#So Apparently I Find Fairies Hot

[bloodreinasbathwater]

Xo Xo Gossip Girl

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Gossip Blogger! Reader

Part 1

a:n The way I find myself digging for the perfect chapter gif only to scroll for five minutes and save my favorites is so embarrassing. I'm gonna need his girlfriend to hand over that game card... anyway hope u like this chapter.

word count - 4k

Masterlist Link

GIF by wyattjohnston

...

HOCKEY HEARTBREAK: THE REAL REASON BEHIND THE HUGHES-DEGREGIO SPLIT

Posted by Y/N @ The Daily Whisper | 11:42 PM

Settle in, Whisper Warriors, because do I have some piping hot tea for you tonight.

You know those moments when the universe just hands you the story of the year? Well, last Saturday at Vibe, somewhere between my second cosmopolitan and watching Matt Rempe fail at dancing (yes, that's tea for another day), I quite literally bumped into none other than Serena DeGregio. And let me tell you, after a few shots of liquid courage, Hollywood's newest "it girl" was ready to spill everything about her recent split from hockey's favorite bad boy, Jack Hughes.

Now, we've all seen the headlines: "Hockey Heartthrob and Rising Star Call It Quits." But the real story? It's juicier than your mom's Thanksgiving turkey.

According to Serena, our beloved hockey star couldn't handle being the second name in the relationship. While she was booking Netflix specials and selling out concert venues, Jack was sidelined with a shoulder injury that kept him off the ice for three months. And apparently, watching your girlfriend's face on every billboard in Times Square does things to a man's ego.

"He's still stuck in that high school hockey star mentality," Serena told me, twirling the olive in her martini. "You know the type – peaked at eighteen, never had to grow up because everything came easy."

But here's where I have to play devil's advocate (and maybe it's because I've seen those ice-blue eyes up close at press events). Having covered Jack's career since his rookie year, there's more to him than Serena's bitter pill would have you swallow. This is the same guy who started a youth hockey program in underprivileged neighborhoods. The same player who spent his injury rehab volunteering at children's hospitals. And let's be real – anyone who's seen him handle a puck knows he definitely hasn't peaked.

Maybe it's the journalist in me, but something about this story feels... incomplete. There's always two sides to every breakup, isn't there?

Update coming soon... if I can track down Mr. Hughes for his side of the story 😉

...

Y/N stretched back in her purple velvet office chair, admiring her latest post on the screen. Her "lair," as she liked to call it, was her happy place – fairy lights twinkling across the ceiling, framed magazine covers featuring her biggest stories adorning the coral-painted walls, and her trusty mini-fridge humming softly in the corner, stocked with Diet Coke and chocolate-covered almonds.

The story was already gaining traction, comments pinging faster than she could read them. Her phone buzzed – Alyssa's face lighting up the screen. Y/N smiled, knowing her best friend had probably already devoured every word. As the head of corporate sponsorships at Manhattan's largest sports marketing firm, Alyssa always had the best insider information – and opinions to match.

"Y/N! Have you lost your mind?" Alyssa didn't even wait for a hello. "That post about Jack and Serena is everywhere! My entire office is buzzing about it. The PR team for the Rangers is having a field day."

"Good evening to you too, bestie." Y/N spun lazily in her chair, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

"Never mind pleasantries. I have information that's going to make your next post even bigger." Y/N could hear the smile in her voice. "You know that charity gala at The Plaza next weekend? The one my firm is coordinating with?"

Y/N threw her head back and groaned dramatically. The motion made her neck crack, and she absently rubbed it while whining, "Don't rub it in. I've been trying to get press credentials for weeks. Even my usual connections couldn't get me in."

"Well, guess who's not only attending but is being honored for his youth hockey program?"

Y/N shot forward so fast her chair rolled back and hit the wall, rattling her framed cover of Time Magazine. "Jack Hughes."

"Bingo. And since I'm basically running the whole event..." Alyssa paused for dramatic effect. "I happen to have an extra ticket with your name on it. Perks of being best friends with someone who has to make sure all the corporate sponsors play nice with their hockey darlings."

"Shut up!" Y/N leaped out of her chair, nearly tripping over her discarded shoes in excitement. She caught herself on the edge of her desk, sending a stack of press releases flying. "Alyssa Martinez, you beautiful genius! How did you swing that?"

"Let's just say I convinced the foundation board that having an influential blogger there would be good publicity for their youth programs." Alyssa's voice took on a more serious tone. "Though after this post, I might have some explaining to do. You better make this worth it."

Y/N's heart raced as she glanced at her blog post still glowing on the screen, her mind already spinning with possibilities. "Trust me, this is going to be the story of the year."

"I'm counting on it. My reputation is on the line here too, you know. These athletes might be my clients, but you're my best friend. Don't make me regret mixing the two."

"Have I ever let you down before?" Y/N was already opening her notes app, fingers flying across the keyboard.

"There's a first time for everything," Alyssa teased. "So, are you ready to get the other side of the story?"

...

One Week Later

Y/N stood before her full-length mirror, smoothing down the silk of her black dress. Beside her, Alyssa was applying a final coat of mascara, her own black dress a perfect complement with its off-shoulder design.

"Stop overthinking it," Alyssa said, catching Y/N's distant expression in the mirror. "I can literally see the gears turning in your head."

Y/N sighed, fiddling with her delicate silver necklace. The blog post about Jack and Serena had exploded over the past week, becoming her most viral story to date. But something about it had been nagging at her, keeping her up at night as she replayed Serena's words in her mind.

"It's just..." Y/N paused, carefully considering her words. "What if we got it wrong? What if Serena isn't the victim she's making herself out to be?"

Alyssa raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you second-guess a source?"

"Since something doesn't add up." Y/N moved to her vanity, pretending to touch up her subtle smoky eye while her thoughts raced. "I've been doing some digging. Every charity event, every hospital visit, every youth program – Jack Hughes doesn't publicize any of it. His team's PR doesn't even push it. What kind of attention-seeking bad boy does good deeds and keeps them quiet?"

"So you think Serena's lying?"

"I think..." Y/N turned to face her friend, determination settling over her features. "I think she's a scorned ex trying to control the narrative. And maybe... maybe I helped her do it."

Alyssa's lips curved into a knowing smile. "And this sudden crisis of conscience has nothing to do with those ice-blue eyes you mentioned in your post?"

"This isn't about that," Y/N protested, but she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. "This is about the truth. The real story." She grabbed her clutch, checking one last time that her phone and recorder were inside. "Every good journalist knows there are two sides to every story. It's time I found out his."

"Well then," Alyssa linked their arms together, leading them toward the door. "Let's go get your story, Lois Lane."

As they stepped into the waiting car, Y/N's mind was already racing with possibilities. She'd built her career on exposing the truth, even when it wasn't pretty. But tonight felt different. Tonight, she wasn't just chasing a story – she was chasing redemption. And maybe, just maybe, she'd find out who the real Jack Hughes was in the process.

The Plaza Hotel beckoned in the distance, its lights twinkling against the Manhattan skyline like a beacon. Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. Bad boy or misunderstood hero, she was going to find out the truth – even if it meant admitting she got it wrong the first time.

...

Jack's pov

Jack's knee wouldn't stop bouncing under the pristine white tablecloth, making the water in his parents' glasses ripple like tiny earthquakes. Luke, ever the annoying little brother, flicked his ear.

"Dude, you're making the whole table shake. What's got you so worked up?" Luke's grin was nothing short of devilish. "Could it be a certain viral blog post about your 'high school mentality'?"

Jack pinched the sensitive spot under Luke's bicep, earning a satisfying yelp. "Shut up, man. At least I didn't trip over my own skates at practice yesterday."

"Boys," Ellen Hughes' warning tone cut through their bickering. She smoothed her navy dress with one hand while giving them both the look – the one that had stopped many locker room fights in their youth. "You're at a charity gala, not the rink. Act like grown men, please?"

"Yes, Mom," they chorused in unison, sharing a quick grin that made their father Jim chuckle behind his menu.

Jack let out a heavy breath, tugging at his bow tie. It felt too tight, like everything else lately – the press, the expectations, the endless questions about Serena. His leg started bouncing again.

"That's it." He pushed back from the table, his chair scraping against the floor. "I need a drink."

"Water," his mother called after him. "You have a speech to give!"

Jack waved in acknowledgment, weaving through the sea of evening gowns and tuxedos. His shoulder twinged – phantom pain from the injury that had started this whole mess. Or maybe it was just his body's reaction to stress. The blog post had been everywhere this week, his phone blowing up with messages from teammates asking if he'd seen it.

He had. Multiple times. Each read made him want to throw his phone into the Hudson.

Reaching the bar, he slumped against the polished marble, pressing his forehead to the cool surface for just a moment. "Water, please," he groaned to the bartender. "Still, not sparkling."

"Trouble in paradise?"

The voice was unfamiliar, tinged with curiosity and something else he couldn't quite place. Jack lifted his head to find a woman in a black dress perched on the barstool next to him, stirring what looked like a cosmopolitan with delicate fingers. She wasn't looking at him directly, but he could see the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Before he could respond, a flash of red appeared in his peripheral vision, and he had to fight the urge to groan out loud.

"Jackie!" The voice was unmistakable – Rebekah Chen, Page Six's most persistent reporter. Her red dress matched her lipstick, both as bold as her personality. She latched onto his arm like a barnacle, fake nails digging into his jacket. "I've been trying to reach you all week!"

Jack threw his head back, closing his eyes as if that might make her disappear. "Not today, Rebekah," he muttered, feeling every muscle in his jaw tense. His hand curled around the water glass the bartender had just set down, knuckles white.

"Oh, come on!" She pressed closer, her voice dropping to what she probably thought was a seductive whisper. "Just a few questions. I can help you clear the air about that nasty blog post. Make that gossip guru eat her words." She batted her eyelashes. "All I need is a teensy exclusive about what really happened with Serena."

Jack's laugh was hollow as he extracted his arm from her grip. "Right, because that worked out so well the last time." He took a long drink of water, adam's apple bobbing as he tried to maintain his composure. "No comment, Rebekah. Same as yesterday, and the day before that, and—"

"But Jackie—"

"Not happening." Jack's voice was firm as steel. "There's nothing to say, Rebekah. Not to you, not to anyone."

Rebekah huffed, her red lips turning down into a pout. She opened her mouth to protest again, but something in Jack's expression must have finally gotten through. With a dramatic sigh and flip of her hair, she clicked away on her stilettos, no doubt in search of easier prey.

Jack's shoulders dropped as tension bled out of them. He turned back to the bar, catching the mystery woman in black watching him in the mirror behind the bottles. When their eyes met, she didn't look away.

"That happen often?" she asked, taking a slow sip of her cosmopolitan.

Jack let out a dry laugh, running a hand through his carefully styled hair. "More than I'd like. Apparently, 'no comment' is journalist-speak for 'try harder.'" He paused, studying her reflection. "Though you don't seem like the pushy type."

"Maybe I'm just better at playing the long game." The corner of her mouth quirked up, and she turned to face him properly. "Besides, the real story usually isn't found in ambushing someone at a bar."

"Exactly." He found himself leaning against the bar, angling toward her. There was something about her that made him want to keep talking. "Like this blog post that went viral this week. Everyone's got an opinion about who I am, what I did wrong, but—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "Sorry, you probably haven't even seen it."

She hummed noncommittally, that almost-smile playing on her lips again. "I might have caught it. Though I tend to be more interested in the stories that don't make headlines."

"Like what?"

"Like why a professional hockey player spends his injury rehab teaching kids to skate in Harlem instead of lounging on some beach somewhere."

Jack blinked, caught off guard. He'd been careful about keeping that quiet. "How did you—"

"Just someone who pays attention," she said, gathering her clutch. "The real story isn't always the loudest one, is it?"

Before Jack could process what she meant, Luke's voice carried across the room. "Jack! Mom says get back here. Speech time!"

The woman in black slid off her barstool with practiced grace. "Sounds like you're needed elsewhere."

"Wait," Jack said, suddenly not wanting her to disappear into the crowd. "I didn't catch your name."

"Y/N," she offered, and for a moment, her smile was full and genuine. "Good luck with your speech, Jack.”

She moved past him, the subtle scent of her perfume lingering. Jack found himself watching her weave through the crowd, his mind replaying their conversation. There had been something different about her – the way she'd asked questions without really asking them, how she'd known about his volunteer work but hadn't tried to use it against him like Rebekah would have.

"Dude." Luke appeared at his elbow, poking him in the ribs. "Stop staring into space. Mom's going to kill us both if you're late for your own award."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Jack followed his brother back to their table, but his eyes kept scanning the crowd. He spotted her finally, sliding into a seat near the back beside another woman in black. As if sensing his gaze, she glanced up, raising her cosmopolitan in a small salute.

For the first time in weeks, Jack felt himself genuinely smile.

...

"...and with your continued support, we can make sure every kid who wants to play hockey has that chance, regardless of their circumstances. Thank you."

The ballroom erupted in applause. Jack's shoulders relaxed slightly – public speaking had never been his favorite part of the job, but at least this speech was about something that mattered.

Near the back of the room, Y/N leaned toward Alyssa. "We should go," she whispered, gathering her clutch. "We're not gonna get anything else tonight."

Alyssa nodded, already standing. "At least the champagne was good."

They slipped out as the crowd continued clapping, their heels clicking against the marble floors of The Plaza's ornate lobby. Y/N's mind was already spinning with how she'd write this up – not the puff piece everyone would expect, but something different. Something true.

"Y/N!"

The call echoed through the lobby, making her freeze mid-step. That voice – she'd just been listening to it give a speech about youth hockey programs and second chances.

She turned slowly, Alyssa's hand gripping her arm in surprise. Jack Hughes was jogging toward them, bow tie slightly askew, still slightly breathless from his speech. His hair was ruffled like he'd been running his hands through it, and there was a slight flush to his cheeks that hadn't been there at the bar.

"I—" he started, then seemed to realize he was still slightly out of breath. His hand came up to rest gently on her bare arm, the touch surprisingly warm. "Hey."

Y/N's eyebrows rose. "Hey yourself. Shouldn't you be back there accepting congratulations?"

He waved his free hand dismissively, though he didn't move the one on her arm. "They'll survive without me for a few minutes." His ice-blue eyes darted between her and Alyssa, a mix of nervousness and determination crossing his features. "You should come out with us. Both of you," he added quickly, offering Alyssa a genuine smile. "My teammates are headed to this bar just down the street. Nothing fancy, just... drinks. And conversation."

The way he said 'conversation' made Y/N's pulse quicken. There was weight behind it, meaning she couldn't quite decipher.

"I don't know," she started, but Alyssa cut her off.

"We'd love to," her supposed best friend said, ignoring Y/N's sharp look. "Lead the way, Hughes."

Jack's face broke into a grin that transformed his entire appearance. Gone was the serious hockey player from the podium, replaced by something younger, lighter. "Great! I just need to grab Luke and dodge my parents." He squeezed Y/N's arm gently before letting go. "Don't leave, okay? Five minutes, tops."

He was already backing away, that grin still in place. "Wait for me," he called out, just before turning.

Y/N waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Alyssa. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you the real story," Alyssa smirked, already typing on her phone. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She thought about Jack's smile, the warmth of his hand on her arm, the way he'd said 'conversation' like he was offering something more than just drinks and small talk.

"Five minutes," she conceded, trying not to smile at Alyssa's triumphant expression. "But if this backfires, I'm blaming you."

"Honey," Alyssa linked their arms, steering them toward the bar's entrance. "Something tells me this is going to be the best story you've ever written."

...

The bass thrummed through Y/N's bones as they approached the club, the line wrapping around the building like a snake. Jack stayed close to her side, his presence warm and solid as they bypassed the queue entirely.

"Mr. Hughes," the security guard nodded, unhooking the velvet rope without hesitation. "Welcome back."

Inside, bodies packed the dance floor, but Jack navigated them through the crowd with practiced ease. His hand ghosted over Y/N's lower back, guiding her through the maze of people until they reached a raised section cordoned off with another rope. Several men Y/N recognized from hockey highlights were sprawled across the plush booths, drinks already flowing.

