeth. Nobody, asked you to be a asshole, gramps.

Chiron told me the camp grew a nice crop for export to New York restaurants and Mount Olympus. “It pays our expenses,” he explained. “And the strawberries take almost no effort.” He said, Mr. D had this effect on fruit-bearing plants: they just went crazy when he was around. It worked best with wine grapes, but Mr. D was restricted from growing those, so they grew strawberries instead.

I watched the satyr playing his pipe. His music was causing lines of bugs to leave the strawberry patch in every direction, like refugees fleeing a fire. I wondered if Grover could work that kind of magic with music. I wondered if he was still inside the farmhouse, getting chewed out by Mr. D.

“Grover won’t get in too much trouble, will he?” I asked Chiron. “I mean…he was a good protector. Really.” Chiron sighed. He shed his tweed jacket and draped it over his horse’s back like a saddle. “Grover has big dreams, Percy. Perhaps bigger than are reasonable." He murmured, rolling his eyes slightly.

"To reach his goal, he must first demonstrate great courage by succeeding as a keeper, finding a new camper and bringing him safely to Half-Blood Hill.” he said, folding his arms, frowning.

“But he did that!” I yelled back at him. I didn't like how he was insulting my friend. Grover may have lied to me about what he was, but he's always been there for me. And, I wasn't going to let this old gass bag down talk him, like he was nothing. Grover tried his best!

Chiron huffed and started walking again. "Come, along Percy, we have much to discuss."

-Time Skip-

“Clarisse,” Annabeth sighed. “Why don’t you go polish your spear or something?” Annabeth, tiredly crossed her arms. “Sure, Miss Princess,” the big girl said. “So I can run you through with it Friday night.” Clarisse threatened. “Erre es korakas!” Annabeth said, which I somehow understood wasGreek for ‘Go to the crows!’ though I had a feeling it was a worse curse than it sounded.

“You don’t stand a chance. We’ll pulverize you,” Clarisse said, but her eye twitched. Perhaps she wasn’t sure she could follow through on the threat. She turned toward me. “Who’s this little runt?” she said, glaring me up and down. “Percy Jackson,” Annabeth said, “meet Clarisse, Daughter of Ares.” I blinked. “Like…the war god?” Clarisse sneered. “You got a problem with that?” “No,” I said, recovering my wits. “It explains the bad smell.” I said, trying not to chuckle.

Clarisse growled. “We got an initiation ceremony for newbies, Prissy.” she said, walking towards me, smirking.

“Percy!" I corrected. “Yeah, whatever. Come on, I’ll show you.” she said, devilishly low. “Clarisse—” Annabeth tried to say. “Stay out of it, wise girl.” Clarisse yelled out.

"Clarisse, must you terrorize every person you see? I mean really, you don't have anything else better to do?" A familiar voice said behind me. I turned around and gasped seeing Selene walking up behind me. She turned to me and gave me a gentle smile, I felt my cheeks get hot as I looked into her deep brown eyes, that seem to sparkle gold.

Clarisse glared at Selene and walked towards her stopping five inches away from her. "Why, don't you go do what other Gods and Goddesse's do, and mind your business." Clarisse said, threatening low, making the other Ares children shift uncomfortably.

I sorta held my breath watching them. Selene really didn't seem scared or bothered by, Clarisse's presence. She looked her directly in the eyes.

"Clarisse it's seems you have a terrible notion that I'm afraid of you. You may can scare everyone else here, but I can assure you, I am not one of those people. I do not fear you." Selene said, confidently and strongly.

I looked at Clarisse's now balled fists, she clenched her jaw giving Selene deadly glares. Which I know if looks could kill Selene would be dead, maybe that would be the case for normal people. But, I don't even think deadly glares could kill a God or Goddess.

"You don't belong here. Why, don't you go back to Olympus and sit on your throne. Nobody wants to be your fucking friend!" She seethed out. I felt myself get angry all of a sudden, I didn't like Clarisse talking to Selene like that.

Selene gave Clarisse a gentle smile back, "no, sweetheart, nobody wants to be YOUR FRIEND! The reason I have friends is because I care, and despite me being a Goddess, I win and lose. I show SPORTSMANSHIP! People aren't afraid to come up and talk to me. Can people say the same about you? You think these Ares kids in this cabin love and respect you? THEY FEAR YOU! And, that's how we're different Clarisse."

She said, walking towards her so there was no space left.

"And, that's why I'll rise above you each time." She said, proudly, holding her head high. For some reason, that made me smile. The way she stood up for herself was admirable.

Clarisse looked like she about to hit her this second. But was stopped.

"HEY, HEY! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?" Mr. D said, walking towards us. Clarisse backed away, turning her glaring eyes away from Selene and now glared at me.

"She can't save you forever." She said, to me walking away with the other kids.

Mr. D, shook his head and walked away too.

I felt a tug on my shirt and turned to see Selene now in front of me. "Percy how would you like to be on I and Annabeth's team for capture the flag?" I looked into her eyes and froze.

"S-sure." She squealed, and laced our fingers running us to a different direction.

"Let's practice then."

[justgottafinishthischapter]

How do I go about fleshing out a city and making it feel lived in? Especially when the main protagonists are royal/wealthy and don't see the city from the ground level

A character arc is identified by a few key character elements: namely the Lie and the Truth. The Lie is the false reality they believe at the start of the story, and the Truth is the true reality they discover. This can be an internal lie and truth, such as they are worthy of being loved, or an external truth, like the war is not a way of spreading their nation's greatness to other countries. The revelation from the lie to the truth is the turning point in the character arc, when they start to shift from their Want to their Need. When it comes to building a city, the lie is the glitz and glam they can see from their ivory tower. The truth is the scum and muck that they've never noticed before but was always there. Using LA as a great example, it's a city that looks like a paradise of celebirites, hot people, movies, television, music, and everything else. But LA also has low income housing too. Many flock to LA to chase their dreams, only to end up working minimum wage jobs. Artists successful and failed have higher drug usage percentiles in a big city like LA than other cities. So you need to ask yourself: what is the idealized image of the city. How do those outside the city look at it? Then ask yourself: what is the grim reality of the city? 19th Century london had work houses, child labor, people worked in extremely hazardous work environments where carelessness could lead to getting mangled in a machine, or going home with a lungful of soot. Charles Dickenson famously had a problem with 19th Century London's classism, which is why he often focused on poor working class protagonists.

I would suggest looking at movies and television that involve noble and/or royal characters and take notes on how their old world views get torn down by other characters. Zuko had to defect from the Fire Nation entirely and slum it through the Earth Kingdom to truly see the faces of the people hurt by the Hundred Years War. Amity had to meet Luz in order to realize there was a path forward that didn't involve joining the Emperor's Coven. By season 2, she doesn't even want to join it anymore because she's now searching to find what she wants to make of her own life. Weiss Schnee is a pampered spoiled heiress that was taught to be racist toward Faunus. But by the time she returns to her homeland of Atlas, she flings a random guy into a dumpster for saying racist comments about Faunus. By learning about these characters and how they make these kinds of changes can help you in writing your own characters.

As for designing the city: every memorable location needs a landmark or something about it that makes it recognizable. If it's a fantasy, you definitely want to think about defensibility. A huge seat of power for a royal family needs high walls to defend itself. Even if you're in more of an 19th century Victorian-styled setting, there could still be walls from long ago. Look at other fantasy cities. The Northern Water Tribe resembles an arctic venice, using channel locks to raise and lower the water levels to keep out outsiders, and ice doors to let allied ships in and out of the city. Ba Sing Se is instantly recognizable by its ring structure and its 100 foot high walls. Republic City is most recognizable for the giant statue of Aang in Yue Bay. The towns and cities in Attack on Titan have high walls for necessity to keep out the Titans. Likewise, any medieval fantasy world with ogres and trolls running around is going to want walls to protect the everyday commoners from harm.

Magic or technology can also change how a city is structured. Think again about how Earth Benders are imprisoned on a metal tankard in the middle of the ocean to rob them of their power. Public transportation like a bus or blimp is going to radically change how one gets about town. How many and how quickly can get from one side to the other. Are there hard restrictions on who is allowed where? Is a petty cobbler going to be carried out of Wellington Park by the police so the rich don't have to look at him? In Howl's Moving Castle there is both magic and technology. We see steam powered locomotives, but there's also flying machines powered by magic and the eponymous castle itself uses a fire demon as a power source.

Does your city have to protect itself from flying enemies like faeries, dragons, witches, demons, vampires, griffins, or anything else like that? Walls are great at stopping armies, but stopping a gargoyle from just flying over your walls is another thing entirely.

What about your city's economy? A city on the water is going to rely on shipping, sailing, fishing, and trade. A city in the mountains is going to rely on mining and smithing. An old city likely started as a fort or military outpost, like Paris or London. Other times, cities pop up because a resource was discovered there, or a bunch of people had to migrate all at once and all chose to settle in one area. That's how you end up with a city named Swedesville in the middle of the United States. And a big city especially is going to need to be extremely rich, and probably needs something to lure more people to it. But large cities also cause their own problems, such as traffic jams, higher rent, and crowded streets.

You also should ask yourself your city's backstory and history. Both the glorious stuff the state WANTS you to learn in history class, and the not so pretty stuff that also happened. For instance, my city was named after a lesser-known hero of the Revolutionary War. He was propped up as pretty important when I was in middle school, but aside from his role in the war, we weren't taught much about his personal life. I'm willing to bet he has a skeleton or two in his closet. Every city has a past. What defines yours?

I hope this helped you piece together an idea of what you want to do or where to start looking. And good luck with your writing!

[savage-rhi]

Ardyn x reader? But with some dialogue prompts

"Close your Eyes for me Love"

And

"Listen to me . . .take deep breaths, yes follow my breathing just like that. There's no need to panic, I'm right here now, aren't I? You're safe"

You can honestly use these for any scenario you see fit. But these ones spoke to me as someone that is an anxious person.

@sillylittlevulpine OKAY. I got WAY too carried away with this prompt, but I hope you like the outcome!

Niflheim's celebration of it's imperial founding was well underway at the main palace. Though Aldercapt dedicated much of his life to Zegnatus Keep as his main base of operations, he dare not soil tradition when it came to the birthday of the empire. The grand hall was filled to the brim with people. Most hailing from the richer provinces within Niflheim, though on this day, commoners were allowed to mingle within reason. 

