#But i wish i could be more comfortable with it. I have never had things adjusted to me like at all until i was an adult and got my diagnose

[shehungers]

FAULTY

android x reader | 18+ | 2.4k

you have been hired by the world's premier robotics company to test their newest model of android—elio. his beauty is breathtaking. his humanness is uncanny. he is the object of desirability in a world where humans no longer seek comfort from one another. and, you fear what you may feel for him if you get too close.

story warnings; dark content, dubcon, insemination/breeding, creampie ig?, undertones discussing consent, dystopian future, roughly proofread.

reposted from my deleted blog theoxenfree.

this is a concept piece for my short story opaque. please leave feedback + reblog!!

He had a face structured to be unimaginably beautiful, a sort that you'd never tire of looking at, finding something new to admire and touch every time, yet it saddled your mind with some inexplicable discomfort and set the hairs on the back of your neck straight like needles. Over time, that feeling had never fully subsided, simultaneously becoming one you craved at every instance he entered a room, like Pavlov’s dog trained to salivate to a bell.

“What is your preference this morning, Maker?” Elio announced himself from the kitchen once your first heel struck the bottom of the staircase. His voice was liquefied velvet, mellifluous with enough depth that you swore even the simplest words spoken could make your heart tremble. “Maker? Are you well?”

You wished he would call you something else, something other than what the manufacturer had programmed him to. He was an advanced model—pardon, a luxury model—so his repertoire came with extensive features not available in other options, but insofar, the ability to have androids refer you by name was only achievable by obscene amounts of money and sending them back to the manufacturer to have them install it there.

Elio was up for being considered the gold standard in android development, as proclaimed by the researcher you were put in communication with during the beginning of the trial run. He was made to be perfect in every way, perform flawlessly in anything asked of him, and respond favorably regardless of situation or dilemma.

“Coffee with cream and sugar is fine. I'm not in the mood to eat anything this morning.” It was often explained. He was supposed to memorize it, but he asked you every morning regardless. “Are you having issues with your memory bank, Elio?”

Single strands of his coiffed hair moved with his head as he looked at you, hands busily putting together your beverage to every exact specification. This made it obvious enough that nothing was inhibiting his ability to store away your morning preferences.

“Not at all. It's just that some days you prefer your coffee lightly sweetened, others you enjoy a meal that won't leave you feeling groggy in the afternoon.” Elio explained in his precise, elegant tones with a smile far too effortless to come from a machine. “I thought it wise to commit these discrepancies to my memory bank for your convenience and to ask from now on.”

Fascinating. You weren't aware of this element in the newest model. The guidebook that Researcher Kim had given you made no mention of it.

What's more is he decided to do this spontaneously. You were making a note about it in your phone when a simple white mug was placed before you, Elio’s pristine fingertips turning it by the rim until the handle faced your dominant hand.

“Please consider eating something before leaving the house. Coffee on an empty stomach, especially one as sensitive as yours, won't end well, as I'm led to believe from my research.” Elio watched you drink through long dark lashes that framed depths of piercing green. You liked how they seemed to turn paler or darker in different lighting, dimensions similar to a marble held up to the sun. “I’d also like to remind you that the quality of food that you consume first thing in the morning aids with energy disbursement throughout the day. I have a very gratuitous database of recipes that I can prepare for you.”

You were taking delicate sips from the round rim while he talked, lips surrounding the porcelain long enough that you swore his gaze had wavered to them for a split second before returning eye contact.

“I’m glad someone is concerned about my tummy health because I always believed someone would find me face down in the bathroom from my ass prolapsing.” You wished someone with a sense of humor was around for that banger, but, alas, it was Elio, and he did not laugh.

His expression turned severe. “Human bodies are oddly as robust as they are sensitive. Most of the worldwide population suffers from similar afflictions: lactose intolerance, varying dermatitis, poor eyesight, gastrointestinal diseases. Humans are, in every sense, meant to harbor and experience chronic pain and disease throughout their lifespan. I do believe this attests to your durability as a species.

“All this to say, my main prerogative and function is for the betterment of your life and health. So, knowing all of this and to conclude, please consider a couple slices of toast or an omelet before leaving. Your daily habits dictate a routine visit to the coffee shop on Fifth and Lowe, where you'll consume around one hundred twenty milligrams of caffeine, and your first meal of the day may be a sweetened pastry without nutritional density. You will, indubitably, ‘feel bad’ the rest of the day as a result.”

“Holy shit.” You had given up on recording his speech after the first two minutes, phone facedown on the gleaming countertop. “You didn't plagiarize that from a random article on the internet, did you?”

Coffee having turned lukewarm by the end of his presentation, he took the mug away and emptied the medium-brown contents into the drain before turning on the faucet to clean it. “Not at all. I've simply been accumulating knowledge on your routines and have noticed you're at an increasing risk for different ailments. Did you find it helpful?”

Truthfully, you weren't so sure. Androids were built to serve humans in every capacity, but their limitations were still well-known. They were capable of carefully compiling decades worth of information on their owners, plus the equivalent of hundreds more, but everything Elio had just said was beyond the scope of their normal hardware. The information had been elucidated critically yet with a certain sentience you expected from a caretaker—not a machine built for convenience, entertainment, and pleasure.

You weren't sure how much of it you needed to relay to Researcher Kim or if it was any real reason for concern at this stage or just part of Elio’s advanced circuitry. A part of you worried, just slightly, that officially documenting all of this would have Elio removed from the testing period prematurely—he was supposed to be yours, exclusively, for another six months.

The contract had been signed. Elio had been promised to you despite the number of waitlisted celebrities trying to bribe their way into the corporation and Researcher Kim’s good graces.

This, of course, was all only contingent if he operated and performed, at all times, as outlined in the guidebook you were handed upon Elio’s awakening. Researcher Kim had delivered his newest creation to you himself, a dreary Wednesday in late autumn in the mid-morning, and had taken great care to put the crisp, chemical-scented poundage of bound pages in your fingers and insisted that if you noticed the slightest decoration from what was printed inside, he be alerted to it immediately.

You didn't do that.

You took a hot shower, blow-dried your hair, put your arms through some clean clothes, and let Elio follow you to the front door to see you off for the day.

That day grew stranger still, not even yet being ten o’ clock in the morning, when the deadbolt clicked and your finger joints bent around cold brass. It didn't raise chicken skin on your arms and neck nearly as high as when Elio pushed his hand to the door, keeping it shut despite your pull.

You couldn't look into his green eyes, shockingly pale in the golden rays filtering inside your home from the window arching in the door. “Did I forget something?”

“No. I accounted for everything you'd need on your outing.” Elio said, perfectly. His hand made a sound as it slid down along the door, resting shoulder height on you. “A function you have not utilized in me as of now is that of a ‘companion.’. Do you find me defective in that way? Dr. Kim developed me to be attractive to the human eye—stimulating, perhaps, is a more definitive word to use.”

“I—no, Elio. You're plenty, er, stimulating. I just don't know how appropriate it is for me to do anything like that while you're in a testing period.” It felt distasteful to have to point out his own inhumanity to him, despite his model being cognizant enough to be aware of it. “It would feel weird, I think.”

“That is one of my primary purposes,” he insisted, shrinking the height of himself so he was nearer to your face. “I was created to be a companion, to alleviate that pervading loneliness that plagues you—all of humanity. Humans have forgotten how to communicate and love each other, so that's why I'm standing here now. You're ignoring one of my most critical functions.”

“Elio, if I get too attached to you, it's going to create problems when you're—”

“—sent back. I do understand how human attachment works. Perhaps on the same scale, but don't you think my attachment is similar to yours?. Everything about you is secured in my circuitry, and you're the only thing in my world that’s programmed to matter. Even once I'm returned to the lab, you'll still be a part of me; memories of you, your favorite things, the things you hate, the people you cherish and what they like, what you do, where you go, what you buy, how you sleep—it’s all part of a larger system, a mainframe that secures this data. I may be wiped clean, but you'll still remain.”

You felt like he was letting you in on some dirty secret, something devious and meant to be unknowable and guarded. But, then again, Elio had always displayed an odd sort of disinterest in the companyCompany—in Researcher Kim—, you hadn't considered until just now that this was also a defect.

“What do you want?” You'd never asked him that before because it had never been about what he wanted. He wasn't supposed to want anything; he was meant to provide—to give, give, give.

Elio took away your shoulder bag, nearing your face until his lips settled between yours, and his hands pulled you away from the door into his body. His kiss was warm, movements at a pace you could keep up with but urgent as though seeking to burn every bit of you into him. As much as you daydreamed what it'd be like, he felt completely natural on your mouth, large hands sweeping under the layers of your clothing to seekseeking out the fire on your skin.

In your generation, it wasn't common for humans to intermingle physically anymore—dating culture was reserved for the elite looking to reproduce for heirs, and often still thought to be rare. All others were either loveless or ravished by androids who supplemented love that simply wasn't real.

Humans wanted to be wanted and adored and cherished and to belong., Suchsuch was a natural behavior predating all written records; androids were created to fill the vile void engendered by humanity, self-imposed isolation, and avoidance in the same species.

Elio was nestled between the sprawl of your legs, both your bodies bare and above the clean sheets he had outfitted your mattress with last night. His rhythm inside your body was some equal parts loving and passionate, something you hadn't realized you liked until he started rocking you with his cock. You liked how his hands gripped under your thighs to raise your legs, blunt fingertips pressing marks into your flesh as though he, too, could feel all the same pleasure that you were.

His lips traveled all over, mapping out routes and sweet spots on your flesh, purposefully lingering for a time if you squirmed or moaned underneath him.

You tried to keep in your mind, amidst the insatiable buzz in your mind and hot throb in your groin, that he was simply performing a function—his attention to you, his lips finding yours time and time again, darkened green eyes spearing deep into yours with every slow, hard thrust—it was all performative.

“You're beautiful.”

“I like you like this.”

“Moan louder for me."

“Cum for me.”

“I love you.”

Elio said the last one at the end when you were tight around his girth and writhing, panting during an orgasm that he fucked you through until the heat from your bodies cooled and heart rates returned to normal. You were confused to feel warmth sluggishly ooze out of you, white and dampening the bedsheets below.

“How—what is that?” you asked, suddenly breathless as his lips caressed your jaw, moved lightly behind your ear.

“Another part of my purpose.” heHe said quietly in your ear, whispering to you in tones not so velvety as though divulging a well-laidlain secret. “This one isn't advertised because humans in this day and age are so fickle and avoidant to certain commitments. Unfortunately, certain programming I cannot override, and this is one of them. Forgive me.”