"Look who finally made it!" Luke called out, now free of his bow tie and jacket. "We were starting to think Mom trapped you in conversation with the Vanderbilts again."

"Barely escaped," Jack laughed, helping Y/N up the small steps before following. "Everyone, this is Y/N and Alyssa."

The team welcomed them warmly, shuffling to make space. Y/N found herself wedged between Jack and the booth's arm, hyperaware of every point where their bodies touched. Her notebook felt like it was burning a hole in her clutch.

"I'm telling you," one of the players – Miller, according to his heated gesture at his teammate – was saying, "game seven, '94 Finals. Best hockey game ever played."

"You weren't even born yet!" Another player – Thompson – argued back. "2010 Olympics, Canada versus USA. That's peak hockey right there."

"You're both wrong," Luke interjected, leaning forward. "2018 World Juniors, outdoor game. Nothing beats playing in actual snow."

"That's because you scored the winning goal, you biased little shit," Jack laughed, his arm sliding naturally along the booth behind Y/N. The movement brought him closer, his cologne mixing with the lingering scent of his aftershave.

"What about you?" he asked, turning those blue eyes on her. "You follow hockey long?"

"My dad used to play," she found herself saying truthfully. "Nothing professional, just beer league, but he loved it. Taught me to skate before I could walk."

Something in Jack's expression softened. "Mine too. Well, him and my mom..." He shifted, angling toward her more fully. "It's different now though, isn't it? The pressure. Everyone watching, waiting for you to mess up. Luke and Quinn, they get it, but we're barely home at the same time anymore. Summer's all we got, really. And even then..." He trailed off, vulnerability flickering across his features in the dim light.

Y/N's chest tightened. This wasn't the cocky player from the tabloids or the bitter ex-boyfriend from Serena's story. This was just... Jack. Raw and real and trusting her with pieces of himself she had no right to.

"I need a drink," she blurted, already sliding out of the booth. "Excuse me."

She practically fled to the bar, gripping the edge of it when she reached it. "Whiskey sour," she managed when the bartender looked her way. "Strong."

"Oh my god, Y/N!"

She turned to find Rebekah Chen stumbling slightly, clearly several drinks in. Her red dress was slightly askew, her lipstick smudged at one corner.

"Is Jack here?!" Rebekah's voice pitched high with excitement.

"No," Y/N said firmly, accepting her drink from the bartender. "He's not."

"Ugh." Rebekah deflated, then perked up again almost instantly. "But oh my god, you'll never believe what Serena told me about him." She leaned in conspiratorially, alcohol heavy on her breath. "He's a total player. Like, major cheater. She said he was always sliding into girls' DMs when they were together, coming to places like this..." She gestured around the club. "Getting with random girls behind her back."

Y/N's eyes widened despite herself. The Jack she'd just left didn't seem capable of that kind of betrayal, but...

"Yeah!" Rebekah pressed on, encouraged by Y/N's reaction. "Serena has receipts too. Screenshots, dates, everything. She's just waiting for the right moment to release them." She swayed slightly. "Guess the golden boy isn't so golden after all, right?"

Y/N's drink suddenly felt heavy in her hand. Behind her, she could hear Jack's laugh carrying over the music, warm and genuine. She thought about how carefully he'd helped her through the crowd, how softly he'd spoken about his brothers.

How absolutely screwed she was if she was starting to believe in him.

...

Tag List <3

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[andypantsx3]

TODOROKI SHOUTO : MASTERLIST

please be respectful! do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or otherwise share on other platforms. all my reader characters are fem + afab unless otherwise specified. please see individual fic posts for nsfw ratings and other warnings!

shouto writing tag | universal masterlist

MULTI-CHAPTER

ready or knot (est. 24K) : in progress

Todoroki Shouto is so unsettlingly beautiful, you’re certain he has to be an omega. That is, until a chance encounter with a pushy alpha reveals you were incredibly mistaken—and the surprises don’t stop there. Shouto's suddenly mystifying behavior adds another layer of complexity to an already confusing inter-agency investigation. It would be so much easier to figure things out—and suppress your growing feelings—if only Shouto would stop being so strangely attentive to you...

something in the water (est. 24K) : in progress

As a future marine biologist, you’ve scored big on your final internship: a summer in the tropics, researching the waters off the coast of a lush, sunny island. But what you thought would be all beach days and piña coladas turns out to be the revelation of a lifetime when you haul in a handsome merprince, and discover not everything in these waters is quite as it seems.

fingerprints (38K) : complete

When you’re outed as pro hero Shouto’s soulmate on national television, there are really only two sensible things for you to do: blame someone else and run.

vested interest (19.5K) : complete

You’d just thought Shouto was absent minded, accidentally leaving behind a jacket or a sweater or his vest. You didn’t realize this was a thing. (In which Todoroki Shouto—despite his quirk—has zero chill, and uses his clothes to ward off other men.)

if i could keep cool (20K) : complete

A villain attacks Shouto Todoroki’s apartment and kidnaps what he apparently believes to be Todoroki’s secret lover. The bad news—for both you and the villain in question—is that you’re just there to clean the place. That’s how it starts.

[smutty one shot follow on: say the word and you know i'll follow]

Deceiving the Duke (30K) : complete

When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a lady’s maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

in cinders (25K) : complete

You’re just trying to fairy godmother your best friend into a happily ever after. If only the prince would stop hanging around and cooperate. (A Cinderella AU)

when i make you mine (24K) : complete In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother, steps in and blows it all to pieces.

conspire (13K) : complete

Shouto Todoroki had definitely only asked you out in order to ward off his horde of interested suitors. So why does he keep actually taking you out on suspiciously realistic dates?

subtle (4.5K) : complete

Someone leaves chocolates on your desk. You’re determined to track down the sender, certain it’s a mistake, and Shouto Todoroki makes himself as unhelpful as possible.

demon prince au (various): ongoing

Things seem to going well with the prince of hell you've accidentally taken home. Until a surprise visitor makes an appearance, and Shouto must take action to stake his claim on you.

ONE SHOTS

mr. tokyo beat hottest hero (3.8K)

Shouto finds out he’s hot. He swiftly uses this knowledge against you.

on ice (2.6K)

Your pro hero boyfriend ices you to the counter and has his way with you.

pretty boy (4.1K)

You have strong feelings about Shouto’s scar. Shouto finds them…surprising.

slip (2.5K) - gn!reader

No one knows who the villain Shouto really is, or what he wants with Endeavor. All you know is that you never should have drawn his notice.

just my (blood) type (5.3K)

The real Halloween treat was how sinfully handsome Todoroki Shouto looked in his vampire costume. But that wouldn’t be enough to save him from the petty wrath of one drunk lobster. (In which you suffer deeply, wingwoman a friend, and pick a fight with the hottest boy at UA.)

loads of fun (2.8K) - gn!reader

After moving into your first apartment together, Shouto seems more amorous than ever. You're not sure why—but when he comes home to you doing a load of laundry, more than your clothes are about to get tumbled.

home, safe, yours (2K) - gn!reader

After a rough day, you take care of your pro hero boyfriend.

happy edgings (1K)

Shouto discovers a new concept and quickly sets about mastering it. You either benefit or suffer, depending on how you look at it.

confetti confessions (2.3K)

A slight misunderstanding at Shouto’s birthday party achieves unexpected results. 

in any universe (1.7K) - gn!reader

Shouto is the prince of an alien species that mates for life—which surely has absolutely nothing to do with you, the little human cadet deployed with the treaty party to his planet.

if you let me (2.2K)

Disguised as a eunuch in the imperial palace, a mistake on your part leads to your unmasking before the prince. By rights it should mean your death, but Prince Shouto seems to have another plan in mind...

balm (2.2K) - gn!reader

You help rub down your boyfriend's muscles after a grueling shift. And then, a little more.

damage (1.6K)

When you get hit by a quirk, Shouto gets protective. Idiocy ensues.

peony for your thoughts (2.1K) - gn!reader

Florist AU: You enter Shouto’s flower shop, and leave with a little bit more than you expected.

say the word and you know i’ll follow (3.3K)

While moving in with Shouto, you get caught up reliving the scene of his confession. Quite literally.

[a smutty one shot sequel to if i could keep cool]

DRABBLES + PROMPT FICLETS

a/b/o au (0.5K)

You think Todoroki Shouto is so pretty he has to be an omega. You quickly find out you are very, very wrong.

dragon au drabble series (various lengths)

You accidentally bring home a dragonling one day. He grows up...possessive.

seven minutes in heaven (1K)

Shouto is unfamiliar with a well-known game.

todobakureader domestic fluff (1K)

The sound of muffled arguing in the kitchen wakes you up on Saturday morning.

turn the heat up (0.7K)

On a lazy afternoon, your boyfriend Shouto is up to no good.

priceless (0.8K)

You get weird around all the expensive things in Shouto's apartment. Shouto shows you what's truly priceless to him.

kabedon (1.7K)

Shouto learns what kabedonning is. You benefit.

wrong address (0.6K)

A mistake leads pro hero Shouto to your door. You promptly embarrass yourself.

attention (0.6K)

“You’re going to regret that, sweetheart.”

melt (1K)

“What? Does that feel good?”

drunk shouto (0.7K)

Shouto gets handsy when he's drunk.

pet names (0.3K)

Shouto figures out you like pet names and sets about abusing his newfound power.

marked up (0.7K)

Shouto goes little shit mode. You (and Class A) suffer.

[patrophthia]

fairy of shampoo | theodore nott

pairing: theodore not × reader

genre: fluff, (maybe) miscommunications, crushes, confused feelings, we’re besties with draco (he’s annoying) (affectionate), not beta read

wc: 3.8k

this is a combination of this and this requests ! i hope you like it!! theo content for the win!!

taglist: @tr4ppola

If he really tried to think about it, he could recall the first time he'd ever saw you. He was eleven, standing on platform nine and three quarters with his father by his side. You were talking to someone sitting across you with a pout, he was blond, hair platinum as it could be. His father slips a bag into his pocket the same second you looked out the window.

Your eyes met and he could tell that his father had just given him this month's allowance. You smile at him and he distractedly bids his father goodbye. And if he were to remember it correctly, this was when you'd planted his heart in a rose-coloured fantasy.

He climbs on to the train, and the longer he spent trying to find you within the carriages he passed, the quicker he'd realised that he'd already forgotten your face. You, who he now childishly deem his one, and only fairy.

It wasn't long until he saw you again, not that he knew that it was you, his (and he cringes when he thinks of this now) fairy. You were now an acquaintance of his, and apparently a friend of his dorm-mate, the spoiled brat: Draco Malfoy.

He remembers it more clearly now, every single aspect of his life that has been affected by you. He blames it on Malfoy for always dragging you wherever he went. And he blames it on himself for thinking that you were too pretty for your own good.

Pretty enough to be in a shampoo commercial even. Maybe then you'd be an actual fairy; a fairy of shampoo.

Sometimes you forget just how rich the Malfoy's were until Draco invites you to stay at his lake house with him and his Slytherin friends over the summer. And seeing as you've both known each other for so long that even your parents had grown annoyed with one another, you'd had your stuff packed and brought over before summer even started.

Draco was quick to take up the master bedroom, assigning you the room next to his just so he could easily come in and annoy you. You didn't really mind it, your room has a bathroom attached to it; it connects your room to another.

You'd shared this room with Draco before, a double sink in the bathroom being a great source of morning conversations. You always stayed at the other side though, just so he could be closer to his parents but still close enough to you for him to barge in and bother you whenever he liked.

Pansy took the one opposing yours, Blaise just down her hall leaving the one connected to yours for Nott to take up.

Day-one activities consisted of the five of you going to the local farmers market to shop for groceries. Draco —and the others for this matter, didn't like this idea much, but you were all grown up now, you should be able to handle this without the help of house elves.

"Strawberries?" Pansy says. "Have we gotten them yet? I really like them."

You nod. "Yeah, we got a few pounds of it. Is that okay or should we get more?"

"No it's fine," she answers. "We can always come again for more."

Draco groans at her words. And you roll eyes, reaching over to smack his arm. "Don't be a lazy brat."

"I'm not being a lazy brat," he says defensively, "it's hot and we could easily have someone else do this for us. We could be spending this time doing something else."

"Doing what exactly?" You retorted. "It's not like you're getting laid anytime soon."

Blaise snorts at your words as Malfoy mumbles under his breath. "Is your father going to hear about that?"

"Fuck off, Zabini."

The five of you continue on your trip around the market, stopping by for occasional snacks and you start to suspect that Draco enjoys this much more than he lets on whenever he spots a new shiny toy.

It didn't take long for you to finish up with your groceries, so to treat yourselves, you'd decided to head over for something refreshing. You'd settled on ice cream, approaching the closest parlour you could find.

"Hey, I'm about to go order," you say, standing a short distance away from Theodore who had yet to order unlike the other three. "Which flavour do you want?"

Theodore took a glance at you, then after a second he turned back the window that had him preoccupied just minutes before. Okay, that was rude.

But you chopped it up to him being the introvert that he is, so instead you went up to Draco and asked him about his friend. "Which one do you think he likes? I asked him and he straight up ignored me."

"Maybe he just didn't hear you," Draco suggested, then adding; "or that he didn't want anything."

"But then again, this is Theo we're talking about, who knows what he's thinking." Draco takes a bite out of his sorbet, pondering for a second. "Just get him vanilla, it's basic, everyone likes vanilla."

With two cones in hand, one for you and the other for Theodore, you cautiously approach the tall Slytherin. "Draco told me to get you vanilla," you said, smiling up at him. "Is that okay with you? I could get you anothe—"

"It's fine," Theo cuts you off, reaching for the cone you were about to offer him. If his tone had an affect on your attitude, you don't let him see it. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Your voice drops barely above a whisper, clearly done with this conversation. "Should we head back then?"

Theo only nods. And you try your best to not let it get to you, he was reserved when it comes to new people; you know this. Then why does he still close himself off from you when you've known him for the last seven years of your life?

Mornings at the country lake house were one of your favourite things, it's quiet and you always wake up feeling restful and content. You got up from your bed and made your way to the bathroom. A twist at the knob and turn had you entering it in no time.

You went up to your side of the sink and it's only when you reached for your tooth brush did you notice the blurry figure beside you. "Good morning," you greeted with a soft smile without much thought, beginning your morning routine by brushing your teeth. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine," he says. He wants to say more but he can't think of a single thing to tell you. He wants to tell you how much he likes standing here with you right now. He wants to tell you how much he both loves and hates being around you because he always, without fail, ends up a frozen mess. "How did you?"

"It was good." At least he's making conversation. He finishes up brushing his teeth and you're more than just relieved. It's not easy talking to someone who clearly doesn't enjoy your company. "I'll see you in a bit then."

Theodore hums in acknowledgement and turns towards his room, shutting the bathroom door behind him. It's only when he's gone did you realise he'd only worn sweats to sleep.

Blaise was kind enough to make breakfast for everyone, and Theodore was lucky enough to be the first to get a taste of it.

"Good morning," he greets the brunet, his back to him as he keeps eyes on his cooking pancakes. "Princess' not up yet?"

"No," Theo answers, going over to his side to help plate each person's portion. "And you know she hates it when you call her princess right?"

"Yeah," Blaise says with a slight chuckle. "But she always looks so mad when we call her that, it's funny."

"You say that as if she doesn't cuss us out whenever any of us calls her that," Theo retorts, him adding extra of the things he knew you liked on your plate not missed by Blaise.

Blaise only shrugs, "you get used to it after a while."

Theo only hums as a response. And after a second, he decides to tell Blaise about something that has been plaguing his mind since he woke up this morning. "She said good morning to me."

Blaise' brows furrows. "Okay?"

"I didn't say it back."

"Oh so she hates you know." Theo scowls at him and Blaise can't help but laugh at his crushing friend.

"You're supposed to make me feel better."

"Well it's not my fault you're an idiot," Blaise retorts, "it wouldn't be this difficult if you'd just ask her out."

"You know I can't do that."