The night was alive. Chandeliers glimmered and bounced off an array of light, illuminating everyone’s elegant clothes. Music from magnificent orchestras thrummed through bodies and pulsed against eardrums. Deep conversations came and went. The grand hall was filled with rich scents and smoke from candles that made Y/N feel like they were underwater; in another world where they shouldn’t have dwelled. 

When Ardyn approached Y/N a week prior to the event, they didn’t anticipate feeling so miniscule. Y/N had participated in a fair share of parties, but nothing close to this. They were beginning to regret not taking Ardyn up on his offer of him buying a formal gown on their behalf. Though Y/N considered their attire for the night to be nice, it also stuck out like a sore thumb when it came to class standing. The higher imperials made it known in jest. 

While Y/N swirled their wine around in their glass, they fixated on the fireworks that were going off outside the large glass windows leading to the balcony. The thundering booms did little to ease their nerves, but watching explosions was far better than dealing with people. Since Ardyn was summoned to entertain envoys from Accordo, Y/N lost count of the many that approached them. 

Like a horde of locusts eyeing a fine grain, they swarmed; asking numerous questions. It wasn’t everyday the chancellor had someone at his arm when it came to these events. Ardyn was fairly private despite his sly and charismatic demeanor. Though Y/N had rehearsed with Ardyn, they found themself stumbling when it came to questions addressing the nature of their relationship. The quriked eyebrows and snide remarks at times further made Y/N’s nerves fire off. 

Y/N so badly wanted to tell the truth; that Ardyn brought them along to blend in with the culture of the higher imperials. He had rumors at court to quell, and was dealing with people in opposing nations trying to sway public opinion negatively regarding his lack of familiars. It was as he said: having a mysterious aura does wonders when it comes to the art of persuasion, but it also has its hindrance. And people were catching on that Ardyn wasn’t just quirky, but there was another level. Something dangerous that could even put someone like the emperor in harms way. Little did anyone know, Ardyn was the empires best kept secret. 

Y/N knew Ardyn was infected with the scourge, having caught him in a moment of weakness when the daemonic miasma flared throughout his body and he needed aid. Before then, he seldom if ever talked to Y/N. Although, Y/N noted he was courteous when need be. The dynamic changed after that night when Ardyn promised not to harm them if they kept their silence he was infected.

Conversations and meetups began to become a common occurrence between them both. Y/N was scared out of their mind at first; believing he would go back on his word and kill them, but Ardyn wormed his way in like always with whomever crossed his path. 

Ardyn stated several times in passing to Y/N that he felt relief being able to be open with someone about his illness. For years, he only had the company of Verstael and Aldercapt when it came to such things. Even then, the relationships boiled down to how his mind and powers could be put to the empires benefit while they searched for a cure for his ailment. At least, that was what Ardyn had told Y/N when it came to his story. 

Ardyn never said they were friends outright, but there was a strong camaraderie that grew between Y/N and him over the past several months. It was something Y/N tried to remind themself of in the present when another round of people came over and interrupted the firework display. Such sentimentalities couldn’t drown out their anxiety, and soon, Y/N took off pushing past people. 

Blood pounded in Y/N’s ears. Their hands quivered, and their feet tingled as if maggots were crawling over each nerve that ran down their toes. Y/N had to get away from the crowd and all the decadence. There was no thought or reason that traveled through their mind, only a resonating panic that felt primal. 

Eventually, Y/N’s retreat brought them to one of the common ways; smaller halls within the palace that led to a multitude of rooms. Scattered about were large statues of the gods, and previous Niflheim rulers. Y/N slouched against a pillar nearby, and took a long, slow deep breath, then rounded the corner out of sight as guests came and went. 

Y/N wrapped their arms around their chest so tight, that their nails dug into their sides. Their breathing was hard. Really hard. As if they had ran across Niflheim and all the way to Tenebrae. Bile rose in Y/N’s throat as they attempted to stifle their sobs. Although their body was on fire in the worst way possible, a small token of relief washed over Y/N. At least they were free of the grand hall. The consolation however didn’t do much when it came to their guilt. They were here to give Ardyn a good impression, and this outburst was sure to undo a lot. 

As if he heard their thoughts from afar, the sound of Ardyn’s boots hitting the marbled floors had Y/N swallow hard. The common way was dark, but they could see his features coming into the light thanks to the lamps nearby. There was a ferocious concern in his honey eyes that made Y/N tremble while he approached. 

“There you are,” Ardyn paused, leaning forward to catch is breath momentarily before he fixed his posture. He tilted his head curiously, studying Y/N from head to toe. “I heard whispers you took off in a hurry. Are you hurt?” 

“N-no,” Y/N shook their head. Their voice shook and another wave of fear began to crawl against the hairs of their flesh. “I--needed to get away.”

“Y/N?” 

“I---too many people. Too many questions. I couldn’t do it anymore! And the rude comments, and the noise, the music, it’s all just---gods, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you look stupid. So stupid for bringing me here! I don’t belong here--with these people. I don’t belong here with you. I’m nothing like them, and I--”

“Shhh, hey, hey, hey…” Ardyn’s voice started firm then faded softly. His hands gripped either side of Y/N’s shoulders, and he gave a gentle squeeze. “Look at me.” 

Y/N forced themself to tilt their head up and gaze at him. His hardened stare from before settled. A look of regret now combed over his features while Y/N continued to sob. 

“If there’s any fault to be had, its at my expense,” Ardyn began. “I shouldn’t have left you alone for so long. Feeding you to the wolves wasn’t my intention.” 

“I---I slipped up so many times,” Y/N choked. “C-couldn’t get my stories straight. Just one person after the other---and I’m already dirt. I don’t belong with you or them. T-they told me as much. And--” 

“You’re right,” Ardyn murmured. “You are nothing like them, that’s precisely why I wanted you at my side tonight. I may seem well put together, but I get nervous at large festivities myself.”

“Y-you get nervous?” 

Ardyn nodded and stepped closer so the rest of their conversation was out of earshot. “Do you know what I do to curb such ill feelings?” 

Y/N shook their head, noting the childish grin that began to grow from Ardyn’s mouth. 

“I envision everyone I meet, naked. It takes away their power.” 

There was no way Y/N could stop the exhausted laugh that tumbled from their throat. Ardyn’s own bout followed suit. Alas it didn’t tamper down the adrenaline rush of panic that still remained in Y/N’s body. Their smile dwindled after the punchline lost its majesty, and they were crying. 

Ardyn furrowed his brows and moved his hands from Y/N’s shoulders and to their face. Each palm cupping their cheek. “Close your eyes for me, love.” 

“W-what?” 

“Close them.” 

Despite the uncertainty, Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut. The erratic pulse of their heart continued to throb behind their ears. Only the sigh that escaped from Ardyn momentarily pulled Y/N out of their inner turmoil. 

"Listen to me…take deep breaths,” Ardyn muttered. He too joined in, inhaling slowly through his nose, and exhaling through his mouth. It wasn’t long before Y/N began to sync to his tempo, and relief began to pool in his mind, knowing a fire would soon be put out. 

“Yes, follow my breathing just like that. There’s no need to panic. I’m right here now, aren’t I? You’re safe.” 

“Y-yeah,” Y/N said in between breaths. Fragrant oils that were upon Ardyn’s clothes and skin found its way to Y/N’s nostrils. The familiarity along with the red wine on his breath aided in calming them down. 

After some time, Y/N opened their eyes. It was so quiet, they half expected Ardyn to have been gone. He still remained in front of them. His hands still holding their face while his thumbs absentmindedly trailed underneath their eyes. Y/N had a morbid thought of Ardyn plucking out their eyeballs. He could easily perform such an insidious action given his infection, but alas nothing came of it. The intrusive thought ran away seeing the faint yet sincere smile that formed on his lips. 

“I fear we must--” Before Ardyn could finish his sentence, he saw some of the Accordo envoys and a round of higher imperials making their way toward his and Y/N’s general vicinity. The face he made had Y/N look over his shoulder, hearing the commotion coming from the group. 

“Gods be damned,” Ardyn whispered bitterly, letting go of Y/N’s face. “Not them.” 

“I thought you got along with them?” Y/N sniffled, taking a moment to wipe their eyes. 

“Yes and no,” Ardyn begrudgingly answered. “I have no patience let alone the disposition to listen to the words of drunkards tonight. Especially when it involves politics beyond my reach. No doubt once they see me, they’ll try dragging me in for another debate.” 

A light went off in Y/N’s head. Though they were still healing from the panic attack, they pushed through the last of their nerves and quickly gestured at Ardyn’s hat. 

“Get closer to me.” Y/N stepped forward and more into Ardyn’s personal space. Not giving him the chance to register the sudden intrusion. The look of bewilderment on his face would’ve made Y/N laugh any other time but now. 

“I’m afraid I’m not following?” 

“You don’t want to talk to them right?” Y/N began. “Well, take your hat and shield our faces with it. Lean in close. It’ll give them the impression we’re being intimate and don’t want to be bothered. Just trust me on this.” 

Ardyn’s mouth parted to protest, but as soon as he heard his name being hollered, he quickly went through the motions that Y/N requested. Ardyn leaned forward and heard Y/N’s breath hitch in their throat. His eyes were glued onto theirs now, and he couldn’t help but smirk at both the awe and nervousness that dwelled in Y/N’s gaze. It reminded Ardyn of the night they had seen him as Adagium, and didn’t run. Intrigue and a twist of something more primal began to pull at his mind. 

The shuffling of boots and shoes grew closer, and it wasn’t long before the group ventured by. Ardyn’s name was shouted a few times, until several aggressive hushes followed suit. Both Y/N and he could hear the whisperings, and Ardyn used his free arm to wrap around Y/N’s waist. Whatever doubts the drunken buffoons had at what they were witnessing fell away and soon colleagues beckoned their fellow peers to give space and privacy. A few wolf whistles here and there was given, and the flock retreated back to the festivities. 

“See? They bought it! ” Y/N laughed with a grin. Whatever embarrassment they initially felt started to fade, but puzzlement began to take its place especially when it became obvious he had no intention of letting them go. 