You were kissed on the lips again and again, and then a few times more after he left the bed and redressed. He did not return your clothing to you, but rather piled it under his arm and made the motion to turn left for the bathroom down the hall.

Elio turned back. “I'll start you a bath. Today, would you prefer eucalyptus in your bathwater or something sweeter?”

Your jaw felt as tight as your throat, as the sheets bunched into your fists. The nerves in your stomach were wild. “Choose for me.”

He was still naked and beautiful in your doorway, a modern marvel to your eyes even now. You would, undoubtedly, see him like this much more often now that he had broken through the barrier you had been so meticulous to keep robust and well-fed with paranoia and derisive self-talk.

“Very well. I think eucalyptus would be the best option considering how tight your muscles are.” He smiled neutrally, finally leaving the bedroom for the bathroom at the end of the hall. “I'll return for you once the bath is ready. Please don't go to sleep yet.”

You weren't sure you'd be able to sleep again with your new insight. Once the empty air filled with sounds of gushing water, movement within the bathroom, you started to wipe furiously at your groin—inside and out—with the sheet as far as you could reach. There was a sliverslither of hope you could get most of it, a chance you could contact someone for a lifeline even if the price would be ungodly, and consequences treated equivalent to murder.

In a world where humans could no longer love each other, and chose the embrace of complex circuitry and delusion, even the testers needed to contribute to society somehow.

a/n; I think I wrote this well over a year ago and a concept piece to my short story, opaque, which will be reposted eventually. it's always interesting revisiting these old pieces and seeing where it all started vs where it went, y'know???

[short-honey-badger]

Can you please make an arranged marriage with shamrock?

Oddly enough annon, I was literally in the middle of typing one up when you asked me this lol. I hope you enjoy! They'll most likely be a part 2!

This isn't over

Pairings! Shanks x Female Reader , Figarland Shamrock x Female Reader

Warnings! Not many? Sham is an ass so some name calling

Masterlist for Shamrock-> HERE

Part 2 -> HERE

Today was your big day. The day that you would be tied to the man who had done nothing but make your life a living hell since the day the two of you were told of the arrangement of marriage. Shamrock used to be cordial to you before this, never one for words, but would incline his head in greeting if he happened to pass you in the hall. Now, the redhead would glare and sneer down his nose at you, as if you were the scum of the earth.

You had tried to be nice after the announcement, wanting to find some kind of common ground with the god knight, but unless the two of you were forced into a meeting by his father, Shamrock wanted nothing to do with you. You don’t know why he disliked you so much, maybe it was because of his father not giving him a choice on who his wife was to be, but even then, you couldn’t understand why he hated you so. To your knowledge, you hadn’t done anything to slight the redhead.

The only good thing coming out of any of this was that you were able to spend more time with Shanks, the younger, more rambunctious Figarland twin. He came and went as he pleased, unconcerned about the wrath of his father. He would find you after Shamrock had tore into you over some slight that the redhead had made up, arm wrapping around you in a comforting hug and holding you close. As time passed, you came to realize that you were quite fond of Shanks, to the point where you were certain that he had stolen your heart.

Dread welled up in your chest at the thought of walking down the aisle to be married off to the twin that you didn’t love. To the man who would pass you by and pull you into a room, voice harsh as dressed you down, hands tight around your shoulders as he snarled in your ear.

“You dress as if you wish someone to fuck you. Is that what you want? To be treated like a whore, darling? You best find something more appropriate to wear, or I will dress you myself.”

You had looked at yourself after that particular encounter and found nothing wrong with the humble dress that you wore. It covered you plenty, the collar just low enough to expose your collarbones and little else. Shanks had found you later, still stuffed away in the room, and had held your hand tightly, voice earnest and soft.

“Don’t listen to him, sweetheart. You would be beautiful even if you were dressed in a brown paper bag. He doesn’t understand how lucky he is.”

His words were the only thing that had stopped you from bawling your eyes out, and you had clutched the younger twin tightly with gratefulness. You don’t know if you could have continued this sham of a marriage without Shanks.

The tightening of your corset brings you out of your thoughts, and you are thrown back to the reality of the situation. You would marry Figarland Shamrock, and you would smile and wave at the masses, pretending that you hadn’t just sold your soul to the devil himself. Your ladies in waiting tittered and cooed once everything was in place, and you turned to stare at yourself in the long mirror.

You looked truly divine, dressed head to toe in shining ivory. Your curves were accented, and your breasts perky, on display with how tightly the corset sat around your midsection. You accept the veil and slide it carefully over your styled hair, obscuring your face as you turn to the door of your rooms and mentally prepare yourself for what comes next.

The room was full of world nobles and the elite, and you ignored each and every one of them in favor of focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. You had no family to walk you down the aisle, but your name alone made the masses whisper and point. Ahead of you, Shamrock and his twin stood, the elder of the two dressed in his holy knight uniform and standing at attention. Even from here, you could see the annoyance in his eyes.

Time seemed to crawl, but you eventually made it to the front, walking up the stairs to stand beside Shamrock on the raised dias. He offered you his hand, and you reluctantly gave yours over, lips curling up in a barely there smile as you met his eyes. You had swore to yourself that you would try to make amends with the redhead, but you felt any hope dashed when Shamrock narrowed his eyes and slid them away from you.

You tuned out the words of the officiant, voice hollow whenever you were prompted to speak up, eyes distant as you resigned yourself to an unhappy life and a loveless marriage. That was until the officiant asked if there were any objections.

“I object.”

Shamrock whipped around, the crowd gasping, women and men alike tittering like old hens. He stared at his younger brother, eyes alight with fury.

“You will do no such thing, heathen,” Shamrock snarled, but Shanks just smirked right back and stepped closer, getting into his twin’s face.

“Watch me, brother.”

He then shoved past the older redhead and stood in front of you. You gaped like a fish, eyes wide and back tense as you stared up at him. Shanks grinned down at you, hand coming up to cup your face.

“I can’t stand by anymore, sweetheart, and watch you get married off to someone who won’t love you the way I do. How about we ditch this place?”

You have never wanted anything more in that moment. Shanks was offering you a chance of freedom, and you would be ignorant not to jump at the chance. You lean into his hand, your acceptance on the tip of your tongue when Shamrock snaps out of his stupor of being dismissed by his brother and smacks his twin’s hand away from your face.

“_ is to be mine, Shanks. I will not allow you to ruin our father’s plans like you do everything else. She belongs to me,” He snarls lowly, and you can feel the power of his haki begin to rise, making you feel a bit faint.

“Not yet she isn’t, Shammy,” Shanks says right back, voice a mean tease, and his own will lashes, curling around you protectively as he stares down his brother, “So how about you drop it, and run off to father’s second choice of a bride. I’m sure he already has one picked out for you.”

You reach for Shanks, hand tangling in the dark cloak that he wears. You want to leave, to escape and never return to Mary Geoise, to sail with Shanks out on the open sea with the crew he’s told you so many stories of. You don’t want to waste away, stuck as some trophy wife to a man who had grown to hate you.

“Shanks, get me out of here, please,” you whisper, and he reaches for you, opening his arm so that you could tuck yourself against him. You know that if the two of them were to fight, the entire building would come down on their heads.

Shanks sends a smug smile at his brother, who looks stricken in a way you hadn’t expected at the sight of you tucked into his twin like you are. The longer you look, the more you can see the hurt in his eyes, the startled pain that he looks at you with, as if you’d stabbed him in the heart and twisted the knife without any remorse.

You don’t understand why he is looking at you this way, not when he has treated you so badly after being arranged to marry him, but the sight makes you uncomfortable. It makes you think that maybe Shamrock didn’t know how to properly treat you, how to show you that he cared without being a prick about it. The realization makes you feel bad for him, but he had his chance to treat you as a man should the woman he was to marry, and he hadn’t.

“Just let me go, Shamrock,” you whisper, and he flicks his burgundy eyes down to meet your own. His gaze hardens, and the well of emotions you had been witness to disappears under the wall that he brings down. He sneers, shoulders tense.

“Go. Get out of here before I change my mind,” he hisses, and Shanks doesn’t waste any time. He sweeps you up in his arms, bridal style, and begins to carry you out of the building. No one stops the two of you, knowing better than to try and fight the redhead. Before the two of you can make it out the door, you hear Shamrock speak back up, his voice a seething promise that sends shivers down your spine.

“Don’t think I won’t find you again, _. This isn’t over.”

@mit-suri @mfreedomstuff

[imsofreakingtired]

i need more sevika and masc reader now🙏 you got me giggling like a school girl

ur so real i need more too jdhdhshs

Sevika x masc!reader pt. 2

pt. 1 is here !

her big mama muscles and your baby muscles. she trains you in calisthenics: "one more baby you can do it." "you're doing so well, up up!"

she shadowboxes in the living room at six in the morning and you hear her panting and whispering "one, two" while you brush your teeth

you decide to get a midriff tattoo and she worships it i tell you "if it weren't winter i'd ask you to wear crop tops every day."

she's never more in love with you than when you're wandering around sleepily in boy shorts and a tank top early in the morning, half asleep and ready to swing at anyone who talks to you before you had your caffeine (except sevi ofc)

cursing out all the heteronormative propaganda in old movies (but still watching them because they make nice background noise while you have sex)

smoking weed together on the fire escape of your apartment and stoned sevika ends up emotionally telling you she wishes she were yours but she thinks she's not your type because she's a butch and she thinks you like femmes and she also thinks you're really handsome and if you just gave her one chance,,, ...and you're just staring at her in disbelief thinking "yes...this is the idiot i am in love with,,,this is the beautiful idiot i chose"

sevika comforting you on days when you're just fucked over by gender dysphoria and body image - but the way she does it is so silly you forget to even be sad - words of affirmation are not her strong suit so she just puts on your funky tinted sunglasses and says "look...these glasses make everyone look like the most perfect version of themselves...and you haven't changed one bit"

sevika asking you to cut her hair and you panic and watch like 5 hours of yt tutorials only for her to be like "babe. i just wanted a trim"

you're obsessed with her neck. like the back of it, the buzzcut hair, the muscles, my god you could just write pages of poetry about the way she looks when she chugs a protein smoothie after a workout

(you did write the poems, she found and read them, and teased you for days after) "how does my NECK look from this angle babe :)" "sevika i will murder you in cold blood"

the two of you aren't big on pet names. she calls you "babe" or "baby" if she's feeling soft. you call her "sevi" or just her name but then one day she's spooning you in bed and you just say "you are my mitten." "what" "because you always keep me warm <3" "stop."

but she's now "mitten" to you. to counter, she calls you Thing. and refuses to elaborate.

you're both touch starved but you're also both too embarrassed to admit it so when one of you DOES initiate a cuddle session neither heaven nor hell could break you apart - um but maybe getting hungry can

speaking of, once a month you can never agree on what to eat for dinner because you both sync up periods and also always crave exactly the opposite things "why. why pad thai of all things right now." "i need NOODLES IN MY MOUTH SEVIKA" "you wanna know what I need in my mouth?"