Draco walks into the kitchen. "And why can't you?"

"I don't know how to explain it," he says first, now setting up the table with Draco's help. "I feel like I'm walking on clouds when I talk to her and yet I can't find the words to express how I feel and always end up making her upset with me."

Draco shares a glance with Blaise. This must've been the most they'd heard him speak in one morning. "Oh so you're whipped?"

"Who's whipped?"

Merlin was not on Theo's side this morning. Because why else would you be here while he's having this conversation out of everything else he could've been chatting about?

"Nott," Draco snickered.

"Oh." Your face falls and he hopes more than anything that you were disappointed, or maybe even jealous at the prospect of him being into someone other than you. "Good luck then."

Pansy who'd come into the kitchen with you, and stayed by your side as she listened in; only frowns at your word. "Why do you sound like that? Don't you want to know who it is?"

"I do," you murmured. "But it's not like he's going to tell us who it is anytime soon."

"And why not?"

"Are we talking about the same guy? It took me three months to get a word out of him," you retorted. "I doubt he's just going to tell us who he's dating."

"Not dating per se, just crushing," Blaise corrected.

"Theo has a crush?" Pansy gasps. "How exciting."

"Don't act surprised," Theodore scoffs, taking a seat at the table. And, as if he was pointing out that the skies were blue, he adds: "You're standing right next to her."

"Are you sure, princess?"

If you didn't have as much on your mind as you did, you'd tell Blaise off. But there were bigger matters at hand, so instead you decided on a friendlier reply. "Just go on, I'll join you in a minute."

"Okay," he says with a slight frown, now that you're not telling him to go do something inappropriate with himself for just calling you princess. He's starting to wonder if you are okay, but he'll let you tell him all about it at your own time, so instead, he says: "If you say so."

He tosses you his towel and you put it to your side, watching him as headed towards Draco and Pansy who were on their second attempt at drowning one another. Yeah this is going to be a long day.

You tried to be logical, but every logical thought points towards one conclusion: Theodore Nott likes you.

Because who else could've he been talking about when he said his 'crush' was standing right next to Pansy. Unless he meant the air on the other side of her? But that's insane, he couldn't possibly mean that. And, in all honesty, you think that he couldn't have possibly meant you.

It could've been a joke but Theodore has a look on his face, one where you could always without fail tell that he was planning a joke, and you were sure that he hadn't worn that look when he'd said it. And even if it was a joke, this was a very cruel one for him to tell.

The sound of sand dipping a short distance away catches your attention; to your right Theodore sat on the sand as he looked straight ahead.

He must've felt you looking at him, there was no way he couldn't have but he was showing no signs that he knew whatsoever.

You clear your throat. "You're not going in?" He turns to you, his hair —now outgrown and floppy, flies in each and every direction. He then shakes his head. "Why not?"

He turns back to the other three in the water. "I didn't want to leave you here alone."

"So you're keeping me company?" A nod of his head tells you all you need to know. Plague with questions and questions and questions, all of which Theodore related, you can't help but ask him. "Why?"

"You know why."

"No," you say. "I think I know why, not that I actually know it."

"Does your thinking involve me having feelings for you?" A nod from you cues his next response. "Atta girl, that was right on the nose."

Feeling restless at his words, you got up onto your feet and made your way over to where he sat. "I don't get it," you say first, and as a response, Theo looks up at you. "I don't get you."

Theo's face showed no emotions. "What don't you get about me?"

"Just yesterday, you blatantly ignored me and then today you say that you have feelings for me out of nowhere?" You say frustratingly, and Theo feels bad, he really does, for finding you so cute that he could barely hide his smile. "How am I supposed to believe you?"

He only blinks at you. "You just do."

What. You squint your eyes at him, "are you serious right now?"

"I am," he says, frowning. "Is it that hard to believe?"

"Yes," you say exasperatedly. "If you have feelings for me then why do you always treat me like shit?"

He thinks for a second. He could either tell you the truth, which was that he's kind of in love with you and he was terrified of speaking to you because he didn't want you to find out or change the topic completely. "I'm going for a swim."

?!?

That's what you get? For asking him questions about his feelings for you? Were men always this complicated? "You're just going to ignore me?"

"I'm not." He slips his shirt off, heading into the lake where your three friends were trying to not be obvious about how they were listening in.

"You're not what?" You ask him, trailing after him.

"I'm not treating you like shit nor am I ignoring you," he says finally. "I just don't know what to say."

Dinner is quiet. The tension can be felt by everyone and no one —not even Draco, dared to point it out. Something was going and as worried as they were about it, they were much more afraid of what their friend would do to them if they said something about it.

So instead, the three of them decided to be good and enjoy their meal without so much as a word. "Didn't know you could cook, Theo."

Theodore looks up from his plate and at Pansy. Her eyes suddenly went wide, feeling like a deer caught in headlight. So to ease herself out of the situation she adds. "This is delicious."

"Thanks," he murmurs lowly, turning back to his plate.

You watch as Blaise, Draco, and Pansy share a look. Blaise soundlessly ushering out a "what was that?"

Pansy, looking panicked, responded. "I don't know?! It was getting too quiet."

"You do know that you can just talk normally right?" All eyes turn on you. "No reason for hushed whispers, you know?"

Blaise looks at you bashfully, " 'course."

"Sorry," Pansy muttered. "We were thinking of having a Bonfire actually."

"That sounds fun," you nod, wordlessly waiting for Theo's response. "Do you want to join?"

Theodore looked up distractedly, and shook his head once he'd processed your offer. "No, I think I'll head to bed early."

The four of you accept his answer as is, tidying up the table before you bid him goodbye and went to the backyard. Pansy was quick to start a fire, especially with magic at her aid.

Once you've all sat down, Blaise passed each of you a bottle of butter beer and threw over some snacks. "It's really nice out tonight."

"It is," Pansy says in agreement, tearing open her bag of chips. "This is nice."

The conversation was strain, an invisible barrier clearly in the way of you and your friend. You look up at the stars, clocking in each star you spotted. Vega. Altair. Draco.

The blond yawns loudly, "Nott would love this."

Blaise snickers, "I thought we weren't going to mention him."

"And why not?" You ask. "Just because I'm here? He's still your friend, you can talk about him all you want."

"A friend who's been in love with you longer than you've known him," Draco murmurs, taking a sip of his butterbeer. And when the other turns to scold him, he rolls his eyes; clearly unbothered. "What? Princess here needs to know sooner or later."

"Don't call me princess," you say first, tone stern as it could be. "And what do you mean he's been in love with me longer than I've known him?"

Blaise shook his head. "You need to talk about this with him yourself."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" You countered. "The reason I'm in this mess in the first place is because of how he'd never speak to me. Now you want me to talk to him about his feelings? Do you hear yourself?"

"I know it's difficult," Pansy chimes in. "It's not exactly in his nature to talk much. But that doesn't mean you can't get anything out of him. You just need to go slowly about it."

"You want me to go slowly?" You don't really know how you feel. On one hand, you're upset with your friends that they've been hiding Theo's feelings for you from you for who knows how long. And on the other, you're mad at how they're telling you to go slow despite how fast everything has gone. "Just this morning I thought Theo hated me, and then out of nowhere I got told that he's been in love since before I even knew him. How am I supposed to go slowly with this when everything is going faster than I could think?"

The group falls silent, putting themselves in your shoes as they try to think of a way to help you out with your predicament.

Then finally, Pansy asks the question the others had been thinking about. "Do you think —that even for the slightest bit, that you could like him back?"

You frown. "I haven't really thought about it."

A part of you has, and Draco knows it, he was your best friend, you've told him everything you have ever thought of. And he knew that, despite you never actually having feelings for Theo, that if he ever were to ask you out, you'd give him a shot.

"Go talk to him," Draco says. "If you don't I'm telling your parents you're having unprotected premarital sex."

He's doing this for your own good, or at least he convinces himself that he was. And when you call out his bluff, he pulls out his wand; ready to send a patronus message any second.

"You can't make me do that."

"Oh yeah?" He says testingly. "Watch me, expecto—"

Wanting him to shut up, you got up from your spot and shot him a pointed look. "I will kill you the first thing next morning Draco Malfoy."

"Yeah yeah," he only waves you off with an amused smirk. "Just use protection."

You stood outside your door. Wondering whether you should knock on his bedroom door or find him through the bathroom. Deciding that the latter was somewhat creepy, you nervously land a set of knocks on his door.

A second goes by before the door swings open. Theodore stood tall in plaid pyjamas pants and a forest green sweater, his hair a mess. His figure barely lit aside from the lamp on his bedside table, a book laying half open beside it.

Not really knowing what to say, you settled on a simple. "Hi."

"Hi." Theo shuffles to the side, inviting you in.

You stood in his room as he shut his door. He sits him on his bed and looks up at you. Your eyes met and just before you chicken out, you ask him. "Can we talk?"

"Aren't we already doing that?"

Since when did he get so snarky? "Okay," you murmur. "Well I wanted to talk to you about today."

Many things happened today, you'd have to be more specific is what he didn't say. Only keeping quiet as he waited for you to go on.

"I guess I'm just a little confused," you tell him. "Do you actually have feelings for me or are you messing with me?"

He stares at you for a minute before asking. "Don't you think it's a bit cruel to mess with you by saying so?"

"That's exactly what I thought," you let out frustrating. "But then again you're the one who's been ignoring me all these years and then you decide to drop that you have feelings for me out of nowhere. So I'm sorry if I think that this is a cruel joke."

"I would never joke about how I feel for you."

"Then please tell me how you feel," you say. "Because I'm driving myself mad trying to understand you."

Theodore pities you, pities how you don't understand just how desperately into you he is, pities how he had to explain to you just how much you mean to him and just how stupid he's been for not telling you all these years.

He thinks and thinks and thinks. Trying to find the right words to articulate how he feels. "I fell in love with you the moment I saw you."

He stands and walks over to you, and you hate how you have to crane your neck up to look at him. "Which was?"

"First year," he says, "platform nine and three-quarters."

Seeing as you can't recall ever meeting an eleven year old kid with dark hair and dark eyes. You decided that he was a liar. A cute one at that.

"I met you again when I became friends with Draco," he tells you. "And at first I hated you, not because there was anything wrong with you but because you were pretty and you were nice, and that you made me speechless every time I saw you."

"I only thought people like you existed in fairy tales," he says. And you have to fight back the urge to vomit at how cheesy he was. "When I do talk to you though, I always get a feeling I can't explain in words. But I'm willing to try my hardest if you’d give me a chance."

"A chance to?" You draw out.

"You know what I'm asking." He murmurs, a hand reaching for yourself. You let him take it, intertwining his fingers with yours in the process. "Don't make me say it princess."

"If you’re asking me on a date then your chances were ruined the moment you called me princess.”

He finds himself smiling at your words, eyes kept on you as he tries to memorise your face. He'd forgotten it once and he won't let it happen again.

— from bee: i don’t really like this but oh well, feedbacks/notes/reblog are incredibly appreciated!!

[allgirlsareprincesses]

A Tale of Two Disguises: Fairy Tale Motifs in Bridgerton Season 3 (Part 1)

It’s Polin Season! In the midst of this Friends to Lovers renaissance and rewatching the Carriage Scene™ for the 847,000th time, I find that I MUST give the fairy tale meta treatment to our beloved Bridgertons. Not only did the show explicitly relate its central couple to the Eros and Psyche myth, but there are a number of other fairy and folk tale motifs scattered throughout the season.

While we only have the first four episodes so far (Shonda, you cruel, cruel tease!), it seems clear that the theme of the season is disguise. Our leading man and lady have both put on masks to protect them from society, but those are slowly being peeled away as they draw closer together. I would argue that aside from Cupid and Psyche (ATU 425), the story also relies heavily on Cinderella (ATU 510), both romances in which the true self is revealed.

To begin with, Colin arrives back in town with a flirtatious new swagger, but apparently no intent to actually court a mate. In this way, he is very similar to the mythical Cupid, who is described as:

“that winged lad, the naughty child who has been so spoilt that he despises all social restraint. Amed with flames and arrows he flits in the night from house to house. He severs the marriage-tie on all sides; and unchastised he perpetuates endless mischief.”

Now I hear you, you’re saying that sounds nothing like Colin! And yes, but the point is that he has no qualms about flirting with one lady after another (or bedding prostitutes), metaphorically slinging Cupid’s arrows everywhere he goes, because that is the role he believes he must perform. The point of his character in Apuleius’ narrative is that Cupid has power over gods and men, to make them fall in love with one another, but he himself is never prey to such feelings.

UNTIL. His mother, Venus, tells him to make the beautiful Psyche fall in love with a monster. In some versions, simply the sight of Psyche is enough to make Cupid fall in love. In others, he accidentally pricks himself with his own arrow when he sees her, thus becoming the victim of his own schemes.

Similarly, Colin agrees to help Penelope find a husband, but soon finds that he himself has fallen in love with her. There is even a subtle reference to this when he gifts Gregory the bow and arrows. In the shot, Gregory turns with the bow pointed directly at Colin. He is in the sights of Cupid’s bow, about to be hit with his own weapon!

Once Cupid has fallen for Psyche, she is borne upon the wind to his palace, where she is served by invisible servants and her new husband visits her only in darkness when she cannot see him. By these means, he keeps his true identity hidden, leading Psyche to eventually question whether she has indeed married a monster. In her fear, she brings an oil lamp to his bed, and when she sees that he is in truth the handsome god Cupid, she accidentally drops hot oil onto him. Thus injured, her husband awakes into the realization that she has betrayed his confidence and uncovered his identity.

Similarly, Colin is concealing his true self behind the mask of the rake, hiding his desire for emotional intimacy even from Penelope. Not easily fooled, she writes as Lady Whistledown questioning whether this is in fact his true self. Once their “lessons” begin, Colin rather scandalously invites her into his home (his palace), a place that only intimate family members should be allowed. He then asks her to imagine invisible guests and musicians, just like Cupid’s invisible retinue.

Then, Penelope discovers his diary, just beside the lamp as Psyche also discovered Cupid’s true self. The shadow husband thus revealed, Colin appears and is furious at Penelope’s apparent betrayal. He knocks over the lamp and is injured by the shards of glass, just as Cupid was injured by drops of oil. This wounding is a critical part of animal husband tales, where the heroine approaches him with “flame and steel,” painfully stripping away his mask or animal skin so that it is impossible for him to hide from her.

Typically, at this point in the tale, the husband would flee, but Colin stays. There is still another betrayal yet to come with the revelation of Penelope’s alter ego, however, so I would not be surprised if we yet saw Colin retreat from her in pain, even temporarily. Further, the betrayal typically happens as a result of the bride’s lack of faith in her husband, so Penelope will need to learn to fully trust Colin as well.

The Cupid and Psyche tale is of course explicitly referenced in the dance performed at the Queen’s ball. To the extent that the dance is a retelling, it seems to focus on the ending of the tale, when Cupid awakens Psyche from a deathlike sleep and then raises her to Olympus, where she becomes a goddess as well. This then is where we are headed: the revelation of Penelope’s secret may cause her to fall into a metaphorical death state (maybe the fainting scene in the trailer?), but Colin’s love will ultimately lift her up to her rightful place among the gods.

Another interesting feature in Apuleius’ story is a moment when Cupid’s mother Venus offers a reward for the capture of Psyche, in punishment for wounding her son:

“Ho, if anyone can produce in person, or give information as to the place of concealment of a certain runagate princess, a slave-girl of Venus, Psyche by name, let him hie to Mercury the crier at the rear of the Murtian Sanctuary, and receive by way of reward seven times a Kiss of Bliss and once a Kiss honeyed-beyond-measure by the interjection of her alluring tongue.”

Basically, Venus places a bounty on Psyche. And WHO in the Bridgerton cast has explicitly associated herself with Venus? None other than Queen Charlotte, whom we know from the Part 2 trailer will be offering a reward for the identification or capture of Lady Whistledown. In the tale, Venus plays the role of an avenging goddess who is enraged both by insults to her family and by romances that occur without her approval and orchestration. Once again, this sounds exactly like Queen Charlotte, so expect her to play that destructive goddess role throughout much of the season.