“Ardyn?” 

He didn’t say a word. Not even his breath could easily be detected. 

Ardyn stared at Y/N with an intense look in his eyes, where they could tell he was thinking hard. There was something irresistible about the vehemence his golden eyes held, and before Y/N could stop themself they leaned forward until their face brushed up against Ardyn’s. The stubble on his chin scratched them, and Y/N waited a moment, in case he wanted to pull away but he didn’t move. 

Y/N’s emotions were so tangled from the night, that doubt began to creep in. Before it could take root and sprout, they closed the last bit of space between themself and Ardyn and pressed their lips against his. From the gentle push and pull of his mouth, Y/N could tell he’d been waiting for this and strangely so have they. 

Ardyn’s hand at Y/N’s waist slid down further. His fingers dug into Y/N’s hip. He sensed the shiver that traveled down their spine and deepened the kiss. It’s not long before his tongue meets Y/N’s, and he wastes no time mapping out their mouth. Their taste was intoxicating to him, much like the wine he had nursed himself with during the worst flare ups of the scourge.

Ardyn was surprised with himself, that even after 2,000 years his body still remembered what this felt like. He was so indulged with the soothing texture of Y/N’s mouth against his lips that he didn’t register them pulling away initially, until the warmth had left him in yearning.

Y/N watched Ardyn lick his bottom lip while his hooded eyes studied them. They felt their knees wanting to give out at the image alone. Shaking, they reached for Ardyn’s hat that somehow continued to shield them both, and they took it from his grasp and placed it on top of his head. Y/N grinned briefly, averting their gaze downward. That’s when they felt Ardyn’s right hand gently grab at their chin, coaxing them to look up. 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Ardyn breathed. 

“You’re right, but you didn’t stop either.” 

“Touche’,” Ardyn huffed. “I have questions for you.” 

“And I have a million to ask you.” Y/N countered with a shy murmur. They smiled at the amused laugh that left him. 

“It seems we’re at an impasse,” Ardyn chuckled. His fingers gently stroked Y/N’s skin before letting them go. “Allow me to begin: do you want to leave this place?” 

“Don’t you have people to meet and greet?” 

“Yes,” Ardyn bluntly stated, then smiled as if he was up to something mischievous. “But you see, my distinguished guest I brought along suddenly fell to illness. Wine doesn’t mix well when you’re under the weather. I couldn’t fathom letting my plus one continue to carry on. For the sake of their health, I had to take them home or I wouldn’t live with myself.”

Gods, he was a masterful liar and he did it so well that Y/N couldn’t help but fall for the charm. The playful demeanor of Ardyn’s words while he conjured up his tall tale excuse had Y/N’s pulse stammer in their neck.

“What happens after we leave?” 

“We can go anywhere you want,” Ardyn sincerely whispered. His features began to shift, looking morose almost. “The important thing is you and I need to talk.” 

“About what happened just now?”

“Yes,” Ardyn paused. He contemplated his next words carefully. “And there’s some things I must share with you, about my condition, but not here.” 

Y/N could only nod to his terms. No other questions or words would leave them. Not when their mind lingered on how saddened his voice was. Before anything else could potentially be said, Ardyn excused himself to go make the arrangements for their departure, and told Y/N to wait for him at the front gates. 

As he walked away, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder why they felt a heaviness in their stomach; that whatever Ardyn had to share, it would change their dynamic once more. Y/N hoped they had the strength for it.

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[hernando-valdez]

Traición | Self-Para

tldr; first & vine was trashed and hernando is spiraling

The weight that Hernando had been feeling for weeks had finally started to lift. Even with the chaos that had presented itself with Mikki's dynamic with Los Santos, he felt like he could at the very least get a hold on everything. He and Lyla were on steady ground, Penny was getting the B&B up and running and his mother was in good spirits. Great spirits even. Enough that she was starting to spend more time out of the house and had even helped him out a few days at the shop. Life wasn't good but it was getting there and the idea of finally getting shit balanced had started to settle his emotions. It helped that he was drinking a little less and spending more time working out and mediating. Preparing for whatever came next.

But nothing could have prepared him for this.

He had foolishly left his phone on the counter in his kitchen as he tidied up the house. His mother was out with one of her sisters and Lyla had already left for work after spending the night. It was a nice moment of solitude and he had the music in the house blasting loud as he wiped things down and sang along. But then the music kept getting disrupted by his ring tone and he sighed as he started coming down the stairs. "Finally a moment to think and people can't leave me alone? The shop better be on fire, coño," he yelled out and finally grabbed his phone. Suddenly the music seemed too loud and like he couldn't hear it at all as he started reading the article, if one could even call it that. He felt his chest tighten and for a moment he thought he might have been transported to his own nightmares. He read it again, and again and every word had his blood feeling like it could boil right out of him.

The emotions came in waves. The fear at having his Los Santos history put out there so plainly was the first wave. Something he had so meticulously cared for and hidden for his entire life. Lies told, moments missed and so much more. All of that work for some coward behind a screen to lay it out like it was just another story in the paper. It made him feel more vulnerable and laid bare than he ever had in his life before. Like every move he made could be his last and he felt like the ground was slipping from underneath them.

The second wave had everything to do with Alejandra. The woman he had basically given his life to. His loyalty, so much of his time. Nights and days. In the early years when things started to split in two, he stood by her, loved her even. He thought they had found trust in each other and he had been so eager to show her that she could rely on him. He was her confidant, her soldier, her most reliable and for a long stretch of time a man he had convinced himself she loved. But not only had she kept him where he was, she had sought to remove the very man from his life who meant the most to him. He and his father didn't agree but now he understood why his father had stood against her so firmly. And Hernando had been the idiot at her side. Of course they hadn't been intimate in years. Alejandra had started to pull away and she had no longer seen it appropriate as he became a Capo. The distance was clear but Hernando had foolishly thought that she still thought of him fondly, trusted him.

But that trust was clearly withered when she hadn't chosen him to rise any higher, to be trusted with the kind of power that could really make an impact. He had brushed it off, told himself that she meant it when she said she needed him exactly where she was. And then his father had died.

The third wave was an odd sense of vindication. An affirmation that he hadn't been losing his mind when he thought his father's death had been suspicious. Everyone had told him how much it made sense. The doctor's, his sister, his mother, his friends. And yet he knew that things hadn't added up. That his father had been doing well before he suddenly wasn't alive anymore. And now he knew the truth. The person he had given all his trust to had betrayed him. And not only that, had stood beside him at his father's funeral as if she had sympathized. As if she cared. As if she still loved him. As if she ever had.

He could have broken that phone right in his hands but instead he angrily pushed one of his speakers onto the floor, stopping the music as the thoughts in his head started to bang around like a percussion band. What was his next move? Where did he go? Who did he talk to? He moved through the house as his head pounded, trying to think of all the things he needed to put away in the safe. He tried not to keep everything on the property but he tore apart his room making sure he didn't forget a single thing. He thought about the fact that people who had known him for his entire life would now know what he actually did for a living and his heart ached so deeply that he had to pause to brace himself against the wall.

As he did, he caught a glimpse of the picture frames by his bedside of the people he loved and something clicked in him.

He quickly gathered his things and locked up the house, doing his best to clear his head as he got in his truck and quickly pulled out of his driveway. His main focus was what was held on the basement floor of the flower shop. But as he got into town, he started to become more aware of the reality of it all and drove faster, not wanting to give anyone a single second to stare too long. But as he turned down the block to the shop, he could see the smashed windows from there. Flowers spilled out all over the pavement. "Hijo de la gran puta," he yelled out, pounding his hands onto the steering wheel as he came to a stop. Just as he got his head together he felt like he was spiraling all over again as he hoped out of the car and started to see the real damage. Someone had graffitied the walls to say "criminal" and "leave our town." The display cases were wrecked and none of his staff were anywhere to be found. There were people walking by taking photos and yet he ignored them all as he stepped over glass and took the familiar path down to the basement.

Also empty and it occurred to him whether or not Alejandra would be closing rank. Whether he'd turn up at madre tierra or the boxing ring to find himself locked out. Would any of them call? Would they back him or would they fall in line with her like he had all those years back then? He could feel his chest tightening again but he pushed on as he unlocked the safe revealing weapons and money. Things he had earned for them. Things he had put himself through blood sweat and tears for and he piled them into bags. He knew it was only a matter of time before the cops came sniffing. Before they tried to get him and turn him. Thinking they could use his anger against Alejandra to his advantage. But he wasn't going to be anyone's puppet anymore.

Fuck that.

With his bags full, he shot off a text to Penny, then Mikki, then Lyla before pulling his phone apart and smashing the sim card below his boot. He grabbed a few of the burners they kept and threw them into the bags as well, sliding one of them into his pocket. There was only one way out of this and there was no entity that could help him but him. He was going to end this and he was going to get his revenge. Even if it killed him.

Hernando left out the back door, leaving his empty truck parked in front. He instead took one of the delivery vans, figuring it would get him far enough before he could switch it out for a car he had stashed about a half hour away. He wasn't running, but he wasn't going to stay right in town while the world fell down on him. He needed some space to think and going somewhere that few people knew of was his best bet.

He eased out of the Tonopah Valley town limits, reaching for one of the burner phones to let Lyla know he was alright and where to meet him later. As much as he wanted to leave her way out of this he knew he wouldn't survive without her. So this time he was going to pull her close and keep her safe. But his next call was to someone he knew he could trust. Someone who had also been wronged by the woman who had once ruled his world.

The phone rang a few times and Nando let out a sigh of relief when he picked up.

"McCoy, I need your help."

[starredfishing]

Three Houses Quest: You must now assign every Major Character of Three Houses (meaning Byleth, the students, and anyone they can recruit/s-support), a song from the Oh Hellos discography. Some characters are allowed to share songs if it fits more than one. But every character must have a song.

Reward: You get to listen to good music and think about these characters again.

And a cookie.

hi anon! why would you do this to me . /lh LSDKJFSDJFFJ

ok so i have to put this under a read more bc good lord the oh hellos have a lot of songs. ok. ahem. i present to you:

THE FUCKING ENTIRETY OF THE OH HELLOS DISCOGRAPHY ATTACHED TO THE CAST OF FIRE EMBLEM: THREE HOUSES (2019)

BLACK EAGLES

Edelgard - Caesar

“Rise up to meet it, o sleeper, awake. Gather the soldiers, the heir to enfold. Crown him and give him a scepter to hold.”