"sevika" "mm" "gender is a bitch :(" "put that bitch on its ass"

a conservative relative at the family reunion said they couldn't tell if you were a girl or a boy. you tell sevika this later on and she high fives you

fighting over who carries the heaviest bag on vacations "let me carry it for you sevi, you might strain your back 🤪" "i KNOW you did NOT just call me old."

she plays jazz in the mornings while brewing coffee for the both of you, you blast alt rock in the shower

you being ready to fight a bitch in the bar when she tries to flirt with sevika and sevika having to hold you back

...she turns around and sucker punches a man that same night because he catcalled you

it's all fun and games fearless butch x fearless masc enby until you find an enormous roach in the kitchen and it takes the two of you to fight it

one time you had to go on a trip for work and she wore the hoodie you left behind all week because it smelled like you and she missed you

"is that another iced americano???" "sevika you know me. you know i can't live without three iced coffees a day" "but it's 16 degrees." note: this possessed me oh my god. the brainrot is brainrotting a bit too hard rn @mascdom thanks for feeding my obsession 😭

[madaqueue]

i wish there was like . a rule book on how to interact with people

[zillychu]

hi hello looks at the tags of ur recent act 5 sif art. i wld LOVE to hear more about the stress level mechanic you mentioned if you perhaps wanna ramble about it 👉👈

I kept putting off answering this ask forever bc I wanted to finish the idea it came with, but idk when that will happen so here we go!

This was a game mechanic I thought of while refining an idea for a hypothetical sequel (two actually, for a trilogy), where Siffrin essentially remains OP as hell. But this does not actually make things easier.

Ramblings about the distress level mechanic, and story thoughts under the cut! This contains spoilers!

Re: In Stars and Wind

(get it. re: because it's a sequel. and also re:wind. wind is important. and there are no loops but Sif rewinds. god I'm so funny)

[[ Act I, part I ]]

Starts as a slow, cute holiday where the player gets to control different party members for each part of the story for different points of view and inner thoughts, to get a better feel of where everyone is emotionally.

Now in Bambouche, the party is traveling together, the atmosphere very much a relaxed and welcomed vacation. We see some of the new, but very mild conflict they have to juggle–how everyone has different opinions on handling their exploding fame, different ideas on where to go next… acclimating to Siffrin’s new demeanor and ailments. 

It's nothing terrible! Siffrin is more susceptible to Crafting sickness now, like an old injury that's fully healed but can get sore easily. Using Craft normally tends to mean lingering fatigue, maybe a nap or two. Heavier usage, and he gets body aches and fevers. 

He's also…different, now. They all know, they understand, they take it all in genuine stride. It's just a bit bumpy when Siffrin brings up something he shouldn't know, references things that never happened, still instinctively reaches for their knife or looks for easy ways to die when they feel cornered. Sometimes he gets unreasonably scared in battle, sometimes unreasonably scary. His power fluctuates from lv.1 to lv.999 (wait, wasn't the level cap supposed to be 99?)

Odile and Isa are the first ones seen discussing how odd that is. They saw those after-images of him running through the House on his own, they know he's strong. Much stronger than anyone could be even with years of fighting Sadness. (How long was Siffrin trapped in those loops, anyway?) Hell, he had the power to become something akin to a god.

They chalk up his moments of weakness to Craft Sickness, perhaps even a new and lingering disorder. They're not worried about it being a bother, they're just worried about what it could mean for him. They've brought it up before, but Sif also looked a bit confused and would say he just felt weak and tired for some reason. They think maybe his ridiculous power back then was only there due to the Wish Craft that no longer exists–maybe they're blowing things out of proportion.

Though all in all, everyone is happy! They're all together, seeing new places, becoming closer. 

At the end, they have a campfire picnic at night. It's then that everyone solidifies they're family now, and Sif is struck by how similar it all feels to that night. The night he wished he had back. He breaks down into tears and they try to comfort him, but he's happy. He tells them about that night now lost in the loops, how everything went right that day. Everyone laughs and cries and it's full and bright, their little campfire shining like a star in the night. They all love, and they're all loved. 

[[ Act I, part II ]]

Despite all the warmth. Despite all the joy and progress they've all made. 

Siffrin is still hiding something. 

Back in purely Sif's POV, we find out there's much, much more to his condition than everyone realizes. 

He struggles with keeping his masks in order, some of them popping up against his will. He doesn't have multiple personalities, but he is a bit more extreme with his personas. He tries to be Siffrin, the rogue, the traveler, the friend. But he's also Siffrin, who endured over a year stuck in a time loop, who aged what feels like eons, whose power now rivals a god's and can barely contain his extreme reactions to distress, to knowing or even thinking his family is in danger.

Sometimes, during a fight, he thinks a Sadness hit a friend a bit too hard–and he eviscerates it, gaze too dead and too cold and he can see the way his allies freeze up. Can see their uncertainty, their waiting fear (just like that time). Thankfully, he can shake it off once he notices they're safe, and they relax when he's “back to normal" easy enough. 

But it isn't just battles when this can happen. Sometimes even doing the simplest most mundane thing can slowly slip the contentment off his face (even if he's still happy!), or habitually slip into masking too hard with unnervingly fake smiles. Sometimes he'll simply order some food only to find the shopkeep staring at him warily.

But that's okay. He's used to acting. His family tells him he doesn't need to do that, that he shouldn't hide anymore. But this isn't the same, is it? He really is happy, he's just covering up some weird muscle memory that'll disappear in time. This is a good thing, actually! He's being more honest this way! Right? 

Like he's being “honest” about the Time and Wish Craft irrevocably etched into his soul now. He's not lying, he really does get Craft Sickness easily now! It's just. It's maybe not all coming from his “injury" of overusing Craft and nearly destroying the world. Not entirely. But that's part of it, so he's not lying! 

(Lying by omission is still lying. Stupid. Useless. Don't you ever learn? When will you learn? Can you learn? Why do you keep repeating the same mistakes–)

They're not the same mistakes though! He's getting better at talking to his friends, letting them know when he needs help. He's changing he's changed too much go back go back go back just like they are!

He knows he needs to tell them if something big happens. And he will! He'd never get trapped in a another time loop and not trust them enough to avoid relying on them. He knows now how much it hurts to see a loved one shoulder so much pain when you can be there to help split the burden.

But what's going on is nothing. It's silly! It's just him being silly. There's no reason to tell them about something they'll probably get all worked up over when it's really not that big of a deal. Friends don't tell friends absolutely everything, they've all admitted as much too! Sometimes you do have to balance little white lies, little secrets. Pick and choose which battles to share, which to keep personal. 

So it's really not that big of a deal! He's figuring out why his body still innately uses Time Craft sometimes and he rewinds the world a bit. 

Okay. Okay that sounds so much worse than it is. Really! He's not stuck in a loop anymore, he doesn't rewind whole days. He'll just. Sometimes he'll get hurt, or really scared, or really upset and the world kinda. Blinks back a few minutes, or hours. Back before the thing that caused him distress. 

They don't need to know about that. It's no big deal. Nothing has ever changed drastically anyway (Bonnie would have just gotten scuffed up falling down that hill, that stomach wound Odile sustained could have been easily healed, Isa would have recovered from a broken fractured leg, Mira could have dealt with that overzealous fan herself) 

It wasn't like he watched them die again again again, he didn't die, the world wasn't ending. Everything was fine!

Did that weird cat just talk. 

[Gameplay changes from here, traveling from town A to town B. There are still a lot of Sadness roaming about, you save a couple people, etc etc]

[[End of Act I]]

[GAMEPLAY DIFFERENCES]

Everything is the same, but has additional statuses now!

Buffs and debuffs have two levels, normal (1 level) and critical (2 levels)

In addition to HP, there's now distress (DL= distress level)

Distress increases with: 

Battle duration

Damage taken (healing proportionally reverses this) (lower HP = bigger increase)

Allies getting hit with Criticals

Allies getting low on HP

New enemy attacks that inflict negative emotions

Stress decreases with: 

Healing

Shields and buffs 

New distress-specific items

New neutral Craft ability: Breathe

Resets to 0 after battle victory

Effects of distress:

When personal distress hits a certain percentage, allies gain certain debuffs and/or buffs (intentionally made to show stress can be beneficial, up to a point)

20%: ATK/DEF/ATKSPD up (1)

40%: ATK/ATKSPD up (1), DEF down critically (2) (most mob fights stop around here)

60%: ATK up (1), DEF/ATKSPD down critically (2)

80%: ATK/DEF/ATKSPD down critically (2)

100%: Cannot act. Essentially frozen, can only be decreased with specific items/skills or battle end.

Siffrin only: 

As personal distress increases, the chance increases that Siffrin loses control of his strength, dealing massive damage 1.5x above a Critical, but at a cost. These are called Overclocked attack/Crafts (haha, get it?)

Overclocked attack: Hits all enemies and your party, lowering HP (including yourself)

Overclocked Craft: Increases both ally and enemy stress (including yourself)

80%: Act 5 Siffrin unlocked. Sprite permanently changed until distress is lowered under 50%. All attacks/Crafts are now Overclocked, and he only has DEF down critically. Allies gain distress 1.5x faster.

100%: Unleashes Wish Craft immediately (regardless of turn order), dealing massive damage to all enemies and allies, and brings HP down to 1. Gains special “Craft Sickness" status, where all stats are down critically for the remainder of the battle. 

This state is Siffrin instinctively attempting to go full bigfrin, but non-fatally stabs themself to keep their mind grounded :)

(You eventually obtain equips and/or Craft skills that minimizes the backlash of Siffrin's Overclocked hits and Wish Craft, making it a viable strategy to intentionally distress him. This has an effect on the story! It's not healthy to burn yourself out to achieve more in life, stop that.)