While animal husband tales focus on the revelation of the true man behind the beastly disguise, Cinderella tales center around the exposure of the true bride. A typical Cinderella story includes the following:

Persecuted heroine, usually by family

Help or helper, usually magic

Meeting the prince, usually with true identity disguised

Identification or penetration of disguise, usually by means of an object

Marriage to the prince

Throughout all three seasons of Bridgerton so far, we can clearly see Penelope being persecuted by her family, with her wicked mother and two foolish sisters easily fulfilling their quintessential roles.

As for the helper, Penelope has had several, but her most notable is Madame Delacroix, who both assists her caper as Lady Whistledown and then also supplies her with her transformative new wardrobe. In this way, she fulfills the role of the Fairy Godmother to Penelope’s Cinderella.

Meeting the prince of course is somewhat different since Colin and Penelope have known one another for years. Still, it is true that Penelope’s full identity has been disguised, since she has hidden her role as Lady Whistledown from him and the rest of the Ton.

Identification or penetration of the disguise has not occurred yet, in my opinion, but it likely will in Part 2 of Season 3. In the book, Colin follows Penelope and discovers her secret, and it may be that something similar occurs in the show. It’s unclear yet as to whether there may be an object involved, although if there is, I suspect it may be an issue of Whistledown itself, or perhaps the pen she uses to write it. Further, Eloise is heard in the trailer giving Penelope a midnight deadline to tell Colin the truth, just like how Cinderella's magical disguise will fall away at midnight.

And of course, we know we’re headed toward the eventual marriage with the prince! But meantime, there are a number of other familiar features of the Cinderella tale, not least of which are Penelope’s three separate flights from three balls. She runs first from Lady Danbury’s Four Seasons Ball, then again when her arrangement with Colin is revealed, and a final time after Debling turns her down. In some versions of the fairy tale, Cinderella actually does attend three different balls, fleeing from each one before midnight and only losing her slipper on the last one.

Of course, while she leaves behind no shoe, Colin races after Penelope each time, and finally catches her carriage on the last one, kneeling before her and confessing his feelings. This, like the relation to the mythical Cupid, leans on Hunter/Huntress motifs common throughout folklore. Often, one lover will chase after the other, and then they will trade places and the hunter will become the hunted. And only very rarely do these lovers come together as equals in the end.

So I will end there for now! Cannot WAIT for Part 2, after which I will try to update this with any new observations!

[ckret2]

The way I see it, I've got two potential promising avenues:

I can work the word "goldilocks" into a pun, like "Goldilocked Up" or something—that's a dumb title but it shows you what I mean. That would also help the title fit Gravity Falls naming conventions, they LOVE pun titles, and I'm always happy to make the fic feel a little more canon-ish.

(Shoutout 2 the asker who sent "Under Goldilock And Key," I don't think it quite feels enough like the fic i'm writing but You've Got The Spirit)

So, with a pun, that opens up any phrase that includes the word "lock" or "gold" to be riffed off of ("Fool's Goldilocks," "Goldilocked and Loaded," etc etc y'all know how to make puns.) Considering doors that can't be opened are a big thing in the fic, there's SOME kind of potential with (goldi)locks and doors

OR, i can make an allusion to the Goldilocks principle—the idea that for something to work (in biology, in economics, in psychology, lots of fields), conditions have to be "just right" in between two possible extremes. The most prominent use of the Goldilocks principle is the Goldilocks Zone, which is the narrow criteria for earthlike planets that can support life (not too hot, not too cold; not too big, not to small, etc). I think i can work something with that, BUT i'd need to find a way to thematically work it into the fic. I think it's possible. Something something portal project, something something goldilocks zone of possible universes he can target?

(Plus, @thedemonsurfer pointed out that Bill being in the shack is sort of a Goldilocks zone for his redemption arc: not secure enough that he can default to all his usual defense mechanisms but not so insecure that he's constantly lashing out. Which is brilliant, I'd been trying to find some way to slap the goldilocks principle onto his current situation but couldn't figure out what two extremes he was in between.)

If I wanna go with a Goldilocks principle/Goldilocks Zone allusion, I've got a whole lot of fic left to write, I have time to make it seem like an actual theme I did on purpose. If I can find a way to tie it into the repeated Plato's Cave+Flatland+cosmic horror allusions I'm using, I've struck gold lmfao. (Something something a safe midpoint between the darkness of ignorance and the blinding light of full madness-inducing knowledge?)

My mind's spat out the idea "Wasting Away Again in the Goldilocks Zone," I don't think I'm sold on it yet.

Song allusion's to a guy trying to act carefree and chill in a vacation town as he gradually realizes he's the source of his own problems, which is true of the story and is gonna be even more true once he has enough freedom to properly pretend he's carefree and chill; Bill is a fan of margaritas; he definitely feels like he's wasting away; it mixes quirky fun summer vacationy vibes with subjects of cosmic significance; it firmly avoids the Goldilocks fairy tale OR calling Bill "Goldilocks, which is great; and it definitely don't sound like any other fic titles out there.

But on the other hand it's longer than I'd prefer; it's gonna be harder to remember for anyone who DOESN'T know the song allusion, plus anyone who doesn't know the allusion won't have any idea what the title means; I literally forgot until I checked 15 minutes ago that the line is "wasting away again in margaritaville" instead of just "wasting away in margaritaville" and apparently there's common confusion about whether it's "wasting" or "wasted," so there's multiple avenues via which it would be really easy to get the title wrong.

But like, it's a B- title. In spite of its logistical flaws, I actually like the sound of it. I think it's moving in the right direction. Leaning on the "Goldilocks zone" concept has potential.

[zenless-zideblog-zero]

Wise: Oh, hello Qingyi! What brings you around today?

Qingyi: Pleased to meet you! I'm public security Officer-

Qingyi: *Ahem* Apologies. I have been assigned to Community Service due to an error when handling sensitive Evidence relating to an ongoing case, until the technicians may find the source of the issue.

Belle: Oh no, what happened?

Qingyi: I was required to handle sensitive Data and physical evidence revolving around Public Securities investigations of Proxies - especially pertaining to Phaethon.

Wise: *Definitely not panicking* W-Well that's unfortunate!

Belle: *Totally not sweating* Yep! That's not good! But at least you seem alright for now?

Qingyi: I am currently functioning with no noted issues. Thank you for your concern. Are you two well? You appear ill.

Wise: We're fine!

Belle: Just a little food poisoning? Wise Tried to cook for us last night!

Qingyi: ... Very well then. Hot water should help quell your stomachs.

Qingyi: Is there anything you made need assistance with?

Wise: Nope!

Belle: Nothing!

Qingyi: Very well then. Goodbye ... Actually I do have one piece of advice.

Qingyi: I am capable of Decrypting Voice Masking Programs. Should you every receive or send messages that use them, I will likely be able to decrypt the.

Qingyi: Have a good rest of your Day.

Qingyi Leaves Random Play.

Wise: *About to have a heart attack* She Knows. She knows. She so totally KNows.

Belle: It's okay, if she wanted to rat us out, then she would've. She likes us, I think? She did ruin that evidence PubSec apparently had!

Fairy: I would like to Inform you; When assisting Officer Qingyi with the recovering of the Bangboo "Teddy" I informed you there was 43% chance she would still recognize you through the voice filter.

Wise: We know Fairy.

Belle: thank you Fairy.

Fairy: I was simply reminding you that you had been warned.

[kneelbeforeyourdogbabylon]

Sins of Knowledge chapter 12 is up!

oh yeah we're going to the club

Chapter 12: L[redacted] Potion Number 6: Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory

rated Explicit. See CW for new (spoilery) content warnings below for this chap!

As always but more than usual -- beta thanks to @gaiaseyes451 and @cheeseplants, you really went above and beyond for this chapter and I appreciate you both so much! ❤️❤️❤️❤️ Also tagging @goodomensafterdark like a good goblin! And thanks to all of you who are reading/enjoying this!

CW/TW:

SPOILERY (don't read these if you don't want to be spoiled): Dubcon and violence: Aziraphale has a dubcon kiss with someone pretending to be Crowley, is dosed with a new formula (and doesn't find out until after this chapter), and as a partial result of that, forces his way into the pretender's mind in an attempt to locate Crowley, while also physically restraining them. Also: subterfuge, angst, fear, mental torture, needles/injections, more experimentation on willing and unwilling participants, anger/rage.

Summary:

Aziraphale, Ana, and Newt resolve to keep the meeting at the club, where they find Crowley who is not Crowley. Az stretches himself too far both physically and emotionally trying to get information about the real Crowley from a Lanchester minion. Meanwhile, the real Crowley wakes up in a bad place, and it only gets worse.

Excerpt:

The pavement outside the club was pounding with a heavy beat and a weaving line of people dressed in varying levels of costume. Newt apparently knew the owner, so they got to sidestep the coterie of fairies, wizards, vampires, zombies, a hotdog, sexy lobster, a sexy nurse, sexy cricket bats, a whole line of sexy things in high heels and fishnets and lipstick. Aziraphale didn’t know why Ana had been so hot to get him out dancing. This was not his scene. Inside was worse. The beat and music increased tenfold, and Aziraphale’s eardrums ached before they’d gone ten feet. The people were packed in jostling, laughing, drinking knots. The lights were dizzying: a sudden shock of dim red directly inside the door, with neon flames lining the hall. And then as they stepped into the main ballroom, a jarring shift to glowing blue, red, purple, green, strobe. More lights rained down in sparkling sheets on the walls like water. Aziraphale shut his eyes, suddenly ill. What now? Where were they?

Read it at the AO3!

Or start from the beginning here

[autisticlancemcclain]

part one

———

Hunk’s not really a natural morning person. No one really is, he doesn’t think, and he already has to get up at stupid-o-clock in the morning for his job, so he likes to sleep in on weekends. He’s no Pidge, of course — if you let her that woman will literally slip into a coma on command — but if he doesn’t have to wake up early, he won’t.

In the city, where there is nothing but buildings and the air pollution is so bad it’s like a constant cloud over the area, that’s not a problem. In Lance’s woodland fairy-ass cabin, the sun shines straight from the window into his eyeballs the second it rises, and he’s up early.

He drags himself out of bed with a groan, glaring at Pidge who is entirely unbothered, because of course she is. He remembers when the three of them went on trips, growing up, and how he and Lance would wake up early for hotel breakfast and find Pidge still dead asleep. (They would proceed to have a competition to see who could stack more random shit on Pidge’s sleeping body before she woke up. She never woke up. A fuckin’ biblically accurate angel could descend upon them with the light of a thousand suns and Pidge would still be dead to the world. It’s honestly kind of hilarious, except right now Hunk is insanely jealous, so it’s not really funny.)

He digs through his duffel, looking for his X Files t-shirt because he is a dickhead and he thinks he’s funny (he is). Once he’s finally dressed for the day, he creeps out of the guest room — Lance’s cheeky warning from last night still ringing in his ears; he does not want another eyeful of alien dick, thanks — but the door to Lance’s (and Keith’s, he supposes) room is ajar, bed made neatly, lights off. They’re awake.

He pads down the hallway, peeking through at doors that are ajar but finding them all empty — washroom, laundry room, office, every single room with the lights off. He finally makes it to the kitchen, the last possible place where they could be, but there’s nothing. Curiously, he glances at the front door, but Lance’s dorky retro sneakers and Keith’s big combat boots are still there. Clearly, they’re both in the house, but where?

Deciding not to worry about it, Hunk starts digging through Lance’s fridge, pulling out eggs and cream and butter to make some breakfast. He’s pretty sure that all is forgiven for their less-than-stellar reactions to meeting a Real Life Alien, whom Lance is apparently boinking (which is much less of a shock than Hunk is pretending it is), but breakfast can’t hurt.

As he cracks and whisks the eggs, pouring them into the hot frying pan, he begins to hear a steady squeaking noise, like the creaking of a porch swing. He quietly moved the eggs off the burner, inching close to the big window over the sink and peeking out.

Ah. There they are.

Lance sits with his feet tucked up onto the porch swing, curled into Keith’s side. Keith has a big arm over his shoulders, clawed thumb gently brushing his bare arm, as he rocks the swing back and forth. His poofy black hair and fluffy ears brush the low-hanging roof of the porch with every swing.

“Things are gonna be different, now,” Lance murmurs, turning slightly to press a kiss to Keith’s shoulder. Keith is quiet for a while, his only reaction being a slight quirk of his lips, showing the barest hint of crooked incisors and a sharp fang. His smile, coupled with the near reverent way he looks at Lance, makes his whole face look softer.

“Different doesn’t mean bad.”

“No. But it won’t be just you and me.”

Keith shifts, gently guiding Lance upright to sit on his own. Once Lance is no longer leaning on him, Keith ducks his head, pressing an obnoxiously loud kiss to his cheek that startles bright laughter out of Lance.

“It’ll always be you and me, baby,” Keith says, grinning openly now, “only now everyone else gets to see how much I love ya.”

Lance rolls his eyes, trying to seem exasperated, but happiness bleeds off him, so obvious anyone can see.

“Sap.”

Hunk steps away from the window as they start to banter, smiling to himself. He hasn’t seen Lance this happy in a long time.

It’s good to see him smiling like that again.

———

“So,” Pidge says, once they’ve all eaten and are talking a slow walk through the woods since it’s so beautiful out, “there is not a single chance that I will be able to keep this —” she gestures to Keith and Lance as a whole, wiggling her fingers at Keith particularly — “to myself.”

“I mean, you could definitely try,” Lance points out.

“Not gonna happen,” Pidge dismisses. “Aliens are real. I’m tattooing it to my person.”

“I mean, alien is subjective,” Keith mutters, more to himself than anything. “Y’all are the weird ones, out here on your own. Everyone else is pretty chill with each other.”

Lance pats his shoulder.

“Pidge has a bit of a point,” Hunk says, glossing right over that because that’s a lot of information for one weekend. “Your mom calls once a week, dude, and I’m a shitty liar. You know that. Before I could claim plausible deniability, but yesterday I saw more than I ever wanted to see in my life. If Marcela asks me why you’ve been shanked up in your hippy cabin for months I will not be able to choke down the truth.”

“It’s not hippy,” Lance mutters. It’s Keith’s turn to pat him placatingly on the shoulder.

“I mean, we could maybe head back with y’all to the city,” the man — can Hunk call him a man? Is that alien racist? What are the rules here — suggests. “I’ve been wanting to meet your family for a while, so that would work out, right?”

Lance frowns thoughtfully. “I suppose since the cat’s out of the bag…”

Pidge clears her throat, stopping to lean against a tree. “Uh, New York is weird, sure, but not ‘show up with an alien and no one will ask questions’ weird, man.”

Hunk tilts his head. “Actually…”

“Shush, Hunk, I’m trying to make a point.”

“Oh, no, I can just be human for a bit,” Keith assures, as if that’s at all a normal thing to say. “I would have done it for you guys if we knew y’all were coming. I imagine that would have prevented all the screaming.”

Pidge nods thoughtfully. “What the fuck,” she says.

Completely oblivious to — or maybe just uncaring of — her tone, Keith holds up a finger. “Hold on a sec.”

He closes his eyes, and for a moment nothing happens, and then he starts to shimmer, slightly, like the air around him is warping, like light is blurring. It’s hard to conceptualise, so Hunk squints on reflex. When the strangeness starts to settle and Hunk relaxes his face, a regular dude is standing in Keith’s place — significantly shorter than before, although still taller than them all, pale-skinned, with regular human ears and features. His hair is still in its thick black braid, and he still has a scar on his left cheek, but it’s a faint pink instead of purple.

“You’re a regular dude,” Hunk observes. “Damn.”

Lance smirks. “A sexy dude.” He reaches over and squeezes Keith’s ass with the subtlety of a seagull eyeing a young child’s french fry.

“I’m going to go gouge out my eyes with a random stick,” Pidge says pleasantly. Lance snickers at her.

“Make sure it’s poison oak so it hurts more.”

“Make sure you catch these fucking hands, you hippie dweeb.”