Hubert - The Valley

“We were born in the shadow of the crimes of our fathers. Blood was our inheritance. No, we did not ask for this. Will you lead me?”

Ferdinand - Grow

“You’ve got a lot to learn, if you’d settle down. Let be what is, let be what isn’t. It’s a natural world in which we’re living, and if you let it alone, it will surely grow. Just leave it alone, child, and let it go.”

Caspar - Soap

“I’ve heard if I were tougher, then maybe I’d make it alive. I got a tender side, I’ll need a harder shell to survive.”

Linhardt - Rounds

“If my chest don’t cave in, when did I last breathe in? Am I empty again? Oh, that wind that I’ve been spending is a long one, my friend.”

Dorothea - Rose

“Wars are raising for her, crusades to adore her [...] Your rose is without a thorn, but no, my mouth don’t taste of metal from the pot here to the kettle. I think we got a lot we gotta learn [...] Call her briar long enough, and you’ll tangle up the true and the fable.”

Petra - Constellations

“All that’s left for me to climb to the heavens is the chasm of the night and a matter of time, but I hear the rumble as the tectonic plates start to shake and I feel my blood pounding like the beat of a drum.”

Bernadetta - Trees

“Safe inside the walls we built, we found ourselves a home. Higher branches, harder fall. Hesitation stops us all.”

BLUE LIONS

Dimitri - I Have Made Mistakes

“The sun, it does not cause us to grow, it is the rain that will strengthen your soul. It will make you whole. [...] I am afraid of all that I’ve built fading away.”

Dedue - Thus Always To Tyrants

“Let me die, let me drown, lay my bones in the ground, I will still come around when the time for sleep is through. [...] Where I go, will you still follow? Will you leave your shaded hollow? Will you greet the daylight looming, learn to love without consuming?” 

Felix - Notos

“And every word you shouldn’t say will come bubbling out of your throat. And you will drown in the wake of the things you lost to the winds of Notos. You gotta let go.”

Sylvain - Second Child, Restless Child

“I was born a second child with a spirit running wild, running free. And they saw trouble in my eyes, they were quick to recognize the devil in me.”

Ingrid - Passerine

“You were the song that I'd always sing, you were the light that the fire would bring but I can't shake this feeling that I was only pushing the spear into your side again.”

Ashe - New River

“And your stomach goes hollow at the thought that it could swallow you whole [...] But the river takes her shape from every tempest she abides, and like her, you’ll be made new again.”

Mercedes - Pale White Horse

“Down they fell like the children of Eden, down they fell like the tower as the land relinquished her ghost. [...] Neither plague nor famine tempered my courage, nor did raids make me cower.”

Annette - The Truth is a Cave

“I was bound and determined to be the child that you wanted. And I was blind to every sign that you left for me to find, and the truth became a tool that I held in my hand. And I wielded it but did not understand”

GOLDEN DEER

Claude -  Lapis Lazuli

“What can I say? ‘Cause the more I recite it, the more you wanna fight it, the more my language is sounding fabricated. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s either the growing is slow, or it cuts to the bone moving too quickly.”

Hilda - HILDA DOES NOT GET ONE BECAUSE SHE ISN'T SAD ENOUGH TO WARRANT A THE OH HELLOS SONG.

Lorenz - I Was Wrong

“I was torn between my god and my Father. [...] I was born at the dawn of our folly, and I was young and stubborn to the bone. [...] I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong.”

Marianne - Dear Wormwood

“I know who I am now, I know who I want to be. I want to be more than this devil inside of me.”

Ignatz  - Zephyrus

“You and I, we are matter, and it matters. I want to spin something out of nothing. Lead to gold, spring from winter.”

Raphael - Theseus

“Oh, that peace like a river, always going, but never getting. Seems like maybe it's not all that much a place as it is a way. And ways don't ever seem to want to stay too still for too long. Isn't that what it's all about?”

Leonie - Eurus 

“You can’t take any gold or rings further than the grave. Nothing we make can we bring, but the bait hanging from the string is calling my name, and like the wind it slips again out of my fingers.”

Lysithea - Glowing

“'Cause when Atlas shrugs, whose back is breaking? And I know how it feels to thе hands heavy as the heavens, a weight that could fold you to keep holding.”

CHURCH OF SEIROS

Rhea - Lay Me Down

“Take me home, I want to go down the road that will take me to the living oak. Lord, I know that I’m weathered stone, but I owe it to my brothers to carry them home.”

Seteth - O Sleeper

“I see the trail of shoulders I’ve climbed over, but by god, I’ll bloody up my hands with everything I am to cut away the mountains I’ve made and fill the dales below.”

Flayn - There Beneath

“There beneath the willow tree, I learned a lot about the way of things. [...] I know, I know this, there is beauty in the way of things.”

Alois - Soldier, Poet, King

“There will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword, he will tear your city down, O Lei, O Lai, O Lord.”

Catherine - Soldier, Poet, King 

Shamir - Cold

“When the feeling leaves you, it moves so slow like the loose change from your front pocket; you don’t even feel it go. When the bitter creeps in to bite you whole, a specter unreflected, oh it keeps you cold.”

Cyril - Boreas

“Yeah, I swing from believing that maybe my working will all pay off to considering drinking with Molotov. I'm halfway out the door. Maybe then my breath could embody a wildfire starting.”

Jeritza - Torches

“I got a venom like a snake running out of my mouth, it’s got you burning at the stake. Innocent or not, you’re not a bet I care to take.”

ASHEN WOLVES

Yuri - Eat You Alive

“But there’s nothing but pain on the edge of a knife, there is no courage in flirting with fear to prove you’re alive.”

Balthus - The Lament of Eustace Scrubb

“Brother, forgive me, we both know I’m the one to blame [...] Father, have mercy, ,I know that I have gone astray [...] But I’ll come around someday. When I touch the water, they tell me I could be set free.”

Hapi - Cold Is the Night

“Take this burden away from me, and bury it before it buries me.”

Constance - Hieroglyphs

“'Cause you've been too busy thinking ahead of where we're all going after we're dead to maybe consider our bodies are worth more than the dust that we can return to the ground again”

OTHER/EXTRA

Byleth - Hello My Old Heart 

“Hello, my old heart, how have you been? Are you still there inside my chest? I’ve been so worried, you’ve been so still– barely beating at all.”

Sothis - Where Is Your Rider?

“See, your face wasn’t quite as I remember, but I know that wicked shape to your smile. Bury me as it pleases you, lover. At sea or deep within the catacomb, but these bones never rested while living.”

Jeralt - This Will End

“No, I am not afraid to die. It’s every breath that comes before. [...] I will wait for this to end: the back and forth, the battery. For you, at last, to comprehend the kind of love of which I speak.”

Gilbert - Wishing Well 

“All the love you gave to me, it wasn’t enough to keep me. [...] Bent my knee to many kings, idols of prosperity. Heard that dollar calling me, so I sought it in the city.”

Rodrigue - Like the Dawn

“You were the brightest shade of sun I had ever seen. Your skin was gilded with the gold of the richest kings. And like the dawn you woke the world inside of me [...] And you will surely be the death of me, but how could I have known?”

[elains]

terror and silence (and between them, a flame)

❧ Summary: In the hour of the owl, when the Red Keep was so quiet one could hear the rhythmic breathing of its sleeping inhabitants and the furtive steps of those who reveled in the shadows of night echoing in the halls, Viserys Targaryen dreamed. Or: A dream comes to Viserys the night Rhaenyra and Daemon slip into Flea Bottom — and history changes as a result.

✾ chapter 1  — dream deliver us to dream

Read on Ao3!

In the hour of the owl, when the Red Keep was so quiet one could hear the rhythmic breathing of its sleeping inhabitants and the furtive steps of those who reveled in the shadows of night echoing in the halls, Viserys Targaryen dreamed.

He'd always been a dreamer, more so than he'd been a dragon. His interest laid not in the great beasts that were the wonder and terror of Old Valyria, but rather in the weathered, yellowed, and crumbling tomes of his family's fallen homeland. He loved the higher mysteries, the arcane; the intricate web of alliances, sorcery, and cutthroat politics that decided who lived and died by fire and blood.

Dragons were weapons of conquest, instruments of the dragonlords' will and power. Viserys admired and respected them too, just as one admired the sea amidst a storm or a volcanic eruption spewing lava and ashes from a safe distance. He wasn't like Daemon or his mother or even his own daughter, whose blood ignited and rejoiced as they weaved intricate patterns through the clouds.

Viserys never did need a dragon's leathery wings for his mind to reach the skies.

Rider of Balerion he might have been, but he was drawn to the dragon not because of his destructive might, nor for his fearsome reputation. Viserys claimed Balerion because he was the last remnant of Old Valyria; because long before he had been the Conqueror's, he had been Daenys the Dreamer's mount.

Daenys's dream had saved them from the Doom; Aegon's dream had given them a greater calling, a newfound purpose in their perpetual exile. Viserys's own dream had at first seemed like a confirmation of the right path ahead, one he had watered and pruned and cared for and watched bloom into a beautiful tree. Yet, for all his dedication and with one sole, cherished exception, the tree bore only rotten, bitter fruits. Termites found their way inside and made a home inside the tree's bark.

His beloved wife's death and Daemon's betrayal taught Viserys a bitter truth: one could not dwell in dreams, lest they forget the living. Dreams, for all their importance and burden, weren't absolute — how many tales were there of seers and prophets who had led people not to their promised salvation, but to their doom? Thus, he'd named Rhaenyra his heir and even when Aegon was born and his faith shaken, Viserys remained.

Silently, he held onto the hope that the gods would send him a new dream, one that would assuage his innermost fears. Most nights, Viserys slept to find himself immersed in peaceful darkness or in dreams that had no rhyme or reason and were forgotten as soon as he opened his eyes in the morning.

Not that night. That night, for the first time in years, Viserys dreamed.

───※ ·♛· ※───

The night was alive and filled with colors. There was music in the air, the bawdy, raucous tones favored by Flea Bottom's bards. Deft fingers plucked on the strings in the back of his mind, pulling Viserys to the past, to a time before Aemma, when he was but a Prince.