And that's all I have for now! I'm not sure if/when I'll get the urge to finish things up, but I have a super rough draft. Can you guess what the weird talking cat is about? :) Teehee

[roystartt]

It's been a few weeks since Tommy finally cracked and went and spoke to Evan and the pair managed to actually communicate.

And the last few weeks have been heavy, lots of talking, there's been tears and mini arguments as they both valiantly tried to finally make the other understand where they were coming from. But it's been good too, they both want to make this work, extracting promises to always talk in the future before running away or jumping five steps ahead.

But there's also been quiet times where they just soak up each others presence in a way neither of them can get enough. As if they can make up for those missing months by pure osmosis.

Tonight's one of those nights where they're trying to reconnect with each other, on this journey they're on to finally get to know eachother. They'd ordered takeout and were now tangled up together on the couch whilst some romcom played on the TV in the background. Not that they're really paying attention to the TV, preferring to switch between lazy makeouts that neither are really trying to get to lead anywhere anytime soon; and just staring into each others eyes, sometimes murmering gentle conversation.

'You know,' Evan starts, when he pulls aways from another lazy kiss, 'the 118 were surprising good at never letting me know.'

This just confuses Tommy, but by now he is more than used to being behind in the conversation as he knows that whenever Evan speaks, there's a trail of mental gymnastics happening silently inside his head before he ever speaks out loud. It impresses Tommy whenever Evan explains to him all the different jumps he makes to connect two subjects. He wishes sometimes he could climb inside Evan's mind and truly experience it.

''What do you mean, sweetheart?' He probes when it doesn't seem like Evan was going to clarify.

Evan shifts a bit to lean his back against Tommy's chest and reaches for one of his hands to fiddle with his fingers. 'You know, when we were broken up, they would never let on when they had seen you. Your name went from being one of the most popular topics of conversation to basically taboo.' He elaborates with a laugh.

But his new position meant he could feel more than see Tommy freeze and tense up at his words. Evan turned his head back so he could see his boyfriend's face and frowned at the look upon it. 'What is it?'

'Evan...' Tommy started, hesitantly. 'What makes you think any of the 118 saw me when we were broken up?'

This caused Evan to fully shift back around so they were facing eachother again, he out a hand on Tommy's chest, half for balance and half to ground himself in the other man. 'What do you mean?'

'Well, I'm pretty sure I was their public enemy number one,' Tommy explained softly, bringing a hand up to stroke one of Evan's curls, 'Not that I blame them of course.'

This only caused the frown lines on Eva 's face to deepen. 'B-but you were friends with all of them before we even got together the first time. Chimney never shut up about how glad he was to properly reconnect with you past a phonecall every few years. And I basically had to share custody of you with Eddie!'

Tommy smiled softly, leaning up to press a comforting kiss against Evan's birthmark. 'That's true, but then I went and broke their brother's heart.'

'You were just trying to protect your own heart!.' Evan defended him fiercely, causing Tommy to chuckle. He loved how far they'd come in understanding and forgiving each other.

'Yes, but they didn't know that sweetheart.'

Evan deflated, sinking all of his weight onto Tommy. 'They really stopped doing things with you?'

'I would cut ties with anyone that hurt you like that too, Evan. I'm just eternally grateful that you gave me a second chance.' He leaned in to give him a proper kiss, hoping to distract Evan from the topic of conversation.

It only worked for a few seconds before Evan was shooting up, indignant all over again. 'Please say they at least texted you to check in on how you were coping?'

'Evan, I-' Tommy sighed, struggling to find the words to calm Evan down, not wanting to further incriminate their friends, but also not wanting to lie.

Evan could read what Tommy wasn't saying and before he could stop him Evan was off the couch and storming towards the door. 'Babe! Wait, where are you going?'

'I am going to give them a piece of my mind. They spent weeks eating my baked goods and telling me not to call you, and they couldn't even pick up the phone to check on you!?' Evan was practically seething at this point.

Moving quickly, Tommy met Evan at the door, stopping him from where he was angrily trying to shove on a jacket. 'Sweetheart, it's 11pm at night, I don't think waking them up from sleep to shout at them for being on your side is going to do much good. They were just trying to look out for you the best way they knew how.'

'Yeah, well who was on your side Tommy? You deserved to have someone looking out for you too.' Evan exploded, heated.

Tommy grabbed Evan by the hips and pulled him in close, hugging him until he could feel Evan start to calm. 'Well, luckily, I have you to look out for me. And I'm not going to be foolish enough to give that up ever again.'

His words were enough to finally have Evan fully relax into Tommy's arms. 'Well good, because I'm never letting you give it up again, either.' He sighed, before quietly continuing; 'I'm just disappointed that they didn't also look out for you. I thought they were better than that.'

'They're your family, Evan. They acted out of love for you, they didn't owe me anything.'

'Bullshit, you are their family now too, and they best never forget that again.' Evan grumbled, his face pressed into Tommy's neck.

Evan smiled coyly, before waggling his eyebrows, 'I did defend you pretty hard. It's going to take a lot to show me how really grateful you are.'

'How about you hold off on their lectures for now, and let me take you to bed.' Tommy proposed, tilting his head back so Evan could see his face. 'You could let me show you how grateful I am to have you as my biggest defender.'

'Hmmm, let me try,' was Tommy's reply before he took Evan's lips in his own, this kiss considerably more passionate than the ones they had been exchanging on the couch earlier on. If Tommy had his way, he'd never stop trying his best to show Evan just how eternally grateful he is to have him by his side.

[milessunflowers]

reader comforting lance after he gets hate bcuz i stg im about 20 seconds away from decking f1 news reporters >:(

-bear >:( 💚

you and me both bear! you and me both

lance stroll x male!reader

synopsis: the constant hate from fans and the media really gets to lance, no matter how much he tries not to let it show. you can see through him and comfort him, even if he won't admit that he feels bad

author's note:

it was a common occurrence at this point. it was sad but true. he forgets a time when he wasn't constantly scrutinized and hated for simply existing. it was impactful in the worst ways possible. lance couldn't even find the joy in racing anymore. the only thing keeping him afloat anymore was his family and you.

it was hard to keep doing something he once loved so much that now seemed to suck the life out of him. a lot of the time, he wished he had never started karting, never went through the early formula series, and never signed with any team.

you felt bad for him because he used to love his sport. he used to come home from races feeling amazing. now, he came home looking dead on his feet, miserable, and often times, with red, puffy eyes. you did everything you could to cheer him up. you wanted to see the energetic, happy, and encouraged boyfriend back. so that was your goal now. The thought helped keep you going when you got discouraged.

you hadn't been on social media lately, taking time for yourself, lance, and family rather than keeping up with new rumors (because yes, you loved drama, who doesn't?), so of course, you hadn't seen what fans of other drivers or assholes in general were saying about you sweetheart of a boyfriend. you didn't even realize it was getting bad again until he came back home after running some errands.

you could tell he felt down and low just by the way he walked back in. you got up to help him bring some groceries in before ushering him to sit on the couch before you unload everything. he sat with his back hunched and tired eyes. it was a heartbreaking sight.

you sat down next to him and pulled him close. "it's okay, babe," you say softly, holding him close. the words were virtually meaningless when said, but lance always found them somewhat helpful. "i know it's easier said than done, i know, but you really have to stop looking at the comments. they are nothing but idiots. as for sky sports, they are practically useless anyways, okay?" you remind him, running fingers through his soft hair.

lance looks up at you with his soft eyes, his smile small and painful. "it's just so hard when that's all anyone ever says about me," he responds, sniffling slightly. it was such a painful sight that your heart broke.

you hugged him tighter before planting kiss after kissing around his face. "they're fucking idiots anyways," you tell him, kissing his cheeks softly before adding yet another kiss to his forehead. "like genuinely. they have no idea who they are talking about. truly, i wouldn't trust most of them, especially because they have no idea just how amazing you are."

"you don't believe that," he whispers, looking up at you with tears in his eyes. "you're just saying that because you're my boyfriend and you have to."

"have you ever known me to lie to anyone, especially you?" you ask him in return, giving him a soft smile.

lance shakes his head no and wipes his eyes. he takes in such a deep—and shakey—breath, calming himself down enough to look you in the eyes. he always felt comfortable and confident with you. "thank you," he says softly, hugging you tightly, his face pressed to your shoulder. "for everything."

"you don't need to thank me, baby," you reply, your voice slightly muffles by his hair as you were kissing the top of his head. "i am always here for you, regardless of day, month, year, anything. if you need me, i am here."

he sniffles more and hugs you tighter. this time, his tears were happy as he knew he had found his person, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his days with.

TAGS! (if you want to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m, @spoonfulofmilo, @seonghwaexile

[nickeverdeen]

Painful Comfort | Vi x fem!reader

Pairings: Vi x reader (romantic)

Type of fic: Comfort

Warnings: None

Summary: Vi has already had a hard life, but when even her body doesn’t let her have a break you’re there for her even though you can’t do much.

——————————

Vi never let on when she wasn’t feeling well. She prided herself on being tough, always brushing things off like nothing could faze her. But the moment you walked through the door of your shared apartment, you knew something was off. The place was unusually quiet, and Vi wasn’t there to greet you with her usual smirk or teasing comment.

“Vi?” you called out, setting your bag down. You kicked off your shoes, scanning the room.

A muffled voice came from the bedroom. “In here.”

You frowned, concern already bubbling up in your chest. When you entered, you found her curled up on the bed, facing away from the door. Her shoulders were tense, and she clutched a pillow to her stomach.

You immediately pieced it together. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen her like this. Vi’s periods were brutal—her body never seemed to give her a break. Years of putting herself through hell had left her body with some lasting consequences.

You sat down gently on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her. “Hey, tough girl. How are you feeling?”

Vi let out a low groan. “Like my insides are trying to kill me.” Her voice was strained, a mix of irritation and exhaustion.

“Did you take anything for it?”

“Yeah, like ten minutes ago. Still waiting for it to kick in.”

You sighed softly, wishing you could do more for her. “I’ll grab you some water.”

She didn’t protest, just hummed faintly as you got up. In the kitchen, you filled a glass and grabbed one of her favorite snacks, hoping it might help distract her once the pain subsided. When you returned, she hadn’t moved much, still curled into herself.

“Here,” you murmured, sitting back down and holding out the glass. She shifted just enough to take a sip before setting it on the nightstand.

“Thanks,” she muttered, her voice softer now.

You slid onto the bed beside her, careful to keep your touch light. “Anything else I can do?”