“Alright,” Hunk says, clapping his hands before those two can get into it any further. (If they get the chance they’ll argue about nothing for hours, and Hunk would really like to keep his will to live). “Let’s make our way back, okay? Lance can call Marcela and then we’ll head back to the city tomorrow.”

———

The next day, they’re all stuffed into Hunk’s Jeep, speeding down the backroads (safely!) as Mariah Carey plays softly from the speakers, because Hunk has excellent taste. Hunk taps his fingers on the steering wheel, along to Lance’s quiet humming. He catches his best friend’s brown eyes through the rearview mirror and grins. Pidge is turned almost all the way around in the passenger seat, just staring, dead-eyed, unblinking, at Keith.

Keith clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. Hunk can’t blame him. He’s known Pidge for years and years and years, and sometimes her glares still make him sweat, if she stretches them long enough. And she’s been thoughtfully glowering at Keith ever since she woke up enough to use her brain. (They left the cabin at the crack of dawn so they could make it back to the city in good time. Pidge wasn’t happy about it.) She’s just — looking at him, blankly, as she slowly finishes her third pre-prepared travel mug of the nastiest instant coffee known to man, brewed with Red Bull. Lance, who has been trying and failing to ignore her, looks like he’s debating reaching over and closing her eyes for her. He’s glowering right back.

It’s a little funny.

“Is this a human thing?” Keith asks, finally breaking the silence. “The staring?”

“Ha!” Pidge crows, pumping her fist. “I win!”

Lance protests immediately. “No way! He doesn’t know the rules!“

“Fair’s fair,” Pidge says smugly. “He squirmed. He spoke up first. I win. That’s how it does. What, does he get special treatment? Is nothing sacred anymore?”

“This game is so dumb,” Lance grumps, but doesn’t argue any further.

“Game?” Keith whispers.

Lance pats him on the thigh. “Inside joke. Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ll explain when Pidge can’t eavesdrop and sabotage our strategy.”

Keith nods seriously, as if that is normal. Hunk grins. Keith’s going to fit in just fine.

“So,” Pidge says, tone still haughty. “Now that I have won, I get one question that you must answer truthfully.”

It’s a stupid game they play. When they’re curious about something, they just start — staring. Wordlessly. At whichever one of them is doing the thing they’re curious about. Whoever breaks first has to answer the question, and you’re not allowed to lie. None of them remember who started it. Or even when it started.

But, to Pidge’s earlier point, the game is sacred. Rules are rules.

“Okay,” Keith says slowly, when Lance fails to explain further. “What’s your question?”

“How are you planning to explain to Marcela why you’ve been hogging her darling youngest son’s attention for six months? I mean, you’re not the worst person anyone has brought to Sunday family dinner. Nothing you could do will ever be worse than the time Marco brought home the girl he met when she stole his car and then she stole his car again while everyone was eating. But, you know. Still. I would have a defense attorney present, personally.”

Hunk catches Lance’s eye in the rear view mirror again, and they both look away hastily to avoid bursting into giggles.

Poor Marco. No one is ever going to let that one go.

But then the rest of Pidge’s frankly pot-stirring question hits, and panic descends upon Keith’s face just as pure annoyance descends upon Lance’s.

“Oh my God, your mother is going to kill me,” Keith breathes.

Lance reaches over and pinches Pidge as hard as he can. She screeches. Hunk rolls his eyes.

“Stop freaking out my boyfriend,” Lance orders.

“Hunk, he pinched me!” Pidge whines.

“You deserved it,” Hunk says easily. That makes Pidge whine louder, because apparently she’s regressed about fifteen years. Hunk strains to hear over the sound of Pidge muttering about all the ways she’s going to get Lance back.

“It’s going to be fine,” Lance tries, rubbing a visibly panicking Keith on the back. “My mother is barely even homicidal. She’s very welcoming.”

“I am more afraid of your mother than NASA,” Keith responds, and Hunk has to stop himself from laughing out loud.

Lance smacks Keith — way gentler than he is capable, Hunk would like to note, Lance can pack a lot of violence into that wiry frame — in the back of the head.

“I can’t believe you’re letting that goober get to you. Pidge is messing with you because of who she is as a person. My mother will be ecstatic to meet you.”

“If you say so,” Keith agrees reluctantly, rubbing the back of his head and pouting.

The rest of the ride passes uneventfully. Pidge refrains from actively freaking Keith out, if only barely, and the four of them alternate between chatting and loudly singing along to Hunk’s excellent assortment of road trip music. By the time they finally enter the hellscape that is New York City roadways, they’re all so tired of being in the car that none of them have the energy to even hum, let alone tease each other.

“We’re two minutes away,” Hunk hears Lance murmur as he pulls into the McClain’s neighbourhood. “Take a breath, mi alma. All will be well.”

Keith flashes a smile at Lance, squeezing his hand. It’s tenser than the one Hunk witnessed yesterday morning, but no less loving, no less trusting.

“Okay.”

Hunk doesn’t even fully pull into the driveway before the front door is thrown open, and several people come rushing out, yelling in a mix of Spanish and English and honestly some words that aren’t language at all, just excitement.

“Tio Lance! Auntie Pidge! Uncle Hunk!”

Sylvio and Nadia are the first to make it over, yanking open the car doors and throwing themselves into the vehicle. Pidge barely manages to prevent Nadia from braining herself on the gear shift. Hunk ruffles her hair fondly, quickly exiting the vehicle and accepting the tight hug from Lance’s father, Miguel, and the myriad of other relatives. Veronica socks him hard on the shoulder, because she is a menace, so Hunk grabs her around the waist and throws her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She yells at him in a way that does not at all hide her fondness.

It’s a ritual.

It’s not until they’re all finally gathered inside, cramped together in couches and armchairs and random places on the floor, that Keith is yanked from the metaphorical shadows.

“Who’s that?” Sylvio asks, pointing at Keith with absolutely zero subtlety. He smirks, looking tauntingly to Lance. “Tu nooooooviooooo?”

Lance looks back haughtily. “He is, actually. So there.”

“Damn. Can’t believe someone that hot managed to put up with you for so long,” Rachel teases immediately. She reaches out a hand to high five the twins. They slap her hand gleefully.

“All of you are horrible,” Marcela admonishes, placing a gentle hand on Lance’s head. Lance looks at her gratefully, then sticks his tongue out at his sister and niblings. “I’m sure Lance worked very hard wearing this poor man down,” she continues with a wry grin, making Lance squawk in betrayal and everyone else laugh. “Don’t discredit his work!”

“Nobody in this house loves me!” he laments, putting a dramatic hand on his forehead.

“I do,” Keith says quietly. Easily.

Hunk has known Lance, and by extension his family, since he was an infant. He’s been near these people as long as he can remember, attending Sunday dinners and birthdays and Christmasses.

Never in his life has he seen them get so quiet so quickly.

Keith is completely oblivious to the silence that has dawned around him. Around them — he has eyes only for Lance, and Lance only for him, like the entire rest of the world is empty except for the two of them. “I love you,” he repeats. Like the words are truer than anything. As true as the sun rising, as the stars twinkling. He says ‘I love you’ like it is objective fact, like there is no possible universe in which Keith does not love Lance.

“Ho-ly shit,” Veronica mutters.

“Holy shit indeed,” Hunk whispers back.

Marcela claps her hands sharply, startling everyone. “Dinner will be ready in a moment,” she says, transparently changing the subject. “All of you, come help set the table.”

———

“So,” says Miguel, once everyone has settled at the table and taken a few moments to stuff their faces — nobody can cook like the McClains. And Sunday family dinners are a serious affair, especially with Lance back for the first time in months. “We got a little caught up, when you all first got here. I don’t believe we were all acquainted?” He looks pointedly at Keith, then at Lance, who hurriedly swallows his bite of food before straightening up.

“This is my boyfriend, Keith,” he says to the table at large. “And Keith, this is my family.” He points to each of them in turn, naming them and giving them a second to wave hello before moving on. “And of course you already know Hunk and Pidge.”

“Believe me, we’re well acquainted,” Pidge mutters, then says “Ow!” when Lance very obviously stomps on her foot under the table. “I’m just kidding, you bully.”

“Hi, everyone,” Keith says awkwardly. He shifts his arms, like he’s not sure if he should wave or what.

Lance takes pity on him, patting him on the arm and speaking up on both of their behalf. “Sorry for not bringing him around sooner. He’s a newcomer, so we’ve been trying to get him situated. He’s a little…out of this world. Culture shock, and all.”

Hunk’s jaw drops. He looks at Lance incredulously — that may have genuinely been the worst pun he has ever heard in his life — and Lance’s mouth is twitching, like he’s fighting off a smirk.

What a shit.

“Oh?” Miguel asks, interest piqued. “Whereabouts are you from, Keith?”

Keith cuts a semi-panicked look at Lance, who just shrugs. “Pick somewhere,” he mutters, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

“My, um, my father’s from Texas,” Keith finally manages.

“Hey, cool, I have an ex girlfriend from there,” Veronica says.

“You have an ex girlfriend from everywhere, Lou Vega,” Marco says immediately.

Veronica doesn’t even blink at him. “None of my girlfriends have ever stolen my car twice, though.”

Marco shuts up immediately.

Poor Marco.

Everyone starts dogpiling on Marco immediately, because they always do. (In everyone’s, including Hunk’s, defense, it’s the kind of situation you never come back from). Keith looks relieved at the distraction, happy the conversation has moved from him as everyone chats about everything.

“Hey, Lance, can you pass me the pepper?” Hunk asks, as the rest of the family chatters on.

“Sure.” Lance sets down his fufu, wiping his hands on a napkin and grabbing the pepper shaker. He reaches across Keith to hand it to Hunk.

The next few seconds happen in what feels like slow motion.

Lance’s hands, greasy from handling his food, slip on the smooth glass of the shaker as he tries to hand it off to Hunk. The shaker drops on Keith’s plate, shattering on impact and releasing a cloud of pepper straight into Keith’s face. Keith, obviously, inhales a lungful of it. In his body’s effort to expel the pepper from his lungs, he lets out a great sneeze, so powerful it shakes the table.

So powerful it knocks the human form right out of him, making him huge and purple and fluffy again.

For the second time in his life, Hunk watches the entire McClain clan go completely silent, staring at Keith in total shock.

“Well,” Lance says weakly, making a face that Hunk can only describe as defeated. “I told you he was out of this world.”

[light-wynd]

ANOTHER random Melusine info/headcanon dump

Previous one here

Everything under the cut once again!!

Canon random facts

There's a Melusine (called Manaia) in Natlan, and you can find her at the hot springs talking to a Koholasaur! She says Neuvillette told her to wait for the hot spring water to cool down before drinking it, even though she has no interest in tasting it at all. So I guess Neuvi is projecting his hobbies onto them lol.

According to one of Sigewinne's character stories, back when Melusines were hated by humans when they first tried to integrate into society, many of them - understandably - went back underwater due to how badly they were treated. We don't know whether all of these Melusines are still in the village or if they've tried again since, or if they even still remember what happened back then.

A lot of them tend to be named after fairies and other similar mythological or fairytale creatures/characters from around the world.

They might be known for their special eyesight in particular, but pretty much all their other senses seem to be different - and usually more sensitive - than those of humans too. For example, they can walk on slippery surfaces without any problems, and can hear subtle sounds that humans can't (such as Cosanzeana being able to hear noises made by Naku Weeds even when they're barely moving).

The descriptions for the Merusea Village teapot furnishings have some interesting tidbits - for example, one type of their houses is built in a way that amplifies sounds made inside, and if any Melusines in the village are too noisy, they get shut inside one of said houses for some time to talk to themselves all they want.

Melusine ergonomics need further study to this day, which is apparently why they still don't have specialized furniture made for them in the Court of Fontaine. Another reason is that actually developing said furniture would be expensive. Still, come on man, it's been 400 years, let them have some comfy chairs and stuff already :c

They make all kinds of bubbly/squishy noises pretty much whenever they move (even outside of water!). Thought this deserved to be pointed out just in case anyone hasn't noticed them in the game because it's the cutest thing ever.

Elynas, in his parting words to Mamere, refers to all the other Melusines as her sisters, and Serene refers to herself as "everyone's big sister" rather than the village head. Some other Melusines in the village refer to each other as sisters as well - though from what I've noticed, it just tends to be ones that look really similar to each other, such as Flo&Rufina&Virda or Sluasi&Puca. However, none of the ones living in the Court of Fontaine seem to refer to each other as sisters at all, just as colleagues (though Aeval does also say that Serene is like a big sister to them all, but not that she is her eldest sister). There seem to be like, different levels of separation between them (for lack of a better word) despite them all being born from Elynas, and I just find that really interesting.

Apparently, Aeval has never gotten the chance to personally speak to Neuvillette.

Aside from the fact that they came from Elynas, they don't seem to be very aware of anything else about their origins. They all seem to know different legends about themselves and Elynas, but not the actual story of them being a result of an explosion during a battle.

Melusine dolls exist in Fontaine and i wish they existed irl too - specifically, they're Marechaussee Phantom Melusine dolls, commonly given to children who are afraid of the dark.

Headcanons

Sigewinne can assess the health of her fellow Melusines just like she can do with humans, and pays very close attention to them whenever they visit her for tea. She tends to observe the ones that are prone to stress or overworking particularly closely, and does her best to help them relax.

From (probably reading too much into) her dialogue, I'm pretty convinced that Menthe is relatively new to the human world compared to some of the others. For one, she's only now seeming to realize a bunch of difficulties that come with living in the city. But what really made me feel this way is that when she asks if it's too late for her to change jobs, you get a one-time dialogue option to say "it's never too late to start" - to which she responds "Whoa, spoken just like Monsieur Neuvillette". My personal theory is that she might've gotten that response from Neuvi by asking him if it was too late for her to try living in human society, and of course he wanted to encourage her. There are Melusines in the village to this day who want to work in the city in the future, so it's certainly not impossible.

They generally like to sleep curled up in small, cozy places the most. Sleeping on their backs can be uncomfortable for a lot of them because of their tails (and wings for those that have them) being squished under them.

Some Melusines are actually quite happy to let humans pet them if they're asked first. They tend to like being stroked on the top of their heads and scratched behind their feelers and on their chins the most. Additionally, pretty much all Melusines love to be petted by Neuvillette and consider it an honor.

If you're reading this and have any Melusine headcanons yourself, please do feel free to share!!

[konohamaru-sensei]

May I pretty please request Gruvia romantic prompt 1: absent-mindedly playing with their hair? I love the way you write the two of them!!

incredibly cute prompt thank you so much, you are a dear! i wanted som sugar today so I took the challenge immediately.

-

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Pairing: Gray x Juvia

Rated: G

1656 words

_

The air in front of his eyes flickered and had Gray not already been sitting down he would have thought he was close to fainting. It was hot, oppressively hot and humid, the kind of hot and humidity of August that not even the prospect of summer festivals and fireworks could make it better. Gray was positively melting and he longed to pack his bag and march to Mount Hakobe for the next week or three or forever.

Each year he decided to go away over the summer, ditch his mission responsibilities and leave the heat of the city behind for the cool of forests and mountains, but he never did. There was always something that he felt like he needed to take care of and so he stayed. This year, it was the guildhall itself.

After a last encounter with a strong enemy half of the building had been ripped apart and though he would not technically been specifically needed for rebuilding efforts, he surely wanted to be there to help, such was in his nature. That, however, meant that he was forced to sit here and endure this heat.

That everyone but Erza was barely moving anywhere, desperate to reside in the shadow that the guild hall provided, did not surprise Gray. It did not surprise him either, that Natsu was loudly explaining to Lucy that he didn’t find it particularly hot. It did give Gray murderous fantasies, but it did not surprise him.

As always she had sat herself down right next to him, their knees touching under the table. There had been a time in which Gray had always moved away from her when she did that, but he had long since given up. Still, he was used to her talking to him, asking him questions, especially when he was feeling as miserable as he did today. On this day, however, Juvia had only asked him if he wanted some water, brought both of them a glass and then, promptly, fallen asleep on the table right next to him.