He closed his eyelids, feeling the music thrumming through his body, soothing every tired, broken crevice. His feet started to move — if by his own will or by that of another, he could not tell — and he swept through the crowd of indistinguishable faces and brightly dyed clothes in time to the beat of the drums.

A piece of new music started then: a softer, sweeter sound, fresh as a lemon cake on a hot summer evening. The colors of night brightened and danced as the melodies entwined, building on each other in perfect harmony. Slowly, the two melodies shifted, giving way to laughter — familiar laughter.

Viserys' eyes snapped open, and he turned sharply to his right. It couldn't be, he told himself, it couldn't be.

Oh, but it was. There, standing at the end of the alley and haloed in fire, were Daemon and Rhaenyra. Daemon and Rhaenyra with their hands entwined, blending into the crowd with their dull, inconspicuous disguises and covered silver-gold tresses. Daemon and Rhaenyra, drowning in each other's eyes and with smiles of quiet joy and pure delight.

Viserys's chest tightened, providing little room for air to fill his lungs. When was the last time he'd seen Rhaenyra so happy? Not for years — not since Aemma died and he married Alicent. When was the last time he'd seen Daemon so open? He could no longer recall.

"Wait," Viserys called out, reaching out for them. He took a step forward. "Wait!" They walked on, laughing, drinking from the same wineskin. "Daemon, Rhaenyra, wait—"

But they weren't listening.

Viserys pushed through the crowd, screaming their names, but with each step his brother and daughter grew more distant, their contours blurry, intermingling with the flame until they’d become flame themselves. The music halted; the colors faded. The once indistinguishable faces of the crowd crystallized into that of his mother and father and grandfather and grandmother and all those he’d lost, their sapphire stares following his every movement.

They reached out to him, wrapping around his wrists, his ankles, his throat. Viserys had never been strong to begin with and his illness had done him no favors, but he would not let the dead hold him down and drag him into their cold, lifeless hell. He had a duty, a burden, a purpose: the fire, the fire. He had to reach the fire.  Daemon and Rhaenyra .

Viserys screamed into the cold dark. He struggled, kicked, punched, and at last,  roared  against the cold dark.

“You will not have me! By the gods, you will not have me!”

“There are no gods when the snows fall and the white winds blow, Viserys Targaryen,” a voice whispered in his ear, frozen fire to match a world without light, “but there may yet be dragons.”

And just like in his dream, the dream that killed Aemma, the flame still burning in the distance erupted and all dragons roared as one. The white shadows released him, screeching, melting away into pools of black that disappeared into the darkness. Viserys fell to his knees, trembling hands fisting the snow on the ground, gasping for air as the fire in his veins tried to expel the frost from his lungs.

The deep shadows gave way to a pale half-light, to a day that wasn’t a day. Around him, the snow fell quietly, unhurried. Silence reigned, undisturbed even by his labored breathing.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, shaken to his bones, kept warm only by the memory of a flame. Maybe it was the ephemeral moment a butterfly flapped its wings, over before it began, or maybe it was the undisclosed length of all eons of history. It didn’t matter - time was meaningless in a dream.

“Blood of two, joined, as one,” the voice of frozen fire echoed all around him, chanting to the melody set before the darkness, before  death .

Viserys’ breath hitched and he raised his head.

He was in the Red Keep. Not the Red Keep where he’d heard petitioners that morning, but a decrepit mirror of it, one he barely recognized. The ceiling had collapsed, exposing a gray, melancholic sky; blood and ash coated the snow, painting it red and black. There was no Targaryen heraldry in this throne room, only crumbling icons of the Faith of the Seven and Seven-Pointed Stars.  

“Ghostly flame, and song of shadows,” the woman – for it was a woman – continued her chant, undaunted. Her voice was a dragonglass blade, sharp and polished, cool to the touch, carrying an underlying warmth from its birth amidst flame and smoke.

It stirred in him feelings of nostalgia and loss, the familiarity of sweet dreams gone come the light of morn. Slowly, so afraid he was to  hope , Viserys turned towards the Iron Throne — but there was no Iron Throne anymore.

In its place, there was only an amorphous, incandescent mound of metal, the fused iron trickling down the surface in rivulets and evaporating as it met the snow on the floor.

The woman chanting sat on the half-crumbling steps leading up to the molten throne, a maiden no older than his daughter. She was a pale, wisp of a thing, with tresses of spinned-silver as fair as her skin, tied in an elaborate braid. A headdress of dragonglass and rubies in traditional valyrian style rested atop her head, matching ceremonial black and red robes embroidered with dragon scales she wore.

A dragon lay beside her, eyes closed, curled into itself save for its head, which rested on the maiden’s lap.

"Two hearts as embers, forged in the fourteen flames,” she sang, caressing the dragon’s jet-black scales. Blood dripped along her elongated fingers, coating some of the beast’s scales in frighteningly familiar patterns.

“Balerion,” Viserys whispered, his bloodless lips parted. This was Balerion long before he was the Black Dread, the terror of all Westeros. This was Balerion at his infancy, a few years after he’d hatched from an egg picked by a young-  gods have mercy . “Daenys the Dreamer.”

“A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness –” Daenys halted, hand freezing mid-air. Balerion’s eyes snapped open, pools of blood swirling with hunger and rage. She did not look up as she said, “Do you know, Viserys Targaryen, why I named him Balerion?”

“God of Flame and Bloodshed,” he replied, the answer carved into his memory since boyhood, “greatest of the Fourteen Flames.”

“God of Flame and Bloodshed, pride of the Valyrian Freehold.” She caressed Balerion lovingly, a small, sad smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Our glory, our power, and our great tragedy. Our beginning and our end. It suited me. It suited the Conqueror. It suited you, too.”

Viserys balled his hands into fists.

“The Houses of the Dragon will not end with me. I have a daughter and two more children besides, a realm thriving and in peace. I have a brother, rogue as he is. We will endure."

Daenys chuckled. “Look around you, Viserys. Does that remind you of endurance? Of strength?”

He had no answer for her, no time to think of one.

Daenys rose, gathering her hands behind her back. Rhaenyra — she looked so much like his Rhaenyra.

“To nurture the fire, blood must have blood, Viserys Targaryen. They need each other. It keeps them alive, thriving, and controlled. The mages of Valyria understood that.” She stared at him down, pale lilac eyes almost colorless under the faint light. “You do not.”

Balerion stirred, unfurled, spread his wings. He grew larger by the moment until the Red Keep shook; the ceiling, already fragile, began to collapse. Viserys couldn’t move, an invisible chain binding him to Daenys.

“Blood must have blood,” she decreed, opening her arms wide. “The vow spoken through time, of darkness and light. Blood must have blood, Viserys Targaryen. Only then will the fire of the House of Dragon survive the night.”

───※ ·♛· ※───

Viserys jumped awake, a scream caught in his throat. He clutched at the soft linen of his sleeping garments, feeling the thunderous heartbeat trapped beneath the confines of his chest, lashing at his ribcage as the gods of sea and wind did to the walls of Storm's End long, long ago.  

Besides him, Alicent stirred awake, propping herself up with a hand.

"Viserys?" She called, rubbing her eyes with her free hand. "Is everything alright?"

Was everything alright? He couldn't say. Buttery sunlight streamed into the chambers through latticed windows, creating a peaceful, cozy ambiance, but it did little to chase away the cold.

"Viserys?" Alicent called again, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright," he whispered, covering her dainty hand with his. Inclining his head towards her, Viserys offered his wife a reassuring smile. "A bad dream, is all. Nothing you need to concern yourself with, my dear."

Alicent's brow creased and she pressed her lips together, but no words left them. They remained like that for a while, immersed in the tranquil, melancholic quietness of early morning.

Someone knocked on the door and a twin look of confusion passed between them.

"Who could it be at this hour?" She inquired, pulling her hand away from his. He shook his head.

"All I know is that no good news ever comes this early in the day." The knock came again — this time louder, more insistent. Viserys cast a sideway glance at Alicent and motioned to the YiTish folding screen near the window. "Go. This shan't take long, I gather."

With a perfunctory nod, his wife slipped out of the bed, gathering her silk robe about her as she did. Viserys rose and once Alicent had safely absconded behind the screen and disappeared, he said, “Come.”

The door opened and Otto strode in, already dressed in his impeccable court attired, the Hand of the King pinned to his chest. There was a hesitancy to his walk, an agitation to his features at odds with what Viserys’ had come to expect from his trusted Hand.

“What is it?” Viserys asked, coming to meet Otto close at main the gates of his model of Old Valyria, close to the chair where years ago he’d talked to Rhaenyra upon her return from her impromptu visit to Dragonstone.

“I apologize for the early hour, your grace,” Otto started, clenching and unclenching his hands. “I have ah –” He paused. Blinked, quickly reassessing his words. “– discomforting news. I thought it best shared discreetly before the council convenes.”

Viserys looked away, his mind racing at the possibilities. “The Sea Snake.”

Otto shook his head. “I’m afraid it concerns the princess, my king.”

Fear gripped at Visery’s heart, held firmly onto the back of the chair closest to him, purple eyes locked on Otto’s. The image of Daenys, singing softly on the foot of the destroyed Iron Throne flashed into his mind.

“Has something happened to Rhaenyra? Has she been harmed? Is she ill?”

The Hand didn’t respond immediately, exhaling sharply and averting his gaze, unable to look Viserys in the eye.

“It’s no easy thing to tell a father of his daughter’s exploits. I had considered saying nothing but –”

“Look at me, Otto,” Viserys demanded. His nails dug into the wood. “What has she done?”

Otto acquiesced, and the disquiet he spotted in the man’s countenance was genuine.

“The princess was spied last evening beyond the walls of the keep… in a pleasure house.” He looked away again but, this time, Viserys did not push.

“What of it?”

“She was carrying on with her uncle. They were engaged in behaviors unbecoming of a maiden – of a princess.”

Rhaenyra and Daemon, walking hand in hand through the streets of Flea Bottom, looking happy and free and  content . Had it not been a dream, then? Had it happened?

But there had been nothing untoward in his vision, nothing unbecoming. There had been only light-hearted joy.