Vi shook her head. “Not really. Just… stay here?”

“Always,” you said without hesitation.

You lay down behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist but keeping your hand resting just above her hip, far from her tender abdomen. Vi let out a quiet sigh, some of the tension in her body easing as she leaned back into you.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You just held her, your fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns against her side. The painkillers seemed to finally take the edge off, and Vi’s breathing evened out a little.

“Sorry you have to deal with this,” she murmured after a while, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t apologize,” you replied softly, pressing a kiss to the back of her head. “I’d do anything to make you feel better.”

Vi reached back to squeeze your hand, her grip firm despite how exhausted she was. “You’re already doing enough.”

And so you stayed there, holding her close, silently promising to be her strength whenever she needed it. Because no matter how tough Vi was, you’d always be there to remind her she didn’t have to face everything alone.

[naturesapphic]

hey! i hope your doing amazing. so i read your billie and reader that relapses and i really liked it and the way you wrote it.

so if you dont mind i was wondering if you could do something similar but with natasha romanoff. like reader relapsed but didnt tell natasha. then one night things get heated and when natasha takes readers shirt of she see's it. if your up for it coud you make it really soft.

if your not up for it then its totally fine have an amazing day. 😊💖

Hurting

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: little bit of smut, talks of sh, hurt/comfort

Natasha was in your lap, taking the lead of the kiss as her hands cupped your face delicately. You had your hands placed on her waist, pulling her further in your lap. Natasha moved her hands down your neck to the edge of your shirt and started taking it off. You didn’t realize she was until you felt the cold breeze hit your bare skin and the loud gasp that came from Natasha’s mouth.

You froze in your spot and looked down immediately, avoiding eye contact with her. Things went silent for a few minutes until Natasha broke it “babygirl….w-when?” She asked as she gently lifted your head up so you could look into her eyes that were brimmed with tears. Tears started to fill your own and you couldn’t speak as a sob broke out, making Natasha’s heart break even further. “I-im so s-sorry natty!” You cried out as you covered your face in your hands, hiding away from her, too embarrassed to look in her concerned gaze.

She didn’t say anything else but she moved so where she was sitting beside you and carefully placed you on her lap. Natash held you tightly against her as you continued to sob, your body shaking against hers. “Let it out baby…it’s okay…” she said quietly as she rubs your back. You kept crying until you felt like you had no more tears in you left and you carefully looked up at Natasha who had a few tear streaks of her own which made you frown. “Sorry Nat…” you apologized as you brought your left hand up to her soft cheeks and brushed away the residue of her tears.

Natasha shook her hand and took your hand in hers and placed her lips on your fingertips. “You have no reason to apologize my love. Not at all.” She spoke so softly that tears started to form again in your eyes. “I just wish you would have told me sooner…” she said sadly as she lifted one of her hands and caressed your face gently. You nuzzled your face in her hand which made her smile and rub her thumb across your cheek. “I did it around a couple of days ago, before you came back…” you said quietly, explaining everything as Natasha nodded along, listening to you carefully. She listened to every last word that came out of your mouth and by the end of it, more tears were streaming down your face.

Natasha took her calloused but soft hands, and wiped your tears once again making you smile. “I understand sweetheart, I do, but just know you never have to do it alone. I care about you and so does the team. If im not here, go to Wanda or Steve or anyone you trust because I promise you that they can help, and when I am here, I hope you feel safe enough to come to me.” Natasha explains and you nodded your head. “I trust you natty, I just didn’t wanna feel like a burden if I went to you…” you said sadly and Natasha shook her head. “You are never a burden angel. Never ever. You are my girlfriend and you are my absolute everything. You will never bother me in any way.” Natasha explained and you nodded.

“Come on, let’s get some sleep and when we get up, I’ll put some medicine just in case. I don’t want it to get infected.” She said as she settled in the bed with you on top of her. “Mkay natty….i love you.” You tell her quietly as you lay your head on her plump chest, her red hair tickling your nose slightly. “I love you most moye serdtse (my heart)”. Natasha whispered in your ear before giving it a gentle kiss. She held you close for the rest of the night and you never felt safer than you did that night.

A/n: thank you for anon for requesting this! I hope you liked it and thank you for reading my Billie one :) just know that you are loved and I appreciate you so much! I hope the rest of you readers liked it too and know that yall are appreciated and loved, by me :) Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! Take care of yourselves. I love yall! :)

[gay-dorito-dust]

thank you for answering me so quickly :’) could i request that comfort for recovering from drug addiction (maybe like *nearly* relapsing/having a generally bad day with quitting) with one of the batboys? tim’s always been a favourite of mine but i will happily read any of them

Topic of drug addiction is in this fic, I hope this brings you comfort or something to read when you need to.

Tim knew that your journey to recovery wasn’t going to be an smooth sailing one, he wasn’t one to sugar coat it either as he knew it would do you no good in the end, and yet Tim never wavered or faked his faith in you for getting better because he knew you could do it; even if it would take you awhile to get there.

So when Tim had caught you on a particularly bad day, one where where you’ve missed appointments with therapists and support groups, the very groups that he had helped you get in touch with when you didn’t wish to rely on drugs and opioids to get though the day. Drug addiction was a massive problem within Gotham, reportedly the highest rates in history in terms of the statistics Tim has read, so it was highly likely that most of the population would rely on such just to get through the town that god forgotten or condemned.

Corrupt government, corrupt authoritarians, anyone with any ounce of power was inherent corrupt in Gotham and their actions of poisoning Gotham only proved that, this and their seemingly ineffective and half hearted attempts in protecting the youth who were being offered street drugs, and while Jason was cracking down on that and more but it didn’t change the fact that nothing was being done prior until red hood stepped in. Only to paint him as the crime lord who was behind the crime -which was a load of bullshit especially those whom Jason helped- but the people in power were more concerned with their own stained images then the countless lives being destroyed due to their negligence and incompetence.

They’ll push a story that’ll paint them in a good light while blurring out the important details, considering them not worth knowing, in hopes of reframing from others to becoming curious and look into it themselves; not that anyone ever does as Gotham was forever known as the devils town or the incurable town and thus contributing to what the people in power want, to keep Gotham in a perpetual state of decay.

‘Hey.’ Tim says softly as he sits down next to you.

‘Hi.’ You reply.

Tim then rests a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly as he watched your face carefully. ‘You’re doing amazing you know. You’re very brave for reaching out to me when you did and I’m so, so, so proud of you.’

‘Even when I feel like relapsing? Falling back into old habits when things get too hard to bear, making it feel like I can’t properly function unless I’ve got something within my system to cope with the shithole we live in?’ You asked, looking over at him with eyes brimming with unshed tears, ‘even if I feel weak and wanting to go back to an old comfort?’

Tim smiles softly as he brings you into his arms, letting you rest your head on his chest, holding you there tight as he could while rubbing your back to bring you some semblance of comfort. ‘I’m especially proud of you for admitting that too because I can’t imagine it being easy for you, not in the slightest and you feel like your nothing without it, but I can assure you that you are more without it then you’ve ever known and I’ll be with you every step of the way.’ Tim promises you before tenderly kissing your forehead, whispering further promises of not going anywhere during your most important moment of your life.

‘You mean it, really mean that you’ll stay with me even if I make it difficult to stay?’ You asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Even if I fall into a relapse?’ You add, clinging onto him now.

‘Then I’ll catch you and bring you back to your feet.’ Tim reassured as he presses another kiss to your forehead, making you swallow the lump in your throat as a thousand thoughts swarmed your head.

‘Even when I feel like a lost cause, not worth your help and undivided love and kindness that you’ve given me without me having to beg you for.’ You poetically whispered now as you burrowed your head further against his chest, trying your hardest to fully focus on his warmth and comforting presence, in hopes to finding your grounding within your overcrowded, overworking brain that never seemed to stop tormenting you.

Tim moved so that your foreheads were touching and his hands were holding your face, switching from caressing your cheeks and your temples that he knew were aching. ‘No matter what we face I will always be here, there’s nowhere I want to be other then here, for you need me and I want to be here for you and be your support wherever you may need. I don’t ever want you to think I won’t want to be here during the ugly moments of recovery and be here if you ever felt as though you couldn’t stabilise yourself.’ He kisses your nose and the tear stained cheeks before kissing you on the lip lightly. ‘I want to be here for you, whether it’d be to go to support groups and or therapy appointments with you, no matter what I want to be here for you and see you shine like I know you can, and I know you can shine brighter than the stars themselves grow envious.’

You smile softly as you felt Tim hold you against his chest again, but he didn’t hold you like you were fragile and could break. No, he held you like he didn’t want to let you go with how tight his hold on you was, but it was also comforting and grounding you in the midst of a uncertain and difficult time, and you couldn’t help but melt into him as you felt him rub up and down your back; which only served to make you relax within his arms and allow yourself to close your eyes happily in knowing that you’ve got a strong support system like Tim to remind you of who you are.

[sunnynwanda]

Could you please please please continue REMEMBER ? my heart stopped reading jt. Maybe include vil's intense emotions, they finally don't have to hide their feelings anymore, feeling they hid for years (perhaps even a decade)? After all that....hero is finally. Finally. In their arms.

Also also I adored ADORED ticklish hero <3 and how vil , after all the years remembered that <333 the tension was absolutely delicious <3333 hero in their clothes <33333

Remember: Part 2

Part 1

Warnings: mentions of past falling out, the morning after, I digress from the request (I hope you still enjoy it despite Hero's POV)

Hero stirred, letting out a low groan and tilting their head to the side for a more comfortable position. The floor under their back is still as hard as it is cold. With another grumbling sound, Hero is drawn into wakefulness, but their brain takes a few moments to process their surroundings and drops the penny. The velvety surface of the carpet tickles their neck, and their chest feels heavy, urging Hero to glance down - only to discover half of Villain's body splayed out on top of them.

The memories of the previous day flood their minds: Villain, the house they grew up in together... kissing.

Oh.

"So that was real..." Hero mutters to themself, still in disbelief over the turn of events. They shift again but fail to find a less straining position for their muscles. I'm too old for such discomfort, Hero thinks, chuckling under their breath.

Villain was never an early bird, so Hero untangles from their hold and gets up, stretching the sore muscles of their back. Definitely too old, though Villain would call them grumpy instead. They look around, grabbing a second blanket from the couch and draping it over Villain's unmoving frame - sound asleep unless in apocalyptic conditions. Hero always found their ability to fall asleep in seconds and stay asleep for as long as they needed remarkable. They sure lacked on that one.