Juvia was always connected to the water that was her magic of choice. Gray too liked ice and never felt cold because of it, but his body wasn’t ice. He could only use it. Juvia was different, her whole approach to magic was different, she could become liquid at will, of course Gray had known this, but he had never wondered about how it might impact her when she felt dried out.

Her sleeping face, the little droplets of sweat under her hat almost made her look like a half dried out plant. For stupid second he wondered if emptying a glass of water over her might wake her up and then realised that throwing a glass of water in someone else's face was not only incredibly rude, it would also wake anyone up. Water magic or not.

She must be hot under that hat of hers, Gray thought and followed one of the curled blue strands of hair up to where it disappeared below it. Probably it would be easier for her if she would give herself some air to breathe, and that included the head. Slowly, not to wake her, he reached with arm around the back of her head and pulled the thing off.

“Gray-sama,” Juvia sighed and Gray’s heart stopped for a moment thinking he had failed in letting her sleep. When he looked down at her face however, she was still in deep sleep, chest heaving slowly with the rhythm of her breaths. He could feel his face redden. She was apparently dreaming of him.

Nevermind that, he thought to himself and leaned back, his right hand still hovering over the back of her head. He had thoroughly messed up her hair by pulling the hat off so disorderly, strands of curls now hanging down all over her face and in all directions on her head. Still, he could basically see the heat emitting from her body now that she was a little lighter dressed.

Juvia always wore so many clothes. Gray picked up one of her strands and put it behind her ear where it belonged. He had noticed that many times. Even in heat she often wore the long blue coats, hats and skirts as if she was hiding behind them. He didn’t mind, of course, since she could wear whatever made her comfortable, he couldn’t help but wonder though how she could wear anything as warm at the beach or in this humidity.

Gray himself didn’t care for clothes, he ran hot at all times and they made him feel uncomfortable and sweaty, but he also didn’t feel like he had anything to hide. He had wondered often before if Juvia wore as much because of something that had once happened to her, something that kept her guarded to other people onlooking. Sure, he could have asked her that, but it seemed very private. He sorted some of the hair on the top of her head, all out of control and everywhere. 

“Gray-sama,” she sighed again and moved a little. He halted with one of her locs curled around his finger and checked again. It was still just sleep talk.

Maybe she slept poorly too. Gray had never thought about how water and her were symbiotic like this, how her feeling tired might be related to her not drinking enough or feeling too hot. In the future he would have to always remind himself to bring extra water when they went on missions together. Or maybe learn how to extrapolate water from his ice magic if necessary.

She wiggled her nose, which looked cute on her. He could feel something in his stomach turn, but ignored it until she wiggled her nose again. It really was very cute. As he looked closer at her, Gray realised that it was another rogue strand of her that was seemingly tickling her nose. He reached out to take it between two careful fingers so he could get it out of her way.

“Gray-sama…” Juvia murmured and he felt the heat on his cheeks. Was she always dreaming of him or was that the same dream? And why did that matter?

He pushed turned the strand around his finger like Natsu sometimes did when he curled Lucy’s hair for her. When he was about to release it and pull it behind her ear he realised that Juvia had stopped steadily breathing. And that blue eyes were watching his hand move.

The last one had not been sleep talk, Gray realised and pulled his hand away quicker than the speed of light. Juvia was blinking at him, her eyes still seemingly heavy from sleep. Hopefully she had been too sleepy to notice what was going on. How to explain this creepy behaviour? He felt hot in his face and at the end of his fingers. 

“What… Gray-sama, what were you doing?” she yawned.

Gray could not look at her, the embarrassment already ate on his insides: “Just… uh, there was something on your face. Uh, a… uh… butterfly.” Oh my, he really was a champion at thinking on his feet.

“That is really odd, Juvia doesn’t think they are very active during a heat like this,” Juvia tapped her nose. Gray frowned and looked away. “But if Gray-sama says so I’m sure it's true.” Damn it woman, he thought, don’t believe every stupid lie I tell you.

To mask how hard his heart was beating he picked up the hat that he had laid down beside her. “This fell off. I guess you felt a little too warm under it.” He offered it back to her.

Juvia looked at it as if she was considering the heat angle and then immediately put it back on. Gray felt hot just looking at her with it again. Desperate to change the subject he asked: “You always wear so much. How do you not feel hot today?” In the end he was curious why she chose to wear the clothes she wore.

Like a wounded animal, her large blue eyes narrowed. “Gray-sama does not like Juvia's clothing”, she concluded and quickly her eyes glistened round and teary. “Gray-sama only wants women with no clothes.”

He would have fared better if he hadn’t said anything. Maybe he should have just admitted that he had tried to pull a strand of hair out of her face. Would that have been embarrassing? Probably! But it would have been better than what she was thinking of him now.

“No!” he said so decidedly that even Juvia seemed taken aback. “I don’t mind what you wear. I’m just worried you’d be too warm.”

Her face immediately lit up. “Gray-sama was worried about Juvia?” she asked and there was way too much excitement in her voice for that question.

Gray knew that the warmth of his cheeks had absolutely nothing to do with the heat around him. “Ugh,” he made and pushed the bench back so he could get up. “I’m going for a walk.” He did not feel like moving at all in this heat, but there was no way he could stay here now.

“Can Juvia come?” He had anticipated the question and yet his lips curled when it came. Juvia, 5 minutes ago so sleepy that she had bought his lie about the butterfly hook, line and sinker now looking at him wide awake, that sparkle in her eyes that she always had when looking at him.

He turned away from her. “I can’t stop you. Do as you wish.” Though he sounded harsh, he subconsciously walked very slowly, leaving his right arm hanging down so she could take it as she always did. His heart jumped once her chest pressed against his elbow. Gray kept on looking forward, staring at the flickering air of the city to hide how red he felt.

Ah damn. Whatever.

[gensokyogarden]

How well do each of your muses handle spicy foods?

Oh boy! given the fairies were discussing it I'll start with my canons/ocs at the SDM and then include some others that are interesting.

My take on Remilia comes from France so to answer this I decided to research a bit on French cooking. While there do seem to be a few spices used in traditional French meals they seem to have very few with hot spices. Remilia was born in 1491 and became a vampire in 1511. In the time that she lived foreign cuisines were not too readily apparent and I head canon she began eating a lot less upon going vamp so modern time hasn't given her much opportunity to adapt to spice. With that in mind, Remilia doesn't handle spice well at all.

A lot of the factors for Flan are pretty much the same with just slight variance. Frenchish (except technically her home is now in Belgium) born in 1496 became a vampire in 1515. The difference is that Flandre did not have a break with eating as Remi did. Since Flandre doesn't control her strength she can't effectively feed on blood so she has to eat actual meals. FDS reveals the fairy mades do a lot of the cooking but personally I headcanon that Meiling had been with the manor long before the fae staff (Sakuya may well have too). That means Meiling probably did a fair bit of the cooking in the past. Chinese food has a lot of spicy dishes. Meiling probably knew better than to just feed Flandre super spicy food but she can at least handle a bit of kick. Not Mapo Tofu but some other curries she can manage.

My Patchy was raised in China by Italian merchants. Both cultures have a good amount of spicy food in their cooking. However the issue is that Patchouli has several health problems (Anemia, asthma, etc). Personally, as someone without any of that, I am not sure what impact spicy food can have on that. For that reason I'm tentatively going to say that Patchouli handles spice okay but that they irritate her throat in large qualities. So only small doses of spice please.

Chimata is a Japanese market god. Don't know much about Japanese food but from what I can find they don't have many national spicy foods but that Chinese and Indian spicy foods have always been popular there, also some regional spicy foods. Spice itself has always been a big part of merchantry, which gives Chim-chim a good reason to have pretty big stockpiles. I think Chimata actually has the best spice tolerance of all my SDM muses. Spicy food is probably her preferred meal. Lots of Mapo Tofu for this lady.

For my rarely appearing Sakuya muse, she was raised in Mexico. Ate a lot of hot spices before being recruited by her vampire boss. Unfortunately, Remilia's distaste for spices means that since coming to the mansion she hasn't ate anything spicy. After all, the meals prepared are for Remilia (even if she often does not feel like eating). For that reason her spice tolerance has sagged with time.

Now for my SDM ocs.

Mizu is basically a water bucket brought to life. Capsaicin is an oil and her body is even more water than a human's is. Do not give her spice. It will just cause her entire body to feel like it were burning.

Fairies are nature spirits and Summer is one for the hottest season of the year. I don't think she'd have any problem with spice. In fact she enjoys some of the spicier peppers quite a lot.

Don't give the goblins spice. They're English house spirits, the hottest thing they've had is horse radish.

Lavender is not prepared for spice. She does not have Patchouli's background but does have her poor constitution so spicy food will wipe the floor with her.

Now a few other characters:

Reimu does not even seem to process that she's eaten something spicy when given it. Unphased.

Eirin will, similarly, eat some of the hottest peppers and spices known to man and look totally unphased afterwards.

Yuuka very specifically likes Mapo Tofu. Nobody has seen her eat any other spicy foods.

Byakuren can scarf down spices with no problem. Seems to really like it.

Reisen ate a bell pepper and became horrible pained. No spice for her please.

[bedofthistles]

Angels & Devils - Moonacre Week 2024

He didn’t think it was quite fair that he could not just stay in London, but he had to admit that it was better than being thrown out onto the street. 

The kindness of his Uncle could be counted as sainthood, a blessing from the angels, that he was not simply tossed aside and left for granted. But Robin supposed that, in some way, he was technically directly in line to inherit the noble and prestigious Moonacre Manor, even if he didn’t necessarily want it. 

That was the problem with lineage, one could not but accept fate. 

And well, Robin had a lengthy Grand Tour plotted, through the southernmost countries, the mediterranean, the greek isles and such, but that would all be forsaken thanks to his father. Stupid man, a blight to the Merryweather name, but he supposed that was all behind him now. Soon, all he would have was responsibility. 

Well, the Uncle had to die first.

Robin rather seethed the whole of the journey - and while he thought it would have been wiser to have gone by train, perhaps that was the first hint, his Angelic Uncle had sent a carriage instead of paying for a ticket - staring out of his window, the little, tattered curtains drawn back except for when the sun got into his eyes. 

He rather imagined he saw something just behind them, or weaving through the trees, but when he tried to find it, it simply disappeared. As if it had never been there to begin with. 

He had tried to entertain himself with the book, the last of his father’s fortune, but he was too old for fairytales. At least, that is what he told himself. 

The truth was whenever he tried to read it, there was a profound feeling in his chest, like he was being chased, like he was a rabbit in the forest diving out of the way of hounds, and he simply had to put it down. It felt, rather, like he wasn’t supposed to be reading it, and so Robin scoffed and dismissed the idea of a fairy tale book. 

Then, they came to the gate. 

The carriage stopped, and Robin groaned slowly, because by god if that man stopped one more time for a piss on the side of the road- 

But then, the door opposite him opened. 

He had been sticking his head out of his window, leaning out to see that the servant - Dogwood? - was not urinating, but attempting to find the key for a large, ornate gate, when he heard it. The almost silent clink of the latch opening, the creak of the hinges, and as Robin looked back, he saw the strangest sight he had ever seen. (Though it would soon pale in comparison to what the rest of the Valley had in store.) 

Hanging upside down, as if she had been leaning over the top of the carriage roof, was a girl. He assumed it was a girl, as a long red braid waved gently behind her, iit could have been a young boy, but before Robin could decide, she reached out and snatched the book. 

Robin reacted faster than he could think, as his hand shot out, taking hold of her wrist. 

“I just want the pearls!” The girl hissed, tugging at her hand, but she was apparently a very weak highwaywoman. Robin did not have pearls, but she was still stretching her hand towards the book. 

Robin lurched forward and reached with his other hand out to snatch it away from her grasp, only to feel white hot pain across the back of his hand. Robin let go of an instant, the carriage lurched, and the girl fell. 

She had taken out a large needle and slashed it across his hand.

Robin stared at the blood blooming, before he twisted around, his head out the window, he watched the girl disappearing into the trees, she wore all black. What place was this? That young girls wandered around attempting to rob carriages? 

His question was answered upon his arrival. 

When he stepped out of the carriage, his cravat soaking up the blood, he reached to shake his Uncle’s hand, only to be rejected with a sneer. 

London may not have been perfect, there was enough villainy to spare and Robin was never not armed with some kind weapon of self defence, but this place was godless. 

A land of devils.

last | next

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (40/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 5527

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: Aemond and Arianwyn mount their dragons to fly in separate directions. But not before saying goodbye.

Warnings: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 18+ MINORS DNI

Author's Note:

I definitely took liberties with the Valyrian translations here, but there aren't words for exactly what I want to say, so I just get as close as possible.

And I wanted to give y'all a heads up that the next two chapters are probably gonna take longer than usual. At the moment, I'm anticipating them being in the 10K words range (oops!) since I don't want to split them into multiple chapters. So it may be a few days, but I promise you'll like them!

Also... hope y'all enjoyed a little spice 😉

Series Masterlist

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The Long Goodbye

Arianwyn had so many admirable qualities.

She was brave. She was strong. She was clever. She was kind. And so much more besides. Aemond could sing her praises forever.

What she was not, however, was skilled with a blade.

Not in the slightest.

In fact, she was very near to hopeless.

It had been a massive struggle just to get her to hold the blade properly without dropping it. Though it was the smallest one he could find, the hilt was still too large for her – made for the rough hands of the knights and guards of the castle, not the small, smooth grip of a Princess. It had not helped that every time she huffed in frustration or yelped in fear that she had cut herself (which she had miraculously avoided), the attention of the entire training yard fell upon them, making her even more nervous than she already was.

She had only begun to relax when more of her Runestone guards appeared and, sensing her shyness, moved to block the spectators’ view. By the time all twelve were there, they had all but formed a wall around her and Aemond, granting them the privacy they needed to make even the smallest amount of progress.

Still, Aemond noticed each wince and frown from the Valeman every time Arianwyn lost her grip, tripped, or missed her target completely. Yet they were loyal enough to swallow most of their reactions and applauded heartily whenever Arianwyn did hit land a hit or managed a lunge without tumbling into the dirt. Every time they called to her with words of encouragement, she blushed with pride.

Though perhaps the red on her cheeks was simply from exertion. After yet another failed attack on their training dummy, which she missed spectacularly, striking with her elbow rather than her blade, she sighed heavily and dropped her head.

“How I ever managed to hit Daemon instead of gutting myself, I’ll never know,” she grumbled. Then, angrily, she threw down the dagger and took another swipe at the dummy with her fist, but she only managed to make contact with Aemond’s shoulder.

“Careful!” he warned, rolling his shoulder. It hadn’t actually hurt – Arianwyn was nearly as weak as she was apparently clumsy. But her ego had been bruised enough today without him mentioning it. “Keep your eyes on your target, and your weapon should follow.”

She rolled her eyes. “If it’s that easy, why have I only hit this gods-damned thing five times today?”

Aemond had no answer for that. He didn’t understand it himself.

“You have actually landed six blows, your Highness,” called Ser Trevor from where he stood by the wall. “I’ve been counting!”

Overlapping calls for the young knight to be silent immediately erupted from the other eleven knights, but they again fell silent when Arianwyn turned to him. But there was no anger in her face, only exasperation.

“And how many times have I missed, Trevor?” she asked.

The poor young knight blanched when he beheld the silent threat in Prince Aemond’s eyes as he glared at him from over Arianwyn’s shoulder. “I…I have not been counting that, your Highness.”

“How good of you,” Aemond muttered before placing the dagger back in his wife’s hand. “Just keep trying, my love. The more you practice, the better you will be.”

Arianwyn glanced at the weapon in her hand, then back up at her husband. A smile crept across her lips for the first time in more than an hour. “The more I practice,” she said quietly, so as to be heard by only him, “the more tired I will be tonight.”

He took half a step closer to her, lips pursing as he struggled to maintain his composure. But there was no mistaking the darkening of his eye. “Then you will sleep well. It would be wise – you would be rested and ready for your journey.”

“You have always been so practical, Aemond,” she replied with no small amount of annoyance.