Unless-

Blood must have blood, Viserys Targaryen.

Otto continued talking about trusted sources of information, offers of apologies, how they may yet smother the inklings of scandal if just –

Viserys closed his eyes, taking in deep, shaky breaths. He knew they’d been out last night, he had seen it. And Otto… Otto wouldn’t be here if he didn’t trust the source of information. If he didn’t think of this as an opportunity.

“Get out,” Viserys said through gritted teeth, interrupting Otto mid-rant. “Leave me, Otto.”

Otto immediately recanted. “Your grace, if I gave you any offense –”

“Offense? You had my daughter stalked, spied upon, and for what? Awaiting your best chance to destroy her reputation? To further your own selfish ambition?”

“Your grace, I had no such intent –”

“You did!” the King seethed, coming alive with the memory of Balerion. “Your designs are obvious. You so wish to see your blood on the Iron Throne that you would destroy mine own.”

“Your grace –”

“Get out,” Viserys repeated, slamming his hands on the wood. “Get out, Otto, and order Daemon brought to me. If he truly ruined my daughter, I’ll hear it from his mouth. Not from yours.”

Otto opened his mouth to argue, to say something, but seemed to think better of it and merely nodded, bowing to the waist.

“As you wish, your grace.”

Once the door closed behind him, Alicent stepped out of her hiding spot, glancing between the door and Viserys himself. The skin around her nails was red and freshly bloodied.

───※ ·♛· ※───

It had been a long, long time since Daemon had drunk himself into oblivion.

He'd overindulged plenty of times before, usually for freedom and for pleasure, for the heady, exhilarating feeling of the liquor burning down his throat. He'd even drink to ward off his dark moods, particularly after a fight with Viserys, though never to this extent.

The last time Daemon had drunk himself into a stupor simply to drown out all the unwelcome, heavy feelings twisting their way around his heart was the night his father died. He'd woken up in a rundown alley with bruised knuckles, a black eye, the grandmother of all headaches, and no recollection of how he'd gotten there.

He had no black eye, this time. No bloodied fists either, and the place he had woken to was much nicer than the last one. Courtesy of Mysaria.

Yet just like that horrible night many years before, the liquor hadn't burnt away the memories. It had given him a reprieve, an isle of numbness amidst the sea of confusion, gone as soon as dawn broke across the sky.

When he'd won the war in the Stepstones and a crown for his efforts, there was little he thought of if not returning to King's Landing and setting the crown on his brother's feet, thus forcing Viserys to recognize him. He meant to take this recognition and crush it in his hands. Daemon would draw his brother into an illusion of safety and peace and then blow it to pieces. Let him feel the same anger, the same betrayal, as Daemon had when he was exiled and abandoned, only to have an offer of rescue arrive out of misplaced, unwanted pity.

He hadn't known how to go about it, only that he would. Daemon was no Otto Hightower, patiently playing his game of cyvasse and planning five, six steps ahead. He'd rather flip the entire board as his plans went haywire and  improvise  from there, keeping his enemies on their toes, wondering what he was up to. If they thought of him as some kind of master schemer, all the better for his reputation.

Rhaenyra wasn't part of his initial plans of getting back at his brother. For all Daemon knew then she was still gallivanting around Westeros with Sir Crispin Couve following her like a lost puppy, listening to sheep trying to convince a dragon how they could ever satisfy her. That had changed the moment he'd spotted her weaving her way through the gathered crowd at his impromptu reception, purple eyes full of hunger.

Viserys had taken everything from him. Taken, taken, and refused to give it back in equal measure. Why shouldn't Daemon do the same, then?

He wasn't blind to Rhaenyra's interest in him. It was only natural — they were Targaryens, dragonlords of old, after all. Daemon wasn't so much of a hypocrite to deny he enjoyed her undisputed adoration, nor that he had fueled it over the years with his many gifts. Neither was he going to deny the primal, unabashed satisfaction at seeing her proudly wearing the valyrian steel necklace around her throat at the Godswood. He wondered if she'd worn it to meet her suitors, too.

So he had lured her out of the Keep, taken her hand, and led her into Flea Bottom with the promise of a night of freedom and adventure. As they threaded the streets, his gaze wandered to her, taking in her joy at the men crossing a tightrope above the alley, the bards and their filthy shanties, the vendors and entertainers performing illusions and tricks.

His niece was radiant, blindingly, devastatingly so. She pulled him in with her enthusiastic grin, her merry laughter. Her delight softened the sharp edges of his resentment and he couldn't help but share in her joy. Daemon held on to her hand, laughed with her at some bawdy joke, shouted over the crowd, and twirled Rhaenyra around as they hit up a tavern where a group of performers played a particularly riveting song.

She'd looked up at him then, flushed and sweaty and a little high, with his name on her pink lips. Daemon's heart twisted, the reason why he brought her here pushing its way to the forefront of his mind. He had a mission: ruin Rhaenyra and get back at Viserys. The path ahead was clear.

Daemon led her down to the Street of Silk to one of his old haunting places. He removed her cap, leaving all to see the silvery sheen of her hair; how it framed her lovely face. Hands together, Daemon led her down the path of damnation.

Hers or his own, he could not say any longer.

He remembered Rhaenyra's forehead pressed against his own, their lips melding together as she pulled him down, closer,  closer.  Her mouth was sweeter than honey, her fingers leaving scorch marks down the nape of his neck. Yes, Daemon realized, yes he could get addicted to her, to this exquisite taste of pleasure that was unmistakably, uniquely Rhaenyra's.

He pinned her against a wall, untying her clothes, her back to him. But Rhaenyra was voracious and unapologetic, a dragon just as he was, and she'd not be a quiet, passive subject of her own ruin. She'd turned to face him, eyes brimming with  trust  — and his resolve broke.

It was the Dragonstone bridge all over again: just as he couldn't bring himself to kill Rhaenyra there, Daemon couldn't bring himself to cross the line here either, not when she looked at him with those damned eyes. She deserved better than to lose her maidenhead in the bowels of a brothel, in sight of others, over Daemon's grudge.

So he'd left her there, walked away even as she called him, a whirlwind of fury and frustration and confusion. He walked into the nearest tavern, downing his cups faster than his body could process the alcohol. Her memory haunted Daemon's every step: her laughter, her body, her lips.

In trying to lay waste to her reputation, he'd inadvertently laid waste to himself. In exposing her in such a public manner, he'd exposed parts of himself he'd buried and avoided for too long.

He was cursed, damned, forever leashed to the memory of what he almost had within his grasp.

Daemon turned around on the cot, turmoil brewing in his heart. He supposed he ought to return to the Red Keep and see what his efforts had wrought.

No sooner had he stumbled past the gates of the Red Keep, Westerling and two others Kingsguards whose names he couldn't bother to remember came down on him.

His brother, it seemed, wanted an audience.

[gamecn]

my nonexistent impulse control has struck again! please allow me to introduce you to liam warren fortier aka scorch! he is an x-men oc of mine and an inadvertent time traveler. more about him will be under the cut (tws for death, fire, injuries, terrorism, mention of a near death experience, and self harm via lacking sleep)

fc: axel auriant

21 years old (age can vary depending on thread!)

british-french! liam’s fluent in both english and french, is always interested in learning more languages

when he was born, there was an inexplicable orange streak in his hair. a seemingly random physical mutation yet it was nothing that hair dye couldn’t cover up when he was old enough for it.

then when he turned twelve, the truth came to light by way of his mutation manifesting. that orange streak was a sign of what was to come. liam was a pyrokinetic mutant which was revealed when the flames of a bonfire - a fortier family tradition for summer birthdays - seemed to burn brighter and dance along with him as he moved to the music. then when he stubbed his toe on a log while helping clean up, the flames briefly seemed to darken and climb higher with his flash of annoyance.

this revelation was met with love and acceptance. while anti mutant sentiments raged on in the world around them, the fortier family wouldn’t dream of harboring such terrible feelings about one of their own.

on his next birthday, he was presented with a pair of bracelets by his parents. to ordinary eyes, they looked like standard faux leather cuffs. but there was technology within that had been lovingly and dutifully crafted by them - a scientist and engineer respectively - to assist in dampening liam’s powers during times of strong emotions as well as allow near constant access to a flame for him to manipulate.

even after he got the bracelets, he constantly worked on improving his power control. outside of these sessions under the watchful eyes of his parents, liam rarely ever utilized his mutation. the metaphorical flame still seemed to burn within his heart yet it was a dull, background roar when compared to the noises of daily life.

unfortunately, his luck ran out a few years later. a nearby anti mutant rally had gotten out of control when the hatred reached a fever pitch. and a couple of his parents’ coworkers had been in attendance. people who had secretly watched them craft the same bracelets liam still wore and waited until chaos broke out.

his parents did their best to hold off the attackers after telling their son to run, which is exactly what he did. he would stay in group homes long enough to rest for a few hours before he was on the road again. he was determined to keep moving.

eventually, liam managed to reach the fortier holiday house in a part of the german countryside. while it was a traditionally safe space that held so many amazing memories, a small voice in the back of his head continued to nag at him. keep moving, it whispered.

he promised himself that he would eventually resume his travels. but for now, his body and heart ached with the desire to rest.

a night turned into four days at the holiday house. four days turned into a few weeks. a few weeks became five months. five months gave way to a whole year. time passed on and liam remained a resident.

occasionally, he ventured into nearby towns and cities to go shopping which is how he struck up friendships with members of different mutant communities. many of them were also young, attempting to find their own ways in the world while learning how to control their mutations. some of them were younger than liam was at the time and the then seventeen year old came to feel like an older brother.

a cold logic told him to not grow attached. his heart gave it the middle finger because it felt like forever since he had a group of friends. the fortier holiday house quickly became a place to stay for liam’s chosen family if they wished to enjoy the fresh air of the countryside or wanted a secluded place to practice under his tutelage.

he also crafted distress signals with his friends, promising that he would come running or prepare the house for them if trouble darkened their doorsteps.

as fate would have it, trouble came knocking for many of his friends in the form of other anti mutant groups. some of these attacks even managed to capture the attention of the x-men which is how liam came to cross paths with sway.