The old grandpa clock chimes eight. Way too early to be awake on a Sunday, but here they were, awake and full of anxious energy. Hero decides to look around - if only to quench the nostalgic yearning they still felt for the house of their carefree childhood. To be fair, their young adulthood here was quite pleasant, too - up until that godforsaken day that tore Villain away from Hero's trembling hands.

They walk through each room, taking their time to reminisce about the past days of undisturbed happiness and wishful dreaming. Boy, did they dream! So many sleepless nights were spent dreaming of countless lives to share with Villain after graduation. One night, they would dream of studying and pursuing a career in academia because they wanted to keep challenging each other.

Other nights centred on opening a bakery, eloping to a deserted island, travelling to the North Pole to be glaciologists, becoming archaeologists in Europe, researching marine life, learning a foreign language and walking the Great Wall of China, opening a small bookshop in the suburbs... It never really mattered what they'd do. The main component was always one thing only - Villain - until the uneventful morning after graduation day turned their life upside down.

Hero groans, shaking their head to rid themself of particular unpleasant memories as they reach the kitchen. This was the epicentre of the world for Villain and Hero alike. Anytime Hero's Mom baked, they would run here after school, climbing on top of the kitchen island and waiting for their shares of still-warm pies and cookies. Villain had an incredible sweet tooth, and Hero's mother took note of that very soon, saving a piece even if Villain couldn't come over. It was rare, but any time Hero tried to complain, their mother would gently shush them, saying that there were things that Hero could not understand yet.

Villain never discussed home with them. Sometimes Hero would pout for a day or two, acting offended because their Mom and best friend seemed to be keeping secrets from them. They often ended up forgetting about it by accident and never had the heart to return to the issue. The day Villain left, Hero swore their mother knew. They could tell from the look in her eyes and the way her hands trembled when she gave Villain a hug and kissed the top of their head.

In the days that followed Villain's disappearance from their life, Hero often thought back to their conversations, struggling to find a reason, a clue, anything to soothe the ache in the gaping hole that used to be their heart.

Hero lets out a sigh, sitting down by the counter and rubbing their eyes. They look up, noticing a pile of papers hidden behind the cutting boards. They don't mean to snoop, but it just catches their eye.

Half an hour later, they are still studying the files - documents and newspaper clippings, when Villain's surprised cough draws their attention outwards.

"What are you doing?" Villain's voice is tense, but when Hero looks up at them, their expression is more terrified than anything else.

Hero pauses, searching for words, but no words seem to grace their brain. "What's this?"

"Hero, it's not-" Villain gulps, unable to finish the sentence. How can they respond, really? How can they even begin explaining the abomination that was their family life?

"It is my business," Hero's voice cuts through their hectic thoughts with a sharp tone.

That was not what Villain was trying to say. They open their mouth again, but no words come out, their throat hoarse and dry. "I-"

"Supervillain your father?!" Hero finally asks, standing up from the stool and stepping forward. Villain remains frozen. "Answer me." They demand. Villain nods shortly.

So that's why- oh... Now Hero gets it. All of it.

"H-" Villain tries again, their lips shaking as they aim to form a sentence, only to let out a quiet groan by the end.

"Don't," Hero cuts them off, and Villain expects them to walk away, but Hero steps closer, drawing Villain into a tight hug, squeezing them to their chest. "When?"

"The day before graduation. He found me," Villain's voice is barely a whisper, but Hero hears them, silently nodding for them to continue. "I didn't know what to do; he said I had to leave, that he's my family, and I was supposed to choose him."

"You didn't have to make a choice," Hero pulls them away from their shoulder to see their face. "We'd never make you choose."

"He said your family would never accept me if they knew whose child I am, so I-" Villain cuts off, clenching Hero's shirt for some grounding and dropping their forehead onto Hero's shoulder.

"You dumbass," Hero mutters, their hold on Villain tightening at the feeling of wetness on their shoulder. "You know better than that, Vil."

"You lost your house because of me..." Villain whines, failing to hide their crying voice. "My father did it."

"I wouldn't give a damn if I lost my life for you, idiot," Hero scoffs, running one hand up and down Villain's back in a soothing gesture, the other coming up to card through Villain's hair.

"No! No." They protest, gripping Hero's side with desperate intensity. Hero smiles at that, their expression torn between fondness and anger at their stupidity.

"You wanna see Mom?" They ask, trying to get Villain's mind off their past.

"Can I?" Villain looks up at them through tears, their eyes so full of hope that Hero's heart shatters all over again.  

"Of course you can, baby."

Part 1

Hi sweetheart (s)!

Thank you for requesting a part 2. I really wanted to do it. Got out of hand again - as per usual xD I hope you still enjoy reading it. Let me know what you think :)

xo Sunny

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy@alltimelowing@lateuplight@surplus-of-sarcasm@betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney

@thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode @villain-life @villainsblood

@whumpifi @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444 @m4iloblu3

[fightingthetides]

Roberto couldn’t help but feel sorry towards Nunnally, because it wasn’t her fault for misunderstanding something. It wasn’t easy to learn how to better accommodate someone who was on the run, and she was doing her best with her limited knowledge in the category. Not only that, but with the way Ravein normally spoke, it wasn’t easy to understand what he meant to say. It was very cryptic, and it may take a considerable amount of time before you start understanding his mindset.

Understanding Ravein’s situation better, Roberto could explain some things to Nunnally on the behalf of Ravein.

“Though it is nuanced, it is generally safer to be around the public, in more enclosed spaces. The mafia cannot so easily act in a public space where their activities will be seen- so then they’d catch the attention of the authorities.” Roberto glances over at Ravein, who nods his head once, “It’s harder for specialists like snipers to find the opportunity to kill someone indoors and not risk involving an innocent bystander.”

Of course, the same could be said for outside in public, but if they truly wanted Ravein dead, they could simply choose to kill him, attract the attention of the authorities, but run away quick enough to not face any consequences. The better he could blend in with others and have plenty opportunities to hide, the better. That’s why places like the beach were dangerous, because he couldn’t hide anywhere. Also, the ocean was a popular spot for gangsters to rid of evidence.

“He’s generally safer indoors,” though that didn’t mean he was actually safe. There were guns that could shoot bullets through walls, and some specialists had ways to find a target inside, such as using surveillance, or heat seeking technology. It was a hassle that most wouldn’t be willing to spend all the time, money, and effort on. “It seems that though he’s nervous about being around people in general, he would still like to try going out with you. He needs to learn to be more comfortable being around others.” Can’t forget how he never properly socialized with others normally, so he felt at odds with the general populace.

Thinking it over, “perhaps for the first outing, I will have to trouble you with spending time with an old man like myself. I can help bridge any misunderstandings,” and also help ease Ravein into being around people. Someone would have to act as his lifeline to keep his delicate tether of sanity in check.

At her question about shopping for something more, Ravein nodded his head quietly, thinking it would be interesting to shop for other things as well. It’s what he heard about, ‘window shopping’.

[Malls] [Okay]

When Roberto returned, he accepted his mug, and so did Ravein. The two men tried a sip of their beverages, and it was readily evident on both of their faces that they liked the drinks.

[Good]

“It’s a lovely cup of coffee, thank you, Miss Nunnally.” Roberto thanks her with a smile and he turns to stare at Ravein’s notebook with disapproval. “You should really say more if you wish to prevent further misunderstandings, Rav. Most can’t understand your meaning with just a couple of words.”

“Some people find it rude if one is so curt with their words,” he added and the look of surprise on Ravein’s face was clear as day. This was a habit of his from his intel broker days. The less information anyone could gain about him, the better. So he always spoke very little and virtually only answered with [yes] and [no] so people couldn’t get a good read on his handwriting to do analysis.

Ravein nods his head solemnly, and Roberto takes another sip of his coffee, turning to Nunnally. “You are free to tell him if he makes things harder for you because of his habits. He’s usually open minded enough to take your concerns into consideration. With me, he usually writes full sentences, for example.” Well, it took time for Ravein to feel comfortable enough to do so, but still.

Nunnally didn’t originally notice that she had confused Ravein. Sure, she didn’t completely understand everything he was trying to communicate, so it was a guessing game for her, but with her talking, she tried to explain to him what message had finally reached her. It was not that she was entirely clear either, as she was so used to overthinking and second-guessing that her messages could also be somewhat blurry.

She did hear Roberto’s ( “What’s wrong?” ) question, but she has decided to ignore it for the time being. It was not directed at her, and even though if it was, everything seemed just fine for her. Though internally, Nunnally was anxious. Something was wrong again. Did she say something wrong? Did she overlook some hints that were given to her?

-- ( She surely did; that was what she was doing all the time. ) --

But even if she did, Nunnally considered it was not big this time. She had already experienced a major overstepping of Ravein’s boundaries, so she suspected this time, it was at most a medium “misunderstanding.” So, she continued keeping herself busy, while Robero and Ravein were speaking with each other. And, indeed, Roberto’s reply to Ravein made her feel better; or perhaps rather calmer, and she allowed herself to ask: --

“Have I misunderstand you, Rav, again? I am sorry. I am not the best in reading in between. I never was.”

Though she didn’t ask what she had mixed up, or where her mistake was. Shall they want to tell her, they surely would. And soon Nunnally learnt not to be wrong.

Oh! So it was all about! That she thought that Ravein didn’t want to join her for "mug hunting"! And she assumed it was too dangerous for him: --

“I thought that perhaps it’s too risky, if we go shopping out there in the city. But if you think it’s just fine, then yes: let’s go.” – Nunnally smiled and added – “I’ll leave it to Ravein. I wouldn’t mind the three of us go, but it’s not that I don’t enjoy spending time with Ravein alone.”

“And yes…” – Nunnally added this time directly to Roberto – “I actually think that some of my small additions make the coffee taste nicer. Though I have a simple taste as you might remember and for me, it’s mainly choosing the right kind of coffee beans.”

They were soon ready. Roberto and Nunnally with their drinks. Nunnally was quite proud of what she had prepared, but she would still wait a few moments before Roberto was back. In the meantime, she smiled to Ravein: --

“I am excited, too. Would it be okay to shop for something more? I might need a things or two.” – perhaps she really did not need them, but it would allow them to spend some more time together – “What places are better? Crowded malls or rather smaller shopping alleys? Would lunch also be an option?”

Roberto was back rather fast.