Under the guise of brushing something off his jacket, she laid her hands on his chest. “But at this rate, I will be too exhausted to even say goodbye to you, jorrāelagon valzȳrys.  Kesan daor sagon able naejot vūjigon ao ēva īlon both māzigon aril.” Dear Husband. I will not be able to kiss you until we both come back.

Aemond’s mouth fell slightly open, and he took a shaking breath, holding her hand over the dagger’s hilt. “Pār nyke pendagon istiti sagon tetan syt tubī.  Kesan henujagon ao lēda aōha egros, se jorepagon emā daor jorrāelagon naejot gaomagon ziry.” Then I think we must be finished for today. I will leave you with your blade, and pray you have no need to use it.

She looked up at him, silver eyes brimming with gratitude. “Gaomagon daor henujagon nyke sepār yet, ñuha jorrāelagon.  Daor ēva emi daor tolie iderennon” Do not leave me just yet, my love. Not until we have no other choice.

“Hen rhinka daor, ñuha dōna ābrazȳrys,” he replied, looking over her head and nodding a dismissal to the guards. Of course not, my sweet wife.

He waited until only two – their escorts for the day – remained, and had averted their eyes, to look back down and give her a short, chaste kiss. “Sir, issi ao sīr ēdrugī bona istin gryves ao naejot ēdrugon, iā kostagon geron konīr aōla?” Now, are you so tired that I must carry you to bed, or can you walk there yourself?”

Arianwyn did not hesitate to choose being carried.

Nor did Aemond hesitate to lift her, sliding one hand beneath her knees while the other cradled the small of her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck to hold herself steady, and the brush of her cool fingers against his skin was exhilarating.

He was careful to ensure that her dress stayed in place around her, so that only the tips of her slippers could be seen by anyone who looked upon them. He was still a Prince and a pious one at that. He would not have anyone see his wife in any improper state. Even her stocking-covered ankles were only for his eyes.

She was only slightly less concerned about propriety than he was. While she never did anything while others were around, whenever they found themselves alone (save for the two Runestone guards that followed them) in one of the halls, she peppered his face and neck with quick, teasing kisses.

It amused her to no end how hard Aemond was fighting with himself not to kiss her back. Each time she pressed her mouth to the sensitive spot just under the corner of his jaw, he instinctively turned to meet her lips. The look on his face when he bit his tongue and forced himself to turn away from her was nothing less than thrilling.

By the time they reached their chambers, she had driven him so mad that he kicked the door open, startling the servants that were midway through packing their saddlebags.

“Out,” he commanded, hardly looking at them before striding across the room to their bedchamber door. “Now.”

Brynna huffed and would have placed her hands on her hips menacingly had she been able. “We are not finished preparing for your journeys tomorrow, my Prince,” she said, even as Kirin and Elsie sprinted out the door.

“Then I suggest you do so quickly,” Aemond grumbled, fumbling to open the door when Arianwyn was so eagerly unbuttoning his jerkin to access his collarbones. “I do not imagine… ah! Aria, can you not wait a single moment?” he scolded as she brought her lips up to his so fast he had to roughly jerk his head back to avoid the kiss.

She pouted and buried her face in his chest, allowing him to turn back to Brynna. “I suggest you do so quickly, as I do not imagine you wish to hear what I am planning to do.”

He could not tell whether the maid was impressed or horrified. Either way, he did not care. He had finally gotten the door open, and he wasn’t going to waste a moment before getting Arianwyn on the bed.

Brynna was seething as she turned to chase after the others to retrieve them. “Just don’t rip anything on that dress,” she shouted over her shoulder, “it is new!”

Arianwyn laughed into his ear. “You’re in trouble!” she practically sang as he dropped her unceremoniously onto the bed. She had not stopped bouncing before she was back on him, kissing him fiercely while her hands slid into his to guide them to the laces on her back.

“No, my love,” he chided, tearing his hands from hers and flexing each one as they tingled with the desire to rip the silly dress to shreds. “Brynna said no ripping. And if I undress you… I don’t intend to provoke more wrath than I already have.”

She whined pitifully, leaning back on her knees. “Aemond…”

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, cupping her chin in his palm. “You will undress yourself. And for every item you remove, I will also take off one of mine.”

Though her brow remained furrowed in frustration, there was no mistaking the twinkle in her eyes that showed she was more than happy with the arrangement. “I wear far more than you do,” she teased.

Aemond laughed and stepped back until he was out of her reach. “Then you will be satisfied well before I am. One more rule: there will be no touching until we are both bare. Do you think you can handle that?”

As a wicked smile spread across her lips, Arianwyn nodded and stood at the foot of the bed. Then, never breaking eye contact with her husband, she reached up and removed her necklace, letting the silver chain fall onto the carpet. Then, she raised her brows at him expectantly.

“I don’t think jewelry counts,” he chastised. Though he did appreciate the sight of her bare neck, especially now that her bruises had faded to yellow rather than deep purple.

Arianwyn balked, though it was clear she remained quite pleased with herself. “That wasn’t one of the rules. And you can’t change the rules once we’ve started the game.”

He wanted nothing more than to kiss that stupid, smug smirk off her face. But he had made the ‘no touching’ rule, so he had to follow it. He licked his lips and bared his teeth before returning the smile. “Very well.”

Then he reached down and unsheathed his dagger, tossing it on the rug beside her necklace.

She rolled her eyes. “Surely that and its belt count as one item.”

He raised his brow. “‘That wasn’t one of the rules.’”

“So that’s how we’re playing this,” she crooned, with a cheeriness that let Aemond know he had just lost this game.

She removed a single earring.

Oh yes, he had definitely lost.

He took his sword from its sheath and propped it against the wall.

She removed the other earring and tossed both to the table beside the bed. She missed.

His dagger belt came next.

Then her bracelet – the one from her left arm.

His sword belt.

Her right bracelet.

Aemond hesitated.

She still had three rings and her own belt to remove before she got to any actual clothing. All he had left was his eyepatch, but he wanted to save that for last. And he still wanted to tease her. He ran his eye from her fidgeting feet to the hand that tucked a piece of unbound hair behind her ear.

There was his answer.

He reached behind his head and removed the leather strap holding back his hair.

“You know that looks ridiculous, right?” Arianwyn asked. The strap of his eyepatch still held most of the hair back, leaving it hanging awkwardly around the leather rather than falling gracefully.

He only shrugged. “Your turn.”

She hummed slightly and removed one ring. The simple silver band soon joined the pile that was growing between them.

Aemond leaned down and took off one boot.

Another ring, this one set with a small amethyst.

His other boot.

Her bronze signet ring.

One sock.

Her belt.

The other sock.

Arianwyn leaned against the bed and kicked off her left slipper.

She watched impatiently as Aemond unfastened his jerkin with agonizing slowness. How she wished it was her doing so, while his long, lithe fingers undid the laces of her dress.

All she wanted was for him to hurry up. When he had carried her here, she had hoped it meant he would be quick and that they would have already found their first release by now.

No, he wanted to tease her first.

Well, she could tease him, too.

She fully sat on the bed with an overdramatic sigh, leaning back on her arms as she spread her legs apart until the fabric of her dress strained. Thank the Seven, the skirts were not as full as what she usually wore. Otherwise, Aemond may never have noticed the movement.

The smug look on his face fell as his eye drifted down to what he knew to lay beneath the fabric. His breath came noticeably quicker, and he bit his lip, tearing his jacket off as fast as he could.

Arianwyn smiled. Her husband didn’t possess half the patience he pretended to have. And she simply adored how he looked in only his tight black pants and flowing white cotton shirt.

“We must play this game more often,” she said, kicking off her other shoe. “It’s fun.”

“For you,” he scoffed.

“Come now, my love,” she laughed. “It was your idea. And from where I sit, you seem to be enjoying yourself very well.”

Indeed, with his jerkin out of the way, the straining in his trousers was quite apparent. Aemond didn’t need to follow her gaze to know what she was referring to.

“It’s your turn,” he said flatly.

She stood and reached beneath the panels of her bodice to release a pair of hook-and-eye fasteners.

The despondent look on Aemond’s face when he realized that the dress was in two parts – an ornate surcoat pinned over a simple linen gown – was one of the best things Arianwyn had ever seen. She wished she had skill in painting, so she could capture it. Perhaps she would embroider it on a pillow instead.

“That’s not fair,” Aemond groaned.

“What was it that book said?” Arianwyn asked with a coy smile. “The one by that war-philosopher. ‘A wise general knows everything about his enemy before engaging,’ I believe it was.”

He frowned as he pulled his shirt over his head, taking some small victory in the lusty way she admired his bare chest. “Are you my enemy, wife?”

“You’re the one who started this game,” she said as she stood once more to reach behind her for the laces of her gown. “And you know how I hate to lose.”

She had only begun to tug on the small bow at the small of her back when Aemond spoke again, his voice soft and rasping with desire. “Turn around.”

“Why?”

“I want to watch,” he explained, bringing his hands to the laces of his trousers. “So we can do this one together.”

“What if I want to watch you, too?” she asked, her heart pounding faster with each moment of anticipation.

“You can look over your shoulder,” he explained. “In fact, please do. Now, will you turn around for me?”

She obeyed, turning tauntingly slowly before looking back at him over his shoulder, just as he said. He took a short step to the side to give her a better view of his actions. “It’s your turn,” he said, “you start.”

So, she began to unlace her dress, each movement of her fingers mirrored by her husband. He had far fewer laces to undo than she did, so he finished well before her. But he did not lower his trousers until she again turned to face him and slid the dress from her shoulders.

Now, he was bare before her, save for his eyepatch. Yet she was still frustratingly clothed.

Still, he was thankful her chemise was thin. He could still see the outline of her breasts and the peaks of her nipples. It was such a beautiful sight. Were he not so averse to letting anyone else see her this way, he would commission a painting of how she looked at that moment.

“It’s your turn,” she whispered.

Actually, it was hers. He had taken his turn along with her. But the rules didn’t seem to matter so much anymore.

Aemond reached up and pulled his eyepatch off, dropping it into the pile of clothes, jewelry, and one dagger before them.

She still blushed, even when the sight was now as familiar as her own reflection.

“You are so beautiful,” she murmured.

As he felt a seed of warmth blossoming in his heart, he realized he had begun to believe her.

“It’s your turn,” was all he said in reply.

Arianwyn rolled her eyes. “Are we still playing? I’m sure Brynna wouldn’t mind you tearing some of my underclothes. If you still want to, that is.”

“Some other time, I would certainly like to,” he answered. “But today, I think I should like to simply watch you finish what we’ve started.”

The sight of him naked – and so visibly eager for her – almost had her ready to tear off the clothes herself. But not quite. Though there was an eager ache between her thighs, and she was more than wet enough to take him immediately, she would not make it so easy for him.

“Aōhoso, valzȳrys.” As you wish, husband.

Though it was unnecessary to actually remove the garment, she took an undue amount of time untying the ribbon that lay on the neckline. Undone, the thin cotton drifted further down her breasts until its hem lay just over her nipples.

When she looked up at Aemond, he was no longer looking at his face but at her breasts. His chin was ever so slightly tucked in, and he stared at her chest with such intensity she was sure he was trying to will the fabric lower with only his mind.

Arianwyn was so enjoying the power she held over him that she stilled. She wanted to see how long he would stare before realizing she had stopped.

It was longer than she had guessed.

“Please,” he finally begged.

He said it with such desperation that she took pity on him, and gathered the fabric of the chemise before lifting it over her head.

She wasn’t sure whether the noise he made then was exactly a moan or a sigh, but it sent a shiver through her veins that nearly had her giving up all her plans of teasing him.

Her silver eyes never left his face as she once more sat on the bed, again spreading her legs wider than she really needed to give him a glimpse of what he so desperately wanted. But then she took it away, crossing her legs as she began unbuckling her garter.

The latches were too complex for her to tackle without looking away, but when she looked back to him as she readied to lower her stocking, she was overcome with righteous anger.

Aemond’s hand was on his cock, pumping lazily.

“Absolutely not!” she shrieked, yanking her stocking further up her leg.

His face twisted in confusion, though his hand did still. “What?”

“You said ‘no touching’ until we were both naked,” she reminded him sternly. “Do I look naked to you?”

He scoffed. “I said no touching each other.”

“You did not!”

“Well… that’s what I meant!”

“But it’s not what you said,” she countered firmly. “No. Touching.”

Aemond heaved a great sigh but lowered his hand to his side. He had to clench his fist to keep it there. “Be quick about it, Aria. Please?”

“Only because you asked so nicely.” She gave a wolfish grin as she finally lowered her stocking, then the other, the garters themselves soon following, and she was finally as bare as her husband.

He surged forward faster than she could follow and wrapped his hands firmly around her head as he toppled into the bed with her, kissing her like he needed her more than air. But his patience was at its end, and before long, his hands were roaming all over her body in a desperate quest to feel every inch of her skin.

Arianwyn decided then she would tease him more often in the future. She liked what it awoke in him. His usual gentleness and reverence were wonderful, of course, but this had its place, too.

“I don’t know if I never want to do that again,” he said through his pants between kisses, “or whether I want to do it every night for the rest of our lives.”

Her responding laugh turned into a wanton moan when his hand finally made its way between her legs. “So long as we end up here, I don’t give a damn how we get there.”

“You know,” he mused as he pulled himself from her lips and settled onto his knees at the end of the bed. “I think here might just be my favorite place in the world.”

With that, he wrapped both hands around her hips and pulled her towards him, so close that she squirmed at the feeling of his hot breath on her folds. He breathed in her scent deeply before leaning ever so slightly forward, resting the tip of his nose against her.

“In fact,” he said before flattening his tongue and licking a long, slow stripe from her entrance to her clit, sucking the sweet pearl between his lips before finally drawing back. Her wanton moans were more melodious than any music he had ever heard, her taste more delicious than anything he had ever eaten. “I’m quite sure of it.”

And then a great crash came from behind the dressing room door, followed by muffled cursing and the sound of footsteps retreating.

Aemond rested his head again her thigh, suckling gently on the soft skin as he laughed. “I thought they’d be done packing by now. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay quiet, my love. At least for a little while longer.”

But as his mouth drew ever closer to where she needed him, Arianwyn arched off the bed with a barely restrained cry. “I really don’t think I’m capable of that.”

Indeed, when he nuzzled his nose back into her, she whined in such an extraordinarily high tone he was sure all the dogs in the keep would be sent howling. And though he trusted Kirin and Brynna – and Elsie, to a lesser extent – he selfishly wanted those noises all to himself.

Keeping his head as close to her as he could, he reached toward the pile of discarded clothing they had left on the rug. He had meant to grab a belt or even her necklace. But his hands landed first on his dagger.

He was too impatient. It would have to do.

Flipping the blade in his hands, he pressed the hilt against Arianwyn’s lips.

“Bite down,” he instructed.

She looked at him in disbelief for only a moment before she opened her mouth and let him slide the hilt between her teeth. Though the leather was smooth, the braided gold wire that spiraled around it was rough and cold against her tongue. Yet it, and the mild pain in her jaw at the strain of holding it so far open for so long, somehow made the pleasure she felt when Aemond dove back into her folds all the sharper.

The blade served its purpose. Her noises never stopped, but they were quieter. Now, they were truly only for his ears. He savored each one, trying not to think too hard about how his stomach tightened each time he glanced up to see her with her jaw clamped tight around his dagger.

He continued to devour her with even more vigor than he had the night before. First, by repeating his first slow stroke of the tongue until her legs trembled around him. With each lick, he gained speed and pressed further and further into her until his nose was driving her nearly as wild as his mouth.

Aegon had always mocked him for inheriting their grandsire’s long nose. How well it was serving him now.

The moment Arianwyn’s hands flew into his hair to pull him closer, he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her hips, lifting her off the mattress and further into his face. He let his chin – another fortuitously large feature of his – press against her entrance as he ravaged her clit, alternating between swirling it with his tongue and sucking on it with all he had.

She nearly crushed his head between her thighs as she came, wailing like a banshee. Were the hilt of his dagger not still in her mouth, he was sure the whole of King’s Landing, perhaps even all the Crownlands, would have heard her.