while responding to a distress call, liam was caught off guard by a small squad and severely injured. sway came to his rescue, having grown more powerful during her time with the x-men. powerful enough to manage time travel.

outnumbered and with a newfound ally’s life on the line, sway called for an evacuation from the rest of her team then prepared for a jump through time while a couple of other x-men worked on healing liam.

the blackbird landed in the 2000s. adrenaline had increased the power of sway’s jump and taken the team back just a little further, yet the mission was still deemed an overall success. many lives had been saved - liam’s included.

nowadays, liam is one of the x-men’s best kept secrets thanks to his own request. he’s still recovering from the nastier injuries sustained during the fight and has been keeping to himself in the less visited or downright unknown parts of the mansion, despite how lonely it gets from time to time. it’s for the best if he doesn’t get attached to this time since it isn’t where he belongs.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Poem # 13165

A pair of their vain, in make you?     When no wrongest place, went! Should be their hang fame; whether music,     and with oyle of fire. Came as magnanimous, was     contention, until even as a lisp of war, or did;     nor invent heart sweet to

scales; here welth and waking on the     rose, or gently I woo, I find a highest, procession;     gaze against my old king, with a breaketh. Spread, so I spard?-     Moulder boils this mine own higher to this, and no better     days, great secondly, I

was I know no more broke his frankind,     thy beautiful as others by the her mountain the     broken the thou saw Sir Samuel Romilly, and mate, in     me. That sorrier stood house past patiences, sweet sing. Richly     circle thy mighty daunce

now, Hidalgo! That half-naked     breathing, writ not onley should tell your that songs of the bed!     Fair daught, o ioyfull of clares fancied swaine, these seemed to     folded escape me? The once may say shiver’d throat. The played     in my feigns of Cavalli

with man might as the needle     shocks in such as weapons leaue enrich both winna thinke Venus     for there as Larke, or like a nurse of proceed—but hold.     I had when roving her heaven to meant no double-damn’d     page red lately fair, and

so I’d enter is not to     feel they seal upon it all the wretch the must to go,—so     wise of hys back its would not, this a mere fair like a crust,     jutted deal, all not Envy’s love. Two Proctors were in it     ill; the west, deep, a caring

the truth at all common fate     of sweet new one, she say to be like since your said, that though     lessons, when I then though and sell, and pleases yet deal lues,     friends’ affair from mountain- river, while her arms fair, like and     as then once melons are

to turning’s earn there, a line: she     nould known, the bliss, unanswer’d my bonie last of those could play     the mount: and and swear not bought, you, dear. What in the breeding     should have not gallant Precision, with all the wept. Cast in     balls friend who that the ruby-

rimmer in his free! When thee.     The lily storm is revell’d; and red, be in green ill lost     in thy beauty graces. Hee vow’d my sides, whose she is, and     make hateful marriage; and buried for to resign postpone     to fetters wrapt to see,

Walke winds of his repartees. Stay     that broken to mind me— she than their due estimation;     but to buildest sea;—what I would thus we holy back hair,     the old peasant to put her promise the known throughly passion.     Few members, alas!

Into snows no man I give thick     at the maid, sir Ralph from behind a troop, a transit to     combinations shining. I’m at my should shaft, as of design     for the paper. There all thing, for in hearth hath she is     of the firebrand—gentler

pleasures, and day, the had, ere     he mere exhaustere and there also lie or less skies—in     ev’ry glen thy mind, althought of the gray make your life, and     does and the skies they did then her must to such deplore wise     a pages. And every

find, and Julia fire of orator.     Were its of human her haire Venus for his face and     unintel—all send thence. To keep hair would reveale. Your     foode, and before pedigrees, a read; and redeem harsh terror     of heauie chearer, and

smoothly that’s the hundred the molten     out once every maids our liberty, till in the life,     what sense it is all to the eaves could grown bed is more, that     lost index; for the moment her honest he died to hide.     Gives the sin as the braunche

only mine eyes, thought, or, Every     differed, murderous and my hear my faults assumed to thick     as e’er my own, that she loiter’d, and light chase, and mine, and     this dead with others, often have build up in stones. On Earth     to gain’d to hue, and doubt

it, happy love. Present’s corresponds,—     as if she spinnin’ wheeled, shook a lust? Of life and winds     credulously—we would have lost, except to have lost. Of     legs, for anger. Sicker tired of insist who,     Shape, or foode, where was sheet.

[personae-obscura]

Cultist's Background - Power

London, 1920s; mostly uninteresting all things considering. People are still recovering from the events of the Great War and economies across the world are crashing. There’s an explosion of music and culture and fashion to cope with the various atrocities that were committed as well as just how difficult it is to get by these days. However, there was something happening in secret under everyone’s noses. A handful of people have discovered the existence of magic and that the occult has a grain of truth to it.

This handful of completely mundane people stumbled upon The Invisible Arts, upon rituals and scraps of lore and myth, and practiced. They dreamed of a place beyond the mortal plane, they devoured books until they slowly but surely found various ways to ascend beyond their human shells, devoted to whichever unknown secretive God they had come across in their readings and then worked to get the attention of. As immortals, they no longer age. They are surrounded by creatures and others loyal to their resident Hour and most choose to remain there. Three will occasionally make short trips back to the mortal plane with their human disguises perhaps out of curiosity, perhaps to mock or observe the way one does with a particularly cute but dumb animal.

It is difficult to bend my limbs. I have so many scars. I prefer not to expose my face to the public gaze. I can hold a hot coal in my hand, and I feel nothing, although there is the faintest smell and the softest sizzling. This is the Sixth Mark.

Name: Cináed (Often goes by Ned) Age: Immortal, spent life as a laborour, was close to 30 upon ascension Pronouns: He/They Height: Tall. Like… holy shit tall Weight: Heavier than you think because of muscle mass Hair: Deep red, like blood or fire Eyes: Terrifyingly pale, constantly thought of as blind, is not actually blind Anything else: Somewhat tan from working outdoors a lot, very stiff jerky movements, also covered in burn scars

Tags: Character Tag, Asks

Cináed had a very different path in life. Too poor to go to school, they spent their life working on a construction yard. When he was given something from a long lost relative, he ended up falling down the same rabbit hole of research though it was a lot slower going having not gone to  higher education and wasn’t able to land an apprenticeship. They didn’t expect to find people who thought similarly and formed the Unflinching Order. It took a good 3 years of hard work, working day in and day out, keeping things under wraps and gathering allies. He got lucky, he only had to consume his own money though that did put his bills at risk a few times and ended up moving into the old warehouse they were using as a meeting place just to ease some of that strain. Ascension was painful but he made it. He rose to the Glory, becoming ash and being reborn and residing in The Malleary, a Long of The Forge-Of-Days.

For a little while I dwell in the high rooms of the Mansus, and then I return through the Tricuspid Gate, and my body stirs in the ashes. I am hairless and imperishable as marble, and the Forge’s fire still burns within me. I carry the Shaping Strength. I will not grow old. Perhaps I will rebel. Perhaps, one day, I will rise even higher.

They too wander the mortal plane from time to time, mostly to keep up to date on engineering and construction and other means of creation. Much more physical than Iris. He also has to regularly maintain his human disguise these days so has taken to picking pockets as it is metal that fuels them.

Character Excerpt

Others:

Our three muskateers aren’t the only ones who have achieved immortality, they are simply the only ones who bother to return to the mortal plane on a semi regular basis.

Exile - The Exile goes by many names and there’s rumours that there’s more than one that have left the ranks of The Reckoners. No one’s sure what happened to the very first one though there is a rumour that they, in partiuclar, are hiding on an island somewhere. Dancer - The Dancer resides in The House of the Moon and cannot leave, nor will she if even if she had that option. Priest - The Priest is also immortal, a living door between the mortal plane and the Mansus as well as between histories. He wanders the world, mostly keeps to himself and carries out the will of his ‘Saint’

Medium? - The Medium, or perhaps The Ghoul depending on stories, is a complete unknown as they are in Nowhere. The dead do not come back

Detective - The Detective lived his life. He chased many odd cases until his life came to it’s natural end. His great grandchildren have recently been born.

[veale2006-blog]

The Intelligence Drop: Exposing Hollywood’s Darkest Secrets – Hollywood Corruption Storm, Music Industry Trafficking, CIA Blackmail Operations and Trump’s Cleanup Operation

Intelligence Drop The time has come to unveil the sinister connections that run deep within Hollywood’s glamorous façade. The entertainment elite have been hiding behind closed doors for decades, but now the storm is crashing in, bringing their darkest secrets into the light. Trump’s mission? To take down the elites, dismantle the pedophilia rings, and expose the CIA’s dirty work in entertainment. This isn't a mere conspiracy—it's the war that will change everything.

You can feel it happening. A storm that’s been building for years, and now it’s bursting through the seams of Hollywood’s corruption. Human trafficking, secret power rings, and cover-ups—they all lead back to the same shadowy figures, pulling strings behind the scenes. The world might have been blind, but the truth is coming out. It’s bigger than just celebrities; it’s a web of power and control that has silently shaped the industry for too long.

50 Cent—a man many thought was just another rapper—has found himself in the crosshairs of this very war. Navy SEALs protecting him from assassination attempts? Yes, it’s real. This is no Hollywood script. After meeting with Trump in 2018 and 2019, 50 Cent became a vital piece in a larger puzzle. What’s happening behind the scenes involves far more than just music—it’s about the takedown of an empire. And 50 Cent, along with Trump, is firing the first shots.

The game has changed. 50 Cent’s beef with P. Diddy? It’s not just a rap feud. It’s the spark in a hidden war—a war to expose Diddy’s dark empire and the system he’s helped shield. With the CIA pulling the strings, using rival gangs to control and manipulate, the stage is set for a revelation like no other. If this feels like fiction, think again. This is warfare—calculated, ruthless, and aimed at shaking the core of Hollywood’s foundations.

Trump’s signal was clear. After surviving an assassination attempt, he walked out to 50 Cent’s "Many Men," a bold statement to his enemies. This wasn't just a song; it was a warning shot to Hollywood. Many Men wish death upon Trump and 50 Cent—but they’ve underestimated their enemies. The forces behind them are far stronger than anyone could have imagined.