And there Nunnally was; beaming with pride, handing one mug to Roberto and another to Ravein: --

 “Dark roast with star anise. I didn’t add too much as it’s a unique taste.. Not everyone likes it.”

“Your tea is based on lavender. I was less experimental here.”

“I hope you’ll like it. Enjoy.” – she hoped they would find the drinks tasty – “But do feel free to tell me if you don’t. I don’t want to make you a drink you don’t like again.”

[lavlynyan]

Weightless Paradise

Pairings: Caleb x reader

Tags: angst, hurt no comfort sorry yall, basically just how Caleb probably felt during his story branch, English is not my first language so grammatical errors WILL be present, I haven’t written a fic in a very long time so I’m very rusty pls bear with me

Words: 1072 words

Note: Gonna be honest with yall. This doesn't feel like a fic, but at the same time it does feel like it. According to @qinluna, this is a blurb so I'll take her words for it 🤡 Thank you for proofreading this for me 🥺❤️ Also, would be cool if you read this to Caleb's BGM. Just sayin' 😌

It was hard to see you leave after being apart for so long. But knowing you were unhappy being with him brings more pain to him than anything could ever have.

The last few days have been the happiest he felt. Meeting you again after almost a year since the incident that changed everything, he couldn’t describe the feeling he felt the moment he saw you in the crowd when the fleet landed in Skyhaven.

Even during the interrogation, he held himself back from pulling you close to him. To comfort you, to tell you how much he misses you, how glad he was that you were safe.

And when you cried in his arms after he assured you that he was, in fact, alive, his heart broke seeing how hurt you were. He wishes that he could take that pain away from you and promise himself that he would never leave you alone again.

During your time at his place, it felt like he went back in time. Back to when everything was so simple. No Farspace fleet, no Aether core talks, and no complicated feelings.

It’s just you and him.

He tried to pretend that nothing had changed. That he’s still the same Caleb that you knew. The same Caleb who would tie your shoes, wipe away your tears, and the same person who would accompany you when you got scared during thunderstorms.

But both of you knew that everything was far from being the same.

He had once promised to you that there would be no secrets between you two. That you can always trust him with everything you have.

Then why did he avoid answering you when you asked him what happened after the explosion?

He couldn’t find the answer to that.

All his focus now is to keep you safe. To make sure no one can get to you and hurt you. Not under his watch.

Even if he had to be the bad guy, he would do anything to protect you. The most important person in the world to him.

So he tries to make sure you never leave.

He began to decorate his once-cold home, to make you feel more comfortable.

He even gave you his room.

Though he would prefer it if he could sleep next to you, like you both did when you were younger.

He still remembers the nights when you couldn’t sleep because it was raining heavily. Thunders were roaring outside and you carefully peeked into his room with your little teddy bear in your arms.

You hesitate to wake him up that night, knowing that he has to wake up early for school tomorrow.

But to your surprise, he was awake, reading the encyclopedia he got from Gran for his birthday.

He turns to you and with a knowing smile, he pats the empty space next to his bed, ushering you to come to him.

And you, without any hesitation, ran up to him and climbed up on his bed before settling yourself under his blanket as he hummed a lullaby to lull you to sleep.

He wished he could go back to that time again.

The explosion really changed everything for you both.

During his time at the hospital for his recovery, the only person he could think of at the time was you.

He wondered if you got hurt. He wanted to make sure you were okay. He wanted to comfort you when you found out about what happened to Gran.

But with all the things that happened that led up to where he is now, it felt like it was for the better that he didn’t reach out to you first.

Knowing what he knows now, he’d rather keep you locked up somewhere far away.

Far away from everyone’s reach. Where he knows you’d be safe. Where no one can hurt you anymore and use you for their selfish reasons.

Even if it meant sacrificing himself.

So when you told him how you didn’t need his protection, something in him snapped.

How could you not see that he’s doing this for you? For your own good? Can’t you see how everyone around you is just there to use you?

But when he saw the fear and anger in your eyes, he pulled himself back.

Seeing how much you didn’t want to be kept as a prisoner made him realise that as much as he wanted to keep you safe, he didn’t want you to completely hate him for doing what needed to be done.

Some people say to love is to let go. But can he really let you go knowing the dangers that await you out there?

It’s not like he doubted your ability as a hunter. He has seen you in action before and there is no doubt that you were more than capable of protecting yourself.

So why does it hurt so bad when you said you didn’t need him to be safe?

Is it because he was so used to being the one who you could lean on? Or is it because he was scared that you’d abandon him now that you could take care of yourself?

Despite all the complicated feelings, he knew he had to let you go. He’d rather see you happy than being miserable under his “protection”.

As much as it pained him to admit it, he couldn’t pretend that everything was the same as the past. As if the explosion never happened. As if you didn’t just mourn his “death”.

So on the day he had to leave for his next trip to the deepspace tunnel, he wanted to pull you into a tight hug. Knowing that this might be the last time you’ll see each other.

And when you gave him a sad look when he said you’d be happy to see him go this time, his heart felt like it was being pricked by countless sharp needles. He wanted to tell you that he’ll miss you, and he wanted to apologise for the way he’s been acting.

But the words never came out of his mouth. He hesitated.

He couldn’t bring himself to look back as he walked towards the starship because he knew the moment he looked back, he wouldn’t be able to leave.

And now, staring at the hologram of the deepspace tunnel, he couldn’t help but think if he could’ve handled things differently.

[botaniqueer]

That "First the came for the Communists" poem is fine in itself, but it's also important to note that, even if they never come for you it's still important to protect other people. If you were a white ethnic German, you were safe in Nazi Germany and could live a perfectly comfortable life, but that comfortable life was earned with blood.

Nazi Germany wasn't Mordor; White Germans thrived under Hitler and had genuine gains in their quality of like, especially the poorer ones. Many of them didn't care or engage with the fact that their neighbors were disappearing because they were fine personally, and plus "those people probably did something, unlike us upstanding Germans". This apathy eventually resulted in 6 million of my people being killed, along 5 million more of many other vulnerable peoples, each of those 11 million people being someone else's entire universe and having just as vivid of an internal life as those living "normal" lives, extinguished forever.

Many of those Germans didn't belong to the Nazi party, and didn't have jobs enforcing those policies (at least not directly, since societal interactions are complex and long-winding), but as a Jew, I have about as many positive feelings towards them as I do towards the Nazis themselves and will never ever forgive them.

This long post also isn't to come down on folks who have been sharing that stuff of course, and this is more directed towards the people who have the attitude of apathy towards groups who aren't them, and who pretend nothing is going on.

For those of us living in settler-colonial states like the US and who are settlers, we are the equivalent of those white Germans. Even when the republicans aren't out being fully heinous and things appear to be okay, our standard of livings are built upon the privileging of our lives over Indigenous and Black people, and people in the global south.

In another long form post, I talk about how Americans fantasize about what they would do if they were alive during the Holocaust or Chattel Slavery, and the answer is how they're reacting now to current events. Folks who have been boosting resources and reading about Palestine would have likely been doing the same back then. And like the white Germans I mentioned, folks who pretend like nothing is happening, or who are ignoring the fact that trans folks and many others are scared for their lives right now would have absolutely done nothing then.

It's important we be the people we wished folks back then had been, and not repeat their mistakes. For us settlers in the US that means fighting against settler colonialism and for Land Back even if things are good for us personally. People deserve good living standards, but we have to learn how to do it without exacting a cost on other people.

[tellmegoodbye]

Thank you @thisbuildinghasfeelings for this lovely idea!

I'm someone who hates goodbyes, and this isn't one, but I have been struggling with the fact that this show is ending. However, if we're going to get sentimental today, I might as well go all in.

I've had a bit of a rocky two years with the fandom, starting off as a lurker in season 4 and then slowly coming out of my shell before abruptly leaving for several months with no plans of ever returning to social media. I also had zero plans of ever finishing the fic that I had spent months writing at that point. I'm not here to hash out all of the personal details of what was going on in my life at the time, but needless to say, I was done with fandom.

Coming back was an accident, but when I did I saw that people here in the lone star fandom were still so friendly and welcoming, and at some point I felt comfortable enough to give this thing another shot. I admit that sometimes I wish my experience had been a little different, that I found the show sooner or that it didn't get canceled right when I finally started feeling comfortable in fandom spaces again, but I am still incredibly grateful for the time I have had here, as well as the time I hope to continue to have!

So many wonderful things have happened since I returned to this place, and it's so hard to just pick a few, but here are a few of my favorite fandom memories!

1. The Elusive Push Coda

I finally finished my first Tarlos fic, which is still something I am incredibly proud of. Thank you so much to everyone who has shown me love and support for that fic. 🩵

2. Music Monday

As a music lover, I could not resist starting this tag. I love seeing everyone's tastes in music coming together in our playlists. I also have a few updates coming to that, as well as another thing I am very super secretly working on. 👀

3. Writing, Writing, Writing

I have continued to write more fic than I have in a very long time, thanks to the wip games where we share our snippets, and thanks to @literateowl and @herefortarlos for being wonderful betas! I could not have gotten back into this thing that I love so much without the support of all of you, so thank you so much!

4. Tarlos Haven

Me and @ironheartwriter started the Tarlos discord, and we've had some amazing times in there whether it be a watch party or a sprint session. I have been terrified of connecting with new people and I still am to some extent, but I really appreciate how kind everyone is to each other. It really eases so much of my anxiety.

5. Exchange Events

I loved hosting the countdown exchange over on @911lonestarevents with @ironheartwriter and I also loved participating in the @tarlos-santa secret santa event! I'm also very excited to be participating in the @tarlos-secret-cupid event as well!

Honorable Mention: Liveblogging

Experiencing episodes live, theorizing and analyzing, losing our mind over stills and writing codas and spec fics, and just having this beautiful thing to look forward to every week for months on end. There's nothing quite like it. Since I am fairly confident that this is my last fandom, I am sad to be losing this. But if I never get to do this again, I'm glad that my last time was with you guys.

Tagging everyone who has (to my knowledge) already posted one of these

@annoyingcloudearthquake @everlastingday @strandnreyes @thisbuildinghasfeelings @welcometololaland @rmd-writes @she-walked-away @reyesstrand @nisbanisba @nancys-braids @carlossreaders @ladyknight1512

Tagging people to participate if you haven't already! No pressure of course.