Knowing he could bring her such bliss was almost as pleasurable as achieving his own relief.

Almost.

As she fell back into the mattress, head lolling to the side as the dagger tumbled from her mouth, Aemond again became aware of the tightness in his own stomach and the nearly painfully hardness of his cock. He had never imagined losing sight of his own desire, and yet he had. Every single time.

“Oh, ñuha gevie riña,” he sighed, darting his tongue out to draw the rest of her release into his mouth. “Skori iksan lēda ao, nyke ojughagon nykēla.  Se gaoman daor mirre jaelagon naejot sagon maghatan aril.” Oh, my beautiful wife. When I am with you, I lose myself. And I do not ever want to be found again.

She smiled at him and tugged on the ends of his hair to draw him close to her. Then, when he hovered over her once more, she caressed his cheek and kissed him softly.

Distantly, he heard a door shut louder than it needed to. The servants were done, then. They were finally alone.

Arianwyn must have heard it, too, for her next words were anything but soft.

“Lo gaomā daor qogralbar nyke bisa olvie moment, nyke kessa gaomagon se ñōghe hen aōha egros isse dīnagon hen aōha orvorta,” she whispered with the innocence of a maiden. If you do not fuck me this very moment, I shall use the hilt of your blade in place of your cock.

In honesty, the idea delighted Aemond. But not today. He grabbed the dagger and sent it flying across the room before gripping Arianwyn in one hand and raising her onto his lap.

His cock had never slid home so easily. Her cunt was warm, and tight, and utterly perfect.

Arianwyn, too, had never felt so sublime. Her spine still tingled from her release, and she was eager for another. Chasing that, she immediately started to grind her hips into him, savoring each impact of his cock against her walls. 

He did not just press into that spot that dazzled her vision but into every inch of her. Her blood danced with ecstasy as she rolled her hips against his and felt him seep into her soul.

She reached a new peak within mere moments, wrapping her arms around his head and bringing him into her chest as she cried out again, her walls constricting around his cock. Still, she never stopped moving.

Aemond tightened his grip on her, teeth bared as he brought himself up from between her breasts.

“Istia keligon, se tepagon nyke iā moment, iā kesan māzigon gō iksi drējī bē syt ziry,” he begged, burying his face into her neck as he nearly wept for the intensity of his pleasure. You must stop, and give me a moment, or I will come before we are truly ready for it.

“Issa sȳz, ñuha jorrāelagon, she whispered, stroking his hair. “Ivestragī jikagon, se māzigon syt nyke.” It is fine, my love. Let go, and come for me.

He did. His final rut into her was so forceful that her head jerked back, and she went limp in his arms. But even her gentlest touch drew him in, and they fell back against the bed together.

“Iksan vaoreznuni,” he whimpered as he showered her with small kisses, “Nyke - īles tolī olvie. Iksā tolī olvie, tolī vok” I’m sorry, I - it was too much. You are too much, too perfect.

Arianwyn laughed and brushed aside the hair plastered by his sweat to his face. “Don’t you dare apologize,” she scolded lightly. “After all, I came faster than you did. Twice”

“Still,” Aemond sighed, rolling onto his back beside her. “You deserve more than that as a goodbye.”

“Then I shall have more!” she declared, only laughing harder when Aemond’s eyes grew wide with both happy anticipation and healthy trepidation. “We broke our fast in bed. Who is to stop us from lunching here, and even taking dinner? I say we stay here until the morning, and use every last moment before our departure to say ‘goodbye.’”

He did laugh at that, clapping his hands over his face as he said a silent prayer to the Warrior for all the strength he could muster. Once that was done, he let his left arm fall to the side and beckoned his wife back to him with his right.

“Very well,” he agreed. “But go easy on me, my love. If I am to last until morning, you must ration your… zeal, for lack of a better word.”

Giggling delightedly, Arianwyn climbed back on top of him. She was more than happy to simply kiss, and kiss, and kiss him. That is, until he was ready for her ‘zeal’ once more.

-

Neither of them lasted until morning.

It had not been long after sunset when they fell asleep in each other’s arms, too exhausted to even stir when Elsie entered with a tray for their dinner. The girl sent most of it back to the kitchens with a chambermaid, but left some bread, cheese, and a large pitcher of water on a table in the bedchamber should they wake to find themselves hungry.

They did not.

But they ate their fill that morning when they broke their fast. They remained mostly silent during the meal, content to simply be in each other’s presence for at least a while longer. Once they were dressed in their riding leathers, they walked hand in hand to the stables, where they briefly greeted their new flock of sheep before boarding a carriage to take them to the Dragonpit.

Aemond rode with Arianwyn, wanting every moment he could manage with his wife before they were separated. He was keenly aware that this would be the longest journey both she and Emrys had ever taken. So, he spent most of the ride through the city going over maps with her, ensuring she knew the landmarks to guide her to the Mountains of the Moon and the Eyrie.

He stayed by her side as her bags were attached to her mount’s saddle, and he held the dragon’s reins as she climbed onto his back

“Three days,” he reminded her. “If you can return before that, all the better. If not, send a raven immediately so I know you are well. Promise me, Arianwyn.”

She knew when he used her full name that he was deathly serious. “I promise, Aemond. And you must promise me the same.”

“I do,” he said, running a gloved hand down Emrys’ snout. Then he leaned against the beast and whispered too low for Arianwyn to hear. “Mīsagon zirȳla.  Nyke daor, sīr istis sagon ao.  Kostagon gaomā bona syt nyke?” Protect her. I cannot, so it must be you. Can you do that for me?

Emrys huffed affirmatively and pressed into him.

“Kirimvose,” the Prince replied, patting his glossy black scales. Thank you.

“Aemond?” Arianwyn called from atop the saddle. He looked up at her mournfully, for he knew what she was going to say. “I need to leave.”

He grimaced and turned away from her, blinking away tears he could not allow himself to spill  - not even before the Dragonkeepers. “I know,” he said, finally looking back at her. “Just… be safe, my love. Come back to me.”

She gripped her reins tighter and gave him the best semblance of a smile she could muster. “I always have, haven’t I?”

But then he stepped away, giving Emrys the room he would need to take flight, and her smile fell.

Her lip trembled as she called to him again. “You must come back to me, too. I love you, Aemond. So very, very much.”

“Avy jorrāelan, ñuha riña hen gēlenka,” he shouted back. I love you, my lady of silver.

Then Emrys took flight, and Aemond and Arianwyn were separated once again.

Next Chapter

[v3nusxsky]

A fresh start

*Authors note~ the first chapter of the story is here I hope you guys like it*

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They say that every ending is a new beginning we just don't know it yet. That was something you truly believed in, that was why when you closed your door on your past relationship you were excited to see the new one opening. You had no idea where it would take you or what what your new adventure would bring but that was what life is. A bunch of new experiences that would make your story of life. Opening yourself up to new experiences was nerve wracking but for some reason life always had a way of getting you exactly where you needed to be.

That just so happened to be leaving your home town. A fresh start, with new people in a new place. A chance to shake off the past and finally do what makes you happy. Teaching was always something you wanted to do, you are passionate about helping children create a better future for themselves and the world. But specifically you loved the idea of teaching outcasts. Children that are notoriously overlooked and unwanted in the public eye. Children that are overlooked and under appreciated by other people. Children who deserve the same love care attention and education that everyone else gets.

Finding Nevermore appeared to be what fate designed for you. So when it came to accepting the job offer for a job as the potions teacher, you moved into the school the same day, the principal seeming nice enough and from what you heard about the students you couldn't wait to get started. Obviously you had a busy time ahead but that's just what the doctor ordered. You crashed as soon as you were shown to your room, which just so happened to be right next door to the principals room.

It took a few days to get your room to feel like yours and honestly you hadn't had time to explore much of the school grounds or meet any of the other staff members really, you'd seen some in passing buy no where near having a friend. The principal would check on you every now and then to see how you were settling in. But it never went above and beyond that. So now you had your room sorted and a few lessons planned you decided to take a walk to get familiar with your surroundings.

To say Nevermore was beautiful was an understatement truly, the stone walls that are entangled with vines looking like something from the princess fairy tales you watched as a child. The inside of the school being more Morden but none the less, sophisticated and beautiful in its own right. The halls seeming rather wide and the quad very relaxing, although you could imagine with groups rambunctious teenagers would put pay to the tranquility.

In your wondering you managed to find your classroom for the year. It was light and airy and definitely had enough room for a cauldron and live demonstrations with the whole class. You made your way to your desk and began to flick through the notes you found on your desk, containing things like the code of the computer and curriculum and class lists for the semester. You were so engaged in what you were reading, taking on every single bit of information you possibly could, that you missed the arrival of someone at your door.

"I see you found your way around now?" Larissa stated with a kind smile which caused you to flush a bright red. "I yeah I was just reading over the notes I was left, really want to be prepared for when the children come in next week" you murmured back tearing your eyes from the paper and becoming starstruck by the sight of the tall blonde. There was no dying she is attractive of course but she's you boss and it's so inappropriate that you push those feelings down. "Very smart miss Parker, have you got the chance to see Jericho?"

You and Larissa made pleasant conversations and she even gave you a few suggestions of places to check out. The weathervane being her favourite and apparently they sold amazing hot chocolate. After reassuring her that you would indeed explore more of Jericho another day she reminded you that her office door was always open, she knew how overwhelming it could be and always made sure to be there for her staff members which you were now one of. You could see life being to look up and there was nothing more you were ready for than this new chapter of life.

[clueless1995]

ok so i just woke up and i have to tell you all about the dream i had before i forget it because the vibes were So Strange i know people love to be like “nobody cares about other people’s dreams” but personally i think this was FUNNY. in hindsight. in the dream i was kind of annoyed

anyway i was like. the fairy queen or something and it was this big fairy party (not like a royal ball more like a house party but the house is Fancy with plants and glitter and satin everywhere. and fountains of wine and whatnot) and i’m sat on my party throne (one of those big martini glass bathtubs with a round mattress in it) (i’m filling in the gaps okay let me have my fun but it was like a big round bed but Tall so i could enjoy watching people dance. the martini tub would be on brand though i just don’t know what the underneath looked like because i never got off it. i’ll get to Why

and i’m lounging i’m gossiping with the girls drinking fairy wine and honestly. i’ll say it. serving absolute Cunt. when one of my loyal subjects sadly flies over and he lands next to me and i (Awake Ana) Recognise him. it’s timmy chalamet (who is apparently a fairy. also i don’t know how to spell his full first name so i will be calling him timmy throughout i’m sorry i’m usually a big proponent of getting people’s names right but i just woke up and i know i’ll forget the dream in like five minutes).

and Fairy Queen me obviously knows him and is like oh poor timmy what’s happened. and he’s absolutely out of his tree on fairy wine but he’s a Sad drunk and he starts crying about how not enough people think he’s hot anymore and how everyone used to want him and now he’s willy wonka and nobody wants him what’s WRONG with him what HAPPENED he used to have it ALL. all explained through sobbing.

and so as a kind fairy queen i say oh poor timmy it’s okay i’m sure someone somewhere still thinks you’re hot. and i let him put his head on my lap and continue to cry while i make eye contact with my fairy girlies and roll my eyes while taking a bitchy sip of my wine. and you would think that’s like a solid narrative end that’s where i would wake up right? no.

the dream continues but all i can do is halfheartedly pat timmy’s head and every now and then i try to gently hint that i would like him to go somewhere else now because he’s really bringing down the vibe like they’re playing bangers and i can’t even get up and dance with the girlies buffy-and-faith style because i have this sad little guy crying on me.

it felt like it went on forever and i was like. ugh this isnt even worth crying about let alone for a whole party but i knew he was fragile because my friend warned me that one of his stan accounts quit after they changed their hair conditioner and realised the old one was sinking into their brain and making them attracted to mr chalamet (i’m assuming because i was looking at a compilations of stan accounts coming to reason after finding black mould in their room or getting on mood stabilisers before i went to bed). and so i couldn’t bring myself to just push him off me or get the fairy bouncers (??) to kick him out so the rest of my dream was like. well i guess i’m stuck here with this guy crying all over my spider silk dress while everyone else dances to lush life by zara larsson

[dipplinduo]

1. What's your favorite Legendary Pokemon and why? 2. If you could Kieran any legendary (other than the Gen 9 legends), which would you give and why?

Omg a random ask for my personal opinions?? I'm touched B)

1. What's your favorite Legendary Pokemon and why?

(I'm using these specific classifications as I answer your question)

So hot take but I don't really feel too strongly about most of the legendaries 💀 I seem to be more of a sub-legendary and mythical pokemon fan by happenstance, so I'm just gonna expand my response with them since I'm more interested in them.

Strictly Legendary:

I like Lugia and Mewtwo because of their respective movies, but I honestly think I'm most attached to Cosmog by a long shot. I don't have too much of an articulate answer behind as to why other than Gen 7 really nailed the landing with creating an attachment to the curious lil' thing and I love it so much :') I just love its personality, and would 100% love to keep it as a little pet and yell at it to get in the bag. xD

Sub-Legendary:

THIS THING. THIS THING GAVE ME HELL CATCHING IT IN MY FIRST D/P PLAYTHROUGH AND IT MADE ME WANT IT SOOOOOO BAD LOOOL

I really, really, really loved the concepts behind the lake trio and what they represented, and was particularly drawn to Mespirit at the time (although Uxie lowkey has the best cry). Nowadays the trio is almost neck-and-neck even, tbh.

I also have thoroughly enjoyed Ogerpon - she's the only legendary I've actually opted to use in my main team throughout all the gens because I got attached and didn't like the other grass pokemon options.

Blacephalon is also a weird take I can't explain. I love the chaos and variety of colors in its design. It just seems very chaotic and strange as is. OH, AND THE DOG TRIO FROM JOHTO. AND LATIOS AND LATIAS. GOD I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THEM IN EVERY MEDIA.

Mythical:

OOOOH this one is VERY close because I love, love, love the mythicals apparently. Celebi's connection to time, the movie, THE GAMES, and the overall atmosphere behind it is just 110% my kind of personal aesthetic lmao. Like I'd love to have this little fairy are you kidding me???

Shaymin is a very very close second. I love how it has two forms and love its connection to nature. My connection to this pokemon in particular also grew because I associate it with the late memory of someone close to me who passed away. I think of them with this pokemon, so it holds an extra sentiment.

Otherwise I really really really also love Mew (fight me) and Jirachi is awesome because WISHES??? Bangers.

2. If you could Kieran any legendary (other than the Gen 9 legends), which would you give and why?

Lol you're so based for excluding the gen 9 mons, lets go.

Strictly Legendary:

Helloooo Gen 5 fans LMAO. I really feel like there's a lot of unspoken poetry between Kieran & the player with Reshiram/Zekrom parallels. I could honestly see Kieran holding either legendary relatively well from a symbolic standpoint, but Zekrom seems to fit him a bit more imo. He's quite motivated through his ideals to find a truth he wants to see - whether it be "the Ogre being misunderstood" before it was verified, his concepts for what makes a capable trainer and respectable or valued person, and his desires to prove himself. He gets a little too lost in his visions to the point where they cloud his perception and his judgement is ultimately soured; he's desperate to compete and externals it on the player, but in reality he's competing with the standard of an ideal he thinks he himself should be.

Sub Legendary:

I don't mean to pull too much from the lake trio with this post, but honestly, I feel like a lot of Kieran's journey and character arc can be summed up with his enduring willpower. Whether he's motivated through passion, spite and envy, or through his desire to correct his wrongdoings, Kieran really grows into his own because of how much he prioritizes his fire and determination.

Mythical:

Bit of an indescribable take for me but I'm oddly drawn to Marshadow for the mythicals - especially for Teal Mask Kieran. I think it just really symbolizes more of his timid dispositions and more gentle personality underneath everything his edgieness LOL, I guess? And there's something that speaks to me in terms of having him honor that side of him and learn to embrace it - especially alongside the other picks I listed.

This was fun!! I hope these answers were entertaining. :)