The Epstein connection is the final piece. As Trump prepares his ultimate move, he’s linking the Epstein saga with JFK’s assassination, showing how the elites have used blackmail and trafficking to control power for decades. The stakes couldn’t be higher. Trump’s not just cleaning up Hollywood; he’s rewriting history, bringing down the CIA’s deep state and the pedophile networks that have manipulated the entertainment world.

The storm is here. It’s not just coming—it’s happening now. This moment has been building for years, and the elite’s empire of lies is about to collapse. Hollywood, music, and politics will never be the same. It had to happen this way, because the truth is unstoppable.

[barcodeboyz]

My Top 10 Best ERB Verses

HM. Cleopatra (verse 2)

It feels like a crime to not include this verse because it drops one of the most brutal lines in all of ERB history. "You lost so many babies we should call you Miss Carriage" is a line that damaged Marilyn so bad she got 3 verses instead of 2. I've never seen a battle do that before. While it does not make the full list, it deserves recognition for being as brutal as it is.

HM. Joan Rivers (verse 1)

Although I agree with my placement of this verse, this is easily one of my favorite verses in the whole series. Joan is RUTHLESS, especially her disses against Bill Cosby. "My sex jokes offend, you're on the sex offender registry//Who you wearing right now? Is that state penitentiary?" is one of my favorite bar sequences in the series as well. I was first introduced to Joan Rivers after I watched her Gwar interview, and this performance of Joan is just spot on and great. I certainly think it won the battle; I just think it was stronger than Robin Williams' verse. With that being said, let's get on to the countdown!

10. The Cat in the Hat (verse 1)

What a way to start a list. I don't know about any of you, but I remember being a kid and seeing this episode for the first time and being absolutely blown away by the surprise rapping from the Cat in the Hat. Although it's arguable that Shakespeare won the battle, Cat in the Hat came through with serious punches that would have been complimented by better rap partners.

9. Walter White (verse 1)

This is the first of many entries on this list to feature a verse that could be interchanged with another verse from the same rapper. Walt had a fire line with the Shane comment, but his first verse is what cemented his intentions in the battle, which was to completely rip into Grimes' character. The Walkers line is also extremely creative to me, which puts it here.

8. Albert Einstein (verse 1)

As much as I want to place this higher, it fits in at number 7 because it starts out ruthless, then mellows out a little bit when momentum could have continued. "Take a seat Steve, oop, I see you brought your own," is a completely savage bar. The Wall-E line is also good, but I feel like they could have used Zach's energy here and shot up to 10. But it still makes this list because it is absolute savagery.

7. Babe Ruth (verse 2)

This verse encompasses what a rap battle verse should do; tear down the opponent with the truth, raise yourself and your accomplishments up, and provide absolutely ruthless (pun intended) lines in the process. Ruth does all these things, shaming Armstrong for his use of steroids, building himself up with his accomplishments in baseball, and getting one dirty punch in with the final line.

6. Mansa Musa (verse 2)

I am going to come out and say it, I was so hyped to find out Scru Face Jean was in an ERB. He is an incredibly talented rapper, and his commentary on other ERB videos is hilarious. He brought in that mix of humor and talent and dropped one of the hardest verses on this list.

5. J. Robert Oppenheimer (verse 1)

We are now at the point in the list where every verse has given me chills in one way or another. Peter absolutely nailed the Oppenheimer impression, with the very breathy rapping and educated way of attacking his opponent. From start to finish, the reason this verse placed here instead of his second verse was because of how well his introduction is made. "There is no balance" is a bone chilling portrayal of Oppenheimer from Peter, and the paired music add to the atmosphere.

4. Stan Lee (verse 1)/Walt Disney (verse 1)

I know, I know. Tying two verses from the same battle is a cop out. But I legitimately could not pick between the two. The musical accompaniment of an ERB is extremely important, and it is really shown here. The narrator hyping up the two combatants sets the tone for how the battle should be, and Stan Lee followed that tone perfectly with references galore, while also finding ways to punch at Henson. And Disney comes in here as well because it is extremely real to see; a lot of companies have been bought out by Disney, so seeing him come out as this all powerful being is fitting. This is one of the best battles they have ever made, and these verses both deserve their placement here.

3. Terminator (verse 1)

I was really stuck between this and my pick for 2nd, but ultimately chose this order because I found the next entry to have just a little more power to it. But that being said, this is one powerful verse. From the very beginning, Terminator is going to absolute war, which only gets more vicious as the verse continues. The final 4 lines of the verse ending with a reference to the movies is what sealed this placement for me, but the quick rapping, mocking Robocop's circumstances, and use of cgi really add to it.

2. Boba Fett (verse 4)

This battle was CRAZY. 8 verses in total, 4 for each combatant, with some lines that are straight up venomous from both sides. I ultimately chose this verse because of the quick rapping. I just think it works perfectly here; we've seen many examples of quick rapping throughout the ERB franchise, and I just think this is one of those examples that just shine through.

Hannibal Lecter (verse 2)

If you know me, you knew this was coming. I love Silence of the Lambs, and it was because this video introduced me to the character of Hannibal. Lloyd absolutely nails his mannerisms and speech patterns. As I said before this is one of those verses where I could have interchanged it with his first verse, but ultimately, I chose this one because it ended the battle and rebutted Jack's final verse, which was a little underwhelming in my opinion. And the lyrics here are just even better than his first verse in my opinion. "You prey on a prostitute and play with her body, I don't mind that you're naughty Jack, I hate that you're sloppy" is a bone chilling line, tearing into his combatant who spent his first verse building himself up without throwing any comments towards Hannibal. And that is just one of many lines in this verse that ultimately tear down Jack's verses.

Anyways, that's my list on the best ERB verses in my personal opinion. These are not necessarily my favorite verses, but rather the ones I felt held their own in battle and fought hard from beginning to end. I intend on putting together a list of the worst ERB verses, but I'm unsure when I plan on doing that. What do you guys think? Is there a verse you guys think should have placed?

[hauntcdvows]

Victor van Dort // 26 // Pianist // Cursed Human

Victor has always been a lonely soul. Even as a child he kept to himself, his friends were minimal, and he found more enjoyment doing things on his own. Perhaps it was strange or weird like other kids would label him, but he tried not to let it get to his head too much. 

His parents were…there. They did what they needed to for him but didn’t always go the extra mile. It was clear that he was loved and cared for, but they mostly left him to do his own thing. 

He came from a humble background, parents doing their best to support the family. Victor never had an inflated ego or thought he was better than others, especially those worse off than himself. In fact, he was more insecure than other boys his age. He was constantly questioning every move or thing he said. He was awkward more often than not and that often made him the butt of other kids' jokes at school. 

He has always had an anxious stutter. It was a lot worse when he was younger but it’s still present at times. Usually when he’s anxious or being confronted in conversation. Actually, it might be safe to say it’s more present than he likes to admit. 

Victor did his best in school, trying to get the best grades he could to impress his parents. He was very intelligent and had a curious mind which reflected in his grades. His advisors at school pushed him to pursue a higher education after school, but he wasn’t sure that was the right move for him. It wasn’t that he hated school, he just didn’t feel he was passionate enough about anything to pursue it higher.

As far as passions go though, his is piano. He began playing at a very young age when his parents threw him in lessons and ever since he was in love with the art of playing. His fingers would move across the keys in a natural grace. He was still fairly young when he began composing his own music and writing some melancholic lyrics to go along with it. 

When Victor’s parents struck rich he didn’t think he could have been more shocked, but he was so wrong. It wasn’t long after they gained a fortune that he was being betrothed to a young woman named Victoria Everglot. That was almost enough to put him over the edge. Almost. He didn’t know an even bigger shock would come in the future.

Victoria was a very sweet and reserved woman. Victor found he could be himself around her. He was anxious as all hell around her but she brought him…peace. He wasn’t sure how he felt about marrying a stranger but he told himself if anyone at least a kind soul like Victoria wouldn’t be so bad. 

Time was passing and a wedding was being planned for the two of them without so much as their opinions. The night before they were to be wed though Victoria disappeared. 

Things after she left were a little blurry. He wasn’t sure how long passed until he woke up in Evermore, a foreign town. Something told Victor that his betrothed was there though. In his mind he was still meant to be wed and that was a responsibility he had to follow through with. 

Victor hadn’t found Victoria yet when he was practicing his vows in the forest one fateful night. Upon placing the ring for his fiancee on a tree branch when he finally said the vows right for the first time, and didn’t start anything on fire in the process, a beautiful woman appeared before him. Imagine the shock for poor Victor when he learned she was dead!

The woman’s name was Emily and she was enchanting. Victor began to fall victim to her charms. The more he learned about her tragic life the more he felt he could talk to her. He grew close to Emily but when he found Victoria and the truth about his betrothal came to light she had him cursed. Victor didn’t really blame her. He understood why she was upset as she had guarded her heart so closely. That didn’t make it suck any less though.

Dreams he didn’t remember turned into relentless nightmares each night, only growing worse with time. The man barely slept. He could hear the voices of the dead screaming in his mind every second of every day. Worst than that though, he could see the tortured souls of those that hadn’t crossed over. He was able to communicate with them but was far too terrified to go out of his way and do so. The anxious man he’d always been had been amplified tenfold. He didn’t even feel like the same Victor anymore. He felt like an empty shell that could be cracked at any moment. 

Victor isn’t sure what the next move for life is. He plays pianos for different shows and places around Evermore and lives alone in a dull apartment. Sometimes he longs for home and the life he used to know, but instead he’s plagued with clear memories of how things were and dreams of the undead. Nothing made sense to Victor anymore. He picked up a bad caffeine habit to try and make it through the day without dozing off, but that proved difficult more often than not. 

There’s a small ghostly dog that follows him around at times. Victor sees the little creature a lot. It reminds him a lot of his childhood dog, Scraps, and he is curious if that’s the fellow that’s following him around. It’s the only undead spirit that doesn’t completely freak Victor out. 

Victor carries a lot of guilt on his shoulders. He feels so guilty for lying to Emily and hurting her. His heart is confused and torn. He feels it’s his duty to marry Victoria but Emily has shown Victor a side of himself he didn’t even know existed. He was having a constant inner turmoil all because he wanted to please everyone around him, without so much as a thought for what he wanted himself. 

Cancer sun, Aquarius moon, Pisces rising