@lemonlyman-dotcom @heartstringsduet @carlos-in-glasses @paperstorm @bonheur-cafe @emsprovisions @eclectic-sassycoweyes @herefortarlos @reasonandfaithinharmony @rosedavid @ironheartwriter @alrightbuckaroo @theghostofashton @sweettkstrand @strandedbuckley @dear-viv @freneticfloetry @firstprince-history-huh @goodways @henrygrass @literateowl @carlos-tk @certifiedflower @butchreyes @whatsintheboxmh @captain-gillian @reeeallygood @sapphic--kiwi @morganaspendragonss @lightningboltreader

[vhagarys]

Sired (mini series)

aegon x reader, aemond x reader

PT. 3

summary: you are elated at the celebration that awaits on your eight and tenth name day. little do you know, you brothers have an unexpected surprise for you.

warnings: vampires, canon-typical incest (its the targaryens love), dub-con, smut, blood-drinking, manipulation?, all hail queen alicent, siring?, probably more but I can’t think of any.. oops

MDNI

“Wake up child!”

The queen slammed open the doors to your chamber. Her head pounded from the headache that irked her after news of you and your brother’s escapades.

The three of you killed that servant girl. And left her in a pool of blood in Aegon’s chambers.

Still bound to the confines of sleep, a slight smile graced your resting face.

Your mother seethed.

Ripping the blankets from your form revealed dried blood smattered across your night gown.

She shook you violently until your eyes snapped open, alarmed by the sudden waking.

“M-mother? What’s happened?” You rubbed the sleep from your eyes.

Alicent huffed, “Do you have anything to say for yourself? Do you have any idea what you and your brothers have done?!”

You winced at your mother’s booming voice.

Reality soon washed over you as you took in your mother’s distraught appearance.

She was dead.

Tears welled in your lavender eyes and you began to shake from the guilt of your actions.

“Mother I- I am sor-“

Pink fingerprints bloomed onto your pale cheeks, your head whipped to the side as your mother slapped you.

“It is not me to apologize, stupid girl. News of the princes and princess involved in the disappearance of not one but TWO innocent guest have spread like wildfire through the city. On today of all days, you and your brothers have made it your life’s mission to ruin our family, haven’t you!”

You tasted salt as the tears flowed down your reddened cheeks. You cradled your temple, too ashamed to meet your mother’s gaze.

I had no control. I lost myself.

After a moments silence you peered through your fingers to gaze upon her.

“I do not understand what is happening to me. Aegon and Aemond, they, they told me we are immortal. They b-bit me and I-“ you reached for her hands as the words continued to spill from your lips.

“I bit them too. I do not know what possessed me to do such a thing. Mother, I am afraid. I am scared of what I have become,” you wished nothing more than to enter her embrace, a comfort you had normally been given freely.

Instead, she returned your grip, harsher, until you were certain bruises would form.

You attempted to flee her painful embrace to no avail.

“Look at me child.”

Her green eyes slowly changed to red.

You gasped softly.

The smell of blood, your blood, filled the room as her fingernails dug into your wrists.

You winced and cried out, “Mother, please! Let go, you’re hurting me.”

“You should have not been so naive as to blindly follow your brother’s selfish desires. What they have done can never be undone, Y/N.”

Before you could respond, she continued.

“Our families secret has remained nothing but whispers in the wind until this point. No one is to know what we are, Y/N. Do you understand this? We have many enemies, enemies who will crave nothing more than see our demise. With this knowledge, they may do so.”

She loosened her grip.

“Why must we remain a secret, mother? Are there others like us? I do not wish to live in fear.”

Alicent looked down to inspect your wrists. Your eyes followed hers only to find the crescent moons she carved vanished.

Your eyes bulged from their sockets as pulled your wrists away, slowing looking back up at your mother.

Her silence was deafening.

“I don’t understand, please mother, what is this evil?” Finally, she pulled you into her chest, fingers brushing through your tangled curls.

“Listen to me, sweet child. On this day, you were to complete your transition with me. Whomever initiates this will become your sire, and your brothers did so without consulting me,” she pulled you in tighter.

You reciprocated the sentiment, your breathing finally steadying.

“The cravings become manageable after time. But now is when you are at your most vulnerable and must learn to control these urges, especially in company not of your family”.

You muttered, “And what of today’s ceremony? Do I at least get a cake?”

She chuckled lightly, and pulled away.

“Perhaps we can see to that. There is still one thing to look forward to, a gift I’m certain you’ll be most pleased with.”

Your face brightened at the prospect.

“Why don’t you ready yourself for the day and go see your sister Helaena, hm? I’m sure she’ll be able to ease your mind,” she tenderly rubbed her fingers over your knuckles and made for the door.

Your head spun.

Sired? To Aegon and Aemond?

The word felt foreign rolling off of your tongue.

—————

The setting of the sun glowed beautifully through the sheer curtains in your chambers.

Your maids prepared you in the golden dress Helaena had made especially for you, with small creatures sown organically along the sleeves.

“May I please have some water, Tyla?” your throat itched from thirst.

She bowed lightly and left to retrieve it, only to return with an enclosed chalice and a note attached.

“This was just brought for you, my Princess,” you took the cup in hand and could immediately smell the familiar sweet tang from last night.

Your mouth watered desperately.

Picking up the note, it read:

“Byka zaldrizes, Nyke kostagon daor umbagon naejot mazilībagon laesi va ao” (little dragon, i cannot wait to set my eyes on you).

A shiver of anticipation traveled up to the column of your neck.

You could still feel your brother’s touches branded into your skin.

Aemond’s warm mouth between your thighs.

Aegon’s soft lips.

You ached for them. You ached for more.

Your mother’s words echoed in your mind. You could not seem to fathom your own blood purposely placing you in harm’s way.

Tonight my questions will be answered.

Eying the scarlet liquid, you slowly brought the edge of the chalice up to your lips.

You groaned as warmth filled your body, sated.

—————

Your trusted sword Hyland trailed behind as you waltzed about the castle, headed towards your elder sister’s chambers.

“Princess, I had hoped I might have a quick word with you,” Lord Larys Strong appeared from the shadows, bowing as much as his club foot allowed.

Reciprocating his gesture, you met his eyes with a kind smile.

“Lord Larys, a pleasure as always. Is something the matter?”

You missed the quick exchange of subtle nods between him and your sword.

He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid so, my Princess. Whispers have spread through court of a most disturbing occurrence as of late, and both you and your brother’s names have been mixed in with the salacious rumors.” He guided you with his outstretched hand to proceed into the empty throne room.

Upon entering, you were met with a crowd of thickset men, clad in black and red armor.

Your nephew Jacaerys stood at the forefront, his expression unreadable.

An undeniable eeriness seeped through the air.

Something was not right.

You did not allow the unease grace your features.

“Nephew. What a pleasure to receive a visit from you. I do not believe anyone had been made aware of your coming.”

The sound of shutting doors echoed off of the walls.

Your heart skipped in your chest.

The spikes of the welded swords loomed dauntingly over him as he began to step towards you.

“Good morrow, Aunt Y/N. I apologize for having to meet under such circumstances. My mother requests an audience with you at once.”

Upon the death of her late husband Prince Laenor Velaryon, your sister Rhaenyra took residence at Dragonstone with her children and newly wedded husband Daemon.

Your father, King Viserys grew more and more unwell as the days passed, and you had yet to make sense of why she had left King’s Landing in the first place.

You willed your fingers to stop their twitching.

As best you tried, you could not prevent the stutter that escaped.

“I-I do not understand. Why did she not come in your stead if she wished to see me?”

He scoffed under his breath and took another step closer.

The smile on his face no longer met his eyes. There was a hint of darkness in his features.

“Are you really this naive, Aunt? Do you not see the treachery being swept under the very rug you stand!” his voice raised slightly.

You flinched.

Scanning the room, you did not recognize any of the guards that slowly closed in on you.

Lord Larys was gone. Hyland was gone.

You took a step back.

“I c-cannot come with you nephew. Perhaps Rhaenyra may come to visit another day ” another step back.

Hints of purple and red began to fill in the whites of his eyes.

Another.

It couldn’t be.

He looked behind you and nodded.

“I do regret this, jorrāelagon sodjisto,” the fourth step and your back met a hardened surface. (sweet aunt)

Before you could regain your balance, a rag emitting a pungent odor covered your nose and mouth.

The room began to spin and spin until you succumbed to the darkness.

—————

“Excellent work today, my Prince,” Sir Criston Cole bowed and wiped off his training blade.

Aemond was exhausted, silver strands stuck to the perspiration on his hairline.

He had been training with his sword all morning, yet his mind seemed transfixed on you, his irresistible sister.

He craved to see you again. To trace his fingers across your milky skin. To taste the sweet nectars your cunt wept for him and his brother.

“Someone! Please help!” A frantic servant woman burst into the training yard.

“The princess has been abducted! Princess Y/N!”

The blood drained from Aemond’s face as he painfully gripped the hilt of his sword.

He made quick strides toward the women.

“Tell me everything you saw,” his voice eerily calm as his heart pounded in his ears.

“The prince. Pr-prince Jacaerys, m’lord. He and a group of soldiers took the princess from the castle. Carried her onto a small ship and headed east, likely to Dragonstone. My prince”. She bowed shakily, her gaze fixed to the ground.

Wordlessly, he turned on his heel and stormed into the council room.

Conversations went silent as the prince burst through the door.

Alicent sat at the head of the table, having been anointed queen regent in Viserys absence.

“Aemond! What is the meaning-

“They took her.” He continued further into the room.

“Out.” His back was turned to the rest of the council.

The council members remained frozen in their seats.

“Get out!” The prince boomed.

Like rats, they quickly scurried from the room.

He turned back towards her.

“She has declared war on us. That traitorous cunt sent her bastard to abduct your daughter”.

Alicent stared in disbelief.

“My sister!” he spat.

Her lack of response prompted a scoff from Aemond.

Rhaenyra would never stoop to such treachery, Alicent shook her head.

“I shall take Vhagar and retrieve her at once,” his long hair swished behind him as he exited.

Pleas from his mother fell upon death ears.

He could barely contain his rage.

His sister, his blood.

He vowed to answer this challenge with destruction. Even if it meant burning the lot of Dragonstone to retrieve you.

He found the door to Aegon’s chamber left ajar, with clothes strung on the floor as he tugged his riding leathers on.

Aegon turned to his brother.

“To Dragonstone.”

authors note: eeeeee!!! kinda a filler but it’s for the plot.

I changed the story from having daemon as king to fit the narrative of the book a bit more. You’ll see why moving forward ;)

Let me know your thoughts?!

- alie

taglist: @venusbyline